I know we all want Chaol coming back from the Southern Continent and just being…overwhelmed to say the least by everything that’s happened in his absence. But I kind of think some sort of massive drama is going to go down there. And he’s just going to come back and be so done with everything already. So he just ends up even more done with still more drama being heaped onto his plate.
Like, Aelin is in an iron box being controlled by a demon fae queen? Wonderful. Dorian has decided to start banging a lethal witch queen? Great. Someone has to die in order to correct Elena’s past mistakes? Fantastic. An army of assassins turned up on my doorstep along with another army led by another assassin from the wastes? Uh-huh, and? Oh we’re on the brink of an all consuming, apocalyptic war with the Valg, our queen and greatest hope against them is actually Lysandra pretending to be Aelin, our king has lost his kingdom, we have the definition of a ragtag army which is all that’s standing between us and the destruction of our world? Sigh. When do we start?
He’s just going to be…so you’re telling everything’s gone to hell and nothing’s gone to plan at all? Did you expect me to be surprised by this? What else is new? This is what we’ve been doing since the start.
Summary: Soulmate AU. Some people went their entire lives without ever meeting their soulmates. You were one of the lucky ones, to have found and fallen in love with the owner of the initials tattooed on your hip. When your soulmate’s best friend struggles to deal with a tragedy in his own life, you discover that you might not have been as lucky as you thought.
Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader (Not MMF)
Warnings: (Series, not specifically this chapter: bad language, unprotected sex or sexual situations, drinking/alcoholism, drug use, violence, cheating, references to death, mutilation and trauma, maybe more.)
Christmas morning was not the way it should have been.
So many of them, you had waken up to the sound of Steve coming in the door from his morning run, or to him kissing your cheeks and gently nudging you awake. The house would smell of pine and cinnamon and, soon, coffee, as the two of you sank into the couch together and unwrapped gifts in your pajamas. The television would play It’s a Wonderful Life or Miracle on whatever street, and you and Steve would laugh and spend the morning wrapped in one another before heading to your parents’ house for the day.
This year was different. You woke up cold, alone, eyes barely able to open. They’d been sealed shut with dried up tears, and it took you several moments to remember how you’d gotten to bed last night. Bucky, refusing to come inside after you started to cry for him, promising that he’d come in, that he just needed a minute to himself. You obliged, climbed into bed, and cried until you fell asleep. Alone.
“Oh my God, yes! I love that game!” You shouted, bouncing to the edge of your seat. You were deep in conversation with Stiles about warfare games, and he had just mentioned Call of Duty: Black Ops. “Especially the zombie mode! It’s so much fun! I beat everyone I play against point wise, and I’m always the last to die.”
Stiles’ grin broadened when Liam let out a scoff. “Oh please, Y/N. You’re a girl. You can’t possibly be good at those types of video games.”
You rolled your eyes at the younger wolf. “Pulling out the gender stereotypes, are we, Liam?” You leaned forward on the table, eyes twinkling as Liam looked at you suspiciously. “Let’s find out who’s better tonight, and let’s make a bet to make it more interesting.”
“Okay.” He jumped at the opportunity immediately. “If you win, you can do my make-up.” This caused Stiles and Scott to snort with laughter. Liam shot them both a harsh glare.
“And if I lose?”
“If you lose, I get to take you on a date,” he said smugly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
A smirk slid onto your face. "Oh, you’re on, Dunbar.“
"Ah, shit! Y/N, I’m down!” Liam shouted, slamming the right trigger on the x-box controller to shoot at the hoard of zombies from the players place on the ground. “You gotta revive me!”
“I can’t!” You answered back, heart racing as you sprayed the oncoming hoard with bullets. You’re points continuously went higher as zombies fell. “I don’t have time to do that!” You were currently on round twenty-five, and that was when it usually started getting pretty difficult with only two players.
Liam groaned as his screen started turning red. “Do you have any monkeys?”
“Yes, I do, but I can’t throw them! I don’t have time to do that either, unless you want us to die!”
“I’m dying right now, woman!”
“I can see that, buttmunch,” you growled. “Sorry, Liam, but I gotta ditch you.” You finished off the clip that was in your gun, and as your player reloaded, you ran through the thinner end of the hoard to get out of the corner. Luckily, you had gotten juggernog, so your player had to take four hits to go down instead of two, but your player got hit one to many times, and he went down. “Damn it!”
You both side and rubbed your eyes, just as the score board came up. “Ha!” You jumped up in victory, fists pumping the air. “Ninety thousand total points and four hundred and fifty kills!”
You turned around to look at Liam who had climbed to his feet. He glanced around the room, obviously embarrassed to be beaten by a girl in a video game. His eyes landed on you and you grinned.
