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chxrrylime · 1 year

Text

❝ prompt: sex pollen. ❞

OKAY I’m up way too late so I’ll proof read this tomorrow. Enjoy!

Alex Keller x M!Reader ↪ 3995 words — 18+ / SMUT

Content tags — cis male submissive Alex, cis male dominant reader, dub-c0n, inaccurate science and military garbage, sex pollen / aphrodisiacs, drugging, referenced / implied pegging, prostate stimulation, oral sex, praise, unsafe sex, fingering, penetrative sex, anal sex, and implied / referenced date r*pe drug targeting women because I don’t know how to tag that but thought it could be upsetting.

Key — C/S for callsign, Y/N for insert name.

You fall in step behind Alex, rifle down but poised. The hallways are sterile and ominously silent, nothing but your footsteps and the soft buzzing of the bright white lights echoing down the corridor.

You’d met resistance earlier on in the lab, but past the airlock Alex had busted open you’d found no signs of life—which was damning, considering you were both here for information, having yet to find a shred of paperwork or even a damned filing cabinet that wasn’t empty.

The two of you didn’t have to say it to know you were both thinking it—this was either a trap or a waste of time. They’d probably somehow caught wind of the raid and cleaned up shop, evacuated the scientists. There was nothing here.

But Laswell would have your heads if you abandoned op without searching the entire laboratory, so here you were, waiting for Alex’s signal as he inched his gun past the corner of the door frame to scan the room before waving you on past him.

You raise your gun as you sweep the room one more time. There’s a lab counter against the wall with canisters atop them, each set into their own metal holder. You don’t see any wording on them, just pink paint around the middle of each canister.

On the opposite wall is a desktop that you make your way over to.

You leaned down to peek at the computer case, finding it intact unlike all of the others you’d seen so far, dismantled with all of the important information bits missing.

“Got something,” you called out to Alex.

You booted the PC up, propping your gun up against the desk as you sat down in the rolling chair. Alex came up behind you, leaning, inked arm over your shoulder to support himself on the desk as he watched you search through the computer’s files.

“I don’t know what any of these are,” you mumble, scrolling through a plethora of scientific looking names.

“Chemicals,” Alex responds gruffly, and you tsk.

“Well, yeah, thanks. But what’re any of them? There’s a shit ton.”

Alex lets his gun go slack on the strap, reaching to point at one of the lines of text, the one that reads bis(2-chloroethyl) sulfide.

“Mustard gas.”

“Christ,” you sigh out, “do you know the others?”

“Nope,” he admits, squinting at the screen, “not for us to know, though. Let's just get this back to Laswell, alright?”

You frown, scrolling a bit further down. Your eye catches on a specific file, far less complicated looking than the others.

Bufotenin aphrodisias.

You glance over to Alex, who’s busy jimmying the lock on a filing cabinet, and then look back to the computer.

“Alex, do you know what bufotenin is?”

“Toad venom, psychoactive in concentration,” he mumbles, and then looks over to you, “are you still…? We need to get—”

You click on the file.

The screen goes black and you startle, watching the faint lights of it’s machinery blank out one by one.

“Shit.”

“What did you—!?” Alex begins, cut off as you both hear the loud, droning beep of the metal door locking shut, the light on the keypad turning red.

You both look at each other just as the lights go out, the dull crimson of the emergency lights basking you in an ominous glow.

And then you hear the hissing.

Alex turns around, toward the sound just as the canisters seem to pop, a cloud of pink mist blasting into his face. He watched wide-eyed as he instinctively gasps in a big breath, too late as he inhales whatever the hell it is, before turning away coughing. The gas slowly starts to leak out onto the floor, toward you.

You back away, pressing your forearm over your mouth and against your nostrils like that’ll do you any good.

Alex hasn’t fallen dead on the floor yet, which you pray is a good sign, especially considering how particularly vulnerable he is to chemical weapons after the whole situation at the Highway of Death.

He looks up to you wide-eyed, and scrambles towards you, the hand not trying to cover his face tugging at his utility belt. He yanks his gas mask loose and grabs you, shoving it over your head.

“Alex, what’re you—” you gasp out, feeling him seal it as you take a deep, stuttering breath of stale air.

The mist overtakes the room slowly, and Alex just stands in front of you, holding your wrists in fear you’ll try and pull the mask off—try and play heroics to spare him or something.

Except, you know better. Alex has already breathed in an ungodly amount, a mask wouldn’t do him much good now.

You try and shift, to move and look around the room—for a way out, but Alex’s hands remain tight around your wrists, and he yanks you back in front of him when you step away.

“Alex,” you hiss, tugging against him again.

His pupils are blown wide, and you can see how much he’s sweating, taking in big gulping breaths—panting. Definitely not something one would usually do in a room filled to the brim in possibly deadly gas.

He blinks a few times, though, releasing you to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“S-sorry, I—I checked out for a second,” he says meekly.

“What’re your symptoms, Alex?”

“Shit,” he breathes, cringing at the wetness of his mustache, the sweat collecting at his upper lip, bitter, “uh, fever. Definitely. Lungs kind of burn. That’s expected. Heart’s beating pretty fast, maybe just adrenaline.”

“Strong maybe.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh…” he trails off, his breath stuttering, pink tongue peeking out to lick at his chapped lips.

You frown, pressing a hand to his forehead. You startle slightly when he immediately reaches up to grab your forearm, holding you in place with a gentle squeeze. He’s burning up, skin slick and searing.

“You’re not gonna die on me, right?”

Alex barks a laugh, short and a bit choked, but a laugh, and you can’t help the small, sad smile you give.

“Let’s find a way out of here first, yeah?” He says, and his voice is noticeably gravellier. He doesn’t let go of your arm for a long moment, however, not until you give a slight tug. He frowns and releases you with another murmured, “sorry.”

You head over to the door, digging for the keycard you pulled off one of the hired guns earlier. The little screen beeps at you when you swipe it, flashing red, and you huff, trying it a few more times only to be met with the same ACCESS DENIED.

“Key cards no-go. Low clearance,” you grunt, tossing it onto the floor.

“Computer’s dead,” Alex responds, fucking with the PC case before giving it a hard punch.

“Woah, woah, hey,” you call, taking a few steps toward him. He’s hunched over under the desk, and you can’t see his face, but you can see how his shoulders rise and fall with heaving breaths, “still need that hard drive in tact, Alex, right? Remember?”

You feel like you’re talking to a child, or a wild dog, morelike. But he’s off-kilter. Out of it. You can tell how he’s trying to maintain his hold, though, as he gives a frustrated sigh and turns to stand with yet another “right, sorry.”

“I’m gonna try and call this in,” you explain, “hopefully we can get a signal. Get some backup out here.”

He nods, but he doesn’t really seem to be listening as he scans the room, blinking with purpose like he’s trying to keep his vision clear. You watch as you fidget with the radio, finally getting a barely clear line into Laswell as Alex seems to spot something across the room.

“Watcher-1, how copy?”

“Getting a lot of static, C/S, but I can make you out. Send traffic.”

“Building should be cleared but, uh, we ran into a bit of an… issue.”

You get a burst of static and wince, barely making out the go on, C/S.

“Found a computer. Hard drives should be intact but possibly wiped. There must’ve been a trap or something in the system. Locked us in one of the lab rooms here and gassed us.”

“What’s your condition?”

You watch Alex across the room pull some kind of lever, something akin to a fire alarm on the wall, and hear a loud metal thunk as some of the slatted vents along the ceiling open, hissing following, though this time like air being sucked out. You slowly watch the pink mist in the room dissipate, the air units kicking on to hopefully begin filtering in fresh oxygen.

“C/S? Do you copy?”

“Yeah, yes, ma’am. I’m alright. Got a mask on, and looks like Alex just got the air filter up and running, but he took a blast of it. We don’t know what it was, but he’s conscious at the moment. No visible damage externally. He’s running a bad fever.”

“Understood. Captain Price and his boys are still wrapping up at the other facility. I’ll have them head to you, ETA two hours. Do we think Alex can make it that long?”

You look up at Alex, who’s leaning heavily against the wall, but he gives you a slow thumbs up.

“Affirmative. I’ll call if that changes.”

“Copy. Out.”

You switch the line off, pulling off the gas mask as you watch the last bits of pink gas suck up through the air vents, the system chugging for a few seconds before Alex flips the switch again and the slats slam shut.

He pushes slightly off the wall, mouth working like he’s about to try and speak before he collapses, toppling onto the ground with a grunt. You rush over to him, rolling him onto his back. He groans long and deep, arm thrown over his eyes and his other gloved hand pressed against his mouth.

“Hey, hey, Alex, talk to me,” you rush out, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a little shake. His hand moves from his mouth to grab your wrist, squeezing at you like he’s trying to ground himself.

“New symptom,” he grits out.

“Fainting?”

He chokes out what you could barely consider a laugh, making you wince as he slightly squirms in place.

“Southern blood flow,” he grins, though it seems forced, or maybe spiteful.

Your brow furrows, and it takes you a second to process what he’s said as your eyes slide down his twitching body.

“Oh…”

“Oh,” he parrots, “just my luck, huh?”

“Fucking—God. Alex, I’m sorry, this is my fault, I—”

“Shut up,” he huffs out, moving his arm from his eyes to rest above his head, staring up at you half-lidded. You raise a brow at him, a little thrown off. He’s not usually so… curt. Though you suppose he’s not usually lying beneath you rock hard, either, “shit happens. Rather be horny than dead.”

He’s still sweating immensely, and his pupils are still blown. You slide your hand from his shoulder, the one he’s still gripping, to his throat to try and feel for his pulse. You realize you can see it pumping against his neck.

You press your palm over the pulsing skin and Alex moans. You flush with embarrassment and try to pull your hand away, but once again Alex holds you firm with a desperate whine.

“Alex,” you whisper.

“Hurts,” he gasps out, and it almost sounds like a sob, “hurts when you’re not touchin’ me.”

“O-okay, just…” you place your other hand on the center of his chest and he shivers, hips bucking up into nothing. He tugs his own gloves off, trying to reach back, tugging at straps and belts on your uniform like he’s trying to get it off—trying to get at your skin. You let him, knowing he’s not gonna be able to get past any of it with the way he’s lying, not this uncoordinated.

“Please,” he says, begs, and the tone of it makes something guilty stir in your core, “please just—it hurts, Y/N.”

“I’m touching you, Alex,” you try, like reminding him will make it better. He only whines.

“S’not enough, fuck, just—” he twists around, pushing up onto his knees and grabbing your ankles to yank you forward, knocking you flat onto your back. He brackets your head with his arms, leaning down to hide his face against the crook of your neck, panting against your heated skin. His hips rock against yours, against your own crotch, and you can feel the outline of his hard cock through the fatigues.

“Stop me,” he growls out, grasping at your hips, squeezing hard enough to bruise, “if you don’t want this you need to stop me. Hit me ‘till I stop, knock me out, I d-don’t care just—”

He gasps as you tentatively run your hands under his shirt, the skin to skin contact making his body sing, before thumbing at the hem of his pants.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, feeling how he positively vibrates against you, “take what you need. S’okay.”

The permission sends him into a frenzy, shooting up to tug at your harness, barely managing to get everything undone with shaking hands as he slaps away your own attempts to help. He pulls your jacket off next, then your vest, and undershirt, desperate to get his mouth on you.

He latches onto your pec, licking and sucking at your nipple, making you gasp and cry out, back arching into the wet heat of his mouth. He fondles the other roughly, switching between them to provide equal treatment before he’s trailing down your torso, licking up the droplets of sweat that gather in the divots of your body.

You’re already tugging at your belt, unzipping your pants as he lowers and he grins, nipping at the jut of your hip bone before reaching into your boxers. His warm, sweaty palm wrapping around your half-hard cock makes you startle, hips bucking as he pulls you free from the confines.

He doesn’t even bother stroking, the blue of his eyes almost completely overtaken by his blown pupils as he takes you into his mouth. You choke on nothing, the wet, supple heat immediately overwhelming. He licks and sucks, hollowing his cheeks to create more suction, bobbing up and down your length like a man starved. You can see the movement of his shoulder—can see how his bicep flexes as he strokes his own aching prick. You realize quite suddenly he’s managed to get his pants and briefs off over his boots, the former kicked off to the side.

You place one hand on his head, tangling in his sweat-slick hair, and he groans, grabbing desperately at your other hand and guiding it to the back of his neck. He takes the slow rolling motions of your hips with ease, his throat ever so slightly bulging as the tip of your cock teases into it with each movement.

He moans and gags around you, and you only release him when he gives a pained whine.

As he sits up you can see his straining cock, fist still wrapped around it though now resting at the base unmoving. The swollen flesh is an angry red, tip leaking a continuous stream of pre. It looks painful.

“Can’t fuckin’ cum,” he grits out, and his dick pulses in his grip as he gasps, “I-I, fuck, I just feel… empty?” He says, voice lilting like he’s not quite sure. His brain is so foggy, nerves firing off non-stop, wires crossed. The psychedelic aspect isn’t helping in the slightest.

You nod, squeezing his hips, trying to gently coax him into your lap. He shuffles forward with ease.

“Do you think…” you begin, trailing off. You know he’s not truly in the right mind to consent—you know this is… well, all of it’s unethical, and probably very much against protocol, but, “Alex, can I fuck you?”

He groans low and long, forehead falling to your shoulder. He shifts in your lap until your cock is pressed to the seam of his ass, and he rocks slowly, experimentally, like he’s not sure just yet.

You pet at him as he moves, patient, kissing his neck in hopes to curb the contact his body so desperately craves. It seems to be working, with the way his cock twitches and kicks against your stomach as he grinds.

“Y-yeah,” he finally breathes, “please.”

“Have you ever done this?” You ask, and he scoffs like that’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. And maybe it is, given the circumstances, but if this is something Alex comes to regret, you at least want to try and make it good for him. Something he doesn’t have to think back on with any pain or fear.

“Once, with a girl, though.”

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean. What I said.”

You smile against his neck, storing that little fact away for later interrogation. No one ever said Alex Keller wasn’t adventurous.

“Good,” you murmur, and he makes a small little noise at the word. You fumble for the lube you keep in one of your packs—benefits of a not quite field medic, “do you like when I praise you?”

He hums an affirmative as you lube up your fingers, teasing between his cheeks. He lets out stuttering breaths, hips finally stilling as you make contact with his fluttering hole.

“Mhm, wanna be my good boy, huh?” You say, and he groans, body falling lax at the words just as you slip a finger inside, earning another pretty moan.

