For Adam! What is one thing that you love about him in canon and one thing you dislike about him in canon?

What do you wish to see of him in the newest season? What develops do you wish to happen for him?

LOL I've been saving this one all day because it's gonna be fairly long. XD

What I love about Adam is that he's a dick but so lovable at the same time? I think it's a mix of his design is very round, Alex Brightman bringing that fun goofy quality to him and just Adam being....Adam, I guess.

Like, compared to Valentino, he's never outwardly abusive and never goes out of his way to physically hurt someone UNLESS pushed to it. Plus Lute with him are instant squad goals.

What I don't like about him in canon is how limited he is. I get that the show was crunched by Amazon to have barely enough episodes to do....anything really. And Vivz wanted to get a story out ASAP before she knew there was another season approved. But you can feel it with Adam. We're told ' oh he's so bad OMG so evil' but outside of the Exterminations.....how is he worse than Sir Pentious, who was BRAGGING about murdering people and wanting to enslave half of Pentagram City in the pilot.

Like Adam being an enemy is fine, I get it. But him ONLY being an enemy, since he's literally part of Genesis and a huge part of the overall structure of the Hazbin story just doesn't sit right with me.

What I wish for Adam in season 2 is definitely, well....more Adam. BUT I want him to be treated as not just yet another baddy. Unlike the Vees, Adam actually means something to the backbone of the lore. What the Hell are the vees compared to him? A bunch of punks who are trying to bully kids off the playground when big brother isn't there to stop it.

It's hilarious to think that we're supposed to think the vees are somehow BETTER than Adam even though they're literally just a bunch of whiny abusive pricks that enslave people and even rape them.

Bring Adam back and have him SUFFER. Have him be forced to eat so much crow that he's coughing up feathers by the time he ends up at the hotel. Don't make season 2 all about him but put him in the background and tease him being alive.

Have him shift from an arrogant prick to someone broken, desperate to go home, and Charlie having to swallow her anger at him to help him. Have Adam earn his way home by being forced to heal from the trauma he endured in Eden.

And have Lute and Adam find each other again. And have Lute find redemption in being forced to confront the fact that Adam is a sinner now, and that she can't hurt him. Have her become the Vaggie in her situation....because she fell in love with a sinner.

Hopefully by season 3 Adam would be established as a protagonist or even just an antihero. Kind of like Megamind. Just a guy who does the right thing but makes a big spectacle of it since he is the Dickmaster.

Have Adam get the attention he desperately needs from people who CARE about him. For HIM. Not for WHAT he is....but WHO he is. Have Adam find himself and not be part of an equation anymore.

If this sounds like Vegeta....yeah, basically lean him towards being Vegeta with the chaotic gremlin energy of Loki and Stitch.

@lettherebemonsters

(This is set whenever Hyde finds Mina from where Wade had her captive)

Angst prompt:

“Aren’t you tired of this, too?”

She was beautiful. She always was even when she was like this. Bound and chained. “I mean-Grrah-“ the heavy chains holding Mina to the stone snap like shoelaces “don’t get me wrong but do you ever get tired of helping England, being part of the League?” He sniffs for a moment, nostrils flaring in search of that copper scent of blood from the woman. “I-I didn’t come to late did I?” He rumbled,

(For reference let’s say Wade had her stashed on some mountain where of course the first rays of Dawn would hit)

Whispering Pines

I plan for this to be a two-part piece, at least, as there are many mushy and maybe even spicy things planned for it—but today is my birthday and I’ll be away from my computer for a few days to celebrate. I really hope you enjoy reading it in the meantime. Big fluff, 18+ only.

In a world where infected roam the earth and surviving has become a daily battle, life is as good as it can be. Perfectly fine, by your standards, until Abigail Anderson entered the picture.

From the moment you saw her shredding all competition in the gun range, she stirred something inside of you that now clouds your mind and distracts you from almost everything else.

The term “crush” makes sense to you now, with the overwhelming burden of longing and unseen affection absolutely crushing you into miniscule particles of dust, drifting hopelessly at her feet.

Your infatuation has pushed you into a range of activities you wouldn’t have pursued otherwise. While it has undoubtedly made you a more capable soldier, it is unfortunate that the attention your accolades have received is not something you can reciprocate, even if you wanted to.

It’s not just her striking smile, or her perfect blend of rugged and soft features—not the sheer strength she exudes when she ambles through the chow hall in her tank top, cargo pants so snug across her muscular thighs it makes your knees weak.

It’s just her. A beautiful amalgamation of countless quirks and habits that, for some wicked reason, forces your senses to impossible heights when you desperately need them to subside.

“Are you hearing me right now?”

“Shit, sorry,” you say. “Go again.”

You lower your head apologetically, Manny’s face expressing absolute scandal when he notices the broad-shouldered goddess that diverted your focus from him. His very best friend and comrade, naturally.

When he waggles his brows at you and calls Abby over, your stomach swoops so low that the rapid beating of your heart contradicts the notion of standing still.

“Manny, don’t—Manny! Oh, Jesus Christ.”

With a brief, calculating glance at your fidgeting form, he meets Abby halfway, abandoning you in line.

As you lose focus on your surroundings, panic draws emphasis to the position of your hands. You become acutely aware, contemplating whether they should rest in your pocket or if that would come across as too deliberately cool.

You avoid watching them talk amongst themselves, the air thick with secrecy, because obviously if you don’t see her, she can’t see you and then you can vanish without a trace, escaping to a haven that grants respite anywhere but here in the damn burrito queue.

When you reach the front of the line, you snatch up your lunch with such speed that the person serving you may have mistaken your haste for a bad mood as you swiftly exit through the nearest doors and into the hallway.

“I can’t believe you,” Manny pants, trying to catch his breath as you fumble with your overcrowded keyring. “The first woman who’s ever tried to escape my charm.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you snicker. Metal jingles aggressively as you struggle to enter your apartment. “God, what’s wrong with this damn thing?”

In a display of cunning, Manny unveils a spare key, undoubtedly gained through some act of thievery, and shoves you aside. With a kick, he swings the door open and stretches his arm above your head to hold it for you.

“Do I even want to know?” you ask, gesturing at the stolen key.

“Probably not,” he chuckles.

He rests against your kitchen counter and, realizing you won’t ask him to go, hops onto the hard surface. He devours his meal, one enormous chomp at a time, legs casually swinging as you wander through your suite, trying to regain your appetite.

“So,” Manny says, balling up the wrapper before tossing it at your head. “You’ve got it bad for my girl, huh?”

“You’re actually the worst, do you know that?” you say. “I hope you never get laid again.”

Laughing uncontrollably, Manny tries to catch the messy wrapper you toss back at him, causing him to nearly tumble off the counter.

“That’s what you get, sucker!” you exclaim. “Looks like you won’t be making the softball team, after all.”

With a snort, Manny jumps down from the counter and starts rummaging through your mini fridge, in search of something to wash down his lunch.

“We’ll see after this weekend who is the real sucker.”

“What does that mean?”

With a voracious gulp, he drains the last drops of your juice rations, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He’s finally seeking retribution for all the snacks of his that you’ve been helping yourself to.

“Manny, what did you do?” you groan.

An abrupt knock at your door startles you, as Manny’s knowing look turns your mouth bone-dry.

“I’ll go wash up. You better get that,” he says.

With a leisurely pace, he saunters down the hall, his footsteps creating a gentle rhythm as he heads towards your bathroom and out of sight.

Thunderous knocks continue to echo through the room, causing your thoughts to scramble. You smooth out your shirt and fuss with your hair, taking a few calming breaths before flinging open the door.

A pair of bright, curious blue eyes greet you on the other side, setting your cheeks on fire. Swallowing hard, you stand there speechless, desperately grasping for something significant to say. Knowing what Manny told her would provide some helpful context, but that shithead has left you in the lurch twice today.

Abby sizes you up, her attractive face adorned with a growing smirk that spotlights her confidence.

“Hi,” she says with a warm smile, extending her hand for a friendly handshake. “I’m Abby.”

“Hey, yeah—I’ve noticed. I know,” you blurt, feeling yourself internally recoil at the gibberish spilling from you like a waterfall.

As you both stand there, the handshake lingering for an unusually long time, Abby’s amusement at your expense only seems to intensify. As she patiently waits for you to decide when it ends, her eyes crinkle cheerfully at the edges. By the time you pull away, your whole body feels sweat dappled and flushed.

Manny shouts from somewhere inside the apartment, sending your shoulders straight to your ears. “Are you going to invite her in already—where are your manners?”

His outburst earns a gratuitous eye roll from Abby, who then tilts her head with empathy towards you.

“Would—you like to come in?” you stammer.

“Yeah,” she says. “That’d be great.”

----------------------------------------

A few times each year, Abby takes charge of organizing events for the younger generations on the FOB. She leads a series of survival challenges—scavenger hunts, fishing and hunting, target practice, crafting competitions, herb, and plant identification—to help keep morale up and to preserve strength in the community.

Although you haven’t taken part, you’ve heard positive feedback from soldiers and their families on base. It’s a good thing too, since Manny has kindly stepped in and volunteered you to help Abby with the next one.

“I know it sounds corny, but it really helps build teamwork and keep everyone active,” Abby explains, referring to a relay race she wants to set up outside the walls.

“No, not at all—it sounds awesome,” you say.

“I was going to go solo, but if you want to come along, I’d appreciate the extra hands,” she says. I usually camp for a few days and build everything myself. It’ll be nice to have some company out there.”

Abby’s fingers find a loose thread that is spindling out from a tear on her jeans, and she starts to fiddle with it. Manny clears his throat, prompting you to join the conversation rather than staring at her like she’s an enchanting extraterrestrial.

“I love camping!” you squeak, putting Manny on the verge of collapsing with laughter as he hears the sheer excitement in your voice.

It wouldn’t be completely terrible if the couch swallowed you whole, but despite your nerves, Abby does a decent job of making you feel relaxed in her presence.

“Yeah? Do you have a tent and everything?”

It’s clear that the universe is conspiring to make you look like a fool, so of course you don’t have camping gear of your own. To be honest, you’ve always been thankful for the opportunity to choose your work while off base because every time you observe your unit setting up camp, it reminds you of how complex it all seems.

Your inclination is to prioritize keeping everyone fed and using your expertise in weaponry and stealth. If you attempted to pitch a tent with only tarps and some rope, someone would inevitably wake up in a puddle.

“I’m not so great with the tent erecting stuff,” you say, mentally cuffing yourself the minute you hear yourself speak.

You’ve never uttered the word erecting in your life before now.

You avoid glancing at Manny’s face, aware that he’s eagerly anticipating the chance to mercilessly ridicule you. With a sugary, lopsided smile, Abby boldly extends her middle finger towards her best friend. You can bet that he is making all sorts of faces behind your back.

“We can share mine,” Abby offers. “If that’s cool with you.”

“Sure, that works for me,” you say with a nod, trying like hell to stay composed against the heat climbing your neck.

Abby bites her cheek to suppress a smile.

“Good, it’s all settled,” Manny says, slapping your back. “Just you and Abby, all alone in the great outdoors.”

----------------------------------------

“I’m going to kill him,” you grumble.

Upon hearing the news of Manny finally pairing you and Abby together, Nora is giddier than you’ve ever seen her. While assembling a medical kit for your camp out, she gives you a cheeky look.

“That girl needs her shit rocked,” she says, bouncing her flawlessly manicured brows. “If you want my vote, I say you send her home to us limping.”

“Oh, my god! I’m never going to get my face to calm down.”

You press your palms to your forehead, desperate for a cold cloth.

Nora’s bright, warm giggles fill the room, matching the kind-heartedness she emits.

“There’s no way Abby isn’t dreading this,” you say, passing a roll of gauze to Nora’s outstretched hands. “You should’ve been there—it was like I forgot how to talk or something. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Well, if I know her as well as I think I do,” Nora says with a grin. “She probably found your mess pretty damn cute.”

