a Hellcheer AU | rated: M | oneshot, wc: 7.8k | tags: Kas!Eddie + Chrissy lives, canonverse, supernatural romance, season 5 concepts
The day that Chrissy wakes up from the coma, she realizes that she’s haunted.
She adjusts to life slowly and uncertainty, still not quite sure how she’s alive at all. But if there’s only one steady thing in her life now, it’s this new presence that’s followed her home. A ghost? A guardian angel? A demon? It’s impossible to know.
Just that she feels him all around her and he’s the only thing protecting her.
[jullus pyr norbanus/Warrior of Light/Alphinaud Leveilleur]
[~5550 words]
Jullus meets the Warriors of Light.
Not that he knew that, then; perhaps, if he had, this would have ended so much differently.
---
Jullus peels off his gloves to check for frostbite, breath falling out of his mouth in heavy, watery clouds.
Does he remember how to move his fingers? Yes — for a small mercy, the synapses between brain and finger are preserved. But numbness filters upstream, from his fingers to his wrists, and it blots his mind in fear, even though he knows, logically…
He knows it is not frostbite and he knows it is not magic and he knows it is not some new, terrible virus wrought to give them ignoble deaths piled in their own fluids.
(The men won’t shut the fuck up.)
It’s because he is having a panic attack and cannot breathe.
Atticus, one of the infantrymen, presses a lit cigarette into his hand and gestures vaguely at him. Take it. They lack supplies and heat but they still have cigarettes, for some reason, maybe because only now did discipline die, replaced instead with animal instinct to just get through the moment.
Moment by moment, they become exactly what they’re trying to defeat.
Maybe his thoughts can be seen on his face, because Publius, on his other side, suddenly says, “It’s just a cigarette, man. It didn’t insult your—”
It didn’t insult your mother, goes the rest of that saying, and Publius wisely clicks his mouth shut before he finishes it — but it does make Jullus put the end of the thing in his mouth to avoid replying.
Tastes fucking bad, dry as the ash falling out of the sky, and when he breathes it in his body nearly bends itself in two from how badly his lungs reject the coarse smoke. He coughs horribly, raucously, and finds breathing a sharp, thin thing. The panic of real physical danger, however, seems to short circuit whatever chemical re-creation his body had decided to manufacture, and when he can finally breathe — when the men around him stop smirking — he realizes he hasn’t thought about his hands in a few minutes.
“I’m going on patrol,” Jullus announces, giving the cigarette back. It’s his turn soon, anyway, and lingering leads to chemical imbalance. “I’ll…try to find…more than this.”
The men watch him like he just announced he was diagnosed with a terminal illness — obliging of his earnestness, even though they know it will be the death of him.
Being able to freely move his body again, to feel some semblance of life after over a century of lying in that grave rotting. Up to this point, he's been so stiff, lumbering around arduously. But this is where he becomes more man than corpse.
And the first thing he does with his newfound life?
He dances with Lisa.
He knows there is a piano inside. He could go in and play it for her, he could finally play music after nearly 200 years without it. But he dances with Lisa.
With his new life, all he wants to do is be with Lisa. To touch her, love her, make her happy. He has all this energy and he gives it all to her. Everything is for her.
• Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov • This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar • Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami • The Passion According to G.H. by Clarice Lispector • During the Impossible age of Everyone by Ada Limón • Translations by Kathryn Nuernberger • Letters Home by Sylvia Plath •
Rank the Star Trek Captains in order by how good you think they would be at cooking
Hehehehe
Benjamin Sisko, the son of a gourmet cook. Can cook a boot and make it taste like heaven
Christopher Pike, it's his hobby. Can't cook a boot and make it taste like heaven but he could make it edible.
James Kirk has been known to make toast on occasion and some eggs but secretly he's decent. Not as good as the afore mentioned but there's a warm, homey quality to what he makes
Picard can, he just doesn't. He's not a wicked good cook but he can follow a recipe.
Jonathan Archer, he can bake some mean cookies and that is IT. Likes too much mayonnaise with things.
