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sionisjaune · 2 years

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today @blorbocedes-main and i discovered during this wip game that we are both entertaining a brocedes superpower au! in MINE most drivers have subtle psychic powers...lewis can see the future and nico can turn his emotions off at will (i don't really elaborate on this):

There are two kinds of futures, Lewis learns. Probable futures and certain futures. The only problem? You don’t know which is which.

If Lewis sees a crash ahead, he doesn’t know that it’s real until he’s reeling from the shock, already in the wall. Doesn’t know that it’s only a possibility until he weaves left and narrowly avoids a five-kart pileup.

So, Lewis learns, you can choose to change the future. But only sometimes. And then—is it even a choice at all?

Lewis watched Senna, the fastest man alive, on the television when he was eight years old. His dad sat on the couch, and Lewis sat on the carpet leaning back against his legs. He clutched his crash helmet, bright yellow, in his lap because he’d forgotten to put it away when he arrived back from the track.

The camera panned over the pitlane, mechanics spilling like insects from every garage, and landed on Senna. He was standing in the shade of his garage, head ducked down and speaking rapidly to the team boss. He was pointing to his helmet, gesturing passionately with one finger. Lewis wondered what he was saying.

He elbowed his dad in the calf. “Why does he have to wear that?” Lewis asked.

“Everyone has to,” his dad explained. “It’s the regulation.”

“No, the dampener. Senna can’t run in the car. How could he use his power to cheat?”

“They say he can think faster, too. The FIA doesn’t want to take any chances. You know how often the teams protest.”

Lewis crossed his arms, stared at the TV. Senna was tugging his race suit up his torso and fastening it at the neck. His helmet remained tucked under one arm.

“Well, he wins anyway,” Lewis said sulkily. “It’s not like there’s a point.”

His dad patted him on the head and then left his hand there, palm warm. “There are rules, sometimes, and you have to play by them,” Lewis’s dad said. “Otherwise, people complain.”

In the days of Senna and Prost and slim cars with open cockpits, the technology was in the helmet, some kind of rudimentary dampening field that wasn’t for the drivers or the mechanics to understand. Now it’s a millimeter-thick chip sewn into the collars of their race suits. It doesn’t feel like anything, really—Lewis just doesn’t get the visions. It’s better that way, actually. That way they don’t distract him. He doesn’t bleed tenths trying to figure out if they’re real. If they’re actually going to happen, or if they just might.

They keep track of whose turn it is to tell the story. Nico tells it best, because he’s the one who didn’t believe it.

“Did you ever picture this, the two of you in Formula 1, competing for race wins with the same team?” Jennie Gow asks them. She’s asked this question before, and she knows it, and Lewis and Nico know it, but it’s what the fans clamoring at the barriers want to hear.

“It’s funny,” Nico says. He talks animatedly in that voluble, media-pleasing way he’s mastered. “In between karting championships, we took a trip to Greece. I can still remember talking about it then, fourteen years old. Lewis and I said that one day we would both make it to F1 and drive for the best team on the grid.” He shrugs, and Lewis smiles, lips pressed together, for Jennie Gow’s camera. “How many kids can say that? That their dreams came true?”

Lewis remembers it too. Except it wasn’t a dream, it was a certainty.

The both of them were spread out on a towel on the cooling sand under the stars. The last vestiges of daylight were melting on the horizon, glimmering on the still water in a deep red spot.

Lewis saw it, staring at the sky, Nico’s hand clutched in his. It came to him softly, a truth slipped into his head, notching into place like something he’s always known. He had turned his head, feeling the sand against his cheek, and Nico had turned too.

“I’m gonna be in F1,” he told Nico.

Nico scrunched his nose. “I don’t believe you.”

“I saw it,” Lewis insisted, squeezing Nico’s palm.

“What about me, huh?” Nico said, turning his nose back to the sky. “Did you see me?”

Lewis didn’t do it, back then, still doesn’t, but it’s possible for him to look further. It’s like peeling back a heavy curtain, straining to keep it open wide enough that what needs to be seen can be seen. For Nico, he would try to peek.

On the beach, he squeezed his eyes shut and looked as hard as he could, until white spots flashed behind his eyes.

The danger of looking was always what Lewis saw when he looked too far. The Nico in his mind’s eye was older, mouth twisted underneath a black and gold cap. Lewis knew he shouldn’t look further.

“Well?” Nico said, poking him in the arm. “Do I make it too?”

Lewis opened his eyes. Nico was looking at him, again. “You do.”

Nico smiled, slowly, joy unfolding across his face. Lewis wanted to kiss him, but Nico had already declared he was all out of kisses, rolling off of Lewis at the end of the afternoon. “I still don’t believe you, you know. I don’t think I’ll believe it until it happens or it doesn’t.”

“He didn’t believe me,” Lewis says to Jennie Gow. The PR team says that the gap between his front teeth is marketable, so he smiles wide.

Nico pats him on the shoulder. “Still don’t. Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.”

Lewis kissed a girl for the first time in Greece. He remembers tasting a trace of Vaseline on her lips, faint like it had been mostly licked off. When he pulled away, she was smiling, and the sea-salty air tossed the dark ends of her hair around her face like a storm cloud. He pulled away from her face and held her in his arms.

Sometimes the future came to him clearly, like a page read from a book, and sometimes it hit him like a knee to the gut, invading his sense of sight and overlaying his vision double-exposure style. It happened like that, punching the breath from his lungs.

He was on the beach, but he was also on another beach. The girl was in his arms, but so was Nico. Nico was staring at him, eyes wide, but the girl was smiling still. The sun was setting, but it was also bright midday.

The vision faded like bath water spiralling down the drain.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sheepish like his dad taught him. His arms slipped from around the girl’s waist. She was still smiling, probably because she didn’t speak much English, didn’t understand the importance of what Lewis was trying to tell her. Lewis didn’t either, at the time.

Lewis turned away from the sea and ran down the coastline back to Keke’s boat, bare feet slapping the sand. He saw himself arriving before he was halfway there.

The day everything ends, Nico asks, “Be honest with me, for once.” He paces the cooldown room, agitated. “Did you really see me, on the beach? Tell the truth, Lewis.”

“I saw you,” Lewis says, twisting his fist around the neck of his water bottle.

Nico’s mouth twists, and he stalks over to the chairs and throws himself onto the cushion. Lewis knows, with an incurable certainty, what he would have seen if had looked any further, that night in Greece. He knows it’s coming before Nico throws it, but doesn’t move to catch the hat anyway.

Later, Nico confronts him about it again. He’ll push any issue, poke at any soft spot, these days. Lewis doesn’t know what he turned off, but it must be whatever made him human, before.

“You didn’t see me, did you?” Nico says, and he sounds hysterical. “You hate that I’m here, Lewis, don’t you, because you thought it was only going to be you. I fought to be here. You followed the fucking path you always do, already laid out, ten steps ahead of everyone else.”

“I saw you,” Lewis says, calm. I saw this, right now, he doesn’t say. “Get out of my trailer.”

#nico turned off LOVE for the 2016 season. he always knew he should if wanted to win but he never wanted it bad enough until then #devastating thought in this universe: lewis gets a vision at the start of the 2021 season that he's going to lose #but when he makes it to the last race he's convinced it was only a possibility #yeah we know how it ends...#ask me about other drivers' powers!!!#i wrote this #brocedes #superpowered au #wip game

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honey-bee-imagines · 2 years

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This is based on a personal Headcanon of mine, but I got into thinking how Team Skull managed to get chains and bling for all of their members and decided that everyone except Guzma himself has some that are handmade from scrap metal.

... So now relating to your headcanons about cosplaying SO, please imagine Guzma / Grunts trying to help you out with cosplay props by actually trying to replicate something with the limited machinery they have available (I don't know what exactly you would need to make something like the team skull pendant, but I think they could scrounge up enough to have a circular saw and a sanding belt at least) and proudly presenting it to you.

You are... Touched? Very. Impressed? Definetly, the dagger that they give to you is actually surprisingly accurate for a first time try, it's not like actual metalwork and it's made out of what materials they had laying around, so it doesn't look super accurate, but all in all this is a great piece of work.

.... The only problem is that this thing is not up to any cosplay safety regulations anywhere, you could actually shank a guy with this thing because nobody thought about how you're not ACTUALLY supposed to bring a knife to a costume event. The grunt who proudly presents the prop to you has taken her time to tripple wrap the blade in sturdy duct tape because 2 others cut themself on it by accident when they where working with it and almost got blood poisoning. You take the prop anyways and take some photos with it before giving it a place of honor in your room, moved by the sweet gesture of it all.

Anon what's it like to have the biggest galaxy level brain? I had similar thoughts about the grunts and Guzma helping with props that I didn't write down, and here you are blessing my inbox with more fuel to add to that fire.

