not sure how he spent so much time at the humane society

Imagine explaining secondhand embarrassment and how we will repeatedly watch things that cause it even though it makes us so uncomfortable.

Zorgk and Lt. Susan Manhym were assigned to be partners after Captain Monty discovered that Private Rob was purposely feeding the Jarthinark misinformation about the Humans for fun.  The Captain wanted every Human and Jarthinark to bond and thought that making bonding time mandatory would be successful.  

Zorgk did not see how this would be beneficial to their treaty but they know better than to question a Human custom. Human Susan begged Zorgk to watch her favorite Human picture or ‘movie’ as they call it. Zorgk didn’t understand how it could be beneficial to their partnership but Human Susan was excited and he knew that refusing would not be beneficial to their relationship.

Human Susan spent most of the movie attempting to convince them that Pride and Prejudice was a ‘classic’. Zorgk decided to play along and learn much about Human Susan’s interests in hope that they would remain friendly as having a Human enemy was more dangerous that having a Human partner. Zorgk was fascinated at the nonsense that intrigued Human Susan and noticed that the Human referred to as ‘Mr. Collins’ was being decidedly annoying and rude to the ‘Ms. Elizabeth’. One of Zorgk’s eyes adjusts to view Human Susan and her face was transformed into a cringe of painful proportions.  

“Human Susan, why is your face like that? Are you in pain?” Zorgk questioned frantically, “Do you need a medic?”

Susan laughed and waved off their concern, explaining “I always get secondhand embarrassment watching the train wreck that is Mr. Collins. He’s ridiculous. “

“Secondhand…embarrassment? Zorgk asked slowly.

“Yeah,” Susan paused, trying to phrase her explanation, “Basically, when we watch something awkward, it can cause an involuntary response of embarrassment for them, the characters. It’s a form of empathy.”

“Empathy?” Zorgk had begun to take notes that would surely be added to the “Human Manual”, “For a fictional human?”  

“Yeah, it’s like feeling and understanding what others feel, but with the situations we watch.  It sucks sometimes, especially if we love the movie.”

“Human Susan. You have stated that this movie is a ‘classic’ which insinuates that it is revered in your society and watched by all. Your kind seeks out secondhand embarrassment, for entertainment?” Zorgk questions, accustomed to ever changing ways of Humans.

“No, no, no. We watch the movie for Mr. Darcy and Ms. Elizabeth.” Susan laughs again, “Mr. Collins is an unfortunate causality we must endure for the sake of the story.”

Zorgk sits back confused but willing to accept Human Susan’s response. She wasn’t like Human Rob who like to spread misinformation. Susan and Zorgk took to watching that movie every fifth sol to fulfill their bonding requirement and sometimes they’d watch other movies. Around the fourth time that Zorgk watched Mr. Collins possessively dance with Ms. Elizabeth or request her hand in marriage, Zorgk finally understood. Mr. Collins was a walking train wreck indeed.

Why Teens Shouldn’t Run Revolutions

Hi guys. I’m going to piss off a lot of YA writers (and possibly readers) today, so hang onto your hats.

Mainly, if you’re in love with the idea of a high schooler with no strategic or combat experience heading up a revolution or war because they’re “so dedicated and determined,” don’t read this. Please, don’t. You’re not going to see anything you like. Go ahead and keep enjoying your guilty pleasure – that’s fine. I’m not going to own up to some of the guilty pleasures I love in fiction but don’t buy for a second in real life. That’s chill. Go for it, man.

But there are just things that I – and readers like me – are tired of seeing. If you’re sick of that trope, then keep reading. If you’re open to the idea of ditching that trope in your writing, then I really recommend reading.

This assessment/collection of tips on why teens shouldn’t run revolutions - and if you’re going to make them, how they CAN do it well - will include comparisons to history, other fiction (Unplugged), and Black Butler. Plus swearing and a range of incorrect capitalizations, because it’s fun.

On we go:

Keep reading

thegirlwhocriesice  asked:

Au where Lance really can't stand his real last name. So he faked paper for the grasion with last name McLain?

I’m so sorry for the lateness of this! This prompt was given to me a long, long time ago and I just only got the um…inspiration to write this? I’m so sorry!

A little bit crossover to KHR since I made this into a MafiaAU of sorts. Note that most or all the things mentioned here (aside from the names they are not mine) are purely from my imagination and should not be taken with any ounce of seriousness.


Lance loved his family with all his heart, never question him about this or you will find yourself with a bullet stuck to any part of your body. What he didn’t appreciate was the part of the society he was born in. more specifically, the dark part of the society he was born in.

The Salazar Family was one of the best known Mafia family in the underworld. Who would not heard of them when they were one of the allies of the strongest Mafia, the Vongola? Being allied with the Vongola also meant that they were associates with the Chiavarone, Simon, Giglio Nero, and Millefiore just to name some of the big names. There was never a peaceful day for Lance for everyday was either spent on training or learning the ways of the world and how to survive in it.

The only lucky thing that Lance could consider was that he was not the eldest, thus exempting him from being the next heir for the family. It was unfair to be happy about this, especially that it was his reluctant older brother who got stuck in that position, but the part that wanted to be free weighed more in Lance’s heart. So at the age of 16th, Lance made a proposition and have the full support of the Vongola Decimo. The Salazar’s Don was a bit reluctant to agree in erasing Lance’s existence in the Mafia world (and that Lance was one of their best strategists) but just one look in his son’s eyes, one full of hope and passion in achieving his dreams, the Don gave his blessings also.

So Lance Salazar, third son of Don Salazar, became Lance McClain, an ordinary boy living with an ordinary family.

Forging documents and family background was just a piece of cake in the underworld and in no time, Lance was already attending the Garrison where he hoped his dreams to be a pilot as an ordinary guy would come true.

Of course there were times where his Mafia side got to the surface and times where he wished he could just contact the family and disposed someone for him. But because he ‘cut all his ties’ with the Mafia it also meant that he had no right to contact them anymore (though sometimes one or two men of his father will come to check up on him.). Why did he want to hire a hitman to eliminate someone? Well, there was this guy called Iverson who seemed to make it his life goal to make Lance’s life as miserable as possible. Always pointing out his flaws and implying that all the documents proving his intelligence were all fake/forge.

He could easily kill Iverson now that he thought about it. He was trained to do such things after all ever since he learned how to do complex Math and covering up the evidences was like slicing an apple with a sharp knife. But then the reason he left the world he was initially born in was to escape all the bloodshed. Only heaven knows how much of those bloods were caused by him even if most of them were all in the act of self-defense.

So he tried his best not to let those words of depreciation got stuck in his head (but most time he believed some of it.)

Then the next impulse to hire a hitman was when Lance started to get compared to a genius student named Keith.

Out of curiosity, Lance checked out this Keith guy. Yeah, he was an awesome pilot and combat but that was the only things that Keith was good at, at least that was how Lance saw it. He was never good at socializing and could not really hide his intention despite having a poker face. Keith would be a dead guy if left alone in the underworld.

Lance wanted to show how smart he was but Iverson already put a lot of bad words in his name resulting for no one to take him seriously. If he did something jaw dropping then majority would just accuse him of cheating because ‘hey, this is Lance! No way he did all of that in his own!’.  Being called as Keith’s replacement was not the most flattering words his ears could hear also.

Being caught in an intergalactic war and stuck in a castle with three and a half humans (Keith was half-Galra after all), two Alteans, space mice, and five sentient robotic lions was just like being trapped inside the Mafia world all over again.

Physical training, strategy making, forming alliances, Lance was tempted to call Voltron as space Mafia. He didn’t know if it already registered in the mind of others but they now have blood in their hands. It didn’t matter if it was an enemy they were killing. Life was life and they were not different to other soldiers of war.

Great, now Lance has human blood and alien blood staining his hands.

He thought about this every day.

Until one day, a sudden fact entered Lance’s mind that ended up with him laughing hysterically during breakfast. Everyone was looking at him like he had lost his mind (he probably had a long time ago).

“Lance, buddy, are you okay?” Hunk was about half way from standing up before Lance waved at him to indicate that he was fine.

“Don’t worry, Hunk. I just…pft! Ahahaha!”

Now Shiro was the one with worry creeping on his face. Was Lance having a breakdown? Was the war they were suddenly thrust in now taking its toll in their Blue Paladin’s mind?

“Lance, I need you to take deep breathes and talk to us.” It was hard but Shiro needed to ensure the health of his teammates even if he was being a hypocrite right now.

“Nah, I’m fine, Shiro. I just remembered something.”

“And that is…?” Lance didn’t know who asked that but he happily answered.

“Iverson is dead meat. Actually, he will be lucky if they will allow him to have a quick death. But knowing my family, I am sure they will torture him first.” Lance resumed eating his breakfast with a bright smile and as if he didn’t said something deeply disturbing.

“Wait, what?” Keith narrowed his eyes, “What do you mean by that.”

“Mullet boy, never cross my family.” That was the only answer Lance gave and it did not satisfy the curiosity of his teammates.

Sure, Lance was not a Salazar anymore and that his surname was now McClain. It didn’t mean though that he was already cast out by those he shared with the same flesh and blood.

After all, blood was thicker than water most of the time.


I don’t really know if I did the prompt some justice (>_<)

Langst Mini Fics

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POTC 5: Barbossa, Salazar, and an Alternate Ending

WARNING: SPOILERS

I have been a big fan of the POTC franchise since the beginning, and while I honestly think that Disney is trying too hard to milk every last penny from it and that POTC 5 should be the last of the series (or perhaps that it should have ended before now), I will say that, despite its flaws, the most recent installment wrapped up a lot of loose ends nicely and gave us some great additions to POTC lore and character development. While Jack, unfortunately, suffered a bit in this film–his usual wit and charm replaced almost entirely with attempts at comic relief–Barbossa and Salazar generally make up for it.

