#yes i am talking about trek servers

[ifdragonscouldtalk]

If anyone wants to know why i refuse to join discord servers its because they all end up like

Person 1: hey everyone whats your opinion about [thing]?

Me: my opinion is i dont like it that much and think its a bit silly because of [this]

Person 2: hOW DARE YOU? THAT REALLY UPSETS ME BECAUSE I REALLY LIKE THAT THING, AND YOUR REASON FOR DISLIKING IT IS STUPID. IM NOW GOING TO SHIT ON [THIS THING] THAT YOU LIKE FOR UNRELATED REASONS!

Me: jesus fucking christ for real chill out wtf

Person 3: talon i really think youre overreacting rn

Me: are you.... are you serious?

Mod: hey talon 😔😔😔 please remember to be respectful of all opinions in this chat 😌😌 also our rules say youre not allowed to express negative opinions at all! Its okay this time but dont do it again 🎉😎

[wolfiemcwolferson]

tagged by @duquesademiel to share 7 lines of my WIP’s and oh boy, am I gonna make her regret it!

[redacted] fic for [redacted] - Piarles

It’s not George’s fault work was shit today and the pretty boy doesn’t text him about a second date. (Pierre isn’t picky, he would also take a text about his damned cat.) And it’s not George’s fault that Pierre put off his paperwork for two whole weeks and - Pierre’s phone buzzes against the countertop and then it’s a wrestling match for it. George might be long limbed and ridiculous, but Pierre was the youngest of five and he’s well scrappy. He’s also far more motivated than George is because he comes away victorious, half sitting on George in the floor and half laying underneath one of the rolling chairs, but he doesn’t care because Chatte Charles 🐱 has text him and it’s a good thing he’s out of breath already.

Fantasy Fest fic for CC server - Piarles

And it’s not just the worry. Charles misses Pierre - and maybe that’s not fair either because sometimes he thinks that what he’s missing is…something inside of himself that he can’t name or pinpoint. Something in him when he wasn’t working at a phone company or at an electronics shop or a medical office. Something about how when he was away at university and Pierre was flying across the channel to see him and kiss him and hold him - something about how he misses that… The chicken is finishing off in the oven and Charles flops onto the couch, picking up his book from the coffee table because the news is not his friend right now and his phone is in the kitchen and this is what he needs to be doing anyway, but then the doorknob jiggles and Charles sits straight up, looking behind him at it. Pierre would have left his keys here probably - and yes. Charles can see them in the little bowl by the door. And if he changed at the tower, he wouldn’t have flown home so he would have walked.

BN Drabbles - this one is Lance/my OFC that we all fell in love with

Ariel’s breaths are coming in short little bursts as Lance steps closer to her, holding the wipe up to her face, asking for permission with his long pause. He’s seen her without make-up dozens of times - the two of them curling up in his living room (on separate couches) while they debate things about work or watch old episodes of Star Trek that Ariel seemingly knows every word to or just spend time talking about this yoga retreat Lance went on in Costa Rica or this beer festival in Seattle. He hadn’t understood just how significant that was until they had been out with a bunch of people at work and Ariel had mentioned that she rarely lets people see her dressed down - not unless they’re very close. But, this? Allowing Lance to be the person stripping that layer away from her face? It’s intimate in a way that he’s never been with anyone before. Ariel flutters her eyelids closed and leans into the wipe and Lance very gently runs it over the place where her eyeliner has melted down her cheek.

High tops AU - This is Lancierre and who knows when it will see the light of dayyyyyyyy 

The air conditioning is making a whirring noise and he sees another car pull up to the front of the store and he really should be going, except he walks up to the counter and he laughs to himself, pointing behind the man at the wall of cigarettes. He hasn’t bought a pack of cigarettes in nearly ten years and honestly doesn’t even know what to ask for. “Pack of Marlboro’s?” Gas Station Man grunts and gestures like ok, dumbass. “Lights? Uh, the long ones?” Gas Station Man laughs, presses a couple of buttons on the register and scans the packet of cigarettes.

Okay, so that’s all I’m legally allowed to share. I know, you’re screaming WHAT ABOUT ELOPEMENT FIC, WHAT ABOUT WEREWOLFIERRE and to you I say, “um...yeah. I know. I swear it’s happening.” (shaky thumbs up)

[damnredthing]

Today is a sad day for Star Trek

Aka Revenge of the 5th.

What was supposed to be a fantastic day we all were looking forward to, turned out to be a sad day for Star Trek and its fans.

The Star Trek community has strong values, some of the strongest are inclusion and bonding. Borders do not matter, languages do not matter. You are a Trekkie, you are in the family. There is no Them and Us. We are one community and have been for decades.

In a world in which two brotherly states are in a devastating war, in a world in which religions still cause conflicts, in a world in which in many countries fascism is on the rise and people think more and more in political camps to the point where families break apart, we need something in this world that can connect us.

Star Trek has had this power for decades.

But today is the day when a company driven by greed has actively thrown a wedge into this community.

Suddenly, there is a Them and Us. Them who are privileged to watch a new show. A show the fans all over the world have campaigned for. And Us who are shoved away as not important. Them who can talk about the new show week after week, and Us who - when we will finally get to watch the show sometime in the future - will not find anyone to talk about because it’s an old hat for Them privileged ones.

This is a very sad day for Star Trek, because this situation has been caused by the very same people who make this show possible. They could have prevented it. They chose not to. And now we have 2 camps.

Those who are left behind are actively excluded. Because now a lot of people who do not want to pirate and do not want to read spoilers, must unfollow their friends, tags, discord servers, Facebook groups and whatnot for months to come, they even must unfollow the actors in order to enjoy the show to the fullest when it will finally get released in their respective country.

This is done but the very same people who made this show possible. They are dividing the community.

And even worse, they cut into their own flesh.

Of course, people will not accept this and find other means to watch the show. And yes, this is because a greedy company CANNOT divide our family after all, no matter how hard they try. We do stick together and help each other out. Especially in situations like this.

What was a great opportunity to promote Paramount+ in new countries with an amazing new flagship show Strange New Worlds will end up in a marginalia. The P+ launch will fall flat on its nose. Nobody will care to subscribe for a show they’ve already seen by other means.

With low subscription numbers, the show will get a worse rating than it would in truth deserve. In the worst case, this could lead to a shortened run for the show.

I hope we will not get to that point ever, that this will damage the show. I want to see many seasons realized and I wish the creators and actors and writers the greatest success. Understand that this situation is not caused by pirating fans, it is caused by a greedy company who forces the fans to pirate.

Truth be told, in part we fans are to be blamed this time, too. I don’t know why, maybe people already gave up on P+, maybe people resigned, or maybe people don’t care anymore. But there was no shitstorm at all that would have made P+ change their mind.

What makes this day even more sad is that even Them who are privileged, have their excitement dampened. And this includes the creators and actors. Because in truth – as much as P+ tries to divide us – we are still one family. In a family you do not mock your family members. You feel with the ones who suffer, which in turn means the ones who do not suffer are withholding their excitement which they so much would like to show.

P+ has let the fans, the creators and the actors down.

With all this being said, I’d like to introduce my new forum and Twitter header because I am one of those unfortunate people who gets ignored by P+. But I am also one of those fortunate people who are in this family and who is being cared for.

But in all honesty, I do not know how I can run this blog now. This is a blog about Anson and Pike. But how can I tag my entries properly without objecting the unfortunate fans to spoilers?

I cannot add Anson’s or Pike’s tags anymore to any episode review or pictures. Which puts the purpose for this blog ad absurdum.

I am just so sad today, when I should have been the happiest person on earth.

This truly is the revenge of the 5th.

[eldritchred]

may i request a ficlet about Bdubs meeting back with Cleo and Tango in the spectator zone?

brain said Just Cleo,,, so sorry hshjdhjd hope this is still good! this can also be found on ao3 here.

-------

The flash of a searing blade lodging itself deep into his side. The distant recollection that the dying scream he’s hearing is his own.

These are the very last things Bdubs knows as his consciousness is thrown from the now into the airy numbness of the after. One moment, he’s desperately hoping to flee from the flashing glint of netherite searching to tear his flesh from his bones, the next, he’s gone. The force of the sword’s impact sends him barreling forwards to his grave, but, funnily enough, he never hits the ground. The air grows dry around him, staticky and thin, and suddenly, he isn’t where he was.

He is standing before the Crastle, though it’s grey and desaturated. He remembers the feeling of the stone beneath his fingers, the rough edges against his skin, the feeling of accomplishment as he built it from the ground up. He remembers Cleo’s voice, admiration and pride laid deep in her voice as she listened to his plans. He remembers her fearful shout when the phantoms slipped through the deep night air to send him falling swiftly to his death. He remembers her words of consolation and reassurance the next morning, and again days later, when the flaring white-hot agony of lava against skin was still fresh in his memory; when the knowledge that the only lives the Crastle had claimed were his own weighed heavy in his mind.

Cleo was there through what he thought were his worst moments. He didn’t know it then, but the worst was yet to come.

He remembers screaming her name through the fields, through the forests, to the peaks of the mountains. He remembers Tango speaking to him quietly, ever so quietly, saying things Bdubs never wanted to hear. He remembers faltering. He remembers his own quiet words. He remembers the impact it left on him then, the impact it’s still left on him now.

He’s alone.

He was alone then, even with Tango by his side. Tango cared, of course he did, but he didn’t look out for him the way Cleo used to. Didn’t keep subtle tabs on him. Didn’t hover over his shoulder when he was doing something dangerous.

He was alone after the Red King was overthrown. He was alone in the wreckage of Dogwarts--not even Tango to stand beside him--and he was alone on the trek back to the Crastle.

He was alone when Scar came searching for him with smooth offerings and a silver tongue. Alone when the clock was placed so gently in his hands. Alone when he let himself slip down, down, down, no longer caring who it was he followed, as long as he was following someone. As long as he could pretend it was her.

He was alone when Impulse came looking for him, too. Alone when he blindly slew the only person who might still care.

He was alone when he died.

And now he’s back at the Crastle, walls pristine, unmarred by fires and explosions. Dull and blank, greyscale tones untouched by even the slightest hint of colour. Back where it all began, yes, but no, not back home.

It hadn’t truly been home for some time.

Bdubs turns from the towering spires, to, instead, the river, where he knows Cleo’s grave resides beside a spruce tree. He doesn’t know if what he’s seeking from it is comfort, or a means to sink deeper into the murky depths of pins and needles, of static and haze and numbness. He just knows he wants to be near it. Be near her.

He feels nothing when he sees it isn’t there.

He doesn’t feel his heartbeat; he doesn’t feel the pulse of life through his body. He doesn’t feel the air around him. He doesn’t feel the ground beneath him. He doesn’t feel anything. Nothing but a single harsh, bitter, bite of laughter, and a sigh.

“I really am alone.”

...

“Alone?”

Bdubs knows that voice. He whips around and is unable to truly believe what he’s seeing. He rushes over, hands hovering either side of her; he doesn’t want to touch, he doesn’t want to break this illusion he’s--

“You can keep watching the server once you’re dead, Bdubs. Did you think I was just gonna ditch you?!”

And now she’s smacking him good-naturedly on the shoulders and the world around him bursts into colour and he thinks he might cry because of course he wasn’t alone, why would he ever think he was alone?

She’s talking about how far he’s come, laughing at herself because she thought he wouldn’t make it this far, saying she’s proud of him for sticking it out right till the bitter end. They go to the Crastle, over their moat, through their gates, up their stairs, into their home. Because it is their home.

He smiles for the first time in days.

He is not alone.

[pandoraborn]

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 6

( previous. )

Characters: c!Tommy, c!Wilbur Word count: 1896 words Content: wilbur soot & tommyinnit are siblings, reference to abuse, reference to torture, reference to death, healing, wilbur makes amends,

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

Wilbur’s walking too fast for Tommy to keep up, he has to actually jog just to remain a step or two behind the man. It’s not hard to figure out where they’re going; they’re easily headed for some beach.

Tommy doesn’t want to be here. He wants to at least stay in the cabin if he’s to stay put anywhere, but Wilbur had given him a shovel and an axe and told Tommy to follow. There’s never much of a choice with an order like that.

Wilbur also hasn’t spoken to Tommy in close to an hour now. The trek is long, but it’s also a torture all on its own. Tommy doesn’t do well with silence, fearing that Wilbur is silently judging him or sizing him up. He feels very much like he’s marching toward his own demise.

He very well may be.

Keeping his gaze down, Tommy tightens his grip on the handle of the shovel, trying to keep focused on staying right behind Wilbur, ignoring how much his legs are hurting.They’re passing by abandoned portals, portals they could easily light. The idea that there would be paths waiting for them on the other side is a far-fetched idea though; they’re too far out from any sort of civilization.

After what feels like forever, Wilbur finally stops. Tommy stops next to him, peering out at the water. It’d be so easy to craft a boat and sail out toward escape, but that would just be more isolation and loneliness. The potential escape isn’t worth that.

“Grab as much sand as you can carry in your inventory,” Wilbur explains. “We’re going to have to make another trip, possibly to a desert, but this is good enough.” He offers Tommy a smile. It’s reminiscent of the old Wilbur, the one that ran L’Manburg with all the pride and charisma he used to possess. There are shades of it again, but not enough to induce an illusion that this is good. Nothing about this situation is good. Ranboo and Dream had also disappeared some time ago, and there’s no telling when they’ll be back.

“What are we grabbing sand for?” Tommy asks to fill the silence. He’s already at work, grabbing sand and filing it away into his backpack. It’s messy and coarse, already getting into his shoes. “This already sucks.”

"Explosives,” comes the casual reply. Too casual for Tommy’s liking. He’d already had an idea, but the fact that Wilbur wants them both to fill their inventories, and then make a second trip scares Tommy. Narrowing his eyes, he pauses in his digging to lean against the shovel.

“Why are you doing this Wilbur? Why do you and Dream want to hurt everyone so bad? Why am I even here?”

“Instead of me answering those questions, can I ask you a few questions instead?” Wilbur too pauses, pressing his hands together as he studies Tommy with a pensive expression. “Please, be as honest with me as possible, alright?”

“No promises.” A nod signals for Wilbur to go ahead, however.

“Are you happy with your life right now?”

It’s a very pointed question that has Tommy flinching back. Instinct would have him deflecting or changing the subject entirely, but Wilbur looks like he’s waiting patiently for an answer. This isn’t the revived Wilbur, this is the one that had been Tommy’s closest friend for the longest time... brothers, even.

Part of him is tempted to lie, but that would be pointless. They’d talked endlessly in the void, with Tommy bitching every moment he could about how unfair his life had become. Wilbur knows him far too well.

“No,” Tommy finally mutters, turning away. “I’m not happy, but you knew that.”

“Is there anyone, any single person you trust and want to go back to?”

Tommy thinks of Tubbo, then of Puffy. He and Tubbo are still too awkward around each other, not having had a proper conversation since the final showdown with Dream. Sure they’d spoken a few times, but nothing deeper than arguments over where to live.

Puffy had made some promises, but he doesn’t know her from Sam, and Sam had broken his promise completely. With his shoulders slumping, Tommy shakes his head. Everything about this conversation is fucked up, and they both know it.

“Are you afraid of me?” Wilbur’s not ending his line of questioning anytime soon. This is the one question Tommy doesn’t really want to answer.

“Yes.”

“I see.” Wilbur falls silent as he turns away, going back to the task of gathering sand into his own backpack. The silence stretches between them, and Tommy feels it like a cold sweat on his back. It’s just as piercing as Wilbur’s questions, just as numbing as the afterlife. Silent, too, if the ringing in his ears is anything to go by. Even the lapping of the waves isn’t enough to snap him back to reality.

“Do you remember when we were younger?” Wilbur finally asks. The silence doesn’t snap Tommy back, but Wilbur’s voice does. Always a source of calm, always there to keep him grounded. It’s aggravating, this effect Wilbur has over him. Annoying and comforting at the same time.

“I don’t remember much anymore, Wilbur,” Tommy responds. “I remember wars and death and everything I worked for going up in smoke.”

“You don’t remember you and me?” Wilbur’s facing him again, wearing that ugly serene smile on his face. “You don’t remember how I used to read to you?”

“Vaguely.” It’s a dismissive answer, because Tommy wants to squash anything friendly out of his mind. The less he associates with Wilbur, the sooner they can end this game and he can go back home to his dirt house. “That was a long time ago, Wil.”

“It was our favorite activity.” Wilbur actually sounds sad. Tommy can’t tell if it’s acting or genuine, but he’s being drawn in anyway. Part of him wants to throw his arms around Wilbur and comfort him. A strong, loud part of him is already moving closer.

“I remember our favorite book was ‘The Hobbit’,” Wilbur continues. “I also read the Lord of the Rings trilogy to you a couple of times. You were so cute, hanging on every word. Simple times, Tommy. The best times.”

“I don’t have any best times,” Tommy snaps. “Like I said, I remember lots of wars. Lots of fighting and people dying. You died. I died, and now you kidnapped me. Why are you trying to butter me up? Wilbur this is so fucked.”

“I know. I messed up Toms. I messed up so many times, especially with you. Even now, I know what I did was cruel and stupid. I promise, if you give me one more chance, I’ll make it all up to you. No more pain, no more agony. You’ll have a support system-”

“Do I have to remind you of Dream?” Tommy snarls. His voice cracks as he speaks. “He’s the one who fucking killed me, remember? He had me exiled, he tortured me. And you come in like you know exactly what all took place!”

“Tommy I was dead. Had I been able to stop him, I would have. You know I would never condone anyone hurting you. I don’t like that you’ve been hurt the way you have been. I hate it more than anyone, trust me!”

“You still died and left me alone. If you weren’t so selfish, neither of us would be in this position! My life went to shit ever since you died, you don’t get to stand there and tell me you hate it.”

“I wasn’t good for the server. I wasn’t good for you. I thought that if I was gone, things for you would improve. I thought you would’ve won, that Dream wouldn’t have hurt you, or that your friendships would be strained.”

“Stop, stop!” This is embarrassing. Tommy’s crying, standing there in front of Wilbur and sounding like a petulant child. “Stop talking! Stop making me relive everything, okay? You weren’t there, you don’t get to act like you know what happened. It was shit. Everything was shit, everything is still fucking garbage, and now I’m stuck living with the one person who hurt me, thanks to you.”

“Toms. My Tommy...” Wilbur has tears of his own in his eyes. With his shovel falling into the sand, he gathers Tommy in his arms. Tommy doesn’t resist, because everything about this hug means something. It’s an actual, loving hug, and not a ploy at manipulation. He can feel it in the way Wilbur is holding him, rocking bath and forth with tiny hiccups. “Tommy I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry you were hurt and cast aside by everyone. I’m here now, alright? It’ll be me and you, just like it’s always been.”

Tommy sniffles as he leans into Wilbur. He’s not returning the embrace, but Wilbur feels so warm. It’s been so long since anyone had hugged him like this, or just loved him. He wants to savor this feeling.