It probably started with you showing Guzma one of your prop weapons. Probably a sword of some kind. He asks if he can hold it, and when you let him he starts swinging it around, trying to look cool. You quickly tell him it's sort of fragile and he stops. Sure its sturdy enough to carry at a con, but also if he tried to hit something with it, it would snap in half. It looks cool but he's disappointed that you wouldn't be able to protect yourself with it.

Later on some of the grunts mess around with a few weapons they had seen you carry around. Guzma has to tell them to knock it off so that they don't break them. They're confused, wondering why you didn't have sturdier weapons. Even if you dont use them to fight, you like to get things to look as accurate as possible right? Guzma doesn't have an answer cause damn yeah the grunts have a good point. They see Pulmeria and ask her about. She thinks about it. "Maybe it's about safety?" Guzma shakes his head. "Seeing the other shit they do for this hobby? Doubt it." Its true, Pulmeria once helped you make a cast of your chest so you could have an accurate mannequin to shape your armor to. You had your upper body wraped in plastic while she put layers of duct tape on you. The worst part is that if she hadn't caught you in the process of wrapping yourself in the plastic, you wouldnt have asked for help. She shrugs. "Then maybe they just don't have the tools?" Of course! That was it! Guzma and the grunts decide to make you a new knife to replace one of those cheap plastic ones and surprise you with it.

What could go wrong?

#congrats on being the first anon to send me something btw #pokemon headcanons #pokemon imagines #guzma x reader

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spacetimewraithwrites-archive · 2 years

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Find the Word Tag Game

tagged by: a re-tag by @drabbleitout! thanks! my words: crown, demand, palm, hover, threat tagging: @zmlorenz, @ashen-crest, @pertinax--loculos, @drippingmoon, and my husband and son, both of whom I currently love without condition but if they keep letting fruit flies into the fucking house then there will be one (1) condition lmao your words: see, blind, open, fall, deep

crown (Rebirth)—

"Have any more of that special tea lately?" Warren asked.

"Actually, yes, just an hour ago. The effects don't work quite the same way for me as they do for you."

"Then definitely save a stem for me."

Thrive didn't respond to that. He turned his head to look at him. "There's something I have to tell you."

"Ah, no," Warren interrupted. "Don't—just...hold that thought. Please? There's something I gotta do first, then you can confess that you're the crown prince of Andromeda or that you've been the head of a puppy trafficking ring for the last ten years or whatever all you want, I promise."

demand (Eternal)—

Warren shook his head in a daze. "You didn't know."

"No. I didn't know, because when have I ever had the privilege of knowing anything?" Thrive slammed a fist onto the table, splitting it clean in half, sparks and glass flying every which way. Warren didn't even flinch except to hold a hand up to shield his face.

"Thrive…"

"Quiet."

The demand didn't portray anything but internal frustration, and Warren didn't take it personally. He allowed Thrive time to walk away, to wander around the other rooms and process, vulnerability at its peak. He didn't follow, but left the direct vicinity of the possibly toxic smoke leaking from the table.

palm (Meridian)—

"Ooh." Warren pushed himself to standing and sidled up to Thrive, rubbing his palms together. "This is the plan...we pack as many of Efthim's people as we can onto this ship, say 'oops, looks like there's just not enough room, sorry,' then toss your sentries onto a passing cargo ship getting the hell outta dodge, provided they don't all succumb to the supernova first."

Thrive peered down at him with surprise and amusement. "Dark. Even for you."

Warren shrugged. "How many times have they actually done something you weren't fully capable of doing nor had you not actually done yourself? Tell me this—who would win a round of hand-to-hand combat? The lady who'd mastered five different types of martial arts and spent thirteen years in the Marines...or fuckin' you?"

"There was a time her accolades would've impressed you," Thrive said, a smile threatening to break through an otherwise well-maintained air of concern.

"And how would you know that? I haven't been impressed with literally anything else since I met you."

"Qrihk."

Warren blinked. "Gesundheit."

hover (Destiny)—

Warren caught sight of the small, rusty red shuttle that appeared as if it had seen better days hovering near the ramp. "Does that meet regulations? Looks like it was made out of tinfoil."

"It's fine, Warren."

"How am I supposed to get into it? It's not close enough to penetrate the gravity field."

Thrive stood behind Warren and pressed his hands to his chest from behind, holding his back flush against him. An abundance of air filled his lungs; so much so that he almost couldn't breathe out, and he became light-headed. He relaxed into Thrive, mildly surprised at the experience of heat being injected into his veins.

"...Oh," he said, his voice coming out in a deep exhale and hands sliding over Thrive's on their own accord. His ears popped. "Shades of my graduation."

threat (Rebirth)—

"Scotty, go," Guetry shouted.

All of the purple light at any point in his body drained out of him through the port, and he fell into the chair, dead weight. Thrive leapt over the console and swiped a data screen onto the window.

Warren started the timer.

As Varussa continued to avoid firefight that wasn't aimed at them, Guetry slumped over the console, still conscious but glossy-eyed and barely cognitive. Warren hurried over to him, kneeling on the floor and keeping him still as he threatened to spill out of his chair.

"I got you," he murmured. "You're okay."

"Guetry…?' Varussa said, her voice laced with worry though she couldn't look away from the viewscreen.

Guetry gripped Warren in tight, shaky fists. "I'm...I'm alright, Varussa."

#tag game #we've already had one infestation I had to work a couple weeks at diminishing and now another one's building and I'm losing my mind #I know I've been tagging y'all a lot and you're in no way obligated to do them of course

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croatian-nt · 3 years

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Livi podcast

The guests of the podcasts are Dominik Livaković and Marjan Mrmić(who is goalie coach)

Translation under the cut

Host: Tell me a bit about your season in Dinamo. It was one of, if not the best season ever in Dinamo. What would you say, what happened? How did you guys become so good?

Livi: I guess there are more quality players now. And we worked well together and..yeah. I guess something just clicked

Marjan: He is being humble. Dominik had an excellent season and he knew how to stay calm in stressful situations and that calmed the rest of the team

Livi: *looks at the floor*

Host: was losing against Ferencvaros the turning point? What made you all be that much better after?

Livi: well I suppose it was important. I mean, I think I could almost say it was a good thing we lost so early on, considering the rest of the season

Host: I am not sure director of finances in dinamo agrees

Livi, laughing: well no, probably not but I think we brought it enough money later on

Host: you defended a penalty against Cluj. Well two actually. Was that harder to do or was watching Suba defending penalties during WC?

Livi: oh wow *laughs * that's-I mean you can't compare those two things. Completely different feelings. But I suppose there wasn't that much pressure put on me during those penalities because I didn't know they would be the last. But Suba is probably one of the best goalies Croatia ever had, if not the best. So I really don't think that's comparable

Host: Alright, first card break. You need to choose between two things

Marjan: Nutmerg or dribble?

Livi: what?

Host: *repeats it *

Livi: *loading * oh! Nutmeg. *laughs * especially when it's Vida

Host: did that happen?

Domo: *yelling from the background * (I think he said "he didn't say that!" But it's not clear) *

Livi: *laughs * Anyway, next question

Marjan: Meat or fish?

Livi: Hmm. Meat

Marjan: Pizza or hamburger?

Livi: Pizza. Especially after a winning game

Host: how did you start with your goalie career? Since most guys want to score a goal

Livi: well, I can't quite remember. I was attacker one day and goalie the next. I like the way goalies threw themselves to catch a ball I guess

Host: are all goalies this calm? Or are you and Marjan exceptions?

Livi: I mean, there are some goalies that are crazy *laughs, shakes his head * but I am more of a calm type. Works better for me. Although there is that saying 'you are a goalie? You must be crazy' so you know

Host: Second card break. It's who in the national team...?

Marjan: who takes the longest to get read in the nt?

Livi: oh, Vida

Marjan: Who runs the fastest?

Livi: Vida

Host: Vida, again?

Livi: *shrugs, laughing *

Livi: who has the most precise shoot?

Marjan: right now? Oršić

Host: Livi, would you agree as his teammate?

Livi: well yes, of course he is very good. But Vida is also very good, especially recently, he scored a lot

Marjan: who has the best hairstyle?

Livi: * laughs, covers his mouth*

Host: yeah, you can use Vida again here

Livi: yeah, yeah... Vida has the best hair

Livi: who has the best sense of humor?

Marjan: Vida

*all laugh, Domo yelling again from the background *

Host: so your first, well second game, against England, what do you remember from it? Were you nervous?

Livi: yes, of course. When I read the list of names of their players...I certainly felt nervous. It has been...what? 5 years since then?

Host: 3, 4 years actually. Autumn in 2018?

Livi: Really?