“You think so?”

“Totally. She digs the dorky ones,” she shrugs, handing you the fully stocked medical kit. “Just be real with her, okay? Everything with Owen did a number on her. I’d hate to have to kick your ass when you get back.”

“I don’t think this is that kind of trip,” you say. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Leaning against the desk, Nora twirls a pen in her hands, lost in thought. The Salt Lake Crew, as you understand it, formed an unbreakable bond, strengthened by the shared experiences and obstacles they encountered while growing up together side by side. Though some challenges they faced have become distant tales, her face still carries the etching of the profoundness of their connection.

“I’m going to tell you something because I trust you, but please don’t make me regret it.”

The sound of the pen tapping against Nora’s thigh is quick and incessant as she gathers her thoughts. A small puff of air escapes her as she studies you intently from a distance.

“Fuck it,” she says, her lean hands gripping the tabletop. “Abby gets these—bad dreams, okay? Not all the time, but when she does, it can be rough. It’s why she goes out there alone.”

“Oh,” you breathe.

“Yeah. So, it’s a pretty big deal that she’s bringing you along this time,” Nora explains. “Please be good to her.”

----------------------------------------

The two of you venture outside the gates in the early morning, the scorching heat prickling your neck. The drought-stricken summer is the hottest you can remember in ages, dry grass crunching beneath your boots as you trek on.

You bring your shirt up to swipe at your sweaty face, drawing Abby’s gaze as it travels down your body.

This time, it’s her face that flushes with a rosy hue as she realizes you caught her stealing glances.

“It’s cool of you to help me out,” Abby says, redirecting attention. “Even though it’s boiling out here.”

“I thought about bailing, I’m not gonna lie,” you chuckle.

The heat and Abby’s quick pace are leaving you out of breath, but you’re determined to keep up.

“Why didn’t you?” she asks.

You reflect on Nora’s words and how she pleaded with you to treat Abby honourably. Her advice was to be authentic, and even though vulnerability can be frightening, you’re going to bite the bullet.

“I’ve wanted to get to know you for a while,” you admit. With the sun piercing through the trees, blinding your vision, you tightly clutch the straps of your backpack and hang your head. “I hope that’s not weird.”

Abby stops in front of you, and it momentarily obscures the bright rays of sunlight, offering you instant relief. The freckles sprinkled along her sun-kissed skin become more prominent, enhancing her natural beauty. She’s so pretty it makes your chest ache, and your thoughts run wild.

Kneeling, she hunts through her bag and pulls out a crumpled ball cap. When she stands up and carefully places it over your head, making all the necessary adjustments, flutters stir between your ribs.

“This hat is weird,” Abby says, her soft smile contrasting with her words.

Before continuing the journey, she pauses to fix a few messy tendrils of your hair, her touch lingering behind your ear for a split second. It’s enough to overlook the blazing temperature outside, mistakenly convincing you it’s only a sensation within your body.

“What about you—where’s yours?” you ask.

Despite her attempt to hide it, her smile is unmistakable as she tilts her head away.

“It looks better on you.”

“I highly doubt the accuracy of that statement,” you quip.

If you had known she was such a sweetheart behind closed doors, you might’ve summoned the courage to approach her differently. Life is brief, and it dawns on you how much time you’ve squandered in fear.

Amused, Abby shakes her head and then gestures for you to follow her. You would willingly accompany her to the deepest depths of the earth if she wanted. Fortunately, you’re already experiencing a preview of that, with the summer heat threatening to sear you like a salmon steak.

Abby jogs ahead of you, her eyes hooked on something beyond the treeline. You match her speed, eager to discover what has caught her interest.

She leads you to a lake, with its surface as clear as crystal, mirroring the vibrant emerald hues of the surrounding trees. Wildflowers bloom at the water’s edge, cradled between pebbles, their petals a delicate splatter of yellow and purple. A family of ducks glide gracefully across the surface, leaving ripples in their wake.

You wish you had something to offer them.

“Please tell me we’re going swimming,” you say, spellbound by the lush oasis and the promise of a refreshing dip. “I haven’t been to the lake for years.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Abby says, beaming at you. “Have you ever gone skinny dipping?”

Her teeth graze anxiously over her bottom lip, examining you—her watchful eyes appearing filled with hope that she didn’t unintentionally cross a boundary.

“Only in my bathtub,” you say with a nervous giggle. “But I guess that doesn’t really count.”

“You’re a total dork,” Abby teases. “It’s kind of growing on me.”

“I’ll take it,” you say, delighting in the way she impishly scrunches her nose at you. “So, are we doing this or what?”

“You first,” she says, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she flicks at the brim of your hat.

When you toss it aside, Abby lifts her shirt up and over her head, balling it up to pitch on top of her bag. Her smooth, honey-blonde braid sways between her exposed shoulder blades as she widens her stance, unfastening her leather belt. Her back is a landscape of tight, defined muscles that leave you feeling dizzy.

Abby’s gaze meets yours as she looks back, a trace of wonder dancing in her eyes.

“Like what you see?” she asks.

In a Concrete Jungle - Chapter 1 "The Meeting"

Noah Sebastian x OFC (Aurey)

(pictures edited by me. Originals url linked on the pictures.)

A/N : Oh my, I'm back after a long break and work on this fanfic. Took me a while as you can notice, but I'm glad on how the first chapter turned out already. Again this is going to be a long story, so I'm going to take my time by writting it. I hope you'll like this one ! :D Let me know if I've forgot anything and your thoughts about it ! <3

Warnings/Tags : Strangers/Enemies to Lovers trope, violence, blood, post-apocalyptical universe, "no god, no religion" vibe (I don't mean any form of disrespect in any religion), mention of trauma, death, loss, drugs, mental and physical abuse, trust and abandonment issues. (Just in case MDNI please).

Disclaimer : I haven’t read the comic book “Concrete Jungle” written by Noah Sebastian and illustrated by many cover artists such as Nicola Izzo, Jeremy Wilson and many more, so I don’t know much about the lore and the universe. I just got inspired by the song and the few panels of the comic book that I saw about it. The rest is a pure work of my imagination and it’s not related to anything official. Nothing is canonically official. This is totally fanfiction. And so this is how I pictured the world in the song “Concrete Jungle”.

~ The little beans taglist : @valiantroeagleangel @talialovesmiw @lma1986 @cookiesupplier

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━

The four men arrived at a strange building. It was half destroyed but still inhabited. The dark clouds of smoke outside gave a gloomy appearance to it. They saw a lot of old burned cars, with more wires and barbed strings surrounding the whole building, like a barricade or a fortress. Once they parked their car, they got out one by one, slowly, observing their surroundings. Noah and Nicholas were the first ones to cover their nose as they just breathed the heavy air from outside. It smelled like burned gas.

They were carefully being watched by some kind of military guards. Some of them looked like cops, others looked like simple soldiers, with their guns, helmets and respirators. Two other security agents, wearing the same black gear with a bulletproof vest were close to the door of the old building. They were talking to their headset radio, before another man arrived outside. Then, all three walked towards the newcomers, welcoming them.

“Are you the BAD OMENS syndicate ?”

“That’s us.” Jolly spoke.

“I’m Leo. I’ll be your guide here. Follow me, Mister Charles is waiting for you.”

The security guard turned on his heels, heading to the entrance of the building again. Jolly took the lead of the group, followed by Folio and Ruffilo, while Noah closed the queue. His hands in his pockets, he was looking everywhere, paying attention to every detail around him. He looked up and saw a lion symbol in a crescent shape decorating the pediment, proudly. He read “Golden Lion”. Before the short dark brown-haired man could ask anything, the security guard turned around, facing the group.

“Welcome to the Golden Lion’s den.”

The so-called “den” looked bigger from the inside than the outside. The bricks were about to crumble at any second but somehow it managed to stay in place. That didn’t bother at all those who lived here. Once the group entered the building, they couldn’t see a thing. There was a huge darkened hallway barely lightened up, the electricity flickering randomly. The security guard explained to Noah and his friends this floor was hardly occupied by the mafia members and it was only dedicated to training.

“...The first floor is for common places, like the dorms, bathroom and kitchen. The second floor is where the chief’s office is and where the guest rooms are. Plus the rooms of the elite guards. As for the third floor, it’s the boss' personal quarters only with his closest bodyguards” Leo continued to explain before stopping in a caged room. “Let’s take the elevator to go faster.”

There wasn’t any space in the so-called elevator. It was just enough to fit them all five.

“Looks like this place needs some work done” Folio jested, noticing the gravel falling from the ceiling.

But Leo replied calmly, not paying attention to the joke.

“Well, unfortunately we don't always have the time to repair when the Resistance or the other gangs are planning any other attack against us.”

Feeling a bit shameful, Folio didn’t dare to make any other remark and just kept silent.

“The Resistance ?” Nick asked, curious.

“My boss will explain everything to you soon enough.”

The gear sound of the elevator, reaching his destination, brought everyone back to the present. Even though they were all calm, deep down Noah couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious, anticipating the important meeting with one of the richest individuals in the mafia world. They heard few things about the Golden Lion’s achievements, mostly the grand ones. About how they gained so much money after working in different illegal industries, like drugs, weapons auctions and nightclubs. But it didn’t last too long. They had to leave Hell’s Kitchen, their first base, before the police found them. This was the last news they were ever published after that. And somehow they ended up here. In this No Name town. And it seemed like it was a lair for a lot of gangs to continue their business. 

Despite being lost in this flood of thoughts, Noah tried to push his anxiety away, displaying his usual calm and serious expression. He had a lot of questions that were circling in his mind and he hoped he could ask them when the moment came. The security guard guided them to the front door which was lightened inside.

“This is where I must leave. The boss is waiting for you inside. I’ll be going on my daily patrol here, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to look for me and ask. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Leo. Hope to see you soon” Noah spoke, grateful to him.

“See you around, bud’ !” Folio jested to light up the sudden tension and serious mood.

Leo just nodded at them, waving briefly, before walking in the long corridor, checking if everything was normal. Once the sound of his shoes was far enough, the boys entered the room. What they saw next really contrasted with the rest of the building. There were a lot of expensive sofas and leather couches arranged in front of a brown desk. The person who was on the other side of it was a huge sixty-year-old man. On his large fingers, he was wearing golden rings that were decorating his knuckles. Some of them had a lion symbol sculpted on them. Yet, what surprised them the most about this man was his face. A few strands of his grey hair were falling on his forehead, drawing attention to his blue eyes that could see through you, despite being covered by the chubbiness of his cheeks. This man was the perfect mixture of wealth, trickery and disgust. Despite the hideous look of this individual, he had an aura that embodied leadership. You could tell who was in charge here.

“Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome to my den. I’m Big Charles or Big C for my friends. Please, have a seat.” He ordered in a low voice.

The four men did as they were told and took place on the burnt brown couch before Big Charles’ desk.

“I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, BAD OMENS syndicate. I’m glad to see you made it through here. Knowing your presence here fills me with joy.” Big Charles smiled, showing his golden teeth, filling in the void of his dentition.

“We’re honored to hear such great feedback about us, sir. Seems that our reputation precedes us.“ Jolly spoke politely.

“Perhaps you could tell us more about the mission you’ve told us about on the phone, sir? We’re curious to learn more about it.” Noah continued.

“Straight to the point, I see.” Big C chuckled. “Of course. I’m gonna tell you everything you need to know about this mission.” He nodded, intertwining his golden-ringed fingers together, before continuing.

“You see, my gang and I have been facing a difficult situation for a few months. At first, we were handling it thanks to our partners in the city, such as a few minor gangs and some mercenaries. But, we’ve reached a point where even our partnerships have been attacked. And so we don’t have any more resources, like money, weapons and men. I lost so many men during these terrorist attacks. Which is why I called an outside syndicate like you.”

