Barry’s like, “I want to believe you but like I don’t believe you but I don’t have any reason not to believe you other than the fact that I don’t believe you and I don’t even think you believe you but like I understand…I think.”
There was countless of nights I spent, at the edge. Nearly jumping down. Anticipating my life to end. But every time the faces of my loved ones flash through my mind and I give life a try one more time.
You walked down the hallway of the academic building slowly, the weight of the paper in your bag causing you to drag your feet. Each footstep bringing more and more uncertainty about the next chapter of your life. You noticed that the door to your professor’s office was locked, and a small sigh of relief escaped your lips.
You didn’t want to have to explain to him how all your interviews had turned to dead ends. You didn’t want to have to explain how you were still going to be stuck in this town. Stuck in the memories of the past year when all you wanted to do was move forward. There was nothing that you wanted more than leaving. If he could leave, so could you. But instead you had gotten hired at the coffee shop in which you first met him. Left to repeat the same memories over and over again.
And as you left the building for the last time, you didn’t feel any different. The emptiness that had filled your chest the day he left was still there. You held your phone up to your ear, the familiar number having been dialed like clockwork. “We are sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.” seared through your ears after the first dial tone.
You kicked at a rock while waiting to cross the street. There was no reason for you to continue to call that number. But there was still a large part of you that hoped he would come back. That when you called his voice would saying hello on the other end. But no one had heard from him. Not you. Not the boys. It was like he had erased himself from your universe.
Taehyung crept into your mind during your most vulnerable moments. Like when the sun hit your skin in the middle of the afternoon, reminding you of the hours you would spend sitting next to him in the front seat of his car. Driving the two of you around while blasting old music and singing along so out of tune that everyone else would stare at you from their cars.
You missed him when you couldn’t get a jar open, not because he was strong enough to open them. But because you would hunch over in fits of laughter as you watched him turn red in the face while trying to open it. He wasn’t much of a muscle pig, but you thought his effort was the cutest.
He was in the worn out t-shirt hidden in the back of your closet. A piece of clothing you didn’t know you had until your nose caught the smell of his cologne the first time Mina came over to your apartment to do your laundry since you hadn’t left your bed in weeks. You had her put it down, worried that if she held it for too long you would forget what he smelled like when he held you.
a/n: I skipped all my classes today because of a migraine. I think my body was just so over life, and it was literally like, nope you’re not going anywhere. But I don’t mind, and on the bright side, this imagine happened.
Shawn, of course, likes to go to the gym every single morning without fail no matter where he is. Since you’ve been tagging along while he travels for work this past week, you thought you’d wake up early every morning to work out with him. Today is your fourth morning in a row of waking up at 6am to head over to whatever gym is closely accessible. Shawn has his whole complicated workout, but you stick to what you know, which is usually a couple of miles on the treadmill and then some ab and core workouts.
After your workout this morning, you find that you’re not feeling as great as you would have liked and as great as you normally do following a good workout. While walking down the hotel hallway, you start to see white spots in your vision, almost like someone had just flashed a camera in your face, although no one did. You try to ignore it as you walk down to the lobby with Shawn to get some breakfast. While eating, you begin to feel progressively worse and worse as time passes. You find yourself having a difficult time even thinking of the words you want to say or how to describe the things you’re trying to talk to Shawn about. You don’t want to tell him how badly you’re feeling, so you just hope he thinks you are simply tired from waking up so early and working out.
"I don't regret this and I never will."- for Elorcan please and thank you :)
My heart aches for these two and how they will come to terms with what happened on the beach! So without further ado here is the fic~!
A war cry bellowed over the sounds of metal clashing and
screams of pain. Lorcan strode through the carnage. Blood dripping from his
broadsword as sweat ran down his muddied face.
Without hesitation he cut down valgs, wyverns and any enemy
that dared entered his path. Hellas’s power coursed through him – death and
thought and destruction. A dark warrior who thrived on the dark gift. That was
what Lorcan was.
