#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

[latibvles]

“a real tough cookie with the whiskey breath.”

oh blind dates oc fest my beloved how i missed you. to the surprise of no one, because i cannot be quiet about anything ever : a MOTA OC this time around. i'm sure this bar probably has a name to be found somewhere on the internet, but until I come across it [ big cartoony shrug ]. anyways, here's Genevieve Laurent, or Gen, if you're friendly. @blind-dates-fest ♡

Tom’s is only a fifteen minute bike ride away. The pay is good, she gets to keep all her tips, and her boss, for lack of a better term — downright adores her.

That’s never been the reason why she’s stuck with it all this time, though. There were better paying jobs in equal distance, and if she really, really wanted to, she thinks she’d do a pretty okay job packing parachutes or something of a similar vein. Respectable work, her mother would call it, which was secret code for: work that will keep you out of trouble, and possibly off the street before midnight. But that was really what it came down to: whether Genevieve wanted to do it. And for all the respect she had for those women, she knew that wasn’t the thing that called to her — not like it did to Claire, who was now off in London with the best and brightest, working in the Foreign Office.

Whatever that meant.

Much more glamorous than Genevieve’s own station, and she’s fairly certain none of their mother’s letters are imploring Claire to quit anytime soon. She was almost apologetic, in a way, that she couldn’t entice her family with letters filled with omissions, with work so secret she could hardly speak of it — but the beer wouldn’t pour itself and somebody had to do it after all those hours in flight.

“Thought you were leaving me out to dry tonight, sweetheart,” There’s a solid hand gripping her shoulder and squeezing, and Tom gives her a smile that’s all crows feet and genuine appreciation. Of course, the place wasn’t actually called Tom’s — but the sign was so faded that she and the other girls just tended to refer to it by the name of their esteemed publican. Genevieve returns the smile.

“And miss out on all this? Wouldn’t dream of it.” As if to accent her point, there’s a wave of hoots and hollering from the floor beyond the bar — no doubt from a bet won or a game of darts coming to its speedy conclusion. The song of the end of the work day. He gives her shoulder a shake, then lets go.

“Do me a favor and take those whiskeys to the table in the back? I think Elsie’s got caught up out there,” she follows his gaze to one of the other girls on shift —Elsie’s smile is easy and the tray on the table is empty, but she’s chatting up a storm at a table of men in brown uniforms. And Genevieve can’t exactly blame her, because while they knew practically every member of the RAF who came in and out on their days off, Americans were a sight to behold. Which is probably why Tom is sending her to the table in the back, with the hopes that she’ll be speedy.

“Yessir,” Genevieve hums, taking the tray of glasses with little fuss, making her way across the bustling floor with practiced hustle.

It’s not the pay that keeps her here, or the warmth of her boss. Not even the fact that she could do every job in this place, if she had to.

Genevieve had a penchant for poking her nose into places for the thrill of it — and there really was no thrill quite like conversation with people who had time to kill and liquor in their systems.

She recognizes the RAF officer at the table: David Griffiths, who Claire knew better than Genevieve did. She’d laughed when Claire told her he joined the RAF, and as an officer, no less. He’d been meek before the war, to put it lightly — maybe that slate-colored uniform and dark blue tie gave him the confidence he once lacked, she didn’t know. And then a couple regulars from around town. So the one in a brown uniform as opposed to their English blue sticks out like a sore thumb, and her curiosity is piqued in spite of David’s attempt to draw her attention with his smile alone.

“Thought old Tom was keeping you in the back tonight.”

“You know, it’s much easier to simply say you missed me, Griffiths,” she hums, leaning over to set down the tray. “Whiskeys for the table, yeah?” David clears his throat and makes a show of adjusting his cuffs, flaunting the new insignia adorning his sleeve as he had for every promotion prior. Genevieve straightens out, wraps her arm around his shoulder to pick off a stray thread.

“Captain Griffiths, congratulations,” Genevieve acknowledges just for the sake of him, then diverts her attention to look over the table, eyes settling on the new face staring right back at her. His dark hair curls over his forehead, with a straight nose and a pretty pair of lips — the wings on his jacket are catching lamplight. The smile on his face is what’s got her the most curious. “And who’ve you brought to cause trouble in Tom’s respectable place of business?”