Throughout the series, Barbossa has been, in my opinion, one of the most morally ambiguous and well-developed characters, and this installment only furthered my convictions. Originally viewed as a villain opposite Jack, Will, and Elizabeth in the first film, by film number three, he has teamed up with the main couple to help rescue Jack and fight against the “bigger” Big Bads Davy Jones and the British Navy. Here, he is portrayed as being a bit more noble (well, by pirate standards, anyway) and shows great respect for Elizabeth as the Pirate King when she steps up and leads them into battle. By film number four, he has apparently become a privateer (though primarily out of a desire to hunt down Blackbeard in revenge for taking The Pearl, and with it, his leg) but this endeavor doesn’t last long, and as soon as Blackbeard is off the radar, he goes back to his pirating ways. And even AS a privateer, we see a moment of what cruelty he is capable of when he leaves his crew to die at the hands of the mermaids. Nevertheless, he pretty much fully redeems himself in the most recent film through his relationship with his daughter. While, admittedly, it was a bit cheesy and perhaps somewhat out of character at times, I loved the implication that there was once a woman Barbossa genuinely loved and that, upon her death, thinking himself incapable of raising the child, he was actually strong enough to do the right thing and find a place to take her in. It was strange yet incredibly touching getting to see this softer side of Barbossa. The moment Carina slapped him for (supposedly) insulting her father, you could see it in his eyes that he was torn between feeling hurt and ashamed of what he was and simultaneously being proud of her for having the guts to stand up to a pirate of his stature in defense of her father. I would honestly have loved to get an entire film’s worth of father/daughter moments between these two, and after seeing him come so far as to be willing to sacrifice himself for her safety, I really hated to see him go. More on that later…

As for Salazar, I am not yet quite sure what to think about him or how to categorize his character. On the one hand, we have to remember that we are (technically) rooting for the “bad guys” by society’s standards, and while we all love Jack & co., pirates were a real and troubling threat to merchant vessels, the navy, etc. Not everyone they attacked deserved it, and not all pirates are as morally decent as Jack, Will, Elizabeth, etc. usually are. In his mind, Salazar is doing his duty to society and protecting the innocent. Yes, we get a glimpse of him refusing to show mercy to a group of pirates who have surrendered, but to be fair, had their roles been reversed, many pirates might not have shown mercy either. Additionally, Salazar has a personal motivation to dislike pirates, as they were responsible for the deaths of both his father and grandfather–men whom he looked up to, respected, and probably loved. We don’t know exactly how old he was when this happened, but if he was still a child at the time, it would have been EXTREMELY difficult for his mother, as a single woman during a time when most respectable women were not employed much outside the home, to support him and herself. Furthermore, Jack–as a boy–both humiliated him and doomed him to what must have felt like an eternity of a ghostly/undead existence trapped in the Devil’s Triangle. I was reminded, here, of a parallel between the Salazar/Jack relationship and that of Captain Hook and Peter Pan… Jack, much like Peter, is the young, cocky boy who somehow manages to get the best of the more experienced, older sailor. In the original novel, there is actually a line about how Hook (who is stuck in a place which for a child is paradise but for an adult is a living nightmare) feels like a lion in trapped in a cage into which a sparrow has flown. Similarly, Salazar himself tells us that he is the one who gave Jack the surname “Sparrow” because he was “up in the crow’s nest…like a…like a little bird.” Whether or not the parallels were intentional, I don’t know, but as a long-time fan of Hook, it definitely made Salazar a more interesting and sympathetic character to me. On the other hand, Salazar is incredibly legalistic (like Inspector Javert on steroids), obsessive, merciless, and unnecessarily cruel. I realize the Spanish and English navies weren’t exactly friendly toward each other, but you have to admit, Salazar and his crew slaughtering the members of the British navy who enter the Devil’s Triangle was rather uncalled for. It’s like he did it just because he could. He is also so focused on ending Jack’s life that he leaves his newly un-cursed crew to drown at the bottom of the sea. Then again…Barbossa did almost the exact same thing with his privateer crew in the previous film when he left them for the mermaids, and we still root for him… Why is it that when Will Turner seeks revenge on Davy Jones for cursing his father or when Barbossa seeks revenge on Blackbeard for stealing the Pearl and the loss of his leg, we root for them, yet when Salazar has an equally legitimate reason to hate Jack, he is a villain? (I know, I know… Because it’s Jack’s story and you can’t really dislike the protagonist. But still…) Salazar is an interesting guy, and it just seemed WAY too easy to have him turn mortal for all of five minutes and then immediately kill him off. Plus, I felt bad because DID YOU SEE THE LOOK ON HIS FACE WHEN HE TURNED HUMAN AGAIN?!?! He was practically on the verge of weeping for joy! I really wish they would have allowed for him to potentially return in human form for future films. I also have to wonder, having earlier mentioned his likeness to Javert, if put in a similar situation in which the pirates shattered his illusion of the world as morally black and white, he might have had a change of heart (or ya know…a mental breakdown…). Either way, I wish we got more Salazar.

…Which brings me back to the point I was making before… As moving and poignant as Barbossa’s death was, I don’t believe that was actually necessary. Realistically, with Salazar mortal and his entire crew swept away by the sea, it would have been easy for Jack’s crew to take him out once the anchor was raised and everyone was back onboard the Pearl. He would have been severely outnumbered, and they could have easily killed him or taken him captive. True, you could argue that Barbossa was worried Salazar would get to Carina first and harm her before they were back on the ship, but with him in mortal form, all Carina would really have to do to disable him is give him a swift kick in the face. Besides, if she hadn’t been so overwhelmed in the moment, I don’t think Carina would have willingly let go of her father’s hand. She literally JUST found out that the man who saved her life, the infamous pirate captain of Blackbeard’s former ship The Queen Anne’s Revenge, is the man she has spent her entire life searching for. You can’t convince me that she wouldn’t have clung to him for dear life if she had been in her right mind. I don’t blame her, mind you–it’s a lot to take in in such a short amount of time, and I don’t think she had time to fully process it all, but if she had thought about it, I’m certain she would have refused to let him go.

So imagine it, for a moment….

xxxxx

Barbossa guided her hand to the chain, telling her to hold on as he began to loosen his grip, a sad smile on his face. He only just met his daughter but he was already so proud of her. It was a shame he wouldn’t get to spend more time with her, but perhaps it was better this way.  She had slapped him when he had insulted her father before she knew who he was. If she had known then, he thought, she might have slapped him a second time. Perhaps now, at least, she might see him as something more heroic than the disappointment that he was.

It didn’t take long for Carina to realize what he was doing, her face turning white with horror as his fingers began to slip.

“NO!” she screamed, latching onto his wrist. “I’ve spent all my life searching for you, and now I’ve finally found you! I’m not letting you go now!”

He had not planned for this. He had hoped to go out in figurative blaze of glory, hoped that in his death he might redeem himself in her eyes and make up for the years he had left her alone in the world. But she wouldn’t let him have that satisfaction. She wouldn’t let him go that easily. There was a fierce determination in her eyes, eyes that remind him of another woman he had once loved. And so for her sake, he held on–tighter than he has ever held onto anything in his life.

As the anchor rose from the water, he saw the crew of the Pearl coming to their aid.

“Hector!” Jack shouted down at him from the deck where the others have helped him aboard. There was genuine worry in his voice.

Strange, he mused, how far they have come. For as long as they had known each other, they had always alternated between being at each other’s throats and being brothers in arms. He had once gone to the ends of the earth–to hell and back, as it were–for the Pearl…but also partially for Jack, he admitted. And seeing his current expression, he had no doubts that Jack would do the same for him because, at the end of the day, pirates though they were, they would always have each other’s back.

He climbed aboard, soaked to the skin and looking far more like a wet rat than the fearsome captain that he was, Jack and Gibbs each grabbing an arm to steady him while Henry helped Carina. He recalled, for a moment, the highly unorthodox wedding ceremony he’d performed on the deck of this very ship all those years ago and smiled almost fondly at the boy, wondering if perhaps he’d be performing another in a couple of years. He had missed so much of his daughter’s life… He hoped it wasn’t too late to change that.

Apparently, it wasn’t because the moment her feet hit the deck, she was embracing first Henry, then him.

“Father,” she whispered.

And for the first time in many, many years, he felt the sting of tears behind his closed eyes.

But the moment was cut short as the last few feet of the chain holding the anchor rose from the depths of the sea, carrying with it a final passenger who hoisted himself over the railing and onto the deck–Captain Armando Salazar, in the flesh, at last. Long strands of dark hair, no longer floating freely as they had in his ghostly form, were plastered against his face, but his uniform–though stuck to his skin with the weight of the water it had absorbed–was as pristine-looking as ever. His face had a bit of color now–more olive than the ghastly chalky complexion they’d seen before, but it hardly diminished his intimidating presence, his eyes still hard and cold.

But intimidating or not, he was no longer immortal. And without a weapon in his hand or at his side–the sword he usually carried having been lost to the sea in the midst of all the chaos–he was, for all intents and purposes, defenseless. He was outnumbered, out gunned, and on a ship which was not his own. He was at their mercy.

Almost immediately, there were a half a dozen swords pointed at his throat and nearly twice as many pistols aimed at his chest, no longer permeable as mist but made of flesh and bone beneath which lay the beating heart of a man. His weakness became apparent at nearly the same moment that he felt the heat of the sun upon his cheek and the gentle sea breeze ruffle his hair for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. In the span of seconds, his face displayed a vast array of emotions almost too quickly for his mind to keep up–the proud, determined look of a hunter having cornered his prey replaced instantaneously with that of immeasurable joy, realization, fear, rage, and defeated resignation.