A wild smile danced on his lips as he let current of power
rise to its potential.
He crouched low and avoided needle-sharp teeth and
flesh-shredding claws before cleaving the head off the beast that dared to face
him. In the distance he saw flames and wind answer the call to their wielders.
Aelin and Rowan had once again found each other.
Lorcan had not time to celebrate for his friend finding his
wife – his mate. Not when there was a war to be won.
In the midst of his killings Lorcan had lost track of the
one thing he had vowed to protect no matter how this battle turned. It wasn’t
until he heard a familiar scream that Lorcan’s heart plunged in fear. Something
he rarely felt, but his panic propelled him to bound over the fallen bodies of
both human, fae and monsters alike with blinding speed.
“Not her,” Lorcan whispered to the air that reeked of
decaying flesh and smoke. “Anyone, but her.”
“LORCAN!” Elide cried out. Her tone pushing Lorcan to
greater lengths to find her.
He would always find
her. That was what he promised.
He followed her scent until he leapt several yards away from
where she was held captive. In the hands of his previous queen. Maeve.
“My traitorous dark warrior has arrived. How have you
enjoyed your time being free of the blood oath?” Maeve said with ease. Even as
her fingers held a dagger to Elide’s throat.
When Lorcan didn’t answer with anything but a glare Meave
simply tsked in disappointment. “I figured you – a demi fae – would steer clear
away from human females. Let alone one that is crippled and holds no beauty
compared to your previous lovers.”
Lorcan continued shooting Maeve with a hateful stare that
would have sent most warriors on their knees in fear of his wrath.
“Have you nothing to say?” Maeve asked. “Perhaps the pitiful
female would like to speak.” Maeve dug the blade deep enough that a small
trickle of blood streamed down her throat.
Elide was silent, but her dark eyes looked at Lorcan. But
her eyes spoke loud enough for Lorcan to understand that she needed him. Elide
was no match for Maeve, but Lorcan could at least help her escape from the
But Lorcan couldn’t move. His whole body was frozen.
“I should kill you now Lorcan,” Maeve mused. “The severed
blood oath has probably made you terribly miserable. Killing you would be a
mercy wouldn’t it?”
Against Lorcan’s will he nodded his head. Elide’s eyes
widened in terror.
“Leave him alone,” Elide snarled. Meave’s blade cut deeper
into her throat in warning.
Dirt and blood mixed on Elide’s face from the fights she had
previously been in. Her mangled ankle barely supported her body as she trembled
from exhaustion. But Elide would still go down fighting until her dying breath.
“Tell me Lorcan,” Maeve eyed him disdainfully. “Do you want
Lorcan said nothing. His voice wouldn’t rise at all due to
whatever magic Maeve held against him. His blade hung uselessly at his side as
he scowled at the Queen of Doranelle.
“He does want to live,” Elide said quickly. “Lorcan’s life
is not one to be tossed away at your whim.” Elide spat the last part out.
Lorcan winced. Why didn’t he force Elide to stay off the
battlefield? Sure she would have loathed him for it, but at least that meant
she was away from danger. He wished that she was safe in Perranth. Her
home…where she belonged.
Maeve raised a brow at the human in her grasp. “You have
quit the tongue don’t you? Not
many humans would dare speak to me in such a tone… for that I will spare him on
your ill-placed passionate words on this dishonorable warrior…but you little human” Meave ran the blade
higher on Elide’s neck. “If Lorcan does not wish your life to be spared then
you shall die.”
Elide looked to Lorcan with eyes full of hope that it almost
brought him to his knees. He tried to speak and to his horror no words left his
In that instant the hope in Elide’s eyes cracked. And
shattered when Lorcan couldn’t say the words he desperately wanted her to hear.
Elide I want you to
live. I wantus to live together. In Perranth. Forever.
“Will you not beg me to save her Lorcan?