He surprisingly doesn’t tense around you at all, if anything you’d argue he’s loose. You tease the tip of your second finger against him and he rocks back to take it in alongside the first, his brow pinched and eyes closed as he starts to fuck himself back onto your fingers desperately, making indignant little moans you know will haunt your wet dreams.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, and the petname makes your heart flutter, something settling deep in your stomach and he claws at your back, panting hard against your neck, “y-you could just—please, fuck me, I—I don’t need the prep, I’m—”

He can’t get a full sentence out, stumbling over his words as he loses himself to the pleasure. When a third finger slips easily in you come to the conclusion the aphrodisiac must’ve loosened him up naturally, though it makes you wonder if the chemical is somehow targeted towards women if this is the result in a male.

You shake the thoughts away, cooing at Alex, trying to soothe him down as his body shakes violently against yours. You're scared he’ll hyperventilate, or dehydrate completely. You make him take a swig from your canteen, fingers still inside of him as he gulps down the water.

He empties the container, tossing it carelessly onto the ground. He slams his lips against yours and you gasp, giving him the opening to slip his tongue into your mouth. He hasn’t kissed you so far, and somehow it feels far more intimate than what you’ve already done to him.

“The table,” he mumbles when he finally pulls away, panting against your mouth, “fuck m’on the table.”

Your cock twitches where it’s trapped underneath him and he nearly smirks at the feeling as you dumbly nod. Despite his wishes he whines as you slip your fingers from his hole, and he grips onto you the entire time you get up and shuffle him over to the sterile looking table.

You try to push him by the shoulders to lay back onto it, but he squirms, spinning with his back to you before bending over—presenting himself.

“Fucking hell, Alex,” you rumble, and he whimpers softly, such a delicate sound coming from such a strong person as his hips rock back to try and entice you in. It doesn’t take much, if anything at all.

You plant your hands onto his hips and he gasps as he feels the head of your swollen cock against his hole. You’re careful as you slip into him, the both of you moaning as the velvety muscles wrap tight around your prick.

You slowly slide in, taking your time despite his protests, careful to keep from hurting him no matter how ready his body seems. You run your palms up and down his back, slowly lowering your weight over him as you push into the hilt with a low moan.

“Okay, baby?” you murmur against his ear, and he nods, cheek pressed flush to the cool tabletop and mouth hanging open like a panting dog as he takes big gulping breaths.

“Please,” he begs, and it’s all you need to grip the edges of the table and begin pounding into him. He immediately cries out, eyes rolling back as your cockhead rubs along his prostate with each passing movement, your balls slapping roughly against his as you gain momentum.

His muscles spasm and flutter around you, seeming to tighten up as if they’re trying to fit to your cock, and the thought makes you dizzy with it. You feel so flooded with arousal you wonder if for a moment you did inhale some of that gas—or maybe this is all a dream and you’re currently on the ground foaming at the mouth.

But Alex moans so beautifully, each line and crease of his face accentuating his sharp features. He’s blissed out, you can see the glaze over his eyes, and you hope to God this is enough to fix whatever’s coursing through his blood right now.

You feel that familiar knot in your stomach as the pleasure settles deeply. You grit your teeth, moving to a slower but more brutal pace to try and curb your impending orgasm.

“You feel so good, Alex,” you try, hoping to get him closer to the edge with praise, “so fucking tight around me, sweetheart, you’re doing so good.”

He chokes out something caught between a groan and a sob, nodding his head as tears prick in the corner of his eyes. They never fall, but they make his eyes look so glassy—vulnerable.

“Look so pretty when you cry,” you can’t help but coo, and the words mixed with the perfect thrust of your cock against his prostate has him crying out, back arching up against your torso as he finally, finally cums.

It goes on for quite a bit, about forty seconds as his body spasms, and you reach down to stroke him through it, trying to help ease what you can only imagine is both a relief and a slight pain as his body finally releases.

You go to slip out of him, having completed your task, when Alex reaches back and weakly grasps at your hip, trying to tug you back in.

“Wan’ it inside,” he mumbles, and you bite back a groan.

“I don’t want to—”

“Please,” he whines, and you think maybe if this is something designed for women, that it perhaps feeds off of instinct to breed. That this might be something his body needs to feel for his brain to finally settle.

“Okay,” you whisper and slide back into him, his low whine making your cock twitch as you make shallow, quick little thrusts into his fluttering hole.

It doesn’t take long for you to come, having already been so close to the edge, and you gently bite down on his shoulder as you do, arms wrapped around his torso to hold him tight to you as you fill him.

Alex sighs, and he finally sounds content. He’s no longer laboring for breath, and while he’s still sweating you can feel his body temperature starting to drop back into a safer range.

He seems content to lay there for a little longer, and honestly you don’t blame him, the both of you catching your breaths as you come down from the high.

#modern warfare #modern warefare 2 #alex keller #alex keller x reader #alex keller x male reader #alex x reader #mine #smut #personal prompt

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cybertroniannugget · 6 months

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Pangea and mt Vesuvius

Not what I originally intended to post here, as I'm writing some spice at the moment but THIS is what my mind was occupied with all freaking day... The whole desaster takes place somewhere in the first movie or between 1 and two. Some details are changed up Which I did on purpose. I know all the movies from start to finish because the hyperfixations are hyperfixating real hard right now.

This is just a random story of how I get idk let's say teleported into the bayverse movies and how I'd probably handle that.

While I sprinkled in a bit more confidence than I actually got, I think it's an accurate representation of what kind of person I am: always cracking jokes, overthinking EVERYTHING, random useless knowledge that turns out to be somewhat useful.

About this fic: sfw, implied romance with OP, trans ftm character, no reader just Alex, confused Autobots they still need to learn so much about earth and everything, I also don't know okay?

This is just me struggling while simping hard for Optimus.

But we still ain't know what fucked up big M's navigation system when he crashed. Infact, why are all of our navigation systems useless here?! ", Jazz adressed, arms crossed over his chassis. "We all be getting lost all the time.

"I think I know why"

Oh please, why did I speak up just now...

All optics and eyes were fixed on me as I said that, making me immediately regret opening my mouth in the first place but here we are now.

"What? Maybe your systems think you're on Pangea.", I said, taking in the same position as Jazz by crossing my arms over my chest.

Optimus leaned closer, one servo on the railing, blue optics studying me thoroughly as to look for any signs of lie in my attitude.

"Pangea? May you elaborate?"

Hearing this deep voice so full of interest made me feel things honestly.

"The supercontinent. Wait, Imma show you."

I take out my phone, careful not to reveal the background, because I couldn't find the time to change it yet.

"Here, this is earth today. You see everything, Europe, Asia, South and North America, Autralia, Greenland and all the islands in the oceans."

"And this is Pangea, it broke apart into the continents as we know them today about 200 million years ago. This is probably what Megatron had in mind. See? When you look at a map of earth today you might think, if you turn south America around and snug it up to north America, they fit like a puzzle. It's because they were together as part of the supercontinent. Or push it up to Africa, same thing. Just squish it all together"

"That human is incredibly well educated.", Ratchet chimed in.

"That human has a name and thank you."

"But why did that happen? It makes no sense.", Ironhide complained, lifting one servo as to show his frustration in what I just said.

"If I may...", I look at Lennox, awaiting some kind of approval to continue. He nods and so I proceed with my explanation.

"Well, I don't know how to explain it scientifically, but I'll try to make it understandable."

Optimus nods, listening carefully. How do these highly educated space robots not know about that? But who am I to judge, they aren't from here so I can't expect them to know everything about earth.

"I think it probably started because of something called mantle convection. That means the heat from earth's interior rises up to the hardened crust. That caused it to break open, creating a volcanic rift zone. The cracks went further, the tectonic plates drifted apart. The rifts filled with water over time and while the plates drifted farther away, the oceans were formed. Or something like that I don't know but today we've got 6 continents."

Always undermining everything I say, great job on trying to act confident...

"And Greenland, I don't discriminate.", I added as some people eyed me.

"But I don't know if Pangea is what your systems used as the base to calculate. There were other tectonic combinations even before that, but it's a wild guess I'd say. I am certain it was one of them."

As I was explaining, Optimus' gaze changed to a warmer tone and I could feel my pulse rise to my ears. He was just so beautiful, and seeing him for the first time in person made my heart flutter uncontrollably. I wish I could tell him how I feel,

But this is real. No scenarios, no daydreaming or fanfiction. It was as real as it could get. Damn it, I wanted to shift here, not get teleported or whatever caused me to end up here with all of them. I hope we can atleast become friends. No need to get my hopes up though.

"Alexander?"

The baritone voice of the Prime pulled me out of my thoughts about him.

"Hm?"

"What kind of heat were you talking about?"

"Oh that. Well, starting at earth's core, it's liquid magma. It's really hot, like 5.200 Celsius hot. 9.000 something Fahrenheit for the Americans here..."

This was met with laughter and I continued with my lesson or whatever you might wanna call it I don't care, I'm struggling here okay?

"The further you go up, the 'cooler' it gets.", I say, underlining the word cooler with my hands in a joking matter.

"They probably got fancy scientific names but don't ask me which. Anyways shit's really hot. And it's what shoots up from volcanoes.", I finish as I look into a round of confused optics and a few tilted helms.

"Volcanoes? When tectonic plates crush against each other, or built up pressure is released, no?"

They all look at eachother, chuckling coming from my fellow humans around me.

"Okay here, that's mt vesuvius, big ass volcano."

"Sometimes these mfs shoot lava from this hole up there, pretty fascinating and scary at the same time.. It looks like this.", I add as they look at the pictures, not knowing whether to be amazed or afraid.

"The glowing stuff you see here is the lava. When it's still underneath the crust it's called magma."

"Are there many on earth?"

"Yup, don't get too close."

Optimus' optics widen at that statement of mine

"Don't worry bossbot, not on this island. The closest from here is next to Madagascar, Africa. Unless you decide to swim a few rounds up there there's no need to get worried."

The Prime relaxes, shoulders dropping while optics still focused on me.

Why is he looking at me like that? I mean I ain't complaining but if he continues like that Imma internally combust.

"You explain everything so well Alexander."

"Please, call me Alex. Alexander seems so long."

The Prime nods understandingly. "Very well then, Alex."

Oh god make it stop. I love you so much Optimus please...!

"His heart rate just shot up exponentially.", Ratchet mentioned and it was right then and there that I wanted to vanish, dissappear, sink into the ground, never to be seen again.

"Haha yeah, chronic Tachycardia, no need to worry."

That was a lie. Yes, my pulse is through the roof right now, but I've got no heart disease.

As I was met with confusion from every bot except Ratchet I explained before any questions could be asked.

"It's a general term to describe an elevated heartrate. You know, the thing in a human's chest that pumps blood through our body."

"Blood?"

"Oh come on. Okay, well then I can explain that to you guys later. And answer any questions you have as it seems no one else here cares about your education on earth and it's inhabitants.", I say grumpily, looking at Lennox, who raised his hands in defeat.

"I can see us becoming friends Alex.", Jazz laughed.

"Looking forward to it!", I said, pointing fingerguns at the silver bot, which is met with more laughter.

"Okay, class is over, what are we gonna do now?", Ironhide asks into the round of bots and humans.

I just shrug, looking at Optimus, who was still looking at me. But when I looked at him, he quickly looked away to Ironhide.

Cutie~

"Alex seems to know so much, why not ask her?."

That statement of a bystanding soldier was met with a glare from Optimus.

"Alex is a he, you better make sure to remember that!"

They went to protest, but Optimus wouldn't let them. "Unless you wish to get what humans call fired."

Oh shit he's really mad...

"I will make sure of that if you continue your unreasonable behavior."

As he said that I could swear I saw the soldier shrink right then and there infront of my own two eyes.

He looks at everyone. "This counts for everyone here. You will respect Alex."

Oh god, he's standing up for me I can't please marry me Optimus, like right now!

"Okay, lessons aside.", Epps put a hand on my shoulder, smiling. "You were great by the way. I think we can use that for good."

He looked between everyone, a stern expression replacing the warm smile, hand leaving my shoulder. "As much as of a crucial hint this is, we can't know for sure what's exactly causing the malfunction. Better dig people."

True honestly, but HOW is anyone supposed to figure it out without cutting someone open? Megs maybe...?!

"Something's on your mind again, I can see that.", Bumblebee said with snippets over the radio.

"What, me?! It's nothing."

"Nothing?!", Jazz protested. "You just gave us the best clue we could ask for. I'm no Optimus Prime but I can say that I wanna hear ya out my man."

He looks up at Optimus, who was looking at me again after listening to his lieutenant.

"I must say, that you have given us great insight on your mental capabilities Alex."

He leans closer and it took everything of the mental capabilities he just mentioned to not kiss him right here right now.

"Well uh, it's just some kind of impulsive thought. You know, the ones you can't really control...",I said nervously, one hand behind my neck, avoiding everyone's gaze.

But he didn't budge, only blinking once while awaiting an answer.

"Okay, you're not budging I see. Fine."

Taking a deep breath and regretting every life choice I had made up until that point, I went on. "Look, I don't know anything about Cybertronian culture and how things are handled. Especially this right here. Us humans, we always wanna know what exactly caused certain events. For example death here. So we came up with analyzing the body of the dead by cutting them open and stuff, it's called autopsy. Maybe, just maybe we could find something. I know Megatron ain't dead but he's in some sort of... Stasis? Someone could check his navigation system and maybe find the cause for the disruption."

I lower my shoulders, trying to be as small as I possibly could infront of Optimus, who's gaze I couldn't quite interpret.

"On Cybertron, there is quite a similar practise."

"So you're saying it's worth a shot, Prime?", Ironhide asks, unsure of what to think of the situation. "But he's not dead, as Alexander pointed out correctly.", Ratchet added.

Optimus turned around to face his Autobots.

"This may be our only chance. We must take it. For the sake of both worlds. This war has been going on for so long, we cannot let this hold us down. And now it seems there is a way to find out why this is happening. We will fix it, together."

Now it was on Lennox to speak up again.

"So we gon' dissect Megatron? I'm all in honestly. That fucker did enough damage."

My eyes widen at that. "They're not gonna kill him!" Unsure of the righteousness of what I just said I looked at Optimus, who nodded.

"See? They're just gonna take out the navigation system and leave."

"Ooh, big M is gonna be SO mad when he finds out."

"He won't.", Optimus retorted with an absolute certainty in his voice.

