#Mutual Of Omaha

[textless]

One morning we came across a group of lions gnawing away at a cape buffalo who was already past caring.

A couple of female lions and some cubs enjoyed breakfast while the male, who had already eaten, lazed in the grass. Over an hour or so, a whole parade of scavengers arrived to wait, sneak in for a nibble, and hold one another at bay, all while the lions remained focused on their meal.

It was gruesomely fascinating, and the photos are below so you can skip them if the whole thing is too red in tooth and claw.

In the last photo above, the lion is scratching dirt over the bloody ground where the buffalo met its demise. Our guide said that diminishes the scent of the kill and its siren call to every hungry creature, but it's safe to say plenty of creatures were already on the case.

Jackals had been close by since we arrived, but they got steadily bolder as the lions dawdled. Then an assortment of vultures arrived. Of course they flew in, but then they edged closer on foot. They were remarkably stealthy for such enormous birds.

The vultures pictured above include lappet-faced vultures and white-backed vultures.

Finally, the little jackals couldn't wait another minute. The lions had pushed the buffalo stomach off to one side, intact, and that is where the jackals made their move.

The big male lion had returned to the buffet by this time, and lost patience with the company.

Annoyed, the lion moved the buffalo a little. This left some bits and pieces behind, including the stomach, and the jackals and vultures went to town.

Just when it seemed the jackals would finally have a chance to dig in, the hyenas that had been creeping around the edges decided they had waited long enough.

It was interesting to see the one unfortunate buffalo provide a meal for the whole wild kingdom.

When we moved on to have our own breakfast, the male lion was still standing guard.

Masai Mara, Kenya, July 2023.

[loveboatinsanity]

[gameraboy2]

How to Survive an Atomic Bomb 1951 Mutual of Omaha ad

[teachersource]

Marlin Perkins was born on March 28, 1905. An American zoologist. He was best known as a host of the television program Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom from 1963 to 1985. The fame he gained in his television career allowed him to become an advocate for the protection of endangered species, and through Wild Kingdom he gave many Americans their first exposure to the conservation movement. Perkins also helped establish the Wild Canid Survival and Research Center (WCSRC) near St. Louis in 1971. This wolf sanctuary has been instrumental in breeding wolves for eventual re-placement into their natural habitats.

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom (1968)

[chernobog13]

"And here we observe the gorilla, in its natural habitat, emerging from the cave it calls home."

It's a little known fact that Eiji Tsuburaya hosted the Japanese version of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.

[redfurrycat]

[At IceMav's]

Bob, Jake, Javy, Mickey and Reuben telling Mav about their favourite medical TV-show while Bradley and Nat handle the dessert.

Reuben: I got hooked up with Grey's Anatomy since the beginning. Can't get enough of the staff sleeping with each other.

Mickey: No way, man! The Good Doctor is the best show. I love Dr. Murphy! He's the best!!!

Javy: Not bad, dude, but I freaking love House M.D. There's no better one-liners than House's.

[Javy and Mickey high-fiving.]

Bob: I used to watch every Dr Quinn Medicine Woman rerun with my mum.

Mav: Good one, Bob. It's Ice's favourite too! You should come here on Wednesday, he loves to watch his favourite episodes.

Reuben: What about you, Jake?

[Javy snorts because HE KNOWS.]

Jake, dreamily distracted: ER. For one character only... Greene.

Mav, spitting out his beer through his nose: ARE YOU KIDDIN' ME?!

Jake: Nope. There's no sexiest doctor than good ol' Dr. Mark Greene.

The other men but Javy: What? What's going on? Show us Mav!

[On Mav's phone:]

Mickey: DUUUUUUDE. YOU'RE SO PREDICTABLE SOMETIMES.

[They all tease Jake who's as cool as a cucumber. He's not ashamed! The guy IS good-looking and reminds him a little of...]

Bradley: Why you guys laughing? What did we miss?

Jake: Bradshaw! As I live and breathe. Did you bring me back my cheesecake?

[sailor-aviator]

I didn’t have the booping ability until 20 minutes ago but now I can’t stop!

The boops get us all, yes, yes

[tvthemesongs]

Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom intro

[medicaresharks]

The Advantages of Mutual of Omaha Supplement Medicare Plans

Introduction

Navigating healthcare coverage as a senior can be complex, especially when considering the gaps in Medicare coverage. Supplemental Medicare plans, also known as Medigap plans, are designed to fill these gaps and provide additional coverage for healthcare expenses not covered by Original Medicare (Parts A and B). Mutual of Omaha supplement Medicare plans designed to meet the diverse needs of seniors. This guide explores the advantages of these plans, helping you understand why they might be beneficial for securing comprehensive healthcare coverage.

Understanding Supplemental Medicare Plans

Supplemental Medicare plans, or Medigap plans, are offered by private insurance companies to supplement Original Medicare coverage. They cover expenses such as copayments, coinsurance, and deductibles that Medicare beneficiaries would otherwise have to pay out of pocket. These plans are standardized across most states, offering the same benefits for each plan type regardless of the insurance company providing them.

Key Advantages of Supplemental Medicare Plans

Supplemental Medicare plans offer several advantages that can make them a valuable addition to your healthcare coverage:

Comprehensive Coverage

One of the primary advantages of supplemental Medicare plans is their comprehensive coverage. These plans typically cover most, if not all, of the out-of-pocket costs associated with Medicare-covered services. This includes copayments, coinsurance, and deductibles, providing financial protection against unexpected medical expenses.

Freedom to Choose Providers

Unlike some managed care plans, supplemental Medicare plans do not restrict you to a network of providers. You can choose any doctor, specialist, or hospital that accepts Medicare patients, giving you the freedom to maintain relationships with your preferred healthcare providers.

Predictable Healthcare Costs

By covering most out-of-pocket expenses, supplemental Medicare plans help make your healthcare costs more predictable. This predictability is essential for budgeting and financial planning, ensuring that you can manage your healthcare expenses without unexpected financial burdens.

Coverage for Travel

Many supplemental Medicare plans include coverage for healthcare services received outside of the United States. This can be particularly beneficial for seniors who travel frequently or spend extended periods abroad, providing peace of mind knowing that emergency medical care is covered.

Guaranteed Renewable

Supplemental Medicare plans are guaranteed renewable as long as you continue to pay your premiums. This means your coverage cannot be canceled by the insurance company, regardless of changes in your health status or claims history. This long-term stability is crucial for maintaining continuous healthcare coverage.

Types of Supplemental Medicare Plans

Supplemental Medicare plans are standardized into different plan types labeled with letters (such as Plan A, Plan B, etc.). Each plan type offers a different combination of benefits to meet varying healthcare needs and budget considerations. Understanding the differences between these plans can help you choose the one that best suits your situation.

Basic Benefits

Basic supplemental Medicare plans typically cover essential benefits such as Medicare Part A coinsurance and hospital costs, Part B coinsurance or copayments, and the first three pints of blood each year. These plans provide foundational coverage for Medicare beneficiaries.

Enhanced Benefits

Enhanced supplemental Medicare plans offer additional benefits beyond the basic coverage, such as coverage for Medicare Part A deductible, Part B excess charges, and foreign travel emergency care. These plans provide more comprehensive protection against high out-of-pocket costs.

Cost-Sharing Options

Some supplemental Medicare plans include cost-sharing options, such as copayments or coinsurance for certain services. These plans may have lower premiums but require you to share in the cost of your healthcare expenses.

Considerations When Choosing a Plan

When selecting a supplemental Medicare plan, consider the following factors to ensure it meets your healthcare needs and financial situation:

Healthcare Needs

Evaluate your current health status, medical history, and anticipated healthcare needs. Choose a plan that covers the services and treatments you are likely to use, considering any chronic conditions or ongoing medical treatments.

Budget

Review the premiums, deductibles, and out-of-pocket costs associated with each plan type. Balance the level of coverage you need with what you can afford to pay in monthly premiums and other healthcare expenses.

Coverage Options

Compare the benefits offered by each plan type, including coverage for out-of-pocket costs, additional benefits, and provider network flexibility. Look for a plan that aligns with your preferences for healthcare providers and treatment options.

Enrollment Periods

Understand the enrollment periods for supplemental Medicare plans, including the initial enrollment period when you first become eligible for Medicare and any special enrollment periods that may apply. Missing these periods could result in higher premiums or coverage limitations.

Enrollment Process

Enrolling in a supplemental Medicare plan is a straightforward process, but it’s essential to follow the steps to ensure you get the coverage you need:

Eligibility

To be eligible for a supplemental Medicare plan, you must be enrolled in both Medicare Part A and Part B. Most people become eligible for Medicare at age 65, but those with certain disabilities may qualify earlier.

Comparison Shopping

Compare supplemental Medicare plans offered by different insurance companies to find the best coverage and value for your needs. Use online tools, consult with insurance agents, or seek guidance from Medicare counselors to make an informed decision.

Applying for Coverage

Complete the application process for your chosen supplemental Medicare plan. Provide accurate information about yourself, your Medicare coverage, and any other relevant details requested by the insurance company.

Conclusion

Supplemental Medicare plans offer significant advantages for seniors seeking comprehensive healthcare coverage beyond Original Medicare. By filling the gaps in Medicare coverage and providing additional benefits, these plans can enhance your healthcare experience and provide financial security against unexpected medical expenses. Whether you choose a basic plan to cover essential costs or opt for a more comprehensive plan with additional benefits, supplemental Medicare plans offer flexibility, predictability, and peace of mind. By understanding your healthcare needs, comparing plan options, and enrolling during the appropriate periods, you can select a supplemental Medicare plan that meets your individual needs and ensures you receive the care you deserve without undue financial burden.

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: explicit smut (MDNI), perhaps some slight dubcon, language

Chapter Fifteen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

May 2004

You jumped and snapped your eyes open when you felt his fingers brush against your cheek. The moon was completely covered by clouds, making it difficult to see your own hand in front of your face. You looked around in the darkness, hearing the crickets and bullfrogs sing from a nearby pond. You sat up in your sleeping bag, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

"Hey," Joel whispered to you, stroking your cheek again. "Your turn." You nodded, even though you were fairly certain he couldn't see you, and unzipped your sleeping bag so you could stand. He put his hand inside yours to help pull you off the forest floor, his eyes more adjusted to the darkness than your own. He handed you the rifle as you rolled your shoulders, trying to wake your body up.

