will i ever get over this show

Washed Away

Nessian, 2.9k, Rated T

A/N: This is based on the moment in ACOWAR when Nesta admits that she can’t take baths anymore because of Hybern. I wanted Cassian to help her out with her fear.

                                                         -o-0-o-

Nesta stared at the tub filled with an ankle deep of water. Her breath came out shaky, causing small waves to form over the surface. A towel wrapped around her skin, and the fabric irritatingly rubbed against her body. She knew there was no possibility of submerging herself in the water, two buckets were already filled beside it, but she wanted to try dipping her foot in. Just for a bit. Feyre had already contracted someone to install a shower, but it wasn’t going to be finished for another two weeks. Thus, Nesta continued her routine of using buckets.

Inside, Nesta knew she must look ridiculous, for she was staring at a seemingly empty bathtub. There was nothing in that water that would hurt her, not something that shallow at least. She would lift her leg and dip a toe, nothing more. That would be enough. All of her muscles seemed locked in place as her mind urged her leg to twitch towards the water. She could barely breathe the longer she stared, her thoughts circling around the image of Elain being shoved in those waters, not knowing whether her sister or a corpse would escape. Those moments when Nesta could hear her own heart thundering in her chest, even without Fae hearing. Then, Nesta’s thoughts raced to her own drowning. The tight grip of the Hybern soldiers’s hands on her body. The rage coursing through her as she pointed her finger. The flooding of her lungs—

“By the Cauldron! I am so sorry!”

Nesta whipped around faster than one could winnow to see Cassian standing in the doorway.

“What. The hell. Cassian.”

He was already retreating out the door, covering his eyes with his forearm. “I’m sorry Nesta. I thought—‘

“Did no one ever teach you to knock when there’s a closed door?”

“I’m sorry—“

“Closed, Cassian, the door was closed.” Her breathing came out incredibly ragged, and she practically shrieked, “Get out!”

She turned with every ounce of dignity she had left.

“What are those?”

Her voice came out very clipped. “What do you mean, what are those?”

His silence stretched on between them, daring her to turn around. She only allowed her head to graze over her shoulder before she saw he was not looking anywhere near her. Instead, his gaze locked on the buckets on the floor, and his eyes showed where his thoughts were going.

“Cassian. I said get out,” she snarled at him as she turned to face him fully.

“Nesta, are those—“

“They’re nothing,” she breathed, losing all courage from before, “Just leave.”

His head nodded at the order, still not looking at her as he left, lost in his own mind. When he closed the door, she walked over to check the lock and rested her back against the wall. Cassian’s interruption dragged more fight out of her than she thought it would, and she couldn’t motivate herself to even approach the tub let alone dip her toes. Her fight mellowed the longer she stood there, and she slid to the floor.

Too damn weak. She felt so inadequate that she couldn’t even stand. Everything seemed unnecessary beyond her inability to clean herself. Last time she washed was yesterday. She hadn’t done anything strenuous today, so she could wait. She could wait until tomorrow when she would have to wrestle with herself all over again to enter the bathroom and fill the buckets. When she drenched herself in their water, she would always hold her breath and move as quickly as possible. Her record was six bucketfuls, she didn’t think she could handle anything beyond that.

The water was surely cold by now, and as she stood to empty it, her legs shook. Plunging her hand into the tub for the drain, her eyes closed and she felt two silent tears slowly run down her face. The gurgling of the water was the only noise for a while until she heaved the buckets up to drain in the bath as well. Her towel somehow stayed snug against her body the whole time, and she hid the pails under the sink before leaving the room. Where she saw a hulking bat sitting across the hallway from her.

His lips moved as if to speak, but Nesta shot him a glare and practically ran to her room. She heard him follow her, but she just moved faster before slamming her door in his face.

As quickly as she could, she disrobed and dressed herself as he sighed on the other side.

“Nesta—“ he paused, as if wondering if she was going to let him continue—“I’m sorry about earlier. I was debriefing Rhys downstairs and was walking backwards into the door. I didn’t see it was closed. My apologies.”

She could hear him turning to walk away, but for whatever cauldron-damned reason, she opened her door.

“You weren’t there.”

His back strained at her words and his wings hitched slightly.

“Nesta, you know that ever since Hy—“

“Not there. I know there’s nothing you could have done. I don’t think you do, but that’s for another time.”

