These words are my own

[sarafina]

Sometimes, just saying those three words isn't enough. Sometimes... you want to get a little creative with it.

R U L E S:

1. Tag your character info/prefs/etc.
2. Top levels can show how their character says I love you without saying it.
3. OR others tagging in will. State your preference!
4. Profit!!

Comments

carrie. ( f/m )

[prayercloset]

You won't stay with me, I know that⸻ but it's okay. We were together for a while, and that's enough.

becca nova ~ original ~ ota

[cafeultra]

A) This reminded me of you.

B) You're my favorite.

C) [ Cut to Becca infodumping all of her random knowledge about a subject that interests them. ]

MJ | MCU | OTA

[neverdisappointed]

1. "I'm almost optimistic about the future, if you're around for it."

2. [Don't mind her as she shows your character a sketch she'd done of them while they were looking sad and/or pensive. It's just her way of showing that she'd noticed, and she's here if they still want to talk about it.]

Donatien (Tav) | Baldur's Gate 3 | OTA for Gen, M/M for shipping

[getoffmystage]

1. Whatever you need.

2. You looked like you needed that.

3. [ When words are clearly not what is needed, he opts not to say the wrong thing (anything) quietly sits in silence with you. ]

4. First, are you all right?

5. Wildcard - How do you say it?

Danny Chase | DC Comics (New Earth continuity)

[telekinesis_kills]

[OTA for gen/platonic love - M/M for shipping]

1) I will protect you.

2) It feels like it's okay to be myself around you.

3) If anyone hurts you, they are going to suffer a lot before I kill them.
[[ OOC: Danny has a very particular love language, and it's violence. ]]

[sistermagnetic]

[To really any of the above]

I appreciate your determination to look after me, sweet thing. [Accompanied by a squeeze and possibly a kiss to the top of his head.] Don't get yourself hurt on my account.

[telekinesis_kills]

I get hurt in the course of my business anyway. Might as well be for someone I actually care about. [He pats her hand.] But I do try to come out of these fights uninjured. Promise.

[sistermagnetic]

[A soft, put-upon sigh.] Oh I know. I'm in the same boat, just from the other direction. If you do get into a tough scrape, you know I can try and back you up at least.

[telekinesis_kills]

You'll be one of the first ones I call, grande soeur, [Danny promises.]

Angel Dust | Hazbin Hotel | (m/m for any smut)

[harderdaddy]

1. Oh, wow. You really do look like shit. [He laughs.]Come on, sit up, I brought you soup or whatever. You play nice and I'll even wear my nurses outfit for ya later, hmm?

2. If ya laugh I swear to fuck I'll gut you. [He starts pulling down the zipper of his boots.]

3. [Tag him instead~]

sappho | fragments of sappho / original | ota

[kalai]

( info in journal. f/f pref for shipping, but open to discussion. )

"I prayed one word: I want."

[asorceress]

And what did your prayers grant you?

[kalai]

You are letting your sweet voice enfold me. What does that tell you?

[asorceress]

That I choose, I long to be closer to you. Do not credit prayers to your gods for my own will.

[ Stern, at first. But there is something almost playful and light, just beneath the surface of her eyes. ]

[kalai]

( she looks amused, her smile small but warm, genuine. )

I believe not even the gods can take from you that which is solely yours, Yennefer. You are made of a material stronger than Aphrodite, may she forgive my disrespect.

[asorceress]

[ It is difficult not to feel her own smile begin to form at the sight of Sappho's. ]

Do your gods ever speak to you directly?

[ A curiosity she's wondered not for the first time. ]

[kalai]

There is one who walks beside me like an ally in battle and offers her words of encouragement. Although the victories are sweeter than from any war man wages, the love she has stirred in me before can feel as frightening. And perilous.

( to Sappho that double-edged nature is natural, what is divine is awe-inspiring in all senses of the word. perhaps that same nature is what she loves in Yennefer. )

Jim Kirk | Star Trek AOS

[finalfrontiersman]

[ ooc: if you know you know T_T ]

“Let me help.”

