#after that so I have some time to think but any input or volunteers to help would be appreciated.

[cervidaedalus]

Had the sporadic idea this morning to create a Discord for disabled FFxiv players (I don't know if one exists already but I haven't seen it promoted). Some ideas and thoughts below the cut:

Overall I would want it to be a community that removes the stigma that you can't play these games if you have a limiting physical disability, or that you can't be accepted in a social group if you have certain mental health conditions. I knew an Ele Shaman in WoW who raided with mild palsy, and some of our raid group was bitter she was holding us back. I don't want anyone to feel like they can't do endgame content because they might not be able to do end game content because they have a much different skill cap. I knew a Nelf Hunter who was blind (could see, but very, very poorly) who had a friend as his "seeing eye Gnome" in voice comms helping lead him places. I don't want anyone to feel like they're alone and can't enjoy something because their limitations provide a significant block. This can include people who suffer from fatigue, ADHD, or brain fog for any reason and can't focus or have the energy to utilize their full Job skillset or boss mechanics. This can include people with severe anxiety that makes them worry about doing group content. If it routinely hinders your ability to play and fully enjoy the game as an abled person would, the server would be for you.

Content: The usual chat, entertainment, and art channels, but also channels for disability aids, guides, and advice (both game and real life) like how to use that Xbox modular controller thing on PC and Playstation. A category of channels for people to advertise FCs, Linkshells, and Statics either by and for disabled players, or those that have leadership who are properly educated and accepting. Basically anywhere disabled players can go to enjoy the game without feeling judged or ostracized. A category for content runs with other disabled players from across datacenters, like maps, deep dungeons, etc. If people want to create their own disability-friendly statics they can use the other channel, because statics can become their own individual thing and I don't want any bad things that may happen to become the server's responsibility. A venting channel in order to keep the space from becoming Depression Central. A lot of disability communities I've been in seem to sway towards venting about treatment from doctors or the general public, or how the conditions impact your life and relationships. I don't want this server to become just that, but these frustrations are valid and shouldn't be shut out, so instead they'll have a containment space. Likewise, a channel for people to share positive experiences. Maybe you finally got that diagnosis you were looking for, maybe someone in a random dungeon was super cool even when you were struggling. Category for other MMOs so people can find guilds and groups in those as well, I just don't want the server to be a broad disabled MMO server since that means potentially thousands of members, and from entirely different social communities. Moderation: Obviously all the usual "no bigotry" rules will apply. There is significant overlap of disability and queer community, for example, as well as mental health disabilities from other marginalized ethnic or religious groups put through political or generational trauma. I'd like to build a relaxed moderation team- no one with a history of any recent public or game drama. I'd like to build a team that spreads across the entire spectrum of representation not just in disabilities themselves, but culture. This isn't purely about representation, but also having someone to turn to for knowledge on any issues of an ethnic, religious, or queer culture as they pertain to disability. Absolutely no gatekeeping, no negative or "ableist" speech putting down any disabilities or purporting someone "isn't disabled enough" or "such and such isn't a disability". The next stuff will largely revolve around moderation for mental health conditions but- This will include vilified conditions and those that can cause unintended social conflict, like ASDs, cluster B's, bipolar. All moderators need to be on the same page with not assuming the worst from someone who might slip up. Helping lead a large FC has taught me how to give people chances and work with them over social abrasions due to disabilities and mental health, but that there is a hard limit. In case of any crisis or severe meltdowns, server mutes will be utilized via a special role which will hide or lock all channels except one with the moderation team to allow the person place to speak and cool off, and for the team to determine if the person is unfit for the server or just needed some time (repeat occurrences of this may necessitate a ban). People who continue to cause problems after being spoken to and excuse it with their disability will need to be removed. Have a plan in place if this leads to public lambasting on Twitter or otherwise. We absolutely will not engage with counter callouts, simply ignore most cases and maintain our overall MO of creating and maintaining a health and safe space for disabled players, which inevitably may not be for everyone.

We will allow ban appeals, to give people who pursue treatment and improvement the chance to come back after a minimum of 6 months to a year depending on severity.

#I don't know if anyone will read this and give input #but I'll sit on this idea for a bit. #My ONE FEAR.jpg is pretty much what's expressed in the Moderation section. #It will be critical to create balance between accepting people who might make social boo-boos due to emotional/ #or mental disabilities and knowing when to cut them out for everyone else's health but ALSO being aware this may lead to public tantrums. #Watch any disability subreddit and there are people who are sadly just completely caught up in the idea that the world and everyone in it #is out to get them personally and these people need to be publicly put on blast for it. #Anyway yeah I have WAY too much on my schedule and then my bigge surgery on the 22nd so if I decide to put this together it won't be until #after that so I have some time to think but any input or volunteers to help would be appreciated.

[fiercynn]

otw july 2 board meeting: what the hell was that

so the otw (@transformativeworks) board had their Q2 meeting yesterday, which was highly anticipated given everything that's gone down in the past months:

the @end-otw-racism campaign demanding action from otw on their own commitments made three years ago to better address racist harassment in otw and on ao3 (btw, support end otw racism's current campaign #Vote To End OTW Racism!)

recent revelations about how otw has mistreated its volunteers, regarding azarias and how the org reacted after the CSEM attacks on volunteers last year, as well as how the policy & abuse committee (PAC) is overworked and treated by the legal commitee overall (documented here)...

...and ongoing mistreatment of chinese, chinese diaspora, and chinese-speaking volunteers, particularly regarding an incident last year that put volunteers in mainland china at risk, and the board's recent unilateral decision to close the otw weibo account without input from the weibo account leads or any chinese-speaking volunteers

the AI shit

and probably more that i've missed, honestly. so! this is my summary of the meeting, focusing mostly on the issues related to racism; i have screenshots of the whole meeting but will at this point only share those i find most relevant/interesting! alt text will be included for every screenshot in the image, not below it.

and hold on, because this is going to be LONG!

pre-meeting ableism in #help channel so shit actually started going down the previous day in the otw board discord's help channel where there was a pretty ableist resposne to a person who asked if the board could consider adding the pluralkit bot to the server. i wasn't there, but hojarasca on dreamwidth posted about it, and i believe some other folks who were there will post screenshots soon too.

all of that conversation was deleted from the help channel by today, which is not unusual but did mean that a majority of people at today's meeting might not know what went down.

board meeting starts; immediate chaos the board meeting started at 8pm UTC, and it was clear almost immediately that the board was unprepared. what you have to understand about otw board meetings is that they are not really meetings where the board members discuss anything with each other. basically otw board members show up, share an agenda , give written updates on the items on the agenda, take votes on board decisions (but without any discussion publicly), and take questions. none of the materials like the agenda or relevant documents were shared ahead of time, and the board did not offer a way to submit questions ahead of time specific to the board meeting. (otw does have a contact us form to email their board or committee chairs, but i've never gotten a response lol.)

another weird thing that happened before the meeting started was that board member alex tischer was active answering questions in the help channel up to five minutes before the meeting, but didn't stay for the meeting. i don't think a reason was shared for this. this is relevant because alex has been criticized for racist responses to chinese volunteers, particularly those that ran & interacted with otw's weibo account, both in the past & last month when they closed their weibo account without any notice to the volunteers. this will also come up again later in the q&a section...

anyway. the meeting starts. all of the discussion directly about the meeting is supposed to happen in one discord channel called #public-board-meetings; the #help channel is supposed to be for tech issues etc. there is no separate channel for asking questions to the board - those are supposed to be posted in the main board meeting channel. and as far as we can tell, there are no mods of either of these channels apart from board members.

at the start of the meeting there are at least 209 attendees. for context, the last board meeting in march had 31. i've heard from people who have attended board meetings for the past couple years that there are usually 10-40 attendees per meeting. but again, given what's been going down, it's not surprising that so many people showed up!

and because there are a lot of people who haven't attended these meetings before, attendees immediately start asking questions, both process questions about the meeting and actual questions they want to ask the board. which again is understandable because there haven't been many answers given in the #help channel, and the board immediately muddies things further by giving confusing instructions about when to ask questions. they first say this - that they are going to proceed through their agenda, so people should hold questions that are NOT about any agenda items until the end. they imply that questions that are about agenda items are okay as they go through the agenda, but there will be conflicting instructions about this later...

agenda is posted & actual meeting content begins...kind of here's the meeting agenda that was shared. not...terribly descriptive lol

- Decisions taken since the previous meeting - Strategic Plan vote - Update on OTW's Diversity Work - AOB (Any Other Business) - Time for questions

people immediately start asking questions about various agenda items & also procedure questions. very few of these are answered. the first agenda item is posted - decisions taken since the previous meeting.

the board gives us "a couple minutes to read the above". everything's getting a little muddled already because people keep asking questions (reasonably!) about agenda items. there are several questions about the specific agenda item of "decisions taken since the previous meeting". some of the questions are getting answered by otw volunteers but none by board members at this point.

the board moves on to the next agenda item without answering questions about the "decisions" item. people are asking for a separate channel for questions but none is created. board members tell us they will try to get to all the answers at the end, but that we should send any additional answers to the board through the otw contact us form. many people point out that they've rarely gotten responses that way.

board gives a brief update (that was NOT on the agenda) from the finance committee chair, who was not at the meeting, to say that the 2023 budget was posted earlier this year, and that people can send questions via the contact us form. i'll note here that i sent a message to the finance committee with a question about the 2023 budget two months ago and have not gotten a response.

strategic plan update + question procedure still unclear the board then starts to give an update on the strategic plan, which board members are to vote on today. attendees ask if the full strategic plan draft was shared publicly before this meeting and we are told it was only shared with volunteers, not with members or the public.

they do share an infographic summarizing the strategic plan. hilariously, the first version they upload is so blurry that it's unreadable. they then share a gdoc with alt text. if you are new-ish to otw stuff, this infographic and the jargon in it are probably pretty confusing.

the board keeps giving us "a few minutes to check things out". people ask them to not do that and proceed because we can read while they are typing. questions to the board keep going unanswered and various other people say that we're supposed to hold questions until the end. we again get told conflicting things about how to ask questions. a board member asks us to hold ALL questions until the end, but an otw volunteer points to an earlier statement from a different board member & says that questions on the current agenda item are allowed.

at 45 minutes into the meeting, when most questions are going unanswered (and a lot of only being answered by otw volunteers, not board members), the board disables messages in the main channel so that they can proceed with the agenda. this is not usual board meeting procedure and was unannounced until they did it. people start getting really creative with emoji reactions because they can't ask questions. the board admits that they were unprepared for the number of attendees at this meeting.

attendees then start asking questions in the help channel, which has been put on "slow mode", which means each user can only post every thirty minutes. multiple otw volunteers share in the help channel that they warned the board about preparing for the meeting, and the only change the board made in response was to make it 30 minutes longer than usual.

in the main channel, the board does not have any public discussion on the strategic plan (which has not been shared, only the infographic has), and votes unanimously to approve it.

diversity work update, aka a glorified otw news post the board moves on to the "diversity work update", which is now a standard section of every board meeting. they share two updates - firstly, that caste has been added as a protected class in the code of conduct, and secondly that they've heard the concerns coming from @end-otw-racism supporters and others. both of which were already shared a month ago in this OTW news post from a month ago, which they link to.

seriously, nothing new is shared in this part of the meeting that wasn't in that post. some update!

q&a part one the board asks for emoji reactions again to see how many people are in attendance. unclear why they do this unless they were hoping people might have left? but alas for them, there are still 182 people that emoji react saying they are in the meeting!

the board FINALLY starts answering questions, but they do not yet re-enable messages so that users can ask more questions. they start by addressing the pluralkit issue from yesterday, but they don't give any response about the ableism that was allowed to go unchecked in the channel.

then, BAFFLINGLY, they start with answering questions from someone who wasn't able to make the meeting. how did this person submit those questions beforehand? NO ONE KNOWS. fortunately this person had (imo) good questions, but again, why were their questions given preference? unclear.

okay there were a LOT of questions and responses, so i'm going to stick to sharing the ones that were most important to me, which were about addressing racism within the otw and on ao3. hopefully someone else will summarize other issues!

we finally get our FIRST REAL NEW RESPONSE on a diversity/racism issue! the board says they plan to hire a diversity consultant by the end of the year.

we also hear that changes to otw's terms of service are being proposed to give the policy & abuse committee more tools to address harassment, including "racially-motivated" harassment.

board says the best way for people other than otw volunteers to get involved with anti-racism issues is...to stay up to date on what otw is doing, attend public meetings, and send questions through the comment form. what.

the board does not answer how they have reached out to fans of color in their work to address racism, which i assume means they haven't; they instead say that fans of color are free to provide input/feedback via the contact us form. emoji reactions explode

the board says that the strategic plan has initiatives to combat racism including improving diversity in recruitment (of...who? volunteers, board members? potential future paid staff?), hiring a diversity consultant, & forming "volunteer coalitions"

slight digression from my focus on racism issues because of how many times the board has told us to submit questions via their contact us form: very little clarity on how long it will take for answers to be questions, or how long people spend on responses

the goals for the future diversity consultant are to do an audit of the organization and offer recommendations on how to proceed. couldn't be vaguer lol

otw does not currently have plans to have an internal committee for diversity, equity, and inclusion work, since they're relying on the external consultant, but if the consultant recommends it they'll consider

by the time they've gotten through these responses, there are only five minutes left in the meeting! remember, messaging by attendees has been disabled for the past 40 minutes, so everything the board has answered so far is from people who got their questions in during the first 45 minutes (or, apparently, one person who managed to get in questions before the meeting).

q&a part two at this point, the board FINALLY re-enables messaging for new questions, but clarifies that they will only take them until 9:30pm UTC. which means anyone who did actually wait to ask their questions now only has five minutes to ask them! questions start rolling in immediately. again, going to focus on the ones about racism.

i'm listing questions in chronological order that they are asked, but please note that the corresponding answers from the board are coming WAY later than the questions. the board took until 10:20pm UTC (almost an hour after the meeting was supposed to end) to answer all the questions. mostly i'm telling you this because the emoji reactions on the answers by the board get more limited as people understandably have to leave the meeting lol

the first question of round two is about how chinese & chinese diaspora volunteers have been treated re: the weibo account closure, & board member alex tischer's role in this.

board response is horrifyingly empty, only promising the creation of a new "anonymous form" to receive feedback from chinese and chinese diaspora volunteers on the situation.

an attendee asks for better prioritization of racism & equity issues in the meetings, and better preparation from the board. (note that the addition of "diversity work update" to the agenda is not new, i believe it was instituted late last year)

in response, board admits they were unprepared despite volunteers warning them, says they will take advice from this meeting forward. emoji reactions are out in full force

an attendee asks more details about how the diversity consultant research officer (who is NOT a hired diversity consultant, but an otw volunteer in charge of the hiring process for a consultant) engages with the board & what goals they have for the future consultant

response from board is that they meet weekly, and that the research officer is herself in charge of identifying goals for the future consultant

an attendee points out that "curate your space" tools are not enough to protect users from targeted abuse, including racist abuse, and that asking fans of color to reach out to the board instead of the other way around is bullshit (my words haha)

the board's response to this is to offload that onto the future diversity consultant. SERIOUSLY.

an otw member asks if the diversity consultant will also look at accessibility for disabled users across the otw

board essentially says "yeah, sure" lol

an otw member asks how otw will remove barriers to becoming a voting member and diversifying membership & committee leadership

board's response is that they don't know the demographics of their members or volunteers, which...somehow means they can't remove barriers that would help fans of color or non-western fans from becoming members and volunteers? lmaoooooooo

an attendee asks for accountability in ensuring that the incoming board keeps the current board's promises re: DEI, pointing to improvements made by the 2015 board that were later reversed by a new board make-up

board does not seem to understand this question so answers an entirely different one! (seriously, i double-checked which question they were responding to.)

an otw volunteer asks what the plans are to deal with the "ongoing exclusion and alienation of chinese-speaking volunteers"?

the board repeats that they have opened a feedback form for chinese-speaking volunteers. that's it.

so those are all the questions i saw on racism; as i mentioned, there were TONS more good questions on board transparency and communications, protection of volunteers, moderating board meetings better, lack of feedback collection on the strategic plan, etc.

at PRECISELY 9:30pm UTC, messages are disabled again so that no more questions can be asked. all of the otw board responses that i shared above are from after messages were disabled again.

takeaways this meeting was a complete mess. the process was extremely unclear and made things inaccessible; while the board did (from what i can tell) answer all the questions posted, people were not able to ask all the questions that they'd planned because of the unannounced disabling of messaging.

and then, of course, there's the fact that the majority of the answers are bullshit, which is probably the least surprising thing about this meeting.

it's just ridiculous that they weren't prepared for this. given everything that's gone down in the past months, why on earth wouldn't they assume that people would show up with hard questions? the mismanagement and incompetence is frankly astounding. which i guess is the story of the last few months re: OTW anyway!

so...see you at the next one in a few months, i guess? 🤷🏾‍♀️

#this was fucking wild you guys #how does everything otw leadership do keep proving their incompetence #and recalcitrance to change #like how do you ignore the advice of volunteers who said this meeting would be big? #that's more than head in the sand at that point #they don't want to be responsible for everything that's come up #so they're just...ignoring it #and hoping the backlash won't be too big #we have to make sure that they're wrong & keep them accountable #fandom racism #organization for transformative works #otw #otw board #end otw racism #vote to end otw racism

[christinesficrecs]

https://at.tumblr.com/fairytales-and-folklore/702836305045962752/91kmcytyo2me

Just saw that reblog. Now i HAVE to ask. Any recs come to mind?

Thank you @mtlyfe for making sure I see the important posts! ❤️ 

Lap Magnet by Prairie_Grass | 30.7K | Explicit

Five times Derek and Stiles didn’t notice how close they were (literally) and then a whole bunch of times when they did...

Hales Have People For That by LadyDrace | 4.5K | Mature

Some moron decides to capture the Hale pack. Big mistake. Really big.

I Love To Be The Underdog by CaptainnAustralia | 33.5K | Explicit

Five times Stiles got into an argument on Derek's behalf, and the one time he didn't have to.

He's Not Mine by Sunnee | 68.5K | Explicit

Derek comes home to find an abandoned werebaby on his front porch and Stiles volunteers to help him out. Surprisingly, that is just the beginning of his problems.

a lion among them by unpossible | 61.9K | Mature

He knew he’d handled it badly.

Not like he knew any other way to handle this kind of thing, Derek thought, only a little bitter.

But Derek had heard the word Emissary come out of Scott’s mouth, and had immediately vetoed it with extreme prejudice.

It was like he wanted Scott to set his jaw and ignore Derek’s input. Honestly.

But Stiles- Derek had thought that at the very least, Stiles would listen. That their relationship meant enough that Stiles would hear him out before deciding.

Derek had thought wrong.

Stiles plans are the worst (the best) by Dashar | 88.7K

Stiles world ended when his pack died. It didn’t exactly come as a surprise. He had been running with wolves for so long that within hunters and monsters it was just a matter of time. It was a surprise when the world ended too. And Stiles… Well, he had to do something about that.

stuck in reverse by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) | 65.6K | Explicit

Look, Derek is the worst. Everyone knows that. Their fearless leader is a total and complete failwolf.

Which means the rest of them? Are kind of the worst too. They’re a ramshackle, slap dashed, sorry excuse for a pack that’s about a half second away from getting one of them killed. And this is a problem, because Stiles would really like to survive high school. Thanks.

Still, nobody deserves what Derek has gone through. Nobody.

And it’s about time somebody told him that.

Foolish devouring things, build your castle in me by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 23.1K | Explicit

“I will marry you,” he declares. “But should any more harm come to my father or my people, I will raze the earth itself until I feel the lifeblood drain from your corpse and paint my skin with it.”

It is not an idle warning, but from the princeling it has none of the desired effect. Derek feels no fear, but in this instance at least diplomacy triumphed over the spilling of more blood. It is all the same to him anyway. But Regent Peter was most insistent they avoid a drawn-out, gruelling war.

“Then we have reached an accord.”

There's Monsters at Home by calrissian18 | 83.6K | Explicit

“How did you get past the wards?” Derek had put them up, with Peter’s grudging assistance, after the Alpha pack had made themselves at home a few times too many.

The guy pulled a face. “You mean the wards a five-year-old girl with the mental ability of a goldfish could deconstruct?” He blinked wide eyes at Derek. “Gee, I don’t know. It’s bound to go down as one of life’s great mysteries.”

Derek despised him.

Pack Up; Don't Stray by the_deep_magic | 55.2K | Explicit

Werewolves are an enslaved underclass, collared and tagged by human masters. Detective Stilinski’s on duty the night they bring in an untagged stray.

A Letter From Mom by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal | 32.9K | Explicit

After waking up at the age of 11 without any memories of his past Stiles spends eight years with his father in the tiny town of Shelter Cove, California. After his father's death he receives a notice from a storage facility in some town called Beacon Hills. Stiles is confused and thinks the manager made a mistake until he finds a letter that should have been for his 18th birthday that his dad never gave him. It's from his mother, who he has no memory of. Weirdly enough, her letter mentions Beacon Hills and some woman named Talia, who he's supposed to trust. Confused and angry at his father, Stiles sets out for Beacon Hills anxious and determined to find out what his dad had been hiding from him all these years.

Go Away, Scott by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 66.2K

After the incident at the warehouse, Stiles is fed up with Scott. He finds himself drawn into Derek’s pack and in the process, drawn to Derek himself.

With the Alpha Pack closing in, Derek needs to learn how to trust his pack and those around him. And who better to help him than Stiles?

Northern Blues by kaistrex (weishen) | 40.6K | Explicit

When the Hale pack transitions to a new Alpha, Stiles is thrilled to be assigned to Beacon Hills to try out as their new Emissary. He and his dad are immediately enamoured with the idyllic little town, fitting right in with the rest of the Hales – except for Derek. The new Alpha shows no signs of welcome, but it will be hard for him to stay stubborn in the face of his family’s encouragement and a sentient house that has plans for the two of them whether Derek likes it or not.

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #mtlyfe #bamf!stiles #emissary!stiles #bamf!stiles is my favorite stiles #❤️

[liaswritesrobots]

I can't find that one post that was going around about making a tf series without Bumblebee, Optimus, or Megatron but I think it could be an easy thing to do. Maybe it's cause the niche tf continuities have such a grip on me that I often forget Bee has a main character problem to begin with but there's so many characters that are considered "Japan only" or comic only that we have an entire cast and then some of characters that a lot of people have never heard about.

Anyway, my idea for a show without using those three involves also getting rid of a lot of the "main" characters too like Soundwave, Prowl, Arcee, Grimlock, pretty much anyone easily recognizable to people who only watch American tf shows/movies.