He was facing her now, and his jaw worked as if he were going to say something. She held up her hand. “Let me finish. You weren’t at the meeting with Graysen.” She took a deep breath, somehow this private admission a million times harder than the one that she made so long ago. “Your eyes were on those buckets, and your thoughts seemed to be working faster than your mind could handle. So I, ah, guess you should hear it from me before you draw your own conclusions. Taking a bath is pretty difficult after —“ she gestured pathetically with her arms—“everything. Feyre’s getting a, what do you call it? A shower installed. It’ll be another two weeks, so I use buckets instead of a bath. I wanted to see if I could dip my feet today, or at least my toes,” she sighed, “turns out I’m a little too pathetic for even that.”

She didn’t realize that she never once looked at him the whole time, but when she did, his face was completely stricken with devastation. Her fingers scratched behind her ear, and she attempted to walk past him.

“Nesta.” His hand was on her arm and his gaze was intense. “Nothing about your situation is pathetic. We share at lot of sexual jokes, but I’m serious when I say I have a shower at my house that you can use in the mean time. If you need to. Want to.”

She’d never admit how grateful she was at his offer, but the look in his eyes showed that maybe he could feel her relief. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

Their gazes locked for a moment longer, before she turned to leave and his hand left her arm.


At Ritas that evening, the whole inner circle enjoyed a night out including Elain and Nesta. All together, they shared a few drinks though Nesta drank less than everyone and sat completely erect on a barstool. Their group swayed along to whatever tempo they pleased while Nesta stared amazed that even Amren joined in their revelry. Looking at them all, she knew she could join them, in fact, they’d already encouraged her multiple times. Cassian never directly asked her once, but his eyes skirted over to hers almost too often. As if now that she told him her fear, she would shatter if left to her own devices.

Nesta slowly nursed her water at his excessiveness until the prick behind her shoved into her the bar.

“Excuse—“ Nesta started as she turned around.

Her voice was drowned out by the fighting males behind her. And the full mug of ale that completely drenched her outfit. There was no time to become angry at her sodden state. The fighting pair continued as though nothing happened, and Nesta just stared at herself mouth agape.

“Hey, Hey, Hey, HEY.”

Nesta looked up at that.

Cassian stood with his arms erect, breaking up the fight. His words were hushed between the two swaying drunks. Whatever he said calmed them, and his main tactic seemed to be forcing them to break eye contact by repeatedly claiming “look at me”. Nesta heard him say it so much that she didn’t realize he was saying it to her until she looked up.

His eyes were inches from her face and stared at her with concern. “There you are.” He gave her a small smile. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay. I wasn’t in that fight,” she hummed, “Can you get out of my face?”

He moved as if he just now realized their proximity and skirted his gaze down her dress. With his raised eyebrows, she couldn’t help but look too. “Nesta, I’d always thought I’d see you wet, but these were not quite the circumstances I was imagining.”

Nesta’s jaw dropped for a second time that evening. “Is there a real reason you came over here? Or did you just want to make some poorly timed innuendos and have to disrupt that fight to do it?”

“If you must know—” he leaned in close again—“your damp state seemed like you were going to need to wash.”

Nesta froze. She had not thought about that part of her evening yet.

“And I thought maybe you’d…want to come to my place.” The last words came so fast that she almost thought she misheard him. Almost. Which was why her response felt like too much.

“Fine. But you’re not allowed any more innuendos.”

He put his hands up in defense but wore a grin of satisfaction before leading the way out.

Not a word was spoken between them as they winded through the streets of Velaris. Nesta’s anxiety grew the longer they walked. From an outsider perspective, their situation would look promiscuous as he took her home, but there was nothing sexual about their silence. They weaved their way through town, down alleys, and Nesta could’ve sworn they‘d cross the Sidra twice. The peace shared between them seemed so delicate that Nesta had no desire to break it, especially since Cassian was offering so much to let her use his shower. A slight breeze passed, and Nesta’s dress, clinging to her body now that it was soaked, caused her to shiver.

She could feel Cassian look at her out of the corner of his eye and almost snapped. Tear him apart for taking them in a seemingly pointless journey through Velaris when there had to be a better route. Her mouth opened slightly to voice—

“Here we are,” Cassian gestured to a single brick townhouse, identical to all the others on the street. To Nesta’s surprise, every window had a lush garden growing in boxes underneath them. Cassian walked up the stairs, and Nesta stared at his back without really seeing it.

“Do all Illyrians in this city live in townhouses?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian jangled his keys, and Nesta began to ascend the stairs after him. “At least we’re not compensating for anything—” he turned to wink at her—“But considering there’s only three of us, yes we all do.”

Nesta scoffed at that and stepped aside as Cassian opened the door. As though he forgot she was there, he stumbled into his home without any bravado, not even turning on a light, and lightly made his away upstairs.