The smile grows, the stranger leans back in his seat.

“No trouble over here ma’am, not unless you hate singin’.” His voice is deep and gravelly and, well, very American. His tone goes up at the end of the sentence, like it’s a question she’s meant to answer, and Genevieve wonders if it still counts as a bait when she can recognize it for what it is. She raises her brows, David’s hand curls around her wrist loosely as if to remind her that he’s there.

“Only if it’s bad.”

“Best keep your mouth shut then, Major, wouldn’t want to cause a scene,” around them, the other men chuckle at David’s quip — Genevieve pulls her wrist from his barely-there grasp as the Major raises his glass to his lips, before waving a hand dismissively on the swallow.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m like a canary over here.” He draws out each syllable, his smile only growing. She doesn’t believe him for a second.

“Well, Major, make sure not to shatter any glasses with your tunes and you’ll have soothed all my worries,” He chuckles at that, sitting back in the chair and Genevieve looks him up and down rather shamelessly before patting Griffiths’ shoulder. “Enjoy your evening, boys.”

Genevieve knows the feeling well — that sensation of eyes tracking her every movement as she walks away. She’d call it a sixth sense, the way she can make the distinction between the slighted nature of Griffiths’ staring as opposed to the more welcome lingering look of the Major, who’s name she’d surely get by the end of the night. If Claire were here, she’d probably laugh, then apologize to Griffiths for her little sister’s fleeting attention span, accompanied with some remark about how Genevieve had a penchant for things shiny and new. Genevieve would beg to differ and say it was more like she had a penchant for the things she didn’t understand.

And so what if she liked the staring, and leaving the air more charged than she’d found it?

Regardless of the interaction, the night wears on, and so long as the taps are flowing Genevieve is busy enough to keep from staring at the back table for too long. At some point, they stand up and make their way toward the dartboard (and Elsie with them, who shoots her a wink from across the room that has her laughing and Tom groaning from their spots behind the bar). Luckily, she’s only gone for maybe fifteen minutes — and she comes back with orders for Tom, before scurrying over and leaning forward on the bar.

“Better straighten up over there, Genny,” Elsie leans forward further to tuck one of Genevieve’s stray hairs behind her ear.

“Back from your mission so soon?”

“Well I had to make sure the prize was in place.” Genevieve raises an inquisitive brow.

“And that means..?”

“It means—” Elsie is effectively cut off by another round of hollering, and Genevieve knows the grin on the other girl’s face all too well. Elsie turns around and she follows the girl’s eyes to several things. One, Griffiths walking out of the pub, two, Major Canary laughing as he makes his way over and three, a conglomerate of Irishmen clapping his shoulders and shaking them in congratulations. “Well now we know who the winner is. Good luck!”

Before Genevieve can get a word in, Elsie’s scurrying back over to Tom on the other end of the bar to grab the drinks he’s lined up. She turns her back to the floor, but still hears a heavy exhale as someone takes a seat behind her. Then she tilts her head to look, and makes little attempt to withhold her smile as the dots connect fairly quickly in her head.

“Major Canary,” Genevieve hums in greeting. “Am I getting you anything?”

“Whiskey’s fine,” He looks around, like he’s taking a survey of the room, then turns to rest both elbows on the polished wood as she grabs one of the glasses that’s already dried. “Think you got me in trouble with your boyfriend back there,” he laments with a grin, running his thumb over his bottom lip.

“Who, me?” Genevieve slides the glass along the countertop. “You might have the wrong girl, sir.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?” He takes that tone again — so clearly baiting her and Genevieve is, admittedly, a little too eager to take what he’s giving this time.

“Well for one, I don’t have a boyfriend,” she hums, holding up the pointer finger, and then her middle one, “And two, I’m willing to wager it was the dart game that got you in trouble, Major.” She slides the glass over the countertop, and he takes it. He’s closer now than he was at the table — she can finally make out that his eyes are blue, like the RAF uniforms.

“Yeah? How much are you willing to bet?”

“Well, how much did you earn in your game? Must’ve been a hefty sum for the Captain to walk out like that.” Genevieve leans forward on the bar now, tilting her head as she looks at him, already knowing the answer. His eyes flit over her face and down the length of her neck, following the curve of her shape before the bar cuts off his vantage point, then he goes back to returning her stare. He brings the glass to his lips, then licks off the excess before he opens his mouth again.