Host: who are players who you find most fun? The ones whose company you liked the most during WC?

*Livi, looking at Vida and laughing *

Host: EXCEPT for Vida

Livi: Then, there were also Šime, Dejan and Broz

Host: except for not missing being on a bench, do you miss Suba in nt?

Livi, smiling: yes, I miss him. I miss him a lot. We have been on a coffee the other day, actually

Host: what would you say, how did you improve as a goalie? But please don't give me a generic answer like, experience

Livi: experience *laughs * I am kidding, I am kidding. But I have been working on playing with my foot a lot. That's what I concentrate on the most and I think I improved. Other goalie stuff well...you learn in every training

Host: okay, new set of cards, but with one new rule. Who would you choose from nt but WITHOUT Domagoj Vida

Marjan: who would you choose as a singer in a band

Livi, laughing: who else am I supposed to choose? Who else?

Host: alright, alright. I'll give you that one

Marjan: who would you let babysit your kid for a few hours?

*Livi, laughing*

Host: no. No you can't

Livi: hmmm. Then I suppose either Kale or Vrsaljko. They have a lot of experience

Livi: who would you let choose your outfit

Marjan: hmmm. Dominik

Marjan: who would you choose as a co-driver on rallying?

Livi: oh, Šime for sure. When he presses accelator...he doesn't stop

Host: so tell me, do you plan to stay in Dinamo forever? Or did you have some plans for future clubs?

Livi: I don't think much ahead. Everytime I do, it doesn't exactly end up that way. We'll see. I feel good in Dinamo right now. We have amazing results and I feel like home. Zadar is close, too

Host: Well then. Don't forget about out deal. If you sign up for Barcelona you have to go to every nt conference for the rest of your career

Livi: *laughs awkardly *

Host: I hope it still counts. I mean Ter Stengen isn't bad but I am holding onto your word about that

Livi: alright

Host: Let's ask something more private. We know you are in a relationship and by recent covid regulations we are allowed to have bigger weddings again so...I am kidding, but in all seriousness did you think about starting a family?

Livi: well yes, of course I have. I mean, all the people I know that have children think of them as biggest blessing. I do want that, at some point

Host: pets?

Livi, smiling again: yes, Cruz

Host: what breed is he?

Livi: pomsky. Do I really need to explain?

Host: ...a bit

Livi: * explains *He is wonderful. I mean he is mine, but...he is really wonderful. He makes you so happy, especially when you come home after being away...it's amazing

Host: Helena used to do ice skating and according to Vida, you are the best dancer on the team. That means your first dance will be amazing

Livi: *laughs * I am not so sure about that. I think I'll need to practice a lot, even more than I did to learn how to defend a goal. But we'll see how that'll go. And I have to say that Vida lied. But maybe he is the best. He dances...really good

Host: he has a good sense for rhythm?

Livi: he rips shirts a lot

Host: New card break. Favorites

Marjan, reading a question from the card: what's your favorite childhood moment?

Host: the one that isn't connected to football

Livi: not connected to fooball. Uff. I am not sure I remember. Hmmm

Host: that far away huh?

Livi: *laughs * yeah. I guess coming back from school and everything being alright(I am guessing he means grades wise)

Host: that moments were so rare huh?

Marjan: Favorite series?

Livi: Game of Thrones

Host: what's your hobbies, except for series? What so you do when you don't play football

Livi: well, I actually like to play basketball. I am from Zadar, after all. I started with basketball first actually, before switching to football

Host: okay, I gotta ask. Why do goalies spit in their gloves?

Livi: well so the ball sticks to them better. So it doesn't fall out of our hands *rubs palms together * so they are...wet. *realizes what he said * but yeah uh. Mostly so you don't drop the ball

Host: do you prefer long or short sleeved jersey? And how do you choose that?

Livi: I like long sleeved one better

Host: except when it's really hot?

Livi: yeah...when it's really hot I choose short sleeved undershit

Host: Anyway, you guys told me not to make this too long considering there is a final of Europe league that you want to watch. Any preferences about who wins?

Livi: No, I think both teams are great. They have different qualities so, we'll see

Marjan: I think Manchester United will win. Longer tradition

Host: Either way, thank you guys for participating in today's podcast. And to everyoone who is watching, I hope you'll watch us tomorrow as well. Goodbye

#dominik livakovic #marjan mrmic #vatreni podcast #croatia nt

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writingsfromstarfleet · 4 years

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Tom Paris - Not The Worst

♫ - This Heart I Know - Westward The Tide

For a lovely Anon, I hope you enjoy! Thank you all for reading! Hugs! ♡

The crew of Voyager was lovely. Every single crew member was a delight, and you had no problem getting on with any of them. Well, all except one, that is.

For whatever reason, that you failed to be able to put down in the beginning, you never truly could get on with Tom Paris. He was cocky, confident and overzealous, always having a certain charm about him, particularly when it came to women. That made your eyes roll. His attitude and overall aura made you cringe, and your brain told you that he needed knocking down a peg or two.

It wasn't for Tom trying, though. He did make attempts to talk to you, but he was talking to a very stubborn Starfleet officer indeed. You were adamant in your distaste of him, often choosing to leave and work when he would join you and Harry in the mess hall. Or if he entered a room you were in, you would slowly sneak out or dismiss yourself. Tom was not blind to such acts from you, and often he sat wondering just what he'd done wrong. He wanted nothing more than to see you smile at him, to greet him with a friendly hello, to actually stick around when he was there. Often he was at a loss as to how to approach you on such matters.

The captain was not blind to this, either; she was perceptive enough to see the tension between you both when you were in the same room. Janeway caught the narrow-eyed glances, she caught the biting remarks, and she smiled every single time. Your crewmates saw the tension between you, they saw every argument in the mess hall and every disagreement on shift. Your captain, however, saw through that. Janeway saw the opposite.

"Lieutenant Y/N, please report to my ready room."

Sighing, you acknowledged the voice of your captain, placing your current timewasting project down and dusting yourself off, standing and heading out the door of engineering. You were tired, all you wanted to do was sleep. You couldn't disobey your captain, though. Duties came first. As you walked, you wondered what she could want, certain you were not in trouble given you only ever went about your day and back to your quarters.

Reaching the captain's door, you took a breath in, suddenly nervous for what awaited you. As you stepped inside, your captain was indeed sat there, along with your personal nightmare incarnate.

"Hello, Y/N, please, have a seat." Janeway spoke, her usual soft smile present on her face as she gestured to the seat beside Tom.

"With all due respect, Captain, I'll stand." Your voice was taught, and you didn't catch Tom's eyebrow raise, shocked at your hostility. Saying nothing, he just sat there.

"Very well."

The meeting was in session for all of two minutes before you had left, information dealt to you that you could have lived without. Quite happily, for that matter. The absolute last thing you could imagine wanting to do was spend an away mission with Tom. Still, your captain called for it, so there was no room for argument; you held far too much respect for Janeway to argue such a decision. As you left her ready room, you were furiously walking to prepare yourself, ignoring the calls of concern from Harry, inquiring if you were alright.

Walking for what felt like hours, you arrived eventually at the doors of the shuttle bay. Sighing, you shook off your bad mood as the doors opened, revealing just one ensign tending to the electrics in the room. With a curt not, you acknowledged her and continued psyching yourself up almost for what was to come. Your wait for Tom to arrive had you thinking things over.

Why did you hate him so? Was he really as bad as you had convinced yourself he was? Sure, you didn't like his attitude towards women, nor did you like his overt cockiness when it came to certain things, but was this really justification for your behaviour?

Before you had a chance to think more into those matters, the noise of the doors opening pulled you from your thoughts. Tom swaggered in, a little less confidently than usual, and he almost looked nervous. Despite his sheepishness, you locked eyes with him and he gave you a small smile. A one-sided one off you made itself known, and no words were exchanged.

The ride down to the planets surface was a quiet one, a tense one, and it left a lingering feeling in the air that could only be described as awkward. There was nobody to distract either of yourselves with, nobody to change subjects, nothing else to keep your attentions away from each other. In this moment, neither of you knew what to do.

Things took their turn when the shuttle began to malfunction, communication to Voyager completely shut off. Panic arose in you, and in Tom, but your Starfleet training helped you both keep a cool head. Tom had tried his best to fix the issue, but having not known what said issue actually was, he was at a disadvantage. The shuttle eventually landed, albeit not as gracefully as one would expect from a pilot, but he had done his best and you were safe.

"We should find somewhere warm, this shuttle'll be far from that once the light dies down." Tom spoke, the first words shared since you had left the ship. You knew he was right, the metal of the shuttle, given the regulators weren't working, would only make for a very uncomfortable and cold night's sleep if you were stranded here for that long. Nodding, you followed him as he began to search for somewhere nearby to camp out. He reached a small cave under a rock face, and you dropped the bag down with supplies in it and crashed down against the wall.