(nearly) finished! It has some small sensetivity/deflection issues that I need to work out but other than that everything works as expected. It connects to a control box via an ethernet cord, therefore I can switch the control box out and have it connect to any console I want. Right now I have it set up with a USB cord so I can play with stepmania.
(I might be willing to do these for commission once I finish up this one up! send me an ask for details) ✨🎮✨
not playing the victim, my poly partner isn’t “doing” anything “to me”.
Letting go of the “if you would just…” and “if you loved me you would…” The pain/discomfort you feel is never an easy fix and we don’t control others actions.
Never use the words “always” or “never”…you may actually find out what those really mean and it’s not pretty.
Un communicated expectations or assumed behavior based on what I would do… is a relationship killer.
Therapy to figure out what I need vs. want, and to talk about my partner and O/our relationship INSTEAD of complaining to him. No one likes to be told they are “wrong” or “doing things wrong” or that they are a “bad person because they did/didn’t…” all the time. Realizing I shouldn’t complain to him about him…let it go somewhere else. Then have a logical conversation about what is really causing me/U/us pain.
His time is HIS TIME…as is mine. I don’t “deserve” any of it just because…
O/our relationship is ours, no one can replace me in his heart.
Patience has limits
Don’t try and control the relationship by boxing it in w/too many rules…the more you set the more chance of disappointment you’ll have. Talk about things, if you don’t agree then you have to find a middle ground or shift the relationship…and that sometimes means what role you play or even a parting of ways.
We agree to disagree on things - just because I’m submissive doesn’t mean I’m a doormat.
Enjoy the TIME I HAVE W/HIM NOW…don’t use what little time we get to “complain about not having enough time” … I will always want more time w/him. No matter what amount I actually have.
Love is not enough. Relationships are hard. No matter the dynamic.
I really like these. I wonder if you might be up to this
challenge: Cas is an inventor at a company and doesn’t think of anything but
That is until one day when he meets one of his bosses’
sons, Dean, and falls in love with him. He attempts to win his heart but Dean
Amara, another one of Cas’ bosses who is also vying for
Dean becomes jealous.
She forces Cas to test out his latest invention, a
teleporter, on himself despite him constantly saying that he still hasn’t
worked out all the kinks yet. Something goes wrong and Cas is transported a
Dean realizing his feelings tries to get Cas back.
You don’t have to take this challenge if you don’t feel up
for it but let me know either way.
It was a more elaborate prompt and when i wrote it, it came out to 1451 words! i think there’s a long fic in this too…
Dean was running an
inspection for his dad when it happened.
Walking by Cas’s lab on
the way to inspect the project running in the next lab over, he paused. The
light was one. The ‘we’re experimenting so stay out’ light.
That wasn’t right. Cas
hadn’t gotten the green light – no pun intended – to make the first trial run
yet. So why would he…?
Dean reversed direction
and went to Cas’s door. He knew better than to interrupt an experiment in
process. Thankfully, the higher ups had outfitted all labs with monitoring
equipment. Dean opened the panel beside the door and flicked the switches, the
little monitor flaring to life.
He frowned. Amara and
Cas were inside and Cas did not look happy. She, on the other hand, looked
smug. Dean didn’t like Amara. She was the kind of woman who just wouldn’t take
no for an answer. He’d told her time and time again that he had no interest in
At least Cas had been
respectful, if a bit disappointed, when Dean had said the same to him. And
while it had made things a little awkward between them, Cas was still one of
his best friends. Something here didn’t line up.
Dean flicked another
switch and suddenly his earpiece came to life, the audio from inside the room
beaming straight in.
“…told you, this
technology isn’t ready. None of the test modules have either made it to their
landing coordinates or sent back
viable data for adjustments.”
“And I told you, Castiel, that your funding depends on
results and you’re behind schedule.”
“No, I’m not,” Cas
turned to the pad on his table.
“Oh, you are. The time
tables were moved up this morning.” Amara handed her pad over and Cas
reluctantly took it.
Dean’s frown deepened
and he pulled his own pad out to check it. Pulling up Cas’s timeline, he saw no
changes. What the hell was Amara getting at? Dean looked up in time to see Cas’s
face fall, the pad dropping to his side.
Amara looked down at her
nails and picked at something non-existent. “I believe todays’ test calls for
Looking defeated, Cas
dropped her pad down on the table and went to the test equipment. His fingers
flew over them controls like an expert pianist at a keyboard and he locked the
last one in place, walking forward to the testing pad.