“A shot with the pretty girl serving drinks tonight? Pretty priceless if you ask me.”

“Well that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” Genevieve remarks with an airy laugh.

“But it made you laugh. Must be doing something right.” He counters, and she laughs again with a roll of her eyes. “See? Just did it again.” Genevieve shakes her head slightly.

“Well if my company’s so priceless why haven’t you asked my name yet? Bragging rights and all that.” It’s hardly the bait of their earlier conversation — but it’s something, and she wonders if he recognizes it for what it is, like she had at the table. He finishes off the glass, pushing it back to her with his fingertips and holding her gaze all-the-while.

“Well my bragging was gonna be making you laugh ‘till your boss throws me out, but I should probably get the name so I know who to ask for next time, right?” She takes his glass, and moves to fill it again — feeling both like the belle of a ball and like one of those wood logs in a fireplace crumbling into charcoals, giving off sparks. Somewhere in the back of her head, Claire is screaming at her to stop dancing so close to cliffsides before she takes a tumble she’ll regret, but right now she doesn’t feel any ground giving way beneath her feet.

“Genevieve. Gen, if you’re friendly.” She hums out, taking her time on his refill with the express purpose of keeping him there a little longer. The laugh he lets out is breathy, almost disbelieving, and she looks back up at him through her lashes. “Your turn, or should I just keep calling you Major Canary?”

“My turn, she says,” he mutters, probably more to himself than her even if she can hear it. She passes the glass back over. “Well if we’re being friendly it’s Bucky. Egan.” He exaggerates it — the word friendly, but Genevieve’s really hanging on the ‘if’. She feels almost like a kid picking apart words to prove her point. She should’ve been a lawyer. ‘If’ meant she had options, and maybe she feels a little prideful; to know she has control of where this thing goes. It’s a rush. The kind she wouldn’t get packing parachutes or up in an office. The kind only another person could give her.

The ground gives a little beneath her feet, but Genevieve is undeterred.

“But I take it you’re aiming for a little more than that, is that right, Bucky?”

The smug grin on his face is as much of an answer as any.

And it excites her down to her bones.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Ekurei hcs??

Sorry for the delay anon. Okay, here we go!

♡ - Reigen talks aloud to Ekubo all the time and is a bit blind to the weird looks he gets from passers-by, so Reigen buys a bluetooth earpiece so he can play it off like he's yapping on the phone. He does not buy airpods or whatever - the guy has a flip phone, he doesn't know what a fucking airpod is. Ekubo is flattered that he'd rather go the extra length of disguising their conversations than just avoiding it altogether.

♡ - I think when Reigen is feeling overwhelmed or is struggling mentally, Ekubo offers to take over his body and pilot him for a bit so that he can get some rest/not have to stress so much. It's mostly for menial tasks, not when Reigen works or anything (unless he requires an emergency supernatural boost ofc), and the spirit just kind of.... does Reigen's self-care for him. He'll put Reigen to sleep and cook a meal so that his body gets sustenance if Reigen doesn't feel up to eating. He'll shower him and shave, tidy his apartment etc. Of course, when Reigen teases him that he totally does care, Ekubo will always deny it with a 'ugh ew no, I just can't stand seeing someone be soooo pathetic. Have some decorum, man', but he's definitely trying not to smile with every word.

♡ - Touch starved. The both of them. Guards! Give that man a hug! In a physical form (Yoshioka), Ekubo will just NOT stop touching Reigen when they're alone (and sometimes will slip up when they're in public, much to both of their embarrassment). In all the official art, they have their hands on each other- I think a lot about that one where he's behind Reigen, all up in his business, and it just confirms that idea for me personally.....

♡ - Possession sex: Ekubo can trigger all the good spots when he's in Reigen's head without Reigen ever having to touch himself anywhere. Reigen can somehow feel invisible hands on his body despite there being no one there and he loves it. It makes him feel less awkward about reciprocating.