Cast: Autobots

Yellow Splendid Convoy (or just Yellow Convoy, Splendid Convoy, Splendid, or SC) is fresh out of training and ready to make her mark on Autobot history by protecting peace throughout the galaxy. Unfortunately her crew's ship crashes and they get stranded on Earth, a planet of many autobots learn about from history of the war. She is very kind and courageous and tries to live up to the legend of the Primes before her time, which can be pretty stressful at times.

Nautica is the ship's tech specialist and scientist. She's often working on a new invention or found doing maintenance on the ship. She has a natural curiosity for everything around her and can often help brighten her teammate's day by trying to help them look on the bright side. She does struggle a bit with self confidence in areas that do not pertain to science though, and has trouble reading social cues.

Ambulon is the ship's old and somewhat grumpy medic. He used to be a Decepticon but defected mid war after watching the atrocious his fellow cons were ok with committing on civilians. He and Nautica have what Earthlings would call a sibling like relationship as the two are close, but she often teases him to his dismay. Being a veteran medic from the war his teammates hold a lot of respect for him and Splendid likes to hear him talk about the days of old.

Lander is the ship's sharp shooter and self identified "ladies man and mans man". He often flirts with people of all genders no matter where they go. He even flirts with sapient organic races, which some older set-in-their-ways bots might consider scandalous. Despite his carefree attitude and jokes he's quite the warrior! He's got amazing blaster skills and can hit a mosquitobot from a mile away! Ambulon finds him obnoxious most of the time. He is third in command.

Holi is the ships scout. Cute, tiny, and fast, he can quickly find places that are good for hiding or good vantage points. He tries to come off as serious and more mature so his teammates will take him seriously, but it rarely works. He has a girlfriend back on Cybertron, which Lander often teases him about. He has a bad habit of letting Lander talk him into doing stupid things with him.

Roadmaster is the teams powerhouse. When they need something big and heavy moved then she's the girl! She's a bit quiet at times as she's unsure if her input would be appreciated, but if asked she's more than happy to give advice. She's a gentle soul that enjoys long drives through nature, and most people find her easy to get along with, but if you make her mad (like hurting her friends) then she very well could rip you in half. She seems to want to get closer to Nautica but is a bit timid around her.

Delta Magnus is an intelligence officer that volunteered to come along on Splendid's journey to record data. He may be a talkative nerd at heart that's a stickler for the rules but rest assured, he can hold his own in battle. With a might that could rival some legends of old, he's a fierce opponent for any Decepticon. He's often found taking notes and overusing the word "glorious". He is second in command

Cast: Decepticons

Despite being a Decepticon, Esmeral is fair and willing to negotiate with anyone that isn't an Autobot. The Empress of Destruction holds a deep grudge against all Autobots for taking her husband from her, and has vowed to wipe them from face of the galaxy. Still, even with a rage burning brighter than the sun she treats her subordinate fairly, especially Lyzack, her second in command. She is also very doting mother! She is currently in ruthless pursuit of Yellow Splendid Convoy's ship.

Lyzack lost her twin brother Leozack thanks to Autobots. Lost as in she literally has no idea where he is. She isn't even sure if he's alive or dead, so she's searching far and wide for any sign of him. She acts mostly as a scout and medic for the Decepticons but she secretly yearns to be able to hold her own on the battlefield by herself like her idol and leader Esmeral, so she's secretly training to fight all by herself.

Solon is Esmeral's adopted human son. Before he was taken out by Autobots, Deathsaurus brought home a human baby and he and Esmeral officially adopted the boy. Solon is now 14 and he holds the same kind of grudge his mother does against the Autobots for taking his father away from him. He is often looked after by Lyzack when Esmeral can't tend to him and he trusts her and considers her to be like a big sister to him. He's never actually been to Earth so he's excited to finally visit the planet he came from and meet more humans.

Overlord isn't the most welcome guy amongst even the most ruthless of Decepticons, but Esmeral knows he's good at exterminating Autobots beyond repair, so she grits her teeth and deals with him. She at least knows her position as leader is safe from him since he "has no interest in leading, only destruction". He's also a warrior from later on in the war so she values that kind of experience. He absolutely loathes Delta Magnus, finding him annoying, and often targets him in fights. Shockingly enough, he actually likes Esmeral's son Solon, and often tries to mentor the boy in the ways of the Decepticons.

Sixshot. Sharp shooter. Intelligence agent. Mercenary. Bot of few words (unless he likes you). Sixshot is a mystery to even most of his comrades, but he gets the job done. He always gets the job done. His temper is something most Decepticons fear and they have nightmares of finding themselves staring down the end of his blaster. He seems to have a soft side though, one that's usually only seen towards Lyzack, Solon, and surprisingly enough, Nautica! He also seems to have a deep warriors respect for Roadmaster.

Double-Dealer is such a good spy, that you have to wonder whose side he's really on. He's cunning, intelligent, and a smooth talker. He can easily manipulate people around him into trusting him. He's currently eyeing Esmeral's position as leader, but he tries to make sure she's none the wiser of his schemes. He's also rumored to be older than he looks, and is said to have not only fought in the war, but to even fallen in love with an Autobot during that time! He considers Lander to be his greatest enemy.

Road Pig is kind of dumb, which makes him easy to manipulate and push around. He's usually going along with whatever scheme Double-Dealer has hatched. Lyzack takes pity on the guy a lot, knowing it's not easy being a Con of such standing. He enjoys taking Solon on joy rides for the two to cause trouble on.

Cast: Predacons

Magmatron is a multi-beast-changer that leads the Predacons in their quest to conquer the galaxy. He is well versed in the ways of the Decepticons but also notes their failures. This led him to make his team of Predacons "follow in the footsteps of the Decepticons. But Better." And better he can be. He's a power house that isn't injured easily, and being able to split into 3 different dinosaurs helps him have an evasiveness advantage. He's surprisingly rather relaxed about his ship rules, allowing the Predacons to do whatever they want most of the time. Though any that try to rise against him are quickly struck down. It's rumored that he had another team of Predacons once, but they all left him for a currently unknown reason.

Budora is second in command in Megmatron's team. He is a stern, serious soldier trained in many fighting styles. He's also easily envious, and longs for power and leadership over all Predacons. Despite this he works under a code of honor and never uses underhanded tricks in a fight. In dragon mode he breaths fire.

Judora is often underestimated by his opponents because of his prim and proper attitude, but make no mistake, he is still a very dangerous Predacon. While he prefers not to escalate things to brutish force he can still be a fierce opponent in a fight. He's as quick on his feet as he is with his wit. He prefers more intellectual and sophisticated things in life. In dragon mode he breaths a poison mist. He is very close to Gaidora.

Gaidora has tremendous physical strength. He may not be smartest Predacon in the group but he's still able to catch onto things going on behind the scenes rather quickly. He's rather quiet and reserved most of the time, and is often going along with whatever Judora is doing. He is fascinated by Earth ants. In dragon mode he breaths lightening. He and Judora are very close.

Bakudora is the youngest of the dragons. He's fast but he's also arrogant and brash, which is often his undoing. He gets easily excited for a fight and goads his opponents on. Upon meeting the Decepticons he and Solon become become friends despite the Predacon-Decepticon rivalry. In dragon mode he breaths ice.

Cast: Others

Anode is an explorer and treasure hunter that came to Earth a couple years ago to explore it with her wife. The two are traveling the planet in search of treasure and having a lot of fun meeting the locals. She's also a bit of a prankster, and upon meeting Splendid's group the first thing she does is play a joke on Ambulon, much to his dismay.

Lug is Anode's wife and travel companion. She's also adventurous at heart but takes more care on the paths they tread. She really has a thing for rocks, being a geologist, and is excited to make an expansive list of all the rocks and gems she finds on Earth. She's actually made it her mission to find and observe every type of rock on Earth. She turns into a backpack so she's often hanging onto her wife's back with whatever loot they've found.

Sky-Byte is an ex-merc for hire that used to run with both Predacons and Decepticons. Now he's a defector for both, wanting nothing to do with either faction. He's instead found his true callings in life, poetry and sea conservation. He works with some local human scientists to preserve the ocean and the wildlife within it. He also utilizes his shark altmode to scare away poachers that try to fish for endangered species. He's often wary of Autobots and Maximals and tries to avoid Decepticons and Predacons completely.

Lio Jr. is a young Maximal that ran off on his own after his father refused to bare responsibility for him. With Lio Convy often denying he was his son, Lio Jr. had enough and decided to head out on his own quest to help as many people as possible to become a great leader. His travels led him to Earth a couple of years ago, where he's been helping humans ever since. He won't talk about his father often, but he secretly yearns for his praise and wants to prove to his father that he can be a good leader like him someday. Once Splendid's crew arrives on Earth Lio Jr. becomes fast friends with Holi and Nautica. Lio Jr. and Sky-Byte are also good friends, with the shark often looking after and mentoring the young maximal.

#Transformers #maccadam #macaddam #I'll add more later I just wanted to get the general idea out

[boyswanna-be-her]

that was truly an insanely out of pocket ask. anyway it makes me happy to hear about what makes you happy, and how your day to day is going, and what you're excited about. hope you have a good rest of your day <3

Thanks! Their apology meant a world of difference to me. The ask also lead to me reaching out directly to FIVE different long time IRL friends who had seen me in the past three days before receiving the ask. Getting a temp check with people who have known you a long time and seen you recently is definitely helpful, and although the ask made me spiral for like 2 hours, it also generated some unexpectedly affirming conversations, where people who have all known me since 2005-2008 all independent of one another basically said that they had indeed noticed that I'm more talkative and outgoing lately, but that it hadn't pinged them in any sort of concerning way. I fuck heavily with the opinion esp of 3/5 of the people in this regard because that proportion of this group had previously reached out to me in a panic worried about me because they perceived me as so sad/detached. Two of them in particular got me engaged with environmental volunteering immediately after all my 2018 bullshit where I was in super heavy PTSD territory, and I can directly credit them for a lot of connections and drives I have today. And 2 of them have also conducted mandatory wellness checks when I didn't communicate with them often enough via text for them to be comfy. And I love them for that in ways they'll never really understand.

Anyway. The general message was that nobody had been alarmed, the ask seemed out of left field to them (they don't read my blog, but they're all aware of it and tumblr-smart), and that they'd all been happy to be happy for me this year.

No ragrets. If nothing else, being able to reach out to so many friends who have been with me for so long but also so recently was validating, and that none of them were worried about me is great. I don't think I would've had any other impetus to request all those low-consequence feedback seshes had I not received the ask. None of the people pinged have anything to gain from lying to me and again, in the past, the majority have not had a problem expressing concern about my mental health.

So like. Yeah that shit threw me super hard yesterday and I immediately re-evaluated the way that I express myself here and elsewhere. I feel like I had recently re-channeled my early days of tumblr where everything was highly unfiltered, capslock and screaming in tags was quite normal, I was a small fish in a big pond, etc--because that's when it was an exciting era for me as a creator on here. I miss a lot of that energy.

And full disclosure, in my relationship before last, the one that really and truly broke my heart on top of losing Jonathan to suicide, we didn't share ANYTHING publicly. And I was so deep. And then they broke up with me horribly a month after Jonathan died and I found him!!!!!... well, how could anyone on the outside mourn a relationship they didn't know about when my RECENTLY (for my safety lol) ex-husband had just died horrifiecally? They didn't know. The scale was so weird for everyone but me. Only a handful of people even knew I was in a new relationship that i perceived as supportive and, like, a soulmate type gig. I was so sure of everything that I didn't share ANYTHING and that super fucked me over in the end.

It was awful and alienating and I wished all along that we had shared more. So I don't wanna do that shit anymore. I'm excited about shit in my life and people in my life and meeting people and finding gigs and I don't want input on that, so please treat me like the 38 year old human being I am. I have been through more bullshit than you could possibly understand, even if you read every post I ever made here, even if you were my best friend who I told everything to (doesn't exist but good concept). Assumptions are unwelcome. I'm old and I'm angry and I have energy and that's what's up. I just want people to be on board to see this middle aged piece of shit maybe like find a reason to live again and not die alone.

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

Faulty Sparkle (Revenant x Reader)

Theme: Season 9 of the Apex Games are imminent as the autumn comes to a close, and the events of the past couple months only begin to find any closure.

Warnings: Pain, bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, bipolar disorder, mania, depression, anxiety disorder, lewd.

Reader's Notes: I think I got my mojo back a bit. I think for a while there I forgot to write what makes sense to me and was too concerned with writing well.

Writing Notes: "Get laid, get paid, Gatorade." -Valkyrie, probably. (Also congratulations to me on learning how to spell "valkyrie".)

Navigation:

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"Just A Volunteer" (Book 1) | "The Lost Files" (Book 1.5) | "Of Feathers And Venom" (Book 2)

You moan as you lift your hand to rub your eyes. You wake up in your bed, alone. The light coming through the window is strong and blinding you before you even sit up to face it. You must have slept in until almost noon after falling asleep in the taxi. You don't remember getting out or coming up to the apartment, let alone getting into bed.

You hear the suspicious sound of... scissors cutting paper? It's coming from the little seating area near the foot of your bed. You want to sit up to look, but your stomach hurts from where that strange simulacrum bumped into you yesterday at the coffee shop. It's not a sharp pain; just a very blunt, mild soreness. It's enough pain to be a reminder of him, but not enough to cause alarm. At least you got free apple cider out of it.

You hear a faint mewing coming from the same direction as the sounds of the scissor blades. It must be Royce.

"Shush, you infernal marshmallow!" You hear Revenant chide in hushed tones. "If you keep smacking at the scissors I will trim your fur to look like a fancy poodle. Then no one will take you seriously ever again. You'll be the joke of all your peers." The mews continue. "Dammit, you sad excuse for a cloud! You're just like her—throwing yourself into danger and making a fuss the whole damn time."

You huff out a laugh, alerting him to your consciousness.

"Oh, and speak of the devil." He bemoans openly. "How was your eighteen-hour-long reprieve? You want to nap some more, or are you finally finished?" He sounds very exasperated.

You sit up, the light from the window blinding you as you face him. For a moment, he's just a silhouette against the brightness, but as your eyes adjust you make out his features. He's sitting on the small loveseat, cutting up what appears to be a newspaper with a pair of scissors. There's a couple of snipped out articles sitting on the table already, and even more scraps littered across the rug on the floor. Royce is sitting on the lower half of the newspaper in his lap, pawing wildly at his palms, unable to reach the scissors. Revenant takes a moment to move Royce away with his spare hand, but she quickly bounds back into his lap to demand attention. He cuts a few more snippets out, moves Royce just for her to return, he sighs in exhaustion, and he returns to cutting. This cycle repeats three times before you decide to give input.

"What are you—?"

"No." He cuts you off, turning to face you. Royce stops playing for a moment, apparently a little scared by his tone. She jumps up, latching onto his headscarf, burying herself inside to hide. "Now that you've calmed down a bit... You owe me an apology."

You freeze, your gut hurting even worse now from the dread. Before you have time to recover and speak, he continues.

"I do so much for you. I give you everything I possibly can. I save you from certain death, even if that bit was selfish of me. I put up with your little girlfriend and try to help her out. I am actively trying to avenge what happened to you. I provide water, whatever food you want, and a luxurious shelter. I literally got you a MRVN slave to take care of anything you don't want to do! I surround you with puppies and this—" He pulls Royce out of his scarf, holding her ragdolling and purring form up, presenting her for you to see, "—this defective thing! But you still do the one thing I asked you not to do! You leave! You put yourself in danger. You put everything I've done for you at risk by simply putting yourself out there for the wolves to devour. You don't even warn me! You sneak out, you don't let me know where you are. You have no idea what could have happened to you, and I need you to stop." He tucks Royce back in his scarf. She's purring so loudly. She really loves Rev. "So what am I doing wrong, little raven? Why are you acting like I've trapped you in a cage and all you want to do is fly away? Or am I right, and I've done nothing wrong, and you're just your own brand of selfish?"

You can't respond. You are scared to move. He's not gesturing aggressively, but he is clearly infuriated with you. You carefully scoot backwards, away from the foot of the bed and towards the headboard. He watches you without losing focus for a mere moment. Once you back yourself into a wall, you nab some pillows and begin to cover yourself.

"I'm sorry..." your voice quivers before you shove your face into a pillow, preventing him from seeing your tearful and mortified expression. You hear him sigh loudly and exaggeratedly.

"Ugh, the point isn't to make you cry, little skinsuit. You're supposed to apologize and explain what's going on in that skull of yours so I can make it right."  You hear him bemoan aloud. You hear him shuffle a bit, but he suddenly stops making any sounds.

You shove your face deeper into the pillow, trying not to anticipate what he might say next.

"You're not making any sense... I give you so many things... What's missing? Why won't you stay here—stay safe?" He actually sounds a little desperate. You grab a second pillow behind you and toss it in his general direction. You hear him shuffle to react, giving you time to come up for air and get out your answer before burying your face again.

"Affection!" Your face makes a pomf sound as it slams back into the pillow. You only managed to catch a glimpse of his surprised stature catching the pillow as it flew a few feet to the side of him. He didn't make eye contact with you, otherwise you might have burst into tears under his gaze. Even if he doesn't intend to seem harsh, there's always an unsettling edge to him that can set your emotions over the edge.

"Does providing for you not count as affection?" You hear him ask poignantly. He pauses for a few moments, but you don't remove your face from the cotton pillowcase. It smells like fresh feathers and the natural scent of your hair, but the heat of your face and the labor required to breathe makes the experience a little bit suffocating. "We keep talking about this, but I feel like we never get anywhere. I can't just stay here all the time. I need to work on finding out who tried to take you. I need to do my job and take contracts. Soon, I'll be back in the Games on top of it all again. Surely you understand that. I can't imagine—"

"Stop talking over there and come hug me!" You emerge to yell at him in a desperate burst. You bury yourself again, waiting to hear if he'll be mad at you.

You hear him sigh before he shuffles audibly in your direction. You feel his weight create slopes in the mattress near you as he crawls over to you. Your spine tingles with excitement as you anticipate him, but you don't wait. The moment he's in range, you toss the pillow aside and go to slam your torso into him. Instead of the graceful embrace you expected to pull off, your head makes a loud, reverberating thunk against his chassis' chest as you hit him way harder than you expected. He quickly shuffles into a seated position before forcibly grabbing and cradling your head. You know that's going to hurt in a few moments, and you know with a sound that loud it's going to hurt badly.

"What the hell…?! Skinsuit, are you okay?" He's pulled you into his frame again as he crosses his legs around you. You're trying to hold your arms around his waist to give him the hug you intended, but the pain is rapidly gathering up in your forehead where you crashed into his metal body. He's cradling and brushing his fingers against your scalp, but it can't spare you now. You want to grab your head, but you struggle to move your arms. "Did you actually just give yourself a concussion trying to hug me?" He makes a vocalization that sounds like a small mechanical whine in his throat.

You slump into him and forget what you were upset about mere moments ago.

•    •    •    •

You come to loosely tucked under the covers in bed and lying on your side, Royce curled up behind your neck and purring softly. Revenant is lying next to you, his mask pressed into your face gently. His arms are cradling your neck and head, which still feels a bit sore as it pounds at the sudden wave of consciousness. You can feel the motion of a few fingers near your neck stroking Royce and keeping her purring happily. One of his legs is wrapped around yours, pinning you down on your side. You feel the weight of Six at the foot of the bed, although he's perfectly still for the time being. You moan a little from the dull, pounding pain and a few tears escape your closed eyes as you struggle not to cry, even though you don't feel emotional or in any sharp, overwhelming type of pain.

"Fragile little thing, just stay there. Listen to the purring. Relax." His voice is low, smoother, and calmer than normal. You feel like you're underwater and can't reach him, but you lift your arms up and meet his cold chest anyway. You loosely grab at the straps holding his headscarf to his chassis; your eyelids too heavy to open as you weakly tangle your fingers around them.

"Your little birdcage is too boring, isn't it? You just need a reason to stay, and I haven't given you one. The one thing you want is me, but I need to leave to hunt those who might hunt you, so you fly away when I leave the door open. I see the issue." He hums rhythmically, almost melodically, ensuring his voice is soft enough to not upset your head. One of his hands pulls away from behind you, suddenly reappearing in your blind perception when it gingerly and softly pulls your closest hand away from his straps to intertwine with it. His cool, metal fingers slip between yours, allowing his leather-clad palm to press into your fleshy, warm, soft one. His fingers anchor themselves to you as they curl around and press into the back of your hand. His claws frame your knuckles, intentionally squeezing your whole hand with a vibrant and dominant affection. You instinctively squeal a little, letting it barely erupt past your throat.

"You miss me. You want me. I am your ultimate prize, aren't I? You worship me. You crave my attention. You're helpless without me." He whispers with a concerning voraciousness. "What a responsibility that is, to care and protect such a needy little thing as you, but in truth..." His mask lifts away from your face to land right against your ear, letting his breath leave your nerves alight. "...I love how much you need me."

You feel the blood rush to your face rapidly. Your head pounds with the newfound pressure, giving you a fierce enough headache to make you moan in agony. His mask presses back into yours as you wince from the pain in your forehead, but he presses in deeper.

"Oh, dear, calm down, little raven. Did I say something to rile you?" His voice is laced with a cruel delight. He knows what he said.

You know he loves to tease you. His body is tensed up and primed to strike and pin you down. You know for a fact that he enjoys the dynamic of being overwhelmingly stronger and scarier than you, and he can barely help becoming that predator in your presence. You also instinctively want to buckle under the weight of his aura or flee from his attention, both of which only fuels him more. You're locked up under him as you feel your heart rate spike with concerned anticipation, but it causes his stature to loosen rather than tense further as he realizes that he needs to be softer in this moment.

"But truly, calm down. Listen to Royce's purrs. Feel my hand. Know you're safe. Just be quelled. Sleep." His voice is soft and smooth again, almost quiet enough to fool you into thinking it was someone entirely antithetical to the normally cold, cruel simulacrum he shows most others.

You tug on the one strap you still have a grip on and squeeze his hand. You don't want to do what he asks and rest. You missed this so much, all it took was injuring yourself on him and his façade of uncaring aloofness gives way to a possessive doting. You don't care about the headache or the pounding veins, you just want to enjoy the moment. Maybe he finally gets what you want from him and it's safe to pass out, but what if it isn't? What if he goes back to being distant? You aren't able to pull him any closer, so you muster up the strength and mental fortitude to pull yourself into him. It's more of a writhing motion than a graceful one, but you get your body pressed up against his as you push his face backwards enough to straighten out his spinal plates. You slink out of his hand's grasp to get an anchor back and around his leathery neck, feeling the muscle-like tubes, hydraulics, and robotics underneath. You let your naturally smaller frame shrink into him as your forehead naturally lines up and presses against his chin. He spares a few moments before his metal arms wrap around you and squeeze you in place. He could crush you if he had the inkling to do so, but he eases off as soon as your spine starts to bend into his hug.

"Sleep." Another order. Despite your headache, you insist on defying him, huffing under your breath in response. He scoffs at you, letting his breath drench the surface of your face in warmth.