"Alright then, it's settled. Prepare people and gather as much information as possible for this mission and await any orders from Big O!"

And with that final order of Lennox the soldiers scattered around, leaving immediately.

Okay great, I'm gonna go be useless again wohoo.

"Alex?"

I look toward the sound of the voice I already grew to cherish. "I know, I know. I ain't accompanying you. I'd die if I did, already know that."

The Prime nods.

"I am glad you understand."

I love you so much I wish I could tell you...

As he remained standing there I grew nervous, fidgeting with the strings of my hoodie.

"Is there something you need?"

"Wha- me? No! Just... go be a hero.

You know you're good at it."

I clear my throat, pretty sure Optimus could hear my pulse. "But remember to take a break sometimes. I always see you up and about."

Did I overstep? I knew it. Chance blown. Goodbye earth. No romance.

"I highly appreciate your concern Alex."

He's always saying my name help. Is he just being polite or what does this mean?!

"There is this human saying. What was it again? I grab it with my heart...?"

Please he's so cute I can't~

"I'll take it to heart was it probably. It means to honor someone's wishes as you see them important."

He tilts his helm in question. "The person or the wish?"

That is when I think all the 5 liters of blood inside my body went up to my face.

Keep calm, stay cool Alex. Don't embarrass yourself.

"It's up to the person saying that."

Whatever higher power there is, please help me!

"You deem my wellbeing as important and so do I"

Phew, that was close...

"Can it be both?"

WHAT

"Eh, sure. There's always room for interpretation."

I guess...?

What has my life come to? They probably think I'm a know it all person. I gotta keep my damn mouth shut from now on.

"Very well then Alex, I look forward to working with you."

I only nod, trying not to get lost in those beautiful blue optics.

"I'm sure it's gonna be great Optimus!"

Unless I unsubscribe from life because a Deception squishes me...

#transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #what the fuck #what is this #what is happening #i don't know #what am i doing #send help #i do be simpin

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half-dead-ham · 1 year

Text

I've waited this long

Day two of Shipweek is Soulmates! And so I offer the masses a humble Roy Harper/Danny Fenton ship, so rare they don't even have a ship name yet! Upon the offer of one, I may be tempted to make more of this ship, they are a match made in hell imo. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

here's: [Ao3]

Despite how much Danny’s parents invest in the scientific method, they were never one’s to believe in things like ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’. They stood by their ideals that ghosts were real but soulmates were things people imagined so much a market grew for it, despite forty per-cent of the population having one.

So of course the first thing Danny’s parents did when Danny showed off the white ring he got on his left middle finger was tell him to take it off.

He told them he couldn’t, of course. Danny didn’t know what soulmates even were, he was only four. When he asked them why, they thought he was playing a prank. They tried to take it off his finger by force, but of course it wouldn't budge. They ran tests and did experiments and theorized and hypothesized and hummed and hawed until they were pulling their hair out.

And still the ring would not leave little Danny Fenton’s finger.

They finally settled on Danny having some sort of allergic reaction with the metal and surrounding samples of ectoplasm bonding the ring to his finger temporarily and told him to test it every once in a while to see if it came off.

And then they forgot about it.

Jazz found Danny later, curled up and crying on his bed after the whole ordeal. She comforted him, told him what the ring actually was, and said that if he ever did find his soulmate that he shouldn’t bring it up to his parents. He silently agreed, then drifted to sleep in her arms.

~~~~~

Stupid idiot. Stupid Danny. Why did you follow Rory into a city you didn’t have the map for?

Danny kicked a crumpled can along the sidewalk, watching it skitter along the pavement as he tried to remember which street he had turned from. He honestly didn’t even want to be here, in a city so far from Amity and his parents, it wasn’t his idea to sign him up for the end-of-school field trip; it was Jazz’s. Danny would rather be back in Amity Park, playing DOOMED with Tucker while they figure out what classes they were most likely to have together in high school.

Instead he was lost in a city he’d never been to, thanks to his free time buddy, Rory, leading him around after stealing his phone and stranding him without the map they were given. Jackass.

Another kick to the can sent Danny’s current stress relief straight into a storm drain. Danny froze, staring at the spot it had disappeared, before letting out a sound that was half growl, half groan. Stomping back on his original path, Danny sneered at his sneakers. He was going to murder Rory over this, there were enough tools in their stupid basement for Danny to beat that stupid smirk off that ass and- “Oof!”

Danny staggered back a step, clutching his nose as he blinked up at what- who- he had bumped into.

Concerned jade eyes met his lake blue as a boy slightly taller than him rushed to grab his shoulders and stabilize him. He froze, deer-in-the-headlights style as the stranger swept his eyes over the rest of Danny to make sure nothing was damaged.

“You okay?” The other asked, jolting Danny out of his daze.

“Uh, yeah, of course!” Danny squeaked out, feeling a small embarrassed flush warm his face.

The stranger looked down slightly, to Danny’s confusion. He quickly realized he still has his hand over his face like an idiot.

“Ope- yeah totally okay!” Danny quickly tore his hand away from his face in further embarrassment, really hoping he was right in not feeling any signs to the start of a nosebleed. Just to make sure, he checked his palm, giving a small sigh of relief at not seeing any red, just some light pink on his finger… Wait-

He spun his hand around, making sure to check if his ring really had turned pink.

“Holy shit,” the guy in front of him whispered, and looking up Danny could see him inspecting his own pink ring. Maybe he should thank Rory instead of murdering him, the guy led him to his soulmate after all.

The guy- his soulmate oh god he needed to tell Jazz- looked up to him, stunned and a little awestruck. Danny, for lack of anything else to do, stuck his hand out with a goofy grin as he introduced himself.

“Hey, my name’s Danny; Danny Fenton. Looks like you’re my soulmate.”

∆•∆•∆•∆

So as it turned out, the guy -Roy was his name- was a Star city native. After they made their introductions Danny asked if Roy knew the way back to his hotel. Roy gave him the most confused look he’d seen on him (yet) and told him that he’d almost made it to a completely different part of the city, and “why the fuck are you in the south side to begin with?” And, well Danny sheepishly explained his situation as they started walking the right way back.

While Roy didn’t say much to his explanation, the brilliant vermillion Danny’s ring turned probably meant that he and his soulmate had the same thoughts about Rory at the moment.

It was nearing supper time by the time Danny and Roy made it back to the hotel, and Roy was unfortunately witness to the rant Danny’s teacher went on about “Staying with his buddy” and “not following strangers in a large city”. As soon as Roy held their rings up she redacted her last statement with a click of her jaw. Roy then proceeded to explain to Ms. Montal about how Danny’s “buddy” left him stranded in a different part of the city without his phone, and how if Roy hadn’t found him that she might’ve had to resort to calling the police and explain how unsafe it was to have kids running around the city unsupervised.

Yeah, Danny was definitely glad Roy was with him at that moment. The nice shade of red that tinted Ms. Montal’s face -either in embarrassment over being so thoroughly called out by someone the same age as her students, or seething rage- had Danny moving a hand over his mouth to muffle his suppressed laughter. He didn’t know if it was any help, if the glare that could melt steel he got from his teacher was any indication.

After they got to watch the lovely conversation Rory had with their teacher for leaving Danny behind, he asked if Roy wanted to come up to his room to talk some more after they had supper. Roy refused, saying he had somewhere to get to and the dinner was already pushing his time into the ‘late’ category. He asked if there was any good time for them to meet up the next day, but again their schedules didn’t line up. Roy asked about the day after, but they couldn't meet then, as tomorrow was their last day in the city.

Danny stared at his shoes, at a loss for what to do. He really wanted to spend more time with his soulmate now that they’ve met, especially when Roy had so many stories about his mentor/foster father and his screw ups.

“Well, you have a phone right?” Roy asked. When he nodded Roy’s face split into a grin. “Then you can just give me your number!”

They ended up trading both phone numbers and emails, just in case. Apparently Roy had just as much of a chance to break or lose his phone as Danny did.

With one last wave, Roy walked back the way they had come, the light of the dying sun setting his red hair ablaze. With how far apart they lived, Danny wondered if they would ever get to see each other again face-to-face.

He hoped they would.

~~~~~

Star City

August 28th 2006,

15:07 PDT

While getting a ride back from Oliver's house Roy felt something. He didn’t know what that something was exactly, but it felt like someone just hit him with a live wire and dunked him in a bath of hydrogen peroxide.

It hurt.

It hurt like someone haddunked him in acid, slammed him into an electric fence then gave him a million paper cuts and bathed him in lemon juice. It hurt so much he screamed and blacked out.

Apparently it hurt so much for Oliver to pull the car over, because the next time he could see clearly he was leaning up against the side of the car on the pavement. Olliver was in front of him, worry clear on his face. He blinked as his mentor fretted over him, thoughts not really deeper than ‘god that hurt like a bitch’.

A light wind brushed his cheek and the cold stuck in tracks down to his chin. Absently, he brought his hand to his face, feeling the damp trails that led to his chin. Was he crying? He groaned, twitching with aftershocks and trying to think about anything other than the feeling of full body pins and needles he had.

“Roy,” his mentor called, voice shaken. Why was the Green Arrow so shaken over what just happened?

Roy looked to his mentor, only to find that Oliver was looking at the hand he had raised to his cheek. Dread settling in his stomach, Roy shakily lifted his hand up.

The band around his middle finger was charcoal black.

It felt like someone had just squeezed all the air out of his lungs. It couldn’t- no. Danny was fine. They had just talked yesterday, he couldn’t be dead! There was no way Danny could have died, it was impossible.

Roy was shaking now, for a completely different reason than the pain he just felt. He jerkily grabbed the ring between two fingers, desperately trying to- to- to do something! Either to rub the dirt (it was just dirt it had to be Danny couldn’t be dead) or keep the piece of jewelry from crumbling off his finger. It still felt solid, despite its colour being the exact color soul rings turn when a person’s soulmate dies.

Desperately he looked to Oliver. He was the adult here, he should know what to do, right?

But the stare Roy got back from his mentor was one full of grief and sadness, not the look he got when he was able to help, just loss. Roy’s lungs weren’t drawing in breath. His hand went from his ring to his phone, ripping it out of his pants pocket and dialling the one number he needed to pick up right now. Please Danny please pick up.

The Dial tone rang once, twice, thrice. The whole time Roy repeated please pick up please pick up please pick up in his head, eyes never leaving the black band on his finger.

“Roy?” Danny’s voice rasped through the receiver and Roy’s lungs finally caught breath.

“Holy fuck Danny, are you okay? What happened‽” Roy nearly screamed into the phone, to Oliver's clear shock as he looked between the still black band and the cellphone in Roy’s hand.

“Nothing,” Danny groaned, clearly still in pain. “I just got a small shock from one of my parents' inventions.”

“Bullshit,” Roy shot back. “If you call what you got a ‘small shock’ then where the fuck did the police TAZER shoot me from?”

Another groan from the other end of the line, along with the sounds of hushed voices that he couldn’t make out. Rustling fabric and soft footsteps was all that he listened to for what he thought was too long until Danny spoke up again.

“Look, I don’t really know what to tell you right now, Roy… I just feel like I got hit by a train and everything’s still kinda…” Danny trails off for a moment, making Roy worry that he passed out or something, but a sigh fills the call with static and then Danny’s back. “I just really need a bit to not feel like shit now, Roy. You think I can call you back tomorrow? We can talk more then.”

Was- wh- is Danny really just brushing all that pain off? Like it was nothing?? Like ‘oh, of course Danny, all you need is a little sleep and you’ll be good to go tomorrow!’ Fuck no, thats not how this works!

Another grunt of pain makes its way through the line, and Roy sighs. ‘Danny is alive,’ he reminds himself, ‘and he’ll still be alive then he wakes up tomorrow’. Even while thinking it the words sound like a lie. The band around his finger is still black. Logically Danny shouldn’t be talking with him at all, he shouldn’t have been able to pick up the call. A small voice in the back of his brain whispers to him, ‘Someone got to him, someone who wanted to use him to get to Green Arrow. That isn’t Danny on the phone, it's a fake’. It's a part he’s afraid to prove right.

“Sure, Danny. Just- just tell me one thing right now, okay?” He’s practically begging his soulmate -who he thinks is his soulmate- as his voice grows dry. A grunt was all he got in reply.

“What color is my ring right now?”

~~~~~

Star City general hospital

November 12th 2007,

15:07 PDT

Danny is dead, for real this time.

Roy doesn’t know when it happened, he’d been taken by Luthor and his goons for the last three months and the whole experience was a bit of a blur, but sometime during that Danny's ring finally crumbled off his finger.

He sat in the hospital bed, refusing to acknowledge the tears coming from his eyes as he stared at his bare finger. ‘I should’ve been there for him, I should have made sure he was okay.’ His thoughts spiraled as he wished, begged, for the ring to magically reappear on his finger. He prayed to every higher power he could think of to bring Danny back. Just one more day with his stupid texts, his long rants about the stars, his anything. He’d give the world to hear his soulmate's voice again.

A knock on the hospital room door had him scrambling to wipe his face of tears and clear his voice as quietly as he could.

“Come in,” he tried not to croak. He could tell it was Ollie as soon as he opened the door, but still he didn’t turn his head.

“Roy…” His mentor didn’t know what to say either, he almost wanted to scoff. Of course the old man didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know the first thing about having a soulmate. In the end it was something he had to deal with himself.

They stayed there, silence choking them like a snake coiling around its prey. Roy really didn’t want his old man to see how bad he was taking it, and his old man couldn’t console him for the gaping emptiness he was feeling. So they just did nothing, frozen like a picture in time.

Finally, a sigh escaped the man behind Roy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner,” he murmured out. He sounded so broken. And still Roy didn’t turn to face him, he just struggled and failed to keep a sob from escaping him.

That day Roy told himself to keep the memories he had of Danny close to him, and to never speak about him to anyone again.

~~~~~

Star City

January 19th 2011,

21:25 PDT

‘Everything… Was a lie. Everything I knew about myself isn’t real. I was just a pawn, a chess piece for someone else's game.’

Vandal Savage, that asshole.

Roy (was he even really Roy if he was just a replacement?) was in… not his room. It was Roy’s room in Ollie’s place. It was dark, he didn’t bother to turn the light on when he came in and was just watching the lights of the city from out his window.

What… What should he do now? He can’t just go on living somebody else's life now that he knows it isn’t his own. That would be wrong, and fucked up even for him.

