#and ofc blind pilot

[oflights]

Top five songs/lyrics that make you feral?

oh anon, you are speaking my language!!

Glory, Radical Face

A bird, caught in the wires Bleating for help I can't provide, I'm not that big I hope for the best but nothing changes, I'm sorry But I was blessed with bad eyes There's a lot that I miss but I don't mind, I'm not that old I'll find out what broke me soon enough

2. The Trapeze Swinger, Iron & Wine

But please remember me, fondly I heard from someone you're still pretty and Gleam and resonate just like the gates Around the Holy Kingdom With words like, 'Lost and found' and 'Don't look down' And 'Someone save temptation' And please remember me as in the dream We had as rug burned babies Among the fallen trees and fast asleep Beside the lions and the ladies

3. More Adventurous, Rilo Kiley

I've felt the wind on my cheek coming down from the east And thought about how we are all as numerous as leaves on trees And maybe ours is the cause of all mankind: Get loved, make more, try to stay alive

4. champagne problems, Taylor Swift

"This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through One for the money, two for the show I never was ready, so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

5. Servants and Kings, Radical Face

When all was fire, and the weather's out for blood And the boys, still too young to drink, were drownin' in the flood I'd hear you laughing as I'd come on out for air And I'd laugh with you, pretending that we care

[pookielious]

Quick not so quick guide to WW2 uniforms PT1

I went to a ww2 museum and took a bunch of pictures!! I figured I'd show some of the uniforms and some of the differences : ) feel free to use any of them as references for anything!! As ref when ur writing or drawing please tag me I must see !

This post covers marines and air corps (paratrooper, bombers, pilots, ect)

Everything below cut

1. marines

Marines had both blues and green as uniforms , the those particular greens are the darkest which likely means they're the winter issued ones, since they come in all kinds of colors

Shown in the next photo

The closest to the camera ( Nathaniel Archie Haley's uniform) are ever so slightly darker then the other which puts it as a spring/fall dress uniform, the lightest uniforms just in general is usually summer issued uniforms that are usually leaning towards a kakhi /green brown color, usually goes for most branches too like WAC

The quickest identifiers to a marine uniform – the black buttons since other us branches don't have those

the usmc insignia ! It's located on the buttons and usually the collar In gold on blues and usually black on green

Then foot locked that shows the other such as undergarments, pants and some other variants of uniforms usually most of the marine uniforms (at least the long sleeved kinds) will have a USMC stamp on the pocket or chest area ! (Another quick identifier)

Field uniform as well !! Boots where a good idea because pacific theater was muddy and wet !

2. Airborne / airforce

Okay yes I'm putting them both together because they're very similar branches , air and plane stuff ykwim

2a

Photo of the og 4 pocket uniform and the cropped 2 pocket uniform!

Air force is very easy to spot due to the navy blue color! It's the only kind with its sort of look, they all kind of look like flight attendants I'll be real w u so that's usually the best way to spot them as well !the most identifiable part of their uniform is there wings as well, all wings looked different for diffrent aerial sorts I could get into that w I different post but everything from airborne to WASP (women's airforce pliots) and flight surgeons all had different wings depending on what 'sub branch' you where in, but if you see a sort of wing on their uniform it's def a aerial unit, here's so examples of the different types

Taken from a militia forumn not the museum!

Just think; wings = air somthing

2 b Pilots/Bombers next !!

1st photos are top layer 2nd is the bottomish layer and the top layers off along with a different hat !

Pilots usually have the most layers due to being is the sky with sub 0 Temps , the 2nd photo shows a jacket and pants set you'd wear under your clothesand above ur undergarments and thermals that you could plug into the plane and would eat up rods inside similar to how a heated blanket functions !

Silk was used as maps since they wouldn't dissolve in water and could be a barrier in between ur thick and ichy wool jacket/sweater

Identifiable features - aviators glasses, invented just for the purpose of flying you you wouldn't go blind / loose vision due to the sun

The acf / air force Insignia was usually a patch on your regular shirts and dress shirts along with on your helmet

Flight hat, the stereotypical one with ear flaps was very common with mostly fighter planes

Sherpa and furred bomber / flight jackets , ofc that's where it's name comes from !sherpa is great as a insulator

Dress uniform along with a bomber jacket, worn by a gunner

It was also very common for pilots to paint there own jackets to show pin ups, drawings and how many bombs they had thrown and even sometimes how many people they'd killed, bombers weren't exclusive to just the air force as paratroopers had them occasionally bit it was the most common with them !

Examples of painted jackets, some seem to be reporduction too !! Middle is my own authentic jacket : )

The color varies since it's genuine leather (usually cow or even horse leather) so there's no 'wrong' color when it comes to there's, it also depends of if it's sherpa linked or not , lots of things varies between each jacket!

I ran out of photo space so this will be broken up into another post !! next post guide posts will cover navy , army and women's corps !!

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF THE CREEPS

with playlists (ofc)

MASKY

Happy Pills - Weathers

Heavydirtysoul - Twenty One Pilots

Trouble - Cage the Elephant

Morph - Twenty one Pilots

Down In A Hole - Alice in Chains

Numb - Linkin Park

Breaking the Habit - Linkin Park

This Is How I Disappear - My Chemical Romance

Stalker - Badflower

Duality - Set It Off

HOODIE

Another Way Out - Hollywood Undead

Fairly Local - Twenty One Pilots

Message Man - Twenty One Pilots

Sucker for Pain - Various Artists

My Blood - Twenty One Pilots

Cut My Lip - Twenty One Pilots

Breezeblocks - altJ

Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met…) - Panic! At The Disco

Hypnotized - Set It Off

Church - Fall Out Boy

“TICCI” TOBY

Don’t You Dare Forget The Sun - Get Scared

Medicine - Hollywood Undead

I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead - Set It Off

Pain - Three Days Grace

Keep Myself Alive - Get Scared

Never Too Late - Three Days Grace

Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace

Horrible Kids - Set It Off

Mama - My Chemical Romance

Back from the Dead - Skillet

CLOCKWORK

Shatter Me - Lindsey Sterling, Lizzy Hale

Decode - Paramore

I’m So Sick - Flyleaf

I Miss the Misery - Halestorm

Enemy - Imagine Dragons, JID

Playground - Bea Miller

Catch Me If You Can - Set It Off

Ironic - Alanis Morissette

Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac

Body Talks - The Struts, Kesha

EYELESS JACK

From The Ground - Hollywood Undead

Get Out Alive - Three Days Grace

Monster - Skillet

Dead Bite - Hollywood Undead

The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy

My Demons - STARSET

Sarcasm - Get Scared

Pet - A Perfect Circle

Somewhere I Belong - Linkin Park

Twisted Transistor - Korn

JEFF THE KILLER

Chalk Outline - Three Days Grace

So Called Life - Three Days Grace

I Can’t Decide - Scissor Sisters

Killer - The Ready Set

Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) - Marilyn Manson

Kill Everyone - Hollywood Undead

A Little Piece of Heaven - Avenged Sevenfold

To Catch a Predator - Insane Clown Posse

Dark Side - Blind Channel

Just Pretend - Bad Omens

JANE THE KILLER

Bring Me To Life - Evanescence

Damage - Fit For Rivals

Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

Tourniquet - Marilyn Manson

Unbreakable - Fireflight

I’m Gonna Show You Crazy - Bebe Rexha

Hit and Run - LOLO

Get Jinxed - Djerv

La Seine - Vanessa Paradis

Let’s Kill Tonight - Panic! At The Disco

NINA THE KILLER

Heather - Conan Gray

Get Well - Icon For Hire

Oh No! - MARINA

Pretty Little Psycho - Porcelain Black

Partners in Crime - Set It Off, Ash Costello

Backstabber - Kesha

DONTTRUSTME - 3OH!3

You’re So Creepy - Ghost Town

This Little Girl - Cady Groves

Guys My Age - Hey Violet

BEN DROWNED

Turbulent - Waterparks

Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) - The Offspring

Dirty Mind - 3OH!3

Riot - Hollywood Undead

oops! - Yung Gravy

Fashionably Late - Falling In Reverse

parents - YUNGBLUD

Hell of a Ride - Bo Burnham

Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer

Bad Girls Club - Falling In Reverse

SALLY WILLIAMS

Hayloft - Mother Mother

Tag, You’re It - Melanie Martinez

Little Game - Benny

Teen Idle - MARINA

Where Do I Go - Anna Blue

Silent Scream - Anna Blue

Lolita - Lana Del Rey

Dollhouse - Melanie Martinez

All The Things She Said - Poppy

Burning Pile - Mother Mother

[tessa-quayle]

spotlight on the OFC

(fanfiction recommendations) :)

the reader insert, the second person, the y/l/n convention (which, for me, can disrupt the text and i haven’t gotten used to it - not criticizing those who do it - i'm the problem, it’s me 🤪) are all the rage in fanfiction.  i get the immersive appeal, and many of the fics i love and enjoy employ the second person.  

richly drawn original characters draw me in and capture my attention. I appreciate how creative folks get with their OFCs, the headcanons, and how they have fun showing off these OFC’s quirks and strengths and interior lives and histories.  it’s a joy to read.

here are a few great OFCs in the Pedro Pascal Character universe.  the stories are engaging and this is a fairly diverse list of OFCs (by that I mean race/ethnicity, life experience, nationality, disability).  as always, each author issues their own warnings.

listed in alphabetical order by writer:

@iamskyereads - Ezra (Prospect) x OFC Beatrice 

ongoing series (Compulsion).  love the sci-fi world-building in the first chapter. Beatrice is a sharp and compelling protagonist who’s suffered a traumatic brain injury and has PTSD.  

@intheorangebedroom - Frankie (Triple Frontier) x OFC Gabrielle 

complete series (Pleased to Meet You).  angsty intercontinental love story between everyone’s favorite pilot and a cool French woman.  the descriptions of different cities are vivid.

@jazzelsaur - Frankie (Triple Frontier) x OFC Ellie

complete series (Between the Raindrops).  the slow burn here is a smolder in the best sense.  Elliot (Ellie) is a widow who lives next door to Frankie.  the weight of grief and angst in this series is remarkable. 

@jomiddlemarch - Joel (The Last of Us) x OFC Grace

loose-fit series (On Call for the Apocalypse).  crossover with Ted Lasso.  set in Jackson WY between seasons 1 and 2, Grace is a snarky doctor (scratch a cynic, find a romantic) hanging out with Joel and Ellie  (format better on AO3)

@julesonrecord and @lunapascal ( @stardustandskycrystals) - Dieter (the Bubble) x OFC Andie 

ongoing series (Curls).  we’re rooting for Dieter and Andie amid all the drama and shenanigans surrounding a pregnancy and a wedding.  this reads like a novel you finish in one sitting.  

@ladamedusoif - Mr Ben (SNL) x OFC Lydia 

ongoing series (Visiting).  Lydia is a European art historian who goes to teach at an East Coast liberal arts college and meets the dashing Mr Ben.  delightful and smart (and I'm not just describing Mr Ben).

@radiowallet - Marcus (We Can Be Heroes) x OFC Amy

ongoing series (Eyes Open).  Single parents Marcus and Amy find love in the workplace, HR be damned.  Amy contains multitudes and the portrait of her as a mother is especially real and sweet.

@whatsnewalycat - Din (Mandalorian) x OFC Charlie

ongoing series (Passenger).  Gritty, dark, cool AU where Din Djarin is a trucker/bounty hunter and Charlie is making her way west.  this fic has a lot of postmodern energy.

@yespolkadotkitty - Pero (Great Wall) x OFC Jade

complete series (Fighting Blind).  Fun, winsome adventure between a museum curator and our favorite Spanish warrior.  Love the time-travel element, the nod to the Asian diaspora, and the rich world-building.  This series is stay-up-past-your-bedtime reading.

feel free to share your fic recs and favorite OCs/OFCs (your own and/or others)!  ❤️

[fandomdaydreamer]

Of a Sun and Flower

Pt. 2 You Fit Me

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC

Summary: Conflict induces a positive development when Nini meets the right person at the right time.

