♔ call me out

[riku]

CALL ME OUT.

Welcome to Whose Turn Is It Anyway, where the rules are made up and the timestamps don't matter. If you want to start a private PSL, do some voice testing, or whatever the hell you want-- you're in the right place.

Here's my muselist. Pretty much everyone on there is fair game. Ask for a character, or maybe take yourself over to the megameme if you don't have any ideas. There are no expiration dates. If you drop something and pick it up eight months later, I will tag you back.

Go forth. Have fun.

Comments

12 / 3

[gestured]

[This is the first time he's gotten sick since he was little. Er, littler. Everything in him feels dizzy, horrifyingly so; he can't even stand up straight. The dull aching pains combined with the fever shouldn't be enough to wipe out a chief, but here he is, bundled in several furs and completely useless to everyone.

He shouldn't be idling like this. He remembers his father braving the storm, dealing with his sick people like a fair and just chieftain ought to. But the eel pox has infected him to the point where he can't just shrug it off.

Toothless churrs sleepily and wraps his tail around his rider. Hiccup doesn't recall leaving his bed and curling up with Toothless on his firestone, but here he is anyway. He's trying to figure out if he should crawl back into his proper bed when he sees someone sitting on it.

There's no mistaking that silhouette, the intense untamed red hair or the smile.]

... Dad?

[stotte]

[Someone like Hiccup who often stuck it out despite any disadvantages or handicaps, wasn't always entirely invincible. Even Astrid knew that, knowing him too well, a kid who tried his hardest even when he could use a break every once in a while.

She makes a point to try and balance taking care of things while he's in bed rest while also taking care of him, not trusting leaving either in the care of someone like the twins for instant. But she hasn't been entirely alone either, with Gobber keeping a look out on things in the village while Gothi provides herbs to ease the effects of the pox. They told her to just give it time, but if anyone could match up with Hiccup's stubbornness, it was Astrid who sits at the edge of the bed just after giving Toothless a soft, appreciative petting.]

No, I'm not that tough, Hiccup. [Not like the great Stoick in the least. It practically breaks her heart to hear the name called, but she's not about to remind him that his father's passed on, not when he's in this state.

But she tries to smile, as she lets fingers stroke his forehead, praying to the gods that the effects can somehow wear out faster.]

[gestured]

[He shivers and wraps the furs tighter about himself. The fever is making it hard to pay attention. Everything has a thick fog about it, and some kind of reddish-yellowish halo. Still, he tries to squint at the bedside visitor. Slowly, very slowly, he sees the vision shrink and become someone just as familiar. Softer edges, though.]

A-- Astrid, [he whispers roughly, feeling embarrassed about his mistake.] Sorry, I... I don't know what's...

[He knows his father is dead, but he'd-- he'd hoped, for that one instant, maybe... Drago was all part of some awful nightmare. Maybe he'd wake up whole, with his family intact, and his village not overrun by a dragon army, and—

Hot tears sneak past the corners of his eyes, unbidden. It's not the kind of sobbing he did when Stoick actually died, but the sickness and everything else welling up. He squeezes his eyes shut.]

Sorry.

[stotte]

[She'd seen his tears far more often since that day than she had ever remembered. Astrid, herself, hadn't cried with everyone else, not because she didn't feel, but simply because she just hadn't really known how, having fallen in too deep into trying to keep the tough gal act over the years. But if something were to activate those tear ducts, watching Hiccup probably could. It was never too difficult for his pain to transfer under her own skin.]

It's alright. I know. [Her words get caught in her throat when she says it, wishing that it could have been true for him, that his father had really been there instead of her.

But unable to change the reality of things, she tries to push forward through it, hand slipping down to give a subtle caress to a cheek to wipe away the wet patches. Fingers poke softly at small dark circles, not as visible as they were on a regular basis.]

You're getting a little color back at least. Those dorky freckles of yours are popping back.

[gestured]

[He's sure he looks like death, what with the way Astrid keeps touching his face like that. He swallows thickly, feeling worse, though her soft and subtle support makes him want to keep going. Whenever he thinks he might be alone, she's always there to punch him in the gut. In a good way.]