“Nesta, there’s definitely no water out there. If you would like to enjoy the particulars of indoor plumbing, you’ll need to follow me to the bedroom,” he called as he turned towards her.

“We agreed on no innuendos.”

“And there has yet to be one. The only bathroom with a shower here is upstairs—“ he turned back around—“So my offer still stands, but you’ll need to enter the room where I sleep.”

Nesta padded up after him.


His bathroom was huge. Everything in it was built to accommodate wings, making it all three times larger than necessary. What she assumed was his shower had three spigots each with two handles underneath. Cassian left her there unceremoniously, and she’d already stripped herself bare. Though she claimed she would be fine, there were too many levers and the water shot down in a pounding waves so hard that Nesta immediately turned it off, scared of its power. She cracked the door open.

“Cassian,” she practically whispered as if he’d be right inside his bedroom. No response.

“Cassian.” Much louder.

Footsteps sounded from downstairs, and she waited for his approach. She felt like an uncivilized idiot who couldn’t even learn how to use a freaking shower.

Someone tapped lightly on the door. “Can I come in, Nesta?” he sounded incredibly tired on the other side. She let him in.

“I don’t know how to work the shower,” she stated, “I mean I don’t know how to make the water more tolerable.”

He just stared at her. “Is the rain okay?”

“What?”

“You’ve been out in the rain since the cauldron. Is the rain okay?”

She thought back to memories of such gloomy weather and nodded. With those directions, he turned some dials on the faucets and spun the handles so water came out.

“That should feel like a light storm. If all three are too much, just use the one in the middle. The knobs underneath control the water temperature.”

A wave of exhaustion passed through her so strong that she had nothing to remind him that she knew how to turn it on. She left it at, “Thank you.”

As he left, he called, “When you’re done, just come get me to bring you home. I’ll be downstairs.”

She nodded before he turned and walked away. The bathroom that once seemed huge, now appeared tiny. Nothing in that room mattered except for the dripping water. Nesta stared at it a little, astonished that Cassian had been so generous throughout this whole situation. After so many years in that hovel, she was trained not to waste water, no matter how much she wished she could just stare at it and be clean. The towel dropped to the floor as she caught a waft of her beer-ladder self. Tentatively, she raised her arm and let the water cascade down. She could stop herself whenever she felt, but she chose to step over the tiny ledge on the floor anyway.

The sensation of all that water hitting her at once was too much. The warmth of it enveloping her to a point of choking that she blindly grasped for the faucet on her right, shutting the flow off immediately. On her other side, she fumbled more, but still managed to find it rather quickly. Above her, water came at a calming, leisurely rate. She closed her eyes. It’s just rain. It’s just rain. It’s just rain.

Her breathing slowed, slightly.

She could do this.

She’d already stood there for longer than those buckets could ever drench her. That thought though, forced herself to exit the stream. Her toes remained wet. She couldn’t help but think of only a few hours ago when she’d restrained from even putting her foot in the water. A sharp laugh escaped her.

Lathering herself in soap and washing multiple times, Nesta could only stand in the water for maybe a minute at a time before believing the shower a rainstorm washed away. All in all, she stayed there for maybe seven minutes. A short wash for anyone else, but the longest Nesta had had in months. Though they’d won the war, this felt like  Nesta’s largest victory. Cassian’s towel felt like velvet as she wrapped herself in it, wondering if she just thought that way because of the significance of her evening.

Outside, folded neatly on the bed, were a small stack of clothes meant for her. She quietly wandered downstairs to find Cassian. As she passed through his living room, she thought maybe he was in the kitchen only to find it empty. Rather, after some insistent searching, she found him curled on the couch, his wings forming a cocoon in place of blanket, making it appear as though he never meant to fall asleep.

His face seemed peaceful, more so than she had maybe ever seen it. After everything he had done for her tonight, he deserved some rest. She found a blanket and draped him in it before realizing that with his hulking form, there was really no place for her to sleep down here. Scrambling back up the stairs was her only option. First, she opened the door across the hall from his room, hoping to find a guest suite, but it was an office filled with maps and strategies. Which meant her only option was his bed. It felt like a personal intrusion, but the more exhausted part of her mind reminded her she’d already used his shower, so why not surrender to the comforts of his sheets.

Immediately, his scent invaded her nose the tighter she tucked herself in, but she found it intoxicating. A depressant stronger than any alcohol consumed that evening. She pulled the sheets tightly, almost feeling like Cassian was there with her. After almost no time at all, she fell asleep, her dreams filled with not a single drop of water.