Warnings: alcohol, drug use, a psychoanalysis by someone who is not in any kind of medical field (me), symptoms of anxiety and depression, mentions of past abuse and overdose, domestic fights (with resolution, phew)

Notes: Well well well, if it isn't my late ass. Sorry, is all I can say. Life gets in the way and this chapter was fkn hard to write. Actually, I'm working on making Book 1 a real novel now, might be a real published author. Wheee

Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist -here-

Length: 8.8k

~

You Fit Me

The floor was littered with old chewing gum and spilt, sticky puddles of alcohol when I lowered my gaze at my mechanically piloted feet. It was hot, too hot underneath my wig, too hot between these strange bodies. With nothing but numbness in my mind, I made my hips sway to the rhythm of the heavy beat, felt the base resonate in my chest and alter my perception as my nostrils filled with the scent of people's sweat, cheap liquor and the stale dampness of the fog machines.

My eyes wandered into the dark corners of the club, where hidden figures were locked in a passionate kiss or lived out their high with their mouths wide open as they gazed into the flickering lights. They were but quick illuminations of limbs and faces, pale picture frames of colourful people dancing to a heavy electronic beat. A hypnotic voice was singing and people upon people danced to it like they were in a trance. The air was thick and condensation threatened to drip from the ceiling. It was easy to be sucked into their midst, give in to the alluring promise of forgetful hedonism and just float into the river Styx. Float into another dimension while fate would handpick the gluttons who would descend into the third circle of hell.

What would Pedro say if he saw me like this? Not having fun and denying myself any peace. Was I pretending to push myself into a nihilist universe to chase fatalism and toxicity? A blind person would have been able to see it.

Maybe I wasn't drunk enough to stop my mind from constantly wandering back home and wane between regret and anger. However, I was intoxicated enough to tilt my head into the sticky air, close my eyes and remain in the eternal Asphodel meadows for a little while longer. I felt so alone yet free of all that I knew. An anonymous, ordinary soul drifting through the night.

My state in limbo felt complete until a slimy touch seized my hip and I was promptly forced to take a step away. "No!" My protest fell on deaf ears.

"C'mon, baby. You gotta try this!" A guy in a gay club of all places forced a shot on me. He waved a friend over who brought more glasses that were filled with some kind of dark liquid.

I batted his wandering hands away and yelled at him to leave me alone.

"Fucking fa-." I could read the slur from his lips before he took another leering step towards me. How easily his words shattered against the heavy armour I had braced my soul with.

"She said no, dickface! Fuck off!" A woman with rhinestone eyebrows stepped in. Her shrill voice was loud against the music and she shoved him away. She flipped the man off and cackled at the range of slurs he threw back at us. "You okay?" My saviour hollered in my direction once he'd left us alone on the dance floor.

"Yeah, thank you!" I yelled back. I had seen and gone through worse things. Infinitely worse. "I'm sorry-" I gestured aimlessly when everything became too much anyway. In an attempt to escape, I made my way through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

I had no clue how much time I spent trying to sober up inside the stall that was plastered with graffiti and scribbles. A stick figure lay horizontal with x's crossed over instead of their eyes and memories of last summer flashed through my mind. Overdosed eyes had glazed over into a blur and I recalled how scary it had been to not be able to move my body as I nearly choked on foam and vomit. In a hazy fever dream, Pedro had found me just in time and in the worst way possible. How terrified he'd been. How stupid I felt about the way I behaved again.

In my overwhelmed state, I kept ignoring my phone as it buzzed for the millionth time this night. Pedro's ID blinked up again, the pet name I gave him mocked me along with all the hearts we'd sent back and forth in our recent past. Such a stark contrast to his currently unanswered texts. I wasn't tone-deaf to their urgency.

01:34 - Baby, I just need to know if you're ok, then I'll let you do your thing. Promise

Can you please pick up?

02:04 - Where are you? I can come and pick you up, wherever you are. I'm not mad at you

02:11 - Please just tell me you're safe

02:50 - Leonie, this has to stop! You've made your point ok?

03:00 - I swear tfg, the least you could do is answer! You care at all??

03:01 - *(Angel deleted this message)*

03:02 - Pick up the fucking phone.

The last text, I imagined he had written before pulling his hair out in sheer frustration. A full stop. Yikes.

"Fuck." I whispered to myself.

Inside the filthy stall, I closed my hands over my eyes and slumped over with my elbows resting on my knees. I tried willing my cramp to go away or at least deal with the pain of heavy guilt setting into another part of my stomach. "I'm such a fucking fraud," I admitted to myself in a moment of clarity and regret. Impulsive and short-tempered Leonie van Fleet, the misophonic asshole who doesn't know what she's doing, everyone. Round of applause.

A voice in the stall next to mine ripped me out of my thoughts. "Does anybody have a tampon?" They asked obnoxiously above the dull sound of thumping music.

"I do! Hold up." I yelled back immediately, pondering on my last one and deciding giving it away would limit my time here but maybe having no other choice was a good thing. "I'll trade you for some toilet paper." I put my hands through the bottom of the stall door and crouched down, hoping I wouldn't lose my balance when chipped white nail polish met equally broken black polish as they grabbed for the tampon.

"Thank you so fucking much. My night is saved." They said, made the exchange and I felt dizzy when I decided to end my crisis and finish up myself. "No problem, that's what uterus pals are for." I slurred before flushing and walking up to the sink. I felt a little more drunk than I had originally thought.

"What was that you were saying?" The voice sounded nasal like it's been through quite a bit of crying before. "You're a fraud? What do you mean by that?"

Nosey, this one.

"I mean uh... I'm pretending to be this destructive version of myself. Or what am I doing here?" I was reeling with thoughts while washing my hands with barely existent soap. With no option to dry them in sight, I let the water drip as I stared at my reflection. A stranger stared back, a vision of everything gone wrong.

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into it." The voice ripped me out of my tunnel vision again.

I crossed my arms and the words somehow kept flowing out almost too easily. "I just keep making the wrong decisions," I spoke above the sound of the distant, thumping beat. "Just don't know why. Maybe just to punish myself for my perfect life." I narrated my unthought-through, impulsive actions and concluded my crisis with the afterthought of a selfish brat. "You know what? What's worse is that all I do is punish the person that matters to me most."

"Huh." The toilet flushed and out the stall came the same woman from earlier and a look of recognition washed over our faces. "Oh, it's you!" We burst out at the same time. She was of similar height, maybe in her early forties but it was impossible to say with that skincare routine she had going for her. Apart from the eccentric decorations on her face, she had black shiny hair and red-painted lips. "The self-punishment over a hypothetical would make sense if you think you might not deserve the positive things in your life. Have you been through some shit? Apologies for assuming-" She washed her hands messily and also noticed the lack of soap. "I'm drunk."

My brain caught up with her a second later. "Yeah, horrendous stuff." I dramatised in my tipsy state and leaned my weight against the neighbouring sink.

I lacked the ability to comprehend how she could have been so spot-on at first sight. Maybe my cry for help was painted above my head as obvious as the neon sign of this club. The woman spoke with an equal amount of compassion and anger. "Many of us have. Bullied and chased out of our homes. Fewer rights as a marginalised group. It's worse even for the trans community. So many places where you must have felt not accepted. I'm sorry, that had to be tough."

"I'm... Yes, that's true but I'm not trans." I informed her with a smile, amused she'd thought I was.

She froze like an elephant in a porcelain shop. "That wig-"

"It's a wig, yes." She had a fair point for assuming. It was a high probability in a queer scene club like this and my heavy makeup and a wig I hadn't even glued on.

"Well..." She grinned, making it obvious to me that my hairline was crappy enough for me to not pass as a woman. "Anyway then, your partner, she's the best thing in your life and you're emotionally dependent on her?" She asked before bending down and took a sip straight from the tap.

Feeling like such a fraud again, I suddenly felt ashamed. I was out of place. "He is. I hope I'm not but the truth is, I couldn't live without him. He's the best thing in my life." I corrected her and she coughed into the stream.

"Damn, I assumed you'd at least be part of the L in the alphabet mafia. What were the odds?" "No, it's fine. We're in a queer club so... I'm sorry for invading this space. I guess I just wanted a peaceful night out. Can't escape men anywhere though. Surprise." I chuckled at her before being serious again. "Karma. I haven't been treating my partner well these past couple of months." Suddenly admitting it felt devastating and my voice quivered so much, it made her turn her entire body and meet me with a worried frown. "I had a very abusive dad and I'm afraid, so fucking afraid I'm the abuser now." I was taken aback by my confession, for it was so unlike me to bring up my past, let alone to a stranger. However, there was something about this woman. Something so comforting and familiar, I had to reveal a well-hidden part of my life to an equally drunk stranger in a filthy bathroom.

Yet I received nothing but her entire attention and while her presence felt comforting, her voice was clear and cool as ice. "My best guess is you have tried to cope with everything yourself, depending on whatever distracted you and fed your love deprivation." She deducted.

I gaped at her. "How-"

"Do you mind?" She pulled a cigarette from a battered package and I shook my head 'no' when she offered me one. "I think I get it now. Wait for it-" She climbed onto the heater and blew smoke out of the tiny window. For a moment, she digested the first drag, smoking in a kind of club where nobody would bat an eye anyway. I felt like a lost little kitten, staring up at her with big hungry eyes. It nearly seemed she gathered information by scanning me from head to toe. "You have some kind of European accent, maybe you were new here at some point and lonely. You're a petite, pretty little thing with daddy issues in a queer club, still unable to escape that predatory behaviour from earlier. So in theory, you know how to protect yourself because you had trauma to deal with but you feel deep hurt all the time. Plus, a loving partner and a domestic fight, equals the fragile state you're in. Babe, you're trying to run away from happiness. It's called self-sabotage."

My throat hurt from having swallowed too hard. Mind completely blank from unadulterated surprise, I stuttered. "Self- self-sabotage... is that what this is?"

She clicked her tongue. "It's a behaviour that makes you think you have control over the negative outcome of your actions and be in charge of your pain. It's not real. You're just calming yourself with predictability." She had opened her arms like she had presented me with a magic trick and I was the stupified spectator who couldn't appreciate her art form. Although, what she said, sounded perfectly logical.

Impressed by her quick mind, I stood there with a frown between my brows while I took my time to process. "I was not expecting free therapy at three in the morning," I said numbly.

"Surprise." She grinned like a Cheshire cat despite the thin veil of tears that was still evident in her eyes.

"Are you in a psychological field of any kind? You seem so..." I tried to think of a better word than 'intelligent' and a kinder word than 'crazy yet wise. "Analytical."

She disposed of the burning cigarette through the crack in the window and hopped down to me. "Psychiatrist in crisis." She winked before turning to the mirror and giving her lips a fresh coat of red paint. A burst of frustration made her voice quiver. "But I have come to the realisation my work is fruitless in a world where people keep having normal fucking reactions to toxic post-capitalism. I'll never accomplish anything." She stopped doing her makeup to let go of her rage as she reenacted a conversation with one of her patients. "Oh, you're having a burnout and you live in a constant state of anxiety? You're a single mom working two jobs and you still can't pay rent let alone your medical bills but sure, you must have problems because Mercury is in retrograde." She was close to crying again and angrily tossed her lipstick into her purse. "I'm supposed to help people but all I see are unsolvable problems and stupid shit." She stared ahead in a nearly manic way and then breathed out like she was trying to get it out of her system.

Our tearful eyes locked in the mirror and I felt we had bonded in that moment. "I'm Giulia." My new companion introduced herself then.

"Nini." We shook hands and I came straight back to the point with something she said that had bothered me. "How did you know I have some unresolved issues?"