Don't talk about my freckles, [he mumbles.] They're... shy, okay?

[So is he, but that's not up for discussion right now. His expression relaxes beneath her ministrations, and he leans into her touch in that subconscious way that people do when they've spent enough time together.]

How's everyone?

[stotte]

[She smiles just a bit at his comment, relieved that he at least has some energy to engage in conversation. It's already an improvement, albeit a small one.] Considering how long they've hung out on this baby face of yours, I thought that's the case.

[Her hand reminds where it is once she feels the hint of that lean, figuring it's a minor way to give him comfort. Soft touches from her weren't too common after all, so she could at least spoil him a bit.]

Same as they could ever be. Unless you're really anxious to get a peek at the twins tipping yaks for the thousandth time, you're not really missing out on much.

EACH ADVENTURES WITH THRALL AND WAVER or WHO LET THEM ON A BOAT

[gordianknots]

[Honestly, fuck the dozens of small islands that make up the bulk of Briste. Furthermore, fuck the fact that the island with the supposedly abandoned library requires careful navigation through what can only be described as a labyrinth of rocks. Bad enough that the weather is gloomy, rainy, windy, making the sea churn. The constant threat of ramming the small boat that they've had to rent in order to get there is bad enough. Now the rocks are proving to be protected. Toxins from plants have already sent their five person crew into paralysis and enchanted sleep. Who the fuck knows what'll be next.

Waver sighs, standing on the deck as the seas calm down for once, permitting the small vessel a chance to move through a narrow lane without much of a threat.]

Please hold out for ten minutes--

[shamanism]

[Thrall hates sailing. It's not that he gets seasick. It's not that he doesn't enjoy the fresh breeze on his face. It's the fact that every time he's gotten on a boat, something has fucking happened. "Take your people across the ocean," Medivh said. "Fulfill your destiny," he said. And then they all ended up shipwrecked and at the mercy of Kalimdor and a bunch of pissed off night elves. Some orcs have taken to sailing since, but Thrall is always, always leery.]

I must apologize, my friend... I still cannot contact the spirits of the water.

[Thrall is tired. Being vigilant about guiding and protecting the boat also means the occasional use of his earth magic to move the rocks. When he isn't doing that, he's been purging the toxins from the crew. Life's tough for a healer. There are dark circles under his eyes, but his posture is strong and unyielding at the front of the boat.]

I have prayed as hard as I can, but...

[Spirits.]

Are you all right? Nothing touched you during that last scrape, did it?

[One of the vines had grabbed his arm, but he threw it away before it could do much. He's pretty sure, anyway.]

[gordianknots]

A large chunk of me suspects that not even they're willing to come out into a dangerous place like this. Not that I can blame them. What's the use of being in a space that's definitely trying to kill you?

[Waver sighs, and leans forward on the railing. His arms are folded atop the wood, and he lets those arms take all his weight.]

My leg took some cuts, but I don't think it was anything besides blood.

[Lazily, Waver shakes his left leg, indicating that it was the one that came to harm. His trouser leg as a legion of tears, and there's shallow cuts from the knee down.]

I've had worse.

[shamanism]

[Thrall glances at his friend. He's struck by how physically different Waver seems when he isn't trying to be a business owner or a serious business contact. His presence is much larger, but not in a boastful, raucous way. It's the air of authority. Yet he's lanky and pale when at rest, and Thrall has advisors who could use him as a toothpick, probably. It's an interesting dichotomy.

His bright blue gaze shifts to Waver's leg.]

I'm concerned about whatever has been charming the crew, but you seem all right.

[He lets out a breath and leans his back against the railing, though not too much. He's vigilant even so, his eyes constantly scanning for signs of danger.]

I hope this library is worth it.