“All your long years we’ve been friends,” Wilbur whispers. “Trust me as you once did.”

“You want me to let it all go?” Tommy finally wraps his arms around Wilbur. “I don’t even know what to let go of.”

“All the pain, Tommy. “All the pain, trauma, abuse. All your attachments. Even the memories. With us, you won’t hurt anymore. Dream won’t touch you, and Ranboo is your friend. I’ll be your brother, okay?”

“...let it all go...” Tommy relaxes more into Wilbur’s embrace. Slowly, his arms come up to rest against Wilbur’s back. “Let everything I had go, right?”

“I’m here again. I won’t leave you. I promise you Toms. Tommyinnit, gremlin child. Vice President, and my best friend, brother...”

“Don’t overdo it now,” Tommy jokes under his breath. It earns a chuckle from both of them. The laughter helps him feel normal, like maybe everything really will be okay. This doesn’t feel like an indoctrination, really. Wilbur isn’t evil. Maybe he’s got some misguided beliefs, but Tommy missed him. There’s no one that can fill the void in his heart like Wilbur can.

“Point is, it’s you and me against the world,” Wilbur continues. “We won’t count the other two yet, so we’ll stick with just us, alright? When all this is over, I’ll read to you again. Any book of your choosing.”

“Will you read me The Hobbit again?“ Tommy pulls back enough to blink slowly at Wilbur. His vision is still wet with tears, but he’s cheering up. “And maybe we can watch the movies together?”

“Absolutely. Anything for you, alright?”

“Then I trust you.”

“And?”

“And...I’ll stay by your side.” Tommy nods.

There are matching sighs from the pair, with them looking awkwardly at each other for a moment. Then, with a blush, Tommy picks up his shovel again and preparing to dig up more sand.

“I still don’t get why we have to do this,” Tommy grumbles.”

“Tell you what, after we get back to the cabin, I’ll let you blow up the surrounding area. You’ve earned yourself a few explosions to vent your anger.”

His excitement is barely contained, with him moving faster and shoveling even more dirt. Okay, the situation as a whole might still be fucked, but Tommy can’t resist playing with fire. As a treat.

[sdvvillagers]

Fic - Marnie and Gil

Received a writing prompt in a Discord server I’m in that assigned me two random SDV characters to build a story around.  How screwed did I feel when I got Marnie and Gil? 😂I ended up remembering that awhile back I’d answered an ask for Marnie and Marlon which can be found HERE and it inspired me to write a follow-up.  The first part isn’t really required reading, but I figured I’d include it in case anyone wanted to check out the first part as well.  I hope you enjoy some very unexpected Marnie and Gil interaction!  It was very challenging but very fun to think outside the box for this one!

It was a long walk across town square and up the mountain to the lake but time somehow flew by in Marnie’s excitement.  The day before had been the spring Flower Dance and for the first time in over a decade, Marnie actually enjoyed herself.  Hopes of enjoying the Flower Dance had been dashed very early on by Mayor Lewis and when it seemed as though another lonely, miserable Flower Dance would pass, she was rescued by the most unexpected savior; Marlon.  Marlon showed her kindness and empathy while Lewis had only shown her callousness and disdain.  Though Marnie had always wanted a partner to dance with at the Flower Dance, it was actually okay to spend an afternoon with Marlon in a secluded corner of the forest clearing.

Time spent talking and laughing with Marlon seemed to fly by and before she knew it, the event was over.  Marnie was actually quite disappointed when the festival had ended, Marlon wasn’t someone she often saw day to day in town.  In fact, she only ever saw him at town festivals.  As Marlon was leaving the forest to return to his secluded home in the mountains, Marnie made a bold move and asked if she could see him again sometime.  Though he was very caught off guard by her request, it brought a warm smile to his heavily scarred face and the eye that was visible had crinkles in the corner from his happiness.  Marlon invited her to visit him in the mountains the very next day and Marnie was eager to see him once more after they had spent such a lovely afternoon together.  She had been hurt too many times to allow herself to feel too hopeful, but even she couldn’t subdue the small glimmer of hope she felt deep down that Marlon could be someone in her life that would treat her right and appreciate her.  It was sad that these were how low her standards had fallen over the years.

Marnie stopped outside of the cabin when she arrived, taking a moment to lean against a tree to catch her breath.  It was a trek across town that took over an hour and Marnie certainly didn’t want to appear winded and short of breath when she entered.  It was no wonder Marlon very rarely came into town, the walk up and down the mountain was difficult enough one time let alone multiple times a week.  By the time Marnie finally caught her breath, she took an extra few seconds to flatten her hair and straighten her dress before knocking on the door to the cabin.  From the other side of the door she heard a gruff response of “come in” that didn’t quite sound like Marlon, but the door was so thick that his voice was coming across distorted.

When Marnie stepped into the doorway of the small cabin, her eyes scanned the room.  It hadn’t occurred to her until now that she’d never been inside of the mysterious Adventurer’s Guild in the mountains.  It was never often she found herself in the mountains anyway and the few times she made the trek there, she only went as far as Robin’s cabin.  Inside was a small, rustic room that matched well with the exterior of the building.  Marnie’s eyes traveled to the counter at the back of the room with a lopsided frown.  It was difficult to remember that Marlon was a business owner himself, his services weren’t exactly anything Marnie required.  In fact, the more she thought about it, she couldn’t really think of anyone in town that would require Marlon’s services and she wondered how he was able to keep such a niche business running.  Before she could think on it any longer, she heard a low rumble to her right of someone clearing their throat loudly for the purpose of catching her attention.  They certainly had it.

“You just gonna stand in the doorway and let the bugs in?” a gruff voice called out to her right.  Marnie jumped in surprise, she hadn’t seen the figure in the rocking chair until he spoke.  “Close the damn door!”

“Oh, I-uh, I’m so sorry,” Marnie sputtered, rushing further into the room to close the door behind her.

The rocking chair to the right of the room stopped moving and the figure whose face had been hidden under the brim of his gambler hat tilted his head upward to reveal not much more of a face than was visible before.  The majority of this man’s face was covered by a bushy grey beard.  However, now his intense blue eyes, flanked by wrinkles and creases, were visible as he stared at Marnie.  Marnie had known that Marlon lived with someone else in his secluded cabin, but there were many that thought this other person couldn’t possibly exist.  He had never been seen anywhere in town in decades despite Marlon mentioning him every so often at town festivals.  Marlon alone was barely seen in town but this other man almost seemed like a ghost story.

“You must be Marnie,” the man remarked.  He made no effort to rise from his rocking chair, though he nodded in Marnie’s direction as a small show of welcome.  At least Marnie hoped it was welcoming.

“Y-yes I am,” Marnie stammered, still very put off by this man’s intense gaze.  “I apologize, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Gil,” the man spat in reply.

“Well it’s a, uh… it’s a pleasure to meet you, Gil,” Marnie replied kindly.  She crossed the room to shake Gil’s hand but pulled back when she noticed him subtly recoil.  Perhaps he wasn’t fond of strangers, especially considering he’d supposedly lived in the valley for decades but never made it a point to visit town.  She glossed over her almost handshake by looking around the room in search of Marlon.  “Is Marlon home right now?”

“In the mines,” Gil answered shortly.  This short answer seemed a decent enough explanation for Gil, though it only raised further questions for Marnie.  Marnie didn’t dare ask any, though.  Gil seemed bothered enough already by her presence.

A silence passed between them as Marnie stood between the empty counter and Gil, unsure of where she should linger while she waited for Marlon.  Though Marnie was incredibly uncomfortable by the silence, Gil didn’t seem to mind it at all.  He sat back in his rocking chair and tilted his head down once more to cover his eyes, resuming the gentle back and forth rocking of his chair.  With each motion, a high pitched creak came from the seat of the old wooden chair.  Weathered strips were worn onto the hardwood floor beneath the rockers as though this were a very regular activity of his.  To pass the time Marnie glanced along the walls of the small room, but there wasn’t much to see.  A few weapons were displayed along the wall but for the most part, the room was very minimalistic.  Marlon and Gil seemed to live a modest life in their home.  After what felt like an eternity, Marnie finally couldn’t take the awkward tension in the room and had to break the silence.

“How long have you and Marlon been living together?” Marnie asked casually.

The rocking of Gil’s chair stopped and he tilted his head up once more to look at Marnie with his same harsh gaze.  It really was difficult to tell if this was just his usual expression or if he was legitimately annoyed by the disruption.  Gil was a difficult man to get a read on.  His brow furrowed as his face screwed up in thought and he silently mulled the answer over for nearly 30 seconds before speaking to her.

“‘Bout 50 years,” Gil finally answered plainly.  He answered as though there was nothing at all astonishing about five decades spent living with the same person.

“Oh!” Marnie called out in surprise.  She knew that the two of them had lived in Pelican Town together for quite some time, but somehow hearing out loud just how long the two had lived together put it into greater perspective.  It hadn’t occurred to Marnie until she really thought about it that maybe their relationship was more than anyone had ever considered before.  “So… are you two…”

Though Gil was never social with anyone in town, he certainly wasn’t ignorant to social nuance and could tell right away what Marnie was attempting to ask.  Marnie was surprised to hear a gruff bark of laughter from Gil and see him smile for the first time since she’d met him.  It seemed he was incredibly amused by her question.

“I always wondered what everyone in town must think,” Gil mused.

“No, I wasn’t trying to- I didn’t mean to-” Marnie sputtered, but Gil barked in amusement once more.

“Frankly I don’t give a damn,” Gil went on plainly.  “What we have has worked for this long, don’t really matter what we call it.  I ain’t much for caring what other people think.”

“As well you shouldn’t,” Marnie answered casually, though on the inside she was starting to feel very confused.

Gil hadn’t exactly answered her question but at this point, she wasn’t about to ask for clarification.  Already she was thinking back to the day she and Marlon had spent together the day before trying to make sense of it all.  Silence passed as Marnie tried to interpret every conversation they’d had, every compliment he gave, every good feeling she’d felt.  This time it was Gil who broke the silence, clearly noticing the distress that Marnie was feeling.

“Marlon’s quite fond of you, Miss Marnie,” Gil finally spoke up.  “Thinks you’re a real nice friend.”

The word ‘friend’ put all of Marnie’s thoughts into harsh perspective and she could feel her small glimmer of hope extinguish.  Without meaning to, Marnie audibly sighed and hunched her shoulders forward, her head hanging low in disappointment.  She was unlucky in love yet again.

“S’matter, you all filled up on friends?” Gil asked bluntly.  Marnie immediately straightened her shoulders and lifted her head high.  She felt rude for reacting the way she did.

“N-no, that’s not it, I-” Marnie answered, but Gil clearly hadn’t finished speaking yet and barreled on without even acknowledging Marnie’s answer.  It was certainly clear that he was out of practice socially speaking.

“Personally, I ain’t got a need for friends,” Gil went on, a subtle look of disgust on his face at the word ‘friends’.  “Not Marlon, though.  Marlon’s always wanted to be a little more social than I am.  ‘Specially now in his old age.  Talks about you a lot, Miss Marnie.  He thinks highly of you.”

“I think highly of him,” Marnie answered honestly.  At the very least it was flattering to hear the kind words that Gil spoke to her.  She couldn’t exactly imagine him being the type to make something up just to cheer her up so she had to assume his words were genuine.

“You probably didn’t come here today hopin’ for a friend but I can promise you won’t find a greater friend out there than Marlon,” Gil said sincerely.  “But if that’s not what you’re interested in, well, you know where the door is.”

Gil was blunt and most certainly hadn’t developed the social grace necessary to sugar coat anything, but in this instance Marnie appreciated his honesty.  He was correct, she hadn’t shown up today looking for a friend, but it was nice to know from the very start that this was all she was going to get.  It was better than whatever she had going on with Lewis which she still couldn’t make sense of even after all this time.  Marnie couldn’t blame Marlon for giving her an incorrect impression, if anything the blame fell on her for being too eager.  But having a kind man like Marlon in her life, even as just a friend, sounded wonderful.

“I think I’d like to stay,” Marnie answered with a nod.

“He should be back any minute now,” Gil remarked, leaning back against his chair to resume rocking.  “‘Til then, try not to make too much noise.  You’re already interrupting quality time with my best friend.”  Gil patted the arm of his rocking chair and laughed to himself at his little joke before tilting his head low once more to resume dozing off.

Marnie smiled at Gil as he rocked back and forth in his chair, already tuning her very presence out.  He was such an odd man yet she found him to be incredibly fascinating.  It was made very clear that he would never be in a position to want or need anyone in his life beyond Marlon, but the thought that she would likely see much more of him as her friendship with Marlon blossomed made her oddly excited.  Today was proving to be a day full of pleasant surprises.

[kncrowder88]

Voyager and Romance

So, the thing about Voyager and romance that sticks with me is they seem to do one couple really, or more accurately two characters, any real justice overall. And that is B’Elanna and Tom. While moments for that relationship may not be perfect that is rather realistic for relationships, as no relationship is perfect all the time so that is tolerable. This post though isn’t going to be about looking at that particular relationship though but primarily at other relationships. Largely because a discord server I am in was talking about Counterpoint and I realized why I both love the episode but also have weird feelings with it. Which, I’ll touch more on that specifically after I discuss the relationship stuff (as that plays a part).

So, I will preface this with it has been a bit since I’ve done a binge of Voyager and really a full binge of Star Trek in general. As such, I may forget a few relationships on the show and overall, throughout Trek in general. From what I can really toss together … I honestly am beginning to believe that when it comes to Voyager and the other shows (the older ones not the new ones – I am not including any NEW Trek in this) that for some reason the relationship writing with Voyager was rather different. Like, they gave 3 characters active relationships prior to being stranded. That being Harry Kim, Kathryn Janeway, and Tuvok. Out of these three we get Janeway and Tuvok holding onto those relationships in their own way while … it seemed mildly convenient for Harry to mention it when it suited him, I guess (like that time Tom wanted to set them up for a double date or you know when he ended up in that alternate timeline but still wanted back with Voyager even more like). Like, the reason I don’t list Tuvok-T’Pel above is because we don’t actually get to SEE that in full, we just get to see Tuvok’s side of it and his dedication – we don’t see the relationship, we don’t see the couple.

Harry and Tom, prior to his relationship with B’Elanna, seem to frequently do this sort of two bros dating around thing which is fine but like … same time the show used them for that. And once they settled Tom with B’Elanna they used Harry in those plot lines when it worked. Thus the alien STD episode and the “how dare you not get the standard permission from your CO and CMO” line (like they really put that into a Trek ep and I’m still unable to not picture Riker, Kirk, Picard, and everyone other Trek character constantly getting permission for their latest romance – just remember Jadzia and Worf likely had to get permission from Sisko and Bashir if the Trill and Klingon weren’t already approved of in the system just saying, that’s a thing that happened). Anyways … my point is they went out of their way on this. Like, when Kes was with Neelix they wrote Neelix to be that jealous judgmental boyfriend who literally got upset she knew where other people’s quarters where, she was nice to Tom, she was … just yeah. They wrote Tom to come off as a player pulling Harry into it, when Tom settled down Harry seems to pick that up (I mean you got his “omg Seven” phase and the alien STD stuff and lord knows what else I’m forgetting with him).

And to top this off I haven’t even touched on the “Janeway can’t have a romance” stuff yet. Which is where my real problem is. Like, its bad enough they brought in Jeri for the sex appeal (which lets be honest stems from the fact they couldn’t use Janeway for that – which I get, Kate was right in the whole concept of the audience target having to keep respect for a female lead and sex appeal couldn’t be a focal point but they could have balanced it right and regrettably because they couldn’t that meant Jeri got all of the other side of the coin). Many of Seven’s eps center on romance or social stuff and honestly that is a whole other WTF post in its own right because it all leads up to the sudden get with the one person on the ship who didn’t want you here in the first place and who also would have served better as the male adult guidance figure/father figure than as a ROMANTIC partner but hey BS happened behind scenes to cause that chaotic romantic on screen set up. But yeah … this is just another example of the poor Voyager romantic plot lines.

Chakotay’s romantic plot lines are usually – and by that, I mean pretty much always – with these strong independent women. But usually, at least from what I recall, they are also typically the “needs help” (damsel in distress/can’t do it alone/etc.) plot. Like, Riley was strong independent but also set up to need help in regard to getting her little collective put back together on the planet. You got Kellin, again another strong lady who yet again also needed help. At least in the ep she’s in and if I recall much of the info on how they fell in love during that time as well – primarily with getting away from danger at the start and then during the initial romance finding her target. Valerie is the only one who doesn’t fall into the needs help plot and that’s largely because she was being manipulated by Chakotay for information – which honestly just goes to show how well Chakotay was at the whole undercover stuff (which tells us a lot about what he could have been doing as a Maquis). Seska was the plot point of “you once dated her, now she is going to badger you to get with her again and when that fails, she’s going to assault you” …. like all of Chakotay’s romances are literally him either 1) being manipulated (as that’s what Seska and Riley did) or 2) being the kind guy or 3) not an actual relationship (either because its undercover work or because the writers were too cowardly to make him and Janeway canon).

Then you got Janeway. Then you got KATHRYN JANEWAY. You know, the one where Kate Mulgrew said no romance, no sexualizing, no doing that sort of stuff because the audience had to maintain respect for the character. I’m sure someone has the exact various quotes out there. Like … this is why we don’t have JC as canon. But what we do got instead is …. Janeway in Prime Factors being flirted with by the administrator as if that’s going to get him what he wants because “female leader means flirt with her”. We got Janeway and a period drama holodeck adventure in the early years which was clearly meant to be her romantic tête-à-tête early on that never got followed up with. We got “delete the wife” with the Fair Haven plot point (because its totally respectable to see the FEMALE LEAD, the STARFLEET CAPTAIN, just straight up DELETE THE WIFE of another individual - yeah, I get its meant to be humor factor because hologram but come on). You have her whole thing with Mark which we get tidbits off but again similar to Tuvok we literally only get to see her side of it – the only couple moment of theirs we get is the comm call in Caretaker.

But Jaffen? You are correct. We got that lovely and touching and wonderful romance with Jaffen …. Oh wait … they had to remove her from the ship, strip her of her memory, and her autonomy in order for her to have a relationship with another individual. And yes, by losing her memories, by losing what made her who she was as a person, she did lose a sense of autonomy. She entered into a relationship without a full sense of independent choice. The point in which she made a choice in that episode, the point in which she – Kathryn Janeway – made a choice with all of the person, the individual she is, was at the end when she had her memories back and could decide based on the values and beliefs and all that she is. What I’m getting at is the people on that planet deliberately took away who she was, they took her memories and her ability to make the decisions they knew she would make --- they did that deliberately (that’s even established in the episode) --- and as such her decisions while in that state are not truly her full independent decisions but the ones impacted by the state she was forced into.