"I said sleep, and you will do as I ask. Don't pretend like you don't want to. You hit your head hard. I'll be here when you wake up."

You hold your breath for a few moments, deciding if you'll give a slow exhale of surrender or a labored hiss of defiance. Despite your genuine desire to be as insubordinate as possible, you slowly release your breath with a long, wistful sigh of defeat. You make a small inhale, just enough to get out a final request before you let yourself go adrift.

"Don't move," is your last utterance before your jostled nervous system pulls you away from reality once again.

•    •    •    •

You wake up again, but now it's late in the afternoon. Your head still hurts a bit, but it's significantly less disturbing than the metal machination tangled and grappled around your frame. He is strangely silent.

You cock your head back a bit to meet his eyes, only to be met with void, lifeless pits. He's in reboot? You take a moment and remain still, but he doesn't stir. You gently jostle a bit in his arms, making a small electrical buzz begin somewhere deep in his chest. It holds for a moment before you can begin to hear the familiar whirring of cooling fans begin again. His vocalizer begins to hum a little calibration tone at a low volume. Limbs twitch a little as each tests its own movement in a recursive manner, starting near his midline and working its way down his limbs and to each of his digits. His emotional state should be back any moment now. His jerky movements slow down and cease after a few more seconds, then you feel his entire body lurch into yours, grasping you with all the fierceness and strength of an apex predator. You're far too sluggish to react in time, not that you had any hope of escaping him like this anyway.

You squirm a little in apprehensive discomfort under his oppressive grapple, remembering the wounds he's accidentally inflicted on you before while in reboot. You try to pull away, but he's quick and firm to press you back into him, one arm wrapped around your back and cradling the back of your head while the other keeps his open palm anchoring your lower spine and teasing your tailbone. He vomits a static cacophony from his jaw that slowly clarifies into legible words.

"—dare you to try! You can't have what's mine!" He shouts over you in a tone laced with wrath towards an unknown entity. He seems to be hallucinating something upsetting to him. As you realize this, your desire to help him back to reality snaps into action.

You slink your arms out from being pinned at your sides—thankfully without his notice—and lift your hands carefully to caress his mask gently and softly. As soon as your touch is registered, he leans into your hands and nuzzles into them, allowing you to gently run your fingers down and around every ridge, divot, and plane of his mask. Your affection seems to warp his hallucination from a stressful and loud defensiveness to a quiet and quelled relaxation. All that is audible is your own heartbeat and breathing, the sounds of your fingers sliding across the smooth texture of his face, the minor whirrs and negligible clicks of his body adjusting and moving, and a low rumble of a purr emitting somewhere from deep in his chest. His eyes are still empty, but you brace yourself and try to coax him back.

"H-Hey big guy, are you okay?" You airily whimper at him, hoping he will wake up a little more to your voice. Unfortunately, he still remains somewhere between unconscious and sentient. His movement ceases for a moment as he processes your words.

"I love you." He mumbles in a low tone.

Oh.

You knew this, didn't you? Then why does it feel so shocking and reassuring to hear him say out loud? Sure, you said it to him first in a moment of excitement, but for some reason you never expected to hear him ever say it back to you, with or without his full awareness. Your face burns a little as your face flushes, and you feel a strong need to squirm into his frame excitedly. You feel your heart speed up and your body warm up. You emit a high pitched whine from holding back the natural need to express your elation. It was only three words, and it isn't even news to you, yet you can't stop lingering on it. You bury your face into his headscarf to hide from his empty stare out of some combination of mutual affection and the pure embarrassment of being felled by a mere statement.

You feel his hug tighten around you into a threateningly powerful squeeze. A few of your joints make cracking sounds as they give way to his demands, but he stops short of causing you pain. All you get is the concerning anticipation of that pain, but thankfully none of the payoff. He emits a stronger, deeper purring sound out of his chest and into your hidden visage, dampened only by the cloth of his scarf. His hands slip under your shirt slowly and carefully, finally making contact with your bare skin. You twitch away from the cold touch, but it quickly warms to match your body heat. He pushes into the revealed crevasses of your spine, gently guiding you to relax your frame.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, his grip on you loosens and his limbs ragdoll for a mere moment as he takes account of the past few minutes.

"Ah, the little raven couldn't resist using me as a nest to roost in, huh?" He is now fully aware and teasingly condescending. "I didn't move, just like you asked." He's fishing for praise already.

You unbury yourself from his scarf to glance up at him. Indeed, his eyes are glowing a bright and aware golden yellow with their piercing, tightened, analog pupils drilling into your soul. You're still terrified of being caught in his gaze even if you know you have nothing to fear. It's as if his entire body was built for inciting terror and reducing the human form to be nothing but brittle and weak vermin. It's scary, but you've become a connoisseur for his monstrous aura.

"Yeah, you didn't." You respond coyly as your nose scrunches up for the quip: "I guess I've tamed the mean old simulacrum, eh?"

He immediately emits a snorting sound as if to choke back a laugh, scoffing openly and cocking one eyelid shut to accentuate his disbelief.

"Very bold words coming from a tiny skinsuit with a swollen nose, a black eye, and a concussion." He states as dryly as his vocalizations allow him to.

"Wait, what?!" You immediately try to see your reflection in his metal chest, but alas, it's too matte to reflect properly. Your whole head is sore but you had no idea you tanked a black eye in the process. "You're joking, right?!" You look back up at him desperate for some reassurance. He looks back at you with an awkward shrug and another snicker, clearly humored by your sudden realization that you did—in fact—hurt yourself just trying to hug him.

You push out of his embrace and nearly leap out of the bed, intending to head to the bathroom to see for yourself. As soon as you're on your feet, the dizziness hits you almost as quickly as the floor does.

"Skinsuit!" He's fast, but he wasn't fast enough to catch you this time. Your face is planted into the ground, your head hurts, you can't remember how to coordinate your limbs to get up, and now having a busted up face is the least of your problems. "Why did you do that?! Are you stu—" He catches himself by slurring his insult into a frustrated growl. You can hear his palm slap into his mask before he collects himself and begins to lift you off the floor by your shoulders.

There's blood on the floor beneath where your face landed, a couple fresh droplets making their way off your face and into the forming puddle below.

Soon, you're staring at the ceiling from the bed, looking up to meet Revenant's bothered but concerned gaze down at you.

"Your nose is bleeding and possibly broken, and now you have two black eyes." He states without any infections before sighing and turning away to continue. "You need to stop. You are the most fragile, aloof, and shortsighted skinbag I have ever met, and I need you to stop throwing yourself into danger and hurting yourself." He is speaking so plainly that the frustration comes across even stronger than it would if he tried to express it. "It's funny, but only to a point. It's funny when it's a mistake and a negligible enough injury, but sometimes you really just don't think, do you?" He sighs and turns back to you, holding out his spindly, clawed hand above your chest as if expecting something. "I'll give you more attention if you'll just listen to me and try to stay safe. Deal?" It's a handshake he's offering.

You struggle but manage to raise your hand and grasp his awkwardly, but you don't shake. You're actually not sure how when your hands are perpendicular and not parallelly joined. He shakes it for you.

"Deal. I expect you're good on your word, right? A fan of the Hunter would never be so dishonorable, would they?" He coos a little sarcastically.

"Ha, my first favorite. You figured it out." You weakly whisper aloud.

"Oh please, it was super obvious since that bird seems to like you so much. Plus it seems like most of my fans originally were Bloodhound's. 'Hunter to prey pipeline', or something like that. I've seen a few fans say that online." He praises his fan poaching openly as he sits next to your splayed out body on the bed.

"Oh... so you do consider yourself prey for them?" Your voice sounds weak even to you, so you're a little worried if he can hear you prod at him.

"If a manufactured killer that can skewer someone with a single claw is the definition of 'prey' to them, then who am I to argue?" He stretches out his hand and sharpens the tips, making them look as feral as possible. "They can come at me any day if they think these are the hands of mere..." He thinks for a moment "...bráð... I think that's what they called me."

You light up as he says a word you do not recognize. It sounds like Bloodhound's native tongue to you, although you aren't sure what it means, context clues are good enough to give you the gist.

"So you do like Bloodhound?" You're smiling a little. He grimaces and winces at the word 'like', possibly not remembering that he uttered the word 'love' during reboot a short while ago. He makes a sound similar to clearing one's throat, not that he necessarily has anything akin to that type of hardware.

"We have a mutual respect for one another's capabilities as hunters and killers." He clarifies, letting the silence settle for a moment.

The silence speaks volumes.

"Deceit is a learned skill, don't worry, you'll get there eventually." You finally utter.

He whips around to give you the dirtiest glare his static visage can offer.

"You're not allowed near Sherry anymore. She's clearly a horrible influence." He growls.

"You seem to have taken a liking to her though." You hum, averting your eyes to the pure white ceiling, focusing on the small imperfections where the joists have minimally sagged under the weight of the building above.

He growls again, refusing to acknowledge such a possibility. He peers over you again, locked onto your eyes, which meet his gaze when prompted.

"You nearly look like a corpse." He pauses. "I don't like it."

"Thanks." You respond with a weak thumbs up to signal how utterly reassuring such a compliment is. Your sarcasm isn't lost on him, but he ignores it.

"I'm going to get you a washcloth to wipe your face up with. Your nose is going to bleed for a bit, but if it doesn't slow down, I'm going to have to use styptic powder again." You wish you could see what he's talking about, but you can still feel the blood droplets making their way down your nose and cheeks. Maybe it's best you can't see. "I'll fix your nose up and splint it with a bandage in a few moments. It's probably not as bad as it looks currently, but you need to not move since you're also still recovering from a minor concussion." He trails off his voice a bit. "Ice packs, rest, and not planting your face into the floor for a couple weeks should do the trick." He mumbles the last bit, but you still heard it.

He gets up off the bed and begins to walk over to the closed door. The sound of Six's excited claws scratching the door becomes audible as he excitedly hopes to be let in. You also hear mews laced with wrath at being kicked out of the room, but they're mostly drowned out by the scratching sound. Apparently Revenant must have moved once while you were passed out to lock them out of the room. You feel a minor pang of hurt from such a realization, but your logical side recognizes that he has a point. Sometimes he really does need to leave. Sometimes it's good for him to take care of things. What matters is he was there when you woke up, right? He was, which is what you really wanted in the end anyway.

You hear his metal digits clink against the door handle as he goes to turn it.

"Hey, Rev..." He stops cold. The room is silent for a moment. "Everything is gonna be okay, right?"

The world is silent for a long couple of moments. He is obviously reading deeply into the question as he formulates an answer.

"Yeah, as long as you trust me. I've been through this before. I'm experienced, for better or for worse. Just don't panic and become the one maverick in the equation that I can't anticipate."

He doesn't pause for additional input or questions. The door opens, two very needy animals bound into the room, and he walks out, Royce angrily mewing after him. Six leaps into bed with you and begins gently licking your face clean, whimpering in minor concern.

Normally you might resist being coated in prowler saliva, but your head is spinning a little and it's not worth the squirming.

•    •    •    •

"I can't believe how much I have to babysit you." Revenant huffs as he uses a warm, wet washcloth to wipe some remaining stray blood off your cheek. He's used some medical tape and popsicle sticks the MRVN brought from the store to splint and bandage up your nose. The adhesive on the paper tape feels uncomfortable and makes your facial muscles twitch a little in protest, allowing the corners of the tape to turn up. Somehow that's more annoying than the adhesive itself.

"Stop that!" He uses his claws to gently press the tape back to your face, already annoyed at the MRVN looking over his shoulder at his workmanship.

"Sir, I think—"

"Nobody cares what you think!!" He throws his hands up trying to dismiss the MRVN, but he refuses to not watch.

"But... Mr. Cross, I have general practitioner physician software installed for this very thing, I could really help—"

"Fine!" He finally rips the MRVN by his arm to get in front of you. "Fix her, but I swear if you mess up again I will not hesitate to break you down into parts." He practically yells as he stands up from kneeling over you on the couch. The MRVN's emote looks stressed, but quickly changes to a sad face.

"I am sorry, you did put the dog in charge and he did say that she could leave..." He pleads, harkening back to how you managed to slip by him and escape yesterday.

"No, Six didn't say anything of that sort. Six can't talk. She lied to you. How are you this stupid?" Revenant is pacing back and forth between the massive window of a wall overlooking the city and the pillar with the fireplace and the television mounted over it.

The MRVN looks distressed at you as he realigns your nose splint and reapplies the medical tape.

"I am sorry, I wasn't equipped to handle lies! I've been issued a software update to account for skepticism, deceit, and sarcasm now, but—"

"Fine! I think you're a waste of metal and I would systematically deconstruct you if you had the pain receptors to suffer during every minute of it. How'd your lie detector do, hmm?!" Revenant throws a shrug up as he tilts his head in a sarcastic, wrath-filled gesture beckoning the MRVN.

The MRVN winces away a little, taking a moment to process.

"I didn't register any deceit in your statement." The MRVN almost whimpers as he wilts in front of you, still trying to dab up some blood off your face. Your nose still is steadily bleeding. "Ma'am, please sit still." He casually sticks a finger with an exposed node into each of your nostrils and you feel an electrical snap course through it for a moment. It stings and you naturally wince away from him as you grab at your splinted face. He pulls his fingers out and wipes them off for a moment. You feel a tear well up in your eyes from the stinging pain, wondering what just happened.

"What was that?!" You hear Revenant growl as the MRVN lifts off the ground from in front of you, hoisted up by an enraged simulacrum. The MRVN immediately begins to curl into a defensive stance as he desperately tries to explain himself.

"I cauterized her nosebleed! I'm sorry, it's standard first aid procedure!" Revenant drops him and he slams into the floor with a loud crash, making you jump and sink deeper into the couch away from them both, still covering your splinted nose. Revenant leans over you and lightly pulls your hands away from your nose, inspecting the work. His eyes dart in small jumps to each area of your face the MRVN touched. His LED irises slowly relax and widen as he wipes away a tear that escapes your eyes. He stands up and away from you to then hoist the MRVN back up to his knees.

"That hurt her. Do something about it." Revenant growls again before returning to pacing. The MRVN whimpers before getting to his feet to shuffle to a cabinet in the kitchen, explaining as he goes.

"Ibuprofen should help, but I'm also licensed to administer a little lidocaine." He hums with a tremolo, still a little fearful of Revenant's ire. "You won't be able to blow your nose for about a week, but you'll feel a lot better at the end of it."

You return your hands to your nose to cover it, still tearing up over the stinging sensation from the electrical cauterization. Revenant extends the trek of his pacing, now requiring him to step over and around a couple of prowlers curled up on the floor in clusters, keeping each other warm. He slowly decides to alter his pacing into an extended, winding figure eight, circling around the piles of his "puppies'' in an infinitely looping manner. It's funny to watch what would normally be an aggressive, threatening lurk around the room turn into a chaotic shuffle to avoid disturbing the creatures he's come to adore and deeply care for.

You hear Six's claws tap against the hardwood floor from behind you, confirmed by the meowing of Royce who sticks to Revenant and Six at almost all times. As Six comes into your view, you see Royce angrily mewing behind him and leaping into short sprints trying to keep up with the unfair stride advantage Six possesses. Six takes a moment to decide between going to your side or Revenant's as Royce makes a straight dash towards Revenant, immediately grabbing onto his leg wraps and trying to climb him with her tiny claws.

"Oh, for the love of—" Revenant winces in minor surprise at her, but quickly lifts his leg to pry her off. She cries insistently in protest until he tucks her into his headscarf, where she quiets down and begins purring loudly enough for you to hear. Six watches in some combination of concern and disapproval. To be fair, you've never seen Six spoil the two juvenile prowlers, who now lie in a pile with their mother in the corner. Six seems like a more stern parent than Revenant is, funnily enough. What's even more humorous is Six's palpable judgment of Revenant's constantly giving in to Royce's demands.

Realizing he can no longer easily pace around the room and brood, Revenant audibly makes a sighing noise and relaxes a bit, making his way to the couch. Six immediately cuts him off and leaps into the seat next to you instead, sniffing at your face for a moment before turning to growl at Revenant.

"It wasn't me this time!" He throws his hands out to his sides to accentuate his point. "She fell of her own accord."

Six growls a little more, refusing to give up the seat next to you, but instead nuzzling up into your lap and turning his growl into the most disconcertingly deep purr. Revenant's stature shrugs further as he takes the seat on the opposite side of Six, reaching into his headscarf to scratch Royce's cheeks.

The MRVN returns with a gelled up cotton swab, pushing it gently into your nose and numbing it almost instantly. He hands you a small shot glass of a measured out medicine, followed by some ice water. The medicine tastes like some combination of orange and alcohol that barely is palatable, but it washes down easily enough with the water. The MRVN seems cautiously happy that you accepted his help.

"Thank you." You say to him, mostly to give him audible approval and hopefully keep Revenant from dogging him further. You can hear Revenant sneer as he hisses a little under his breath, seemingly mad that he doesn't have an excuse to abuse the automa further. "I am sorry I snuck out yesterday and lied to you about having permission. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal." You hang your head a little, but a whirring chirp comes from the MRVN that reestablishes your attention on him.

"It is okay! It won't happen again, I am sure. Everyone makes mistakes." He seems happy enough as he stands upright from kneeling in front of you.

"Bring me my notes, rustbucket." Revenant demands quite hastily.

As the MRVN walks away, Revenant reaches forward to the coffee table and turns on the television, flipping through a few channels before finding the Apex Games' broadcasting network. A couple of news folks are sitting around a table all chatting about the upcoming announcement for the new celebrity contender, theorizing on who they may be.

One commentator is placing bets with the others that the new player will be a simulacrum. Another insists that it will be a pilot. Still another thinks that it may be another supermodel-type like Mirage or Loba, which makes you giggle a little inside knowing how awkward Mirage can sometimes be. A more cynical member from behind the camera can be heard saying it'll probably just be a new modded-up MRVN with a goofy name because "they're running out of attractive people with a high tolerance for pain." The eldest anchor who has been silent up to this point begins to chuckle a little jovially at that comment, finally retorting with a jab that eventually they're going to have to start letting prisoners of war fight in the games to really spice it up. The majority of the table cracks up at that one before they throw a poll up on the screen with all the proposed options, asking viewers to place their own bets for fun. The top voted option quickly becomes supermodel which is to be expected, but the joke entry of "prisoner of war" easily takes second place. The remaining votes are spread pretty evenly across the remaining options. Revenant audibly scoffs.

"Did they tell you who the new player is?" You ask with a slightly awkward twinge to your voice caused by your nose struggling to handle rapid airflow. You peer across Six to see if he reacts. He huffs again, apparently annoyed by the whole ordeal.

"No, I find out at the same time everyone else does. Heard some rumors though, not that I could care less. I've been too busy hunting down the scum of this city and leaving messages for whoever runs the criminal operations around here." Revenant averts his gaze despite your obvious lean to try to make eye contact. He may not like seeing your face bruised and your nose in a splint. You haven't dared look in a mirror yourself, so it could be understandable.

The MRVN returns with a stack of newspaper clippings, scizzors, a folder filled with papers, and a partially snipped up paper from today, handing them all to Revenant sequentially. The MRVN, now empty-handed, comes back to you and kneels down to your level to review your injuries. He carefully and gently pushes and pulls on your jaw to force your head to look any which way so he can get a better view.

"It should make a full recovery in a few weeks. Swelling will persist for a few days. I will check up on you regularly and administer painkillers as needed." The MRVN nods a little, eventually looking in Revenant's direction for approval. Revenant offers none except for the lack of disapproval. The MRVN seems a little lost by Revenant's refusal to acknowledge him, so you lightly reach out and hold his wrist to grab his attention again.

"Thank you, I appreciate your help." You say to him as he looks to you. His emote immediately brightens to a happy face at the feedback.

"I am glad to help! Would you like some dinner?" Geeze. You forgot what time it was. Now you look to Revenant instinctively for approval, already knowing you're going to be chided for wanting to say no.

"Make her soup," he demands, "if she isn't that hungry, at least soup is easy to consume."

You didn't want to eat, but he's not wrong about soup either. He hears you sigh a little.

"Listen, you're probably still suffering from a concussion, you've bled plenty today, and now your face needs to heal. I know you vastly prefer to starve yourself most of the time, but you need nutrition." He pauses for a moment, contemplating. He calls out to the MRVN who is now in the kitchen. "Actually, prepare a tonkotsu ramen for tomorrow. Make her eggs for tonight."

You cringe a little at that word: ramen. It's the cheapest noodle soup available at most stores, sold in individual little packages. You lived off of them for a long time while homeless. They were shelf stable, lightweight noodle bricks with powdered bullion, loosely wrapped in thin plastic packaging. You've eaten the noodles like crackers before, made the two-minute-long soup format, you tried using the noodles like bread for peanut butter sandwiches, and you even have made cheap macaroni and cheese with the noodles. Homeless shelters would have pallets of the stuff donated by well-meaning individuals, but it could never undo how utterly exhausting and tiring it is to taste the same noodle soup every day for years on end. You were grateful for the food, of course, but not ready to even try such a thing again. You don't feel right complaining now either; after all, you'd shudder to think how much money Revenant has dumped on you. You don't want to come off as ungrateful. You have no idea what word he put in front of "ramen" or why the MRVN would have to prep for a two-minute meal tomorrow, but your internals churn at the thought. Ramen isn't even that bad. You've just had enough to last the rest of your life, and you really don't want the uncomfortable "nostalgia" of your homeless life. You steel yourself for the moment. You can handle one more bowl of the stuff if it makes him happy.

"You look like you're going to throw up. Are you sick and tired of eggs or something?" Revenant has been staring at you this whole time, apparently. You quickly shake your head to dismiss his concerns before finding the energy to answer him more completely.

"I'm fine, just thinking back to..." You trail off. You're afraid you're going to sound ungrateful if you're honest, but you also don't want to be dishonest. You internally panic trying to figure out how to word this well. Six begins licking you, making your train of thought careen off the rails. You pull your face away but he pushes his snout beneath your chin to carefully lick the uninjured area of your face. Before you have time to collect yourself, you feel Revenant appear behind you and grab you under your arms, lifting you over the back of the couch and out of Six's reach. As you lift off from your comfy perch, you see Royce bounce into the warm cavity in the couch, leaping over Six's massive tail to do so. Six begins licking her instead as she swats at his hardened snout.

Revenant puts you on your feet before pulling a single arm around your back to brace you, leading you back into your bedroom and into the bathroom. He glances at the sink, toilet, shower, and massive bathtub before speaking up.

"Pick your poison." He offers, gesturing in the general direction of the many plumbing sources.

You lower yourself to the floor, actually feeling a bit dizzy from either the concussion or being lifted unexpectedly. You crawl over to the toilet, just in case Revenant is right. Thankfully the MRVN cleans the bathroom daily so the whole room is pristine, the white and black marble flooring with artful black bamboo mats being no exception. You peer in at the blue-tinted water. It has a floral scent from the bowl cleaner which settles your stomach more than you care to admit. You jump a little as Revenant's entire mass slams into the ground next to you, only cushioned by his meager loincloth and the bamboo mat. It's genuinely a miracle he didn't crack the marble. You whine a little in delayed protest.