Charles paused, licking his lips to moisten them. He bent over, looking for something in his drawers. He put a whiskey bottle on his desk before turning to his cabinet behind his seat and taking five glasses. Then he poured the liquid into the glasses and handed some of them to the four young men in front of him.

“Have a drink, gentlemen. This one is my favourite ever. You cannot find any better in this dirty town. I have to commission someone from the outside to look for this kind.” Big Charles mumbled. “Anyway, where was I again? Ah yes, the terrorist attacks. They call themselves the "Resistance” or the “Red Sun”. There were a lot of gangs who tried to threaten us, but them...  They are a disease to this town. Although they are less numbered compared to us, they always come back. Like a hungry wolf pack. Or rats. I don’t know how they do that, but one thing I’m sure of is they are desperate and evil souls who only kill and steal people like us. We are among those who are trying to survive. And the worst and annoying thing about them is they always know where to hit to weaken us !” Charles spat, angrily slamming his empty glass against his desk.

“So, in other words, this organization you speak of… The Red Sun or Resistance, are they the ones we have to stop ?” Jolly resumed.

“Precisely, my boy. And the best way to stop them is to find where these rats are hiding, find their leader and bring them to the authorities of The Eye.”

Big C suspended his talking, pouring himself another drink and taking immediately a sip of his whiskey, leaving the four men processing the amount of information they received at once.

“What do you mean by The Eye ?” Nicholas asked quietly, breaking the short silence.

“It’s the ruler of the city. Usually, you can see its tower from the outside but because of the weather and the smoke today, you can barely see its light above. Besides watching over us, the citizens, it protects those who obey them by giving supplies, like food, water, medical kits and recently weapons. A lot of gangs depend on their help and partnership, like mine. And we’re not going to let those resistance steal our resources !” Big C replied.

Noah and his companions just nodded their heads in approval, before he decided to speak.

“So, what are you expecting from us, sir? What do we have to do ?”

Big Charles smiled at the professionalism of those young ones.

“For now, your main mission will be to investigate the Red Sun, finding their base and leader. Once it’s done, their attacks will decrease. In return, your reward will be big, I can promise you that. You’ll receive 3 million dollars and more advantages during our cooperation together. As long as you’re here, my most trustworthy guys will ensure your protection. You’ll also have a place to stay and eat and even have a free pass from the nightclub I own. Depending on how efficient you are, it could be done in a month or two, but it won’t last long either way. Leo will give you every detail you need to know about the rules here and your rooms.” Big C paused once more, drinking his fourth sip of whiskey. 

“Oh and just so you know, if you’re approving these terms you’ll get a contract with me, under The Eye’s orders. Soon they’ll send us someone to supervise you, making you sign the contract and give your new weapons. I’ll tell you when…”

While Big Charles was rambling, the sound of heels clicking on the black-polished tiling resonated in the whole corridor. The woman in black walked so confidently, smoking nonchalantly with her cigarette inside the building. She took one last puff before crushing the stub under her boots and heading to the usual room of the mafia leader. She opened the door and leaned against the doorframe, so casually, as if she owned the place. Then, she gave a smile to the four gentlemen seated on the brown couch and to the sixty-year-old man in front of them.

“Well, Big C, aren’t you going to introduce me to your guests ?” She asked with a raspy voice.

Charles stood up immediately, leaving his beloved and comfortable burgundy armchair to greet the woman dressed in her long black coat respectfully.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come here so early, dear…” He started, then stopped a second when she glared at him through her red sunglasses, before continuing “...dear Supervisor. It’s an honour to see you. Let me introduce you to the four young men here. They just arrived a few hours ago in town. They are called the BAD OMENS.”

The woman in black just nodded at Big C, pretending to be interested in his words. However, the last part caught her attention. She stared even more at the four young men before her.

“Interesting name’s choice.” She noted, “ At least, we can expect some of your victims to tremble in fear.”

“We prefer to not think about it. Ignoring those who are afraid of us, is to avoid having pity in them. But I guess in this kind of job, we can’t help but feel it no matter what.” Jolly spoke calmly.

“Put the feelings aside, darling.” She replied, waving her hand in an irritated manner, “In here, having pity or mercy is useless. It will only make you hesitate. And being hesitant can cost your life. It’s killing or being killed--”

“And how can we help you, ma’am ?” Noah cut her off, glancing at her with a visible distrust in his dark brown eyes.

With open-wide blue eyes, Charles was about to protest, but the woman in black stopped him with a sign from her gloved hand.

“Fascinating.” She hissed, still with an ominous smile plastered on her face “ I usually encourage any form of audacity, but I must admit this one caught me off guard.”

She went closer to Noah, leaning forward and staring at him with such intensity through her red goggles. The sudden proximity started to make him feel uneasy. The vicious aura of this woman was crushing everyone else in the room. Even Big C felt small compared to her.

“What’s your name, little one ?” She asked.

“Noah.”

“Well, Noah, since it’s your first day here, I’ll let your arrogance slide for this time. But know that I never give second chances when it comes to disrespecting me. Understood?” She warned.

The short brown-haired man simply nodded in silence, trying to remain calm.

“You four will only refer to me as Supervisor, Law or Sir. Is that clear ?”

“Yes, Supervisor.” Noah muttered.

“Good. You’re a quick learner. Maybe you could be a good apprentice for me. I’m looking for a new one, anyway.” She straightened herself, proudly.

Big Charles took this opportunity to talk again.

“Well, Supervisor, since you’re here early, I was wondering if you could register them to The Eye for their contract with the Golden Lion. Also, it would be an honour if you could train them.”

 She turned around, facing Charles, her interest and curiosity caught for real this time.

“Oh? That’s a lot of requests, Charles. You’ll owe me for that” She smiled maliciously “In the meantime, I'll take care of the contract at The Eye’s office. This shouldn’t take too long for the equipment either. As for the training, I’ll take only one apprentice. And I think Noah would be a great candidate.”

“Why just him? Can’t you train us as well? We are a team after all.” Folio protested.

“Dear, I only train those who need discipline. If you want to get stronger, just train there. It would be enough. But if you want to be my apprentice so bad, then let’s make a duel. The last one standing will become my trainee. How does that sound? Do you want to kill your friend?” She replied menacingly.

Folio audibly gulped and took a few steps back, like a scared dog in front of a predator. Clearly, her offer didn’t sound that good anymore.

“Good boy. You know your place.” She said, amused.

Then she turned to her left, facing Noah and not paying any more attention to Folio who also felt uneasy

“We’ll talk about your training once you settle here. For now, I’ll be off to the Eye’s tower. You four should come with me to make yourself register. No worries, Big Charles’ guards and mine will accompany us.”

Reluctantly, the four young men followed the woman in black, barely hearing a goodbye from Charles. Once they were all five outside, a long black limousine was waiting for them. Some guards from the Golden Lion were already around it, watching the surrounding area. A man, wearing a black suit and a black ski mask with strange symbols on it, got out of the car saluting the Supervisor. The man barely whispered a few words to her, before she looked up and saw something shiny being dropped above them.

“Get down !!” She screamed, pushing her interlocutor to the ground.

A hand grenade bounced on the limousine’s roof before exploding, two seconds later. The car blew up, the windows burning out and the blast made the nearest people pop out a few meters away. Noah and his companions covered up their faces, protecting themselves from potential projectiles. They got nothing more than scratches. Yet, some security agents weren’t that lucky. Many of them who were around the car got seriously injured, with bleeding faces and fewer limbs. Noah’s ears were still ringing, hardly hearing anything, and his vision was a bit blurry so he was unsure of what he saw from far away. He noticed what looked like a small silhouette, on a building’s balcony, with a weird respirator mask on. It felt like it was staring at them. At least, it is what he thinks he saw, because, in the blink of an eye, the shadow was gone.

His senses were slowly coming back to him when he felt Nick’s hand on his shoulder, checking up on him.

“You’re okay ?” He asked.

“Yeah... I’m fine” The short brown haired replied “But, what was that ?”

“It was a threat.”

Hey all!

I'm logging out! For at least two weeks, but possibly (likely) (very likely) longer, depending. There's a lot of reasons for this, but the primary ones are that my Very Cool job that I like a lot is taking up a lot of my time right now, and that I really really really want to change the relationship I have with social media, and with my phone in general (read: don't worry, I'm fine, this is a good thing!)

I have a little bit of a queue set up right now, and that will be running while I'm gone. When I do come back it will probably be on a different blog, but I'll post that here so people can find me.

Sorry to be sappy, but this blog, the people who have interacted with me on it, and in general just this little sliver of community I've had here has been really important to me. I don't know how I would've possibly done without this during 2020-2022. It was really great for my mental health, it kept me at least a little together, and made me feel less lonely. And that's why I don't intend to abandon Tumblr altogether, even though I definitely definitely definitely need a break!

(Also, to be clear, I'm specifically taking a Tumblr/social media break, and not as much an internet break in general? So mutuals (any mutual!) are free to ask for my discord, if they don't already have it (I'll log in here occasionally just to check dms, so I'll catch you if you message me there). I've not been very communicative on discord in the past, missing dms, ghosting servers almost as soon as I enter them (sorry) but I'm hoping to change that, and I think it will be easier for me once I've cut back on my opportunities to endlessly scroll. Part of what I mean by "changing my relationship to social media" is that I want to do much less of that (scrolling), and much more actual socializing. So seriously, ask for my other contact info if you even slightly want it! I'll email you if you don't discord! I don't care!)

Anyways! I hope you're all doing really well and that the new year is kind to you, see you soon.

Avatar x child!oc

Lor'ne was a curious child, constantly wandering into the forest she yearned to learn more about. Unfortunately, because of her young age, she was forbidden to enter without one of her parents or siblings. That's why, when she overheard Lo'ak telling Spider he was going to explore the abandoned shack, she came up with a conniving plan. 'If you don't let me go with you then I'm telling sa'nu,' she huffed and crossed her small, blue arms. 'Wiya! You can be so annoying sometimes. Fine, you can come, but don't wander off,' Lo'ak glared at the girl, who responded with a toothy grin.

Later that evening, Lor'ne met Lo'ak at the fringe of the forest. The boy stood awkwardly, almost regretting his decision to go on the adventure as behind him also stood Spider and Kiri. Initially he had only wanted to go alone and now it seems as though it's a family affair. Smiling innocently, Lor'ne walked up to Lo'ak- dragging Tuk along with her. 'What is she doing here?' Lo'ak hissed to the young girl, eyeing Tuk suspiciously. 'Taking you is dangerous enough, if mum founds out I allowed both of you to join me she'll kill me.' 'Come on, Lo'ak. You'll already be in enough trouble just visiting the shack, what's a little more?' Tuk begged. Lo'ak groaned in response and began jogging towards the mythical trees and shrubs. When he realised the rest of the group wasn't following him, he glanced over his shoulder and shouted at them to keep up. Tuk turned to Lor'ne and grinned, the two of them chasing after him, quickly being overtaken by Spider and Kiri- who appeared to be in a world of their own as they giggled at one another. Lor'ne found them disgusting, all they ever did was give each other googly eyes.

Eventually, they arrived near the shack and all went their separate ways; Lor'ne and Tuk playing a game their father had taught them where one person had to chase the other and try and touch them, he said it was called 'tig'. 'Can't catch me,' Lor'ne taunted as she raced through bushes, stopping abruptly when she noticed giant feet marks in the mud. 'Woah! Look at these, they're bigger than my head.' The kids gathered around as Lo'ak inspected the tracks and soon began to follow them. When questioned on what he was doing he told the group he was following the tracks, something Lor'ne was extremely excited about. She got to go on a real adventure and solve the mystery of the humongous feet, her parents would never let her do something as fun as this.