♡ - Physical sex: Yoshioka's consent is voiced every time. Ekubo leaves his body so that it's clear to everyone that it's 100% Yoshi's decision to do anything like that. Sometimes Ekubo will relinquish control of Yoshi's body during sex so that he can share in the moment too, even though he's already present mentally. It's like a threesome ig?? I like the concept that Ekubo and Yoshi are distinctly different fucks: they each have their own preferences and styles. I know Ekubo has stated that ghosts don't feel desire, but I think he'd enjoy getting to make Reigen squirm and seeing him enjoy himself. He probably also likes having control in that way. Reigen is a bratty bottom and Ekubo and Yoshi enjoy making him submit hehe.

♡ - They butt heads alllll the time. They bicker like an old married couple constantly (it drives everyone up the wall) and compete against each other for literally no reason other than the fact that they both secretly enjoy it.

♡ - Speaking of butting heads, Ekubo teases Reigen a lot. He likes getting a rise out of him and seeing Reigen get all flustered. They have the best banter out of anyone in the show. Plus, they'd go to the ends of the Earth for each other! I mean, just look at the last episode: Reigen relies on Ekubo's support and Ekubo is willing to protect him to the end. Fuck, even the comment (which the anime took from us and I'll never forgive them for that) about how Reigen can stay with Ekubo should he die during the Minori saga is said very honestly and from a place of love.

I have more ideas (don't I always?) but I'd write a million words and no one needs that lmao.

Anyway, I can't believe Ekurei isn't more popular as a ship because they work so well together. I think a lot of the fandom reduce Ekubo to being 'the fart cloud' and it does a real disservice to his character because he's excellently developed and just has the craziest personal growth. I can't watch the episodes where he sacrifices himself for Mob because they make me sob like a baby. I feel very passionately about him as an individual character and together I think Reigen and Ekubo are better suited than other ships because of their canon relationship. They're equals and it's clear that they respect (no matter how much they pretend otherwise) each other and are grateful for the protection they offer Mob and the kids.

askjsdkahdj sorry for rambling i just love these silly little guys

[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

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

ALRIGHT! WELCOME BACK TO ANOTHER ANALYSIS/THEORY

So I was talking to my sibs about the fact that in season 3, it oddly enough, seems like Mk is getting his powers back faster than Monkey King is, even with the meditation stuff this Monkey’s doing, which seems odd.

One of the first lessons Monkey King teaches Mk after the pilots in episode 1 Bad Weather is that “In order to have full control of your powers, you need self confidence.” And not just the flashy kind, not just the talking louder so you feel bigger, but like, true belief in yourself and your abilities. 

Along with the often repeated “Just believe in yourself and you can do anything” saying he’s so fond of, which literally was the first lesson he ever taught Mk in the pilots. But what if that’s literally it. 

What if the strength of Monkey King’s powers is based almost 100% on how much he believes in himself, (coupled with a lot of practice and mastery ofc because self-confidence comes from mastery) which could attest to what comes off as blind confidence sometimes and might seem frustrating to other people when he seems to refuse to admit he can’t do things. Because as long as he doesn’t admit that, he can do those things. 

In Journey to the West there’s a moment when someone drops a mountain on him again and although right after being freed from the initial Mountain he was imprisoned under, which he literally picked up and chucked the moment he was freed from it, but this time his self confidence drops like a stone monkey in water (severe PTSD WOO) and he cannot lift this mountain. They have to go get these other spirits to come help lift it off of him because Monkey King is trapped. 

The moment he gets trapped in his own head too much, it’s over. 

(Disclaimer: I’m not saying this is actually what happens in the book as far as the reason he wasn’t able to lift the mountain, do not take this as fact or reference I just thought it was a neat detail that seems to kinda tie into this theory, but it is just a neat thought thanks.)

The next bit here could just be a storytelling choice, but I find it very interesting that both times when Mk looses his powers, the first thing the other party does is beat down his self-confidence. 

When Macaque is working to take Mk’s powers, instead of building Mk’s confidence, he tears it down with the whole making Mk feel like he needs to surpass expectations to prove himself and succeed

along with changing his belief in himself and his skill, to his belief in Macaque and his teachings. 

“What? But last time I couldn’t even hit it?” 

“Totally. But since then you’ve had me teaching you.” 

Macaque never builds Mk’s self-confidence, he redirects it to himself. Believe in me. I’m the only reason you’re succeeding. You’re a weapon trained by ME. 

