#all the watering systems are so bad there are a thousand better ways to water and care for crops

[transboyswitchytales]

Blood In The Water (NSFW) - Part 2

Claire DeBella x Reader x Maya Mason -🔪 DARK FIC - DEAD DOVE🔪

WARNINGS: Sexual Assault / Manipulation / Stockholm Syndrome / Mommy Kink / Imprisionment / Kidnapping / Absuse / Knives and sharp object warning / Blood / Starvation Techniques / Sexual Humiliatino / Reward System is fucked / Grey Maya / Dead Dove Don't Eat / Claire is rich and crazy / Past Trauma Helps Claire Manipulate R / Fisting / Squirting / Mastubration Humiliation / Kink Shaming Kink / Mean Claire Kink / UNRELIABLE NARRATOR / Fetish Sexual Slavery / Claire is Smart Don't Forget it / Reader is in the midst of Stockholm Syndrome next chapter she fights more /Time is an Illustion Reader / VICTIM BLAMING NOT SANE

Part 1 (catch up on how we got captured)

Request by Anon:Reader is also smart so how about using the only tool she has, herself. Maybe Reader is trying to dismantle the alliance between Claire and Maya. Reader takes advantage of her moments alone with Maya to 'show' her affection and SLOWLY insinuate that it would be better if it was just the two of them (Maya and Reader). Knowing Maya's personality and the temptation of having Reader for herself; Reader convinces Maya to escape. Maya can arrange everything so that they flee without raising suspicions and go far away.

First, we must sink my friends.

I been trying not to go off the deep end I don't think you wanna give me a reason

To understand the ease in which you fell into Stockholm Syndrome, you must first understand the cage. 

Your cage was that of a five-million-dollar mansion somewhere in Connecticut. 

Doesn’t sound like a bad life, some might say.

You had a library fit for any Pintrest bitches vision board, the mansion was set with fourteen rooms, a four car garage, the master had a rain shower and a jet tub, fixed with a walk in closet bigger than any apartment you’d ever lived in. The oak floors were heated, and every appliance was smarter than a fifth grader.

The second floor theater room housed a thirty thousand dollar projector and surround sound, the game room homed a pool table, two offices had mahogany bar’s in the corners. These walls, if the could talk, could indict a politician and make the catholic church release a statement of apology. 

It was a velvet cage really. 

You had a fourty foot, heated pool with gorgeous lights, and a hot tub that should be used to shoot porn in. 

The backyard was a designers wet dream, outdoor fireplace, an outside TV, fully stocked bar, and kitchen. 

This big of a house of course had staff, as rich people tend to acquire. 

Money and power seemed to get you things, things everyday people didn’t think possible. 

It also bought silence, but more on that later. 

They came in every Tuesday between two pm and left before seven. 

They were like good little workers, the mice in Cinderella is an accurate way to describe this team. 

The house was cleaned pristine in that time, and food was restocked in the fridge. Pool didn’t have a single leaf, snacks stocked in Theater room. 

Not a spec of dust on any surface, books re-organized. 

Creepy really…

Anyone would love the sound of this house. 

But this was not a house, this was not your home.

This was your cage. 

Now, you are a smart person, both street smart and book smart. 

You had a high IQ. 

You had a fancy job in L.A, you made movies…at least you used to. 

You used to….well, do a lot of things. Like have big parties, a mansion, a fucking retirement plan and a life. 

That was before, all of that was before. 

Your grandmother had a bird when you went to boarding school, you stayed with her for a month before you left. And that damn bird never shut up, it clanged against it’s cage like it was insane. Life inside the cage was worse than anything out of it. 

The author of Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury, once said;

“Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.”

You understood now why that bird broke his neck on the bars of the cage. 

And you understood that you were smarter than that fucking bird. 

You had reached a new level of insanity, and it was maddening. 

But you were locked in.

The house was a cage, and you were fucking insane. 

Claire put cameras in every inch of the house. 

She put you in the basement for the first month. 

You screamed day and night for the first two days. You think it was two days, time was getting strange quickly.

You heard them cleaning upstairs, and they never even checked to what the sound of that poor bitch downstairs was. 

Money and power made the common people scared. 

Maya was instructed by Claire to not speak to you, and she listened for the first three weeks. 

Which was crazy, you’d never seen Maya be quiet. 

But she brought you food, and she locked the door. 

You threw things, you smashed mirrors and tried to make weapons. You tried to break the small window only to find it had bars on the outside. 

A large man with shades came in with Maya. 

He had a very rude electric friend. 

You learned from pain and violence what Maya and Claire wanted. 

Because Mr. Men in Black used a cattle prod to electrocute you into submission. 

You had a mean streak it turned out, and you tried to ignore the voltages running through your body. 

But as the first month came to a close. 

You fucking missed conversation. 

You hated to fucking admitt it. 

But you wanted to go upstairs so badly. 

And you started to look forward to seeing Maya bringing you food. 

They must have done their research on Stockhome Syndrome. 

Because you were having a hard time fighting now, a month and no one came for you. No police or FBI?  How was that possible? 

Your basement had a bed, a bathroom (with a broken mirror), one window that was now fixed and clouded over, and that was it. 

And you were so fucking bored. 

You’d thoguht they would come in and sexually assault you every day. 

You thought you’d get to bite and punch and fight. 

But Claire DeBella was smart, and she did exactly what she’d promised in the car that day. 

She was breaking you. 

You missed the conversation more than you thought possible. 

They’d given you no TV, nothing to write with, no books, nothing for stimulation. 

So it was on a regular boring ass day of you laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling that a click of the door made you jump. 

This wasn’t Maya’s normal time at all. 

And the giant guy with shades didn’t walk in. 

Governor Claire DeBella did, in her heels and nice dress pants and dress shirt. 

She smiled at you, and you thought about trying to hurt her. 

But you stopped, and that pissed you off so much. However, you’d learned through pain, through a caddle prod to the stomach and limbs over and over, that fighting would not work. 

So you needed to be a smarter bird. 

“Hi.” Your voice cracked, you’d only yelled at Maya and begged, pleaded, and cried. 

Conversation was new for you.

Claire stopped at the bottom of the stairs and eyed you curiously before she gestured to the spot at the end of your bed. 

You nodded and scooted to crisscross your legs on the mattress. Claire kicked off her heels under your bed and then sat on the mattress next to you.

You didn’t let your eyes travel down to the heels, you knew they could be used as a weapon, but you also knew you didn’t want to be alone another minute. 

Perhaps you were insane, now. 

This was Stockholm syndrome, and it only took a month, strange.

“You seem to be in good spirits today.” Claire mused at you not attacking her and not yelling. 

“You haven’t come to see me yet.” You decide on that instead. You wondered if they’d defanged you now. 

Claire smiles sadly for a second and then looks around your basement. 

“Would you have wanted me to?”

“I..I don’t know.” You can’t believe those words came out of your mouth. Claire thinks about your phrase, and she seems to be debating something. 

“Do you know where you are?” She says, and it doesn’t sound condescending like you thought it might. 

“Connecticut, your home?”

“That’s right,” Claire says, and she looks towards the stairs. “You know how long you’ve been in here?”

“A month.” You say, and you wonder if she’s doing some kind of cognitive test on you, to see if you are still with it. Claire shakes her head. 

“No, Honey, you’ve been in here for two months now.”

You try not to panic at that fact, and you wonder if she’s lying to freak you out. But you can’t figure out if a month or two months in here really matter in the grand scheme of things. You weren’t getting out, and no one was looking for you. So, what did time really matter now?

“Claire?” You ask and she waits for you. “Why am I down here?”

“I wanted you to get out all of your anger in here. But when you decided to accept your new life, I was going to start giving you things again.”

“Things?” You say, and it sounds more excited than you want it to, and Claire notices. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, if you can behave, no more mirror knives, escape attempts, and throwing food. We won’t need the cattle prod and quarantine. I’ll give you full use of the house, and you can swim and read. You can watch movies again.” Claire says, and her tone is gentle, and you perk up at the idea of movies. 

You think Claire and Maya must have spoken, she just hit your currency. You’d get to watch movies again. You looked down at your lap. 

“What would I need to do…to get those things?” You feel like a traitor to yourself, but you were ready to do anything to get some kind of mental stimulation. 

Claire turns her hand over and waits, but the message is clear: she wanted you to reach out to her. She wanted you to decide to touch her, and if you didn’t, you didn’t know what would happen. But you had bruises that made your guess of pain pretty clear. 

However, it was interesting that Claire was making you decide, like she wanted your surrender. 

And you hated her. 

And you hated yourself. 

Because you reached out slowly and put your hand in hers. Claire softly moved your palm up in her own and used her left hand to trace the new scars from the first week. From the broken glass and mirror in your hand. 

Her eyes were fixated on the scars, and you wondered what your monster was thinking. 

“If you can prove that you can be a good girl,” Claire says and you shiver, and her mouth twitches in enjoyment at your response. You don’t know why you shiver, but your body does it anyway. 

“How?” You press and you don’t know why Claire’s touch is so good. 

But you haven’t been touched in…two months was it? Was this you being touch starved?

What was happening?

“As of Today, I’ll start allowing you more things, and if you can follow the rules. If you can behave, I’ll give you more. Mommy wants you to succeed.” Claire says, and she guages you reaction. 

The memory of that night at the penthouse comes back in flashes now. 

“Mommy no!!” You bit your lip to stop the feeling of your pussy being a super soaker. But Claire found your cervix and used it like Rocky. It hurt, god it hurt, and you can’t stop cumming.

 Until she slows her movement and you are wheezing, you need your inhaler, almost that fucking type of wheezing. 

Your eyes glaze and you are in shock. But your mouth opens as Claire grabs your face hard. 

“What did you just call me? Oh this is perfect. You slut, did you say Mommy? You are fucked up. Is that what you said? You want me to be your Mama? Is that it? Wanna suck on my tits too? You needed this, you don’t want to make decisions anymore. You need Mommy to do it for you then? Oh sweetheart, you are precious.”

You want to pull your hand away now. 

But you don’t, you need to know what it will take to go upstairs. 

“I’ll be good.” You say even as your mouth feels dry and acidic. 

________________

It started that week, you didn’t see Maya. 

Claire brought her work to the mansion you figured. Because she spent so much time with you. It started in the basement, Claire started small she brought you a book. 

You thanked her, until you saw what it was. 

She’d brought you a smutty romance book with stockholm syndrome, and a domme who spanks and sexually humilates the younger woman. 

You didn’t care, you just wanted to read. It felt good to read. So Claire sat with you in the basement. 

She ate meals with you. 

It was another two days later and she brought you a newspaper and you read that thing five times that day. It was just nice to know what was happening. 

But Claire DeBella fucking knew what she was doing. She was making you trust her, need her. She was the hand that fed you, and she could take all of it away. 

But you were careful with your words, you spoke to Claire and answered all her questions, but you made sure not to let your temper ever show. 

At the start of the second week Claire walked downstairs in her big plush robe and a cup of coffe and you all but drooled at the smell of the coffee. 

“Maya didn’t give you coffee huh baby?” Claire smirks at your face, it borderlines aroused at the drink. 

“Never, I used to get these Cinnamon Dolce Lattes.” 

You didn’t mean to tell her that, but you noticed that was happening more recently. You were hungry for conversation, and your captor was the only one here. 

“Hmm, you do have a sweet tooth. I’m more of an almond milk latte girl. Though I do love a shaken espresso. Before I was a politician, I’d have an espresso martini at a bar.” Claire mused, and you realized….she wanted to talk to you. What the fuck was this. 

“Do you have an espresso machine?” You bit your tongue, angry at yourself for asking. 

“I do, it’s upstairs. Would you like to try it?” Claire lays down the offer and waits, taking a sip of her drink. 

Like a person puts a mouse trap, she laid the cheese, and you, you stupid fucking rat. You walked right into it. 

You nodded, and Claire turned around and walked up the stairs, and you slowly stalked  behind her until you got to the steps and you stopped. 

You’d been shocked once for crowding Maya by the door, and now you were nervous for the possability of pain. Claire looks behind her like she was listening for your footsteps to stop.

“Darling, I’m inviting you upstairs. You don’t need to be afraid.” Governor tells you, and you wonder if she hears how hilarious that is. But you step up the stairs slowly and she keeps the basement door open for you. 

You were in shock for the first few hours of being upstairs. 

But you saw the cameras and you saw the giant fence outside, it had to be at least twelve feet along the property. And you even saw a man in the far distance, he had a machine gun strapped to his chest and a big vest. 

You weren’t free, just in a more plush cage. 

Claire came up behind you, and you froze, but she didn’t touch you. 

“How’s the coffee?” Claire says, and you wonder if what she’s really saying is: ‘do you see them? Do you see the guards? You wanna run? You want to go back down to the basement?’ 

Be smart prey damn it. 

“Really good, thank you, Claire.” You say and Claire humms like you’ve chosen right. You try not to let your hands shake as you bring the hot liquid up to your mouth. 

The next two weeks Claire would make you sleep downstairs, but bring you up to spend the day and the evening upstairs. 

Until the third week when you were in the theater room, your favorite room of Claire’s. 

She’d let you choose the movie, which was interesting. You didn’t know psychologically if she just wanted to ease you in, make you forget that you were being held prisoner. 

But sometimes you noticed you weren’t afraid of Claire. 

That was wrong, that was stupid of you.

Stupid prey. 

But it happened, and you had to admit it to yourself at least. 

It wasn’t until you had picked Beauty and the Beast that you realized. 

You’d picked a story that had Stockholm syndrome in it. You picked it, not Claire, and she didn’t even say anything as you watched it. 

But Claire watched you, and you yawned and closed your eyes.

When you woke up, things changed. 

You don’t know how you ended up lying against Claire’s chest as she played with your hair. But you thought for a second you were sleeping on Maya, and you were back at your house in L.A. That was wrong, this was wrong, the perfume was different, and the feeling was different. 

And your eyes shot open and Claire was rolling her ankles on the sofa. She’d put on CNN now and you were snoozing against her body. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

This was wrong.

Run away, hide, fucking fight asshole.  

You were being fucking domestic. 

You were getting fucking domesticated by your abuser!

You jumped off of Claire in horror. 

And Claire didn’t even seem offended. 

“Oh sweetheart, you were doing so well too. You melted into me.”

“You are a fucking monster.”

Claire laughed and then mutted the TV, like this was way better than politics on the evening news. 

“Baby girl, you get to decide how this goes. Not me and not Daddy. So if you want to ruin tonight, that’s fine. But eventually, that little voice that tells you to hate me, you won’t hear it anymore.” The Governor’s voice was so condescending. 

You eyed the door and jumped over the sofa and threw it open and ran up the stairs. You ran up two floors until you got to where you’d remembered the front door. Your mind told you to stop, but the fight in you demanded this. 

Just as you got to the foyer. 

Mr. Cattle Prod came into view. Her was sitting on a chair with a long sub sandwich about to take a bite. 

“No! NO! NO! NO!” You shout louder and louder when you see him, he sighs like he doesn’t like this either. 

You spent the next two days downstairs, alone, no Claire, no Maya, no movies, no upstairs, no dirty book. 

You cried and cried and cried. You didn’t get food, and you didn’t really care about that. You missed Claire, and that was what made you so fucking angry. 

On the third day of being alone, around the afternoon Claire came back downstairs.

She was in home clothes, jeans and a button down white loose shirt, and she walked down slowly until she found you laying on the food. 

“Shall we try again? Do you think you can behave today for Mommy?” Claire asked and you nodded and wiped at your tears. Claire nodded towards the bed and you scrambled to sit on it. 

“What would you like to do today?” Claire asks and you bite your lip wondering if she’s being mean. 

But Claire hadn’t been unkind yet, in fact, she’d been downright gentle with you. The beatings only ever came from the man with his shades. Claire always granted you things. 

“Can….Can I have coffee?” You ask, having suffered a caffeine headache from the lack of coffee for the past two days. “And breakfast?”

“Those are two very easy things I can do. And I will, but think bigger baby.” Claire said and she cocked her head to the side. 

“Can I go…outside? To um..to swim?” You scrambled, you hadn’t been outside in so long. 

“You may, but you have to do something for me first.” Claire said and you didn’t even care what it was, you thought. 

So you waited for her to say it. 

“Take off your shirt honey.” Claire said and you hesitate and she smiles, and it’s dangerous. 

But you don’t want to be alone today. 

So you take off your baggy white t shirt. You didn’t get bra’s. You figured a long time ago it was because of the wire, aka a weapon. 

Claire eyed your breasts but didn’t touch, didn’t say anything. 

“Now the pants.” Claire said in an even tone, leaving no emotions for you to latch onto. 

You stand off the bed and drop your jeans and she eyes the underwear and arches an eyebrow. 

You take them off without her asking and she seems to like that. 

“Now let’s go upstairs baby.”

You spend the day naked, and you find you don’t fucking care like you thought you would. Like you once would have. Claire let’s you eat seconds and thirds of breakfast, and she opens the slider, and you get your first breath of fresh air in forever. 

Claire lays by the poolside and sits on her phone, with her designer sunglasses pulled on. 

And you swim, and you forget for a minute who she is and where you are. It feels so good to swim, you don’t care that you are naked. No one is around but Claire. 

The ring of her phone cuts through your gentle mind fog, and she answers it. 

And you think to yourself ‘scream and yell, tell them you are being held captive.’ But you remember your quarantine, your solitude, and you bite your lip. 

You keep quiet.

Silent for Mommy.  

You hate yourself for this. 

But you know Claire is watching you, fascinated, entertained even by your submission. You can’t see her eyes, but you feel them on you. 

You try to remember who you are. 

Who you were.

And that you were not on a holiday at the pool.

You were a prisoner.

You sink to the bottom of the pool and scream, knowing no one will hear you. 

_______________________________________________

You aren’t sure how long Claire keeps this up…Time is strange.. but you get to swim in the afternoon sun. She makes you big salads for lunch. 

You watch movies after dinner.

You go back to the basement for bed. 

You wake up in the morning to coffee agan. 

But now, you do all of this, very, very naked.

It is like you must give up something to earn a place at Claire’s table. 

And you don’t care about the clothes, so it doesn’t feel bad. 

But one day you are watching a movie and Claire is reading a book, and she reaches out and touches your head. 

You freeze, wondering if you are about to be hurt or abused further. 

But she plays your hair, scratches your scalp, and reads, like you are her house pet. 

You wonder if you are her pet now. 

That’s how it starts, months into captivity, Claire gently plays with your hair. 

And you get used to it quickly. 

You come to expect it even. 

One day you sit on the sofa and grab the remote to flick through her extensive movie collection and she doesn’t touch you.

You drop your arm with the remote and turn to Claire. Who is reading, or pretending to, you aren’t sure. 

“Claire?” You ask and she puts her finger on the page to mark where she was reading but looks up with her glasses and makes an acknowledging noise in her throat. 

“Did I break a rule?”

Claire looks confused, or she acts well, and she shuts the book now, you have her attention. You just can’t figure her out. 