"Tired?" he mused, attempting somewhat of a personable conversation with you. You chuckled, though offered no response vocally. "Why do you hate me, Y/N?"

At this, your head shot up at him, curious as to his blunt words.

"I mean," he started, taking a seat next to you. "Every time I try to talk to you, or hang out with you, you find an excuse not to be around me. I don't know what I did, but I apologise."

His voice sounded hurt almost, and you looked at him up close for the first time. He had the prettiest eyes, all different shades of blue quite like an ocean. You had always accepted the fact that Tom was a very good looking person, but seeing him this close only amplified such thoughts. You cast your eyes down to your hands, currently resting atop your lap, and shrugged.

"It's your attitude, Tom. I don't like how cocky you are, I don't like your overconfident act. I especially don't like the way you are with women, how you treat them."

Tom raised his eyebrows, though you hadn't seen, and thought sullenly on your words. They were harsh, but something he thought perhaps he needed to hear. He sat pensive for a few moments, and you had worried you may have offended him. His hands came to take yours, and his thumb brushed across the back of your hand.

"Then I could show you who I really am, because that's not me. Y/N, I know you've seen the worst half of me, but if you'd give me a chance, I have a better side, too."

Looking at him once more, his face was graced by a genuine smile, one that made you smile back. Never had that happened before.

"Is this another one of your tricks, Paris?" Your voice carrying a tone of mischief, he was shocked to find you toying with him. Tom laughed.

"Me? Tricking you? Never. Genuine honesty here on out, I swear."

Moments passed again, this time a more neutral feeling surrounding you. He spoke up, voice drifting through the silence quietly.

"Still hate me?"

"I suppose you're not the worst." You glared at him playfully and shrugged, to which the both of you erupted into giggles. The last place you expected to be was the position you were in right there, but you shocked yourself when you realised your brain had no complaint.

You scooted closer to him, blaming the cold when he had asked, and he leant his head on yours that had come to reside on his shoulder. Tom's hands had never once left your own. You stayed that way until help had arrived, and you knew from there on out that you were going to turn a spark into a flame.

#star trek #star trek imagine #star trek x reader #star trek voyager #star trek voy #voyager #voy #tom paris #tom paris imagine #tom paris x reader #x reader #imagine

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itsbenedict · 3 years

Text

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 7

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, Saelhen and Looseleaf continued their scouring of the evil torture wizard's evil torture tower for clues as to the identity of the murderer terrorizing the towns of Barley and Wheat. They found a bunch of mysterious documents of ominous character, but they've yet to check out the tower's hidden basement- and the ne'er-do-well lurking within...

The basement doesn't immediately contain any horrors, unless you're the type to get the jibblies from a messy room. There's dirty dishes (recently used), empty beer bottles from a Zeishus Brewery, and discarded clothes everywhere. It's very lived-in, and whoever lives-in here doesn't seem like they were expecting visitors.

Saelhen takes a look at the desk nearest the stairs, next to a well-used recliner and a recently-extinguished candle. She gets a nat 20 on her Investigation, and finds that the desk has been rotated to face the wall, concealing a drawer that doesn't look like it's been opened in some time, judging by the cobwebs.

What's inside is mainly more of the sort of thing they found on the sixth floor- technical notes on neurology and pain magic. With the critical success, she's able to piece together that the odd numbers on the abrasive letter found upstairs were some sort of pain measurements the letter-writer was providing to Lumiere.

They also find a less academic, more personal note, expressing frustration with his own research.

"Why would the Burnscreamer's rituals require Abyssal? Even a god like him shouldn't have any connection to the demons- what is he playing at?" "If I could just correct the sigil, I could bypass so much of this nonsense..."

Saelhen then gets a nat 1 on her Religion roll to know what that means, and assumes the Burnscreamer is the frontman for a metal band her dad likes.

As they search the rest of the room, they notice- at the bottom of the central shaft- a circular basin in the stone floor. It's stained red, but it's dry- not as much blood as you'd expect to see given the carnage on the sixth floor, so it seems like it's been recently emptied or cleaned out.

Oyobi, meanwhile, checks the locked door by the stairs, and finds it... cold? I wonder what that means vis-a-vis-

The extremely sneaky +9 Stealth person hiding braced against the walls of the central shaft fucks up right about then, and slips a little, letting out an involuntary "Gh- shit!", alerting the party to his presence.

Saelhen tries to chase after this person by parkouring off those same walls, gets a 9, and faceplants in the blood basin, leaving the issue to the party member who has wings. As the hider flees through one of the doors in the shaft, Looseleaf uses her darkvision and 24 Investigation roll to pick out the right door and give chase.

(Meanwhile, the rest of the party heads up the stairs normally- and Saelhen orders Orluthe to bust down the front door, so they can go outside and catch anyone trying to escape by rappelling down the side of the building. This turns out to be unnecessary, because when Looseleaf detected that the front door was magic and assumed it was a trap, this was incorrect.)

Benedict I. (GM): ("who knows what kind of trap could be on this magic door? better go up and through the window into the room full of traps, instead") (i was laughing so hard) (it's just an automatic door!) Looseleaf: Honestly, the people in town oversold this place. They made it sound like such a deathtrap and really it was just a bunch of spiky bots. And knives. And comfy pillows. Benedict I. (GM): Well, when they were there, there was a living evil torture wizard actively trying to take them prisoner and torture them.

Looseleaf botches her Investigation roll to search the torture lab she emerges in, but... that doesn't stop her from just checking each and every possible hiding place one by one, manually. She alights upon the correct solution swiftly- checking inside the broken remains of the iron maiden.

bBenedict I. (GM): Anyway, Looseleaf, inside the corpse of the iron maiden, you find. A rather heavy man, performing a downright heroic feat of contortionism to suspend himself inside the door without getting impaled on the spikes. Arnie: "Uh." "Can you pretend you never saw me?" Looseleaf: "That depends on what you're doing here, I guess. Who are you and what are you doing here?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: oh that is a nervous man Arnie: "No one. Nothing. I'm, uh, supposed to be like, dead, probably." "So I'm not here." "Yeah?"

Arnie Zeishus is the deadbeat husband of Cassie, the innkeeper from Barley, who fled town a while back. He explains that after fleeing his responsibilities in Barley, he tried to set up shop in Wheat running a brewery, but got in trouble flouting the brewing regulations of the Ecumene of Harmony. So after getting arrested there and breaking out of prison, he decided to sneak into the torture wizard's tower and lay low as a squatter in the guy's basement. He figured he might get caught and tortured, but it couldn't be worse than what the townspeople wanted to do to him.

Except, as luck would have it, the torture wizard was already dead when he arrived! So he's been making a home of the place with Lumiere's old animated housekeepers, using the torture wizard's fearsome reputation as a way to keep anyone from tracking him down and making him do stuff like clean up a distillery explosion or pay child support or what have you.

On the other hand, someone has been sneaking around his tower doing something sinister on the sixth floor that results in blood pouring down into the basin periodically, and he's stressed out of his mind wondering who the hell is doing that and how he's supposed to avoid getting caught and/or killed by them.

(He notes that the "KEEP SHOUTING" sign was his attempt to get intruders to at least give themselves away by making noise, after they were clearly ignoring the "KEEP OUT" sign he put up.)

Looseleaf also takes the time to ask if Arnie here knows anything about someone named Choss.

Arnie: He looks surprised. "You know Choss?" Looseleaf: "Let's say that Choss is a figure of importance in this investigation." "Anything you could tell us about how they arrived in town and what they did in town would be appreciated." Arnie: He shrugs. "Choss was there before I was- she's a real weirdo." "Knows how to party, but- gotta say, her stuff's a little too strong for me." "A crazy high at first, but it gets- whoof, intense." Looseleaf: "She's an apothecary of some kind?" Arnie: He laughs. "You could say that. She's got herself a little drug lab in town, always smells like burning. Don't know how she gets away with it- some of that stuff's gotta be illegal." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "And how old is she, approximately?" Arnie: "Eh? She's- hard to tell with lizardfolk, s'not like you can read the wrinkles..." Looseleaf: Ah, of course. Lizardfolk. Saelhen du Fishercrown: yep Arnie: "Seems youngish, though? Party girl through and through." "Just, uh, if she offers you a blend, don't take it unless you're ready to spend the next hour feelin' like fire ants are chewin' their way out of your skin." He shudders a little. Looseleaf: "Hm. Sounds painful." Arnie: "You have no idea," he laughs.