I'm sorry but Janeway ruins every food she touches except for coffee. But she occasionally burns coffee.
Voyager should have had an episode where the command trio beat the absolute hell out of each other while blaming each other for being stuck in the delta quadrant as the fever pitch of a rising tension that was building throughout the episode.
Like, they're absolutely being pushed to do it by some outside force. Maybe it's a telepathic being - maybe it's that they're stuck in some arena or an alien court or a time loop only the three of them are aware of - no matter the specifics, the sentiment behind their words has to be true and it has to be something they've been keeping back for months, maybe years. That fear and hatred and blame that doesn't really have an actual target because it's not actually rational but 'who's to blame' doesn't have to be capital T true to feel true. If Chakotay hadn't been in the badlands, If Janeway hadn't made that choice, If Tuvok hadn't supported it...
"You trapped us here. It's your fault. If you hadn't-! If you hadn't-! If you hadn't-!" are just echoes of "I trapped us here. It's my fault. If I hadn't-! If I hadn't-! If I hadn't-!" Because at the end of the day more than being angry or hateful they're despairing in their own ways.
Episode probably has a somber end - they beat whatever it was and it's a victory! They won by working together even after they beat each other half to death! But after the celebration we see them alone in their quarters...silent. Gazing out at the stars, into a candle's flame, at that same family picture before turning away. Because even though they won they're still there in the delta quadrant. Is that really victory?
@thresholdbb omg tumblr ate your ask but thankyou for asking!!!!
👕Character whose fashion you like.
Phoar! Startrek really isn't a show I associate with being fashionable. It's very camp isn't it? In theory a lot of the wardrobe is really cool and they wanted to gain that retro-future aesthetic. Did it work? I'm not sure. However it does make a statement. The Startrek aesthetic is really recognizable and that's important! I think that's where modern trek kind of looses the plot. It's not as careful about the unique visual design as a whole anymore and as a result it doesn't settle in our minds. Is it bad artistry? No but it's not as stringent. What I mean by that is older trek cared about nuance. For example every haircut was done the same way on men, or suits were tailored in a way to look sleek but practical (they weren't). Gaudy patterns were important to denote things like status. It looks ugly on the outside but when you're watching the show it envelops you and makes you feel welcomed into the universe.
I digress.
To answer this, the most fashionable character, hands down, is Quark! That mfer always looks good, and has the finest drip in the galaxy. Love that.
🥲 ST moment that makes you cry.
youtube
There are two moments that make me particularly sad. Kate's acting in the climax of Resistance is incredible. I read somewhere she had a special-wink-wink- relationship with the Director in the early seasons and she was being tested by this episode in some regard. I think it paid off. I treasure any time her captain-hood is removed, and the extreme vulnerability of Janeway is on display-MWAH MWAH poignant. This episode is beautifully intimate, particularly this scene. It's overall gorgeous and unique in how she whispers to him, as if there is nothing more important than to secure his peace of mind as he dies, and it's heart rending when it ends with her just crouching there, emotionally alone. I love how Janeway is forced into the father-daughter dynamic between her and Caylem, one that she would ordinarily resist (heh themes) because I think it inherently weakens her status. The back and forth throughout the episode of them taking care of each other's welfare is so it's terribly sad when it's torn down and we discover the truth behind Caylem's family. If you've dug around her character you know that her Admiral-Father has had impact on her life. She's haunted by him in both a figurative way by being a Captain, and literal sense later on in Coda. Much like Caylem, she looses her father in a violent manner that she has to carry around while she forges ahead. It also reflects well on Kate's relationship with her actual father, she recently revealed that she was never able to get him on her page, but in spite that she adore him with all her might. So a scene like this is really revealing-I believe she was able to draw upon those feelings and that's kinda neat to be so raw as an actor. SIGH.