“I don’t know, Honey, did you?” Claire challenges like she’s speaking to a wayward little thing. And you look around, no cattle prod, no clothes, still upstairs, what was wrong? Something is missing. 

“Did I do something wrong, or behave badly?” You ask and you feel strange, like your mind isn’t working like it used to. 

“Baby, what is wrong?” Claire tries again, and you wonder if she’s planned this, but you can’t stop mid-play, the show must go on. And you weren’t sure what part you were playing anymore. 

“You aren’t…” You realize now why you feel strange. 

Claire wasn’t touching you. 

How long had you been leaning into her touch? How long had she been doing this?

Now that you thought of it, it wasn’t just the TV times she’d touch you. No she combed your hair in the morning while you drank coffee. And she..she rubbed your back as she helped you climb into the basement at night. She tucked you into the covers…oh fuck she kissed your forehead as you fell asleep. 

When had this started? You thought it was just the sofa thing…But Claire went as far as hugging you as she wrapped the towel around you after the pool.

You hadn’t even said anything.

Where was your fight? 

You blinked at her now, feeling dumb. 

“Can you ask for what you need baby?” Claire said and you realized, you were in the ring with someone far more sophisticated than you’d given credit for. 

“No, I um..I think I don’t feel good.” You grip your stomach and lie, Claire takes a moment, a moment to silently communicate with you. She doesn’t buy it, but she waits a second, lets you sweat. Before she pretends with you. 

“Oh baby, you swam for a long time. All that time in the sun.” 

You remember her putting the sunblock on your skin now, she rubbed you everywhere to get it in. You didn’t even fight her. 

“Can I..I mean can I go lay down?” 

You need to hide. 

“Sure.” Claire nods and stands and you follow her, but she doesn’t turn towards the hall that leads to the basement. She turns instead to go up the stairs, and you are super confused but you follow. 

Claire leads you up multiple floors and then down another hall to the master bedroom.

You stop as she opens the door. 

It was beige and whites and looked like it was an expensive spa, weekend getaway, plush bedroom. 

This was Claire’s master bedroom.

Probably the one she’d shared with Devon, ya know, her dead husband. The one she killed. This god damn monster, a preditor. 

You stop before entering and Claire walks in like she has a zillion other times.

The governor goes to the bed and pulls back the plush comforter; she’s got a bunch of giant soft pillows, and the sheets probably cost more than you made in every job through college. 

You hold your breath as she makes a show of pulling back the side of the bed for you. 

You realize, she’s put you on the other side. Devon's side, actually if we wanted to bring up that guilt. The dead husband's guilt you carried, because this maniac killed people for you. 

Claire lets you stand there and decide how your night will go. 

She clicks the remote by her bedside and the shades drop. 

Now the room is completely dark. 

You wonder if this is how it feels to be prey in the woods at night, everything is cold, everything is still, and in the dark your nightmare waits. 

“Did you still want to lay down?” Claire asks and you do now. Because your knees feel like they may give. 

You pad over to the side of the bed she’s holding the blankets to. 

You crawl in and she doesn’t kiss your head, and you don’t know why that worries you. 

You figure this must happen in abusive situations. You fear the lack of kiss just like you’d fear the hit. But you also want the kiss, you want to know you are safe. That you won’t be electrocuted and thrown in solitude again. 

Claire walks around the bed and you are not sure this is real, she’s going to leave you alone in her room?

“Have a good sleep Sweetheart,” Claire says and closes the door, you wait to hear a lock click, and it doesn’t. 

What a beautiful trap she’s laid out. 

But you won’t fall into it. 

Now, when the bed feels cool, the sheets are so soft, and the pillow so inviting. 

You close your eyes and drift into dreams.

You visit your old life in dreams, a dream with Maya and the beach.  

_____________________________

When you wake you hear typing, and you open your eyes to see Claire with her hair up in a clip as she types on her laptop.

You blink a few times and Claire must have some strange link to you, because she notices immediately. 

“Morning sleepy head.”

“What time is it?” You yawn and stretch and feel more rested than you have in forever. 

“A little after two, you slept the morning away,” Claire says like you two are on vacation and she let her lover have a lie in. 

“You working?” You ask and you don’t know why but Claire doesn’t flinch at your comment at all. When had you been allowed to ask her things?

“Yeah, I’m trying to get people to listen to this new legislation, but your generation won’t even read it. Wanna help Mommy?” Claire offers and your eyes grow wide at the idea of a problem to solve. You get excited, and Claire easily gives you notes on her speech. 

After a while you feel like you are working again, it’s so nice. 

“Seems a little stiff.” You say as she hands you her coffee and you drink it. You don’t notice how it has cinnamon, your favorite in it now. 

“Should Mommy be offended?” Claire teases with a grin and you laugh. 

Claire can’t stop her surprise now, you actually laughed. You hadn’t done that in front of her since before she took you. 

But you laugh and it feels so fucking good. 

“Sorry, no, you shouldn’t. You should however, be using Twitter, or whatever they call it now. Because, as you blamed my generation for not listening, you should be making the effort to get my generation to listen to you. When I saw you on CNN, you were cut throat, that’s why I wanted you to be elected in the first place. Young women want to hear your opinion, but they don’t always want to find it. You have to make it more readily available.” You ramble and then sip the coffee, satisfied with the taste. 

Claire stares at you for a moment. 

You wonder if you are being too comfortable in her presence now, perhaps you should stop. Oh shit you were going to be in trouble again. 

Stupid little prey. 

“I pay my staff a great deal of money, and no one has even mentioned this to me. You may have just upped my ratings.” Claire gives you the compliment and it makes your insides shine; you feel it all over. “And don’t do that,” Claire sternly adds and your smile drops and you are confused again. 

“I’m sorry what did-”

“No, don’t apologize for your ideas. Don’t apologize for laughing or having fun. You don’t need to apologize here.” Claire isn’t looking at you and she slips her glasses back on and opens up her email to talk to her so called ‘media team.’ 

You sit amazed that Claire is feeling so…much like a….partner, or even a friend?

Stockholm Syndrome, you remind yourself. 

Not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not our fault. 

But after that day, you sleep next to Claire. 

In fact you hadn’t been down in the basement in a while now. 

You walk around the house freely, you are still terrified of the man with the shades but he nods his version of ‘good morning’ to you. And you do the same. 

Claire works with her laptop, and you stop thinking about how to steal it to get a message out. 

You don’t notice the cameras that follow your every movement as you walk the mansion to get to the library alone. You just grab a book and head back to Claire’s office to sit on her chair. 

You don’t remember the last time you wore clothes and you don’t remember caring. 

It feels….normal now?

So one night you get into bed and fall asleep as Claire reads, and you easily fall asleep. Just like so many nights now beside her. 

And you dream;

You dream of the night. With Miles Bron on a rooftop. 

Except this time it’s different. 

You are in the bedroom this time, and Claire touches your face. 

“You want to cum for Mommy baby?” Claire asks and you nodd and she pulls you down onto her strap on. And you moan and beg her. 

“Please Mommy, I need it so bad. Mommy please, Claire fuck I need you inside of me.” You pant and beg. 

You wake up with a jolt. 

Claire turns on the side lamp, and she grabs your arms to help calm you. 

“Honey?” She asks, confused at how you are losing your mind. 

“I had a dream..I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You panic even more now.

Unsure what is worse, the dream, or your reality.  

“It’s ok, I heard you calling my name. You sure you are ok?” Claire asks, and she pushes your hair out of your face and you lean into her now. You put your head on her shoulder and you rest it there and she rubs the back of your arms up and down lightly. Not moving for more, and not moving for less. 

“Why don’t you touch me?” You ask, and you don’t know if you are still dreaming. Why are you doing this? Why are you shaking?

“I’m touching you right now pudd’n what do you mean?” Claire says and her voice is deep with sleep and it sounds like when she was aroused and fisting you. 

You pull back, and you feel frustration clear through your whole body. 

“You said that day in the car…You said..” You felt tears falling and Claire’s face changed. 

She looked dangerous now. Different than before by so much. 

“Say it, what did Mommy say that day in the car, can you remember?” Claire brushed your tears away from your face. 

“You said…You said you’d fuck that independent streak out of me…”

Claire nodded and it was such a weird contrast to the sweet woman she’d been to you. 

“What else did Mommy say? Can you remember for me?”

Claire acts like you are stupid. 

You sob now and hiccup and you remember. But you can’t say it and you shake your head. Claire cups your face and brushes stray tears away like it’s her job. 

“I told you i’d give you a good dose of Stockholm Syndrome for your system. You worked so hard, you fought so hard in the beginning. But it weighs on you, that kind of loneliness. I know, because you did that to me. You did all of this. You made me do this baby. So you needed to be punished, you were alone, but Mommy was watching from those cameras. I waited, and I was so patient. But you needed me to be patient, and I will be. But that’s all before, what happened tonight. You broke your streak, baby girl, tell Mama why?”

Claire looks excited, like she used to look on the news before she told some stupid Republican they were wrong. 

You look down at your lap and you feel no fear at her words. It was just the truth, so why weren’t you mad. 

“Focus baby, answer my question. You were thrashing back and forth in your sleep. You said my name, can you remember what your dream was honey?” Claire asked and your face turned beat red. 

You were moaning Claire..You were moaning ‘Mommy.’ Claire seemed to be satisfied that you figured it out, because she’d been watching the whole thing, she knew. 

God she was really something else, the manipulation on top of manipulation. You couldn’t figure her out, not even for a second. 

“You made a little mess on my sheets huh, sweetie, you’ve been here six months now. Just like I guessed it, huh? And you haven’t touched yourself once. That’s a long time to ignore the need, isn’t it?” Claire’s voice was doing things to you, and you nodded and licked your lips. 

This was so fucked up.

Fight, run, fucking hide! 

“You were moaning Claire and Mommy. You say it so pretty baby. You were surprised when I didn’t fuck you. But I played the long game, see I don’t want you as some sex toy in my basement. I want you as a wife. I want you to stand on the podium next to me. And the only way that’s gonna happen, is if Mommy is patient.”

Claire lays out the first part of her plan like she’s talking to some lower life form, like you are stupid and she is the teacher. 

You gasp and hiccup and cry like a dumb child. A child who stuck their hand in the aquarium and got bit, and then all the adults thought the kid was stupid. You were being so stupid. Your instincts told you to stop, but your mind was no longer your own. Claire had tattooed your skull with her initials, and now you were no longer in control. 

“Claire, this is wrong.” You whimper and her thumb brushes against your cheekbone and you lean further into it. Her hold is everything to you. 

“I know you say that, but your body likes this. You practically purr when I touch you now. And even in your dreams, you want this. So why don’t you ask? Have I not been fair, have I not given you choices?” The Governor starts to get a little heated. Like you were the problem. 

You were prey, you were shark food. You were the dumb bird, fuck FUCK! 

Be smarter than this. You begged yourself to be smarter than this. 

“Claire this is wrong, I can’t do this.” You say, but your voice sounds sad and Claire sighs and releases you.

Like you ruined it, like you ruined her fun. 

“Ok.” She looks disappointed but releases you. 

“Ok?” You say completely confused and she moves to the light and flicks it off. 

“Then let’s get some sleep.” Claire says and you lay back down and she does the same. Not touching you at all. 

You sit there in the silence, and your thighs press together and you wonder how the fuck you got here. 

How did you get here?

If there was a god, did she hate you?

Your body wouldn’t let you sleep now, you had to cum. You needed to masturbate. But Claire would for sure feel the bed move, and you knew you were never quiet when you came. 

You shifted until you lay on your stomach. 

You bit your lip to not moan at the feeling of your clit throbbing as you pressed yourself tighter. 

Claire’s voice slices through the night, like the fear you have in your bones. 

“I’ve found that lying on my stomach never helped settle the ache, is it the same for you dear?” Claire asked, and you whimper at her words. 

Her mothering, comanding, powerful voice shatters your resolve to not lightly hump the bed. 

Something about her stupid voice just turned you on. Call it your shitty upbringing or your need for older women to be cruel to you. You’d begged Maya to slap you in bed. You taught your women how you liked to be demeaned humiliated. 

Claire didn’t need you to teach her, and that was horrible. 

 And you just remembered the rooftop with her fist and you were so empty now. 

“Claire, I need to…can I…” You knew she wouldn’t let you run to the bathroom and fix this, and you weren’t sure what to ask for. 

“You need to masturbate, is that it?” Claire’s voice was mocking. 

“Yes please.” You whisper like you are trying to get one over on yourself, maybe you won’t hear it. 

“Then do it.” Claire says, and you can’t believe it, but you don’t ask questions. 

In the dark of her white room, your hands go under your body and you put your face in the pillow and moan as your fingers meet wetness. You grind down on your fingers for a few minutes in the silence.

Except the sound of the wet noises, they fill the air. 

“Claire…” You whimper after a few moments, realizing you can’t cum like this. 

“Say it.” Claire's voice is venomou,s and you should be afraid but you aren’t. 

“Mommy….can I have your help?” You say, and Claire turns and flicks on the light and throws the blanket back. She sits on her heels now. 

“Lay back, open your legs nice and wide,” Claire tells you and you flip onto your butt now and put your legs open for her to watch. 

Like she’s the director and you are the porn star. 

“Small circles, we aren’t in a rush. It’s just you and me gorgeous.” Claire tells you and you start slower, as if you’ve never touched yourself before. Like this body Claire knew, and you didn’t. Because she was playing you like an instrument and you were tone deaf it seemed. 

Claire watched your face and body move like she was starving for every moment of it. 

“You got this wet from a dream, baby? That’s so embarrassing. Your pussy is so wet, so swollen from the dream. You needy little thing.” It’s not even as mean as she’s been. But you get wetter anyway. 

You whimper and nod, but you need more. And Claire knows that. 

“You liked me being sweet these last few months don’t you?

You nodd and rub your clit harder and Claire tut’s you and you slow. 

“But you don’t like nice in bed do you?”

The silent voice is louder now, Claire’s not safe, Claire’s not consensual, Claire’s not sane. This is not a place for your fetishes and desires to be knowkn. Claire is poision and you could not do this. 

You shake your head, no you don’t. 

Claire tilts her head to the side and some of her hair falls. 

She’s a goddess. 

“You like it mean, just like Mommy.” The white of your captor’s eyes shine in the dark room. She’s crazy. You were insane for playing with her. 

“I do, just like Mommy.” You moan at the end as you give her back the nickname. The secret kink you didn’t want to share. 

“So, how mean do you need me tonight? You want that fake sweet governor? You want the domestic cunt who sits and plays with your hair?”

Her face doesn’t emote. 

You think Claire must be a psychopath; she must be, to have such different reactions. Looks and moods you could never track, no matter how you tried. 

But you’d give this woman all she wanted, if you could just cum. 

You shake your head, you don’t want nice or sweet. 

“No, thats right you need the woman who assaulted you on the rooftop don’t you? It’s been so freaky for you, seeing me so nice. And you were waiting for me to make good on my promise. You were waiting for me to fuck you this whole tme.” 

Claire’s voice is dark, deep, but steady. Like she could say the worst most deprived thing to you and not blink, blush, or feel any sort of shame.

Claire was sick.

She could play whatever part and role she wanted. And you were powerless to figure her out, to say the right thing, to do the right things. 

You were just along for your Governor’s ride.  

You nod and whimper as you touch yourself. Your pussy is desperate and you are too wet to get the right traction.

Your abuser's voice got darker, a little richer in her anger.   

“And you are wet and needy, your slick is ruining my fucking sheets. And I’m not even touching you. I haven’t fucking touched you, do you realize that? And ths is how you act. Like a fucked bitch in heat in front of me.  You know I used to masturbate to you lying there in that basement, and now here you are masturbating in my bed. The big, bad, scary kidnapper, the one who stole you from your perfect little life. The one who killed for you. And you are a whimpering mess for me.”

You humped your hand trying to chase your orgasm. 

You can barely see her face in the night lamp glow illuminating her from behind, but she’s having fun. You blink a few times to focus on her face, try to see Claire.  

She’s sick, she’s getting pleasure from you breaking. 

“Stick your tongue out. Do you remember when I spit on you? You fucking liked it. You liked my fist. Do you remember my fist? Of course you do, because your hole is gaping open for me, trying to get anything. But I still haven’t touched you. Do you realize how mine you are, if you do this you have to give up this facade that you don’t want me. That you don’t need Mama’s touch.”

Each word hits your skin like a million little needles. 

You hate how you moan and chase each word like it’s a drug, and you need a high.  

You sob and stick your tongue out, and try to finger yourself but Claire stops you. 

“No, that’s not for you to touch. Now I want you to tell me the truth. That sex tape, why did you like it?”

You were worried about this, this was something you had hoped she wouldn’t bring up. 

“Please, Claire…..no.” 

You didn’t have a safe word, and it seemed she liked you saying ‘no.’ If only for a moment.  

“It’s just you and me, and perhaps my own video footage of this moment for Maya. But Daddy already knows, I want you to say it to Mommy. Because you are gonna be Mommy's girl, not Daddy’s, after all.”

You hope Maya isn’t watching, but the idea that she is makes you gasp and your hips pick up. 

You secretly missed Maya. You were so angry at her for doing this. But you missed how she fucked you, how she humiliated you. You missed date nights and talking about work. Fuck that woman. But Maya knew this secret, and you wondered if she’d told Claire. Or if Claire could just sniff out secrets. Perhaps that’s why she was such a good politician. 

“I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.” You whimper lamely. 

Claire sighs loudly, like you are getting on her nerves. Perhaps she didn’t like a brat after all.  

“You don’t say it, you don’t get to cum. And it’s been so long hasn’t it?”

Fuck it, you were already dead. No one was coming to save you. You were here to bargain with the devil herself. What was the harm anymore?

So you let it go:

“I liked it because I didn’t have a say. I liked the horrible things they called me. It made me wet. I don’t want control.” You shout it into the night, into the millionaire's, well billionaires' (after getting Miles' money) bedroom.  

Claire laughs at you and you hate how much you like being made fun of. You ache for more. 

“That's my sweet girl. That's why you belong to Mommy. Why I picked you. You don’t want control. You don’t even know how long you’ve stayed here anymore. You crawled into my bed like a little kitten. Now you are fucking yourself in front of me like a good girl.” 

You moan louder and Claire smiles.

Something about her owning you made you feel safe. How wrong was that? That you felt like nothing bad could happen as long as Claire held you. You tried to remember that you weren’t her lover. You were her prisoner.

DeBella’s canines shine in the light.

She keeps speaking, like she’s enchanting you, like she’s a snake tamer. And you don’t know why, but you can’t fight it.   

“You love that, you love being a good girl. Well if you were a good girl. You would admit it to me now.”

You feel a game coming on, a new one for Claire. You understand now, and you say it. Your nails dig into your soft, intimate flesh. It hurts, it all hurts.  

“I want you to be mean to me.” You admit it, your voice is raw and cracks. 

Claire doesn’t seem satisfied anymore. So she continues.  

“You like this life. The one I made for you.” She challenges. 