But Guardian, he had said that the light didn’t have the real Roy. If the light didn’t actually have him, then where was he? He refused to believe the real Roy was actually dead, those fuckers wouldn’t kill him off after cloning him. It was too easy, to just dispose of a chess piece that still has use? No, they wouldn’t do that…

Right?

He stood up and walked to the window, tracing the lights of cars criss-crossing along the roads like lines of ants.

No. No, he refused to believe the real Roy was dead. He couldn’t be, he would eat his bow before he believed the real Roy wasn’t still out there.

And Roy was, he would find him.

~~~~~

Washington D. C.

March 8th 2011,

21:07 EDT

Today's search with Jim was a bust, a complete waste of time. Even with the new tech provided by the league, the Wayne Ecogram unit told them the exact same thing as what we already found the last dozen times we went down there. Nothing. Not a scrap or clue or anything.

He layed in bed on his stomach as he groused over the day. He could still feel that Roy was alive somewhere, like an itch just under his skin. It was telling him to keep searching, look, find him but people were starting to lose faith.

He was just so tired. He hadn’t moved in hours since he got back, just thinking over what little they knew of what happened. He turned his head so he could see out of the window. The lights still shone from the city outside, people going on with their nights- with their lives- while he was stuck watching as time marched forward mockingly. His neck protested the movement, muscles sore from overwork and the strain of being still for hours making itself known as he finally moved to haul himself into a sitting position.

On a brighter note, Jim had his lab work come back. They were in the same boat now, both being cloned from the same guy. Though somehow he still felt like they weren’t on the same page.

Jim already had his own identity, his own self built personality. He wasn’t meant to be a copy of someone, a replacement. No, Jim wasn’t aware of the feeling of getting the rug ripped out from under your feet because you find out (in the worst way possible) that the life you’d been living, the fucking name you used, wasn’t your own. He was blissfully unaware of how that sucker punch to the gut felt, and so it left him alone even with someone like him to understand.

And he was just. So. Tired.

But he couldn’t rest.

~~~~~

Star City

November 9th 2011,

17:22 PST

Ten months.

It has been ten months since this search had started for the real Roy, and not even the Bats have found anything. The League has resorted to tailing Luthor on rotation for any clues, but they’ve started asking why they were still trying.

‘Roy’ had pulled Robin away to Star City with him, so they could go through the original Roy's things. He honestly hadn’t bothered to touch most of the older things in Roy’s room, he was too focused on the mission at the time to care for whatever little civilian interaction he had kept for convenience. It had taken some convincing, but Robin at least saw how hard he was working.

“Dude, when was the last time you checked your inbox?” The Boy Wonder asked as he scrolled through old emails and spam on a laptop he had found buried under a clothes pile.

“A while,” he drawled sarcastically as he searched an old box of trick arrowheads. Honestly why did he even have these in here?

Robin continued to scroll as he quickly lost interest with the box, shoving it off his lap in frustration and moved to pick through the bottom of Roy’s closet. Quiet settled for a while, with only the occasional sounds of ‘Roy’s grunting and the clicking of the laptops trackpad keys.

“Hey Roy…” He turned to look at the Boy Wonder as he read something from the laptop, eyebrows scrunched together behind his pointless sunglasses. “Since when did you have a soulmate?”

The question struck him like an arrow to the heart, making him straighten where he sat. He had almost forgotten by now that he- Roy- had had a soulmate before he went missing. A wave of sadness washed over him as he realised Roy would never be able to see Danny again.

“I don’t,” he replied softly, unsure of how to feel over those memories. “Danny died sometime while I was kidnapped by Luthor, I didn’t know about it until I was in the hospital.”

“Who told you that?” Robin asked cautiously, eyes going back and forth from the screen to his face.

“I…” He… couldn’t remember. He could’ve sworn it was Ollie, but he couldn’t remember having the conversation- with anyone. Just the immense feeling of loss afterwards. But it was something so important to him- to Roy- why couldn’t he remember? “Why?” He asked instead, “what did you find on there?”

Robin just shuffled up the bed some, making space for him to sit down beside him. At first he didn’t understand what he was looking at, just a short message from Danny; nothing too personal, just saying something about him being worried over him and asking to get in touch when he could. It read like one of their old conversations they would have before Luthor got him, so why was Robin showing him this?

“Look at the date it was sent,” Robin instructed, pointing to the little bar showing when the email was sent. His eyes grew to saucer size when he realized why it was of interest.

“September eighth, 2009?” He mumbled out dazedly. The email was sent over two years after he died? That didn’t make any sense, why would someone use Danny’s old email just to send him something like this?

“Who told you your soulmate was dead, Roy?” Robin asked again, and he realized that he didn’t have an answer. No one had told him that Danny was dead, he just remembered it.

“N-no one… I just remember that he died while…” The realization hit harder than Superman, knocking the air from his lungs and leaving the Boy Wonder to finish his thought for him.

“You just remember that he had died while you were with CADMUS. You never thought to check your sources because you thought you just lost him, but maybe you should look into that now.”

He could only nod in agreement as he reread the email over and over again.

~~~~~

Amity Park, Il

December 12th 2011,

11:27 CST

‘Roy’ knocked on the door of the townhouse that could hold the answers he needed to find the real Roy. He looked up, tilting his head at the chrome UFO stationed precariously on the roof of the building. Something told him that the Drs. Fenton did not have a permit for that thing, but from what he could remember of his -Roy’s- conversations with Danny, there wasn’t a government that could really stop the Fentons from doing what they wanted. Still, someone had to have tried, right?

Robin was probably looking into it from where they parked up the road, along with whatever permits they needed to keep that thing that had just pulled out of the driveway from being impounded and torn for scrap.

His head snapped back to the door as it opened, revealing- oh god.

Danny was definitely taller than he remembered, paler too. His original’s soulmate now stood a head taller than he did, which when he was over six foot was saying something, with lean arms running up into a baggy t-shirt, no doubt hiding more lean muscle underneath. Maybe he did track or swim in high school? He was still Danny though, the same guy Roy met all those years ago when he was still trying to make Ollie take him on as an apprentice after his parents died. The same kid he helped get back to his school group and the kid he almost punched someone over.

God, he missed Danny.

Eyes a much brighter blue than he remembered widened so much it looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets, he almost wanted to laugh before they narrowed, zeroing in on where he knew he had his hands. Danny looked from his hand to his face -which he kept carefully neutral- before sighing, leaning himself against the frame of the door with a silent curse.

“Please tell me Vlad didn’t make you,” he asked, looking even more tired than when he opened the door.

“Whose Vlad?” He responded, twisting his face in confusion. Danny gave him a long, hard look. Neither of them blinked, and he was starting to get worried as to whether or not Danny would actually talk to him.

Finally, with a sigh Danny turned to walk inside, leaving the door open for him to walk in. “No one,” he grumbled before he trudged into the living room. “Let's chat, clone boy.”

∆•∆•∆•∆

When Danny had asked if anyone knew they were meeting, he hadn’t expected for him to ask to go get Robin from the car for the conversation. “My parents will be out for a while, they got a signal from the other side of town. Might as well take this chance,” he said to brush off the Boy Wonder’s concerns of them having their chat in the living room.

“So,” Danny started as he clapped his hands together. “Since you haven’t attacked me yet, we can start with your names.”

“You can call me Rob,” Robin said from the seat next to him.

“Roy,” he reluctantly gave, to which Danny shook his head looking disappointed.

“Nope, try again. I asked for your name, not the name of the guy you were cloned from.” Robin stiffened at the mention of the real Roy, having not yet been told about Danny’s earlier comment.

“How do you know that?” The Boy Wonder questioned, falling into his mentor's way of interrogating.

Danny just snorted, “You think I don’t know my own soulmate when I see him? This guy isn’t him; I know ‘cause you can’t clone a soul ring.” He held up his left hand, showing the grey band on his middle finger. A jolt of relief surged through him, the ring wasn’t black, Roy was alive!

“And how are you so sure of that?” Robin prodded, keeping the conversation on track for the two of them so he could have his validation in peace.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, waterboy,” Danny quoted at Robin before turning back to him. “So, do you have a name yet or do we need to think of one?”

The question was asked with a tone so soft he thought Danny thought he might break at the suggestion. It was kind, just as kind as he remembered Danny to be. He glanced at Robin before looking at his own hands, uncertain.

“I… I don’t- I haven’t thought of one yet,” he stuttered, feeling suddenly far too vulnerable. He didn’t want to look up at his originals’ soulmate's face, scared of what he’d see. Funny how he could face world ending threats and yet this civilian from some small ass town in the midwest was the thing that scared him more.

He heard Danny shift from in front of him as he spoke, “Alright.” The word was spoken so gently he had to look up, just to see if he meant it like that. Pools of ice froze the breath in his lungs as he stared at an expression so full of melancholy. Fuck, why is Danny looking at him like that? Why is he looking at him like he’s seen what he’d done -what he is- and understands?

Danny is just a civilian, isn’t he?

Their stare broke as Danny looked to Robin. “So, if you aren’t here ‘cause of Amity’s problems or Vlad, what are you here for?”

Robin was about to answer, but he cut him off. “We need your help.”

Those icy-blues turned back to him with a tilt of his head. “Help? What help can I give you?”

He swallowed, mouth dry, “We need to know anything you know about Roy- the real Roy. It might be a stretch but we’re running out of options.”

“And why do you think I know anything about where he is when nobody’s told me anything about what you’ve been doing for the last five years?” Danny’s eyes glanced between the two heroes before him. “I mean, I know he’s not dead. I’ve checked more than a few times to make sure. And since I’m pretty sure he’s in the living world I can’t help you magically find him.”

“Living world?” Robin asked before either of them had the chance to decipher what that could mean.

Danny looked between the two across from him, face twisted in utter confusion. “You mean after all this time, even when I have two of the Justice league Juniors here-” he lifted his hand to stop whatever denials Robin was going to try to start. “-Yes I know you work with the Justice League, I’d be stupid not to know who works with the ignorant Super Friends when they’ve been ignoring every call for help we’ve sent. You also work in such a similar occupation to the town hero to have been cloned, but that's not the point. The point is, you came to Amity Park, the most haunted place on earth- to Fentonworks- and you haven’t done your research?”

Silence filled the room as the two heroes looked at each other. What do they even say to that? Apparently Robin knew, as he looked back to Danny, sitting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers over his mouth.

“How about we all start from the beginning?”

∆•∆•∆•∆

So.

Ghosts are apparently real. That was not something he expected to have confirmed today. Robin looked to be in a similar state of shock, though the bat-poker face kept his expression level for anyone not used to their microexpressions. Danny had a similar look of contemplation, though much less surprised.

“So let me get this straight. You-” Danny pointed to him, “-were created five years ago by an evil extension of the American government with funding by an evil-er billionaire. You took Roy’s place so you could make it to the big leagues so that this evil billionaire and his evil friends could gain control of said big leagues. Because Roy had a soul ring and you don’t, they gave you the implanted memory of me dying so you wouldn’t think to check in on me and accidentally throw off your mission. You succeeded in getting control of the Justice League, found out you were actually a clone, then promised to find your original. Now you’re here because you're running out of ways to find him. Did I get all that right?”

The two heroes nodded dumbly, before Robin piped up. “And let's see if I get what you’re telling us.”

Danny nodded as Robin took a breath. “So. Ghosts are real. Your town has been dealing with ghosts for the last six years without help from the Justice League because you stopped trying to call for help after year three. Your town hero has fought world destroying beings and gods and no one ever noticed. Five years ago was the last time you heard from Roy, but you know he’s alive because A. You’ve tried looking for him in the literal realm of the dead, and B. Your soul ring hasn't gone black and crumbled yet. Did I miss anything?”

“You forgot the part where the whole town basically has a bone to pick with the league now ‘cause they never even answered our calls, and the secret government facility trying to capture and experiment on anything with even an ounce of ectoplasm in their systems with a base right outside the town limits.”

Robin took in another breath and held it. “Right, that too,” he squeaked out.

Looking back to Danny, he tried to examine him more than he could at the door. Eyebags so deep you could sleep in them, musculature suited for dodging and running, rather than brute strength, faint scarring crisscrossing both arms reaching as far as his collarbones.

“You fight them,” he realized.

Danny shrugged, “When I have to, yeah. You won’t find many people in Amity that don’t have these kinds of scars. Even the kids have a few good scrapes here and there.” He looked down then, eyes following the paths his scars made with an expression of someone who’d seen too much for his age. The same kind of look he knew greeted the Team whenever one of them looked in the mirror.

Heavy silence engulfed the living room as the two heroes tried to come up with something to say to this civilian, to console or apologize or to rectify years of neglect- something. But there was no excuse for this. For what the whole town -for what Danny- had to go through, no words were enough to make that right.

It wasn’t his place to apologize anyway.

Instead he stood up, Robin following quickly after. “Well, this was enlightening in more ways than one, but since you can’t tell us where Roy is we have to go find answers somewhere else.” He remarked with no heat, he couldn’t even find it in him to sass.

He was so hopeful that this would give them something, anything more than just to prove that the real Roy was alive. They found that out, at least, but no clue as to where Luthor might have hidden him. This was their last real lead, even if it was a longshot.

A noise from behind them had him turning to see Danny following them. “Now where do you think you’re going?” Danny asked them.

“Back? We need to track down more leads or nothing will be done,” he replied.

“We also need to report the situation in your town. This was a major oversight, and it needs to be rectified,” Robin added on.

“Not without me you’re not,” Danny said as he crossed his arms.

He gave Robin a look of confusion as Danny continued. “I’ve waited this long to hear something about my soulmate and you think I’ll stay put when you tell me he needs help? Fat chance of that.”

“It’s too dangerous for a civilian,” Robin tried to argue. “If we do find him he’ll be surrounded by highly trained guards. It would devastate Roy if he came back and you weren’t there.”

“That’s why I’m going,” Danny argued back. “And who said anything about me being a civilian?”

Before either of them could ask a bright light sprung from Danny's waist, splitting in two and crossing his body. Where the light passed Danny changed, from a t-shirt and jeans to padded cloth and armor. Green eyes stared at them under ethereal snow white hair, accented by a sharp smile.

“Meet the town hero,” Danny quipped in a voice of static and screams.

~~~~~

Tibet

February 14th 2013,

02:01 BT

“Your source better not be wrong, Phantom,” Will hissed at the half-ghost as he crouched behind the outer wall of a League of Assassins base.

“Trust me Will, Dani knows better than to joke about something this serious,” Danny whispered back, scoping the place out from the inside just to make sure. Dani knew how serious this was, sure, but Danny said he still needed to see it with his own eyes.