[gordianknots]

[It's all acting, when Waver's at the Barrel. He must present himself as a businessman with no agenda besides avoiding the war to everyone he meets, and then become the hardened tactican and dealer of information his allies have come to know and rely on when he is alone with them. To be able to sit as Waver velvet rather than as Lord El-Melloi II is a rare thing, and one that Waver appreciates the chance to do. Thrall's one of the few people who have Waver's trust to even see this side. The side Waver values because it is why he marches with Rider in the Hetairoi.]

You'll know if I'm not, I'm sure.

[A wind blows sea spray up into their faces, and Waver swats at the salty air like that'll actually make a difference.]

If it isn't, at least we'll have gotten away for a while and can claim we just had a shit vacation

[shamanism]

[Thrall spits out some saltwater. Ewgh, nasty. For all his trips to Theramore, though, he's almost getting used to it.

He licks at one of his tusks, brow furrowing.]

The wind is picking up again. Do you think we'll make it to the island before the next storm?

[He's not sure how far it is. He rubs at his arm idly where he'd been scratched by a thorn. It's tingling where the water hit it.]

[vivified]

[Steve catches Maria in the hall as he's heading up to his office. She's busy with a folder of some sort.] Hey. You hear anything about...

[She knows exactly what he's talking about, and shakes her head.] Not a thing. You'll be the first to know if I do.

All right. Thanks. [He's not surprised, but the disappointment is still there.

S.H.I.E.L.D.

HYDRA.

Ultron.

Jumbles of letters that really mean the same thing: madness. The notion that Big Brother might keep people safe is something that came out of the post-WWII era, which Steve blissfully slept through. Bringing peace isn't the same thing as destroying everybody or nuking threats before they become threats. It's wrong. It's dishonest, and it's wrong. It's murder.

People can change. Steve believes in his core that just about everyone deserves a chance.

Look at Tony, for example. At one point Steve very nearly wrote him off, but he's matured. However, his wider worldview also means he thinks the same rules that apply to him should apply to everyone. It's not that Steve faults him for thinking like that, as Tony has every reason to. He has his own ghosts, his own self-made demons, and he doesn't want someone else to cook up a villain worse than what he already did.

But most people don't need a tight leash. Tony has a blind spot in the form of helping humanity and he keeps going about it the wrong way. What if the Vision had ended up being something awful? He's very nearly indestructible. Steve trusts him now, but there are always what ifs. It hurts, knowing that Steve and Tony come from similar places as far as intentions go, but their methods are entirely different.

Now there are enough enhanced people to be a threat. It's not always explicitly stated, but there are laws being passed around from nation to nation. Captain America isn't the only super-soldier anymore. There's a whole team and... god knows what else. He can only hope HYDRA isn't manufacturing more poor kids like the Maximoffs. They deserve better. Pietro deserved better.

After the usual day of training, educating and teamwork exercises, the leftover Avengers are free to do whatever it is they please. The Vision goes off to meditate or something. Natasha... probably has some kind of date. And on and on.

Steve doesn't have a date. He's not sure how he feels about asking the "nurse" across the hall to dinner when he has so much on his mind. Instead he walks through New York in casual clothes, hoping that no one recognizes him. He buys some flowers from a small shop and continues to the other side of town.

The sun dips below the horizon and the streetlights turn on, but no one bothers him.

He's thankful for the small things.

His feet take him to the World War II memorial. No one's been here in a long time; all the flowers are dead, and Veteran's Day is several months away. He kneels down and sets the flowers before the granite wall engraved with the names of thousands of fallen soldiers. His eyes settle on JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES and then dance away.

Maybe Buck did die back then. Maybe there's nothing left to look for. But even if that's true, he... owes it to Buck to see it through. If the Bucky he knows is completely dead and buried-- which Steve doubts-- then his friend deserves to at least rest after all the horrible things he's been put through.

Steve shoves his hands back into his sweatshirt and turns to leave. It's going to rain tonight, and he doesn't want to be caught in it.]

Aerith (I have always wanted to throw these two together)

[ridethelightning]

[Normally, Ky would spring for a fancy date for Valentine's Day. However, Aerith preferred to simply stay at home this year and keep each other company. Honestly, Ky couldn't complain -- he just loved spending time with her.