"We can stay here until you're looking a little less pale." He shifts a little, possibly trying to find comfort on the cold floor. "If your nose starts to bleed again, I'll get the MRVN to cauterize it again." You wince a little at that idea.

You don't think you need to throw up. You just had a moment remembering what a block of dried noodles with sodium-laced powder tastes like, as well as remembering an era where sitting in a nice bathroom like this was a pipe dream. You feel the room seem to spin, not out of nausea but rather out of feeling like you do not belong in this space. Is this all too good for you? Maybe things would be better if you went back to living off of ramen and sleeping in a tiny bunk in the Apex Games facility.

You jolt back to reality as a cold set of claws gently lands on your shoulder.

"Flighty raven, what's wrong?" You hear him say, but you struggle to see him through the visual snow even as it fades. He called you 'raven' again. It's been an unexpected shift from his original nickname for you, but you appreciate how much more it sounds like a name than an insult.

He sounded so much more concerned than you thought he would be. You rub your eyes gently hoping the visual snow will fade faster, but unfortunately it seems as if it will recede at its own pace regardless of what you do. You have to try to answer him.

"Sorry, I just was reminded of back when I was..." You trail off before realigning yourself to speak again. "Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking back before I was a volunteer and—"

"You don't need to say anything more." He pushes his metal thumb against your closed lips as his other fingers curl up underneath your chin. You are whipped back to the present moment in an instant, absolutely enamored by that simple touch. The visual blur and pixelated coloration fades almost instantly. Gravity feels as if it barely is gripping you anymore and your internals almost feel tickled, sparing the new synthetic ones. Suddenly, the lack of feeling in the synthetic organs is jarring. Acid burns your throat and you keel over, unable to vomit but also in an otherworldly pain brought on entirely by the psychological whiplash.

Revenant is fast to his feet, especially considering how quiet he is when he moves from a sitting position on the floor to a full tilt sprint. If you hadn't just seen it, you would have thought the noise was only him shifting his weight a little. Before you know it, the MRVN is practically falling over as he is dragged backwards into your presence.

"Fix this." Revenant hoists the MRVN to tower over your curled up form on the floor. Despite the inevitably disconcerting experience of being dragged around by a frustrated simulacrum, the MRVN is quick to adapt, kneeling over you and helping you back into a seated position.

"What hurts?" The MRVN asks with fairly little emotion.

You want to answer but you can't for some reason. The MRVN takes your arm, feeling your pulse in your wrist, touching your forehead, and pressing his hand gently into a few places on your torso where the healed surgical scars are.

The MRVN goes still for a moment before standing up and beginning to leave, much to Revenant's displeasure.

"Well? What's wrong?!" He looks as if he might disassemble him right there for daring to walk away from you.

"Give me a moment." The MRVN sounds surprisingly unfearful of Revenant at the moment, possibly engrossed in accomplishing whatever he is doing.

Revenant turns to you for a moment. His shoulders tense up as he stares down at you, pausing to try to determine if you're well again or not. He seems to conclude not, as he moves as if to follow the MRVN through the doorway before he suddenly reappears over the threshold, holding one of the two young prowlers as the other follows.

Revenant looks on in a mix of shock and confusion as the MRVN leans over, placing one next to you while the other gravitates to the opposite side. They squirm against your hands as you try to pet them. You remember when they were small enough to hold only a mere few months ago; they grow so fast.

"What are these?" The MRVN asks you plainly.

"This is..." you pause for a moment, not sure why this is important. "This is Seven and his sister."

"What are they?" He stays kneeled in front of you, showing no emotion, simply quizzing you along.

"They're Six's offspring, I think?" You look to Revenant for reassurance, who stays completely and utterly still, probably confused himself. "They—uh—they're young prowlers."

"Good." The MRVN completely falls into a seated position, but much gentler than Revenant had minutes earlier. He takes a moment to look you over. "Now, can you tell me which is the boy and which is the girl?"

"Um..." You pause. The deep purple one has curled up in your lap, gently purring at a low hum. This dark hued one is calm, collected, and lax. The orange-red one is boisterously sniffing you up and down, licking your arm and other exposed skin if something smells interesting enough. This bright one is energetic, curious, and squirmy. You're not sure which is which. "I'm guessing—" You point to the purple one in your lap. "—this is the girl."

"Wrong." Revenant butts in finally, now leaning against the wall with crossed arms, looking like he's losing patience with the MRVN. "It's reversed. The boy is purple, the same color as Six. The girl is red like her mom. The red with teal stripes is one of the more common colorations to see out in the wild. They stick out so easily, plus they have a higher rate of aggression, so humans encounter them more often." He huffs to end his tangent, realizing he's going into more detail than he initially intended.

The room is silent for a moment before the MRVN continues his line of questioning.

"What texture do they—"

"Seriously, what is this?" Revenant interrupts angrily, throwing his hands up a little bit. "This is getting annoying. What the hell are you doing? This is a waste of time." You wince away from the MRVN, who reaches out and takes your pulse a second time. "All you're doing is asking idiotic questions over and over. She's injured, you idiot. I don't need you to test her—"

"You're going to make her have another anxiety attack if you continue." The MRVN interrupts, still holding your wrist and feeling for your heartbeat.

The room falls silent once again. You wish you could curl up into a ball. Revenant has become a statue, frozen in some kind of shock, but the MRVN returns his attention to you.

"Anyways, I was asking you what it feels like to pet this one." He motions to the boy in your lap. You pull your wrist away from him and run your fingers across the young prowler's back. He coos at your touch happily.

Like Six, the boy is very warm like freshly laundered linens, but with the smooth texture of a reptile. Some scales are large and rocky, yet others are small and smooth like silk. The larger scales afford less warmth but more armor, while the smaller scales offer flexibility and hug closer to the warm body, letting the heat emanate through and into your palm. As you run your hand from the crest of his furls down to his flank, his cooing and purring vibrates into your palms. His back legs twitch a little against your touch, possibly a sign of ticklishness.

"He feels really well armored in some areas, almost like a stone. Some places the scales are smooth and slippery and warm." You keep it short as you continue to pet him, somewhat engrossed by the experience. The red girl begins to lick the back of your neck, possibly trying to grab your attention away from her brother.

"What does that feel like?" The MRVN motions to your neck.

Her licks aren't light in the slightest. Her tongue makes wide strokes, pressing into your neck with force. It's moist and warm, but not any rougher than a human's tongue despite being much larger. Her nostrils flare hot air over your wet neck with each lick, and her pants follow up with a cooling sensation. Her snout also hardens into a beak-like texture, but hers isn't as pronounced as her brother's or Six's. Her licks slowly slip around to the side of your neck, pausing as if to feel for the beat in your jugular. She stops licking, eventually resting her head on your shoulder for a few moments. The calm only lasts a few seconds before she notices the curious protrusion on the side of your head, resuming by licking and sniffing your ear. The tickling sensation necessitates you to squirm away and try to push her snout away as you attempt to answer the question posed.

"It feels like—" She pushes past your hands and nails your ear with the sloppiest lick. "—ugh! It feels like an oversized slug hitting me!" You get your hands around her snout and hold her at your shoulder. She immediately slips out, then pushes her snout back into your grip. Suddenly, she's enamored by the concept of fingers, inserting and removing her snout from the circular grip you've made. She looks ridiculous. You start to chuckle as she tilts her head in confusion before reinserting her snout, withdrawing it, and tilting again.

The MRVN stands up and begins to leave.

"Her anxiety attack seems to have been staved off. I'll get back to—" Revenant grabs him before he's made it over the threshold.

"What did you do?" Revenant asks, his voice caught somewhere between genuine curiosity and frustration.

"It's a distraction technique. Perhaps if you were more present and didn't feel the need to escalate every situation, she'd feel a bit more grounded and stable in your presence." The MRVN pushes his hands away and proceeds out of the bathroom. A few moments pass as you watch Revenant's entire stature tense up with rage.

"I am going to fucking tear that stupid—!"

"Escalation!" The MRVN rings out from the kitchen.

Revenant lets out a wrath filled scream as he drives his fist into the mirror above the two sinks next to him, shattering the mirror and causing the glass to shower down on the marble floor in front of you. You feel some of the tiny shards hit your legs, as you wince away from the splash of sharp, reflective daggers. The purple prowler sinks deeper into your lap to try to hide as he whimpers, while the red girl stays behind you momentarily.

Everything sits still for a moment after the glass is shattered. The MRVN appears in the doorway again.

"What happened?!" The MRVN exclaims from the other side of the doorway, peering in.

Revenant holds his fist inside the newly revealed hole in the drywall, staring into the wall where his reflection once was. He's completely still except for a minor tremble that resembles someone under heavy duress. The boy prowler is whimpering in your lap, while the red one tugs on your shirt trying to pull you closer into the wall and away from the glass. You shrink into the marble floor, wishing you could vanish from the scene in front of you.

"Sir, are you both traumatiz—?!"

"Shut up." Revenant growls, ripping his hand out of the wall by making an even bigger hole in the drywall. "I don't need your patronizing bullshit."

Revenant walks over as you cower into the floor, your heart racing. He pulls the purple prowler out of your lap as he ragdolls in his arms, whimpering loudly. Revenant walks him across the glass, causing the many shards to crunch between his metal soles and the marble. What's left beneath his feet is a pool of dangerous, glittery, faulty sparkles. He leaves the whimpering prowler in the safety of the doorway where Six appears to usher him back to the pack.

Revenant returns, picking up the red girl next. She squirms and tries to shake her way out of his grasp, but he has no issue holding her as he carries her across the sea of broken pieces. He places her in the doorway. The MRVN kneels over and pats her head before Six ushers her away too.

Finally, Revenant returns, his mass hulking over you like a hunter victorious over their prey. Your frame is as crouched and shriveled into the floor as it can be. For a moment, you feel that same fear again, overwhelming you. His whole frame blurs into a black silhouette spare for his bright yellow eyes which pierce through the void. You feel dizzy and the sensation of static begins to take over all your senses.

He kneels down to your level, letting you see the color return to his form. Your heart is still racing, but something about him kneeling to meet you closer to eye level is reassuring.

You flinch as the tip of his index finger taps the tip of your nose for a moment. You flinch in surprise before the realization catches up to you.

"Did... Did you just boop my—"

"Shut it." He pulls you into a hug and lifts you off the ground by your torso before scooping an arm under your knees to support you. He casually carries you across the sea of crunching shattered glass, leaving behind a shimmering wake of destruction where he walked. He places you down on your bed before turning to the MRVN.

"I'd throw you in a trash compactor and watch you be turned into a block if you were even slightly less valuable." Revenant pokes a finger into the screen on his chest, which leaves a stoic emote up before switching to a smug one.

"So you're saying I was right?" The MRVN chirps.

"Clean up that mess. I need some time alone. Don't bug me." He huffs at the MRVN. He turns to you. "I'm sorry, just take a break. Turn on the new player announcement and let me know if anything interesting happens. Right now I just need to focus on something else for a little while."

You nod at him and he dismisses himself from the room as you and the MRVN watch. The MRVN shrugs haplessly when he meets your gaze again, his emote displaying a little sweat droplet and rolling eyes. His software update made him a little more sassy and cynical than he was before. You wonder how Pathfinder would change with similar updates.

You can hear Revenant pick up the newspaper clippings from before, as well as Royce whose screams for attention suddenly drift off in the direction of his room before abruptly vanishing as the door slams. You still aren't sure what he's working so diligently on with the newspaper clippings, but maybe it will help him calm down.

The MRVN walks over to you, quickly checks you over for any injuries before giving you a hearty thumbs up.

"Thank you," you say to him, "I'm sorry about him. He's just..." You trail off, unsure of what words to use to describe Revenant that vindicate his attitude.

"It will help now that he knows what an anxiety attack looks like and how his behavior feeds it. I don't think he's completely well either. There aren't many beings who see their own reflection, understand it is themself, and still attack it instinctively." The MRVN pats you on the shoulder before turning on the bedroom television for you, swapping the channel over to the Apex announcement.

You hadn't even realized that. He did attack his own reflection in that moment. If he simply wanted to break the mirror, he would have gone for a right hook that caught the mirror wide, but instead he went for a direct jab. It was a jab with so much power and lethality that it shattered the mirror to penetrate the wall behind it. He only calmed down when his reflection was gone. You remember back at the Apex Facility when his mirror was intentionally smeared with soap, petroleum jelly, or a similar substance to make it opaque and unreflective. You hold your breath for a moment, unsure of what that means. You've heard of people who were scared of their own reflection before, but this isn't fear—this is hate.

"Oh, look! That's her!" The MRVN happily points to a woman on screen who has happily taken a seat at the commentator's table, kicked her feet up on it, let her chair lean back, and is actively throwing back a bottle of beer. You turn your attention to the screen.

"Oh, sorry, are you guys not allowed to drink beer on TV? Shame. More for me I guess." She smirks coyly at the group of anchors who are now huddled together on the opposite end of the table, gawking in awe. She finishes the whole beer in a long swig before turning to look someplace off camera and throwing the bottle. It's a moment before you can hear it land in a trashcan off-screen. "Hell yeah!" She celebrates her small victory.

"So, you're Viper's daughter?" One of them asks, noticeably taken aback by her garrish attitude.

She flicks her head so her silver hair swishes with the motion. Her skin is perfect, her cheeks are slightly flush from the alcohol, but her eyes are a sharp, reflective amber. She's downright gorgeous, but you're not sure who Viper is.

"You bet! Name's Kairi Imahara, but you all can call me Valkyrie." She snaps finger guns in their general direction before leaning over, pulling a fresh bottle of beer up from behind the table, and flicking off its bottle cap using a metal buckle on her boots. She immediately takes another swig. You look on in awe. How can someone about your size manage to throw back carbonated drinks like that, let alone alcohol? You'd be tapping out after one.

"So, uh, Miss Valkyrie—"

"Valk is fine, I don't need all the pleasantries."

"Yes, um, Valk... What is it that you bring to the Apex Games?"

Valkyrie chuckles to herself for a moment.

"Ever heard of Northstar?" She throws her head back, looking to the ceiling, almost in a gesture of nostalgia. The commentators all nod to one another, before one offers an answer.

"Of course, your dad's Titan. It's been decommissioned for—"

"I stole it," she says nonchalantly as she throws her head forward to see her audience. She says it so casually, but her devious smile gives her away as she breaks into a small laugh at the abject horror on the commentator's faces.

She has her laugh before taking another swig of beer and continuing.

"I mean, I stole it when I was a kid. Piloted it myself. No training. Just years of watching good ol' dad." Her smirk turns even more sadistic as the shock washes over their faces.

"You were a child?!"

"Yup. I was lucky. I found my place in the world young, and that place was in the sky." She throws her head back again to look at the ceiling again for a moment. Her smile is still clear despite most of her visage being out of sight. "Northstar is coming with me to the Games."

Now there is audible gasping. One commentator clutches her necklace. Another leans back. Yet another is stunned silent.

"A Titan? In the Apex Games? That's crazy! How is anyone—"

"Not in its original form." She pulls her feet off the table, sits upright, suddenly glowing with a seriousness about her. "Northstar was decommissioned after my dad..." She clears her throat audibly. "After I lost my dad, I knew I couldn't let his legacy die. So, me and a friend took some of the modded parts from Northstar. We made it compact. Made it light. Made it wearable." She reaches behind her, pulling out a white helmet with golden orange stripes and bullet holes in the visor, placing it on the table. Everyone is silent for a long pause.

She sighs, clearly experiencing a moment of grief before she begins to smile again, closing her eyes as if to hold back a slight welling of tears.

"Know this name—Imahara—and always keep an eye on the skies." She says to the camera before hugging the helmet for a long time, eventually pulling off the table and placing it out of view once again.

She looks back to her audience.

"Oh man, did I kill the vibes we had going? Ha, sorry about that." She's back to being charmingly brash as she takes another swig of her bottle, clearly finishing it. "It wouldn't be right of me to not give a little backstory, right?"

One of the commentators adjusts his tie awkwardly to try to regain his composure.

"Yes, um, my apologies Miss Imahara—I mean... Valk. Would you mind answering some questions from the audience? Perhaps give us some insight on you as well as your plans?"

"Of course! Just don't ask me what the capital of Leviathan is. I can never remember that one." She laughs at her own joke while the commentators follow suit, giving them all a chance to regain their composure.

"Well, this one is from, uh, let's see..." he says as he taps away on his tablet. "Aha, from Victoria, age twelve, from Solace."

"Twelve?" She smiles. "I'll drink to that." She rips another beer out, casually bending the cap off using the edge of the table top, and throwing it back. She must have a stomach and liver made of steel.

The commentators give a more genuine laugh at that one.

"Victoria asks: what's your favorite food?"

Valkyrie's eyes light up at the question. Despite the simplicity of such a question, she seems unreasonably eager to answer it.

"Ha! Easy!" She leans back in her chair, swirling the beer in its bottle in the air. "Ramen!"

You grimace and pull your attention back out of the television. You've heard enough. Honestly she seems pretty cool, even if you don't know her heritage. Anyone who has—legally or otherwise—piloted a Titan is clearly talented and worthy of respect, and if her dad was the pilot of a notable Titan, that's even more impressive. Clearly that was her dad's helmet. You could see the grief wash over her when she held it. You think you have heard things about Northstar before, but you can't remember. If its name even remotely jogs your memory, it must have been one of the most powerful ones out there. You normally have no room in your memory banks for those types of things.

The MRVN knocks on the open door to your bedroom, holding a plate of eggs.

"You can come in."

"Isn't she neat?" The MRVN chirps. He must have been watching the broadcast from the television in the living room while he cooked. "I like her a lot, but Pathfinder is still my favorite." You take the plate of eggs as he hands them to you.

"That's understandable, Pathfinder is super nice."

"You've met him?!" The MRVN perks up happily.

"Yeah! Next time I see him, maybe I can bring you a flower from his garden! Or have him sign something for you!" You taste a piece of egg. He's very good at consistently making tasty food. Surprisingly, Revenant manages to make better ones, but you know Revenant goes above and beyond every time he cooks anything. Maybe he enjoyed cooking back when he was human. "Honestly, it's the least I could do for putting up with me and Revenant."

The MRVN tilts his head in confusion.

"You mean Mr. Cross?"

You nearly choke on your eggs. Fuck. Right. He was trying to be incognito and use a fake name. Although you're not sure how he's managed to do so when walking around looking exactly like the Revenant from the Apex Games. The MRVN's optic bulb adjusts a couple times before it brightens again.

"Oh... you do mean Mr. Cross..." The MRVN pulls his pointer finger to his head, holding it over where his mouth might be as if he is pondering deeply. "He lied, I see this now. My deception software update hadn't parsed through older logs yet." Suddenly he goes from pondering to cradling his head. "Oh no! That's the Revenant! I backtalked the Revenant! He could have had me—"

You grab one of his hands and he calms down.

"It's a secret, you can't tell anyone. If you promise not to tell anyone, I'll see if I can get a signature from Pathfinder or some other momento for you." You don't know what else to do but bribe him to stay quiet.

"I promise." He is quick to agree. "I wouldn't want to make him mad. Plus you seem nice."

"Thank you," you say, relaxing and withdrawing before taking another bite of food.

•    •    •    •

You knock on Revenant's door. At some point Royce must have been let back into the main living room, as she's now curled up in sight with the two juvenile prowlers and a short ways from Six. Most of the prowlers are curled up since the MRVN recently fed them; they always seem to want to relax immediately after eating.

You knock again.

It's getting late. The sun has gone down and the windows overlook the glowing signs and screens below lining the streets. Since the fall weather is nice, people are out and walking around. A lot of the screens are showing replays and promos for the upcoming season of the Apex Games, showing off Valkyrie and her sponsor's products as she poses with them. The news was huge and the city's liveliness absolutely reflects that. Taxi and limo horns blare angrily at one another, drunk people can be heard hooting and hollering over the general crowd, and the white noise of hundreds of engines turning over and humming below is barely muffled by the glass panes. You knock again, but even louder this time.

You wait. The scent of an apple spice candle that the MRVN lit a few hours ago is wafting in the air. The light musk that the prowlers normally generate is washed out by the smell, but the warmth of having so many snoring bodies in the same room is significant. The top edge of the windows are also slightly fogged up from the temperature difference. The MRVN is sitting in the corner of the living room, plugged into the wall and recharging. He looks asleep, but you know from experience that they are very much aware even when in sleep mode.

"If you don't answer this time, I'm coming in." You say gently into the door as you knock one last time.

You stare at the white door, noting each paint streak at eye level. It's been long enough.

You open the door just to be hit with a crisp breeze. The sliding glass door to a small balcony is slightly ajar. He's not here. Newspaper clippings pinned to a map of the city on the wall flicker in the wind. It looks like a conspiracy theorists' dream, but without the funny lines of yarn connecting different pins and all centering in on a single location in the city. You can't help but curiously approach the giant map filled with articles.

Each clipping is either an obituary, a police blotter report, or an article about a crime pinned to the location on the map where it presumably occurred. Some of the articles are about murders, drug den busts, trafficking busts, or shootouts between rival gangs; but they're all about crime. Some names are highlighted with a red 'x' at the end of them with an obituary pinned underneath them. Others are highlighted without the red 'x', possibly indicating the perpetrator may still be alive. Different areas of the city have different clusters. Understandably, the worst areas are filled to the point of obfuscation with clippings. Areas like the one you're currently in have a more sparse distribution. There's always less crime in areas with more money and more people at all hours of the day.

This must all be related to him trying to hunt down your abductors. You begin to flip through clippings quickly, looking for any photographs of one man in particular, begging to find his name with a red 'x' beside it. You begin pouring over them with almost as much obsession as it took to make such a wall of madness. You have no idea how long it takes you to stumble upon it, but eventually you see it. That damn, wide-brimmed hat, that toothy scowl, and barely a visible face. It's not a good picture, clearly it's not a mugshot. The article doesn't even have a name. But you'd know that evil smile even if you hadn't met him a second time. Scribbled in black ink across the margin of the article clipping it says "taxi bastard"—a fitting name.

You read the article. Apparently he was caught with tons of illegal pornographic material produced using victims of trafficking, abduction, and even—you stop reading for a moment, unwilling to read that last word and wishing you had let Revenant murder him the first time he offered. Apparently a lot of the pornography also included the torture of victims, sometimes even leading to their death and dismemberment. He sold the copies to the worst perverted sickos looking for a quick fix. According to the article, the payload was revealed when copies were accidentally forwarded to multiple parties, including the police themselves. You know who did that. Even though his warehouse was raided the following day, he had vacated and disappeared. No record of his legal name was found, nor any signs of where he might have gone. The article concludes on the dark note that the police are parsing through each film, trying to document any victims and connect them to cold cases looking for closure. The number of victims estimated to be in the files is estimated to be in the hundreds.

