#but I just got to a point where all I could think was wtf am I doing here

[zaneswhite]

So I just watched The Mandalorian, super late, I know, because my friend forced me to even though I stopped giving a damn about Star Wars years ago and do not give a shit about designated internet dilfs. People were calling him a space cowboy, super badass and whatever so I was fully expecting some Spike Spiegel shit…

It’s literally just some autistic dude wrapped tin foil making a fool of himself in front of a green piece of play-doh for 24 episodes.

Like, no hate, I like the show, metal people are like my favorite genre of character design, but there is no way y’all tricked me into watching Pascal getting his shit kicked in with a ominous ass flute playing in the background for multiple hours.

[exopelagic]

I shouldn’t have to do ANYTHING ever again I’m done with doing things I’m retiring

[theflashjaygarrick]

Read the Robin Lives drama and honestly Jason fans deserve an official apology from DC at this point. Jason becoming the Joker?? Wtf??

Beyond being poor characterisation and classist it's also just boring. This was a chance to see who Jason could have been if he wasn't driven by his early death to become a violent criminal, but instead they make him a violent criminal because 'it was always inevitable' or whatever.

Jason!Robin living and Bruce having to come to terms with the fact that fighting crime isn't a one size fits all solution to trauma could have been interesting. Jason learning that Bruce's love for him isn't dependent on being Robin (I do think on some subconscious level Jason felt like Bruce took him in because he could be Robin instead of Dick).

Personally I would like to see Jason take somewhat after Leslie Thompkins and become a social worker in crime alley. He could still have conflict with Bruce about the effectiveness of Batman's methods and his vision for Gotham but instead of wanting to control crime and kill killers, have him want more systemic change and help for low income families. Have it be a strangely bittersweet ending where the reader sees that this is who Jason could have been if he wasn't sucked into the cycle of bloodshed and revenge. See who Jason could have been if he just got to be a kid.

Now again I'm not a Jason expert and I am not saying this is the best thing they could have done with his character, but I think we can all agree what DC did was shit.

[finelinevogue]

friends before fans

summary - you were harry’s girlfriend and now you’re just friends, but the fans still dislike you

word count: -1.5k

pairing: ex-boyfriend!harry x reader

a/n: some mentions of therapy, rehab and mental health issues. idk wtf this is but let me know if you enjoy!!!!

Being Harry Styles ex-girlfriend was hard.

Dating Harry was easy, but the aftermath of breaking up with him was devastating.

It was scary how quickly fans could turn on you. Harry has such a huge following, but you never thought you’d go through what you’ve gone through.

Times had been so tough over the past few years, after the breakup, to the point where you weren’t scared at the thought of dying.

Just because you’d broken up with Harry though, never meant that you’d fallen out of love.

The newspaper headlines were the first to attack you.

Harry is so famous that the headline made the front page. Especially when you and Harry had been crowned as the most loved celebrity couple out there.

They didn’t know the truth though.

You were called toxic. Crazy. Manipulative and psychotic.

You would just call yourself depressed.

The year 2021 had not been a good year mentally for you and it constantly felt like you were dragging Harry down with you.

“Babe, it’s time to go meet our friends.” Harry said from the other room.

You were still laying in bed, unbothered to move because you just didn’t have the mental energy.

“Babe?” Harry called after no response from you.

“Y/N? We need to go now.”

“I can’t.” You said softly, no energy to speak louder.

You could hear Harry sigh loudly. Loud enough for you to know you’d upset him, but quiet enough to know he wasn’t going to argue with you.

He just quietly left instead, leaving you in bed with nothing but dark thoughts.

You could see how miserable you were making him, because of how miserable you were yourself. It only took one conversation to change everything.

“I think I need some space.” You told Harry, just quietly on the sofa next to him.

“Space?” Harry questioned.

“I n-need… I-I…. I want to go to therapy, H. I am scared I might do something stupid a-and I feel so sad all the time.” You started to sob.

“Baby… I.. I never never knew you felt this way.” Harry brought you over to him and sat you comfortably on his lap. He was crying too, ashamed he had not seen the signs of you feeling this bad.

“For a while now. I-I’m so sorry.”

“No apologies, baby. None at all. I love you so much and I will always love you so much. Let’s just get you loving yourself first, yeah?”

Harry had helped you find a rehabilitation centre for mental recovery and you were there for at least six months.

He was constantly there for you throughout the rehab process. He never once skipped the chance to visit you on visiting days. He paid for the entire process, even though you had been strongly against that.

Harry constantly reminded you how much you are loved, especially by him.

It took a while, but you finally got to a place where you could love yourself and life again.

When you left rehab, you realised just how bad things were in the social media world.

The moment your relationship was publicly announced as over, you were turned into a villain.

You had stopped the relationship with Harry, solely because you couldn’t give him everything he deserved.

No matter, Harry waited for you. Still is.

You weren’t a celebrity. Instead, you were a good home friend of Harry’s. Your fame came from being attached to Harry.

Now your fame was for the wrong reasons.

You never cared about fame anyways, but the constant hate and abuse is tough.

Harry is still always there for you, though.

There was an endless stream of hate on Twitter towards you.

Even still 3 years on.

liked by harrystyles and 827,938 others

yourinstagram Hello, Love on Tour🧡

Comments on this post are restricted

A simple post on Instagram and everyone on social media would attack you. For being there. For existing.

Everything changed a while ago now.

Harry had texted you a couple of weeks back, out of the blue.

Your hands were slightly sweaty as you walked through backstage to find the friends and family room.

Harry had secured you special tickets for all four Wembley dates, but you could only hope yourself to attend this last one.

You hadn’t seen Harry for months, still just friends.

Or exes. Depending from which angle you’re looking at it from.

You came today because you wanted to show your support for Harry, especially after the last few years you’ve put him through.

Holding the flowers in your none shaking hand, you entered the friends and family room.

It had been very long since you’d seen everyone. You found it difficult to see Harry’s family without Harry.

Luckily, Harry was in the room.

Dressed in comfortable clothes, he was a few hours before getting ready for night 4 at Wembley.

You stood to the back of the room, out of the way, since you didn’t feel secure enough to meet anyone. You often felt like, even though Harry always vouched for you, that his family still disliked you for putting their Harry through so much heartbreak.

What no one seemed to understand, though, was that Harry would endure that heartbreak all over again if it meant you could get help and become stronger again.

When Harry’s aunty turned around she spotted you. Either she didn’t realise it was you or was just looking into the distance, but because you thought she was glaring at you it made you feel super insecure.

Twitter was already trending your name because fans had spotted you outside the venue. Everyone was begging you to stay away from Harry.

Now his aunty looked like she meant the same thing.

You left the flowers on the table, that came with a card so he’d know who they’re off, and exited the room.

As you walked down the corridor, a security guard and must be fan stopped you.

“Are you Y/N L/N?” She asked.

“Yeah?”

“Wow. You have some unbelievable nerve being here.” Her words took you aback.

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah too fucking right.” She scoffed and walked wherever she was meant to be.

You stood in the corridor and thought over what she’d just said to you. There has been no need to be so aggressive. She didn’t know anything about you or your situation. She can’t hurt you when she doesn’t understand the truth.

You were trying to repeat everything your therapist had taught you, but it was difficult with so many thoughts running through your mind.

Temporarily squeezing your eyes, you tried to press the negative thoughts away.

“Breathe.”

Your eyes shot open to see Harry in front of you.

It was amazing how Harry always seemed to meet you at the right place and at the right time whenever you needed him. It was never that you needed anybody. You needed him.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” Harry said, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek and softly stroke your cheek.

“You’re here.” You repeated to yourself.

“You’re alright, Y/N. We’re okay.”

Harry leaned into you and pressed a kiss to your forehead softly. You smiled at the familiar feeling.

“Hi.” You smiled shyly.

“Hello, you.”

“I arrived a little bit ago, but I got overwhelmed in that room.” You explained yourself.

“It’s okay. Mum saw you and said you looked sheepish. Came here as soon as she said. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Just don’t know whether I’m supposed to be here. People know i’m here and it’s… they’re not happy. I don’t want to cause any drama and—”

“Y/N, love, you’re not. They are causing the drama. I want you here. I’m okay with you being here. I am happy you’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Harry moved to hug you and you squeeze him back just as hard. His hugs always make you feel safe. He smells as warm and comforting as he feels.

“Please don’t leave.” He whispered against your face.

“I’m not. Just need you with me for a bit.”

“I’m more than okay with that.”

During the show, Harry made a speech about you.

He was fed up with the negative press and the hate you get. It was time to say something.

“My ex-girlfriend is here tonight! She’s my favourite person. I hope you love her as much as I do. All m’songs are written about her too. I thought we’d try an oldie for tonight, so I can dedicate to my person. I hope you’ll all join in with me and sing out if you know the words. This is Sunflower.”