"You good?" he asked, whispering again.

"Yeah," you replied softly, "just more tired than I thought. Go get some sleep." You turned to head a few feet away to the edge of the trees, finding a broken stump to perch on and observe your surroundings as your eyes became more focused. You heard Joel rustling in his sleeping bag as he got comfortable, and then it was silent, except for the soft hum of wildlife around you.

You've been walking for a few weeks, making camp only in the density of the woods, not yet having found any place suitable enough to spend a few nights and recuperate. You were both exhausted from only getting a few hours of sleep each night, not nearly enough for either of you considering how many miles you walked in any given day. The forests were hilly, the was terrain soft and uneven, requiring more effort than usual from your bodies, slowing you down quite a bit. Joel figured you were headed in the direction of Omaha, but he wanted to steer clear of the city proper, so you were trying to keep a path that was further south, closer to the Missouri border.

After the cruel invasion of your little paradise, Joel had speculated that the men who came that day were part of a larger group, likely connected to the men you killed in the parking ramp. He told you at the time he found it odd that all of the sudden some people stumbled upon your little neighborhood when you had been there for several weeks, completely untouched. That the only thing that made sense was they tracked you back to your home, looking for revenge. It scared you to think someone out there had a vendetta against you, that it could cost your lives, but Joel assured you being so far removed from civilization now kept you safe. However, he still insisted on taking turns keeping watch at night, so you wondered just how truthful he was being.

You sighed as you listened to the crickets chirp in the darkness. Joel had left behind the two car batteries he wanted to use for the CB radio, and he mentioned once you found another small town or highway that he wanted to go looking for another one. You knew he was right, that you couldn't continue to live off the land forever, just the two of you. That the chances of finding Tommy were slim to none. And Joel was adamant about staying far away from any QZ. So, the only option left was to find another group of people who you could trust, and he was hoping to find that with his radio.

You patrolled the tree line every 10 minutes or so, not because it was necessary, but because it helped keep you awake You always glanced down at Joel's sleeping face when you passed by him. You were so close to having everything you wanted: the safety of a secluded home with the man you loved. You weren't sure when you realized it, but once you did, it was like you always knew. You kept it to yourself for now. It was the wrong time to bring it up. Maybe once you found someplace safe, someplace semi-permanent, you would tell him how you felt. He didn’t need the distraction right now.

You sat back down on the stump and watched as the sky slowly brightened through the lush tree trunks, then over the tops of the trees before the sun finally peeked through and birds began to sing, making you squint and readjust yourself so you weren't facing the light head-on. You looked back at Joel, still asleep based on the slow rise and fall of his shoulder. Knowing that the extra rest would do him good, you quietly got to work taking out the small kettle and can of coffee, gently removing two mugs from your backpack so they didn't clatter and make noise. There was a small stream nearby where you filled the kettle, as well as your canteens. Resting them next to you on the ground, you got to work starting a fire. It wasn't until Joel smelled the scent of coffee in your mugs that he stirred and turned over, glancing up at the sun in the sky before looking at you, his brows furrowed.

"Shoulda woke me sooner," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. You reached a mug out in his direction, and he took it from you gratefully, cradling it in both his hands before bringing it to his lips. You took a sip from your own mug before leaning back against a tree.

"You needed the sleep," you told him as he took another sip. "We've been hiking so much, you need to take care of yourself." He met your eyes over the rim of his mug, giving you a smirk before taking a big swig of coffee.

"What?" you asked him, raising an eyebrow. You put your mug on the ground to fish out some granola and a can of fruit. You tossed the items to Joel and leaned back to rest against your tree. He shook his head at you before ripping into the granola package.

"Nothin'," he said, keeping his eyes down on the food, "I was just thinkin', I prefer the way you take care of me..." you smiled, thinking it was such a sweet thing to say before he added, "in more ways than one."

Joel's eyes shot up to yours now, the surprise apparent on your face. The past few weeks have shifted you both into survival mode. Neither of you had attempted to be physical with one another, except for a quick kiss here or a squeeze of a hand there, an unspoken agreement that being out in the woods was dangerous and you needed to be alert. You blushed and looked down at your mug, feeling shy and taken off guard.

When he saw your reaction, he got up from his sleeping bag to come sit next to you, then tilted your chin up with his finger.

"You havin' second thoughts about us?" he asked, wanting it to come off as a joke, but as soon as he said the words, he realized he needed to know the answer.

You gave him a confused frown. Instead of answering, you put your mug down and flipped your leg over his so you were straddling him. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you leaned down and pressed your lips against his mouth, wrapping one hand around his neck to pull him in deeper. He groaned and you took advantage, sliding your tongue alongside his while his hands gripped your waist. He let his head fall back gently against the tree trunk, running his hands up and down your back before resting them on your hips, pushing you down to grind against his cock, still hard from waking up.

You moaned, flipping your head in the other direction and swirling your tongue around his, tasting the crystallized black coffee in his mouth, and tightening the grip you had on his shoulder. Joel began lightly lifting his hips from the ground to rub against you while his kisses became messier. You had to force yourself back to break the contact before things escalated. He whined, trying to chase your mouth with his, but you dodged him, gently pushing his chest so he rested against the tree trunk again.

He looked up at you, his gaze dark and needy, panting softly as he tried to catch his breath.

“Why would you ask me that?” you said, refusing to respond to his hips still grinding into you.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Guess it’s been a while and it got me wonderin’ if you came to your senses.” He said, his eyes raking down your body and watching the slow roll of his hips against yours.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying your hardest to stay focused and not let him distract you.

“Y’know,” he shrugged, still looking down at your hips, “that you realized you deserve better.”

He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, like anyone in the world would understand, that it made your chest ache. You pushed your hips down firmly, pinning him to the ground so he couldn’t continue rubbing himself against your core, and gripped his chin firmly in your fingers, pulling his surprised gaze up to yours.

“Do you really believe that?” you asked, and all he could do was nod, still staring deep into your eyes. You let go of his chin and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“Listen to me,” you began, making sure he was paying attention. “You are all that I want. You are all that I ever wanted. You’ve consumed my every waking thought for the past year, and you think I ‘deserve better’?” You leaned down to press a firm kiss on his lips before murmuring against his mouth. “There is no better than you. You’re perfect.” He shook his head, averting his gaze.

“I’m far from perfect. I fuck everything up, I piss everyone off, and –“ you cut him off, refusing to hear any more.

“I love you, Joel.”

His eyes shot up to yours. All you could hear was the buzzing of insects surrounding you in the woods and the occasional squirrel bouncing in the treetops. You held your breath, waiting for a reaction as he stared at you, his face giving nothing away. You shifted on his lap a little, beginning to feel exposed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you that now, I don’t want to distract you, but –“ Suddenly, Joel sprung forward and pushed you back into the sharp bed of pine needles on the forest floor and covered you with his body as he plunged his tongue into your mouth with a greater sense of urgency than before, his hand tangling in your hair. You were having trouble keeping pace with the unexpected response, so you resigned yourself to laying there with your hands on his jaw and waist while he feasted on your mouth in a frenzy. He broke the kiss, leaning back and swiped mindlessly at your shirt, trying to unbutton it but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate. You moved his hands away so he wouldn’t tear the buttons off and ruin the flannel, undoing them quickly and leaving the shirt open but still covering your breasts while he yanked at the zipper on your jeans, pulling them over your hips desperately.

“Joel,” you gasped, looking around the forest as he pulled your jeans all the way off. “We should wait, we should find a safe place, we can’t – oh!” your back arched off the ground when you felt his tongue lick a stripe all the way from your folds to your clit. He focused his mouth on your bundle of nerves, sucking it into his mouth before traveling back down to your center and darting his tongue inside you, moaning when you clenched around him. The vibrations made your jaw hang open, a silent scream on your lips as you rocked yourself up and down to the rhythm he set, the scruff of his beard making the sensation on your cunt so intense it was making you see stars. He brought his mouth back up as he inserted one finger inside you, then two, while his tongue swirled around your clit. He must have noticed your reaction to the vibrations from his voice because he moaned against you over and over until you grabbed at his hair and pulled, stifling a scream as you came, still hyper aware you were exposed in the middle of the woods.

Joel slowed his pace as you came down, removing his fingers from your pussy and popping them in his glistening mouth with a smirk. You gasped for air as you watched him, still unsure how he managed to get you in this position so quickly. You glanced at the trees around you again, making sure no infected or people were nearby, before your gaze landed back on Joel right as he was pushing his jeans down past his knees, freeing his cock and fisting himself as he looked at you.

“This is too risky,” you whispered to him, but he shook his head.

“Don’t care,” he replied, bending down to push his lips against your mouth, tasting yourself as he ran his tongue alongside yours. You whined as he pulled back so he could line himself up with your entrance, applying the slightest bit of pressure before he let go and fell back on his arms to hover above you. He flicked your flannel open, revealing your breasts to him, and he brought a hand up to gently caress one in his palm, rolling a nipple between his fingers. You squirmed below him, desperate now to feel him inside.

“Say it again,” he commanded, giving you a look you had only seen given to colleagues in meetings, a look that meant he was not fucking around.

“I-I love you,” you stammered, unable to look away from his heated gaze. His eyes fluttered shut and he groaned, then in one swift motion, pushed his throbbing cock into you, making you squeeze your eyes shut and bite back a cry as your cunt fluttered around him, trying to adjust to his size. He hardly gave you any time to acclimate before his hips were thrusting into you steadily. Not too fast, but not the slow, languid thrusts he gifted you the first time you slept together. You gripped his back, your nails digging into his muscle as his pace increased, his gasps and groans absorbed by your throat where his mouth rested. He brought his hand down to grab your knee and pulled it up to your chest like before, causing a small cry to escape your lips as the angle changed to where he could hit that spot deep inside.

“J-Joel,” you stuttered, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m close, I’m gonna – oh, god, fuck -  I’m gonna,” you shut your eyes, unable to finish your sentence as you felt the wave of euphoria begin to rise.