In the morning, Cassian woke her up by poking her shoulder. They’d shared a small smile before he walked her home, and again neither of them said anything until they reached Rhys’s home where Nesta thanked him. Then, kissed him on the cheek, an action that surprised them both.

No matter how much shock there was though, Cassian welcomed her to his home for showers every day before Feyre got one installed. And thankfully never commented when she occasionally stopped in after it was.

anonymous asked:

Great, now I have to ufollow a blog I really liked because one of the mods is an anti. I hope you enjoy knowing one of yours tried to blackmail the Voltron staff with leaked images, and that the staff likes and shows more support for Sheith than it ever has for Klance.

First, put slashes in your asks, second I don’t ship K/ance that much I’m not into it and who in their right mind thinks that I agree with every K/lance shipper? I don’t give two shits about shipping because it’s pretty stupid how everyone gets so worked up over it. So bye I guess?

- Mod Keith

3

The next morning, Amelia called Danny and asked him to come over.

“Okay Amelia, just tell me what happened.”

“Well my ex showed up drunk last night and was trying to kiss me and get back with me. I asked him to leave and he wouldn’t and then he busted in here and I couldn’t get him to leave. He finally did, but I honestly was scared he might hurt me.”

“Amelia, if he ever shows up again, I don’t care what time it is, call me. I will come right over.”

“Thanks Danny. I thought I would never have to deal with him again, and I hope he stays away for good this time.”

anonymous asked:

36

hope this is okay :)

“I’m so in love with you.”

Anthony tells Jasmine he loves her probably more than he ever should. But he finds himself loving her even more in the moments that are candid, the ones that aren’t on date night or when they’re getting dressed up for an awards show.

He finds the urge to say it when they’re doing the dishes after friends were over, the music still playing through the speakers quietly. Jasmine often hummed along to whatever song was on, dancing subtly as she puts things in the dishwasher, Anthony helping clean up the cans and bottle around the apartment to put them out in the recycling the next morning.

This morning he finds himself falling even more in love with her when she’s packing for a vacation they’re going on in a few days that they both desperately need. She’s moving back and forth from her closet back to the bed where her suitcase lays, and Anthony walks in to find her dancing to her music.

He doesn’t say anything at first, instead just hovering in the doorway as she continues to sing loudly and dance around as if no one else is there. It’s minutes before Jasmine even notices him standing there, jumping slightly before smiling over at him.

“I didn’t know you were home,” She smiles, Anthony laughing as he takes a few steps in the room.

“I was going to tell you, but then I saw you dancing and singing, and kind of got distracted,” He shrugs, reaching out to pull Jasmine’s waist towards him, pulling her close. “I’m so in love with you,”He mumbles against her lips, kissing her softly as Jasmine sighs.

“Well, good news. I’m so in love with you too,” She replies when they pull apart, her hands resting against his chest as she smiles up at him. “But I really need to finish packing so we can sleep. We have to be up early,” She reminds him, leaning up to kiss him again before pulling away from him.

Anthony laughs and lets her go back to doing what she was doing, grabbing his own suitcase so he can start packing. The two of them sing along to the playlist they had made together and waste time dancing and making each other laugh.

Anthony doesn’t think he’ll ever stop falling in love with Jasmine, but as each day brings little moments for him to just watch her be herself, he realizes that that’s when he loves her the most. He loves the way she laughs and her face crinkles up, he loves the way she curls up against him at night and falls asleep before they even make it to bed.

He falls in love with her voice in the morning, or the way she sings around the house while she’s doing chores. He can’t remember a time she had ever been so happy than when he hadn’t been trying to make her laugh, and those are the moments he wants to remember for the rest of his life.

He’ll gladly spend the rest of his days finding ways to make Jasmine smile, but it’s the way that she’s happy without him noticing that truly make him realize how lucky he is, and how whatever they have together isn’t something he ever wants to have change as they grow old together.

Give me someone who has some fucked up tastes in fiction, but is kind and respectful to real people, over someone who only ever ships the healthiest ships and stans the purest characters, but is rude and cruel to real people, any day of the week.

Your goddamn fictional preferences don’t show what kind of person you are; your actions do.

It’s not a hard concept to grasp.