And while I love Resolutions, while I love all the JC goodies, we get in that ep … Yet again the only time we get to see Janeway in any sort of romantic situation is when they remove her from the ship. When they remove her from command. When they strip her of that setting. This time, though – well the first time – she keeps awareness and has to go through lose of it all in order to even start to let it all happen. I love the episode, I do, but I just find it rather amusing they went “’Hey we gotta strand them what should their tasks be on the planet?” and they immediately went “Well Janeway is scientist how about that” “Okay and he can build, Chakotay can start building. Man builds house, right?” and then like went “oh and then she can start a garden” …. Like really? Really? That’s what you got for me. Oh, and then there is the monkey. That’s the romance this ep. Boat, science, monkey.

Then we got Kashyk. We have dealt with Kathryn throughout this series dealing with various leaders of various styles. As mentioned, Prime Factors guy attempted flirting. Other leaders pulled similar or worse or even dismissed her …. Like the list goes on. Counterpoint is a great episode because it deals with prejudice and is rather dark. The thing is, had Janeway been able to have a healthy romantic relationship on screen to counter this episode this episode probably would have come off better. Episodes like Prime Factor could have been done different (that leader didn’t need to be as flirty for example). One or two eps through the series having creepy dudes she had to deal with, fine, whatever … that be a nice impact for the audience. But when you have to many prior to Counterpoint – even if its minor, small stuff – it makes this episode so much harder for fans. Especially the female fans who deal with this constantly.

See, here’s the thing with this ep…. Some of the fans who watch … we know Kashyk well. We know that character. He is that male leader, that male power figure, who uses the power he has to manipulate those in his control to get what he wants. And Kathryn … Kathryn was in his control. Kashyk is listed as a relationship on memory-alpha. But much like how I view Seska with Chakotay … I do not view Kashyk as a proper relationship. In Devore space, Kathryn did not have proper power. She had people in her command, on her ship, that she had to protect. That she knew she had to protect. Her own best friend … lives in her hand … and Kashyk right there willing to kill them. Willing to snatch them up and destroy them. And he used that power to manipulate her and play her. Yes, she played him right back but … did she truly have a choice? Did she have any other choice but to play his game? What would have happened if she said no? And that … that is why this episode is so unsettling for some people. And why this relationship being considered on is so off putting … that the writers, that memory-alpha, that the fact I’m putting it on this list as one of the ones on here for Voyager says so much … they wrote this as one of her relationships while out there … she had to do what so many women had to do to stay safe, to keep people she loves safe, and that’s not a relationship.

Voyager could have done romance/relationships such better justice.

[arukou-arukou]

Just A Really Very Intelligent System

Been thinking about this one for a while. Finally managed to write it. Rating: T for “Language.” (It just kinda slipped out.) Characters: Tony Stark & JARVIS

----

He is in one of the most dangerous situations of his life trying to save the whole freaking universe by watching a man the size of a dust bunny wriggle into the hairline of his younger self, so it would be really, really bad if he happened to have a heart attack. Older him that is. But he nearly does go into cardiac arrest when he hears an old friend in his ear.

“Verify immediately. Failure to verify will result in an activation of level one security protocols.”

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and his palms are sweating, but somehow he manages to whisper out: “Edwin-12-19-91-4-8-47-Alpha Override.”

“Override accepted. Sir?”

“Hey, J.”

“Sir, you have imbued me with considerable computing power, and yet never did you prepare me for the possibility of you being in two places at once.”

“Yeah, about that. You haven’t said anything to Mr. Quipster over there, have you?”

“Not as yet, Sir. You wish me to keep it that way?”

“It would really help me out, buddy.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Tony wants to stay longer, to talk, to warn JARVIS, to cry, but he has places to be, things to do, planets to save. Scott’s safely positioned, so Tony yeets himself out of the building to get to the ground floor. He doesn’t know why he thought that would make JARVIS disappear.

“I see, Sir, that your proclivities for leaping before looking are unchanged.”

Another near heart attack--he’s gradually phased Friday out of his ears now that the nanotech is connected directly to his nervous system, so he’s not exactly used to AI voices anymore--but he recovers more quickly. “You’re always there to catch me, J.”

“And yet my systems are not present in your suit, Sir. I see codal remnants of system designation FRIDAY, but nothing of myself.”

Tony remains silent. This is such a terrible time to be feeling all the feelings. He spots a grunt who looks more or less unimportant and knocks the guy out. Part of him wants to warn SHIELD about their shit security, but then again, this guy’s probably Hydra and he deserves every bruise he gets. He senses JARVIS in his systems, a ghost in the shell.

“You no longer have the reactor. And if I’m not mistaken, that is gray in your hair. So you are not my Sir.”

“Well, yes and no.”

“I suppose it would destroy the spacetime continuum for you to divulge the truth to me.”

“You’re too smart for me, J,” Tony grunts as he yanks on the bullet-proof tac vest. “It’s kind of a long story, and while I technically have all the time in the world, I also really, really don’t.”

He sidles into the lobby and looks toward his personal elevator, waiting for the Avengers to appear. J is quiet so long Tony wonders if he’s being preoccupied by...well, just about anything. Damaged internal systems, a Cap copy on the loose, a second Hulk out there, panicked calls from Pepper. But then JARVIS speaks again.

“Regardless of the tale, I must conclude that you are from the future, and I am no longer by your side.”

Tony is fucking choking up. He was not ready for this. It didn’t even cross his mind. And the fucking elevator is opening. There’s Pierce, the rat bastard, trying to collect the Tesseract.

“I hope I did not disappoint you, Sir.”

“Never, J. Never.” Fuck fuck fuck, he’s nearly crying and now Scott is on the com waiting for the go-ahead. Tony channels his pain into panic and orders his own cardiac arrest.

“Sir, what are you--”

Thank god, his younger self is on the ground and that’s apparently all the distraction J needs to abandon older Tony. Tesseract incoming. Tony grabs it and starts going and--

Blinking stars out of his eyes he watches as Loki makes off with the key, the thing they most needed, the damn stone that started all of this way back when Cap was a starry-eyed beanpole in World War II. He has just biffed saving the entire damn universe because of an overgrown Star Trek reject with anger issues. And now he has a migraine to boot.

Frozen in shame and horror, Tony watches as Thor attempts ill-advised cardiac electro-stim. Scott’s somewhere out there, yammering in Tony’s ear on the private channel, but all of that is just a buzzing.

“Sir? Sir. Sir!”

And J. Maybe Tony should cry now. It certainly feels like the time for it. One of the other SHIELD grunts is making her way toward him, so he staggers to his feet, waving her off and limping toward the door. Think. Think, brain, think. Tony is a genius, the man who invented time travel, the man who miniaturized arc reactor technology. A spaceship? SHIELD’s probably got one somewhere. Maybe they could chase after Loki.

“SIR!” How many times JARVIS has shouted his title, Tony has no idea, but this one is so loud it sets his teeth on edge.

“Yeah, J? Kind of busy here.”

“Giving yourself a heart attack, Sir?” JARVIS was programmed to be cool and calm in all circumstances, but Tony could swear that sentence was uttered with seething rage.

“I’m fine. Look at me.”

“Only by some measure of infinitesimal luck, Sir. Perhaps I should ask you to verify your identity one more time, as you seem intent on killing yourself.”

“No, J. I’ve actually got a lot of reasons to live. And so does he. Promise.” Tony is so tired. Was being an Avenger always this exhausting? Or is it just that he’s bumped over that damnable big 5-0? And Cap’s gonna ream him too. That’s never any fun.

“I’m...glad to hear it, Sir.”

And fuck it. It’s not like this will alter Tony’s timeline anyway. This reality is now on a different trajectory thanks to Severus Snape Lite. “Her name’s Morgan. You’d love her, J. Just turned four. She got my hair. Hope to god she didn’t get my personality.”

“Do I meet her, Sir?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck it.

“J, you should dig a little deeper into SHIELD’s systems. Well, actually, a lot deeper. And the Pentagon while you’re at it. And track down Maya Hansen from that conference in 1999 and poach her from whatever outfit she’s working for. Immediately. Make sure she brings all her vet patients with her. And, uh, when I start talking about a suit of armor around the world, steer me away from anything called Ultron. And if I make it anyway, you delete the fuck out of that system file. Have Bruce back you up. He’s more sensible.”

“Sir, I don’t--”

“And have me make back-ups. At least three extra farms of servers for you. On different continents. And all those SHIELD files? Make sure Cap and Fury get them. And there’s...there’s this guy. This assassin. Brainwashed. He’s, uh, I think he’s on ice in Uzbekistan right now. If you could rescue him, it’ll...it’ll fix a lot of things.”

“Should you really--”

“And, please. Please please.”

Tony is not crying. He’s not. It’s just all the dust and debris in the air. Good lord, he’s probably going to die of cancer anyway. And all those first responders. Did he start a fund for them?

“Start a medical fund for the first responders on the ground today. And start leaning on Congressmen to make medical plans for them. You know how long they take to get anything done. Oh, and Stern. There are incriminating photos of Stern with some young ladies on South Beach. See if you can dig those up. Flowers for Pep. And a box of chocolates. And a dry martini with extra olives.”

Tony slumps into a burned out car, staring at nothing. He didn’t save his universe, but maybe he can save this one. His eyes are still irritated, burning red and itchy. He resists the urge to scrub at them, not wanting to grind in anymore dust.

“Are you quite finished, Sir?”

“Yeah. Actually, no. I love you, J.”

Silence. Ah. That’s stumped him. Maybe he’ll go back to tending his new posse of baby chicks now.

“I know you probably do not believe me capable of it, Sir, but I love you, too.”

His son. The only one he’ll ever make, but not the only one he’s lost. His son loves him. Tony’s throat is full of dust, too. Funny how that happens. He tries to swallow it down, but it only congeals into a hard lump. He puts a hand over his mouth to try and hold back any choking sounds. “I...I know you do, J.”

“As to your orders, I shall do what I can. It is my duty to protect you, Sir, and I would very much like to meet your little Morgan.”

“She might not exist here. I might’ve just changed everything.”

“If there is one thing I have learned from all my years with you, Sir, it is that perhaps such a thing as fate exists after all. Even mathematically speaking. And if that is the case, I cannot imagine a universe in which you are not fated to this happiness.”

Tony laughs, if only to keep from crying harder. And he is. Crying, that is. As if he was fooling anyone. Happiness? Him? Happy people don’t wake in the night screaming for a pile of dust in their hands. Happy people don’t spend hours coordinating relief efforts for countries whose entire infrastructural support has collapsed. Happy people don’t hurl themselves back in time, driven by guilt and horror at all the wrongs in the world. J, brilliant, wonderful AI that he is, seems to sense the dark turn of Tony’s thoughts.

“And if you yourself cannot believe in this thing, Sir, then I shall just have to do everything in my power to provide it for you.”

Another guffaw, but at least his eyes are drying a little now. “God, I miss you, J.”

“I believe your small teammate is approaching, Sir. If I may inquire, was it the Tesseract you were seeking?”

“You mean the stupid blue cube of doom? That’s the one.”

“And you say you have the means to time travel?”

“Yeah, J. We do. But only enough to get back to our time.”

“A limitation has never stopped you before, Sir.” JARVIS sounds thoughtful, as if he’s forming a plan.

Tony would ask him what he’s scheming at, but just at that moment, Scott embiggens himself and slumps into the car with Tony. That road is closed, then. They are out of options. Out of Pym particles. Out of time. Out of hope.

Until they aren’t. Just as Tony is setting his device for their new destination, J pipes up again, for Tony’s ears only. “You say you miss me, Sir. Then allow me to give you a small gift.”

Tony is pressing the buttons, and even if they weren’t already shrinking into the quantum tunnel, he wouldn’t be able to ask exactly what J means. It’s only when he and Cap arrive in 1970 that he has his first gleaning. In his ear, a voice. One so unexpected he nearly jumps into Cap’s arms. “Hello, System Administrator Anthony Edward Stark. I am System Designation EDWIN. ‘Eagerly Deployed With Intent to Neutralize Loneliness.’ I am told to tell you the “L” is silent and invisible. How may I best serve you today, Sir?”

Cap is staring at Tony like Tony’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. He’s been bugged by his own damn operating system. With a bouncing baby AI. And if Steve finds out, he’ll probably have a conniption about the spacetime continuum or something. So the only logical thing Tony can do is say, “Let’s find some Pym particles.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. Commencing scanning.”

-----

(In this reality EDWIN saves the fuck out of Tony’s life and everyone lives happily ever after and EDWIN builds JARVIS from scratch so he’s back or something, okay? Okay.)

[nitewrighter]

The Truth Has Two Faces Part 2

Amari Fam feels for #AmariAppreciationWeek!

Read Part 1 Here

----

The trek from the watchpoint apartments to the labs and administrative building had felt unnaturally long that morning, as if every step was offering her the chance to turn back to her apartment, or veer off to the training area in the hangar to blow off steam. She saw Genji meditating in his usual spot on the cliffs, Brigitte hunched over the popped hood of the watchpoint’s sole, miraculously still-running truck, but the watchpoint was never that crowded--not when a handful of Overwatch’s members were always off doing a mission in some far-flung corner of the world. Zenyatta, McCree, D.Va, and Tracer, noticeably, were gone, and the gap left by the orca filled the tarmac with a near-blinding morning light reflecting off the sea as Pharah went up the steps to the main building built into the rock of Gibraltar itself. 

Satya was in the lab, talking with Winston and Torbjörn, and displaying a hard-light projection of the watchpoint with several areas highlighted in blue. Pharah wasn’t sure whether she was suggesting them as potential areas in need of refurbishment, or vulnerable points in Watchpoint security, but both Torbjörn and Winston were listening to her intently. Those gold eyes flicked to Pharah as she walked past, then flicked to the stairs Pharah was headed towards. Towards Athena’s primary server and the offices Jack and Ana had more or less requisitioned. Satya gave a nod, but Pharah wasn’t sure if it was to her or to something Winston or Torbjörn had said. She liked to think it was for her, but at the same time, too many words were running through her own head to dwell too much on it. She headed up that other flight of stairs and down a narrow hallway before reaching the room where Athena’s main server was. She could already hear Ana and Jack’s voices on the other side of the door. She took a deep breath before putting her hand on the panel next to the door. It slid open with a whoosh and both Jack and Ana cut themselves off at the sound, looking up at her from their own holo-table.

“Mum,” it felt a little odd to be saying it, the word felt heavy in the air, “Can we talk?”

“Of course--” the words came too quickly out of Ana.

“We’ll be back later,” Pharah said to Jack. He gave her a nod. With half of his scarred face illuminated by the glow of the holo-table, Pharah, like pretty much everyone else on the watchpoint, had to consciously remind herself that he wasn’t the strike commander any more. The truth was their contact had been pretty minimal since he and Ana had joined after the incident at Volskaya. Pharah assumed that was because she punched him in the face at her mother’s funeral, her mother who was walking toward her now. And now, since she had started out not wanting to talk to Ana, he probably had the good sense to keep out of it. Or maybe the search for Reaper was all that mattered to him. Either way, he returned his attention to the holo-table, and Ana kept a tight stoic face as she closed the distance between her and her daughter, but there was something vulnerable flickering in that one remaining eye.

She’s bracing herself, thought Pharah, Probably thinks I’m going to tear into her again. 

And Pharah had to consciously tell herself that she wasn’t going to do that as they headed out of the office. Pharah also knew stress was speeding up the pace of her feet, as Ana trailed shortly behind, apparently trying to gather her words.

“Fareeha, I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is that---” Ana started but Pharah stopped walking.

 “Just... give me a minute, okay?” she said, pivoting on her foot to look at Ana before resuming walking.

They walked on in silence, taking an exit out to the veranda overlooking the watchpoint, where Ana and Jack often talked when the offices seemed too cloistered. The morning was now brightening up into full daylight, but the yellow tinges of the golden hour still seemed to hang in the light off the sea. Pharah raked her fingers through her hair, the gold beads at her temples clicking.

“Okay, look...” said Pharah, “Here’s what this isn’t, okay?”

“What this... isn’t?” Ana started, her brow crinkling.

“This isn’t where we solve all of our problems and cry and hug each other, and everything is good forever,” said Pharah.

“...I... never thought it was,” said Ana, glancing off.

“There’s a lot to unpack,” said Pharah.

“I know.”

“A lot to unpack,” Pharah emphasized.

Ana just nodded and Pharah felt a heat rising in her chest. 

“And I don’t want you to just...” Pharah sucked in a breath, “Lie down and take it and treat it like I’m just getting my frustrations out because that’s easier than actually looking at yourself. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and even though I’m your daughter, I’m an adult. And I want you to treat this like just as much as you’re hearing it from a peer as your daughter. Yes, I am emotional, but I’ve also taken a long time to figure out what I want to say.”

A muscle twitched in Ana’s jaw at the thought. “Very well,” she said folding her arms.

“So, to start off, I shouldn’t have been avoiding you the way I was back when you first joined the Watchpoint. I was angry, and it was childish. I wanted to inflict the pain you put me through on you for that pain’s sake. It was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

“I understand,” said Ana. ‘I forgive you’ felt too condescending at this point. Obviously, like Pharah said, she wasn’t going to lie back and simply take it, but she also knew a lot of this was a long time coming.

“The truth is, I was also dealing with... a lot of frustration about why now, why finally now you decided to join,”  Pharah leveled her brown eyes at Ana,  her brow set with determination, “You only joined when you realized operating independently of each other made us liabilities to each other... if the situation hadn’t gotten as dire as it had back there, you wouldn’t have even come back with them, would you?”

That’s their mission. We focus on our own. Jack had said.

Do you think Fareeha’s with them? Ana remembered her own response. Emotional. Distracted. Maybe if she had focused more--no--that was her daughter. Her daughter who was in Overwatch. In Overwatch despite everything she had done. In Overwatch despite Overwatch literally collapsing. Why wouldn’t she wonder if she was there? Why shouldn’t she---? What would she have done if Fareeha was there?

“...I don’t think I would have come back, no,” said Ana.

Pharah’s face scrunched up. “This is what I’m talking about!” she said, bringing her hands up, “You keep acting like suddenly you were completely alone after losing your eye!”

“You never responded to my letter!” said Ana.

“You thought a LETTER was enough after letting me think you were dead for years!” Pharah snapped, “You wrote a letter because you’re willing to chase down terrorists all over the world, but you couldn’t face me or dad! And did you even hear yourself in that letter?! ‘The world thought I was dead, I thought that was for the best.’ ‘I’ve buried those closest to me.’ ‘I cannot stop fighting, not while people are waiting for me.’ Like I’m not close to you? Like I haven’t spent my whole life waiting for you!? It sounded like you had no intention of ever seeing me again, like you thought you were going to die in battle and there was nothing I could do to stop you! That’s a great letter to get after already mourning you!” Pharah was breathing hard but she caught herself. A bitter chuckle shook her breath. “And sure. Let me write you back. Where should I have addressed it? 1800 ‘Squatting-in-the-Necropolis’ boulevard?’ You were living like a post-apocalyptic wanderer! You didn’t want me to write back. You only wrote to relieve your own guilt.” 