“I like this life.” You don’t know who is speaking inside of you, but it comes out your mouth. 

“You like being mine.” Claire doesn’t blink. 

“I do.” You gasp, and you aren’t sure if it’s from masturbating. 

You wonder if this is what hypnosis was like. 

“You don’t even notice you are naked in a dirty politicians bed, begging to be fucked like a fucking whore. You missed me, baby.” Claire tells you these things like facts. And your clit pulses at her voice. You have no self respect.   

“I did MAMA PLEASE LET ME CUM!” You shout and angrily hump your hand for no release. 

“Slap your cunt, hard,” Claire says like she’s telling someone how she wants her coffee, no interest in her voice. It makes you scream out.  

You move your hand away from your cunt, and you slap it hard. The sound echoes in her bedroom. 

“What do you need, your fingers not doing it for baby?” Claire taunts and you almost wonder if she’s done something to your body. Or your mind? Why can’t you make yourself cum. 

You knew. 

You needed Mommy. 

“I NEED YOUR FINGERS!”” You scream, and Claire thinks about it for a minute. And you think she’s bluffing, but she isn’t. 

“Not yet,” Claire says, keeping her hands to her sides. Not touching you, not helping you. And you go mad with need. You start to babble like you have no sense of self anymore. 

“Please, please, please. I’M A WHORE! I’m your whore and I want you to hurt me. I want you to make it hurt, I want you to ruin me. I want to be bruised and fucked every second. Please, I’m yours I’ll make your babies and I’ll wear what you want. I’ll go where you want and do whatever you want! Just fuck me!”

Clarie likes that and she licks her bottom lip watching your body writhe in the bed. 

“You are a fucking slut. Turn to your right, and smile. You are on video baby. I’m live streaming this.” Claire said, and you came just like Claire knew you would. 

That’s how you lost your mind. 

___

You begged for the next four days for Clarie to touch you. And she refused to touch your pussy. 

She made you do all kinds of things. 

You only walked around on your hands and knees for an entire day. 

She spoon fed you her leftovers and put her feet on your naked back as she typed on her computer. 

Claire was breaking you beyond belief. 

She made you sit on the bathroom floor as she used her own vibrator in the shower and came. But you couldn’t see her, and you couldn’t do anything. 

Claire even made you hump your own hand while she took business calls. 

You were a sex fiend you were gone.

No mind left, no sense of pride.  

And finally you were on your hands and knees with your fingers on your clit and she was sitting in her bedroom on her armchair drinking a scotch and watching the show. You weren’t allowed to ever fuck your hole, Claire made sure you never touched there. 

You screamed into the bed and sobbed. 

You cried for a really long time, and you felt like you were being tortured worse than in the basement. 

You wanted Claire, you don’t remember what healthy love was. 

But you knew you wanted nothing more than Claire.

You thought to the penthouse with desire now.  

Your mind was sick. 

And your vagina was raw from trying to mastrubate and nothing working. 

“PLEASE MAMA I NEED YOU! I LOVE YOU DON’T IGNORE ME ANYMORE!” You scream and the sound of Claire’s drink hitting the side table was so loud and you didn’t even notice as you cried into the bed with your ass in the air. 

But Claire gently flipped you onto your back. Like the broken little thing you were.  

“What did you say baby?” She asked and her face looked completely stunned and you didn’t know why. You wiped your nose with the back of your hand.

Your body so sore.  

“I..I need you?”

“No sweetie, not that, after that. What did you tell me?”

“Don’t ignore me?” You tried again, and Claire chuckled at that demand but she continued. 

She seemed so soft now. 

“Before that, right inbetween those two.” 

“I love you?” You say, and the words feel strange in your mouth but you blink at Claire through wet lashes. “I love you.” You say more confidently now and Claire’s smile is so big you think it must hurt. 

She grabs your knees and pulls you flat and her mouth goes right to your pussy. 

You cum in two seconds from her mouth, and then she doesn’t stop for two hours. And you are sobbing and writing under her telling her how much you love Claire DeBella. 

That’s how you fell in love with your monster. 

How you begged for her fist, her mouth, her kisses, her cruel words. 

Unsure how long it has been. How long life has looked this way…But after you had taken a fist and two fingers.. you were laughing and naked at the kitchen island and Claire was laughing with you. It was romantic and sweet and you were so happy. She was spoon feeding you yogurt and you were telling her about a L.A nightmare press thing. And you were breaking an NDA like it was nothing. Telling secrets like you were telling teenage girl rumors. And Claire was paying attention, and somewhere inside you knew she’d use this. 

But you were Claire’s weapon now. You were her partner, her lover, her’s to control. And you found your mind didn’t hurt anymore. 

But it ended, like all things must. 

The front door opened and then slammed close and you jumped and Claire groaned, irritated. She knew what was happening, it seemed. 

 Maya walked in with her heels clicking on the floor. Her three suitcases being carted in behind her with Mr. Shades. Who looked at his boss like he was not sure who to be more afraid of, Maya or Claire.  

“This looks cozy.” Maya snarls with a wicked look in her eyes at Claire. 

You don’t know why they are glaring at each other. But you feel like you want to crawl back into the bedroom and hide.  

“Maya?” You ask confused, and she looks at you now. She gazes at you like one does a lover they accidentally bump into after the breakup.  

“Mason, we agreed you would wait until I told you you could come.” Claire’s tone wasn’t kind. 

“Right, but see you aren’t my boss, so that’s not how this works. You keep me from her again and I’ll out you to the press so fast your head will spin bitch. You aren’t the only one with connections and blackmail.” Maya snarls and you look at Claire, fear evident on your face. 

Claire drops the yogurt dramatically into the sink. Some of it gets on her button-down sleep shirt; she’s wearing that and a thong.  

“Let me get dressed, and then we can talk about this in my study,” Claire said, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. 

The Governor walks away from you and you feel completely lost. No longer having a tether to your insanity. 

You turn to Maya, who stares at you like you are the freaky one here. 

“Maya, how long have you been gone?” Your voice is shaky. Maya steps forward to come to you and you flinch. So she stops and looks back to Shades as if to say ‘get lost.’ He drops the bags and walks back out of the house. 

Maya has so much fear on her face. 

“Two months, two fucking long months. She hasn’t let me in this house yet, last time I saw you was in the fucking town car! I tried to get here but we’ve been arguing this whole time. Plus Matt is a shitty replacement and then Vegas and the shrooms. It’s been a mess without you. I’m trying to convince Governor Gaudy over there to let you work again. What the fuck are you doing?” She whispers, yells the last sentence like she’s on your side. 

“What do you mean?” You ask and you feel yourself cracking. 

“What do you mean, what do I mean? You are naked in the kitchen? You are practically her sex slave in here. I saw the footage, what the fuck?” Maya tries to walk forward and you back off to the corner of the kitchen like you don’t want to be around her for a second. 

Maya seems to fear that too. 

You panic and looked around, not sure what’s happening. 

“Two months? No that’s not possible, she said six months at least.” You repeated and Maya shook her head. 

“She’s fucking lying. Kinda like she lied and told me I could bring you back to work. Kinda like how she told me I could spend time with you. Fuck baby what is going on? Did she….I mean..are you?” Maya put her hands up and down to direct to your person. 

And you felt like you were going to have a panic attack. 

“Maya what the fuck!” YOu scream and go to the kitchen and grab a knife. 

You put your back to the fridge. 

“Woah! Put the weapon down!” Maya says but she’s not as freaked out as you thought she’d be. Obviously used to L.A. girls with sharp objects pointed at others. 

“Stay away from me!”

“Hey, listen to me! I’m trying to get you out of here. But if you pull this again, she’ll put you down in that basement! I can’t help you there! Ok I’m trying to get you out. You gotta keep your shit together.” Maya yells at you but she turns to see if Claire is watching. 

“You are lying, you…fuck you helped her steal me. Oh my god I loved you. Oh my god I told Clare I love her. What is wrong with me?” You yell and look at the blade. Maya watches your gaze, and she starts to walk forward. 

“Yeah, that hurt by the way. You told me I was the first person you ever told you loved. And then you fucking tell her, that was fucked. Ok, let’s not hold the blade so close to your body, huh sweetness?” Maya knows you better than you do, you bring the blade closer to yourself, and she lunges forward and you both fight on the floor but Maya is stronger and she hits your hands against the marble top and the knife flies out of your hands.

Claire comes back in and she’s pissed. 

“MAYA THIS IS WHY I TOLD YOU TO FUCKING STAY AWAY! What the fuck did you do?” Claire shouts, and you are fighting Maya as hard as you can, and then a shot goes in the back of your neck, and you see Mr. Shades before you pass out. 

Part 3 coming soon...

AO3

MasterList

Series MasterList

'Great, look, now the lion woke up You eying my shit, inquiring shit'

[inthepeakymidwinter]

Cruel Summer (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Y/N tries to move on after seeing Thomas with another woman. Thomas comes back after weeks wondering where Y/N went.

Based on this anon ask:

“Hello! Can you please do Tommy is jealous that Y/N is moving on after having a crush on him for years but he was too focused on Grace? He realizes that he loves Y/n more than Grace after seeing her with another man”

Word Count: 2718

TW: drinking, alcohol

(Sorry it took me sooo long! Hope you all enjoy!)

————————————

It’s been weeks since I slept after finding out that Tommy was with Grace. It shook my nervous system in ways I didn’t expect it to. I shouldn’t care as much as my heart actively does. I stopped going outside to water my plants. I stopped eating breakfast and lunch. The only thing I could hold down was tea. It took many days to feel like a person again. The night I caught them kissing at the derby my heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. I hadn’t seen Tommy since that day, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t plan on it. I ran out of that stadium and never looked back.

Strangely enough as one door closed another began to open. Thomas’ brother John had knocked on the door to my townhome one early morning. I answered the door in my pajamas, with my hair messy and wild, sipping a cup of tea out of one hand. “John?” I asked him, looking ahead of him to see if anyone else was with him. He stood there with a perfectly dry-cleaned suit on and his hair slicked back.

“Have you seen Tommy around?” He questioned; his demeanor was so serious that it almost felt like an interrogation.

I turned furious in an instant. “You really think I’ve seen him? I haven’t been out in weeks. What makes you think he’d be with me?” I shouted.

“Aye come off it. I didn’t mean anything by it. Last time I saw he was off to the woods for some gypsy thing. No one's seen him since…are you okay Y/N?” John asked sincerely.

“I’ll be fine John” I mumbled, looking down at his shiny black leather shoes. I took another sip of tea before I felt John’s hand on my cheek, slowly lifting my head up with his thumb so out eyes would meet.

“I know yer not” He sighed. I shook my head slowly and he rushed himself through the door, making his way into my kitchen. “Y’know Y/N if i had known any better I would have come by sooner…just haven’t seen you around…i thought you’d be coming by the betting shop any day now” He admitted.

“John, I barely make it out of my bed most days what makes you think I’d even make it to the betting shop?” I hissed.

John smiled, then realized what i said and how severe it was. His demeanor changed into a melancholic look, and he walked over to me. “Don’t tell me that” he said with his lips trembling. “Why have you done this, Y/N what happened?” John questioned me.

I looked down at the floor and then back up at him. His brown eyes stared me down until something came out of my mouth. “I just…saw him with her” Tears started to form in my eyes.

“Oh, fook me Y/N, him? You have feelings for him?” John asked. “You deserve so much better than my sorry excuse of a brother. He may be my brother, but he has flaws Y/N. Flaws that you are nowhere near” He told the truth and I believed him for once. I always knew Tommy had big dark secrets. I just didn’t know how bad they were and maybe that was for the best. “We’re going out tonight. You and me, eh?” John insisted, holding my hand as he spoke. I smiled for the first time in a long time. I wasn’t ready but with John i felt like i could take a leap. “Put a nice dress on, I’ll pick you up at 8” John said and kissed my cheek. I blushed involuntarily as I watched him walk out of my townhome confidently. He always had this charisma about him, all of the Shelby brothers did. It was effortless to them.

At around 6:30pm I started getting ready. I put on winged black liner on my eyes, and slipped on a tight black dress with lace trim.

At exactly 8pm just like he said, John arrived in front of my house to pick me up. I decided to walk out of my home and saw John get out of the car immediately. He raced up to the passenger door and opened it for me. “You know I would’ve knocked on your door” He stated.

“I figured, but I was impatient” I smiled back at him.

“Well you look absolutely stunning tonight” John complimented. I nodded in his direction and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“So where are we going?” I asked him with a smile.

“You’ll see very soon” John stated and shut the door once i got in. He drove us to a bar that i had never been to. We went in and he got us drinks right away. I sat quietly in a booth with him as we giggled about old times and drank beer to our hearts content. After a few hours John cursed out of nowhere. “Fook me I forgot to pick up Arthur from the Garrison. Linda’s gonna have my arse” He groaned as he got up from the booth.

“I-It’s okay John I can go with you” I sighed. Maybe John was right. Maybe Tommy didn’t dare show his face in this town anymore.

John nodded at me and went up to the bartender to pay his tab, then we went back to his car and drove to the Garrison. John turned the car off and turned his attention to me. “Are ye sure you want to come in?” He asked politely.

“I’ll be fine John” I placed my hand on his and gave him a small smile. He held my hand for a minute in return before letting go and getting out of the car. He walked to the passenger side and opened my door, letting me get out before he slammed the door shut. We walked into the Garrison with our hands intertwined and John yelled out for Arthur. He was drunk off of his face, sitting at the bar and laughing with a random man I’ve never seen before. And by the looks of Johns confused face, neither did he.

“Alright Arthur come with us. Don’t wanna keep that Linda waiting do we” John spoke, trying to coax Arthur out of his drunken state.

Arthur looked at John and back to his drink then guzzled his entire glass of dark liquor in one go. “I’m waiting for Tommy. He said he’d be back” He slurred.

John groaned audibly, “Arthur, Y/N and I are taking you home. Tommy’s not coming he-“

“He what” Thomas spoke from the bar’s entrance. My stomach turned and I no longer felt happy from all those drinks like I did a minute ago.

Thomas and I exchanged quick glances before his gaze went back to his brothers. John stood in shock for a moment but it quickly faded to anger. “You don’t get to just leave us without an explanation Tom” He growled.

“I never left. Did I Arthur?” Thomas asked and walked up closer to the two brothers.

“Aye. He’s been out with his woman I reckon” Arthur raised his empty glass in support but Thomas grew furious.

“Never said anything like that you drunken bastard” Tommy growled.

“You didn’t have to” John huffed and walked towards me. He motioned to go out the door and i nodded my head in agreement, taking his hand once more.

“Where the hell are you two going?” Thomas roared from behind.

“We’re leaving for the night. You enjoy Arthur” John smiled before leaving the bar with me. I walked out of the garrison with John and felt myself crumbling. I walked the cobblestone street to get to his car and stopped.

“John…I need to go home” I croaked out.

“Y/N Please tonight was supposed to-“ He pleaded.

“John I need to go right now” I huffed, nearly running to the car at this point.

I made it to the car and opened the door myself, hopping in as fast as I could. John got in and slammed his driver side door, turning the car on angrily.

“I didn’t want this to happen” He sighed.

“What?” I asked grumpily.

“Just all of it. Fuckin Tom” He growled.

“Just take me home, John” I mumbled. Completely over seeing Thomas in person. I just wanted to climb into a hole and die.

The ride home was silent. Nothing but John’s breathing and cursing under his breath. It took us 15 minutes until I finally made it home. I made it home and rushed out of the car, slamming the door and storming into my townhouse after unlocking the door. I closed the door behind me and locked it, making sure no peaky ever got in.

I stepped into my kitchen and ran to the cupboard beside my refrigerator. I opened it and took out the bottle of red wine that had been sitting there for months. I went to fetch a bottle opened from the drawer beside it and heard a loud knock at the door.

“Leave me alone John” I shouted and proceeded to open the bottle of wine. I twisted the cork and it popped out of the bottle. Then yet again another knock. “I told you to leave me alone!” I yelled. I sighed deeply and got a wine glass out of my upper cabinets, pouring wine into my glass and taking a large swig.

Suddenly the knocks on my front door grew louder and i couldn’t take it anymore.

I cursed under my breath and stomped to the front door, unlocking it and about to curse out the person behind the door.

“I told you to leave me-“ I yelled until I saw who the person behind the door was. Thomas Shelby in the flesh.

“You can hate me all you want but do NOT get revenge by using my brothers” He argued with his baby blue eyes and perfectly styled dark hair.

“I wasn’t getting revenge anyone. It's something called moving on” I huffed and tried closing the door on him. Thomas held the door open and stared me down.

“Then why go out with John” He asked me with hurt in his eyes.

“It’s none of your business, Tom. Go home” I stated and tried to close the front door again, but it was no use.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N?” Tommy asked angrily. I wanted to curse him out but instead I took a deep breath and stepped outside on the front stoop with him and shut the door behind me.

“Thomas I’m trying to move on. The same as you did weeks ago with that blonde girl. I’m tired of you being in my life” I huffed and nearly cried. Just a minute later rain started to pour onto us. I felt cold drops trickle down my shoulders and looked down at them sliding down my arms.

When suddenly Thomas asked me, “…Why don’t you want me in your life, Y/N” This time with a fallen face and broken-down demeanor.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I wasn’t prepared to tell him anything about what I saw those past weeks ago. “You need to go Thomas…I-I can’t handle this right now” I croaked and tried to pull myself together.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on” He raised his voice and stared at me deeply with his light blue eyes. The rain had trickled down his head by now, making his dark hair completely wet and straight. He looked good and it just pissed me off even more.

“I never kissed anyone in front of you! Never fucking liked…anyone other than you. And then you go off with other people disappearing for weeks” I cried out and avoided his gaze.

“I didn’t think you wanted me. You ignored me every time we all went drinking. That’s why I went for Grace, but she was using me. Trying to find our guns. Trying to end our company. That’s why I had to leave. I was off the grid” Thomas explained. I sighed and sat on my front steps. Not caring if the rain made me wetter, I just needed to think properly.

“I can't let you go Y/N. Not like this. Nothings started between us. I’ve never got to tell you how I felt” Thomas spoke from behind me.“Y/N look at me” He ordered. I turned to face him, and he stepped down a stair, sitting beside me with his body turned fully towards me.

“I rather die than hurt you. I wish I never did. I don’t want to lose you Y/N” Thomas confessed. I stared at him completely breathless, my hair dripping wet with rainwater. Thomas placed his hands on either side of my face. My eyes closed as I fell into his caress. “Please Y/N” He begged. I started to cry softly, and he wrapped me into his arms. Hugging me with an urgent tightness. I’ve never felt so comforted by anyone like that. “Tell me what you want…be honest, me or John” He gave me an ultimatum. My cheeks flushed a vibrant red color as I left his embrace and stared into his inviting gaze.

“You really don’t know who I like do you…” I asked him.

“I really don’t Y/N…you’re driving me insane right now. Waltzing in with him” He spoke with frustration.

“Me? Like you didn’t drive me to insanity weeks ago? You’ll be fine” I laughed in his face as the rain fully poured down onto us.