Edit: WOW this blew up like…. infinitely more than I expected or wanted it to. Honestly this was just me venting to my followers after seeing someone get harassed for liking a villainous character (so no, in response to the people claiming this is about a certain ship or type of ship, it’s a lot more general than that). I’m glad this has resonated with people but I can’t help wishing it didn’t get so big, because I hate discourse with a passion and only wish to be left alone. This wasn’t meant to target or defend anyone in particular, just a little rant about fandom hypocrisy that I really didn’t intend for a larger audience. So if this post bothers you, just know that I didn’t mean for you to be subjected to it in the first place lol. On the other hand, if you like it, I’m glad you do and I appreciate all the support. Peace to you all.
Story 215: Cultural Exchange

The human steps onto the station from her shuttle, and walks into the scanner.  It flashes - no weapons.  I pity her, though there’s nothing I can do for her.  By tomorrow she will be a slave the same as me; the Gaunvans collect ambassadors like trophies.
“Hello there!  Amanda Thorn, ambassador for the Empire of Humanity.  You’re a Ixian, correct?”
Mimicking human body language, I nod my head.  "That’s correct.  Ix Malasan.  It is an honor to meet you.“
She smiles, reminding me again that she has somehow modified herself to breathe atmosphere suited to the Gaunvans rather than wear a respirator like myself.  Other than that she appears to be a standard human, something I am led to believe is less and less common as they pursue the bizarre compulsion humans have to alter their bodies.  Changing hair color, adding pigments to their skins in patterns and pictures, growing long tails or ears that mimic other species from their planet.  No other known species tampers with their bodies like this.
“Not to be undiplomatic, she says, "but the Gaunvans enslaved your people.  Why are you here?”
“We… reached a mutually beneficial agreement.  We would have lost in combat and been eliminated, so we chose to preserve what we could of our culture.  The Gaunvans are not naturally skilled at diplomacy, so they bring me along to assist and to show that peace can be made.”
She nods.  "Understood.  I can respect that choice.  How much freedom do you have, personally?“
Smart of her, to start planning for her future. "A fair amount.  I have free reign on the ship when we are in transit.  At the homeworld I have reasonably comfortable quarters.”
“Have you ever met the Empress, or…?”
“Oh, no.  No, while on the homeworld I am confined to my chambers - but they’re quite spacious.”
“Shame.  Okay, plan ‘A’ then.  Let’s get this over with.”

Despite my attempt at encouraging diplomacy, the Gaunvan commander starts with threats.  I don’t know why I bother.  He looms over the human, chitinous plates almost black in the dim light.  His pod of six is posted around the room, for show more than for actual security since she followed orders and came alone and unarmed.  "Failure to surrender will bring the full wrath of our army upon you.  Humanity will be crushed, and wiped from the universe.“
To her credit, she looks very calm.  "We live in a post-scarcity society.  Bloody conquest just seems silly, doesn’t it?”
“It is for the glory of Gaun!”
“Well, I’m not prepared to get into a religious debate with you,” she says, “since I doubt there’s anything I can do to change your mind.  Since you’re committed to this course of action, what are you willing to offer if we surrender?”
Now he goes back on script.  Maybe I am getting through to him a little?  He talks about the benefits of being enslaved, mainly the protections for up to twelve designated culturally historical sites.  They’ve been mostly good on their word on my homeworld, though they did use the area just outside of the Hahhn Memorial as a waste dump.

She nods as she listens.  There was a part of me that was worried she would argue, because the humans are somewhat childlike.  They don’t understand the horrors of war.  Certainly they fought in the past, but the last time they had to battle was more than two of their generations ago, so these ones have all grown up coddled and soft.  They play games with each other instead, silly competitions.  They make art, and play pretend, and alter their bodies for fun.  They don’t have weapons anymore, and wouldn’t know how to use them if they did.
“Well then,” ambassador Thorn says, “this is about what I expected.  On behalf of humanity, I would like to formally reject this offer.”
Oh no.  Foolish humans.  The galaxy will miss your innocence.  The commander makes an excited clicking noise, looking forward to combat.  He reaches a blade-tipped hand towards ambassador Thorn, but hesitates as every device in the room bleats out an alert - we’ve all lost communications with the outside.

Like one of the dances humans do, she gracefully pivots around while taking his hand.  She ends up close to him and places her other arm against his thorax, then… oh gods. Gods, what… she’s ripped his arm off.  It’s not possible.  The commander is clearly thinking the same thing, staring in mute shock at his dripping limb.
“I’d like to extend a counter-offer,” she says, and flips the arm around before jamming the bladed end into his neck.  The warriors around the room are fidgeting, uncertain.  They haven’t been told to attack, and don’t want to dishonor their commander by intervening in a fight with such a small creature.  She’s still holding the commander’s severed arm in his neck, but she rotates and heaves, lifting him off the ground with it for a moment… and then his head pops off, landing squarely on the conference table.  She allows the corpse to slide to the ground, and straightens her clothes as if they aren’t covered in ichor.