It had been a little over two years since Danny had joined Will on his search for his template. Another two years of searching for someone the rest of the League thought was dead, even if the evidence to the contrary wrapped around Danny’s finger. Even Dick and Jim, the two who had held out the longest, had turned their backs on the search. Now it was just him and Danny, and Danny’s clone whenever she decided to give them a lead with a call.

“One more door,” Danny murmured through the comms. “This door is even more heavily guarded than the others, think this is the one Dani was talking about.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as Danny bypassed the guards and the door, and the silence stretched longer than Will thought acceptable. “Phantom?” He asked through the line.

A rough breath enhanced the light static that never seemed to go away with Phantom on comm. It was shaky, and Danny didn’t need to breathe in his ghost form. “Did you find something?” Will asked urgently.

“It's him,” Danny croaked, before putting a little more force in his words. “It’s him, Will. We found him.”

Will has wanted to hear those words for the last three years. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream and dance and hug someone. They found him. After three long years they found him.

Now they just had to get him out of there.

“Pull back, Phantom,” he ordered. “We’ll have a better time of extracting him if we get rid of the obstacles in the way first.”

“On it,” Danny responded. Will readied his trick arrows.

~~~~~

Danny was reading when Roy woke up. He came to slowly, looking around the room first -checking for possible exit strategies- before his eyes fell on Danny. Danny could see a spark of recognition flash by before his face twisted in confusion. He glanced at his ring, then Danny, then did a double take at his lack of right arm. Panic rose in his face, so Danny put his hand over Roy’s, dragging his soulmate’s attention from his amputated limb back to Danny.

“I know you want to freak out, but how ‘bout we explain a few things first, okay?” He suggested softly, to which Roy shakily agreed.

With his other hand Danny snatched up his phone, sending a text to Will that Roy was awake. He ran into the room not five minutes later, followed by Oliver Queen, Roy’s mentor and -to Danny’s not so recent knowledge- Green Arrow. Ollie looked almost like he wanted to cry. Will just looked relieved, Danny could sympathize.

He’s waited too long for this reunion.

“Great, the whole gang’s here,” Roy quipped, drawing Danny’s attention back to him. “Now can someone tell me why Danny’s here, why there’s another me, and where the hell my arm went‽”

Will and Ollie glanced at each other in uncertainty, unsure of where to start and how to let him know gently that he’s been asleep for six years. Danny scoffed, rolling his eyes as he gave Roy’s hand a pat and stood up to be next to the other two heroes.

“Cowards,” he hissed at them before turning to face Roy, who was looking more than a little lost. “Well Roy, It's nice to finally see you again, now buckle up ‘cause this is one hell of a story.”

∆•∆•∆•∆

Danny watched as the other two left the room, before turning back to Roy. For all intents and purposes he looked like a confused teenager that had just been told he was replaced for six years, but the ring on Danny’s finger was blazing with something hotter than confusion and loss.

“I said I wanted some time alone, Danny,” Roy ground out. His acting was so clear Danny let a chuckle escape his throat as he sat back in his chair.

“No luck Roy, I’m not leaving you this time.” A glare was shot his way from the boy on the bed, he brushed it off easily with a smile. “I’ve waited this long to be with you again, you really think I’ll leave you alone so you can ghost me?”

Roy sneered, dropping the act entirely in favour of a glare so strong it would make Vlad quiver in his boots. “You can’t keep me here, not when Luthor needs a beating.”

“Keep you here?” Danny chuckled, “who said anything about keeping you here? I want to go with you. If I can’t stop you from leaving I can at least make sure you don’t get yourself in another mess you can't get yourself out of.”

Roy cocked his head, dropping the glare in favour of a confused look. “Danny, not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but you really think you can keep up?”

Danny looked his soulmate over before he gave a sharp grin, exposing his fangs as he flashed his eyes to green. “If I could keep up with you but older for three years, I can keep up with you for as long as I want.”

Only the book Danny was reading greeted Will and Ollie when they made their way back to the recovery room.

#dpxdcshipweek2023 #DPxDC shipweek #Day 2 #RoyxDanny #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #soulmates #roy harper #will harper #danny fenton #Love these gremlins together #Pls let this not be the only one #I wish for more #Ham's fics

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aestariiwilderness · 1 month

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Bad Batch Season 3, Episode I Don't Even Know And Honestly Will Not Be Keeping Track * SPOILERS * (solely because Mina Nunyabiz *REAL NAME REDACTED* has gone on so many diatribes about this inexcusable social faux pas on Tumblr known as failing to accurately and comprehensively tag your posts for pieces of media which some people haven't gotten to watching yet and this means that if they wish to be on Tumblr without getting unwanted foreknowledge they have to undergo some vast and imprecise tribulation known as filtering by tag)

I have come to two, nay, three, EIGHT whole conclusions: a. Tech hacked the Star Wars Internet. b. Tech was the Star Wars Internet. c. Pabu does not have Star Wars Internet. d. The Batch cannot function without their Internet. e. The Batch has lost its sole functioning strategic brain cell. Hemlock caught it when Tech fell. The muscle and the face are kind of just winging it now; the auxiliary brain cell said "haha see you later, losers, I need to be Rex's chauffeur"; and the attitude's first and only plan is, as always, just "KILL". f. These men are adorable and also utter morons. g. Crosshair has no experience with women. Ever. He doesn't even know how to talk to them. They're a different species to him even when they aren't literally a different species. His two methods of social interaction just recently expanded to three (murder, snark, and now mother hen) and still none of them have anything to do with proper behavior towards adult females. Let alone one who doesn't share his genes. You can tell by the way he wildly swung from default "PICK FIGHT/KILL" to "offer genteel non-sarcastic hand up to my ship without sarcasm after you almost got my Stockholm syndroming sister killed by a giant turtle because if I can't kill you I literally am at a loss for how to behave towards you". h. Tech was the only member of the squad who ever bothered to get a newspaper and check to see who they were actually fighting.

Omega IS unsettling. Well noticed Venti

Hunter, continuing to be the king of asking the specific follow-up questions that the audience feels is relevant and the askee absolutely cannot answer without losing their mysterious vibes (see: season 1 finale -- "WHEN did you have your chip removed, exactly" "Does it matter?" "YES")

Hunter, continuing to be the king of not getting an answer to his very reasonable specific follow-up question

For special ops commandos in a war they were literally created to fight, these guys do not seem to have much of a concept of "stranger danger"

"ASKING FOR A FRIEND" omigosh Omega. I have never been so ashamed of you. The big fascist experiment-happy regime is after you. WHY CAN YOU STILL NOT LIE

Why is Omega just. In charge now

And still the most unbelievable thing about this episode was like half a minute in with Crosshair willingly helping a random Pabuan AND not mercing them when they dared to smile, thank him, and use his name

HOWEVER MANY EPISODES IN AND WE JUST GOT TO THE ANSWER THAT EVERYBODY ALREADY KNEW ABOUT M-COUNTS

WAY TOO MANY EPISODES IN AND WE STILL DIDN'T GET A STRAIGHT-UP ANSWER ABOUT OMEGA'S

Qui-gon had a blood test! With a little litmus stick and everything! The crazy weed-addicted space monk had a scientific stick he jabbed baby Anakin with and HEY PRESTO M-COUNT SPREADSHEET. WHERE IS THAT HANDY BIT OF TECHNOLOGY HUH

#bad batch season 3 #star wars #the bad batch #funny #tbb season 3 spoilers #spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #mywildernesspost

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xenomorphee3 · 1 year

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A New Mission Chapter 1: Survived Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44672200/chapters/112389745 Miles’s Banshee, in addition to feeling his physical pain, could feel his desire and desperation to reach Bridgehead City through her tsaheylu connection with him. The physical pain in his face, limbs, body, and lungs, that she could understand. The pain was not hers though, so she could still fly in spite of it, though uncomfortably and with great concern for her “Na’vi” companion. However, her companion had emotions she could not comprehend, emotions that to the Colonel were swirls of failure, rage, revenge, relief, and sadness.

He failed his mission to capture and kill Jake Sully, and he felt rage at him and his wife, whatever her name was, for killing his fellow recombinant Marines. His Marines who had quite literally gotten a new lease on life, only for it to be cut short on this harsh planet. Miles was vengeful and not tempered at all in his ideas of killing Jake Sully and his family if anything his desires for vengeance magnified. Miles also had feelings of relief, however. The last thing he remembers was being caught in a sleeper hold under the wreck of the Sea Dragon, Jake’s arms gripped firmly, painfully around his neck. He felt overwhelming panic and fear, and just couldn’t comprehend the nature of the quick switch around. It all happened so fast. He had him. He had Jake by the neck in the clutches of his legs, but then a sudden pulse of underwater pressure and confusion. Jake had him. And then… darkness.

Miles remembers suddenly waking up at the surface of the water, a small force lurching him towards some rocks. Relief. There was sunlight, there was air, there was the opportunity for survival. Even greater relief overcame him when he realized that it was his son, Spider, who had saved him. After all that happened, a boy saves his father. However, Miles also felt a great sadness knowing that despite this effort, and the months they spent together-- months of Spider teaching him and the others Na’vi, and light-hearted recom group adventures and shenanigans, his son spurned him in favor of his enemy. Now, Miles was beat down, saddened, and ashamed. Through his swirl of pain and emotions, his Banshee knew to keep flying straight and steady.

Miles’ Banshee continued to fly smoothly over the ocean as not to aggravate her companion’s wounds. Bridgehead was about a day’s flight from the Sea Dragon wreck, the scene of his failure. Miles leaned in pain over his Banshee’s neck to grab a water canteen from her green ops pack. Miles’ Banshee was a being he had come to love though his mind would not let him overtly admit that. He could feel that she cared about him, and he cared for her. He also developed a lot of pride over having her. With her beautiful dark indigo skin and colorful patterns, he knew that she was a unique color morph given the fact that he’d never seen a Banshee like her in his previous life’s memories of 15 years on Pandora. Miles had come to call his banshee Cupcake, based on a jeering joke and reminder from Z-Dog.

[Flashback to atop the Hallelujah Mountains after all the Recoms have claimed their banshees]

“So Colonel, what’s yours’ name? Cupcake, right?” said Z-Dog cheekily. “That’s what you called it before you decked it in the face.”

“Cupcake, huh?” Said Miles. He glanced at his Banshee, who mildly hissed at him when they made eye contact. “Fits.”

[Flashforward to Miles flying on Cupcake, nothing but sea in front of him.]

He would of course come to learn that Cupcake was female, thanks to a brief biology quip from Dr. Ian Garvin, the jaded marine biologist and scientific head of CET-OPS though he didn’t much seem like he was the head of anything. He pointed out something about the anatomy of her chest, as well as her back legs that were relevant to egg-laying. Miles didn’t care to remember the details he just knew Cupcake was his girl. Miles, injured, could sense through the bond that Cupcake wasn’t 100% either. When putting his water canteen back he looked down at the gear on her neck and noticed blood stains and tears. This was from when Jake Sully's monster flying fish leapt out of the water to grab her and pull her into the water, sending Miles flying and Cupcake panicking, desperate to get out of the water and fly away. Just that memory alone made Miles want to drive a knife through Sully’s skull. The emotion made Cupcake hiss lowly while flying.

Miles soared over the vast open sea, blue azure beauty as far as the eye can see. Ocean going banshees flying in the distance, nalutsa swimming in the clear waters below. Miles was not lacking in basic emotion, and through his pain he could appreciate the beauty, in many ways a welcome distraction, and was able to take in this sight, one that his past life certainly never had on Earth in his equivalent younger years. He recalled a memory of experiencing his first truly clear skies on the first day of his long, illustrious tour on Pandora. Of course, Miles’ recom body has never known anything else but Pandora. The conflict of human memories versus his actual experience as a recom would sometimes creep up to be too much to bear. He flicked away these thoughts like a flick of his tail… which having one was also too much to bear sometimes. But he’d rather think about his tail, and his blue skin, and his big yellow eyes, and his pointy moveable ears than confront the existential crisis that built up inside him.

As he glided, assuming that Cupcake had her bearing to Bridgehead City from her connection with him, he looked at the water far down below and noticed white wakes in the sea’s surface. He gently, psionically guided Cupcake to fly lower, so he could see the source. The wakes were caused by boats. Lifeboats and life rafts in tow. Survivors of the Sea Dragon disaster! Miles honestly felt a great relief, knowing that his commandeering of the ship didn’t lead to a total human loss. That was certainly never his intention. Especially after Jake Sully ignited the missiles of the crashed gunship before laying waste the remainder of the SEC-OPS teams in his attack with his batshit crazy wife.

He was going to fly in closer, but decided it might be best to keep a distance and fly on. He at least knew he was headed in the right direction to Bridgehead upon seeing these boats. He kept flying, passing over the boats, being sure to stay high up in the air lest he be noticed as anything more than a distantly flying Banshee. There was something interesting though, two Banshees were flying near the boats a little bit ahead of them, but low. Miles remembered that he had a pair of binoculars stowed in Cupcake’s pack. He pulled them out, every reach and stretch of his arm was pain, but got them out and weakly brought them up to his eyes—which he couldn’t believe his sight. it was Lyle Wainfleet and Devin Mansk. Miles’ relief grew. Some of his marines survived. Thank god. They must have barely escaped the death throes of the ship, got their banshees and high-tailed it the hell out of there.

Miles had Cupcake speed up over the boats and dove in closer to join his fellow recoms in front of the small boat and life raft caravan of human survivors. Weakly, he touched his fingers to the comms piece on his neck and said, “Lyle, Mansk. Come in marines.” Miles waited a moment.

“Holy shit, Colonel, sir. You’re alive.” said Wainfleet over the earpiece. Miles made his first smile since the sun rose, hurting his face to make it, and said, “Corporal, you know a Marine can’t be killed.” “Oorah, sir.” said Wainfleet over the comms. “Oorah,” said Mansk.

#avatar fanfiction #avatar quaritch #avatar james cameron #recom mansk #recom wainfleet #miles quaritch #lyle wainfleet #avatar the way of water

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somastory · 5 months

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Ok Here’s An Actual TLDR Intro Post

KEEP AN EYE ON THIS POST FOR FUTURE EDITS!

Hi, my name’s Rory 😄 I’m a 24 year old pansexual partnered kinky white cisgender woman (she / her) in the New England area training to become a sex coach (I’m still about 2 years away from finishing this first certification). I’d really like to help out other queer and neurodivergent folks find their full pleasure potential and feel good about the sex they’re having! I’m mostly focused on the scientific and psychological side of sex, rather than any mystical or tantric point of view… but admittedly I am agnostic and like to believe in magic and manifestation 💖. Basically, I have tarot cards, but I’m too lazy to use them!

🚫 DNI if you are: 🚫

— A minor / under 18 years old!!!

Seriously DO NOT interact with adult content creators as a minor… you’re not only putting yourself at risk, you’re also putting the adult at risk too.

Literally anyone else is welcome to interact, I just ask that you be respectful. I only follow, like and reblog posts from people with their age in bio (18+) and after doing the vibe check that they wouldn’t mind my interaction with their content.

👀 What Kind of Stuff You’ll See on This Blog: 👀

— My personal stories about my sexual growth / healing journey. Let’s normalize learning about and embracing our pleasure!

— Sex-positive education and activism :)