“Don’t you feel stronger?” 

He pushes Mk to do things before he’s ready so the self-confidence just isn’t there. 

And then once Mk chooses to put his trust in Macaque instead of himself, that’s when the rest of the seal is filled (also cause power usage obv) and when Macaque finally swoops in to steal his powers. 

The Lady Bone Demon literally gets inside Mk’s head. 

Makes him doubt his mentor and shakes his belief in himself and then beats him into the ground when he’s at his lowest and when his confidence is shattered she takes his powers one by one. 

With Macaque, all Mk had to do was remember he wasn’t a weapon, Macaque’s training wasn’t what defined him, regain a bit of that confidence vibe while Monkey King never wavers in believing Mk can do the hero stuff despite the fact he’s fresh outta getting his powers stolen. 

And Mk forcibly takes them back, doesn’t give up and is able to lift the staff. 

After LBD Mk seems to be getting his powers back at a pretty decent rate. We see him steadily re-learn them and his self-confidence throughout the episodes, while Monkey King goes in a meditative state. (Maybe it makes the restoration go faster.) But even with that he still seems to be re-gaining them a little more slowly than Mk. Even when he goes to fight LBD, I’m not sure he has all of them back. Because I don’t think Monkey King could ever get possessed if he was at full strength—full self confidence. 

Throughout their little quest to get the Samadhi fire, Mk has his family supporting him, believing in him, and waiting for him to be ready to believe in himself again.

They build him up

And even Monkey King, once he relaxes seems to give him more feedback and input than before, taking time after seeing him do something to tell him he did a good job and he knew he could do it

In comparison to what this trip was like for Monkey King. Granted, he didn’t make it easy for the people around him due to his inability to communicate unless he’s being yelled at,

 but for the entirety of the trip it’s everyone but Mk is doubting him, doubting his plan, even being standoffish and accusatory at him. “SUN WUKONG YOU’LL DOOM US ALL.” yelled several times by several different people he seems to view as kinda-friends (though monkey king doesn’t seem to have friends). 

And it isn’t until after they see what could have been the results of his plan that Nezha, that they all kinda step back and go “oh. he might have been onto something here.” 

But by then it’s too late, and he believes they don’t have time, has just gotten yelled at harming the people he cares about which is literally like, his least favourite thing to do (literally goes and hides in a hole when he realizes he scares his FFM fam.) 

LBD kinda did to him what she did to Mk. And hey, I mean everyone else around him helped too. Monkey King went into that battle extremely low on self-confidence. Nothing went according to his plan, and now he’s falling back on the last resort that he did everything he could and even risked the world and the people around him to avoid. Mans does not want to kill anyone. Not even LBD and least of all a child. 

And it’s in that moment where his confidence is at it’s lowest and his self-hate is at it’s highest, that’s when LBD possesses him. 

Seems like she just got lucky and hit him while he was at his low point honestly rather than planned it, but she does seem to have a habit of destroying the people around her’s mental states *looks at Macaque*. 

He’s fighting the whole time but there’s no one there, he’s alone and trapped, but then there’s Mk in front of him, telling him to stop, 

that he believes in him, 

and he manages to stop the punch and bring it down to just a throw. 

And when he finally manages to break the possession, it’s the moment when Mk stands, knowing he’s coming in for the final blow and doesn’t even turn around or look away from LBD, so unshakeable in his confidence in Monkey King, and when Sun Wukong sees that,

  that is when he breaks free from the possession, the moment someone shows that unwavering unshakeable belief in him. 

“Thanks for not giving up on me, bud.” 

If he had given up on him, I don’t think Monkey King would have been able to break free. 

Anyway, there you go, there’s your Knox theory/analysis for the day. 

[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

[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

[samyelbanette]

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.

[sir-sunny]

(Lavender)

I’m sorry to hear about twitter :( hate that place. But also I am a person who’s favorite characters are Toko and Sonia, tends to like wlw rarepairs more than lots of others, and doesn’t like Kokichi(no shade if you do like him though ofc), so I’d die if I went there lol. But!!! To talk about different things, have you ever made Danganronpa ocs? :0 I have…. So many. Too many. It’s ridiculous.