I don’t understand.

The warriors, now with no orders at all, finally act.  She smiles as they come for her, I suppose because she has done her duty to send this powerful message of resistance.  She can die in peace.  Or… no… She’s killing them.  She’s smiling because this is fun for her.  Though they’re partly killing themselves; if there had been two of them, prepared, strategic, they might have prevailed.  Watching six panicked fighters get in each other’s way while trying to stop a smaller, faster, and somehow impossibly stronger foe is almost hypnotic.  At least one is killed by the stab of a friendly lance due to pure confusion.  It’s over faster than I would have thought possible, severed limbs strewn across the room.  I’ve got some fluids splashed across my clothing.  Only one yet lives, and he is retreating.  She seems to be allowing it.

She follows behind, holding a lance.  The wounded and scared warrior scurries down the hallway towards his ship, looking back behind him as he goes.  She’s just… walking.  Calm.  And for some reason I’m following.  The last Gaunvan reaches the airlock and the second he enters his code she throws the lance - throws it! - and spears him.
“Come on, we’re stealing their ship.”  She says it like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“There are thousands more on board!  Thousands!  Almost all warrior caste!”
She smiles again, and keeps walking.  I see errors on the screens that we pass, messages indicating communications have been lost.  They can’t tell anyone what is happening here.  Even the communicators within the ship are on nodes rather than being wired, so the warriors at one end of the vessel won’t be able to coordinate with the other end.  Do they even know they’ve been boarded?
“How?”

We enter the bridge after she kills a handful of other guards with ease.  They’re too shocked by her presence to act in time.  Once the door are sealed and she is working on the control systems she starts talking to me again.
“Well, you know, we do like to be prepared.”
“But you… you ripped his arm off.”
“Yeah, that was super satisfying.”  She looks at me appraisingly.  "Oh, come on.  Is it really that surprising?  You knew we were into changing ourselves, right?  Being strong enough to pop an overgrown bug’s forelimb off isn’t rocket science.“
"Your people are so peaceful…”
“Oh, sure, most of them.  But we did that, too.  Tweaked ourselves over the years to decrease aggression and some of our tribalistic tendencies, increase empathy… all stuff that can be undone if needed.  Though for a good cause even the nicest of us can squish a bug or two.”
“You bond with Ry'ling devourers!”
“Those are the big fuzzy guys that look like cats, yeah?  Those guys are adorable!  But… look, liking some things that could kill us doesn’t mean we’ll sit back and get enslaved.  We didn’t put up with it well when we enslaved each other, and we certainly aren’t going to go for it now that we’re… finally… on the same page about slavery being unacceptable.  It was, uh, a longer time than we like to admit before the last hold-outs were convinced of that one.”

I can feel the ship un-dock.  We’re moving.  "What about all the warriors on board?  They’ll break through the doors eventually!“
"Not according to this control panel here.  Take a look.”
It says there’s no atmosphere in the rest of the ship.  Life signs are negative on all but two of the warriors, presumably the only ones that got to their suits in time.  She disabled all the safety measures, somehow.  She just killed… I check the life signs readout again to confirm the number… three thousand, six hundred, and fourteen soldiers.  Wait, how is it tracking that unless… “Are communications back up?”
“Yeah, I’m calling some friends.  The military is right around the corner, so to speak.”
“But Earth doesn’t have a standing military.”
She laughs.  Not just a little bit.  She’s actually doubled over for a moment, unable to catch her breath.  "Sweet Jeebus, you guys actually fell for that?  No standing military.  Have you read about us at all?“

Three ships appear seemingly out of nowhere, and one docks with the Gaunvan vessel.  Once the atmosphere is restored we head to the airlock to meet them, and I’m surprised by an entire platoon of Gaunvan warriors.  Speaking English.
"Okay boys, send your last goodbyes!  This is in all likelihood a one way mission.  Commander Thorn!  It is an honor to see you again, and might I say you look exquisite drenched in the blood of your enemies!”
She bows to him, blushing, and then salutes the Gaunvans.  Or… humans?  Can they change themselves this drastically?
“You’ve got two holed up in here somewhere.  Bridge is clear, have the techs bring the new brain on board.”
“New brain?”
She looks at me like she’s forgotten that I’m here, and then turns back to the others.  "Men, this is our new friend Ix Malasan who has just been liberated from his captivity.  He’s going to be helping with our intel.  Malasan, yeah, a new brain for the ship.  Once this vessel is cleaned up and back in service with a new crew we’ll be able to take it over whenever we want even if all of our boys get killed.  We cooked up a really sadistic AI for it.“
"But how do you know the protocols?  This was your first contact with the Gaunvans, they’ve never lost a ship anywhere near here!”
“No?  There wasn’t a mining colony disaster two years ago?”
“But that was just an accident… and you weren’t even involved in the war yet… and…”

