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groundzerosgirlfriend · 1 year ago

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Traits they would want in a partner:

Senku Ishigami

(This unedited so dont @ me)

Firstly. IF you ever manage to get into a relationship with the man known as Senku Ishigami you probably deserve some kind of award for having to deal with this man’s crazed scientist bullshit every day. He literally doesn’t change one bit, he's still the same Senku that’s blunt, mean, hates physical affection and mushy words. The reward for the least romantic boyfriend goes to *drumroll effect* SENKU!

Senku probably prefers someone that’s he known for a really long time I’m talking since he was at least in junior high but the further back the better and if you were in the science club with him back in high school fantastic. Meeting new people is one thing but actually having romantic feelings for them is a whole other ball game. It’s easier and less work when liking someone who already knows him inside out and vice versa instead of having to do the whole cliché ‘get to know each other’ façade over and over again.

Also, I feel like Senku has only had like maybe 2 crushes in his entire lifetime: one was some famous scientist he saw on tv talking at a press conference at the head of the table in a room full of men and the other one was in his first year of junior high when he was bested at a mathlete competition (in his defense he pulled the most brutal all-nighter the night before while working on some insane project and messed up the placement of a decimal point) by a girl who wore the chunkiest pair of glasses known to man. He quickly got over both as he had learned that realistic the possibility of this famous scientist (who was also married) falling in love with a prepubescent boy was damn near impossible (and illegal) and the girl he liked in school ended up coming out as a lesbian when she and another girl were caught kissing each other's cheek during break time.

Senku probably likes individuals that are independent and self-sufficient like Kohaku (girl boss!!) People that are clingy and to needy are not his forte’ and makes his face sneer or deadpan brutally. He doesn’t like physical affection or words of affirmation on most days he’s more of a quality time (slaving over more experiments with you doing physical labor) and gift giving (making you little trinkets from his science experiments). I mean it’s pretty obvious remember that one episode where Senku’s own dad was about to give a long emotional speech on the record but stopped because he knew Senku would ew at it. So if you’re somebody that thrives off of praise and attention then *opens the door* please see yourself out respectfully because this man is not going to give it to you. You'll be like a little dried up cactus begging for attention.

Senku likes cleanliness and organization. Senku himself is very clean and hygienic. People that are not are usually big turn off and and an even bigger *thumbs down* for him. He’s also organized despite how his experiments and projects seem to be all over the place they’re not. He knows exactly where everything is, the exact millimeter of, every beaker, of every pipette, of every pencil. It's called organized chaos. If one thing is moved without his consent or worse, his knowledge the entire room is thrown off and he has a hard time finding anything for the next 12 hours.

Personal opinion here but I feel like Senku has as dislike for bugs. Like sure. Bugs are cool to explore and on a scientific level sure but anything other than that he’s not really cheering for joy about it. I also feel like he despises getting sick, like literally any type of sickness whether it’s the common influenzas virus or even a slight stomach bug. He’s miserable and irritated and it takes a really long time to get better because although the scientist in him tells him he needs to rest the stubborn workaholic in him tells him he’ll be fine to do a few minutes of work (which ends up turning into hours-please make this man rest🙏🙏). So if you’re the type where you’re unhygienic to the point of constantly being sick or attracting like actual bugs then either you’re going to have pick up the slack on your hygiene or leave realll quick.

Senku also likes people that smart either intellectually or when they’re witty and have a sharp mouth. If they can understand and even better add in their own input when he’s going on and on about different types of minerals sharing his excitement when they make a scientific breakthrough in the stone world he thinks if he didn't believe marriage was a social construction he'd get down on one knee with some sparkly rock he *borrowed* from Chrome's rock collection. Now even if his partner isn’t all into the science *blah blah* cells *blah blah* quantum mechanics and Schrodinger's equation a partner who is sharp on his mouth will suffice jussst as well. It's makes him snicker the tiniest bit turning his head away so no one can see the grin covered on his mouth covered by his hands. People who are blunt and not softspoken are a *big thumbs* in Senku’s book why would someone who has something to say not say it? A waste of time in his head.

Senku likes a willingness to learn even if it's just about they like every now and again. He knows that science is a high broad topic that covers from up into the vacuum known as space or as to the deep as the aquatic volcanoes known in the deep blue ocean. And he knows about it all in that gorgeous brain of his. In Senku's mind everything thing revolves around science, walking-the physiology of cells to tissues, tissues to muscles and neurological brain activity to make voluntary commands, art- the primary colors created by the art starting from things like mud, bugs and fruits, oh chemicals- easy it all starts with the period table of elements starting from hydrogen all the way down to Ogganseon. Anything you like any hobby you enjoy has to involve some kind of science and if you ask some him some questions about how it works or at least how it originates he knows that somewhere in you have the curiosity of a scientist.

Likes athleticism....maybe? Honestly, I'm kind of unsure about this one because on one hand I can see him liking people that are athletic and physically fit not because he thinks that being skinny is better or anything like that but because he can definitely use you like a horse (do yall know like those short mini scenes between the episodes where Senku like dresses up as different jobs imagine him as a farmer with a straw hat on his head in overalls a piece of straw in his mouth and a riding crop in one hand whew😩😩😩) for a lot of physical labor don't worry he'll return your hard work with a treat of your choice but be prepared he will complain about your laziness and wanting to help 'humanity' but on the other hand I could see him liking people that get winded and red faced after walking up stairs or carrying a bucket of water just like he does (extra points if it's a guy like him) because if you're both low stamina and low endurance you can't tease him about his athletic abilities. So a tie maybe.

Lastly, LOVES a strong will and determination he knows that starting the stone world back to modern humanity from scratch is no easy feat hell even he has made a few mistakes while trying to figure himself out. But what he does know is that science is filled with trail and error (mostly error) and it takes a loooot of time before you actually get what you're looking for so if you're the type to give up easily after failing once or twice and turn your back to his goal of turning the world back into the modern society he once had then....I'm sorry to say it probably won't work out for you there's only so many motivational speeches this man can give before he gets annoyed and just lets you give up without any reassurance (don't worry he doesn't take it personal), besides he still has people like Chrome, Sukia, and Kohaku to help.

@instanthideoutsalad I know you said you wanted Soft Boyfriend Head cannons of Senku but I'm so uninspired with those at the moment so please accept my humble offering of this drabble I made🙏🙏🙏🙏. I swear I'll do it soon it soon. 😪😪

#smut #headcanons #x reader #senku dr stone #senku ishigami #ishigami senku #dr stone manga #dr stone x reader #dr. stone #drst x reader #drst #senku x reader #ishigami x reader #senku ishigami x reader #dcst senku #senku headcannons #x y/n

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niechys · 6 months ago

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I'm sorry. I'm so not sorry but also so so so sorry. But I can't stop thinking about it.

from @keferon tf mecha universe

(Also if you don't want me tagging you please do tell. I didn't want to bother, just want to credit cuz it's glorious)

it's because of this post.

Happened after This event

I'm sorry in advance for all the grammatical errors.

I also don't know wo else would be the science guy to take this position of explaining the thing. I feel like there has to be someone else that's not Shockwave too. Sorry to all of Brainstorm's fans out there. I think he's not a bad guy. Just too excited for the possibilities.

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Something lingers inside that mech. Although there is no hard evidence of a human soul or spirit or ghost haunting it, most people who had anything to do with Vortex agreed that it was best to believe its first pilot never leave the cockpit of his mech. After all, nothing else would explain the freak accidents constantly killing all but the latest pilot.

Human are prone to be superstitious. It's normal to believe in something like ghost in the machine, really.

But one would not think a man of sciences such as Shockwave would take the rumors seriously. No one knows if the scientist really believe it or not. He

Regardless of the rumors' validity, it sure did inspired him.

"You're kidding me" Swindle stood, blinked, looked at the incomplete repair of Blurr's mech then back to the technician in front of him. Brainstorm was prattling on at speed faster than Blurr's F1 record.

"Not kidding. Why would I kid? This is a great breakthrough. Lives can be saved and there are much we could do with the tech, I don't know why it never occurs to me or Shockwave that the neural link tech could have been used in this way---"

Swindle turned his brain off during all the scientific mumbo jumbo all and only really heard him again at "It's nothing all that weird really. Some people disagree, but you can't go against Shockwave when he put his mind to it. If you think about it, it's just like Vortex"

"What?" Swindle blinked again.

"Vortex. That mech, I mean the mech's first pilot, crazy psycho, crazy good at slicing up kaijus"

"I know who Vortex was. I worked here when he started piloting. What did that asshole has to do with this?"

"Oh, everything. If, a big if. If that guy's consciousness was still in the mech like people been saying"

"Haunted" Crossing his arms, he narrowed his eyes at Brainstorm. The technician corrected him.

"Lingering consciousness. Either way, Blurr is in much better shape than Vortex. Brain still intact . So is most part of his body. We wired him to the neural link to allow him control of the mech. So when we are ready, he can still go about his task from within that mech"

"What . The . Fuck"

Swindle's eyebrow twitched. No, it's NOTHING like Vortex's case. The asshole died and probably refused to leave this world. Blurr, on the other hand, was still alive. Sure he wouldn't be the same. Maybe he would be scarred for life, paralyzed from the waist down or something. But hardwiring a person to a mech?

"So, you were working with Blurr before now, correct? That's why we would like to bring you in as his handler. Not like you have to do maintenances and stuff, just take care of him and, the publicity and all that. Like being his manager" With that, Brainstorm handed him a folder before excusing himself.

The guy wasn't bad most of the time, Swindle thought. But sometimes, just sometimes, his passion for science overshadowed the moral compass.

Like how he wished that his own greed would take precedented in his state of mind. They must have thought he would jump at the chance to milk more profit from Blurr. Hell, he wouldn't be feeling this bad if that was the case.

He wanted to refuse. Profit be damn, even he didn't feel right. Blurr saved them. He should be allowed to preserved his humanity, his dignity. Not preserving his brain in a jar inside a mech. If the pilot died and the mech is reparable, you find a new pilot. If the pilot lived but can no longer pilot, you also find a new pilot. Not..this.

But refusing means they will bring someone else on board to manage Blurr. He's pretty sure he wouldn't like that.

Fuck

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**note. Blurr is not reduced to brain in a jar. Most of his body is intact, just hard wired to the mech.

I tink they can add robot parts to him later all stuff. But since they probably value Blurr as a money cow pilot first. If they can't use his face, they can still use his mech.

Sorry again ehehehehehehehehehe

#tf mecha universe #tf blurr #tf swindle #should I put some kind of tw?#does it count as body horror?#I'm not sure #by the way this can be blamed on gundum I watched #being iron blooded orphans and thunder bolt #they're brutal af #I'm sorry again #tw body horror

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aventurineswife · 6 months ago

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HELLOOOO, i was wondering:

A reader that likes watch anime, and some HSR characters gives them a try. But, what anime would you think they watch with the reader? Based on what they like or just something to start watching.

I LOVE YOUR WRITING STYLE, please don't overwork yourself a lot, have a nice day/night! <3

What Anime Would They Watch With You?

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Blade x Reader, Kafka x Reader, Silver Wolf x Reader, Anime Watching, Humor, Lighthearted moments, Comfort and Bonding, Can be read Platonically or Romantically.

Warnings: Mentions of psychological trauma, Light spoilers for anime, Philosophical and existential themes, Violence and combat (in anime contexts), Emotional conflict, Mild language (?), Possible mild angst(?).

A/N: I don’t watch much anime, but my sister does, so I based the anime choices on what she’s watched and told me about, as well as clips I’ve seen on yt shorts 🫣😔 ALSO THANK YOU!! 🤭💖 I'LL TRY MY BEST HEHE

Aventurine stands in front of the TV, his eyes glinting with curiosity. His usual confidence is slightly tempered by the unfamiliarity of the moment — an evening of anime watching. He’s dressed in his usual stylish attire, the gold accents catching the light as he adjusts the remote with his gloved fingers. His gaze flickers to you, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"So," he begins, voice smooth like a well-played hand in poker, "what do we watch tonight? I suppose I should try something new. But, I must admit, I prefer shows with a bit of strategy — something that makes you think, perhaps a game of intellect or manipulation."

You suggest Death Note, the classic tale of the battle between genius minds.

Aventurine’s smile widens. “Ah, an excellent choice. A battle of wits, a contest of who can outsmart whom. Much like life itself. I must say, the intrigue here appeals to me. The protagonist, Light Yagami, reminds me of someone who knows how to play the game... and win.”

As the opening credits roll, Aventurine lounges back, his eyes gleaming with the same focus he applies to his work at IPC. The intricate web of psychological tension between Light and L unfolds in a way that mirrors his own thinking — everything calculated, every move deliberate. The darker twists intrigue him, and he often leans over to comment on Light’s strategy, or offer his own hypothetical alternatives. Every so often, he’ll pause to explain a parallel to a strategic investment move, his voice laced with a playfulness only you can appreciate.

The night is filled with insightful discussions, his enjoyment of the show evident not just in his words but in the way his eyes spark with intellectual thrill.

Ratio enters your living room, dressed in his usual academic attire, though he seems slightly more relaxed than usual. His hair is perfectly in place, and he adjusts his glasses, his piercing eyes scanning the shelves. He’s intrigued by the idea of anime, but like everything else, he believes it must meet the highest intellectual standards.

"I assume this will be a pursuit of knowledge, correct?" he asks, his tone indicating that he is less concerned with entertainment and more with what the anime can teach him.

You offer him Steins;Gate, a mind-bending tale of time travel and its implications. Ratio raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued.

"Time travel," he mutters. "The concept is fraught with paradoxes, theoretical inconsistencies... But let's see how this unfolds."

As the show progresses, you can tell Ratio is captivated. His usual dismissiveness towards “mediocre” content fades as he engages with the intricacies of the plot. He is particularly drawn to the scientific explanations of time travel, making insightful comments about the laws of causality. The intellectual depth of Steins;Gate resonates with him, and he begins to see the show as more than just entertainment but as an exploration of the human condition through the lens of scientific theory.