This one just straight up made me cry fr because Prodigy s1 is a really mature, well done piece of (Startrek) media. Holo Janeway has an irony about it where in the end she is program designed to be a teacher, and she didn't expect to develop a strong bond with the crew. Her final moments are of displaying a huge amount of selflessness and courage to help the kids get out of trouble, similarly to how Janeway would approach dire circumstances. The music swelling and the ship activating is just OOOOF!!! I love how it parallels Dal's initiation of the first Protojump in a Moral Star. By that means It suggests how proud she is to get to do this for them. As a character she is really interesting to think about, in a way I can't entirely articulate. A lot of her moments are quite sad in general, she has to keep an active role so she isn't ignored, and help where help is needed, but at the same time she has constraints, one being that she manipulated by the antagonists. And In contrast to that, the kids do their best to help her feel like she is important and more than a command program to be used insincerely. She grew to love the Protostar crew, that's evident in her body language in this scene. She has a lot of depth overall. Equal to the real Janeway she deeply feels love, guilt and pain, but importantly she is transformed by the her time on the Protostar and while active, learns and grows with Dal, Rok-tak, Zero, Jankom and Gwyn. It's REALLY sweet that they care all care about each other.
I love her and I love JANEWAY!!!!
🥹 Favourite behind the scenes picture.
Ooooh I love all behind the scenes stuff. My brother in Christ It's super difficult to just name one thing and I'm very greedy!! I wish we had more BTS content for Voyager but sadly, it's a matter of grab what you can, however you can. Anyway, I have an inherent interest in seeing the cogs behind the wheel. I chose these samples because I think they're charming.
The continuity polaroid's are so fun and a lost technique, I like to think about assistants having to pull the actors aside and asking them to take those. How daunting! Kate's grin in the one where she is offset is SO cute. So she must have been in a good mood, super Cheeky!
Following that is a screenshot from a video of her having her makeup done. A rare catch. I like this because she often sooks about how much time hair and makeup was spent on her to become Captain Janeway. I get it's a huge time-sink, but love or hate it, the full irony is that her early season appearance is really iconic and in it's own right adds to Captain Janeway's sensibility. Silly goose Kate! Besides that, she looks hot checking herself out, haha.
Moreover, I love on-set editorial photos of actors in costume. While we did have heaps of them in the Starfleet uniform, I wish we had a larger collection with clearer releases, it would have given an opportunity to see in things of interest better detail. Particularly the lower half of unique costumes. For whatever reason special outfits weren't often established or framed for us to see the legs in the show, so a nice big photograph would have solved that. Also I love that these style of pictures capture an impression of an episode without giving it away.
Similarly, fly on the wall on-set photos are cool. They're way more intimate and candid than anything else and it makes me feel as though I am spying on the actors, but they're also a good way to document how things might have been on set.
The Timeless one is interesting too because it's of a deleted scene, we never see Chakotay look at a dead Janeway (how deliciously macabre!), but at some point in time it was in the script and they filmed it.
Hmm this bts picture of Janeway in the Cardigan is adorable! I believe it was worn by Kate for a Charity but look how cute she looks? Makes me wish we saw her mess around with things like that more because 7 Years is a long ass time to be in uniform everyday ( coming from someone who went to school in a Uniform and enjoyed it for the most part). Casual Fridays anyone?
I love this gif. It's from the first shoots of Caretaker and Kate looks so radiant! Her smile is is breathtaking! Whenever I see this gif I get a sense of delight. Poor thing had no idea what she was getting herself into, haha. Really though, check out the original Caretaker photos, they're super-cool. The history behind it is fascinating; I'd love to see more footage from that version of the pilot episode. Unfortunately, it's probably not preserved well, much like lots of Paramount's historical material.
On a similar trend, it's fun to see this set of pictures too. It's for the First Contact film / maybe the Universal studios ride, when she reprised her role as Vice AdmiralJaneway. Kate was genuinely delighted to do this cameo and it shows. As per her operandum she put her whole self into this small segment and that's so darling. It makes me wish we had more of this Janeway at that point in time. I love post Endgame chubby-Janeway. In a fictional sense it denotes that she is comfortable or stressed to be an Admiral (sadly it's the latter in real life) or whatever and I love that for her.