The faux-Gaunvans have finished boarding.  The one that was talking to them before puts a bladed claw on ambassador - commander - Thorn’s shoulder.  "You coming with?“
"Naw.  Orders said I could only come if they allow ambassadors near extremely high value targets.  Malasan here says they don’t, so I need to wait for my next mission back on Earth.”
“It would have been nice having you with us, Thorn.  Well, maybe we’ll see each other again.  Suicide mission or not, I think I’ve decided to live through it.”
“Bold choice,” she says, and kisses him next to his lower mandibles.
He nods at me, then turns back to his men. “Okay everyone, we are now officially on the job.  And what is that job?”
In unison, they start chanting.

“FUCK! SHIT! UP!  FUCK! SHIT! UP!  FUCK! SHIT! UP!”

For a moment I nearly feel pity for the Gaunvans.  Nearly.  Commander Thorn leads me off of the ship, and I start thinking about what useful information I can provide the ‘harmless’ humans.  Fuck shit up, indeed.

YOU KNOW WHAT MAKES ME CRY EVERY 1AM?

Knowing that Haechan is suffering quietly. The whole fandom knows he’s a savage and a little devil. But he’s the MOST sensitive among all of them. Yes he says he’s proud about his skin color, but it doesn’t mean that he won’t get hurt when people are saying shit about him. Okay, he’s not the type of handsome you’ll appeciate at 1st look like Taeyong, but the more you look at him the more handsome he gets. And now the rumour died down BUT THE DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE MY BABY ISN’T SMILING ANYMORE. Then I’d remember the radio show where Jaehyun and Johnny chose Mark over Haechan. Like I mean I get that they’re the foreign swaggers so they have a different bond and I also know that despite that they love Haechan too. BUT DO YOU EVER THINK THAT DONGHYUCK WOULD LAUGH ABOUT IT BUT DEEP INSIDE HE’S LIKE “I know I’ll never be as precious as Mark hyung” BECAUSE I THINK ABOUT THAT EVERY 1AM. BUT DOYOUNG MESSAGED AND SAID HE LOVES DONGHYUCK JUST MUCH AS HE LOVES MARK. You know why? Because Doyoungie knows Haechan would get sad about it. BECAUSE JUST LIKE HC, DY IS A MOOD MAKER AND IS SENSITIVE TOO. HE KNOWS WHAT HC FEELS. Everyone knows that Mark is treasured by everyone even the dreamies but then they’d only think of Donghyuck as savage and quirky but never as precious as Mark. And after the controversy Haechan might be thinking that “I didn’t do anything bad but I got this much hate and I hate myself more because I let this happen and it reflects badly towards NCT. Why can’t I be Mark hyung? He went to School Rapper and made everyone love him and NCT’s popularity increased bc of him but me? I’m nothing” but then he’d catch himself getting jealous but he won’t be jealous because HE LOVES MARK SO MUCH. HOW CAN HE BE JEALOUS WHEN AT THE SAME TIME HE LOVES MARK LEE. SO. FUCKING. MUCH? And that Mark loves him so much too? Don’t you think Mark feels bad for Haechan sometimes bc he always get the spotlight when he knows Donghyuck deserves it too? Donghyuck worked so so so hard. AND YET HIS FANCAMS ARE THE LEAST VIEWED EVEN AFTER MY FIRST AND LAST ERA. He makes sure his good points are seen on TV to prove that he’s not only a little devil but a good dongsaeng and hyung too. He works so hard in singing, dancing & variety. Most especially variety bc it’s the only thing he might be number one out of all the members. It took him 2 debuts and 2 comebacks to earn people’s attention and love AND ONE FUCKING RUMOR ENDED EVERYTHING JUST LIKE THAT.

You know what? Don’t mind me. I’m just on my period.