She didn't conceal an ironic smile. "You were talking to yourself in a bathroom stall. That's not a tough one to guess." She was right and my eyes started to become blurry before she interrupted me with a suggestion. "Wanna go outside? Dr Oswald will see you now." She offered with the grin of a siren who seemed to lure me in with a promising song of mental stability. After a short consideration, I sighed and nodded.

My path tonight had brought me to a club with a bright pink neon sign buzzing above its entrance. This hole-in-the-ground club's heavy electro-dance beat could only be revealed when its doors swung open. After falling shut, the soundproofing reduced the thumping music down to a dull ache in my memory. Some friends had shown me 'Nomi's' a few years ago and my disguise was either good enough to remain anonymous or simply nobody was bothered by the fact that a celebrity, and a hetero-normative one at that, was floating through an LGBTQ scene. The buff goth lady simply nodded at us before setting us free into the cold night.

Giulia poked me in the arm. "You hungry? I'm starving."

I shuffled about in the cold, considering if my anxiety was treatable with some food, then everything would be fine again. "I could eat."

"Wanna get kebab or pizza?" She held onto a street light and swung around playfully.

The corners of my mouth turned down into pathetic pout. "Chicago pizza?"

She smiled and frowned at the same time. "Yeah, why not? I know a place that's still open."

We talked on our entire way to the pizza place, shared our worries and doubts and she listened like we were two old friends who had finally reconnected but had never grown apart. The more she poured her interest into my problems, the more she lit up and somehow, I had overshared my entire trauma history. I was free to pretend to just be someone ordinary while in reality, I was opening up to a past life my public persona only dealt with when ugly rumours after a speculative peer-review turned into invasive interview questions. Giulia on the other hand had no idea who I was. To her, I was just another lost person.

The buzz of the alcohol had somewhat lessened during our cold morning walk. Some delis were already opening their shops for the day while the pizza place served their last customers.

A chosen New Yorker claiming Chicago-style pizza was superior was a dangerous opinion to have. Yet, I never felt more certain of it when the cheese string connecting to my piece seemed to never end. I chuckled darkly and groaned in delight while Giulia gave me an approving "Yeees, get in there."

"All I needed was some damn pizza." I sighed lowly, and yet again, battled my crisis with humour. "Can you believe that my ex-therapist advised me to go on a crash diet? All he wanted to talk about was my weight and my sex life. He wanted to stop me from being a massive kinky bitch and why would I want that?" Both of us cackled.

"Shit." She frowned, the doctor having a habit of leaning into me when she found something interesting. "I don't get how someone like that is able to keep a license."

"Yeah! Right?" I cried out, mouth full of hot pizza. I found enjoyment in being a hot mess when I mimicked his voice. "Oh, doesn't matter if you have a drug history. I have you under my wing, this is completely safe. Now here's some Ketamine. And boom, I'm dealing with withdrawal, cheers. Thanks a lot, dickhead."

"You weren't safe with him. Therapy shouldn't be manipulative." Dr Oswald stated.

"I swear, I have no verbal filter anymore. Being off meds is the worst." Though I had conveniently left out the part that I was famous, I remembered we were still in public and I shouldn't talk about too private things. I stared into the starless night above Manhattan and missed them as much as my sanity. "I can't help missing this... howling loneliness and complete lack of ego inside what was just mind fog." There wasn't any other way to describe ketamine to me. My nose clogged up at the pain and struggle of it all. "My sweet boyfriend- I was so mean to him and I know I'm also on my period and extra mean and the sauce I made was way too runny!" I sobbed at this point, nearly inarticulate, drifting off towards a point that was still very important to me.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." "It was practically water!" I sobbed out at the memory of our unsatisfactory dinner last night, shoulders shaking from crying.

"No... I meant what you said about being mean." She clarified while I suppressed a threatening hiccup. "What's your underlying concern?" Doc redirected our conversation with an annoyingly stereotypical therapy question but I guessed that had to be part of it.

"You know, I lost my cat-" A gulp broke my speech and I breathed until I got it together. "And it shouldn't feel this marginal but watching her die and realising I wasn't over my mum's death and feeling this profound sense of grief made me realise that maybe I don't want to be loved like that when I die. This much." Thick drops of tears streamed down my face and I knew I must have not made a lot of sense. "Never expressing this much love again. Feel the way I'm feeling... in that moment. I never stopped grieving and I figured, if he'd hate me, that would be easier."

The look she gave me was one of full understanding. "Go on, you got this." She encouraged me with a firm hand on my shoulder.

I wiped my face with my sleeve, snot, tears and makeup got stuck on the black fabric. "You know what my angel said? He said he could never hate me and he would never regret loving me, that I taught him that." I stifled myself with more pizza.

"Sounds like your person is there to help you navigate your pain," Doc said. "Maybe you're looking to become the people who would rather love like no one has ever loved before than to avoid the greatest suffering."

It seemed Pedro and I kept growing together. Through good and bad times. Despite the hardship, we still remained a unit and maybe that was all that mattered.

I soon rediscovered that food made everything better again and I filled the hole in my soul with cheese until my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Pedro was calling again.

"That's him?" Giulia asked with a look at the caller ID showing that 'Angel' with a load of heart emojis was calling. I showed her a picture of him and me together from our last New Year's celebration and she cooed at our big smiles. "I miss him," I admitted.

"He looks sweet. A bit... older than you, I guess?" She slurred back.

Bless her heart, she didn't recognise him either. "A bit." I downplayed our eighteen-year age gap. "Truth is, I am lucky to be with this treasure of a man, he's kind, sexy, smart and so talented." I gushed over him.

"But you've not communicated about your argument?" A slight smile spread on her lips despite her seriousness and somehow, I saw someone competent past those rhinestone eyebrows.

"No. I ran. Like always." I said in pure disappointment in myself. "I don't know if I fucked up for good this time. I can be such a bitch these days. But imagine me going home after this, what the fuck." I chewed slowly. "He already worries so much." I already knew my eyes were puffy and my lips were swollen from biting them. "Pedro thought he'd get a fun and bubbly, nurturing girlfriend but then he met my insecure dramatic traumatised and needy ass. What if I can't give him everything he deserves? He somehow still settled for me." A fresh tear ran down my cheek, this time I thought it might have been a happy one.

"You don't think your relationship is healthy?" Doc asked with a cough and I shrugged my shoulders. My fingers played with my sea glass necklace. "Do you think it's bad that... I don't feel like I'm not constantly on fire?"

"You think about the mind games that kept you interested?" "Don't call me out like that." My eyes narrowed.

"Let me ask you something. Does your relationship feel like an up-and-down roller coaster?"

I felt stupified and stammered out. "No?"

She kept insisting. "When someone has a hard time, do you make time to be there for the other? Not to improve things but just to be there."

"We can be miles away from each other at times but... yes. He's my lighthouse." I smiled widely despite her not getting the reference.

Giulia licked sauce off her thumb. "Do you bring the inner child up in each other?"

"Always." I laughed with tears in my eyes at every happy memory. I recalled our Christmases, birthdays, interviews and public events or simply the ordinary evenings just between the two of us.

Dr Oswald's shoulders relaxed with a sigh. "I think your relationship is more than healthy. Healthier than average couples. Don't let your insecurities talk you down, grow from them." With that, she shoved her last bite of pizza into her mouth and clapped her hands-free from crumbs.

My eyes skipped between her and the floor awkwardly. "Thanks, I guess."

She hummed before sharing an amused memory. "When my ex was fed up with me, I made her a sock puppet and tried to talk about it. She never called again." She demonstrated it with her glove. "Why don't you trust people?" She voiced her hand.

I gave her a fond smile as we began our walk back. "You're weird," I said with a chuckle as I retrieved a pre-rolled blunt from my purse and held it up to Giulia in an offer.

She grinned before passing me her lighter. "You're a cliché." She watched me light joint and take a practiced drag of the spicy herb.

"You're the one who said she dismembered Barbies as a kid." I countered with a deep exhale.

"Don't pretend you're not just as weird. You probably tortured your Sims or played with scary spiders or something." Giulia assumed, judging by my goth outfit by all accounts before taking a drag herself.

I couldn't help but play a joke on her. "There were indeed only spiders in the basement to play with," I commented dryly and her eyes closed while mine widened. Having just listened to the story of my sad childhood and the fact that my father used to lock me up in the cellar, she choked on the smoke. For a moment we were both shocked by my words until I noticed she was slowly breaking into laughter. She tried to keep it behind her hand but now we were both finished trying to hold back and instead of trying to work through and process my trauma, we let go of a hollering laugh. She at least tried to remain decent. "That's not funny. That's so not... funny."

I thought I was allowed to think it was. "It's a bit funny." She shook her head no, tearing up when she gave me my weed back. "See, you helped me already. I could talk about my dad without having an emotional breakdown. It's been easier already but I haven't felt this... relieved in a long time." I blinked away my tears stubbornly, finally admitting to myself that I was not fine and I was constantly reacting to my trauma. I decided then and there that if I would ever mistreat a future child of mine, I would not deserve to waste any more oxygen on this world. "You're really good at this. Knocking sense into people." I said sincerely.

"I appreciate you trying to end my lost cause. You made me feel like I'm not a total failure after all." She said on our way back through the calm side alleys. Our steps echoed from the red brick stone walls as we passed the joint back and forth.

"Are you kidding me? I appreciate your work so much. You do matter. This was... this was really helpful. I mean it." I saw her bottom lip trembling at my promise.

"Thank you. You're very nice."

Like a cool cat, I flicked the joint away. "I have my moments." She let me drape my arm across her shoulders as we made our way out of the last alley.

The night was slowly lifting and my mind felt light as a feather when the club came back into view. "I don't think I'll go back inside again." I said at the end of our journey.

Giulia turned and her hands clapped onto her sides with a sigh. "Now imma tell you what I'd say as a therapist and imma tell you what I'd say as a parent from an Italian household." She took a step closer and lowered her voice, her concern sounding far from patronising. "I would very much like to test you for PTSD and bipolar disorder and I want to break down generational trauma and introduce you to the right medication and progressive, beneficial habits because you girl, are not making wise choices." She finally put her finger down. "Second, and this is my nonna speaking-" Suddenly she raised her voice and I jumped. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET YOUR ASS HOME, PRONTO." She gestured like her Italian grandma and I chirped out a laugh.

"O-okay." I was met with a passionate grin I had to somewhat dampen. "PTSD has kind of already been diagnosed though." A deep intuitive feeling matched and I somehow knew she would be able to help me.

"No depression?" "It's more of an anxiety disorder." "Shame. People with depression have the best Spotify playlists."

I blinked at the sound of her disappointment. "I would very much like to become your patient." I decided then and there.

"Fantastic." She wrestled her hand into her boot in return to give me a white business card with a font that promised a brutalist interior design. 'M.D. G. Oswald' written on it with an office address in Manhattan not far from here.

"Fancy," I noted and tucked it away into my bra. She seemed genuinely happy at the encounter. "God knows, I've made my partner age ten years tonight. After this-" I began to walk backwards towards the street. "I owe him a lifetime of happiness... and no more runny sauces."

"Try creme fraiche next time." Giulia advised me and the only thing I could do was comment with an awkward 'ah.

I shifted my weight from one to the other foot, pointing in the direction of an approaching cab. "I should probably... I'll give you a call." I turned one last time after I had already managed to hail it. "Hey Doc, one more thing."

"What?"

I couldn't have addressed her with a sterner tone as I stood by the open door of my ride. "If you ever tell me I need to forgive my dad, I'll be out the door." I threatened and at first she looked puzzled, but then saluted me in understanding and we smiled at each other.

I was already inside the taxi when she whistled sharply with her fingers and provoked me to roll the window down. "Ey, one last word of advice." She began as she stood in front of the door back where our journey had originally started. "Make up with your fella. If he's mad, suck his dick. He'll get over it."