Surprisingly, Jack was the first to lower his weapon, but it wasn’t so much a gesture of mercy as it was an insult. There was no need  for a weapon now. The Spaniard had climbed aboard the Pearl without any men of his own and was now its captain’s prisoner. His only choice was between Jack’s crew and the sharks…and the latter would be much less forgiving. Having experienced death himself before, Jack knew that no sane man who had escaped such a fate would ever take his own life, no matter how desperate. And even if he had considered it, Salazar’s pride would not allow it.

“It would seem,” Jack said, striding across the deck, “that El Matador del Mar has once again met his match. The butcher’s bill has been paid in full. You and your crew have had your humanity restored–that counts for something, I should think. I took your life once. I’ve no desire to take it again, so what say we simply call it even and agree to disagree until I can drop you off on some nice, deserted island, savvy?”

“My crew,” Salazar spat, “is at the bottom of the sea.”

“Well, that’s not my problem, now, is it? I’m not their captain who left them there to drown.”

The Spaniard took a step toward him, forgetting for a moment that he no longer held the sword which often doubled as his cane. He stumbled, then, landing in a heap at Jack’s feet, as his knees buckled at the searing pain that shot up his leg. He was spewing curses, swearing like the sailor that he was in a garbled mix of Spanish and English so viciously that an onlooker who did not speak a word of either language wouldn’t have needed a translation.

“You…!!!” he seethed. “You took EVERYTHING from me!”

He was clawing at the deck, trying desperately to pull himself up, but his leg was too weak. His mortality had returned in full force, bringing with it the fresh pain of an old wound that he had not been able to feel for years. He dragged himself over to the mast that he might have something to brace himself against, crawling on his hands and knees.

“My pride, my ship, my crew, my family, my life, my very soul…” He propped himself up against the mast, too tired and too ashamed to struggle any further. “What more do you want from me?!”

Jack’s gaze softened. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “I never wanted anything from you but my freedom. I wanted you out of my way, I wanted you lost at sea…but I swear on my life I never intended for you to end up…” He gestured to his face, trailing his fingers in lines of imaginary squid ink dribbling down his chin, smacking his lips as though even the thought left a horrid taste in his mouth and shuddered. “Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“You have no idea what sort of hell I have been through.”

“Oh, I think I can imagine…”

It was not Jack but Barbossa who had spoken.

Perhaps it was only because Carina was watching and being a father made him want to be a better man, but for whatever reason, Barbossa felt compelled to take pity on the man. Jack had been to The Locker, it was true. And that in and of itself was enough to drive a man to madness… But he had not spent years cursed in an undead state like he and the original crew of the Pearl had. That was something entirely different and drew forth memories of a time which Barbossa did not recall with any fondness. He stepped forward, his own bejeweled peg leg dragging slightly as he walked–another area in which he could all too easily empathize with the man propping himself up against the mast.

“Ye’re always starvin’ but food turns tah ash in your mouth. Always dyin’ of thirst, yet nothin’ ever quenches it. Ye cannot feel–not the sun or the rain on yer face nor the softness of a woman’s touch nor the fiery sting of cold steel slicin’ yer skin. Yer heart no longer beats, yet somehow ye’re still alive. Everything that once had meanin’ is empty and hollow. Ye’re a dead man walkin’.”

Salazar bore a pained expression. For a moment, he could not find his voice. Then…

“How…?” he croaked.

“Yer not the only man what has been cursed in such a manner and lived to tell the tale. Or rather…come back from the dead to tell it.”

At this, Carina gave a start. Realizing that the undead were real was one thing. Realizing that her long-lost father (who also happened to be a pirate captain) had once been among them was quite another. But that, she supposed, was a story for another day. She had so many questions already. Life with her father, it seemed, would be much more complicated than she had anticipated. Yet she could not deny a slight thrill at the thought of more adventures at his side.

“‘Twas our greed and our pride that did us in,” Barbossa continued. “Aztec gold, cursed by the pagan gods… We were warned of the consequences, but we heeded them not. 'Twas yer own pride that did ye in as well, I suspect. Nothin’ would do but tah take yer revenge on every last pirate sailin’ in the Spanish Main for the deaths of yer father and his father before him. I can’t rightly say that I blame ye for that… Ye say that we’re not worthy of bein’ called men at all, that we are loathsome creatures lower than the bilge rats and the barnacles on the hull of a ship. That may be so. I am hardly an honest man.”

He glanced briefly at Carina, looking somewhat ashamed, then returned his attention to Salazar.

“Yet ye do it in the name of honor and justice. But if it’s vengeance yer seekin’, then ye ought to at least have the decency tah call it what it is like the rest of us… There’s as much blood on yer hands as there is on ours. Perhaps more. If ye be satisfied knowin’ that, then by all means, continue yer reign as El Matador del Mar–that is, assumin’ ye make it off this ship alive. But if ye want tah keep tellin’ yerself yer better than us humble pirates, now’s the time tah prove it. Not all men make it to hell and back alive, and one thing I can tell ye, when yer given a second chance at life, ye ought not tah waste it.”

He looked back at Carina.

“Take it from someone who’s wasted too many second chances already.”

The Spaniard laughed bitterly. “You think that by sparing me you may spare yourselves of my wrath when I am free? My life was devoted to hunting down men like you–murderous thieves who take what they can and give nothing back. Without that, what am I?” He glared at Jack. “Give me a weapon, and I will fight you to the death. Or kill me now, like a man. But stop this foolish pretense! We both know what you are, Jack Sparrow!”

“Firstly,” Jack replied, “there should be a 'captain’ in there somewhere. Secondly, despite what you may think, I am neither stupid enough to give you a weapon nor cruel enough to kill an unarmed man. So it seems we are at an impasse.”

He began pacing the deck.

“You know, I once knew a man who thought like you.”

He paused to glance at Henry.

“His father was a pirate…AND a good man. Took him awhile to accept that.”

His gaze returned to Salazar.

“Truth is, the world’s not all black and white, mate, and thank goodness for that because it would be a dreadfully dull place if it was. For example…” He spread his arms wide, taking a mock bow. “I am a pirate. I admit to that. But I am not a cold-blooded killer. You, on the other hand…” He pointed at Salazar with the tip of his sword. “Well, let’s just say they don’t call you 'The Butcher’ for nothing. Now tell me, mate, which one of us is the better man?”

For a moment, Salazar was silent. Then, he looked to Henry.

“You, boy…your father is the captain of the Dutchman?”

“Yes, sir.”

Salazar nodded soberly. “A good man.”

“And a former pirate, I might add,” Jack interjected.

But a deadly glare from the Spanish captain quickly silenced him.

“Right,” he apologized. “Sorry. Continue.”

“He tried to come for us, once. To ferry us to the next world…to set us free from this curse, that we might be at peace.” He laughed darkly. “But there are some places too cursed for even the Dutchman to go.”

Henry nodded soberly. “I’m sorry. He would have done more if he could have, I’m sure.”

Salazar returned the gesture. Though he could not fully explain why, he had a great deal of respect for the boy. He had seen the terror in the boy’s eyes when his crew attacked the British naval ship, yet despite his fear, he did not run but looked death in the face. He was confident, yet not cocky like Jack; quiet, yet he did not hesitate to speak his mind when necessary. And there was another quality the boy had which he did not expect of one with such close ties to pirates–honor. Possessing the boy had given him a glance into the heart and soul of the young man before him, their consciousness merging until one man’s thoughts and emotions were barely distinguishable from the other. He had seen Jack, then, through the boy’s eyes…and he had seen the monster he had become–internally as well as externally, his humanity all but gone. It had been deeply disturbing. Recalling the boy’s thoughts now, he remembered something which he hadn’t taken notice of before, a troubled frown forming on his lips. His eyes shifted tentatively to Jack, and for a moment, he merely held his gaze, causing the pirate to squirm uncomfortably.

“While I was controlling the boy’s mind,” he began, “I saw something…not a memory–at least, not a memory of his… More like a dream…like visions of a legend…a story he had been told as a child…. His father was still a mortal then…. He was dying. You had the heart of Davy Jones in your hand, ready to become the next captain of that otherworldly ship that you yourself might gain immortality…. But you chose to save him instead…. Is this true?”

“Well, now, 'saved’ is a rather strong word, given that becoming the captain of said ship comes with its own curses which is how we ended up in this bloody mess to begin with, searching for the trident….”

Salazar scowled impatiently.

“But technically speaking, yes.”

“I see…” The Spaniard looked to Henry. “You trust this man? This…this pirate?”

Henry slowly lifted his eyes to Jack, then smiled. “With my life, sir.”

Salazar grunted.

“Captain…”

“Yes?” Barbossa, Jack, and Salazar answered simultaneously.

Realizing the need for clarification, Henry started again. “Er…that is…Captain Salazar… If I may ask… While I was subject to your power, I endured a nightmare like nothing I had ever experienced before. I felt…so cold, so isolated… It was as if I were drowning in a darkness and despair so deep that it smothered everything else–all thoughts and emotions consumed by what must have been the last thing that you felt in life…a burning, blinding rage. It was suffocating, as though I was so far removed from humanity that I had forgotten everything and everyone else in the world… My entire identity was gone, my own memories were unreachable–a distant, foggy dream. And yet…one name remained on the tip of my tongue, a name I do not know….”

“Maria,” Salazar whispered reverently.

“The Silent Mary…. It isn’t just the name of a ship, is it?” Henry asked. “Who was she?”

There was a wistful gleam in his eyes. It was the most vulnerable, the most human, he had looked since regaining his mortality.