[agoldenblackbird]

i'm gonna be a ranty bitch for a minute.

tbh i'm turned off even reading new buddie fic despite being a multishipper and have unfollowed a bunch of buddie accounts because i'm sick of the smug attitudes. one ask that i am otherwise not going to publish or respond to ended with 'sorry you don't understand media literacy bestie :)' fuck off. listen INFANT, i have been writing fanfic and original fic AND watching, reading and analyzing queer media since before you were born, i understand how character and story development works, and i know the difference between 'storyline i personally disliked' and 'bad writing.' this was BOTH, and it also was marketed to us as 'carefully crafted bi rep' and 'queer love story that is not about a bunch of pain and conflict FOR ONCE' so we have every right to be upset at the bait-and-switch.

the fact that i'm seeing the same exact posts - 'bt bones buddie CANON' that i saw three seasons ago after the bucktaylor breakup, or every time they thought buck and taylor MIGHT break up - says something. the fact that so many fans seem genuinely convinced (STILL!) that buddie is inevitable because there have been so many 'signs,' and then they rattle off a convoluted theory that would make the most hardcore taylor swift stan say 'wow, that's a bit of a reach,' honestly weirded me out a little when i first joined the 911 fandom. i have never been in a fandom where so many fans are insistent that their ship will be - not might be or could be, but WILL be - canon. i am skeptical both from past experience with other shows mishandling queer storylines or ship-baiting, and tim minnear's proven track record with this one of not really knowing what to do with buck's LI's. but i didn't want to yuck anybody's yum, so i let them have their theories and squee in peace, and unfollowed or blocked certain tags if i was seeing too much of it and getting annoyed. it's too out there for me, but i'm glad they're having fun!

yet they can't give us the same courtesy. they deride us as delusional for thinking that a canon pairing that was presented to us both in promo and the show itself as different and important (eg the bobby approval convo and 'buck getting off the hamster wheel') might last, and we're stupid to have ever liked tommy or lou or be disappointed at how the breakup was written, and if we point out the biphobia it's just sour grapes.

the bucktommy breakup is not the first time 911 has started out strong with an interesting storyline and fumbled it in the 4th quarter either because the writers got bored or in the name of needless drama/a 'gotcha' sudden twist. amir & bobby, eddie's fight club arc, the sperm donor SL, hen vs councilwoman ortiz, whatever the hell is going on with harry, the whole mess with shannon/kim, just to name a few. and especially the past couple of seasons, for me since 6b, the pacing has been off. they seem to have too much happening at once and many of the storylines don't have enough room to breathe to be narratively satisfying, or they get resolved in ways that feel lackluster.

if the toxic buddie stans who have been attacking lou on sm and sending death threats (wtf!) actually get what they want, which i admit is possible, but it's certainly not guaranteed….i don't know why they think the writers won't fumble that just as badly. it's not going to happen precisely the way they want it to because it is impossible to please everybody, that's what fanfic is for. but at this point i have zero faith that it would even be well done at all, and zero trust in the writers not to just sabotage or regress a character for funsies, and that's an excellent reason to stop watching the show. in most of my other fandoms i regard canon as a jumping-off point or a blurry outline at best, and i can have just as much fun in the 911 sandbox without any further input from canon at all, once i'm less angry.

[minyard-05]

hi, me again.

neil josten deserves some of the hate and i'm not kidding

CW: abuse, child abuse + neglect, aaron's whole backstory

now, prefacing this by saying: i LIKE neil. i also recognise that he's a complete dick. i am also fully aware that i am the only person who thinks/cares about aaron minyard this much. i ALSO recognise that i have made this post 4 times already but i'm making it again

SO. i present page 236 of TKM

this scene was over the line even for neil

allow me to *cracks knuckles* Explain.

there are two foxes who, i think, would be able to actually somewhat understand what aaron's life growing up with his mother was like, and those two are wymack and renee. wymack grew up with a bad father who hit him and killed his mother, and renee grew up with her mother and her mother's boyfriends, who are all described as being heavy handed. what pisses me off the most about this scene in particular, among other neil & aaron interactions, is that neil implies that aaron could've stood up to his mother and he didn't.

aaron's mother died when he was fifteen. he had no siblings living with him, no dad, and nicky says he got involved with some bad stuff once he got to columbia, all of which points to aaron being almost entirely isolated as a kid. isolated from everyone except for his mother, who was neglectful before she got violent, but even still, that neglect would bear scars of its own. aaron probably had to learn to cook before he was tall enough to reach the kitchen counter. aaron probably had to walk himself home from school when he was too small to see over cars before crossing the road. aaron probably had to lie to his teachers when they asked to call his mother, had to forge her signature on permission slips, had to learn to shoplift young so he could still eat when they didn't have any money. and then he would have to learn how to clean a cut without it getting infected, because he couldn't go to a hospital. he would have to think about long sleeves and baggy shirts to cover up bruises, he would have to learn how to lie quickly if anybody asked why he was limping slightly, he would have to figure out any possible way to keep people from finding out what was happening, because the alternative was that he'd get taken away, and then he'd really be alone. and that's scary. when you're twelve, the prospect of losing your mom is scary. even after everything, he still didn't know what to do without her. he loved her because there was literally nobody else in his life he could love. and he was a kid.

aaron was a kid and he was scared, and 90% of his actions/reactions to things throughout the books are the actions of a kid who didn't get to do anything other than grow up too fast and now he doesn't know what to do. considering the above scene i cited is immediately after Happy Birthday Junior, aaron's reaction (which is directly confronting neil about wtf is going on) is completely justified! because another reminder that all of the trilogy is in neil's first year of PSU, but aaron and the others have been through the aftermath of kevin signing with them (which we know meant a lot of threats, fights, and other bad shit), with the addition of general Fox drama. and aaron has NO idea what's going on. all he knows is that this random kid from arizona seems dead-set on pissing off riko moriyama, one of their teammates is dead, somebody put a dead fox in their car, and now somebody broke into their locker room and filled neil's locker with blood. so, naturally, aaron's asking what the fuck is happening.

ok so now i am not 100% sure where exactly i was going with this, i am still sick and have a very short attention span so my TLDR is this: when aaron punches neil in the corridor after neil talks to katelyn (even though that happened before this), neil kind of had it coming. also i personally believe aaron deserves to punch neil just one more time. he's earned it

[uriekukistan]

thoughts on jjk 270, unfiltered for your reading pleasure

honestly the whole chapter feels like a disservice to megumi. i know i say that all the time, and maybe i'm just too jaded, maybe i'm wearing favorite character goggles idk, but as a whole i think this chapter was just. not good so if i wanna talk about it with regards to the Favorite Character, i will

my first thought seeing megumi at tsumiki's grave was that gege was gonna finally give a proper moment where he could grieve and reach some kind of closure, maybe get some of the overdue development he's earned. like to me there's nothing better than when the emotionally reserved character breaks down, and this would have been the perfect moment. i feel like so much of megumi's character has been built around his relationship to tsumiki, and the past 60 chapters-ish have been building up to this moment where megumi can properly grieve and maybe express some kind of remorse to tsumiki for being a bit of a brat when he was younger, but he never gets that. instead, we get this really stale and emotionless ending for their relationship, and for megumi's character as a whole. like idk, this whole time he's wanted to be able to apologize to tsumiki and make it up to her after everything she did for him, and he never even gets a moment to mourn. i hate that for him.

next. why am i getting more emotionally satisfying endings for side characters that i literally dgaf abt than for main characters like megumi, yuuta, gojo (i'll stand by the fact that i think he should have died, but like show people mourning him damn), nobara, YUUJI?????? idk like wtf is going on here. to me there is no reason to get a more satisfying ending for that middle school friend of yuuji's who was relevant for like two pages before i get a satisfying end for the literal deuteragonist of the story

then there's the whole thing w hana. i'm not even saything this from a shipping standpoint, but it's frustrating to me that megumi gets to reach some kind of peace w hana and have a good conversation with her before he talks to itadori, the person who's been by his side this whole time, the person who appreciates him for who he is and not their idealized version of him, the person who he decided to live for, the person who arguably means the most in his life right now. he doesn't get to exchange a serious heart to heart with him, but he gets to have a shallow surface level interaction with hana? idk i just feel like it reduces his character to something very superficial and i hate to see it.

and maybe i'm just dumb but i don't get like. any of these new plot points that have been introduced, but honestly, i don't care to understand. it seems like gege is in fact trying to set up a second part to jjk and im just so annoyed by that, because we get this rushed ending where nothing reaches proper fruition so he can introduce these new plots? like idk, somehow that pisses me off more than if he just fumbled the ending, but i hold that thought until we know for sure that he's making a second part.

this was supposed to be more general, but i got carried away w my thoughts abt how bad megumi's ending was fumbled. anyway. yeah canon doesn't exist to me past 268 :D

[ayrtonswnna]

⠀⠀⠀CERTIFIED HATER. 〃 charles leclerc smau

⠀⠀⠀⠀ charles leclerc x marie vettel (vettel!female oc)

marie vettel goes live and gets asked about her dad's old teammate. she's got a way to get his attention.

ʚïɞ check my masterlist 〃 drop a request 〃 follow me on AO3!

warnings: explicit language, charles gets butthurt, a lot of funzies, character acting like she doesn't care (but she does), petty character, not much more than that

⠀⠀⠀⠀twitter, by may 2024.

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⠀⠀⠀⠀marievettel's instagram stories

⠀⠀↳ replies to this stories:

username: we just hope you die ❤️

username2: that wasn't your humblest opinion at all lol

landonorris: at this point you should just say sorry..... wtf marie

marievettel: ???????

marievettel: i am a woman to my words.

username3: go to the nearest wall and hit your head pls l

charlesleclerc: hhahaha

charlesleclerc: i can take an "overrated" opinion or two, but not that cute???? you're over your head

marievettel: fantastic.