Like you groveled on your knees and pleaded with me to keep you as one of my
blood oath warriors?” Maeve smiled faintly. Taking in the internal agony that
Lorcan fought from within.
“Lorcan?” Elide’s voice was raw with unshed tears. Her pale
face that previously was filled with unrelenting rage to fight shifted into
disbelief and finally despair.
“Lorcan please,” Elide said louder even as the blade began
to cut into her throat.
Lorcan could smell her blood just as clearly as he could
smell the emotions that radiated from Elide.
“Nothing?” Maeve said. “Then let this be a lesson Lorcan.
Those that are gifted by the God of violent deaths – Hellas himself – then
those you hold closest to your heart shall face violent ends.”
The blade flashed in one quick motion followed by a spray of
blood. Elide’s life poured from her wound. One that did not mean a quick death,
but instead one that would be drawn out.
Darkness pushed Lorcan forward with a roar. He dropped to
the ground and cradled Elide to his chest. His leather armor became soaked in
her blood within seconds. He pressed his scarred hand to the wound. Yet red
seeped between his fingers no matter how much pressure he used.
“Elide stay with me,” Lorcan begged. “Please don’t leave.”
Elide choked and her cough brought up blood. The ruby color contrasted darkly with her pale lips.
“You…betrayed me…again…” Elide brokenly said.
“No! I love you Elide. I swear it.” Tears rolled down
“Your promises,” Elide wetly coughed. Words barely
understandable. “Are worth nothing to me.”
“You don’t mean that,” Lorcan held her gently. “I worked
every day to earn your trust back after Aelin was taken. I love you so much and
you said you loved me as we walked onto this battlefield together.”
With her final breath Elide looked directly into
Lorcan’s eyes. N warmth could be found in her stare. “I hate you.”
And Elide Lochan’s heart ceased to beat in the midst of war
being held by a fae whose soul had died with his mate’s last words. A mate she
didn’t even know she was.
Lorcan must have been screaming. He fought off the hands
that wrapped around him.
Please not Elide. Hellas could take anyone else, but not Elide.
Elide who he loved.
Elide who was his mate.
Elide who –
Lorcan jolted awake and his eyes registered darkness. But
this was not Hellas’s darkness coming to claim him. No this was night that
cloaked the room.
“Lorcan?” A gentle hand reached for his bare arm that was
without braces that usually held hidden knives. It was then that he realized he
wore no armor. Only a blanket covered his chest save for the small hand that
made it’s home above his pounding heartbeat.
His eyes followed that hand until he was met with the sight
of Elide. She was nestled against his body in a nightdress and her eyes blinked
drowsily from being awoken suddenly.
“Elide?” Lorcan reached for her shakily. Afraid that this
moment would shatter.
“Was it a bad dream?” Elide asked.
Lorcan swallowed. “Yes.” His hand hovered above her cheek.
He knew that his nightmare had been a fabrication of his mind. It had been
years since the war. He and Elide were married now. Living in Perranth no less.
What if she had chosen someone else instead of him? She
wouldn’t have suffered through seeing him betray her Aelin and her court to
Maeve on that beach. Wouldn’t have known what a damn mess of a fae he was and
that he had no right being in this bed beside her. Elide, the light to his
darkness, deserved better.
Elide blinked and clearly heard the thoughts through the
mating bond. Her fingers interlaced with Lorcan’s hesitant hand. She brought
his knuckles to her soft lips.
“I don’t regret this and never will,” she whispered across
his jagged scars. “I love you Lorcan. And I would do it all again – the good
and the bad – if it meant being with you.”
Lorcan eased his other hand to Elide’s cheek and gently
raised her face toward his. Slowly he kissed those lips that knew just what to
say when he needed them most.
“I love you Elide.” He said into her lips.
“I know,” Elide smiled and deepened the kiss. Earning a
pleased growl from her mate.
Summary: There was a sadness in his eyes that vanished when he saw you.