“The most beautiful woman in all of Spain…my wife.” He smiled sadly. “She was with child when I left. She didn’t want me to go. Of course, I told her not to worry, and I promised her that that mission would be my last…. But then…I never came home.” He looked at Jack. “That is why I was so angry.” He sighed. “I do not know what became of them. She has probably long forgotten about me. If she is even still alive…I doubt she or the child would want to see me now. They would not believe my story…and if they did, they would be repulsed by what I became. I have nothing now. Nothing. No crew at sea, no one waiting at home….” He eyed Jack’s sword almost pleadingly. “What is left but to fight one last fight and at least die with a little honor? Perhaps this time, I will have peace.”

“You do your family a great disservice, sir.” This time, it was Carina who spoke. “If she loved you as much as you love her, then I am certain she never gave up hope. Nor did her child.”

“Oh? How do you know that?”

She was addressing Salazar, but her eyes were on Barbossa, bright with unshed tears.

“The same way that I knew someday, somehow, I would find my father…. And if you truly care about them, who you are…or who you were…none of that will matter when they finally see you.”

“Ah, but you forget… I have neither ship nor crew–”

“We’ll help you find them,” Henry blurted.

“We will?” asked Jack.

“Aye,” Barbossa slapped Jack on the back. “We will.”

“Wait a moment! Wait a moment!” Jack waved his hands. He gestured to Barbossa. “You’re a pirate.” He pointed to Salazar. “He’s a pirate hunter. You want to help him, yet he wants to kill us. DID I BLOODY MISS SOMETHING?!?”

“Well, seein’ as we are aboard MY ship, I don’t see why it should concern ye, Jack,” Barbossa grinned.

“I believe you mean MY ship,” Jack corrected him. “You may have your Queen Anne’s Revenge, but the Pearl is mine. I saved her from Blackbeard’s stash of shrunken ships and protected her with me life.”

“Aye, but I’m the one who freed her for ye. Mister Gibbs,” he addressed the first mate.

“Aye, sir?”

“Set a course fer Spain. We’ve a long journey ahead of us, so we’d best be gettin’ started.”

Gibbs, who had long grown used to the two captains bickering over the ownership of the Pearl, nodded, assuming they would eventually come to some sort of agreement, as they always did.

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Oh, and Gibbs?” Barbossa stopped him. “Don’t fly the colors.”

“Do I get any say in this at all?” Jack protested.

Barbossa, Carina, and Henry answered in unison. “No!”

Jack sighed. “Alright… Well, then…” He offered Salazar his hand. “I suppose we have a truce?”

Salazar hesitated, then grudgingly accepted the offer, bracing himself against the mast as he pulled himself up to his full height.

“Truce.” Salazar leaned in so his mouth was just above Jack’s ear. “But know this, Sparrow… If I happen to end up on the seas again, if you ever attack a Spanish ship….”

“I know, I know…. You’ll hunt me down and destroy me.” He grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Captain.”

He turned to leave but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Sparrow….”

Jack looked back at the man who had spent a lifetime of hating men like him and saw the faintest gleam of something that almost resembled respect.

“Gracias.”

Jack nodded. As he walked away, he breathed a sigh of relief, striding up beside Barbossa. “Hector, you owe me one for this,” he grumbled.

Barbossa, who had uncorked a bottle of rum, took a large swig and offered a sip to Jack, who graciously accepted.

“Go easy on it, Jack. We’ve naught but a few barrels left, and as we be sailin’ away from the Caribbean, it may be awhile before we get the chance to restock.”

Jack sighed again and shook his head, looking sadly at the bottle. “Why is the bloody rum always gone?”

meabhd  asked:

Just something for your consideration because I have just thought of this and think it's adorable... Elain, giving Lucien flowers

It IS adorable aier;toienoac okay okay have some more thoughts in return that this Spawned: (listen i’m fully aware that u were probably just ‘wouldn’t it be nice if Elain handed Lucien a little bunch of flowers one day, that’d be sweet, but like GO BIG OR GO HOME MEABHD. and u sent this to me i honestly don’t know what else u were expecting…) 

Elain says at the end of ACOWAR that she wants to fill the world with more gardens. No doubt she makes the one she’s started in Velaris spread and enthusiastically throws herself into it after the war. It’s a place that she’s comfortable and a place that’s hers so Lucien, being tactful and polite, probably chooses to court her there more often. 

He lets her talk endlessly about the flowers that she’s growing there, all the different seeds, the things that will grow in Prythian that she’d never even heard of in the mortal realms (she scolds his people for that because dammit, if I’d known about this before I’d have come here much sooner. And Lucien offers her a very grave apology on behalf of all fae-dom which makes her giggle) 

Lucien literally lived in the Court of Flowers for the past 300 years or something, right, and he spent an inordinate amount of time riding the rails, on border patrol, etc, etc. The boy knows his plants, okay. And he’s probably delighted to have someone as enthusiastic as he is to share that with. (Listen, Lucien spent his free time in the Autumn Court camping out miles away from his home and learning how to catch trout with his bare hands - he loves the outdoors just as much as Elain, who spent all her time wherever they were carving out a garden, does. Elain spreads life wherever she goes and Lucien basks in it. This is a beautiful point of bonding for them). 

Lucien tells her all about the Spring Court. It was toxic and unhealthy for him in Tamlin’s court and Elain gets very grumpy about the abuse that he suffered at Tamlin’s hands (and starts to encourage Lucien to look and think about Tamlin’s treatment of him too) but the court itself was beautiful. He tells her about the deep forests. About the plants that would bloom all year round. The gardens of the manor and the wild, untamed beauty found in the heart of the court. 

Partly he talks to share this wonder with Elain the only way he knows how. He would take her there but with his relationship with Tamlin being what it is that isn’t possible…But he knows that he needs to tell her everything he can about it. Elain laps it all up and so he starts sharing things from the Autumn Court as well, diving into memories he thought he’d long forgotten because that court, too, had its beauty. 

As he talks Elain starts to realise that this is for her benefit that he’s sharing these things, to see her smile and light up in wonder imagining all of the things he’s telling her about…But she also starts to sense a pang of longing and nostalgia in him and she realises that a part of him is homesick for these parts of those courts he once called home. 

Elain hatches a cunning plan. 

Using that sweet, diplomatic charm she cultivated in human high society she charms merchants and vendors from other courts into getting her what she needs and sets to work. 

There’s a corner of her garden that she keeps fenced off and made such ferocious threats to Cassian when he tried to peek inside that he swears of all the Archeron sisters, he fears Elain the most. No-one is allowed to go to the part of the garden but especially not Lucien, it’s kept so secret from him that he doesn’t even know it exists. 

Not until Elain comes to him one day, bursting with excitement and glowing so brightly people start questioning which one of them, exactly, is the heir to Day. She takes Lucien by the hand and quite firmly ignores his baffled babbling as she ties a blindfold over his eyes and leads him outside. She just tells him to trust her and Lucien shuts his mouth and obeys and that’s that. 

She leads him out into the garden (Lucien stumbling a few times because, well, Elain is very excited and enthusiastic and that tends to dull her noticing things like loose stones and protruding roots, all of which poor Lucien trips over) but they manage to make it to this special little corner relatively intact. 

Quivering with anticipation Elain takes off Lucien’s blindfold (standing on her toes and having him bend down a little while she curses him for being so damn tall) and waits with baited breath for his reaction as she stares around at what she’s created for. A little part of her garden is a miniature Spring Court, with a small section of Autumn too, both of them filled with all of Lucien’s favourite plants and flowers, that she spent a great deal of time researching to make sure she got it just right. 

Lucien steps forwards on slightly trembling legs and moves deeper into the garden. It feels like he’s home, at last, like this strange, alien court that spent so long as the subject of his most twisted nightmares, could some day be his. Elain tentatively follows him and murmurs that she knew he was missing home and she thought this might help but if he doesn’t like it…

Never in all his many, many years of life has Lucien ever been this lost for words. After a very long moment and several tries, instinct and training kick in at last and he’s finally able to wheeze that he loves it, he loves it and that no-one…No-one has ever done anything like this for him before.

 That little line he’s learning to love creases between Elain’s brows at that and she says that they should have done…Then she softens and smiles and murmurs quietly that she supposes she just has a lot of making up to do, in that case. 

Lucien walks towards her and pulls her to him and tells her that he would very, very much like to kiss her right now, if that would be agreeable to her. Elain giggles and informs him that she didn’t very well go to all this effort for the simple pleasure of watching him gape at her like a fish, she thinks he should most definitely kiss her, after all her hard work. 

Lucien doesn’t need to be told twice. He laughs at her boldness, even as she blushes for him, and wonders if this woman, this soft heart who just might be the strongest person he’s ever known, will ever stop surprising him. 

He concludes, as she, impatient with his overly-polite dilly-dallying, takes his face firmly between her hands and draws him down to kiss her, that she most certainly will not. And he’s absolutely fine with that. 

Once he’s spent a good long time properly appreciating Elain and all her hard work and their lips are red and swollen from said appreciation, he lets her lead him around the garden. 

She shows him every single plant she’s brought here and lets him talk, tell her silly little facts about them, how that one is good to put on burns and that one should absolutely not, under any circumstances and no matter how much gold she’s offered, ever be drunk as a tea. 

She tells him how much trouble she had getting hold of that and he tells her he’s not surprised, that it almost died out a few decades ago and he can’t believe she managed to get it to grow at all. Elain swells with pride and Lucien appreciates her some more. 

He laughs and laughs and laughs over a small, insignificant looking little plant and tells her about the memories that it brings back from Spring, when things were better, a lifetime ago. Then he asks about her favourites, of the new ones that she’s found here and they bond and Lucien appreciates her a great deal. 