As you try to stop reading, you realize the out of body experience you started having midway through that article. You don't feel your legs, but you are standing on them. You carefully walk back to the door, shutting it and locking out the many animals littered on the living room floor. You meander over to the balcony door and close it the rest of the way, intentionally leaving it unlocked for him. You make it up to his bed and fall into it, unwilling to try to keep walking. You feel so hot with stress and racing thoughts, you don't really hesitate to tear everything off and toss it to the side. You curl up in the pillows, turn off the lone lamp on the nightstand, and begin to bawl in the dark.

You're not even sure why you're crying, just that you can't help it. Your thoughts are tumbling uncontrollably, wondering what fate you might have met had Revenant not come for you. Your nose runs and pounds against its splint. Your eyes are sore in their sockets. Your surgical scars sting despite being fully healed. Your bare skin raises into goosebumps despite how hot it feels. What about everyone else? How could people like him exist? Why were you spared by fate but not the others?

You breathe slowly as the tears dry up. You lose emotional attachment to the concept of being the one that made it out. You feel as if you might die for some reason, but you have no reason to believe that. Still, you curl up tighter in the dark. Perhaps if you remain defenseless and hidden, no one will notice you. Perhaps you can be forgotten by everyone. No more heroes coming to save you, because no more villains will come to victimize you. You feel as if you're floating in a warm ocean, drowning but refusing to fight the current, able to breathe despite the weight on your chest.

Why are you treated so special despite being so cursed?

#apex legends #apex fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fanfic #creative writing #revenant x reader #fluff #romance #revenant #apex revenant #comfort writing #tw: depression #tw: ptsd #tw: mania #tw: bipolar #tw: sharp #tw: pain #tw: graphic content #tw: past abuse

[winters-tales]

Oh, the IRON-y!

Almost 100 years after the end of the war, with no further threats from the Fae, the public starts to question: is IRON really worth the taxpayer’s money?

September 2100 | By Yvette Lineham, Post-war correspondent

The Incursion Reaction Operations Network was originally founded in the immediate aftermath of the war to make up for a shortfall in military presence; the Fae may have left, but the breaches were still showing up, and it was almost unanimously agreed that such a group would be needed. Over the years, they’ve held bases of operations all over the country, but due to budget cuts over the years this has shrunk down to just twenty posts in total. With election season coming up, IRON is a hot-button topic, with some arguing for complete closure, and others arguing to continue the trend of closing things down gradually.

One has to wonder just how often a situation requiring their input occurs; is it often enough that we need the branch at all? Rachel Henson, MP for Derby where IRON’s central base of operations is, has some thoughts on that.

“The RNLI is essential, and a charity organisation,” she tells me between meetings. “They are there to fill the gaps the coastguard cannot, and we are very grateful to them for their volunteer work, especially as it’s just as dangerous as what IRON used to do.” Used to? “Yes, ‘used to.’ No more. Look, they were absolutely necessary in the aftermath of the war, there’s no denying that at all, but it’s been almost a century since the war ended, and there’s been absolutely no further incursions since then. I’d wager most of the calls they get are for perfectly ordinary animals that look a bit off in low light.”

David Raynor, formerly a Sergeant in the Armed Forces and now heading up IRON, disagrees when I mention Ms Henson’s thoughts on the matter.

“The Honourable Member is welcome to join me on a normal day’s work, and see just how many reports we get that are false positives,” he says between calls. “The thing is, it’s not just Fae we have to watch for. She’s absolutely right that there have been no incursions from Fae, but there are other things out there just waiting for a breach. They’re what we watch for more than anything - and they tend to work really hard at looking like ordinary animals.”

I ask what he means by that, and he responds by spinning in his chair and retrieving a binder stuffed full of pages. He flips through some of the entries before laying the pages open for me, and spins the binder so I can see.

“We call them veil-walkers,” he says. “ They’re the beasties that aren’t part of the Fae Wilds, but they’re not part of our world either. Most common one we get are these, and they are nasty. If I get a call for these, I need a full team of eight to take them down, and that’s getting harder and harder to justify the expenses for.”

The photograph he shows me is of a deer, looking perfectly ordinary, with a full head of antlers that any game hunter would kill to mount on their wall. He flips the page, and there are a series of photographs that seem to be taken in rapid succession; the deer looks at the camera, the deer is running towards the camera - and the final one, incredibly blurred and overexposed, shows the deer lunging forwards, mouth stretched wide, with teeth far sharper than any deer need.

It’s hard to know what to say in the face of such a sight. I didn’t have it in me to ask if the photographer made it out alive; if that deer was one of the bigger ones, then anyone would have a hard time beating it in a run.

“If we weren’t needed, we’d have been closed already,” the former Sergeant tells me quietly as he takes the binder back. Looking at the shelves, I noticed that it’s not the only binder, and each are numbered, 1 to 12. “Folks think we’re not needed because we’re good at what we do, but we’re a victim of our own success. If we’re there to deal with a breach successfully so nobody gets hurt, you all wonder what the point of us is. If we’re not there quick enough and someone does get hurt, you wonder what you’re even paying us for.”

His point is a sobering one - they’d likely be closed down far quicker if random civilians lost their lives on a regular basis. The fact that they’re still operational, albeit at a greatly reduced capacity, is living proof to how essential they are - and nothing short of a miracle that there haven’t already been casualties as a result of the reduced funding. For the time being, we should be grateful that IRON are there to keep things like this from getting in, so we can all sleep a little safer at night.

--

#fictional article #oathsworn: the nameless #writeblr #writing #worldbuilding #fen writes stuff #creative writing #fiction #urban fantasy

[scoundrels-in-love]

I posted 15,453 times in 2022

345 posts created (2%)

15,108 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined

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I tagged 9,203 of my posts in 2022

Only 40% of my posts had no tags

#critical role - 2,276 posts

#cr spoilers - 1,004 posts

#art - 927 posts

#video - 891 posts

#cr fanart - 655 posts

#cats - 447 posts

#ashton - 374 posts

#kdrama - 292 posts

#rainy rambles - 271 posts

#fashion - 198 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i think this is good to internalize for myself and also for some people who might be weary and worried how to deal with me when i am in cert

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I love that Ashton is all "I will literally stand between any harm and any of these *gulp* friends", but then they just don't trust Chetney as far they could throw him (which is far) and I feel like it's mostly because he keeps being dick to Dorian and others. Like, you soft hearted punk, I love you so much.

204 notes - Posted January 7, 2022

#4

Ashton being the one to restrain FCG, one advocating for letting them down and even saying please, reminding they're all powderkegs that have hurt rest of the party in crossfire, trying to find kindest way to share the roughest news, setting up Orym's speech about taking care of each other and being first to agree with Orym's speech while most of the party didn't actually voice their agreement, just Ashton and their friendship with FCG and how much they care about their friends. /openly weeps

224 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

#3

I am thinking about Ashton, left to grow up in an orphanage, going through the change that perhaps is brought upon by one of their unknown parent's heritage, alone and confused, and like no one else.

Having to navigate that alone, most likely scared the first time they realized their hair was changing into stone, or even it first all fell out, the skintone shifting and all these physical changes truly no other puberty would be alike and there was no one to tell them they weren't straight up dying of some unknown disease and I just--

268 notes - Posted March 18, 2022

#2

One thing I think about a lot is how resigned, perhaps even inadequate, Ashton seems to feel about their role as purely muscle within the group.

There are definitely more than just these examples, but what comes to mind is post-duel at the ball when Orym approaches Ashton and says they might need Ashton, and Ashton immediately asks who needs beating up. As if that's the only input that they can contribute or be expected to contribute.

And then in latest episode, when they've all looked at Ruidus, someone needs to help the telecope to be moved so it can look at Catha and Ashton immediately volunteers all "this is what I'm good for".

And it's after everyone has chimed in with opinions about the moon storms and Imogen's experiences, but Ashton remained quiet, because what do they know? All these people are magic users or at least connected to someone wise and knowledgeable and Ashton's just a thug from orphanage.

I don't think it helps the way Bell's Hells sometimes don't hear them, like Ashton several times said they can have a go at picking locks (proficient), but the group always looked to someone else for that or a different solution.

The few times they're confident is when Gus "spoke Marquesian" and Ashton stepped up to speak bluntly with some cussing, and when they're fighting - and as they said themselves, it might be in part to make someone look at them and care. And when they're in smaller groups and dealing with odd vendors. Or have to protect someone, even if it's making sure FCG isn't hurting themselves emotionally.

I also recall how eagerly Ashton just echoed and boosted up Imogen's lines at first in the knick-knack store. They're eager to learn and support in more than just muscle-way, but so many of the current problems Bell's Hells have are magic and knowledge aligned, where they cannot help much and I feel like they feel kind of inadequate about it.

I wonder if it's something that comes from how they were treated in Nobodies, with how excited they were about their bribe moment early in the campaign, or just how cards have fallen currently in the story.

And I really hope they will gain confidence in themselves and their place with Bell's Hells. (And get a hug.)

308 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Between having been really into mermaids and underwater kingdoms as a concept during my childhood and the absolutely hauntingly stunning horror movie sequence where you root for the sirens introduction to Talokan, it's not really any surprise that I became instantly and deeply fascinated with this nation and its' people.

Like, there is so much I kept thinking about during the movie and even now, a whole day later. This great post by @thebctman raised even more that I hadn't gotten to.

Until the call to arms scene, I assumed that they cannot speak under the water, so I was quite stunned at the scene. But it does make me wonder just how much of importance does body language carry in Talokanian society! And how hard it might have been to preserve their native language, especially before the establishing of the cave sanctuary(ies).

And I have to think for how long Namor was only one who could only briefly exit the water, how, before the invention of water masks, there could be no sanctuary and he would be the only one wandering the caves. Pushed into role and revered as the leader from birth, fitting in with none of them.

The fact they ended up building this sanctuary and filling it to the brim with parts of their cultures they couldn't practice under the water - like the murals. How they must have lost their national cuisine, without access to ingredients or ways to practice it - or even consume, since they cannot eat above the water. I have no idea how much jade deposits are under water, but perhaps even that became a scarce material.

It makes me think of Namor's speech the first time he meets with Queen Ramonda and Shuri - about how clean and unharmed the land is and how much Wakanda's people have not had to change and compromise who they are, their culture, just to continue to exist. Though Talokan is their new land, it is still an exile. Exile deep into the cold waters that have slowly been poisoned and polluted by people.

Somehow, they've managed to befriend sea animals and even communicate with them (which leads back to my point about non-verbal communication under the water, maybe they quite literally can emit sounds similar to dolphins or whales), there is no way that they do not know the absolute devastation done to the oceans, that it has not impacted them, that Namor or his people haven't personally known whales that have been killed by whalers.

And yes, I do wonder about the pressure - how fast can they raise and lower themselves in these depths, without reprecussions, and just how damn fast can they travel because they seem to traverse incredible distances so very swiftly. One moment they're near USA, then Namor can respond to Queen Ramonda's call very swiftly. Like, just how fast can they all swim, without exhaustion?? Fascinating.

I know most of these things will never be answered, if any at all, but a lot of them are just lot of feelings about things in the subtext and I'm gonna go drown in those kthxbye.

392 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #love that all my big posts are blorbo posting and primarily Ashton #but then BAM Namor

[jojo0039]

*Treasure and Secrets* The Gold Part 2

After school, the friends head to the Wreck. "I never doubted for a second." JJ exclaims as he wraps his arm around Jo's shoulder.

"You are such a moron. But I love you anyway."

She gives him a quick peck on the lips.

He grins widely at her.

"You guys are sickly gross. Cut it out." Pope comments.

They walk closer to the dock so they have some privacy to talk to each other.

"So are we going to the Bahamas or what?" JJ questions.

"You have to have a passport to get to the Bahamas and you don't have one." Jo states.

"Yea there is no way we're gonna be able to make it down there." Pope backs up Jo.

"John B is gonna get nabbed sooner or later. So if we're gonna clear his name, we need to have done it like yesterday." Kie states.

"I'll tell you guys how we do it." JJ inputs.

"So you have it all planned out?" Pope doesn't look so convinced.

"Oh God. This outta be good." Jo mumbles.

"As a matter of fact I do. We kidnap Rafe." he tells them.

Jo gives him a dumbfounded look.

"You are out of your damn mind." Jo exclaims.

"Listen, we kidnap Rafe, tie him up and stick the gun in his mouth and just wait til he starts squawking." JJ tells them his plan.

"That is literally one of the most stupidest plans you have ever had." Jo tells him.

"Yea, torture is also a war crime." Kie comments.

"Yea, how exactly do you plan on clearing John B's name from a prison cell? Because that's a felony." Pope lectures.

"Alright, first of all, you guys are no fun. I've been dying to get a gun in Rafe's mouth for a long time. And secondly, I don't hear any of you guys coming up with something." JJ argues.

"All we need is a material witness. We saw Ward's plane fly over our heads with the gold inside of it." Pope starts.

"Ok, that means someone else flew the plane out because Ward sure didn't." Jo states.

"Exactly, that means, someone else was on that tarmac and saw Peterkin get murdered." Pope brainstorms.

"We just need to find whoever that was, and get them to confess on the record somehow." Jo finishes with excitement.

"How do we do that?" Kie asks.

"With a little light espionage." Pope tells them.

"A little ghost recon." JJ says.

"Let's do this thing." Jo laughs.

                                            ***************************

They pile in Kie's car and head for the North side of the island.

"So did we figure out how we're going to do this?" Jo asks from the back seat.

Pope nods his head.

"I think I figured it out. I just have to tickle his wire." Pope tells them.

"Tickle the what?" Kie asks.

"Uh, I mean if that's what you're into these days man." JJ jokes.

"Shut up. No I plant my phone in his car, and then we listen in on the AirPods." Pope tells them.

He holds the phone out toward Kie.

"Say something." he says.

"Something." Kie speaks into the phone.

"We have audio." Pope says as Kie pulls up to a house.

"There's his house right there." Jo says.

"Ok, Jo come with me as a lookout." Pope tells her.

"Sounds like a plan. Honk the horn or yell if you see anything suspicious." Jo says.

JJ grabs her hand.

"I dont like this. But be careful." he tells her.

She gives him a smile.

She follows Pope outside and runs towards the car.

She looks around and doesn't see anything.

She watches as he puts the phone under the seat.

"Come on. Let's go." she whispers.

They quickly run back to the car.

Once they get back in Pope and Jo high-five each other.

"Phase one is complete." Pope tells them.

Jo looks between JJ and Kie who seem to be looking awkward.

"Are you two ok?" Jo asks.

"Your boyfriend asks weird questions." Kie tells Jo.

"What did you do JJ?" Jo asks accusingly.

"I just asked a simple question. It's not my fault that Kie made it weird." JJ defends himself.

"Whatever. Let's just get this thing done." Jo says.

"So why is gonna make the phone call?" Pope asks.

"I'll do it." Kie volunteers.

"Sounds like a plan to me." JJ says.

"Should I do an accent?" Kie asks.

"You should definitely disguise your voice." Pope tells her.

"How would you like me to talk?" She asks in a fake English accent.

Jo shows a face of disgust.

"No definitely not that." Jo says.

"Like Batman." Pope tells her.

"Batman." Kie talks in a deep voice.

"There you go. Spot on." Pope tells her.

Jo shakes her head.

"Here goes nothing." she mumbles.

Kie grabs the phone and dials the number.

She puts it on speaker as it rings.

"Hello?" Gavin's voice is heard through the phone.

"Hello." Kie speaks into the phone in a deep voice.

Jo mouths 'no' at Kie.

"Is Gavin there?" Kie speaks in her normal voice.

"This is Gavin. Who is this?" he speaks through the phone.

"I know what happened on the tarmac. It was Rafe Cameron, but you already knew that, and you lied about it." Kie tells him on the phone.

"Okay, who is this?" Gavin asks sounding nervous.

"We know what you did and we're gonna prove it." Kie speaks.

"You're gonna tell me who this is now!" Gavin speaks.

"You could have saved her Gavin and you didn't. And you're not getting away with this."

Kie quickly hangs up the phone.

"Good job, very believable." Jo comments.

"Yea I was totally scared." JJ says.

"Alright, we tickled the wire. Phase two is complete." Pope informs them.

They sit and wait until Gavin gets in his car.

"Okay he's on the move." Jo observes.

Kie starts the car and slowly starts to follow behind him.

Pope has his Air Pods in his ears listening.

"He's talking to Ward." Pope informs them.

"What's he saying?" Jo asks.

"Get closer I can't hear." Pope tells Kie.

She speeds up a bit.

"He's talking about negotiating something. Renegotiating. " Pope says.

Pope continues to listen.

"Gavin has the gun that Rafe used to kill Peterkin."

Jo's eyes widened and she let out a small gasp.

"Oh my God." Jo breathes out.

"Holy shit!"

"I think he's trying to use it as extortion, as leverage." Pope states.

"Oh shit, he's pulling over. What do I do?" Kie asks panicking.

"Just go around the block!" Pope and JJ exclaim.

They pass by Gavin's car.

"I can't hear anything now!" Pope exclaims.

Kie turns down the next block.

There is a roadblock ahead.

"Shit!"

"Turn around!"

"Pull in here and back up." JJ tells her.

Before Kie can back the car up, a big forklift blocks the path.

"We were about to back up!" Jo yells out the window to the workers.

Pope opens the door and runs from the car.

"Where are you going?" Kie shouts to him.

"We gotta know where they're meeting!" Pope shouts to them.

"We're following behind him right?" JJ asks as he opens the door for Jo.

"Let's go!"

"You can't leave the car here!" A worker shouts to them.

"I'm sorry! I'll be back for it!" Kie shouts back.

They follow Pope through a backyard.

"Go!"

"Pope!"

"Come on!"

Pope jumps over a fence.

Jo slows down as she runs out of breath.

"Why are we always running?" JJ grabs Jo's hand.

"Come on babe." Jo groans, but follows behind JJ and climbs over the fence.

JJ holds his arms up and helps her down.

They run through the yard and see four teens swimming in the pool.

"Sean? Ah, this is where you live, you kook!" JJ laughs.

"Holy shit, Jo, Kie looking good!" The boys in the pool shout to the girls.

JJ flips them off.

They find Pope standing by the bushes and Gavin's car is across the street.

Pope turns to face them and he looks shocked.

"What happened?"

"What did you hear?"

Pope takes the earpieces out of his ears.

"He's meeting Ward right now. We have to go!"

They run back to the car.

#outer banks #treasure and secrets #joanna mills #jj maybank #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pogues for life #friendship #pope heyward #p4l

[biteypyrotiger]

Sleep has been shitty lately and I'm so far from tired so let's go back to night blogging shit though today it's just a feelings vomiting rant. Don't mind me.

My uncle died Sunday. He was a good guy who opened his home up to a lot of people and, in addition to his own kids, was a father figure to many others and Santa Claus to many more. He was also funny as hell. He's someone that you don't want to see leave the world. That said, we didn't have much of a relationship and while I'm sad that he's gone, we weren't close enough for me to be truely grieving. I only ever saw him a few times a year and with my going no contact with my mom and, by extension, her whole family, I haven't seen or spoken to the man at all in years.

His obituary was clearly written by his son, my cousin, who is a professional writer and shares his father's sense of humor and cadence of speaking, both that come through clearly in text form.

It's making me think about how I would write the obituaries for my parents. After all, my dad is the same age as my uncle, my mom a year behind, and both, I believe cureently older than either of their fathers were when they passed.

My family isn't good with sentimentality or emotions or grief so generally we've left it up to the funeral home, always the same funeral home, to write it. Which yielded my grandmother's obit that basically said "She was married, had kids and grandkids, she had a job and she liked cats." What a shitty way to sum up a person. But we are too emotionally constipated for any sort of heartfelt public display where we might talk about how involved she was in our lives or that she was a very nice person.

Beyond that, my parents can, at best be described as complicated people with my brother and I having relationships with them that are even more complicated.

So what would I say?

Mom died recently. She spent around 40 years working as a nurse in psychiatric wards and has two living siblings and one kid she talks to and another she doesn't.

She really wanted to be involved in her kids' lives but instead spent their entire lives working a night shift and often going one or two weeks without seeing her kids because of it. And then she was always so upset at everything her daughter did and held a strong belief in the effectiveness of the silent treatment and so could easily go a month at a time without speaking to her daughter. Her son she coddled to the point of damaging his ability to care for himself.

She was generous with her time and money, often offering expensive gifts and cleaning the homes and spaces of her family without their having to ask. Or grant permission or be allowed input and then if you weren't happy with the imposition or your lack of say in the matter she'd be angry and call you an ungrateful brat.

She was terrible with money and was a bad nurse. She really wanted her kids to be what she thought kids should be like and forever be children dependent on her. She probably has multiple undiagnosed mental health problems because, in spite of being a mental health professional, she doesn't actually ever think about mental health.

Dad worked as a software engineer for his career and did some cool projects. He had two kids and a sister.

Dad spent decades volunteering with the boy scouts where he tried to make up for his abusive and emotionally volatile parenting of his actual kids with other people's kids, having only realized he fucked up when both his kids ended up needing a lot of therapy.

He was very supportive of his daughter who might be the only other person on the planet he identifies with at all. Even so, his daughter knows nothing about his emotions or really about 90% of what his general life was.

His entire relationship with his son can be summed up with abuse, mutual spite, and, by his son's late twenties, deep regret he can't articulate or repair.

He has no friends ad a dwindling family that he is too emotionally constipated to really have a real relationship with.

He really liked cats, space, and building models.

I feel like, as much as I hate the obit the funeral home wrote for my grandmother, I probably won't be able to put together anything that us simultaneously positive and honest.

I'm sure my cousins had issues with their dad, but in balance, it doesn't seem like they steugfled to write something positive and honest.

Side note, communicating my mom's version of generosity as a bad thing is often hard to do to people that haven't seen a lot of the context so if that doesn't make sense as a negative point let's just say that her generosity and acts of service look nice on the surface but are almost always about what she thinks the recipient should want. Which is to say, they should always want what she does and you're not allowed to disagree or often even have an opinion. I had a dream the other night that she broke into my house and reorganized and repainted the entire house without ny permission. And that is legitimately the kind of shit she does and something I would legitimately be worried about her doing if we were in contact and she knew where I live. And then if I was mad about the physical and psychological intrusion, she'd scream and tell me I'm an ungrateful little shit of a child.

#personal #long post

[kayleighdykes-learningjournal]

05/1/2023: Research - Difficult situations and how to diffuse them

Sometimes training can be going great then turn for the worse so it is advised to always expect the unexpected and be as prepared for anything as you possibly can.