His stern exterior softens slightly as he leans forward, absorbed by the delicate unraveling of fate. At one point, he pauses the show to make an impassioned argument about the ethics of time travel, his eyes alight with the thrill of the debate.

Feixiao, in her usual battle-ready attire, steps into your space with her arms crossed, her eyes narrowing slightly in skepticism. She’s not one for frivolous distractions, but she’s willing to give this anime thing a try — provided it’s something that involves action, strategy, and perhaps a little bit of inner conflict.

"You’d better not have picked something weak," she says with a smirk, her voice unwavering. "I don't have time for anything that isn't worthy of my attention."

You suggest Attack on Titan, with its intense battles and deep emotional conflicts. Feixiao grunts in approval.

"Alright, let’s see if they can deliver on the carnage." she says, as the opening scene plays out.

She’s immediately absorbed by the ferocity of the Titans and the desperation of humanity’s fight for survival. The battles, filled with adrenaline and relentless pursuit, mirror the kinds of conflicts she knows too well. She’s particularly drawn to Eren Yeager’s inner struggles — the deep rage that simmers beneath his resolve.

"That’s what I like to see," Feixiao mutters under her breath, her eyes flashing with approval as the protagonists fight with everything they have. "There’s more to these battles than just the physical; there’s emotion, too. A warrior’s mind is as sharp as their blade."

Throughout the night, she becomes invested in the character dynamics, especially Eren’s moral dilemmas. The show's dark tone and brutal honesty about the human condition resonate with her, and she even offers some commentary on the combat strategies used by the soldiers.

By the end of the night, she’s hooked, her face flushed with the excitement of both the action and the emotional weight of the series.

Blade steps into the room, his eyes burning with a quiet intensity, his demeanor as cold as the blade he wields. His mind constantly in turmoil, he’s not interested in frivolous entertainment. Everything he watches must speak to the darker aspects of his soul, and anything too light-hearted will not hold his attention.

You offer Neon Genesis Evangelion, a psychological and emotional rollercoaster that digs into the deep recesses of human existence. Blade’s expression is unreadable as he nods and sits, his eyes steely.

The first few episodes grip him, and soon he is fixated on Shinji Ikari’s inner torment — the crippling isolation, the struggle to find meaning in a world that seems bent on destruction. Blade sees pieces of himself in Shinji, his own existential struggle reflected on screen. He finds an unexpected resonance with the show's depiction of personal battles and the search for purpose in and the search for purpose in an uncaring world.

As the show delves into its more abstract and psychological themes, Blade’s face hardens in contemplation. He doesn’t speak much, but his occasional glances at you tell you everything you need to know — Neon Genesis Evangelion is more than just an anime to him; it’s a mirror to his own fractured soul.

By the end of the night, Blade is silent, lost in thought, the weight of the show's philosophical questions lingering in his mind.

Kafka strolls into the room with her usual cool confidence, adjusting her black jacket over her shoulders. Her hair sways slightly as she surveys the situation. While she doesn’t often indulge in entertainment, she’s intrigued by your suggestion to watch anime together. After all, there’s something elegant about the concept of using subtlety and manipulation to achieve one's ends, and Kafka is drawn to that kind of intrigue.

You offer Code Geass, a series filled with strategic battles, hidden motives, and complex characters. Kafka smirks, her interest piqued.

"This might be interesting. Let’s see if it lives up to the hype." she says, her voice smooth and measured.

As the episodes unfold, Kafka finds herself charmed by Lelouch vi Britannia’s calculating nature and his ability to manipulate others for his own purposes. She’s drawn to the layers of deception, the way Lelouch maneuvers through the world with his intelligence and charisma, much like herself.

"Ah, this is the kind of show I can appreciate," Kafka remarks, glancing at you with a knowing smile. "Power lies not in brute strength, but in the subtleties of the mind. Lelouch truly knows how to play the game."

By the end of the night, Kafka is hooked, her mind racing with the complex political strategies and moral questions the show raises. Her admiration for Lelouch’s ability to control events through sheer willpower is clear.

Silver Wolf lounges in her seat, her purple glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She’s always up for a challenge, and if anime is as much of a game as you say, then she’s ready to dive in. She’s looking for something that’s both fast-paced and unpredictable, a true test of her adaptability.

You suggest Psycho-Pass, a futuristic series that blends action with deep psychological exploration and questions about the nature of justice. Silver Wolf’s eyes light up as the opening credits roll.

"Alright, this looks fun," she remarks, her fingers tapping on her leg like she’s already hacking her way through the plot. "A system that reads people's intentions? Sounds like a game I could win."

As the series progresses, Silver Wolf becomes engrossed in the moral and psychological dilemmas the characters face. She’s particularly drawn to the futuristic technology, intrigued by the interplay between the systems that control society and the human minds that try to outwit them.

"I could hack my way through this world in no time." she chuckles to herself, but she’s also genuinely captivated by the philosophical questions raised. What is justice? Who decides what is right or wrong?

By the end of the night, Silver Wolf is already planning her next anime binge, eager to see what other “games” the world of anime has to offer.

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nicherayyy · 10 months ago

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La Squadra x Deadpool-like Teammate

Chat I completely forgot I wrote this and it’s been sitting in my drafts for a whole week💀

Warning: cursing and some gore ig

They were probably accepted because of their regenerative abilities

Like.. Risotto is genuinely impressed

They got shot right in the head? No worries, they’re fine

Someone tried to stab them? It’s not like it’s gonna kill them, chill out

So yeah, a good ally in mafia world

Other than that.. well.. maybe this new teammate is a bit weird

Or generally weird

Or as Prosciutto said “stupido bastardo”

The day when Prosciutto’s not trying to secretly age them and get rid of the body is a good day👍

It’s not like he hates them but he clearly dislikes them

But as long as the teammate is doing their job Prosciutto will tolerate their behaviour

He just begs Risotto not to go on missions with them

With anyone but them

Another stupid joke and he’ll shoot himself

Everyone in La Squadra is kinda concerned about the fourth wall thing

The embodiment of “Who are you talking to right now?🤨”

The concept of self-aware teammate is actually so funny

Imagine fighting with an enemy stand and your teammate is talking into the void💀

—Ehehe, you were wondering how we got into this situation? Well- —For the love of god just shut the fuck up and USE YOUR STAND

At some point Pesci thought that they were just lonely

They were not.

So he got to the conclusion that they’re just weird

Or not in their right mind

Or both

Melone likes their jokes

Really, he does

(But most of all his new teammate is scientifically interesting)

Like “WHY ARE YOU NOT DYING”

So their communication looks like “Ahahah oh I just love your humour! Please, tell me more jokes while I take some of your skin samples😊”

Please, don’t put the new teammate with Ghiaccio.

Just don’t.

The mission will just go down

(With a frozen teammate)

Tries to avoid his new teammate as much as possible

The whole la squadra tries to have them in separate rooms too

They know too well what would happen if the teammate gets the best out of Ghiaccio’s anger

Formaggio’s probably the only person who’s willing to go on missions with them

Dude’s having the time of his life fr

Hangs out with them after work

Illuso felt kinda bad for the new teammate because of their skin condition

(And their absence of hair)

It kinda reminds him about his fight with Purple Haze

He likes to make theories why the teammate looks like that because they definitely told Illuso something like “that’s how undiagnosed adhd looks like”

But otherwise, he’s impressed by their katana skills

And dance moves.

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keitorin3 · 8 months ago

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Picture this~

The Marvel Multiverse thing about your dreams but with Merlin.

So I rewatched the "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness" and had this thought about what if Merlin had constant dreams of his alternate future-self before he came to Camelot.

And I don't mean his future-self in S5 but himself in the 21st century.

Like, this would confuse young Merlin who lives in medieval times and has these fantastical dreams where there are moving metal contraptions and steel birds and towering crystal-like buildings.

But most of all, I think that he'd dream of himself as an old professor or doctor. Like, we know Merlin knows how to read and write in S1 and that it was most definitely thanks to his mother, but what if he was more advanced then that?

What if seeing these dreams of another version of himself as a professor or doctor made Merlin truly want to be a physician with Gaius?

But what's more, he brings with him his 21st century mindset into his life like...

*Merlin hearing Kilgharrah*

Kilgharrah: Merlin~

Merlin: Yeah God? I'm kinda in the middle of a midlife crisis you know. Got tossed into prison by a gorgeous blond bimbo who will most likely be my crap boss in the future, so can't be insane right now sorry.

Kilgharrah: ...

Gaius comes in looking cross: Merlin you idiot!

Merlin: Nevermind, god take me now please.

*Merlin meeting Kilgharrah*

Kilgharrah: How small you are for such a great destiny.

Merlin: Holy shit, is this like Braveheart? Wait, no, sorry wrong movie I mean Dragonheart?

Kilgharrah: What?

Merlin: Are you gonna tell me we have to ban together to stop the King from doing something terrible because some dumbass stupidly gave him a gift or something to do with Life or Death and now the king is out of control and must be stopped?

Kilgharrah: ... *after a moment of self doubt and contemplation* Yes... After freeing me, yes. It is your destiny.

Merlin: Hmm, your kinda sus. How do I know you aren't lying to me? And if I have to kill some king can it be someone like Cenred? Total dick king, honestly.

Kilgharrah: *Ignores that for now and will debate destiny later* Your gift, Merlin, was given to you for a reason.

Merlin: So there is a reason for my dreams.

Kilgharrah: Yes-What? No, I meant your magic.

Merlin: But that's forbidden in Camelot, and besides, I need my head for when I become a physician!

Kilgharrah: You were made for a greater purpose Merlin. Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion. But he faces many threats from friend and foe alike. Without you, Arthur will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion.

Merlin: Riiight... And then he and I marry, have brilliant blond children and live happily ever after, while working as a Physician.

Kilgharrah: ... No

Merlin: Then nah, blondy can fight his own battles. Been training to kill since birth I hear.

Kilgharrah: There is no right or wrong, only what is and what isn't.

Merlin: *mutters* What are you, a fortune cookie?

Kilgharrah: None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin, and none of us can escape it.

Merlin: OK, fine. I'll bite into the forbidden apple, but I'm most likely not bringing an Adam down with me. Arthur is a idiot but I don't see him changing within this century.

Kilgharrah: Perhaps it's your destiny to change that. *Then proceeds to fly off*

Merlin: Wait-! Ugh, thanks for nothing you useless reptile.

Lol, I can just image all the possibilities where Merlin makes a reference to something and everyone around him are just completely confused and just writes him off as a fool with a wide but intelligent imagination.

This was also greatly inspired by @theroundbartable post (here) of 21st century Arthur as King.

So much fun, like I think because of Merlin able to kinda see into his alternate self's life he has the modern perspective but still have the medieval stomach to survive. And, he goes about figuring out his magic using the scientific method of Question , Research, Hypothesis, Experiment, Data Analysis, Conclusion, and Communication. Like why does he not need to speak words? Is magic spells like coding? Or is it a force? Is he a Jedi or a Sith?

Considering flowers bloom when he's happy but rain and storms pour when sad or angry, he is likely neither a force of good or evil.

Merlin has all these internal thoughts and with Gaius, finally has someone to bounce theories off of (that's not Will of Hunith) and share knowledge with.

At some point Gaius would just suggest Merlin write them down (because Gaius is too old and can't keep up as fast). Taking his advise and spends his next pay check on a brand new journal.

And I can see Merlin and Arthur being the same old same old, but Merlin is more concerned for Arthur and Morgana's well being seeing as their only role model is emotionally abusing (and confusing) Uther.

So he'd team up with Gwen and set about trying to make both Pendragon Siblings happy.

And I better end here or else I'll go on and on.

Til next we meet fellow dreamers~! ✨

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maybege · 2 years ago

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The App - Part 1

Summary: The App tells you who your perfect match is. But when Josh, your perfect-match-alpha, introduces you to his boss, you start to realise that the numbers are not always right.

Pairing: alpha!Boba Fett x fem!omega!Reader

Wordcount: 6.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, A/B/O dynamics (scenting, knotting, etc.), older man/younger woman, implied age gap, Josh is an asshole, technically some (primarily emotional) infidelity

Happy November! This is an idea I had a few days ago and it would not leave me so I used that burst of creative enegery to bring it down on (digital) paper. I am really so very excited for this story and I hope you enjoy it too! Please let me know in a comment or reblog what you thought and whether you would be intertesed in a second part!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The first time you met Boba Fett was a catastrophe.

You were sure you had never been so nervous. After three months of dating Josh, he had invited you to a get-together with his friends from work and you were eager to make a good impression. You had sought out your prettiest summer dress, the skirt falling to your knees and printed with a flowery pattern that made you happy every time you saw it.

Josh had not really said anything when you asked him whether he liked it but at this point, you had learned that if he did not say anything, that usually meant he approved. He just wasn’t very communicative that way.

His colleagues, on the other hand, were very communicative.

“An app, huh?” his boss, Boba, had echoed when Josh had answered the age-old question of So how did you two meet?

He looked very unimpressed.

“It's scientifically proven to get the best match,” you repeated the words Josh had said on your first date, “The studies have shown that omegas and alphas best match up through a variety of aspects –“

“That’s no way to meet your mate,” he said, interrupting your empty repetition of words you did not even know the meaning of. Still, you did not appreciate him criticizing the way you had met Josh. Like it was somehow less than. Like it was wrong.

“Where is yours then?”

“What?”

“Your mate,” you clarified, holding your chin up in defiance and, “Where are they?”

The man chuckled, clearly not offended at your words. His laugh was a warm sound making you feel like the sun was shining on your skin. “Nobody wants an old man like me, princess,” he got closer as he said it and you inhaled sharply, trying to ignore the scent of pinewoods and smoke, “Don’t need an app to find that out.”