"Amen!" A bunch of suddenly cheerleading people roaming the club's entrance in their colourful outfits contributed with loud and some lewd additions.

I nodded and sank a little deeper into my seat with my cheeks heating up at her thumbs up. "Thanks." Giulia slapped the roof of my taxi for goodbye and as I drove off, I looked back to see her going back inside the club.

~~~

At around five in the morning, the house was dark and perfectly quiet. Everything seemed to go according to plan if it meant Pedro had finally gone to sleep. The key and wind chime at the door hardly made a noise when I crept inside, yet having to greet a pathetically whining Edgar who had been waiting for me on the doormat required an advanced level of discreteness. "Hey, good boy, hi! Oh, dear. Oh, dear." I went over to pacify our boy before I snuck inside bare feet with my shoes dangling from my fingers.

Completely parched, I passed into the kitchen, unloaded all of my belongings onto the counter and fumbled at my earrings with a sigh. My mouth tasted weird.

I was stretching towards the glasses when sudden bright headlight illuminated the entire room and scared the living hell out of me. His sudden appearance had been nearly enough to drop my glass before I could even retrieve it from the cupboard. "Kut, fuck! You scared me!" I cursed after swishing around to see one particular unpleased Pedro in the French doorway. His frown only deepened and he gave me a thin-lipped stare as he leaned against the frame and crossed his toned arms over his chest.

I knew I had to look like an absolute mess, yet I gestured around as if I couldn't see what the point of him busting me like a naughty teenager was. This was terribly like a bad childhood memory of my father doing practically the same thing, the only difference was that I wasn't scared of Pedro. He was dressed in his old pyjamas and his hair was adorably ruffled post-shower but his softness was entirely replaced by harsh tension. Deep bags cast a shadow underneath his eyes and it was then that I noticed the sheen of tears in their hardness, something between pure anger and also, relief.

"Hi." I gulped, sensing I was in deep trouble regardless. I slowly pulled my wig off my head, discarding the long black strands as they flowed off my shoulders. He didn't echo my greeting as usual.

My eyes skipped to the floor at the sight of his obvious disappointment in me and I wondered if I would manage to raise any kind of reaction from him other than eyes that stared daggers into my soul. Pedro's anger was a chilling thing to behold. It was rare.

His chest first expanded and he tore his hand over his mouth like he needed to stop all the necessary curses from tumbling out with his next exhale. "How was it?" He asked instead, ironically with a sharp edge to each word. His eyes radiated a kind of severe heat that promised this was merely the calm before the storm.

I forced myself not to stutter but my heart beat out of my chest. "It was... nice. I feel good. Really good. Better um... I thought you'd maybe be asleep by the time I get home."

"Oh, really?" He parroted with dripping sarcasm, finally stepping down the few stairs and stalking intimidatingly closer. I shrunk underneath him and bumped into the counter, wincing at his proximity more than the impact. "Where were you?" He growled, jaw clicking.

Irritation glared up at me at his patronising tone and I realised I wasn't done provoking him after all. It was like I couldn't stop myself. With an attitude, I raised my chin and snarked up at him. "Why does it matter? I'm no longer there."

"Did you take anything?" He turned my face into the light above with force and I blinked, irritated at the examination. The light was too bright and his grip pinched my cheeks a little too harsh for his gentle character. He held heated eye contact that made my pride resolve and finally crumble. "Leonie, did you take anything?" He bit down at me after he couldn't detect something unusual about the dilation reflex in my pupils.

I freed myself from his grasp. "No, I didn't! Let go of me." I pouted childishly and he let it be for the moment, stepping back and letting me go like my touch burned him. "I'm fine!" I added when he walked away from me.

He faced the garden, his broad back casting a shadow onto the blueish-hued floor when I dared to speak up again. "I'm... I'm tired. I think I should just go to bed." I tried to sneak my way out but he was quicker to strut to the couch and toss me a pillow.

"No, you're not." He ordered, clearly insinuating I was sleeping here tonight.

"Fine." I bit out and aggressively fumbled with a blanket while he turned around and didn't take another look at me. A gush of air pushed through his nose when he walked past me.

I could only watch as he went to leave, a rush of sympathy and guilt provoking me to finally do the right thing. "I'm s-"

He broke off my apology. "Go to sleep and sober up. We'll speak in the morning."

A heavy stone settled in my heart. "Pedro."

He went to go upstairs and not once turned to look at my sad, lost form that waited in vain for a sign of forgiveness.

~~~

When I woke about five hours later, it was by the sound of items banging in the kitchen. The smell of something delicious sizzled in a pan but my stomach dreaded it and my head felt like it could burst. The first wave of sickness crashed into me when I remembered the resemblance of hatred in Pedro's eyes. Mine opened to the sight of his chocolate curls bouncing as he chopped something with a knife. His gaze was still turned down even though he must have seen that I was up and the more I told myself that he didn't care for me anymore, the more I felt like I deserved it.

The smell of bacon suggested that the thick tension hanging in this house was merely a delusion. Normally it meant something different. A cosy breakfast with a newspaper and coffee, loving banter and plans for the future.

Pedro discarded something into the bin when I sat up and disturbed Edgar, who had been sleeping cuddled into my side.

Pedro sighed and tossed the towel he'd been using over his shoulder. It was like he needed to brace himself before acknowledging me with a side glance and a tight pull of his moustache. I threw my blanket off and felt nothing but awful at the sight of the fatigue on his face.

"Good morning," I muttered meekly and got up to go and sit at the table with my hands folded sheepishly in front of me. I didn't even dare to walk up to him and get myself a cup of coffee. Pedro on the other hand, knowing me inside and out, fetched it for me and the creamy liquid sloshed over the rim at the force he used to slam it down in front of me. A plate with a croissant followed next with a harsh clatter of porcelain on wood. Before this 'talk' I dreaded more than anything would ensue, he waited for me to examine my favourite breakfast that I still adored him for. "Thank you." I barely managed to say.

He watched me dunk a piece of buttery deliciousness into my coffee, slip it into my mouth and treat him to a careful smile. I knew he had gone out of his way to get me fresh croissants but I couldn't tell if it was a peace offering or should merely act like a little sugar to make the medicine taste not so bitter. I braced myself for the latter. "D'd you sleep well?" He muttered tiredly and I nodded.

"The couch is pretty comfortable, actually." I attempted to make an insignificant observation before returning the question and receiving a hardly noticeable shake of his head as he brushed it off.

"Pedro, talk to me," I begged him, still hoping I could fix this. "Please."

Yell at me, throw something. Just anything.

I could hardly swallow as he stalked through the room. He took deep breath before his agitation finally unfolded. "Do you have any idea-" he spoke slow and patiently. "-how worried I was all night?"

Finally, his eyes met mine and it was nearly devastating. A heavy gulp forced my food down and I inhaled to start with an apology but he stopped me from making even the tiniest approach. "I was frightened, I didn't know what to do. You just... storm out after we had a fight, I have no idea where you're going-" The heat still radiated from his eyes when his voice turned a mocking tone. "The problem is you don't fucking care about anything! I wait for a fucking sign of life from you but you ignore my texts, you don't answer my calls-" His voice rose in volume with each word. "And then, finally at five in the morning, you come home, reeking of alcohol and weed and I knew-- I knew that would happen. Who else but you would just disappear, then pop up like nothing happened?" He had bent over the table, hands splayed out across when he spoke to me in calm anger. "You know what you did? You mixed painkillers with alcohol and drugs, you're lucky you didn't end up in the ER! And don't get me started on the scandal you could have caused when you walk around fucking wasted like that." He shook his head at me and I decided to keep it to myself that I had been to a gay club on top of that. "Irresponsible, stupid, impulsive girl. Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn't think you're a fucking danger hazard to yourself!"

"I was 'not' wasted," I muttered under my breath, but he looked past my antics and the flaw of design I called self-medication. He was speechless. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Oh, you're sorry?" he chastised me, louder this time, ready to berate me a little more. "I'm sorry is not fucking good enough this time!" He was breathing irregularly.

"I needed a little bit of freedom, Pedro!" I cried out.

Maybe emotion made him irrational at this point too. He didn't care Edgar was whining at us. "Oh, remind me again how horrible living in LA was and make me feel guilty about it."

"I begged to come with you, to just leave New York, remember? Poen died and I wanted to leave." I yelled back, frantically wiping away the first couple of tears at his fury. "I love you, wherever you go, I go!" I sobbed. Silence hung in the room like thick fog clouding us.

He sighed, holding back the severity of his anger when he realised he had made me cry. Finally he sat next to me at the head of the table and with a terrible sigh, ruffled his hand through his hair.

He sounded so tired. "I was so fucking mad. Still am. You treat my concern like it's nothing. I get you're searching for yourself and what's good for you but call me out on my delusion if I assume it's not in self-medication but right here." He told me with his eyes closed. "Honey, I'm so invested in helping and supporting you and I also know you won't find that sort of thing while going out and risking your wellbeing. I have... a lot of empathy for what you're going through. Be selfish, by all means, but I am 'not-" he fixed my eyes with his and put his index finger onto the table. "deserving of being treated like shit. Trust goes both ways. If I can't convince you to do what's best for you, I trust that you at least won't disrespect my compassion."

Finally it sank in and I was struck by so much shame, my eyes stung violently and I hated myself for ever hurting him. Even if unintentionally, he was the only one who could stop me on my way down because he was in control of my heart. I was the first to break our tense silence. "I need help," I admitted in tears. "I want to get better."

We finally seemed to understand each other's dire struggle, for when he grasped my hand, it meant the world to me. "Maybe you want to try this clinic I found. I heard it's-" He began but I interrupted him and tried to conceal my disgust at even the mention of rehab.

"I already found a new therapist," I announced and he leaned back in a puzzled state. "Good, eh... good. What?" He stuttered.

"Last night." I finished and watched his jaw drop. He gave me a look like he was finally done with my bullshit and the hand he'd previously held so comfortingly let me go again. I aimed to pacify him before he could say anything. "A good psychiatrist, I met her in the club and I got a free session but I'm already a hundred per cent sure, she's the right one for me. She is... incredible."

Pedro was still too baffled to even process this piece of information. "That's... that's-" Pedro didn't know what exactly this was, he tried to think about his words but failed. He put his palm to his forehead to relieve the headache that had to be forming there. "I feel like you forgot everything I just said. You don't get it." Pedro looked at me, puzzled.

"I do." "No, I begged you to make more sensible decisions and then you barge in with this." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, you're a piece of work."

I tried not to take that past comment personally. "I mean something good came out of my manic episode. I realised important things. For example, that I'm self-sabotaging."

"Okay... okay. Let's think this through." Pedro had calmed down somewhat and ran his hand over his beard in an attempt to try and start over. "Does this therapist have any credentials? What's her background? References? Do you have any idea who she is?" His questions were all reasonable but I had no answers to them. All I knew was that none mattered because I had a good feeling I about her.

"She's extremely smart and empathetic, she's boisterous, a lesbian and she's a socialist. You'd like her." I explained and he blinked at me. Dumbfounded, he folded his hands and I felt free to tell him the entire story of how Doc and I met.

Even after I was done explaining, he was still not convinced. "You know can't have a personal relationship with your therapist. This meeting while going out... thing and smoking together doesn't sound good at all. Who parties with their therapist?"

"I know, I know we can't be friends. She already said something like that. That and, that I should suck your dick if you're still mad at me." His frown seemed edged in stone, causing my innocent expression to crumble bit by bit. "You don't want that." I assumed, quietly.

"No, I don't." He dismissed, low and pointedly. "This is a bad idea. And this... therapist suggesting a blow job would fix this-" he looked up with a spark of humour I fixed my hope on. "Maybe."

I raised my eyebrows and he pointed a finger at me. "No, I was joking." "Okay, jeez." "I'd appreciate it if you took this seriously."