⠀⠀DMs between marievettel and charlesleclerc

⠀⠀marievettel via instagram feed

liked by lancestroll, tyla and 992.384 others.

marievettel: it's been a damn hot minute 🏎️ (someone's trying to prove me wrong)

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username: attention seeker 🙄🙄

username2: ...enemies to lovers?

landonorris: you're a bastard.

marievettel: you could actually help me out on this thing by winning ❤️

username3: how thw fuck does she disrespect the institution and the driver himself and gets a garage access by the next week?

marievettel: girl.... i am my father's daughter.

username4: you guys acting all bodyguards on charles when they might actually talk on private, just psycho behavior.

charlesleclerc: make yourself comfortable 🥰

marievettel: will do!

⠀⠀⠀⠀marievettel via twitter

⠀⠀charlesleclerc via twitter

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⠀DMs between marievettel and charlesleclerc

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀f1gosspip via twitter

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⠀⠀⠀⠀marievettel's instagram stories

⠀⠀↳ replies to this stories:

username: "kinda cute" then it's greek god man

username2: baby girl just fuck this man already

username3: you are creepy and i hope charles dumps you

landonorris: i knew that would happen eventually

marievettel: yeah me too

charlesleclerc: post the damn apology and then call me, i'm picking you up when i'm done here

marievettel: non conventional way to ask me out

charlesleclerc: well you kinda had an unconventional way to get my attention so we're even

marievettel: i wouldn't say even

⠀⠀⠀⠀marievettel via twitter

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⠀⠀⠀⠀charlesleclerc via ig stories

⠀⠀↳ replies to this stories:

username: just fascinating

maxvertappen1: you are unhinged

sebastianvettel: take care you two!

charlesleclerc: sebbbb charlesleclerc: it is not what you think sebastianvettel: it is exactly what i think 😂 she's a genius with the hate charlesleclerc: and i hate to admit you're right sebastianvettel: have fun and don't make me a grandpa already, please charlesleclerc: we are NOT talking about it

username: where's the trophyyyy he just comes running over to meee

marievettel: god now i am dead. ur fans are gonna murder me

charlesleclerc: shouldn't have acted up at first 🤷🏻🤷🏻

⠀⠀marievettel via instagram feed

liked by lewishamilton, arthur_leclerc and 1.114.893 others.

marievettel: daytime in monaco kinda hits different. (just for you guys to know, i've known this fool for long enough. we go wayyy back)

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username: srry mama im only looking at your boobs rn

username2: when you think its done... a vettel will find their way to terrorize the paddock

username3: by way back she meant shes simping for him ever since she was a teenager watching him race with her dad

sebastianvettel: menaces!!!

charlesleclerc: wayyyyyy back.

⠀⠀charlesleclerc via instagram feed

liked by sebastianvettel, carlossainz55 and 1.576.016 others.

charlesleclerc: cute as ever with company now.

view comments on this post:

username: dopeass car

username1: oh how he looks happy (irony)

username2: cant imagine what kind of bullshit marie was talking from behind the camera for cha to have that look on his face

marievettel: apparently i am not much of a hyper ):

username3: i want to be like her when i grow up

username4: he wont ever let it go lmaaao

marievettel: i was trying to get to you with the driving skills talk but damn how i lied..... youre HANDSOME

charlesleclerc: was waiting to hear that from you

ʚïɞ check my masterlist 〃 drop a request 〃 more charles! ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2025

[nozomi-kaizoku]

FASHION JIRAIS DNI /SRS

The thing that really annoys me about the reyinblack situation is how they're the ones telling us to "get help" even though a lot of us are already doing that and are just using tumblr as a way to find a support group n shit.

Rey has this stupid belief that you should cope the way other people cope, and if you don't you're "glamorizing it and influencing others", and it genuinely baffles me how completely ignorant they are surrounding both the topics of jirai kei and mental health as a whole.

since when has anyone in the jirai community ever encouraged anyone to self harm? The only self harm shit I've seen coming from the jirai community are literally people just talking about their own struggles with self harm.

Tbh, the only thing I don't like about my self harm is that whenever I relapse I have to hide it until it heals so that my family doesn't get pissy at me over it (especially my dad, cause he deadass once told me "self harm is stupid", and honestly, wtf), but that's just me. People got their own reasons why they romanticize their own self harm.

And I am putting the emphasis on the "their own" part, because this douchebag really missed that part and I don't think they'd bother to care anyways.

Also, "just get a diary" THIS IS MY DIARY, JACKWAD. My therapist knows that this blog exists, i literally showed it to her to look at. And I start intensive outpatient therapy next week, so idk what you're on about when you say I should "get help."

Speaking of "getting help", I do agree that if someone needs professional help, they should try to get it as soon as possible. Walk in crisis centers exist (at least in Colorado where I'm from)

But regardless of whatever it's for, when someone does get help, it doesn't mean that all of your problems will go away.

it means that you are learning the skills needed to cope with them so that you don't end up doing some genuinely harmful behaviors like drugs or risky sex.

Sometimes getting help means de-escalating from a crisis so that you don't try to kill yourself or others.

Or it could be to help manage some behavioral issues or trauma that you had to deal with.

People get this stupid misconception that the minute you go to the psych ward for a few days or start talking to a therapist, that all of a sudden you're gonna be this mentally stable and happy person who has no issues whatsoever. I've been dealing with the mental health industry for 5 years and yet I still haven't gotten better, if anything I feel fucking worse tbh.

And to add on to that, not everyone has that same kind of access to help. Sometimes parents don't believe their kids are struggling and refuse to get them help, sometimes financial barriers can make it difficult to afford it, lots of things.

Japan (the place where Jirai Kei originated) has a major issue when it comes down to the stigma surrounding mental health and mental illness, and getting help is completely discouraged there. That's where the Jirai Kei community comes in to help destigmatize mental health (while looking cute as shit).

but the part that's gotta piss me off the most regarding this situation is how rey is so upset that different ways to cope exist to the point they're literally reporting blogs and getting them t worded ALL BECUASE NOBODY AGREES WITH WHAT THEY GOTTA SAY.

Sheesh, and people tell ME I can't take criticism...

Anyway, just wanna say that if you see reyinblack anywhere, please report and block them. DO NOT ENGAGE WITH THEM.

Thank you.

[moss-ridden-owl-creature]

Dude gangggg can y’all help

I think I’ve got some fucked up toxic ass friendship going on rn and I don’t know what to do about it. (it’s super long sorry)

Now let’s call this friend Q (he/they) Now Q and I have been friends for about 4 years now. And for the first 2 1/2, 3 years or so. It was a chill friendship. Pretty close, Yada yada, all that. But in the last year and a half or so, Q has gotten drastically meaner. I mean like genuinely shitty behavior. He’s copied things I do, insults me, and on a few occasions, actually physically hurt me. Usually it was semi-harmless stuff, like on my birthday telling me that I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and another occasion “[deadname], I love you, but you CAN NOT sing.” Both of these instances were about a year ago. Keep in mind, one of my greatest passions, is THEATER. More specifically MUSICAL THEATER. Like dude! That fuckin hurts! BAD. And keep in mind, both those comments were UNSOLICITED ADVICE. I didn’t ask, want or need them, but the moment I ask “Hey, can I offer you some advice on how to adjust your art you made?” (Anthro art, which I am WELL VERSED IN.) his immediate response was “No. and don’t you dare.” OH? SO I GET IT. YOURE ALLOWED TO OFFER UNSOLICITED MUSICAL ADVICE, SOMETHING YOU AT THE TIME KNEW JACK SHIT ABOUT WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST. BUT THE MOMENT I TRY AND DO THE SAME, AND I ASK YOU FIRST, ITS A BAD THING? You goddamned fucking hypocrite. Just pick a fucking side dude! I’m so TIRED of it. Or recently, a couple weeks ago, me and my friends were talking about this stupid ass like what character you’d be if you were in this show we all watched and I said who I’d be -a character I really liked- and this bitch really responded with “You’re not cool enough to be around to be them.” Like dude, wtf?? Why would you say that shit?? Or the other time when they said “You’re not my best friend” among other things. But the most recent, and imo, the most serious development, is that Q has begun to actually hurt me. Not in a joking way, in a purposeful way. Now, usually as a joke, if you put your hand in front of my face or if I see you do something that I think is pushing the boundaries of one of my friends, I’ll “bite” you (it’s literally just your hand in my mouth dude. I don’t even bite hard enough to indent or bruise the skin.) and Q has begun to respond by slapping me. Keep in mind, I’ve done this for YEARS, this is not a new thing I’ve done, but him slapping me in response is new, But today was a different story. Today when I did it, because I noticed that my friend he was bothering seemed visibly uncomfortable, I “bit” Q. Q decided to respond by sticking his fingers in the bottom of my mouth, taking his thumb and pinching the skin between the fingers inside of my mouth and his thumb on the bottom of my chin (the area on your jaw where it’s only skin) and pulling. Really fuckin hard. And if you haven’t had that experience. It’s fucking painful. Especially for me, who, for a long time has had dental issues in regards to my bottom jaw and teeth. So not only did this hurt, it could have genuine affects on my physical health. Now, about a week ago. I informed a close friend on mine that I wanted to try and distance myself from Q for these exact reasons. He’s gotten meaner. unnecessarily mean, to point where it HAS ME PHYSICALLY FUCKING HURT. and gods I don’t know what to do about it, because my friend was like “oh it’s probably just a misunderstanding” THIS ISNT A FUCKING MISUNDERSTANDING OR A COMMUNICATION ISSUE AT THIS POINT. Because what I am putting into our friendship is NOT reciprocated. Worst part is, he doesn’t apologize for ANY OF IT. he doesn’t even MENTION IT. And I just don’t know what to do about it. I’m so, so tired of this shit.

[jmdbjk]

Camping: one bed.