You did not look away from him, you knew that was what he wanted. He was just dressed in jeans and a flannel over a t-shirt that hugged his body. His very large body. It did not take you long to gauge that he was not as sculpted under his clothes as Josh was. He did not have the six packs and the pecs and all these other muscle groups Josh kept talking about whenever he went to the gym. No, Boba Fett was not a bodybuilder.

But was strong nonetheless. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick and his belly made him look much more comfortable than Josh ever was. But Boba Fett did not want to be comfortable for you. He wanted to intimidate you and, in a way, he succeeded because you felt unsteady like your world had shifted just enough for you to get dizzy. But you were not about to let this man ruin the first chance you had to impress Josh’s friends, so you kept looking. And so did he.

Someone called your name. You blinked, trying to forget the brown of his warm eyes and turned around to find Josh waving you over to where he was standing with another one of his colleagues.

“Excuse me,” you said to the older man, making sure to seem as unaffected as possible.

“Sure thing,” you heard him murmur, the whisper of his hand on your lower back as you passed him, “Princess.”

You decided that the way your heart skipped a beat could be ignored.

After all, you never had to meet this man again.

As luck would have it, you did see each other again.

It was a few weeks later when summer was slowly morphing into autumn, that Boba had invited his team and their partners and families for a last summer BBQ at his place. You had not felt great as soon as you had woken up but Josh would not hear it, making the point that you could still leave early if you did not feel better.

Not going was not an option.

So you chose your most comfortable dress, threw back a painkiller, and let Josh drive you in his new car to his boss’ place, hardly touching you because “I do not want to catch anything if you’re really sick, darling.”

You bit your lips and

Once you arrived, you felt a little bit better. But not for long.

You were in the middle of a conversation with Josh and one of his boring colleagues when a cramp hit you so strong, you felt like you were going to pass out. And with it the realization that you were not sick.

You were getting your heat.

As if the thought triggered your body, you could feel your blood starting to pulse, the edges of your vision blurring as the only thing you wanted to do was curl up and bury your fingers between your thighs. But you were not home. You were not even with your friends. You were with Josh and his colleagues and his boss and there was nowhere for you to hide.

Without looking at Josh, you turned around, trying to hurry into the house. If you could make it to the bathroom, maybe you could drink something, splash your face with cold water and beg Josh to take you home. Or take a cab.

“Is my presence so insulting that you need to run away from me?”

Shit.

You halted, not wanting to offend your host, but you also couldn’t stay in the garden where the BBQ seemed to burn hotter than before and everyone’s voices were so loud. But when he came to stand in front of you, he seemed to realise

“Woah,” he murmured, his tone shifting and his hand hovering over your shoulder, “You all right there, princess?”

You wanted to snap at him to not call you princess, to not call you anything, but the world was shifting again and a new wave of pain hit your abdomen.

“No,” you brought out, “I’m a little dizzy that’s all. I – I’ll be fine.”

You could not meet his gaze, too confused to fixate on one point on the floor while you tried to gather yourself. The cramps had set in sooner, and much worse, than you had expected and his presence did not seem to help. But you also did not want him to go.

“You are not okay,” he protested gently and you hated how careful he sounded, “You’re getting your heat. Should’ve stayed home today, princess. Let me get you some water and then –“

“No!” you hissed, your hand grabbing his forearm and you, “P-Please stay.”

Boba stepped closer to you and you were so grateful to be able to rest your weight on him. “Okay,” he murmured, all gentle and warm and you closed your eyes, “I will stay with you. But we need to get you somewhere safe and comfortable, ‘kay? Does that sound good?”

You hummed in agreement, following blindly. When you opened your eyes, you were in the kitchen and Boba filled a glass for you. Your eyes fell on his bare forearms, suntanned and bronze and just peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt you saw the curling ink from a tattoo.

“Here, drink,” he held the glass up for you and when your hands trembled too much, he helped you take little sips.

“How bad is it?” he asked quietly, setting the glass down and you immediately reached out to touch him again. Touching him seemed to help.

“Bad,” your voice was hoarse, “Worse than I remember.”

“I am so sorry, princess,” he whispered, pulling you in for a hug and despite yourself, you closed your eyes, breathing him in. For a precious few seconds, it was like the pain was gone. Sure, the wetness between your legs was still seeping through your panties but you were no longer in pain. You felt … good.

His big hand was on your back, carefully holding you to him and you could hear him breathe, his chest rising and falling against yours and you tightened your arms around him. There was no logical explanation for why you buried your face in his chest and breathed him in. All you could think of was that he was warm and he smelled of a bonfire in the woods and … and he felt safe.

You had never felt this safe.

The hum he let out felt like a rumble under your ear and you smiled, wanting to shuffle closer still, to try and pick as much of his scent as you could so that maybe your nest could smell exactly like this.

When he pulled away – slowly, with his hands running over your arms and sides – you whimpered, trying to get your bottom lip to stop quivering because you had never felt

“I am sorry,” he apologized, looking pained and sounding genuine, “I shouldn’t have. Not with Josh and everything. You are in your heat and you need to feel safe, not be hugged by some strange, old alpha.”

You looked at him quizzically and it took you a moment to come to the frightening conclusion that – just for a second – you had forgotten who Josh was. The man you had met on countless dates, Josh. The one who was supposed to be your perfect match, Josh. Josh who had joined you in the kitchen now, looking as chipper and unconcerned as always, ignorant to the tense silence between you and the alpha before you, whose body heat you still felt lingering on you.

“What’s up, darling?”

“Seems like she is close to her heat,” Boba answered for you, calm and collected and sounding not at all as affected as you felt, “You better get her home, Josh.”

You did not need to look at him to know Josh was displeased. “You sure?” he asked Boba (not even you!), “It’s just the sun getting to her.”

Whether the tears came from pain or frustration at Josh’s unkindness, you were not sure. Maybe a combination of both. But you did not have the strength to stand up for yourself. To start a debate with Josh in which you knew he would do everything out-talk you and you would give up, defeated and tried and still in so much pain.

Boba looked at you with furrowed brows and you were surprised to find that of the two men in front of you, it was him that seemed to know exactly what you felt.

“I think you should get her settled at home,” Boba repeated, his hand landing on yours where you gripped his forearm, “You are in too much pain, princess, to stay here.”

“Is that true, darling?”

You wanted to yell at him. To ask if he really could not see the pain you were in, if he cared so little about you that he did not even register on a purely platonic level that the omega in front of him was in heat and in pain and needed him.

Well, maybe not him specifically.

Trying to ignore the strange mix of guilt, pain, arousal and frustration that broiled in your belly, you managed to nod your head. “I need to go home, Josh,” you whispered, your throat already parched again, “Please.”

Faced with your clear wording, even Josh had no choice but to agree.

“Can you help me get her to the car?” he asked Boba and you noticed, somewhere in the back of your head, that he was again speaking over you. Like you weren’t even there. Like you were a pet to take care of.

“Sure.”

Boba walked with you to Josh’s car, not saying anything. But you noticed it all, nonetheless. Noticed how he slowed his pace so you could walk comfortably. How he took extra care when it came to the steps, making a few encouraging sounds at the back of his throat when you fought through the pain in your abdomen to make your way down. How he held most of your weight, allowing you to fall back into the car without hurting you too much.

“There you go,” he murmured while Josh was tinkering away somewhere, “Got you all settled. Need anything? More water? Blanket? Food?”

You shook your head, your throat too dry to speak and you worried that Josh would get angry at you leaving a wet patch on his new leather car seat.

“You sure?” Boba checked in again, bowing over you in a way that blocked out the sun and you were glad for the shadow, glad for him so close, “Do you have enough snacks at home? Soft things, too? To tide you over?”

Despite your dislike of him, you found yourself smiling, your eyes closing with exhaustion and relief at finally sitting somewhere. “I promise, I will be all right, alpha,” you mumbled, the words heavy on your tongue, “You do not have to worry about me.”

His chuckle made your heart feel warm. “All right then, princess,” you heard him say, “You stay safe out there, yeah?”

You nodded and the car door closed. Left alone, you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. The new car smelled like plastic and cleaner and you tried to remember the scent of the woods, of bonfires, of things that made you feel warm and cherished.

“Make sure to help her up the stairs,” you could hear his muffled voice, “She is in a lot of pain.”

“It is not that bad, Boba.” That was Josh. “You worry about nothing. She could have stayed here, I am sure, but maybe a nap is not such a bad idea.”

Silence.

“Just make sure she’s safe okay? The next week is gonna be rough, Josh. She’ll need you.”

Josh did not check up on you once during the next week.

It was a month later when you saw Boba Fett again.

And again, it felt like an absolute catastrophe.

You had been on your way to the next town over when a diversion had put you on a country road that snuck its way through the mountains. And your car – your usually so reliable car – decided that the third mountain peak that came with a steep curve was too much and just … stopped working. It was pure luck that there was a stretch of road that was relatively level which allowed you to pull over to the side.

Still, it meant you were left stranded with nowhere to go but to hide under the trees as the rain came pouring down on you. Your fingers were slippery on the display of your phone as you called Josh, who was less than enthused about your interruption but was gracious enough to come and pick you up.

After his meeting was over.

That was twenty minutes ago and you were soaked to the bone now. You debated on returning to your car but the smoke under the hood made you uneasy and you did not understand enough about cars to attempt to fix it yourself. Thunder roared in the clouds and you flinched.

Great. Fucking great.

As your luck would have it, the first car that passed you stopped immediately and you found yourself hoping that maybe a nice family had stopped, offering to drive you to the next gas station or café where you could wait with a hot cup of tea. Maybe it was not too late to evade the inevitable cold you would catch if you remained in the rain any longer.

But of course, it was not a friendly family in the car, or an elderly couple on their way to their grandkids. No, the figure you spotted emerging from the truck was very familiar.

Your heartbeat picked up, racing in a rhythm all on its own and it was all you could do not to cry in relief. Because seeing Boba Fett walking towards you, wearing a thick flannel and a green jacket on top, his head covered in a beanie, made you feel like all your problems had dissolved into thin air.

“I already called Josh,” you greeted him, too nervous to really speak and unable to put your happiness at seeing him into words. You should not really be happy to see him, after all, especially not happier than seeing Josh. But the way your pulse raced or how your lips threatened to pull up in a smile, there was no denying that you were truly, utterly, happy at seeing Boba Fett make his way towards you. “He’ll be here any minute.” I hope.

“Car break down?” the older man asked, expertly ignoring the mention of Josh, “You okay, princess?”

You nodded, ignoring how your breath hitched. No matter how you tried to twist it, Boba’s presence messed with your body and your mind. And you were scared of slipping up, of letting yourself … feel all of the emotions he caused in you. Stars, even just the mere worried frown on his face made your belly flutter.

“I’m okay,” you mumbled, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I don’t need your help.”

“Then at least let me wait with you,” Boba insisted, a frown on his face as he talked over the pounding rain, “It's freezing and I won't be able to rest until I know you’re safe.”

It should not make your belly flutter as it did. It should not feel like a bunch of butterflies were throwing a party in your belly, making your heart race and your palms sweat. And yet, you did not feel any unease at his request or at the thought of both of you in a small confined space. The only unease, if you could even call it that, was your own concern at how happy you felt to see him.

“Omega,” he rumbled and you froze. Something pooled in your belly and your breath caught in your throat. Boba did not seem to realize the effect his words had on you. “Please,” he continued calmly, “It is cold and raining and your car looks like it is about to fall apart. Get in my car and you can wait somewhere it's dry and warm. Please.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, still reeling from his words as you made your way towards him. Boba held the door open for you, his warm hand brushing over your back before he hurried to the other side and slid into the driver’s seat.

The raindrops on the windshield echoed in the tiny space and still, all you could hear was Omega. What did this mean? Had it been on purpose? Why would he call you that when –

“You okay?”

His voice sounded still as calm as ever but you swore you heard a tad of concern in there.

“No one called me that before,” you admitted, shrugging out of your jacket to avoid the water seeping into the further layers. And to avoid looking at him.

“Called you what?”

“Omega …” you whispered and rubbed your thumb over the wet fabric in your lap.

“Let me throw that back there,” Boba murmured, gently taking the jacket from you and putting it on the backseat. You wanted to protest that it would ruin his seats but then again, he did not seem to care about his car as much as other people did.

“You are telling me,” he paused a beat when he turned back to you, “You are telling me you and Josh have been seeing each other for a few months and he has never called you by your presentation.”

“He doesn’t believe in it.”

He scoffed, “Believe in what? That you are an omega?”

“He thinks it’s demeaning,” you shrugged, hating how small your voice sounded and hating that you already knew Josh would never call you that, not even when you would tell him you liked it.

“Your presentation is not an insult.”

You were surprised at how agitated he sounded but that confused you only more. Deep down, you knew Boba was right. Being an omega was not an issue. In fact, you liked your existence as it was, thank you very much, and if anyone ever gave you the option to change your presentation, you would refuse.

But Josh was different in that aspect. He was an alpha and while he had searched on The App for an omega as his perfect match, he did not particularly subscribe to the idea that different presentations could have different needs. In fact, he had called himself “modern” on your first date and had impressed you with his views that omegas could do everything betas and alphas could do (that – sadly – were not shared by all the alphas you had gone on dates with) and that he supposed anyone living their “omega truth” (which he had said with a wink and a cheeky smile).

What you had not expected was that by “living your omega truth” he had meant you would live it alone.

“Did he stay with you during your heat at least?”

You pressed your lips tightly together, suppressing a wince at the memories of the five days in your apartment, all alone and desperate, crying into your pillows as you imagined strong hands holding you to a warm body that did not look like Josh’s. It had been one of the worst heats you ever experienced and

“What's it to you anyway?” you snapped yourself out of it, pulling your cardigan closer around you. The rain had gotten worse now, “It’s not like he would have helped.”

“It's not like he would have helped?” Boba repeated incredulously and your gaze flicked to him, finding his lips set in a hard line, the furrow between his brows had reappeared. He looked absolutely menacing.