Maybe it had dawned on me or my manic episode was finally tranquillized by cold sobriety but my eyes stung with tears and my voice cracked when I spoke under my breath. "I am taking it more seriously than ever." I tried and was met with a look of love and pain in his eyes that nearly broke my heart.

"Don't say that if you don't mean it." He begged quietly.

A heavy gulp got stuck in my throat and for several moments, I gathered the right things to say. "I know... I know you have a good reason to be angry with me but I felt... so helpless." I choked up. "So unseen."

For several long, insufferable beats, we stayed mute until the quietness became too much to bear. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way." His voice had cracked mid-sentence. "Just the thought anything could happen to you... and it would have been my fault. When I didn't hear anything from you, I was so angry."

When his eyes filled with tears, I reached over the table to gently try and loosen the arms he had crossed in front of his chest. Reluctantly, he opened up and let me hold his hand.

"Baby, I know it's been hard. I know-" My voice quivered while he tried to compose himself and meet my eyes. He was right, I hadn't been myself lately and I was so sorry for everything. For last night, for what nearly happened in LA. He was the one person I wanted to keep trying for and I made a promise with the only words that mattered. "I'll do better."

Pedro nodded, the flicker of warmth in his moist eyes. He believed me. "Okay." He decided and merely the thought of ever disappointing him again broke my heart. Never in my entire life had I felt such shame. The tears that had gradually been filling my eyes spilled over and I watched them fall into my lap when I couldn't hold them any longer.

He cupped my cheek when a sob shook my body and raised my chin so he could look me in the eyes and make something clear. "I was scared, for you. And you- you don't understand how much it hurts when you run out the door like that. Please, at least let me know you're okay next time." He admitted quietly.

"I'm so sorry." I cried out.

"You were right, I was too controlling. And I'm sorry for letting you sleep on the couch and being too harsh on you." He sighed, wiped first mine, then his tears away before he regained his composure. "If you need time for yourself, I won't stop you."

"Not... time away from you but-" I sighed. "Maybe I just need to get back to work. Do my own thing again and work on some music."

"That's a very good idea." He smiled for the first time and it was soothing, even though something seemed to still weigh on his mind. "Can you promise me something?" His eyes snapped back up from our entwined hands and I braced myself to receive an expectation I would have trouble meeting. "Promise you'll tell me when you feel like I'm smothering you, so you won't start to resent me?"

Finally, the consequences of my actions had an impact when I realised he was definitely the more mature person about this. The fact that I made him worry about that deeply saddened me. "I could never resent you." I squeaked out, finally broken.

Pedro breathed out a relieved sigh when I threw myself into his arms and I could hold him tight. His shoulders sank low as he hid his face in the crook of my neck and hugged me close. He needed me as much as I needed him, right here and wrapped up in his arms.

"Lost my fucking Duolingo streak." He grumped, spoke muffled into my shoulder and triggered a peal of laughter to bubble up between us.

"I'm so sorry, angel. I really am." I replied nasally but somewhat relieved of all tension. Looking back at him, I wiped away the moisture underneath his eyes.

"It's okay now." He promised. "I promise it'll be okay."

I revelled in his gentle touch. "I'm sorry for being all wrong in the head." My voice thinned out.

He caught my chin between his finger and thumb. "Hey, hey, you're not. Look at me." I did, looking into his still glistening, beautiful brown eyes to see him sniff and brace me for some uplifting words. "You think there's something wrong with you? There's nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong with you. Anxiety and depression fucking suck but you're gonna stop being so hard on yourself. It gets better, I promise. And when we fight, we fight hard but we love even harder." His eyes were so soulful and he was in every way, kindness and beauty while I was ashamed of the way I looked, felt and behaved. Somehow he made me feel deserving again just by looking at me.

"You don't know how much that means to me." I was hardly able to say through my throat closing up in tears as I held his face in between my palms. "I'm sorry, Pedro. My sweetheart." Gazing into his shimmery, yet determined eyes and finally seeing no sign of irritation in them lifted an enormous weight off my heart. A desperate need for closeness forced its way into our embrace. It was nearly too harsh, the way he pulled me closer when his fingers tangled into the roots of my hair like he'd lose me if he didn't but I needed it to survive.

He held me close for what felt like forever and again, I felt the need to just disappear within him. "Hey, I don't want a mentally stable partner. That's boring." I said in an uplifting tone and I nearly giggled. "Because that's not fun. It doesn't fit me. You fit me. I want you, with all of your issues. To me, you are perfect." He placed many, loving kisses on my head and made his devotion and immortal support finally resonate within me. I was a path without an end and he was happy to keep treading on it.

~

Part 3 - Coming Soon

~

Translation notes:

(it): nonna - (eng): grandma

(it): pronto - (eng): now

(dut): kut - (eng): cunt

[forsty]

#only my favourite emotionally repressed codependent pilot besties#something something 'the mirror hurts'#i cant stop thinking about the closeness of their friendship and yet i think they both act so wilfully ignorant of each other#like they both KNOW they don't have the full picture of what's going on with the other#they know there's always something lurking beneath the easy conversation and ribbing and songs by the piano#and maybe they catch little glimmers of it because they do genuinely care for and trust each other over almost anyone else in the world#but equally they're both very guarded people and they have this implicit understanding that 'if you don't press me i won't press you'#then ofc rooster's past gets blown open in front of phoenix and she has to figure out how to navigate that#bc she's SO MAD on that tarmac but she also kind of swallows her anger? like the flying with hangman comment is gritted out#she's faced with this huge part of her friend's life that has more or less shaped his worldview that she just... didn't know about#and how can you help in that situation? i don't think she knows#if anything it throws into question what worth a friendship like that has#yeah you might love that person but if you're happy to turn a blind eye to the dark stuff (even when that person wants you to) are you real#idk. i know it wasn't core to the canon story but i just think rooster's arc would have a huge impact on phoenix and their friendship#she's not the omnipotent seer of all things some fan interpretations peg her as imo#i think she chooses what she looks at and what she turns away from#and the second run in topgun forces her for the first time to look at rooster instead of just being content knowing he's at her shoulder#ANYWAY. normal thoughts for a normal tuesday night. via @reiverreturns

emotional support pilot best friends

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased to meet you (a fairy tale)

Series, complete.

Summary: You meet Frankie Morales. Twice.

A 20-year-old French student, you're spending the summer of 1999 in New York with your best friend. When she drags you to a party in Brooklyn, you meet an aspiring pilot and the two of you spark an instant and intense connection. Separated by unfortunate events, you waste the next 15 years of your life longing for what you've lost, only to meet him again when your new boyfriend Benny introduces you to his best friend.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Gabrielle Tourneur (OFC)/French fem!Reader with a dash of Ben Miller x Gabrielle Tourneur (OFC)/French fem!Reader

Written in reader format but Reader is an OFC. There are sparse but still present physical descriptions, she is French and has a thorough background, and a name.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Note: In 2023, I will stop apologising. Maybe. And anyway, I make no excuse. I'm in love with this pilot and obsessed by this movie so I'm making it everyone’s problem. This story is nothing if not a self-indulgent exploration of the soulmates ideal. Expect a lot of angst, and smut.

Every chapter is explicit and you should be 18+ to read this. The American university system remains a mystery to me, I googled "how to become a US Army pilot", and visas are not a thing in this AU. English is not my first language, but one I adore.

Welcome to the orange bedroom, hope you'll enjoy 🧡

Chapters

Chapter 1 - Lovesong

Chapter 2 - I Feel You

Drabble (chapter 3) - What lingers (you)

Drabble (chapter 4) - What lingers (Frankie)

Chapter 5 - Boy meets girl

Drabble - Proud Mary (Ben Miller x you)

Chapter 6 - That Brooklyn bathroom

Chapter 7 - Frankie

Chapter 8 - Shuffle Your Feet

Chapter 9 - The Way Young Lovers Do

Chapter 10 - The Deal

Chapter 11 - Sunday Morning

Chapter 12 - The Drive Home

Chapter 13 - Perfect Day

Chapter 14 - Love is blindness

Chapter 15 - Flaming June

Chapter 16 - Plainsong

Chapter 17 - Auf Achse

Drabble - What lingers (you&him)

Epilogue - Songbird

Drabbles

Road Trippin’ - inspired by one of Wildemaven’s beautiful weekly moodboard writing prompts 🔞

The ties that bind us

To Bring You My Love

More Than a Feeling

I <U SO - coming one day for sure

Headcannons

Frankie's high school locker

The TF boys' favourite things in life and how they like it done.

Benny and Gabrielle (better read between chapter 14 and 15 to avoid spoilers)

A PTMY Halloween 🎃

Playlist

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Frankie Morales Masterlist

all fics marked with * are explicit and are 18+ only—all minors interacting will be blocked

oneshots

power outage* — frankie and reader find a good way to kill time during a storm. 1.5k

blind dating show — reader finds herself in a local bar’s dating game-show, the contestants Will, Benny, and Frankie. only one man can walk away with the prize, and we all know the perfect pilot for the job. 2.5k

blind dating show p.II* — part two of ^ where reader accepts an invite to frankie’s barbecue. things get spicy. 3k

oblivious — reader and frankie are the best of friends until a fight on a camping trip reveals things that neither of them ever dared to admit. fluff follows. 3.7k

cabin in the woods* — frankie and reader decide to rent a cabin for the holiday, but neither realize they’re walking into a “haunted house” courtesy of the rest of the TF boys. 2.9k

i’ll be home for christmas* — Frankie comes home after a long month of work just in time for the holidays. 2.5k

a new friend (1/2) — reader gets lost in the woods and frankie shelters her from not only the storm, but her shitty relationship. 4k

when we were young — reader sees their ex, frankie, i’m a bar after five years. 2.5k

series

august* — frankie x ofc. Rebecca Herrera goes on her annual family vacation and meets a handsome stranger. Only problem is, that stranger just so happens to be twenty years older and her uncle’s close friend. (CANCELLED—WILL NOT UPDATE)

meet me in the hallway* — frankie x ofc. when Dylan Jones, the struggling owner of a start-up bakery, lucks out and finds a cheap room for rent, she finds more than she could have ever expected in her group of four male roommates: friends, family,…love? Follow along for a New Girl-inspired will they/won’t they to see if they in fact do! (CANCELLED—WILL NOT UPDATE)

ivy & stone* — victorian au!frankie x ofc/javi g x ofc. Lady Florence Bell lives an idyllic life—summers in the countryside, autumns in the city, a wealthy bloodline, and unparalleled beauty to top it all off. After having spent last summer in an affair with her family’s handyman and gardener, an older gentleman named Mr. Francisco Morales, Lady Florence is reluctant to join this season of Court, her heart already set on her secret lover. But when a famed painter and old family friend from Paris makes a rare appearance in London, Lady Florence is forced to face her old crush as an adult—and her competing affections.

drabbles

the addams family* — part of Spooktacular ‘22. frankie gets turned on by wife!reader in a morticia costume.

facetime movie night — part of Spooktacular ‘22.

christmas cookies — decorating christmas cookies w frankito.

dressing room tears — reader struggles with weight gain and finding jeans that fit her, frankie is there to remind her how beautiful she is.

i can take it* — edging with sub!frankie.

lost in love* — frankie likes the way you look beneath him.

just a dream — reader struggles with infertility and has a dream that feels frighteningly real.

caught* — reader is dating santi, but frankie urges her to tell him about their affair.

real love, baby —plus size!reader meets frankie in a bar. fluff fluff fluff.