With his back turned,
Amara smirked and Dean nearly growled. Something was very wrong, he just couldn’t
put his finger on what. As soon as Cas stepped up onto the pad and turned to
face Amara, her face wiped of her smile and one of fake concern was pasted on.
“Why, Castiel, why haven’t
you called for one of the volunteers?” she asked.
“You know very well why
not. I may be forced to start the human trials today, but I still insist that
this equipment isn’t ready. I’m not risking someone else’s life because
suddenly, the bottom line is all the folks at the top care about. If it works,
then it works. But if it fails…then at least the project won’t be able to
continue because I’ll be gone.”
And that’s when Dean
realized what the hell was going on.
Screw the lab light. He punched his override code into the pad,
waiting impatiently, his heart in his throat, for the doors to slide open.
Dashing inside when they did, he yelled, “Cas, stop! She’s playing you!”
He was too late. Cas’s
startled face at Dean’s outburst was suddenly obscured by a blinding white
light. Dammit! The thing had been on a
timer! Amara jumped back at his entrance, surprised as well, and turned to
face Dean. He ignored her, staring numbly at the spot Cas had been standing,
trying to register what had just happened.
Cas was gone. His best
friend was gone. Dean didn’t even know if the man was alive or where he’d been
He might never be able
to come home.
“Dean! I tried to stop
him, but he was insistent on getting results today. It was all I could do to
keep him from calling in some poor, deluded sap to – “
“Save it, bitch,” Dean
growled, shoving past her. “I heard and saw everything. I don’t know why you were
trying to get rid of Cas, but I’ll make sure you’re fired.”
“Dean, he’s just a
scientist. This place is crawling with scientists. They’re a dime a dozen. It’s
what we do. There will always be more to replace them,” her voice was oozing
fake sincerity. “Now, someone like me…” she stepped closer to him, placing a
neatly manicured finger to his chest, “We could be something special, if you
“So that was your angle,”
Dean whispered in shock. “Jealousy? Over Cas? Why?”
“Why? Because some
stupid, head in the clouds scientist, was stealing you from me,” Her eyes
narrowed, her words coming out vicious and sharp.
“Cas isn’t just a
scientist – he’s one of the rare ones. He’s an inventor. He can envision an
idea and then work the science to find a way to do it. He’s like an artist, and
science is his medium. It’s his sort that we collect here to work and none of
them are replaceable. And besides that, Cas is my friend and he means a lot to
me – he means…” Dean trailed off, his eyes widening. “Shit…he means everything to me.”
“Now, Dean –“ Amara
started. He stopped her with a glare, tapping his earpiece. Her face went
“I’ve sent the date from
the monitors and our conversation just now to Security. Expect to be fired for
manipulation and abuse of power within minutes. Now get outta my way. I have to
save Cas,” Dean’s face was grim, determined as he strode about the room.
Dean was a scientist,
but he couldn’t invent things the way the others could. He could assist,
though, and Cas had talked enough about his work that Dean was sure that he
could operate the machine.
As long as he didn’t
change anything Cas had done. He also knew that Cas had been tinkering with a
portable device to set up at his destination that could link back to the home
device. He’d been thinking of the possibility that the transporter might not be
able to make a connection at the other end clear enough to retrieve anything.
If Dean could find that equipment,
then maybe he could chase after Cas and bring him home.
And if Cas’s other
worries proved true…well then, at least Dean wouldn’t have to face a world that
didn’t have his dorky, nerdy best friend in it.
Because suddenly, the
idea of doing so had him blinking back tears, caused an aching lump in his
throat and carved a hole in his chest. All Dean could think was, when the hell had he fallen in love with Castiel Novak?
Now was not the time. He
looked for the portable device and the control box that went with it. Dean
snagged Cas’s backpack and dumped it’s contents on the work table, heedless of
the mess it caused and carefully packed the equipment inside. He looked around –
ignoring Amara’s yells as security arrived and dealt with her – and tried to
see if there was anything else he should bring with them.
He snagged 2 bottles of
water and a first aid kit and Cas’s coat. The coat he used to help cushion the
equipment before placing anything else in the bag. Dean zipped the bag shut,
started picking it up and then put it back down, snagging a set of tools. Not
any Cas’s elaborate things, but a basic, survival guide style tool set. Cas
might need to tinker with things.
Zipping it up once more,
Dean hefted the pack onto his back, went back to the console to check the
controls and then reset the timer. He took a deep breath, than another.
Cas was worth the risk.
He pressed the button
and ran to the platform.
Dean would bring Cas
home. There was no room for anything else. 30 seconds left. Tapping his
earpiece one more time, he sent a message to his brother explaining in quick
simple terms what was going on.