“I need you” He spoke, his voice much deeper than it was before.

“And I need a mental vacation but we don’t always get our way Thomas Shelby” I sighed and placed my hands on the stairs, holding myself up.

“Why are you doing this? You just figure when one person finally moves on that you can just come back, and everything would be normal again? You don’t understand how miserable I was because of you. John had to get me out of bed just to be a person again. And you think you can come over once and propose an ultimatum and make everything fine. I’m sick of it Thomas Shelby” I confessed with anger making my blood boil.

“Y/N…I’m sorry. For everything. I didnt know what happened to you. I didn’t even think you cared. No one told me where you went and i had to lay low. I wrote millions of letters i never got to send. I promise I will make everything up to you. Just tell me who you want the most” He pleaded and shuffled closer to me.

“It’s never been John…from the start you were the only person I wanted” I admitted. Getting near his familiar ocean blue eyes was enough for me to become lightheaded. He placed a hand on my wet cheek once more, staring back into my soul like he saw right through me. Rain drops trickled down his forehead making his jaw look even more chiseled.

He carefully placed his thumb on my bottom lip and swiped over it softly. “I’d really like it if you were all mine…permanently” Thomas growled.

“I’ve only been waiting for months” I mumbled out before he leaned in close and kissed me roughly like he yearned for this moment for centuries. The rain came down so hard i couldn’t think straight. I kissed him back. Tasting a mix of my own salty tears and rain water diluting them. I locked my lips against Thomas’ with him repeating back the same way. We shared sloppy, compelling kisses that didn’t stop until we both had to come up for air. When we did, Thomas pressed his forehead against mine and closed his eyes.

“I’ve wanted you for so long Y/N” He breathed.

“Me too.” I smiled. “Let’s go get warmed up. I have wine waiting inside” I offered.

“Sounds like a dream” Thomas spoke and stood up off of the stairs, grabbing my hand and pulling me up in one go. The night ended with us lying in bed without clothes, overly drunk and tangled in the sheets. His big arms holding me tight as we drifted off into a good night’s sleep.

[kitsmittens]

(I want to make it clear that, while this story was mostly created with AI, it still has meaningful parts that come from me and made it personal)

I found this while scrolling through the Sirius Black/Remus Lupin tag. The amount of DISAPPOINTMENT I felt. And this isn't the first time I've seen it.

Using AI at all does not make it PERSONAL. Fanfiction is made by fans not AI. Recently, ao3 was scraped or whatever it's called that stole thousands and thousands of works that have been written by humans to train AI to copy works to better make fics like these. My own works that I put so much effort into, that I am proud of will be used to train and model AI to make it better at creating stories like these.

AI has no place in this fandom. It has no place in ANY fandom. MAKE YOUR OWN WORKS, no matter how crappy it is, or how bad you think it is. It's yours, it's human it's BETTER THAN ANYTHIING THOSE FUCKING ALGORITHMS COULD EVER WRITE.

Delete that chatgpt tab. Stop using AI to steal from actual writers. Writing your own fics is the only way you're going to get better. Using AI is not how to improve. It's how to make it selfless and inhuman. No matter how you tell the algorithm to make your own experiences into the story, it will never be personal.

There is no creativity in AI. Everything word it uses to answer your prompt has come from somewhere. It destroys fandom spaces by removing the authenticity and creativity of works.

Plus, each AI prompt uses around about 500mL of water to stop the systems from overheating while generating your prompts. This water is sourced from natural lakes/underground stores which are needed to sustain many ecostystems.

Don't trust me? Look up the dangers of using AI. Even if you're just generating a story, it will encourage more and more people to normalise using AI. When this happens, we're fucked.

I don't care if you're going to fucking fight me on this one. Have at it. I will stand by it that AI should never be used in a fandom space. No exceptions. Learn to write yourself, or ask another writer to write it for you. Use the prompt you would have given to AI to another human so they can turn it into something good.

[wheelchairbatgirl]

Someone found this for me at a comic shop, purely for "There's a wheelchair on the cover," reasons. I told my friends that I’m starting this project and now people alert me any time they see a wheelchair (and, honestly, I love it). So, let's skip ahead about 9 years from our last Birds post, and check out Birds of Prey 124 from 2009.

Cover chair is decent looking. Push handles, but we can't win them all. It's got all the major parts like wheels and arm rests and a back, and they're all about the size and proportions you'd expect from a folding manual wheelchair. Someone please get her a cushion, though. People with paralysis or reduced sensation in their legs and hips can't safely sit just on the sling of the chair. Pressure sores can become very dangerous when you can't feel them, so wheel hair cushions can cost hundreds or thousands of dollars to reduce the risk of forming them. People without paralysis or loss of sensation should also have a cushion, because it’s safer and more comfortable. Just draw everyone with a cushion, please.

The seat itself is a little bit large for her. In general, you want the seat to be as narrow as you can be without crowding. This gives you better access to your wheels, and an overall narrower footprint when navigating the world. When you’re ordering your custom wheelchair, you can customize seat width down to the inch, so wheelchair users will pretty precisely fit into their seat. But this isn’t a seat that’s so large that it looks like she’s just completely in someone else’s chair.

You can see that the axles of the wheels attach in the middle of the seat, instead of all the way at the back. We love a good forward center of gravity.

Cover wheelchair is fine! 9/10.

This issue gives us an excellent and very enjoyable fight with the Joker. Her in-comic chair is generally pretty consistent between the different panels. The center of gravity is reeeally far back, in line with the back canes. This isn't great for propelling yourself around the world, because it’s bad for your shoulders and you don’t get to use the strongest part of your push in the wheel stroke . Her front leg angle is like 60 degrees, with her feet sticking out in front of her quite a bit. Usually, people who don’t have leg injuries want to have a steeper front angle, because you get the most maneuverability when your feet are tucked in close. When your feet are in front of your casters, it’s really easy to hit things with your feet. When you can’t feel your feet, accidentally hurting them takes a much longer time to heal, and you can’t use your pane level to monitor how severely you’re injured or how you’re healing. For both of these reasons, I don’t really love this design of wheelchair for this character.

Also those fixed front foot plates disappear when the chair is thrown around. Magical appearing-disappearing foot plates. (Actually, anyone who buys wheelchairs on eBay is familiar with the fact that people do lose detachable foot plates ALL the time. Magical disappearing foot plates are a real world problem).

They did do a little close up on a push rim. That was nice. One point for having push rims.

And this is our final shot. Couple of notes: it's super annoying to have someone lean on your chair like that. This one has that really far back center of gravity, so it's not a tip hazard, but a lot of wheelchairs are set where leaning on someone's chair can make it flip backwards (especially if you're me and keep your anti-tips deactivated all the time).

The second thing is that moving a manual wheelchair really takes two arms. There are specific types of manual chairs that have a one-arm drive system, but it's a whole thing that needs to be built into the chair. Anyone who has tried to take a cup of water across a room while using a wheelchair knows how multi-armed it needs to be. So being a wheelchair user in an arm sling is a lot of being a wheelchair user where you need people to push you everywhere. I don’t believe that the artist who drew this really realized exactly how disabling losing one arm is to a manual wheelchair user, so I feel like this particular injury hits different if you’ve got a certain kind of personal experience.

Anyway, I was hoping that if we jumped forward in time that we'd see a wheelchair that doesn't look like a living room recliner chair with big wheels on the back edge, but here we are.

6/10, it's got some of the right parts but I hate how they’re connected.

[cyren-myadd]

Can you write a snippet of Quaritch following through with his version of “an old school ass whipping”

Nothing too serious because I don’t think he’d abuse Spider but I do think he’d be the type of parent to resort to physical discipline if pushed enough.

In the exchange between him and Spider, Spider does not seemed alarmed with fear and is actually a little cheeky. I think he’s used to adults just letting him get away with things.

I think it’s be interesting to read Spider’s reaction to an adult/authority figure disciplining him (whether physical or some other punishment) for not following instructions rather than just checking to see if he has not been harmed.

It doesn’t have to relate to him running off which is where Quaritch uses the threat. It could be anything.

Okay, so I know you requested me to write about Quaritch disciplining Spider, but I’ve seen that explored a bunch of times before, and honestly, after what I wrote in Blood Is Thicker Than Water, I’ve kind of gotten a bad taste in my mouth for writing disciplinary scenes involving Quaritch. Idk why, but your ask gave me inspiration for a scene of Jake disciplining Spider instead, and it ended up taking a pretty different direction than your request. Sorry that this isn’t exactly what you requested, but I wanted to write something that I haven’t seen explored by other writers before, so I hope you still enjoy it!

Lucky Number Five (6k words)

One.

Two.

Three.

Jake counted the children in the marui, and then he counted them again. Tuk napped in the back corner of their home, nestled among her blankets. That was one. Lo’ak stood at the entrance of the marui, waving goodbye to Tsireya. That brought the count up to two. In the center, by the cookfire, Kiri helped Neytiri chop fish and vegetables for a stew. That made three.

It had been a week since the battle at Three Brothers Rock, but Jake still had to bite back the instinct to look for number four. His heart told him to count again; told him that if he checked just one more time he would see Neteyam tucking the blankets tighter around Tuk, or playfully teasing Lo’ak, or asking Neytiri if she needed any more help with dinner, but his mind knew better than his heart. No matter how many times he counted, there would never be a number four.

However, he was still missing a number. Jake didn’t know when exactly he started doing this, but at some point in his parenting career, he’d assigned a number to each of his children, and that number was the order in which he would always check on them based on the likelihood that they would need adult supervision. Maybe it was just his way of keeping track of so many kids, or maybe it was some leftover instinct to “sound off” from his Marine days. Whatever the case, the system worked for him. As the youngest and most delicate, Tuk was always the first child he checked on. Coming in second place was Lo’ak, the resident trouble-maker. Number three was Kiri, more responsible than Lo’ak, but still prone to making trouble of her own on occasion. Neteyam, as the oldest and most mature of the bunch, was number four, the last child he checked on because he was the least likely to be in trouble.

One, two, three, four. Jake had sounded off the mental count thousands of times over the years whenever he needed to make sure all of his children were accounted for. But the count didn’t always stop there. Sometimes, not most of the time, but sometimes there was a fifth child on the list, tacked onto the end more out of courtesy than anything.

Jake counted again just to be sure.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Number five was missing.

“Where’s Spider?” He asked the question so suddenly, that it startled everyone. Tuk peered out sleepily from her blankets, and Kiri and Neytiri gave him confused looks from across the cookfire.

“Huh?” Asked Lo’ak as he came to sit down next to Tuk.

“I asked where Spider is. I told all of you to be back home before sundown. It’s almost dark, so where is he?” He directed his question at Kiri, figuring she would be the most likely to know, but all she did was shrug.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning. I’ve been helping Mom and Ronal in the healing marui. I think he said he was going to help Lo’ak with his chores.” She said before turning her attention back to chopping vegetables.

The casual way she answered the question irritated Jake. If Spider wasn’t back by now, it either meant he was willingly disobeying Jake or he was in some kind of trouble. Why was Kiri acting like it was no big deal? His tail started to twitch in frustration as he rounded on Lo’ak. “Have you seen Spider?”

His question came out harsher than he intended it to, making Lo’ak jump slightly. “Uh… yeah, I hung out with him earlier, but he went off with Rotxo in the afternoon. I think he was gonna teach him to spearfish or something?”

“You think?” Jake repeated exasperatedly.

“I dunno, I wasn’t really paying attention.” Lo’ak said, sheepishly playing with the beads on the ends of his braids.

“Yeah, cause you were too busy looking at Tsireyaaa—“ Tuk giggled in a singsong voice.

Lo’ak threw a blanket at her. “I was not!”

An irritated huff left Jake’s lips as he got to his feet. “I’m going to go find him.”

“Ma Jake,” Neytiri’s voice stopped him in his tracks, “dinner is almost ready. Stay and eat with your family. I’m sure the boy is fine.”

“No, I told everyone to be back here before sundown. It’s sundown and he’s not here, so it’s not fine.” Before Neytiri could get another word in, he left the marui, tail lashing behind him with anxiety.

He rushed through the peaceful village, passing Reef Na’vi settling into their homes for the night. The setting sun painted the sky a deep orange, and a chorus of insects created a soothing symphony for the evening. Everything was so calm, surely nothing was really wrong, right? Despite what he tried to tell himself, images of Spider hurt or dead kept flashing through his mind. He was so consumed with his worries that he nearly ran right into Rotxo.

“Oh! Hi, Jake!” Rotxo greeted him cheerfully once he recovered from nearly losing his balance.

“Rotxo, sorry, didn’t see you there. Have you seen Spider?”

“Yeah, I was teaching him how to spearfish by the diving hole. I think he’s still there—“ Rotxo had barely finished pointing in the direction of the diving hole before Jake was off, making a beeline for it.

The longer it took to reach the hole, the faster he went, so he was practically sprinting by the time he reached it. Jake skidded to a stop on the rocky edge of the hole, startling a few small marine ikran into flight. He frantically looked around for any sign of Spider, but the whole place was deserted. The hole was dead still except for the steady undulations of bioluminescent seaweed dancing in the current, and the swaying of the mangrove branches up above. All he could hear was the gentle sound of waves lapping against rock and the occasional cry of a marine ikran. No sign of number five.

“Dammit!” Jake hissed under his breath. His ears flattened against his skull and his tail thrashed like an angry snake. Now he didn’t know what to do. None of the other children seemed to have any idea where Spider was and Rotxo was his last lead. Awa’atlu’s atoll was a massive area full of hiding places, and Spider was one little human. He could be anywhere.

Just before he made up his mind to start searching somewhere else, a soft sound drew his attention. Down the side of the hole directly to his left, a familiar dreadlocked head surfaced amongst the bioluminescent seaweed.

“Spider!” He called, sprinting across the rocks towards him.

At the sound of his name, Spider turned. Underneath the sheen of his mask, his face split into a wide grin and he started swimming to meet him, a child-sized Metkayina speargun in his hand. “Hey, Jake! What’s up?”

Jake knelt on the edge of sea rock and hauled Spider out of the water by the strap of his exopack as soon as he was in reach. He quickly checked Spider over for any sign of injury or damage to his equipment. As far as he could tell, there was none.

“You alright? Where the hell have you been?”

Spider’s grin faded as he took in the panic in Jake’s body language. “Yeah, I’m fine, I was just practicing the spearfishing stuff Rotxo taught me.”

Jake’s shoulders sagged and he let out a deep sigh as a surge of relief overwhelmed him. It lasted for a grand total of five seconds before it was replaced by a rush of anger. He hadn’t been this scared and angry since Lo’ak had gotten lost beyond the reef.

Jake seized Spider by the shoulders and shook him. His voice came out in a low snarl. “What the hell is the matter with you, boy? Have you just been fucking around out here this whole time?”

Spider’s eyes went wide and he tried to recoil, but Jake’s grip was too tight. “Jake, I— wait— did something happen?”

“You almost gave me a heart attack, that’s what happened!” Jake snapped as he got to his feet.

“Jeez, relax, I’m fine, see? Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Spider said as he gathered up his speargun and stood. Before Jake could get another word in, Spider turned on his heel and started walking away.

Jake’s ears went flat against his skull in a mix of shock and anger at the blatant disrespect. Not even Lo’ak in his most rebellious mood would dare to walk away from him when he was being scolded. It took a lot of effort to keep his voice level. “And where do you think you’re going, young man?”

Spider stopped and glanced back at Jake with a bewildered look on his face. “I’m getting back in so I can keep spearfishing?”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, are you now?”

“Yeah?”

“And what about dinner?”

“I’ll eat later.”

“And when were you planning to go to bed, huh?”

Spider shrugged. “I dunno. Whenever I guess.”

Without another word, he turned his back on Jake again and got ready to dive into the water. The sheer disrespect almost made Jake laugh. He ended up hissing through his teeth instead. “Get your ass back over here. Now.”

Before Spider had a chance to disobey him again, Jake crossed the distance he had put between them in a single step and seized him by the arm.

“Jake, what—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” Jake cut him off by roughly steering him in the direction of home with a firm hand on his shoulder. The action was familiar to him. He’d done it to Lo’ak a hundred times after his troublemaking escapades. In fact, he was already mentally planning the lecture and accompanying punishment for disobedience he’d give to Spider once they got home. It was going to be nearly identical to the one he’d given Lo’ak after he’d scared everyone by getting lost outside the reef. Maybe Spider’s attitude would improve after a day of being stuck inside the marui doing chores. “You’re gonna march your butt back to the marui and—“

His eyes widened in surprise when Spider jerked his shoulder out of his grip and twisted away from him.

“Get the hell off me!” Spider yelled. He backed away from Jake, one hand covering the shoulder he had grabbed.

For a moment, all Jake could do was stare at him in shock, mouth slightly ajar. Then he closed it, tightening it into a sharp, angry line. Never in all his years as a parent had one of his children dared to use such language at him, especially not when they were already in trouble. “What did you just say to me, boy?”

“I told you to get the hell off me.” Spider repeated boldly, heedless of the hole he was digging himself into.

“Alright, that’s it!” Jake stormed towards Spider with a snarl. “I was gonna go easy on you, but since you want to have an attitude, we can do this the hard way.”

Spider scurried back to stay out of reach, but his retreat wasn’t a sign of submissiveness. If anything, Spider puffed up just as angrily as Jake. He hopped up onto a nearby mangrove root so he could better look him in the eye. “Attitude? I’m just minding my own business and you’re all pissy at me for some reason!”

“Minding your own business?” Jake repeated with a scoff. Even when Lo’ak got in trouble he had the sense to own up to it instead of lying about it. He jabbed an accusatory finger towards Spider’s chest. “You know damn well what you’re doing. I don’t know why you think you get to stay out past curfew all of a sudden, but the rules haven’t changed just ‘cause we left the forest.”

Spider threw his hands up in frustration. “Bro, what are you talking about?”

“Playing dumb isn’t going to help you! You’re out past your curfew and there’s going to be consequences.”

“What fucking curfew?” Spider yelled so loudly that it made Jake recoil. His voice cracked hard mid-sentence, and Jake suddenly realized that the tone he’d mistaken for disrespectful was actually scared and confused. 

Jake's first instinct was to yell right back, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. He put his hands up in a calming gesture, and when he finally spoke, he managed to keep his voice civil. “Spider, this morning I told you and Lo’ak and Kiri to come back before sundown, remember?”

Spider’s brows knit together in confusion. He was still on edge, but he relaxed slightly at seeing Jake calm down. “You told Lo’ak and Kiri to come back. You didn’t say it to me.”

“Spider,” Jake had to take another calming breath to keep from losing his cool again. He couldn’t tell if this was genuine confusion or some bizarre attempt to get out of trouble, but either way he figured more yelling wouldn’t solve the situation. “You were standing right between Lo’ak and Kiri when I said it. Why would you think I wasn’t saying it to you too?”

“Why would I think you were? I’m not one of your kids.” 