WARNING: CONTINUED POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT! I may or may not mention "Are You Sure?" scenes in detail and their outcomes during these long rambling messy posts beginning with the next sentence.

I am 100% certain

Snuggle

happened. I need tumblr to make it possible to use different fonts on one line.

But first. Dinner was cooked.

Reminded me of this... sorry to digress.

That darn glare on the camera:

Jungkook immediately washed his hands after touching Jimin's tongue... don't blame him, I really wouldn't want those kinds of cooties from Jimin either. I love you Jimin but I don't want your stomach bug. Sorry.

Whatever the hell this was...

Jimin had a soaking the meat in the sauce scolding from Jungkook years ago. Okay.

Dinner is served.

There was a moment when perhaps an oops was edited out. Did Jimin mention a brand name accidentally?

They got a kick out of whatever he said because then they recalled that time Tae kept saying brand names during their live back in LA.

JK's face was incredulous like "wtf dude shut up"

Some members were called.

There was a comment about making Tae and Namjoon speak to each other... ??? What in the name of spillage of tea and inside jokes was this about?

Jungkook Facetimes Tae.

So is this where Tae finds out Jimin and JK are doing a travel show? And was JK worried Tae would start saying something about not getting to ride motorbikes? HAHAHAHHAAA welp... we don't know what that was all about.

JK hanging up on Tae was priceless.

Tae cusses him out via text and JK tries to de-escalate with "i love you". JK thought it was hilarious. I wonder if it is not often he gets the upper hand in this dynamic? The push and pull has not abated.

Yoongi's deadpan "what?" when Jimin called: tell me you get a lot of frivolous phone calls from Park Jimin without telling me you get a lot of frivolous and pointless calls from Park Jimin.

Some reflecting happens...

Jimin says regardless of how its going so far, he thinks its good he came so Jungkook could travel around and relax as he embarks on his first solo promotions. Jungkook says he is grateful and Jimin says he has regrets and Jungkook brushes it off. Just enjoy it now he says. I think this is the moment they both relax and they are back in their groove. Jungkook really needs quality time with his Jimin. Just enjoy... finally... that's where JK is at this point.

Finally, lights out. There's a camera in there but its too dark... we only hear this:

Jimin: "You seem cold, Jungkook. Come here." (I suspect Jimin may be running a temp at this time)

Jungkook: "I'll sleep without the blanket." (In an attempt to make Jimin comfortable.)

Jimin: "Come here, Jungkook." (insisting)

They were sleeping in very close proximity. It's a miracle if JK did not catch the stomach bug too.

The snoring that is loud enough you can actually hear it even with the music track and sound effects playing:

MMA elbows flew in the night and Jimin got smacked in the nose. It even swoll up a bit. Also, more diarrhea. My man didn't get much sleep. He was miserable.

Crew delivers pepto, JK pours a dose but does Jimin down it? We aren't sure because we don't see it. My man... please help yourself out of this (literal) mess. Though we only see the pepto being delivered I will assume other precautions were taken in that they made him drink plenty of fluids, took his temp, contemplated whether to abort the mission, etc. Knowing Jimin, he declined that last option.

Jungkook: "you came all the way here for nothing but pain."

Jimin: "I came so far ... smacked by your elbow... stomach bug... I can't even eat... and I had a fever, why am I even here? it gets sadder by the moment..."

They were laughing about it. What else could they do? It was a genuine moment.

So Jimin slept while Jungkook made himself some coffee.

Me either, Jungkook. Need coffee.

And spent some time building a rock cairn tower so he could send up some wishes to the universe. That was something else.

It was such a precious thing to watch.

Please no falling in the water, no explosive diarrhea, no broken bones or loss of blood... well... that last one though... little did they know.

In my opinion, even though Jimin was struggling with his illness, the activities were healing and bonding. We'll have to wait for the behinds to see what else happened. I wonder if they will release that this week or wait and drop them after the final episode in September.

Regardless, I am thankful for this window we get to see them together, after two years of knowing Jimin was working so hard and seeing Jungkook light up time after time, wanting to see him, especially the first half of 2023.

They are together right this minute, though they are the most isolated members of the group from whatever is happening. Not knowing how much information they are able to receive about what's going on, I know they will at least have each other to talk to until things get resolved.

On to Episode 2...

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

I KINDA HAD THE SAME IDEA with the low honor high honor thing! Im currently figuring exactly in what way the story would change [granted it does involve one of my ocs so maybe a lot more than it should] but its fun to think in what way Micah would be 'better' or more loyal to the gang

I feel like he'd still pick fights in camp, but like in a way older siblings would. Its more teasing/bullying and shit instead of straight up slurs. Idk, might just be me NNXJXJC

I also think he wouldn't go out of his way to help someone if they asked him to, but he'd watch them continue to struggle with mayne like a gun to the point where he like has to get up and be like 'OKAY you are so pathetically shit at this - im going to show you how to do this and we're not taking a break until you shoot 3 targets in a row' or something

I dont think he'd willingly be vulnerable anytime soon based on his upbringing and shit, but iiii like to think it happens sometimes accidentally idk JXJXJC

Weep weep weep this is making me wanna explore what RDR2 would be like if Micah was a marginally better person (mainly what id he never ratted).

i am glad we have converging ideas when it comes to high honor micah! I’ve talked with mutuals before on wtf micah could do that could be considered high honor, and we came up with little. One idea i suggested is that he accidentally saved people)s lives through his own selfishness (ex: saves someone from rabid dog because “if i didnt kill it, it would have gone for me next.”)

Micah's high honor is selfish in a unique way compared to low honor. Instead of focusing on himself and his survival, it more becomes a common goal to keep the gang as a whole surviving. He is no hunter, but he can bring in money and be a daaaaaamn good shot. Guard duties are often reserved for Lenny and Sean and Charles and whoever else is free. Micah *can* go on guard duty but keeps himself out of that tiresome job by being out of camp and bringing in money. “Sorry, can’t got on guard duty, I just got back from a stage coach robbery and I want to enjoy my well deserved relaxation.”

he is still a snarky sounding piece of shit, but like you said, he is less of a full on hateful man. He is still a sly, observing snake and studies the flaws of his gang mates, but he keeps his fangs sheethed. The idea with the snake animal for high honor is that Micah is still as lethal and capable of assholery as he is in bad honor, he is just deciding to not. He holds his venom to be inflicted on those who the gang need (or want) dead. He also leans into the snake vibes by being a slimy slithering manipulator. He isn’t a charmer, but he has a skill for talking people long enough to get plans into action (or to just backstab the enemy).

i feel like Morgan would still dislike Micah for being a man with bad vibes. Morgan is also just a hater sometimes (look at how he perceives Kieran). Micah still murders and has bad plans like Blackwater so it’s not like Arthur has *no* reason to distrust Micah.

i imagine high honor micah makes an effort on occasion to be involved in camp socializing, Sean and Jack’s return for example. He mainly drinks and flirts with the girls and boys at the event.

and because i like the red vs blue honor color association of the game, Micah’s design would be a little different, making the blue in his design a little more present. A neckerchief is an example of blue, but i am sure more blue could be worked into his design somewhere. Idea is that the ratio of red to blue in character’s designs can allude to how honorable they are (though it is not a 1:1 visualization). I imagine Micah would be 1:3 blue to red. Maayyybe. One quarter an okay man, three quarters a pretty sleazy man.

micah is still deeply troubled soooo no sweetie pie vulnerability for him! At most he tries to flirt (like asking Mary-Beth to dance) and the people are 1-2% more polite about turning him down when he’s high honor. He’s still all alone and his prickly exterior deeps people at arms length from him. He is both deeply dependent on attaching himself to a gang/someone to follow (my hc), but he also aspires to be independent and run his own gang. I suppose in high honor, he hopes to earnestly stick with the VDL gang and rise in the ranks by impressing Dutch (because Dutch is kind of an easy man to impress when you bootlick).

[eularin]

I was watching some scenes from Naruto, and then I saw the one where Obito summons the Kyuubi in the cemetery, apparently next to Rin's grave and I was like "WTF you crazy? Right there next to your crush's grave? What the hell man" and then I remembered that Obito always does things with some justification (every villain does), but it is Canon that Obito likes to prove his PoV to others, and also to himself. So I asked myself: why the hell did Obito summon the Kyuubi near Rin's grave? What could he be thinking? And I came to the following conclusion:

He wanted to prove to Rin, and to all those other dead ninjas who probably sacrificed themselves for Konoha that their sacrifice was in vain. Obito's story, and especially Team Minato's story, is about sacrifice, promises, and tragedy.

Obito sacrificed himself for Kakashi (and the Team) bc he thought it was the right thing to do and the most important thing. He was more loyal to the team (his friends) than he was to Konoha (am I the only one who noticed that by going to save Rin, Obito basically abandoned the Kannabi Bridge mission?)

On that mission, Obkk made his promise, Kakashi gained his Sharingan, Obito "died" believing that by joining his power with Kakashi's, it would make them stronger and in a way invincible to protect Rin (his precious people) so of course the cruel world and cruel destiny proved to the two that the sacrifice and their promise were worthless.

When Obito finally realized that his shared power with Kakashi was not enough, and that Rin's loyalty to Konoha far outweighed her loyalty to the Team, Obito had a meltdown (another meltdown). I can reflect on Rin's character later. Let's focus on Obito.