I ACTUALLY DO HAVE DR OCS IN FACT I HAVE A WHOLE CAST

i uh maybe put names, personalities, talents and descriptions below

(in order of death)

ultimate puppeteer - matoi (victim) (mastermind?)

-short messy light blueish greenish hair with bangs. glasses. big black and white striped sweater. short. grey/blue eyes.

-shy, intuitive

ultimate softball player - yoshimi (blackened)

-red curly braided hair. freckles. oversized jersey. black undershirt. striped pants. buff. brown/orange eyes.

-brash, confident

ultimate crafter - jessie (victim)

-long, long brown and blue hair in a ponytail (with grown out roots). light overalls covered in paint. sweater. tall. blue eyes.

-silly, optimistic

ultimate (un)lucky student - sora (blackened) (antag)

-long, spiky black hair. grey hoodie over japanese school uniform. ripped black tights. pale. grey eyes.

-cold, pessimistic

ultimate roller skater - yuki (victim)

-green hijab. dark green jacket. white crop top. black, flowy dress pants. sunglasses sometimes. skates. blue/green eyes.

-laid back, charming

ultimate musical theater actress - mitsuyo (victim/blackened) (antag)

-blonde hair in ponytail. white flowy shirt. tight black leggings. light purple eyes.

-mean, pretentious

ultimate baker - hachi (blacked)

-light brown hair in pigtails. cute apron. cream sweater. brown knitted cardigan. short green skirt. chubby. green eyes.

-sweet, patient

ultimate robotics engineer - michiyo (victim)

-blonde short braided hair. white botton up with black tie. cardigan. plaid skirt. gold eyes. wheelchair (disabled)

-bright, funny

ultimate forensic scientist - chinami (blackened)

-brown and blonde spiky hair. long white lab coat. glasses. graphic tee. grey shorts. one brown eye, one blue eye.

-obnoxious, good-hearted

ultimate florist/gardener - haruka (victim)

-short purple/grey hair. long black shirt. fishnet long sleeves. fingerless gloves. black ripped pants. dark purple eyes.

-very unexpressive, but kind and empathetic

ultimate makeup artist - natsuki (blackened) (antag)

-pinkish magenta hair in two heart shaped buns w bangs. white shirt and tight pink skirt. fluffy pink coat. red eyes

-ditzy, spacey (seemingly)

ultimate ??? - kisshōten (kee-sho-ten) (technically victim) (antag)

-very long white hair. long flowy black coat. black button up. black gloves. black pants. thin. very, very pale blue eyes (blind)

-strange, off-putting (iykyk)

ultimate comic - tomo (survivor)

-short brown hair. large grey/brown flannel. smiley face tee. joggers. fingerless gloves. brown eyes.

-awkward, anxious

ultimate ballerina - mitsue (survivor)

-blonde hair in bun. white and pink ruffled dress. brown knitted cardigan. (given to her by hachi before her execution) stockings w/ bows on them. light pink eyes.

-rude (initially), insecure, sympathetic

ultimate filmmaker - shizuka (survivor)

-black long dreads. white turtleneck. long tan trench coat. beret. flowy cream pants. dark brown eyes.

-composed, refined

ultimate pilot - mori (survivor) (protag)

-messy light brown hair in ponytail. ahoge. goggles. brown bomber jacket. worn blue jeans with patches. yellow/green eyes.

-dumb

basically

also have this idea of pair two characters up to be roommates so here's that

roommates

-chinami and michiyo

-mori and haruka

-hachi and sora

-mitsuyo and mitsue (sisters (twins))

-tomo and kisshōten

-shizuka and jessie

-yoshimi and yuki

-natsuki and matoi

[thisweekingundamwing]

This Week in Gundam Wing (Aug 29 - Sept 11, 2021)

That’s right folks!  Because of the long weekend last weekend, you all get a two-for-one this round-up!  Lots of excellent stuff from the fandom the last two weeks, so take a look and show your fellow fans some love!

--Mod LAM

Fanfiction

Dirty Computer (CH 11/?) by @doctormegalomania​ 

Pairings: Heero x Duo, Wufei x OFC

Characters: 5 pilots

Rating: MATURE

Tags / Warnings: minor violence, espionage, unreliable narrator, post-war, reference to past injury, implied/referenced self-harm

Summary:  Years after the war, nothing is what anyone hoped for. Peace reigns supreme.