“I— well— no, you’re not, but you still have to follow the rules. Back when you lived in Hell’s Gate with the McCoskers, could you just wander off whenever you felt like it?”

Spider squinted at him in confusion. “Uh… yeah, I could? I did that all the time.”

Now it was Jake’s turn to squint. “You didn’t have a curfew with the McCoskers?”

“I mean, maybe when I was like, really little, but not that I can remember, no. And besides, I haven’t lived with the McCoskers since the RDA came back, remember? It’s been almost two years since then.”

For a moment, Jake was almost stunned into silence, but he recovered from his surprise and changed tactics. “Okay, forget the McCoskers. Think about when we lived in High Camp. You had a curfew then.”

“No, your kids had a curfew, but I didn’t. Don’t you remember how Lo’ak was always jealous?”

“I—” Jake frowned. Now that Spider mentioned it, he vaguely remembered Lo’ak begging Jake to extend his curfew because of something to do with Spider. “But Norm and Max and everyone, they made sure you got home and ate dinner before dark, right?”

“Norm and Max were always super busy. It’s really hard to keep human life support running out there. They didn’t have time to babysit me; they had to keep the lights on.” Spider shrugged like it was no big deal. He must’ve noticed the shocked look on Jake’s face because he quickly added. “Jake, relax. I’m a tough kid, remember? I know how to get my own dinner and I know when to go to sleep. I was fine.”

“Oh, Eywa…” The realization finally hit Jake. Spider’s confusion was one hundred percent genuine; he really didn’t understand why Jake was angry at him for staying out at night. Jake pressed his hands to his lips and took another deep breath. He sat down on the mangrove root and patted the spot next to him. Spider still looked a little nervous, but he sat down next to Jake anyway. His legs were far too short to reach the sandy ground below, so they swung in the air halfway down Jake’s calves, making him look much younger than he was.

“Spider,” Jake began. He put a hand on Spider’s shoulder and turned him so they were face to face, “you’re not one of my kids, but while we stay in Awa’atlu, you’re living in our marui. That means I’m responsible for you just like I’m responsible for Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk. So you have to follow the rules— that includes the curfew.”

Spider made a face. “I really have to have a curfew now? But why?”

“The same reason Kiri and Lo’ak and Aonung and Rotxo and every other kid has a curfew. It’s to keep you safe. If you don’t come back at sundown, I won’t know where you are or if something bad happened to you.” Jake ruffled Spider’s hair the same way he did to Lo’ak all the time.

“Nothing bad’s gonna happen to me,” Spider shoved his hand off with a scoff. “I can take care of myself. I never had a curfew before. Why do I gotta have one now?”

Jake's patience started to wear thin again. His irritation started to leak into his voice. “Because I said so, that’s why.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“You do not speak that way to me, young man.” Jake scolded.

Spider shrunk under the reprimand, but still held his ground. “Well, it is…”

Jake threw his hands up in exasperation. “What is so important that you need to stay out at night anyway, huh?”

“Uh, food? You know, that thing I need to survive?” Spider drawled with so much venomous sarcasm that for a split second Jake felt like he was talking to his father instead. “Do you think I’m out here freezing my butt off for fun? I’m trying to catch some dinner. I know it’s been awhile since you were human, but remember that humans need to eat too.”

“Alright, first of all, lose the attitude, kid.” Jake snapped. “Second of all, what are you talking about? Food? We have food at home. Neytiri made dinner for everyone.”

An ugly sound that was half-scoff, half-laugh escaped Spider’s throat. “No. Ms. Sully made food for your family. Not for me.”

“Spider, is that what this is about?” Jake’s voice softened slightly with pity. “Neytiri? Listen, I know things are… complicated right now, but Neytiri doesn’t mind if you eat what she cooked.”

“Oh, I bet she’d love it if I ate some of her cooking,” Spider said bitterly. Seeing the confused look on Jake’s face, he added, “she never cooks things humans can eat. This morning Kiri warned me she was making pincer fish stew. Do you know how toxic pincer fish are to humans? If I ate it I’d probably puke my own brains out.”

Jake cringed. “Oh… I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t realize she was making something that would hurt you. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why would I? It’s not the first time she’s cooked poisonous food when she knows I’m staying for dinner.”

“Don’t talk like that. Neytiri wouldn’t do that on purpose. She’s just been so distracted since… since everything. I promise it was just a mistake.”

“Yeah, a mistake.” Spider scoffed. “Maybe it was this time, but didn’t you ever notice that every time she heard me, Kiri, and Lo’ak were planning a sleepover that she’d make something I couldn’t eat? It’s not like she’s in the habit of making human-friendly food.”

“What— no, but that’s not—“ Jake spluttered as he tried to think of a rebuttal, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t. Since they’d gotten Spider back, all their meals were sympathy gifts from the Metkayina or were prepared by Jake. Neytiri had been too bereaved to cook, so Jake had picked up the slack. Tonight was the first night she’d cooked since the battle. Even thinking back further, back to when they lived in the forest, Jake couldn’t recall a time Spider had stayed over for dinner when Neytiri cooked. It was always when Jake cooked or when they ate a feast prepared by the clan.

Now that he was really thinking about it, he vaguely remembered an ugly argument between Kiri and Neytiri that had happened a long time ago: Kiri accused Neytiri of cooking food that was poisonous for humans on purpose so Spider couldn’t spend the night with them, and Neytiri argued back that it was too hard for her to modify every recipe she knew to make it human-friendly.

“Okay, maybe she did do that, but that was before. She always knew you could get food from somewhere else. Things are different now. Today really was just a mistake.” Jake tried to get Spider to look at him, but Spider stubbornly kept his head down and let his thick locs hide his face.

“Yeah, whatever. Can I go now? If I don’t catch a fish soon I’m gonna go hungry tonight.” Spider started to slide off the root they sat on.

Before he could slink out of reach, Jake grabbed him by the shoulders. He knelt on the hard sandy ground in front of him so they were face to face. “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying? You’re coming home with me. Now. I’ll let breaking curfew slide just this once since you didn’t understand the rules, but this is the last time you’re going out by yourself at night. If I ever catch you breaking curfew again, you’re gonna be grounded, you read me?”

“What? But how am I supposed to feed myself?” Spider cried. There was so much genuine panic in his voice that it made Jake cringe with guilt. Did Spider seriously think he would let him starve? “During the day I have to help everyone out with the chores. I won’t have enough time to find food if—“

“Spider!” Jake cut him off with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders. Once he was sure he had Spider’s full attention, he continued in a slow, clear voice. “Look, here’s the deal, kid: as long as you live under my roof and follow my rules, I will make sure you have plenty of food. You don’t have to hunt for yourself after dark. From now on, you will come back home and eat dinner with us every night before sundown. How’s that sound?”

Spider stayed quiet for a long moment, a furrow in his brow. Jake gave him a reassuring, fatherly smile, the same smile that always seemed to help his children when they were scared. He hoped that Spider was finally getting it. After a long moment of hard thought, Spider shook his head and said, “no thank you.”

Jake stared at him incredulously. “What do you mean, no thank you?”

“I mean, I’m good.” Spider grabbed Jake’s oversized hands and carefully peeled them off his shoulders. “That whole deal thing you’re offering me? No thanks. I’d rather keep my freedom.”

He tried to slink away again, but Jake stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Spider, the deal isn’t optional.”

“So you’re forcing me to follow this stupid curfew?” Spider tried to twist out of his grip, but Jake wasn’t budging. “What? Like a prisoner or something?”

“A prisoner? Jesus, Spider, I’m not imprisoning you, I’m taking care of you! Why can’t you just—” Jake cut himself off. He was going to ask Spider why he couldn’t just trust him, but considering everything they’d just talked about, it felt stupid to ask him to do that. With a deep sigh, he gently took both of Spider’s hands and lightly squeezed them.

“Okay, look at it this way. Lo’ak and Kiri have a curfew too. Why do you think they have a curfew?”

Spider stopped trying to squirm away from him, but he wouldn’t look him in the eyes either. He kept his gaze on the ground, where he nudged a small rock with his toe. His begrudging answer came after a moment, “so you know that they’re safe.”

“Yep, that’s right. We give our kids curfews because we love them.” Jake nodded. “A curfew isn’t a punishment. It’s just a rule to keep you kids safe.”

Spider kicked the rock, sending it flying into the diving hole with a small splash. He still wouldn’t look at Jake. “I’m not a kid. I’m older than Kiri and Lo’ak. I don’t need this stupid rule to stay safe.”

“Yes, you do. You’re sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds have curfews.”

Suddenly, Spider looked up at him, his dark eyes shining with an emotion Jake couldn’t identify. “So why didn’t I have a curfew when I was fifteen? Or fourteen? Or— hell, I don’t think I’ve had one since I was like ten. You say that kids need curfews, but I never had one. And it was fine. If it wasn’t fine, you and Norm and everybody wouldn’t have let it happen. So it was fine, right?”

Jake’s ears twitched downwards and it became a struggle to hold Spider’s gaze. The strange look in his eyes was almost pleading, silently begging Jake to confirm what he’d said; that it was perfectly fine that all the adults had let a teenager run around with no guardian looking after him. Jake licked his lips. It would be easy to agree with him; just tell him that the way he’d been treated was fine and come up with some bullshit excuse for why things had to change now. Spider had always gotten enough food and rest; it wasn’t like he was wasting away while the adults ignored him. Sure, he didn’t have anyone looking out for him the way Jake and Neytiri looked out for their children, but there was a war going on. They had bigger things to worry about. Spider wasn’t their problem.

It was fine, right?

“No.” When Jake finally answered, he couldn’t look Spider in the eyes. He kept his gaze trained on the stony ground beneath his knees. “No, Spider, it wasn’t fine. A kid’s not supposed to live like that. A kid’s supposed to have somebody making sure they come home and eat dinner and go to bed every night. You shouldn’t have had to look out for yourself like that.”

In the edges of his vision, he saw Spider’s dreadlocks sway as he shook his head. “No, it was fine. I was fine. I mean, I always knew I wasn’t treated the same as the other kids, but it wasn’t like it was bad or anything. Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk are your responsibility, ‘cause you’re their parents. I don’t have parents, so I’m nobody’s responsibility. It wouldn’t be fair to make somebody else look after me when it wasn’t their fault I was stuck there.”

Hearing Spider frantically try to rationalize his treatment only made Jake feel worse. He shrunk into himself as Spider continued.

“That’s just how the world works. You know, like, if something ever happened to you and Neytiri, Lo’ak and Kiri would have to look out for themselves too, ‘cause it wouldn’t be fair to make somebody else have to look after them.”

“No! Eywa, no, Spider! That’s not how this works!” Jake cried. Just the thought of his children living like Spider —having no one waiting on them to come home at night, staying out late to get food for themselves because they couldn’t count on anyone else to feed them— was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach. “It doesn’t matter if a kid doesn’t have parents. They still need somebody taking care of them. That’s why you had your foster parents.”

“Yeah, I guess I needed them when I was little, but I pretty much just slept in the same house as them by the time I was, like, ten or so. And they’re long gone by now. I was fine without anybody looking out for me for the past year and a half. You don’t need to start now.”

“Spider, I was…” Jake hesitated, struggling to find the right words. He forced himself to look Spider in the eyes. “I was wrong, okay. I was Olo’eyktan. When your foster family abandoned you, I should’ve done something— should’ve appointed somebody or— or I don’t know. I just shouldn’t have done nothing.”

“Jake, I was fine.” Spider protested weakly.

“No, you weren’t. Not if you think it’s normal to get food all by yourself at night.”

“It’s not?”

“No! Jesus, if something ever happened to me and Neytiri,” Jake’s voice cracked with emotion at the thought, “I would never want my kids to live like this— so it’s not right to let you live like this either.”

“Jake,” Spider seemed taken aback by the emotion in his voice. “It’s okay.”

“No, kiddo, it’s not. But I’m gonna make it okay now.” He got to his feet and held a hand out to Spider. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Instead of taking his hand, Spider backed away. His eyes darted between Jake’s hand and the spearfish he’d left lying near the edge of the diving hole. The wind picked up ever so slightly, and Jake caught a whiff of the human stench of fear coming off of Spider. He frowned. Did the thought of letting himself be dependent on Jake scare him that badly?

“Look, Jake, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think it’s better if things stay the same as they’ve always been.”

Jake’s frown deepened. “What? Do you want to be out here in the dark catching food by yourself?”

Spider grimaced. “Not really, but I just think it’s for the best. It’s really nice of you to offer to take care of me, but I know how the world works. You can make promises now, when things are peaceful, but they won’t stay peaceful forever. Once things get tough again, you’re going to put your family first. I’d rather keep taking care of myself so that when things do get tough again, I’ll already be used to it.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to that. The diving hole went silent save for the waves lapping at the rock below and the occasional hiss of his exopack. Alpha Centauri had long since sunk below the horizon, leaving them illuminated by the soft blue light of Polyphemus and his moons. Spider took his silence as an answer. He knelt and scooped up his child-size speargun before turning back towards the water.

“I’m sorry I scared you today, but just forget about the curfew thing, okay? I can take care of myself.”

The breeze picked up, sending another wave of human-fear towards Jake’s nose. Spider was doing a good job of hiding it, but he really was scared. It reminded him uncomfortably of people he’d known back on Earth— people who had been let down so many times that the thought of trusting someone else to care for them was terrifying. If you give someone the power to feed you, you give them the power to starve you, someone had told him when he decided to join the Marines. The Marine Corp kept him fed as long as he was an able-bodied soldier, but the minute that changed, they’d let him starve. Clearly, Spider thought he would end up starving too if he let Jake have the power to feed him. Jake had to prove to him that he meant what he said. Empty promises wouldn’t be enough.

“Spider, wait,” he called just before Spider could jump into the water. Spider looked back at him warily.

Slowly, telegraphing his movements so Spider could clearly see what he was doing, he unsheathed his knife and held it up to his dreads. Spider’s eyes widened as he carefully severed a lock of his hair.

“Jake, what are you doing? You don’t have to—”

“No. I wasn’t just making an empty promise. I’m going to take care of you from now on.” He approached Spider and knelt so they were on the same level again, and offered the lock of hair towards him. “I want to take you on as my mll’an’eveng.”

“Mll’an’eveng,” Spider echoed, staring at the hair in disbelief. It was rare a Na’vi custom done whenever a child ended up orphaned and was too old for parental tsaheylu with adoptive parents. To the Na’vi, if a child and adult never made the parental bond in infancy, then they could never truly be child and parent, but they had an exception for children who were orphaned later in life, after they’d already established a parental bond with their birth parents. Taking in a child as mll’an’eveng wasn’t the same as adoption, but it was more like a wardship or foster home, acknowledging that the child had already bonded with other parents and their new ones could never replace that bond. An adult would be bound to take care of a mll’an’eveng with steep consequences if they failed, just like there would be consequences for neglecting their own child.

“But I’m human—” Spider protested.

“I don’t care. We don’t need tsaheylu to make you my mll’an’eveng.”

“Neytiri won’t—”

“Let me worry about her.”

“Jake, I don’t know…” Spider put a hand to his own hair and wove his fingers through it anxiously.

“It’s your choice whether you want to do this or not,” Jake said, “but no matter what your answer is, I’m still going to watch out for you. I just want to prove to you that I mean it.”

Spider’s fingers knotted so tightly in his locks that it looked painful. The stench of fear was so strong that Jake didn’t need the breeze to smell it coming off of him. Jake was just about to take his lock of hair back when Spider suddenly moved. He slipped his own small knife from its sheath and sliced off a dreadlock. With slightly trembling fingers, he handed it to Jake.

The two locks of hair rested in his giant blue palm, one smooth, neat, and uniform black, the other uneven, unkempt and mottled in shades of bronze. With all the solemnity of any other Na’vi ritual, Jake took the two locks of hair and wound them around each other, joining them into one strand. Jake then used some stray string stowed away in his loincloth pouch to tie the strand around his wrist. As per the custom of the mll’an’eveng ritual, Jake would wear the hair on his wrist for the next four days as a visible declaration of wardship over Spider for all to see.

Spider let out a heavy breath as Jake finished tying the hair to his wrist, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His bottom lip trembled and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut to fight back tears.

“Hey, it’s okay, bud. C’mere.” Jake pulled Spider into a hug, letting him bury the smooth surface of his mask into the crook of Jake’s neck.

“I’m not crying.” Spider mumbled into his shoulder.

Jake tried not to laugh as he patted him on the back. “Of course not.” He gave Spider a minute to pull himself together before giving him one last squeeze and standing up.

“Alright. Are you ready to go home now?” He offered his hand.

Small, pale fingers slipped between large, blue ones. “Yeah, I am.”

Na'vi Vocab:

Mll’an: to accept

‘Eveng: a child

I combined these two words together to create “Mll’an’eveng” or “accepted child,” a Na’vi term for a child an adult is accepting as their responsibility, but not formally adopting, similar to a ward or a foster kid. This is not canon lore, just something I made up for this one-shot.

💙Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments and reblogs, and if you want to see more from me, feel free to send me a prompt in my ask box 💙

[daenysthedreamer101]

TVD - Season 4 Ep 12

"A View to a Kill"

Do I even have to say it? Elena and Jeremy killing Kol was the stupidest, most nonsensical thing I've seen on this show so far and that's saying a lot. There is no way in hell that Kol, an Original, was killed by Jeremy, a 16-year-old human (I know he's a hunter but still), and Elena, a baby vampire who's been a vampire for a couple of months at most. Kol is over a 1000 years old!

How? Like....Ughhhh! He didn't even want to kill Jeremy, just cut his arms off (ok not saying that's good but he said "I'll heal you with my blood" so...). He easily could've killed Elena, but he didn't. When he stabbed her, he stabbed her in the stomach, not the heart.

Also, it just felt OOC for Elena to be so willing to kill someone. Like "Oh yeah let's just kill him and by killing Kol we'll kill thousands of other vampires" ...Wasn't Elena supposed to be this really compassionate person because I don't see her anywhere. 😒😒😒

.....NO! THIS SHOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE! There's no way Elena was able to hold Kol for that long. Also, very convenient for her that she saw that Kol had the white oak stake with him cause his jacket was open (smells like plot convenience to me hmm...). And ofc they put vervain in the water system the day Elena decided to kill Kol...🙄🙄🙄

DAMN IT, I LIKED HIM! I know they bring him and Finn back for TO but that's irrelevant rn. Ever since they introduced him back in s3 they just kept on nerfing tf out of him. He's an Original damn it, he is more powerful than all of them. It shouldn't be possible for Damon to snap his neck and it should definitely not be possible for a human teenager and a baby vampire to kill him!

What tf was the point of making the Originals so powerful when a baby vampire and a human were able to kill one? Like who wrote this nonsense? 💀💀💀

Klaus and the others better take some revenge! Like, there need to be some repercussions for this!!! We saw Bekah cry when Stefan told her but like, that's not enough? I need revenge!