At any rate, he wasn't going to arrive empty-handed. When he knocks on her door, he slides a bouquet of red roses behind his back to present.

Now all that's left to do is wait for her to answer the door.]

im down!

[healingrain]

[It's true. She's not huge on fancy dates, and not just because she grew up in poverty. It's always been more about appreciating the other person and getting to know them. Big showy gestures are embarrassing and so unnecessary.]

Coming!

[She takes a few moments to answer the door. She'd been doing dishes. Totally romantic, right? When the door swings open, her bangs are slightly askew; she brushes them out of her eyes and greets Ky with a big, genuine smile.]

You're here early! Come in, come in.

[She dressed up a little herself, opting out of her favorite pink for a flirty blue sundress. Her feet are bare, which only adds to the charm. She's almost always barefoot when they're not stomping in some heads.]

[ridethelightning]

[Ky smiles when Aerith answers the door. He himself is wearing a white polo shirt and khakis. Presentable, but not overly fancy. He knows that's the way she likes it.]

Thank you. I hope that's not a problem? I was...ah, eager.

[He blushes as bit as he reveals the bouquet and presents it to her.]

For you.

[healingrain]

Not at all! I'm just finishing up dinner.

[The bouquet makes her eyebrows shoot up, but then her smile brightens.]

Flowers! Oh, thank you! You know I love those.

[Maybe it's a traditional gift in some places, but flowers are really rare where she's from. She's always had a natural gift for taking care of plants, though, judging by the many plants in her apartment.

Anyway, she takes them gladly and leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.]

You're sweet. Do you want to sit in the living room until food's done?

[ridethelightning]

[Ky's cheeks turn pink. He's glad he's able to please her with something as simple as flowers, and the kiss on the cheek made it even more worth it.]

Only if you can join me. Otherwise, I want to stay close to you.

[He reaches out with his hand to gently take her free hand and entwine his fingers with hers.

post each AU or: thrall goes back to london with waver, it's interesting

[gordianknots]

[How long has it been since coming back from the Drabwurld. A few months now? A year? Ugh, fuck, over a year, and Waver blames his memory on the summer heat that the underground amplifies thanks to a broken air conditioning system and being in a tube of metal with a hundred other people. He thanks God when his stop comes up, and all but bounds out of the train car when he can.

Up, up, up the steep escalator, and into the late summer sun. Waver breathes out as the stale air is replaced by fresh, and he heads down the street towards the townhouse that has since replaced his shabby apartment off of Druid Street that he lived alone in for nearly fifteen years. It was a needed replacement - there was nothing like coming home with a bunch of kids and Thrall and having no place for them - and a better one. Three storeys, a small backyard, the kind of calm domesticity that Waver had fought tooth and nail to carve out in the Drabwurld. It being a given in London was still fucking weird. There's also the bigger house in the country that Reines had insisted Waver take on, but that's for weekends and days off.

At any rate, Waver pauses at the front door so he can take his phone's earbuds out of his ears and pocket them, then walks in. There's silence which is all too suspicious, and that means everyone's in the backyard. He closes the door, locks it, and heads out.]

Anyone out here?

[shamanism]

[The sound of laughter bubbling from the backyard comes to Waver on the wind. Snatches of conversation, light voices excitedly asking questions and being answered by gentle, rumbling notes. In a moment it's clear what they're working on: there are wooden boxes filled with dirt, rustic and made with Thrall's own hands, and the girls are helping him plant vegetables for this year's harvest.

Sort of.

He's trying to direct them even while he has his hands in the dirt, making perfect holes to drop seeds into. A darker-haired girl runs over to him, grinning eagerly, her hands filled with tiny seeds.]

The cucumbers go in this row. No, not the potatoes. The cucumbers. Careful with the--

[Aaaaaand now he's covered in tiny cucumber seeds. They're in his beard, his hair, down his shirt, and sticking to his arms.]

-- seeds.