And yet you were not afraid.

“Are you angry?” you asked instead, completely stunned by this large man worrying about you. Why did he care so much? Why did you want him to care so much?

“I am,” he confirmed, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself, “I am angry.”

“Why?”

“Because you were in pain,” he replied, his voice still all heated and growly, “You were in pain and could barely walk and stars, you needed someone to care for you. What if something had happened? Or – or if the food was not enough? If you had gotten dehydrated? And he was not there for a whole week? Stars, how could he have left you when all you needed was someone to care?”

You said nothing, embarrassment heating your cheeks at having coaxed this reserved alpha out of his shell. Everything he said was true and you knew it. His words brought back the pain of being left alone, the pain of feeling unwanted, for an entire week. But they also brought back your realisation that Josh was one of the first alphas willing to date you. Scratch that, he had been the only one willing to date you without giving the creeps.

At your lack of agreement, Boba’s face of anger morphed into one of disbelief. It was the first time you had seen him openly showing his emotion. It was the first time you could smell them. The woodsy scent and the smoke were still there but now it slightly burned your nose, making you want to curl up into him and brush your fingers over his jaw until the scent morphed into the one that made you want to fall asleep.

“You cannot be serious about him,” he stated, “You cannot truly think he is the best you can do.”

“The – the numbers don’t lie,” you repeated weakly, “Josh is my perfect match.”

“And what about anyone outside of this hellscape on an app?” he demanded gruffly, “What about alphas you get to know the ... the regular way. Ones that maybe aren’t perfect on paper but they love –“

“Boba, nobody wants me okay?!” you shouted, flinching at how loud you were, at how much pain your voice carried. But it was too late now. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I tried so much and no one – no one wants me,” you admitted, tears stinging your eyes but you refused to cry in front of him, “Not with the heats and not with omegas being so high-maintenance and – and the best I can do is someone who doesn’t hate the fact that I need to build nests to feel safe. And if the price I have to pay to not be alone most of the time is to be alone during my heats then I,” you held back a sob, “Then I can accept that.”

Your words lingered between you for what felt like an eternity. And when you felt your tears spill over onto your cheeks, you decided that you had humiliated yourself enough for one day.

“Never mind, can you just drive me home, please?” you asked, wiping at your cheeks, “Josh won't show up anyway.”

But Boba did not move.

“Everything you said is wrong,” he said finally.

Thinking he was about to start another discussion, you hurled around, the anger on the tip of your tongue ready to be let free. “How dare you –“

But the look on his face made you stop. There was something there, something you could not quite pinpoint and it made you want to hear him out.

“You are not too much, princess,” he stated again, “Your nests are not too much and neither are your heats. They are a part of who you are and you deserve someone who understands it, who – who helps you with it all when you need it and who supports you when you don’t. Someone who recognizes what an honour it would be to have you in his life. Not someone who leaves you alone at your most vulnerable.”

He said it so calmly, so assured that he was right, it brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

How were you supposed to answer that? You wanted to reach out and touch him, his hand, his face, his shoulder, anything that would make you feel like he was real. Like he was really sitting in front of you and really had said those words and meant them, too.

But you couldn’t, you wouldn’t, because there was Josh and something in the back of your mind told you that as soon as you touched Boba Fett, something would happen that you would never be able to take back.

“Alright,” he sighed and put his hands on the steering wheel. They were weathered and calloused despite the office job he had and you wondered if he had a hobby that was more hands-on. Maybe carpentry. You could see that. “Let’s get you home, princess.”

Josh texted you twenty minutes after Boba had dropped you off that he would not be able to make it, after all.

It was a dinner, this time, that found yourself back in Boba’s home.

Everyone had brought something and you had taken extra care in following your grandma’s recipe for the cherry pie you had made just for this occasion. Now, surrounded by many familiar faces, you were sitting next to Josh while the dinner conversation, fuelled by too many glasses of wine, had shifted to the kind of topics that were sure to escalate into a fight.

“All I am saying,” Josh continued his tirade, one hand around his glass of wine, the other on your knee beneath the table, “Is that the only way to true equality is if we stop looking at what everybody needs and just treat them the safe.”

You had tuned out after he had hit the five-minute mark but you were secretly relieved to see that the majority of guests looked as doubtful as you felt.

“I don’t think that is very effective,” Chants, a fellow omega, piped up, “If we simply assume that everyone is exactly the same, we fail to recognize some fundamental differences that cause these disadvantages.”

You saw Fennec nod and chanced a glance at Boba. He sat half across from you, dressed in a black dress shirt that made you want to pop open the first few buttons so you could see his chest. But what made him look even more striking was the displeased, if amused, look on his face.

Josh made a non-committal sound, waving his hands around and you felt bad that you could relax now that he was not touching you. “It is not only about the job market, though, of course,” he said, effortlessly changing the topic now that someone had confronted him with a different opinion, “It is in relationships too. All this alpha and omega stuff,” he scoffed, “All it is is some leftover idealism from a time long gone where alphas had to pretend omegas were special to get what they wanted. Calling someone by their presentation is just an insulting throwback to a time in which we thought omegas were too stupid to realize it.”

Say what now?

Before you could even open your mouth, you heard a low chuckle from somewhere which got Josh’s attention.

“Do you disagree?” he asked sharply and you had to suppress your smile at how offended he looked. He really was not used to people contradicting him.

Boba did not look the slightest bit intimidated. Instead, he leant back in his chair, the image of pure relaxation. “As a matter of fact, I do,” he said, “I just think you don’t understand what all this ‘alpha and omega stuff’ is about.”

“What is it about then?”

You looked around to find the voice before you realised that you had asked the question.

“It's about taking care of each other,” he replied, looking right at you, “It's about keeping your mate safe – physically and emotionally. Sure, in the past their treatment was questionable at best. But any good alpha knows that finding their omega is the greatest luck there is. Going through life with someone who is truly yours, someone you belong to in the most effortless of ways … That is a happiness only a few have experienced. I cannot imagine a greater honour than helping an omega with her nest, scenting her when she needs it, and making her feel safe and cherished. And receiving this safety in return. Omega is not an insult,” he murmured finally, his voice so low and warm it felt like he was in your head, “it is a love confession.”

A beat of silence. All you could hear was your heart, the blood rushing in your veins in rhythm with his words. He was looking at you and you felt like he was speaking to you too, maybe.

“Well, that is one way to look at it.”

You flinched. Josh’s voice no longer sounded kind to your ears. It sounded grating, and cold, in comparison. “What do you say, darling?”

It all came crashing down on you then. Whatever you had tried to ignore the last few weeks suddenly became crystal clear. Josh was not your perfect match.

I don’t want to be darling, you thought, I don’t want to be your darling.

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded numbly, feeling your legs shake, “I – I need to powder my nose.”

No one paid any attention to you (except for one) and you were grateful to hear that the conversation continued as you made your way down the hall to where you knew the guest bathroom was situated.

His entire house smelled of him and the bathroom was no exception. The little room was snug but it had enough space for you to put your hands on the edge of the sink, leaning your weight forward as you tried to take deep breaths and sort out your thoughts.

Josh was not your perfect match. And even if he was, you would be gladder to remain alone forever than share your life with him. How had it taken you so long to realize that? And how did it take only Boba’s words to make you feel like you did not have to be alone? Like you could follow your feelings and maybe – maybe they were reciprocated and –

A knock at the door.

“It’s open,” you said, taking a shaky breath, trying to brace yourself for the discussion that would be inevitable when you told him that it was over.

But it wasn’t Josh.

Pinewood and smoke filled your nostrils and you felt yourself relax.

“Are you okay?” Boba asked quietly. He still stood in the door, leaving you your space when all you wanted was to have him close. “You were shaking when you left and I was worried …”

You tried to smile, though a look in the mirror revealed it looked more like a grimace and so you stopped. “I feel,” you swallowed, trying to get your trembling hands under control, “I feel –“

The large man stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The click of the lock should have made you jump, should have made you stand up and go back to Josh. The man you were dating, Josh. But you did not jump up, you did not excuse yourself and left Boba alone.

If anything, the knowledge that you were alone and undisturbed made you shiver and your heart race in anticipation.

“I know,” he said quietly, “I am sorry.”

“What is this?” you asked, afraid to know the answer, “Alpha, I –“

“You already know,” he replied, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror. He was looming behind you, the size of him caging you in but it did not scare you. “At least I know,” he continued quietly, “Knew it the moment I saw you step into the room in that flowery dress of yours.”

You turned around, deciding to just fuck it and finally say what you wanted. “Can you touch me?” you asked, “P-Please, I need … something. I don't know, Boba, I need – need …”

“I know what you need,” he whispered, taking a step closer and now you were trapped between the sink behind you and this very large and very warm man in front of you, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded.

His large palms cupped your face and your eyes fluttered close. You thought his mouth was about to be on yours and you were not even surprised to find that you wanted him to kiss you.

But instead, he tilted your head slightly to the side, baring your throat for him and when you felt his breath on your sensitive skin, you knew what he was about to do. The trembling in your body intensified but this time it was from anticipation. From want.

“The first thing I noticed when I met you was that you did not smell of him,” he whispered, the tip of his nose brushing the shell of your ear, “And I thought what a stupid man he was, not scenting the most beautiful omega I had ever seen.”

Your hands shot up, gripping the side of his shirt as if that would keep you from floating away. And then his nose brushed over your scent gland. The feeling was electric, pulsing, warming, coursing through your entire body and making you shiver in the best way.

“Fuck,” you breathed, feeling your nipples pebble under your lace bra.

He chuckled against you, repeating the motion, “No cursing, omega, love, don’t you want to be good for me?”

Omega is not an insult, it is a love confession.

“Alpha,” you whimpered, “Please.”

“Let me,” he protested gently, his hand shifting to the back of your neck, holding you steady as his mouth descended on your neck, “Let me take care of you, princess, I know what you need.”

And you believed him.

It was quiet in the small room save for the sound of your heavy breathing and the rustling of clothes as he stepped between your legs, helping you up on the counter. He was so close, making you feel dizzy with want and you were embarrassed to note that your panties were getting wetter by the second.

“I have never felt like this,” you confessed, your own hands wandering over his strong back, “I – I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s because you have never been properly scented,” Boba murmured against your skin, kissing and licking and sucking on your throat that had your pussy pulsing and your heart warming, “You don’t need to do anything. You just need to tell me what feels good, omega, and I will make you see stars.”

That was certainly something you could do.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him in and the older man chuckled, his teeth scraping over your neck. “Someone’s needy I see,” he rumbled and you gasped when you felt him stiff against your core, “Finally got a taste of how you are supposed to feel with an alpha?”

“Don’t tease,” you murmured, throwing your head back and grinding against him when his mouth descended down your neck to your neckline, “This is – it’s so good, alpha.”

You had half a mind to pull down your dress for him, to have him. But there was something else you needed first, something that you thought you would get when his mouth came up again, his nose touching yours.

“I cannot kiss you,” he finally whispered against your lips and you whimpered (whimpered!), “Not yet.”

“Why not?” you asked, shifting your hips so you could feel him press right against your core, “Please, alpha …”

He inhaled sharply. “Because if I kiss you,” he murmured, “I won't be able to stop and I have a house full of guests. And because,” he adjusted himself in front of you, winking when he saw your open-mouthed stare at where his hand had disappeared in his pants, “The first time I fuck you won’t be in a tiny bathroom. And I know you wouldn’t want that either. Not when you’re seeing someone else.”

“Josh …” you realised with dread, guilt filling you at the fact that despite all your fears, you still had been intimate with someone else, “I – I need to break things off with him. After the dinner.”

Boba nodded, slowly stepping away from you, his hands running over your shoulders to your hands, lightly squeezing them before leaving you completely. “I will give you a minute alone,” he decided quietly though he looked as reluctant to leave you as you felt at having him gone, “I’m going to call you, ‘kay?” he asked, “After all this is over and – and you feel like you maybe … want to see people.”

“Okay,” you said hoarsely, your heart still threatening to burst out of your chest, “Okay, alpha.”

He threw a look back at you, the door already half closed behind him, “See you in a minute, omega.”

Omega is not an insult, it is a love confession.

“You smell odd,” Josh wrinkled his nose on the way home and you looked at him in disbelief. Everything around you reeked of Boba, the scent of pinewood and smoke so clear in the air you were surprised he had not picked it up as soon as you had sat down next to him.

The rest of the dinner had been an absolute disaster with Josh continuing to want to convince everyone he was right about his opinions on the omega problem (as he called it) and you had done your best to occasionally look at someone other than Boba. Boba had looked particularly smug the rest of the night though there was some frowning, too, when Josh had used your relationship as the perfect example of how his theories worked. And all you had wanted to was tell him to shut up. Because he didn’t know you and he certainly didn’t love you. He just loved the fact that he had found someone with an alleged 98% match on The App and had decided that that must be enough for you to love him.

“I got scented,” you heard yourself say, your voice surprisingly strong, “By Boba.”

“Ah yes,” he nodded, “That must be it.”

“Are you – do you not care?” you asked, shocked.

“Of course, I am displeased,” he shrugged, “I never thought you would be the kind of omega that would let herself be scented. But the app says we are a perfect match and the app doesn’t lie.”

You spotted your apartment complex at the end of the street and finally felt free to say what you had wanted to say all evening.

“This is not working,” you announced, “I am sorry. We clearly have very different ideas of what a good relationship looks like and I want – I deserve – someone who takes care of me during my heat. Who picks me up when my car breaks down and who does not decide what kind of omega I am. And what do you even mean by that kind of omega? Like there are good ones and bad ones and if I suppress all my wants and needs and desires and try my hardest to act like I have no presentation at all, I am a good omega? Is that it?”

Josh was clearly taken aback by your outburst but he only said something once he had parked in front of your building.

“There is no need to get hysterical, darling,” he answered, though he did not sound very calm, “You had a long day. Let’s talk again tomorrow.”