Man Lion Thing Dude (CH 14-16/?) by @anaranesindanarie​

Pairings: Trowa x Duo, Triton Bloom x Duo

Characters: full cast, original Trowa Barton, OCs

Rating: EXPLICIT

Tags / Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, whump, blood, alternate universe, supernatural, were-creatures, family problems, arranged marriage, mentions of torture, smut, magic

Summary:  Duo Maxwell is estranged from the last of his remaining family who are demanding that he return home for an important announcement. Meanwhile, Duo has been having strange encounters with 'wild' animals, all of whom seem to be hunting him.

The Life of the Immortal Jellyfish (CH 15-16/35) by @lemontrash​

Pairings: Duo x Wufei

Characters: 5 pilots + Relena, Hilde, Noin, Une

Rating: MATURE

Tags / Warnings: post-canon, post-Endless Waltz, UST, roommates, Preventers, slow burn, insomnia, friendship

Summary: Is it chance that lands Duo and Wufei in the same university dorm room? They’re not stupid enough to believe that but too tired to fight it. Duo’s dragged himself back from the brink of going too far and remains teetering on the edge while Wufei’s doggedly trying to prove himself to the ‘good guys’ in the aftermath of the Eve Wars. Sleep and normalcy eludes them both. As they become increasingly aware how damaged they are, they start to edge towards friendship, or something more, but all too soon the peace seems jeopardised by a new and manipulative threat.

Prompt Fic by @gemstonecircles​ for @bryony-rebb​ 

Pairings: Wufei x Sally

Characters: Wufei and Sally

Rating: PG

Tags / Warnings: flashbacks, future fic, tropical diseases, best partners evar

Summary:  “I’d come for you”, he said. “No matter what, when you need me, I will be there.”

Prompt Fic by @gemstonecircles​ for @boxofhatebrains​

Pairings: Duo x Quatre

Characters: Duo and Quatre

Rating: PG

Tags / Warnings:  music, friendships, concerts, foul language, complicated relationships with faith, cherry-picking manga

Summary: “You free Saturday night?”

Prompt Fic by @gemstonecircles​ for @heartensoul​

Pairings: Duo x Relena, Heero x Trowa

Characters: Heero, Duo, Trowa, Relena

Rating: MATURE

Tags / Warnings: REO Speedwagon, future fic, receptions, reunions, getting together, smoking, shotgun kisses, first kisses, cherry-picking manga, FT what FT, look at my life look at my choices

Summary:  The reception, at least, was a welcome reprieve from most of the events that she’d been forced to attend in the last half-dozen years.

Prompt Fic by @gemstonecircles​ for @noirangetrois​

Pairings: Duo x Relena

Characters: Duo and Relena

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags / Warnings: stargazing, criminal trespass, future fic, FT what FT, discussion of panic attacks and mentioned ptsd

Summary:  “Well, guess we’re here until the solar storm clears,” Relena sighed...

Prompt Fic by @gemstonecircles for @seitou

Pairings: Heero x Trowa

Characters: Heero, Trowa, Relena

Rating: MATURE

Tags / Warnings:  1+R friendship, dates, home cooking, future fic, beers, fade-to-black sex, sweet dumb men in love, everyone ships it

Summary:  “I have good MREs that I was saving for a special occasion.”

Katahimikan by @ktsskb / katopiyoon AO3

Pairings: Duo x Quatre

Characters: Duo and Quatre

Rating: General

Tags / Warnings: post-Blind Target, Pre-Endless Waltz, non-confessions, pre-relationship

Summary:  “I’m just taking a little rest,” Quatre smiles. He lets himself get slightly more comfortable, loosening his posture.

Orgel by @ktsskb / katopiyoon AO3

Pairings: Duo x Quatre

Characters: Duo and Quatre

Rating: General

Tags / Warnings:  alternate universe, fantasy elements, established relationship, injured character

Summary:  Duo comes home late with a gift.