[gordianknots]

[Waver follows the sound out into the backyard, throwing his over the shoulder bag on the sofa as he passes it by. What he sees when he gets outside is adorable for about two seconds, and then flat out ridiculous thanks to Roxanne's over enthusiasm with seeds.]

That's a new form of farming if I ever saw it. Makes it easy to keep an eye on things though, I suppose.

[With that, Waver heads down the four steps that lead down onto the grass, and makes his way over to Thrall before he's mobbed by a scad of extremely excited kids. Their energy and weight nearly sends Waver toppling.

Nearly. He just bumps into Thrall instead.]

Hi. How much time have you spent trying to get them to actually do any gardening today?

[shamanism]

[Thrall props him up, laughing. Despite being showered in seeds and children, he's in good spirits. He loves kids. He never thought about having any of his own-- at least not until things had settled down with the Horde-- but this? This is all right.]

Oh, a few hours. They helped me lay out the fresh dirt; that is why they are all covered in it. It was their favorite part.

[He rests his head against Waver's hair, a gesture of closeness.]

How was your day?

[gordianknots]

[Waver turns his head in order to smooch Thrall's cheek.]

I got into a fight with some of the other department heads over budgets and also philosophy, and someone who wasn't me set the head of the minerology department's robe on fire. So you know, good.

[The fact Waver grins at that should be disturbing, but after the Drabwurld? That's straight up child's play.]

I'll take trying to give them baths and cleaning up the mud that follows. You want me to fuss with those seeds in your beard first though?

chrom ; post-chapter 11, we'll wing the rest!

[ex_ntr126]

(And so the war between Ylisse and Plegia was ended.

The work to restore several nations however was far from over. The Plegian and Feroxi people came together to work with their fellow Ylisseans to clean up what could be restored while the rest was swept away. Picking up the pieces of their beloved country and dusting them off in order to make them look presentable was the first step. While that was easy enough of a task, many of The Shepherds wore themselves down to the bone and were forced to take extended breaks in order to restore their health lest they risk falling ill.

Fortunately for Chrom, there was one busybody who didn't seem to fall ill no matter how hard she worked. In fact, she probably looked healthier now than she has since joining his militia. There were new girls to train (and maybe even a couple of boys, tradition be damned) and plenty of beautiful pegasi to occupy her time. Today though, there was a report to be delivered to the Exalt in everything other than title... and no one to deliver it. Frederick and Robin were both out, confined to their rooms to rest up which left very few people qualified to carry sealed letters.

Pegasus Knights were ever faithful to their lords though and so here's Cordelia standing outside of the door to the throne room, nervous as can be. All she needs to do is peer in there to confirm that Chrom is present, then gather up the courage to face him directly, hand him the letters, and leave once prompted to. It's a very cut and dry plan with very little deviation to it. All she needs to do is take in a couple more deep breaths and...)

My prince. (Pause.

There's not a single soul in sight in the room.) Okay, don't panic. It isn't as if he is confined to a single area...

(This isn't good. It's her first day of filling in for the stalwart knight and she's already lost Prince Chrom. Pinching her brow, she tries to think, except the words come out through her mouth rather than remain in her head.)

If I were Prince Chrom, where would I be if not the throne room? (The bath? No, don't start thinking about tha―too late, she's a goner.

Please come save her from herself.)

haha... wing... peg knight...

[knightexalt]

[Cordelia might have been on to something. Chrom is dressed in more casual clothes, just a dark blue sleeveless tunic, trousers and boots. His armor is... somewhere. He'll put it on when he returns to his duties shortly, but right now his hair is still damp enough to need a towel. He sees the shadow of someone on the floor in front of him before he actually registers who it is.]

Huh?

[He lets the towel settle around his shoulders, though it leaves his hair at some... seriously crazy angles. Still, he's not going to let her stand there all day. Despite the worries of the kingdom weighing down on him, he can tell she's practically glowing lately. Like she's finally found her purpose. It's a far cry from the broken survivor one would expect, but Cordelia's never been like that.

He greets her with a broad smile.]

Hello, Cordelia. Playing messenger now, too? I'm starting to think you're gunning for Frederick's job.