“Say it one more time,” he grunted, his jaw clenched as he slammed into you, watching your face closely. “Say it again when you come on my cock.”

“I love you,” you whimpered softly as you felt that familiar wave wash over you and you stilled under him, tilting your head back with your eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape as you tried your best to be quiet. Joel’s movements became unsteady as he watched you come undone. The sight, combined with your admission, made him so lost in the moment that he almost forgot to pull out, spilling himself with a harsh grunt all over your thighs and the pine needles underneath you at the last second.

“Fuck,” he whispered, gasping for breath as he looked down at his seed painting your legs before tipping his head backwards towards the sky, trying to get ahold of himself.

You gripped at the edges of your flannel, pulling it shut as he kneeled between your legs, head still tilted back. You took another cursory glance around you before settling back on him, his eyes closed, and his head now slumped forward. You didn’t mean for the words to slip out, but you sensed in that moment of insecurity he needed the confirmation. You knew it was too soon, that you shouldn’t expect a response, but you were still embarrassed. You closed your eyes, regret invading your mind, as you waited for him to get up so you could clean yourself. Then you felt a cloth gently sweeping across your thighs, and you looked down to see he had fished a rag out of his jeans. He tossed it to the side and then looked at you, your eyes finally meeting once again. You grew uncomfortable under his gaze and began shifting your eyes around, hoping he would stand so you could pull your pants back up, feeling way too open.

“I love you, too,” he said softly, like he was reading your mind, and your eyes darted back to his immediately. You bit your lip to hold back a smile, but he saw it, and a grin spread over his face. He reached down to pull your underwear and jeans back up, and you lifted your hips so you could zip your pants before getting to work on buttoning your flannel.

You sat up and reached for your coffee, now cold in your mug, but you didn't care. You both sat in a comfortable silence sipping from your mugs, his arm draped around your shoulders. If you closed your eyes and focused, you could pretend you were sitting on the front porch of the white house with blue shutters, enjoying your morning coffee together in peace.

You were standing watch on a small highway that curved through the forest while Joel rummaged through a cluster of abandoned cars, checking under the hoods for a useable battery. You looked up and down the road, seeing nothing but a few squirrels and birds swooping down to peck at the ground. You turned back to check on him, smiling as Joel's face scrunched in concentration, twisting the knobs on the transceiver before holding the microphone up to his ear. He smirked, his features relaxing, before looking up at you.

"I got static," he told you, twisting the knobs again before cupping the receiver around his ear. He looked at the terrain around you before shutting the radio off and shoving both items in his pack, handing you a few of his things so he could make room. He zipped his backpack up and slung it around his shoulders, squinting at the trees again.

"We gotta get out of these hills, won't get much of a signal up here, too much blocking it," he explained, spreading his arm out to indicate the thick forest around you. He looked back down at you now, your brows furrowed with worry. He bent down to capture his lips over yours, massaging them gently before pulling away and using his thumb to smooth the frown from your forehead.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm gonna find us somewhere safe. Maybe even find us a house one day," he murmured, running his thumb over your lower lip before letting his hand fall to his side, dropping his head down to give you a reassuring look. You smiled back at him as you followed him down the road, leading you out of the hills and through the trees. You knew he was trying his best, but you were still worried about being around other people. So far, your interactions have not been very positive, and your trust in strangers was quickly waning. But you trusted Joel, and you knew he wouldn't lead you anywhere that was unsafe, so you carried on and followed him down the road. After a few hours, you found yourselves overlooking the edge of a huge cliff, leaning up against the guardrail to admire the tall pine trees below.

"Wow," you muttered, glancing down before taking a tentative step backwards. "We're higher up than I thought."

Joel was digging in his pack to pull the battery and radio out, tuning the dials to see if he could pick anything up. All you heard was static. You turned around to face the road, kicking a small stone and watching it skip across the pavement. You noticed the shadow of a bird fly over the road, and you glanced up to see a big hawk circling overhead, no doubt hunting for some lunch. You shrugged your pack from your shoulders and rummaged around for some beef jerky and dried fruit, listening to Joel mutter to himself as he turned the dials. Perching on a big rock, you took a bite of food and swiveled your head around, making sure the coast was still clear. You nearly choked on your dried peach when you heard a broken voice come through on the radio, your eyes shooting up to meet each other in shock.

You jumped down from the rock, your meal forgotten, as you jogged over to where he was crouched and bent down to try to make out the message. After a few minutes with no success, only able to make out a word or two, Joel turned the radio off and repacked it, sliding the backpack over his shoulders.

"We gotta keep moving, maybe the further down we go, we can pick up a better signal. C'mon," he said excitedly, turning to walk down the road as you ran back to snatch up your bow, pack and your bag of food, pushing the anxiety from your mind.

He kept pulling the radio back out every half hour or so, trying to see if the signal was clearer before continuing forward. It was getting late, you could see the sun glowing orange as it dipped below the trees. You were tired. Your feet and back hurt, and you weren't far enough into the forest to make a safe campsite.

"Joel?" You called out to him, ten feet ahead, mind still focused on the radio call. "Joel?" You tried again, louder this time. He swiveled around to you, his forehead creased.

"We gotta stop soon, find a place to set up camp," you said, peering through the forest which was quickly becoming dark.

"Just a little further, I think if we make it past this next bend in the road, I might be able to hear it," he said, turning back around before you stopped him, saying his name more firmly now, becoming frustrated.

"We can try tomorrow, c'mon, I'm tired," you said, your eyes pleading. He sighed and looked around for the first time, realizing how quickly it was becoming dark.

"Ok, let's go," he huffed, leading you into the woods. It was worrying you how fixated he was becoming on this radio call, like it was the answer to his prayers. Joel was quiet and lost in thought as he set up camp, hardly sparing a glance your way until he volunteered to take first watch. He picked up his rifle and headed a few yards out, clutching his flashlight in his hand and anxiously tapping his foot on the ground.

"Joel?" you said quietly, walking up behind him. He turned briefly to look at you before turning his attention back to the trees. "Can we talk about this?" you questioned hesitantly.

"What about it?" he replied gruffly, still turned away.

"I just want to manage your expectations; it might not be what you think it is. It could be a trap, or it could be the military. We don't know -" Joel cut you off, turning around to face you, his gaze dark.

"You don't wanna do this." He meant it to sound like a question, but it was more of a statement, like he already knew the answer. "I get it. We've had some bad run-ins, but we gotta try. We can't keep wanderin' around forever, and I ain't gettin' stuck in a QZ." His jaw ticked in frustration, wishing you would get on board with this plan.

"Remind me again why we don't want to go to a QZ," you retorted, narrowing your eyes at him. He sighed and rolled his eyes, your point proven. People are capable of terrible things.

"Yeah, I know, but we gotta believe there's some good out there. We need a community, people to help build a life again," he pleaded, reaching an arm out to you. You paused before reluctantly placing your hand in his palm, but you still refused to step towards him. He gave your hand a gentle tug and brought you forward to wrap his arms around you, kissing the crown of your head.

"Do you trust me?" he asked you, his lips pressed against the top of your head. You nodded before pushing away from him to head back to your sleeping bag, but not before calling over your shoulder, "You better be right, Miller."

He smirked and turned back towards the dense forest as you buried yourself inside your sleeping bag, the sounds of crickets lulling you to sleep.

The next day was rainy as you made your way further down the hill. Joel took mercy on you and waited until he had found a spot that was covered with some trees so you weren't standing in the pouring rain while he tested the radio. He knew you were concerned about what this next phase could bring, that you missed the little neighborhood you were forced to leave so suddenly. He didn't share with you his real reason for his obsession with finding a safe haven. Ever since you had to leave the house in a rush a few weeks ago, his anxiety has been borderline unmanageable. All he could focus on was what would have happened if it wasn't storming, if he didn't come back to the house exactly when he did. There had been too many close calls in the past few months, and he was realizing his ability to keep you safe would only get worse with age. The thought of putting you in harm’s way was eating him alive and keeping him up at night. Sometimes, he could feel his anxiety creeping up so badly that his chest began to ache, and his breathing became irregular. He didn't want to worry you and he knew you would just argue that you could defend yourself, so he kept these thoughts to himself and just focused on finding someplace permanent to live.

He got the radio to the right frequency when he finally heard the message clearer than he had the day before. You turned your head to stare at the radio as you heard the recording of a woman's voice say there was safety to be found at the Kansas City University dormitories, that there was a small group of survivors there welcoming all others. It gave directions on which dorm they were residing in before the recording stopped, then the message started over after about 20 seconds of silence.

He listened to it twice before turning it off, avoiding your stare as he packed the radio back in his bag. You remained silent. You expressed your concerns yesterday, there wasn't much point in repeating it. Joel took his map out to double check the route before continuing down the road to hook up with I-29. You walked in silence in the heavy rain for hours until you found an overpass to hide under and eat.

You kept your gaze focused on your food, fuming silently to yourself. Of course the message said exactly what he wanted to hear. You felt like you were the only one thinking logically, that maybe these people were already dead, or they were trying to lure you into a trap to steal your weapons and food. It was unlike Joel to be so willing to walk into a potentially dangerous situation like this, and you were starting to get angry.

"Alright, out with it," he said, feeling the tension and clearly annoyed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you replied flatly, your eyes still fixed on your food.

"Don't play games with me," he said, his voice raising a bit. Why couldn't you see this was the best option? Why couldn't you just understand?

Pissed, you flicked your empty bag of food on the ground and stood up to glare at him, nostrils flaring.

"I already told you, Joel. I'm scared this isn't what you think it is. Why would they broadcast their location like that? Anybody could run up on them and steal their shit, kill them all. That doesn't cross your mind as strange?" you said through clenched teeth. He stood up now, his anger setting in. "What the hell's going on with you? Weren't you the one who told me not to be naive? Not everyone's telling the truth?"