[logicalities]

[ Answering distress calls is not the typical purview of Vulcan science vessels. Yet that is exactly what the ship Spock and his parents are aboard is in the middle of doing. Most of the passengers only know that the ship has temporarily altered its course and the arrival time to Earth has been increased by an additional week and two days due to the change. Spock is not most passengers.

Spock is son to the Vulcan ambassador to Earth, and by virtue of being so, he knows they are answering a distress call from the colony planet Tarsus IV.

There is no question as to why an unarmed science ship was called to the colony when they arrive. What fighting there was has already ended; the colony lies in either pristine, empty neighborhoods or smoking ruins. The fields that were supposed to make Tarsus IV a new agricultural center of the nearby planetary systems lie fallow, crops choked by a rust-colored mold. By the governor's palace, what was meant to be a public square holds only stained stone and rotting, carrion stench.

Six survivors remain. One boy, his hands marred by jagged electrical burns, immediately begins screaming at the medical officers as they carefully — so, so carefully — usher the group of children to the ship.

Two days into their resumed journey to Earth, Spock knows this:

1. The boy's name is James Kirk. He is eleven to Spock's fourteen.
2. Kirk's burns are from use of hastily and inexpertly repaired communications equipment used to send the distress call to Starfleet.
3. Illogically, Kirk refuses any and all treatment and has yet to eat a full meal despite his obvious malnutrition; the medical officers have been unable to confine him to sickbay.
4. Not a single Vulcan on the ship has any idea how to deal with James Kirk.

When Spock comes across James Kirk stretched out in the darkest corner of an empty observation deck, head tilted back to watch the streaking light of the stars, he can come to only one conclusion. James Kirk is an idiot. Even so, he does not wish to see James Kirk die.

Spock does not make any effort to hide his entrance to the room, or his approach to James Kirk. He walks briskly to the human and stops in front of him, staring down at the bony figure. He can see in the way the human holds his arm across his ribs that his position is not comfortable; it is likely his ribs are cracked, if not broken. The bandages on the human's hands are ragged and clearly need to be changed.

Spock allows the silence to stretch on for a minute, and another.

Finally, he states: ]

Despite the lack of caloric intake necessary to function at peak efficiency that may have convinced every member of the crew of this ship otherwise, I have reason to believe your brain still functions. [ Namely, the way James Kirk keeps hacking his way out of sickbay. ] For what reason do you continue refusing medical attention?

[ How's it feel to have a bite-sized Vulcan call you a dumbass? ]

[finalfrontiersman]

[ Jim aches.

It's a typical state of being, as has been the MO, these past four months. He thinks it was four months, anyway - Jim lost track of the days, somewhere around 96. Just after they lost Emmi, but before the infection in Tom's eye had taken a turn for the worst. The discomfort is comfortable, in its own way; the gnawing, hollow hole in the center of him hurts, but it makes sense. He's alive, and life hurts; life is the creak of soft bones and the jitter of an adrenaline crash. This, he knows, this makes sense.

So little has made sense, ever since Jim sent up that signal on a wing and a prayer. Fumbling fingers, clumsy with exhaustion and fear, but he'd done it, he'd gotten the communication terminal working. Sparks had flown, searing his fingertips, but Jim had managed to type the message. MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY. This is James T. Kirk hailing from the Tarsus IV colony, beta quadrant. I repeat, MAYDAY from Tarsus IV. Requesting immediate planet-wide evacuation...

Everything after that is a blur, but a ship did indeed come, answering their plea. Minutes or hours, Jim had lost track; but the Vulcans had arrived, responding to the call with impenetrable stoicism. Beamed to the planet's surface in the haze of the transporter, it had felt like a weird, lucid dream to see other people, the presence of help. The beat of silence had pervaded - whatever the landing party was expecting to find, it was not six dangerously malnourished children in the middle of a veritable holocaust - until Jim had lost it, yelling at them to do something! Tom's hurt, help us!