“Goodbye Sammy. Tell dad
everything and wish me luck,” Dean finished just as the light flared up around
him. He closed his eyes tight against it, not wanting to be so blinded that he
was unprepared for anything on the other side.
After all – he had no
idea where the other side was.
Didn’t matter. He knew
all he needed to know.
Cas was there.
I rather like it (though the malfunctioning teleporter and dean going off to rescue Cas reminds me a LOT of one of my favorite video games lol) and of course, when i have a few more prompts gathered, i’ll add it to the ficlet sets on A03 that i’m making.
“Some Sort of Neighborly” (8/11) | Once Upon a Time
Title: Some Sort of Neighborly - (8/11) Fandom: Once Upon a Time Rating: M Genre: Romance/Humor Words: 3,593/30,417 Completed: 02/06/2017 Summary: Modern!AU Captain Swan. They’re not neighbors, not exactly, and they’re not friends either. It’s pretty hard to find reasons to bump into the woman who lives next door to your best friend, especially after your only interaction with her has been waking up on her couch one Saturday morning. Sequel to Rude Awakening.
I can’t decide whether the beginning of this chapter is spoilery or not, so, just to be safe, no over-the-cut preview this week ;)
On AO3 here | On FF.net here | On Tumblr under “Read More”
So, after watchin this really cool video someone made, showcasin this awesome kind of helmet thing that could display various different faces and such on it, I had a few thoughts. And one of them was “what if, instead of a helmet, it was just a mask?” And another was “And instead of havin a physical control box to change the faces, what if you had a few cameras in said mask that were runnin facial recognition software? And said software was tied to an emote index that changed the display to whatever emote matched the expression?”
This was too cool of a concept to just let dissipate from my mind, and so I decided to try it out on my persona. Once I did so, I realized what a cool look it was, so I decided to keep it.
And thus, this is how my sona is gunna look from now on. The emote and “ears” will change dependin on mood/expression. ouo
I will be usin said look to respond to things with from now on. ^u^
Obi-Wan climbed the final set of stairs. What had started as majestic stone steps had slowly become little more than rickety durasteel ladders. He had long since passed the doors that lead to the restricted libraries, private artifact collections and deep meditation chambers for the masters. Now all that surrounded him was maintenance hatches, control boxes and endless coils of wire. A small glimpse into the complex mechanical network that kept the Temple shielded, its communications secure and the holonet running.
Obi-Wan was exhausted, he had taken the lifts as far as he could. But more than half the tower remained, designed for maintenance droids who didn’t have aching legs or short breath. Finally. Obi-Wan was forced to pause and breathe.
The petition had not gone well. The Jedi rules were very clear, the council had said, no exceptions could be made. But this was already an exceptional situation, there was no precedent for a young Sith, hardly padawan age himself, rescued (or more accurately captured) by the Jedi and raised in the Temple ever since. It had been more than a decade since Maul had arrived, small, malnourished and ready to bite any hand that tried to feed him.
In the time since, Obi-Wan had been knighted, taken a padawan of his own, and been honored with the title of master. Meanwhile Maul had…
Obi-Wan shook his head. The council maintained that they were being more the generous. The Republic would have seen the child Sith spend the rest of his life in prison, or worse. But the Temple took him in. He was given food, a bed, work to do- what more could be asked for?
But Obi-Wan knew Maul, knew what Maul thought of the council. The Temple was little more than a prison. He was not allowed to leave and expected to work for no pay. Provided with a food and bed, but separated from the rest of Temple inhabitants. Maul was not a Jedi, and even years of living in the Temple later, he was regarded with suspicion at best and thinly veiled disdain at worst.
Obi-Wan finally broke through the last door, rusty on its ancient hinges and stiff from disuse. The cold acrid wind of Coruscant’s recycled air hit him immediately. He was standing on top of the West Tower, already thousands of feet above the ground, the courtyards and garden of the Temple below almost invisible from this height. Beyond, was the cityscape of Coruscant caught in dark shadows and orange glow from the setting sun.
Obi-Wan still had more to climb.
In the center of the tower top, was the single point spire. Several dozen feet ever higher, and atop that a thick antenna climbing ever still further into the sky. At the base of the antenna, where human or droid could stand to do maintenance, was a familiar silhouette.
Obi-wan started the climb, clambering up each ledge, using the built in rungs when he could. He hadn’t done this in so long, but his hands remembered where to hold, his body moving on instinct and memory. Finally a hand reached down and Obi-Wan gratefully held on tight, as he allowed himself to be pulled onto the last out cropping.