— Reblogs of hot stuff related to sexual interests of mine (including taboo stuff like age play, incest, MD/lb, BDSM, somnophilia, dubcon, and noncon… DNI if any of these are a hard no / repulsive for you because I may forget to tag). This may include sexy fan art of my fannish interests if I see it and I do the OP vibe check.

— Fan interests include: LISA, Ted Lasso, Jreg, Danganronpa, Persona 5, Salad Fingers, Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared, The Coffin of Andy & Leyley [and while I’m not really an RPF kinda girl, I also like Formula 1 and Jeremy Clarkson / James May / Richard Hammond].

🤯 My Politics, In Case You Were Wondering (DNI if any of this makes you want to cancel me, but I am open to measured discussion): 🤯

— I support racial justice, LGBT+ rights, disability justice, and the neurodiversity movement. I support transformative justice and I am a prison abolitionist about 99% of the time.

— You can’t control the thoughts in your head or who you’re attracted to. People should not be judged on the basis of their thoughts alone. That being said, I strongly believe that certain attractions are better off (which is to say, safer) explored in fantasy rather than IRL (this includes minor-adult relationships and incest).

— I am Pro Choice but respect Pro Lifers as long as they don’t try to enforce their ideology via the law

— I am COVID vaccinated while being partnered with an unvaccinated person

— I’m kind of post-left these days because I don’t really see a world after capitalism but I think the people can make capital work FOR THEM if they organize with this in mind. Having money is not a sin if you acquired it via your own labor and you strive to use it as ethically as possible.

— I strive to be anti-reactionary in all things except this one: Fuck Trump, I’m never voting for him LMAO. This is also why I’m allergic to most social media because it feeds off reactionary politics.

💖💖💖💖 THANKS FOR READING! 💖💖💖💖 (god this was still probably too much information, I’m really good at that)

#I think this is easier to navigate than the other intro #the first one was mostly there for me to say yes I am a tumblr veteran #I should start tagging my own posts as op shouldn’t I #op

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aquadestinyswriting · 9 months

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Hey! From the horror asks, for a mage that's not Sel (you have other chars to develop too 😛️):

🕰 - what would your character do if they were stuck in a time loop?

🪞 - what would your character do if faced with an evil doppelganger? would they run away, fight? is the doppelganger a reflection of their inner fears?

Thanks for the asks, hen <3. Ah, boo! Luckily, I now have a spreadsheet to actually randomise characters and the 1d4 I had to roll for the rest of the wizards I have so far picked Dwena. Answers are under the cut to save peoples' dashes

🕰 - what would your character do if they were stuck in a time loop?

To be fair to this question, the answer would be fairly similar across most of the Wizard's Tower staff. However; Dwena, in specific, would spend a bit of time working out what the heck kind of magic is keeping her trapped in this loop and if it can be mitigated by her (admittedly op) planeshifter powers. If the timeloop cannot be negated by simply hopping over to another plane for a bit, then she'll likely assume that the timeloop has been put in place by divine means and is probably a prank by Glittergold. If the latter is indeed the case, then Dwena will spend her time in the loop testing out various theories and scientific studies trying to work out what it is that Glittergold wants her to do so He can stop it please thankyouverymuch.

However, if the loop has not been caused by Glittergold, Dwena will leave a distress message after a couple of hundred cycles of this nonsense (depending on how long the loop covers in itself) asking the rest of the tower and Felix to help her find a way to negate it. Given that magic can do weird and funky things that not even the most learned wizards can explain, I'm pretty certain most everyone in the Tower will leap at the opportunity; mostly because Dwena is the head of magical security, so her being stuck in a loop is actually a major security concern. Whatever ends up happening, I'm pretty sure Dwena will have a very extensive set of notes in her head that she can make an academic paper of some sort out of. Then make contingencies to prevent a similar thing from happening again.

What would your character do if faced with an evil doppelganger? would they run away, fight? is the doppelganger a reflection of their inner fears?

An evil doppleganger of Dwena is actually a legitimately terrifying concept. Like most of the staff that head up the wizard's tower, Dwena is an insanely powerful wizard who, on top of having the capability to blow up a good 20-30 mile radius around her, can shift to other planes with just a thought and has the capability to create new ones with not much more effort. Dwena is a good person, and knows how dangerous these abilities are. Now imagine she had a villain arc instead and became a member of the Big Bad Evil Wizard Guy Group (we should probably come up with an alternative name for said group at some point).

Now, the doppleganger is very likely a reflection of the fear Dwena has regarding her abilities. She's acutely aware that, used irresponsibly, that power can completely shatter reality altogether and the only thing that can fix things if that happens is basically a Divine Intervention, and maybe not even that. Given all that, Dwena will try to lure the doppleganger away to a dead plane and try her best to contain the fight to that plane only.

What Dwena does to defeat her doppleganger depends on why it's even a thing to begin with and what it does. If it's a magical thing created from her own deepest fears, then confronting and talking to it will probably work just fine. If it's a creation of something else that's looking to destroy her, then she figures out who created it and goes off to kill them before the doppleganger can do too much damage and will ask her friends to try and mitigate what damage is done. If the doppleganger was created to just destroy everything, Dwena will have her hands full just trying to contain the damage and will rely on her friends and a bunch of adventurers dealing with the creator.

Either way, Toreguarde is probably fucked in some capacity. Which, honestly, is nothing new.

#writeblr ask game #answered ask #aquadestinyswriting #titan fighting fantasy #dwena diamonddust #swearing cw

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smzeszikorova · 10 months

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Magic Inspiration tag

Another tag game from @dogmomwrites! Thanks so much :D

I think @adrielcastlyre might be a better person to respond to this one than me, actually. While I invented the magic system originally, they took charge of its evolution as our story's changed. Nonetheless, I will do my best.

I'm very tired today, and also not entirely sure who among my mutuals gets excited about tag games. So I'm leaving this one as an open tag, and inviting my mutuals (and anyone else, really) to let me know if you want me tagging you for this sort of thing.

Rules—share the inspiration/s for the magic system in your WIP.

I don't know if there were any specific external inspirations. We kind of just made it up as we went. And it evolved a lot along the way. Magic users went from being ridiculously OP, to practically useless in combat, to OP again, and slowly we began cementing something in between. This is the result.

In the P&K universe, magic is a biological function. Users are born with a pair of extra organs—producers—which typically appear in the upper arms. Their function is pretty self-explanatory. They produce magic. Not everyone possesses them, but a lot of people do. Then there's the network of vessels that exist as part of what's called the trazian network. (As a bit of totally useless lore, the reason it's called that is because the scientist who named them was called Henry Traz.) These vessels transfer magic from place to place. Originally, though, magic as a network of vessels resembling the cardiovascular system was a bit unheard of. What the scientists of the day knew were the producers, the "trazian tendons"—renamed "major trazian vessels" once people began specializing in magic science and churning out studies on the subject of the network's various parts and their respective functions—and the stoppers at the ends of the wrists, which allow for magic release. Magic science is a very, very new field of study. Little is known on the subject, so specialists like Winson are valued highly. (Another fun bit of useless lore: the misnomer "trazian tendons" became ubiquitous pretty quickly in non-scientific circles, and because the Kenacian and Pemokese populations, by and large, aren't avid readers of Kuryeizki scientific literature, a lot of them still call the major vessels tendons. This includes Levi, on occasion, but not because he doesn't understand the difference. He just likes pissing Winson off.) Similar to your system, @dogmomwrites, magic in the P&K universe is something that needs to be learned. Typically, the muscle allowing for stopper movement is something that loosens around puberty. So really young kids, with few exceptions, don't make especially powerful magic users. But like I said, there are exceptions. Generally, the reason for this is that some magical abilities work within the body rather than operating on external things, and since those abilities don't need to be channeled, they don't require a flexible trazian stopper. Abilities like this weren't very well understood until one Kuryeizki scientist proved the existence of a trazian network, and given the recency of their discovery, scientists haven't really decided on the official name for this "magic dichotomy". Some scientists say "transferrable vs. reflexive abilities". Others say "channeled vs. intrinsic." Some prefer one over the other. Winson switches back and forth depending on what he feels is most relevant to the situation at hand. Magic users are very dependent on their magic. They can release it in small amounts, but there's a failsafe in place to prevent them from using too much at a time. (They pass out, as with your system, @dogmomwrites, and more often than not, it doesn't get to that point. Every once in a while, you'll get someone whose energy spikes when they use magic, but it's a temporary high, and those types tend to crash much harder.) This is essentially the foundation on which book one operates. There's a lot more complexity to magic than that, and I'm not going to go into stuff like genetic inheritance, blockers, illnesses, enhancements, exceptions, etc. here. You'll get all that in the book. If/when, in the distant, indefinite future, my book is published, pay attention to the stuff Winson, Adriel, and much later, Lviszki, say about magic systems. As the story progresses and the characters learn more about it, you'll notice the way the science evolves.

Thanks again for the tag. This was super fun!

#writing stuff #p&k #magic system #magic inspiration tag

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dbphantom · 2 years

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I've been rereading some of my Bl3 h2o au and actually I missed it sm lol bbbbbbbbbbb info dump incoming

It's wild bc some parts come across as awkward to me now after about 2-3 years... To me this fic is very recent so to think I've improved enough to recognize flaws in such a short amount of time... Wha!!

Also Junpai-7 arc my beloved. That's all. I love this arc. Twin sun planet that hates the moon and has sun festivals with Digby Vermouth to celebrate longer days. Custom made RGB Guardian OC that designed mermaids and furthers 'Eridian experimentation' lore and she eventually teams up with the Crimson Raiders after talking to Tannis. The fact that I accidentally called Guardian possession as a lore mechanic because I wanted a way to fit being moonstruck into my silly au. There are pirates and vampires and double-crossing mermen and an Eridian Compass that points the owner to an underwater Vault that becomes a huge whirlpool with a giant sea monster inside. This arc is SO self-indulgent and I love it so much.

Also when ur reading the Pandora 'main story' stuff u can see where I decided the Crimson Raiders' new base on Pandora was going to be Roland's Rest while they build Sanc-III during the main story because it abruptly cuts back to it in the middle of an arc LOL (and also where I decided there was a Pandoran moon pool in the Salt Flats instead of a lineage factor to this one... Because moon pools... I wanted to fit one into the main story to have a basis for the 'revisiting junpai-7 with the Crimson Raiders' arc OK shhh)

And I forgot I killed off Emma and Nino and actually my heart broke when they died bc I was like 'Awww I missed the Black Ops Squad' AND THEN THEY WERE DEAD hhggghhh but This arc also has all the Obsidian Block lore with all the characters being named after H2O villains (Greg, Sophie, Dr. Denman, Will...) and ALSO explains some Eridian lore and I think is also the first time I refer to moonstone from tps as its 'scientific' name which is Cythium-3 :) AND this is where Barnabas betrays Zane after joining the Black Ops Squad and starts their whole thing. Very back-and-forth with the vibes overall... Also lowkey can't wait to see what the actual lore explanation is for the triangle jackets because I will be permanently ignoring that in favor of my Black Ops Squad designs thank you (the jackets were bc they were all part of the Dahl Black Ops outfit on Pandora (referencing that ECHO Captain has about Zane) before they were abandoned, but they were nice af jackets so they kept them and replaced the Dahl logo with the triangle design)

Also also there are SO MANY references to stuff that isn't just H2O... In the junpai-7 arc the Rogues (Clay and the gang) are in the process of smuggling the Eridian Compass to a place called Mariejois when Zane shows up to steal it for the pirate queen Cutlord Karuu bc I love One Piece and it's Pirates okay. Also Zane drinks and enjoys Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters, in which he compares the headache after getting moon-driver-struck to getting his brain smashed in with a brick without the lemon.

Also oh my god Zoomer is baby I'm so sorry I forgot about you 🥺 he's so small and beeps so much... He's just doing his best... Yeah he will shoot you but he's trying his best okay don't judge him... Blane (stands for Blue Zane) on the other hand is a total dick and messes with Zane at every opportunity and I think that's beautiful. He's only like that because tediore accidentally switched out the personality cores for the clone so he's the exact opposite of Zane

#I forgot I worked future opportunity into the story too... With all the hyperion workers trying to survive and maintain their structure #I just missed this au a lot #Basically fixes every complaint I have with the main game #(Troy becoming the main villain after Tyreen dies. The full story taking place solely on Pandora with other planets being dlc stuff.#Getting to explore future versions of BL1 and 2 areas. Working in the consequences of the bl2 story into 3 (the twins using old Dahl and #Hyperion outposts to house the cult and do eridium mining). Old Vault Hunters actually being with the Raiders and around and important.#There's tons more but tag typing is ehhh. Let's just say Bl3 h2o au my beloved)#H2O au #Cruddy rambles #I FORGOT TO MENTION #Maya not permanently dying for no reason #Ava getting the Leech powers #Bc like. Otherwise she has basically a nonexistent arc... She complains and then gets what she wants in the end... Boo!#And the Vault of the Architects actually existing and having monsters that Troy absorbs to get his boss fight powers

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veworad · 2 years

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Jordan peterson 12 rules for life audiobook download

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P446 2021 (print) | LCC BJ1589 (ebook) | DDC 170/.44-dc23Īll names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals involved. Peterson.ĭescription: : Penguin Portfolio, | Includes Title: Beyond order : 12 more rules for life / Jordan B. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission.

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Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Maps of Meaning: The Architecture of BeliefĬopyright © 2021 by Dr. Sadly, when it comes to the complex concoctions current pharmaceutical chemistry continuously cooks up, the odds for a susceptible like Jordan Peterson are not good, and getting worse, in this World.