Also, Bonnie is kind of annoying me? Ever since that stupid professor showed her expression or whatever it's called she's been on my nerves idk. Literally, everyone rn on this show is annoying me lol 😭

Why didn't Kol compel Elena to stay put when he stabbed her? Like, don't tell me she was on vervain? There's no way she drank the water or did she? Or he ofc just didn't think of it.

Klaus's reaction to seeing Kol's body on fire and the way Elena flinched when he yelled "He was supposed to suffer on MY TERMS! "...yeah someone pls give my man Joseph an Oscar cause that was acting! Klaus better keep his promise and burn their stupid house down!

Where is Elijah? PLS COME BACK WE NEED YOU SO BAD! 😭😭

RIP MY BABY I'LL MISS YOU! YOU WERE SO CUTE AND SASSY AND CHAOTIC I LOVED YOU! 😟😟💔 (also how do we feel about the bangs lol)

[alpineshift]

sorry i was scrolling back thru ur asks and saw u mention a jacknico college campus crush au…. do u have any further thoughts on how they would meet if jack went to uni 👀

ohhh campus crush jacknico!!

I can offer up some options!!

"In every universe we'll find each other doing the exact same thing" - they meet on a hockey team lmfao

Because it's so so convenient. Jack was always destined to go into hockey and in this verse he decides to follow in Quinn's footsteps and happily goes to college with his older brother. I'm not super duper familiar with the Swiss education system but I'm envisioning Nico transferring over and even though he's older he starts school in the same year as Jack. They're rookies on the hockey team together and the become the bonded rookie pair and it's all eyes on them because that's Quinn Hughes' younger brother and that's Nico Hischier the hot European student but meanwhile jacknico are crushing on each other. Thinking the other is the campus crush who definitely won't like them back bc they're too cool. Featuring copious amounts of time spent working out and admiring each other, house parties where they get close but not too close, trying to balance hockey life and school life and being in loveeeee--argh!

"Classic jock and nerd set up bc even though we're not in high school anymore we are still very capable of failing classes" - one of them tutors the other

In honour of my love for Jack's big brain and his 20+ book count a year he's the highest-ranked student in his program in this verse. Maybe in business or statistics or management or something. He seems like a logical kinda guy to me. And Nico, who's not a bad student at all, just happens to need tutoring because he really, really doesn't get this one particular class. They get matched up completely by chance and it's not quite crush at first sight, because Jack is kinda wary of the jock-type and Nico is a bit intimidated by how aloof Jack is, but the warm up to each other pretty quick and soon they're getting along like a house on fire. Because the best part is, Jack is also an incredibly good athlete--he's just too busy stockpiling extra credit courses to join any sports teams. And Nico is smart--he just needs a better study technique. Plenty of late night study seshs in the library and walking each other back to their dorms while sneaking looks at each other while the other is distracted in this verse.

"Missed connections, except we're both treating the campus forum like our personal text messages and the admins are about to ban us both so let's figure out a way to meet" - falling in love over the absurdity of campus life

Jack and Nico have never lived a normal day in this verse, because that's exactly how they catch each other's attention on campus. Nico's sitting in an upstairs study room when he sees his really handsome guy sprinting across the quad being chased by a furious horde of geese and kind of gets heart eyes with the way his hair shines in the sun as he's running for his life. Jack's waiting for the bus on a particularly windy day and sees a TA run straight into the campus pond bc the elastic around his assignments broke and everything scattered into the water and he has to physically close his jaw when the man merges from the pond with a white t-shirt clinging to his chest and abs. And the flood gates open from there. Hey - you were the guy with the beautiful blue eyes that walked out of the campus cafe and immediately got your croissant snatched out of your hands by a seagull. If you want to hang out, I'll definitely buy you another one. Okay - you were the handsome guy doing your best to put a raincoat over your suit and avoided the puddles in your dress shoes during that storm (presentation or something, bud?) only for a delivery truck to drive by and splash you from head to toe. If we meet, I'll hold the umbrella up for you. Each post gets thousands of likes and the admin is begging them to just find a the least dangerous starbucks in town to meet in at this point.

[xxxg0ryygurlll13xxx]

i feel reallllllly bad abt this

so some backstory my bf plays a lot of military video games (war thunder esp thats his fave) and loves military boats and planes and wants to go into the military via an academy.

i have a complicated relationship w the military and military men. a lot of the men in my family (my grandfathers, uncles, cousins etc) were at one point in the military and it didnt go well for any of them. they all have major issues cause of their service. my grandfather developed a drinking problem after vietnam, my great uncle extreme PTSD after fighting in Iraq and all have or had been abandoned by the govt esp my uncles. so needless to say i have a weird relationship w the us govt and military systems.

so my bf wants to go into the military and while im well aware that high school sweethearts usually dont work out weve been dating for over 3 years straight and bros been talking abt marriage lately so i kinda have a feeling well last so his military dreams scare the SHIT out of me. not just the possibility of having him come back in a casket, or not coming back at all but him coming back so different, angry/violent or a drunk or an addict or sick or all of the above. i want him to be happy but i dont want him to come back blown to bits or missing limbs.

hes one of those people who wants to do it for the glory. the love of country the idea of coming back a hero. the way the current politics are going in america were probably gonna have a huge war soon maybe even on 2 fronts, WWIII. that scares me too just in general and add someone i love so much so far for so long going years w/o seeing him, sometimes not knowing if hes dead or alive. scares me but thats so selfish. thats my problem im so selfish about it. ive told him my concerns and it makes me feel like a bad person cause ik he wants this pretty bad tho he did say if he doesnt get into an academy he wont enlist hell go somewhere else for engineering and work for the govt that way. but i just feel so selfish. i want him to be happy but i also want him alive and safe.

also while im being honest here i really dont think hes military material. hes not very uh fit (i doubt hed pass the physical test), his grades r pretty average the academies r really hard to get into, hes EXTREMELY stubborn which the military would not at all approve of he only does one extracurricular, and he has some other problems i wont mention that wouldnt go well in the military. so his chances at an academy arent very high but just enough to scare me.

and i know its selfish which is why i feel so bad about it. its so complicated. on one hand i really dont want him to go and i just want him to consider the pros and cons, he has a very video game propaganda-y watered down "glory" view of the military that they can do no wrong and i know the other end the trauma, the abandonment, the fear, ive heard the stories the stories of men watching each other get blown up, watching civilians struggle to breathe cause of the chemicals we used, my grandfather had to watch his best friend get his legs blown off. the coming back different, changed and not for the better. sure the glorys nice the honor is amazing but at what cost? i have relatives who have purple hearts and were abandoned by the system that gave it to them. on the other hand tho i know its so selfish to not want him to follow what he wants to do. to tell him he shouldnt, that its a bad idea, that its not worth it, that the risk isnt worth the possible reward, to think abt how once u sign on that dotted line u cant quit till ur contract is up. im gonna follow my dreams of being an artist so why should i let him follow his?

i feel so conflicted abt it. i cant tell where the line between caring and selfishness is. i feel guilty and selfish and scared all at the same time. i hope and pray he changes his mind but i know i cant make him no matter how many times i not so subtly mention the possiblity of death, disability, PTSD the thousands of things that can go wrong. i feel so selfish but i cant help my fear. i think i care too much. thats my problem. i care too much abt his physical safety i overlook his happiness. i apologized to him abt my selfishness over this like a half hour ago and havent heard back.

[scarabsinthestardust]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 14

MASTERLIST

word count: 2900+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Language; pregnancy; pregnancy tests, doctor's appointments; anxiety; mentions of depression; a tiny mention of abortion and archaic Tennessee state laws regarding it; bad news and a cliffhanger (please forgive me)

I rarely get sick. I sometimes say it’s because I inherited my father’s immune system. When everyone around me got COVID, I somehow got away scot-free. So, when I woke up feeling extremely nauseous, I brushed it off as the aftereffects of something I ate. Maybe the Chinese food from last night didn’t agree with me. But when it hadn’t faded by the next day, I resigned myself to accepting that I caught a stomach bug.

I scoured the cabinets for any kind of nausea medicine, but the only one I found expired six months ago. I groaned and threw it in the trash. I didn’t bother changing out of my pajama pants, just threw my hair into a messy bun and headed to the drug store.

I grabbed a Sprite and went hunting for the medicine. I found it without too much trouble, but as I cut through another aisle to head towards checkout, I froze. I stared at the shelves, eyeing the pink and blue boxes wearily. There’s no way. I don’t know why it even crossed my mind. I’d been on the birth control shot for a while now. I haven’t really had a period, but that’s normal for the type of contraception I’ve been on. Other than the nausea, I didn’t have any symptoms. So why was I suddenly worried? With a sigh, I grabbed a random one off the shelf. Just to be sure.

~

Sitting in the bathroom, I stared at the test. It’s crazy how a stupid, tiny piece of white plastic can hold so much power over someone. I debated throwing it away, that it was a stupid idea and there was no way in hell that’s what was wrong with me. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “This is so dumb,” I said to myself before grabbing it off the counter and popping off the cap.

I waited however long the instructions specified before picking it up again. I’d talked myself into believing I was just being paranoid, pushing my anxieties down and telling myself to quit worrying, and that I could laugh about it later. After all, the shot only had a one percent failure rate. I was fine. Probably. But when I saw those two parallel lines, my breath caught in my throat and my heart sank into my stomach. Fuck me.

Because I don’t know how to be cool, calm, and collected in the face of certain situations, the next logical step was to panic. I grabbed my keys and drove, probably way over the speed limit, back to the store. I tried to convince myself it was a faulty test, a false positive. I would just try one more. But the anxiety won out. When I dropped eleven different boxes on the checkout counter, the clerk raised an eyebrow at me.

“Don’t ask,” I muttered.

~

Positive. Every single one was positive. Fuck. Me.

I wanted to throw up, but couldn’t tell if it was nerves, the large amount of water I consumed in such a short period, or the fact that I had an actual human in my stomach. Between sobbing and hyperventilating, I eventually did manage to puke. I sat on the bathroom floor, my mind going a thousand miles a minute. I had no idea what I was going to do.

Jake and the guys went back on tour a couple of weeks ago and wouldn’t be back for almost another month. I couldn’t call Jake; it wouldn’t be right to drop that bomb and cause a huge distraction. He needed to focus on their busy tour list and countless shows they were playing around the country. Finn was in Colorado for the week. I could call Richie, but how much help would he be in this situation? I didn’t have any girlfriends I was close enough with to help me out with this. I had one more option, though.

I opened my contacts and found the name. I stared at it for what seemed like ages while I got my breathing under control before I finally pressed ‘DIAL.’

The line was answered after a few rings. “Hello?”

“Hey, Karen. Um, are you busy?” My voice sounded raw from crying.

“Not at all. What’s going on, sweetheart? Is everything okay?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m kinda freaking out. I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“It’s okay, honey. Just breathe, tell me what happened. Is it Jake?”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out. I wasn’t ready for the weight of those words and how scary it would feel saying them out loud.

Karen gasped. “Oh my God, that’s… you haven’t told Jake yet?” I could hear the excitement in her voice.

“No, I can’t tell him while they’re on tour. We… we didn’t plan for this. What if he doesn’t want a baby? What if he’s not ready? What if I’m not ready?” I was fighting sobs as I spoke, and it was a losing battle. “I don’t know how to be a mom.”

Karen’s voice never faltered as she talked me off the metaphorical ledge, calmly pulling me back. “Honey, just breathe for me. I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. It’s a big change, and it can be difficult. Trust me, I know. But you have to remember you aren’t going to be doing this alone. You always have me and Kelly. And you’ve practically got the whole rest of the village there with you.” She let out a deep sigh. “Jake loves you. I think he’s going to be so happy. You guys will figure it out as you go, but you’ll do it together.”

I sniffled and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my palm. I knew she was right, and that I was surrounded by wonderful people that would be more than willing to provide support. Of course, I worried about my dad’s reaction when he inevitably, eventually found out. But my biggest fear, the one I couldn’t quell the anxiety of, was Jake. Despite Karen’s comforting words, I was terrified he would be disappointed. The little voice in my head told me it was going to ruin his life, his dream, and I struggled to silence that voice.

“Did you see a doctor yet?”

“No. I just took twelve drug store pregnancy tests.”

“Twelve…? You know what, I don’t want to know,” she chuckled. “The point is, the first step is to make an appointment with your OB. Do you have any idea how far along you might be?”

I involuntarily snorted a laugh. “Sorry, no clue.”

“That’s okay. They can tell you that. They’ll do an ultrasound and bloodwork to check for a bunch of different things, make sure the baby’s healthy and everything.”

A whole new collection of worries and fears rose up in my chest. What if I passed down whatever illness made my mother take her life, then Luca’s? Would the baby inherit Jake’s issues too, making it a double whammy in the depression department? I wouldn’t bring any of this up to Karen, so I forced it back down as far as I could. One thing at a time.

~

The earliest OB appointment was a week out. It gave me a chance to catch my breath and plan things out in my head. Once I got all the tears out, I started doing my own research and gathering questions I wanted to ask the doctor. I tried my best to pretend everything was normal when Jake called. I know it was for the best right now, but hiding this from him was so much more painful than I imagined.

I decided to hold off on telling Finn, on the off chance he accidentally let something slip to Josh. Richie was suspicious the second I told him I’d be out of work for a doctor’s appointment. He eventually coaxed it out of me, staring at me in shock when I told him. I made him swear not to say a word to anyone, and he offered to close the shop and come with me to the doctor’s, but I declined. I needed to do this on my own. Part of it was just me being stubborn and not wanting to ask for help, but another part was stuck on a dark road, telling me I needed to figure out how to do it myself, just in case. I hated thinking like that and feeling like I had to prepare for every worst-case scenario, but it was ingrained into me, and nothing I did could rid myself of those thoughts.

By the time the appointment rolled around, my nerves hadn’t settled at all. I sat in the waiting room, trying and failing to focus on a book, my knee shaking so hard I was receiving pitiful looks from others in the waiting room.

I apologized profusely to the phlebotomist who did my bloodwork and the ultrasound tech for my nervousness, who sweetly assured me that it was perfectly normal to be anxious about it all, especially since it was my first time. She asked me some routine questions as she set everything up for the ultrasound. She did warn me that the gel would be cold, but I still jumped when it touched my stomach. Cold was an understatement.

“Okay, you ready?”

I nodded quietly before she put the handheld scanner against my skin (I learned later that it’s called a transducer). After some movement and uncomfortable silence, she spoke again. “There we are. Do you want to see?” I gave her an inaudible ‘yes’ and she turned the screen to face me.

“I’d say you’re just barely over six weeks. There’s the embryo, and we have a heartbeat.” She pointed a few things out, explaining as she went, but I stopped listening. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears as I stared at the screen that displayed the tiny, bean-shaped thing I was growing inside of me, the little bundle of cells and life that would eventually be a whole baby. I could see it now, and that made it real.

When this all first came to light, I considered all possible options. Just to be prepared. Not that abortion would have been an option in the state of Tennessee, what with all these old white men creating laws about women’s bodies, but it stopped being something I was considering before I even made the doctor’s appointment. Now that I was actually seeing it, and it was a sure thing, it hit me that this was my baby. Jake’s baby. The idea that we were going to be parents was so surreal to me.

I didn’t even realize I had started crying until the ultrasound tech called my name, pulling me from my racing thoughts. “If you need to look into what your options are, I can get you some brochures and phone numbers.”

“What? Oh, no. I’m sorry. It’s a little overwhelming, but I’m okay. My boyfriend’s just out of town for work.”

She almost looked as though she didn’t believe me, but I couldn’t blame her. I was a mess, and I’m sure women lied to her all the time about their personal situations.

I thanked her and she directed me to the checkout desk to schedule my next appointment. As I walked back to my car, I kept repeating to myself, as if I stopped saying it, I would wake up and it would all be a dream, “I’m gonna have a baby.”

~

The entire day before Jake returned home, I cleaned the house top to bottom. It kept me busy and kept me from panicking too much. I wasn’t going to put it off any longer than I already had to; I was telling him tonight. Everything was ready, now I just needed to wait.

I sat on the couch to relax, and I must have dozed off, the day’s business catching up with me. I didn’t hear the front door, or the sound of Jake’s boots as he lightly treaded across the hardwood floors. My eyes fluttered open at something lightly brushing my cheek, and I smiled when my vision came into focus on Jake’s face.

“Hey, you’re home. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s all good, baby. You want to go to bed?” He kept his voice low and soft, and I could tell he was tired, too.

I just nodded in agreement, sleepily following him up the stairs. He made sure I was tucked into bed before he disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower. I almost fell right back asleep, but my eyes shot open when I remembered my news. I opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out the little black box, something I threw together that might help me make the announcement. I concealed it under the blanket.

Jake came out of the bathroom, sporting messy, towel-dried hair, and threw some clothes on before joining me in bed. “Thought you were going to sleep. You okay?”

“Yeah, uh… I know you’re probably tired, I am too, but I have something for you, and I need to do it tonight.”

“Okay,” he gave me a concerned look. “Is it another tattoo?”

I laughed nervously. “No, but this is also one hundred percent non-returnable.”

He eyed the box suspiciously when I brought it out and into his view. He tried to ask me what it was, but I just handed it to him and gestured to open it. I held my breath as he examined the contents, trying to process what he was looking at.

The box contained a plush baby toy that resembled a cartoonish, green moth, and right next to it was the tiniest pair of black Chelsea boots I could find on the internet. Jake didn’t speak as he studied them, his brain only starting to put the pieces together. At the bottom of the box, I placed a purple envelope that held the sonogram. I heard his breath hitch when he pulled it out. He stared at it silently for what seemed like hours, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Jake? Say something, please.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

Another minute passed, his eyes not leaving the photo he held in front of him. “We’re gonna have a baby?” I couldn’t quite read his expression. It was almost as if he was in shock.

“Yeah, we are.”

When he finally looked at me, there were fresh tears forming in his eyes. “I’m gonna be a dad?”

I could only nod as I fought back my own tears. He blinked and his breath quickened before his hand was on the back of my head pulling me to him, his other still holding the sonogram. “Fuck,” he muttered in between kisses. “Fuck, we’re gonna be parents. You’re gonna be a mom.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I laughed dryly. “I’m fucking terrified, Jake.”

“Shit, me too. But Kya,” his hand on my cheek now, he kissed me again. “I’m so fuckin’ happy. This is so… I’m gonna be a dad,” he repeated. “Do you know how long…?”

“I’m at about 10 weeks now. I have my next appointment next week, if you wanna-“

“Yes. Of course I want to be there. I want to be there for everything.”

I felt a huge weight lift off my chest. Jake was happy. He was excited about this journey. He wanted this. And it all didn’t seem so scary anymore.

“I cant wait to tell everybody. Mom’s gonna be so excited.”

“Actually, your mom already knows.” I smiled sheepishly. “I called her when I found out. Almost four weeks ago. I was panicking and I knew she’d handle it better than Richie.”

He chuckled. “That’s reasonable. Shit, I can’t believe you kept it from me for four weeks.”