There was always a boy on the train. Since you were young,
he’d be there and as you grew up he was still there. He would always sit at the
back of the train and he would stare out the window. When he was too small to
see out the window, he’d stare at his hands, but as he grew and now that he’s
older, his were trained outwards at some mysterious force. His eyes were always
a little moist and his head was always a little tilted. He never smiled and
when he did, it was a sad and small smile, as if he were reminiscing.
Reader goes with Sam and Dean to help Dean’s Girlfriend on here first hunt. It ending badly for Reader.
Reader X Dean Winchester
Warnings:Blood, almost death.
I hate dinner parties. Okay strike that I have never been to one I just happen to hate this dinner party. Why you may ask? Because I had to sit next to my best friend as he looked around waiting for his date to arrive.
“Where the hell are they?” He asked his voice gruff showing his discomfort.
“Dean relax. She is with Sam he is not going to let anything happen to her. Besides you are going to blow our cover.” I say softly leaning over to whisper in his ear.
All I got as a response was a clinched jaw.
Sighing I moved over putting a seat between us. Being in the back of the room at a small square table kept most eyes off us. The rest of the room was filled with more tables people sitting around them most likely talking about the people at the next table over. At the front of the room was a stage a large curtain behind it. Some holly roller was going to join us and start so charity auction. Her being the perfect target for some higher level demon.
We were here to kill the demon and call it a night. A quote unquote “Easy job” for Dean’s girl .Her supposable wanting to get into the life. Dumbest girl I ever met but then again you know what they say about blondes.
Seeing movement out of the corner of my eye broke my from my ranting thoughts. Yes I was jealous but you would be too if you were raised with someone. Seen them die more than once but is still always there for them just to have them always pick someone else.
I was a little surprised to have Dean sitting beside me once again Amber on his other side. I could barely hear him ask her if she was okay.
AN: Requested by @charliebradbury1104:
Do you already have your 15 request? If by chance you don’t I’d like to make one. Dean x reader where he totally falls in love with everything about her. However, he’s afraid to tell her how he feels. So she has to tell him she loves him first.
I tried writing this more from Dean’s POV than the reader’s for a change. Hope you like it! Thank you to @jalove-wecallhimdean for being the awesome beta she is!
I’m not sure when it first happened really. It almost seemed to happen overnight. It hit me like a freight train, and it stole my breath and made my heart feel as if it might literally explode inside of my chest. She hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary, really. Just research for a case that we had been on at the time. I think it was a kitsune case. Anyway, I’m getting off track here.
She had been sitting with us at the table in this awful motel room somewhere in Oklahoma. We had probably been at it for five or six hours and I remember my brain feeling like it might fall right out of my head if I had to read another word. Just a quick glance up was all it took. She had her hair pulled up into this messy knot on the top of her head, only a pencil holding it in place. Her button up shirt had been thrown aimlessly in the room at some point, leaving her in this worn out black tank top. She had a pen between her teeth, her lips wrapped around it and brow scrunched in deep concentration while her eyes moved quickly across the pages in front of her. That’s when it hit me. That one little glance had turned into a full on stare, my heart began to beat so fast and my palms became sweaty like some teenage boy trying desperately to control his hormones.
headcanon: mcsnurtle the turtle becomes a therapy pet for barry. whenever he comes back from a mission, he just lies down on the floor with his cowl down and lets the turtle crawl all over him for HOURS. iris tries to get him off the floor in vain and resorts to sitting down with him to play with mcsnurtle
It’s all about the moment. The moment you meet someone. The
moment you realize, there’s something more here. The moment you allow yourself
to really feel that. To acknowledge its existence. The moment a shy smile
across the room is mirrored. The moment he takes his chance, or you take yours.