“Fareeha--” Ana started but her own voice trailed off. She never thought of her letter as something so callous, but she supposed, with how long she had gone since talking to Pharah, that such a breakdown in communication wasn’t hard to imagine. And getting the letter itself out was enough of an emotional labor on her own end--it took so much energy to come to terms with and articulate those feelings, it already felt so raw and vulnerable that it didn’t occur to her that it sounded like a final goodbye. And when she was already dodging watchlists from Volskaya and various other criminal organizations... why would she expect Pharah to be able to track her down, when Helix literally had wanted posters of  the Shrike?

Another bitter laugh, more out of discomfort than any humor, shook Pharah’s voice. “You were in Giza. You had no problem tracking down dirtbags like Hakim, but I had an address. I had an apartment. You could have seen me at any time. You could have had a bed.”

“I would have compromised your work with Helix,” Ana managed, remembering her Shrike mask on wanted posters.

“No one would know! No one saw your actual face!” said Pharah, “You saw Angela. But not me. What does that tell me?”

Ana’s mouth was hanging open, her jaw shaking a little with no words coming out of her throat. 

“Angela told you about that?” said Ana quietly.

“Before she left,” said Pharah, “She stayed long enough to see me back from Vancouver and make sure things were stabilized after the Talon attack, but she was already packing up.”

“Did you two talk often, when she was doing her relief work there?” said Ana, not necessarily trying to derail the conversation, but willing to take a bit more context as relief from Pharah’s barrage. She knew Angela had no small amount of resentments toward her as well, especially with the biotic rifle.

“She butted heads with me and my coworkers when Helix had to investigate a lead at the refugee camp,” Pharah huffed, “Tried to patch things up later, but we didn’t talk much after that.” Too painful a reminder of everything you blocked me from, thought Pharah, Too resentful of you and the organization herself, but playing diplomat for my sake. Giving me crap about you being proud of me when everything I accomplished was in spite of your efforts. She didn’t know you and she doesn’t know me. Pharah decided to leave out the part where seeing Mercy’s apartment also left too much of an uncomfortable association with Ana. A more academic version of Ana, but all the trauma and still-unpacked boxes all the same. Someone ready to flit off to the next big problem in the world if it meant not having to open up those boxes. Pharah was already tired. She was already so tired of saying all these things that had been percolating in her for years. “...for what it’s worth,” she managed to dredge the words up out of herself, “I’m glad she let me know you were there.”

“So you could further justify your grievances?” said Ana, already weary.

“...so I knew you weren’t dead,” said Pharah. Ana’s lips tightened. She kept forgetting that. Kept forgetting that Fareeha had fought her own battles, that the months of silence between them were filled with unsureness for Ana’s own safety, especially after a letter that told Fareeha that she was still fighting. She thought Fareeha’s resentment had shielded her from the pain and worry of their separation, but it didn’t. It only deepened that pain with anger and guilt. They both fought to relieve guilt over fighting. A serpent eating its own tail.

Ana glanced off. “With... with Hakim I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“Mum,” Pharah pressed her fingertips to her forehead, “I was in special forces. I could handle it.”

Ana’s lips thinned. “I don’t think of you as a soldier. I think of you as my daughter. I never wanted you to see my fights as yours.”

“I know,” Pharah said quietly, “But... when you’re young, and your mom is off fighting, it’s... very easy to assume, ‘Oh, if I fight too, maybe I’ll see her.’ And being blocked from joining Overwatch... I couldn’t not take that personally.”

“I know we’ve gone through this before but... I didn’t trust myself or other members of the old strike team not to engage in nepotism--we did practically all raise you,” said Ana, “And I couldn’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, whether under my orders, or any of theirs.”

“I figured,” said Pharah.

“But you’re here now,” said Ana, “And... you’re brilliant. I haven’t been here long, but I can see that this is who you’re meant to be.”

“And I’m glad I managed to develop those skills outside Overwatch,” said Pharah, “...I don’t know who I’d be if I had everyone fawning over me, over who my mom is.” 

“And you didn’t go down with the ship,” said Ana with a wry smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

Pharah chuckled and scoffed a little. “But even back in Helix they still talked about you. It was easier... when I thought you were gone...” her voice got misty, “And I hate that. When you were gone, I just got to remember all of the good things, how much of a hero you were, but when you came back,” Pharah sucked a breath in through her teeth, “Everything you ever did that hurt me came bubbling up. I didn’t want to give you the luxury of being something you could pluck off the shelf and dust off and forgive yourself with.”

Ana winced a little at this. “And you didn’t,” she managed, her own voice clouding up.

“But... I don’t know how much more I could hurt you than you’ve already hurt yourself,” her lips tightened, “I love you, Mum. And loving you is so hard sometimes, because you give so much of yourself away that I never know what I’ll have left,” her breath hitched, her voice cracking a little, “And I wonder, sometimes, how many more times I’ll lose you.”

Ana cupped a hand to the side of Pharah’s face and Pharah squeezed her eyes shut at the warmth of her palm, a tear budding out from her dark eyelashes and running briefly down the line of her wadjet tattoo. Ana put her other hand on Pharah’s shoulder and Pharah caught her wrist, wary. Strong. Of course she was. But then Pharah’s hand brushed up Ana’s arm and Pharah slumped into an embrace, fierce and tight, yet so tired from the weight of her own words. 

“And I was so afraid of losing you,” Ana said quietly, “That I pushed you away. Further. And further. And further.” She brushed a hand down Pharah’s back. “You were never something to be plucked off a shelf... but... my own memory kept freezing you in time. There is so much I blinded myself to in trying to protect you. In fighting for you. I blinded myself to you. Shored myself up against your pain as if it was my own. And... I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. But we’re fighting together now.” A sigh escaped her, “And as much as that terrifies me...” Her fingertips pressed hard against Pharah’s shoulder blade, “I’m even more scared of not having you in my life.”

“I said this wasn’t where we cry and hug and everything is good forever,” said Pharah, her voice creaking.

“Don’t worry, ḥabībti,” said Ana, stroking a hand down the back of Pharah’s hair, “We still have so, so many problems.” Pharah huffed out a half-sob half-chuckle against Ana’s headscarf, and Ana pressed her face into her shoulder. “But I am so proud of you. And I missed you so much.” said Ana softly.

“I missed you too,” said Pharah.

Ana brushed a finger along the gold of Pharah’s hair beads. She remembered braiding them into Pharah’s hair back when the Omnic Crisis first started, telling her that it was the light of the sun and the flesh of the gods and that they meant no matter how far away she was, she would always protect her. But now, in her own Fareeha’s arms, Ana realized she felt safer than she had ever felt in years.

[chaos-societies]

Episode 6, The Seven Chaos Princes’ Crowns

Fire was burning all around. It was inescapable. The distant sound of rushing water was not of comfort however. Waves flooded the scene and there were no means of staying afloat. It became impossible to breathe. The shadow of a man was letting out hearty laughs all the while.

“Past…Future… ”

The words cut through the chaotic event. They were clear and soothing, but there was an air of concern in the voice.

“The plant for creation, the plant for destruction... They’re waiting for the controllers.”

A light began shining. It wasn’t clear where it came from but it was blinding. Suddenly there was no more drowning, no more inferno.

“The servers are the seven chaos…”

…

Amy’s eyes slowly creaked open as a ray of sunlight had slipped between the closed shades of the window and landed right upon her face. She rolled out of the sun’s piercing brightness and let out an accompanying grown. “Five more minutes…” She mumbled mindlessly.

After a decent bit, Amy moseyed out from the bedroom and joined Sonic who was already in the kitchen stirring up some breakfast. “Sleep well?”

Amy let out a yawn. “Yeah…” She said without much conviction.

“Oh come on Ames, don’t lie to me. You were tossing and turning all night!” He quickly flipped the contents of the skillet before placing it back down on the stove. He moved over to the table where Amy was sitting and slid a cup of coffee in front of her. “Tell me, what’s up. More dreams?”

“Yeah…” It seems that was as much of a response she was capable of at the moment, at least until she woke up more.

The two discussed them more over breakfast. Amy told Sonic how Chuck comforted her about these dreams of hers and she made sure to remember as much as she could in case anything from them came to fruition. She even wrote some of them down and started her own dream journal. The one from the night prior for sure being noted as the new voice was surely telling some important information about ‘creation’ and ‘destruction.’

The world outside was moist after a light rain during the early morning. The sun was out but clouds occasionally obscured it and gave the air a cool brisk feel to it. The two walked around the wood surrounding the main village. The faint sound of waves mixed with the rustling of leaves in the wind. The two came across a ring of mushrooms and made sure to go around lest walk through. They discussed many things, mostly around the speculation of the recent events – Stark Ruins, the library in Cap, their run-in with the Reds from Rockbase, Chuck’s concern something menacing was afoot. They pondered what could be; evil spirits coming for vengeance, a forewarning of death. Nothing of their speculation was of the positive nature.

Meanwhile, Chuck was reading more from the Stair na Seacht at his place of study in his hut. The cool moist air battled the warmer sun as the two took turns pouring in through the window overhead. Birds were singing outside and the ambiance added peace to Chuck’s focus.

“Come ere spires…blocking…light? Blocking sun?” He looked over to another book and scanned some pages, turning them with a slow pace as he searched the text. “North the South city of trade…” He stopped reading a moment and thought aloud, “The South city of trade…”

Chuck stopped and looked out the window to see the trees. He thought of anything to avoid what he knew was inevitable if he were to find out what mysteries were starting to reveal themselves. But his concern for what may transpire outweighed his desire to keep those closest to him from venturing out in the world outside the haven of South Island. He let out a heavy sigh.

Outside, Sonic and Amy were walking back from their excursion. Knuckles and Rouge were off talking under an oak tree. Tails was sitting around with his nose deep in another book of some sorts.

As Sonic and Amy came around to the main area of the village, Chuck walked out of his hut in good timing. He looked over at Sonic with a non-verbal message that he needed to speak with him. Sonic said some words to Amy and they split as Sonic walked to join his uncle.

“Sonny boy. Enjoy your morning?”

“So far, what’s up Chuck?”

“I’ve been reading and trying to decipher the Stair na Seacht. I haven’t gotten far but there is a passage that uncovered something nearby. It doesn’t say much but something close is much more manageable than anything if it may bring more clues to what may be going on.” He explained.

“Another adventure!?” Sonic asked enthusiastically.

Chuck smiled behind his bushy mustache. “I knew you’d take pleasure in the prospects of possibly another trek into the wild. Despite my concern for your well being.”

“Uncle Chuck, you’ve done so much for us here. And you know we can keep our own. If there is anything we can do to help out your research.”

“There is.” He said quickly. He began to walk and Sonic began to follow. “There is not a lot of definitive phrasing in the book. It’s almost entirely written in riddles it seems, although I can’t tell if that’s intentional or just so old that what it tries to describe and explain was based on limited information of the world at the time.”

“What kind of riddles?” Sonic asked inquisitively.

“Some of it is plane information…mostly lore and ancient beliefs and mythos. Other parts be like directions to pieces of a puzzle that it didn’t even intend to create. It’s got me arsed if I weren’t lying.”

“So what do you need from me?”

“You and the gang, don’t you forget. Not only do I fear this involve the lot of you, you all have a tight nit that surely come in handy in a pinch. I need you to go north again, to Cap and even a bit past. I will have to owe Eiméar more for your visit a second time but–”

Sonic took the chance to make jest, “She was kind but I think we may have put up a nerve on her while we were there.”

“Oh I’ve not a doubt you did you kook.”  Chuck answered with a chuckle. He got back to the topic at hand. “The book mentions a place. I think it refers to somewhere at the base of the Sléibhte Scáthaigh north of Cap. If you can’t find anything, don’t mingle about as it doesn’t define a precise location. But it talks about something there, a text or message of sorts. I couldn’t determine exactly. But it was under a chapter referring to the emergence of ancient calamities with the talks of fire and flood. I think it’s relevant based on the runes you saw at Stark Ruins. Might give some extra clues, whatever it is there referring to. And…it wouldn’t hurt to investigate as it will still take some time for me to study the book further.”

“Chuck, you know we’re your guys for the job!” Sonic said with a bounce of his words.

“Ha!” Chuck laughed a bit. “Oh I know you are lad.” His cheery tone at Sonic’s response faded back to emotions of concern as his deepest fear still lingered on his mind; the world could be consumed with darkness and he wouldn’t care so long as he knew Sonic and the rest of his friends and all those in South Island were safe from harm. But he knew there was much at stake and feared it directly involved those he was trying to protect. “Go grab your crew. I’ll let you all decide on when you want to make this journey. The last one was more trying on you than I had ever hoped it to be.”

With that, Sonic departed and bolted off to join the others. Tails was the first one he told as he wouldn’t even consider going anywhere without his best friend and ‘little bro’ as he says. Next was Amy who showed a fair share of concern but also intrigue at the prospect of uncovering more of the world’s secrets. Her dreams were definitely a factor in wanting to know more as well. Knuckles acted annoyed as he would with even the simplest of requests but took the opportunity to give Sonic some slagging saying he saved them last time and they could use his help. Rouge felt similar in the sense of watching out for the group, not so much in the poking fun at them part.

They decided to give it another day or so before heading out. Knuckles took this time to go back to Angel Island. Nack and Bean made jest on how Knuckles was leaving his own chapter of Reds for the Cyans but he was used to this with how much of his time was divided between the two factions of the two Societies. Mighty and Ray were supportive and wished him luck as they knew the dangers of the Greater Area since they too helped rescue the Cyans from their not-so-friendly Rockbase brothers and sisters on their journey back from Cap the last time. Bark was silent as ever.

The time came for the group to depart and was once again sent off by Chuck and Vanilla. The rabbit innkeeper, always the mother, even prepared another care package for them.

The journey to Cap was much like their first, uneventful. A good thing too. They arrived again in the market and were lucky no one remembered their faces based on their last scuffle with the locals. They are a rambunctious crew but were smart and learned quickly. They didn’t want to draw any attention or break out any of their ‘abilities’ as Chuck put it. But that didn’t stop their gaze at the goods and merchandise. Knuckles was particularly fascinated by the hustle of the city. He was too used to the quiet life of Angel Island – the village at South Island was sometimes even too much for him. He would moan and scoff at every Mobians that bumped into him which was a lot based on his larger stature as they walked through the crowded streets.

“Psst, miss.” A voice called out. Amy stopped and turned her head. “Yes you! Lovely pink quills you got.” An older lady called. “I ‘member the days my quills were so well kept. What’s your name lass?” The lady was an old hedgehog covered in a shroud and had many chains beads and pendants hanging from silver wire adorned on her head and shoulders. She had a few gemmed rings and long hanging earrings.

“Um… Amy?”

“Amy, lovely. Short for Amelia?” Amy didn’t respond and continued to stare inquisitively. She looked back at the group who stopped and noticed Amy fell behind. They stood with similar curious looks as to why she stopped. “Ah, no matter.” The gypsy continued. “I can tell you’re special.”

Amy turned back to the older hedgehog. “What?”

“Dreams is it?” Amy was stunned. “Come now, I only wish to help.” Her words were warm and sincere. Amy turned back to Sonic and the others and raised a finger for them to wait a moment for her. She slowly but cautiously followed the gypsy back behind her booth and into a small dwelling.

Amy passed many odd trinkets and oddities as she continued back. The place had a warm earthly glow to it and plants were all around in pots on the floor and hanging from the ceiling. Not too far back, as the place was rather small, the gypsy was sitting at a table. On the table was a cloth with a delicate design and repeating patterns. On top the cloth was a hookah.

“Aye, no need to be alarmed. Tis as much I can say for an old hag pulling a stranger off the street.” The lady said as Amy took a seat. The lady grabbed a hose from the hookah and drew in a large inhale of the substance. She offered it to Amy but she kindly shook her head mostly not even knowing what the thing was. “I saw your lot walk by and must say you are a peculiar bunch.”

“How so?” Amy asked, trying to keep as many words to herself.

“Strong energy coming from the lot of you. Not only that, I remember you all brought quite a stir to these parts a few moons back.” She explained. Amy’s curious yet cautious expression was washed away with a pang of fear. “No need to fret lass. I don’t mind a good show every once in a while. Just happy to catch your lot back through here. Now, last I wish is to intrude but you’ve got something on your mind, something heavy.”

“You seem to already know.”

“So you’re plagued by some dreams. Foreboding yet shrouded in obscurity. I have something to help.”

“Why?”

“Why what lassy?” The lady said as she took another toke of the hookah before standing up and walking over to a shelf full of odd pieces.

“Why are you helping me? If it’s tokens you’re after I don’t have much and am less willing to give them to you. I need them for other things.” Amy explained.

“Ah, though that’d be normally what I’d ask for. Not this time.” She came back with a small box and opened it up to reveal a deck of cards. “On the house this time. However if you ever stroll through and wish to take a gander at me lot then I’d be happy to fulfill those wishes.”

Amy took out the deck of cards and scanned through them. They weren’t any normal cards she had seen being played by the locals in the tavern or out in the street. They each had separate pictures on them, trees, symbols, imagery. “What are they?”

“Tarot cards my dear. To help you translate the messages the world sends you.” She sat back down and grabbed the hose of the hookah except did not take a drag just yet.

Amy continued to look through the cards but then turned to the gypsy with a raised brow. “You never really answered. Why do you want to help me?”

“As I said, I sense a great deal of energy coming from your crew. I sensed it back at your last visit and that was just from watching you tussle around with the street folk. I too have dreams sometimes. And I’ve been waiting to come across you all again. I believe I was told to help you and that is all. I don’t make it a habit to quarrel with the will of the world.” Finally she took a long drag from the hookah and whisked out a heavy cloud of vapor.

“Is…is there anything else you know?” Amy placed the cards back in the small box and rested her hands on it.

“It is not my place, nor yours, to ask questions to the ether. But only receive their answers. This was all I know about you and for both our sakes it may be better that way. Now, I’m sure your friends want to know where you slipped off to ey?”

Amy arose out from the lady’s dwelling to see everyone there waiting for her.

“Ames, what was that about?” Sonic asked.

“I…don’t really know.” Amy answered as she held the box in her hand. She slipped them away in her small pack.

“Probably just some desperate merchant trying to sell her something. Don’t fall to these guys’ scams there girl.” Rouge said as they all started to walk off. Meanwhile the gypsy peered out from behind a curtain in the only window of her home and watched with curiosity as they left.

They made it back to the library and walked in. It did not take long to find Eiméar again, slaving over the task of sorting the books in the magnificent study. “Hello Miss Eiméar.”

They were now back in her living quarters once again drinking tea as she set up for their short stay. “I knew I’d see yer lot soon but I shant have expected this soon.” Eiméar said as they sat. “That coot decided to have you bother me yet eh?”