EXTRAS

my frankie playlist

[xamaxenta]

Ooh… but the Sabo returns moment would be bangin as a small comic idea

the South African shatterdome has sent over transfers, more pilot candidates and engineers in exchange for foot soldiers from the SEA shatterdome to assist with the rebuilding efforts around africa and the middle east, the last Kaiju “Sleipnir” CAT III wrought true blinding destruction there before it got put down by the Spanish Jaegers: Aguila Negra and Romeo Salvaje

Ace, Marco and the other off duty Rangers and high ranking officers are assembled to greet this exchange party, and its a smooth process, it has all the poise and properness of any military procession

That is until the mechanic/engineer division enter the hangar, Sabo is part of this division — traumatic kaiju attack = lost all his memories except for his knowledge on jaeger programming, and ofc general human existence (talking reading writing and in this day and age combat) he just forgot about Ace and beinf a pilot and being MARRIED!?!?

Well its a huge commotion when Sabo sets eyes on Ace… Ace who at that particular moment wasnt looking at him rather looking at a very interesting spot above Whitebeards shoulder (theyre standing in formation opposite to each other) and then theres chaos

Major Outlook— whats wrong!??!

Outlook?

Ace hasn’t heard that surname in a very long time (seven years to be exact) and as far as he can remember, all of Sabo’s family died in the second coming breach—

And then there’s the heavy sound of running footsteps and Ace is bodily taken off his feet by a taller man, blonde— his hair is longer (Sabo always used to have his hair cropped short—) sabo? And they’re speaking to him in disjointed japanese and Ace realises that weird ass accent— his his husband—!!

(Ace is half Brazilian half japanese, same as Luffy, his preferred speaking language is japanese but he is fluent in english, Sabo is british canadian and learnt japanese when he was at the jaeger academy, Marco is American with spanish roots and only speaks english, knows disjointed chinese and some japanese thanks to Ace)

And Ace claws into Sabos mechanic overalls, holds him tightly, realises that he was alive and Sabo’s trying to explain what happened and he can sense Marco hovering over them in concern

Aufhfhf it would be very emotional and confusing for them all 🥺

Basically Sabo got rescued by coast guard and was then taken to another survivor encampment, there he followed the refugees to the south african shatterdome to heal and seek work, here he remembers instinctively (cuz all shatterdomes are kinda the same) how to get around and how to do stuff TM, its where they assign him — Dragon is the SA marshal — to the jaeger engineering department because Sabos in no mental state to pilot

[voidplume]

hi second era i hate myself theres so much

actually quick fun facts before this round

-his wings showed up after the zariman void jump and the shape is based off the Peregrine Falcon!! yes this also means his flight pattern and style is based off them as well

-he self medicated with kuva to "calm down" (basically a sedative) although it keeps him from using transference for a few hours after use

The Drifitng Army

so lets go back to the zariman. following the void jump, the young rigel often seemed very "out of it" and for good reason. when the zariman took its first steps and the decline started to happen, he sort of split in two? not in the way lazarus is Two Guys in one, but more in reverse. like hes one person spread across multiple bodies. drifter rigel and tenno rigel existed on the zariman at the same time, able to see and speak through both of them.

this is the main reason hes able to pilot so many warframes with ease. hes been doing it literally the moment he got his tenno powers but with HIMSELF. the difference btwn them is young rigel manages to get off the ship and loses this weird mental contact with his older self once he does. drifter rigel continues living on the zariman (THANK YOU ETERNALISM!!!!!!) and eventually slips into the spiral hell fest that is Duviri.

see i have a very Fun very Cool headcanon that each tenno has their own flavor of duviri. the only way i can explain it is like each tenno's duviri is like a sheet of paper. and the Duviri as we know it is a huge book comprised of these sheets. now the void is fickle and stupid and these sheets clip into each other like a fun bethesda game sometimes, but thats a joke for another time.

rigel tried to make his duviri as much of a paradise as he could. the characters from the book pretty much wrote themselves, but he added bits in the margins. wrote his own chapter in the back pages. added the king's advisor, Larimar. a mary sue creation of a mary sue, he made Larimar based on dreams he would have of someone he knew was very dear to him but didnt remember the name of. all he knew was that both him and this person were obsessed with each other, and so he echoes this in Larimar.

ofc like eahc of the tenno, dominus gets possessive and jealous. etc etc he takes over as the creator and ruler of Duviri. instead of taking his anger out on this tenno, he ends up keeping rigel as a living art piece. calls him the Angel and covers his face with a mask that resembles the swirling void in the Undercroft. and for YEARS it stays like that. drifter rigel dreaming of his life in the origin system through broken, out of order scenes. larimar pining and scheming behind his king's back the return the Angel to his side.

rigel quickly becomes numb to dominus's humiliation, but it snaps quickly once his duviri clips into laz's. suddenly he's found him! that weird blind fucker from his dreams!!! larimar is less than pleased, seeing the guy he was modeled after get far more attention all of a sudden. dominus, however, is THRILLED.

this starts a new fun chapter for rigel that i like to call relationship trauma any% half A press speedrun dumpster fire. basically to get a reaciton out of rigel, dominus just royally (haha) fucks over laz in anyway he sees fit. INCLUDING MAKING RIGEL TORTURE AND KILL HIM. initially, this doesnt work. rigel just ends up killing himself over and over instead. very boring. thrax does not approve.

it takes laz BEGGING him to just "finish" him off and "give thrax what he wants already" for rigel to finally cave and like. actually kill him. its gut wrenching. its explosive. theres more to this but thats for the next post, sorry.

rigel takes a very rapid turn both during and after the new war. during, his "nurturing" of the lotus feels more out of obligation than anything. he kind of... doesnt know what to do with himself. hes so used to being told what to do that once he has the freedom to choose he CAN'T. so he kinda just follows the motions of helping the lotus and hunting the archons.

at the fight with ballas, he has a... very Strong reaction. not to immediately plug my Bullshit again, but i wrote out the fight in a google doc here if you'd like further reading. this is his first like..... Self Aware iteration of what we'll be calling Raphael. he has no fucking clue who this bitch is or why the fuck hes here, but it feels INCREDIBLE to be so powerful and indestructible.

yadda yadda he kicks the shit out of ballas and all is well in the world. okay maybe a bit too well. rigel kinda goes on a fucking bender with his new obsession with freedom, breaking off from the clan and laz for a while as he chugs kuva and fucks his way around the system.

eventually, he returns a fucking blubbering mess into laz's arms, talking some weird shit about angels and brothers and The Master or whatever. laz tries to get him to elaborate when hes sober but rigel genuinely has no fucking clue what hes takling about.

and then the fucking zariman blips back into the system. great fun, good times. poor thing genuinely has no idea why theres still people on it, but the entire fucking thing is deeply, PAINFULLY uncomfortable for him and he doesn't know exactly why.

okay its the angels. the fucking angels are why. hes seen them attack immediately once woken and even chase tenno throughout an entire mission, but they NEVER seem to bother him. theyve NEVER attacked him unprompted. in fact they seem more friendly than anything...

"vik you wrote about this didnt you" YES I DID

post more rigel lore... please... they're so cool

RI IS SOO SO SPECIAL TO ME!! this ask made me so excited when i saw it thank you anon!!!!!!!

rigel is vik @helmofhades ’s beautiful boy!! he’s his tenno oc and laz is his right hand arm man. his everything. his confidante. his silly rabbit. (does he call him that? no.)

for serious though rigel is so cool. he’s a void angel! he’s a one man army! he’s a slut! he’s an overwhelmed single dad! he chugs more kuva than the average kuva lich (he’s just self medicating, trust him on this)!! he’s even PURPLE!!!!!! he’s got it all!!!!!!!!

i’m gonna pass the mic over to vik so he can elaborate, because rigel has a lot going on and i knwo i won’t do him justice on my own. check that out in the notes soonish (and go follow him while you’re at it! wtf!!!)

[magpie-to-the-morning]

My Moodboards ❀❀❀ Send in a request  ❀❀❀  AO3

Hello lovely readers. My name is Emma and I’m a multifandom nerd with a love for fanfic. I’m open to requests, although it may be awhile before inspiration hits. Feel free to send one in though, or just come say hello!

My blog and my stories are all intended for readers 18 and older - no exceptions. I currently write for various Pedro Pascal characters and Moon Knight. I’ve also written a bit for Stranger Things and House of the Dragon. You can find them under the cut!

Always Toward the Sunshine - Completed

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: A series of seasonally themed domestic fluff and spice with our favorite helicopter pilot.

Taste Like Heaven - Oneshot

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: Impending parenthood is not without its challenges, but Frankie’s always got you covered. Late night pains turn to a new experience for the two of you.

Insatiable - Ongoing

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales X OFC (second person POV)

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: You’ve travelled the world looking for home, but what if it finds you? A wolf shifter AU.

Pull the Blinds - Ongoing

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: Work is hard and you could both use a break…

In from the Cold - Completed

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: You’re a bartender with a love life that’s completely DOA. Maybe this charming new regular will turn things around?

With a Twist - Ongoing

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: When Whiskey agrees to join you on a weekend at a fetish convention, you both get more than you bargained for.

Howdy, Pumpkin - One Shot

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: A sweet and spicy autumnal collab with @radiowallet

On Fire from Within - Oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: You’re a newish crew member on the Razor Crest, helping out on a bounty hunting mission when you get hit with a laced dart at a shady brothel. It’s a sex pollen fic lads, you know how this goes!

Stay with Me - Completed

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Summary: You jump into the fray of a hunt to help Din out, and things deteriorate from there.

Come Back to Me - Ongoing

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: Highwayman Din historical AU.

Catching Snowflakes - Ongoing

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: Din crashes onto an ice planet with his latest bounty. Can the two of you learn to trust each other for long enough to survive?

Crescent - Ongoing

Pairings: Steven Grant x F!Reader, Marc Spector x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: After being forced into the darkness, how will you find the light?

Stone Heart - Completed

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Summary: Maybe Steven’s one-sided friendship isn’t so one-sided after all… AKA a Moon Knight Pygmalion AU

Wild Child - Oneshot

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: The Queen of Hawkins High can’t be seen with Eddie Munson... can she? Can also be read as Eddie x Chrissy.

Prompts, Requests, and Drabbles

Miscellaneous Thoughts, Thots, and Headcanons

Character banners by @acrossthesestars

[blindchandelure]

1, 4, 6, 12, 18, 26

1. If you could only listen to one band for the rest of your life.. which would you pick?

That’s so hard! 😨

….But ofc I will say Blind Channel, because they’re my special interest rn 😂

4. You’re stranded on an island with your favorite band..but have to banish one member? Which one gets the boot?

I would never want to leave that island 😏

I’ll kick Tommi out, because he’s the least attractive. (Sorry Mr. Bear…..I like my boys androgynous, your burly manliness is too much for me 🤭)

6. Does a artist/bands political opinions bother you?

Yeah, ofc I’ll stop supporting them if their opinions are shitty. Like, I stopped listening to Twenty One Pilots after the “platforms” controversy.

If you’re not hip: in the summer of 2020, George Floyd was murdered by the police, leading to Black Lives Matter protests around the globe. Fans encouraged Tyler Joseph to “use his platform” as an artist to speak out in support of the protesters.

He snapped a photo of his platform boots and captioned it “there! I’m using my platforms lol”

….Not funny, Tyler. People were dying.

12. Would you buy something you fav endorsed? Even if you liked it or not?

I guess that depends on what it is??

Like. I’ve thought about buying the same Bleak World hoodie that Joel has, because it looks cool. I think it’s neat that Bleak World started use him as a model on their website and everything.

But if Joel endorsed something random like, idk, multivitamins, ofc I wouldn’t buy that.

18. Your celebrity crush has a sex tape leaked.. you watching it?

I would be tempted, because ofc I want to see Niko naked, but no, I wouldn’t actually watch it.

I remember when Pete Wentz’s dick pics got leaked. Someone sent me the link and I swear to y’all. I only clicked on it because I thought my friend who knew I had a crush on Pete, was trying to RickRoll me.