The tracks led to the kids hoped destination, the abandoned shack. As they slyly observed as avatars dressed as humans roamed the area, Lor'ne started to feel slightly scared. The idea of an adventure didn't seem as enticing as it did just minutes ago. 'Lo'ak,' she whispered, 'I want to go home now.' Lo'ak suddenly felt guilty as he watched his sister's eyes fill with tears. Kiri embraced the girl, muttering encouraging words in her ears as she rubbed her back. Lo'ak, realising the danger he had put his family in, called his father despite the reservations he had. 'I've spotted someone, they look like avatars but they wear camouflage and assault rifles. They're six of them,' he reported. 'What is your position?' Lo'ak became hesitant, once again. 'We're at the old cabin.' 'Who are we?' Lo'ak braced himself, 'Me, Spider, Kiri... Tuk and Lor'ne.' After listening intensely, Lo'ak began to usher his family back the way they had come. Lor'ne had her hand in Tuk's as they ran in front of the others, when out of nowhere a man jumped out of the bushes and grabbed Tuk by her queue whilst another ripped Lor'ne away from her sister and grabbed her arm painfully. 'Lo'ak,' she whimpered as her family held weapons up to the blue soldiers that surrounded them.

Idk if I can be bothered to finish this but at least I gave it a go :/

Okay. Time to address the elephant in the room.

Some of you guys probably followed me for my writing. I have some bad news.

I have no inspiration to write right now. I haven’t for close to two months. I’ve tried everything I know how to do to get myself to put words into paper, but I just…. Can’t. I know I’ve got a couple things in my writing queue and a handful of docs that have 0 updates on them since the beginning of February. I know I’ve said I’ll work on certain things. But for whatever reason, I have no desire, drive, or interest to write right now.

I’ll hopefully get my inspo back this summer when work cools off a bit and after my vacation and the concert in August, but that’s a bit like wishing in one hand and shitting in the other to see which fills up first. I’m really sorry if I’ve disappointed anyone. I promise I’m trying.

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here (just me making excuses and whining and being pathetic under the cut)

I’m just in a shitty headspace. I won’t go into detail or talk about it in depth but I live in the Midwest, in a very red state, and I’m trans and queer and terrified to leave my house every day. We had to take our pride flags down a few months back and it’s just this oppressive weight on my back that won’t go away. If they pass even half of the laws they’re wanting to pass in my state we’re screwed. I can’t afford to leave.

Other than that, I’m just struggling at work and with my writing in general. I hope I’ll get better about it soon. we’re at least getting edibles this weekend so I think that will help my mood at least.

The way Legolas and Arwen approach falling in love with a mortal is really, really funny to me because

Arwen: I will give up my immortality, and my chance to see my mother and father again, because I would rather die with you than live forever after you're gone.

Legolas, building a ship: Hey Gimli have you ever heard of this little thing called breaking and entering because we're going to do it to heaven.

untitled goose sacrifice

hey gang what if i changed my queue tag to "the devil made me queue it"

[meme; Afton] 💄 - Put makeup on my muse.

The huge rabbit very much detested the clown body he was stuck having as his own, but despite that, he sat still as the goddess worked her magic.

His mechanical ear twitched a bit, a fidgeting habit of his.

" How long do I have to keep sitting here?"

Zoe Week; Day 5-ROTT

So I know we got given a free day considered ROTT was...what it was but I decided to still go with the prompt and it turned into more of a small rewrite than just a ‘Let’s slip Zoe into this scene’. Zoe is everyone’s braincell and we know it.

Also I tried writing a fight scene....I donno how well it turned out lol

AO3

~*~*~*~*~*~

“He WHAT?!”

Zoe stared at the assembled guardians, the kids, that had gone up against the demigods bent on restarting the world with that crazy plan to strip them of their powers, only for it to fail. Yes, they were alive. Yes, they had Nari, in spirit, but the Arcane Order had her body, had Douxie, and that was not okay for her! That stupid, self-sacrificing idiot! Of course he'd do something like that! But all it would do would buy them time and just what was going to happen when those power hungry beings found out?! It wasn't going to be good, that was for sure and now Zoe had to hatch a plan to try and save her idiot before something bad happened.

Ignoring the overlapping explanations and assurances they'd come up with a plan, Zoe marched her way out of the ex-throne room and down to what was becoming her studio. Shuffling around the various tomes and grimoires, she searched for the one she was certain had the spell she needed to find him, growling to herself when she couldn't. This is what she got for not sorting through all these yet. Finally, just when she'd been about to say 'fuck it' and do it without the book, she dug up the dusty purple codex of scrying and grinned in victory. Oh, she was finding that idiot of hers and then she was going to give him a piece of her mind once he was safe.

Coming back upstairs, the pinked haired witch flipped through the book, looking for the magic circle that would allow her to find Douxie. Ignoring everyone's voices, she quickly read through the directions, reminding herself how it worked and set to etching runes in the air with her wand. The symbols of power fell to the floor in sparking pink power, forming the necessary element for her spell. “Nari.” She called, “I'm gonna need Archie for a moment.”

The little nature spirit, inhabiting her partners body, let his familiar go from her hold as she finished the magic circle, sending the tomb to rest on the floor outside it. Sitting in the center, Archie crawled into her lap in dragon form, already having a feeling on what she was going to try to do. Normally she could sense Douxie's power, they'd known each other for so after all it was easy, but between distance and most likely being blocked, she couldn't without help. It would be easier if their magic was bonded, tied together for the rest of eternity and the ultimate sign of trust and love between magic users but...they weren't. Not for lack of wanting to but their lives had been pretty hectic and dangerous and bonding their magic came with lots of consequences as well as benefits. If one of them died...it would be the worse kind of hell on the other. And as much as they loved each other they hadn't wanted to have the other suffer so. But maybe, after all this, they'd change that.

“Uh..what are you gonna do?” Toby asked, standing near as he watched the pulsing pink runes.

“I'm going to track Douxie using the bond between him and Archie.” She explained, holding the dragon-cat gently, one hand scratching between his ears, “It should, in theory, help me find where the Order is holding him.” Then they would retrieve him and she was going to kick his ass for putting himself in danger, again.

Everyone took that as the queue to be quiet, to let her work, and Zoe breathed in deeply, letting her magic seep out and take shape. The circle glowed as she let herself fall into a trance, focusing on Archie, who was relaxed in her lap, his own magic open to letting hers in. She found the bond, a shining string of magic that was warm, comforting, powerful, reaching out beyond their little space in search of their missing wizard. She followed it as it swirled, twisting and turning through the space between, searching, searching, searching until-There! It sung brightly, tightening like a perfectly tuned guitar string and humming with life and she knew in that moment just where to find him.

Opening her eyes, a pink glow encompassing them, she grinned sharply. The Order didn't know what was coming to them.

~*~*~*~

The group entered the abandoned train tunnel, sans one Trollhunter, looking for any sign of the Order or Douxie. Zoe knew she had been harsh when she told Jim he needed to stay behind but she was not going to take back what she said. He was injured and therefore a liability and she wasn't going to let him kill himself or any of his friends if things were to go pear shaped. But hopefully they wouldn't and they'd be able to rescue Douxie with minimal trouble.

Her blue eyes roamed over the various crates and scaffolding, sensing him near but unable to see him. But she just knew he was here. Even as the group spread out and looked around old, crumbling crates and rusty metal drums, confused as to why they couldn't find anyone, Zoe was reaching out with her magic, searching for her wayward husband. Frowning down at the tracks, something just wasn't sitting right with her, she tried her best to see and think like Douxie would. There had to be something here she was missing...

She blinked, a thought coming suddenly and could it really be that easy?

Trotting up a staircase to get higher ground, she looked down at the tracks, shaking her head lightly because for some eon's old beings, Skrael and Bellroc really couldn't be original? “Their hiding in plain sight!” She shouted to assembled guardians, flicking her wand out and rearranging the train tracks, “They've made a giant sigil with the tracks!” The tracks moved, soon lighting up and dispelling the room around them, revealing a much darker room and three beings in the center.

She wasn't sure if they were aware they weren't alone anymore but it looked as if the demigods of ice and fire were taunting who they thought were Nari. She, or rather Douxie, was hovering in the air, held aloft by his hands in glowing magic and maybe, possibly keeping quiet as to continuing fooling the gods. But then, as they were staring confusedly as the Genius Seals, wondering why they weren't opening, he opened his big fat mouth.

“Abracadabra, Buttsnacks.”

Zoe groaned, because why had he said that?! But before the Order could do more than threaten him, she raised her wand high and cried, “Hey! Hands off!” She then sent a bolt of pink lighting down, just barely hitting Skreal, and then it was on!

Everyone jumped into action, firing and fighting the two remaining members of the Order. Zoe jumped down, joining the fray, firing spells and shields as she made way to Nari's body. She was put to a stop though as the icy wizard floated in front of her, brandishing his staff. Oh, if he wanted a fight, he was getting a fight. Ignoring Douxie's strained call of her name, the hedge-witch ducked a swing of the staff, dodging to the right and not giving in to Skreal's taunting. Hedge-witch or not, didn't mean she wasn't powerful and she wasn't about to let these bastards win.

Zoe fired spell after spell, wildly missing the floating god as he chuckled darkly at her. But that was okay, all part of the plan because when he least expect it she smirked and performed a round-house kick, planting her foot below his belt with a cry of “Rule Number Three!!”

As Skrael crumpled, she turned back to Douxie in Nari's body, running closer and hoping she could break the spell keeping him in the air. Fire had started to burn everywhere, the old wood catching easily to the spells Bellroc fired off but she ignored all that as she examined the magic around Douxie's wrists. She shushed him as he tried to talk to her, needing to concentrate on what she was doing, hopefully she wouldn't need Claire's help. Then a dark chuckle came from behind her.

“You won't break him free.” She turned to glare at Bellroc, their ever fluctuating voice grating on her nerves, “That magic is too powerful for even a full fledged wizard, let alone a little hedge-witch.” She growled as they laughed at her. And maybe she wouldn't be able to break it herself but if she could break this beings concentration... A wicked grin came to her face, feral as she remembered the chaos she'd wrecked at Killahead, and she began drawing runes behind her back.

“You're right...Guess I'll just have to make you break it.”

And with a flash of pink, twenty more Zoe's surrounded the demigod.

Crying out, Bellroc began to blast away her clones, easily poofing them from existence, which was fine as it was only meant as a distraction. The real Zoe dodged behind him, thankful for the rest of the crew keeping Skrael busy as she charged her magic. She'd only have one shot at this and she hoped it worked. It had been a while since she last did this. Bringing her now brightly flashing hands together, she drew them apart, a glowing, sparking, pink arrow held between them.

“Foolish girl! This won't defeat me!!” Bellroc cried with rage, dispelling the last of her clones.

“It's not meant to!” She yelled back before firing the arrow, sending a million volts through the wizard and causing them to spasm. And it was enough, for the spell holding Douxie up sputtered and died, dropping him to the floor. Zoe dived for his staggering form as Bellroc cried out again, pushing him out of the way of a blast of fire. Of course now she needed a plan to get them out of there...

Just as the fire god was approaching, already up from her attack and ready to end her life, a black portal formed beneath her and Douxie and they dropped away.

~*~*~*~

Zoe groaned as she was dropped onto the floor of Camelot, rolling onto her back. That had been...something. She really needed to practice that attack again, it took far too much out of her but at least now Douxie was safe. And Nari. She heard the rest of the guardians tumble in, shouts from their assembled allies rising and still she laid there, catching her breath.

“Zoe! Zoe, are you alright?!” She looked up at Douxie's voice, finding Nari's face above her looking at her with concern and they were needed to change back because this was just getting too weird. She watched him sag with relief, most likely due to her opening her eyes and he sighed, “You were nuclear, Love.”

“You better switch back before you kiss me, Casperan.” Was her only response.