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Maybe, IF he makes a full recovery, which takes many years, and has enough life left to really process the experience he'll be able to help his reading demographic to think more critically. 'Better' men and women than he have succumbed to addiction. Peterson did have a few dubious encounters with an authoritarian currently on the outs with Brussels, supposedly, but, he was apparently under the influence of at least one addictive substance around that time so who knows what was going on in his tortured psyche then. Maybe Egal is right and they crossed paths in "hell", IDK? On the other hand the obsessive compulsion of the Far Left with their own and everyone else's genitalia, personal pronouns, and daft economic notions at times, can induce some sympathy for Peterson viewpoints, not so much for Rush. But then again drug addiction, sexually harassment and economic exploitation of less powerful servants in his employment never hurt Rush Limbaugh's reputation or bottom-line. Red Lobster has a point about the drug addiction as it does sort of run counter to the implied image projected in the first book. "Hormonal Gym Junkies": You mean anyone who doesn't drink soy and are not sexists, but consider exercise and health as good?Īre you paid to shill against popular anti-communists (who are also anti-fascists) to 'preserve' the radical left narrative of "be tolerant of us we'll never be tolerant of you" spoonfed garbage? "Personality Cult": I bet you have a poster of that painting of Bill Clinton in a blue dress that pedophile Epstein had in his mansion. "Bankrolled by the Kochs": As compared to what, bankrolled by Soros or Rothschild or the CCP which is where your narrative is financed? "Reactionary": As if the globalist satanic pedophile communist cult's radical leftist brainwashing for you is supposed to be the sole and exclusive "Action" as the standard after which every other idea is reduced to nothing but a "reaction" to it? Karl Marx called, he wants his "socialism is inevitable" BS back. Hey Red Lobster, op mockingbird media called, they want their "when you can't attack the message, attack the messenger" + "everyone who isn't an apologist for communism is a fascist" narrative back.Īd hominem -> Lacking intellectual wherewithal. Beyond Order provides a call to balance these two fundamental principles of reality itself, and guides us along the straight and narrow path that divides them. While chaos, in excess, threatens us with instability and anxiety, unchecked order can petrify us into submission. What’s more, he offers strategies for overcoming the cultural, scientific, and psychological forces causing us to tend toward tyranny, and teaches us how to rely instead on our instinct to find meaning and purpose, even-and especially-when we find ourselves powerless. In a time when the human will increasingly imposes itself over every sphere of life-from our social structures to our emotional states-Peterson warns that too much security is dangerous. Now, in this bold sequel, Peterson delivers twelve more lifesaving principles for resisting the exhausting toll that our desire to order the world inevitably takes. Jordan B. Peterson helped millions of readers impose order on the chaos of their lives. In 12 Rules for Life, clinical psychologist and celebrated professor at Harvard and the University of Toronto Dr. The companion volume to 12 Rules for Life offers further guidance on the perilous path of modern life.

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goldheartedsky · 3 years

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I told myself I wasn’t going to make a post like this—that I wasn’t going to stoop to the level of making call-out posts—but I really can’t stay silent after what has happened in the last day or so.

The TOG fandom has a serious issue with excusing antisemitism and allowing people who have painfully hurt marginalized groups to continue to ignore, dismiss, and refuse to acknowledge their limits of intersectionality in regards to social justice. I have seen it myself, been on the receiving end of it, and have talked to other Jews in this fandom about what’s been going on and it needs to start being addressed.

Now, I’m not going to name names or tag people (mainly because I have been blocked by almost all of them for this very issue) but if you message me I will gladly tell you the users involved in this. Also, if you have doubts of any of this’s validity and would like screenshots, feel free to reach out to me here or via Discord and I will share them.

A lot of this started when a member of the All&More server had brought up the scientific and medical “discoveries” during the torture and medical experimentation that took place during the Third Reich and how a lot of the origin of it isn’t taught. LR made a comment saying that “we are three-dimensional creatures who are stuck moving forward in time and can’t go back” and added that not using the research won’t make past horrors not happen. When the original user added that there has been a movement in medicine for removing Nazi scientists names off discoveries and that progress was slow moving, she deflected the conversation onto herself, saying “Not using research won’t make my family not harmed by the Japanese” and then immediately pivoted into admitting that, from what she understood, there weren’t any particularly valid scientific discoveries made by them. She then said, in regards to said Nazi atrocities, “Take it, learn about it, put it in context, and then own it and transform it.”

A Jewish member of A&M voiced their discomfort about possibly taking medicine that was a direct result of the murder of their grandparents and other relatives, to which LR said, “Still stuck in the 3rd dimension, still moving forward in time.” I brought up the fact that medicine was built on antisemitism and racism and that starting over would be better than a lot of the procedures we have now. There is a longstanding issue in medicine of disregarding black pain and so much of what we have now is created by eugenicists—including Nazi scientists. There is still a lot of Jewish trauma due to medical experimentation and that is oftentimes dismissed.

LR then made a flippant comment about “Does this count as Godwin’s Law?”—which is about how all internet discussions lead to someone being compared to Nazis/Hitler. When called out on the inappropriateness of the comment, she did not respond and was backed up by one of the mods of the server. There was no apology made nor an acknowledgment about the casual antisemitism of the comments she made and the dismissal of Jewish trauma/pain.

Now, fast forward a couple months when I was contacted by a third party who had not been in the server at the time but had joined and heard about what LR had said there. H said they were friends with LR and had concerns about antisemitism and would like my perspective. I explained what had happened and offered screenshots if they would like them, which they did. They thanked me and apologized that it got to a point that I felt unsafe in the server and had to leave, which I appreciated.

A couple weeks later they reached out to me again and offered to broker a conversation between LR and myself because the situation wasn’t sitting well with them. I was skeptical (because I had been blocked at that point) and didn’t have a lot of hope that this conversation would actually take place but I felt a responsibility to try and be the bigger person and deal with what had been said head on, so I agreed to sit down and have a discussion with her as long as there was a third party in the chat as well—given our history.

After a couple weeks of back and forth with H and hearing that LR had said that she would “think about it”, she finally agreed. I was asked for a time and date and I gave my availability and was told she would be asked for the same. A couple days later, I was suddenly told LR would only be comfortable with this conversation if H acted as a “literal go-between” with us copy-pasting our responses in their DMs so we can “sit with the message and everyone can get to them when they can” rather than it being a session with an actual back and forth and was asked if I was okay with that. I honestly said no, because this was supposed to be a situation where she and I sat down and discussed what she said in the server, not a back and forth message relay where the conversation got dragged out for days or weeks or however long it was going to take. I said if she was serious about meeting me halfway on this, she needed to be able to sit down and actually talk.

H copy-pasted my response to LR and came back that she had backed out of the conversation, which part of me had expected from the beginning—even though all I wanted from this sit down was for her to understand how hurtful the antisemitic comments were and an apology.

These comments that were made in the server are not a secret. It’s pretty well known what was said and again, these were all on record, not privately made in some DM. She has still not owned up to the comments she said, nor has she ever apologized for them. She has ignored message after message about them and blocked more people than I can count. Many of the people defending her when the discourse begins have also been messaged about the comments she’s said and also either block people or ignore the messages completely and refuse to acknowledge them.

Now, this being said, in the most recent conversation about fandom racism, someone brought up the post that was made reducing users on ao3 to faceless, nameless numbers without saying who they were, what they had done, and how they were specifically contributing to the problem of racism in this fandom. They made the comparison of other situations like HR looking at pay stats to see how to fire and included “Nazis, capitalists, and colonizers.”

This is not an invalid argument. There have been other Jews in the fandom who specifically voiced feeling uncomfortable for the exact same reason. However, another person, LT, decided to specifically make a post calling the OP out and drag them for having the audacity to liken it to the Shoah (which, mind you, this person is not Jewish nor did they decide to capitalize Shoah or the Holocaust as they should have). She received a reply saying, “you’re offended by antisemitism? Here’s LR’s (someone LT has agreed with multiple times over racism in fandom) track record of antisemitic comments” which outlined everything I delved into previously.

LT said that they were “unaware of this incident until a couple days ago” but agreed that it was an upsetting display of casual dismissal of Jewish pain and hoped that LR had apologized. She was then called out for being aware of it and still continuing to reblog LR’s posts even after knowing about the comments and was linked to my post clarifying that LR had not apologized and refused a discussion about it, to which LT said that she had gotten “quite a different version outlined in the post linked and corroborated by a third party” and “felt uncomfortable” making a value judgement, insinuating that I was not being truthful about my side of the story.

I messaged LT off-anon and said that I was not lying nor over-exaggerating about what had happened in the server or about the following discussion about trying to broker a conversation with LR, and was immediately blocked by her. I am also not the only Jew who has sent her messages about this topic, only to have their messages ignored.

Now, am I surprised that I was immediately blocked after voicing my issues with what LT had said in that post? No.

She has a history of making antisemitic comments, most of which happened during the brunt of the Israel/Palestine discussion happening, which included statements such as “You cannot be considered indigenous if you hold a position of power”, that, despite having been displaced for 2,000 years, the Jewish diaspora was “integrated” into their respective communities (a wholly untrue statement), as well as linked to and promoted a website with extremely antisemitic articles including one about “Spartan Jews” and how Israeli Jews are violent to “send messages to their deprived self-esteem” that they won’t be victims again. Half of the comments on the site’s front page included such hits as “Death to all Jews” and “Wow, I had no idea this was happening—I guess it is true that Jews control the world and the mass media.” This website was repeated in multiple posts as “unbiased” and “a good resource” for other people to truly know what was going on.

Jewish dissent on the content of some posts and that website went unacknowledged and dismissed.

Being that LT is a relatively big user in the TOG fandom, her posts got circulated frequently. Seeing things like that touted as unbiased was extremely triggering for me and multiple Jews in this fandom that I’ve spoken to.

Now, the reason I made this post in particular was because I have seen a lot of echoing of the sentiment: “no matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is...well aligning yourself with racists.”

This statement NEEDS to become intersectional. If we are criticizing the work of people because of who they hold company with, why does that end at racism? If we are going to have a discussion about racism in this fandom, why are we letting it come from people who have openly said antisemitic things, people who have stood by them and supported them in silence, and people who have silenced Jewish voices speaking up about this issue.

These are not separate issues. This is a really good post regarding the white washing of Jews in social justice discussion and it comes full circle into the medical experimentation discussion. Jews were not seen as white during the Holocaust. The Nazis were trying to cleanse the Aryan race because they did not view Jews as white. They experimented on them because they did not view them as white and, thus, disposable.

Every Jewish diasporic community is still vulnerable. Even though the US has half the world’s Jews, over 50% of the religiously based hate crimes are consistently anti-Jewish even though Jews make up 2% of the population. Chinese Jews are still holding their holiday celebrations in secret due to government crackdowns. The attempted genocide of Beta Israel was less than 50 years ago. Across the Middle East and North Africa, Jewish communities are barely hanging on after centuries of attempted destruction. These are not just Jewish issues but racial issues as well because when people make the sweeping generalization of “Jew” and they only mean white-passing Ashkenazi Jews, it erases so much of our community.

I absolutely agree that this fandom needs to have a discussion about race and portrayal in fic and what we can do better moving forward—and I want to see that done—but we also need to acknowledge what so many people starting this discussion have said and the marginalized groups they have hurt along the way. I see these posts come across my dashboard and know exactly who they're coming from and what they think of people like me. If we are going to say, “No matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is aligning yourself with racists,” then we NEED to be saying, “If you are aligning yourself with antisemites, you’re aligning yourself with antisemites.”

We all need to move forward. But that means moving forward together. Jews included.

#i just really needed to get this off my chest #I really don’t want to start shit but some of this has been bothering me for months and I can’t stay quiet anymore #I’m just so tired #intersectionality includes Jews pass it on

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flowerwebs · 2 years

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i’m a mutual and didn’t feel like putting my name on this publicly, but say something if u want to talk about this more! if u don’t then just ignore this lmao

i’m in my early 20s and the idea that 17 is the end of your childhood is just nuts to me, frankly. in some ways it can feel like that, but i’ve have felt myself become more child-like as i get older. my mum and i are more friends than anything so now our relationship consists of me sending her memes and bugging her and shit. my friends and i are planning a super elaborate peter pan ensemble fit for halloween. we went to a museum and my friend took pictures of me posing the same way as every statue. if you want to go play hopscotch, you can go play fuckin hopscotch! taking on more responsibility for yourself doesn’t mean your childhood ends; it means you get a do-over where this time, you get to PICK all the fun and silliness and enjoyment that you have so you KNOW that you’ll enjoy it

tldr don’t sweat it! growing past 17 is just childhood pt ii electric boogaloo

aww thank you !!! im actually really excited for my bday (i’m planning some fun stuff with friends, also looking forward to stuff like actually learning more how to fully do things like drive), but i’m just scared about now having to seriously think about applying to stuff like college and planning a real career for myself. i have friends who are already graduating in june, and it’s so crazy bc not to be cliche or anything but the times we spent in middle school or on the elementary school playground feel like yesterday, you know? it still feels so surreal to just register that some of them r headed off to ivy leagues in the fall.

but i totally get where ur coming from, op; i remember i had this discord convo where someone said to me that ur twenties seem like an extension of your teenage years—u just have more independence, which sounds great. some scientific studies say adolescence ends around age 25 or 26, actually; it’s nice to know that i still have a long road to go. i’ll think i’ll rly enjoy attending university and pursuing a degree, but i’ll still say true to myself and the values i have now (or maybe they’ll change, but that’s okay—like i used to be this completely different person even a year ago and i like that i’m constantly evolving, always learning stuff). society’s concept of what childhood “is” and “isn’t” is completely stupid; it’s more of a concept really, a concept abt finding innocence and joy in the small things, imagining and dreaming as much as possible, being both soft and strong. u keep those ideas for all your life long, when you think abt it; u never rly become the monochromic world that an “adult” is supposed to entail.

thank u sm for ur advice, op !!! i hope ur peter pan ensemble fit goes well 💖 that trip to the museum sounds fun, i’ll look forward to fun times with my family too in the future

#asks #i’d love to talk to u more abt this !!! u sound like such a wise person

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encyclopika · 3 years

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25, 36, and 53!

Thank you, Amy! :3