The pause, in totality, had likely been the briefest of brief, but to Jim, it felt like an eternity. Tom had lost his eye, but not his life, and be it three days or three hours, the Vulcan ship had spirited them further and further away from that cursed planet.

Whatever it was, Jim was just glad to be gone. Time is relative anyway, these days.

Jim's on the observation deck, tonight as with most nights, somewhere during the witching hours of Gamma shift. Do Vulcans have witching hours? Probably not. It would be inefficient to contain the witching only to specific hours of the day - disregarding the illogic of witching at all, that is. The thought, combined with the blur his unfocused eyes make of the stars at warp next to him, is almost enough to make him snort. He snaps back into focus a moment later, reunites with the warring sensations in his body; the ache of cracked ribs and the sting of burned hands; the gaping maw, in the core of his being. It makes him wheeze, and he freezes when he notices there's someone there with him.

Distantly, there's a part of him that recognizes that this is another child, though he presents himself like a mini-adult, ramrod straight and perfectly measured, like all the other Vulcans on this ship. The small Vulcan stares at him placidly - or it would be placid, until he opens his mouth. The insult - and it is an insult, or at least, it feels like it should be one, if Jim had it in himself to care - is unexpected enough that Jim honest-to-God laughs, an involuntary noise that sounds like it scrapes up the sides on its way out of his throat.

This Vulcan's eyes are different than the others. Wider, somehow, rounded; they're a warm, earthy brown, like the color of rich soil after a storm blew through the farm, soaking fresh rainwater into the ground. It's a color he hasn't seen in so long, the pang of bereft homesickness is harsh and sudden. The ground on Tarsus IV was red, rich with clay, good for hearty root vegetable farming. The mold, however had tinged the loam a sickly orange, everything covered in fuzzy clumps. Jim prefers this Vulcan's coloring, the way his irises turn tawny at the edges.

He's been staring too long.

Jim shifts against the observation window, the coolness of the window a balm against his forehead. The medbay they'd been trying (keyword trying) to keep him in was calibrated for human temperature preferences, but he found it too cold - unsurprising, when his malnourishment was running rampant. The rest of the ship - set for Vulcan comfort, Jim was guessing - was significantly warmer. He opens his mouth to answer, and maybe it's because of the Vulcan's eyes, or the owlish way he's staring at him - maybe it's just that Jim's tired, and the question was so direct and to the point that it kind of makes him want to cry in relief - but what comes out is...honest. ]

Everyone acts like I don't understand them. [ Jim sits up a little more, the sleeves of the borrowed inpatient sweater too big for his skinny, bony wrist. In the recovery that follows, he'll need a full-scale orthoregeneration, but for now he is fragile, his breakability on full display. Jim doesn't seem to care, the light in his eyes defiant; prepared for a fight, should one occur. As if the inevitability of it is expected, and for someone who's been in fight or flight for so long, maybe it is. ] And the ration bars taste like ass, I don't like them.

[logicalities]

[ At the unusual description of the admittedly tasteless flavor of the nutrient bars the medical officers have been supplying all of the survivors, Spock's eyebrow lifts. He considers the statement, still staring steadily at the human. ]

Although I doubt the veracity of your statement— [ what does "ass" even taste like? As Spock has observed in his mother, the way the human mind works is rarely as logical as the Vulcan way of thinking, but this particular human seems particularly irrational. ] —that does not change the fact that you require the additional vitamins and nutrients the ration bars provide following your extended deprivation.

[ Deprivation. A tidy and pointedly distant way of describing the months of abuse and starvation Spock is well aware James Kirk and the other children have endured. He is not unsympathetic to the lingering effects of trauma the experience has doubtless left on the survivors' psyches. None of the Vulcans on the ship are. As James Kirk has noticed, they are treating the survivors with gentleness and far more tact than Vulcans usually offer.

However, that he has gone through an ordeal does not mean James Kirk should behave so irrationally as to the detriment of his own health.

Spock cannot wrap his mind around why the adults responsible for Kirk's care have allowed him to continue to do so. ]

Your demonstrated abilities suggest you are intelligent enough to be aware of this. So I ask again: why do you refuse medical attention?

[finalfrontiersman]

I doubt the veracity of your face, but here we are. [ Jim's grumbled retort holds about as much bite as a toothless dog, and he curls further into himself, pressed up against the glass. Extended deprivation is a curiously simplistic way of neatly packaging the experience, enough to make Jim snort again, eyes sliding away from the Vulcan boy. He's still standing there, but that doesn't mean Jim has to pay attention to him. ] All the ration bars provide me is the urge to vomit.

[ The fact that the Vulcan healers haven't tied him to a bed and forced recovery on him in any meaningful way - well, Jim doesn't know why not, aside from the fact that he'd genuinely go ballistic if they did. Maybe they're smart enough to intuit that (likely having it calculated to the nearest decimal point, he'd wager), and given that he's still breathing - and still has enough energy to hack his way out of the medbay - his condition must not have reached critical mass.

Jim's gaze slides from the window back over to Spock, clear blue, reflecting back the glow of the stars outside. He considers that for a moment, regarding the other boy with a not-at-all-subtle evaluation. Despite his obstinance, the Vulcan isn't looking at him like he's crazy. Like he's incapable of reason - like he's not aware of what it means, the numbers that appear on his tests and the fact that that they get worse with each reading, instead of better.

So he shrugs, one shoulder rising and falling against the wall he's propped up against, still favoring his ribs. ] Medicine is for people who want to get better.

I'd rather be here. [ His attention once again turns to the stars, streaking by in a wall of consistent light. The ship is booking it, but the journey will still take some time. Long enough, if he's lucky. Jim's hand comes up to the window, small fingers spread to watch the light seep between them. ]

[logicalities]

[ The veracity of his face. A brief flicker of confusion passes across his face in the form of furrowed brows before it smooths away. Spock has no idea what the human boy means by that, but it's obviously meant as an insult. A weak one, barely qualifying when held to the measure of Spock's schoolmates, and he easily lets it roll off him without more than a flicker of curiosity.

More important is the information conveyed: the ration bars are not acceptable to James Kirk's digestive system. Why he has not conveyed this to any of the medical officers, Spock does not care. It is at least a problem he can do something about.

As is the issue of the rest of James Kirk's answer. ]

I see.

[ A stony declaration. Spock does not understand this human or his lack of interest in his own well being. He does not understand what use there could be in purposefully refusing life-saving aid or in sitting by a window and curling up, waiting to die. He does not need to. He asked for the reason James Kirk has avoided medical intervention and he has received that reason. It is enough.

Without another word, Spock turns on his heel and walks away.

...

He returns ten minutes later as impassively as he had arrived, carefully balancing a bowl of gently steaming soup between his hands. This time, when he stops in front of James Kirk he takes a moment to seat himself beside the human and holds the bowl out with an imperious tilt of his head. ]

I am assured by my mother that this broth is both rich in nutrients needed by humans and does not "taste like ass." [ The last three words are clipped. ] You will eat it.

[ He waits calmly, clearly expectant — a statue. If he must wait for hours to see the human finish the soup, he will. He is prepared to take any necessary steps to secure James Kirk's cooperation. No other answer but agreement is acceptable.

James Kirk may not care for his own life, but Spock will not permit him to die. ]

Yamada 💭 OC - OTA

[changeyourself]

( Bio- A freshly baked OC needing voicetesting. A man from a world where once a month, somewhere in the world is struck by a reality-altering event. He has recently joined the organisation that combats paranormal events and supernatural criminals. )

[ With obvious pain in his eyes, Yamada pushes the box of doughnuts towards the person he's fallen for- with the last doughnut just sat there, in the middle. He wants it so bad, but he will sacrifice. ]

Pauline Bonheur | Original Character

[ribbonbon]

1. Have you eaten yet? I brought you something.

2. ...You're just so cool sometimes, you know?

[ Character information/prefs]