When Obito chose the graveyard to summon the Kyuubi, he was making a strong statement. He literally wanted to tell Rin (and the other ninjas who sacrificed themselves for the good of Konoha) this: "hey Rin, look! You killed yourself to stop a Bijuu from destroying Konoha, but your sacrifice can't stop this Bijuu now. See? No sacrifice is worth it. You only delayed the inevitable. You died for nothing and without meaning" - Obito must have been very angry with Rin and Minato. At least I think he was.

During the 4th war he was literally mocking Minato and his acclaimed speed. Basically he was saying "there's no point in being the fastest man in the world if you don't arrive at the moment that matters most", and I don't think he was referring to the Kannabi Bridge mission. So there's that weird conversation where Obito tells Kakashi that Rin is an impostor?!? I don't remember that dialogue anymore (I watched it with subtitles, so I really don't remember what I read years ago)

the only thing I understood was "Rin killed herself, so she's not the real Rin, she's just an impostor that this world created!" – Obito is so... crazy? logical? delirious that I couldn't keep up (I always rewatch the 4th war arc)

also, i'm thinking about it 🤔 i think obito might have been bitter towards Minato bc out of all team 7, Minato was the only one who got along in the end. get my drift: obito "died"; kakashi and rin were devastated and minato probably suffered too, but the anime only shows kakashi for most of the whole story, suffering much more. (unfortunately, the anime shows almost nothing of Rin and her personality. she's portrayed as... idk, easily disposable background character. we don't see anything about her dreams, her struggle to be a great ninja, we don't see her other friends or family... she's almost an empty character, even though she's important to the story of two big prominent characters.)

So back to the main focus: Obito "died"; Rin and Kakashi suffered, then Rin died and Kakashi was left to wallow in his guilt and pain, then Minato went and put a traumatized child in the ANBU. And we know that Obito was already spying on all of them. He certainly didn't like seeing Minato being a beloved hero, enjoying his laurel leaves after the war, so he fulfills his dream of being Hokage, marries his wonderful Kushina, plays house and has a child. In other words: Minato moves on while Obito doesn't (and Kakashi doesn't either). I bet that made Obito pretty angry. I can imagine his anger at Minato's good life. So he went there and ruined it all. 💁🏻‍♀️💀

Well, that's it. That's my theory (?) about why Obito summoned the Kyuubi at the graveyard that night.

So, what's your take on this?

[whyse7vn]

BRO? -

[ot7 x reader]

JIMIN -

y/n: bro

jimin: wys gang?

y/n: i just threw up in my mouth

jimin: you started it

on GOD 🙏🏻

y/n: stop

jimin: nah bro

what did you want dude

y/n: wanted you to pick me up

jimin: okay gang

on god i can do that for you

y/n: wanted

past tense

jimin: don’t even worry gang ur bros got you

y/n: ykw i’m so good gang 🙏🏽

bye

jimin: wait no come back 🥺

y/n: lol gang you into me or something??

jimin: i might be gang…

y/n: bro…

jimin: bro….

*whimpers*

y/n: bro????

jimin: no my fault bro i was getting into it

y/n: nah you always on that weird shit bro

jimin: i’m sowwy 🥺🥺🥺🥺

y/n: u tripping ong

bye again

jimin: dhmu only real bros would get it 🙏🏻😓

y/n: i’m real

jimin: real FAKE

y/n: ur real ugly

jimin: bro…

y/n: bro.

jimin: you’ve crossed the fucking line

y/n: sue me broski

jimin: how about i fuck you

y/n: this is why i distance myself from you

jimin: sorry nature takes over sometimes

y/n: ???

jimin: ???

y/n: tae core

jimin: we are not the same

y/n: i think you are

jimin: bro ong u tweaking

y/n: no bro ong i’m on to something

let me cook

jimin: cook me a orgasm lol

y/n: i’m blocking you lol

YOONGI -

y/n: dude

yoongi: wrong person?

y/n: no?

yoongi: i’m telling you you’ve got the wrong person

y/n: i’m telling you i haven’t

yoongi: ur not funny

y/n: i’m laughing

yoongi: i’m not

y/n: cheer up bro

yoongi: fuck off

y/n: bro you can talk to me about anything

it’s okay

yoongi: i want to break up with my girlfriend

y/n: OMG????

yoongi: i thought i could talk to you about anything

y/n: i’m ur girlfriend tho :(

yoongi: though we were bros??

y/n: sometimes

yoongi: that’s not how it works

y/n: you clearly know nothing about bro code…

embarrassing

yoongi: sometimes i think violent thoughts

y/n: tf is bro talking about 💀

yoongi: leave me alone

y/n: do you love me

yoongi: do you want and honest answer

y/n: dude is acting like he hasn’t almost proposed to me several times 💀💀

yoongi: what do you actually want leave me alone

y/n: brotha wants to be left alone 💀

yoongi: stop talking like that

and i am not ur brother that’s nasty

y/n: why won’t you love me for me

yoongi: you’re annoying

y/n: sighs i know what dream feels like now

that’s what the mask is

that’s what the point of the mask is…

yoongi: tf is dream??

y/n: sorry did i give you flash backs

i miss no more dream yoongi

bring him back!!!

yoongi: no

y/n: he can be ur alter ego

or like on a full moon you transform into debut yoongi

where you roam the streets spitting in peoples faces

yoongi: debut me did not spit in peoples faces

y/n: ok???

but you looked like you did

sorry for assuming geez

you were more of a biter those days i remember

yoongi: i bit you once

y/n: ONE TIME TOO MANY MIN YOONGI

thinking about that day brings a tear to my eye

the shock the fear the betrayal it’s all coming back to me

yoongi: are you done?

y/n: yeah bro :/

yoongi: bye

NAMJOON -

y/n: i want to chew on ur eyeballs

namjoon: that’s nice babe

y/n: i’ll crawl into ur skin

we will be one

namjoon: ok

y/n: god ur sosososos obsessed with me

namjoon: always

y/n: bro

namjoon: ??

y/n: ??

namjoon: i thought we were being nice to each other

y/n: that was nice

namjoon: you called me bro?

y/n: yeah?

namjoon: ok

y/n: do we have a problem?

namjoon: never

y/n: wow ur so obedient

namjoon: ok stop

y/n: why

namjoon: ur being weird again

y/n: again??

namjoon: you opened this conversation i want to chew on your eyeballs

y/n: and??

namjoon: i can only take so much

y/n: lame as hell bro

namjoon: why are you calling me bro?

y/n: it’s cute

namjoon: bro is cute??

y/n: no

namjoon: why do you chose to lie to me?

y/n: bored

namjoon: interesting

y/n: it’s not

i’m bored

namjoon: that sucks baby

go for a run or something idk?

y/n: are you saying i need to lose weight

namjoon: no wtf?

y/n: i think ur saying i need to lose weight

namjoon: ur putting words in my mouth

y/n: soon ur gonna start putting salad in mine

namjoon: bro

y/n: DID YOU JUST BRO ME????

namjoon: ur seeing things

y/n: OH MY GOD IVE JUSTBEEN SHOT IN THE CHEST

SOMONE CALL THE AMBULANCE

OW OW OW IT HURTS IT BURNS

I DONT THINK IM GONNA MAKE IT

namjoon: i think i’m gonna go for a run

y/n: how about you run away and never come back

namjoon: oh

y/n: go “oh” with ur new bitch

namjoon: my new bitch?

y/n: bet she loves when you call her bro

namjoon: you called me bro first…

y/n: what’s ur point???

namjoon: what are you mad at me?

y/n: i’m so hungry

namjoon: what

y/n: what

namjoon: love..

are you ok?

y/n: what does ok mean in this day and age joon?

namjoon: should i come home?

y/n: dude just go back to working out with all ur little buddies

namjoon: you miss me??

y/n: ur insane

namjoon: i’m omw home

y/n: idc bro!!!

namjoon: so i can work out for 2 more hours then?

y/n: whatever come home bitch

namjoon: love u seen you soon

HOSEOK -

y/n: bro jimin just threw a rock at me

hobi: oh no

do you need mouth to mouth cpr

y/n: i need more than cpr

in so much pain rn

hobi: wait

??????

you just called me bro?????

y/n: why is that ur biggest concern rn

i said jimin just threw a rock at me A ROCK

a really big fucking rock

hobi: no you said bro jimin just threw a rock at me

BRO

like????

what is wrong with you?

y/n: I JUST GOT A ROCK THROWN AT ME

THATS WHATS WRONG

YOUR GIRLFRIEND JUST GOT A ROCK THROWN AT HER

hobi: WELL CLEARLY I HAVE NO GIRLFRIEND CUZ SHE JUST CALLED ME BRO

y/n: are you serious??

hobi: are you??

y/n: fine

hobi: fine

y/n: bro

hobi: it doesn’t even hurt me anymore

y/n: whatever you say buddy

hobi: carry on

y/n: k pal

hobi: 🙄

y/n: dude

hobi: i’m killing myself

y/n: you sound hurt

hobi: ok??

y/n: really that that deep bro…

hobi: OKAY STOP

y/n: pussy

hobi: am i a pretty pussy 🥺?

y/n: hoseok what the actual fuck

hobi: i’m feeling really insecure rn

can you please validate me

this is ur fault if we think about it

tell me i’m your petty pussy

y/n: ??????

ur fucking out of ur mind

why would i say that

why would you say that

wtf is wrong with you

hobi: plz

then i’ll like throw a rock back at jimin or something

avenge you

y/n: i’m not dead

hobi: ok ur just difficult then

say it pleaseeeeee

y/n: ew no go away

hobi: this isn’t love

y/n: it’s not

hobi: what happened to through sickness and health

y/n: so you admit you’ve got some kind of mental illness

hobi: why does it have to be mental

why couldn’t i have a physical illness

like being hot as fuck

hahahaha lol wow i’m so hilarious

y/n: u right u funny as hell cuz you ugly as fuck wow!!!!!!!

hobi: you didn’t mean that

y/n: bro

hobi: i’m gonna start crying

y/n: hobi…

hobi: babe

y/n: are you fr crying…

hobi: no lol

y/n: ur my pretty pussy

hobi: you mean it?

y/n: don’t push it.