25. role model

Ah, my role model is definitely my mentor, who is a retired teacher I met while working at my local aquarium. She's really outdoorsy and has such a way of communicating about nature, that I give her full credit on teaching me how to present marine science. My Master's degree had a large component that *taught* us how to distill tough, scientific ideas, but it's my mentor who really *showed* me how to engage people with story in natural history. Since then, I've perfected my own style by being really excitable about the animals I talk about and funny, (anyone who read the Fish Explained, you'll see that come through, I think!) Even still, I strive to capture an interest in nature and conservation topics in everyone, no matter their age or background, as effortlessly as she does.

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?

I've been thinking about this one for a whole day, and I found that most of my big, life dreams, already came true. Most of what's left feels more like bucket list stuff, but here are the big things I'm striving towards:

Own my own house. My husband and I already own a co-op, but we still have to answer to the community's board and rules. Lots of the things we want a house for involve the perks of a backyard, like my next thing:

Create a mini-preserve in my some-day backyard. It'll be tough, but whatever property we have, I want to landscape it into something that is not only beautiful, but functional to the wildlife that may visit. That means planting native plants and removing invasive species, including stray cats. I want to be an oasis of nature in a suburban hell.

Publish my own original story. This one may come quicker than the others, but I'd love to write a story that I wouldn't mind how well it sold, but just to say I did it, I published for real. I already have great candidates in Paradise and Fire & Brimstone, so maybe I'll just start with them whenever I'm feeling ready to do the work.

53. 5 things that make me happy

Not in any order:

Talking with friends. IRL or my Discord community of writers and fellow BNHA fans, I feel like I have met such amazing people in my life already, and I am so grateful to you all.

My husband. The man knows me better than I know myself. I can tell him anything, and I mean *anything*. He's so understanding of me, my quirks, habits, and disabilities, to the point that I have to marvel at it, because few people have done that for me in my life before him.

Animals and probs just nature in general. This shouldn't be a shocker, but really any animal will do, all things fluffy, scaley, slimey, you name it, I love it and I think it's great. Even spiders and snapping turtles and other animals I'm scared of, I love seeing them in their natural habitat. And just being in nature makes me happy - I feel like knowing how it *works* is part of my happiness, because I can see something that would look insignificant to some - like a drag mark in the sand - and know what it came from or how it formed - spoiler, the drag mark most definitely has a horseshoe crab at the end of it! Even just hearing the ocean waves, bird song, the wind, or bees buzzing make me happy. I just really fucking love this planet. How fortunate are we to live in a world full of adorable things to look at and pet???

Art supplies - this might be a weird one, but sometimes just going to the hobby store and seeing all the paintbrushes, stickers, paper, even the holiday merch, just lifts my spirits. I don't even have to buy anything, I just love browsing that stuff!

Stuffed animals/plushies - I own over a hundred stuffed animals, and, although my collection has slowed down, I still love them so much. And believe it or not, I am very particular about the stuffies I get, namely well-made and accurate ones representing exotic animals (so sea creatures, of course, but I also have a hyena, a bat, and a frilled lizard, to name just a few). But, yeah, this probably goes hand-in-hand with #3, but oh well. Bonus: Dessert. Basically the same as #4 - just looking at cakes at the bakery (and sometimes even just being *read* the dessert menu lmao) makes me really happy, even if I don't get to sample them.

I'm an extremely simple person in actuality, at least I think I am. It's not hard to make me happy, really. Cheap, too, lmao!

Ask me anything from this prompt list!

#ask me anything fam #answer #thank youuuuu

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

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We Grow Together (28)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary: Tessa begins some light undercover work while Bucky pouts in the background... And Clint sheds some light on what happened years ago in Minsk.

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

They all agreed – some more begrudgingly than others – that it would be a good idea for Tessa to see what she could find out from Cal before getting in any deeper with Lobe. The ingenious businessman, as he had referred to himself, had invited Tessa to come out to his temporary facility outside of Albany. But try as they might, none of them could find anything about this mysterious site. And – “You’re not going out to some off-the-radar science lab on your own. Not with the current lack of intel we have.” – Steve was the one giving the orders.

Well, if intel is what he wants...

“I’m telling you,” she says, as Natasha hooks up the not-even-remotely-noticeable bug in the hem of her sweater, “He’s not going to help.”

Steve looms in the foreground, arms folded across his chest. “He doesn’t have to help. Just get him talking and we can sift through all of it later.”

“It’s looking like this might be more than we thought,” Clint mumbles from his position at the conference table. He’s busy looking through all of the virtual files that he and Nat had spent the last few days compiling. Swiping through another page on the holoscreen in front of him, he says simply, “Since all of the Terrigenesis stuff started, people have been paying more and more attention to… super people.” He glances up to raise a single eyebrow at Tessa. “Depending on what his end game is, this Lobe guy could be the next big bad.”

“Then by all means, let’s go waste some time grabbing coffee with some crony instead of figuring out what the big bad is up to,” she snarks with a pout.

Natasha triggers the bug to make sure everything is set up and pats Tessa on the shoulder. “You’re good,” she tells her. “Just don’t conveniently spill a drink on it when you two start in about the past.” She shoots her a playful, crooked smile before turning to gather her things.

“Alright,” Steve starts, manner and voice all business. “I’ll be in the back of the café.” He moves over to Tessa and gently reaches out to grab her shoulders. “I know this should go without saying, but do not leave my sight.”

She rolls her eyes. “You really think I’d take off with him?”

“I might,” Nat mutters from across the room.

“That,” Steve intones, pointing at Natasha, “is why you three are all off comms.”

Clint rises and shuts down the computer in front of him. “See? Once again, your sexual appetite has us sidelined.”

Natasha cocks a brow in his direction. “My sexual appetite has gotten us out of more jams than it’s ever gotten us into.”

Steve visibly winces. “Enough. Come on, guys. Can we just… not?”

Natasha shrugs and shoves some equipment into Bucky’s hands. He almost drops it and has to regain his balance as she piles more crap into his arms. “Make yourself useful, Sargent,” she tells him. “You can’t just stand there brooding in silence all day.”

“I don’t know,” Clint says as he takes some of the load off Bucky. “If anybody can do it, he can.” He gives the silent, gloomy looking man a wink and heads for the door.

000

It makes perfect sense, of course, that the three of them would be sequestered in a van down the block. Well, maybe it doesn’t really makes sense why all three of them would be… Natasha was the only one actually needed in here working the recording equipment. But Clint wasn’t about to sit any part of this out. And Bucky was obviously not going to let Tessa go out there without being close by. Even if no one really believed that she was in any danger.

After all, this was just a simple, casual meetup with a potentially knowledgeable contact who might be able to supply some intel on what now seemed to be an ongoing op. Fine. No big deal. His lab rat girl was just now invariably working out in the field. He could handle that.

Well, he’d be able to handle it a lot better if he had her in his sights. And if he had a weapon, some sort of recourse, in case something did go wrong. But no sniper should be needed today – especially not one who admittedly kind of wants to blow off the head of the guy she’s meeting with.

“How you holding up, Barnes?” Clint asks as he bumps Bucky’s shoulder with his.

He sighs, long and loud. “I’m not used to being non-essential.”

“Yeah, well… Think of this,” he says, sweeping his hand across the tight space of the cargo van, “as a chance to play stakeout. It’s like we’re the FBI!”

“Hunting down mob bosses?” Natasha supplies as she hands each of them an earpiece. There won’t be any comms going, so they can’t talk to Tessa. And they’ll only be in contact with Steve if something goes wrong. But thanks to the high-tech bug in Tessa’s sweater, they’ll be able to hear everything going on at the café down the block.

“Exactly.” His smile fades a bit when he looks back over at Bucky and notices the concerned look on his face. “Did you two get a chance to talk?” he asks him in a low tone. Natasha would be able to hear, of course, there’s barely a foot of space between them. But his voice makes it clear that this talk is between just the two of them.

He nods. “Yeah. We’re good.”

“Cause, you know, the other day… we were just joking around. I mean… I was there at the tail end of their thing. It wasn’t anything like what you and Doc have.”

The sincerity in his voice, makes the corners of Bucky’s lips quirk up into a small smile. “I know,” he says. Then, his face transforming into a confused sort of pout. “I forgot you said that you met him. That was when you first met Tessa, right?”

Clint settles back into the cushioned bench that runs the length of the van. “Yep. Minsk.”

“Funny, isn’t it? How we mark moments in our lives by either the name of the op or the location of the mission,” Natasha utters, without turning around. She continues to busy herself with the recording equipment, doing one final test to make sure everything is working as it should.

Clint lets out just the shortest of chuckles. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“So what happened there?” Bucky asks, genuine interest perking his voice.

Clint gives him a suspicious look. “She never told you?”

He shakes his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, Tessa’s not great about sharing things from her past.”

Natasha finally turns and joins the men in the rear of the van, all equipment up and running. “Did you know she graduated from med school when she was 23?” she asks incredulously. “I only found that out last year.”

“How’d she manage that?” Clint asks, taken aback.

She merely shrugs. “That, she did not share.”

He pulls in a deep breath and drops his raised brows. “Well… the thing in Minsk was kind of a shit show.”

“You were sent by Fury, right?”

He nods. “Genetech had a facility on Long Island that was shut down back in the 1980s. SHIELD found out about some nanocontagion they’d let loose, and they moved in and took out the whole operation. Or so they thought,” he says with a glint. “Fury heard rumblings about the company starting up again in Eastern Europe, so he sent a couple of us to go check it out.”

“Who’d you go with?” she asks.

He shrugs. “McAllen.”

“Ugh,” she responds, obviously sharing his less-then-enthused view of whoever Agent McAllen is.

“So Genetech was what?” Bucky inquires. “Some kind of medical lab?”

“Hardly,” Natasha answers. “They were a powerful med firm, specializing in genetic research. They were started by a guy who designed bio-weapons with Howard Stark.”

“Can’t say they were always exactly reputable,” Clint intones. “But they did manage to get a big following in the scientific community. No surprise, really, that some new facility popped up even after the company was supposedly shut down.”

“And no surprise that someone like Tessa would want to work there,” Natasha says simply.

“True,” Clint declares. “But, she knew something was up. And she was the only one there willing to help me figure out what it was.”

“What was it?” Bucky asks.

“Long story short? They were engineering a gene that would mutate when exposed to radioactive energy.” He frowns briefly. “I’m still not really sure about the science of it, but the theory was that, if they could introduce it into a human host, and then expose the host to radioactive material, they could create a… super person.”

Bucky grimaces. “A super soldier?”

He cocks his head as if to say, maybe. “The higherups didn’t really share their plans with Doc… and she was the only one who shared anything with me.”

“So wait,” Natasha interrupts, suddenly onto something. “The radioactive genes, or whatever they were… the samples that Tessa accused Calvin of stealing – ”

“One and the same.” He clears his throat before going on. “I shared some confidential intel with Doc about what Genetech had been up to all those years ago. And she agreed to hand over some files on the work they’d been doing. But before she could get them all copied, the facility went on lockdown – with us trapped in it – because samples of the nearly perfected genes had been stolen. She knew right away who did it. Went on a little tirade in the office while alarms were going off around us. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, and she’s mumbling and yelling about how that son of a bitch had sworn he was there for her and not some damn job.” He smiles and shakes his head. “Whew, she was pissed.”

“How did you get out?” Natasha asks. Her chin rests on her fist as she watches the man, clearly enthralled by his story.

“Right, well. First we got caught. Armed guards rushed the office, saw we were stealing files. Chaos ensues… yada yada yada,” he says, waving his hand in a glib gesture. “I got shot. Doc let loose.”

Bucky frowns. “She used her powers?”

“Yep. Smoked ‘em. All eight of them. They just… dropped.” He takes in a deep breath. “She got us out of there and we holed up in this old factory outside of town while she fixed me up.” He turns to Bucky and says, utter sincerity lacing his words, “That was about two weeks before my daughter was born. If not for Doc, I never would have gotten to know my little girl. Never would’ve even made Nathaniel.” With a small smile, he tells him, “I’m never gonna be able to repay her for that.”

Natasha scoffs. “Sounds like you never would’ve been in that position if it hadn’t been for that asshole Calvin.”

“Oh ho,” Clint says, raising a brow, “So now you agree he’s an asshole? Is your crush fading?”

She shrugs. “He’s still hot as hell. But it sounds like he almost got two of my best friends killed. So if I meet him, I might just have to end him.”

Bucky looks to Clint, curiosity lacing his features. “You said you met him?”

“Ah, yeah,” he breathes out. “During my first meeting with Doc… I showed up a little early at this bar and saw them together. He was laughing and whispering in her ear and shit. And she was looking not amused. I stopped him on his way out of the bar… asked if he was an American… you know, play the whole what a small world card. He told me he was in Minsk on business, but would only be in town a few more days. I asked about the woman he was with at the bar, if she was his girlfriend… small talk,” he says with a wink. “The guy just laughs and says when I want her to be. Prick. Then he lights up a cigarette, shakes my hand, and disappears into the night.”

“And no one ever caught him? After stealing the samples?” Natasha asks.

“Nah. Doc said he was sort of a mercenary… doing whatever needed to be done for whoever was the highest bidder. So it was no surprise he managed to disappear. That guy in Africa, the one that Ultron got the vibranium from? Saw Calvin with him in some photos taken about ten years back. That’s the kind of guy he is. Anyway, it was just a few months after Minsk that he got made by MI-6… doing some kind of dirty deal. But then he conveniently got blown up in a car bomb before they could nail him.”

Bucky lets out an irritated huff from his corner of the van. “Nice,” he says with a nod. “Good story. I feel much better about this guy now.”

Clint laughs and slaps him on the shoulder. “The takeaway from all of this is that Doc’s been done with that guy for years. And she knows who he really is. She’s not gonna get sucked into his lies or manipulation.”

“I never really expected her to,” he mumbles.

Clint takes in the thoughtful expression on Bucky’s face and adds, “She’s grown up a lot since then. I, for one, think she’s been making much better decisions.”

The corner of Natasha’s mouth quirks up. “Yeah, from asshole mercenary to brooding ex-assassin.”

Clint tosses a reproachful look over his shoulder at her. “Even I think that was crass.” He turns back to Bucky. “Sarge, after what she did for me, I’ll have Doc’s back for life. So if I thought she was wasting her time with someone who didn’t deserve her, I’d chase him off in a heartbeat.”

Bucky cocks his head at the man to his right. “You haven’t been trying to chase me off these last couple years?” he asks with a smirk. “You’re saying this is just how you are?”

Clint snorts. “Hilarious. See?” he says, turning to Natasha. “They’re made for each other.”

She throws up a silencing hand and presses the earpiece into her ear. “We’re on,” she says, tone suddenly all business. “The asshole is in the building.”

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