Perhaps it’s over a drink in some pub, and he decides it’s his moment to seize. Or you’re lounging on a sofa together,
giggling at the same TV show, and he just looks so damn innocent and so damn
beautiful. His smile lingers on the screen longer than necessary and you know
he’s thinking something absolutely absurd and juvenile and you know you are
going to love every last syllable of it, when he tells you. And maybe you kiss
him then, or touch his hand, and he turns to you, the smile dissipating, or
perhaps just lowering from his face to his heart and you can practically see
his chest swell with love. And you take that moment together.
I can’t quite recall when I decided to just let myself love
him. To give over my heart completely. Care or worry, nervousness or fear be
I’d like to think it was one moment. One subtle gesture,
like pulling me close to his body, and softly touching my forehead with his
lips, hauntingly staying a moment too long, that caused me to tumble over the
proverbial edge and into his soul.
But, it was probably more simple than that. Less noticeable.
Like driving down the same stretch of highway, day after day, the barren trees
passing you by in a flash, as winter holds its grip on the world longer than
desired. Then suddenly, on that same drive, that same monotonous routine you do
each day, you look out your window, passed the fog of daily life and the
never-ending grey road, and the trees are full bloom. Spring has sprung all
around you, and you didn’t even notice.
Yes. I think that’s what love is. Seemingly slow moving,
until one day, it’s just there.
All these moments, and I cannot pinpoint the one where I
knew I was his forever. The moment he made me breakfast in the morning after
spending his first night in my bed. In that moment, I knew I wanted to see him
there each morning. Not necessarily cooking over my stove, but the idea of that
particular fetish was not lost on me. But the moment he shifts his weight in
the bed, usually dislodging the cat, who has become an admirer of his presence
as well. But he sighs heavily, fighting and welcoming the new day with the same
gusto, one never knows what his thoughts on the subject truly are.
The moment, I’ve learned, that his remembers where he is,
and with whom he is with. I’ve seen him wake on his own, be it napping at work,
or stopping by his flat as a surprise, and he’s drifted off to sleep. He’s
different when he wakes with me. Not quite a smile, but a hint of one flashes
across his face, as if he’s keeping some dirty little secret. Alone, he wakes
with an absence across his face. It’s robotic. He’s trained his body to wake
early, and those days, that’s all that is required of it. Never to be quite
happy. Just…indifferent, I think.
But that moment he opens his eyes slowly, as if he cannot
stand the site of me too quickly. Like looking at the sun, he once said. I’ve
been called beautiful most of my life, yet when I hear it from him, it’s like
no one has ever uttered the words before, in my presence. It’s as if I’ve been
staring at a mirror, looking into myself, but never quite seeing. Until, that
is, he places his hands on each side of my head, and leans in to whisper the
endearment, a secret just for me, and as I watch his reflection in the mirror,
suddenly my own reflection glows, and I can see what he sees. I am more
beautiful in his eyes, than in any magazine that has printed my photo dressed in
designer clothes and haute couture.
Then, there’s the moment he runs a waking finger down my
face, before words are even spoken. Sometimes, that finger remains on my cheek.
Sometimes, it rests a moment on my shoulder, before settling back on the bed,
before him. Other times, it travels further down my body, dipping below the
sheets, to trace my naked body, memorizing the new shape it has taken, like a
blind man reading braille. Taking in the knowledge it has to give.
My skin reacts to his touch in a second. Less than. He’s
like lightning bolts through my body, every hair, standing on end. The moment
he pushes between my thighs, with that wandering digit, is the moment I know of
pure and utter bliss. It isn’t the sex, or the making love, or the fucking. It’s
the touch. Even though the very idea of his touch, makes my head dizzy, like I’ve
been riding some twisting and turning ride at the amusement park.
It’s everything. The smell of his skin, the birds whistling
their tune, the creaks of our old house, reminding me we have a home. His sighs
of pleasure and excitement. The look across his face.
Sometimes his moments are written across his face. He’s
deciding whether to please me solely, or take pleasure himself. He’s an open
book, with the words splashed across his face like scripture.