"'What the hell's goin' on with me?'" He repeated, his fist clenched at his side. "I'll tell you what's goin' on with me. I'm fuckin' scared! I hardly know what I'm doin' out here, and I'm scared to death I'm gonna get you killed. Is that what you want to hear?" he yelled. He could feel his chest begin to tighten again but he ignored it. "And don't go tellin' me you can take care of yourself, I know you can, but there's too much at stake. If I lose you, it'll fuckin' kill me, do you get that?!" He grabbed your arms and gave you a shake, his outburst surprising you.

You stared at each other as his words settled over you. You could see in his eyes that he really was scared, that he was desperate, pleading with you to go through with this. You sighed as you felt the anger begin to dissipate. Maybe there was a compromise. You wriggled out from his grasp and took a step back, his arms falling to his sides.

Joel continued to stare at you, his eyes wide and panicky, determined to convince you. Over his shoulder you picked up some sluggish movement. Your eyes flicked from him to the runner lumbering towards you, his back still turned. You whipped the bow from behind you and grabbed an arrow sticking out of your backpack.

"Move," you muttered as you drew the arrow back. He shifted to the side and turned to see the infected ambling towards him, picking up speed. You lodged an arrow right between its eyes, your arms falling heavy to your side. You hung your head before bringing your chin up to look at him.

"Fine," you succumbed. "On one condition."

"Name it," he said eagerly, his chest relaxing.

"We watch them for a few days, or however long it takes for me to be good with this. We don't just go walking up and knocking on their door." You slung the bow across your back and walked a few feet to pull your arrow from the runner's skull.

"Done," he said, unable to hide the relief in his voice. "If anything feels off, we keep goin'. I promise."

You rolled your eyes, mostly teasing, but still annoyed with him.

"Come on, let's get going. We have to find somewhere to set up camp soon." You turned on your heel and left the cover of the overpass, Joel following shortly behind after a quick glance at his map. The thruway led you both through a massive nature preserve until you had found a small shelter that appeared to be a welcome center for the park. If it weren't for the thruway narrowly carving its way through the dense forest, you would be in the middle of nowhere. You were soaked to the bone and thrilled to find a place with a roof for the night. Joel didn't want to start a fire til the morning, so you had to make do with draping your wet clothes over the counters, hoping they would dry, and putting on layers before tucking yourself into your sleeping bag. Since you weren't as exposed now, Joel didn't think it was necessary to take watch. It would be the first time either of you got to sleep through the night in weeks. You buried your face and turned on your side, but right before you fell asleep, you felt Joel's arm snake around your waist and pull you closer to him across the floor, spooning you through your sleeping bags.

Kansas City, MO

You looked through the rifle scope at the Oak Street dormitory from your perch in a park across Brush Creek. The trees kept you mostly hidden, but you couldn’t get very high to get a good look at the place. Joel was hesitant to venture closer into the city, and you agreed that you felt safer in the confines of a park, surrounded by nature like you had become accustomed. It was your fourth day observing the dorms. You could see some movement through the windows from time to time, but they were smart: they kept their movements to a minimum and kept as many windows as possible covered. You had seen a couple men come outside with assault rifles doing what looked like regular perimeter checks, but aside from that, you hardly saw anyone. You had a pit in your stomach about this. You really hoped that when you got here, something would have convinced you that it was a good decision, that these people were trustworthy, but so far all you could tell was they were very good at staying quiet.

You sighed and leaned back, giving Joel the rifle and rolling your shoulder, tense from hovering over the gun all morning. He peered through the scope but saw the same thing as you, which wasn’t much. He had been patient and didn’t push you, he wanted this to work out so desperately, but he knew you had to come around on your own. You picked at your fingernails as you stared straight ahead past the creek to the building, trying to rationalize why this would be a good idea.

“I don’t know about this, Joel,” you admitted, chewing your lip and still staring at the building. “On one hand, they keep a low profile, but on the other, I can’t get an idea of what we would be dealing with.”

He nodded, his gaze falling to the ground, and he rubbed his chest. He wasn’t sure if you would find another community for a long time, and he was terrified of what could happen by then. You studied his face as he stared at the ground, feeling guilty for being doubtful. You understood his concerns, and you trusted him, but your gut was telling you something was off. You reached your hand out to take his, and he lifted his eyes to look at you questioningly.

“If you think it’s a good idea, I’ll do it,” you told him, stifling the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. His eyes crinkled as his face broke out into a smile, grabbing you and pulling you into a deep kiss, trying to express his gratitude.  You pulled away and held his hand again.

“You can’t leave me alone, though. Not until I feel comfortable. It’s still us or them, right?” you told him, gazing urgently into his eyes, your grip on his hand tightening. He nodded aggressively.

“I won’t leave you, sweetheart. We’re in this together.” He leaned forward and planted another kiss before pulling back and gripping your face in his hands. “This’ll be good, I know it.”

You walked up to the building, unarmed with your hands raised. The area was quiet, you didn’t hear any sounds of infected, gunshots, or people, which put your mind at ease a bit. The door swung open and three men came out, aiming their rifles in your direction.

“Freeze!” one with dark black hair and thick eyebrows shouted. You did as you were told, raising your hands even higher as they approached you. When they got closer, the dark-haired man spoke up.

“What’s your business here?” he asked, eyeing your weapons but not making a move to take them.

“We heard your call over the radio, we’re lookin' for a community, just a couple of survivors.” Joel told them. You continued to stare straight ahead into the dark-haired man’s eyes. He turned his mouth to his shoulder where a walkie talkie was fastened, and he let whoever was on the other end know they had two survivors looking for asylum. He listened to his earpiece and nodded, lowering his weapons.

“You need to hand over your guns, then you can come with us. Meet the leadership. When they deem it acceptable, they’ll give you rooms.” He told you both, reaching his hand out expectantly for your weapons. You glanced at Joel nervously but did as the man said and tossed your knives, bow and handgun on the ground in between you as the two other men scooped them up. You lowered your hands as they ushered you into the building, one skinny man with reddish hair in front of you, leading the way, and the other two behind you, keeping a close eye on your movements.

The man knocked on a door on the second floor, only entering when he heard the acknowledgement from within. The door pushed open and you followed Joel into the room, standing beside him as the two men remained stationed at the door, their eyes still trained on the both of you. The redhead spoke up to a small group of people who were huddled around a desk examining a map.

“These are the two we saw approaching the doors,” he said, stepping aside so the leaders could survey you. You felt Joel stiffen beside you, but you weren’t sure why. There were four older men and one younger blonde woman, who immediately fixed her gaze onto Joel and the corner of her mouth pulled into a smirk. You turned your head to look at Joel, his jaw locked and he was frowning, staring daggers into the blonde woman.

“Joel!” she exclaimed softly, looking back in her direction as you heard him swallow roughly next to you.

“Amy,” he replied coldly, and you felt your stomach drop.

Chapter Sixteen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby

[gameraboy2]

“How to survive an atomic bomb”

1951 Mutual of Omaha ad

[cherrycola27]

afterglow

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol and drinking. Military inaccuracies. Allusions to and smut. Friends to lovers. Mutual pining. Unrequited love. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 4: Punished You With Silence

The room was silent after Jake's omission. Everyone stood there with wide eyes looking between the two of you.

The shock of the confession cause Coyote, Phoenix, and Bob to lose the hold they had one you.

Before they could stop you, you pounced on Jake, taking him off guard and knocking him to the ground.

"You son of a bitch!" You screamed at him as you landed a few good blows to his face. It took Rooster, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy, Bob, and Maverick to pull you off of him as Phoenix, Omaha, Fritz, Halo, Yale, and Harvard watch on in horror. A few of them went to go get help.

By the time all was said and done, you were sitting in Cyclone's office with bruised knuckles and Jake's blood staining your flight suit.

"Well, Lieutenant Briller, I hope you're satisfied with yourself. Lieutenant Seresin has a broken nose and will have to be grounded until it's healed." He tells you.

"He deserves worse." You scoff and roll your eyes.

"Lieutenant Briller. This is no laughing matter. I could have you court martialed and dishonorably discharge, but for some reason, far beyond my wheelhouse, Lieutenant Seresin begged me not to. He seems to have more grace than you do. Now, I don't know what entanglement the two of you have been in to get yourselves in this situation, nor do I want to know. All I know is that you two will have plenty of time to work through your issues while you are grounded for the next six weeks at minimum." Cyclone states.

"But, sir!" You protest. "There will be no buts, Lieutenant. I've made my decision, and that is final. You'll report for desk duty at 0800 hours tomorrow morning." Simpson finishes before he dismisses you.

You storm out of his office and head to the locker rooms to shower and change.

Once you're clean, you jump in your car and speed over to the Hard Deck. You know Jake and the rest of the crew are probably over there.

You push your way in and find them in their usual corner.

You march right up to Jake, who looks only a little banged up and jerk the pool cue out of his hand.

"I hope you're fucking happy, Jacob. I'm grounded and on desk duty for the next six weeks because of you." You sneer at him.

"I wonder why? Oh, right, because you broke my fucking nose. Be glad that I talked to Cyclone and told him not to arrest you. Yet another reason you should be thanking me." Jake chuckles.

"You are such a fucking asshole Jacob Seresin. Do you get off on being such a god damn menace to the world? Like seriously, what is your fucking problem?" You yell at him.

"You. You're my fucking problem. And you lost the right to call me anything other than Hangman the minute you broke my nose." Jake sneers.

"Oh, I forgot you hated being called Jacob. You didn't seem to mind me calling you that when you were balls deep in me though, did you?" You click your tongue at him. The rest of the squad watches on, afraid to intervene.

Jake freezes, unsure how to respond. "I don't even know why I'm here. You don't care about anything I have to say. You've made that abundantly clear that you don't care about anyone other than yourself." You scream at him.

"I've spent a year and a half of my life hung up on you, hoping that one day you would change. I can't believe I let you string me along and waste my time." You spit.

"And you want to talk about how you're the reason I'm here. I'm the reason you're here, Jacob." You grit out.

"What are you talking about, Glow?" He demands.

"When the Navy was recalling people for this mission, they asked me first. They wanted me for the mission. I asked if I would be flying with you, and I was told they weren't taking pairs from squadrons. They were afraid that when it came down to it, the pairs would he more loyal to each other than to the success of the mission." You explain to him.