They also inquire about the locked freezer room- and why Arnie would hide out here, in dangerous torture tower, rather than just running off to a city, which is a little weird that he didn't do. Arnie claims there's just groceries in there, and no stolen wine bottles whatsoever, he certainly isn't a thief and he definitely hasn't been lying low out here because if he goes to a city some old pals from Thunderbrush might find him and want him dead, no sir! He would never ever commit a crime, ["wink wink" in hand-signed Thieves' Cant].

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Of course. I can't imagine we have any thieves here." [Nudge nudge.] Looseleaf: "In the meantime, Mr. Zeishus, you mentioned having done something that.. makes going anywhere where you might meet someone from Thunderbrush a dangerous thing?" Arnie: He fidgets. "Uh, well..." "I, I try to leave all that behind me." "You just... don't want to get involved with the ghost dryad mafia. Just a tip."

He drops a little bit of exposition about something that may be coming up- apparently, Thunderbrush used to have these huge skyscraper-sized trees, but they got chopped down in some sort of war or raid a while back, and now the Stumps are ruled by the necromancer ghost dryads of those trees who used the last vestiges of their power to cheat death. Apparently Arnie was strongarmed into doing crimes for various ghost dryad mafiosos and made too many enemies, so he fled to Barley to shake the heat.

Looseleaf also comes to a realization regarding some hints dropped earlier in the townsfolks' tragic backstories:

Looseleaf: (actually, wait, i just realized: choss is probably chitch's daughter, the timelines there line up perfectly and maybe this whole dragonborn business is a total red herring we invented for ourselves) (what the shit, lumiere, you kidnap a guy's daughter and raise them as your own child? that's fucked.)

Looseleaf occupies this Arnie guy by interrogating him about these things, while Saelhen slips downstairs to try to pick the lock to the freezer room.

Eventually, after a bunch of failed rolls and more small talk from Looseleaf to keep Arnie occupied, Saelhen pops open the lock. Inside, she finds a fairly large and frigid room. There are meathooks hanging from the ceiling, empty. There are shelves lining the edges full of frozen food.

And to her right, there's another door- this one out of place with the rest of the construction, made of a strange stone shot through with rivulets of glowing orange. There's a symbol on a stone circle embedded in the door:

Before she checks that out, though, she checks the darkened back of the room- which contains some tubs filled with ice.

And those tubs have corpses in them, with the four-pointed wounds.

It is not especially likely that Arnie had no idea these were here, in a room he claims to use to store groceries and has the key to.

Looseleaf, meanwhile, attempts to read Arnie's spirit to determine his alignment and general intentions. His Deception beats her Insight, but what she does manage to get is...

Arnie is afraid. He is filled to bursting with terror and desperation more intense than you've ever felt from anyone before. And the fear does not seem directed at you.

Meanwhile, Saelhen tries to get that door open. What's the deal with that thing, huh? There's no handle, so... she has the bright idea of slapping her mysterious god icon bracer (the one that when previously slapped against a magic thing opened a pit to infinite bats) against it, see what happens. And I get very excited, because ohohoho, I didn't expect that, I had to think through the ramifications of doing that, and...

...then I work through those ramifications, and what I realize is that, as far as the players would know, the end result is just that the door slides open, and nothing else of note occurs.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Why am I even here I just wanted to help a nice little girl show up her dipshit inquisitor mom now I'm in a pain room investigating pain machines..." Looseleaf: (looseleaf warned you about getting involved in the case, she warned you dog)

There's also a bunch of weird machines, and more of Lumiere's notes, which Saelhen goes and nabs as many of as she can. Then she beats feet immediately, not wanting to spend any longer than necessary in the hell lab. The problem is, she doesn't want to leave any sign she was in there, so...

Saelhen du Fishercrown: Does tapping the exposed bit of stone with the bracer again close the secret hell door? Benedict I. (GM): Nope. Saelhen du Fishercrown: hmm. poking it with her finger? Benedict I. (GM): Ouch. Nope. Saelhen du Fishercrown: physically pulling the stone upwards while muttering "fuck fuck fuck ow ow ow"? Benedict I. (GM): Oh, hm, yeah, that would work. At first there's no effect, but as you continue to pull and the pain gets worse and worse... Roll me a Constitution save. Saelhen du Fishercrown: 16 CONSTITUTION SAVE (3) Benedict I. (GM): That'll do it! Your pain feeds the door, and, satisfied, the mouth closes. Looseleaf: How extremely concerning!

Cool!

So Saelhen goes back upstairs, the party secretly confers and exchanges information, and... something has to be done about Arnie.

His expression changes, suddenly.

Arnie: "You don't know what you're talking about." "This doesn't have to happen."

Looseleaf continues to try to offer help to this guy, inferring that he's being forced to do someone else's dirty work. She rolls a 20 on Persuasion! So... what happens following them cornering and exposing the culprit is not the rolling of initiative. Still, though...

Arnie: Arnie... backs up a step. "You're morons." "You have no idea." "You're talking like you can help me?" "That's impossible. No one can help me." "I- I'm fucking cursed, dammit!" Looseleaf: is he? i have magic sense, he is clearly not actually magically cursed, right Arnie: "What are you clowns going to do about it? Nothing!" "What are you going to do, kill a dragon?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "You are entangled here. If Looseleaf says so, then I trust her intuition and her investigative prowess. This doesn't necessarily mean you're entangled in such a way that there is no way out for you." Saelhen shrugs. "Theoretically, the device on my arm is responsible for drowning a small city in vampiric monsters from beyond the stars. And yet there was a way out of that, and a genuine silver lining into the bargain." "I want you to understand that I am absolutely sincere when I say: There is always a way out." Arnie: "That's- there's no way! There's only one way out!" "He'll free me from the curse if I do what he says, and that's the only way!" Looseleaf: ...That is not how dragon-curses work at all. Benedict I. (GM): Not as far as you're aware, no. Doesn't seem like anyone's told Arnie.

They continue to try to convince him that there's hope, that he doesn't need to do what the dragon says, that they can help him. And Arnie just keeps pushing back, refusing to acknowledge any of it, weeping and shouting and doing whatever he can to avoid believing that he didn't have to do any of that, that there was any other way- because if there was, he'd be a monster, right?

Meanwhile, Vayen... is standing a ways away and staring at them all, as usual... but this time, he's smiling. No one here has ever seen Vayen smile before. He looks like his birthday came early. And as they're on the verge of a breakthrough...

Arnie: "Fucking- you don't think I know that?" "I know that! I know he's manipulating me!" "But what else do I do?" Vayen: "You could kill yourself," Vayen suggests. Looseleaf: "Vayen what the FUCK?" Arnie: "What the fuck- shut up, asshole!" "I'm not dying! Not here, not nowhere!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...Vayen, you are placing a remarkable number of ticks in the 'leave you at the side of the road' column." Vayen: Vayen shrugs. "It's the most reliable way to neutralize a dragon's curse." "It's the sensible thing to do, if you don't want to cause collateral damage."

It's as though he deliberately picked the one thing to say to ensure that this argument would keep happening, and not reach a friendly resolution. The hell is his problem?

Still, the party keeps trying to talk this guy down.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "And -- Arnie, surely you don't think the dragon would hunt you down? Dragons don't go out of their way to punish us; they just use us to accomplish whatever it is they're planning. He'll make it someone else's problem." "I know the type. Arnie, it wouldn't care enough to hunt you down. What seems like a personal connection, like it caring about you -- if it tries that at all -- it's just an implement. It's a way of getting you to do what it wants. Go to ground effectively, and it won't bother to spare the effort." Arnie: "What are you, talking like some kinda dragonologist? The hell do you know about dragons?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I am not a dragonologist, no," admits Saelhen. Looseleaf: "...Are you a dragonologist?" Arnie: "Of course it could hunt me down! Damn thing's got magic items out the ass and it flies faster than I can run!" "As soon as it saw me going somewhere it didn't tell me to, I'd get turned into a midnight snack!" "And then I go to ground, and the curse kicks in, and I end up dead or worse anyway. Sounds great." "Or, I stay here, gut a few self-righteous fucks who treated me like dirt for a while, and maybe the thing keeps its end of the bargain and lets me go!"

Yeah, that's a confession, and like, not one that makes him look great. Still, given this guy's weirdly high rolls on physical stuff, and his apparent aptitude for murdering people, they're not super sure they want to fight this guy- on top of just, not exactly wanting to fight this guy.

What are they going to do? They have to come up with a plan- and their plan has to take less than three weeks to pull off, since Arnie only has six corpses left in the bathtubs, and the dragon wants two corpses a week to prove he's still doing the job.

(And is it even worth going to all that trouble just to protect this guy from the consequences of his actions?)

Next time: a plan is hatched, and the party gets back on the road.