The moment he enters me, I always do my best to keep my eyes
open. It isn’t easy. The feeling so intense as his large cock pushes inside my
small body. But I try. For what it’s worth, he often closes his eyes. The fight
is strong in him as well, to keep them open, but he often fails. Succumbs to
the moment, as it washes over his body. His senses.
Our lovemaking is never awkward. Even when it should be.
Whether it was the first time, which sent mini explosions tumbling through my
body for hours, or the funny sounds our bodies make in the heat of passion.
Some moments take us by surprise and we laugh and giggle, like two school
children that have planted a stink bomb. And sometimes it passes through us, over
us, like a wisp of a feather, floating in the wind.
He tugs gently at my breast, my condition darkening my
nipples to an old cabernet. He feeds off my body, drinks from me as if I had
nourishment to give. I will, soon enough. It’s a fantasy, he says. For when we
have our child, when she is born, he wants to take me in his mouth, soft and
gentle, to wipe away the tenderness and ache, I was told I would have.
I long for this as well. For us, when that moment arrives, it
will not be about dirtiness or perversion. It will be about love. Just another
moment that will pass us by too quickly, so we must take advantage when we can.
Another moment to experience something new our bodies have to give to one
The moment love turns to passion, and our movements begin to
wear on the bed, I grip him tightly, pulling his body down, his hard chest
pressing against my belly. He lifts off me slightly, remembering to not push
into me too hard, as we both forget, in the moment, there’s someone between us
He floods my body, quicker than last night. The morning is
always quick. I feel the stickiness coat my thighs as I refuse to let him part
from my body. But someone objects, and I can feel the kick through his back. He
falls to the side, his eyes aghast, as his hand flies to my belly. It’s the
moment he’s finally felt her.
I smile, watching his face display the most beautiful
reaction of wonderment and happiness, but there’s a sadness as well. He keeps
his hand steady, awaiting another hard drive. But all is still, save our heavy
breaths from early morning exertion.
We wait. And the moment is longer than most. He’s resolved
to it not happening again, and leans in to my naked belly, kissing me softly,
before resting his head atop me, his eyes cast downward to my belly. I curl my
fingers in his hair and will our child to respond to her father. It takes
another moment or two, and she acquiesces. The kick pushes his head up and he
laughs in awe, before settling back down again. I feel a teardrop land on my
stomach and my heart warms as moments of our love come splashing at me, like
kids in pool.
It is said, if you’re not careful, that you can lose
yourself in someone. But it was when I lost myself in him, that I found a
different part of me. Something I had only dreamed of, late at night, before
sleep takes you, and you imagine the books you read to be real. The men in them
- strong, humble, sweet, funny, kind and funny – to be real. It seems he had
been the keeper of secrets he didn’t know he possessed. Secrets that unlocked that
dreamlike state my consciousness had been in, regarding men. I’ve had my share
of bad ones. Ones I thought that were good. But every bone in my body and
thought in my head and warmth of my soul, told me, he was real. He was my Peter
Pan and I, his Wendy, and we would fly together on this incredible journey of
It’s a journey we were not meant to take alone. And in a few
short months, a whole lot of brand new moments were going to cross our path.
Some unwelcome, some with pomp and circumstance and a giant parade with Sam
leading the way.
The earthquakes in my belly stop, and he crawls up my body,
his leg crossing over my hip. His eyes close and I feel mine with a great weight
as well. I smile, sleep pulling me in, as I know I will recall this moment,
until my hair has gone grey and my body cannot hold me upright anymore.
With a clank of a leash, and a sniff of the air, we’re
pulled awake, as our intruder reminds us, he
needs a moment as well.
BTS Reaction to Their S/O Having a BTS Meme Account
Seokjin: He would be kind of offended that you have a bunch of derp pictures of him online instead of flattering ones. “Why would you keep all the ugly pictures of me, Jagiya? Your man is so handsome, you should blog about that.”
Yoongi: Originally he would give you that ‘Yoongi Does Not Approve’ face, but eventually, he would find amusement in how you spend your time.