Fanart

Doodle Prompts (1x3x5) by @seitou

Heero x Relena (elf AU) by @lokineko 

OZ Military Ball (13x11) by @keiko1183

Zechs and Duo Hairbraiding by @keiko1183

Several by @gundayum

Wedding Bells (3x4)

Snuggles (1x2) 

Trowa’s a Pathetic Clown

Duo as the Little Mermaid 

King of the Hill (Heero, Relena and Bobby/Mariemaia, and Trowa)

Kinbaku WIP (3x5) by @2pcbart

Relena as John Cena by @farshootingstar

Quatre learning to knit by @farshootingstar

On the Wing by @theboringbluecrayon

Snuggles (3x4) by @circusoftrash

GW Crack by @circusoftrash

Heero EW Redraw by @mei-jimenez-art

Relena FT Redraw by @mei-jimenez-art

GW Kiddo Doodles by @lemontrash

Jellyfish Fic Art (2x5) by @sparkchemy for @lemontrash

Summer (1xR) by @alphaikaros

Zechs and Relena by @alphaikaros

Belated MerMay Relena by @serenestorm

Sexy Trowas (Part I, Part II, Part III) by @serenestorm 

Summer Duo by @owlinpajamas

Relena and Heero by @darksharinganz

Other Fanwork

Gunpla and Cosplay

Duo Maxwell Cosplay (Part I and Part II) by @itsjesskage​

HGAC Wing Zero by @macks-mechas​

Headcanons and Discussion

The Accidental (?) Seduction of Trowa Barton (3x4) by @a-river-of-stars

GoL Thoughts with @kittykatz​

Dorothy and Treize, Cathy and Trowa

Treize and Zechs

Treize, Dorothy, Heero, and Epyon

Lieutenant Trant Clark

Other Fun Stuff

GW Sims 4 Portraits by @eslanes​

Power Stances, with Zechs and Treize by @the-reanimated-bhg​

Quick: look pensive with gloves by @the-reanimated-bhg​​

@incorrectgundamwingquotes​ still making us laugh (example)

Memes and Macros

This is my boyfriend’s boyfriend (Rx1x2 and Hx1x2) by @portrayalmuse​

Dad Jokes Zechs (Part I and Part II) by @bonmotfic

Heero’s Romance Novel by @the-reanimated-bhg​

Coffee Puns with Cathy by @the-reanimated-bhg​

Requesting Leave with HR by @the-reanimated-bhg​

Zechs, the master of pick-up lines by @the-reanimated-bhg​

Spaghetti Westerns by @the-reanimated-bhg

Calendar Events

@gwcocktailfriday​ is back with this week’s prompt!  Be sure to post your responses on Friday (September 17) between 3-5PM EST!

@gundamzine has opened up the mailing list, so be sure to register to get your FREE PDF on October 1!  In the mean time, be sure to follow the account so that you can learn about the stellar 2021 Zine Crew members. Also consider donating to the team’s chosen charity, World Literacy Foundation (donations are optional, but encouraged).  In the meantime, check out some of the previews, with more to follow.

September is National Prostate Awareness Month and @expewrites​ and @boxofhatebrains​ are hosting a GW Prostate Health Event at @prostatehealth-gundamwing​ beginning September 1.  More info is available on the Event AO3 Page but in brief, options are to (1) create something or (2) donate to your prostate health organization of choice.

Sign-ups are officially open for the 2021 Holiday Gift Exchange with @thisweekingundamevents​!  Sign-ups close September 30, and participants will get their assignments in October, followed by the creation period November-December and finally posting in early January 2022.

@/ficwip (Twitter) is hosting a “Rise of the Dead Fandoms” event. Contributor sign-ups end on September 30, so be sure to register soon! Creation period runs September-October; posting will be in November. More info at their FAQ.

The @weedgrandpacookbook is an homage to the fanon of Mike Howard as the Gundam Wing’s chillest Weed Grandpa. Check out the Zine Calendar and  FAQ for more info and be sure to complete the interest check before September 30.

Spooky prompt idea generation for the GW Hallows Event will kick off mid-September, and posting period will happen in October.  Stay tuned to @thisweekingundamevents!

Keep an eye on @gwoc-october​​ while you’re at it for news on the GW Original Character (OC) October Event.  You can expect a prompt calendar to go live in September with posting in October…but you can also just use the month to showcase works with your original GW characters!

[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.”