When I realized it wasn’t a prank, and nope, that’s his actual dick, I felt guilty. Because Pete was so upset and embarrassed by it! He didn’t consent to show his dick to thousands of random people. He was betrayed by someone he thought he could trust. 😞

26. Describe your favorite artist/band in 5 words or less.

Younger, hotter, Finnish Linkin Park.

[eloquent-vowel]

Part 7 "Winged" Bucky x OFC (#043)

Description: The Soldier and Eris' first mission together goes smoothly, until disaster strikes and the Soldier is left with a decision

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, very much a slow burn. Bucky Barnes x OFC, Winter Soldier X OFC

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Uploads may not be daily anymore! It's surprisingly difficult to write everyday ontop of normal life work. I hope you enjoy reading this! <3

Part 6

Much to their handler's joy, Eris and the Winter Soldier worked seamlessly together. The cool calm control the the Soldier provided a excellent contrast to the relentless chaos that was Eris, he covered her blind spots and she cleared the path forward for him. Together they were brutal, unforgiving and 100% effective. Once they knew each others moves they seemed to be able to predict the other with scary accuracy.

Unknown to Hydra the two of them had many late night conversations, back to back against the divide, whispering low enough so the cameras would not pick their voices up. They would share small details of dreams and memories, hoping that between the two of them they would be able to keep what kept being taken from them.

The two of them now sat, side by side, listening intently as they were briefed on the upcoming heist they were to complete. Apparently is was important to Hydra, as the General himself was there do instruct them. They exchanged a knowing look as the General began to grow red, he had a bad habit of forgetting to breathe when he spoke too loud.

"You are to enter through the roof ventilation, navigate the vents, Soldier you go to the security room, disable the cameras with this." The general all but threw a gadget into the Soldier's lap, causing the scientists in the room to flinch. "Eris you are to, reach the office, wait for the Soldier to disable the cameras, break into the safe and take the plans. It is likely to be guarded but that should be no issue for the two of you. Remember, No witnesses."

The two just nodded in silence.

"This mission prioritises stealth above all else, as long as no one knows who has taken the plans there will be no consequences for the two of you."

The pressure in the room fell heavy upon Eris' shoulders, not only could she not fail for her but for the Soldier as well. Whispered words echoed through her mind and she was determined to not loose them to the thieves that wanted them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were sat opposite each other in the helicopter, hand gliders at the ready, dressed head to toe in slim tactical gear. Her metallic feet were covered in shock absorbing shoes that she hated. She was used to feeling the ground with the sensors on her feet, now she wouldn't be able to feel the vibrations of people and that felt wrong. She felt very alone, as stupid as it was she felt suffocated in these shoes. As if he sensed her distress the Soldier gently nudged her foot with his. She smiled under her mask at the sensation and slowly nudged back, it was a tender moment broken only when the pilot instructed the two of them to drop.

They were lucky it wasn't a windy day as they were relying on paragliders to land them safely on the roof. With a single nod, the two lowered their night vision goggles and jumped.

Flying was beautiful. The infrared view of the goggles let her see the forest below her and for a moment she felt like she was a robin from her dreams. She was flying through the air, free as the wind, flying towards something that looked like home. The Soldier's voice crackled through their comms.

"You look like you are having fun."

She turned to face him, his hair was flying behind him, the goggles covered his eyes but she could picture the small twinkle they had whenever he was slightly happy. She smiled, although he couldn't see and responded.

"I feel free."

Her freedom ended too soon, they were coming down to the target, they began to lazily circle downwards to land on the roof. The Soldier landed much more gracefully than Eris who caught her foot on the tail of the glider and stumbled in the landing. She threw a glare towards the soldier as he chuckled slightly. Before folding up the paraglide and heading towards the roof grating. The two worked in silent tandem as they unscrewed the ventilator and shimmied in.

It was a tight fit. There was barely enough room for their elbows as they started to work their way through the vents, heading towards the security room. Eris, although she didn't say it out loud, enjoyed the view from behind the Soldier. While she joked about it in her head, the Soldier's presence was an immense comfort for her as the sides of the vents pressed into her shoulders. They moved very slowly to avoid making too much noise. It felt like forever until the Soldier gestured that he was going to drop, she nodded and he slid gracefully out of the shaft.

As she began to continue on alone she heard the sounds of the Soldier dropping two men, after another two minutes there was a crackle over the comms,

"Camera's down, you're safe to go."

She steadied herself as the walls of the vents seemed to get closer and closer as she got nearer to her goal. Taking deep breaths she located the vent she needed to open and burst through.

As expected there were guards, three of them infact. She quickly kicked the nearest one in the head. He crumpled immediately to the ground. The other two began to raise their guns at her from the other side of the desk but she curled her legs and leaped over too them, vaulting over the desk. One fell with another kick to the head, the other fell with a swift punch to the gut and then to the neck. That was easy.

Eris turned to face the safe, it was a hi-tech looking box with a complicated turning system on the front. She grabbed the gizmo she had been given and attached it to the safe. It began whirring away, at a low tone. She kept her eyes on the safe as the knobs began to turn but kept her ears tuned to the door incase she heard anyone coming. While her ears were heightened she caught the whirring noise the machine was making heighten. It got higher and higher in pitch until it stopped. The machine stopped and there was silence for a moment.

Then a blast of blue energy and pain radiated up her spine and head. She couldn't help the shout as she fell to the floor, the last thought she had before she passed out was.

I can't feel my legs.

[basilone]

Take off your shirt for Ron Speirs!! Not smut ofc haha😆

Haha, I sure managed to make this anything but smutty. 😂 This prompt gave me a really nice excuse to write my OC Darlene Mayfair, who briefly made an appearance in the blind date two-parter Salvage and has a bit of a history with our Ron here. Darlene, you see, holds half a dozen jobs in this war and is prone to landing herself in some deal of difficulty..

some grand ol’ cosmic mess

Germany is a joke. She’d laugh about it – laugh herself silly, tears in her eyes, loud and ugly joy at war with propriety – if her ribs weren’t beating a steady tattoo of hurt right now. She’d giggle at it, even, before sobering up and declaring she should’ve bombed it some more.

She should’ve bombed it, but the open skies are nobody’s friend these days.

Darlene shifts on the bed the Airborne gave her. She’s certain they’ve got no idea what to do with her – not after that discussion she caught between someone called Bull and the smaller one with the shining white teeth – but she’s not complaining. A bed’s better than the floor. A room is better than a cage. She’s got fresh water, even, handed to her by a shaky-handed private before they left her alone. They said they’d bring a medic, but priorities change all the time.

She half-expects the medic to be the one to walk in when the door opens. Half-believes that they have found someone in their ranks who doesn’t balk at the sight of an injured woman.

Germany’s a joke. A bad one, at that. She thinks she is currently staring at its punchline.

“Darlene,” he says, and of course he doesn’t stutter her name or blink in confusion at the sight of her. Of course he just walks into the room they put her in, of course he is the one with the captain’s mark on his clothing, of course it’s him at the end of all things. “They said they’d found a prisoner claiming to be OSS. Claiming to have piloted a plane all the way here before crashing. Thought it might be you.”

“Yeah, who else do ya know who fits that bill?” she bites out, glaring. “Know any other women like me, Ron?”

“Can’t say I do.” Ron Speirs almost hums the words. Almost sounds pleased with himself. “Surprised you gave yourself up.”

“Y’all sounded American enough.” She dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “I spoke German at first, mind. Then I saw Liebgott. Not many of you Normandy fellas left, huh?” She shrugs. Tries to suppress the wave of pain that shivers through her limbs at the motion. “He remembered me from the time I ran around with Susan and Bette. Still think I shoulda stayed in the air for that goddamn mission, mind.”

He acknowledges part of their history with nothing but a swift nod. Doesn’t comment on how she’d been liaised to Dog Company during one particular Normandy clusterfuck. Doesn’t ask after Susan or Bette, though perhaps he knows more about their well-being than she at this point in the fight. The only thing he offers her is a short remark void of feeling.

“You’re hurt.”

“Really?” She rolls her eyes. “Hadn’t noticed the fact that I’m bleedin’ out over these sheets of yours. Fucking genius. You’re hurt,” she mocks, mimicking his words and twisting them around in her mouth until they’re spiked and angry. “How about you get me a medic and fuck off?”

“How about you take off your shirt,” he counters, eyes flashing, “so I can tell whether I need to call you a medic, a surgeon, or a gravedigger?”

“The only one who’s gonna get buried here,” she hisses, “is probably you. You’re dead already, right? War’s gonna end and you’re gonna be six feet under long before that happens.” She leans back against the headboard. Warily observes him as he steps closer to the bed, but doesn’t halt the ire that turns her words to weapons. “No future for you at all, now is there?”

Ron sinks down on the bed, hand curled into a fist, trembling breath escaping his lips, and for a moment she thinks he might yet lash out at her. Might yet treat her like an enemy now that she’s positioned herself as one, all promise of fight between them turning the air thick like molasses, but even injured she thinks she might have an upper hand.

“How’s your wife?” She turns the blade of words sharper still. Pain hazes at the edges of her vision – all abuzz like cicadas in summer back home – but she’s never been one to yield to that. She’s never been one to back down from anything. “How’s your child?”

His hand connects with her side. Her world goes white, higher-pitched than anything, tilting and shifting and filling her mouth with cotton all over. She slashes at his face, his throat, his chest with limbs that don’t carry an edge. Can’t bite back a yowl of pain as his hand moves and presses down hard on the space just above her hip.

“Darlene,” he murmurs, shifting position until his cool bare skin touches the heated edges of her wounds, “Darlene,” he says, until she ceases her whimpering, “you know you’re trouble.”

She glares at him as balefully as she can manage. Offers a breathless response. “It mighta come up once or twice.”

He almost laughs. She can see the quirk of his lips before he hides it behind the same impassive mask he wears in every battle. “I already apologized to you,” he says, then, voice low in warning, “and I won’t be doing it again.”

“You never said why.” She snips the words out. Leans into the coolness of his touch despite herself and tries to cut the high-pitched whine of need out of her voice. Her accent flares to life as pain takes more root. “I had ta deal with your woman layin’ inta me in public like that, and couldn’t even explain to her why beyond that ya hadn’t told me shit about her or that baby of yours.”

“Can’t say no to you.”

“Bullshit. You coulda said no at any time.”

“Can’t say no to trouble,” he says, and she thinks he repeats himself in a way. Truth lurks in the weight of his hand on her ribs. “Think you know a thing or two about that yourself. Heard you nearly decapitated one of your Nazi prison guards.”

“Heard he deserved it,” she says, all teeth and sharpness, “way he was carryin’ on talkin’ about the things he’d do ta me once I stopped being useful.” She exhales a noisy breath. Almost laughs. “I coulda spun him stories until the world ended. Like Scheherazade, though out for blood.”

“I managed to talk them down from accusing you of a war crime.��

“Mighty kind of ya.” She can’t stop a fierce grin from flashing across her face. “Guess that’s why I took ya home that time, huh. Like breeds like and all that.”

“Yeah?” He tilts his head. His eyes are dark. “Where will you be when the war ends?” His touch is set to harm. She lets it sear into her side. Knows his hands will come away bloody, just as she knows he won’t let her fade away alone in this foreign land. He’s always known how to touch her. “Way I see it, Darlene, you’re gonna be six feet under just like me.”

She tilts her chin up. Meets his gaze in the same challenge she set him in that noisy pub all those months ago. She shrugs once. Ignores the pain as she always does. His body’s a mirror to her own. If this is the way the joke goes, she thinks she knows the punchline.

“Guess ya will have me for company.”

[deathonyourtongue]

Resurrection | 12

Summary: A ragtag team of Spec-Ops operators are brought out of retirement for all the wrong reasons. When the dust settles, only the best will be left standing. Pairing: Pablo Schreiber x OFC, Henry Cavill x OFC (listen, she gets with the whole team, okay? Don’t lie, you would too.) Word Count: 2K Warnings: Nothing much really. A/N: Sorry this took so long. February really is the worst month.