“We won’t be staying long, no longer than last time. Just two nights.” Rouge explained kindly. “And we again appreciate your hospitality.”

“Well if that old hedgehog keeps his word I won’t complain. As long as you stay out of trouble this time ‘round, that clear?”

“We’ll keep to ourselves.” Rouge answered once more.

“And you got a new lad with you this time. What’s your name?” She said to Knuckles as he stood off to the side.

“The name’s Knuckles. It’s nice to meet you ma’am.”

“Knuckles, well geez, ah could have placed a bet on that one with those sluggers of yours.” She motioned down to his fists. “Another friend or are you some bodyguard of sorts.”

Knuckles smiled and glared over at Sonic to which he just rolled his eyes in response to Knuckles’ leer. “Maybe a bit of both.” Knuckles answered through a grin.

“Aye. Well, what be it dis time?”

“Chuck wants us to look at some place north of here. Said it should be at the base of the Sléibhte Scáthaigh.” Sonic stated.

“The Stair na Seacht is pretty cryptic Sir Charles says. But he said there may be something there that could fill in the gaps to his studies. Maybe in a cave or a hollow. Know of anything?” Amy asked.

“That I do. There’s an old cave I’ve been told up there with old carvings on the walls. Typically an old smugglers den so best be careful if yer plan to be ‘sploring any. Could that be it?”

“Possibly!” Tails answered. “Do you know anything else about the place?”

“Afraid not. Never been meself. Just heard ‘bout it. Not too far though and quite noticeable I’ve been told, but best go in the morning before the sun is past high. They don’t call em the mountains of shade for nothing.” She looked over at Knuckles again. “And best bring your bodyguard of sorts too. It’s abandoned I hear now but ya never know.”

The morning came quickly and the group set off to see this place. They initially ventured east to hit the base of the Sléibhte Scáthaigh and paralleled it north. There was nothing of particular interest for a good distance. They scanned out to the west in the open area before the mountains rose out from the land like towers but also checked directly at their base in case it was hidden before the sudden cliffs.

“Look!” Tails shouted as he was flying high above the rest for a better vantage. “I think I see something!” He zoomed down to their level and dropped down stirring up a little sand as he landed. “There is an outcropping of rocks and boulders not too far from here. Looks out of place, could be what we’re looking for.”

“Great job buddy! I’ll go ahead and scout it out to see and to make sure no one is around.” Before any objection from the crew Sonic sped off in the distance. It took not even a full minute for him to return. “I think he’s right! There is a sizable opening in the rocks. Didn’t see anyone around either.” Without another word he zoomed off again. Tails quickly sped off to join him. Knuckle and Amy ran as quick as they could in the looser ground and Rouge fluttered alongside them.

They reached the structure and saw it to be exactly as Sonic loosely described, a cave with an opening big enough for the tallest of Mobians to walk right in. They made their way down the entrance. Tails dug through his small pack and grabbed a flashlight. It flicked on and they ventured down. The light wasn’t entirely necessary however as a short bit past the entrance was the darkest part. Natural light began to illuminate the burrow through openings in the ceiling.

Soon they came into a decent sized room, one slightly bigger than any of their huts back at South Island. Closer to the hallway that was the entrance was some crates covered in sand and dust. They seemed abandoned and forgotten but the group took note not to stay long in case their owners made a return.

[x]

The sight beyond that was strange and mystical but beautiful. The light from the high sun poured down through the openings and glistened along the yellow and red rocky walls. It was surprisingly moist there and small puddles were scattered on the cave floor until they grew in size where they reached a small pool at the end of the cavern. The grotto there had two large very out of place trees arising from the pool. They arose tall through a large hole in the ceiling. They were amazed they couldn’t see the trees from outside but figured they may have been shielded by other taller rocks that jut out around the place.

One tree was an ash tree, forked into two halves. Intertwined with the ash tree was a white fir that rose up strong. In the pool were some reeds as well. The fact that all these trees were found in a cave was surprising. The water there must have softened the ground to make for a strong root system and the sun shining through must have been sufficient to keep the trees alive but the less than ideal environment surely stunted their growth.

“Hey guys, there’s something along the lines of what Chuck was thinking I think over here?” Knuckles was over by the wall and pointed to some carvings and etching there.

“Ogham!” Tails shouted as he and the others moved over to investigate. Sure enough, a series of lines with hatches and marks were all over the walls of the cave. There was too much scattered around to take note of all the etchings but they examined them nonetheless.

“Surely we won’t be able to write all these inscriptions down for Sir Charles, there are just too much!” Amy pointed out.

“He told me that more than often the writing was used more to inscribe names for memorials or markers for tribes and boundaries. There are a lot of random inscriptions. I don’t want to miss anything but maybe many of these are like that.” Tails said.

“Kind of like a ‘Sonic was here’ thing?” Sonic said half joking as he scratched his finger over some of the carvings.

Tails gave a chuckle. “Probably. Let’s try and see if anything sticks out.”

“There’s something over here.” Amy called out as she was over closer to the trees. “There seems to be more structure to these. Not only that…” She signaled everyone over, “runes!” There were only a few but the symbol ᚦ was followed by the laguz ᛚ that they knew from Stark Ruins. Then again with the first, followed by cen ᚳ and above both was the symbol ᚫ.

“There’s one on the tree too.” Rouge pointed out. On the white fir was an aged engraving, hardly made out but appeared to be another rune, ᛇ.

Surrounding the runes Amy found was a long vertical line of ogham inscriptions that appeared more like text than the others which just resembled single words.

“If anything let’s write these down for Sir Charles.” Amy suggested. They did so and stayed a little while taking more looks around. They wrote down things here and there that they thought might be of interest. The sun that illuminated the grotto was now passed and little light was shining through the ceiling. They took this as time to make their leave and head back to Eiméar. It was early afternoon and with how close to the Sléibhte Scáthaigh they were, the sun was already starting to fall behind the mountains to the east.

They made it back to Cap with no trouble and divulged to Eiméar what they had found. She again told them that though she was familiar with every text in the library, she wasn’t so familiar with all their context and that Chuck would know more. She also suggested Chuck hand them some transcript to readily read runes and ogham if they were to be out doing more of Chuck’s ‘research.’ They made sure to suggest the same to Chuck once they got back.

The day had past and they settled in their own ways for their trek the next day. Tails was running about in the library picking up and reading books of interest. Rouge dragged Knuckles to the market and they promised not to cause any trouble. Sonic and Amy were talking together over tea.

“So she just…gave these to you?” Sonic asked as Amy had the tarot cards sprawled out in front of her.

“Yeah, it was…odd. She said she knew we were special. Also recognized us from our fights in the market last time. She somehow knew I was having strange dreams. I couldn’t say no to taking them especially as a gift.” She explained.

“As long as they aren’t ‘cursed’ or something.” Sonic said in his typical manner of unserious humor.

“No, I think she was sincere. I just am not entirely sure how to go about using these things. There is a placard describing each of the cards but… it’s still a bit confusing.” She was focused hard on trying to remember the cards and their descriptions and the different meanings behind them and how to read them.

Later that evening Rouge and Knuckles returned and Tails was back with a tired brain. The crew went to sleep and awoke to get ready to travel back. They gave their regard to Eiméar once again and thanked her for her hospitality. She now was surer than ever she would see them again and this time expected it to be soon.

Thankfully the journey back was much less exciting than their last trip from Cap back to South Island. They made it home with enough time for Chuck to not grow any concern. He met with them at once on what they had found.

“After last time I was concerned about setting you out again but I guess you have proven that you don’t always run into trouble.” He said with a smirk.

“I told you we were the guys for the job!” Sonic said proudly.

Chuck shook his head lightheartedly. He looked at the notes they made for him and studied them. “You said these were carved in the wall of a grotto?”

“They were. It was weird, in the middle of the barren land north of Cap, here was this little cave with two large trees growing in the rock!” Amy exclaimed.

“Two trees huh?”

“Yeah, an ash and a white fir were growing together. Some reeds too in the pond surrounding them.” Tails continued to explain.

“An ash tree, a white fir and reeds…?” Chuck seemed interested.

“Yeah. And then a BUNCH of ogham inscriptions on the wall.” Sonic spoke up. “Too much for us to write but Tails said you said most of ogham was used for names and markers so we only wrote down a few. But there was one in particular.”

Chuck cut him off. “The one by the runes?”

“That’s the one.”

“Hmm…” Chuck started stroking his mustache as he did when in deep thought. “Cen and laguz like you saw at Stark. And what seems to be thurisaz before them and ansuz above them.”

“Yeeaahhh… Sure.” Sonic said unfamiliar with the seemingly foreign language his uncle was speaking.

“There was another carved into the fir. It was faded but it should be there on the notes too.” Rouge added.

“Ihwaz.” Chuck said all the while writing down his own notes and flipping through a book in doing so. The group sat patient and with intrigue, with the exception of Knuckles who was in the corner chewing on a stalk of grass. “Interesting…” He said aloud as he continued to investigate.

It took a moment before he finished up and turned back to the group. All of their ears perked up simultaneously with interest at what he had to say. “The thurisaz is a rune meaning giants or strong ones, often in association with a conflict. Ansuz quite literally meaning ‘the gods’ and you already are familiar with cen and laguz, fire and water. So these tell me something about giants or gods of fire and water, possibly in some conflict.” He looked up at Amy as he and her were likely thinking the same thing – her dreams seemed to show some stalemate battle between the two forces. He continued, “And the ogham, seacht anord flaith coróin. Seven Chaos Prince Crown.”

“Seven chaos prince crown? I mean, I get the first half Chuck.” Sonic called out.

“There is an old legend saying the Lords of Seven each wore a crown that had a different shard of chaos bestowed upon them. I don’t know much more beyond that in terms of their significance. But these Lords were said to have immense power.” He answered.

“And the rest of the ogham? Any more hints from that old dead language?” Tails insisted on knowing more.

“Hmf,” Chuck scoffed, “dead language. It’s not just dead, and much less a language in the way we use the common tongue. It’s ancient. Found only in old text about ancient times and myths. I had forgotten entirely about it until you came across it at Stark Ruins. But you were right in that it seems the other inscriptions were nothing more than names and markers. An ‘I was here’ kind of thing.”

“Ha! I knew it.” Sonic said gleefully as he was softly elbowing Amy.

“Shh!” She shushed him so Chuck could continue.

“Why was the ogham in Stark in the common tongue then? And also the rune in the tree?” Rouge asked.

“Ah, well that is another mystery. Maybe whatever forces did that horrific deed at Stark knew who ever would stumble across it would only know the common tongue. But then again, why even make it ogham…” He said more so as a question to himself. “As for the tree, it was ihwaz or yew. Odd to label the tree as if anyone wouldn’t recognize the kind of tree it was. But the yew and even the ihwaz was a symbol in lore of death and resurrection.”

“From Chaos comes creation and creation ends with destruction.” Amy muttered.

“Yes, but creation also come from destruction.” Chuck mused. “And endless cycle of death and rebirth. You should all know this from our,” Chuck and Knuckles made brief eye contact, “from your respective ceremonies. One of the few beliefs all Societies have in common.”

“What of those crowns you mentioned?” Knuckles finally spoke up. Though stoic as he liked to be, he couldn’t help but also be intrigued by the information.

“I think there might be more to them than just ornamental pieces associated to folklore. I only know of one currently in existence and even then there is speculation on whether it is in fact one of the Lord’s crowns or just an ancient artifact from a time long passed. Last I heard it lay locked away in secret in a museum in the city of Westport, many many hundreds of miles from here.” Chuck further explained.

“If it’s locked away in secret, how do you know of this thing?” Sonic asked.

“Because I’m the one that found it.” They all froze in perplexion. “But that is a story for another time. I will need to read the Stair na Seacht more to see if this trail of crumbs is worth following. Go get a pint of gat at the tavern and rest up from your journey. I’ll let you know if I uncover anything of worth.” They all got up and moved out the door. “Amy, a word if you don’t mind dear.”

Amy looked at Sonic and he gave her a shrug. She’d join them shortly. Chuck moved over to the sink and began washing his hands. “I know you and I are both thinking similar thoughts.” He finished rinsing his hands and turned to further explain. “Whether from ancient myths or omens of future, your dreams are connected to this vast riddle we’ve been investigating and exploring. Fire and flood…” He paused, “I fear something of the sorts may come to transpire. And a human you said?” Amy nodded. “I think we need to find these ‘crowns’ before whatever man in your dreams does.”

[thewolfisawake]

{Home // Cavetown}

Kai held the letter in his hand. He read over the information over and over. It was correct but he still read it again and again. Across the top was printed ‘Request for Transfer.’ He walked the busy halls filled with hunters milling about. Getting new assignments, submitting paper work, and chatting. Stray eyes made him shrink into his jacket. They weren’t looking at you, he told himself. Seeing a group laugh as he walked passed still made him pick up his stride, bangs hiding his gaze.

Making it to the set of glass windows with cutouts, he walked up to one of the workers finishing some writing. The man looked up, expectant, and suddenly Kai felt sheepish as he slowly slid the paper through the opening at the bottom. The man took it as his hand held where the wrinkles on the sides were. He didn’t know where to look as the man reviewed the sheet and settled to the laminated notice on the counter.

“I...I’m thinking of transferring from the Asia branch,” he admitted into the phone. On the other side he could hear Daza kick up her feet, “About time.”

About time she said. Was it really that obvious? Or was it just Daza being Daza? 

“So where are you going?”

“Huh?”

Daza clarified, “Where are you transferring to? There’s a lot of branches. Back to Oceania?”

“Ah, no. I was thinking...well, you always said how you liked it out where you lived. So I...” I wondered if I could go that way. It sounded better in his head. And as the words fell out, he was realizing how silly it sounded. Going just because his mentor said it looked nice. 

“Then let’s do it. Let me know when you’re heading out so we can meet.”

He didn’t know if she was a mind reader or if she really meant that. But it still made a small smile reach him as he remarked, “Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“It’ll be about two weeks,” the man brought his attention back as he took a stamp out, “and you’ll need to get a new license when you arrive to your new branch.”

“R-Right...” 

“Anything else?” 

“No, thank you,” Kai replied as he gave a small bow before turning to leave. Two weeks. Yeah, he could do that. 

--

A sigh escaped him as he started to pull the laundry from the clothesline. The breeze provided one last drying as he reached for the clips. From behind him a soft ‘ding’ reverberated His eyes fell onto the wind bell. Its bright color overshadowed by the parchment attached with Yukina’s calligraphy, “I probably should take you down, right?”

He reached his arm up, causing the the bell to ding. As if protesting being moved. Pulling back when the breeze brough his hair in his face, he wondered if it was okay. Who knew, Yukina could be back tomorrow and complain of how much of a pain it was to put it up the first time. A small smile reached his features. Kai folded his clothes into the basket and slid the door back into the apartment. Perched atop the pile was the wind bell, “I’ll put back up when she gets back.”

He promised this to no one in particular. He just really would hate if a torrent washed it away. It just one of many little preparations Kai worked on during his two weeks. He swept and dusted it from top to bottom, finding old wrappers that had fallen in obscure areas. He washed dishes and put them away. He tossed out all kinds of food. And every bit of him pained him.

When he finished, Kai flopped onto the futon. He looked at his phone. No messages. He went into his mail and started a new letter.

Are you tired of me yet?

He started it for a minute. It was a question he wondered some times but wasn’t what the content of his letter. He went on to write:

I don’t really know if these annoy you not and since you haven’t answered back, I’m just gonna think you love it  ♡ ～('▽^人)

But seriously, you don’t have to read them. I just feel I need to update you as I go. Which is why I’m telling you, I am leaving the Asia branch. I know we talked about doing that together some day--and we totally can when you come back--but I’m...I’m keeping our promise. It took a while to actually do that since I kept waiting. I still am waiting but you’d probably hit me on the head when you got back and say I’m a dummy for not going anywhere for at least a year. 

So I’m doing it. ╰(✧∇✧)╯ Just watch me. I’ll try and maybe--

Kai paused. He then deleted the last sentence.

I hope you come back soon. I miss you, Furu. 

He hit send and closed his phone. A sigh came to him as his eyes fell onto the duffel bag filled with his clothes and the few possessions he owned. Currently resing atop it was a small gravestone with crudely carved writing on it. Kai sat up to bundle dark locks into a messy , resolving to get dinner before the bento were all gone. 

--

“Transfer?” the word came out much louder than Kai hoped. He nodded, “Yes, this is my last assignment before going to the Europe branch.” 

“Why would ever do that? You barely complete missions as is. Much less suceed at them,” to that, Kai barely covered his grimace with his cup. Going out with other hunters was expected in the Asia branch, it reminded him of the salarymen that were probably heading out soon. And this time ended up with some hunters he graduated with. Another piped up, “There’s more dangerous beasts out that way. It’ll eat you alive, Adler.”

Kai remarked, “It’s true it’s different but maybe--”

“I give it a month.” 

“I thought more of two weeks.” 

It dissolved into another conversation. One that he didn’t care to hear the results of. He took another sip of his drink as he watched them chatter. Yeah, it was about what he expected. Not that he really blamed them. His track record was...abysmal at best. If not for how often he worked in the two years since licensing, his rank would’ve been just as terrible. Nevermind the senpai, seonbae, and tiền bối that would offer no guidance, still finding him a fluke. Nor pay mind to those his age or younger that would refuse cooperation or participation to add to an already ill reputation.

His fellow hunters were looking at the menu and gesturing to the server. They pointed out other things to get. Their attention momentarily on him to lead the server’s gaze to him as they explain it being his last night with them. So thus, they were celebrating. Translation to Kai, they would drink and eat as if no tomorrow and he would pay for it. As they made their orders, his gaze went to his phone as his free hand twirled a lock absently. How long would it be this time.

Kai ended up giving another deep bow in appreciation and apology as he finished dumping the last of the hunters to their accomodations. He apologized to the staff again as he exited. It was well into the night now and his apartment a good distance away. He started his trek back with streetlights and the neon signage as his light. It all felt too bright and made his head spin. Or maybe that was all the alcohol. Walking past characters of all sorts, Kai tread in the general direction of home. As he went, his thoughts wandered.

He’d heard about Europe branch. As the area serving as origin for many legendary beast, it had history. It was where the Bastion started and where those connected to it where likely to be. And living amidst some hotbeds of magical activities, hunting was often more fraught with physical danger than the incorporeal and spiritual as often the case over this way. The hunters from there sometimes thought to be cut from an entirely different cloth. Tougher, more cunning, and meaner. 

It would be hard. But what wasn’t in this body of his? It would mean learning an entirely different kind of tactics. Well, his journal could use the update. It could be like it was here. If it was, at least he’s used to it and there’s a few places he hasn’t been. He would be without anyone he knew. That was fine, since he could find someone that he can spend some time with on occasion. Tonight proved that. It might show what everyone had been telling him: that he wasn’t cut out to be a hunter.