Chuckling breathlessly, he nodded and she watched him hold out his hand for Nari to take, the goddess now crouching on her other side. A flash of magic and she was then being pulled into Douxie's lap, the wizard now back in his body. She let him nuzzle his face into her neck, still recovering from the adrenaline and almost overuse of her magic as they sat there, friends and allies all around.

“Thank you, Zoe.” Nari said softly, sitting primly in front of her, “You risked so much.”

“It's fine, Nari,” Zoe said, smiling at the forest child, “There was no way I was letting them keep your body and Douxie's mind.” Let alone risk the possibility of them forcing the two back into their proper bodies. Then they really would have been in trouble.

“So what do you do now?” She heard Claire ask because now they were back at square one. Keep Nari out of the grasp.

“I donno,” Zoe sighed, “But the important thing is the Order doesn't have Nari anymore.”

“That's not all they don't have..” The nature goddess smirked shyly before holding up the Genius Seals.

Zoe's eyes widen as cries went up around her, Douxie laughing in surprise, before she grinned wide and shark like. Oh, things were about to get interesting.

~*~*~*~*~*~

How the rest of the movie would play out from here I have no idea but there’s some choice Zouxie protecting each other/Nari/Archie so...there’s that. I hope you all enjoyed!

Hi! I’m Pie/Morel! This is my selfshipping blog!

-I am an adult

-I use she/they/neopronouns (neopronouns and how to use them are HERE.)

-Here is my selfshipping page! All of my ships and their tags can be found here!!

-My queue tag is “Abandon all hope ye Queue enter here.” Yes it’s long but I liked it.  

:D Hope you enjoy my blog!!!

prideful piloting- ch 3

warnings: gets a little.. risqué, some unwanted advances, language probably

word count: about 1.8k

series masterlist !!

a/n: hi!! sorry it’s been a bit, ive been putting this one off for a while! hope you enjoy, there’s more poe in the next chapter btw :)

you were preparing to leave on your mission extremely early in the morning, it was quite a simple task. you were assigned a trip to coruscant, formerly an imperial hotspot in the first galactic civil war, and now run by the first order. the black squadron was the only group on this mission in order for you all to lay low. the assignment was to gather intel on what the first order was currently scavenging the galaxy for, because it seemed to be of great importance. your target was a general shalzar and your squadron would enter the fancy club he was set to attend in order obtain as much intel as you could. you approached the unmarked ship you were to take to coruscant, inspecting the exterior of the simple silver ship. walking up to the entrance of the ship, your departure was interrupted by damerons droid. the beeping and whirring of bb-8 made you pause your movements and turn around to see what he was fussing about. you were met with not only the droid, but also it’s owner.

“dameron?” you questioned, surprise evident in your speech.

“just wanted to wish you good luck” he grabbed your hand and shook it, adding a small pat as encouragement. he seemed sincere and for once in his life, not outrageously irritating.

“thank you.” you found his touch to be overwhelming, but you didn’t know why. you quickly pulled your hand away from his, and nodded his way hoping he would take the queue and leave. he did.

you then entered the ship, (and tried not to dwell on the strange interaction you just had with dameron) making your way to the cockpit to start on your pre-flight checks.

you turned on your comlink before departing d’qar, checking in on the squadron. you were all to leave at separate times in order to remain inconspicuous.

“this is admiral (l/n), departing now.”

your squadron all responded with acknowledgment, so you continued.

“remember, the mission information and your temporary identification are all on your data pad. i’ll see you all at the rendezvous.”

“glad to have you back admiral.” was the comment that caught your attention.

“glad to be back” you responded with a smile before turning your comm back off.

you took off, abandoning the jungle planet and setting route for coruscant, giddy to be back in an x-wing.

eventually, the full black squadron made their way to the rendezvous point. you were all dressed in the best clothes the resistance budget would allow, an attempt to camouflage in the high profile club. you entered the room, quickly spotting the general you needed information out of. you discreetly pressed the com hidden in your earring.

“i’ve got eyes. if things go bad do not tell them you are resistance. if i get taken just let me go.”

you couldn’t allow anyone else to get captured. if they got you, they’d bring you to kylo ren, and you knew how to deal with him.

you received acknowledgment from the squadron, and you put your personal plan into motion, which was to seduce general shalazar. he wasn’t too slimy looking, quite young and if he weren’t first order you may think him attractive. you watched him discreetly, and knew that all you had to do was make yourself look willing. when he finally met your glance you did your best to capture his his attention. you smiled at him, bit your lip, and twirled your hair, before winking and quickly glancing away. flirty, but not too seductive, something you know a man like him would fall for. you saw the general dismiss the troopers around him before sauntering over to you in your peripheral vision.

“what’s such a lovely lady like you doing all alone in a place like this?” could the man be any more predictable? it was nearly infuriating but you knew you had to play along.

“hoping for someone like you to join her” you gave him your best smile, twirling your hair again.

“good thing i did then, let me buy you a drink.”

“only if you get one too” you faked bashfulness. you had to get some alcohol in him, enough to have him let his guard down even more than he already has.

“a fuzzy tantuan for the beautiful woman, and a glass of darkoma for me please.” the general smiled at you, and you returned it.

“thank you, can i have a name to match such a handsome face?” you needed to be sure it was the general, and you knew knowing his name would make it easier for you to coax information out of him.

“general julius shalazar, and what’s yours gorgeous?” ugh, how charming. suppressing an eye roll, you gave him your false identity.

“vienna pane. i’m honored to be in the presence of such an accomplished man, i hope i can help” you paused your sentence to run your hand down his arm, attempting your seduction now. “alleviate some of the stress of such a high ranking man.”

“i’m sure you can” he took a few sips of his drink before continuing “right now i’m so busy it may have to be within the hour, i depart from coruscant soon, sadly.”

you pouted your lips, before turning up your charms. “only an hour of fun?” you were almost disgusted with yourself, touching the scum in such ways, but you knew it was for the sake of the mission. you rested your hand on his thigh now, and spoke to him again. “i cant imagine anything else being more important than me and you having a good time tonight”

to your dismay, he returned the touch to your own thigh, but then you knew you got him. you pretended to fiddle with your necklace, turning on the recording device.

“try finding a map for luke skywalker.” you did your best to calm yourself. they’re looking for dad. you once again pretended to move the necklace as a nervous act, this time turning the recorder off. you masked your shock in more flirtation, even though you got what you wanted you needed a way to get out of there without giving the womp rat anything. you definitely didn’t want to kiss him, and anything more would be incredibly unwanted.

“you must be so busy” you feigned sympathy and ran the hand that was on his thigh up and down slowly. you laid eyes on pava and gave her a small nod to signal that you got what you needed, and she relayed that to the rest of the black squadron before exiting the club and preparing for her scheduled departure.

“how about a distraction, general” you pat his thigh a little and he agreed with you.

“that would be nice, vienna.” he almost made it too easy.

he led you to the booth he was at before in a more secluded area of the club. you were still able to spot a member of the squadron though, so someone has eyes on your location.

you didn’t want to be with the general, but you’d rather sit with him then take a blaster shot to the head and fail your mission. the general pulled you into his lap, and ran his hands up and down your side. you really wished he wouldn’t touch you, but you did nothing to stop it, knowing that although you didn’t like it you had to let him. you were trying to stall, attempting to play games with him instead and doing your best to avoid the unwanted touches. you were saved when the troopers came back, telling the general he needed to go. he, however, was persistent and insisted on giving you his info, in case he needed a distraction. you took it, continuing with your act, before briskly leaving the club. gross. you shivered, your skin was crawling and your stomach was churning in disgust, but also you felt proud of such a success. you turned on your comm and let the squadron know you got the info and everyone could depart the planet at their scheduled times.

you changed back into more casual wear, and when you departed coruscant you let yourself think of the new information gathered.

“try finding a map to luke skywalker”

your father had departed long ago, leaving you and the rest of his family after ben became kylo ren. he felt it as a failure, and he had told to you that the force showed him he needed to leave- leave you and his family. you were quite young, and you didn’t fully understand why he needed to go, but general organa seemed to and assured you that he was right, he couldn’t be here. you had trusted her, and deep deep down you felt the same feeling your aunt and father had, telling you that you needed to separate from your father. still, it hurt you deeply that your father had left, and now you knew you needed to find the map before the first order. your heart ached at the thought of kylo ren getting a hold of your dad, it was his fault your dad was gone. you exhaled deeply, trying not to get your hopes up as you made the jump to lightspeed, but your eyes welled up at the possibility of seeing your father again. returning to base, you thanked the black squadron for joining you and having your back before heading off to give the general and the rest of the superior officers the mission report. leia directed her gaze to you and spoke.

“admiral, stay after you give the report please.”

did she know already? is that why she sent me on this mission? it wasn’t necessarily a pilots mission, she could’ve had other officers go, but did she send you because she knew what you would find out? you felt a little betrayed; why would she make you retrieve information if she already knew it? you shrugged it off and nodded at her, before playing the recording for the officers in the briefing room. the information caused quite the buzz and you ended up staying extremely late, not only giving the mission report but discussing what this meant as a high ranking resistance officer. when the room finally calmed, general organa dismissed them and turned to you.

“how are you feeling, (y/n)” the care the older woman held in her voice brought you deep comfort, and you spilled your true feelings to her.

“hopeful, yet so afraid. what if they find him before we do, aunt leia? i know there’s still good in ben but i don’t think he can resist snoke.” she silently agreed, and you continued on. “i just miss him, i want my dad back.” your voice cracked in the end, and you felt a lump form in your throat. your aunt grabbed your hand gently before looking you in the eyes.

“we’re going to find him. i know we will. but first, you’re going to need some training.”

13xReader: Inhibitions

Notes: I’ve been writing a lot more “canon” pieces recently (non-readers, posted on my ao3), but it feels nice to go back to my fandom roots, so to speak, and finish off some requests like this one! Each style has its own challenges to work through, and it’s fun to move between them and keep things interesting. I plan to keep writing for both, so no worries to anyone who prefers one over the other. This is, as always, gender-neutral for the reader, and is also border-line a disaster!reader fic, a loose characterization style created by the incredible @lilaccoats​ that I stole bc she loves me 

Summary: The Doctor takes you and the fam to a trendy bar, promising a night of relaxation and fun. Shenanigans ensue when you maybe-not-so-accidentally get a little too inebriated. 

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, drunkenness, hangovers, mentions of vomit, and attempted assault. It’s more an uncomfortable conversation than anything, and nothing graphic happens, but please be warned!

WC: 7500 please don’t look at me like that I just picked at it to unwind as I worked on my zine piece and it got entirely out of hand honk honk goes the clown mobile 

The decision to go to a bar had been Ryan’s. That alone, that the destination had been picked during his turn, ought to have been enough forewarning; it seemed that whenever a trip went sideways, it almost always fell on Ryan’s turn (or the Doctor’s, but you and the others excluded that data — her choices were always catastrophes and not worth including in the risk analysis amongst yourselves).

But faced with the usual question of “where and when to next?”, Ryan had requested a bar, and the Doctor had delivered. You had landed on an asteroid, which according to the Doctor was the location of a top-notch bar, situated along a very popular intergalactic trading route. It was certainly busy, as you all left the TARDIS in an alley and approached the sleek, shiny building; there was a short queue to get in, but people — aliens and humans both — congregated in clumps around it and as you moved through the line and entered the bar, you even looked up and noticed people on the roof.

“So,” Yaz said, propping a hip against the bar counter and taking in the sights. “This is where the great Ryan Sinclair works his magic.” She let her eyes rove around the noisy crowd, and grinned over at Ryan. “You feeling right at home then?”

Ryan shot her a scowl, his hands shoved firmly in his pockets. “Ha ha,” he said. “This is not what I had in mind when I suggested drinks.”

“What?” The Doctor asked, looking around at him. “Really? I thought I did all right.” She put her hands on her hips, surveying the crowded, noisy bar.