"I told them I couldn't fly with another pilot. I didn't trust anyone else in the box. They understood and moved on. Three days later, you tell me you're going back to Top Gun and flying a single seater. I was loyal to you, but you were more than happy to throw me under the bus and gallivant into the sunset on your own." You finish.

"Y/N, I—I had no idea." Jake breathes out, visibly softer than before.

"Of course you didn't. You didn't care to ask. So before you go and act like you did me some favor by having me transferred here, make sure you have all the facts straight, sweetheart. As soon as my desk duty is up, I am putting in a request to be transferred back to Lemoore. Hell, maybe I'll request somewhere on the East Coast, I don't care at this point, just so long as I can get the hell away from you!" You take a deep breath before turning on your heels and walking out of the near silent bar. Just before you leave, you yell over your shoulder. "Too bad I couldn't have knocked out a tooth, too!"

You let out a shakey breath when you make it to your car. You'd just pulled into your garage when you let the tears fall. Once you had composed yourself, you vowed that these would be the last ones you shed over Jake Seresin.

.............

Desk duty was the absolute worst. You hated pushing pencils and not being in the air. You hated it even more because Jake was stationed right across from you, and every day, you had to look at his stupid, no longer perfect face.

He was also the worst office-mate. He clicked and tapped pens, hummed too loud, slurped his coffee, and never sat still. Everything he did agitated you.

You did your best to bury yourself in the paperwork. Jake, however, spent most of his time trying to figure out how to apologize to you. How could he tell you that he was worried you would reject him? How could he face you and say that he'd been in love with you since the first moment he met you. How could he tell you that he couldn't bear the thought of flying without you?

He needed help, so he went to the one person he thought might be useful in this situation.

"Bob, how do I fix things with Glow?" Jake asked him one day after work.

"Bagman, please don't drag me into your drama." Bob sighed.

"Bob, please, I'm desperate." Jake pleaded with him.

Bob sighed. He knew he was going to regret this. "In my experience, when my wife and I get into a heated disagreement, a good romantic gesture goes a long way." Bob told him before leaving.

A romantic gesture? Jake could work with that.

While Jake was trying to win you back, you were trying to stay as far away from him as possible. You were currently at your house with Phoenix, pouring your heart out to her.

"So the two of you have been doing this for almost two years?" She asked you, shock all over her face.

"Yep." You replied, taking a sip of wine.

"It was fine at first, but then—my feelings got in the way. I tried to break it off. We said 'one last time,' more times than I care to count. A few weeks ago, I asked him to stay the night. I'd never asked him that before. He told me I would, but—he didn't." You breathe out.

"Do you love him?" Phoenix asked you. "I did. But he broke my heart. I let him break my heart. And the thing is, I'd take him back in a heartbeat. I'm not strong enough to tell him no." You sighed.

"Do you want to take him back?" Phoenix pressed.

"I just want him to care about me the way I care about him. But I know, even if he did, he'd never admit it. He's too stubborn. Plus, we could never go back to the way we were before." You admit to her.

"So, what are you going to do?" Phoenix asks you.

"I'm going to transfer. I can't be around him. I can't let myself be hurt by him again. He made his feelings clear. And I have to accept that." You tell her.

"I've already let the admirals know. In three weeks, when my suspension is up, I'll be able to go back to Lemoore. Got the papers today. My old captain said a spot is mine if I want it. All I have to do is sign them and turn them in." You say. She nods her head.

"You know you don't have to go, Glow." Phoenix tries to reason with you.

"I do, Nix. I've spent so long putting other people first. I have to take care of me." You assure her.

"Well, I guess we'd better make a bunch of memories these next three weeks then." She laughs. "I know everyone is at the Hard Deck right now. Want to go?" She asks you.

"No, I don't think that is a good idea. Plus, I have some packing to do anyway." You tell her. She hugs you before she leaves. You hang your head and turn to the pile of boxes in the corner of the room. You grab an empty one and begin to fill it. A few tears slip down your cheeks. You really didn't think you would be doing this again, packing up your life. You thought this would be your last station. But, life never goes according to plan.

..............

"Bagman!" Phoenix shouts at him as soon as she enters the Hard Deck. "Why must you yell Phoenix? My nose is already broken. Are you trying to bust my ear drums, too?" Jake groans. Natasha doesn't respond. She flicks Jake on the tip of his nose and grabs him by the ear before dragging him to a bar stool and forcing him to sit.

"Nat, what the fuck is your problem?" He asks her.

"My problem? Try what the fuck is your problem!" Phoenix tells at him.

Jake looks at her with confused eyes.

"Glow is leaving." She tells him. The rest of the squad had gathered around to see what was going on. Murmers that echoed the news Natasha had just given them swirled around the group.

"Glow isn't leaving. She was just mad and said that to be mean." Jake shrugs.

"No, she meant it. I saw her papers with my own eyes. She said she talked to your old captain and he said she could come back. All she has to do is sign her request papers and turn them in to Simpson for it to be finalized. She leaves in three weeks. She's already started to pack. Glow was being serious when she said that." Phoenix explains to him.

The blood drains from Jake's face.

"No, she has to be kidding. She can't leave." He stands up abruptly.

"She said she can't keep being around you. That it hurts too much because you'll never care about her the way she cares about you. She told me she had to put herself first for once." Nat tells him.

"But I do care about her. I've always cared about her." Jake defends himself.

"No, you don't, Jake. Not the way she deserves. You don't hurt the people you care about. You don't take them for granted." Phoenix tells him.

Jake wants to argue with her, but he knows that Natasha is right.

"I have to go talk to her. Right now." Jake exclaims before slamming some bills on the bar and running to his truck.

Think dark clouds hang in the air. By the time Jake makes it to your house, rain is pouring down.

He jumps out of his truck and runs to your door and pounds on the wood with his fist. It seems like he spends an eternity waiting for you to answer.

"Jake?" You say when you open the door. He moves to come in, but you block his way.

"What are you doing here?" You ask him. You take in the sight him him, out of breath and drenched from head to toe.

"Are you really leaving? Phoenix says you're leaving in three weeks. Please tell me she's lying." He gasps.

"She's not. I got my papers today." You tell him.

"Glow. Y/N, you can't leave. You can't leave me." Jake says, a sob threatening to crack his voice.

"Why not, Jake? You left me. You left me over and over again. It's my turn to do the leaving." You say. You see the hurt flash across his eyes.

"Y/N—I— please. What can I say? What can I do to get you to stay?" Jake pleads with you.

"Nothing. I've made up my mind. You should leave. It's late." You say as you try to close your door. He wedges his foot to stop it.

"Y/N, please. I'm begging you. Please don't go. Give me another chance. Let me make this right. Please, Y/N. I love you. I can't lose you." Jake begs. Tears streak his face and mix with the rain drops.

"Oh, Jake. You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that. But it's too little, too late. In case you forgot, this was what you wanted." You tell him.

"But—" He protests.

"All you had to do was stay, Jake. I wasn't asking you to wake up the next day and confess your undying love for me. You broke my trust, you broke my heart, and you broke me." You told him.

"Glow—" He reached for you.

"Stop, Jake. You made your choice, and now you have to live with it. Now, please, get off my porch." You said as you shut the door in his face, leaving him standing there in the rain.

Jake stood there in silence, staring at your door, rain pelting his skin.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the wood.

"Glow, please. Please open the door." He begged you.

He waited, praying you would open in and tell him you had changed your mind. But as the seconds went by, he realized that your door wasn't going to open back up.

After accepting his fate, Jake walked back to his truck. He climbed in and sat the silence and shivered from the chill that was setting in.

Never in a million years could he imagine losing you. You brought so much warmth and light to his life, and now that he could feel it fading away, he knew he had to do something—and he needed to do it fast.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

Taglist: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @potato-girl99981 @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @roostette @rosiahills22 @dempy @olliepig @seresinsweetie @linkpk88 @my-obsession-spn @eternalsams @callsign-magnolia

[viking-raider]

SALT IN OUR WOUNDS - CHAPTER VI

Summary-> Gus gets help finding his men.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 4.2k

Chapters-> I II III IV V

Warnings-> PG-13: WWII!AU, Language, Deception, References to WWII, Fluff, Use of the word Nazi, Angst

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction, pulled from my imagination.

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

“So, what mission is it that you’re interested in?” Mael asked Gus as the two men sat together in the living room.

“I’m not quite sure what it’s called.” Gus replied, leaning over the maps Mael had laid out on the table in front of them. “I know it was near here; Sainte-Honorine-des-Pertes.” He said, tapping Normandy’s bold name, the future site of Omaha Beach and D-Day.

“Hmm.” The elder Major hummed, squinting at the name. “I don’t recall any mention of activity there on the radio.” He said, shaking his head as he tried to recall the last several broadcasts he’d listened to. “I don’t have any markers on it either, beyond occupation. But, there might be something in the papers.” He looked about his recliner, grumbling under his breath. “In that roll-top desk over there,” Mael flapped his hand towards it. “I have several stacks of newspapers, bring them over and we can look through them.”

Nodding, Gus stood and opened the desk, finding an armload of newspapers, neatly folded, as well as several other maps. He bundled up the papers and brought them over to his and Mael’s table, carefully laying them out. The old man split the stack in half, sliding half over to Gus and keeping half to himself, before plucking one out and unfolding it. Taking his example, Gus took one out and started to skim through the stiff pages, finding several pencil notations in Mael’s hand on the margins.

“You’ve been quite diligent about keeping up with the War’s workings.” He commented, pausing to read through a small story, British Thrust in Desert, says Berlin, announced the headline, speaking of the Battle of Gazala.

“Have to keep my wits sharp somehow!” Mael laughed back, slapping his newspaper down and picking up another. “Not like I can go out there and fight these damned Nazis myself. Might as well keep track of the boys that are. Why’s this so important to you?” He asked, looking at Gus over the rim of his glasses.

“I have friends in this war,” Gus answered, his brow creasing for a moment, before fixing Mael with a cheeky grin. “Fighting these same damned Nazis. They were supposed to be fighting them by the coast. I’d like to know what happened.”

“And what happened to you?”