These kind of pictures are fun because it's been said that at times it was the most playful set to be on. There are tales that the cast were not that serious all the time. You get that impression here, and it's probably why the majority of them are still good friends to this day. They're like a family bros!!! Having worked in media I know that wrapping up after working on something for a long time is really rewarding and I bet they had a good time at parties.
Apropos previous, the opposite can be said. While they had fun, the hours were long and the scripts intensive. Kate was around for all of the episodes of Voyager in one way or another, and still managed to bring her A-game each time. She is truly admirable! Seeing her so exhausted is charming. She had a lot of weight to carry for the franchise and did an exemplary job performing her way through 7 years of weird and wonderful material. I wonder how often they fell asleep on set? I know I would. Get some rest queen!
Finally, I've been following Prodigy bts as best I can, and because of my career in animation I get pretty interested in Production art. I love seeing the fast metamorphosis of a visual style. It's really impressive how much attention they applied to the designs, maintaining the older stuff, while adapting a new frontier. One of the lead artists made some pretty neat observations to get Kate's appearance right. It's so cool that they documented that journey, because from my dabbling I know she has a very beautiful, distinct face that isn't easy to capture.
ANYWAY Thankyou for reading my fat thesis fellas. tl;dr i love this stinky Startrek Voyager and by extension the franchise.
Janeway: paladin. literally no question she literally made an oath to get her crew home, she is a prototypical paladin. i started this series of posts because i realized how much of a paladin Janeway is.
Chakotay: paladin. i struggled a bit with Chakotay but he is obviously someone very dedicated to truth and justice and was willing to go off on his own path to fulfill that dream of justice when he joined the Maquis and that's very paladin of him.
Tuvok: monk. i think a lot of Vulcans have big monk energy due to their intense almost monastical studies and devotion to logic and Tuvok is a prime example who is highly trained in both physical and mental discipline and sought to help others (Kes, Suder) exercise that same discipline.
Torres: sorcerer. Torres very much lacks the formal training that a usual Starfleet engineer (or wizard) would have but (in my opinion) has even more natural talent for ambitious engineering and manages to be a miracle worker not through some pact or intelligence but just through sheer force of will.
Kim: wizard. look in the show, Torres and Kim were kind of presented as opposites (the Maquis vs Starfleet) with the personality differences to match despite having a vaguely similar set of skills and capabilities. so it really makes sense that if Torres is a sorcerer, Kim would be a wizard with all the traditional by the book learning that entails.
Paris: fighter. Tom Paris is a fighter and i don't have much of an argument other than ~vibes~ and the fact that only a fighter would think he could tank the damage from going warp 10 and then start turning into a salamander.
EMH: cleric/bard multiclass. look the EMH was literally designed to be a doctor. when he was first activated that was his entire purpose and nothing else so i don't think i can really argue that he isn't a cleric. but as he started to exist for longer, he consistently wanted to be something more (specifically a singer, see Virtuoso). i need to emphasize. he's not a good bard. he doesn't provide inspiration or support to anyone. but the fact is that he needs to prove he can be something more.
Neelix: bard. do i have to explain myself? Neelix is very much a jack of all trades master of none kind of character. he dabbles in pretty much everything and 90% of his scenes exist to give support and encouragement to other characters.
Seven: warlock. even in-universe, the Borg (when they're at they're best) are portrayed as this eerie eldritch entity so i think it would make sense that in dnd mechanics, even though Seven broke away from the Borg, she maintained that pact with them in order to keep performing sorts of magical acts (like her increased strength and like. bringing people back from the dead). but she also very much has that same darkness and melancholy that a warlock has from a pact with an ambiguously evil being.
Kes: druid. no question about this one. she has an affinity for plants and vague but powerful supernatural abilities drawn from the literal energy of the universe.
please feel free to reply with your own headcanons! i'd love to read them.
a Bellarke, Soulmates AU for my 1.5k Follower Celebration | rated: T | oneshot, wc: 10.8k | tags: modern au, soulmarks, bed sharing
Clarke desperately needs to get away. Mainly to finish her series of paintings, but also to nurse the sting of a still aching break up. It’s not easy having a soulmark and dating someone without one, so needless to say it’s an ugly breakup and she just wants to get over it. When Octavia offers her family’s small cabin to her for the week, Clarke immediately jumps on it.