#twofaced jewel #tfj log #d&d 5e

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maeve-of-winter · 5 years

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Instead of tearing down lgbt characters (yes, that includes lesbians) why aren't we focusing on the fact that straight characters are still treated with the most reverence on the show. The "core four" is comprised of four straight characters. It took an episode called Bizzarodale to give Kevin a real storyline. We still don't know anything about Toni's parents. I'm not understanding what Cheryl has to do with the writers unwillingness to pry 5 or 10 minutes of screentime away from the core four

Anon, here’s the thing: commenting on the canon behavior of characters that is demonstrably wrong (such as stalking someone while pretending to be their friend and then framing someone else for it) or remarking that the writers give them great priority than other characters isn’t “tearing them down.” By your logic, you’re “tearing down” the Core Four by commenting that they receive more screentime than Toni and Kevin.

Since you said you don’t understand my points about Cheryl, I will try to outline them the best I can. Your choice if you want to listen or ignore it all.

1. I can be upset about more than one issue at one time regarding Riverdale’s writing.

This one is pretty simple and pretty much exactly as it says, but one that your above attempt to push aside the issues that I outlined earlier and have multiple times seems to brush aside. I can be upset that the Core Four have so much screentime in comparison to characters like Kevin and Toni while also being upset at how the writing treats Toni in comparison to Cheryl and doesn’t give the spotlight to any queer characters beyond Cheryl.

I do not have to trade one for the other. This is not a zero sum game. I have stated multiple times in the past that I’m upset about Kevin not getting focus or development. Seriously, it’s probably 2/3s of my blog’s content. I just did a post talking about how I dislike that he joins the cult mostly so Betty can angst about it.

But I can also dislike how the show’s writing positions Toni in comparison to and in her relationship with Cheryl.

Also, let’s not pretend for a moment here that Cheryl’s character is neglected in the same way that Toni and Kevin’s characters are or that she doesn’t receive just as much attention from the writers as the Core Four. She absolutely does. Yes, there were a few episodes toward the beginning of the season where she wasn’t receiving quite as much focus, but that was far from the status quo. Cheryl has very consistently been featured just as much as the Core Four since then, and was also a major part of Seasons 1 & 2. She’s not desperately in need of screentime or development like others are.

2. My issue with Cheryl as the writers’ LGBT character of choice

This one is fairly standard, and I feel like we might be frustrated by similar things. My issue here is not with Cheryl’s character in itself. My issue here is that the writers seemed to pick her as the one character to represent all queer characters, give her plot focus, development, and attention no queer character had seen before or has seen since, and gave her a girlfriend seemingly not to have an actual relationship of equals between them but so Cheryl could both prove her queerness and have a constant supportive sidekick.

The writers seem to think she is the only queer character worth developing, and that is extremely frustrating to me, when a character like Kevin, who were always queer since Season One, are still regulated to the background. Or like Joaquin, who was unceremoniously killed off.

It bothers me because the writers have various queer characters, and instead of taking time to develop them, even the ones who are supposed to be main characters, instead shrug go, “Well, we have Cheryl, and that’s enough.”

If you think I’m exaggerating, let me remind you of something you said:

We still don't know anything about Toni's parents.

You’re right. We don’t. We don’t even know their names.

And yet, we know the names of Cheryl’s brother, mother, father, uncle, grandmother, ones of her ancestors, aunt, and another uncle. And with the exception of the last two, all of them have played a role in the plot.

Which means that the writers think that Cheryl’s family is worth introducing and developing. And yet we still don’t have an explanation of what happened to Toni’s parents. Not even a mention. Which means the writing staff doesn’t think at all about developing Toni’s background or past. Cheryl gets a detailed history of her family and their exploits, but there’s none of that for Toni.

And if you think that it’s just because Toni’s newer to the show and has only been a main character since the beginning of this season, let’s talk about a character who’s been on the show since the very beginning of Season 1 and a main since Season 2: Kevin.

We still don’t know his mom’s name. The show just never gave her one. We know the name of Cheryl’s ancestor, but the writers never bothered to give his mom a name. Which is kind of noticeable when one of Kevin’s only plots last season revolved around him being upset that his dad was cheating on his mom. And also when one of his only plots this season revolved around him getting a new mother in the form of Sierra as his stepmother.

It just goes to show you how shallow and one-note the few plots Kevin gets are: we don’t ever get to see him talking about anyone about the remarriage and how he feels and how it’s affected his relationship with his biological mother. It’s never mentioned, because the writers think Kevin’s feelings are that negligible.

So my issue here isn’t with Cheryl at all, but the writing staff and their refusal to develop queer characters beyond Cheryl. The discrepancy is both disappointing and frustrating.

3. The Choni relationship is mostly all about Cheryl. Almost always.

What the title says.

The moment that has unfortunately defined the Choni relationship from the very beginning was the circumstances under which they got together. It was in the later half of Season 2, shortly after the Southside merged with Riverdale High. If you recall, Cheryl very purposefully set out to be snide and nasty to the Southside students for no reason whatsoever, leading other students to have them expelled and maliciously taunting them because she was upset herself and wanted to make other people miserable. (Her reasoning is actually discussed in the brief conversation she had with Midge following Mr. Weatherbee’s announcement of the merge.)

Then, without Cheryl ever apologizing to Toni for mistreating her and preemptively judging her, in the episode where they get together, the writers suddenly have Toni desperately reaching to help Cheryl for whatever reason. Keep in mind that Cheryl has never been nice to her. Ever. And true to form, Cheryl throws a homophobic insult Toni’s way for her trouble. But Toni continues to reach out to her, and, in scene that is all about Cheryl and Cheryl’s great pain and suffering, they get together, Toni lavishing Cheryl with praise and Cheryl most definitely not returning the favor.

And that’s pretty much the dynamic their relationship has stuck with 95% of the time. For the vast majority of the show, the Choni relationship is about Cheryl’s pain, Cheryl’s ideas, Cheryl’s emotions, Cheryl’s wants, Cheryl’s. And that is my prime issue with it. It is all about a Cheryl. In this interracial relationship between a mixed race black-Native woman and a white woman, it is the white woman character who gets all of the writers’ focus and development. It is the white woman whose character is the one treated as relevant.

I could point to numerous examples, but I feel that the moment that best demonstrates how Cheryl’s feelings are prioritized over Toni’s is when Jughead throws them both out of the Serpents.

Toni has been established by the show as Native American. The Serpents are established to be the last remnants of the Uktena tribe, which Toni is descended from, and Toni’s grandfather is a Serpent as well. The Serpents are not only her friends, but her tribe and her family.

So when Jughead, a white man, throws her out of the Serpents, Toni is essentially losing her heritage. She is having her individuality as a Native American stripped away from her, as white people have historically done to Native peoples for centuries. She is losing her people. She is losing her culture. This is probably a devastating event for her.

But who does the writing focus on?

Cheryl. The girl who’s ancestor slaughtered Toni’s ancestors. The white girl who only just became a Serpent a few months ago. The girl who has no cultural ties to the Serpents, no history with them, no family with them, and actually set out once to drive various members of it away from her high school simply because she didn’t want them there.

That moment, for me, is the epitome of the writers being unwilling to pay attention to Toni’s character in her relationship with Cheryl. When she doesn’t even have a voice when her heritage is being removed. Sure, Toni’s in the scene, and she has far more reason to be upset than Cheryl, but Cheryl’s the one in the relationship the writers want to give lines to, so it’s Cheryl who takes the spotlight while Toni is treated just like she’s some tagalong to Cheryl who barely has an opinion.

Again.

All said and done, anon, my issue is far less with Cheryl than with the writing. I don’t like that her white woman pain is treated as more worthwhile in comparison to the various POC characters whose lives she actively set out to destroy. I don’t like that the writers have continually kept the spotlight on her in the Choni relationship and refuse to flesh out Toni’s background at all. And I really don’t like that she’s treated by the writers like the only queer character on the show worth developing.

Yes, the writers could take away screentime from the Core Four and give it to the other queer characters, and I wish they would. But they aren’t doing that, and while they continue not to do that, I’m going to continue to talk about the weird racial implications that surround Cheryl, particularly in her relationship with Toni, and why the writers evidently don’t don’t think Toni is worth the same exploration and development that Cheryl gets week after week.

#choni #cheryl blossom #toni topaz #kevin keller #josie mccoy #riverdale #Anonymous

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gensou-no-toshokan · 7 years

Note

I love your writing so much!! For the prompts can I request "Don't make me come over there myself" and are you still taking the nsfw prompts?

Technically I’m always open to them, so don’t worry.

Note: The actual line is not on this, but the idea behind it is.

Everything was blurry around her, except for him.

Come to think of it everything around felt like that, even herself: the sheets around them were raspy-looking as if they were and even though they felt like silk.

Then there’s his weight on top of hers, it’s the only thing that feels completely real; the way his hot skin brushed and slapped against hers, his muscles contracting and straining with sweat, his hands gripping her from below tightly the talons digging into her skin.