“I was a naughty boy.” Gus chuckled, setting his paper aside for another. “I was shot and lost my way from my men.”

Mael studied Gus long and hard. His gut; the one that had once carried him safely through the trenches of Germany in the Great War, tingled. He knew the friends Gus was looking for and the men he’d been separated from were one and the same. What he wasn’t sure of, was just how dangerous Gus was. He seemed easy natured enough, and his dislike of Nazis seemed quite clear by how he’d protected you. So, he likely wasn’t one himself or working for them, but then again, Mael wasn’t sure of anything. He’d been deceived before.

“Well, let’s see if we can find some clues about them.” Mael said, turning his eyes back to his task.

“I’m all for the help, old boy.” Gus grinned, patting him on the shoulder.

You watched Gus and your father pour over the newspapers, while you prepped the modest piece of meat you intended for a pot roast dinner. You found their mutual endeavor in finding Gus’s men sweet. Gus stimulating your father’s need and love for everything about the on-going war, for anything military. While Gus got the help he needed. But you couldn’t help the dull ping in the pit of your stomach, knowing that once Gus found what he needed and was strong enough again, he’d leave and you would likely never see him again.

It’s for the best. You thought, casting your eyes back to your own task. It would never work out anyway. You sighed, side eyeing him.

Gus felt your glances, but he kept his eyes on the newspaper in his hand, his knee slowly bouncing as he skimmed articles. He was discouraged a little more by each line that didn’t hint to any whereabouts of his men or their possible mission. He wasn't completely surprised. It wasn’t publicly sanctioned by the powers to be at the War Office. Gus had been privately asked to bring his men in on the mission, with the express warning that if they were caught, they’d be sent to prison by their own people or would become a prisoner of war by the Nazis, and it was the latter Gus feared his men had ended up as.

“Do we need refills here?” You asked, coming over with the coffee pot.

“Uh, yes, please.” Gus answered, looking up at you.

“Not just now, Peanut.” Your father answered, standing stiffly from his seat. “The last cup raced through me faster than a shot through no-man’s-land.” He commented with a chuckle, excusing himself upstairs to the restroom.

“How’s the search going?” You asked, filling Gus’s cup and glancing over the maps and newspapers. “Any luck?”

Gus let out a heavy sigh. “So far--no.” He pressed his lips together and raked a hand through his mess of curls.

“I’m sorry.” You frowned, setting the coffee pot down and resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find something about them.” You tried to assure him, squeezing his shoulder. “I have faith.”

“Means a lot to me.” He cooed at you, giving you a gentle smile.

Giving him a sweet wink, you took up the coffee pot and headed back to the kitchen. “I have to pop out for a bit. Mrs. DuBois came down with pneumonia and I told Remi I’d go take her groceries, and spend a little time with her.”

“That’s kind of you.” Gus replied, squinting at the imperfect black newsprint.

“Yeah, her husband passed away just before the war, so it’s just her; since they never had kids.” You explained, bustling around. “The community helps take care of her.”

Gus looked over at you, a soft look on his tired face. He could see why you and your family had moved to Saint-Thurney. The little village seemed so tight-knit and willing to help their neighbors through the good times and the bad, along with everything in-between. It was evident that they had welcomed you, Edmund and Mael with open arms and hearts, despite being from across the pond. They had even taken him in, without too many questions to his sudden appearance in their sleepy village.

Your kindness was such an embodiment to Saint-Thurney’s soul, and it made his heart swell. Even after the tragedies and hardships in your life, your mother cheating and running out, Mael’s PTSD, your sister-in-law’s coldness and the War’s ugly mark on the world. You were still a kind and vibrant woman, who would go out of your way to help others, even to the danger of your person. An ordinary person would have developed at least one sharp edge of resentment, or to just be defensive against the world; much like Willa, Gus suspected.

But your edges were still soft and around. In all the right places, to the pleasure of Gus’s eye.

All the more reason to find Lassen and the boys, before the Nazis discover my true purpose here. I’ll be damned if I’ll let those filthy bastards put another mark on that beautiful skin. He thought, his blue eyes shifting from your back to your arm, his stomach hardening at the bruised fingerprints there. Would like to give that bastard a real taste of my mind.

“Papa, I’ll be back by the time the roast is done, so there’s no need to fuss over it.” You informed your father as he returned downstairs. “I’m going to go visit Mrs. DuBois.”

“All right, my love.” He nodded, pausing to kiss your cheek. “You mind those filthy Nazis on your way, and give Esmeralda my good wishes on her health.”

“I will.” You smiled, kissing his cheek back. “You boys behave yourselves, I put on a fresh pot of coffee, in case you want more, while I’m gone.” You told them, slipping on your coat.

“So attentive.” Gus complimented with a smile.

You gave him a silly expression, before heading out the door.

“You have an amazing daughter.” He praised Mael as he sat back down with him.

“That I do.” Mael agreed, nodding his head as he balanced his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “It’s beyond me how Edmund and I managed to raise such a lovely young lady. But I am glad of it.” He commented, sifting through his stack of remaining papers.

The two fell into a reasonably comfortable silence, sipping their coffees and skimming articles, the crackle of the glowing logs in the room’s wood stove filling the silence periodically. Their bubble was infiltrated by Edmund letting himself into the cottage, knocking his sandy boots against the door jam, before stepping further into the dwelling.

“What are the two of you doing?” He asked, stopping before Gus and his father’s table.

“I’m looking for information on some friends of mine.” Gus answered, neatly folding the paper in his hands, just as Mael had it, and adding it to the pile of read papers. “Your father here has kindly allowed me to read through all the newspapers he has on the war and look at his maps, so I might try and find them.”

“Your friends?” Edmund echoed Gus’s words, his eyes narrowing at the other man.

“Yes.” Gus nodded, his expression not cracking.

“Where’s my sister?”

“She went to go visit Mrs. DuBois, she’s taken ill.” Mael answered, looking at his son over the rim of his glasses. “Do you need something, Edmund?” He inquired, cocking a brow at his offspring.

“No, I just came over to check on everyone.” Edmund replied, plucking up a newspaper from a pile. “And to see what she was cooking for dinner.” He added, unfolding it and looking over the fuzzy print, unable to quite read them without his own glasses.

“Pot roast.” Gus said, looking up at him, but his brow pinched. “Might I see that?” He asked, holding his hand out.

Edmund shrugged, nodding and handing the paper over. Gus pushed the mountain of newspapers in front of him away and spread the paper out onto the table, leaning over it. The bold headlining print of an article, half stained by a ring of coffee, had caught his attention. Nazi outpost in France sabotaged, twelve German soldiers killed and one suspected saboteur killed as well.

A chill rushed down Gus’s spine, he sat back in his seat, a shaky sigh leaving his lips.

“Did you find your friends?” Mael asked, giving Gus a concerned expression.

“Yes.” He huffed, nodding his head and scrubbing his hands over the rough fabric of his pants.

“Are they all right?” Edmund asked, cocking his head in an attempt to read the article.

Mael took up the paper. “Says here, that one of them was killed during an attempt to sabotage a Nazi outpost; along with twelve Germans.” He leveled his eyes at Gus. “I’m sorry, Gus.”

“Thanks.” Gus rasped, before standing and excusing himself, stepping outside to the back garden for a moment.

A thick lump of relief flooded him as the cool, salty air enveloped him, pressing his hands to his face as the weight of worry if Lassen and his men had made it to safety lifted off his shoulders. It seemed they only thought Gus was dead, under understandable conditions. Now, he had to figure out a way to communicate with them, without bringing any more suspicion down on your family and the village.

“You all right?” Edmund asked, appearing in the doorway of the garden.

“I’m fine.” Gus replied, dropping his hands. “Just feeling grateful that they’re all alive.”

“So, what’s your next move?”

“I have to find a way to contact them.” He replied, casting his eyes to the sky. “They think I’m dead. Which may or may not work in my favor.” He said, squinting at the passing clouds.

“How are you going to find them? It’s been two weeks since my sister found you on the beach, plus whatever time it took you to wash up.” Edmund pointed out to him, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

Gus nodded, scratching his chin. “I’d gamble that it was a good three hours or so. Hypothermia would have killed me in six or seven.” He sighed, figuring the math in his head, surprised by how he’d managed to survive the freezing water and injury before you found him, like an angel from Heaven. “There could be two plans taken, if Lassen had the final word. They boarded the Maid of Honor, our fishing trawler, to return to either our rendezvous point in Getxo, Spain or they sailed across the Channel, back to London.” He laid out the possible paths in front of him. “Either option, they’ve long arrived at. So, I need a message of some sort to contact both posts, informing them of my survival, location and situation.”

“I might have a way to help you with that.” Edmund replied, chewing on his bottom lip and looking down at the tips of his scuffed work boots.

“Oh,” Gus hummed, cocking a sideways glance at him. “How so?”

“We’re going to need my sister.” He said, looking up at him, an impish look in his eyes.

“We’re doing what now?” You croaked at the two men standing in the middle of your bedroom.

“You and Gus are going to go plan your wedding.” Edmund repeated for the third time.

Your jaw worked as you looked between Gus and your brother. “Have the two of you nipped some of Papa’s whiskey?” You asked, brow creasing deeply. “You,” You pointed an accusing finger at Edmund. “don’t even like him.” You said, moving your finger towards Gus, whose eyes hadn’t left your face since coming into the room. “And that whole bit about being engaged was a lie, so they wouldn’t put another hole into you.”

“I don’t not like him--now.” Your brother stammered, gulping thickly and shifting uneasily. “Besides,” He said, clearing his throat. “This is still an act, so Gus can get a letter to Pastor Zane, who will get it to the right people. Gus’s people.”

“Gus’s people.” You echoed, slowly nodding your head, feeling the pieces fall into place.

You understood what was happening now. Gus was going to compose a letter to inform the right people of where he was, likely asking them to find a way to extract him from Saint-Thurney and back to wherever he was meant to be. He had kept a level gaze on your face, gauging your expression and body language for reactions to this developing news, and despite your best attempts, it felt like a tank had run you down.

“Do you know where your letter needs to be sent?” You inquired, not quite meeting Gus’s blue stare.