Too bad Octavia forgot to run it by her older brother––who is also hiding out there to get his own work done after a bad breakup.
But maybe fate has a hand in things more than either of them are prepared to accept.
[Fallen Hero series. Mid-Retribution, post Herald rooftop scene.]
[Chargestep implications; River Basri, Ricardo Ortega and Daniel Sullivan. 1450 words. Discussions of Heartbreak + death. (Kinda just dashed this one out in a flurry of inspo, apologies if it's not super clean!!)]
“Ortega…”
Daniel lingers in the doorway of Ricardo’s official office, looking for all the world like a wet puppy who just peed in the house.
Ricardo smiles. He’ll have to tell River that one later.
“What’s up?” he asks, because he’s not a complete asshole.
Daniel takes one step in. Starts hovering. Doesn’t stop hovering until he’s close to Ricardo’s desk, which prompts Ricardo to lean back in his chair until it creaks, because — what? Why is their heroic little flyboy looking at him like that? Like he’s about to break the worst news of his—
Yeah, get out of that thought spiral before it begins. Jesus.
“What is it, Herald?” he asks again, harder this time.
The use of his hero name gets the boy back on the floor, at least. “I just feel like you should hear about what happened from me…first…”
Nervousness and shame rolls off Daniel in waves so strong that Ricardo stands up. He’s not sure how to make that sudden motion casual, and any attempt to seem cool about it clearly fails by the way Herald takes an immediate step back. Ricardo puts his hands up.
“What?” he asks, hoping confusion is more clear than annoyance. “Did something happen during therapy?”
“Um, so, I talked to River.”
Ricardo feels gravity pull him hard into the floor. “Yes?
“And, I…I may have carried hertoarooftopwhereshefaintedandI’mreallysorryIdidn’teventhink—”
“Hey, woah, slow down.”
Daniel takes a breath. Eyes not meeting Ricardo’s. Face flushed red as a crack in the earth. “I’m sorry, I know I should have thought about it. I know—I mean it makes perfect sense that she has trauma around heights because of—”
Ricardo raises a hand. Keeps it flat. Get that tension out of your body before it starts tingling. Put the mask on. “Stop. Start over. What the hell are you going on about?”
Daniel grounds himself. Feet squared, like he’s ready to be hit. Ricardo resists the urge to click his tongue. Easy to knock over; stance not wide enough. “Well, I know how you are about…her.”
A weight, thunked right into the gut. That spit-up glop of words, coming together slowly. A rooftop where she fainted. A…
His heart twists, 180. Agony, right down to the gut.
“What did you do?” he manages to ask nicely.
Daniel’s gaze sharpens. Confidence coming back, slow and then all at once like sunrise. “At least give me a minute to explain myself before you punch me.”
Ricardo’s mouth twitches downward. He leans into his desk. Put the damn mask on. “Fine.”
He can almost see the heroic effort Daniel makes not to roll his eyes at Ricardo’s too-serious tone. “First of all, you're not her keeper. But I’m telling you now so everyone is on the same page and because I am sorry, okay?”
He moves on too fast for Ricardo to snap back. He doesn’t get to say that. He doesn’t know how fragile this situation is — but then, even Ricardo is still left wondering, most days. He must not be playing his cards close enough to the chest if Daniel notices his concern.
“I wanted to talk to her about some…things,” Daniel says. “So I found her on the road and she said she’d listen to me so I…picked her up…and flew off…”
The earlier glob of words suddenly becomes clear as day and just as fucking scorching. Ricardo’s fists clench. “Good god. Are you shitting me?”
"Don't start with that," he snaps. "This is the problem, okay?”
"Come off it—"
"No, I mean the ‘no one telling me anything’ crap! I had no idea she would react that way—”
He can hear River’s voice in his head. Do you have a brain? “Because, for damn starters, you aren’t supposed to pick up civilians off the street!”