“Well I think it’s great Doc,” Graham said, already perusing a menu with interest. She beamed at him.

“Thank you, I try my best,” she said. She had her hands in her coat pockets, something that usually indicated she was being (or feeling) cautious. In this case, you thought she was merely trying to avoid knocking into anyone, or any drinks; the bar (if that’s what it was, it did seem more like a sort of club) was packed with people, and it would be all too easy to hook an elbow or bump a precarious drink.

Yaz and Ryan were still bickering, and although you generally enjoyed wading into those sorts of things, a menu caught your eye and you pulled it closer. You could read it, thanks to the TARDIS’ help, but translation could only go so far.

“Are these all alcoholic?” you wondered aloud, frowning at something listed as a Greyhound.

“Are they even all drinks?” Graham added, and you glanced up with a smile, knowing he was hoping for food.

“I think so,” the Doctor answered, moving over to you. She reached over to pull your menu towards her, and her sleeve brushed against your shoulder. “Hmm,” she said, still standing very close. “Sorry Graham, all liquid.” She didn’t actually sound all that sorry, you noted. Graham obviously noticed it as well, because he gave a theatrical sigh.

“Every drink has an inebriation agent of some sort,” the Doctor continued, scrunching her nose. “Different sorts for different races and species, this is a very diverse bar.”

“Are they all safe for us?” Yaz asked, also crowding your shoulder to look at the menu.

“Y-e-s,” the Doctor said slowly, followed by an “actually no,” and an eye-roll from Yaz. “Well, sort of. Depends on what you mean by safe. Humans are common enough here, but some drinks will still have a stronger or weaker effect than they would for their intended consumer. They’re coded, see?” She flattened her (your) drink menu on the counter and pointed. “This is the symbol for human, with standard colour rankings. Green means intended for you, yellow means it will have less effect, and red more.”

“Get in,” Ryan said, and you knew without having to look that he was perusing the red-coded drinks.

“You don’t want to try a Red,” the Doctor said sternly. “It could have any number of effects.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Ryan muttered, and then it was Graham’s turn to bicker with him while you and Yaz  scanned the menu.

“How do you think we order?” you wondered, after deciding to try the Greyhound, which was coded green. Yaz had decided on yellow-coded drink, which cited a lack of alcohol. Its kick came from the flavor combination and carbonation, apparently. Yaz’s particular choice sounded disgusting, and you were very much looking forward to watching her try it.

“Yeah, I don’t see a barkeep,” Graham added, craning over the counter and apparently done with trying to persuade Ryan to make good choices. “Though I suppose you might not be able to pick one out from this mess.” It was true; though you were congregated around a counter, there was no discernible life-form keeping tabs or otherwise running it, and the crushing ebb and flow of the crowd was a confusing riot of clashing voices and species. Over it all thrummed the heavy beat of music, alien but still somehow recognizable as upbeat and catchy. You had the distinct sense that this was a trendy bar, and wondered how the Doctor even knew about it.

“It’s simple,” the Doctor said, and she bent over you to again point at the menu, her arm resting against yours. “You see this bit here? You press it with your finger, then press the box next to the item you want.”

“How’s that work then?” Ryan asked dubiously.

“It’s DNA activated,” the Doctor said calmly, as if that were in any way a normal thing for a drinks menu to be. “We were all scanned when we walked through the doors, didn’t you notice?”

“Did we notice the DNA scanners in an alien bar filled with aliens?” Graham asked. “No, must have slipped my mind Doc, no idea how I missed them. ”

“Well,” the Doctor said loftily, “you were scanned. So order your drink like I said, and it’ll be brought to you.” She bent over her menu, some of her hair brushing against your face. You sat very still, swallowed, then reached for a menu and dragged it towards you (seeing as how your own had been commandeered.)