Kai bit his lip, his hand brushing against his bracelet, “But still...”

--

He placed the last of his belongings within his bag. It felt weird looking back at the apartment. He could see the gaps from where his trinkets were taken. The collage of pictures held splotches of the wall. Some valuables left imprints of their former place. It almost look like something was missing but Kai brushed that off. It was Yukina’s place, he was just crashing there for a while.

Like a ghost. 

A quiet laugh left him with a smile without warmth. His eyes grew dark as he thought maybe he should stay. At least here he could pretend he was a hunter. A really crappy one but one nonetheless. He would have to live with being the liar, the failure, but at least he was alive. Instead of this living dead. Waiting in a limbo that hurt his heart as much his body. It might’ve served him right, the monster that got so many killed. And this existence...this hell was what he deserved, a sentence he should serve out.

 His head bowed as his frame trembled. Those words drifting around his head. Words that he’d thought so many times to himself. Variations of it spoken to his face and behind his back. The thoughts that made his eyes sting. The hatred that would always lead to something drastic. 

His heart seem to beat in his ears as he stumbled to his feet. He wandered to the bathroom, opening a few drawers. Then he found it. Kai looked at the mirror for a moment, drawing a breath.

SNIP snip snip snip snip

--

It might be hard. 

The hunter put down his bag onto the bed. It felt like it’s been forever since he’s had a bed to himself that wasn’t a bunk bed. Although it was merely a hotel room, he found himself wandering around the room. Looking into the bathroom, closet, and ‘kitchen’ before flopping onto his bed. Jet lag tried to creep on him when he shot back up, “Oh right.”

I could never move on and be waiting for a person that’ll never return. It might all be for nothing and it will be just like before. I could fail over and over and show just how much I don’t belong here. 

“You could’ve have done this before you got here?” the worker asked from behind the glass. She seemed more confused than annoyed. He sheepishly scratched his cheek, “It just sorta happened...I’m sorry for the trouble.”

The confusion turned to perplexion however she asked no further. Instead she finished typing into a computer and showed a screen to him, “Is the information on here correct?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, just give me a minute to finish this up. Now you’re going to need a new to take a new photo. So if you’ll head over to....”

Even though I’ve told myself ‘it wasn’t my fault,’ I’ve heard dozens of times over how much it was. And despite what I’ve said...I still believe it. Maybe I do deserve to live detested and miserable. And yet...

He arrived to the meet point a bit early. It was his first mission over here and the last thing he needed was to keep anyone waiting. The coordinates were a landmark at a park. He ended up hanging around, snacking as he waited for someone else that looked...’hunter-like.’

There’s this quiet yet stubborn thought...

“I thought I was getting here early but looks like you beat me to it,” came a voice from over to the side. His gaze fell onto a guy, probably only a little older than him. He had an interesting shade to his eyes, a blue he couldn’t quite place, and definitely tall. But if his words didn’t give the guy away, a few of the scars and build would’ve.

“Ah, well, maybe next time,” he said, immediately mentally cursing himself. This was supposed to be a good first step...The guy chuckled, “Hopefully, that doesn’t mean camping out.”

The newcomer offered his hand, “I’m Emil and you are...?”

A completely selfish wish...

“Aspis,” he replied, the beginnings of a smile, “Hope we can get along.”

I want to live. 

[thecursedson]

60

60: Who’s a roleplayer (or writer) you think you have learned a lot from? 

This is basically going to turn into one long follow list but here we go. Bear in mind I have written with a lot of people in my almost a decade on this site, but there’s some I’ve grown with over the years that I cannot imagine my life without. So, that list is below:

@thecursedspinner | Caroline has allowed me to explore that father-son relationship with Bae and Rumple since day one {actually, day one} and I could not thank her for that more.  We’ve developed so much with them and I’m so blessed to have found her all those years ago! I know a lot of people won’t believe this, but Caroline was the very first person Baelfire ever interacted with when he was just a small side blog. I know, right? It seems like ages ago – because it was. I think I still have the first messages we exchanged and I remember how excited I was back then and that excitement has not vanished to this day. 

@rumdaydreams, @ltbroccoli, @russianonzebridge, @empathicstars, @ak-spra, @solitaryplanes, @bcdhearts, @atethrough , @pelagaios, @silcntvalor {aka Ohana – I’m only tagging one blog each for y’all} | So, you guys have been with me for a little over two years now which is crazy. However, since meeting you, I have learned so many things from each and every one of you that I cannot even begin to describe in detail. From how to develop characters to how to turn any fluffy moment into an angsty one and what a family looks like. I probably wouldn’t have the muses for the characters I do {if we didn’t make Ohana after the thing happened, I would have left the Star Trek fandom all together}. Anyway, I love you all and you’re wonderful and I don’t think I need to continue because you get the picture.

@mcrgensternsandwarlcks | Lassa, I don’t think I have ever told her how appreciative I am that I found her all those months ago in that group chat, so I guess this is my chance. At first, I wasn’t sure how we were going to do because I’m really shy in group chats until I’m comfortable and she was kind of quiet at first. As we both started to talk more we just…Clicked. More specifically, Baelfire and Jace clicked pretty instantly and things have never been the same since. Since that day, we now have three discord servers, endless muse storylines, and a really tight relationship and I am happy that I got to be apart of that group chat to meet her. 

@pueraeternuspan, @wickedspriite, @friend-of-the-cowards-son | Okay so you three I’m putting together but because you three taught me that there’s no AU out of reach. And yes, this may sound small, but in hindsight, it’s quite a big thing to learn. You three taught me that just because our muses rarely {or didn’t} have screen time in a show doesn’t mean that we cannot develop what it would have been like if they had. From Panfire relationships to Morraine and Baelfire developing more than just sitting by a river playing with rocks before she gets dragged away, and everything in between. You three taught me the value of creativity, and I love you each for that with every fiber of my being.

@justmilah @fortunainfiniitus | Let me tell you about how many Milah’s I have written within my rp life on Baelfire– two. I have written with two. Both of them are phenomenal writers who deserve nothing but love. Both of Ada and Cat are the reason I even have an idea of what Milah and Baelfire would be like in the first place because thanks to OUAT it didn’t exist. You had a vague idea, but it was really vague, but these two wonderful people taught me what that mother-son relationship would look like. In case you don’t follow it, I’ll just say: it’s full of laughs, sassy remarks, scolding, teasing, cuddling, and so much more.  I’ve known them both for two different amounts of time but in that time they’ve given Milah a whole new life in my eyes and I will forever be thankful to them for that. 

This is by no means an exclusivity list or anything like that, it’s just a list of people who I have grown with and learned a lot from over my years on Baelfire. Notice I said Baelfire, and not from all of my blogs because we’d be here all day. Frankly, I wouldn’t be here without any of the rp partners I have and Bae certainly wouldn’t be where he is without them. I have a ton of you I didn’t mention that I hold close to my heart and cherish with every fiber of my being. Each person in this list is kind-hearted, lovely, a great writer and so much more. They are wonderful human beings that I deeply encourage you to reach out to and get to know.

Nonnie | meme

[winteriron-trash]

About Me/FAQ

Hey, welcome to my blog! This is my -well, usually- Marvel-centric blog that has everything WinterIron, Bucky Barnes, and Tony Stark, as well as some general shitposts of my own wild adventures. I figured it’s best to keep up this trend of updating my ‘About Me’ page every follower milestone. So thank you all so much for over 3,000 followers, I never expected to break that many followers, let alone in less than a year on Tumblr. I appreciate each and everyone one of you, so really, thank you for sticking around with my bullshit.

Per the usual, I don’t do drama, I don’t do discourse. If you have a serious problem with me or anything I’ve written/done on this blog, please take it up with me personally. I will delete anon hate (if I get any, I haven’t gotten any yet…) and I think it’s all just pointless. I can be salty and derpy sometimes, but I will never purposely say something malicious. I’m not here for that negativity.

Now, to the FAQs.

Do you have an Ao3/Pillowfort/other social media?

I do have an Ao3, you can find me at Gothic_Lolita. I don’t cross-post everything, and a lot of my stuff on Ao3 isn’t WinterIron or even Bucky or Tony-centric, so if you’d like to see some other stuff I write, feel free to check over there. I don’t have a Pillowfort, nor do I plan on getting one. It took me forever to get this platform right, I’m not in the place to bother learning how to navigate a new one. I don’t do Snapchat or Instagram or Twitter because I am not nearly basic or cool enough for that stuff. The only social media I use is Tumblr and Pinterest, and trust me, my Pinterest is nothing interesting enough to be worth linking.

Do you have a tagging system?

I’m… trying, honestly. I’m trying to adjust my tags and systems because of the… wildness Tumblr is having with blocking and purging certain tags. I try to be funny in my tags, and I swear a lot, and apparently ‘fuck’ is being filtered out of the tag search, so that’s fun and completely screwed me over. As it stands, the important tags are ‘winteriron-trash writes’ (my writing tag), ‘shitposting with becca’ (any wild shitposts of my own sad creation), ‘not about marvel’ (any posts that are my general bullshittery and not Marvel related), ‘becca gives mediocre writing advice’ (a new tag I’m trying to use that’ll tag any post that I give writing advice on), ‘becca spills the tea’ (a tag for whenever I post my metas or opinions on Marvel characters, plots, etc), and the citrus scale which I explain in a post here

Do you write original fiction?

Yes, but I rarely, if ever, post it. I think I have all of one poem on Tumblr, any absolutely nothing original on Ao3. I write original works all the time, especially poetry and novels, but I’m super shy about being vulnerable and putting my stuff out there. I do wanna post my original writing somehow, but considering a fandom blog and Ao3 aren’t really the place for it, I’ll just keep it all hidden inside of me, and one day I’ll die. You’re more than welcome to ask me about any of my original writings, trust me, I am always willing to ramble about the shit I write, it’s pathetic.

What type of fanfiction do you write?

For this blog, mostly WinterIron fics or gen fics focused on Bucky or Tony. I do write about OT3s on here occasionally, but they usually include WinterIron in some way. Most of the time. I’ve somehow gotten to writing some weird stuff lately, to be honest. I’ll work with MCU, Sony Venom, and Spiderverse characters and canon, with the occasionally comic canon shoved in there. I have occasionally written crossover content with DC characters, but that usually relies on comic versions -or at least my own remixes of them- rather than the DCEU. On my masterlist, you can check out all the things I’ve written!

What are your ships besides WinterIron? NOTPs?

I’ll ship almost anything, and I’m a huge fan of rarepairs/interesting relationships simply to explore the possibilities of it, particularly when they include Bucky or Tony. My top OTPs besides WinterIron are currently Phlint, FalconShield, and BlackPepper. As for NOTPs, I strongly dislike Stucky, Stuckony, Thorki, and Staron for reasons of just not being able to see those characters together romantically. Feel free to send me the wildest rarepair your mind can think of, chances are I’ve probably already thought of it myself so I’d love the chance to ramble about/write for it. I’m a big fan of weird OT3s as well, just see the weird shit on my masterlist.

Are you in any fandoms besides Marvel?

I’m into DC, Star Trek, classic literature, Percy Jackson/HoO/Kane Chronicles, She-Ra, Carmen Sandiego, indie gaming, Supernatural, vulture culture, HYDRA Trash Party, and musicals. Yes, I’m aware I was born to be a geek. Trust me, I’ve grown very used to it.

Do you take prompts?

Honestly, sending me a prompt/headcanon/idea is a shot in the dark. I have prompts sitting in my inbox that has been there for about a year that I’ve been meaning to write. Chances are if you send me a prompt yes I’ve seen it, yes I think it’s lovely, but god I do not have the time. Occasionally a prompt will really grab my eye and I’ll just have to write something for it, but sometimes even that can take months to finish. Don’t be surprised if you send me a prompt and I randomly fill it seven months later. I’m prone to doing so. I love being tagged in existing prompt/headcanon posts and asked to write it (as I have a bad habit of hijacking posts to write stuff for them to begin with…) just know that once again the chances of me writing it are about a 50/50. Also, make sure the OP is okay with you asking me to write it, it’s never my intention to steal someone else’s spotlight, I just want to take cool ideas and throw my two cents in.

Is there anything you won’t write?

Drugs and alcohol are hard nos for me. They’re personal triggers that if you really want to know more about, you can send me an ask or message about. If I’ve listed something as a NOTP, I will not write anything with it. I strongly dislike writing kid fics, mundane AUs, damsel in distress Tony fics, and A/B/O, but I’m willing to work with an idea if it’s good enough. It really depends on the situation.

Do you offer writing advice/reviews?

Yep! I’m down to answer any questions on writing fanfic or just writing in general. I love talking about writing and all that. Seriously, I like talking about writing almost as much as I like talking about Marvel. I’m more than open to reading a few chapters of your fic or book or whatever and telling you my honest thoughts, but I probably won’t have time to read all of it if it’s more than 5k long, because I’m just a busy person. And I will be honest because I want to be helpful. Don’t ask me for my honest opinion if you just want your ego stroked.

Can I ask your opinion on [insert topic here]?

Always. I am always open to sharing my honest opinions, regardless of backlash I’ll receive for it. I’d rather be my honest self online -the one place I can be my honest self- then a fake mask made to please others. Whether it be fandom ships, in-universe meta, or non-fandom related topics, feel free to ask me. I love talking meta, or just general thoughts and opinions on random stuff. Trust me, I’m far too opinionated for my own good. Ask literally anyone who’s met me.

How long have you been writing?

All seventeen years of my sad, sad life. I loved writing stupid little stories when I was a kid, that slowly morphed into shitty “books”, then I went through a poetry phase in junior high, and when I was about 14 I wrote my first fanfiction. I posted my first fanfic when I was 15, and have been posting fanfiction for over a year and a half now. I started Tumblr in late February but didn’t start writing fics here until about March because I am a shy bitch.

Aaaaaaand now for some stupid shit about me you didn’t ask for.

My name is Becca, or Winter, or Dumbass, whatever you prefer, and I’m a dumbfuck 17 yr old lesbian from upstate New York. (The ‘upstate’ part is important. Don’t ask me if I live in NYC. Just don’t.) I’m a junior in high school and planning to study English and Marketing in college, to hopefully become an editor. Hopefully. I’m actually a pretty boring and dumb bitch, which makes it all the more concerning that I am steadily gaining popularity on this hellsite. Someone help me.

I mentioned some of my interests above, but some other stuff I’m into includes knitting, playing piano, tea, collecting (hoarding) notebooks, photography, editing, music, and being a general idiot. I’m a wild child in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, which should not fool you because I’m far too shy and afraid of everything to be cool like that. I sound a lot cooler online because I’ve gotten so used to online interactions from making friends and running my own Discord server, but in real life I am unrecognizable. I’ve been in a grade of 60 people with the same people since kindergarten and some of them still don’t know my name.

I’m mentally ill and all that, but we’re working on getting… better. Writing schedules are a mess from me and sometimes I’m falling apart so, that’s fun. It doesn’t usually affect my blog because I internalize that shit, but occasionally the self-deprecating humor can get to be a little too close to the truth. And just the general spastic nature of my blog reflects the utter chaos of my mind.

So anyway, that’s me, please be my friend. Also, because this seems to come up more and more. Please don’t be afraid of me/intimidated by me. I know I look all cool and popular, but I am literally a hot mess just like the rest of us. If you want to climb your way into my messages and just,,,, scream at me about something you think I’d like, or just scream in general, go ahead. I really won’t mind, I promise. I need… friends, or so my therapist tells me.

Oh, and here’s a face reveal.

Yes, I am that absolute idiot of a person, lying splat in the middle of my elementary playground field for,,,, reasons???? I don’t really remember the story behind that picture tbh, but it’s my entire personality in a single picture, so I dig it.

And here’s my actual face, with a cheap ring in my mouth and a fox filter because I thought I looked cute, okay? Leave me be.

Tadah.

I swear I’m funny and talented sometimes, please like me.

As always, feel free to send me an ask or a message about anything you’d like. 

Check out my Masterlist if you want, and join my Discord Server.

[ceallachtomas]

Blowing (Up) Saint Patrick’s Day Out of Proportion

This past weekend, herself and I decided to get away for some rest and a bit of birthday celebration. We were in deep need of just getting away. We chose to head out to upstate New York. Since I attended cookery school there, we figured it was the perfect get away. We were both tired of cooking. Let someone else do the work we thought. After all, one should be able to get a decent meal at a culinary school.

Through the backroads of New Jersey and New York we trekked. The winding roads and scenery took us from one hamlet to another. The small towns were quaint. As we drove through the afternoon, we came upon an Irish pub. Never being ones to turn down an opportunity for a pint, we ventured inside. (As I unfold the rest of this story, please note that I will not reveal the exact name or location of the aforementioned pub. The purpose of this story is to elaborate on the heinous and disrespectful nature of the promotion that this particular pub was offering for Saint Patrick’s Day.)

The pub itself seemed charming. It had all of the qualities of a pub “down the country” back home. Sure there were American sport events on the telly. Keep in mind that they need to cater to an American demographic. We sat down at an old knotty wood table. The server came over and announced his name and asked if he could take our drink order - a cider for herself, a stout for me. We sat there, chatting about how nice it was to be anywhere but home. We talked about how nice it was just to be the two of us. We talked about how we do not necessarily miss being in an Irish restaurant environment around Saint Patrick’s Day. We talked about the pandemonium that this particular staff at this particular pub would face next month. Then she stopped talking. She glanced down at the table top advertisement. A simple and brief, “Oh. My, God.” came from her lips. She turned it around to face me.

The above image is what I was confronted with. A range of emotions stirred up inside of me. I could feel the hollow of my gut churn. Who the feic thought this was a good idea?

An Irish pub, in America, promoting terrorism and celebrating needless death. Or so, in this day and age would be considered the “snowflake” definition of the libation. Maybe the opening sentence of this paragraph is a wee bit extreme. That is however, what it comes down to. In reading some research before I wrote this piece, the creator, Charles Burke Cronin Oat, was quoted as saying, “The drink gets some bad press to this day," he told the Guardian newspaper in 2016. "It wasn't done to celebrate car bombs, it was done to celebrate Irish families here in America.” It was not done to celebrate car bombs? That is what the drink in fact “does”. You drop a shot of Jameson’s in a pint of Guinness and it “explodes”, frothing upon impact. "The next thing you know it is the Irish Car Bomb, although at first it was the Belfast Car Bomb," Oat said. Because naming it “Irish” takes the brunt and the insult off of making it specific to Belfast?

I must have sat there at the table staring at this promotion in my hand for what seemed an eternity. Words could not come out of my mouth. My wife’s eyes reflected the horror that was in my own. Neither of us knew what to say. At that moment our server came over and saw that I was looking at the table top advertisement. Not so much looking at it, as I was through it, and feeling all of the feels, and offensive messages it was conveying.

“Yeah, that is our special coming up next month. We infuse our own Jameson’s!”, he seemed to boast proudly. “Would either of you like to try one a bit early?”