Daniel has the good sense to pause, at least. He sighs, frustrated, and holds his fingers to his temples. “I…know.”
It takes some of the wind out of Ricardo’s sails, but not enough. “You know how most people died during Heartbreak, don’t you? You at least knew that? Did you know she threw herself out a fourth-story window?”
Daniel’s gaze turns the poisonous kind of blue and he bites his lip but he stays quiet.
“This is what happens when you don’t fucking think, Daniel.”
“Oh, that’s rich.”
No. No. Let it go. Let the static in your veins just…go…
“Is she okay?” Ricardo grinds out.
Daniel nods a bit too fast, but his frown sticks like gum. “She, um, recovered fast. But I…kind of wanted to ask you about that.”
“Really.” He needs to call her, he needs to fix this right now, right now before she—
His glare turns ice cold. “Newsflash, Ortega, you don’t get to own all the rights to giving a shit about her.”
“She’s not Sidestep anymore,” he says. “Why do you care?”
Daniel steps back a half-step, eyes wide with shock. “Jesus. I forget how much of a fucking asshole you are, sometimes.”
Got the kid to cuss. There’s that at least. Still. You’re not a young roaring lion anymore, act like it. He puts his hands up. Truce. “Sorry.” The words feel hollow but he’s fucking trying. “You’re right. That was out of line.”
Some tension drains from Daniel’s shoulders and settles right on Ortega’s instead.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get punched,” Ortega can’t help but slip in.
“Something’s missing inside her. I don’t know. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“Don’t,” he snaps, because it’s cold. It’s cold and it hurts like a bitch, hearing someone else say it. Hearing someone else see the ice behind her silver eyes. The sludge of terror and hate that prompts her whole body to freeze up moments before she screams in fury. Does she hate him? She would have the right. He wonders, every day.
“Do you even hear yourself?” Daniel asks, voice low. “She thought you sent me after her. Maybe you should think about that.”
In answer, Ricardo slowly sits back down in his chair.
Sometimes Daniel is like the worst of Wei and himself rolled into one — smarter than you’d give him credit for, tactical about it, and absolutely unwilling to quit once he’s got the scent.
“So she told you about Heartbreak,” Ricardo manages.
Daniel looks toward the window, squinting into the sun. “Yeah. Not a lot, but…enough.” He turns back. His voice quiets. “Have…do you…”
“What.”
“Do you think about…why they keep so much of it classified? From us?”
Ricardo leans back. “What did she say?”
“Just…” Daniel’s fingers fidget together. His eyes glance around the room. Too many ears. Hmm. “Well, to think about who knows what. And why that matters.”
Yeah. That does sound like River. Make the map, connect the dots, pick the decisive action. Even at her lowest. Of course that’s what she’d say.
“We can talk about that later,” he says, gesturing broadly — vaguely to the cameras. He hopes Daniel is smart enough to pick up on that. “Just…don’t pull shit like that again, okay? Better yet…maybe don’t speak to her unless she talks to you first.”
“Well. About that.”
Ricardo tilts his head, jaw clenching. Don’t think about her falling limp in the sky. Don’t. Just don’t touch it.
“She agreed to, um. Help me train?”
He’s…not sure what to do with the weird pit that opens up in his gut. Is it jealousy? No, you’re too old for that. Anger? Worry? Confusion? Why is she training Daniel? Isn’t she retired? What does she get out of that? Does she want back in the fold, just not sure how to go about it because of her…family situation? That would sound like her; she hated even the smell of imposition.
He files it all down into a smirk. Confidence. You’re fine with this. You are. “Good luck with that. Maybe she’ll teach you how to use that big brain of yours.”
Daniel glares at him, though the heat isn’t so stifling. “Maybe you should ask for lessons, too.”
“Good one.”
“Whatever.” A beat. The boy is still a professional to the core. “If you need something, you know where to find me.”
Herald leaves.
Ortega turns to his phone. The big brick.
He wants to resist the impulse. She was just here.