“I’m sorry, Jake, I-“

“No, don’t be. I get it, I know why you did.” He took another thoughtful look at the sonogram and placed it on the bedside table, putting the box next to it. He wrapped an arm around me, his hand lingering on my stomach before pulling me gently to lie down. “I love you so much. Both of you.”

~

The next day, we arranged plans with the guys for dinner, pushing it out a few days to plan everything out, and give them a chance to rest up from tour before dropping the news. I had gotten a few copies of the sonogram to give to them. They were all my family now, and I wanted them to be involved as much as possible.

But the night before we were supposed to see them, some more unexpected news brought everything to a screeching halt.

Jake and I were just starting to get ready for bed; I was putting my hair up in a loose braid, Jake doing something in the bathroom when his phone rang from the top of the dresser. He sighed in annoyance as he walked over to answer it.

I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but the way Jake’s expression changed, I knew something was wrong. “I’m on the way,” he said before hanging up and rushing to put his shoes on. I started to ask what was going on, but he beat me to it, and my heart sank at his words.

“Sam’s been in an accident.”

///

I'm so sorry for the things that I've done here. I hate cliffhangers as much as the next person, so the next chapter may be out a little quicker than the weekly schedule I've been trying to stick with.

TAGLIST Let me know if you want to be added!

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389

[annaizscribbling]

Ch 8.

Wordcount: 2095

Content warnings: choking. Suffocation. Mutilation. Self hatred. Hallucinations. Suicidal imagery.

Virgil can see through the walls.

Slowly, it seems that he is rising above the illusion of captivity. He is more than what the fake tunnels and passages would have him believe. The waters show him who he truly is, what he truly is.

Pure instinct is what keeps people alive. The split-second decisions to fight or flee is what makes even the softest person capable of living to breathe for another day. The pure power of adrenaline, motivated by a strong enough panic, that is true survival. That is a very powerful gift.

And that is Virgil. Before there were ethics, there was terror. Before there were carefully crafted systems to manipulate, there was panic. Before there was understanding, there was the urge to flee. Before there were dreams and nightmares, there was the urge to bite and scratch until freedom could be achieved.

Survival is older than anything else, because without the tools to secure another sunrise, there is no civilization to see another sun set over them.

Some part of Virgil knows this to be intrinsically true. Some part of his nature is ancient and untamable. That part awakens in the cave down by the water.

His mind grows stronger, stronger than he ever thought it possible to become. Virgil is learning and growing, like an ant hill, buzzing and wriggling as the mound expands. Above, below, all around. Come too close and a thousand insects descend upon your skin to bite and burn like fire in your veins.

The water knows this to be true. The water wishes to grant Virgil the mercy of sight.

And Virgl is beginning to realize that he may just be strong enough to take it on. For the sake of his person, himself, his loved ones. The gift of truth and understanding is a heavy weight to bear indeed, but who better to understand than Survival? Who better to know and protect through an unclouded mind? Beautiful water, how you know best for him. Wisdom may never be his forte, but truth is what matters, is it not?

Virgil doesn’t remember where he is. In and out of the cave is all beginning to feel the same. Two worlds are bleeding together like watercolors on a wet page. His mind stays with the water even when his body moves about, but that makes sense, doesn’t it? None of it is real flesh and bone, nothing is real save his mind and the truth.

He runs his hand over the floor beneath him. He’s on the floor somewhere. His room, maybe. The dark shadows are not wet enough to be the cave, and he is too at ease to be elsewhere. Another caress of the floor reveals it to be carpet. Yes, yes, it is his room. His little haven away from his haven.

Blink.

The water is not as cold, this time. It was more gentle. Virgil’s eyes and arms were open, ready to receive. Because of this inner posture, the water was not a chilly blast like being hit with a tidal wave or attacked by a heavy storm. It was a cool, soft mist, like being at the zoo and getting one of those animal themed fans that spray water to keep you cool. It was gentle, almost playful. The water felt no need to fight for his attention.

His mind was open, listening to the sweet song of truth.

It’s been a long time since he had seen Logan. The thought to check on him crossed his mind a few times, but he never quite went through with it. There was so much else going on. Anger and solidarity were stronger emotions than just … neutral. How oddly fitting, in a bit of a sad way.

He’s heard nothing bad, which was good. So everything was good. Logan may not have been taking a stand, or picking a side, but he’s making things run, keeping Thomas in one piece. It’s fine. They are fine, he and Logan.

Well, Virgil is fine. He is quite well, actually. Perhaps the same can’t be said for Logan.

Virgil stares up at his ceiling, but he is not on the floor. He is not staring at his ceiling. His stomach flipped, as if he were upside down. He can feel his damp hair hanging forward, like he was on his hands and knees.

The ceiling is not the ceiling. The floor is not the floor.

Virgil feels like a spider crawling up a wall, unblinking eyes spread out to see everything around him unceasingly. He is comfortably perched with his limbs to anchor him upside down. A spider on the ceiling. A spider watches without moving, without malice nor compassion. Just a bug, just a little thing that sees what you do when nobody is looking.

Logan is sitting on his bed. The bed is black with tiny, subtle constellations dotting it. It is probably accurate to the night sky, as Logan would probably refuse to display something inaccurate so blatantly in his space. It is strange to see him sitting on his bed at all, he never uses his bed for anything but sleeping. Logan says that the bed should be left alone unless sleeping, as a best practice. It is one of those things that Virgil remembers quite well but never actually does.

Another thing Logan never does is try to kill himself, but that’s happening too now, apparently.

Virgil twists where he’s stuck to the ceiling, wishing to get closer, to see better. It’s hard to make very much out from where he is. But there are other ways to See without the use of eyes. He strains his ears and stretches to get just a few inches closer to Logan. Regret flares as his ears recoil away from the newly found sound.

 Virgil makes out the distinctly foreign stifled sobbing noise from below.

That … that is not normal either.

Logan has both hands around the end of his striped tie. He is pulling. He is pulling very, very hard. Virgil can hear his muscles straining. He can hear the sound of his tendons stretching and flexing as he tugs harder and harder. He can hear Logan’s throat constricting. He can hear the air having a harder time getting up and down his windpipe. He can hear the trickles of sweat going down the side of Logan’s temple. He can hear the tears welling up in his eyes as one drop at a time runs down his face.

They are sounds not meant to be heard. Virgil begins to feel like he’s violating something here. He should not be watching this, he does not want to watch this.

And yet he cannot look away.

Every new tear that runs down Logan’s face seems to anger him. Each one makes a fresh heat flare in Logan’s rolling gut. His knuckles are white from how tightly he’s gripping the tie around his neck. Every single tear, each barely unrepressed sob, he pulls harder at his own neck for every new offense. His heartbeat is wild in his ears, yet it’s growing weaker.

It isn’t working. This exercise in self-discipline isn’t working and he is angry. He is seething. How dare his own body betray him? How dare he fail at his own purpose?

Logan has strange tears. The tears are too thick and glossy, tinted like olive oil. They stick to his skin and move unbearably slowly. They mock him. They are not real water. It is very unfortunate.

Virgil can only watch where he’s stuck to the floor that is not the floor, looking down at the ceiling that is not a ceiling. It is so very uncomfortable. Logan isn’t supposed to cry…

It is then when Logan’s anger burns hotter, he releases one of the hands gripped around his tie, yanking his soft throat to the side. He holds his free hand below his face, staring at the way he’s holding it like an animal claw, fingers bent and ready to scratch.

Logan holds his tie at a sharper angle, pulling his head around like a bad dog on a leash. He seems to make a decision.

Logan plunges his free hand into his chest, it goes through with a loud squelch and a squirt of something hot and viscous.

Virgil finds his eyes blurring, from what he isn’t sure. His face feels wet and hot and salty.

In the foggy mist that Virgil’s eyes seem to be producing, he can only hear the fleshy sounds of a body being torn to pieces. It keeps going. Logan’s shadowy form is aggressive and jerky as he uses his dull nails to shred what is imperfect into imperfect ribbons.

The floor is being stained with far too many colors. The constellations on the bed cover are being tarnished, becoming very scientifically inaccurate. Very, very inaccurate.

Virgil’s throat hurts watching. It all hurts. He finds himself mouthing Logan’s name weakly, as if he could change anything, as if he was seen at all. He has all the right words to say, but no way to say them. Nobody to listen to it. It is a painful thing to be anything at all, and more painful still to be an invisible thing.

It keeps going, the bloody, self-induced one man massacre. And by the end of it, Virgil can’t see Logan. Logan never left, but there’s no Logan in front of him.

Blink.

Virgil shoots up from his bedroom floor with a loud gasp, as if he’d been saving the opportunity to inhale for far too long. He scrubs at his face, finding it slick with tacky tears. He nearly loses his balance as he stands up in a tizzy.

That one hurt. That one felt horrible. That one wasn’t okay.

He rakes his sweaty hands through his crusty hair, making it to an even frizzier mess than before. He paces the room, trying to catch a feeble breath. He’s lightheaded. He’s scared. He needs to do something.

Run a mile? Hit something? Hide under his bed?

He chooses the first option, flinging open the door and sprinting down the hall at full speed. He needs to outrun the fucking heebie jeebies flowing through his skeleton. He’s all backwards. Without so much as tying his untied dirty shoelaces, he takes off down the hall.

“Woah! Virgil! Pardon me, what are you doing?”

Virgil narrowly avoids tackling the person in his way. He dodges, tumbling against the wall, nearly knocking a mirror to the ground. His soul seemed to take a few steps without him before colliding with him again, leaving him with a nauseating vertigo.

“Uh—” Virgil is about to give a hasty apology, but he can’t quite get the words out, he feels pale. His heart drops into his legs.

“Virgil?” Logan frowns, tilting his head in that curious, almost robotic manner he does so often.

“Logan…” Virgil says weakly, staring at the decidedly not mangled and mutilated Logan standing in  front of him alive and well. Still, he feels lightheaded seeing the real thing. It’s been so long since he’d seen him, but only moments since his vision.

“Yes, that is indeed my name,” Logan nods awkwardly, clasping his hands behind his back. “Are— has, ah,” he pressed his lips into a line. He’s struggling. “Well. It has been some time. How … How is everything?”

Virgil can’t stop staring. “…sick.”

“As in the good sick or the bad, illness sick?” Logan squints his eyes, pursing his lips.

“Yeah.” Virgil nods distractedly, staring at Logan’s eyes. They were red, a little swollen. His glasses were a little smudgy. Not normal. Not right. Not right at all.

“… I see. That’s good, I suppose, right Virge?” Logan tries slowly, still baffled, and a bit twitchy, but clearly trying something. It isn’t working. Is he okay? Is something wrong? Virgil’s gut tells him that he’s looking at the remains of tears, but Logan doesn’t do that. That can’t be right.

It’s fine, it has to be. Logan is fine, it’s all fine. He just needs to get back to the cave. His cave. It will all be okay.

“I gotta run, Logan,” Virgil finally says, tearing his eyes away, down to the ground. He can’t look anymore, it’s making him feel bad. Guilty. Angry. But it’s fine.

“Oh. Right. Of course, later then.”

Virgil can’t remember whatever hasty goodbye he gives as he leaves. It’s back to the cave. Back to the water. It’s safe there.

Ch 7. Ch 9

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Thor: Part Two

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader, Thor x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: canon violence and angst, smut, fem!receiving

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

When you enter the prison, your hopes are crushed. Each cell is sectioned off with a golden shimmering wall that looks like it will hurt if you touch it. The guards throw you into the cell before putting up the golden walls. The room is white and bare, and you're all alone in it. Anger bubbles inside your chest as you throw a ball of fire at the wall. It only explodes, and there is no damage to the wall. You walk over to it and put your hand on it, only to jerk back in pain.

"Shit," you whisper and fall to the ground in defeat.

The cell you're in is dipped to the ground so that there is a raised border around it. It's a big enough border that you can rest comfortably on it without touching the walls. How the hell are you going to get out of here now? There is no one who is going to help you, and no one knows where you are. Natasha saw you get ripped away from Earth, but who did she tell? Fury and Tony wouldn't know where to look for you because they don't know life exists outside the Solar System. Fury does, but how is he going to know you're here? You could fight your way out, but then you'd be no better than Markus.

All kinds of creatures are locked in their own prison cells--some with roommates and some alone. At least they have someone to talk to. What are you going to do in a prison cell that has nothing in it? Your question is answered when Thor and Loki come to visit you. They take a seat on the steps leading up to your cell, and you look at the brothers sadly.

"Come here to berate me and tell me how bad I am?"

"No, I'm here because I need more information," Thor answers.

Loki doesn't answer you, just sits down next to his brother. You look at Thor and raise one eyebrow dismissively.

"What kind of information?"

"After the battle, I did my best to research Xenia just in case they came back for another fight. How are you alive? The battle happened a thousand years ago."

You look at Loki and he squirms slightly under your gaze. It's like he's uncomfortable with you being here.

"How are you alive? You must be thousands of years old." You pause and take a deep breath before continuing. "The serum they injected me with slowed my aging rate close to zero. Xenians live for three hundred years, maybe four. I am going on a thousand, and I still have a lot more to go."

"Father says Xenia is a bad planet. I remember the battle well."

"The planet is a beautiful one with calm waters, a thriving ecosystem, and good nature. It's the people who were bad. Markus was bad. He had everyone wrapped around his finger because he was the CEO of a very well-known company that practically bought out all the others," you say, but pause with a sigh. "I'm sorry Markus took the Tesseract. As far as I know, it's--" You can't reveal that it might still be on Earth because then they might wage war to get it back. "I'm just sorry, okay?"

"What are your powers?" Loki asks. You and Thor look at him, and he shrugs. "I'd like to know what threats might come our way."

"I'm no threat to you or your home. I am a shapeshifting Avatar. I can control the four major elements--fire, water, air, and earth, and shift into any living creature. I can also create portals to anywhere in the world. I was tested with the Tesseract and have gained that ability. This whole thing is a pain in the ass, but it's my duty to do right by it. I mean no harm to all Asgardians. I wasn't meant to be here. You have to believe me."

"I will do what I can," Thor declares.

He gets up and leaves you and Loki alone. Now that his brother is gone, Loki doesn't have him to fill the awkwardness between you two. You don't know why it is, considering you remember a lot more about him than you thought. Apparently, you two were close. You're not going to mention that now because you don't know Loki now. He could get angry or something, and you don't want more shit piled on your shoulders.

"I remember you from the battle," you reveal, and his eyes snap to yours. He seems scared at your confession, but you don't know why. "You were in the vault when Markus stole the Tesseract. You look exactly the same. You must not age normally, either."

Loki doesn't answer because he is busy processing your words. When he realizes the weight of your words, he visually relaxes at the relief. Why does he feel relief? Would he feel relief or fear when you tell him you know about him after Markus left you on Asgard? You're not sure if it's a memory or a dream, so you're not going to say anything to him. Instead of answering you, he gets up without a word. He leaves your side, and you watch him go with a frown. 

Now it's just you, and all you have left to rely on is Thor. You're not even sure he can get you out of here, much less get you out of Asgard.

Thor must have some pull on Asgard because he managed to get you out of your cell. You stand before the King and Queen of Asgard in the throne room with Thor by your side. Loki is nowhere to be found, but you're not going to dwell on it.

"I will allow you one—and only one—chance to leave Asgard and never return."

"Yes, sir. I will be gone in the morning. I never meant any harm to you or to your people. I have no quarrel... I never did... not even before. I was kidnapped and stolen from my life to serve Markus. I'm truly sorry for the pain he has caused."

"Why don't you stay the night?" Frigga offers, wrapping a welcoming arm around your shoulder.

"That's not necessary. I don't want to intrude."

"It's not intruding if I ask you, my dear. Come on. I will show you to your room." 

You take one last look at Odin before you leave the room. Thor stays behind to talk to his father while Frigga takes you to your room. The guest room is also golden with sheets made of the finest silk and curtains that shimmer in the light. Everything inside the room is either marble or granite, and the bed is king-size. It's too fancy for you but you have a feeling Frigga won't take no for an answer.

"Please make yourself comfortable. There are fresh pajamas in the drawer for you to wear."

"I really do appreciate all of this, Your Majesty."

"Please, call me Frigga."

"Okay... Frigga. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll see you in the morning."

She leaves you alone in the room. You thought you would never come back here, and here you are staying inside the castle for the night. All you wanted was to go home and you can't even accomplish that. The pajamas are in the second drawer of the dresser, so you take those out and quickly change into them. You're folding your clothes when you hear a knock on your door. 

"Come in."

Thor enters your room carefully as if he doesn't know if he should be here or not. You give him a kind smile and put your own clothes away.

"I'm glad Father allowed you to be out of those cells."

"If you're glad, I'm ecstatic," you chuckle. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, and Thor joins you. He's sitting so close to you that his knee touches yours. "I just want to thank you."

"For what?"

"For being so kind to me. Knowing our history, and you still fought to keep me out of the cells. I don't even know you."

"It's alright. You didn't cause the war. I remember it quite vividly. Bodies were everywhere--some of Asgard and others not. I remember--"

He stops himself, and you move in closer as if that will get him to tell you what he was thinking.

"What do you remember?" you whisper.

"I remember you and how lost you were. What Markus did was unforgivable, and I'm truly sorry that you got caught up in the middle of it."

Thor turns his head to look at you, and it registers in your brain just how close you two are.

"I'm okay now," you mutter.

Maybe it's how close you two are. Maybe it's the way he's looking at you. Maybe it's the fact that he saved you from spending all your time in the prison cells indefinitely. Whatever the reason, you feel a sudden wave of lust wash over you for the God. Humans have studied Norse Gods all throughout the world to various different degrees. They all describe Thor as being this mighty and powerful God, but they never describe just how attractive he is. He has dark blue eyes, a neatly trimmed beard, bulging muscles, and such a soft voice for someone so powerful.

"Good," he mutters back.

The attraction between you sparks heavily, forcing one of you to make the first move. There is nothing going on between you emotionally. You have no idea who he is or what he's done in his life, but there is a physical attraction between you. All it takes is being at the right place at the right time, and then everything else falls into place.

Thor makes the first move and he presses his lips on yours. All it takes is that one little action and the rest of the night is laid out perfectly for you. It might be cliche, but you feel sparks of passion as soon as your skin makes contact with his. Considering he's the God of Thunder, it makes sense you'd feel this way. You wonder what Loki's lips would feel like. Wait, why are you thinking of him when you have Thor right in front of you?

You reach up with your left hand to cup his cheek, but he grabs your wrist and pins you to the bed so that he is hovering over you. Damn, if he's going to play it this way, then you'll gladly submit to him. He grabs your right wrist to join your other one, and he slots himself in between your legs.

"Damn, you're really going for it, aren't you?" you chuckle when he pulls away from you.

"Don't pretend like you don't love it," he mutters.

He's right, but the last thing you're going to do is tell him that. He licks along the vein on your neck, latching onto the base of it near your collarbone. His hands slide down your body, hooking them underneath your legs. One of them grips your thigh and the other one slithers up your body underneath the nightgown that Frigga let you use. Since she only gave you a gown to wear, you don't have any undergarments on. Thor can practically feel how wet you are from where his hand is on your thigh.