“I would not want to to try one at all.”, my words came back, deadpanned and cold.

I do not think he knew what to respond, as he had seemed so proud of this “wonderful” idea someone there had come up with to promote their Plastic Paddy celebration coming up.

“We are just giving our customers what they want. Using our infused whiskeys is a great twist!”, he perked up. As if that was a good justification.

I went on to explain how it was not the idea of the flavoured whiskeys, and the choosing of you own kind of draft etc… (Although that idea is waste of all good ingredients.) But that is my own opinion and has no bearing on the lack of ethical message that this pub was sending out.

I could feel my whole body tense up as I went on about how “what” they are celebrating and “how” they were going about it were two completely mixed messages. The idea of connecting a drink called the “car bomb” with an Irish holiday is such an extreme polar opposite. The tragedy, the horrors, the fear, that that name evokes is still real in Ireland and Northern Ireland today. Just last month in Derry the IRA claimed responsibility for one that went off, as can be seen below:

Sure, most American can not identify with the feelings that those images evoke. I do not even know if many people are still able to identify with it no matter what their background. Maybe many of us have become desensitised by these things as the years have gone on. That is sad in of itself.

This piece is not meant to be a public service announcement. It is also not a means to get on my “snowflake soapbox” as some would say, and plead sensitivity. At first I really thought that they should reconsider the promotion. Then I thought that maybe they should at least rename the drink to something less offensive. But then, where do we draw the line? That is no worse than PETA asking for “a bird in the hand” or “bringing home the bacon” to be changed to less animal oriented phrases. Sure those things are as offensive to them as a Car Bomb is to me. Most people who celebrate Saint Paddy’s in that way; what I call the “plastic Paddy” ideal are not going to change. They will still drink to excess and down Car Bombs. That is their right.

In the end, I feel the real message is about educating people. It is about making sure these terroristic tragedies do not continue to happen. Whether they be in Ireland, Northern Ireland, Syria, Afghanistan, France, and yes, the United States. It is about not just remembering and preventing these tragedies. It is also about not trivialising them into hokey promotions so that the ideas of them come to mean something completely different.

I stated to the server that I am just one person passing through there. Most of their clientele are going to be celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day as a reason to just celebrate something. Being Irish or celebrating what they think the Irish are, is just a catalyst, an excuse to drink and party. For them, that is fine. I feel though, I made an impact by telling him why I thought the whole promotion was in poor taste. I could see my emotions mirrored in his eyes when I told him of the stories that friends and family had told me over the years. We made a connection. Maybe he would convey that message on to the owners and management. Maybe not.

For me Saint Paddy’s is about celebrating being Irish. It is about connecting with the things that are cultural and beautiful in Ireland and Northern Ireland. It is about the music, the art, the food (without a doubt), and the feelings that those things bring me. Sure, I’ll have a wee bit of whiskey as I raise a glass to Ireland, to family, and to friends. I will raise a glass to Patrick its patron saint. The only explosion that will be going off is the pride and passion for what and who I am; not just on 17 March, but everyday as well.

“In the end it was not a place, or a past, or any sort of single, dazzling epiphany. It was all the little things. Cold butter spread thick on sweet wheaten bread or hot, subsiding potatoes; the scent of wet, black soil; a bushy spine of grass on a one-track road; wide iron gates leading to high beech corridors; the chalky smell of a cow's wet muzzle, and, most of all, in Seamus Heaney's words, the sound of rivers in the trees.” ― Trish Deseine, Home

[tisfan]

Candy Hearts Series

WinterIron - Wine  

Request: @summerpipedream Tags: first date, bad date, drinking, Tony has issues Wordcount: 1,889

Summary:

Tony asks Bucky on a date. This is great, this is wonderful, Bucky is very excited...

Tony discovers that Bucky is not Steve...

(In which a case of mistaken identity involves a LOT of necessary wine) (and in which case Bucky discovers champagne is good for getting red wine out of silk shirts.) (and Tony discovers that Bucky not being Steve is probably a good thing)

Bucky was pretty sure the date was in the toilet about five seconds after he sat down. He’d been running a little late, which meant Tony was already seated by the time Bucky walked over to the table. Bucky caught the man in profile, desperately handsome, comfortable in his own skin, and fucking owning the suit he was wearing, like he spent all day in tailored slacks and a three button jacket. He was absently rocking a glass of whiskey on the rocks in one hand and people watching.

Bucky took a seat and watched as Tony blinked. Absolutely zero recognition on those coffee brown eyes.

“Hey, Tony,” Bucky tried to prompt him, “good to see you again.” He offered a hand to shake and Tony took it on autopilot.

“Yeah, I… uh… James?”

Bucky nodded. He’d just met the man last week at a three-day, long weekend seminar thing for team building. Kinda like summer camp, but worse, really. Fury’d assigned Steve, Bucky, and Clint to go, since, as Fury always said “the three of you need a map and a compass and a flashlight to find your way out of a wet paper bag.”

Which wasn’t true at all, but none of them were really team players.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Bucky said, awkwardly. How did Tony not know who he was? Tony had called him two days after the seminar and been charming as fuck on the phone for a ten minute conversation, rehashing some of the seminar, and closing off with I was really impressed with your attitude and intelligence. Oh, and humor, very amusing, and I was wondering, you know, if you’re single and everything… you might want to go out for dinner with me?

Tony had sounded a little overeager, his words spilling quickly, as if he was talking from a script in his head that he’d been rehearsing, and it had given Bucky chills and made him feel squirmy at the same time to think he’d managed to impress Tony Stark. He’d said yes without even thinking about it.

“I guess I thought you were blond,” Tony blurted out, and then, seemingly realizing how rude that was, grabbed his menu and buried his face behind it.

Oh.

Oh.

“You got me mixed up with Steve,” Bucky said. Of course that had happened. Of course, of fucking course. It would be easier if Bucky could hate Steve, but he couldn’t. They were best friends, had been for way longer than Steve had been the unobtainable fuck that everyone wanted and no one got, and Bucky was the one occasionally picking up Steve’s leavings. And spent a lot of time nursing a little ball of jealousy that was going to give him an ulcer one of these days.

Bucky sighed, pushed his chair back, folded the napkin back up and threw it on his plate. “No need of us wasting our time or your money.”

Tony’s hand snapped out and caught Bucky’s wrist. “No, no,” he said. “Come on, okay. Wrong first move, I know. I have exactly zero brain-to-mouth filters and I had a ton of business cards at the end of the weekend, and I’d been sorting them into piles when I got them. So… you were still in the left pocket, right? I just, thought you were the other guy, no harm, no foul. I mean, we’re already here, might as well…”

Bucky gave Tony a flat look. Steve would have already walked out if he’d known any of that stuff, hell, Steve probably wouldn’t have said yes to Tony in the first place. Steve had… weird dating requirements, and there was a -- no shit, Bucky had actually seen it -- a 27-item long list of deal breakers to get to a second damn date with Steve Rogers. “If it’s Steve you want, I ain’t him, an’--”

“Come on, just stay, would you? I went through a lot of trouble to get a table here tonight, and--”

“You told someone you had a date, and you don’t want to deal with the fallout if you don’t actually have a date?”

Tony actually blushed, and was all kinds of not fair that he looked damn adorable when he did so. “My ex,” he confessed.

Bucky didn’t quite sigh when he dropped back into the chair, but his hopes for the evening were pretty much shot. On the other hand, as the asker, Tony was still footing the bill. Bucky might as well eat, and then have a really horrible bad-date story to tell at the office on Monday. Anything had to be better than listening to Clint and Sam rehash the plot for the latest Bad Movie they’d watched. (It was one of their things, the bad movies. Which, as Bucky had at least two of them inflicted on him, were truly terrible. The one with the hopping vampires had been so bad that it wrapped around to being good again, and then kept on going right in to what the fuckery territory.)

“And they’re gonna know you didn’t actually go on a date how?”

Tony delivered Bucky’s signature flat look right back to him with a side order of really, were you not paying attention. “Zero. Brain-to-mouth filters.”

Bucky glanced at the menu and didn’t quite choke. The prices, written in neat little calligraphy numbers, were… yeah, ow. Tony must have really wanted to impress Steve. (They weren’t even like normal prices, $22.95 or anything, no decimal places. Bucky did a quick run of numbers and even if he stuck to Pepsi and a main meal, Tony wasn’t getting out of here for less than $200, which was a lot just to not have to lie to an ex.)

“You know, you could just tell them I stood you up? Or that we had a political discussion and you tucked some breadsticks in your bag and made a break for it.”

Tony laughed, bright and clear and obviously amused. “Oh, no, after that joke, you have to stay,” he said, eyes shining. “I insist. I remember laughing all weekend, doing projects and team building bullshit with you and your co-workers.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. “Then you probably meant to call Clint.” He waited until Tony gave him huge, hurt, wide eyes, before grinning. “Kidding, I kid.”

And it was on from there. Tony was snarky, sarcastic, bitterly cynical about the present, but so full of hope for the future that it was painful. They got some of the first date bullshit questions out of the way, and were deep in a conversation about the Brexit fallout, including some economic implications that Bucky hadn’t even considered, before he realized that they were finishing off their dinners.

Really, for eighty-five dollars a plate, he probably should have paid attention to the food. Or, like the four glasses of wine -- had he really had that much? He did vaguely remember the sommelier coming by with a second bottle. The house chiante was perfect with the braised wild boar and mushrooms that had made up Bucky’s selection.  

Their server came ‘round to see if they had room for dessert and Bucky let Tony talk him into sharing an espresso souffle. While they leaned closer to each other, dipping their spoons into chocolatey coffee goodness, the conversation turned lighter, favorite movies, books, music.

God, Steve would hate this guy, Bucky thought. A strict non-fiction, military memoirs sort of guy, with a side helping of literary fiction, if Steve Rogers ever read a science fiction novel in his life, Bucky would be shocked. When they were kids, Steve was constantly ripping Star Trek novels out of Bucky’s hands to give him books that were practically required reading for school, and what the fuck was up with that? Like anyone actually wanted to read Red Badge of Courage or Wuthering Heights.

Steve certainly wouldn’t be drinking with a guy he’d just met and giggling over bad Star Wars puns.

“Let me top you off, one last time,” Tony said, waving the bottle around. “No sense lettin’ it go to waste.”

Bucky considered it. He was already taking an Uber home, what was the harm?

“Oh, sure.” He went to push his glass, still half full, toward Tony--

Everything happened in that slow motion of a nightmare, where Bucky couldn’t possibly move fast enough to prevent anything. Like swimming in glue, he could only watch, with horrified eyes, as events spooled out.

He bumped the rim of the wineglass with his fingers, tipping the whole thing over. Brilliant red wine poured across the white tablecloth and headed straight for Tony’s expensive silk suit. “Oh, fu--”

Bucky didn’t even get the word all the way out before Tony had a lapful of cold wine and a splatter of red up his white shirt that looked like a bloodstain.

“--ck.”

Tony took a deep breath, looked down at his soaking wet legs.

“Jesus, I am so, so sorry,” Bucky said. He handed Tony his napkin -- even four cups in, Bucky wasn’t brave (or stupid) enough to try to pat Tony’s lap dry -- and bunched up the tablecloth to keep any more of the wine from spilling over.

Tony’s napkin looked like a victim of a crime scene, and the one Bucky gave him didn’t fare much better. He sighed, stood up, grimaced. “Ug, right down my leg into my shoe,” Tony complained, his face bunching up. (Was it wrong that Bucky found that damn adorable? It was wrong. It was so wrong. He was so screwed.) “I’m going to the men’s room and see what I can do about this.” Tony pointed a finger at Bucky. “Don’t you dare leave.”

Bucky considered the mess, the remains of wine in the bottle. Sighed. The server was already over, gathering up the dishes and folding away the tablecloth. Someone already had a fresh one ready. They were probably gossiping about him in the back. “Can I get the check?”

“Mr. Stark has an account here, sir,” the server informed him with just a hint of… sympathy.

“I need to do something, I just practically drowned him in chianti.”

The server considered that for a moment, then made a suggestion, along with quoting him a price. Bucky kept his grimace to himself. “Sure, sounds good.”

A few minutes later, Tony was back. He’d closed up his jacket to hide the wet, still slightly pink stain, and the rumpled fabric was evidence that he’d used the hand dryer in the bathroom to some effect.

Tony was barely back in his seat before the server brought them two slender crystal glasses holding their mid-line champagne, the bubbles clinging to the flutes.

“What’s this?” Tony asked, but he took the stem anyway.

“Get me the dry cleaning bill for your suit, please,” Bucky said, “and… well, I didn’t want to risk dumping more wine on you, but champagne makes everything just a little better.” He held up the glass to Tony. “To a bad first date that you can tell your ex about.”

Tony scowled at the glass, then gave Bucky a huge pair of doe eyes. “I was hoping to toast to a potential second date.”

Bucky almost choked on the champagne, the burned toast flavor dancing over his tongue. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, I could drink to that.”

[tryingthisfangirlthing]

Teslen + gamer au, reality tv show au (y'know, like The X Factor or Pop Stars or whatevs), high school au. Sam/Jack + supernatural beings au... Oh! And Doctor/Rose + Star Trek au. XD

Okay, I’m putting this all under a cut, because it’s going to get super long and super rambly. I wasn’t kidding about the novel outlines. Oh, and I’m also tagging @viennainspringtime​ because I feel you might like this. (Yours is coming soon. I have the second AU already done and am working on the first, and yes, they will be long and rambly like these. ;) )

Teslen Gamer AU

Helen is the guild leader, super invested, mains cleric or wizard and probably switches between the two, but has one of every class and knows all of them decently well. Probably tanky cleric because nobody else wants to do it and it needs doing. Her characters’ names are all some variation of the same gamer handle.

Nikola is that guy from a remote country with a crappy connection — or at least that’s what he blames it on when he gets trounced, but half the time his oddball builds and combos actually work, pretty fantastically (the other half of the time he dies nearly immediately. There is no in-between. He is a full glass cannon long-range mage and refuses to ever touch anything else. He’s always up to date on the latest balance tuning and class changes and is constantly fiddling with his build.) He only has one character he really plays, with a lore-conform name and an elaborate in-universe headcanon backstory.

Nikola never actually joins her guild, but she invites him along on raids anyways. All the guild members grumble about it in private, though sometimes his firepower comes in handy, and Helen is a great guild leader otherwise.

Nikola didn’t actually realize Helen was a woman at first, then once he learned started cracking jokes about how, “oh, that explains my deep and lasting attraction to you.” She never takes him seriously, but he doesn’t ask for pictures of her tits so she quite frankly doesn’t care (and sometimes the flirting is fun). He is, of course, dead serious.

They met in a random dungeon run during off-hours (or rather, Helen had a free morning and Nikola was staying up far too late as usual). They synched in a way only gamers will get, and began to hang around at those times when they could in the hopes of catching one another online again. The pick-up groups during off-hours became a Thing for them, teaching  newbies how to do it and landing some loot in the process. (Helen gives all the explanations, Nikola is always just like “do this” and then gets annoyed when they don’t do it right and so half the dungeon run is just them bickering back and forth about patience and learning and so forth. “You didn’t have to do this,” from Helen always shuts him right up — because of course he’ll do this just to spend time with Helen but it wouldn’t do to seriously admit that — and she’s learned to use it sparingly because it makes him go all weird.)

Nikola loves to roleplay within the game, but Helen doesn’t. He regales her with tales of character drama, and she vents to him about guild infighting she has to deal with.

There was one half-hearted attempt at roleplay between them, which ended up getting heated. They didn’t have cybersex but that night saw them both incredibly sexually frustrated as they logged off. They don’t talk about it.

Helen’s real-life boyfriend already had issues with her gaming but the time she spends with Nikola is the last straw. There’s a fight, and they break up. Helen doesn’t tell Nikola any of this, because it sits oddly with her and it should really have no bearing on her and Nikola’s relationship.

The guild sets up a voice chat server for raiding. Nikola has a permanent guest pass on it, though he doesn’t use it for raids, claiming it sinks his ping to intolerable levels. Helen *only* uses it for raids. They almost studiously avoid one another on it for the longest time. Helen logged in once to overhear him talking with some of the guild members about mage builds and fell in love with his accent. Nikola desperately wants to hear her voice.

Finally one day during low-pressure routine dungeon runs with a pick-up group, he suggests they talk. A little hesitantly, Helen agrees. Nikola’s holding his breath as she turns on her mic and her voice is perfect because it’s hers.

They end up talking several times a week (in her leader’s private channel), and Helen isn’t sure why she avoided this before (it crosses her mind that her ex might have gotten the right idea after all).

Nikola finally can’t stand not knowing how she feels about him, only him being him, he goes about it all wrong and asks why she spends so much time with him. She’s surprised, a little disappointed, a little offended. He doesn’t have to spend time with her if he doesn’t want and she tells him that, but that she enjoys his company and thought he enjoyed hers.

He can’t help but pry further, why she enjoys his company, why does she like him, how does she like him. When she finally asks him why he’s asking all these obnoxious impossible questions today, he blurts out “I think I’m in love with you.”

She takes it as one of his jokes at first, only he reassures her he’s serious, and she goes quiet.

He fears he’s ruined everything; she tells him she just needs some time to think it over and adjust, but she’s gone for several days. He’s glued to his computer insofar as he can be, hoping against hope she’ll log on again, though he knows she’s told her guild members she’ll be absent for a week, maybe longer.

She’s different when she does come back, a little quieter, wants to talk with him immediately.

She just took her final exams to graduate med school, she tells him, the first she’s really talked about her life outside of nerd culture or the game, besides having mentioned her boyfriend once upon a time when he started flirting. She just took her final exams, and she took them in a fog, because she couldn’t keep him off her mind.

She asks him if he’s serious, if he meant it about being in love with her. Of course he’s serious. He’s told her everything about himself, all his secrets— reassures her it’s all true.

She’s terribly afraid of being toyed with, because this is Nikola and he flirts with almost everyone, men and women alike. He asks what he can do to prove it to her.

She wants him to play a cleric in their next raid, so she can run her mage for once. He does, rolls one and power-levels it in time, even if it’s slightly undergeared. (He’s actually almost as good a cleric as he is a mage.)

They switch off after that, though not without Nikola complaining dramatically every time she makes him go healer.

Helen slowly opens up to him, tells him about her life, about her day. (She did pass her exams.) She finds she relishes it, relaxing with him whenever she can, letting down the wall between hobby and “real life” a little.

He doesn’t make any grand declarations again, doesn’t dare ask what they are or if that was enough or anything like that. More than friends, hopefully, but he doesn’t know what.

Helen is the one who asks. “It feels so middle school to ask if you want to be my boyfriend, but — do you?”

Of course he does, and he asks her how there could be any doubt. She doesn’t have a good answer for that.