“Yes.” He answered softly. “I’ve written two letters. One is to be sent to London and the other to Getxo; places my men are to use as rendezvous points. I’m unsure, obviously, given the heated scramble back to the boat and my not making it back with them, which route they decided to take for safety sake.”

“Safer and faster to cover your bases.” You nodded, agreeing with the tactic.

“Pastor Zane will take the letters from Gus at your meeting with him, under the guise of wishing to discuss marrying.” Edmund explained to you. “We figured this would be the easiest and least suspicious option. Once Pastor Zane has the letters, he’ll pass them along to our contacts, chaining them out of the village and across to England and Spain. When we get a response, Pastor Zane will get in touch with us through another safe means and we can go from there, based on whatever the answer to your letters are.”

“Perfect.” Gus nodded, licking his lips. “I just hope your contacts can be trusted.”

Edmund looked both annoyed and hurt at Gus’s words. Your brother hadn’t been allowed to join the military, due to the deterioration of his eyesight. But in compensation, he’d started a spy and smuggling ring in the modest village of Saint-Thurney. Many, if not all, of the community loathed the Nazis and their allies, especially since they occupied your peaceful village, throwing it even more off sync in the War. So, members of Saint-Thurney band together to thwart them at every possible turn, with Edmund at the top of the spy ring.

“Okay, when are we going?” You asked, always willing to help thwart a Nazi or two, despite the throbbing pain wrapping around your heart.

“Tomorrow morning. I already contacted Pastor Zane about it, an hour ago.”

“Oh, how polite of you to schedule our potential marriage so quickly.” You quipped at the two of them.

“I just couldn’t wait any longer.” Gus teased back, blue eyes sparking and the corners of his lips curling up, impishly.

You felt your cheeks heat and butterflies swarm your stomach at his words. “Well,” You took a deep breath, trying to settle your nerves. “He’s going to need church clothes.” You said, motioning a hand over Gus’s attire.

In the two weeks Gus had resided with you, he had worn the clothing Edmund had provided him when he first awoke, and a couple articles since. But he would need something much more presentable, if he was going to see Pastor Zane with you in the morning. It would look strange, and disrespectful, to see the Pastor in just a pair of worn, black slacks and a simple and a short sleeve, dark-blue, four-button ringer t-shirt.

“Right.” Edmund nodded, pressing his lips together.

“We’re going shopping, Gus.” You grinned at him.

Edmund rested his hand on Gus’s shoulder. “God be with you.” He chuckled, shaking his head and excusing himself from the room.

“When?” Gus asked, after the door shut.

“Now.” You replied, turning to pluck up your cardigan. “We don’t have much time, since you need to see Pastor Zane in the morning.” You explained, pulling it on and moving towards the door.

“A family of action.” Gus chuckled, following after you.

“Papa, Gus and I-”

“Yes, Ed told me.” Your father nodded, his ear to the radio.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, blinking over at your father, then cast your eyes to your brother, who stood at the counter, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. “Told him?” You repeated, cocking a brow in surprise.

Edmund finished fixing his coffee and moved over to you. “The man already thinks you’re engaged, it’s the easiest line to keep him thinking.” He told you, in a low voice. “It also keeps the fucking Nazis from doing anything to him, should they come back trying to ask questions. All he knows is that Gus is your discharged, betrothed.”

“It is the best for him.” Gus agreed, not wishing to put the Senior Major into any sort of danger on his account. “Keep the gritter details between us.”

“True.” You nodded, a lump of anxiety in your throat. “Well, we’ll be back, Papa!”

“You best not get married without me!” Mael yelled after you.

You laughed, biting your lip. “Of course not, Papa. I wouldn’t dream of marrying without you there to walk me down the aisle.” You assured him, hurrying over to press a sweet kiss to his cheek. “It would put a damper on the day.”

Getting out the door, You and Gus made your way to the town center, passing Remi’s shop and rounding a corner, only to promptly run right into a Nazi patrolman.

“Scheisse.” He barked, attempting to shove the larger Gus away from him, his hand pressing on his wound in the process. “Watch yourself!” He hissed, crudely.

Gus grunted deep in his throat, the corner of his eye twitched with pain, but he straightened his shoulders, regarding the Nazi with pure distaste. “Apologies.” He replied, his voice tight as he glanced sideways, assuring himself that you were unbothered.

“Business?” The officer barked, looking at you both.

“What-” Gus started, but you cut him off.

“We’re going to the shops.” You answered, voice strained, but neutral, before intertwining your arm around Gus’s and coaxing him out of the German’s way, not wishing for any more interaction or agitation between them. “We hope you have a great day.” You told him, forcing a kind smile as he went by, eying Gus as he went.

“Please, don’t anger them, Gus.” You said, once he was gone. “You’re here, while you have to be. But we live here, under them.”

“He was the one being rude.” Gus replied, resting a hand against his wound. “But, I’m sorry.” He said, lightly touching your arm.

You offered him a soft smile, before motioning to a clothing shop up ahead. “We can get you something suitable from there.”

“All right.” He nodded, but his attention was elsewhere, his blue eyes were cast across the street and beyond, where a small barracks and tall watchtower, with a red, white and black flag flew high on top, was situated into a hill, populated by German jeeps, a couple trucks and a few Germans themselves loitering about. “Is that where the village’s occupiers stay?” He asked, with a jerk of his brow.

You glanced in its direction for a fleeting moment. “Yes.” You replied, stopping outside the clothing shop and looking him over. “I honestly can’t wait to see you in a suit.” You admitted, a bright smile pulling across your lips and meeting your eyes with a spark of impishness.

Gus chuckled and lowered his head a tad. “You should see me in uniform.” He winked, teasingly, before opening the door for you.

“Tisk tisk.” You chuckled, then ducked inside. “Good morning!” You chimed to the owner behind the counter of the shop.

“Good morning, mademoiselle.” The tailor replied, bowing his head politely to you, then regarded Gus. “And you, monsieur.”

“Morning.” Gus greeted him, politely. “I need a suit by tomorrow morning, to meet with your village Pastor.” He began to explain to the tailor. “So, I may have a chance to marry this lovely lady.” He said, raising his eyebrows at you, amused to see you try and hide your shyness as you browsed the selection of suit jackets.

“That is short notice.” The tailor said, frowning over the counter at Gus.

“I know of its inconvenience.” He replied, nodding, sympathizing as he rested his hands on the counter between them. “You see, I simply can not wait to have this lovely jewel as my wife, any longer. I have waited so many years already. Not to mention, the worries I put her through, while I was away fighting the Nazis and becoming seriously injured.” He leaned over the counter slightly, as if to confess something to him and not allow you to hear it. “If it wasn’t for thoughts of her, I would have died in a fox-hole in Dunkirk, and again, when I came home with my injury.” He lightly touched his side. “She nursed me back to the living.”

“Would you wish to wait any longer to marry such a woman?” Gus asked him, with such genuine sincerity.

Both the tailor and you were stunned at Gus’s words, they were so compelling and seemed to ring with such truthfulness. Well, in part they were true, you had saved Gus’s life. The tailor cast his eyes over to you, he must've read the emotions in your face, seen the surprise of Gus’s words and interpreted them.

“Let’s see what we can do, oui?” He said, moving from behind the counter. “Let’s start with the pants! My dear father always said, ‘if a man does not have a good pair of pants to go through life! Then he will always look like an ass!’, and I agree with him!”

Gus laughed, grinning. “A wise man.”

The two of them spent the next several minutes discussing pants, before Gus decided on a pair of blue, wool trousers. When the tailor stepped away for a moment, Gus turned towards where you were sitting with a cup of tea the tailor had kindly made you.

“What do you think?” He asked, motioning to the pants.

“You look good in blue.” You replied around the rim of your cup.

“Thank you.” He smiled, smoothing a hand over his thigh. “It feels nice to wear high quality wool again, after a military issue.” He chuckled, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger

“Even for an officer?” You asked, cocking your head at him.

“It’s by far better than the quality of the non-commissioned men, but not as good as this.” He explained,  looking in a full length mirror, his eye catching a jacket in the reflection. “I must get myself that jacket.” He hummed to himself, as the tailor returned, holding up a crisp, white and button down shirt with a smile.

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 9/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013

2014 – Jake

                Jake looks at the dates Nick has said he’s on leave and looks at his own calendar and scowls. It’s getting beyond a joke now and he feels like kicking something. Instead he goes for a long run, feet pounding the pavement in frustration. There’s nothing, not even a few days. Of course plans can change rapidly, which is what fucked them over in the past, so maybe it will act in their favor this time. He can only hope.

…            …            …

>>You know, with Taylor Swift’s new album I could put 1989 back in my username and everyone would assume I was just a fan.

>>You know who Taylor Swift is?

>>I’m a country fan. I like her older stuff.

>>Also I don’t live under a rock.

>>Old man.

>>Like you can talk.

>>You had your original birth year as 1986, you trying to make yourself younger now huh?

                Jake lets out a laugh, because this right here is how he knows he’s still talking to the same guy he started chatting to nearly ten years ago.

>>Nick, I’m thirty soon. That’s the age gay men die.

>>I’ll have a wake.

>>Bullshit. Don’t buy into that.

>>Life isn’t over when you magically turn 30.

>>Life just gets better. That’s how I feel anyway. Got my best years ahead of me.

>>Also I’m over thirty and I’m not chatting with you from my grave.

>>You might be. How would I know?

>>I might be dead by the time we actually get to meet the rate our luck is going.

…            …            …

                He knows the year is going to be a complete write-off when he enters the rec-room and Bradley Bradshaw is sitting there chatting with Omaha and Slipper. He can’t help but notice the two bars and tries to not let it bug him, knows it’s barely any distinction but it still rankles. As does the rejection, which is months ago now, it hadn’t been a stinging rejection by any stretch of the imagination, but it had definitely been a shutting down of anything, and those two-bars will be another reason or excuse Bradshaw will throw out there if Jake tries his luck again.