Thor smirks and kisses down your body through the thin fabric. His lips ghost over your breasts, and your nipples stand to attention. He sinks to his knees right in front of you, but you're too far away for his liking. Grabbing your legs tightly, he pulls you into him so that your legs are dangling over the side of the bed. He bunches your nightgown around your waist so that your pussy is exposed to him.

The feeling of his eyes on your most sensitive area causes you to clench around nothing. You squirm from his gaze, and all he does is let out a low chuckle.

"So pretty and pink," he mutters.

"Thor, please do something," you beg.

"I like it when you beg," he grins. "Do it some more."

Arrogant men like him turn you off, but it sounds so sexy coming from his mouth. It's definitely the accent, but you give him what he wants just so he can give you what you want the most.

"I need your mouth on me, Thor. Please... I want to come all over that tongue. To watch you lick everything I have to offer."

Your words turn him on, and instead of teasing you like how he planned on doing, he dives right. He hooks your legs over his shoulders so that he can have better access to your dripping pussy. He licks one thick stripe up your slit, gathering the juices that have leaked out of you. He wraps his tongue around your clit and sucks hard, causing you to let out an unexpected squeal.

"Fuck!"

He moves his tongue back down to your entrance and shoves his tongue in without warning. One hand keeps your thighs open while the other rests on your lower stomach so that his thumb can work over your clit. You don't want to be too loud in fear that anyone in the castle can hear, but it's hard to be quiet when Thor's doing what he's doing. 

He licks you from wall to wall, swirling it around to taste every inch of you. He has a longer tongue than you thought he had, but it's a most pleasurable assumption. You've never been so happy to be so wrong about something. His thumb rubs hard circles around your clit, feeling the small nub throb from the pressure.

You must not have had sex in a long time because he can feel you approach the edge by how you're trying to clench around his tongue to keep him in longer. Either that or you orgasm quickly. If you're going to stay in the castle for more than a day, he definitely wants to see how much he can get you to orgasm in an hour. 

After all, he's never been the one to disappoint.

He pinches your clit and rolls it around between his fingers, feeling you right at the edge. He gives a single swish of his tongue, and you're toppling over the edge.

"Thor!" you drag out his name, arching your back.

Your hand flies to the back of his head, and you hold him there while you ride out your orgasm. Your legs shake from how intense it is, and he licks every drop you have to give him. When he pulls away from you, his beard is glistening with your orgasm. Shit, he looks so hot grinning at you like that.

"Fuck," you whisper. 

He crawls up your body and kisses you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself on him. He rips the nightgown off you and tosses it behind him, not caring where it landed. He's hard as a rock in his pajamas, and you roll your hips over him to egg him on.

"Naughty girl. Do you want more?"

"Yes, please," you beg. 

He stands up to his full height and grips your waist, flipping you over so that you're now laying flat on your stomach. He pulls your hips to meet his, your ass now sticking in the air for him while the rest of your body is smushed into the sheets below. He strips himself free of his pajama bottoms, his hard cock bouncing free. You peek over your shoulder to see him stroking himself, and your pussy clenches at the thought of having his cock inside you. Thor is a big man in general, and even his hand can't fit all the way around him.

You're going to have a lot of fun with this man. Maybe staying on Asgard isn't going to be such a bad thing. You spread your legs further to entice him, and he takes the bait. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before sliding himself in. He doesn't exactly take it slow, but he isn't slamming into you. It's the first time you two have been together, so he understands he needs to give you some time to adjust. 

However, he isn't waiting too long. Your pussy flutters all around him, and he begins to move. In and out, slowly at first. When he knows you can take more, he picks up the pace. You're mewling and clawing at the bedsheets below you, pushing against him to get him to go deeper. He feels your need and lust for him, and he's going to give you exactly what you want. 

He grips your hips and holds you steady before slowly pulling all the way out and slamming right back in. 

"Fuck! Thor!" you scream, pushing your head into the sheets deeper so that your voice is muffled. 

He keeps the brutal pace, pounding so fast that the only thing that can be heard from inside the room is both of your pants, your drawn-out moans, and skin slapping against skin. Pleasure stems from your pussy and shoots out in every direction, numbing your whole body in the most delicious of ways. You can't come without some sort of clit stimulation, so with the hand you can move, you rub your clit hard and fast to try and keep up with his pace.

"Fuck," you groan, "I'm going to come. Please don't stop."

"Come for me Lady Y/N," he orders.

You don't know why but hearing that name come from his lips is the hottest thing you've ever heard (or at least, at the moment). You clench hard around him, but he still finds a way to shove himself deeper into you. He taps your g spot from behind, and the dam breaks. You and Thor come together at the same time, feeling both of your orgasms mix together inside of you. Your body shakes from how intense it is, reminding you for the next couple of days of where Thor has been. 

His thrusts begin to slow down until he is finished, stopping completely. He pulls out do you and watches as the evidence of your night drips out of your pussy and down your thighs. He scoops what he can with his index finger, and you roll over tiredly. You haven't had a man tire you out like this in a while, and it shows. Thor presents his finger to you, and you eagerly take him between your lips. You suck and lick every drop of both your orgasms, smirking when he pulls away.

"How many orgasms can you have in a night?" he asks cockily.

"Why don't you find out?"

You're thankful you don't have to leave until the morning.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[massacre-girlypop]

I’ve done a lot of Soulsbornekiro posts but I don’t think I’ve ever written a Game ranking. So here goes. Reminder that this is opinion based on the thousands of hours I’ve sunk into these games. Enjoy!

All Souls Games Ranked from Best to Worst

Dark Souls 3- This is a no brainer for me. EVERYTHING I love about the Souls games were on full display in DS3. The scale of the fights, the lore, the weapons, the environments, the aesthetic. DS3 will always win for me in every regard.

Sekiro- A spin-off, sure, but such a creative presence in FromSoft’s anthology. The combat was unique while still having the classic Souls flair. It also forced me to learn its combat system and when you learn it, it’s such a satisfying victory. My only gripes were that it didn’t have DLC and that it wasn’t a longer game.

Dark Souls 1- Where it all started for me. Looking back on it, it’s probably the easiest on this list for me, but it’s still a very solid entry. I love the nostalgia it brings me as well as it setting the pace for a lot of lore and moments we see in future games. I wish it had gotten a little harder in the remastered version, but I can’t complain past that.

Elden Ring- A lot of my moots are probably surprised to see this down this low. Mommy Malenia is a shining star and definitely tops a list of my favorite souls bosses, but looking at the rest of the game, it fells short in some respects. A lot of the bosses are either way too easy or brutally difficult and not always for the best reasons. The lore and boss scale is great, but a lot of solid play styles get drowned out by the rising difficulty and it becomes a cheesefest fairly easily. Also, I’m annoyed by a lot more bosses in Elden Ring than most of the games on this list and it’s not because they are difficult.

Bloodborne- This is where I will lose A LOT of people. People rank this at the VERY top of their lists for a lot of reasons and are probably gonna be completely lost as to why this is down this far. Don’t get me wrong. The lore is great, the environment is good, Lady Maria is perfect, the weapons are fantastic, and people know I love cosmic and eldritch horror stuff, so you would think I’d love this game. But for me, what really shafts this game is the balance, the combat, and the walk back. One of the first weapons you get practically makes every other weapon in this game meaningless if you let it, my favorite weapons come at the END of the game (#rakuyobitchfolyfe), the combat and dodge system bones me about as much as it helps, and the fact that blood vials are a consumable? Not my favorite design choice. I don’t like having to refarm my healing options after having to trek through Cainhurst or the Fishing Hamlet and if I’m slamming my head against the Orphan of Kos, it dampens the experience to have to go back and refarm blood vials because I ran out. There were a lot of things that could have been executed better and it probably wouldn’t have been as bad if these issues weren’t so blatant.

Dark Souls 2- It’s the design choices. I don’t hate DS2 as much as a lot of people, but I’ll admit the game did not come off good to me when I first played it. The hollowing system actively frustrates me to this day, the quantity over quality bosses leaves a lot of nebulous memories, the open-ish world hurts me a lot more than it helps, and the weapons were really meh compared to the rest of the list. It’s definitely not as bad as people say, but there were some questionable choices here.

Demon Souls- The walkback hurts in this game. The system is great, but again consumable healing is brutal. It also is a lot of punishment unless you know the gimmicks that each boss has and once you know them, it kinda waters down the experience in an unsatisfying way. At least in DS2, you have Estus and can always have a healing option, but Demon Souls’ LOOOONG walk back to boss rooms and exhausting areas really wore me out of love for this game quickly.

[pcttrailsidereader]

How Your Backpacking Meals Are Really Made

By Emily Pennington (excerpted from the July 14, 2024 article in Backpacker)

A faint whiff of cumin and cracked black pepper serenades my nostrils, reminiscent of the Indian spice markets I once visited in my mid-twenties. Only, I’m not in South Asia, or even the back storeroom of a hip Thai restaurant; I’m in my hometown of Boulder, Colorado, touring the massive factory where Backpacker’s Pantry meals are made.

My host for the morning is Soraya Smith, the company’s president and recipe-development chef. Smith, who had always been involved on the recipe side of American Outdoor Products (the parent organization of Backpacker’s Pantry) took over as president after her husband, Rodney, died in a tragic ski accident in 2020. She’s been the face of the family-owned corporation ever since.

“I’m from a foodie family,” explained Smith. “My mom is Spanish-Italian, and my father is from Iran, so we’re very multicultural. I also went to Culinary School of the Rockies before stepping into this role.”

Our first stop was the test kitchen, where Smith pulled different dry ingredients together to experiment with new recipe ideas. To be totally honest, the various plastic bags she grabbed out of a large bin looked more like the Parmesan cheese packets you’d get for free with your pizza delivery than high-quality foodstuffs. But therein contained the secrets to my favorite post-hike meals: proprietary flavorings and mixes, which Backpacker’s Pantry makes with freeze-dried ingredients.

As we entered the factory’s enormous storeroom, I asked Smith for a refresher: What exactly is freeze drying?

Freeze-drying technology was used extensively by NASA during the space boom of the 1960s. Since freeze-dried food retains more than 90 percent of its original nutrients, it’s the best way to keep astronauts stocked with nutritious food. Better yet, the food can last for years without going bad.

When an ingredient is freeze-dried, it’s brought to an inhospitable -60°F, then back above freezing multiple times while inside a vacuum chamber. That way, only the ingredient’s water content is removed. “Some companies make a large sheet of, say, lasagna, cook it, and then dehydrate it,” Smith said. “We, on the other hand, mix each of our freeze-dried ingredients into the bag, so that when you add that boiling water, most of them are getting cooked for the first time. It’s fresher, and I think it has a better texture.”

Once workers grab individual ingredients from the palettes in the store room, they go to the dedicated mixing room, where seasonings and starches are stirred together in large tubs. The room looks like a sterile, high-tech scene out of Willy Wonka.

Here, Smith points out that the brand adheres to a strict allergen separation system. For instance, a recipe with gluten won’t get run through the machines on the same day as a gluten-free recipe to protect customers with gluten intolerances. Ditto for dairy products. (Workers clean the machines thoroughly at the end of each day by passing them through a chrome-covered, bedroom-sized industrial dishwasher.)

After mixing, the meals are mechanically portioned out by category—sauce, starch, meat, and vegetable—then sealed by hand. Workers sample the meals throughout the day, preparing a baggie to taste-test at the beginning, middle, and end of each run. The goal is to ensure the flavors remain consistent throughout. Forks and counter space are set aside in the test kitchen for this specific purpose. If something doesn’t taste right, they ditch the batch and correct it.

The Backpacker’s Pantry factory produces thousands of meals each day. Once the day’s meals get sealed, boxed, and quality checked, they head into a gigantic storeroom, which then ships the products to big retailers, like REI, as well as directly to consumers.

As I closed the huge warehouse doors behind me and concluded my tour, I was surprised to feel tremendously better about all that just-add-water food I’d been eating. The ingredients were both fresher than I’d imagined and more rigorously quality-checked. Ninety percent of their original nutrients, huh? Heck, maybe I’ll toss a couple under my desk to eat in the office.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

The only good thing that will have come out of this park job fiasco is that two weeks from tomorrow I should get a direct deposit of around $100 for my single day's work.

Should.

Problem is, I worked 8 full hours, but I was only on the clock for 4½. My boss had me come in at 11:30, but didn't add my name to the punchclock system until it was time for my lunch break at 3:00. I punched in at 3:00, immediately punched out for lunch (paid, luckily), punched back in at 4:00, then punched out for good at 7:30. My boss said he would go into the system and change my start time, but I don't think he ever did because I called to quit the very next morning. I did 8 hours of work at $15.06 per hour, so I should have made $120.48 before taxes; at my old job they took out between 12 and 13%, so I should take home around $105 for the day. If I only get paid 4½ hours, that'll be less than $60, and I'll complain to the labor board if they don't honor the remaining $45.

I'm in a low point in my life right now, so I could REALLY use that $105.

Well, no, it's not really that low. I have my own apartment, so I'm not trapped at my parents' place in the cultural wasteland of the Keys. I have my own car, so I can go wherever I want. I don't have any money, but I got food assistance for the next three months (there was a bureaucratic hiccup last week, but I resolved it and got my benefits reinstated), and my parents can help me with my rent now that my little sister got a job and they can stop paying hers. I'm seeing a new psychiatrist and am back on antidepressants for the first time in over 2 years (though they don't appear to be helping at all, so I'll need a new prescription next month).

Things are bad, but they could be much MUCH worse. I'm actually doing better than a lot of people; I still have a right to complain, but it's not as bad as it could be. Not yet, at least. My life sucks, but there's somebody out there who would kill for the position of relative stability I have now. I'm not gonna starve, I'm not gonna wind up homeless, I have a safety net if I need it.

I feel like a leach... Not on society, I mean a leach on my parents. I will never feel bad about being on foodstamps; the program exists to help people like me, and I will take full advantage of whatever pittance the state is willing to offer me (the Florida government sucks ass, and I deserve the assistance after all the taxes I've paid over the years), but I hate asking my parents for money. The only way I can justify it is that my dad consistently borrowed thousands of dollars from me when I Iived at home. He would borrow money, pay back a portion of it, then borrow more; he usually fluctuated between $500 and $1000, but his high water mark was over $3000. I was an interest free bank to him for years, so helping me with rent for however long it takes me to get back on my feet seems fair to me. I feel less bad if I think of it that way...

[underanothername]

^ How to say you're entirely disconnected from your food source without saying you're entirely disconnected from your food source. Makes me wonder what they'll say when they figure out where eggs come from! Or that veggies are grown in - gasp! - dirt.

As someone who has both seen a cow from less than 10' and had extensive contact with ALL of their bodily secretions (including but not limited to blood, pus, liquid shit, amniotic fluid and rumen juice) I can testify that raw milk tastes delicious. But I'm also pretty damn confident that the cows that milk came from were free from TB and brucellosis - the most significant of the diseases that were historically transmitted through raw milk - and I knew what I was doing. That is to say, I 'understand the problem pasteurisation is solving' because I know the microbiology behind it, not because I'm scared of.. what? Dirt? Real life animals? Anything that isn't 100% sanitised and germ-free?

Don't get me wrong, pasteurisation is brilliant and absolutely necessary in most circumstances. It's saved hundreds of thousands of lives. I don't routinely drink raw milk, and I wouldn't do it at all if I hadn't milked the cow myself less than 12 hours before. Most people aren't in that position.

I don't know, perhaps the OP saw a cow that was particularly unhealthy and judged all cows by that standard. And I get it; cattle can often be messy, mucky, challenging, and beautiful. So is life, if you're doing it right.

And yeah, I'm probably having another autistic moment and taking this too seriously, but it worries me that so many people have no real knowledge of how food is grown and produced. It's hard to value something that you're so divorced from, and it leads to making bad decisions as a society. We owe our entire existence to six inches of topsoil and the fact that it rains, yet societies around the world are doing their best to fuck up both the topsoil and the water cycle.

And don't blame the farmers. It's a systemic issue. Most farmers I know want to fix the problems, not exacerbate them; but the majority of customers are only interested in the price of the product, and 'conventional' farming (ie. the high-input, fossil fuel- and chemical-intensive method that's only really been around for 80 years) produces cheap food. It's hard to do the right thing when that might lose you your business and your home. Things are getting better (in Australia at least) - there's way more support for regenerative farming than there was 20 years ago, and methods that were once seen as the delusional ideas of radical hippies are becoming mainstream. But there's still a long way to go.

[devilwizard]

Started playing FFX for nostalgia value

And FUCK it is so lucky it has nostalgia value I don’t remember a whole lot about games from that time but this is NOT a good game in sooo many ways. I like FF! I am willing to forgive many of its foibles under the understanding of “That’s what they do, if you it bothers you that much why are you playing it.” It’s always super systems or menus heavy, they always over or under but rarely adequately explain things, the female characters are… weird, and so on.

But FFX is all of that, plus stuff that just feels (to me, personally) like bad game design. It has a fixed camera angle: fine, normal, common. But the fixed camera angle SUCKS, it’s always at terrible angles and shit transitions. I know other games did better than this around the same time period (was Mario fixed?). The way menus work is almost universally annoying, and as stated above there are a lot of menus in these games. The VA is utterly stiff even compared to contemporary and older games, so much so that it sounds like they have the actors record dictionaries and put the lines together with a computer. Not well. And the way the save system works is also just busted.

I’m complaining a lot. But! It doesn’t some things incredibly well. The setting is so fucking good, related to that the world building is so fucking good: FF always, always, ALWAYS seems to absolutely kill the setting. It’s typically some sort of magipunk something and it’s always awesome. In this case, the idea of “Celebrity jock who plays magic football in an incredible post scarcity society survives attack by an eldritch entity that destroys his civilization: washes up a thousand years later in a world of isolated magipunk island communities who have to watch out for the above mentioned entity that swims around the planet and attacks overly advanced societies like a messed up eldritch whale. Also the magic football still exist” is, objectively… awesome. This game kills certain things and also those things are some of my favorite things about fiction, so I can let everything I talked about above, every single complaint, slide.

But not Blitzball. I fucking…. hate…. Blitzball. The concept? A++, I find it amusing that the mako shark swimming speed, twenty foot jumps out of water and underwater breathing of Tidus is never explained even cursorily (he sleeps face down in deep water!), but I am ALWAYS a fan of a cool messed up sport. Drukhari races and gladiators, that dinosaur race from Love Death and Robots, the bike race from Spy Kids 3. It’s so good. But Blitzball BETRAYS its concept! They didn’t have the tech to back it up in gameplay, so they should have left it as setting and character flavor only! But they tried anyway, and they made it MANDATORY, and it is one of the WORST IN GAME MINI GAMES EVER INVENTED. I think I quit the whole game as a younger person because this stupid fucking shit pissed me off so much I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate Blitzball death to Blitzball I am boiling that fucking orb with the teams inside like lobsters