“No,” you said firmly, “We are done, Josh. The App does lie because we are not a perfect match. Sorry for wasting your time.”

And with that you went home, feeling ten tons lighter.

#maybege writes #boba fett x reader

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mmhcs · 1 year ago

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They've Got Chemistry!

Miguel O'Hara x Science-Lover!Reader

A/N: Big hearts and big brains.

Warnings: Long fic, Miguel is (sort of) bad/rusty at science, and, while I tried to make this as accurate as possible, I must admit that I'm not as well-versed in the sciences as I'd like to be (I'm trying, though!) and so some information may be incorrect (I apologize to any science lovers/studiers in advance!)

As a geneticist, Miguel is obviously well-versed in all branches of science. But he loves biology. He loves all branches but that's where it's at for him. There's just something so interesting about what two organisms can create and how certain things can be moved around for better or worse. He likes the foresight that comes with the study, how one can predict and prevent.

Due to his role within the Spider Society, Miguel has taken a special interest in molecular biology. His favorite part is seeing how a Spider-person's DNA structure changes after being bitten. His least favorite part is seeing the damage that can be done when a person who doesn't belong travels to another universe. From what he's concluded, DNA becomes damaged following exposure to another universe. He wishes he would have known that sooner.

When Miguel first sees you, it's at one of the many labs within the Spider Society. You're sitting at a table with Miles, helping him with his Physics homework. The first thing that comes to Miguel's mind is wow. Because you mean to tell him that you're pretty and smart? And you're a science fanatic like him? Most Spiders he works with a smart (even Peter B.), yes, but whenever he starts going into the specific details of what makes up the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse, their eyes start to glaze over.

But you - you explain everything to Miles with evident eagerness. It makes Miguel want to go up and say something, pick your brain and have his own conversation with you.

"...Now, Miles, when you want to find the density, it's mass divided by volume—" "Could you please keep it down in here? I'm feeling the reverberation of your soundwaves in the next room," Miguel says as he casually strolls up to you and Miles. "Excuse me?" You watch as this big man saunters over to the two of you. "If we're being factual, the frequency that we're speaking at right now wouldn't even be enough to be picked up from behind the door of this room." Though almost unnoticeable, Miguel's false irritated demeanor falters at your words. It was a joke. He was joking. Nonetheless, he continues walking towards the table, stealing a chair and plopping down opposite to you. "Hey!" Miles yells, almost knocked out of his chair by Miguel's hasty actions. "Relax, kid, you're fine," he hisses before turning back to you. "Miguel O'Hara" —he extends his hand, hoping that his eagerness isn't evident—"and you are?"

He basically hijacks Miles's study session with you. And, while annoyed (because physics is way harder than it sounds), Miles finds great amusement in seeing Miguel get fact-checked back-to-back.

Following your "conversation", Miguel makes more of an effort to brush up on his knowledge of science. You made him realize that he's been neglecting so much of the scientific world in favor of work.

He totally doesn't use this as an excuse to spend more time around you, though. The reason why Miguel silently observes you as you work in the lab is because he has to make sure that you don't accidentally screw something up, not because he wants to get to know you more but he's nervous and afraid that he'll say something stupid.

Oddly enough, you also bring Miguel and Miles closer together. After noticing his behavior around you, Miles goes to him, hoping that he can offer some advice.

"Look, it's a crush—no biggie!" Miles says, lackadaisically waving a hand. "I get them all the time!" Miguel doesn't say anything, only looks down at Miles from his platform. "Hey, my Uncle Aaron always used to tell me that when you like someone, you go up to them, put your hand on their shoulder and say 'Hey' really smoothly. Gotta make your voice come out like mantequilla, y'know? Makes 'em go crazy—" "Get out." "Huh? What? But tío, I'm just trying to offer some advice man-to-man—" "Get. Out." Slightly defeated, Miles turns to head for the door, mouth scrunched into a tight knob. "And that's what you're having trouble with in Physics?" Miguel adds. "A baby could do those problems!" "Hey, you got three of them wrong!" Miles calls back.

When you two finally start dating, Miguel tries his best to be the smartest, most educated version of himself. He's constantly spitting out random scientific facts or calling you to do experiments with him. He wants to impress you.

As the leader of the Spider Society, it's very rare that Miguel asks for help. He doesn't even like calling for backup when he needs it. But whenever he's working on something or needs to be reminded of what correct term to use, he calls you. You're the only one allowed in the lab with him while he's working and you're the only one allowed to pitch and test new ideas. It's a great display of trust and vulnerability on Miguel's part, given out of his trust and love for you.

He even allows you to make jokes when he messes up.

Carefully, Miguel picks up a piece of potassium with a pair of tweezers. In front of him is a row of beakers, filled with everything from water to new, colorful concoctions that he'd mixed together. He studies the potassium and then eyes the row of beakers, deciding on which one to drop the sucker in. "Cariño, come look at this, porfa," Miguel says once he's decided. You swivel around in your chair to look back at him just as he drops the potassium into the beaker of water. Before you can say anything, sparks fizzle within the glass followed by two loud pops. Miguel remains frozen in place, both in embarrassment and disbelief. He meant to drop it in the beaker next to the water. It's only when you come up and peck him on his ear does Miguel finally snap out of his thoughts. "Was that deliberate or are you just excited to see me?" you ask with a chuckle.

While you're not a fan of Miguel staying late and overworking himself, sometimes you plan dates in the lab where you two do fun, non-work-related experiments. While it's not as good as having him home and resting, you take solace in the fact that he's taking a break from work to do something fun.

Miguel dedicates himself to learning more about your favorite branch of science. Whether it's chemistry, physics, or a subfield such as acoustics, you best believe that he's going to read every book, do every experiment with you, and make sure that he understands how to better relate to you.

Likewise, you and Miguel also do a lot of biology experiments together. Even if it's something as plain as extracting and comparing DNA from different fruits, he likes to hear you prattle off facts and make observations and hypotheses.

You also use "research experiments" such as "the effects of sleep and relaxation" in order to coax Miguel into taking care of himself.

Miguel's favorite cheesy joke to make is that you two are like protons and electrons because you're a beam of positivity in his life and he, like an electron, is insanely attracted to you.

Your late-night talks are both existential and logical as you discuss how the Web of Life and Destiny bought you two together and whether or not it's a canon event, you two were meant to be.

Overall, Miguel loves you. Not just how easy it is to get lost doing something he loves but just you in general. Your brain, knowledge, face, body, how you keep him on his toes and constantly inspire him to learn and relearn—he loves all of it. And he forever cherishes you.

A/N: Once again, so sorry about the length of this! If any science aficionados would be so kind as to share some links to videos, websites, etc. that help them to better understand science, that would be much appreciated! Hope y'all enjoyed!

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anti-lies · 1 year ago

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Real Fact: The only way to be plural is by suffering severe childhood trauma according to the theory of structural dissociation

The theory of structural dissociation is currently the most accepted theory for how DID forms. Children naturally have less integrated personalities, and when someone undergoes severe trauma during childhood, it prevents their personality from fully integrating.

This theory is clearly explained in this Carrd.

As this Carrd says, there is no other way one could possibly be a system according to science.

This theory was created in 2006 by Onno van der Hart, Ellert R. S. Nijenhuis and Kathy Steele in the book The Haunted Self, and has remained the main theory for how traumatic dissociation forms for close to 20 years.

These authors are top experts in their field, and this theory clearly proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the only possible way to form dissociative parts of the personality is through trauma.

Any endos who say otherwise are faking and lying. All their so-called sources are outdated or written by themselves or are ableist.

Please, trust the science. Trust the doctors. And trust the Carrd about what those scientists and doctors say.

Anyone who would argue with the doctors who wrote made the Theory of Structural Dissociation are science deniers, no better than flat-earthers or anti-vaxxers.

Now that you've been properly informed, please reblog and share this accurate and true information so you can inform others.

And don't bother clicking underneath the cut. There's nothing important there.

Oh, you're still here?

I thought I told you to leave?

Go on. Get.

There's nothing to see here!

Oh... That.

What's that doing here?

Yeah, don't worry about that. That's just some article written by pro-endos to make it look like you can form dissociative parts of the personality without trauma.

Don't trust the pro-endos and their sources!

Oh... You saw that too, didn't you?

That the source for that happens to be the same exact people I told you to trust earlier.

Fine. Let's deal with that.

First, this says "may." That means that it isn't definitely true. And by rearranging those words, you'll realize that means it definitely isn't true according to the theory of structural dissociation.

Trust me when I say that this still supports us and that these doctors are on our side.

Second...

Endos are stupid

There. I said it.

Endos are what I call half-thinkers.

Endos will try to tell you that if someone is a valid source in one context then they need to be a valid source in all contexts to be consistent. That if you're using the theory of structural dissociation as evidence that the only way to have multiple dissociative parts with their own consciousness is through trauma or a disorder, you should acknowledge that the creators of that theory have entertained other possibilities.

But you who are reading this are smarter than any of those half-thinking endos. You're 4 times as smart as these half-thinkers. You can think double what any endo can at least. That makes you, at minimum, a double-thinker.

And as intelligent and critical double thinkers, you can understand how important context is.

In the first context, the Carrd that referenced the theory by Onno van der Hart and Ellert R. S. Nijenhuis is supporting True Science.

In the second, their actual words from their paper are going against True Science. They're stating something may exist that we know is scientifically impossible. Something we know is scientifically impossible because of what we've heard other people say about the Theory of Structural Dissociation. And that proves the creators of the theory of structural dissociation wrong!

So don't let endos use quotes like this to brainwash you. Remember that you are an intelligent and critical double thinker.

Stay smart and hold firm in your beliefs and values, and never stop double thinking!

#syscourse #anti endogenic #anti endo #did #did osdd #osdd #cdd #plural #plurality #sysblr #multiplicity #actually a system #psychiatry #actually dissociative #dissociative identity disorder #dissociative system #system stuff

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ryeun · 9 months ago

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Rereading is wonderful because why did I forget about this little detail. Apparently they have chewing gum in the TEK world! A quick google search tells me the first chewing gum was patented in the late 1860s, which is interesting. Since TEK takes place in a fictional world and not on Earth, it’s hard to compare technological advances and eras.

On the same note, the reason why I went back to the earlier chapters in the first place was because I remembered that Nagyunn bought a magazine of Najin:

Which is interesting because having Najin’s picture on the cover and such (as magazines are) implies the existence of technology able to capture a person’s likeness and print it out. Either that or it is hand drawn and then printed, which is viable (unlike the possibility of every copy being hand drawn, because that is simply not plausible and entirely impractical/not cost efficient).

The extent to which the technology in TEK has advanced is unclear; there are magical scrolls distributed among the knights that are used for communication, and they seem to work like a messaging app or social platform on a phone (not sure if they have other applications or uses because we’ve only seen knights scrolling through chat logs or receiving an announcement/message).

But the question is… how long have they been around? They clearly don’t have actual scientifically made cell phones, as is common in fantasy worlds with the existence of magic, but Wild Dog Fidorance seems inept at communicating through the scrolls (I don’t have the screenshot sorry) as if they’re something new. Of course, it might just be because they don’t seem to be in the use of the common people, which would mean that those who become knights would not be accustomed to them growing up, but… I don’t know. Sure, Qilin and other knights, as well as Nagyunn, get the hang of it quickly, but that doesn’t mean it’s been around for a long time. In Nagyunn’s case, he didn’t even know they existed until he met the magician.

So, we know there must be a device used for printing copies of something, there is a magical device that is used by knights to communicate, and that somehow magazines with pictures are printed in color. Is there some device, likely magical, used to take pictures? Is someone meeting with people like Najin and having them pose for hours to capture their likeness? Who knows.

If you were looking for a crazy theory with an answer, I sincerely apologize… but I only bring questions, not answers!! Maybe you can think about it and come up with something, with these details presented to you. (And if you do, please share!! I’d love to talk about the TEK world more! I’m slowly in the process of rereading TEK and taking note of details whenever I have time, which is not too often. Originally I started rereading from chapter 20 and onward—the latest chapter I was working on was 66—but I came back to the first chapters to refresher my knowledge.)

#the ember knight #ember knight #epic of gilgamesh #aeneulgeuni #nagyuun #najin #hwan daeng give me answers!!#worldbuilding

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nehswritesstuffs · 2 months ago

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Scientific Convention

A while ago I was asked about what I would do if I wrote a sequel to Peer Review [FFN/AO3], and then that got me thinking, so everyone go thank @chromatic-lamina for this.

4955 words; please read Peer Review first before this because it will make so much more sense; general warning for medical descriptors (very specifically feet and things that can make them extra) that can be pretty gross depending on one’s personal tolerance (despite this, there will be Obviously Fake Medicine, as I am not going to pretend that I am a fully-qualified medical professional by any means); takes place shortly after Law becomes a Warlord but also before Punk Hazard; if you don’t think reading a fic about someone literally presenting a research piece/case study isn’t fun then be warned that this might not be the fic for you

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Lvneel was absolutely teeming with excitement as they prepared for another regional convention. It was their turn to host the medical summit, where all the immediate area’s preeminent minds would converge and share their findings with the world. People were gathering from all over the North Blue to attend, and for good measure: now that there was no Flevance, it was up to Lvneel to be one of the standard-bearers of excellence in Northern medical care. It was frankly a step down in that regard, but that was neither here nor there at this point.

“I don’t like this,” Law grumbled. He was standing in a hotel room in Lvneel’s capitol area while his three closest crew members—friends, truly, but don’t tell them that—were fussing over his appearance. It was a transformation that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, as they were turning a powerful and feared pirate captain into the frumpiest academic they could muster. He was in loose-fitting slacks and a lumpy sweater over an open-collared shirt, while Penguin and Shachi put makeup on his hands to cover his tattoos and Bepo concentrated on making his hair look as naturally messy as possible.

“Ah, relax,” Shachi said casually. “The more we build up this academic business, the more likely it will benefit us all in the end.”