                Not that he will. He does note that Bradshaw hadn’t said he wasn’t gay, which is usually the first thing out of a straight man’s mouth when he’s asked out for a drink. Unless he’s completely oblivious, and if he’s being uncharitable then maybe he can think that Bradshaw is oblivious. But while he might not have taken Jake up on the offer of a drink, he’d been very quick to take Bambi out to dinner and then take her back to his place, where she’d spent the night. He’d thought he’d caught Bradshaw looking, but he wonders if it was just wishful thinking. Part of him wishes he was ignorant about all of it, but their base housing had all been too close for him not to notice.

                And now here he is.

                Stuck on a carrier with him for the next few months.

                And the fucker has gone and grown a fucking moustache.

…            …            …

                Fortunately Bradshaw seems to be content to keep his distance from Jake, almost like he’s wary of him; he also isn’t friendly, not like he is with nearly everyone else. Jake isn’t an idiot, he can extrapolate from that that Bradshaw doesn’t like him. He already suspected that was the case, and it rankles a little, but he tries to remind himself that not everyone has to like him. Something both Nick and Javy tell him. They’re in different squads, so fortunately the mutual avoiding each other is fairly straightforward.

                What does amuse him though is that Bradshaw has picked up a new callsign, Rooster, and the fact that he knows the origin makes him smirk every time he sees it on his helmet or flight suit. That probably doesn’t help endear him to the other man either, but Jake will keep his fairly benign callsign until someone gives him another one, or he does something either stupid or brave to earn one. He keeps up his Snapchat photo streak with Nick, although he does note the change of background of the morning coffee cup. Looks like every other fucking coffee cup on every naval carrier in the fleet.

                He looks up how many people are currently serving in the Navy and pulls a face at the number. 319,120. He’s one, and Nick is another. He supposes he should feel lucky that he at least knows Nick is Navy, because there are 1.35 million in the US military combined, which is an even more mind-boggling number when he tries to think about possibly of somehow just randomly bumping into Nick.

                Stranger things have happened though.

…            …            …

                “You don’t like me.”

                “I don’t know you,” Bradshaw replies, face bland and Jake responds with an equally bland smile.

                “And who’s fault is that?”

                He walks out of the rec room.

…            …            …

                He rings Javy to complain the next time they have shore leave, and for his credit Javy just lets him rant for a solid five or ten minutes before he tries to interject with anything.

                “Okay man. He really seems to get under your skin. I don’t know what to tell you, because I haven’t had any issues with him. He’s been… cool. He’s pretty chill and laid back, at least with all my interactions with him. Is there anything that you could have done that maybe annoyed him? More than just work shit that is…”

                “Oh. Uh.”

                “Jake… what’d you do?”

                “I asked him out?”

                “Seriously? With the whole attitude you gave him while we were at Top Gun you thought he’d say yes?”

                “I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

                “Well, I’m pretty sure he’s got something serious going with someone, at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

                “Bunch of fucking gossips…”

                “Yeah well.”

                He suspects Javy has got his intel from Natasha Trace, and if that’s the case then it’s probably solid and correct. He doesn’t know what to think when he pairs that with the idea of Bradshaw having something serious but also having Bambi sleepover at the end of their Top Gun detachment. Unless the something serious is Bambi, which is also possible. Huh. He doesn’t say anything else though, because he doesn’t want to care anymore about Bradley fucking Bradshaw than he already does, annoying asshole. He does feel like he’s been a bit of a dick himself though, his comment he made about the fault being his that they don’t know each other. Jake isn’t usually that defensive, knows it’s got to be because Bradshaw turned him down, but he has to respect the guy if he does have something going with someone, because Jake wouldn’t have known, likely wouldn’t have ever found out, and he knows plenty of guys do.

                Too late to do anything about it now though.

…            …            …

>>You still out there having shitty sex?

>>Hey now.

>>I don’t go looking for bad sex.

>>It just happens to me.

>>You clearly have a gift.

>>Wow.

>>Thanks man.

>>Truly I am blessed.

>>You want a picture to cheer yourself up?

                Jake can’t type his reply fast enough, the pictures and videos that Nick sends him few and far between but so good, and he’s starting to develop a thing for long fingers. Especially when they’re wrapped around a cock, and he’s mentioned to Nick that the idea of Nick’s hand wrapping around both of them gets him hot. The picture that comes through is gorgeous, Nick reclining and the picture down the length of his body, one leg stretched straight, the other bent, his cock hard in his hand as he jerks himself. The lighting is warm, like it was taken at either sunset or sunrise, all pink and peach hues. They’ve both improved in taking pictures, and he takes a screenshot so he can stare at it properly later rather than getting flustered about the time bar getting smaller.

>>Saw you take that screenshot.

>>What are you going to do about it?

>>Nothing. Just letting you know that I know you’re going to jerk off to it more than once.

>>Yep.

>>Going to work myself over thinking about getting my mouth on you, sinking down on your cock.

>>I can’t exactly take toys with me when I’m deployed, but I can finger myself and imagine that it’s you.

>>God Jas. Send me a picture?

>>Sure thing.

…            …            …

                Bradley and his squadron leave the carrier after four months and Jake wishes he was leaving as well. Nick has leave soon, it would line up beautifully, but he’s got another three months of this deployment, and then he has four weeks of leave, but Nick is meant to be deployed again by then. The tide has not magically turned in their favor and lined up their leaves and he keeps his most bitter disappointment to himself.

…            …            …

>>Well, you aren’t the only one having shitty sex. Man some guys are dicks.

>>What happened ? Or should I not ask?”

>>Just a hook up. Blew the guy and he didn’t even reciprocate. Tried to give me a handjob but he wasn’t even trying or into it.

>>That doesn’t seem fair?

>>Well, it’s not always fair, but I’d kind of gone in hoping for reciprocation as a bare minimum. Ah well. Can only go up from here.

2015

[princeescaluswords]

Currently thinking of certain factions of fandom who tend to demonize Laura Hale. What exactly did she do that was so awful?

Leaving her injured and catatonic uncle in a care facility? Do they think he would've miraculously healed in New York if she brought him along (if that was even an option)? They seem to think she abandoned him or should've done more. What exactly, dear fandom?

Laura was a young woman who suffered a devastating loss and had to be the leader and look out for her younger brother and injured uncle. Cora was assumed dead too. Similar to Scott, she didn't ask to be alpha.

What did they expect her to do? Wage war against the perpetrators? She didn't know who was involved but she did return when Peter lured her. Fandom thinks she was unfit for the role of alpha because she wasn't ripping throats out and hunting down culprits, that she ~abandoned~ her uncle in a vulnerable state, blah blah.

The way they get angry at Scott disobeying Peter and Derek, you'd think they'd be livid over Peter killing his alpha who was also his niece who was the ~heir~ to Talia. Sacrilege!

Scott didn't ~trust~ Stiles? Well, Petey didn't trust his alpha! Why the secrecy? Why not report in immediately upon gaining consciousness?

*dons the stylish hat of Fandom Logic* Oh, oh Peter was involved in the Hale Fire! He always craved the mantle of alpha and needed Talia out of the way. But he got betrayed by Kate in the end and locked in with the rest of the family. That's why he insisted he's always been the alpha, he was promised the power if he helped destroy the pack. It's why he lured Laura back and killed her instead of communicating, he just wanted the power.

Your question puts me in mind of an argument both This Discontented Winter and Athena Dark have made to counter my indictments of fandoms worship of Peter Hale. To paraphrase TDW, "does all entertainment have to be a morality play?"

The simplistic answer to their bad faith riposte, is "No, it doesn't." You can watch two people sit in a room and not talk to each other. You can watch art hang motionless on a wall or paint dry, but these wouldn't be particularly popular forms of visual entertainment. What excites an audience is how the actors, the characters, the players treat each other, which is governed by principles concerning the distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behavior. In other words, morality.

People watch the Real Housewives franchise because they want to watch rich women behaving badly. People watch John Wick movies because they want to watch ultra violence performed without regard for human life and instead operate on a different code of behavior. Telenovelas, true crime documentaries, space operas, super hero movies -- all the pleasure their audiences gain from it revolve around decisions people make about how to treat each other. They watch it FOR the morality -- or the LACK of it.

The only forms of modern entertainment I can think of that don't focus on morality are professional sports and talent shows, and both of these take it as a given that neither side is cheating. Even Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom proposed to show us the behavior of animals so we can recognize their beauty and right to exist. My apologies to the BNF, but that's morality, too.

When This Discontented Winter bemoans the idea of all entertainment as morality play and Athena Dark that storytelling doesn't have to have a message, what they are in fact arguing for is the ability to celebrate evil. To freely indulge in the type of moral equivocation that allows them to take pleasure in the triumph of a man murdering his niece for power. You know how I know this, because if they truly wanted to enjoy something without the moral dimension, they wouldn't go to such great lengths to protect their blorbos from any moral condemnation.

Thus, we get the idea that Laura deserved death because she abandoned Peter in the long-term care facility, in which he rested safely for six years without the Argents even being aware of his location. We get the idea that Laura deserved death because she didn't seek vengeance for her family, even though she was absolutely looking for the person responsible for the death of her family -- we saw actual physical evidence of it. Thus we get the idea that Peter had no idea what he was doing, that he was out of his mind, only to find out later -- when none of the other characters believe that anymore -- that he was aware of what he was doing all along.

Remember Master Plan (2x12):

Peter: No. It's a laptop. What century are you living in? A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren't the only ones that keep records.

Wow, that's a remarkable amount of foresight for a person who was supposedly so out of his mind that he shouldn't be held responsible for what he did.

The true problem with BNF trying to argue that we don't have to approach the show with an eye toward morality is because the show absolutely did. It was baked into the substance of the show from the get go. The characters are formed to make choices about how they treat other people. To use their own words, we have to treat the entertainment that is called Teen Wolf as a morality play because it IS a morality play. Every story is.

And this is the problem with fandom, which I've noted again and again and again in regards to Star Wars, Shadow and Bone, and now Loki. They want to extract the characters from the moral schema in which they were situated and put them in a new situation, yet pretend that there isn't a moral dimension to this act. And there is, because this new situation is one where only certain considerations are treated as valid, mostly exploitation of the baser instincts of human nature for the benefit of a very small class of stand-ins, defined by race, class, and gender.