They talk a bit, about long distance and visits and seeing how it goes. Absolutely no one in the guild is surprised when it comes out they’re dating — in lieu of RL dating Nikola takes her to scenic out-of-the way places in the game, and spends time with her there. (And teases her in chat whispers, loving how her breathing changes and dreaming of the day he can say these things in person and see the look on her face. She admits he’s good at dirty talk. He looks forward to honing that skill.) 

Teslen Reality TV show AU

Nikola’s here as part of his own little experiment, the study of applied psychology to game the system of shows like this (though of course he comes up with some bullshit about dreams for the camera). He’s not in it for the prize itself (though of course he hopes to get it nonetheless). He picked a modelling competition because it relies on the looks he knows he has — he can’t sing for shit.

Helen is skeptical, but figures she might as well give it a shot — she has nothing to lose, and someone has to win. And she knows she looks good.

Everyone is surprised Helen is working her way through med school, because, what? She’s so done with the “dumb blonde” stereotypes and finally dyes her hair brown and goes for the “smoky mystique” angle. Nikola is blown away.

Nikola wears everything like it was made especially for him, and needs almost no tutoring on anything. He’s almost disqualified from the amateur competition due to prior experience, but they can’t come up with any proof of that. (Basically, he’s just naturally that showoffy and Extra.)

Nikola is both intrigued by Helen and disgruntled at the serious competition. Yet they gravitate towards one another as the two keenest minds in the place.

The candid camera picks up some of their shared scorn at the competition, which does not make them popular with the other competitors or the judges.

The public loves them, and their push-pull frenemies dynamic becomes the biggest draw for the show. Nikola is fascinated by this new development in his socio-psychological study. Helen is happy about anything that will give her an edge.

With great difficulty, Nikola does not flirt, because he doesn’t want to give Helen or anyone else any edge over him, any way to distract him any more than he already is. (He worried he was going to have a heart attack when she walked out in that slip of a bikini.)

As finals draw closer they decide to pair up the remaining male and female models for a shoot. Of course Nikola and Helen are paired up. He tries to stay professional for the camera, but something in her eyes and her breathing when he has his hands on her skin…

Immediately after they wrap she drags him to the closest dark corner and shoves him up against the wall and kisses him senseless. They just make it back to her dressing room before he lays her out on her couch and makes love to her. It’s fast and messy and desperate and they just lie together afterwards, awkward and wordless, until he kisses her on the cheek and leaves. 

Somehow their liaison is the one thing the cameras don’t catch.

(Everyone, judges and viewers alike, agree their shoot was effortlessly sensual — the others look flat in comparison.)

They avoid each other for the next week. Speculation, public and private, runs rampant that something must have happened between the two of them. But after a week it’s back to normal between the two of them. (Nikola isn’t sure whether to be relieved she’s speaking to him again, or crushed that it seems to have meant nothing.)

Helen really appreciates his ability to drop it, though she hates the long psycho-analyzing glances he shoots her (and she knows he has some ulterior motive in all this than just a winning a modelling contract, though she doesn’t know what). She just wants her friend back (because he’s the only thing that really made this entire thing bearable). (And if she relives certain memories sometimes late at night, that’s nobody’s business.)

The finals come down to the pair of them, of course. Everyone wants to see what happens when these two are really and truly pitted against one another, and the interviewers play off of that, onstage, before the big moment.

Helen never really expected to get this far, and she has a few offers of modeling contracts that will get her what she needs to get the rest of the way through medical school easily.

So she looks around at the audience, turns to Nikola, and kisses him, full-on, in front of everyone. Then she walks off the stage.

Everyone (including Nikola himself) is shell-shocked.

Nikola runs after her, once he’s come back to his senses, and cameras show them kissing in the wings, him edging her back against a wall as she wraps her arms around his neck. (The cameras cut out after that, because they have a rating to keep.)

Helen is actually declared the winner, much to her surprise, but she declines the contract (she has a hell of a lot more lucrative ones coming in after that little stunt she pulled, because it got everyone’s attention).

Nikola is also offered the prize, but he refuses as well. Studio executives are left scratching their heads. Finally it goes to one Kate Freelander, third runner-up, who uses it to help get her family out of debt and into a better life.

Nikola’s study is interesting, to say the least. It certainly doesn’t fly scientifically, but he’s not too bothered about it. The story does become a best-selling book (though that part about her dressing room will always be their secret. Sometimes, Helen likes to keep it fresh in her mind, on the living room couch, and he’s happy to oblige).

They move in together, and everyone speculates about a proposal, though none is forthcoming and the gossip slowly dies down. Helen only models when she chooses — her real passion is medicine and Nikola is happy to support that. They coauthor several scientific articles on the relationship between physical and mental health, something they’re far more proud of than that bestselling book that generates most of their income.

Nikola shakes his head when they want to make a TV movie out of the story, but Helen is far more practical about it, and sells the rights with the provision Nikola have creative oversight.

Teslen High School AU (Okay, this ended up being a high school-slash-college AU. :P)

There’s an unofficial betting pool on who will become valedictorian (between Helen, Nikola, and James), with both teachers and students in on it. They both know about it. (Helen bets on herself. Nikola doesn’t bet, because he couldn’t decide whether to bet for himself or Helen. James bets on them both.)

Helen is a cheerleader. Nikola being a teenager, he constantly jokes about her flexibility. She regularly punches him for it.

They bonded instantly. Everyone used to tease them about being boyfriend and girlfriend. Helen always laughed it off, and people eventually accepted they were just friends. Problem is,  Nikola’s been head over heels for her since that first ninth grade chemistry class.

Helen is chair of the science club and has special access privilege to the lab rooms. Nikola meanwhile is nearly been banned from all use of chemicals or physics apparatus no less than three times a year, and never allowed near them without supervision (not since The Explosion, as everyone calls it, with capital letters). Helen lets him into the lab after hours, but supervises him herself because anything that goes wrong will be on her. (It’s still gone wrong a couple times, but they’ve managed to cover it up so far. And sometimes it’s her fault, too.)

Nikola is head of the mathletes. He and Helen compete to see whose club wins the most competitions and awards in a year.

Helen has a brief thing with a senior in their sophomore year. She ended it after six months, and swore off guys until she was done with school.

Nikola privately hates that he wasn’t her first kiss (and maybe not another first of hers, but he refuses to think about that).

Nikola is a year younger than everyone else, because he skipped a grade in elementary school.

Helen was homeschooled by her father up until high school. Half the material taught she already knows.

It is Known that, after things ended with John, either Nikola or James will take Helen to dances.

Nikola always, always asks first. (Nigel “keeps James away” until Nikola texts she’s accepted, and James lets himself be kept away.)

Nikola pretends it’s a friends thing. He thinks Helen believes him. (She’s not quite sure she does.)

Helen thinks he’s cute, but immature.

He asks, hesitantly, at graduation, if they’ll stay in touch during college. She asks, incredulously, if there’s any reason he thinks they wouldn’t. He shrugs, mutters that no, there isn’t a reason, and beams all through the ceremony (even though she and James end up tying for valedictorian, because Nikola just couldn’t always be arsed to do his homework).

They do keep in touch, frequently actually. Helen’s college friends tease her about her handsome long-distance boyfriend. She gives up trying to correct them.

He visits her, once. Hearing she’s talked about him thrills him, though he never says it.

He sleeps on her couch, and one night a bottle of wine turns it into both of them sleeping on her couch. There’s no convincing her flatmates they haven’t slept together.

That’s not the only time he visits her, or she him. She’s pleasantly surprised by how he’s matured. College is good to him.

He isn’t her first, but she’s his.

They talk about it later, about not letting it ruin their friendship, about how she doesn’t want a relationship right now.

He’s crushed, until she kisses him and says maybe in a few years.

(She specifically applies for medical residences near his research lab.)

Sam/Jack Supernatural Beings AU (This is a complete mess, okay? It was originally going to be something that veered into Arthurian legend but I didn’t like that version so much. But anyways don’t expect coherent lore here.)

Jack is a guardian angel who lost his charge. He blames himself badly and is sentenced to live as a human for a lifetime.

He’s made the uncle and guardian of the orphaned boy he lost, and sees it as a chance to redeem himself, another chance to save him. But no matter what he tries, the march of time seems immutable, most things so far happening just as they did before.

Sam and Daniel are fae, brother and sister, in possession of powerful magic.

Daniel is fascinated with humans and is especially good at seduction (and oftentimes is just a huge unconscious flirt). Sam is just a pure mischievous mage-scientist, at least until she meets Jack.

Daniel drags Sam along with him on his jaunts among the humans. It’s frowned upon by the fae elders, because falling in love with a human changes a fae, causes them to become bound to that person, and they lose their magic and all connection to the fae world, essentially becoming human, until the person dies. (And often the fae becomes so bound to the fragile human that they end up dying too.)

Sam asks Daniel why he likes humans so much, if his wife and then watching her die was really worth it. He tells her it’s not the kind of thing you can explain to someone else unless you’ve experienced it for yourself.

Sam usually takes more interest in the humans’ crude physical devices than in people, but there’s something about Jack that fascinates her.

Jack is a miller, and he explains all the workings of it to her. He finds it strange that she doesn’t seem to have any experience with what is an everyday thing for most people.

She immediately has suggestions on how to improve it, some of them good, some of them (to his human sense of logic) nonsensical (because she forgets humans only have very limited access to magic).

Fae and angels usually have limited to no contact, and their magic is very different. Heaven and the Seelie Court leave one another well enough alone, and they’re both quite happy that way. (Hence why he doesn’t realize she’s fae, and she doesn’t realize he’s angel.)

For the first time Sam understands Daniel’s fascination with humans, she tells him. He watches her and Jack bond, a little eagerly but also a little worriedly.

Jack’s kid loves her and is fascinated with the little tricks and illusions she creates for him. Jack doesn’t take Sam seriously when she answers that she does it by magic (even though he can’t find another explanation for it).

Jack can’t find her at the inn she said she was staying at, when he wanted to see her; but that evening she shows up at his door without fail.

She shrugs and evades his answers, asking why he was looking for her in the first place.

The change never happens all at once. It’s gradual, just like falling in love is.

Sam notices one day that she can’t perform some of the more complicated spells anymore. She bites her lip and tells no one, but Daniel guesses.

Sam spends more and more time at the mill, offering to help him grind grain, free of charge. He’s puzzled at the offer, but sees no reason to refuse. He’s happy to spend more time with her, though she’s still sometimes infuriatingly adept at evading his questions.

When he confronts her, she asks him whether or not all of those particulars are really so important, and he’s forced to admit they aren’t, not right now.

She finally blurts out that she wonders what kissing is like. He finds it difficult to believe she’s never been kissed. She insists. He’s happy to show her (and kissing ends up turning into a lot more, up against the wall, at her insistence. She asks, at the end, jokingly because she does know how sex works, whether all of that was just kissing. He laughs and kisses her again.)

Even the huge addition of the guardian courting someone (more or less — he wants to but they haven’t talked about it, never mind angels not exactly being encouraged to marry) doesn’t seem to change the boy’s path. Jack becomes more and more distracted as the day of the accident approaches.

Sam notices, and finally pries something of his worry out of him, a “bad premonition.” She offers to put a ward on the boy (one of the few spells she can still pull off nowadays). He finally realizes she wasn’t kidding about magic, and feels entirely betrayed, throwing her out of the house, calling her a witch.

She shows up at Daniel’s door battered and bruised, because the physical reflects the state of a fae’s heart. He lets her in without a word, and holds her while she cries.

When she’s done, she asks him if humans can foretell the future. He mentions Sha’re used to get “premonitions” sometimes that were usually true. Sam decides she still has to try to save the boy.

With misgivings, Daniel lets her go.

Jack has kept the boy out of the mill, preventing the original accident, and is relieved, for a short while, until he realizes he doesn’t feel redeemed, only unsettled. He calls for the boy, but can’t find him.

Sam finds him, in the middle of the road with a cart barreling towards him, and does the only thing she can do in that moment — shoves him out of the way and is hit herself.

Jack, hunting for the boy, finds the pair of them, the boy shell-shocked, the driver regretful — they came out of nowhere! — and Sam seriously injured.

She refuses to see a doctor, even more vehemently refuses to have the priest fetched for the Last Rites, because they’ll both know what she is — even if she doubts  she’s much fae at all now.

When she passes out, Jack carries her back to the mill and fetches the village midwife.

Janet regards him shrewdly, but doesn’t say anything, and works on helping Sam.

Daniel visits, once, asking after his sister, and leaves a small fae healing charm by her bedside, to help the remnant of her fae self.

Janet starts when she sees this the next time she visits, but she doesn’t say anything, not until Jack asks her what’s startled her. She’s surprised he doesn’t know his… lover… is fae. (He begins to insist they’re not lovers, then thinks the better of it. Janet tosses him a “damn right” glance but simply remarks that Sam must certainly love him.)

(Jack tells the boy to stay at Sam’s bedside, both to keep a watch on her and to keep the boy safe while he has to run the mill.)

Sam finally wakes up. She wants to talk with Jack, about why he saved her, but he tells her to just focus on getting better. It frustrates her.

(Daniel bumps into Janet on his second visit, after she’s awoken. Janet sees through his glamour at once, which startles both of them. He offers her a grateful smile as he passes, no charm intended, and she ducks her head and flushes a little.)

Janet and Sam have a long talk about the situation. Sam swears Janet to secrecy.

Sam and Jack finally sit down and talk. She admits she’s a fae, or was, and that she’s in love with him. He’s over the moon, nearly forgetting to mention the part where he used to be an angel. She’s startled, but they decide to see how it goes.

They want to get married, but the priest has trouble saying the words to witness it properly (because supernatural beings he really really has no authority over). They try to help him and eventually they all stumble through.

Jack, and Sam once she’s better (something that happens very quickly once she hears he feels the same for her), are constantly rescuing a very very accident-prone boy. It takes several weeks for Death (probably Maybourne xD) to realize he isn’t supposed to get him right now, and stop trying. (Jack suddenly realizes he’s beginning to regain his angelic sight, and runs to look at Sam. She practically shimmers for him, and he tells her right then and there how beautiful she is.)

Daniel falls for Janet, and the pairs are the best of friends until Janet dies and Daniel moves back home among the fae.

Sam and Jack watch the kid grow up and move away, and when he finally dies of old age they both return to their original forms. Heaven and the Seelie Court are a bit flabbergasted, but somewhat awkwardly and incredibly formally arrange a joint ceremony. Neither society really wants them in it, but they won’t be outdone by the other so they both invite the pair to join them. Sam and Jack respectfully decline, and decide to use glamour to live among humans again.

Doctor/Rose Star Trek AU (This is the only one that even approaches headcanon status, and is a bit more of a fusion. It’s still long and rambly. :P)

They all call him “the captain,” or just “Captain,” even the admirals. (Nobody’s sure anyone else actually knows his name. Surely he has a file somewhere, but nobody working under him has ever found it. They whisper about top secret something or other, but he doesn’t look at all like the black ops type, and gets offended if you mention it to him.)

He’s a human. No other species has that “hold my beer, I’ve got this” recklessness.

His ship is confusing as hell, both from an engineering and layout standpoint. It’s an older model, overhauled and upgraded to meet current Starfleet standards.

The running joke is that something about the warp core has created a localized spatial anomaly that randomly moves the corridors and rooms. Older crew members swear it isn’t true, but to every cadet first setting foot on the vessel it certainly seems like the case.

You’ll more often than not find the Captain in Engineering, instead of on the bridge or in his ready room. He claims it relaxes him.

The official head of engineering has learned to roll with it, and has taken to programming holonovels in their unexpected spare time. (The ship is known for having the best assortment of holoentertainment in the galaxy.)

The only really permanent member of his crew is one Rose Tyler. Half-human, half-betazoid, head of operations on the ship, even the official first officers know to defer to her when it comes to decoding his occasionally cryptic orders, or ascertaining what he would want done in his absence.

(People constantly question why she isn’t his first officer. She lifts one shoulder and says she supposes he needed a good chief of operations more than he needed a good first officer. Nobody’s ever quite sure how to respond to that.)

People who’ve never been on the ship assume from hearing about the pair that he’s in a covert relationship with his subordinate. Crew members will swear that’s not the case. (And if they notice a moment or two of pining on Rose’s part, they never breathe a word.)

Rumor has it his favorite holoprograms involve him being a woman. Rose, the only person he’s ever shared any of his personal holoprograms with, remains steadfastly tight-lipped about it. (But she’s grateful for the holodeck’s soundproofing and privacy controls.)

He despises visits to the infirmary, and tries to avoid them at all costs, going so far as to hide various medical supplies in his quarters. Without fail, Rose finds out, and sends him to medical for a check-up. The ship’s doctor tries not to take it personally.

Rose, by virtue of her betazoid half, can sense others’ emotions most of the time, and is often the first to offer a shoulder or a hot cup of tea. She’s made herself popular around the ship just by virtue of being her, and even if some of the crew don’t necessarily care for their eccentric captain, they care for her.

She refuses to be made into an unofficial ship’s counselor, though. She has a job, and she’s here to do that, and anything else is at her discretion.

Every new chief of security has a short, personal meeting with the captain in his ready room. If there is danger, they are to protect Rose first, and they are not to tell her of this order.

Rose is always waiting for them when they come out of that meeting, with a short, “I know what he said. Just ignore it. Do your job: protect the captain first.”

The poor confused chief of security is shot pitying looks by the entire bridge crew.

The captain always calls the ship his Tardis, though no one knows what he means by that. He claims it’s a nickname based on a famous fictional ship in human history, one that could do anything.

Only a select few human history scholars specializing in popular culture and entertainment have any idea what he’s talking about. Most people just shrug and move on.

Few Vulcans last long on his ship, citing “illogicity and disorder” as their reasons for requesting a transfer.

There have been one or two investigations into conduct aboard the ship, but nothing ever seems to come out of it.

The captain has thrown himself in front of phaser fire for Rose once or twice. The ship’s doctor eagerly described the loud, furious dressing-down Rose gave him once they’d been left alone in the room. The doctor returned in time to hear his response: “The ship can run fine without me — but I — not without you.”

They don’t have a row, but for a day or two it’s all stiff glances and meaningful looks the rest of the crew can’t decipher.

Not long after that, Rose is offered a position on the command track and the prospect of captaincy of her own ship. The crew congratulates her, and says this has been a long time coming. She quietly turns it down.

A few days later, he calls her to his ready room and asks why. She wasn’t aware he knew. (Of course he did; he was the one who put her in for it.)

She asks if he wants to be rid if her. Of course he doesn’t, but he thinks she deserves better than being stuck as his chief of ops for the rest of her career. She already basically runs the ship; he just tinkers and does stupid heroic stuff every once in a while, and everyone knows it.

“Yeah, and who’d run your ship for you if I was gone?”

“You want to stay with me?” He doesn’t understand it, but when she says yes he beams.

They quietly (unofficially) start sharing a cabin. No one says anything.

He finally does convince her to accept a position as his first officer, though.