Lucien, ever the graceful courtier, plucks up a delicate blue rose and tucks it into her hair. And then nothing will do but that Elain has to weave an entire bouquet into Lucien’s hair. They lie in the shade of a tree while she does this, Elain’s legs folded into a (highly unladylike, as Lucien teasingly comments and gets a swat on the arm in return) basket, Lucien’s head in her lap. As she works she confesses, giggling and blushing, that she’s been wanting to play with his hair for a very long time. Lucien smiles and tells her she’s welcome to do this as often as she wishes. Elain leans down and kisses him upside down. 

Lucien refuses to take off his flower crown and proudly wears it to the family dinner the Circle have that night at the House of Wind. During which, Feyre smiles knowingly at them and just smiles some more when Elain sidles over to thank her for helping her find out what flowers Lucien likes. 

SnK 90 Thoughts

Have you ever had this perfect story idea in mind, then realized that in order to get to it, you have to write basically an entirely separate book to set it up?

Have you ever decided that you really don’t feel like doing that?

Usually, that is when the words stop and the project goes into a desk drawer. Mostly a figurative one these days.

But–bear with me here–what if

You just skipped all the boring parts.

Keep reading

Damian Wayne/ Robin X Reader- Murder Kitten

After this post, there will only be 2 requests left!! Yay!!!!!  Also, this was requested by @abigailredgrave, who requests some pretty awesome stuff!!! I hope you guys enjoy this and have a nice day!!!!  If I am counting this right, THIS IS MY ONE HUNDREDTH FANFIC!!!! YYYAAYYY!!!

Warning: Swearing 

Keep reading

Tupac Shakur with Chi Modu

Over the years, people have always said that my images of Tupac let them see a side of him beyond the Thug Life image, more about the human being. Before he was loved by the world, he was a young man trying to make his way in a society that is extremely cruel to the less fortunate. He made it his mission to speak for those in his community who needed to hear “keep your head up!” As I travel the globe, I’m amazed at how many people have told me that Tupac saved their lives. His words and passion inspired a generation, and these pictures that we created together help to keep that inspiration alive.

It’s always sad when people die young, but if you leave behind the kind of legacy that Tupac did, you never actually die. You remain forever in the hearts and minds of people for generations to come. I knew that about him when we first spent time together in Atlanta, Georgia back in 1994. We both knew the importance of images and we set out to do a thorough job, not knowing what the future would hold. He died two years after that meeting in Atlanta, but his words and these images are all part of his lasting legacy.

When I met him on location in Atlanta in ’94 he was quite cooperative and a really nice guy. It was a shoot for The Source magazine, and he arrived early. Tupac was the ultimate professional, and he respected my time and my skills. The public might not know that about him. They think he was just this crazy guy who had no real limits, but he completely understood who he was, and if he understood what you brought to the table, he was easy to deal with. In fact, we got along great. I think a lot of people want to buy into the ‘thug life’ image and the younger side of him, because he was still a young man. Let’s be clear, you kind of forget the ages of these folks. To be so prolific and so young, and have so much power — it’s hard to imagine

Even with all the childishness — which I believe was age appropriate in a lot of ways—when you throw power and money in there, even with all that, he had a lot of care and love for his community and for the less fortunate. He always spoke on behalf of black people who were struggling.

Even though he wrote songs that many would consider typical hip-hop party music, he also included a lot of black empowerment in his lyrics — “Brenda’s Got a Baby,” “Dear Mama” — which I believe is why women liked him. They loved him because he was real and he cared. We knew the silly side of him too, but who isn’t silly at the age of twenty five? So that never surprised me when he did the zany stuff. He was young and full of power in a world that’s biased against blacks, so what do you expect?

Normally when I would see Tupac, I would always think of him being on blast — excited and moving at a hundred miles an hour. But when I first met him he wasn’t really like that. It’s funny how everyone always thinks about Tupac and the ladies, but I never really saw him chasing women that much. He was much more focused on his mission. I think that’s what made him stand out so much from his peers. Because while everybody was partying, this man was trying to make sure he created his legacy. And so here we are decades later talking about the man as if he’s still around. I don’t think you can take lightly the fact that this is two decades later and we’re still talking about this man.

After we finished his first Source cover shoot in Atlanta, we went back to his home in Stone Mountain, GA to hang out. He called me aside and showed me his entire gun collection in his bedroom—all his AKs, banana clips, Glocks, everything. Then he moved a picture on the wall in his bedroom, revealing a bullet hole. This was from when he fired a shot in his bedroom because he was on probation and prohibited from going to the firing range. We all laughed afterwards.

We would’ve all been in our 40s together, but he never got to his 40s, he didn’t even see his 30s with us. So that’s quite a body of work and experience that he put in during his short time on this Earth.

He was one of the few stars who could cross over without compromising his roots. Tupac wasn’t going to compromise, that wasn’t him, but Versace still wanted to use him for their campaign. It’s funny when I see rappers trying to do that sort of thing. I think when you start to move in those commercial circles they make you change yourself to fit. You lose your authenticity, but Tupac wouldn’t allow that of himself. He took the streets with him wherever he went.

The portrait shots of Tupac, like the one that’s on the cover of the book, were actually done with a 4x5 camera, which is a view camera. It’s the camera where you put the curtain over your head to focus. It’s large format. It sits on a tripod, and you put the film in, come out from behind the camera, you click it, then you switch the film. Kind of like the old style cameras. At that session in Atlanta, I photographed Tupac with my 4x5 with no assistant. It was just me and his people. When you shoot using a 4x5 you’re really very close to the subject. I was no more than three or four feet from him. I’m there but the gap between us is the camera, even though I’m right there with them. When you’re that close to someone frame after frame, that’s really how they get to know you. You’re almost breathing on each other, and I’m telling him, ‘Lift your head, bring your eyes down.’ I’m giving him instructions so he can look better.

Once you spend hours with someone like that, you know them forever. I’m looking at every pore on your face. I’m on your team. In doing that first photo shoot in 4x5, I think that’s what made Tupac so comfortable with me because I was looking in his eyes, he was looking in mine at the same time, and real recognizes real. Once we got to that place we were cool. He gave me pictures he didn’t give anybody else and he said, ‘These are for you, Chi.’

Everybody knows the Thug Life Tupac, and we know that well. But they don’t know the Tupac in the quiet moments. Like that picture of him tying his bandana over his head, the profile shot. That’s an outtake. He was fixing his bandana with a cigarette in his mouth but he was relaxed enough around me where I could just photograph him.

As a result you see a picture of a much more gentle Tupac. For me gentle and soft are not the same thing. Tupac was gentle but you wouldn’t dare step to him. He was prepared to take it where it needed to go. He wasn’t afraid. That’s who he was to me, and we got along from the first time we met. We were cool, so I got access to him that no one else could get.

Tupac wanted me to shoot his album Me Against the World, he told me to get in touch with the art director in New York. By the time I went there to meet, they had already given the assignment to someone else. What’s funny is I had already taken what would later become the most iconic imagery of Tupac. So when you look at the more famous portraits of Tupac like him tying his bandanna and the Rolling Stone cover, I had already created those pictures before I went to meet the art director to discuss the album. No one knew at the time that the photos I took of him would be the images people remember and not the ones they used on the album. In a way you end up getting your justice if you wait long enough

When I set out to take these photographs I knew they were important. I wanted to make sure the images stayed within the community. I wanted to make sure the person who created them was from the community. Historically that never really happens. Most of the visuals of the greats are owned and controlled by other people. That’s tricky because then they can put their interpretation on it. But when you look at my photographs, I’m there with them. I’m one of them even though I’m an observer. I was close enough to live it and I had the skills to document and record it.

I had four sessions with him, and since we were close he let me in close. It’s friends hanging out with friends and there just happened to be a camera present. You can see the closeness and the warmth because I didn’t really look at my subjects as just celebrities. I saw them as young black guys like me. It allowed me to get closer and it allowed them to be comfortable and just be who they were. I offered no judgment. I was just there to document and make people look good.

Even though I was the creator of these images, I’ve always felt more like the caretaker of them, because he was the world’s Tupac, not just my photo subject. He burned bright when he was here and his flame continues to glow. Thank you for being the voice of the voiceless, Tupac. Rest in peace, brother.

Excerpted from Tupac Shakur: Uncategorized by Chi Modu, a 200-page hardcover book featuring over 100 powerful images of Tupac Shakur.

CONNECTIONS {part 2 of HACKED}

Field Notes: Week 1

Inmate: Min Yoongi

He shows understanding and nature to continue behavior. It is unsettling to know that he continues to emphasize the government and their interest in his abilities. Further questioning has helped me realize that his wish to expose the confidential documents could be something of a Robin Hood persona. He seems to believe that by revealing this, that he is helping the citizens and does not care that he is breaking the law.

You took a large breath and looked over your daily notes. Each hour session with Yoongi had ended the same way, with him sitting back on the couch and closing his eyes. You would tell him about some part of his past and he would completely clam up. There was a part of you that thought about how undermining him might work, but now you were becoming discouraged. Usually within a week, there was noticeable difference. There was remorse, there was some form of desire to change, but for Yoongi there was nothing. You scrolled through your phone and came up on the name you hated. But you found yourself pressing the button.

A few rings passed and then suddenly a voice rang through the other line. Y/N? What is it that you need? You rolled your eyes.

Mother. You know most children call their parents when they just wish to speak, I don’t always need something from you. You responded rather coldly, but it didn’t throw your mother off.

You’re not like most children, just like I am not like most parents. So what do you need? She asked and you squeezed your phone in frustration.

I have a patient that is rather difficult. Would you mind if I look into your logs to see how you handle patients with Robin Hood-like personalities? You asked in your most medical and professional voice. You heard a silence from your mother, than a simple.