You need to remember you need to always keep respect for any troublesome participant and ensure not to belittle or embarass them. Try stop the behaviour in good time and keep them involved and engaged. Keep in mind that the way you handle a conflicted situation will be judged by the whole group. Avoid aggressive language, for example 'Your attitude is very negative'. Instead address the situation like 'I can understand you feel strongly about this.'

Situations like this emerge in a group when people do not feel valued or heard. For the many different types of tricky situations there is no one simple solution but there are some things you can do to help diffuse the situation.

The talkative one.

This is someone who wants to be in the spotlight and is usually first to volunteer or has something to say about everything. Give them a chance to contribute a couple of times but then follow this up with 'I appreciate your input but let others contribute too'. You can also suggest to go through anything they need to after the training.

Another way around this is to gently interupt them, ask them to summarise and acknowledge this summary and then move on to the next person. If you break eye contact with them and turn away slightly they will pick up on your body language and realise they can't keep interupting.

The quiet one

There's usually always one quiet person in every group and they're usually too shy to share their thoughts into a group. They would much rather prefer to just listen to the training but this will not benefit themselves or others peer learning.

You should encourage them to share their thoughts and address them by name. You could suggest this like 'I know you have some experience, i'd really like to hear what you think'. You could also seperate people into smaller groups so it's not as daunting and may make them more open to sharing thoughts.

The aggressive one

Someone who will openly question your knowledge and credability. It is important not to venture into any sort of argument with this person. You can mention 'I completely understand your point of view but what do the rest of you think?' This opens up oppurtunity for others to input their ideas and may also make the aggressor change their behaviour.

The one track mind

A stubborn, hard to deal with person who will not accept a different point of view other than their own. It's best to use a direct approach here for example 'I understand your point of view but i'm going to insist we move on and I can discuss this with you privately'.

The clueless one

Someone who isn't quite sure why they are attending the training or has completely missed the pint or the answers they are providing do not relate to the topic of dicussion.

If they are unsure why they are in the training you can offer to discuss this with them after the training has taken place and try and encourage them to take part for the remainder of the session.

If they have missed the point entirely you can be direct and apologies by saying 'I think something I said must have led you off track here, what I wanted to discuss was..'

The know it all

This person believes they are the authority and knows everything about every topic, they may also try and take over the session. To handle this you need to acknowledge their input and efforts, appealing to their ego. You can then say that this is just one way of looking at it but there are other points of view.

The indifferent one

The one who showed up just because they were told to and does not want to be there. They take no effort to participate and the best way to handle this is by encouraging them to share their experience exactly as you would with a quiet participant.

The class clown

They love getting attention and doesn't care that is the expense of others. This could be cracking jokes, going off topic or just generally being disruptive. It's important to handle this quickly without letting it esculate and get out of hand. You can throw this off casually by saying 'we all love a good laugh but lets focus on what we are doing here'

The one who likes to complain

Someone who complaims about everything and will make constant negative comments or will have negative body language such as always frowning or being slumped over. Negative energy can spread like wild fire so it is important this behaviour is squashed as soon as possible.

You can change this by asking them questions like 'what have you done about this in the past' or 'what do you suggest to change this situation?'

The side conversationalists

This is where two or more participants engage in a side conversation when you or someone else is talking. Sometimes just looking at them or walking closer near them is enough to stop this or you could also put them on the spot and ask them their thoughts on what you have just discussed. Try not to come across like a school teacher as this won't be received well by the group as a whole.

Judge this accordingly though as they may not have just understood something and may be discussing this in a smaller group.

Do not take any of this personally, if someone points out a mistake or has a diferent point of view thank them for it.

[urimaginespimp]

Breathe (This love pt. 5)

Bucky x Reader

Set during Endgame

Look out for: Stubborn dad Thor, and 40s Bucky.

--------

Previous Chapter

--------

None of you thought it was going to end that way.

When Carol, a new friend of yours, found Tony in space with one of Thanos’ daughters, there was a spark of hope within you. But when your adoptive father chopped the titan’s head off out of rage, you knew you had to go back to the people who might be able tell you what’s next.

To visitors, the Norns’ cave felt eerie. But stepping in it for the first time after Thor took you under his care, it still felt like home. You could already feel the Norns’ presence despite not being submerged in the pool of water.

You smile at the memory of how they have the reputation of being cruel and torturous to anyone they possess, when they have never been less than gentle to you. Dipping your right leg first, you instantly felt how they made the water warmer. Walking into the middle, you waited for them to enter your consciousness.

Taking a deep breath, you laid yourself back and relaxed enough for your body to start floating on water. Then you felt them.

“We’ve been expecting you, child.” Your voice blended with theirs once they spoke up.

I’ve been meaning to visit you. I’m sorry I didn’t go sooner. You replied in your thoughts.

“You feel... broken.”

A titan got hold of the stones and snapped the universe’s population in half. I- I lost most of my family.

“We know. And now you’re here because your heart cannot rest.”

What can you tell me?

“There is a man...”

Of course, there is. You caught yourself thinking. There was a pang in your chest when you remembered how amused you were when one of your Midgardian friends rolled her eyes and said that phrase.

“Now is not the time, Y/N.” They snapped at you.

Sorry. Please continue.

“The man is stuck in a realm in Midgard, and he’s on his way.”

There is a realm within the Midgard realm? Confusion laced your thoughts.

“But remember child, it is not until resentment within your family is put aside, that you would have even an ounce of chance to fix everything.” You think back to how Stark still isn’t speaking to anyone of you. Yiu haven’t heard from him for years now.

How can I fix us?

“You can’t meddle in this one Y/N. It is only with time that the rough patch would heal.” you sighed in frustration but found yourself agreeing. If it’s for the best, then you’ll let time take its course.

“Now, you are banned from leaving the cave until you tell us about this Bucky that’s plaguing your mind.”

--------

When you were first introduced you as Thor’s adopted daughter to the Asgardians, they were polite but you could feel that they were still unsure of you. But with spending time with helping them fish and being patient enough to teach them the Midgardian lifestyle, they now treated you as their own princess despite not being of royal blood. But since Thanos, Thor has been more distant – leaving responsibilities to you and Val.

For five years, you tried to appear as if you were doing better than most. And after taking time to just wallow in sadness for a while, you finally started visiting Nat and Steve from time to time. You were glad to hear that Steve was going to therapy, and you know he means well when he drops hints that you should go with him and join his sessions, but you always gave lame excuses, and often diverted away from any topic that would involve Bucky.

Nat however, has never been one to shy away from calling you out. “I know there’s a part of you that still blames yourself for not bending his blood and brains out.” she once confronted you when you were lounging on the couch, day drinking and eating sandwiches. You sat up and gave her a sad smile, your eyes tearing up.

“Damn it Nat, I came here to drink, not to get therapy from you.” you chuckled, grimacing at how forced it sounded.

“But it was never your fault. Believe me when I say that we all blamed ourselves at some point.” She continued, and your eyes teared up.

In the last five years you thought no one could see that you’ve been beating yourself up for not getting to where Steve and Thor were sooner. You thought that maybe if you had, you would’ve stopped Thanos, and half of the world, including Bucky, would still be here.

“Sometimes I wake up thinking I’m still in Wakanda, and that this has all been a nightmare.” you breathed out, feeling yourself about to break down for the first time. “I can’t find myself to stop waiting for him even if I don’t know if we could ever bring everybody back.” you finally admitted.

“Y/N -”

“Nat, the worst part is that I never got to tell him I love him. I know he knew and didn’t feel the same way. But I still wish I got to.” tears were starting to spill from your eyes, and Natasha was quick to get the drink from your hand before it spilled, and take you in her arms for comfort.

If you were to be completely honest, half the reason you go out of your way to visit Nat and Steve, was so you could also visit The Smithsonian Institution, and just... look at him. You’ve read what was written about him over and over, but it wasn’t enough to replace the yearning that you have inside.

In your sleep you can sometimes still see him just seconds before the blip. On other nights, it’s just the image of him sleeping soundly – his lips parted slightly, and his breathing getting steadier by the minute, the crease between his brows relaxed, and his hair pushed and tied at the back after you offered to - a sight you’ve engraved in your mind after many nights of comforting him following a nightmare.

“He loved you too, Y/N”. Steve spoke out from the doorway, seeing your state. “Maybe not like the way you do, but I know he does. And today I went out for a walk and -”

“Steve, if you’re about to tell her to look on the bright side, I’m about to hit you on the head with a PeanutButter sandwich.” Nat cut him off.

But then everyone’s attention snapped to Nat’s desk, where a notification pinged. It says that someone was outside. Sliding on the call, there was a man outside, asking if anyone was at home. You know you’ve seen his face before, and after he finally said his name, you remembered who he is.

“Is this an old message?” Steve asked after a few seconds in shock.

“It’s the front gate.”

--------

“I’ll do it too.” You spoke up to the group.

The team was going to have two tests – one where it would be a quick time on wherever the test subject would want to go, and if it’s successful, the second would leave the test subject longer in the timeline they choose. And you just volunteered yourself right after Clint.

“No, I forbid you.” Thor spoke up from his seat. Everybody turned their attention to him in surprise. All along they thought he was asleep because he had sunglasses on and was unresponsive.

“Fa-”

He stood abruptly and came closer to you. “This is non-negotiable, Y/N. I’ve already lost enough; I can’t lose you too." Your eyes welled with tears in surprise. For the last five years he’s managed to shut everyone out including you – leading you to believe that he doesn’t care anymore and just hasn’t kicked you out, out of honor.

“We’ll let you both talk first.” You heard Steve say in a low voice, ushering everyone else out of the room.

Thor grunted and moved away back to his seat, still wearing his glasses, while you stayed standing, leaning in the corner. Taking a long hard look at him, you understood where he was coming from. But you also knew getting things right would be the only way to possibly get him back up again. And it was a risk you were willing to take.

“There was a time when I believed you were dead.” You started talking, regardless of not knowing if he was listening. “I jumped right into anger out of guilt, and as I was ruthlessly destroying those outriders, I thought I was gonna have to stay feeling that way forever. Just plain angry.” You chuckled and pushed yourself from the wall.

“But there was a moment where that anger was replaced by worry and fright. It was when Bucky was getting too overwhelmed by the creatures’ attacks. Yes, I almost got pierced like a kebab right after, but it was also the moment I realized that I preferred feeling any other emotions than blinding anger. I don’t want you feeling that way forever too.”

“I’m not angry.” he snapped, standing up once again to get closer to you.

“Yes, you are. But above all you’re hurting.” you stood your ground in front of him.

“I am definitely NOT hurting.” He sarcastically answered.

“Really? Then take those glasses off. Let me see those definitely not bloodshot eyes.” you smiled gently up at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest, when he snorted at you. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you sniffling and trying to hide it by pretend-drinking that empty can of beer earlier.”

“gods, why are daughters so annoyingly observant.” He muttered, finally throwing the empty can of beer somewhere in the room. You can see that the team was back just right outside the glass door. You gave them an assuring smile, and faced him again.

“Well?”

“If it works on Clint, then fine.” He groaned, and you couldn’t help but tackle him out of gratitude.

--------

Clint was on the ground once he returned, and Nat rushed to his side to check on him.

“Hey, look at me.” she asked him, and he turned to look at everyone. His eyes were teary, but it wasn’t from sadness.

It was hope.

“It worked!”

--------

“Now, Y/N. This time you’re going to be there for a longer period, okay? Use your powers if defense is necessary.” Banner instructed you. You were now standing at the center of the machine in your suit. But only Nat and Steve knew what you had under it. It was their idea.

“Are you ready?” This time, Nat was behind the controller with Banner to overlook it. You gave her a small smile and a nod.

“Wait, where are you going anyway?” You heard Scott asked out loud, as Nat input the year. You looked over to where Steve was standing and he was also grinning.

“Say hi to him for me.” you heard him say before you felt yourself shrunk. And you were in.

--------

You made it out of a tent, now out of your suit and left with the old nurse’s uniform you were wearing under it earlier. Everybody else was too distracted, cheering on Steve because he just brought back with him the soldiers from Hydra’s base.

You tried to calm your nerves, just realizing that the people around you were now most likely dead from your timeline. How many of them survived the war, and how many of their grandchildren have you befriended? And how many of those grandchildren were also taken by the blip?

When the crowd was starting to disperse and most of the people were trying to get back to their tasks, you found yourself roaming around, a little lost, trying to figure out where the medical tent is.

“Steve, I told you I feel fine.” you froze when you heard his voice a little far behind you.

“It’s better to make sure, Buck.” you heard Steve insist. You still couldn’t will your legs to keep walking. “And even if you are, you need rest. Just let me find you a...”

shit

“...nurse! Hey, ma’am!” You weren’t sure if you were the one Steve was calling out. Turning around slowly, your breath hitched when you finally faced them. Bucky’s own face went from annoyed to entranced in a second. He was staring at you with the very same pair of orbs you’ve been missing. Only that in this timeline, they still held a glint of playfulness and innocence in them.

You cleared your own throat when you realized it’s been a few seconds since anyone said anything. “Uh, what can I do for you, S- Captain?” you gave them a smile, trying not to chuckle from almost calling him by his first name.

“You know what, Steve, I am feeling a little funny.” Bucky nudged him with his elbow. And you turned your attention to him.

“Right. Uh, allow me to assist you, Sargeant.” you walked slowly towards him, feeling like your heart was going to jump out of your chest.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Steve muttered to him.

He put his arm around your shoulder for support as you start walking to what you hope was the medical tent. It was only then you realized that it was left arm. Your hand shakingly reached for his wrist, careful not to go for the hand, as if you were just making sure that you would be able to help him hold himself up.

“So... what’s your name?” He started trying to make small talk.

“Y/N” you answered, trying to mask your nervousness.

“I’m James. But you can call me Bucky.” Hearing him introduce himself in such a confident manner struck you deeply. You know that after this, he wouldn’t be able to know who he is for decades to come.

You almost wanted to warn him.

“Are you okay?” He asked in concern after being met with silence.

“Yes, sir. I’m just a tad nervous. I’m kinda new here.” you gave him a tight smile.

“Please call me by my name. And lucky for you, I’m the easiest patient you’ll ever tend to, doll. All I need is some company while on bed rest.” He gave you a boyish smile.

“You got yourself a deal, James.” you found yourself returning the smile.

Entering what was thankfully the medical tent, you helped him settle down on one of the beds. There were only about 3-5 other patients, and they were all being tend to already.

“I’m kind of curious, why did you decide to serve?” he gave you a sheepish smile.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything wrong with you, soldier?” you asked him first, and he responded with a small shake of his head. Smiling, you came up with a believable answer. “My dad was a high-ranking officer, but something happened, and they lost a lot of people. And now he’s back home wallowing in guilt. I decided to serve in behalf of him, so now I’m here.” you bit the inside of your cheek. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

James was looking at you in awe, and he took your hand in his left one and gave it a light squeeze. “You don’t have a man waiting on you back home?” you could hear he was almost hesitant to ask.

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill. How would you be able to say something so heart wrenching?

“Bu... He was among those who didn’t make it.” you cleared your throat to compose yourself. This was all too much.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” he didn’t know what to say. He almost kicked himself for having a tinge of relief in knowing that you weren’t committed to anyone.

“He wasn’t really mine... I was in love, yes. And he knew but just didn’t really feel the same. And I never resented him for it. I just wish I was brave enough to really tell him before he...” you choked up and apologized to him, but there was no judgement behind his eyes.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want for you to be filled with regrets every time you remember him. I know I wouldn’t.” He gave you an assuring smile, squeezing your hand in comfort as the tears finally run down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry for crying. Now they’re gonna think you were being mean to me.” you gave him a sad smile.

“Steve will lecture me about manners for sure.” He chuckled.

“He still does it.” You thoughtlessly blurted out, earning a confused look from him. “I- I’ve heard some people saying he’s been super righteous even way before he became the Captain America.” you sheepishly smiled, hoping he believed you.

“Yeah. Always been a punk.” He replied, but you could hear adoration lace his voice.

“I think I should leave you to actually get some rest.” You knew it was time to go.

He nodded and smiled at you. “You're the most beautiful nurse I’ve ever seen. I don't think most of us wouldn’t mind if your face is what will be the last thing we’ll see.”

“Yeah, there is definitely something wrong with you. Get some sleep, soldier.” you turned and was already near the way out, when he spoke up.

“We’re going on a raid tomorrow. Will I get to see you when we come back?”

You felt your heart drop. You knew what was about to happen to him.

You turned to face his way and walked back to him where he was now sitting up on the bed.

“James, you’re a strong man. You’re going to be okay.” eventually.

“Thank you, angel.”

It was your turn to give his left hand a squeeze. And bringing it up, you gave it a small kiss before gently dropping it back to him.

“I’ll wait for you to come back, Buck.” you smiled, and quickly left the tent before you completely break down.

It was time go back.

--------

@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit

@tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul

Today is a great day. Fearless (Taylor's Version) + New TFATWS episode.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky social media au #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mcu #mcu fanfiction #avengers #avengers imagine #endgame #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #natasha romanoff #thor #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[secondhand-trash]

Friday I’m In Love

commissioned by @xaki

A/N: no, the fic has nothing to do with the song it just so happens that it fits in the most literal sense lmao much thanks to xaki who gave me my first commission and my friend for helping me out when my brain was going all sorts of illogical directions uwu

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

Description: You saw Kuroo Tetsurou once every week, where you tried your best to not let the fact that he was your high school crush distract you too much.

Warning: unprotected sex, spanking, dirty talk, slight degradation

Word count: 5052

-

You saw Kuroo Tetsurou once every week, during the single Wednesday morning lecture you shared.

You had allowed yourself the luxury of stealing a few glances his way during that one occasion, but never do more than just looking from afar.

Actually, it was ironic that you had gotten to the point of limiting yourself from even looking at him when there was a time you would see him nearly every day.

Getting into the same high school was a pure coincidence, but you had also noticed early on that no matter where he was, your gaze was following his figure before you even realised it. Who could blame you, really. Who wouldn’t want to spare even just a few more seconds looking at the boy who was taller than the rest of his peers even in his first year, only growing more and more breathtaking as he ditched the boyishness and slowly gained the edge on his face and the hint of maturity in his eyes.

You were far from being the only one that harboured a bit of a schoolgirl crush on the eventual volleyball club captain. In the few years where you shared the same class, you had witnessed him being called out of the classroom by blushing pupils more times than you could count. It always brought a bitter taste to your mouth but what could you do about it? At least they had the guts to confess. 

You liked to believe that it was not a cowardly move for you to hide your affections all throughout your high school years. It was just that as early as you had noticed your budding feelings, you also realised that you two belong with two seperate groups of people with very different interests, and the chances that he would opt for you was slimmer than slim. So you never did much to try and win him over, maintaining a friendly distance where you only interact in class and nothing outside of it. 

At least it could be a nice memory to look back on when you were way past the age to be conflicted over things like this.

You were just as shocked as any other person when you learned that he did not go the pro-athlete route everyone thought he would go, nearly as shocked when you walked into your first lecture of the semester to see him sitting right at the very front.

He seemed to have noticed you too, giving you a slight nod after his eyes widened. You returned the polite gesture, before heading straight to the very back of the lecture hall without a hint of hesitation.

You could deal with one more semester of friendly distance. Couldn’t be that hard, right?

-

It was Wednesday morning again, and you sinked into the seat at the very back of the lecture hall you tactfully occupied with a yawn.

It was from pure bad luck that you managed to register the one 8:30 lecture available in the course. Everywhere around you, people were either half asleep or laid down on the table at the very least. From the corner of your eye, you even spotted someone catching up on the latest episodes of the new tv series that just aired with subtitles on.

You sighed, leaning your jaw on your palm. You wanted to say that this was a bit too much even for a lecture but who were you to judge when your soul was starting to escape your body to somewhere more interesting than the lecture hall anyway.

The amount of people who were actually paying attention to the lecture could probably be counted with one hand, let along the ones that seemed to be genuinely enjoying it. You thought to yourself, your glances floating to the boy who blocked even more of your view with his roaster head on top of his existing height.

He was probably the only one who still had the strength to chuckle when the lecturer tried to liven up the dying atmosphere with unfunny gags.

“...for the upcoming event, students who volunteered as committee members would receive bonus marks based on their performance,” you perked up at the distant call of ‘bonus score’ from far away, “the form will be placed by the door, Please fill in your name before you leave if you are interested.”

Your mind was occupied by numbers and calculations of your gpa for the rest of your class, even as you lined up mindlessly behind your other classmates after the lecture was dismissed. Another thing about morning lessons was that the amount of effort you were willing to put in was also diminished by the limits on your mind and soul, meaning that any chance at a higher grade was worth trying. You had decided that free labour in exchange for that good grade was a decent enough bargain.

“Hey.”

You snapped out of your trance when it was your turn at the form only to feel your heart skipping a beat when you looked up to see the familiar handsome face you stared at as your recharge every morning.

You blinked, trying hard to maintain a calm front even though your mind went haywired at the rare direct interaction you had with Kuroo.

“Do you need the pen?” he asked, holding out the thin ball pen he was gripping in his hand to you.

“Oh,” your eyes widened, putting on a polite smile as you took it from him, “oh yes. Um, thank you.”

It was only a while later when you put down your name right below his that it finally hit you that you two had signed up for the same event. It took even longer for you to realise that the strange tingle you felt at the back of your hand was from his fingertips brushing past yours as he let go of the pen, but by then he was gone and it would be a few days later when you saw him again.

-

You now see Kuroo Tetsurou two times every week. Once during the dreadful morning lecture on Wednesday and on Friday evening where you were stuck in the committee meeting together.

But unlike the stolen glances on Wednesday, you were forced to acknowledge Kuroo as more than just a distant being you were merely acquaintances with in those few hours.

It was very inconvenient for you, considering how each time you felt smaller and smaller under his concentrated gaze as he listened to your input on whatever topic of discussion it was. In fact, you felt rather resentful that you couldn’t quite stand as firm as you did on your stance that you wanted to keep what was clear to be a admiration from being known under your own free will instead of a lack of self-assurance.

You had no choice but to be reminded that he was smart and brilliant on top of just being good-looking. He always knew what to say when the rest of the room was stuck, moving the agenda forward with each valuable input. He was easy to work with, reliable and always efficient.You found that you genuinely liked working with him, crush or not. He listened intently to what other people had to say and never said anything less than constructive.

Worst of all, you were starting to have the illusion that he had started paying more attention to you too. When you looked around the room as you were about to speak up each time, you would always lock your eyes with him at some point, even before you started talking like he already anticipated that you would have something to say.

Maybe it was a mistake, you thought to yourself as you stared outside the pitch black windows of the bus that was rocking steadily, feeling your mind drifting away after using up all your energy in the meeting, maybe those few bonus marks were not worth all this inner conflict.

“Hi, um,” you looked to the side, your mind going blank like you just got caught doing something guilty when you saw the exact person you were thinking about standing by. You cursed the uncontrollable heat that raised on your face, “can I sit here?”