TAEHYUNG -

tae: why are you being so loud

y/n: ???

i’m not doing anything

can you hear tan?

tae: oh yeah

thought you were barking

y/n: why would i be fucking barking bro wtf???

tae: u could be trying new things

i wouldn’t judge you if you were

y/n: no

tae: shame

y/n: shame?

tae: bro?

y/n: what

tae: you called me bro by accident

y/n: ???

tae: babe you called me bro

y/n: ok

tae: by accident

why did you call me bro by accident

y/n: it wasn’t an accident

i typed it

on purpose

tae: why would you do that

y/n: ?

to communicate?

bro idk

tae: you did it again lol

why?

why bro?

could of said babe

baby even

no?

y/n: why does bro bother you?

tae: no lol ofc not wtf

you just don’t call me that

y/n: well i do now

tae: k

y/n: k?

tae: something wrong?

y/n: ur mad at me?

tae: no

y/n: upset

tae: never

y/n: ur not a child tell me

tae: bro does things to me

y/n: that sentence is crazy as hell

tae: PAUSE

y/n: paused

tae: don’t ever bro me again you slut

y/n: bro

tae: hey!!!

y/n: you do did not need to call me a slut

tae: was that not sexy

y/n: no

bro

tae: i hate it

y/n: bro

tae: it’s gross

I’m your boyfriend

y/n: barely

tae: meaning??

y/n: i’m sure you can figure out the meaning

tae: i know what barley means!

y/n: i’m glad

tae: why am i barley ur boyfriend??

y/n: ur strange

no offence

actually all offence

u harm my public reputation constantly

tae: i think ur so in love with me

y/n: i’m glad you’ve taken the delusion route instead of the depressed one

tae: sometimes your funniest friends are the most depressed ones…

y/n: ur so right i should give jin a call ❤️🙏🏽

tae: i was talking about me

y/n: we are not friends and ur not funny

tae: ur right we’re dating and i’m fucking hilarious

y/n: bro…

tae: come kiss me on my hot mouth babe 😋

y/n: i’ll pass

JUNGKOOK -

y/n: dude

jk: me?

y/n: yes

jk: are we fighting?

y/n: no why

jk: dude??

y/n: dude

jk: ok

y/n: are you crying rn?

jk: no?

y/n: i can hear you

jk: why would you ask then

y/n: wanted to see if you were a sick little liar

jk: i am

y/n: you are

jk: tell me you love me

y/n: lol

jk: i’ll throw up

y/n: make sure u clean it up

jk: babe

y/n: bro

jk: would you love me if i was a worm?

y/n: no

jk: but you told me you would last week

y/n: that’s cuz you were drunk and would of started crying if i said no

jk: i’m crying now

y/n: exactly

it’s 10x worse when ur drunk

jk: maybe you have a point

y/n: are you still crying?

jk: no

y/n: i can still hear you

jk: no

y/n: dude

OH MY GOD DID YOU ACTUALLY JUST THROW UP??????/)£/£:££

jk: yes

y/n: JUNGKOOK WHAT THE HELL

jk: i told you

y/n: that’s not healthy

like at all

that’s really worrying actually

jk: i love you

y/n: clearly wow

that’s insane

jk: do you want to kiss me?

y/n: no

you just threw up

jk: or did i?

y/n: you did

jk: i did

y/n: it’s okay

jk: is it

y/n: no

jk: :c

i’ll clean it

y/n: it’s okay i’ll do it

jk: why

do you maybe like me a bit

y/n: no

jk: oh

y/n: go get comfy in bed

jk: but i have to clean

y/n: i said i’ll do it

jk: r u sure

y/n: no

jk: oh

y/n: i do not hear you moving upstairs jungkook

jk: i’m going i swear

sorry for throwing up

y/n: sorry for calling you dude

jk: fr?

y/n: no

jk: knew it

it’s okay tho

i’m strong

y/n: you just threw up cuz i called you dude?

jk: i can be strong sometimes

just caught me at a weak moment

y/n: you have a lot of weak moments don’t you?

jk: sometimes it’s hard to tell if you like me

y/n: i got the biggest crush on u fr

jk: 🫢

woah

i’m in bed now

y/n: kk be with you in 5 bro

jk: stop it

y/n: 🫢

SEOKJIN-

y/n: bro can you order pizza pls i’m begging you

jin: normally i would be into you begging but the bro is throwing me off

y/n: wdym???

are you ordering or not

i’m hungry

???

HELLO

DUDE

COME ON

jin: no

stop calling me those names

y/n: bro?

dude????

why?

jin: i am not your bro nor dude

y/n: ur my dude <3

jin: adding a heart does not make it any better

dude is for like friends

idk if you have any but i am NOT one of those

y/n: um wtf i have friends

jin: the members don’t count

y/n: WHY DON’T THEY COUNT?

jin: ur sad

y/n: bro

jin: do you want to break up

y/n: lowkey

jin: wtf

y/n: look me in the eyes bro

jin: no

y/n: yes

jin: no

y/n: this is kinda hot

jin: lmao not surprised i have that charm to me

y/n: sorry wrong chat

jin: what

y/n: anyways ur were too slow yoongi ordered me pizza

and i’m not sharing

jin: i don’t want any of yoongi’s nasty pizza

i hope the pizza place spits on it

y/n: ur mad

jin: ur single

y/n: finally

jin: ?

y/n: ?

jin: i find our love so comforting ❤️

y/n: dude you have lost ur mind

jin: okay wtf

ur acting like you don’t want me

y/n: loooooooooooooooooool

jin: and people think i’m the mean one

y/n: i tolerate you

jin: what is the issue???

if you want to fight we can

i’m ready meet me in the ring at 6

y/n: don’t you have a military service to be serving??

jin: i will serve crack before i severe this country

y/n: yikes

i’ll snitch

jin: ofc you will

you rat

y/n: wow is that how you feel?

jin: yep

y/n: wow

jin: don’t act all nice now you started this

was mean for no reason

finish the battle rat

y/n: ur fucking old

jin: ok wtf

you can no longer send messages to this contact!

[therealslimshakespeare]

Am I Still Your Favorite Escape?

Gale & Maureen -requested? ✔️

As a new year and a new unrelenting malaise settles over the prisoners in camp, Maureen Kendeigh finds the journey from viewing Gale Cleven as her prize collector’s item to the man others suspect she loves most harrowing indeed.

Note: y’all wanted handjobs and I gave ya one, with a twist, and yall wanted more of what Maureen is thinking during this time and so you got it. Along with 6k of other dynamics and plot and feelings, buckle up 👐🏻

Warnings: 18+ smut, female fingering, some cum play, semi public sex acts (not trying to be exhibitionists, but the place is packed ok?) erectile disfunction, not the most supportive attitudes towards partners feeling out of sorts, BUT ALSO!! Please note the typical universe warnings apply with an addition in this chapter being a discussion about terminating a pregnancy, those discussing it disagree strongly and due to religious beliefs one refers to it as “murder”. No action is taken in this chapter. There are hints of Buck x Bucky in this one, although can anyone actually define for me wtf was going on!? Because by Buck x Bucky I just mean they’d die for each other and that’s stronger your average marriage and Bucky maybe should look away when his friend gets some midnight loving, lol.

Maureen had been enthused at the outset. Not that she cared that much for subversion, but she enjoyed the feeling of mischief that their new task carried with it. Camp had proven dull, worse in many ways than she had even expected. She had expected there to be work if not recreation, and while there was some, then the winter months came all too soon and nothing about their shelters or their clothing were suitable for sustaining outdoor productivity.

Which meant she -and the others, she supposed it was only right to admit the others were no better- she had been cooped up in here during a never ending snowstorm outside, watching Gale sand his little board in a room muggy with pungent sweat and stale breath. They were packed on top of each other in here and any attempt to get fresh air earned one a case of frostbite.

That bit of wood was going to become a radio, Gale had told her, and she believed him. With all her heart Maureen believed him. But there came a day when watching Gale fiddle with a safety pin stuck atop a board became unarguably boring. So much so she had begun to insist she be allowed to help Brady and Crank haul in the hot water and assist in what went for “cooking” in this place. Johnny didn’t let her near his precious concoctions after having ousted Benny from the same, but he did let her hand him bowls and generally act useful at mealtimes.

She kept him entertained with stories of picnics in exotic places, safari’s where they cooked out of the back of her father’s jeep. Brady had them eaten all his terse quips about her not knowing how to manage in straitened circumstances and instead asked her endlessly about rhinoceros habitats. It served to entertain her for awhile, too.

Bucky had recovered after a few weeks abed, his movements remained stilted and she could still carry more water than his ribs allowed -a point she made to him daily as he swatted at her from his bunk- but as he recovered he became preoccupied.

Ida had also recovered, though not as thoroughly, having gone well over a week without so much as drinking water in her insensible state. She was weak, feverish and upon at last being plied with nourishment, she puked it right up. It was little cause for concern considering her illness, but as she grew stronger and her stomach remained contrary, some unease began to grow. By Christmas her brother Johnny had taken over the cooking in an endeavor to make something palatable but the woman was hardly the sort to be picky over her victuals. Benny and Brady’s watery soups were alike and they both came up within fifteen minutes of being eaten.