Maul moved to give Obi-Wan room to sit next to him. Their legs dangling out off the edge and into the nothing of the Coruscant city scape below. They sat in silence at first. Obi-Wan didn’t want to talk about the council, about the Jedi… And he suspected Maul didn’t either.
Instead Obi-Wan said… “Do you remember the first time I found you up here?”
Maul cast him a look. “You nearly vomited. I remembered wondering how a Jedi could be so scared of heights.”
Obi-Wan smiled faintly, letting the insult roll off. It had taken many years, but Obi-Wan could now tell that the jab was good natured.
“You had just arrived at the Temple.” Obi-Wan continued, “Climbing up here was the first thing you did when you slipped your escort. I managed to track you, Master Qui-Gon had said not to let you out of my sights.”
“You can probably stop now, it’s been fifteen years.” Maul countered, catching Obi-Wan’s eye, he was smiling.
“I remember,” Obi-Wan started again, “Looking up, seeing you balancing at the very top of this antenna.” He gestured upwards to the antenna above them “So precariously balanced and so unafraid.”
“Really, because I all remember is you shouting ‘what in the Force’s name are you doing’.”
Obi-Wan chuckled, “That sounds right. But do you remember what you said to me?”
“I told you to throw yourself off the nearest ledge.”
“After that,” Obi-Wan pressed.
Maul shrugged, unsure, or perhaps unwilling. “Remind me,” he said dryly.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “I climbed up there after you and I asked what you thought you were doing. You told me this was what sustained you. The emotions, the fear, the excitement. The precarious feeling of standing on the edge, about to fall. It was adrenaline and rapture and terror. That you were fearless because you were afraid. Strong because you confronted your mortal weakness head on.”
“I really doubt I was ever that eloquent, Kenobi.”
“Well, I may have been paraphrasing a little.” He smiled, “I had never connected to the Force in such a way until that moment. Clinging to this antenna with you, terrified but… excited.” Obi-Wan shifted a little closer to Maul. “And that wasn’t the last time we did something terrifying and exciting.. and wonderful up here.”
Maul finally laughed. “No. It certainly wasn’t.”
They returned to silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry about the council,” Obi-Wan said at last.
Maul sighed. “Don’t be. They were never going to allow me to train.” Abruptly, Maul stood up, ending that conversation and moving to the very edge of the platform.
Obi-Wan stood up as well. “Do you still feel it?” He asked.
Maul took a deep breath, looking down into what had become inky darkness below them. The sun was well set and dusk had cast the world in shadow. Maul stood with his feet on the edge, winds catching at his robes and threatening to knock him off his perch with one strong gust. Adrenaline spiking in his veins as he rocked on the edge.
“I have always felt it,” he responded solemnly. “Do you?”
Obi-Wan caught Maul’s gaze, looking into his eyes instead of into the abyss below.
The klaxon blared across the ship, red lights flashed their warning. The fleet was under attack.
Commandos ran past, headed for the armory. The plates of their armor clanked loudly against each other. The enemy had breached the blockade; they would be boarded.
Behind him, other orange-clad pilots ran, astromechs zipping and beeping through the corridors after them. They pulled their pistols out of their holsters as they split off to different hangars, just in case they met resistance.
“Come on, Beebee-ate!” Poe shouted, jogging down the corridor. The straps on his harness flapped behind him, the holster at his hip bounced against one leg while the other slapped against the grey hose that hung from the control box on his flak vest. Inside the cool, climate-controlled cruiser, sweat had already gathered under his collar and across his brow at the exertion and the adrenaline of battle surging through his blood.
There she was in front of him; expert craftsmanship, beautifully maintained, orange and grey on black.
“INCOMING!” Came a shriek from the side of the hangar.
Poe heard the hum and whine of engines before the explosion rocked the floor and walls of the hangar. Debris and fire shot in and up, filling the large space. BB-8 jerked backwards as Poe ducked away from the blast. Hot smoke filled his lungs. The hair on his head and face was singed into his skin. His boots slipped on the durasteel floor as he tried to push his momentum back in the opposite direction. Amidst the sirens, now roaring fire, and the screams of his comrades, Poe could barely make out the rush of air escaping out of the damaged hangar. In the next few seconds, the scraping sound of metal on metal joined the cacophony of noise as the blast doors raced to close against the vacuum of space.
The pilot spared only a breath to glance at what remained of his once steadfast machine. Blasted down to chunks of twisted, smoldering metal. No longer recognizable as the quick and nimble starfighter.
BB-8 let out a panicked set of beeps causing Poe to pull his blaster from its holster. There was the clanking of metal boots on the durasteel floor, the loud rustling of armor, and Poe knew the next battle would not be in the stars. It would be right here, in the belly of this ship, with the blaster in his hand.