It wasn’t like you could say no. “Sure,” you said as you picked up your bag to clear out the seat for him, flashing a cordial smile of someone who did not have a reason to be nervous when you could already feel the beating in your chest speeding up, “of course.”

“Thanks,” he said with a relieved sigh, throwing himself on the empty chair with a soft thump. You tried to pretend that you did not secretly really care about how close he was to you now, looking back out of the window again. Kuroo looked at you, pondering if he should say something first.

“So…”

“Hm?” you turned around to face him at the dragged out note of his voice.

“Have you gone back to Nekoma after graduation?”

You sighed and gave a light shake of your head, "No. Just surviving college is hard enough, who has time to think about going back?”

You tried to dismiss the knot in your stomach when he replied with a light chuckle and the corner of your lips curling up against your will when he leaned back. “Makes sense," he said, running his hand through his unruly hair before swiftly carrying on to ask you about what you were up to now.

It would have been easier if it was awkward or uncomfortable but sadly, Kuroo was also very easy to talk to and by the time you regained your senses, you were already at the door of your apartment with him walking you there the whole way after getting off the bus at the same stop.

Next Friday, he came up to you with a grinning face when you packed up your stuff after the meeting. “We go the same direction, right?” he had said, walking next to you casually as you headed out the meeting room. He started the conversation before you could say anything, and like last time, he walked you back to your apartment, claiming that he lived nearby anyways.

You saw him twice every week. Once during the morning lecture that was starting to feel less painful to endure and the Friday committee meeting, where he naturally walked you home without fail each week. At some point, he started saving you the seat next to him before each meeting and there was less and less of a reason for you to not take it when he was already leaving with you anyways. All of the above had reminded you once again why you were so hellbent on staying away from him in the first place.

He was far too easy to like, even more so now that you were somewhat friends by the end of the series of meetings.

-

The voice of your instructor was distant as you stared at the clock, the sound of Kuroo’s pencil tapping against the table keeping you in touch with what was going on. It was the last meeting you had to attend and quite frankly there was nothing interesting going on at this point. You glanced to the side, before pulling out your phone that has been buzzing in your pocket since the meeting started.

You tried to conceal the irritation rising in your chest as you looked at the glowing screen underneath the table. Your old friends had been bombing you with questions ever since they learnt that after years of looking on, you somehow had a leaping development with your crush on accident after graduation. It was a mistake on your part, given how the topic of their heated discussion was sitting right next to you. 

“(y/l/n)?”

The sudden mention of your name startled you, and you threw your phone down almost a bit too hard. “Yes?”

“Can you help hand these out?”

You let out a relieved sigh that you were not being called out for not paying attention as you stood up, pushing the conversation that was no doubt still ongoing in your group chat to the back of your head. “Of course.”

Kuroo watched as you got out, taking the stack of minutes from the instructor. After today, he would go back to only seeing you when you walked into the morning lecture hall. He felt the nerves building in his stomach, wondering if he should bear his teeth and threw his shot in changing that.

‘So you’re just going to do nothing?’

The screen of your phone that was laying on the table lit up as the speech bubble appeared. His curiosity got the better of him when the next message popped in before he could look away.

‘You have liked Kuroo for years and you’re just going to let this chance slip?’

He froze in place when he read his own name. You liked him? His eyes flicked to you, his heart in his throat at the realisation that he had just learnt something he was not supposed to know. 

But despite the slight guilt of overstepping his boundaries, it took all the fiber in his body to stop himself from grinning ear to ear when you returned to your seat next to him.

“What?” you asked with an amused quirk of your eyebrows at how stiffly he was sitting.

“Nothing,” Kuroo replied, feeling the muscle around his mouth going sore as he bit the inside of his cheeks, “nothing.”

The ride home felt so much longer with him next to you, knowing that this was to be the last. He did not say anything even as you got off, only walking in silence like he was deep in thought. You wondered what it was that made him so quiet today, he was usually the more chatty one out of you two.

Kuroo felt the tension building up in his head as you got closer and closer to your door. 

“Can I tell you something?”

You snapped around, your hand on the handle of your doorknob when he suddenly spoke up for the first time since you left the meeting that day. “Yeah?”

“My place is at the opposite side of the neighbourhood.”

“What?” your voice came out as a whisper. Your breath hitch at the back of your throat when he took one step closer to you before leaning down. His face was right in front of yours, his defined features dangerously close to you.

“I said,” you could feel his breath fanning on your face as he spoke and the pounding in your ear was thundering as you held your breath, “I’m only here because I want to be around you.”

Kuroo watched intently as your eyes widened, your jaw clenching as you gulped. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, almost like he was waiting for you to show him any hint of rejection before he made the irreversible move. 

When your hand slowly crept onto his shoulder and stayed there, he latched onto you. You were taken back by his force, his tongue evading your mouth at your moment of lowered alert. His kiss was demanding, stealing away the oxygen in your lungs bit by bit as he held you close. 

You were panting when he pulled away after his initial outburst, your pupils dilated as your lips swollen up. You paused, before gathering the courage that had surged in your chest.

“Do you want to come in?”

Kuroo did not waste another second when the door clicked, his hand getting rougher now that you were within the privacy of your home. Your arms hung around his neck as you desperately held yourself up, your toes barely touching the floor as he demandingly kissed down the side of your neck. He lost patience at your struggling, lifting you up with his arm under your hips before pulling you down onto him with a stumbling step to the cramped couch.

“Help me strip.” He whispered in your ear, adjusting your position on his lap as he brought your hand to the opened collar of his shirt. You gulped when he gave an encouraging knead on your upper thigh, far too consumed by the want of seeing more of him to feel bashful by his bold request.

His gaze burned on your skin as he stared at you, not moving away even for a second while you tear apart the row of buttons to reveal more and more of his toned body. You felt like your fingers were not listening to your commands, a clumsy stiffness in your joints as he unhooked each button. The subconscious way you darted your tongue out to wet your lips at the rise and fall of his chest did not go unnoticed under his attentive stare, his much larger hands guiding you to palm his tend over the firm material of his jeans as your finger grazed past the cold metal of the zipper.

Kuroo’s stomach tensed up when you pulled down the fly, pushing your hips against his legs as you pushed away the heavy jeans. He held you down as he sat up, drinking in your soft moan with an open mouthed kiss. Your hand ran down from his shoulder to the firm pecs adoring his abdomen, each mound rippling under the tip of your fingers. His circled one arm around your waist while the other fumbled to pull his aching cock out of its refines. You felt the vibration of his chest as he groaned into your mouth when you allowed your hand to wander down his body, cupping his balls as he fisted his own length.

You let out a shaky sigh when he slid his palm down the elastic band of your panties, groping the soft flesh of your ass as he peeled off the thin piece of cotton with a push down the small of your back to have you arching for him.  He chuckled when he felt the wetness that was seeping through the fabric, earning a glare from you that looked more like a kitten pretending to be defensive out of embarrassment than truly threatening to him with your heated face and slightly swollen lips from his earlier nibbling when you pulled away. A thin strand of silver connected your lips, looking all the more erotic now that you were both half bare and exposed to each other’s hungry eyes.

Your finger dug into the muscle of his arms when he lifted you up from his lap with ease, much thanks to the firm grasp of your thighs in his warm palms. Your lips fell agape but no sound came out when you felt the hardness prodding at your entrance. He looked shamelessly at where your bodies met, not bothering to hide the grin on his face when he felt the pain of your nails against his arm as he brushed his tip along your slit. You whined at the friction that was barely there, not able to sink down with him holding you back but your legs were starting to go weak with each push of his length against your clit. He took his time, spreading the leaking pre-cum across your folds and watching the mixture of your arousal slowly coated his cock.

“Kuroo…” you called out for him, hoping that it would be enough for him to give you what you wanted.

“Aw... What’s with this formality?” his arm flexed under your touch as he tilted his head to the side, lowering you down just a little, “What should you call me when I’m about to fuck your brains out, hm?”

You bite onto the inside of your cheeks when you felt him barely dipping in, his tip just positioned at your pussy.

“Tetsurou-” 

his own name felt foreign as it rolled off the tip of your tongue and he let out an approving hum. “Good girl,” he purred, placing a chaste kiss on your trembling lips. 

His grip on your legs tightened as he leaned closer to you, pushing his cock just a little deeper. Your brows locked together as he stretched out your entrance, clawing at his arm for more. You thought he was finally going to show some mercy on you, but the beating in your heart skipped a beat when you felt his hot breath fanning across your lips instead.

“You’re in love with me, aren’t you?”

Your eyes snapped open, his handsome face right in front of yours. “Wha- mph!”

You yelped at the sudden drop of your hips onto his lap, your nails scratching down his arm as he hilted inside of you with one motion. Your head threw back at the waves of shocking pleasure that sparked down your spine, your juicings running down the base of your thighs as your walls tried to accustomed to his thickness and length.

“What is it? Did you just say yes?” his laugh was wolfish as he took in your expression, a mixture of infuriated and primal desire.

“You-” he did not give you the time to bite back, thrusting up with a lift of your hips and turning whatever you wanted to say into nothing but incoherent moans.

Your body did not feel like it was under your control as he guided you to grind on his cock, the slaps of your soft flesh against his thighs taking over your senses. Your toes curled at how deep he could reach inside you each time he pulled you up and bottomed out of you. His hands were fondling your ass roughly as he bounced you on his cock, reducing you to nothing but a panting mess laying weakly on his chest.

“How does it feel to have the man of your dreams stretching out your tight cunt, hm?” he emphasised each word with a thrust, grinning ear to ear when you made a frugal attempt at slapping his arm you were holding onto. You buried your face into his chest, your muffled moans coming out as hot breath on his skin. He looked down from above you, watching as your ass jiggled under each thrust and your spine arching from the pleasure. 

A loud smack echoed in the room and he groaned at the feeling of your walls clenching around him at the slap of his palm against your ass cheek. He gave the flesh a firm knead, rubbing at the area that had heated up from the spank before pulling his hand away to give the other side the same treatment. You felt the numbness on your skin as your skin burned, the pain making every hair on your back stood up. 

“You like it when I get rough with you? You are squeezing down on my cock so hard,” his voice came as gravel from his chest. Your mind was in a frenzy, not even thinking straight as you nodded feverishly. “You’re such a slut for me, it’s really inflating my ego,” his filthy words made your stomach tighten as he continued, “bet this is what you have been thinking about whenever you check me out.”

You felt your face burning up. He knew all along?

Your surprise came out in the form of a squeal when he stood up, still holding you up. Your panting got more rapid as your only leverage from falling was the frantic clawing at his arm, having nothing but his strength to trust as he bounced you on his cock while marching down the hallway.

He hissed at the sharp pain on his back when your hands scratched down, kicking the door open with a hasty shove at the door with his heel before throwing you down the mattress. He did not waste another second as he perched on top of you, hooking your legs around his waist before rolling his hips to completely take over the pace of his cock pistoning at the spongy spot that made your mind foggy with nothing but his name and the overwhelming feeling of being towered over in your head.

The squelching got louder and louder as he ruthlessly snapped against you. You felt the knot in your stomach tightened up as he leaned down, sucking on the sweet spot at the side of your neck. His hand roamed all over your body, kneading your tits that bounced under his force. 

He could not get over the fact that you were actually here, folded beneath him right now, and that it was his name you were moaning out. 

“I’m-” your legs clasped around him as every muscle on your limbs tensed up, “I’m close-”

“Yeah? Tell me what you want,” he growled in your ear, his thrusts starting to get sloppy as your walls spasmed around his cock, “what does my girl want?”

You had imagined what it would be like if Kuroo Tetsurou ever set his eyes on you, if he had wanted you the same way you had absentmindedly started wanting him despite your best efforts to convince yourself that you knew that would not happen. But nothing could stop the heat that exploded in your chest and spread all through your body at how natural it came out of his mouth.

His girl. You were his girl now.

You let out a choked mewl when he switched from erratic plowing to slowly dragging his cock along your walls. The sudden drop from your near high seeped into your senses, tingling down from your core all the way to the tip of your toes. 

“Tetsu-” your back arched off the mattress when he pulled out all the way only to halt in you with a sudden thrust, “want you to make me cum- ah!”

The shocks that sparked through your body when he set his sight on making you fall apart underneath him with his vigorous thrusts had your toe pointing stiffly and curling under the pleasure. The fist in the pit of your stomach curled and unfolded as he gripped your chin roughly, turning your head to look right into his eyes.

“Fuck, you wanna cum?” he hissed, feeling the shivers on his own back as he got closer and closer to his own high, “Then look at me, look at me as you cum on my cock-”

You felt your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. His eyes were all you could focus on as you succumbed to the weakening of your limbs, the pounding in your ear gradually returned to a regular pace with Kuroo’s languish strokes allowing you to ride out your high. 

You were sure you could never forget how the defined arch of his brows knitted together as he pulled out of you, his head throwing back just a little with his lips slightly parted. A sinful moan leaking out as spurts of white painted across your lower stomach. 

Your vision was hazed over with a veil of fog as you blinked, collecting your breaths before focusing on the roof of your room that suddenly felt so unfamiliar. The claminess on your skin and the smell of sweat slowly took over. You felt the weight on your chest, breathing out a heavy exhale.

You really did just have sex with your crush, huh?

As if noticing your train of thought, Kuroo leaned over and placed a quick kiss on your jaw, his grin reaching his eyes as he stared at you. Much unlike his earlier dominance, the lazy curl of each syllable on his lips sounded more so like he was trying to play cute.

"Wait here,” he said, adding another peck on your lips, “I’ll grab you a towel.”

“The bathroom is the one right outside…” you muttered, feeling the dent on the mattress sprung back as he climbed off of you.

Your tensed muscles slowly relaxed as he moved you to lean against his broad chest, his hand gently caressing your skin as he dabbed the wet towel on you. His lips ghosted along your ear as he cleaned up the marks and trails left from your earlier passions, trying hard to conceal his satisfaction when you whined as he brushed past the bruises on your thighs.

“You should start getting used to it from now on, plenty more chances for us to- ouch, ouch.. ok, I’m sorry…”

The corner of your lips lifted up, burying your face into his chest as you tried to get comfortable, “I was right, you are way more attractive without opening your mouth.”

“Awe, don’t say that,” he pouted but the wolfish grin on his face told you he was not apologetic at all.

Kuroo watched as you slowly leaned onto him more and more, until your eyelids closed up with a flutter. If you had stayed awake for just a little longer, you would know that he could not be any more careful when he tucked you under the blanket before slipping in next to you. On this rare occasion where he would not get caught, he allowed himself to stare at your serene expression as he dozed off to sleep with a content smile on his face.

You did not need to know that his grade for the one course you shared was high enough already and he signed up for the committee purely because you were signing up too. He certainly would not let you know that he had always noticed your lingering gaze on him or that he secretly enjoyed it, even back when he saw you more than twice a week. That and the fact that he was overjoyed when he saw you appearing from the door of the lecture hall that Wednesday morning, followed by the ever growing frustration that he couldn’t find an excuse to talk to you when you were literally in the same class.

Whatever. Kuroo thought to himself as he gently threw his arm over your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your sweet scent. At least he didn’t have to go all the way from your apartment complex back to his place every Friday anymore.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo imagine #kuroo imagines

[heavenunderthemoon]

Can we get JJ and daughter reader where the reader bio father comes back

ROOM 286

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse, blood, death, abandonment. 

This piece is extremely angsty, I didn't even mean for it to happen it just kinda came to me while writing last night, enjoy:)

Sanitizer.

It smelled of sanitizer and something else. Something heavy, pulling you down, the scent dragging against the floor as you walked along with it, sneakers hitting the freshly waxed floor with a squeak. What was that smell?

It could have been anything, walking among the halls of that hospital, a hospital you had never been to, a hospital far away from your home, from Quantico.

Blood, maybe. Blood leaving someone else's body, a severe injury or just a small wound. Or blood entering someone else's body. A transfusion, a hope to save someone's life, a wish to stay alive for just a while longer. Blood, scarlet and distinct, heavy and substantial, entering or leaving.

Or death. Perhaps the heaviness was the mere proximity of death that hospitals seemed to have. Hospitals were like a precipice, a border between the living and the dead. Some who entered simply never left, and those who didn't were walking behind you, mirroring your footsteps, following your direction. It was the darkness of death, the souls of those that were lost covering the hospital like a shroud. The weight of those souls, the anger, dread, and our sadness that filled them weighed them down, pulling the hospital with it.

You had never liked hospitals.

"This is his room."

Your mother's voice was taut, laced with pain and something else. Bitterness, maybe? You snuck a glance toward her. She was still dressed in her work clothes, having practically sprinted off the jet to grab you from the house. Her gun was holstered, resting on her hip directly next to her badge that clipped to her belt loop. It gleamed under the fluorescent lights of the hospital, and you looked away, back to your mother's face.

She was crying, albeit small. Tears pooled in her eyes, the bright blue you had stared into for your entire life. Her teeth were sinking into her bottom lip, tiny sniffles escaping every so often, as if attempting to console herself as to not let you hear it. She never liked you to see her cry, not even after those stupid, cheesy romance movies that the two of you rented out every Valentine's Day. The woman was still operating under that archaic belief that once you turned an adult, once you became a parent, your emotions were supposed to simply leave you, become secondary to your child. You wished she wasn't. You wished you could take her hand and let her know she could cry but the entire situation at the moment, the real-life fever dream had you incredibly uncertain of how to handle anything that came next. Your hands clenched in your jacket pockets, glancing back to the room before you.

Room 286.

"Your father is dying, Y/N."

A glance back to Will in the kitchen had made you furrow your brows. The LaMontagne man was whistling as he cooked, fingers clenched around a wooden spoon being used to stir the noodles in the pot. Will was an excellent chef, and you had just gotten your report card back for the first semester- straight A's (and one B, but it was math, and both Will and your mother knew how much you absolutely loathed the subject, and so they took that as a win). The dinner was celebratory in a way, nothing too fancy  you didn't like all the fuss, nor did you want to have to make your mother miss a nice dinner in a restaurant that passed out free breadsticks before a meal (she would argue that any restaurant that did so was, automatically her favorite, no matter if the bread was crappy and stale). And so, pasta at home it was, and you had even negotiated Will's famous peanut-butter cookies for dessert. Henry sat on the counter beside him, giggling at his father's horrible dance moves. They were off-beat, choppy, and out-dated, but it made both Henry and you laugh uncontrollably when he did them, and so he continued.

The sun was just setting and your mother was on a case. She liked to call before bedtime when she was away, enough time to coax Henry into a sleepy stupor, to tell him goodnight, and to let you know how much longer she would be gone. You would tell her about your day, and she hers. The two of you would talk for forty-five minutes if she had time, ten if she didn't. But the sound of your phone ringing at dinnertime hadn't made you think anything was wrong. Perhaps she was calling early, or maybe she just wanted to hear your voice. That happened sometimes too, when the cases were especially heinous.

"What?" You asked confusedly. Will was looking at you with a raised brow, mouthing a 'You okay?', to which you didn't quite have an answer for. Instead, you shrugged, holding up a finger as a signal to give you a minute, before you were exiting the room. The playroom was a mess, Henry rarely ever picked up his toys. You sidestepped two matchbox cars before you stepped on a lego, hissing at the pain and walking over it irritatedly. For as small as he was, he sure could create a mess.

A pregnant pause.

"It's Christopher." Another pause. You were starting to hate those. "Your birthfather... He's dying."

Your breath seemed to have been stolen, and the last of your air hitched in your throat, eyes becoming unfocused. How were you supposed to react to this? You weren't entirely sure. your birth father, a man you didn't know, a stranger, really. You didn't know anything about him.

Horrible thoughts began to flood your mind.

You didn't know what he looked like. You inherited a lot of traits- too many traits, honestly- from your mother, so you had never thought to ask. You were a bit taller than your mother...was that him? Was that his genetics coming into play? What color eyes did he have? What did his smile look like? You didn't know small things either. How did he like his eggs cooked? What method of shoe-tying did he prefer (bunny loops or round-a-bouts)? Dogs or cats? Movies or books? Did he watch T.V. with the captions on or off?  You didn't know his favorite book genre, or band, or what foods he didn't like. You didn't know any of these things about him, about your father.

You knew these things about Will, of course. Because when you thought of 'father', Will was the first thing that came to mind. It had been that way for a while, so perhaps the fulfillment of the 'father' role in your brain was obscuring your mind, but you were wracking your brain to remember the last time you had thought of your brith father. But, then again, maybe you shouldn't have, because now, flashing before your mind were not saccharine , wholesome stories, but memories of empty chairs in audiences, uncelebrated Father's days, and 'Father-daughter' dances with Derek, or Reid, or Hotch.  Sour thoughts and memories of an absentee father who left your mother in the lurch, abandoned her in her time of need, was that bad to think of he was dying? Were you supposed to be nice now? You weren't sure the rules of this arrangement.

"What?" It was weak and strangled, as if someone had clutched your throat right then and there and squeezed.

"He's at Saint Mercer's. It looks like an overdose, he had a stroke. It was too much for his body, and the doctors declared him brain dead. I was his emergency contact, and..." Your mother was speaking, rambling from the tone of her voice. She was in shock, surely, and you were only half-listening.

An overdose.

You wondered what you'd find on the other side of the door.

"Are you ready?"

Your mother was speaking, but she didn't sound like she was...there. You were sure she wasn't. No, she hadn't been there ever since she had gotten you, taken you to that airport, boarded you on the first flight out, planted you both in front of room 286 in Saint Mercer's Hospital. Her eyes were glazed over, as if replaying every single moment with the man she had once known , the man she had created another child, her first child, with. A man she hadn't seen for entirely too long, and a man she hadn't ever expected to see again. A man she wouldn't even recognize, surely, because he wasn't a man when he left. You weren't sure if he had ever become a man. To your mother, he had been a boy, just a boy and a girl, in childish love, until they weren't.

"Are you?" You countered, eyes glued onto the wooden door separating you and a man you should know, but had no relation to.

For the fist time that night, she smiled.

She smiled because despite it being the most unfair situation in the world- a situation in which she was placed as an emergency contact for a man who intentionally left her when she was pregnant with his child (placed as an emergency contact in hopes to either advocate for them to try harder to save his life, or to let him go if need be, which, ironically, he had abandoned her completely without regards to treat her reciprocally)- you were there. You, her shining hope, a silver lining in the entirety of it all. You were the one thing that made her not regret a single decision she had made with the man, made her not regret meeting him in the first place, because she had gotten you. Your hair was shoved into a baseball cap, Will's, she recognized. It usually hung on the coat rack by the door, the man tugging it on whenever he went to the store or to pick Henry up from school. It was sun-damaged, tearing at the lip, but he refused to buy a new one because 'that just means it was well-loved, JJ.'. And now it sat on your head, a hat that belonged to a man you had met six years ago, a man you called Dad, willingly and without any input from her. You, a girl who had gone without a father for so long. Years of Father's Day cards, heart-wrenchingly sweet cards made out to Reid, or Derek, or Hotch because they volunteered to take you to your dances, even if she had offered to go, because you said you didn't think it would be allowed for her to crash it. Cards made out to her, thanking her for being both the mom and the dad (those tended to make her cry a lot). Years of ballet recitals, soccer games, spelling bees, silly school graduations, all of which she happily attended, but attended alone. All the nights of fevers and stomach aches and sniffles and dry throats. All the diaper changes and reverse cycling. All the scraped knees, busted elbows, trips to the ER. And now you were here, in front of the man who had abandoned you before you had even let out your horridly beautiful wail. JJ felt so many emotions at once, swelling within her that she reached out, grabbing your hand.