Fine. You know the passwords. And a click of the phone being hung up. You sighed. Your mother was both the bane of your existence and the person that truly shaped you. Logging into her account, you searched the necessary routes. However, something caught your eye.

That can’t be right. You opened the file and everything in your mind went completely blank. Reading document after document, you found yourself at a loss for words. Printing out the file and making a cup of tea, you tried to comprehend everything that was in front of you.

Monday rolled around faster than usual. The weekend seemed too short and your second week in the house was more comfortable. The policemen were friendlier, the procedures of metal detectors and scans were manageable, and your schedule of meeting with the guys was down pat. However, you were met off the bat with an obstacle.

Y/N? Everyone was used to calling you by your first name, and you recognized Jimin’s voice.

Yea? Where’s Yoongi? He’s first for sessions today. You said as you looked at your planner. But Jimin continued to stand there until you looked up. When you did, you saw a bruise on the side of his face. What the hell? What happened? It wasn’t one of the guards? You had become rather protective of the guys within the week, but each other policemen had beef with one of the inmates. Jimin shook his head.

I tried to wake up Yoongi. Jimin replied and scratched the back of his neck. You rolled your eyes and gave Jimin an apologetic gaze.

I’m sorry he did that. Why don’t you start the sessions today and Yoongi can go last? You asked Jimin and got a small smile out of the younger inmate. Jimin had been making amazing strides in the week. You were able to pinpoint his anger and triggered behaviors which helped him in avoiding those circumstances. Going through the sessions, you spent most of the day speaking to the guys calmly, however halfway through Tae’s hour, a slam on the door and ruckus could be heard on the opposite side of the door.

My session was skipped, assholes. Let me go! You heard Yoongi scream as the click of metal cuffs could be heard. You sprang up from your seat and walked to the door, opening to find three officers holding Yoongi down on the floor. Yoongi looked up at you from his forced position. WHAT THE HELL, Y/N?!

Hey, don’t speak to her that way! The policeman, Thomas, who usually guarded your office said before raising his hand at Yoongi.

STOP THAT! You shrieked. Thomas stopped his motion and both him and Yoongi looked at you. You glared at both of them. I will not condone that type of behavior. That is fear mongering and it does not work. Thomas, change posts for the day. You looked at Yoongi. Now for you, you beat Jimin for the sole purpose of not wanting to wake up. I don’t condone that behavior either, so you will wait like a child until the last session for today. Uncuff him and allow him to sit right here. You pointed to the chair that sat next to the door of your office. You know you’re a grown man, right? You turned on your heels before Yoongi could respond and closed the office door. Tae clapped his hands as you made your way back to your seat.

Well done, Y/N, well done. He mockingly knelt and praised you. Rolling your eyes, you pursed your lips.

I would not mock my psychiatrist, Taehyung. You tsked and Tae smiled widely.

So where were we? He asked and the two of you continued your session.

Soon it was the last session and Yoongi walked into the room, still rubbing his wrists, you gave him a look of concern.

They didn’t hurt you too much right? You asked and he scoffed at you.

Why the fuck would you care? He spat and you sat back in your seat.

Ah, so playing the tough guy. Fine. You diverted your gaze to the notepad and began writing senseless words. Yoongi sat on the couch and craned his neck.

You sure do have a lot to write about a simple question. He mentioned and you looked up. The plan was working.

You care way too much what people think about you. You stated and he rolled his eyes. His aloof expression would tell people otherwise, but you saw right through him. Can I tell you a story? You asked and Yoongi shrugged his shoulders in disinterest, but from the red color of his ears, you knew you had his attention.

My mother is an amazing psychiatrist, one of the best in the world. She has been published a million times, literally. And I, as her daughter, am always compared. My mother used me for studies like a lab rat. She studied my ability to comprehend emotion, understand the human mind, even blindfolded me and set me off in a maze like a legitimate lab animal. You began telling Yoongi your life’s story and watched him slowly turn towards you. I hated every second of my childhood because I could never live up to the expectations of others and I became engrossed in making others happy. My father wasn’t in the picture, so I leaned on my mother to nurture me, but she isn’t like that. Now you might scoff at me and say that I fed right into her plan because look at me. I’m a psychiatrist. I study the human mind and try to comprehend a way to make it mend with society. I’m doing exactly what she wanted of me. But I didn’t become a psychiatrist because she wanted me to, I became a psychiatrist because it was all I ever knew. And then you say a dawn of realization on Yoongi’s face. My mother works for the government and because of that, I have connections to certain databases. Your father is a top government official. Why don’t we talk about that?

Humans are weird: The Abandoned Base

*Quick note before I start: This is the 3rd installment in a series I’ve called the Lost Colonies which is largely about human society adapting to the strange environments of other worlds. You can read the other installments here: 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed writing this series, but with my new work schedule I had to bring it to a close. If you’ve enjoyed this story follow me on here for my other writings. Thanks again to everyone who has reblogged, liked, replied, DMed, or otherwise shown their appreciation for this series. It means a lot to me that people enjoyed it and the love you’ve all shown me has really helped keep me going for these last few months.*

A bead of sweat dripped down Kiara’s forehead as she hauled the last of the containers of equipment into a weathered shed. Even though the gravity on Steadfast was lighter than her homeworld it had still been a long day of preparations for what the colonists called “The Tides” and her back was aching. It felt good, reminded her of her childhood. It had been a long time since her days scouting beyond the Thaw and though she loved exploring the universe and finding hidden pockets of humanity it wasn’t often that she had a good reason to get her hands dirty.

Kiara looked around for the colonist she was helping and found her tying large heavy knots to some sturdy looking rings sunk deep in the ground around the house. “Jun! I finished loading the crates. What’s next?” A moment later the device on Kiara’s hip perked up and translated Galactic Basic into the old Earth dialect that these colonists still spoke. It was supposedly a form of pre-unification Mandarin, albeit with several hundred years of taxonomical drift.

“Did you remember to tie them down spacer?” The elderly woman asked as she went back to her knots. “Yes I did. Everything’s stowed properly for the Tide.” Jun simply grunted and Kiara was sure that she would find an excuse to check on her work before the day was done. “Well trace the cables on the house to the anchors in the fields, just make sure I got them all secured.”

Kiara shrugged and took off a jog around the edges of the complex. There were 8 lines attached to winches built into the porch surrounding the circular house. The whole effect would have looked like spokes on a bike wheel from above. Sure enough as she reached each anchor Kiara found the knots tied so well she couldn’t have tightened them if she wanted to. Kiara finished the 2 kilometer jog back at where Jun had been previously only to see her double checking Kiara’s work in the shed. “Good work spacer. You’re done here, go check on Hai and see if he needs any help in the kitchen.”

Kiara smiled to herself and took off to the house to find Jun’s husband. Kiara found him stirring a large stockpot in the kitchen with a basket of freshly baked rolls on the table. Hai was friendlier than Jun but rarely spoke at all. “Greetings Hai, Jun sent me in to see if you needed help.” Hai simply kept stirring as the translator worked. “No, you can rest if you’d like. Help yourself to some bread.” Kiara picked up a roll and spent a long moment simply smelling the heady aroma of yeast and herbs. That was one of the major perks of a primarily agricultural world like this one: wheat meant bread.

Jun came in from the field carrying one of the black, meter tall, egg shaped stones that dotted the hillside to the East and Hai gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek. It was the only time Kiara had seen her blush. Jun set the egg down on the table and grabbed a large, flat tool from near the sink. Sliding the sharpened edge of the tool into a crack in the side of the stone Jun twisted and the stone split open along the perimeter to reveal that it was in fact a large mollusk. As Hai went to work transforming the near meter of mollusk into some wonderful smelling soup Jun washed her hands and sat down at the table across from Kiara.

“So, you said you wanted to interview me spacer?” Kiara straightened up, set the translator on the table, pulled her datapad out of her bag and hurriedly swallowed the last of her roll. “Yes, sorry, let’s start over. I’m Kiara Williams and I’m a special liaison for the Galactic Republic. We’ve been traveling the galaxy learning more about the human colonies and outposts that were lost when EarthGov fell. We’ve made it our goal to re-establish contact with as many of them as we can and to find ways to reintegrate them into galactic society if they wish to rejoin us or to simply learn more about them if they don’t wish to rejoin.”

Jun picked up a roll and thoughtfully chewed as she listened to the translator. Kiara continued. “We understand that this planet is a former EarthGov military outpost that was kept off of most official records. I just want to assure you that we’re not here because of the military, I just want to learn more about you and your culture.” Jun gave a short laugh as she heard that. “Well if you did want the military then you came a few hundred years too late. When the war was over they left us here to rot. That was a long time ago sure, but your ancestors being slaves that got thrown away isn’t exactly something you forget.”

Kiara decided that telling Jun that there was never a war, that EarthGov simply fell apart from the inside was a talk that could wait for another day. “I know how hard that is. I’ve been doing this for a long time and I’ve come across a number of similar stories of EarthGov’s crimes. I came from a lost colony myself. We can talk later about what, if anything the galactic council can do for you, but first I’d like to learn a bit more about your culture if that’s OK?”

Jun nodded as Hai slid a bowls of soup in front of the women before sitting down himself. “Well let’s start with the obvious questions. We’re several kilometers in land but the hills are covered in giant mollusks and your home is apparently built to float, exactly how does that work?” Jun laughed into her soup. “I thought spacers were supposed to know everything about science. It’s the moons, we’ve got 3 of them and they have enough mass to make the tides a bit bigger than you’ve probably seen, especially when they align like they’re doing right now. Only happens a few times a year but when it does it can get this old place up over those hills if we don’t anchor it in place. When they don’t align we usually don’t get tides high enough to even reach us.”