Then there’s his expression.

He always makes a point to hide it from her and pretty much everyone, even when they’re were like this, he hides on the crook of her neck, and even when they fully faced one another, the way he strained to always stay utterly in control it scares her at times.

But right now she can see him completely open: his parted lips that allowed the moans and curses come out clearly, there’s abluish tint that has spread all over his cheeks and nose and he strains to keep his eyes open.

That’s how Nina knows this is a dream.

It happened again, she thought plopping herself down on the bed and wished she could disappear in between the sheets, and maybe if she tried hard enough she would manage.

But the aching between her legs, pulsating and demanding release, the sleek patches on her underwear and her tingling all over would still be there afterwards.

His lips are soft, much softer than she thought they would be.

She looked up to the window and saw the moon was still up there in the sky and groaned on the pillow; if she didn’t sleep well tonight she would be doing a lousy job tomorrow…

His wings cover them both and every time they brush against her skin they both moan

Her fingers dogged into the pillow, forcing,attempting of not ending the job herself.

The hot and throbbing flesh inside of her, his weight and his kisses… it’s too much…

But it did nothing to erase the ghost feeling of her dreams.

“Everything seems to be the same as the last time I checked you.” Rita said without looking at her.

“Mine…”

-----

“Thank you, Rita.” She said trying to will down the knot that it had been on her throat since the beginning ofher ‘appointment’. “I just felt like I was coming down with a fever.”

“Any chance to get a look of dragon folk biology is as good as any, even if you’re not full blood.” She spoke taking off her gloves.

“Uh… still, thank you, is there anything I can get for you as thanks?” She asked and Rita only shrugged as usual muttering something about her paying her tab, and as Nina was about to walk out of the door Rita spoke:

“Nina.”

“Yes?” She said and when she turned Rita was infront of her, a flask of herbs in hand.

“Next time you fear you another fever, make tea with these and make sure to chew on the roots,” She said before Nina could ask. “Don’t go overboard because these are expensive, but don’t be too stingy either it’s cheaper and safer than the alternative; it will help you… regulate your cycles.”

Before this moment she could never think that words alone could open a chasm below her feet and made her want to jump down it to avoid this talk.

“W-what things are you saying?!” She yelled feeling honest to god smoke flaring off her body, and didn’t need a mirror to know her face was beet red.

“Tch, I’m saying that if you have any plans of having an active life you should take precautions… usually I wouldn’t bother with long-living races like yourself and…” She stopped talking and Nina swore there was a tingle on her eyes. “Anyhow…you guys are like ticking clocks and have very specific conditions for any seasonal fever, but unpredictable human genetics tend to throw these cycles all over the chart, so stop being an idiot and take them.” She said pushing the flask inside her pouch

Nina swore she must have looked like a zombie the entire way back home, she ignored people’s greetings or asking her some random things and when she reached her apartment, it had been a week since she moved from Bacchus carriage.

Exactly the day after their encounter.

He eyed carefully Rita’s expression when he dropped the bag in front of her.

It was modest enough; there was a bed, a cabinet and a table, she left Rita’s idea for a gift on the top shelf … is not like she would have much use for them anytime soon.

-----

Pretending that he had not tied it loose on purposeso the gold coins spilled on her table.

“I suppose I can finally say your tab is payed.” She said picking it up and he had to suppress a sigh at her unimpressed face, he supposed that was expecting too much from her. “But I’m short on change at the moment.”

“Keep all of it.” He said with a hand wave, gold and jewels were worthless in Hell, power was the only true currency. “What?” He asked when she noticed her suspicious stare.

“Should I expect to be cursed from this?” She asked, and he had to suppress the urge to face palm.

“Think whatever you want, zombie, none of my business,”He said, feeling his eye twitch. “I’m not trying to be generous or anything, I hate to be indebted to people, I would pay for the drunkard’s life supply of alcohol if that kept them and their bounty hunters off my back for the next couple of centuries.”

“So, you went and fact checked.” Rita said and he had to school his annoyance now, this girl had always been too smart for her own good, he stole a glance to the stairs he knew led to the attic, there was enough space up there to make for a good enough living space if the zombie girl kicked her pets out of the place.

Enoughfor one person to live.

“Nina’s not here.” Rita spoke again and he tried to dissimulate his choking noises into a cough.

“I wasn’t going to ask about that girl.” He said and almost bite his tongue off while doing so.

“She’s still in Anatae though.” She said and this time he felt his whole body shake with relief, but he still refused to let itall out.

“Good for her.”

“That’s anawfully impersonal way to refer to your current mate.”

His wings itched when she started talking, and were fully displayed when she finished saying that word and it left him retching for air while the appendages fluttered wildly filling the room with feathers.

“Are you really ‘making amends’ or just a convenient excuse to meet with her?” She said, mockery obvious in her voice, Azazel was torn in between denying her claims and ask how did she got such ideas. “I bet you had a pleasant surprise visiting Bacchus.”

“…Where is she then?”…Stupid, stupid lowly body of his, performing such a shameful betrayal, it still wasn’t as bad as the cold judging eyes she regarded him with.

“Tch… Find her yourself.” She said and started to use the broom or his feathers, making clear her intent to ignore him.

When Nina opened her door that morning she expected to find the landlady complaining about paying her rent or maybe a compensationfor breaking the cabinet door past week.

Azazel did nothing except walk away and slammed the door as hard as he could.

----

She did not expect to find Azazel standing at the other side.

And of course she allowed way too much time to pass in between deciding what to say, or if she should just slam the door on his face because she noticed that his hand was resting against the hinges.

Unless she wanted to pay for property damage too, she was stuck with him.

“You…” he started and Nina could only imagine that his mind was going through a bunch of accusations against her and braced herself against them. “…said you wanted this.” He said instead.

The accusation was still there, but seeing his hand turned into a fist and his pursed lips made her wonder how much was he holding right now.

“I did…” But it was now clear that what exactly she wanted was a little different from what he expected. “But afterwards I felt…”

‘Doubts’ She kept that word for herself and instead considered if to closethe door for them to talk in the hallway or inside the room, but she discarded the this one in a second: both of them in any enclosed space was a big no; but on the other hand other tenants and even the people of the tavern downstairs were listening now, some of them even pretending to chat near them or drink empty glasses.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He spat out and he punched the doorframe slightly making it tremble a bit and she was about yell him about it when she looked at his eyes it brought memories.

Namely the way his body had brought her to howling release more than once.

“Can we please not do this here?” She said in a whisper and averting her eyes from his, noticing how the cracking sound ofthe wood under his grip had resonated all over thr place and people were shamelessly staring at them now.

“Fine,” He said and the weight of his stare was off her body, but before she could feel anyrelief he spoke again:

“What are you doing here?” He asked without turning or standing up from his position, he would not acknowlodge her more than necessary.

“Good riddance.”

----

“I got scared.”

Hearing those words, he almost did turn except that she beat him to the punch and sat next to him instead.

“…Because I’ve never done those things before and I didn’t know what to do.” She said and from the corner of his eye he couldn’thelp but notice her pink tresses.

So he had been right and she had been thrown out of her depth, still…

“You didn’t act as if you were scared when you were with me.” Rather she seemed to enjoy his attentions at its fullest; her heated skin, the desperate noises she made and kisses on his body were forever burned on his memory.

“After… I felt…” She continued and trailed off and he had to grip the stone under his hand to not pry an answer off her by force; it had never done any good when coming to her. “Sorry I lied… It wasn’t anything you did.”

This time he did turn to face her and the way she was deep in thought caught him off guard, what was she talking about?

“…You said…” She said and her face was becoming very red again.

‘Say you’re mine…’

“Don’t.” He interupted her and he felt like craddling his face on his hands, or punching himself in the gut, either one worked. “I was just caught up in the moment.”

It grated him to make himself look so… unhinged, but it was better than portraying himself as a poor little sap uncapable of handling an encounter between two consenting parties without any civility.

So, he lied.

“I’m sorry, I… used you, I wanted to feel better about… you know.” She started and she scooted closer to him, her pinky barely brushed against his hand. “…I wanted fun, a distraction and…”

He had to breath through his nose the bitterness and anger, even after death he was still screwing things up for him.

“And I was there, I offered it myself, so no need to wallow on self-pity over trivial matters.” He said waving his hand, waning to put space between them.

“If you knew… why did you allow it?” She asked and this time she placed her hand on his thigh and closed in even more the little idiot.

“I was bored, and had not gotten any for some time now.” He forced an arrogant smile and she puffed her cheeks in response, he had to quench down the urge to squish her face and kiss her senseless.

But he would never indulge in those feelings again.