You weren't sure if it was to comfort you or herself, but you took it, entering the room as she opened it.

Machines.

Lots and lots of machines.

They stood at attention by his bedside, beeping and humming so loudly you weren't sure your thoughts would be able to tear their way through your mind anymore. Perhaps stat was a good thing.

There he was, lying in the bed before you. A standard hospital blanket was draped across his lower half. It was cream and thin, you recalled your days spent in a hospital not too long ago, how much you had hated it then. Those blankets were always itchy and uncomfortable, and you had all but forced Penelope to bring you one from home, to which she happily obliged, toting an assortment of stuffed animals as well (you argued you were too old for them, to which she had responded that no one was too old for comfort brought about by a stuffed animal.). His hands were resting limply at his sides, and you forced your eyes to skip over his arms, the damage an indicator of the activities he had chosen over taking care of you for the past decade.

When you reached his face you tilted your head. His face was sullen, cheeks sunken in, lips dried and caked in dead-skin. A redness spread about his face, a sunburn, perhaps, but you weren't sure. His hair, brittle and receding, was brown and you wondered of you had gotten anything from the man. A small part of you hoped you didn't. Looking at him now, you weren't sure if you wanted to. A sudden thought popped into your mind and you turned to your mother, who seemed to try to be looking anywhere but the man before her.

"What color were his eyes?"

They were shut now, and he almost looked...peaceful.

JJ lips parted, eyes coming to meet yours. "Brown." She said softly. Her hand was still in yours and you didn't make a move to drop it.

You nodded, glancing back to him. Something was missing, you gazed around the small hospital room to find what it was before it came to you. "Where is everyone? His family, or friends? Do they know he's here?" You looked back to the man, eyes following the rise and fall of his chest created by the ventilators attached to him.

The blonde stiffened, looking at her shoes. "They do. They won't come." With a clear of her throat, she was glancing back to you, your face softening as your teeth took your lip in their hold.

He was alone.

Was that by choice? Or had he run away from them like he had run away from you and your mother?

The doctor entered the rom, signaling for your mother to speak with her, and she left with a squeeze of your hand, leaving you with...him.

What were you to call him? Christopher? Dad?

Alone.

He was alone. His parents weren't coming to see him, he didn't have any friends. No loved ones to hold his hand in his time of need, to tell him it was going to be okay, to tell him that he was safe, and loved, and would be remembered. Regardless of his past actions, you felt...awful. Looking at him, you couldn't feel anything other than immense sympathy, because he had pushed away everyone and everything in his life, and he was left with nothing. You pondered his appearance, wondering what he must have looked like back when he had met your mother, what had drawn her in to him, made her love him and want him and that thought train had you reaching for his hand. Your mother didn't love without reason. She was logical, and fair-minded, and welcoming, and you knew that if she had loved a man, the man before you, it must've been for a good reason. And so, you couldn't judge him based on what was before you, because that was a result of all of his bad choices, all of his digressions and, yes, they were horrible, but they had also allowed your mother to meet Will. It allowed them to have Henry, it allowed you to have a family, a perfect family, and now all you felt was sympathy. No anger. No pain. Just sadness.

His hand was warm, surprisingly. What would it have been like to grow up with his hand, one to put in yours when you crossed the street, to feel your forehead when you said you felt sick, to help tie your shoes when you were still learning?  

The beeps of the machines sang louder as you stepped closer.

"Nice to meet you." You said softly, closing your eyes for just a moment. Just enough time for you to feel the weight of his hand in yours, to reassure yourself that this was real, that you were there, before you were opening them again.

When you did, your mother was back in the room.

Your mother's heart almost broke when she entered. The doctor needed her signature, needed a confirmation that they could remove life support, and her shaky hand had signed beside the 'x' with tear-filled eyes. And when she returned back to that godforsaken room, a room in which she felt all the air was removed, a room in which she felt suffocated, she saw you. Your hand in his, an image she had imagined in her head over and over and over again when you were growing up, a pipe dream, really.  A dream in which he suddenly got his act together, came back to find the both of you, declared his love for her, and begged for forgiveness for leaving. It was a dream that she wasn't even sure she wanted to happen so much as wondered if it would. Because you two didn't need him, she would attest that you two didn't need anyone, not really. Not before Will and Henry. You two were strong and independent. Jareau women were fighters. But still, she had thought about Christopher, and now that dream was shattered because instead of him holding flowers, he was hooked up to a life support machine, brain dead and unresponsive.

She wanted to yell. She wanted to yell and laugh and cry because this wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. She wanted to stomp her feet and throw herself to the floor like a toddler throwing a tantrum but it just...wasn't fair. She couldn't yell at him because he couldn't respond. She couldn't yell at him, because he was practically already dead, and he had left the decision for someone to give him the final blow to her. Her, a woman he had neglected, and your hand was in his, and everything was wrong.

Her feet took her to you, despite every cell in her body attempting to make her turn around.

"They're gonna unplug him, right?" She had told you on the way there that it was a strong possibility, depending on his state. But saying it aloud made it feel much more real. It shouldn't feel so absurd, you scolded. He was never in your life anyway, it wouldn't particularly make a difference. But, in some strange, bizarre way, it did It made a difference because now, Christopher wasn't just some man who abandoned you, he was a dead man who abandoned you.

"Yes." Her voice was small, and you latched onto her once more.

"He's all alone." You said with a frown, and she removed her hand from yours, instead, choosing to drape her arm across your shoulder and bring you into her embrace. Doctors were beginning to enter the room, beginning to explain what each machine did, the consequences of unplugging it, and then doing so quietly, though neither of you were listening.

"He is." She nodded, blonde hair rubbing against the side of your face.

You both stood silent for a moment watching the doctors continue.

"Tell me about him. When you loved him."

JJ sucked in a breath. She had only thought about the bad for so long, only thought about the moment his hand was no longer hers, his retreating figure as she clutched that pregnancy test in her hand, that panic in her chest as she realized she would have to do this alone. "He transferred to my high school in my sophomore year. Everybody went nuts. We didn't get new people in town...ever. But there he was. His hair was a mess," She glanced toward you, a soft smile replacing the frown she had been wearing. "Kinda like yours when you wake up."

"Hey." You mumbled into her shoulder, but you laughed all the same.

"We had a few classes together and he never let me forget it. Chris bugged me almost every minute of them, passing me notes, trying to talk to me, asking me out. I swore I wouldn't, I was too focused on soccer. But, he wore me down."

You rose a brow. "Wore you down? I didn't think that was possible."

She chuckled, the vibrations from it were felt on your cheek. "It wasn't before him. He was...different. He was a total music snob, spent almost all his money on the latest releases. He liked to take me swimming, said everything, all the bad things and all the troubles just floated away when you were in the water."

You looked back to the man in the bed, the doctors having turned off all the machines by now. Now, it was just a waiting game.

"That sounds silly." You whispered.

"It was. But, then again, so was he. He was carefree, spirited, and laid back. He hated the thought of having to grow up one day, said that being an adult was a life sentence to nowhere. Your grandparents hated him, but I didn't care. He was my first love."

You took in all the information, watching the ragged rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his wheezing making you cringe. "Would he have been good dad, you think?"

JJ thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. He chose to run. But I don't think he was suited for being a dad. I think he wouldn't have liked the responsibility of it all." She said thoughtfully, squeezing your shoulder before she was placing her head atop yours. "I know, without a doubt, that he would have loved you, though."

A snort escaped your lips. "Really?" You asked doubtfully.

"Oh, for sure. I think that if he had met you, he would have tried his best to be there, to be there for you. You both do that thing when you get mad, where you nose twitches like a little bunny and it's so cute that no one can ever stay mad at you. Or when you're tired, your eyes droop down and you can sleep instantly, no matter where you are. You both like rock music, and comedy movies, and blankets when they're fresh out of the dryer-"

"I don't think anyone can hate blankets when they're fresh out of the dryer."

She chuckled. "And you both hate peas. I swear, I tried to feed them to you when you were little and you actually scoffed at me. A seventh month old baby, scoffing at me."

"Hmm, wonder where I learned that from."

JJ rolled her eyes. "And you both have a big heart. Sometimes, his heart was so big, that he didn't quite know what to with it. You're better with following it, but you both have it. Just, too much love to give, and he never knew where to place it."

Silence settled over the two of you once more, the wheezing become quieter.

It was just you and her. You and her and the man in the bed. Her arms around you, chin atop your head as you lay in the crook of her neck.

"Are you sad?" you asked softly.

She took three breaths before she answered. "Yes."

You looked back at Christopher, imagining a relationship, one that included movie nights and car rides filled with shared music interests and dinners that revolved around your hatred of snow peas. But the image was foreign and fleeting, and all you could see was Will in your kitchen, producing horrible dance moves and whistled melodies. You could only see Henry shaking you awake. Reality reminded you of the life you actually lived, one without a Dad for a small amount of time, and then finding one. A life without Christopher. Your life and his. Ones that should have been lived together, but never were.

"Me too."

And the wheezing ceased.

Well damn. ANYWAYS, I’m so happy people are liking my JJxdaughter!reader content. It’s so strange because I really thought it wouldn't get much attention so that’s a fun surprise. Let me know what you think about this piece!

#Jennifer Jareau x daughter! reader #jennifer jareau x reader #Jennifer Jareau #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

[therend]

Hi! Two things: firstly, I read and saved your awesome posts about Farsi endearments, thank you so much for those they were so informative and awesome!! Secondly, I was just curious if there were any names you particularly like (in general) ? Or like headcanons for the newest Carstairs baby’s name? I ask because I’m writing an AU fic centered around Alastair and Cordelia when they have more siblings, and I have too many awesome options for potential names. Like damn linguistics is beautiful haha. thank you for sharing any knowledge or input!! Have a wonderful day😊🥰❤️

Hi! thank you for your ask, you don't understand the amount of happiness it gave me. And sorry for how terribly long it took me to answer, my exams just finished and now I'm finally back to Tumblr after a long time because school sucks.

When talking about what to call a new baby, there are not only lots of different names, but different categories to choose from, and everyone has their preferences. I would name my child something related to nature (i have reblogged an amazing post about nature names with an additional long list of Persian nature names. You can check it out here, if you want.) or a name rooted in the poems of people in love, like my own name – Negar. But well, we're not talking about my choice of name, but Sona's.

We already know her taste in names. All their Persian names – Sona's, Cordelia's and Alastair's – are rooted in Shāhnāme (or The Book of Kings), which as you might know, is a long epic, and the most important source of Persian mythology. Turan is a very important land in the book (It's weird that it's actually a name but it is. I don't know why anyone would name their child or their character Turan though. Uh.) The word Katāyoun means "the queen of the world", and in Shāhnāme Katāyoun was this very wise and cool and independent queen of Persia, and she was also the mother of Esfandiār (which, as a word, means "pure creation"), a clever and hot warriors prince with daddy issues. All their names being from that book makes a lot of sense, because look at this:

In Shāhnāme, Rostam is known as the most legendary hero of – well, the world. He is wise and strong and brave, and a great warrior, and a smart strategist and a really high functioning leader. He's kind and caring and soft-hearted and patient too, when he needs to be. He's also a very sarcastic bitch, and a dumbass (though I'm the only one you'd hear this from). when talking about Persian heroes, Rostam is the first who comes to mind. He's mostly praised for being a genuinely good person, having morals, not fighting against people weaker than him and stuff like that. Rostam is basically the heart of Shāhnāme and If Sona is a descendant of him, it's understandable that she's proud of it and wants to name her children things to show their heritage.

So, here are some names from Shāhnāme (i will put a * after the ones i particularly like slkaka). i will not be telling their story, because it will make the post unnecessarily long. Just what they were famous for and their personalities.

Rostam. Well, you know this one. No one actually names their child Rostam now, but i think it used to be pretty common back in the early 20th century. The word means tall and handsome (:|).

Tahmine. The word means brave and strong. She was a princess, beautiful as a feary, and Ferdowsi (the guy who wrote Shāhnāme) says that she had a lot of knowledge on every subject that was there. She was Rostam's wife.

Sohrāb*. He is Rostam and Tahmine's only child, and has his parents' traits; so he's admired and respected by everyone. His name means young and healthy and rosy-cheeked (these names have weird meanings It's not my fault). His life was kind of a tragedy, though.

Gordāfarid*. She is just. Chef's kiss. I love her so much and she's my wife. Her name means hero or something and she's this badass warrior with long black hair and a will of iron, and when none of the men of her army had the courage to face Sohrāb, she was the only one who volunteered to fight him and he actually considered her a challenge.

Ārash*. He's another one of my favorites. He was a legendary archer who put his life in an arrow to end a war and give back his nation's dignity and sense of home. He died a hero after shooting that arrow. His name, which is a pretty common name, means glamorous.

Homā*. Another favorite. her name means blessed, and she was a monarch, who ruled Persia for 32 years of happiness and peace for all the people. And Ferdowsi describes her as an artist, and a very wise and knowledgeable person (also very beautiful because this man can't write anyone ugly).

Bijan. Some young, rebellious and adventurous boy. His name means pure, and the story of him and Manije is one of the most important love stories of Shāhnāme.

Manije. The name means beautiful and modest. her personality is kind of similar to Shakespeare's Juliet. she's fine.

Siāvash*. The name means someone with curly black hair, or someone who has a black horse. This is Rostam's adoptive son who he loved with his whole being. He raised him away from the shittiness of the palace (Siāvash was a prince) and he taught him everything he knew; and he became handsome young man with a vast knowledge of things, a good heart and good personality, and Rostam's fighting skills. He is a symbol of innocence and virtue because he was falsely accused of sexual assault, and he was forced to walk through actual fire and step out of it unharmed to prove he hasn't done wrong – by his own father. It's mythology, so he did, in fact, walk through big fires and didn't burn.

Poorān*. Another cool female monarch who bought piece and happiness to the land with her work of wisdom. Fun thing about her is that she did exist outside of Shāhnāme and ruled Persia for a period of time (her name is written as Buran or Boran though).

#persian

[roseverdict]

GF x Venom (Movie) AU (beta edition)

so the gf server has come up with a venom au, and while i was writing in between calls at work, the au went in a different direction from what i was thinking. it's still EXCELLENT and i'll prolly write some of that at some point but HERE'S THE SNIPPET I WROTE TODAY >:D

disclaimer: my venom knowledge consists of

what i've picked up from tumblr

what i've learned since we all collectively went feral over symbiote gravity falls

what's stuck with me after watching the movie for the first time last night at 12 AM

so any inconsistencies in venom lore can be blamed on that sodhaodnskdjskd

have fun figuring out who the symbiotes are!!!

〜

(setting: stan still came when he got the postcard, but bill made his move between "ford sending the postcard" and "stan arriving in gravity falls." instead of ford's cabin in the woods, ford has an Entire Laboratory at this point out in the woods (separate from his house- no ABW here!!!) and THAT'S where things go south. stan showed up at ford's house and, when nobody was home for days at a time, he decided to try and explore the town. however, doing that takes Money, and Money is something he does not have, hence signing up for symbiosis.)

(this scene: stan's volunteered for symbiosis. maybe he's unaware that the whole symbiosis thing is ford's idea (and by ford's i mean bord's)? and bord isn't there to oversee his attempt at symbiosis so this means stan doesn't see ford('s body) standing there and go HEY WHAT THE F U C K)

〜

Stan swallowed as the door locked behind him. "Hey, uh…This is safe, right?"

The speakers crackled.

"That's what we're here to find out." One of the scientists replied.

That…was not encouraging.

Stan didn't say so out loud, however. Part of the reason was because if he started chickening out, he was worried they'd tell him to just leave.

The other part was because he was too busy staring at the roiling, bubbling mass in the center of the room.

Navy blue and a magenta so deep it was purple tumbled over each other as the whatever-it-was approached him.

Stan's blood froze.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't look away.

He couldn't run.

He couldn't do anything.

The mass of blue and purple rolled up against his ratty boots, then began climbing up and up his pant leg until finally reaching his chest.

Stan managed a high-pitched, hysterical chuckle, staring at the thing with wide eyes. "Uh, hello."

And then-

-his nerves lit on fire.

Stan couldn't hold back a scream as he stumbled back against the glass, but the pain was already subsiding.

The thing had vanished.

Somehow, Stan knew it wasn't gone.

STAN.

Stan screamed again and stumbled back. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

〜

The next thing Stan knew, he tumbled to the ground as if he'd just been tossed in a prison cell. He cracked a bleary eye open and glanced behind him, but the probably-not-actually-glass door had already sealed itself.

Just perfect.

Stan groaned and rolled onto his back. This was what he got for not reading the fine print.

There was an overwhelming urge to get to his feet, so that's what he did.

He blinked. What the-?

His feet led him in pacing circles around the tiny room.

Normally, he would've done rounds through his latest prison cell anyway, looking for any weaknesses he could exploit to escape. It was what he'd done every other time he'd been jailed, and he'd had no intention of stopping just because it was a science prison.

The fact that his feet had started moving without any input from him, however, snapped him back to full awareness in a blink.

His stomach rumbled.

He had to get out of here.

Heavy footsteps came down the hall outside, and Stan threw himself into the far corner, hiding his face from the window…though he wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe he was still half-asleep and figured he could pretend to be a basket case until he escaped?

Stan didn't know, but he just rolled with it anyway, even as his heartbeat sped up against his will.

"…reckon this can't be sustainable." Someone said. "Even you've gotta agree-!"

"Are you questioning me?" A guttural voice growled.

The first person squeaked. "O'-o' course not! I just figured, maybe having the…the volunteers…dropping like flies might not be effic-EEP!"

"Unless you want to be a volunteer, I suggest you keep your mouth shut," the other hissed. "You know what happened last time one of you 'raised concerns' over this."

"Mm-hmm! Mm-hmm!" The first speaker managed, clearly terrified out of his mind.

"Good. I'm off to check the other subjects. You just make sure Forrester is settling in." The deeper voice said, seemingly cheerfully.

The heavy footsteps stomped away, and Stan chanced a look at the door.

One of the scientists stood there, pale as a ghost. He lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his incredibly-long nose before turning to look into Stan's cell.

And then he froze.

He glanced off to the side, most likely looking at the man he'd just been speaking with.

He looked back at Stan, a horrified recognition in his eyes.

Before Stan could wonder what it meant, however, the scientist hurriedly tapped something into the side of the wall next to the door, then scurried off.

A screen on Stan's side of the wall flickered on, and he cautiously crept up to it to read.

'Wait for half an hour. The lights will dim and the door will open. Get out. Get help. We're all in grave danger. -F'

Stan's eyes widened, and a split second later, a second rush of understanding shot through him.

The scientist was…going to try to bust him out?

None of it made any sense- how had seeing Stan's face brought this on? What sort of danger were they all in? What had happened 'last time'?- but Stan still settled in to wait.

If worst came to worst, he could always just try breaking out on his own. He could handle one more escape.

He shouldn't have to.

But he could if he needed to.

Time crawled by more and more slowly the longer Stan waited. He counted the number of tiles in the floor, he traced imaginary pictures in the frosted glass of the door, and he reread F's message over and over again. It was almost like being a kid again, wanting to ask "Are we there yet?" every five minutes.

And then the humming of the lights went quiet, and the tiny room grew dim, and the door rose up into the ceiling.

F came through.

He decided he liked F.

Stan slunk up beside the door and listened carefully.

There were panicked sounds down the halls, but none of them seemed to be coming closer.

...he'd take it!

Stan darted out into the hall and sprinted as fast as his out-of-shape, probably-feverish body could take him, passing the rest of the cells at lightning speed.

That was his first (well, second, really, if he counted whatever had happened before he passed out) clue that something was off.

He ignored it for the time being.

He raced past the labs, distantly noticing the opened containment unit that'd held the whatever-it-was that they'd made melt into him.

NOT WHAT. WHO.

Stan flinched at the childish voices, whipping around to try and locate them, only to find himself alone in the hall.

NOT ALONE.

"...I'm losing my mind." Stan decided, turning to run even faster.

EXCUSE YOU?

"Ignoring that!"

Stan burst from the main labs at top speed, mere moments before an alarm began blaring. "SPECIMEN HDMP2 HAS ESCAPED! SPECIMEN HDMP2 HAS ESCAPED!"

"Shit." Stan hissed, leaping down a staircase and barrelling around to the next. "If this lab has a lockdown procedure, I'm screwed!"

DON'T BE SO SURE.

"Wait, what-?!"

But Stan's hand shot off to the side of its own accord, grabbing onto the handrail and yanking him over the edge as he screamed.

He plummeted down the stairwell, dropping all the way to the bottom of the building in just a few moments and landing without injuring himself at all.

That...should not have been possible.

From above, the deep voice from before roared, "THERE HE IS!"

Stan decided to focus on escaping first, then he would try to figure out the how and why his escape was even possible.

GOOD PLAN.

He sprinted for the doors and went to push them open, but they flew off their hinges instead, crash-landing a few feet away.

He gulped. "Don't like that!"

"GET BACK HERE!" shrieked the voice, heavy footsteps charging closer.

Stan glanced over his shoulder, only intending to see whether he had time to run or if he needed to dive out of the way-

-and.

He.

Froze.

Ford was chasing him down, but his hair was in disarray and his bared teeth were too sharp and his eyes had no pupils and his voice was two octaves too deep, because never ONCE had Ma told him about his twin's voice changing so drastically.

The voices Stan was convinced were hallucinations went deathly-quiet, then...

wait, you're like us?

Right. Hallucinating. Escaping. That was a thing.

Stan swallowed, then ran out the door, his heartbeat pounding louder in his ears than his feet on the pavement.

He needed to get away from this place.

He needed to get to his car.

He needed to get out of town.

He needed to run, run, run away as fast as he could.

Ford, or whatever Ford had become, skidded to a halt at the entryway, unable or unwilling to leave the premises, and he howled in rage.

Stan bit back a curse.

He needed to figure out what the hell had happened to his brother.

But first, he needed to eat something.

#rosie writes #gf #venom #also i watched the venom movie for the first time last night :D #gf symbiote au (rosie flavor) #stan pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #fiddleford mcgucket #bill cipher #ford pines #Y. YEAH #AH ZEE BRAINEROTTE #i may or may not post to ao3 idk wosshxhsoxjskxjsoxn

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube