Joel Tag Drop.
joel tag drop.
More Posts from Quastari and Others
ᴘʟᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʟʟ
♡ this post if you want to plot with any of my muses.
not sure where to start ? check out my wishlist for an idea. i'm open to anything on there, as well as any ideas you or i might have.
most active muses - arthur morgan - joel miller
muses i'd like to develop - stanley pines - kaidan alenko - will riker
❝ it was a bear, alright. hungry one at that, ❞ is barrett's rumbled reply. with the shelving now upright, he could make out faint scours of claw marks etching the metal. tufts of fur sticking out of crooks in the corners. but aside from all the physical signs, the room simply REEKED of the creature.
an adult male. black bear, maybe. stinking lightly of garbage when it went scavenging for a meal. he was only here for ten minutes, if that. gone for a couple hours.
barrett's brow twitches when he inspects the cabinets. unlike daniil, a stab of SYMPATHY hit him in his gut. hunger was something barrett understood very well.
❝ why so much morphine, doc ? ❞ barrett casually rumbles out as he approaches the broken vials of the drug.
"The state of a bear isn't my foremost concern," Daniil shoots back, carefully sweeping away the glass shards from his shattered equipment. True to form, all he can think about is the money wasted—some of the broken instruments had come directly from the last days of Thanatica.
Barrett's help is appreciated, but he's not the sort of person who would understand the terrible miasma of frustration and apathetic concession Daniil can't help but feel, looking at the minor carnage in his lab. It feels, in the moment, like he lives a doomed life—all progress will inevitably and invariably be halted by some outside force that wishes him and his research to meet its swift end.
An ill twist of fate; he'd call it that, if he believed in fate. As it stands, Daniil knows he's only unlucky.
"But if you are indeed right about the perpetrator being a bear, it almost definitely got into the morphine," a downward quirk of the lip as further antsy frustration pulls at him, "and the fentanyl, judging by the state of my cabinets. Even half of what I was storing would be lethal for a human, and it'll be about as costly to replace as an arm and a leg."
Inside me, something seethes. Inside me, some feral animal claws at my ribcage, trapped.
Molly McCully Brown, from Places I’ve Taken my Body: Essays
@espercr asked: "It's been a long time. Too long." (DS9!Hope + it's actually Thomas impersonating Will but she doesn't know yet... like we discussed...)
for just a moment - a heartbeat - his brows furrowed at her words. thomas riker had expected one or two incidents where he may be put on the spot, and insisted his quick-thinking and poker face would GUIDE him until he could reach the defiant. an anecdote about will riker's travels is the most he expected.
but not her.
to cover up his surprise, thomas straightens his shoulders and puts on a smile. and he knew which kind of smile to offer hope baxter - he'd seen it himself. ❛❛ it has, ❜❜ he agreed, his tone light to emulate a SOMBER tone. the fact that she was here on the station, and not still on the enterprise, made it a safe bet to act at least a little sadly nostalgic.
❛❛ i hope you've been well. i've read some of the reports before coming here. ❜❜