“Tonight, if you want to… I think I’m over my fear-mmhp” He crashed his mouth against her before the she finished talking and helped her put her arms and legs around him, her weight sagging against his body.

“Someone’s gonna see…” She said weakly between breaths when he started to work on her belts.

“The drunkard and the duck passed out, Rita is doing rounds.” He said hurrying to take off the unnecessary garments.

‘Just a little indulgence.’ he said in his mind for each kiss, nip or lapof hers.

Just one… He was always such a great liar.

#anonymous #shingeki no bahamut #azanina #my fics #nsfwish?#dunno #there are only mentions #I added some angst #because I'm evil

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zinnia-apologist · 7 years

Text

All It Takes Is A Fall

Author: Kendall McIntosh (BittersweetNSour, Eskay64)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Arena Tycoon Greta, Zinnia

Content Warnings: Survivor’s guilt, suicide urges

Summary: In the aftermath of an Ultra Wormhole opening up above the Battle Tower and Anabel getting dragged in, Greta - Anabel's girlfriend up until the incident - deals with her grief very poorly. It takes a surprise visit from Zinnia to stop her from doing something drastic.

~ [Serebii] ~ [Fanfiction.net] ~ [Archive Of Our Own] ~

It had been a month since the sky ripped open above the Battle Tower, and a huge black beast came out of it and wreaked havoc. Nobody was sure what it was; not even Noland, the one Frontier Brain that actually held a Pokédex, nor anyone that the various picture-taking bystanders at the base of the tower brought the photographs to for identification.

But it really didn't matter. It came, it caused massive damage, and it left, right back through the wormhole in the sky.

And now Anabel was gone because of it.

Greta had been waiting in the lobby when it happened, watching Anabel's latest Gold Symbol challenge on a big screen. For dramatic effect, she had just recently decided to start moving all such challenges to the roof of the building. And of course, that put her right in the way of the alien creature's destruction, when it came. Her and her challenger both.

Anabel had been on the losing side of her challenge, and as per Battle Frontier regulations, she had only brought three Pokémon up with her. She hadn't planned on using two of them anyway -- she called on the favor of Raikou and a Latios for the sake of a battle, but Legendary Pokémon rarely allowed themselves to be legitimately caught by humans, instead simply coming as called as a temporary ally. And by the time the strange black creature appeared, the two Legendary Pokémon had already come to fight and left in defeat, leaving Anabel with a wounded Snorlax, an Alakazam, and her starter, an Espeon who rarely battled anymore. Greta knew Anabel was in no shape to face a creature like that, especially one that -- at least based on its appearance -- seemed to be Dark-type.

Truth be told, Greta doubted she stood a chance against whatever it was either. But it didn't matter. She had to be there to help her childhood friend, her rival, her girlfriend, in this crisis. So, as soon as she possibly could, she made her way through the panicking crowd and toward the first elevator to the top.

She didn't make it in time.

They were gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month since that happened, right down to the day. The Battle Tower was closed to everyone except Scott, the remaining Frontier Brains, and anyone who had volunteered to help clean up the damage and maintain the building, which had become a memorial to Anabel. Greta had unrestricted access to it.

So now she was on the roof, standing on the edge, looking down.

The events of that awful day kept playing in her head, over and over and over. Seeing the beast come out of the sky, rushing to the elevator, watching in agonizing pain as the floor number sloooooowly rose to the top, the doors opening to a wrecked roof.

Too slow. Too slow. TOO SLOW.

It was her fault, she thought. She insisted. She should have been there, she was so close, but it didn't matter. Her girlfriend was presumed dead. Even if she wasn't, Greta would never get to see her again.

They'd been together since the beginning. Her Umbreon was from the same litter of Eevee as Anabel's Espeon; Greta could have gotten a starter Pokémon two years earlier, but wanted to wait until her first friend, her best friend, her favorite person, got hers. They'd traveled all across Kanto, Johto, Sinnoh, and Hoenn together, and been there for each other's worst points -- and Greta, having depression and borderline personality disorder, had a lot of worst points. Somehow, Anabel had always managed to keep her going strong without even trying -- whether it was words of encouragement, or sending pictures of Umbreon plushies captioned "saw this and thought of you!" on bad days, or sharing a laugh poking fun at Lucy's obsession with snakes. Somehow, Anabel always had a way of making her happy when it mattered.

Until now. She was gone.

It should have taken me! She kept insisting to herself. They can all live without me! They all deserve better than someone who can't save someone who actually matters, then keeps obsessing over her when she's gone. Real useful, aren't I?

She inches closer to the edge, clinging with one hand to the railing. All it takes is a fall, she tells herself. All it takes is a fall, and then if Anabel's dead, I can see her again. And if she's not… the others deserve better anyway. Scott deserves better! Nobody would even remember me -- who talks about Greta anyway? Nobody, nobody does, nobody cares, nobody would care if I--

"Pretty night tonight, huh?"

Greta yelps and whips around, almost toppling off the edge before catching herself instinctively. Behind her is a very short girl, with black hair cut into a bob not unlike her own, and wearing a cape and an ankle brace with a strange marble-like stone embedded in it.

"Wh-who are you?! H-how did you get up here?" Greta's voice trembles. Nobody was supposed to know she was here!

The mysterious girl smiles and hops up onto the railing beside Greta, sitting down and kicking her feet over the side. "They don't have a Battle Tower where I'm from. There's plans, sure, but they haven't actually started building it yet. Gotta say, it's pretty darn impressive!"

Greta just gives her a confused look. Not only did the girl avoid both of her questions, she didn't even seem to acknowledge the fact that she was about to jump off!

"...L-listen, whoever you are… I, uh, y-you shouldn't be here. It's off limits. Frontier Brains and authorized personnel only, g-got it?"

The mystery girl just shrugs. "You left the doors unlocked behind you. Thought it was safe to follow you. I like high places, y'know?"

Well, that answered one question. Next time, lock the doors to the stairwell.

"Well, um… it… it's not safe here. L-listen, just leave!" Greta shouts.

The girl sighs. "You can't climb up here specifically because it's dangerous and then tell someone else not to, that's just hypocritical. Nope, I'm staying riiiight here, so you're just gonna have to get used to the company!"

Greta groans. It wasn't supposed to be like this! She can't do it now that someone's watching her! She climbs back over to a safer position, only now realizing just how badly she's shaking. "O-okay, I'm… I'm safe. You happy now?"

The girl smiles again. "Better! But I'm still staying."

Greta sighs, trying to calm herself. "...I-if you say so. Can I… at least get your name?"

The girl kicks her feet idly. "I'm Zinnia! You're Greta, right? The Arena Tycoon?"

Greta nods. "Th-that's me, yes." Calm down. Just. Calm. Breathe. Breathe…

"Nice to meet you!" Zinnia spins around and hops back off the railing, leaning against it. "Soooooo… what's on your mind? I'm gonna play therapist for a bit, if that's okay."

Somehow, Greta doubted it mattered if she said it wasn't okay.

"I… lost someone. Really close to me. You might have heard about it on the news, it was… it was the girl who ran this building before."

"Mmmmm… can't say I really keep up with the news." Zinnia shrugs again. "But still, sucks that someone died. It'd suck even more if someone else did, y'know?"

"I…" Greta starts to say something, but realizes she doesn't actually have a response. This whole situation was catching her incredibly off guard. She fumbles for words. "I… I… don't think therapists usually say stuff like that…?"

"Well, guess we know why I don't have a license, then! But whatever, that's not the point. I… well, I know how you feel, Greta. I lost someone close to me too. But you know how she would have wanted me to respond to it? She'd want me to keep fighting! For the people we haven't lost yet!"

Greta spends several seconds in silence. When she speaks again, she's very quiet, almost whispering. "I… guess so. And… she might not actually be dead either…"

Zinnia beams. "Well, that's even better! Keep fighting until you find her, just like I'm gonna keep fighting until I find my Aster again! And if I don't… well, wherever she is, I'm gonna do everything I can to protect her. You do that too, okay?"

Greta pauses. After a moment, she slowly nods her head. "I… okay. I will. For Anabel."

"For Anabel!" Zinnia smiles. She extends her arms in an invitation for a hug. Greta hesitantly accepts, but when she does, it's an eternity before she lets go.

"Hey… I'll keep a look out for her, okay?" Zinnia whispers. "For Anabel, I mean. I travel a lot. If I see her, I'll tell her someone's looking forward to seeing her again. Got it?"

"Thank you… thank you, Zinnia."

They finally break the hug. Greta gazes out over the Battle Frontier one last time, then turns back around to start climbing back downstairs. Astonishingly, Zinnia is already gone, as stealthily as she came.

Greta promised herself she wouldn't disappoint her.

#fanfiction #pokemon #pokemon emerald #pokemon oras #greta #arena tycoon greta #zinnia

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