4

happy 18th birthday, noora amalie sætre ♡ april 6th, 1999

“what an awesome guy you are. i just can’t help but wonder what happened to you that gave you such a big inferiority complex, that shitting on a young, innocent freshman’s emotions makes you feel big and cool. never got any validation as a kid? didn’t mommy ever compliment your drawings? or was it daddy, who never showed up to your graduations? you didn’t have hair on your dick in seventh grade and got picked on for it? whatever it was, you need to get over it and start acting like a human being. stop walking around like a fucking cliché.” 

funny story

so when I was like 9 and 10 my friend and I were absolutely OBSESSED with webkinz. every dollar we had went towards buying webkinz, and combined we ended up with over 200. we made a youtube channel dedicated to webkinz music videos and all of our videos consisted of just fucking launching every webkinz across the room and bouncing them up and down in every possible location and filming it. we brought them everywhere with us (literally: restaurants, amusement parks, stores, etc). there was no limit to what we did with them. we were convinced we had over 200,000 youtube subscribers and one our videos has over 23K views. we were vehemently against ever getting rid of them and were determined to pass them down to our children like family heirlooms. today, every time I show a friend our channel they lose their fucking mind and every person finds it hysterical and I have to sit there in mortification.

Okay…it’s shit like this that makes me believe that Trekkies are NOWHERE NEAR as “progressive” as they like to believe themselves to be. (Also, at the time of this writing this is the most popular comment on the Star Trek Discovery trailer.

I mean really. If ya’ll are so “tolerant” then why is it that you’re getting pissy about a black woman as the lead? Why are ya’ll getting so freaked out over gay relationships, and people of color? 

Hell, if anything Trekkies should be used to this kind of thing, but ever since the trailer dropped all I’ve been seeing is complaining that they show doesn’t revolve around a white dude, or Trekkies being upset that the show’s going to “preach to them.” 

Shouldn’t the Trek fandom be celebrating? 

But they’re not, and I’ll tell you why. 

Because the Trek fandom (like ALL fandoms) only want diversity in a way that still caters to whiteness. Or heterosexuality. Sure, they claim to want diversity and interesting stories, but only if it means that whiteness (or heteronormativity) is still centered. Yeah, they’re cool with a “non white lead” as long as the “non white lead” doesn’t draw attention to the fact that they’re not white. Because a black woman embracing her heritage, her history, and her culture is “too much” for anyone to handle. 

Picard can quote European literature all damn day, but god forbid Sisko mention black history, or civil rights. Kirk and Archer can have all the female interplanetary love interests they want, but having an openly gay man in a loving relationship is “too preachy.”

If ya’ll want to talk about how “progressive” your fandom is (and I’m talking fandom here, not TV show) then the response to having a diverse cast should be “Cool. Nothing new for us.” 

But instead I’m seeing “SJW’s ruined this show” or “It’s gonna ruin Star Trek forever” or worst yet, Trekkies writing essays about how they’re “So totally not bigots, but they just don’t like the idea of being ‘force fed’ diversity”. 

Honestly, I bet people said the exact same shit about Kirk and Uhura’s kiss. It wouldn’t surprise me at all.

Well, ya’ll can trust and believe that people are keeping receipts on this shit.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over the thought that Castiel probably always has one of his wings curved around Dean when they’re in the same room.  It’s why the writers of the show can’t have Cas in close proximity while the boys are wearing the hellhound glasses.  The secret would be out.

In Regards to Hate: On Victuuri

I don’t know what suddenly happened again but there’s a shitton of hate for Victuuri/Viktuuri(/etc) in the tags lately. People are welcome to feel however they want for a particular ship, but I just wanted to give my two cents by tackling the common complaints I’ve seen. I’ll start from the beginning so I’ll be addressing basically all the arguments against this ship I’ve seen so far. I’ve tried to maintain some sort of order for these, but honestly I just winged it at some point.  A lot of these arguments are also heavily character-based, so keep in mind that I’ll be deconstructing several scenes as well as character motivations as I go.  (As a note, this assumes you’ve seen the whole show. Also, I’m only using canon evidence from the show itself.)

This is like an informal follow-up to my super old post but also not really.

No I’m not avoiding work why would you say that.

WARNING: This is a massive post/wall of text. Grab popcorn.

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Fueled By Desire (NSFW 18+)

A/N: So, today has been a crazy day but I started writing this last night and wanted to post it tonight ! So I wrote it in virtually 24 hours, so I hope it didn’t suck to bad. I planned on posting it earlier but I had a bit of writers block. This a Theo smut that you can thank @hardladyheart for. She’s filled my mind with dirty Theo thoughts. (Fun fact’ this gif is actually mine and my blog name used to be twfanfic-af)

Thanks to: @writing-obrien and @hardladyheart for editing and proof reading.

Warning: SMUTTTTT

Word Count: 2803

Originally posted by stilinski-jpeg

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