But he can’t. He’s weak as shit. He knows this. He’s a fool. He’ll call himself however many names he needs to in order to get over it and pick up the phone — because keeping her here, safe, protected, is more important than anything else.
He’s not going to fail again because of some dumb kid.
Okay, I just really have to get this off my chest. There are people who don't like Chakotay, or won't ship him with Janeway because of the actor or the bad way Native American representation is shown. Now if you just plain don't want to mess with the character, don't like him, whatever, fine. But please don't let something an actor said or did keep you from loving a character or a work he was in. And don't ignore bad representation - try to improve on it.
I love J/C because I look at what is on screen. Their chemistry and caring relationship is incredible and inspiring to me. Everyone is welcome to their own ships, but that's the only one I have because it just seems so obvious to me. But I keep hearing people gripe about Beltran, or the representation. You can fix that, or read work that is fixed. It's called fanfic. If you're into the fandom at all you can see that fanfic Chakotay is not just like Chakotay on screen and definitely nothing like the actor.
The actor who played Icheb did some very bad stuff, but I hardly hear anyone say they won't use Icheb in a story because of this. So why Beltran? Why can't we just ignore these people instead of calling attention to them over and over? I'm not saying justify what they did, but remember they are real people with their own faults. They played a role, and even the most enthusiastic Star Trek actors are not as in love with the show as its fans are. It's hard to understand it, but it's true. I've watched podcasts with Tom and Harry's actors. They had forgotten many episodes, and didn't even know people didn't like Threshold. Why? Because this was a job for them. Maybe they enjoyed it, but it was still a job.
As far as representation goes, yeah they did an unbelievably horrible job, it's there from the beginning when Paris says racist stuff about "Indians". So I try to research, find stuff that is more accurate hopefully, or at least more respectful. It's a challenge, but worth it because there isn't enough good literature about Native Americans. And as far as Chakotay's character goes, there was, like so much of Voyager, wasted potential. So I try to add in that potential. Many fanfic writers do this wonderfully. I can recommend so many. His background in the Maquis, his faith, etc. We have that power.
TL;DR: If there is a ship you love, or a character, I really hope you don't let actors or bad writing turn you away.
You lounge back in the lawn chair, a large umbrella casting a cool shade as the battery powered fan blows on your face.
You sip from a canteen, the water not quite hot yet, but past tepid.
You can spot her dark curls in the distance, and you smile as you watch it weave back and forth.
A long, content sigh passes through your lips.
So rarely does your lifemate get to really stretch her limbs like this, and watching her eagerly traverse the warm sand makes the deadly heat worth putting up with.
Her hair disappears, before a cloud of sand is shaken from it, and you're startled into laughter.
“I'm so holding that against you.” You chuckle to yourself. “Rolling around like a toddler.”
You close your eyes as the open air buzzes with heat, drowsing.
“Little bunny should know better than to sleep when they know a predator is around.”
You squeal with shock at Agatha's voice, her tongue gently flicking against your ear.
She throws her head back and cackles, and you half heartedly hit her arm, twisted around in your chair to glare at her.
“Agatha!” You protest. “How did you even get from there to here so quick?”
“Mmm…” She hums, her eyelids fluttering as she rubs her cheek against the crown of your head. “I'm very fast.”
“And silent, apparently.” You grump.
She laughs again, brushing her lips against your exposed skin.
“As much fun as it is to be able to race around,” she says, “I think there's something far more… Enticing sitting so prettily right here.”
Seductiveness drips from her voice, oozing through, and usually, it would be enough to enrapture you.
Usually.
“Not in the sand you don't.” You scold. “Sand gets everywhere, Agatha.”
Smooth, warm scales begin sliding over your exposed legs, and you shiver at the sensation.
“You and I both know I can take what I want without a grain of sand ever touching you, little bunny.”
At her whisper, you have to bite back a whine, shifting as arousal starts to pool between your thighs.
“Agatha.” You warn.
She leaves an open mouthed kiss on your neck, and you instinctively arch into the touch, a short gasp leaving you as you feel the tips of her fangs caress the sensitive flesh.