“Benefit us?” Law questioned. “How are you getting into all this?”

“If we ever need a place to lay low, then Lvneel will welcome its dear son back as he helps some friends of his while they get on their feet,” Penguin replied. He finished off Law’s left hand and nodded—not a bad job. “You do this, get a bit more established with the medical community on a face-to-face basis, and you’re golden—we’re golden. Right?”

“Right,” Shachi agreed. “Don’t worry, Captain. We’ve got your back.”

“I don’t know if I should feel better about that or not,” Law frowned. He looked at himself in the mirror and didn’t entirely like what he was seeing. Once he put on the eyeglasses that were currently sitting on the dresser, he knew exactly what ghosts would come back to haunt him. The only reason he even agreed was that maybe those same ghosts might haunt the other conference attendees as well. “You almost done?”

“I am, Captain,” Bepo said. Shachi took one last look at his own handiwork and nodded—he was done as well. “I think you’re ready for your debut, Dr. Wittman Lars. You sure you don’t want one of us to come along as a secretary?”

“No—if I do that, I’m going to drag Ikkaku out of the Polar Tang,” he decided. Law stood up and grabbed the glasses, putting them on without checking how it looked in the mirror. “A male secretary would stick out in this crowd. I just got named a Warlord—I need to stick out less.”

“Well then that’s on you for going and accepting both a speaking position to present the nastiest shit ever and filling a Shichibukai seat within a month,” Penguin teased. Law scowled, unable to refute that. “Now get a move on, champ; registration opens in half an hour and it’s a twenty minute walk to the venue. Go out there and do the Heart Pirates and Flevance proud!” He smacked Law on the rear like a sports coach, trying to get him towards the door.

Law figured that it would take until about noon for Shachi and Bepo to find all the pieces and put Penguin back together.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Soon as Law arrived at the convention venue, he knew that he was going to be out of his element. Piracy was generally a young person’s game, and the ones who made it long enough to develop weird crew themes and/or grow old were not forces to reckon with; medical professionals, on the other hand, skewed older, battier, and from what he could tell, were just as passionate about their profession as some pirates he’d run into. Once in line, he stared at the large hall containing dozens upon dozens of booths and displays, the only things grounding him to reality being the messenger bag with his presentation over his shoulder and the paper takeaway cup of coffee he had bought on the way over to blend in better.

‘Just act normal,’ he thought, taking a sip. ‘You’re just a normal doctor going to a normal medical convention, to give a normal dissertation. There is nothing weird about this…’

“Hello!” said a voice, making him jump in surprise. Law almost dropped his coffee in fright—who the fuck?! He looked and saw an elderly man standing next to him, a gleaming smile on his face. “You alright?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

“Welcome, son! I don’t think we’ve met,” the other man said. He held out his hand and Law took it, the elderly man shaking the younger’s entire arm. “I’m Dr. Kingford Kennichi. You are?”

“Wittman Lars,” Law replied, just a bit too loudly. He coughed and tapped his chest with his fist, pretending to clear his lungs when he was instead just flattening the Flevance from his accent. “Sorry—Dr. Wittman Lars. This is my first convention that doesn’t involve costumes.”

“Ah, so you’re that lad that Meg let through a while back,” Dr. Kingford nodded. “I knew you were on the younger side, but you’re just a baby! You single?”

Law couldn’t believe his ears. “What…?”

“Not me; got a couple grandkids that might be more your speed though,” the old man laughed. He gave Law a few firm pats on the back—Nika above and below, how was that any better?! He got to the registration table and tried to ignore the old man by getting his badge, but his adversary was a stubborn one, pouncing once he was out of line. “Where you been that you can’t come to any of the conventions until now? I hear that you seem to work remotely…”

“I… work… on a ship…” All of Law’s ability to think and speak seemed to be whisked away, which made the old man laugh.

“Ah, figured as much—we lose some of our best to the Navy in most years.”

“Not the Navy,” Law replied quickly. Dr. Kingford raised an eyebrow. “It’s an… uh… it’s a private ship.”

“Bah! Relax! It’s not like you work for pirates! Nothing to be ashamed of!” Dr. Kingford patted Law on the back again—oh no, was this going to become a thing??? What did he do to deserve this—and the man smirked as he motioned with his other hand towards a specific booth. “Come over here with me—I’ve got some colleagues I want to introduce you to—part of this entire thing is networking after all!”

Law let out a slight whimper of a noise in protest, but now he was trapped, and without the ability to use his Devil Fruit for a quick escape or else risk drawing too much attention to himself. He was doomed.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ikkaku said as she slapped a pair of cards down on the table. She and the rest of the crew were playing a tournament of King’s Alone while waiting for news from either their captain or the three he took with him, hoping that they wouldn’t have to go in and extract them. Winners had been paired with winners and paired with winners, meaning it was now down to her and Hakugan, the others watching intently as she waited for the masked man to draw one of her cards. No one dared help him pick—they knew retribution would be swift.

Hakugan’s fingers hovered by Ikkaku’s cards, carefully hedging his bets before swiping one of them. She let out a big grin as he looked at it—the King—and settled in to watch the exaggerated lamenting as her opponent gained the only non-pairable card. They all whined and pissed and moaned to the point they almost drowned out the ringing of the transponder snail sitting nearby. Luckily, Ikkaku noticed and slammed her fists on the table.

“SHUT UP! CAPTAIN’S CALLING!” Everyone else went dead quiet, the Den Den Mushi becoming fully audible in their silence. She picked it up and let it cllllick on, putting on her most shit-eating expression and sweetest voice. “You’ve reached the Sora, Warrior of the Sea Information Hotline for all your pathetically nerdy needs. State your reason for calling and we can connect you with a representative best suited to your inquiry.”

“That is not funny,” Law replied. The snail looked distressed and was mimicking the specific lilt in the captain’s voice that appeared during the rare instance of panic. “On today of all days, that is not funny.”

“Oh, lighten up, Cap,” she smirked. “I would think you’d be a bit more normal when surrounded by other medical junkies. Did you forget your slides?”

“No—I need you or Clione to come down here and pull me out of this trap!”

Everyone looked at the snail curiously. A trap…?

“I thought that’s why Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo are on standby.”

“Yeah, but… they won’t.” Wait, was that a whine…? “Listen: I could barely sneak away to make this call. All I need is someone who can pass for a secretary to come down here and…”

“No can do,” Ikkaku replied. She plucked another card from Hakugan’s hand—two of clubs—and placed it on the table with the two of hearts. “I’m literally about to win no cleaning duties for six months.”

“You barely have cleaning duties.”

“…and soon I will have less of them.” She offered her cards to Hakugan again, allowing him to start making his decision. “What kind of a trap you in, anyhow?”

“The elderly want to network.”

“Ah, that’s not too bad…”

“I have been told I need to be introduced to no fewer than thirteen of their single adult grandchildren, and at least four who are going through a divorce.”

“Did you try explaining to them that you’re normally a gross cretin who forgets to bathe or eat when studying? Or that you usually have to be babysat by a bear in coveralls? How about the line where you explain why the ship will just casually smell like cadavers? You know, go in for the kill.” Hakugan plucked the ten of diamonds from her hand. “Figuratively, of course.”

“This is not helping.”

“You knew that the threat of socializing was the risk you were going to have to take when doing this,” she reminded him.

“You did warn me, alright, I admit it; now someone needs to come be my shield or else I will blow everyone’s cover.”

“Mmm.”

He grumbled, the snail mirroring his annoyance. “Please.”

“Tough tits, Cap; consider this practice for when you need to start doing Actual Warlord Shit. Ta.” She hung up the receiver and glared at the back of Hakugan’s cards while her crewmates all marveled at her boldness. “He’s being a big baby and you all know it.”

“Yeah, but, he said please,” Uni noted. “Only Bepo usually gets a please.”

“Yeah, yeah; maybe this’ll make him reconsider that strategy,” she shrugged. Ikkaku took a card and cringed: the King. That’s it—she was now ready to go to war.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The transponder snail in his hand fell asleep and Law wanted to scream. What good was having a dedicated crew if they were going to get sassy at the most inopportune times? He put the snail in its carrying case and slid it back in his bag—no dessert for the entire crew for a week.

“What are you doing back here?” a voice asked, making Law jump. He looked and saw it was one of the elderly doctors he had been trying to give the slip for the past hour and a half. Dr. Langley was a dentist with it sounded like three adult grandkids she thought he needed to be introduced to, two granddaughters and a grandson “in case that’s more your speed.”

It made him want to run at the very sight of her.

“Was just making a call back to my staff,” he semi-lied. “Confirming everything is running as-scheduled; they don’t always stay on-task when I’m away.”

“Oh, that’s just the burden of having staff,” Dr. Langley smirked, waving it off. “Listen: if we head on over now, then I can introduce you to someone who I think would get along splendidly with you…”

“I-I, uh, really don’t have the time,” he said. “I’ve got to practice for my presentation.”

“Can’t beat my first presentation,” she scoffed. “Got myself so worked up I lost my lunch all over the front row.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid,” he replied. Well, not lose his coffee—chances were he wouldn’t eat until hours after he got back to the Polar Tang—and it wasn’t like his newfound “colleagues” were making it any better.

“Maybe a pretty face will calm your nerves,” Dr. Langley insisted, pushing him along.

Fuck, this was such a disaster! Why was Law attracting people like this?! Would this be every scientific convention he would attend?! It made him want to stick to ones about Sora, Warrior of the Sea and only ones about Sora, Warrior of the Sea. Dr. Langley stopped at a booth about topical pediatric antibacterials (why…?) and shoved Law towards a young woman who was working there.

“Help,” he whispered soon as he made eye contact. The woman seemed to be about his age and when she began to put two and two together, she groaned exasperatedly.

“Nonna, what are you doing to this guy?!” she scolded.

“Oh, nothing,” Dr. Langley said innocently. “I was just thinking that you and Dr. Wittman might have a lot in common…”

“That is extremely rude! I can’t believe you’re being like this!” The woman kicked Law outside of her grandmother’s view and motioned towards the table, which was covered in a cloth. “Is this the work of your little matchmaker club?! Because those of us in the line of fire have had it!”

While Dr. Langley was distracted, Law ducked underneath the table and hid himself within the sheet. He then took a deep breath and tried to concentrate—if he tried hard enough, he’d be able to create a Room without the usual blueish hue, it being clear instead. It was a risk, but possible if he was not disturbed. Another breath, then another, and he let the sounds of the convention melt away into white noise as he used his Devil Fruit and located a discarded bento box that had been kicked behind a curtain. One use of Shambles and he was free, dropping the Room immediately in case he lost his concentration too quickly.

Poking his head out from behind the curtain, Law decided everything was clear and he hurriedly made his way down to the presentation hall, lingering in the standing section by the door. Someone was finishing up describing their own case study, presenting her findings flawlessly and confidently. He didn’t even know what it was she was doing a presentation on—all he knew was that he envied the poise of the doctor up on the stand. Everyone clapped as she bowed and left the stage.

“Next up, we have Dr. Wittman Lars, presenting a case study from his time on the Grand Line, his first in what we hope is the first in a very long line of dissertations,” someone said into a voice-snail. “Will Dr. Wittman Lars please proceed up to the stage?”

Law swallowed hard and began to walk towards the stage, gripping the strap of his messenger bag. He found where the voice-snail was and the aid who was in charge of a projector he could utilize for his slides. Once those were handed over, he took his hand-written notes and stepped towards the podium, almost swearing that the voice-snail sitting on the wooden surface was mocking him.

No; a feared pirate and Warlord was not going to be bested by a crowd of professionals in middle-age on average! There was no reason for him to screw this up.

“Hello…?” Law cleared his throat and leaned slightly towards the snail. “I’ve never talked into one of these like this; can you hear me in the back?”

Someone along the back wall put their hands up in a circle above their head—he was good.

“Thank you. I’m, uh, Tr…” he coughed, “…sorry, I’m Dr. Wittman Lars. I am certified out of Lvneel in general medicine and work as a ship’s doctor in the Grand Line. Although I’ve specialized in surgery since my certification seven years ago, I am functionally a general practitioner due to my professional position as the only qualified medical person on staff. Today, I am here to give a presentation on an individual case study that I thought might be of use…”

“Get on with it, rookie!” someone shouted in the crowd. Giggles erupted and Law’s face went hot with blush.

“…as I was saying: I found a novel case of tinea pedis accompanied by localized tinea lesions elsewhere on the body that might be of great use, as it was a severe and complex case requiring treatment outside our normal prescribed regimens. If everyone is done laughing, I have some accompanying slides I’d like to go through before I get into said treatment.” He looked at the aide, who checked the projector snail’s connection and gave a thumb’s up—things were a-go. “So, um, my case study is a former slave of the Celestial Dragons recently deemed unworthy to work, male, aged forty-nine. When I first became acquainted with the individual, he had been recently released from Celestial custody. Instead of going into what he went through to acquire this affliction, I think it’s time to go through his symptoms. Slide, please.”

The aide clicked on the button atop the snail shell and the first slide popped up on the wall behind Law. There, for the whole room to see, was two photos of Jean Bart’s feet. One showed the soles of his feet, the other the tops, with both images showing off how grossly horrific they had once been. Cracked, scaly, discolored skin was most of the foot, with gnarled toenails and weeping lesions as the main accompaniments. The entire hall seemed to gag, then grow curiously quiet—what sort of place was this newbie in?

“A type of dermatophytosis, ringworm of the foot, tinea pedis, the local common term being ‘sauna foot’ and known globally as ‘fungal foot’ and ‘athlete’s foot’, is often seen in former slaves returning to their families, though—again--this specific case was of particular note. Please notice the near-complete disfiguration of the foot in these wide shots—these were taken upon the removal of his boots during the initial primary health evaluation. Slide.”

Another click and the aide pulled up another photo, this one a close-up of the left big toenail. He could hear some additional gagging in the audience, and for good reason: it was discolored, cracked, and most importantly, was visibly moist. “This is an example of extreme progression of the disease. You can see here that it has spread to the subject’s nail, completing the infection of the entire extremity. Slide.”

Slide after slide, Law showed off nasty photos of other areas where Jean Bart had been infected. The fungal infection had spread to his arms and legs, his groin, and even into his scalp. He paused on a slide that was a compilation of all the different parts of Jean Bart that had been infected.

“Now I’m not going to get into the method by which this was contracted. Sauna foot is called as such in the North because it often occurs in poorly-cleaned saunas, which maintain excellent temperatures and opportunities for growth and transmission if not regularly disinfected. We all know the rumors of what goes on in Mary Geoise: there are many different ways he could have been exposed. What we can say is that it is clearly a compounded dermatophytosis infection, with multiple contact points, and an enforced lack of both treatment and hygiene encouraging its spread. Slide.”

The audience seemed to let out a collective breath of relief—all the infested, putrid photos were replaced with clear skin and fresher-looking nails. “This is after eight months of intensive treatment, the last two of which were even slightly effective. During that time, the subject was isolated to his own shower stall and bed linens, sharing very little with crewmates. Standard antifungal medications—both oral and topical—made little progress, if at all, including remedies I came across by sailing the Grand Line. It was a medical enigma, until I remembered something: Flevance.”

Awkward silence settled over the presentation hall. Many there had clearly not heard, let alone thought, of Flevance in over fifteen years. Some even allowed their jaws to drop, clearly discovering a new dimension to the speaker they had not anticipated… one that they hoped was all in their heads.

(Law also did not want to mention the fact one of the things he attempted to treat Jean Bart with was his Devil Fruit ability, but the facts it was well-known to belong to a notorious pirate and it being a medical practitioner’s wet dream to possess… he conveniently left out the part where even the Op-Op Fruit alone of all things couldn’t prevent Jean Bart’s fungal infection from coming back, meaning he had to find some sort of complimentary treatment…)

“Flevance,” Law continued, “had a compound designed specifically for treating acute cases of dermatophytosis, which many of us have likely seen before in the days before the Purge, podiatrists in particular. The problem with attempting a recreation is twofold: finding an old journal or instructional volume from then, and figuring out how to synthesize it without exposure to Amber Lead, as the heavy metal poisoning it provided is what caused many of the Flevench casualties pre-Purge. As field treatment—”

“That’s a lie!” someone shouted. Law paused reading off his notes to take a deep breath and look like he was simply scanning the audience, except he was really feeling about with his Observation Haki, bringing him to a group of people who were very nervous, as well as someone dead in the middle who felt extremely smug.

“Beg pardon?” he asked, making it clear in his voice he was very, very angry with the interruption. Sure enough, the perpetrator stood and identified himself.

“It’s common knowledge that Amber Lead Disease is a highly-infectious bacterial infection that attacks everything from the respiratory system to the dermis and musculoskeletal system,” the interrupter said. Law made a dismissive noise, which only proved to piss him off. “It was named that because it developed in the mines! You couldn’t’ve been barely off your mother’s teat when the Purge of Flevance happened! What would you know about how horrifying it is?!”

“Then please cite me your research—or comparable research done by local, independent accredited sources and not related to the same folks who provided my patient with the appropriate conditions to contract several types of treatment-resistant tinea at once. Childish terror at being faced with the potential prospect of treating an afflicted patient does not count.” The interrupter said nothing. “Now sit.”

Law gestured as though he had up a Room and was using Takt, slowly sweeping his pointer finger from at the offender towards the floor. Said person sat down while everyone else was deathly quiet.

“If we’re all done with that,” Law said before clearing his throat and continuing, “I was saying: field treatment in the Grand Line is not one for waiting and seeing, or making sure a control-group clinical trial can be achieved before treating the impacted patient. It involves a lot of experimentation and quick thinking. After making sure that my patient was fully aware of the risks, I was able to acquire a more recent textbook from Flevance Medical University’s pharmacology track. The specific procedure as outlined in Moore, Trafalgar, Hand, et al, fourth edition, did indeed involve a tincture of refined Amber Lead—as sourced from the original publication—so even if long-term exposure to Amber Lead was not poisonous, it was not always readily available in the latter half of the Grand Line. Finding an alternative, non-toxic heavy metal composition as a replacement activation element was going to be key…”

Thus, Law began outlining the process he took to replicate the specific qualities in Amber Lead that made the old remedy effective, with now the added safety of not using a toxic compound. The presentation hall remained eerily silent as he did so, giving brief (and just vague-enough) sidebars into the origins of his research and how he even came across some of the literature without completely giving away that he was Flevench in origin. He did not mind oblique references that could imply anything from him having visited the White City as a child to being from Flevance himself—anything that he could neither confirm nor deny that set terror in the hearts of those who ignored his home as it was murdered and chased him from potential care as a child.

Eventually, Law was done with describing the torturous regimen he had put Jean Bart through—it had been so much ointment—and finished on a slide composing of photos of the man’s healing feet. He adjusted his father’s glasses and looked out over the crowd; he had them by their balls.

“Any questions?” he asked, trying not to let his mouth twitch into a grin. “I still have some room in my allotted time slot, if anyone is interested. Yes?” He pointed at someone a few rows back, who seemed to be timidly raising their hand.

“What gave you the idea to look into Flevench remedies?” the person asked. Law shrugged casually.

“I might generally be helping to bring down the average age in this building, but I am still old enough to remember when Flevance was one of the greatest medical centers in the world… on par with the Grand Line’s Sakura Kingdom and the Vegapunk Labs in many regards, if my memory is correct. It would make sense that some of the answers we seek today can be found in Flevench records before they’re lost to time. Anyone else?”

“How confident are you that your data can lead to a control-group study?” another attendee asked.

“Highly—that information is found within the formal write-up I submitted to the Greater Lvneel Medical Journal. Provided there are no complications, it should be in next quarter’s issue. Yes?”

“At what rate do you expect such a study succeed?”

“If we’re modeling our expectations of efficacy as stated in Moore, Trafalgar, Hand, et al, fourth edition, then we’re possibly looking at something along the lines of eighty-three to ninety-nine percent. It can be assumed that if a control-group study with a wide-enough population representation is completed, this could also become an effective late-stage treatment for Minks, Seafolk, and other varied Humanoid species.”

“Why would you consider Minks and Seafolk?”

“Stay for a few years on the Grand Line and you tell me whether or not all you see are Humans. Besides, I grew up with a Mink here in the North Blue. They are more wide-ranged than you’d think. Yes?”

“Does this mean you are advocating for further investigation into Flevench research to find what can be salvaged?”

A grin tugged at the corner of Law’s mouth—bingo.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was late by the time Law fully escaped the Elder Matchmaker’s Club and got back to the hotel room. None of his friends were there, so he allowed himself to flop face-first onto one of the beds and screamed into the mattress. After he was screamed-out he simply laid there, waiting until his roommates returned. They eventually came in, all three at least a little bit plastered, though only the Humans were obnoxious about it.

“There you are Dr. Wittman,” Penguin scoffed. “You are the fucking talk of the tavern scene tonight.”

“No shit—actively denying that you almost died of a bacterial or viral infection? Your balls must ache from how much they weigh.” Shachi poked Law in the back and his captain did not move. “Oi… you die of embarrassment or something?”

“Nearly,” he grumbled into the bedding. He adjusted his head so he could look at the goobers, Bepo already passed out in the armchair. “What did you do to him?”

“Stop being such a mother hen,” Shachi frowned. “The bear wanted some beer, so we got him some beer.”

“You two are insufferable,” Law mumbled.

“We’re insufferable?” Penguin smirked. “There’s actually rumor going around that you’re secretly a contagion-riddled biohazard with a mission to infect the area’s medical staff.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst rumor about me.”

“Another prevailing rumor is that you might just be a ghost sent to punish everyone via shame and semi-dubious science.”

“…again, could be worse.”

“Bep said he heard someone mention your father by name.”

“Now that’s the shit I like to hear.” Law smiled to himself, despite the fact Penguin and Shachi could very clearly see, and chuckled. “I hope none of them sleep for the rest of the fucking week.”

“Pretty sure you took care of that, Cap,” Shachi laughed. The pair them piled into their bed—with the sheet between them! No funny business—and went to sleep as Law drifted off peacefully for the first time in a few months.

It was about damn time.

#One Piece #One Piece fan fiction #Trafalgar Law #chromatic-lamina #Heart Pirates #I like to imagine that Law is smug as fuck about this whole ordeal #and the Northern medical community now has a prevailing SET of rumors about one of their shining young stars #they need to be both terrified of him and thankful of him is what I'm saying #Trafalgar D. Water Law #my birthday present to you dear reader #bc apparently now I write Law fic for my birthday lol

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rollinouttahere-writes · 3 months ago

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Yknow, talking about and you’ll no longer burn, how interesting would it be if the other siblings were still alive?

Im very much aware that they’re most likely not, but HUMOR ME FOR A SECOND!!!

There would be possibly a lot of tensity if the Sanji and any of his siblings (except possibly Reiju) were to reunite. Taunting, possibly even a fight, but also ‘somebody save me I have to live a poor person life’- one of the siblings

It’s also be really interesting if reader met one of them on her own!! Js assuming she doesn’t know much about the siblings ‘oh hey Sanji I met this guy who looks a lot like you but he’s green!’

‘WHAT.’ Cue 500 crises in Sanji.

Also, speaking of the AU, does Zeff open the Baratie later on in life? Will Sanji still be the sous chef? Let’s say like- it’s been years since Sanji was adopted. In this au, would he still join the Strawhats?

Also, in the original timeline, Zeff like. Eats his own leg, right? I think. In order to let Sanji have all the food. So he’s legless for one leg. Since like, there’s no need for that in this au as far as I can tell, does Zeff get to keep both legs?

Do you have an idea on the crewmates for the ship? Who’s the doctor, the head cook, navigator, so on and so forth? How many members are there, and what are some of their stories if you have any? How did they join the crew? How do they react to Sanji coming aboard?

Also, how do they react to his rat?

Please don’t mind the plethora of questions I am throwing your way I just love this au so so so much

Okay so Sanji's siblings all 1000% died in the buster call, and I'm not backtracking on that. This is the one AU I am absolutely refusing to allow audience participation in the shaping of. I have it planned out and know what I want to do with it, and if I do make any changes, it's going to be because I decided to do that. I need one AU where I don't have to argue with everyone about what's happening in it, though I'm sure someone will still try regardless.

Now then, while Sanji's siblings did die, their bodies were recovered and brought to Vegapunk to be examined/studied since they all were scientific marvels because of the enhancements Judge gave them. They are all superhuman in their strength and could become even stronger with some additions... so Sanji will in fact get a chance to see them again later, just not in the way that he remembered them. And with them being seraphims, they're going to be even scarier than they used to be.

Judge is still completely dead and gone though. Partially because he's physically unremarkable without the assistance of a raidsuit and they got all of his best research through reverse engineering his dead children, but mostly because I hate him and want him to stay dead lol

As for the rest of the questions:

1. Zeff always planned on opening the Baratie, but actually wanted to open it in the All Blue (in my opinion). He only opened it in the East Blue in the original because of losing his leg and crew. But since everything is going well for him in this AU, he is still aspiring to open his restaurant once he finally finds the All Blue. He even makes a half serious/half joking comment that Arlette is the only one worthy of being his sous chef in it since he's the only other one (besides his daughter) who believes in the All Blue's existence.

2. Yes, Zeff does still have both legs. They never even attacked the Orbit in this AU.

3. There is a whole crew, with the doctor, Chervil, being the only named one so far. I'm terrible with names so I'll be naming them as I go along, but I do plan to have all of their names be food based (like Chervil being a medicinal herb for example).

Zeff grew up on a small island within the Grand Line, and he worked his way up to the position of chef in a restaurant on it. Given how small and out of the way the island was from everything else, the food variety available to them was minimal to say the least. And while, sure, he could make do with what they had, he wanted more. He hated being so limited in what he could cook with, and that's what inspired him to chase after the All Blue. He closed the restaurant and gave an open invitation to everyone in it to come with him. Most did, though many would later leave after realizing just what being a pirate entailed.

Zeff scouts out more crewmates by scoping out restaurants across the seas and looking for people that stick out as being skilled beyond what the restaurant can give them. He's also prone to stealing the cooks from other pirate crews if he thinks they would be a good fit. Everyone on board is a cook in some way, shape, or form. They're called the Cook Pirates for a reason lol

Chervil is the closest thing they have to an exception to that rule, but he still has a food based connection. He was a doctor, but primarily an apothecarian, and took pride in growing all of his own herbs. Zeff was so impressed by the quality of his herb garden that he recruited him on the spot. Chervil wasn't particularly enthusiastic about being a pirate, but Zeff is very convincing and was very clearly not going to take no for an answer. Chervil is there to be a doctor and to provide quality herbs for the rest of the crew to cook with. He doesn't do any pirate activity and would faint if someone tried to force him into a battle.

4. Zeff's daughter knew that Choux would not be welcomed aboard, so she took it into her hands to come clean and appeal to Zeff's secret good nature. He was not happy about her knowingly bringing a rat onto his ship, but after being hit by a triple combo of sad puppy faces from his daughter, Arlette, and Choux all at once, he caved and said he would allow it, but the he would throw the rat overboard if he ever finds it chewing up the food in the pantry.

The rest of the crew was forced to accept Choux whether they liked it or not because what the captain says goes. Chervil does get startled by the rat while him and Zeff's daughter were working on detangling Arlette's hair. He fell out of his chair and practically screamed, prompting Zeff to scold his daughter for not warning him about Choux.

5. They will encounter the Straw Hats at some point, but I'm going to keep the specifics of that to myself for now since I already spoiled what happens with the Vinsmoke siblings.

#and you'll no longer burn #caniscreamintoanabyss

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alex31624 · 7 months ago

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Duck Comic Reading Club Week 20: Paperinik New Adventures: Extraordinary Repairs

Ok, Camera, Action wasn't good, but I'm sure PK will be back on track with this issue. Let's go…

Oh God no… is Gianmarco Villa, the guy from Urk, the worst looking issue so far…

Why I have to keep suffering?

That was my actual first impression, but as I kept reading I realize that this issue looks pretty good. The problems of Urk aren't here. I apologize Mr. Villa.

The story begins with Angus reporting how PK stopped a criminal, but not in his usual way. He was a bit more profesional. That of course made everyone freak out. Angus Fangus, a professional reporter? Must be sick.

But the kiwi has a possible scoop. He knows that Everett Ducklair disappeared every now and then, and he has a way into his secret lair. His boss shutted down the idea, afraid of the legal consequence.

Here, I have to give credit to Angus, he's a jerk, but has guts.

This intrusion doesn't go unnoticed. Angus shenanigans cut Uno access to some levels, and our favorite IA sent PK to the rescue.

And here comes what I think is the best part of the story. Camera 9.

I didn't get the Camera 9 love at first, but a mysterious retired fearless photographer, you have to love him.

He saw PK and his instincts kick in. He has to follow a story when is right in front of him.

Fangus kept tapping any button in front of him and that causes some problems for PK. He was about to be crushed but he was saved last second.

Camera 9 introduced himself as Stefan Vladuck, and I'm betting my brother-in-law's arm that that's an alias. Anyway, PK now has a partner.

Meanwhile, Angus made a terrible discover.

Look, I hate Angus, but, if you find a scientific millionaire genius' secret lair full of crazy weapons, you're gonna make assumptions. Is fair to think that Everett Ducklair is planning a massive attack.

Back to PK and Stefan, they're attacked by the security system. The action in this issue is perfectly drawn. Once again, I apologize Mr. Villa.

I've seen much worse.

Please, someone tell me that there's a huge one shot about Camera 9 life.

Then, we found the greatest weapon in Everett's arsenal.

THAT'S A FREAKING MECHA T-REX!

Holy mother of God, that's so freaking amazing. PK! Take that T-Rex and go fight crime!

Angus is convinced that Everett is trying to take over the town, and his absence is a facade. And here, he turned on is fanfiction writer powers and said that Everett is PK.

Is so funny he said that Everett and PK don't look alike, while working with Donald almost everyday.

There's more PK and Stefan action against robots, and Angus finally show his face to the hero.

Why is the centaur open and with the keys?

Also, why take the centaur when you found a freaking Mecha T-Rex?

Angus runs away, and PK is done for. All Tower secret are about to told and he will be marked as a criminal.

Ja! Yeah, no way buddy, Uno has a plan.

He sent Angus to the roof, and we have one of the best PK looks ever. He looks so frightening, absolutely marvelous.

And then...

YES! YES! YES!

HE DID IT! PK HAS KILL ANGUS!

The men pray, the women cry, the kids laugh. The world is hugging. Today we're happier. Thank you PK, thank you…

Oh. It was a hologram. That works too I guess.

PK and Stefan brought Angus to the lobby and left him on a sofa. All the other Channel 00 workers found him and he proceeded to tell his story up to the moment PK throw him to his doom.

We're back to the status quo. Angus is a weird crazy that somehow is still employee (also, why's he the anchor? who though people would like to see his face?) and PK secret identity will live another day.

Or is it?

That smile while he said best friend.

Camera 9 you bastard, you're awesome.

We're so back with this issue. So full of action and with a Camera 9 who steals the spotlight. When PK is good, is really good.

Of course, we have more of Trip, son of Raider, who apparently is terrible at sports. He can't play even a few seconds.

But he has his chances to prove himself, he only needs to stop a penalty kick. Not bragging, but I'm really good at that. Anyway, Trip couldn't and instead of suck it up, he went back in time and stopped the ball. Trip is a hero.

But he's also a proud jerk, and needs to feel the glory again, but he fails. Loser again.

But turns out, Raider, who was wearing his best Marge Simpson wig, interfered with the ball, making Trip fail. Harsh but fair. I hope Trip learnt his lesson.

Only three reviews left.

#dcrc paperinik #dcrc #donald duck #duckverse #pkna #dcrc week 20 #paperinik #angus fangus #uno ducklair #camera 9 #stefan vladuck #raider #trip #duck avenger #comic review

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christian-oc-tournament · 1 year ago

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Please vote based on the picture AND the description!

Princess Rovyna [Between the Veil and Crown @secretariatess]

Born to a slave of the Phromptan king, Rovyna decided to reject the path she was put on and set her eyes on higher statuses. She knew she would be unable to gain respect of the court of her own political merit, no matter how good she was. So she fought to rise above her fellow slave sisters, learning how to present herself as and behave like a real princess of the court. Her efforts were rewarded when her father sought a daughter who would be a slight to the Harlofelp kingdom, without raising suspicion that she was not a true princess. Having achieved her goal of obtaining a title by marriage to the Crown Prince, she continues to make something of herself and the prince she married, determined not to be a figurehead as she was expected to be but rather have a hand in shaping her new kingdom.

Prometheus [Naru and Shiido @kazeharuhime]

The first member of the Order Elite, which are the three heads of a scientific order that studies planets and life itself by destroying them. Prometheus is the founder of the Order, which began as his college thesis and eventually took shape into the scientific society it is today. Prometheus largely takes care of administrative tasks such as managing personnel, communications, and security to some extent. As the backbone of the organization, he rarely participates in any scientific work these days, and instead largely deals in management. For a reason likely only known to his other Elites, Prometheus despises romance and all other forms of intimacy. Did some traumatic event occur or was it something entirely mundane that caused his aversion? Waizu won't spill, and Prometheus likely banned Logolas from telling you. Otherwise she totally would, as they have something of a friendly/not-so-friendly employer-employee relationship. The slightest movements and noises can sometimes annoy him. Don't egg him on or someone might end up losing body parts over it. Trust me, several of his employees have already been there and nearly enacted mandatory tail docking for every member of the Order with one. Whoever got him off it for sure dodged a bullet for the whole organization and possibly even for Prometheus himself (he is not immune to annoying himself).

#christian oc tournament #round 1 #group 6 right side

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countrymusiclover · 1 year ago

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19 - The X Gene

Part 20

Battle of Heart and Mind

Tag list - ask to be added (in my ask box please) @aintinacage @hiraethrhapsody @mostlymarvelgirl @importantgalaxyrunaway

Astraea and I had woken up earlier than the boys in our small cabin house. I knew that there was only one person who could put my nerves at ease. I loved my son but I needed to know was it even possible for him to have powers or not. “Mom, are you sure he will hear me at this distance?”

“You don’t know Charles as well as I do. He’s very powerful.” I answered her where we sat down on the back porch swing.

She tilted her head to the side. “Like you and daddy are?”

“Yes, like me and your father. Now remember what I told you, just focus your mind on him and Charles will find us.” Holding my hands out for her she placed her hands in mine closing her eyes and I did the same. We waited a few seconds before I felt his voice inside my head.

The moment I opened my eyes he was rolling towards us in his wheelchair that Hank had put in a joystick controlling to make it easier to move the chair for him. “Addi, Astraea, it’s good to see you.”

“Hi Charles, I was hoping you could help me understand something.” I turned while holding my daughter’s hand while we were appearing in an astral projection form through my daughter’s mind space.

He gave me a concerned look. “What is on your mind, Addi?”

“I was hoping you could give me answers on whether or not Ryder will ever show a mutation like any of us have. I mean I will love my boy regardless. But I just want to know if he will ever show any mutation.” Slumping my shoulders I huffed in defeat praying he would have something.

The professor clicked his tongue. “I am not certain I can find an answer to that type of concern. Mutation is something we are slowly finding out is coming from the male parent.”

“But what about when both parents are mutants? What do you think could happen in that case, Charles?” I blurt out the question he wasn’t really answered yet.

The man named Professor X blankly stared at me. “Addi, I'm sorry to say I have no answer for that.”

“It's alright, Charles. I know if you had anything you would provide it.” He didn’t owe me an apolgy.

“That is a tough question. But from a scientific perspective I could have Hank look at his DNA and see if he can come up with something more for you.”

“Can you get the DNA from me, Uncle Charles?” Astraea asked him.

The telepath tapped the side of his head. “Unfortunately not in the mind space, dear. He would need your brother to physically be here. And I must point out his male DNA has a tiny difference to yours so only Ryder can produce what we would need.”

“I’ll go tell him we are visiting you.” She quickly took my hand and our hands turned red giving me a source of her power so she could leave us alone to talk.

I attempted to stop her but she already vanished from our mind space view. “Astraea wait-“

“Calm your worries, Addi. Her suggesting it will be harmless.” Charles raised a hand, feeling my mind beginning to race in concern.

Slumping my shoulders tucked hair behind my ear. “Yes I know I shouldn't worry. But you’ve seen how powerful her mind is. She can do damage when she doesn’t really mean to.”

“Yes she can indeed. She has the most powerful mind I have ever seen, especially before I ever saw Jean Greys when she started attending here.” Charles ran a hand over his chin thinking deep in thought before his hand tangled in his brown hair and finally dropped to the armrest of the wheelchair.

I nodded my head in understanding, mumbling under my breath allowing my mind to go back to the first night we saw her powers for ourselves. “You put me and Erik together who are already powerful and she is the result of it.”

Laying in my bed with Erik I heard our bedroom door creak open at the same time as I heard someone speak in my head knowing it was Charles. “Addi, there's something you need to see.” I got out of bed slowly doing my best to not wake Erik since it was rare he got a full night's sleep. Throwing on one of my sweatshirts I followed the back of his wheelchair down the hallway until we reached my daughter's room. Ryder had his own room a few doors down from hers.

“Professors?” One door creaked open showing a girl named Carianne.

Charles waves his hand shoeing her to bed before she woke anyone else in the hallway up. “Carianne, back to bed.”

“What's wrong, Charles?” I questioned my friend with him opening the door and I held it open with his chair rolling into her bedroom. My gaze shifted around the dimly lit room. The walls appeared to be melting and I could see my daughter shifting around in her covers. I answered my previous question to him. “I think I can see why.”

Charles grunted using his upper strength to get out of his chair and sit down on the edge of the bed. “Astraea, it’s me. Just calm your mind.”

“Ah! Uncle Charles - mom, I had a nightmare.” She suddenly woke up trying to catch her breath and moved to sit upright on the pillows behind her head.

I maneuvered to the other side of the bed sitting down by her side. I didn’t enjoy seeing her like this. I knew I had my own demons inside of my mind after everything that has happened since the night we met Xavier. Yet the concept of nightmares for a young telepath like her could only be ten times worse than I could even fathom. “It was just a dream, honey. I’ll be here until you go to sleep.”

“No! No, it wasn’t a dream. I saw - I saw you were pregnant and then you lost the baby.” Astraea snapped back at me.

I tried to calm her down again, noticing that the glass in the windows was beginning to crack clearly by whatever she was feeling inside of her mind space. “Astraea-”

“Mom, you won't understand. You don't know what it's like to be afraid to shut your eyes!” She gripped the covers in her hands, releasing some tears.

“You’re mother may not know the feeling but I do. It wasn't so long ago that I was plagued by voices, myself. All their suffering. All their pain. Their secrets.” Charles focused his attention on my daughter and her eyes became brighter by the words he said.

Astraeq wiped away some tears. “But what if my nightmare comes true?”

“Lie back, dear.” Charles instructed her and he lifted her blankets back over her body. “Don't worry your head about it. If it comes to pass we will face it together, you and I.”

She grasped his hand in her smaller one. “How did you face what you fears?”

“Everyone fears that which they do not understand. You will learn to control your powers. And when you do... you'll have nothing to fear…my little darling.” Charles brushed hair out of her face kissing her forehead too.

She snuggled under her covers whispering something that I wasn’t expecting. “Thank you, Charles….you're a good dad.”

Charles and I slowly walked out of the room and I shut the door behind me gently to not wake her up again. We walked down the hallway together in silence until we ended up outside his bedroom door. “Charles, wait. I'm sorry if that was awkward for you when she…uh called you dad.” He paused, pushing his bedroom door open glancing over his shoulder at me.

“No apology is necessary, Addi.” He reached up, looping my right hand with his. His blue eyes poured up into mine. “I just want to help these kids learn to control their powers, especially your children.”

I nodded, squeezing his hand in mine. It was moments like this that caught me off guard with me remembering how nice he was to me and everyone else around us. I cared for Erik but I could see Charles as being a good father to a child someday. “You have always been a really great person in my life, Charles.”

“I feel the same about you, Addison and I will always be here to support you.” He told me before he rolled inside of his bedroom. “Goodnight Addi.”

“Goodnight Charles.” I waved bye to him walking back to my bedroom and crawling back into bed with Erik for the night. Regardless of my last name being changed to Lehnsherr it would always be me, Erik and Charles raising Astraea and Ryder.

Charles and I had kept walking through the school just enjoying the silence between one another. He paused his chair by the long staircase staring up at me. “Hank should be able to find the answers you seek. Until then you shouldn't put too much worry in that head of yours.”

“I appreciate your help, Charles. I really do.” I smiled at the telepath before we heard someone appear beside us turning our attention to the person behind me. “Astraea, you're back. Is something wrong?”

My daughter nervously ran a hand through her messy hair. “Mom, I can't find my brother.”

“Ryder, what’s wrong with your brother?” Charles questioned with a raised brow to her.

She gulped nervously. “I went looking for him around the house but I couldn't find him. I couldn't find him in the back yard either and dad can't help me since he's still at work.”

“I'll come right away. We'll see you later, Charles.” Whipping my head around to my telepath friend.

He nodded in understanding. “Good luck in finding Ryder.”

“Let’s go find your brother and see what is going on.” My daughter looped her hand through mine and we disappeared back to our house. Unknown to us Erik was already driving home in a panic after what he had done at work that day.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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