After some consideration you ordered your Greyhound, and it arrived in an interesting, fluted sort of glass, delivered by a waiter. The drink was a pleasing sanguine colour, complete with a wedge of fruit on the glass rim. The whole effect was quite good, too, which was more than Yaz could say for her yellow-coded drink, which she almost choked on. You didn’t deign to try it after that, but Ryan and the Doctor both made a big show of tasting it and being subsequently horrified. Graham, equable as ever, took the abandoned yellow in hand and sipped it serenely, something the rest of you took in with an impressed sort of horror. The Doctor drifted away shortly after with no drink of her own, which wasn’t too surprising; you rarely saw her ingest anything more than a taste of food or drink before flitting away, like some sort of overgrown and absent-minded hummingbird. Ryan and Graham wandered off too. You lingered at the counter with Yaz for a while, as she ordered a new (and improved) yellow-coded drink. You found your own glass empty, and after some hesitation, shrugged and ordered another Greyhound. It hadn’t been too strong; you simply felt warm, and bright. It was nice. Second drinks in hand, you and Yaz decided to do a circuit, it was dark and loud and you were quickly separated in the swirling crowd. No matter, you thought cheerfully, as you took another sip. You’d catch Yaz up eventually, no doubt. The music was blasting, and you unconsciously matched your footfalls to the beat, feeling it warm and sizzling in your blood along with the drink. You tipped the glass in your mouth at the end of the song, and were surprised to find it empty. “Well that’s rude,” you told the empty glass, which flashed  in your hand in a thoroughly unimpressed manner. You pivoted in the press of bodies around you, trying to find a free table and a menu. You needed replacement drink, seeing as how your current one was clearly faulty. “Must’ve shorted me,” you mumbled to yourself. “Typical. Think I can’t handle my glasses - I mean, hounds. Dogs. Drinks.” You stumbled as you pushed through a group of people, but regained your stride easily enough. You even spotted Ryan in a shadowy corner, chatting with a very lovely alien indeed. She seemed to be trying to entice Ryan to dance; you wished her the best of luck. Ryan was a hilarious dancer. Not bad, but definitely hilarious, and he took some convincing. You reached a table on the edge of the dance floor, and pulled a menu towards yourself. It took you a couple of jabs to correctly order your Greyhound — your finger kept slipping. Or maybe it was the menu, actually. “Faulty drinks, faulty menus,” you complained to the room at large, leaning back against a pillar as you waited. The people swirling around you were difficult to focus on, and you wondered suddenly if the room was tilting — surely the room itself wasn’t faulty! “Have to get the foundations checked,” you informed the alien server who appeared with your drinks. They gave you an odd look and vanished. You reached for your drink, but paused, hand outstretched as you considered the not one but three glasses set before you. Two Greyhounds, and one that was something else, a smaller, opaque glass. The liquid shimmered in a very interesting way indeed, and it was difficult to look away. Well, perhaps they had brought you the extra drinks on the house, in order to make up for all the faults you’d been uncovering left and right. You stumbled as you pondered this, which as far as you were concerned was proof enough of the foundational flaws; you were, after all, standing still, so what other reason would you have to stumble? Unbelievable. You reached for the Greyhound, but your hand paused, then changed course halfway through and grasped the smaller, shimmering cup instead. It was very light in your grip. You tasted it and stumbled again; it had hit your tongue with a wallop, your entire body was fizzing with a bolt of what must be pure electricity, there was no other possible explanation. Everything around you was abruptly brighter, louder, richer. You blinked, fascinated. “Not too many humans can handle their reds,” a voice said next to you, and you set the cup down with a thud, squinting as the alien next to you came slowly into focus. “You usually so squiggly?” you asked him, and he titled his head, dark eyes moving from you to the half-drunk cup, and back again. His smile flashed in the low light, and for a moment it was all you could see, becoming somehow the brightest, sharpest thing in the room. “It’s a curse,” he said, and you nodded sagely, taking another sip. His eyes followed the cup, and his smile sharpened. “Could cut myself on that,” you observed. “Teeth,” you added, when he looked confused. Perhaps he was drunk; it was ridiculous how many people couldn’t hold their liquor! “Want to try?” he asked, and his hand was on your arm. You weren’t sure when it got there. “Excuse me?” you said, loftily, aiming for a bit of the Doctor in your speech. You thought you did quite well, but the alien didn’t look as annoyed as anyone on the receiving end of one of the Doctor’s questions usually did. Rude. “Do I want to try what?” you asked belatedly, and realized that you were being towed towards the dance floor. When had you made that decision? Time seemed to be leaping ahead and then stalling out in great lurches, and everything was fuzzy and dull. You felt the glass taken from your hand, and were vaguely surprised to find that it was empty again. Another faulty glass? Really? You might have to register a complaint. “Not a lot of humans here,” the alien said, and his hands were on your sides, moving you to the music. People pressed all around you, bumping your shoulders and making it difficult to get your bearings. Your shoes squelched on the slightly sticky floor as they moved. You wanted to stop and see if you could get the room to stop spinning so much, but the hands on you kept you in motion. The alien was speaking again, close to your ear so you could hear him over the din. “You come here alone?” he asked, his fingers warm against your side, and tight. You tried to pull back to get a better look at him but he kept you where you were.“No,” you said, blinking as you tried to orient yourself. Your eyes kept sliding in and out of focus. “Came with m’friends.” “And they left you all alone, to drink a red?” he murmured, and his grip tightened. He was pulling you across the dance floor; the light was fading, and you realized all at once, as you moved into a more shadowed section of the room with only the gleaming crescent of his smile visible, that you were actually quite drunk, and didn’t know where any of the others were. “Should - should get back to them,” you tried to articulate, and he laughed, one of his hands sliding lower. “You’re right where you want to be.”  You stiffened, and tried to pull away. “No, I want to find my friends,” you slurred, jerking back. He held your arm, and pulled you into him in a great twirl, and suddenly your back was against a dark, slightly sticky wall. He loomed over you, one hand still vise-like on your arm, the other pressed against the wall by your head. He smiled down at you, except it didn’t really look so much like a smile anymore, but just a lot of very sharp, gleaming teeth. Your face was very cold, and you wished the room would stop spinning enough that you could push him off and find the others. “I could be your friend,” the alien said, his breath fanning across your face, his hand sliding lower again. The hand on the wall touched your hair, curled a lock of it musingly through his fingers. “I just love red-drunk humans, all alone and lost and looking for a friend to help them.” You struggled again in his grip, and this time he let you go. You lurched sideways along the wall, falling against the corner in a heap. You thought you should feel sick, but you only felt annoyed, and cold, and something else, something like confusion that was tipping towards fear. The alien lifted you back up, hands on your arms, then pressed you back against the corner, his weight against you. Annoyance flared and you tried to push him away. “Let go,” you ordered, but he only laughed, touched your face. “You don’t want to be alone right now do you little Red?” he asked. “I’m sure that’s true,” a new voice interrupted. It had a familiar, lilting cadence, but you didn’t recognize the sharpness to it, or the way danger simmered beneath the surface. The alien didn’t glance away from you. “We’re busy,” he said, touching your face again. “Find your own —” but then he was ripped away from you in swirl of grey fabric and flashing eyes. You swayed, then jerked back as hands touched you again, but — “It’s okay,” that voice said, “it’s alright, it’s me,” and you recognized it this time. The Doctor tucked you against her side and you inhaled that familiar scent of tea and vanilla, and it cleared your head a little, enough to let out a shaky breath. “He’s being - rude,” you told the Doctor, your voice muffled as you glared at the alien. “Yes, he is,” she answered. Her voice was still light, and soothing, and you weren’t able to see the way she was looking at him.  He scowled, gaze darting from you to the Doctor and back before making a dismissive sort of hand gesture and melting into the crowd. The Doctor stood very still for a moment, and you all you could hear was the thunder of her hearts. She let out a breath, then turned you. Again you found your back against that wall, only the hands on you were gentle, and cool. The Doctor touched your face as she looked at you, and that was better too. “Are you okay?” she asked, and you wondered at the appearance of that crease in her brow. She looked dangerous, in the half-light, but her hands were still so light. You nodded, and suddenly her grip on you was tight as she kept you from toppling over. “Wouldn’t - leave me alone,” you told her. “Rude.” “You already said that,” she observed, removing one of her hands to fish in a pocket for her sonic. You blinked at her, swaying on your feet as she ran it over you. She read the output and exhaled. “Tell me you didn’t drink a red.” “I didn’t drink a red,” you repeated dutifully, and watched as her entire face scrunched up in exasperation. It was nice.“You’re so pretty,” you informed her. It was important that she knew in that moment how pretty she was, with her face all scrunchy and the flashing lights making a halo of her head. “So pretty. Too pretty.” You stumbled, and again she caught you. “Okay, I think it’s back to the TARDIS with you.” “Says who,” you slurred, even as she steered you away from the wall and towards the exit. “You’re not — you’re not the boss of me.” “I certainly am,” she muttered. “Especially when you’ve gone and had a red, and I explicitly told you it was a bad idea.” Her grip on your arm was firm and cool, and infinitely preferable to the alien’s. The other alien, that was, because obviously she was alien too. So many aliens! “You’re the best alien though,” you mused aloud, and she darted a quick look at you, tongue poking briefly out of her lips. You liked that quite a lot. You wanted her to do it again, in fact, but she had drawn her lips back into a thin line as she watched you. She steered you towards the exit, but the crowd seemed to have doubled in size, and she was forced to shove her way bodily through the dancing, yelling patrons. A much larger person staggered into her and she grunted as she took the blow. “I think I hate bars,” she said, her voice all but inaudible over the din. “That’’s new. Maybe.” Someone else knocked into her, and the force was heavy enough to jar your arms from her grip. She receded from you in a blurry tunnel of light and sound, and then it was just you, pressed between strange bodies on the dance floor while the music thundered through your bones. Huh. Almost everyone was taller than you, and you had no idea which way the exit was, or the Doctor. You didn’t care much about the exit, but it’d be good to find the Doctor; you had felt less…. fuzzy, when her hands had been on your arms, and more like yourself again. And also she was just so pretty. Wandering in a blurry haze of music and voices, you began to wonder if maybe you might locate another drinks menu. You weren’t so sure about another red, but it also didn’t seem like quite as bad of an idea as it had an hour ago. That was interesting. Weaving and stumbling, you tried to push through the press of bodies, and had made a little bit of progress when — — hands, there were hands on you again — You lurched sideways as you tried to bat those hands away, but there was nowhere to go, the wall of people bounced you back, and the lights were flashing and people were shouting and there were hands on you again — “ - alright? Hey?” The hands succeeded at spinning you around, and a person loomed out of the crowd. Two things followed in short order: you recognized Yaz, and you threw out a defensive fist. They didn't happen in the optimal order, however. “Oi!” Yaz cried, dodging your fist and catching it in her own. “It’s me, what the hell?” She was still sliding in and out of focus, but you were aware of the fact that she was quite pretty too. "’M sorry,” you told her, wondering why she was pulling away from you. You hadn’t actually hit her, after all. Had you? “Sorry,” you repeated, swaying.She was peering at you, her hands firm on your arm. Her eyes were very dark, but they reflected the dancing lights all around you and you blinked, fascinated. “Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. “Absolutely corking,” you slurred, proud to remember the phrase you had heard Graham use (and Ryan mock) earlier. You weren’t sure why it made Yaz look so alarmed. “Yaz — oh, good —” The Doctor popped into your view as she squeezed between two dancing aliens who took no notice of her, which was probably good because her expression was quite stormy indeed. She still looked quite pretty. How’d she manage that? It wasn’t fair. “Doctor,” Yaz said, turning, “I think something’s wrong —” “Someone decided that they should have a red,” the Doctor said, grim. “I also had two - three - I had - greens!” you told them both, proud. Yaz’s look of alarm deepened, and it was so comical that you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. When that did nothing except make her and the Doctor’s brows both snap into synchronized, angry little v shapes, you only giggled harder. “Right, TARDIS,” the Doctor said ominously. “Yaz, can you find Ryan and Graham and let them know?” Yaz nodded and between one blink and another, she had vanished again. “Just like magic,” you told the Doctor, wondering why your lips were numb. She gave you a swift, searching look, her eyebrows still angry little vs and her tongue still poking between her lips. “Come on,” she said, wrapping a cool hand around your wrist. The contact was steadying, and very nice. She kept you close, clearly not wishing to be separated again as she towed you towards the exit. “Don’t want to go,” you told her abruptly, and you couldn’t hear your voice over the crowd and the music. You didn’t even know why you said it; it wasn’t true, strictly. You still felt like you could fit in another drink or two worth of fun, but you didn’t really care where you went, not if the Doctor was with you. Even if she looked so angry as she glanced back over her shoulder. She had heard you, evidently. She had very good hearing; you and Ryan and Yaz had been working on an experiment to test the limits of it, but hadn’t put it in action yet. Someone bumped into the Doctor hard and she grunted, but her grip on you remained iron-clad and she pulled you closer, actually folding you into her arms to protect you from the jostling crowd.“This is not what I had in mind,” she muttered, her lips very close to your ears as she spoke. It was nice, and extraordinarily distracting. “Do people actually enjoy these places?” “Ryan does apparently,” you said, remembering him chatting up that pretty alien. “This was his idea wasn’t it?” the Doctor mused, moving again and pulling you with her. You were still very close. “I don’t suppose we’ll be letting him choose the next adventure. Ah. That’s better,” she added as she stepped out of the bar and into the night, towing you with her.  A blast of cool, humid air hit you, wrapping around your body and cooling your cheeks. Even though the bar itself had been fairly dark, your eyes still relaxed as the flashing lights fell away.The Doctor let go, and the sobering effect of the night seemed to pull back, a little, as if you’d lost your anchor. The world tilted around you, the stars overhead wheeling and dancing. It made you feel a little bit sick, but it was also beautiful. The Doctor was talking, and you struggled to focus.“Think we parked just over there, yeah, must’ve. Let’s go — where are you going?” The last was delivered with an air of extreme exasperation as she turned in time to witness you bolting away. “I want to be colder,” you told her as you stumbled through the night. You were on pavement (alien pavement, anyways) but in the distance you could see the shadow of what had to be trees (alien trees) and maybe some grass (alien grass). You wanted nothing so much as to lay down on that grass. The Doctor’s protests followed you as you reached the tree and hurled yourself down at the cool earth. Well, not earth. Whatever passed for earth here. What was dirt on an asteroid called? A shadow fell over you, blocking the stars, and you turned your cheek in the grass to look up at the silhouette of the Doctor, hands on her hips, stray hairs blowing in the wind.“You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” she said. “You’re sick, you need to get back to the TARDIS,” you replied cheerfully, and even though you couldn’t see her expression very well in the darkness and swirling stars, you could feel the scrunched-up scowl she leveled at you. “Come on,” she said, and her voice was exasperated but her hands were gentle as they lifted you off the ground. Gentle again, as they caught you when you stumbled sideways. “Careful, now. Come on.” “Don’t feel - so good -” you told her, and it was true; the fuzzy, warm glow was fading and the whirling of the stars wasn’t so much aesthetically pleasing as it was now sickening. “I expect not,” the Doctor muttered. “What could have possibly possessed you to drink so much? To drink a red?” “I didn’t mean t’ order it,” you defended yourself. “It was just - just there.” “And you drank it? Something you hadn’t ordered?” the Doctor demanded. “Surely you know not to do that!” “Just trying to have fun,” you mumbled, guilt rising up in you alongside the nausea. “Just wanted —  didn’t mean to — I wasn’t —” “Okay, it’s okay, I know,” the Doctor said, her voice softening. She shifted you against her as she spoke, and you realized she was fumbling for the TARDIS key. The blue box was humming at an almost inaudible frequency, but you could feel it moving through you bones, cooling your blood, steadying you. “Thanks,” you said weakly, patting a hand on the wood as the Doctor steered you through. The interior slights dimmed as you came in,  and it was a soothing balm on your eyes and raw nerves. “She’s spoiling you lot,” the Doctor muttered, but you could hear the fondness threading through her voice. “She likes us,” you thought, or maybe said. The Doctor made a soft sound, not quite a word, and you weren’t sure if she’d heard you. Weren’t sure if you’d spoken. “Okay, try and eat this,” the Doctor said a few moments later. Or maybe hours, you still weren’t entirely sure how time was progressing. Her fingers brushed your lips as she placed a fizzing sort of tablet on your tongue, and you realized all at once that your lips weren’t numb anymore, but blazing with sensation. “Swallow it, it’ll help,” she added. You blinked, looking into her face, so close to yours. There was still that furrow by her eyebrow but she didn’t seem angry, anymore. Not like she had with she’d stared down that rude alien. Her eyes were bright, glittering like the star field outside of the bar. “Too pretty,” you complained, then promptly choked on the tablet you had forgotten on your tongue. “Swallow,” she repeated, placing two fingers on your mouth. Your breath hitched, which did not help the choking one bit. You did, at least, in the midst of the resulting coughing fit, manage to swallow the tablet,  but it burned and your eyes streamed as you blinked at the Doctor. “Good,” she said, placing fingers under your chin. Her touch was somehow both cooling and blazing, comforting and so very distracting. You made an indeterminate sound, and her eyes flicked to yours, a brief touch, before flicking over your face. “That should kick in soon,” she said, dropping her hand. “Is it — gonna cure me,” you asked, and the breathless quality to your voice was due to the lingering affects of drunkenness, surely, and not the Doctor’s touch. She snorted, pushing hair out of her eyes.“It’ll speed up the process, burn the chemicals out of your system faster,” she said. “And it’ll make for a quicker hangover.” She fixed you with an amused look. “Quicker, but not easier. You’re in for a fun night, I think.” You groaned, throwing yourself down on the couch. You regretted it at once, as your head spun and your stomach roiled, but the drama of the moment had dictated.“I didn’t mean to,” you complained, shutting your eyes as the lights spun around you. The spinning didn’t stop, in the darkness behind your eyelids, but it was a little bit better. Maybe. A cool hand brushed your forehead, and that definitely was better. “I know,” she said, and you could hear the gentleness in her voice. “Am I going to die?” you asked, not because you thought that you were — you’d been sick before, though admittedly not from alien alcohol — but it had the right flair of drama to it. It also made the Doctor snort again, and regrettably, her hand slid from your brow. “You’re drunk, not dying,” she said, and her voice was receding as she moved around the room.  “Humans and their substances, honestly.” Something was placed on your brow, cool and damp and soothing. The Doctor tucked the cloth against your head with deft, gentle fingers even as she continued to explain her thoughts on humans and all of their myriad of flaws. “You’ve never been drink — you don’t drunk —” You stumbled over the words, and felt her fingers still, then fall away from the cloth. You opened your eyes and with the room spinning and the dim light and the serious, difficult to read expression on her face, she looked as remote and otherworldly as she actually was for all that she was your friend. “Time Lords are an advanced race, we certainly don’t have the same genetic predispositions towards inebriation or the desire to attempt so,” she said finally, still looking down at you. You grunted, considering her words as they slid in and out of your head.“Didn’t answer the question,” you observed, and were rewarded with a scowl. “Hm,” was all she said, but she was smiling slightly. “Try to rest now, and if you need to be sick —” she kicked something on the floor that gave a hollow thud. “Try to aim in here, yeah?” “I am not going to be sick,” you said firmly, and the Doctor’s smile flashed in the dim light. “I hope not, the pill’s supposed to help with that but,” she shrugged expansively, and even through the spinning room you were able to focus in shocking clarity on the pull of her shirt across her frame she did so, “I don’t really know what combination of ingredients you drank, and how they’ll react to the other things you drank or your own biology. So. Bin.” She nudged it with a boot again. “I’m going to check on the others, and you’re going to stay here. I’ll be right back.” You didn’t want her to go, but you were feeling worse by the moment as the alcohol was burned out of your system and, as far as you could tell, migrated to your head. You could feel each heartbeat rattling in your skull like knives, and your roiling stomach kept speed with it. You moaned something that the Doctor took for agreement. Time passed, although you weren’t in any way able to keep track of it. You suspected it had been a century based on the pounding in your head, but it could have only been a few heartbeats. Either way, you were still alone when you realized that what you really needed was some water. Nobody was around to hear you, but you still complained and groaned and generally made a spectacle as you swung your legs off the couch, sitting upright. Your stomach made a solid pass at leaping out of your throat, but you steadied yourself with a snarl; you were not going to need the bin, you were not going to be sick. And you were right; all thoughts of nausea fled as you pushed yourself to your feet, because your skull might as well have shattered. Your headache pounded so violently that you thought it might be slamming you through the floor; it felt too heavy, too thick, too white-hot with blinding pain. Death was infinitely preferable to this miserable thing called life. “Never — drinking — again —” you vowed, swaying, hoping the floor might just swallow you whole and end your suffering. “A noble sentiment,” the Doctor said from behind you. “But one rarely adhered to, I suspect. What are you doing off the sofa?” She appeared at your side, a steadying hand on your elbow. “You didn’t sick up somewhere did you,” she added with sudden trepidation, looking around your feet apprehensively. “I just wanted something to drink,” you told her, wretched. Your head was still pounding, and even the dimmed lights were still too bright. They stabbed your eyes with sharp, splintering shards of pain. You groaned, and leaned your head instinctively against the Doctor’s shoulder. “I think you’ve had quite enough to drink,” she said, with a touch of asperity, but her hand was gentle as ever as she smoothed hair back from your forehead. “Water,” you clarified, your voice muffled from the folds of her coat. It was soft, and cool, and smelled like home. “Ah,” the Doctor said, steering you back to the couch. She eased you down again. “Stay, I’ll get you some water and a new cloth.” “Where are the others? Are they coming?” you asked miserably as she reappeared, setting a glass of water in your hands. It had a truly spectacular bendy, swirly straw that was almost as long as the glass itself, a vibrant purple and orange that hurt your eyes to look at, but you appreciated the gesture as you lifted it to your mouth with weak hands. “They’ll be here soon, they’re trying to find Ryan,” the Doctor said. The cushions dipped as she settled on the other end of the sofa. “They might have to expand the search,” you said, thinking of that alien he had been speaking with. You groaned as your head gave another spike of pain, and slid down the couch as sitting became too much effort. “Just rest,” the Doctor said. “It’ll pass.” “Promise?” “I promise,” she said, and your eyes were closed, but you could hear the slight smile in her voice. “I am the best alien, after all.” You could definitely hear the smile, now, and something niggled at your memory; you suspected that the Doctor was poking fun at something you had said while in the bar, but the memory was sliding in and out with tremendous spikes of pain and you let it go. You suspected that you had said many unfortunate things, and you could only hope that the Doctor hadn’t heard or remembered most of them. You drifted for a time, after that, surfacing to occasional bursts of pain or nausea or, more welcome, cool hands on your brow as they took your temperature or readjusted the the damp cloth. Clarity — and more importantly, an absence of that all-encompassing pain — arrived abruptly. You sat up gingerly, feeling weak and shaky and not even remotely good, but it was a normal not-good, not I’m going to die and if not I wish it would hurry up about it not-good. “Ah, here we are,” the Doctor said, and you looked over to see her curled up at her end of the couch, a book in her hand.  She closed it and tucked it in the cushion. “Feeling better?” “Yeah,” you said, peeling off the now warm and dry cloth from your head. You looked down at it, then the mercifully empty bin at your feet. Something else rolled in your stomach, almost worse than the earlier nausea: shame, with a side of guilt. “Ah. Sorry, about all that,” you mumbled, darting another look at the Doctor. She was watching you, a slight smile curving her lips, but her eyes were sharp as they flicked over you, still assessing. “Accepted,” she said, scooting over to you and fishing her stethoscope out of her pocket. “Deep breath,” she said, resting it against your chest. “You don’t have anything to apologize for anyways,” she added.  “It’s not your fault you got served a red, or that someone tried to take advantage of you for it.” You had forgotten about that, had forgotten about that other alien and his heavy, unwelcome hands, and his sharp, hungry smile. You shuddered, and the Doctor’s eyes touched your own, a welcome distraction. “I’m okay, you don’t need to waste time on me,” you muttered, but she was pushing a fresh glass of water into your hand. “Drink. And yes I do, or do you not remember bolting up and trying to climb the  TARDIS console?” You goggled at her. “Apparently not,” she said with a wicked grin. “No, don’t apologize again, it’s okay. You got me out of that bar anyways, I really wasn’t vibing with it. ”You had been awash in horror at your actions, but the Doctor’s last words snapped you out of it. “Vibing with it?” you repeated, incredulous.   She shot you a look, tongue poking slightly between her lips.“Yeah, am I using that right? Ryan taught me.”  You were still goggling at her, but the sound of a door opening and a rush of voices distracted you both. “Ah, finally,” the Doctor said, brushing off her legs and standing up. “I wonder what kept them. We’re in here,” she added, pitching her voice to carry to the others and making no effort to define where “here” was; it was obvious to her, and that apparently was to be enough for everyone else. It was very her. Everything she did was very her, you mused. Not just because it was her doing them, but because she did everything with such one-hundred percent commitment, energy, and enthusiasm. You smiled slightly, watching her as she stood with her hands on her hips. She’d taken off her coat at some point, and she looked smaller without it, more wild and fleeting, something ephemeral. She glanced over her shoulder at you and smiled when she met your eyes. That smile was also wild, fleeting and ephemeral, but it grounded her, a little bit, in the here and now. And you, too. “Hello,” Yaz said, stepping into the room. She looked tired, her hair coming out of its braids, her jacket mussed, but it was a happy sort of tired. “Have fun?” The Doctor asked as Yaz threw herself down on the couch next to you. “Yes,” Yaz said, leaning her head back on the cushions. “Not as much fun as some other people, though,” she added, and turned her head to fix you with her dark, glittering eyes. “How are you doing?” “I feel like death,” you told her, and stuck out your tongue when she grinned. “That’s what you two get for going off-book,” she said smugly, wiggling her shoulders deeper into the couch and kicking off her shoes before lifting her legs and curling them up on the couch. “Oi, I didn’t drink a red,” the Doctor said, indignantly. “Not that I would have been affected, if I had. You humans are so — ” “She been going on like this the whole time?” Yaz asked you, and the Doctor gave her a dark look. You giggled, and it only made your head split down the middle a little bit. It was worth it, for the expression on the Doctor’s face. “Definitely,” you confirmed, wincing as you lifted a hand to rub your temples. “This is the thanks I get, for spending my night chasing after red-drunk humans? Mockery and false accusations?” “Not you,” Yaz said, rolling her eyes. “I was talking about — “ “Hellooooooo TARDIS!” “That,” Yaz finished, turning to watch as Ryan crashed into the room, with an aggrieved Graham in his wake. The Doctor groaned, throwing her hands up. “Ryan! Not you too!” “Guilty your honor,” Ryan crooned, spinning a wild circle and narrowly avoiding the couch with his flailing feet. You hastily copied Yaz, drawing your feet up onto the cushions and settling in to watch the show. “I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love! Congratulate me.” “You’re not in love, son, you’re drunk,” Graham said wearily, trying to grab Ryan, but he spun out of reach. And fell over. The room shuddered. You gasped, Yaz clapped a hand over her mouth, Graham cursed. The Doctor closed her eyes. “Ow,” Ryan said, but he was smiling beatifically up at the ceiling. “What happened?” The Doctor asked resignedly, crouching by Ryan and taking his pulse, then pulling out her sonic. He ignored her, still smiling happily up at the ceiling, his toes clicking together as he hummed. He was still firmly in the “fun” stage of the Red inebriation, it seemed. “What do you think, Doc?” Graham answered tiredly, moving to stand by them. “He wanted to impress a pretty girl.” “Did he?” you asked, interestedly. The situation was a lot funnier when it wasn’t happening to you, it turned out. “Well, he chugged a red and challenged some bloke to a dance contest,” Yaz said. She was grinning, and it was the grin of a sober woman witnessing the carnage wreaked by foolish friends. “We almost didn’t get him out of there.” The Doctor stood up, pinching her nose. She came to a decision.“Right. I’ll get him a pill, but I’ve done my babysitting duty for the night. He’s your problem after that.” She stode from the room, and you heard her mutter something about never going to a bar again. Yaz heard her too, and you shared a grin. Ryan, it turned out, had very little interest in taking the hangover-speed-up pill from the Doctor. It also turned out that red-inebriation or no, he could still move very quickly, and it took the combined efforts of Yaz, Graham and the Doctor to get the pill in his mouth. You filmed most of on your phone you'd fumbled quickly out of a pocket, which as far as you were concerned did just as much to help the situation as any of them. The Doctor threw herself down on the sofa next to you with an explosive sigh. “I am never,” she said, tipping back her head, “taking humans to a bar. Ever again.” Ryan moaned from the floor, punctuating the statement with eloquence. Yaz sat down on the Doctor’s other side, then scooted over to make room for Graham who was looking silent and shell-shocked. You found your shoulders rubbing the Doctor’s, and you curled your feet up under you to make more room while leaning your head against her shoulder. You could hear her twin heartbeats, and after a moment she rolled her head so that her chin was resting in your hair.“You’re all on probation,” she said, firmly. You hummed skeptically, and Yaz snorted. Graham was still grimly silent, but you knew he’d come around. Silence, for a moment, interrupted only by Ryan’s increasingly pathetic moans.“Shall I pop in a movie?” Yaz asked finally. “Go on then,” the Doctor said, resigned, but you could hear the smile in her voice. “We’re going to be here for a while.” “‘’m never drinking again,” Ryan groaned from the floor.  He clapped his hands over his ears as you all began to laugh, which did exactly nothing to help. “Humans,” the Doctor said to the TARDIS ceiling, but she was still smiling. “You love us,” Yaz said, standing up and moving to put on a movie. “Yeah,” the Doctor said after a moment, so softly that you thought you might be the only one who heard it. “I do.”