By the flight manifest, we’re half an hour behind Wallace, and I feel every minute of it on the plane ride from London to Benghazi. Prior to joining the team, I’d only been assigned to Libya once and it was from the comfort of the Whitney parked off the coast of Italy. This will be my first time with boots on the ground, and the history of spec ops in the country isn’t lost to me; it’s just one more reason why I’m glad I no longer have to wear a uniform.

“Ten minutes out,” the pilot calls over the comms, everyone prepping their go bags, ready to make up for any head start Wallace has. 

Benina International Airport barely registers in my mind as we pick up two vehicles that were prepped for us courtesy of Uncle Sam, my mind’s sole focus being on saving the hostage and capturing Wallace. All of us want our pound of flesh, none more so than those he’s directly injured over the course of the last few weeks. 

“I need everyone on their A game. We can’t afford to let him slip through our fingers again. His behavior is escalating and since he’s so well-connected to the who’s-who, it stands to reason, he’s going to throw everything he has at us. Above all else though, we leave no one behind. Understood?” Rick’s voice is firm but warm over our comms, making it clear that despite the gravity of the situation, he cares about our well-being first and foremost. 

“Do you think he’s trying to do a shot-for-shot remake?” Jake asks as we roll into Benghazi proper, grateful for the tinted windows on the late model G wagons no doubt left over from Gaddafi’s rule. 

“If you mean do I think he’s going to go to the same village we were patrolling? No. I don’t think he’s that sentimental about things. I think he’s going to pick a spot that’s overlooked by the country and blow it to high hell after he finishes reenacting his sick fantasies. Remember, had we not stopped him that night--”

“I know, he’d have committed war crimes,” Jake cuts Dom off, his sickened expression making it clear that he doesn’t need to be reminded. 

“Has intel found him yet?” I ask, hoping we don’t have to waste any more time in tracking him down. 

“They don’t have a lock yet, but they are tracking a BMW that came out of Benina half an hour ago. Reports of a blond woman without a hijab and a red-haired man poured in the second they landed.” Rick explains, all of us shaking our head. 

“Muslim majority country and she already sticks out like a sore thumb by being blond, but he didn’t bother to make her wear a hijab? If we don’t get to him, the Libyan police will,” I snort, finding little humor in the recklessness with which Wallace treats the lives of others. Like any good narcissist, he cares only for himself and if others get hurt in the process of him getting what he wants, so be it. 

“They’re going to attract attention no matter what. All of us are. Keep as low a profile as possible, and with any luck, we’ll be out of here by this time tomorrow,” Rick adds, all of us hoping for the outcome that’s eluded us since we reunited. 

Our hideout in Benghazi is simple, yet beautiful. Like most places, it’s heavily fortified, a solid metal gate closing behind us and men standing watch on all four corners as we make our way towards something that resembles a Roman villa of old. Outside, the heat hits me and for a second, I’m brought back to the op that nearly took my life, hoping that this time, things will end differently, at least for our team. Max’s cologne brings me back to the present, and I fall in step with him as we make our way into the blissfully cool war room. 

“Oh fuck yeah. Don’t mind if I do!” Jake enthuses as he takes note of the tea and finger foods laid out on the table. Shaking my head, but nonetheless pleased, I take a seat and let out a breath I don’t realize I’ve been holding. Max’s hand smooths over my hair as he sits next to me, his gaze still eyeing my bruise with concern. It’s endearing to say the least, and not the kind of treatment I’m used to in any part of my life. 

“Okay, fuel up, but pay attention. Intel has an eye in the sky and they’ve found the BMW. We’re tracking him now. Gonna let him get settled in, then we’ll pay him a house call. He’s also traveling light; only two body men and paid local team which means--”

“Which means a bunch of teenage human shields. Fucking great,” I mutter.

Stephanie Pierce had been dumped half an hour before getting to the airport. Doing her best to save face, she’d made it through security and was intent on getting a little drunk before boarding, if only so she could sleep on the flight. American by birth, she had come to London for school, and had, up until the breakup, been having the time of her life. 

Now it's all spiraling into a nightmare. 

“Please, just let me get back to the airport! I don’t have anything to do with this! I didn’t do anything! I’m just a student! Please!” 

“I can’t do that, darling. For one, you’ve seen my face, and two...Well, you’re my insurance policy. You see, the people that I’m after, they have a soft spot for those they consider innocent. Problem is, no one’s ever truly innocent, are they? No, not even you, dear Stephanie. It only took a few moments for me to do the numbers, so to speak. Young, parents are middle class at best, no real money for school, especially abroad, but here you are in designer clothing, taking vacations whenever it strikes your fancy, and not a dime in debt. Do your parents know what you do on the internet, my darling? Didn’t think so. No, that deep, dark secret won’t be revealed until after you perish, which...will be soon, I’m afraid.” 

Her screams make her captor laugh, almost as though he’s delighted by the reaction. It chills her to the bone. Now she understands that this isn’t some wannabe who hijacked a plane and has no real plan; far from it. Whoever he is, he has calculated each and every move leading up to this point. 

She wishes she could talk to her mom one last time. 

“Night Train to Alpha, confirm visual.” 

“Alpha to Night Train we have visual. We count 12 signatures, including the hostage. You are a go.”

We’re no stranger to David and Goliath fights, and 12 is on the smaller side of some of the groups we’ve taken on, but no matter the number, we approach this one with extra precaution, only because of Wallace’s M.O. None of us are looking to be anywhere near another one of his bombs. 

The compound he’s made his hideout is run of the mill for this part of the world. Like our own, Wallace’s has high walls, a sturdy gate, and a simple floor plan. It leaves us with two options; come in with a bang, or creep in with a whisper. 

“There’s two gates,” I remind the boys, knowing full well that while they all prefer coming in with as much firepower as possible, it opens the door for Wallace to get away in the commotion, and I, for one, want to end this once and for all. 

“Alpha, how many signatures on the exterior?” Dom asks, all of us hidden in the shadows, waiting for the deciding factor on how we proceed.

“Looks like 2 on the south side, patrolling the far gate. If you’re going in quiet, now’s the time to move.” 

We all nod and immediately get to work. Strapping on my gloves, I grab my wire cutters out of the pocket on my kevlar, and wait until Flip has gotten into position. The tallest of the team, he bends over, providing me with the flat of his back to stand on so that I can cut the razor wire off the top of the wall. Carefully, I peek over the edge, relieved when I find the courtyard empty. Though there are lights on in the compound, every window is covered with an opaque blind, making this way of entering far better suited to our needs. 

I cut enough wire away to allow all the boys to climb over, making sure to throw it away from the compound not only for safety, but to reduce the chances of us being heard. Satisfied that everyone has clearance, I pocket my multitool and quickly hop over, landing softly in the dirt. 

Rick and Benji are quick to follow, the three of us taking up post so that the rest of the guys can come in safely. It takes less than five minutes for all of us to breach the perimeter, and after a moment to regroup, we move towards our target. 

“Alpha, we need your eyes,” Rick whispers, taking point as we position ourselves flush against the nearest wall of the compound. We could clear the place blind, but that increases the chance that someone will sound the alarm as they die, and we can’t take the risk. Though they said they had to wash their hands of it, after Rome, the DOD extended their resources; while they can’t send those currently serving, they can provide a helping hand to those who are willing to risk it all to capture one of our own.

“Two at 3 o’clock, in the first room. There’s two at the back gate you’ll want to handle first.” 

Nodding at one another, we split up. Rick and Dom position themselves at the first room, Flip and Benji take up post across the villa in front of another room, while Max, Jake and I edge around to the back of the compound, intent on taking out the two men guarding the rear gate as silently as possible.

With Jake on one side, Max and I move around to the other side, all of us needing to get eyes on the men. As I predicted, they’re young, but I find cold solace when I see that they’re not teenagers, bought out to act as human shields. Checking my gun, I make sure the silencer is on tightly before leveling it into place to look through my scope. At less than 50 feet, it’s an easy shot; it just has to be timed correctly. Max counts us down using only his fingers, and when the time is right, both Jake and I take double-tap shots, killing the men before they have a chance to make a sound.

Over comms, I can hear Rick and Dom breaching their first room, and as we move back towards the center of the villa, Benji and Flip do the same. My relief grows with every room that’s cleared, the body count growing as we approach the spot where Wallace is holed up with the hostage. 

“Last room has the prize. Good luck, and godspeed.”

The room in question lies at the heart of the villa. Protected on either side by anti-rooms, We have to work our way through two more sets of men before finally being able to come face-to-face with Wallace once again. 

A bright smile is the last thing we expect when we finally level our guns to his head. 

“Nice of you all to finally join me. Thought it would take much less time for Uncle Sam to track me down. No matter, you’re here now, we can get to it. In your haste, I’m afraid none of you noticed...” Wallace’s gaze goes to the floor, and as my own eyes follow, I can’t help but feel my heart sink. My eyes dart quickly to Max and Dom, nausea overcoming me as I find that every single one of us has stepped on a trip wire. 

“It’s like Russian Roulette, except I’m the one holding the gun.”

Wallace’s laugh will be imprinted in my mind for the rest of my life.

[fiovske]

I hate the framing of multishipping as a solution to fandom problems when more often than not the problems are racism, homophobia, misogyny etc and not people's shipping preferences. Shipping isn't activism and different modes of fandom behavior aren't a solution to bigoted behavior. And when there isn't a bigotry problem, not multishipping is just a preference with no moral ramifications so why are people so pressed about randos online expressing disappointment?

yep lmao its like sure I have the privilege to turn a blind eye towards the racism, homophobia, misogyny in a fandom idk what yall are pressed about? like??? SW has a HUGE impact on popular culture and when the harm done onto its IRL poc cast and crew is ignored and dismissed by the studio itself, it validates those who spew hate towards these women/poc in the first place! the studio’s silence is their compliance and the fact that they WILL cater to these fans’ preferences both on/off screen --like letting reylo be canon and completely erasing Finn’s arc TFA set him up to be the co-lead, if not the romance arc for Rey as well!!! and Rey was supposed to be the lead!!! and Poe as The Pilot, they were supposed to be THE trio!! and if they chose to let Rey remain single w/o a romantic lead and have Poe and Finn be together romantically instead-- what a story for the gays we would’ve had!! there was the potential for from the beginning!! instead they made Finn a BARELY supporting character as time went on, and made Poe, played by a man of Guatemalan descent, ultimately be a drug smuggler... it perpetuates irl racist stereotypes into the story. 

not to mention the amount of unwarranted unjustified HATE and death threats kelly marrie tran and john boyega got bc of being poc and a part of the cast AT ALL. disney was silent thru all of this. instead they gave Kyle Ron more screentime and an arc so inconsistent and atrocious idk how they call it a redemption lmfaooo the JOKE. they sidelined rey, they sidelined poe, they sidelined finn-- everyone to make space for The Tantrum Throwing White Boy. infuriating. they validated the fans who mostly MADE the racist comments by making reylo canon. bc most of them WERE white women who shipped reylo, this is just the truth. ofc poc fans are mad! as they should be!!)

but coming back to the task at hand, yes. multishipping is not a ‘solution’. if thats ur preference good on you, dude. but if other people prefer something else, its not your place to tell them that they arent allowed to enjoy it, esp if them enjoying it is not causing any harm at all. and them expressing disappointment and sadness is obviously not your place to gloat. the kind of holier-than-thou attitude some multishippers have, lmao. sit down. chill out. if minorities being mad about representation makes you upset maybe you should assess that on why it affects YOU instead of thinking of urself better than them somehow for having the privilege of not being affected negatively as they did. if you’re tired of the ‘drama’ as you so call it... take time off and block people. curate your own internet experience. its that easy.