So then, their little room smelled of sweat, breath and vomit. Her brother and Hambone made mention of Crosby, it provided levity for a few days and Maureen was fast to join in. Until Ida had her at a private moment, the men in the hall or else out with latrine duty, and then she asked Maureen if she’d had her menses.

Offended at the implication that Gale Cleven would allow her any more than a mouth or handful of himself, Maureen hotly insisted she had. Three of them in fact, since arriving. She had the bloody rags to prove it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when there began to be a very segregated group of men hovering and debating amongst themselves that Maureen began to second guess such an inquiry as more than moralistic judgment. Their Red Cross packages arrived with canned goods and bland crackers. Bucky began to bargain for the latter with a gambler's gusto -before inevitably handing his loot to Ida. Ida herself began gambling fiercely, for smokes.

Ida had never smoked in her life.

And now the place smelled even stronger of one more cigarette, sweat, breath and vomit.

The smokes seemed to help her, or at least, Maureen noticed her puking less by New Years. The early part of the new year brought new misfortunes, the confiscation of Cleven’s prized radio and a rash of miscarriages amongst the women. A rash was perhaps an exaggeration -only three or four, by Maureen’s count, and between her’s and Ida’s and Cleven’s discreet insistence, such incidents were passed off to the wary guards as heavy menses.

Maureen realized then that those were pregnancies from their guards, a possibility that she had not considered as she had not had reason to worry about it. That is, until Ida Brady caught her again at a moment alone, and asked her in the closest thing to feminine fluster that Maureen had ever seen her in, if she’d ever had reason “in your expeditions, as it were…” to possibly “eliminate a -poor decision?”

Being quite puzzled by this inquiry, and only picking up on the vague aspects -something she admitted to Ida straight away- Maureen admitted she drank most of her poor decisions away, a strategy that hadn’t failed her yet and she wished was at her disposal in this frozen mud pit.

“I’m speaking of- romantic decisions. Poor ones.” Ida had tried again, yearning for understanding in her voice.

Maureen remained nonplussed.

“A child, Maureen a-a pregnancy have you ever?” Ida hissed out at last.

“Gosh no.” Maureen sputtered, “I’m not a full idiot. Why would you ask? I strike you as enough of a harlot?”

“I’m merely looking for -remedies.” Ida pinched at her nose, a motion Maureen was familiar with watching in Gale when he was overwhelmed.

“Who needs it?” Maureen scoffed, quite sure that the odds didn’t stand many more girls suffering from the same, the poor food and rough conditions having ensured it for them.

Ida took her hand away but closed her eyes, mouth folding to a straight line. “I do.”

“Oh fuck.” Maureen plopped down beside her on the bunk in disbelief, they both stared at the opposite wall and its identical beds with rumpled bedding and starlets pasted on the walls. “Fuck.”

“They’re getting very stupid about it.” Ida said at last.

“What do you mean? Who?”

“The boys.”

“You’ve told the boys?” Maureen cried out, infuriated.

“They guessed, already, for God’s sake must even this be about you, too, Kendeigh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“It means while you’re bored and very vocal of it, some of us might die-“

“-we could all die in this shithole-“

“-or! Or worse,” Ida cut in fiercely, “have someone die for us by being idiots. Bucky is full of schemes of -of running off into the sunset. I suppose after he levitates us over the barbed wire with his magic carpet. I don’t know, but I- Maureen I know that if I go on much longer, it won’t just be me in danger. They’re either going to risk something terrible or get punished for not reporting me.”

“So what?” Maureen asked dully, having been excluded from an obvious inner circle regarding the issue and having now been accused of being trivial in her own sufferings, it smarted and she could not deny the flicker of unfairness she felt over it. “Want me to shove a coat hanger up you? The others too chicken?”

Ida visibly recoiled beside her, putting more space between them in the bunk. “I’m not going to- to kill it.”

“What kinda remedy doesn’t?” Maureen sassed, if they were to talk no longer in flippant pleasantries, she could do that.

“I’m just asking for help.” Ida’s jaw wobbled, her voice a wreck of desperation and Maureen could see with a small and ugly bit of satisfaction that the woman was truly close to losing her grip. It was satisfyingly human. As was her reaction to a remedy after asking for it.

“You come to me because you think I’m loose enough to know, and then you have the nerve to be appalled when I do.” Maureen pointed out, “That what all the smokes are for?”

“Yes.” Ida put her head back in her hands.

“Just won’t budge; huh?”

“No.” her voice sounded like she might be crying but there was no telling with those hands in the way.

“It would be stubborn.” Maureen muttured, thinking of the goddamn Brady family as she knew them. “Why won’t you get rid of it? You want to get rid of it-“

“-I don’t understand why it’s hanging on!” Ida’s wail came out garbled between her fingers.

“So let’s -unhang it.”

“I can’t. Kendeigh -I can’t.”

“I know it’s risky, but I know you’re not scared of dying.” Maureen muttered, attempting to understand.

“Candy I cant, I can’t murder it.” her voice had dipped into a sacrosanct whisper.

Maureen huffed in confusion, a substantial amount of pragmatism warring with what tiny bit of sympathy the threat left her, “It’s a German’s, at this size no more than a blo-“

“It’s a life!” Ida snarled back at her so viciously Maureen contemplated the likelihood of her having gone fully mad, “And it’s mine.” she rebutted, pointing to her chest fiercely.

“So you’ll let Bucky and Gale die for you, die trying to get you out of here but you won’t try to fix it yourself.” It was how Maureen saw it, and if she were to be accused of suggesting murder, she might as well have her side put out there, too.

“That’s how you see it?” Ida muttured, looking utterly defeated.

“If Gale dies over this, I’ll wring your neck myself. Keep smoking.” she advised with a shrug, “Maybe catch an elbow to the gut if you can.”

Ida pulled her hand away again to look at her, she’d definitely been crying then, red nosed and watery eyed, but she looked less aghast now than she had at the mention of the coat hanger. Maureen didn’t think she wanted condolences about it, or a pat on the back. Come to think of it, Ida was getting plenty of that sort of doting from the boys. No, Maureen didn’t feel like she needed that from her, and something sour and twisted in her heart made her loath to give it.

It worsened as the days went by, as Maureen observed their once innocuous routines with new eyes, noticing the boys' furtive plans, their hovering concern, their brought in provisions -offerings fit for a queen. It was understandable to show such care for her in her state, and ostensibly no one deserved it more than Ida Brady. But it left Maureen feeling adrift, like an afterthought, someone whose greatest challenge was their boredom. And ever looming were those great risks the boys bantered about like it were all a low stakes game of cards.

She plays thirty to forty sets of cards with Hambone, decimates Benny at chess, cleans the pans, even mops the goddamn floor. All to keep busy, perhaps even to spite Ida whose one assigned task is the floors. She cannot be accused of boredom or idleness if she has done all her own tasks and others’ besides.

In her spare time she would like to go with Bucky, to be of use in collecting things for Gale’s new little project, his precious crystal radio, but where women go -there go guards and attention and soon, the sheer mischief of the naughtiness of Gale’s construction wanes as she is left laying in her bunk watching him wiggle a clothespin around for the fifth day in a row. She had been so understanding for the first four. Even though she had contemplated a tiff with him over not informing her of Ida’s state as soon as he knew, she had been merciful and instead settled for holding the copper wire for him and brushing his cheek when he didn’t actively shy away in concentration.

He mumbles about needing to give it his full attention, about her needing to keep a lookout, about the danger of getting caught. She asks if it’s worth it then, anything that might get him killed is her enemy, even if it’s a little clothespin on a board. He looks at her like she’s from mars, unable to fathom why she wouldn’t understand its necessity. And he doesn’t come to bed until an ungodly hour of the night and immediately, upon settling in their bunk he is asleep, much to her chagrin.

She would have liked a kiss, a hand between her legs even more. She would have settled for those whispering little chats they’ve indulged in ever since Bucky laid atop Ida and all rules were broken -they’ve shared a bunk and as the winter gets worse, no one bats an eye. In fact, everyone’s stacked two for one, male and female alike. Brady and Hambone snicker and whisper in their bunk every bit as much as she and Gale do, Maureen is sure of it.

Instead Gale falls asleep. And he does it again and again, night after night. Bucky rummages on his own for supplies. Brady frets over Ida. Only so many people can play makeshift bat gammon in the hall. It does not pass the time. And Maureen grows ever more restless.

She feels expectantly happy when Gale’s work is finally complete, his finished product constructed and the moment of truth comes. They crowd around and wait with baited breath as his finger tunes it. And Maureen knows she is fully awful for her relieved feelings when it does not work. He can’t be killed for it if he scraps it. And he will come to bed at a reasonable hour now it is useless. The shake of his hand makes everyone else feel helpless in the face of his ever steady composure cracking, but while Maureen has no acceptable remedy for Ida’s plight, she does for Gale’s, and she waits for darkness with the relieved excitement of a child on Christmas Eve.

Gale does indeed come to bed, the radio not fully scrapped but heartily abandoned and hidden with its various parts in sundry places. And when he slips beside her, his nose is cold and he touches her like he has missed her. He pulls the covers to their chins, tucking them in with a small giggle, she is suffocated by it and yet he persists and this has gone on all winter until now it is their inside joke and he does it just to make her laugh, and when she laughs so does he, a honest little giggle of a thing, and she misses him worse than ever even as he pressed along the length of her.