“Mine.” She hisses, her coils suddenly tightening, making you aware that you're now firmly in her grasp.
“T-the sand.” You stutter insistently.
Agatha growls.
“Fine.” She snaps.
Before you could blink, you're being hoisted by her sheer strength off of the lawn chair and into the air, her thick muscle convulsing as she shifts you about, holding you more safely in her grasp.
“If the next words out of your mouth isn't take me, mommy, I'm taking you back home and I won't let you travel with me anymore.”
The whimper you've been holding back slips through.
“No, I'll be good!” You cry out, knowing her threat is seriously meant. “Take me, mommy!”
Agatha's eyes gleam with her delight, and you find yourself being pulled into their depths.
“That's it, little bunny.” Agatha croons. “Lose yourself to me. You know this is where you belong… In the hands of your predator, helpless.”
You're unable to look away, some unnatural color starting to bleed through the brilliant blue bright eyes that have captured your own.
“‘M your lil’le bun’y.” You slur, fading, dropping.
Agatha’s soft touch sets your body alight, and as she pries your legs open, you relax, trusting the hungry, dangerous look that flashes across her face.
After all, your kind mistress has taught you well.
Little bunnies belong in danger to their betters, to their predators.
To their protectors.
Predator-protector. It had struck you as an oxymoron, initially. An impossibility.
You gasp as Agatha uses her hands to rip your shorts clean in two.
“Mommy!” The plea tears its way from your throat as your cunt throbs with need.
Very quickly, Agatha had corrected your notions of any conflict to her role in your life.
“My precious little one.” Her murmur is sweet, like honey, at contrast to her dark, husky tone.
Her eyes continue to pull and pull, drowning you.
In her eyes, you see the universe, and then fall through the edge, into oblivion.
Into unknown, undone.
Your clothes have disappeared, you can feel how she carefully weaves her body with yours, encasing you with precision, until your chest has been bound in a way that stimulates your burning need, and your bare pussy is against some of the thickest parts of her strong tail.
“Go on, bunny. Make a mess. Put on a show.”
It's not truly an instruction, you couldn't move even if you wanted to, and so Agatha rocks your body against hers, forcing you to grind against her iridescent scales, ripping a moan from you.
“What a good little piece of prey.” Her nose brushes against your ear, her hands beginning to wander, pulling more noises of pleasure from you. “My bunny.”
The utter possessiveness in her voice, the way it sinks beneath you and entraps you to her will – you wildly thrash, trying to get closer to her. Ridiculous as the notion may be, with Agatha literally wrapped around you, the need to be as physically close to her as possible overrides everything else.
A high pitched keening sound is drawn from you as Agatha’s head dips, her coils pulling your legs apart as she lifts you up from where her scales now shimmer in the acrid heat with your wetness, her tongue flicking deliciously against your soaked center.
“Mommy!” Your hips buck, attempting to hump at her face. “Fuck!”
Agatha’s low chuckle sends your eyes rolling, and the short gasps she pulls from you only eggs her on as she eats you out.
It isn't very long before your peak rapidly approaches, but that doesn't phase Agatha, who seems determined to drown in your essence.
“My bunny.” She murmurs against your core as she waits for the shocks passing through your body to die down. “My treasure.”
The adoration makes you whimper, a tear of pleasure finally rolling free.
“Agatha.” You hoarsely beg.
Your lifemate shifts her coils, and she envelopes you into her embrace.
You stay like that for a long while, face pressed against Agatha’s soft chest, breathing in her scent of wildflowers and petrichor, her fingers gently running through your hair.
The air buzzes with silence, the only other sound is your soft breathing that matches your lover's.
A yawn eventually grips you, and Agatha sighs.
“Come, dear.” She softly croons. “Let's get you settled for a nap.”
“Mmm… Okay…” You drowsily agree.
Agatha’s smile is pressed against your forehead as she gently kisses you, and you let out a content sigh of your own.
“Will you stay and cuddle?” You slur out as Agatha starts slithering with you still being held in her arms.