Kiara gratefully sopped up the last of her meal with a third roll “I saw some houses out closer to the shore on my way in. Are they temporary? Where do the rest of the colonists live?” Jun sat back with a cold glass of some brown liquor as Hai kissed her on the cheek again before going out to the porch. “We call the people on the shore ‘Drifters’ because they just let their houses drift along with the tides when they roll in and steer them as needed. Sometimes they get swept out to sea but they usually keep a kayak or 2 to tow them back into shore if they need to. Decent folk, sometimes we hire them to help with the harvest if the blackshells, mollusks as you called them, get a good meal from the tide. We usually sell most of the harvest to high grounders who live further in land and up mountains where even the big tides can’t reach.”

“Exactly how high can the big tides go?” Jun got up from her chair and led Kiara to the porch. Somehow the tide had come in over dinner without her even noticing. In the fading light of dusk Kiara could see the tops of the hills nearly a hundred meters under water. “We must be 500 meters up!” “It’ll get up to 700 before the night is out.” Hai tightened a winch nearby pulling the shed which was floating nearby a little closer to the main house before sitting on a swinging bench chair to watch the sunset. Jun joined Hai on the bench and guestured to Kiara to take a nearby seat.

“So you’ve asked your questions spacer, and I don’t care much about your republic. I’ve been on this planet all my life and I don’t intend to leave. You’ll probably find some Drifters looking for places to drift and there’s probably some high grounders who’d be interested in leaving too, but not me or my Hai. What about you though? What’s your plan?”

“I’m not exactly sure what you mean Jun. I’m just doing my job and trying to learn about people who got lost out in the stars.” Jun shifted in her seat and leaned back into Hai “Well I’m not lost spacer, I know where I’m at even if where I’m at drifts from time to time. Do you have a home out there in the stars? How about someone to come home to?”

Kiara shook her head. “I spend most of my time travelling the stars, the closest I have to a home is my ship, but that’s really all I need.” Jun and Hai shared a look. “Just because you drift doesn’t mean you can’t find someone to drift with you, or someone you can always drift back to. That’s how I met my Hai after all.” Kiara smiled at the thought and got up from her chair to go back in the house leaving Hai and Jun to watch the sunset in peace.

Kiara opened up her commlink back to her ship in orbit and opened a channel to one of her contacts on the galactic council. A familiar Turic face filled her screen. “Ah Kiara, it’s nice to hear from you. Is everything is going well on MX-103?” “Yes Kit’cha, everything’s fine, this interview just took longer than expected but I should be back at the station in a few standard cycles.” “That is good to hear Kiara, I’m sure Corporal Jett will be glad to hear -” “JEANNE MADE CORPORAL!?” Kit’cha’s face fell slightly “I forgot we were keeping that a surprise.”

Kiara laughed to herself and took a deep breath. “Say, Kit’cha, I was wondering…” Kiara grinned fighting down an unfamiliar nervousness in the pit of her stomach. “when I get back, would you like to get some dinner? Just the two of us?” Kit’cha seemed caught off guard at first. “I’ve learned a lot about humans since I was assigned to the lost colony division 12 sols ago and I’ve learned a lot about their customs. Correct me if I’m wrong, but given the context would this be what humans call a ‘date’?” Kiara didn’t say anything but simply nodded, feeling her cheeks flush with color. “I would greatly enjoy that Kiara Williams.”

Call me, Maybe?

Anonymous said:
A scenario in which you get a call from telemarketer!yongguk and you answer cause you have nothing else to do/bored, so you end up actually having a conversation w/ him and he calls you like every day to sell you things bc he really likes talking to you and idk it’s just so cute to think about it ^.^ thank you! <3

Thanks for requesting!! This is like a super uber cute idea! I hope you don’t mind that I made it into a little Valentine’s Day gift to my fellow single ladies out there. <3
In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been kind of experimenting lately; this is another part of that. It’s currently a stand alone one shot, but perhaps if you’d like to see more, I can make a second part or so.


Feb. 14th, 2017 | 7:16 PM

Sigh~ 
Another Valentine’s spent alone, aside from the pile of deadlines that can wait until tomorrow and a cat that wants about as much to do with you as [insert any of your multiple celebrity crushes]… whom obviously isn’t even aware of your existence.  Honestly, you’re better off that way anyway.  Who needs to burden themselves with a corny Valentine’s date anyway? And how lame are the gifts? Flowers that will die in a few days and take up space in your already small apartment. Cheap chocolate packaged in heart shaped cardboard that you’ll probably devour so fast your stomach will protest, and you’ll have to eat extra healthy for a week to make lesson the guilt of that unnecessary binge.  Nah, you’re better off alone… and bored.  So very bored.  

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Brady Skjei #1 - Puppy Kisses

Originally posted by matszuucc

A/N - be prepared for so much cute puppy fluffiness in this one. You might get a cavity due to the sweetness of this imagine alone :)

For the anon request: Hi your writings are so cute! Can I request one for Brady Skjei?? 

(also thanks! I really love seeing messages like this so thank you! ilysm <3)

_X_

You don’t think you’ve stopped smiling in over an hour. You really need to stop because at this point your cheeks actually hurt but then you look over at your boyfriend, Brady Skjei, who is jumping up and down and running around the fenced in yard playing chase with a five year-old pit bull mix. God, its hard to tell the difference between which one is a rambunctious dog and which one is your boyfriend of two years. You and Brady had been talking about getting a dog for practically forever but you both agreed that you needed to wait until you were more settled. Well, with the two of you finally settled into the house outside of the city that you bought at the beginning of the season and the end of your second year studying at Columbia drawing to a close, now was as perfect a time as any.

You both had grown up with dogs for your whole life so there was absolutely no cat vs. dog debate to be had and after researching potential breeders, Brady thought that it would be a better idea to adopt a rescue dog from the shelter. You spent the next two weeks researching everything you could about rescue dogs and how to be a perfect forever home for them. You also spent a solid four hours one afternoon with Brady going around and dog proofing your house but you refrained from going out and buying supplies for the dog because you weren’t exactly sure what kind of dog you were going to come home with. Today, you had walked in the front doors of the Humane Society of New York around an hour ago and you don’t think you could be in a happier state. Finally you see Brady give the dog a scratch behind the ear before giving the ball they were playing with back to the handler and jogging over to the gate. As he latched the door shut behind him his eyes scanned his surroundings until they fell unto where you were sitting crosslegged on the floor of nearby kennel, tiny puppy curled up in your lap. When Brady’s eyes met yours you could see the exact moment when his heart melted into a puddle of goop.

“Brady look!” you beamed up at him, “he’s only two months old!”

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven" he sighed before plopping down across from you. The presence of a new person woke up the dozing puppy in your arms but instead of getting up to go investigate, the little ball of fur simply nuzzled up higher into your arms, gave a little lick to your face and the started to chew on the collar of your hoodie.

“I think I’ve reached peak cuteness. I thought I had reached cute overload levels when I met your parents’ dogs but nope, this right here, is it.” He gushed. You shifted the dog around in your arms and passed your boyfriend the now wriggly puppy who starts to clamber all over him as soon as he is placed in his lap.

“And to make him even more perfect,” you continue, “Guess what his name is?”

“Hmm, Brady?”

“Nope, though that would be funny,” you laughed as the puppy started to paw at Brady’s face and lick his chin, “His name is Stanley.”

“Hey there Stanley, bud.” Brady cooed at the puppy, “You must be a good luck charm then, eh?”

“I’d say so, he’d look cute in the cup.” you winked, “please brady! he’s so cute we can’t just leave him here. What if someone else adopts him that aren’t good for him.”

“No need to beg babe, I’m a goner for him too.” Brady returned your megawatt smile. “Let’s go do the paperwork.”

You may have squealed a tiny bit

_X_

“Put that down Brady! We are not buying any clothes. It is a dog, dogs do not wear clothes!” you fake-scolded your boyfriend while you were standing of the middle of the pet store with your brand new puppy Stanley contentedly chewing on the leash that the shelter had given you.

“But it’s a mini Rangers jersey!” he pouted holding the offending article of clothing

“And in two months, this little mans’s head is going to be the same size as it. Weren’t you paying attention to the fact that Stanley is probably going to grow to be upwards of 80 pounds? Keep in mind that he is a Rottweiler.”

“Alright, alright. What about this?” Brady conceded before holding up a blue collar and leash decorated with the rangers’ logo and hockey sticks.

“Much better” you nodded and Brady threw the two into your cart which was turning slowly into a mountain. You continued to walk around the store, slowly accumulating everything that your extensive research and prior dog experience said that you might need from teething toys to carpet disinfectant. When you walked into the toy aisle you started to pull out toys for Stanley to play with. You and Brady giggled when Stanley tried to fit his little mouth around a big tire toy that was twice his size.

“Hey champ, I think that’s a little big for ya.” Brady crouched down to meet the puppy and helped him with the toy.

“Aw, he’s just a little over-achiever.” you laughed

“Soon bud,” Brady pat the little dog,”You are going to be big and strong like your dad,” he winked over his shoulder at you causing you to roll your eyes.

“Okaayy, way to flatter yourself,” you laughed but added the tire to the cart anyways, “All ready to go now?”

“Let’s get this puppers home.” Brady scooped up little Stanley in his arms and the puppy started to wiggle and kiss all over his face, “We’re a little family now.’ Brady sighed as he grabbed your hand with his free hand.

You couldn’t help the giant smile on your face when you leaned up and kissed Brady on the cheek, “Best looking Rangers family?” you asked

“Now that we have Stanley, no one else stands a chance.”