Hoseok: I think Hoseok would be a 50/50. He would either be extremely amused and might even show the boys what his little angel made, or he would be completely annoyed by it. “Ugh, Jagi, why do you do this?”
Namjoon: This man would most likely just laugh. He knew that you were very passionate, and he loved that about you, so if this is what you did, then this is what you did.
Jimin: I think Jimin would be very similar to Hoseok in how he reacted. Part of him is very goofy and not afraid to supply you with plenty of selfies for your blog, but the other half would be self conscious about having those pictures on there.
Taehyung: Oh, this boy. He would be all for it, actually helping you with your blog. He would spam your phone with derpy selfies and give you ideas for captions on them, even posting them on the group’s official Twitter page. But be warned, he’s likely to ruin those steamy moments by flashing you one of those faces.
Jungkook: Like Taehyung, Jungkook would be all for it, the only difference being he would get as many bad pictures of the other members as he could. Little shit.
I read this book, a hard sci fi novel in high school. Fucked if I can remember the title but the basic premise was that there was a brain-nanite thing that you could inhale and it would change things. Also the Aliens enclosed the whole solar system in some sort of shield. Nothing in, nothing out.
There was a woman who was part of an experiment in probability. Her brain-mod would allow her to not only predict, but alter the ‘up’ or ‘down’ spin of some sort of ion or another that was completely random.
But think about it. Humans are against ALL ODDS the craziest, most intelligent, cruelest, most compassionate, gentlest, harshest beings. There’s no predicting a human because we don’t actually follow the universal laws of probability. To attempt to graph our behavior patterns in a sane quantifiable manner leaves you a little nuts. We perservere, survive. We have NO CHILL when it comes to some things, and are extremely lax about others. We can’t really be predicted, because we’re always altering our realities.
Even our greatest heroes face ‘impossible’ odds and survive. Especially, even. A human is at their shining best when the entire universe is in a point of flux. When choices become the most important things we have. We stare into the blackness between the stars and wonder. Hope. Dream. Wish. We change energy with a thought. We reach out and touch not just things but people, hearts, minds.
Aliens just watch us and are either baffled, indulgent, or terrified. We’re tiny beings in the grand scheme. Numerous but fragile. Perfectly adapted to hostile environs. We have taken aggressive adaptation to the point of modifying our bodies for our environments synthetically. We can take a situation from ‘we’re all gonna die’ to ‘holy shit we lived’ with just one flash of genius. We can stare into the face of danger and smile. We live for those life or death adrenaline scenarios. Some of us have made entire careers out of being batshit crazy.
Humans warp probability.
It’s technically classed as a psi ability in some alien lexicons, but one that’s passive. There’s various grades of it too. Captain Kirk, for instance, is like ‘Let’s make some noise’ and they all survive. Han Solo says ‘Never tell me the odds!”. Arthur Dent reaches into a bag and produces the question that fits the answer. River Tam turns the tide of battle with a mental flip of a switch. Samantha Carter again and again builds doorways between stars, sometimes with nothing more than her wits and the equivalent of a paperclip and tinfoil. Jane Foster survives longer than anyone else ever has with the literal force of chaos flowing through her veins. If she wasn’t human, she’d never have lived long enough to save her world.
These are all people who are extraordinary, who through their sheer humanity have built new futures.
Aliens can’t quanitfy us because we’re chaos in motion. Rogue physics, the edges of cosmic constants. Variables with no fixed value. We make choices, and reach out and touch other beings, and we take logic and probability and the most likely outcome of things and twist them into new shapes. It’s more than just creative thinking, high-stakes adaptation, or even empathy.
A human can literally even the odds.
That’s why alien crews like keeping humans around. We’re crazy and unpredictable and able to survive just about anything. We’re loyal for the most part, to love or money or Crew. Once a human decides that you’re theirs, they will literally warp the universal constants for their crew.