Hey so y’all know that post about how the people of Rohan don’t know how to read and Faramir probably taught Éowyn how to read? Because that lives in my head rent free so here are some headcanons:

When Éowyn first mentioned that she couldn’t read, it was the closest that she had ever seen to pity for her in Faramir’s eyes

She avoided him for a week because she was scared that he’d think of her as stupid or lesser

She confides in Aragorn and he straight up laughs

“You really think that Faramir could ever think ill of you? Go talk to him before I have to suffer another meeting where he’s too busy sulking to help me.”

Éowyn finds Faramir in the library

He’s curled up on the sill of one of the windows, mostly hidden by the curtains, holding a thin, well-worn book in his lap

When she tells him why she’s been avoiding him, he just pulls her down into a hug and holds her there for a long time

“I don’t think any less of you, forgive me for making you think it. Books were my childhood, and I could not imagine a life without them.”

“Teach me.”

Éowyn tucks herself onto the windowsill next to him and pulls the curtain closed 

That day, Faramir just reads from his book, a collection of old tales that Gandalf used to read to him

Éowyn leans on his shoulder and smiles at the faces he makes

He uses different voices for the characters, although he doesn’t realize he does

Éowyn loves to listen to him read

When he starts teaching her to read, she almost misses listening

After the birth of their first child, she tells him that she’s glad she can listen to him read his stories again

They read the stories to their children together

Faramir thinks the way Éowyn’s nose scrunches up when she finds a word she doesn’t know is adorable

He still reads the stories in voices

They both think to themselves, every night, without fail, This must be what love is