_X_

ugh I just really love dogs okay??  Up next: Auston Matthews!

Pathfound

Pair: Zevin Raeka/Sara Ryder

Small sucky description: Sara’s feelings for Pathfinder Zevin Raeka are more than platonic and she’d been having a hard time dealing with them.

Words: 2750~

AO3

I saw this art by @asketchbookthing and died. So. Yeah. This has been in the works. Raeka’s characterisation is probably way off (its been a while since I last saw her and we see so little of her so I kinda winged it)

Also I suck at blurbs. Like a lot.

________________________________________________________________

The Nexus seemed busy today. More Salarians were around than the last time she was here. A few more Asari too.

She’d just recovered the Asari ark, the Salarian ark had been back for a short while. Of course the Turian Ark was still out there, but things were looking up. Slowly but surely it seemed everything was slotting into place.

People seemed joyous. Happy. Excited, even. The Asari were grateful. Some Angara were standing around amazed.

A few people stopped her on her way to operations, to thank her or ask her a question about the world, her job, anything. Some people just wanted a way to make it all seem real. Sara was happy to comply, for she understood completely the shock of waking up to a disaster, even if the disaster was slowly but surely getting better.

Well, they still had a long way to go yet. The Archon was still a threat and the cluster still not perfect for settlement. They’d get there though, eventually. She and Pathfinder Raeka had been working hard to ensure that this galaxy would be inhabitable. And now Sarissa had been added into the mix, too. They would all fight to their last breath if they had too. Whatever the cost.

The thought of Pathfinder Raeka brought Sara to another problem she was facing: She was undeniably falling for her. Despite the fact that she knew it was pointless, despite the fact that she knew Salarian’s had a short lifespan and she wouldn’t get that long with Raeka even if the feelings were returned (which she found no evidence of them being so) she couldn’t help it. Stepping onto the tram that’d lead her to operations, Sara felt herself sigh and sink into a seat. Her thoughts, once again, were filled with Raeka.

Raeka was strong, confident and brave. The way she cared about her people, the way she fought so passionately for them had made Sara respect her and see her with such awe that she hadn’t even noticed when her respect started changing. That is, until the nightmares she used to have started to be replaced with little snippets of dreams featuring her and Raeka. A stolen kiss, a stroll down a street she vaguely remembered from a visit to Earth, eating dinner in her Quarters. Small romantic gestures played through her mind constantly. And once Sara had noticed her growing affections, they became very hard to ignore. She’d spot something and wonder if Raeka would like it. She’d see the colour orange and think of Raeka’s armour.

Hell, at one point she’d coloured her own armour orange and blue mindlessly. It wasn’t until Cora pointed out how she looked like Raeka with those colours that she’d realised what she’d done.

So yes, Sara was definitely falling for her. Hard.

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Song of Sirens

The Storybook: The Little Mermaid

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 8,815

Sequel to Kiss of Life


It was one eventful night that had changed everything.

If you hadn’t placed yourself on that ship sailing back home from the capital, then you wouldn’t have experienced your first mermaid attack. If your ship hadn’t been a victim of those carnivorous creatures, then you wouldn’t have been knocked overboard into the middle of the chilling sea. If you hadn’t lost your battle with the overpowering waves, then Taehyung would have never found you in your descent to your watery grave.

With one kiss, he had granted you a second wind.

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Dex the Cryptid
  • Will’s family didn’t seem off to him until he began going to grade school
  • That’s when he realized most people don’t eat by catching fish with their bare hands, and can only hold their breath for a few minutes tops, not hours like him
  • Normal humans also don’t eat the entire fish? Including the bones? He always thought that was the best part though. Likes the crunch.
  • When he turned 6 his parents finally clued him in on what was up, at a very basic level though. They were what the government and conspiracist theorists named “North Eastern Beach Biters.” (NEBBs for short)
    • Humanoid Cryptids
    • Usually inhabit ocean towns or forests in North Eastern America
    • Have been known to leave large sea animals half shredded and eaten on beaches (sharks, large fish, whales)
    • Short tempered, very dangerous
    • “Biters” comes from their teeth; very sharp, and a lot of them. Use them to shred their prey, or a human that got too close or pissed them off
    • Long tongues that loll out of their mouths when they’re getting ready to attack
    • Eyes that either glow or reflect light
      • This is debated mostly because some pictures only show their eyes “glowling” from the front, while other show them glowing from the side
    • Pale skin
    • Loners
    • Enhanced Sight, night vision
    • Incredibly fast and agile, especially in the water
    • Taller than your average human, usually ranges from 6-8 feet
    • Reports of gills on their neck exist as well
    • Some say they have webbed feet and hands and fingers that extend into claws (theorized that is what they use to shred their bigger prey)
      • (spoiler it’s still their teeth)
    • First encounter surviving incidents often come away with severe bite wounds that will become infected quickly, but survivors usually only have one bite. 
      • Sometimes this happens in the water, and it’s a conspiracy whether it’s a shark bite or a Beach Biter bite. Happens enough where they were named after it.
    • There haven’t been many fatalities attributed to them, but ones that have been often have teeth marks on their bones that forensics aren’t able to identify
  • Will’s parents explain that while some of it is true (the teeth, the eyes, the skin to an extent, that they and their kind reside in the north east, that they sometimes eat large sea animals) and some of it is false (their eyes both glow and reflect light, it depends on how much time they’ve spent int he ocean recently, their kin actually reach 9 feet but they tend to live solely in the ocean once they’re that tall (only the larger have gills), they are pack/group beings)
  • But the important lesson from it, other than knowing his own anatomy, is that they aren’t human, they never will be, but they are trying their best to live among/aside them
  • They don’t explain that all when he’s 6, not all of it. He learns more and more about it over the next few years, how to hide his abnormalities and blend in well enough with the other kids. 
  • They give him the option to either reject human civilization and live as a cryptid his entire life OR continue to live with his family, who are attempting to blend into society

Read more because this is gonna be LONG (which option will Dex choose ooooooo?????) ((Edit: so this is….. like…. over 4k just warning but theres angst and comfort so like, def worth it ;)))

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Title: Checkmate
Character(s): 707, MC
Fandom: Mystic Messenger
Word Count: ~3,200
Rating: PG
Warnings: Um…nothing I can think of.
Disclaimer: MysMe isn’t mine. Don’t sue me.
Summary: 707 and MC play chess, 6 months before the events of the game.
Author’s Notes: There was that post with coffee shop au ideas circulating a while back, and one of them was something about OTP playing chess with each other without knowing whom the other player was.

This is the first of several variations on that theme, with pairings from various fandoms.

On AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10816131/chapters/23996349

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Threat

Originally posted by btsfunboyz

Sequel to Claimed -> Time of the Month

Werewolf!au

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Mildly Suggestive

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

***Warnings: Mild violence, jealousy, sexual-ish***


Anonymous asked:
Oh so I have an idea for werewolf jimin! That felt silly to write anyways lol Maybe something with like a jealous y/n instead of jealous jimin like somewhat angsty but ends up a mega fluff or an explanation of what they were fighting about?

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Our Undying Love

Pairing: Marichat, Adrienette

Theme: God AU

Word Count: 6,464

Also found on ff.net


“Ladybug!” Chat Noir watched as the goddess of creation stumbled back. Her hair, the dark locks highlighted as a shade of blue from the sun shining on them, covered her face like a wispy curtain. Her once white dress was now stained a deep red and waved majestically as the several layers of silk clung to the goddess’ body, showing every curve of her body and the excess fabric flowed above her. The armor she had conjured with her magic for the battle against Hawkmoth began to glow a pink before shattering into hundreds of ladybugs. Swarming around her torso, they slowed her descent, gently laying her on the blood soaked field. Next to the pools of blood -her blood- were thousands of wild flowers.

Even in this mangled state, she still managed to look beautiful to the god of destruction.

Chat took a shaky step forward, hesitant to move. He wanted to run to her, hug her and hold her tightly to his chest. But he couldn’t. Because if he did, that would mean he was accepting this reality. The reality that his loved one was gone, taken right before his eyes.

A weak arm moved towards Ladybug as a faint light began to shine through her milky skin and the silk dress she wore ever so beautifully. “No…” A hoarse whisper came from his throat, his legs whining in protest as he began to sprint towards her fading body. “No!”

He barely managed to reach her before she was fully gone, gingerly placing his trembling hand on her smooth skin. “Ladybug, no. Don’t go, please!” He willed for her to open her sparkly blue eyes that were always filled to the brim with happiness and hope.

But it never happened. Ladybug, his Ladybug, was dead now. The once dim light that cascaded from her body grew into a golden shine before flecks of shimmering gold spark rained down around him. Desperately, Chat reached for the light, it slipping through his fingers as she clutched at them. “Ladybug!”

He stared at the glittery sky above him, tears stinging his electric green eyes. It was beautiful, such as she was. But now matter how pretty it was, it still hurt Chat to no end. Misery and anger filled inside of him, threatening to boil over to the point of no return.

Chat snapped his head back at the akuma which had delivered Ladybug’s final blow. He was the last bastard in Hawkmoth’s army.

“You,” His voice shook in hatred, his hands clenched tightly into fists. The muscles in his biceps twitched as he felt his rage build up inside, blinding his vision with red.

The akuma didn’t stand a chance against Chat, not when the god’s specialty was close range combat. His powers of destruction came in handy as well. His left hand was bundled in the clothes the akuma was wearing as his other inched closer and closer to the akuma’s throat. His black magic swirled in and out of his fingers, a certain power overtaking his body.

“I won’t let you get away with this.”


It’s been 300 years since that incident, and the memory was still like a fresh wound to him. The image of her gracefully falling as she took her last breath were as raw and detailed as it was on that fateful day.

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