It isn’t safe yet, not everyone is asleep but she bides her time with kissing him and he returns her caresses ardently, a thorough press of his lips and his tongue unreservedly sliding into place alongside her own, his hands warming up as they clasp her neck, turning her head upon their pillow. She wonders if they are loud even at this, but she was never the one to care, it’s Gale who objects and who hushes them, who makes them wait, who insists on being courteous even in hell, who only allows himself to lap at her when the place is abandoned or else full of the atmospheric noises of masculine snores.

Maureen does not mind waiting for him, or rather -she does, but he is implacable about it and when she attempts to persuade him otherwise she is oftentimes swatted and put in her place like a wayward child. Such correction holds a charm of its own when it is Gale Cleven administering it, but tonight she feels close to madness if she does not get her way so she allows him to kiss her as the quiet and steady breaths around them herald the unconsciousness of their brethren. She grows bolder, throws her leg over his hip and tugs at his buttons, hands rucking up his shirt and parting the heavy flaps of his coat. He is as burdened with layers as a Victorian maiden and Maureen enjoys the hunt for warm skin, the way he looks as ravished and expectant as any girl while she gropes at him, when she finally reaches him he always shudders, a full bodied thing that jerks even his neck.

Tonight she parts his layers feverishly and he mutters her name, again and again and his hands are clumsy at her shoulders and no progress is made on discarding her own clothing but she pays it no mind, she is direly hungry for him. Any touch of him, to make him shake and melt and pay tribute to her.

“Maureen.”

She finds the button of his trousers right at his heaving naval and she exults at the feel of the fine trail of hair beneath her fingertips.

“Maureen.” his voice grows urgent and she doesn’t heed it, he counts on her never heeding it.

She wiggles her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and skims the hairy plane of his pelvis before laying her hand on what she needs and -he is as limp as a dead mouse. She holds the chubby thing for a good long moment, very much like it were some useless rodent she had caught and must now dispose of, and she is filled with confusion.

“Maureen-“ he mutters again against her unmoving lips and she realizes with misery she mistook his pleading for a different sort.

It is not that she’s never felt him soft, on the contrary, there was a long time in the early days -when she wanted him and he wanted a promotion- that her hand would find its way between his legs, in a jeep or a bar, beneath the table while he helped her with her calculus. Once she felt him she became mildly obsessed, he was always tucked to the right and he was so substantially long and full beneath her palming, even in repose, that her determination to have him was only further cemented by it. Again and again her hand made it into his lap and again and again he would rebuff her, sometimes with startled propriety, occasionally with long suffering disbelief, more and more with almost parental disapproval.

Each reaction had been as satisfying to Maureen as if he were swelling into her palm. And soon enough, he was doing that, too. His hand growing a beat too slow before he grabbed her wrist, his mouth still twisted in dry reproof but his eyes began to burn. He was unbothered no longer and it was not much longer after that he was not even resistant.

Ever since, she could count on him to perk, to respond, to validate her own want of him with his own for her.

The fact it was in many ways a tortured surrender on his part only drove her madder, made her desire burn brighter, made the succumbing of the good, the right, the proud man all the more intoxicating. And again, as if they’d never shared all that, he was now as warm and floppy as a dead dormouse.

“Maureen.” he begged, half expecting tears again like her first night in the stalag, wincing as her hand squeezed him meanly, jerked at him a few impotent times in an effort to fluff him.

Her hand withdraws and he holds his breath, ready for a scene or a rebuke. His gut twists miserably, at fault twice over and yet -not really. But that never mattered with Maureen. He says her name again but she is still and deflated, and after a moment, she merley rolls over, giving him her back.

That is how he knows she is hurt, were she angry she would not have shrunk from being crueler than a few angry tugs. The silence is new and it makes Gale’s stomach swoop in an odd terror, like his next decision might rescue them both or plunge them off a cliff.

“Maureen.” He tries again, his hand on her shoulder, squeezing and trying to turn her back.

Her shoulder jolts up sharply to displace the gesture. “I’m not cold.” she informs him as she rolls further away towards the wall, and her tone is icier than the weather outside. He’s stunned, she’s never once ignored him, no it’s always ever been an escalation of her demands for his interest. Hell, even in Africa she had said she was cold and the presence of her head on his shoulder disrupted his tan, he got no end of grief from the boys about it.

Confused and mildly hurt himself, although he doesn’t know why, not beyond some tickling sense of unfairness about being blamed for being a bit out of sorts in the place, Gale takes his hand away and moves to lie on his back, to keep from crowding her. He thinks that in the morning he will explain to her how he is preoccupied with the radio, that his gut feels in constant free fall from the plans to escape, that everyone is riding on him for this thing to work and he just proved tonight he’s perfectly worthless at it. Nothing but buzz in his ear echoes around in his head and he replays the sound of that failure again and again, justifying her frustration with him. He thinks he’ll explain this all to her in the morning. And also-

-that he is cold.

He’s so damn cold from the anxiety and being still at his work at the table for so long his hands and legs go numb that he simply cannot imagine feeling bothered at this moment, cannot imagine it and it would seem that neither can the little guy. He doesn’t deserve a reward, not for fucking up at the one thing they’ve got going for them. He catches Bucky’s eyes when he rolls over, having taken up night shift over Ida due to insomniatic tendencies. He wonders strongly if Bucky would be as disappointed in him, if he is already. Just wait until next morning, Gale thinks, when I get to admit I’ve got no second plan. If it doesn’t work as is, no amount of fiddling is gonna make it better.

That settles heavy in his gut but does nothing for the swooping feeling, there is merely a loadstone in his belly, plunging downward in a perpetual free fall, and in his dreams the accompanying soundtrack is radio static.

There is a tiny sliver of freedom in the morning -and it does not come every morning- when Maureen has noticed there is still and quiet yet the morning routines are in place. Lazy and weak, the prisoners do not rise with the sun, although some stir and moan and try to meet the new day head on. The guards unlock the doors and yet many choose to lay abed. So many in fact that Johnny Brady ceased making breakfast at that hour as with so few ready to eat it, the ordeal became a waste. He does often fetch water for morning pit baths and teeth brushing, the occasional splash on the face to wash off the sleep.

Maureen has often contemplated these little slivers of time as a chance to break free. Not of the compound, that endeavor holds no fascination to her, but rather out of this combine and out from under the watchful eyes of people who know her all too well. Or think they do. They don’t, they very obviously don’t. And she’s losing all sense of who she is to be known by as the days go on.

She listens as Johnny gathers the buckets and milk pails, always gentle with the clanking metal, vestiges of the considerate boy his mama raised still clinging even in this place, and he hands an allotment to Hambone who is awake with him and less considerate.

Then there is the hushed flurry of beratings and the sleepy protests of trying one’s best.

They leave together, and they leave the door adjar as usual, to come back in quietly if needed. They’ll be gone for at least fifteen minutes, then they will come back and then Brady will leave again to run his two goddamn laps around the compound while that testicular looking bald headed doctor clocks his pace. Maureen doesn’t think Johnny likes running track or ever did it before, but he and Ida both took it up, the latter probably to get rid of the child and the former maybe to stay warm. The doctor didn’t care about the timing of Ida’s laps and soon she began to grow too large to risk attention by keeping Johnny company.

Now Johnny runs his timed laps alone and the only motivation Maureen can imagine for it, beyond the over-familiar assessment of his limbs by the doctor, is the chocolate he earns from it. Priceless sugar to keep up his specimen’s strength in this starving place.

Chocolate Johnny regularly gives to Ida. Though for Christmas he made them all a mashed chocolate pie on a tin plate and it had honestly been the kindest and loveliest Yuletide treat anyone had ever given any of them.

Maureen has considered running with him, trying her luck and seeing if she can win chocolate herself. Maybe that would make Gale smile. She doubts the doctor would care, he’s curiously uncaring regarding the existence of females in camp.

Maureen knows all these sounds of morning routine by heart, can track the progress of each stage of the routine while feigning sleep, motionlessly facing the wall.

Gale has no need to feign, it would seem. He is not snoring but he is whimpering and muttering in that annoying way of his that only occurs when he’s in deep. She used to think it cute, she now thinks it helpful to judge if he is able to catch her at her scheme.

-useless fucker with his useless radio and his useless cock, making her feel useless-

Careful as a cat, and with as much grace, Maureen rolls herself upright, and uses the slats of their upper bunk to balance her weight, keeping the mattress from giving a tell-tale dip. She swings from one slat to the next, carefully crouching when the movement jars the whole frame but Benny stays asleep below her and Gale makes no move to arrest her. It’s a feat to drop soundlessly to her feet after such a climb in a full overcoat, but she manages it. Her boots are under Benny’s bunk and she fetches them with no small amount of terror, but despite his shifts and erratic movements, he does not catch her.

She takes the boots into the hall, which is gratefully empty, and fastens them there. Taking her woolen cap from her coat pocket, she puts it atop her head while tucking in her hair, and fastens her scarf high over her nose, and knows that she is about as inconspicuous in form and feature as the next man. When Brady is bundled similarly his eyes appear as gentle as a woman’s and Maureen knows her own are no longer half so beguiling, not with their pale lashes and absence of cosmetic relief.

Perhaps she’s grown so wane and bland Gale has even lost the ability to pretend attraction. He always was fastidious about cleanliness and order, fussy and volatile when she took him unawares. In fact, when she had first managed to get so far as to undo his pants, to fondle his half hard length, to pull him from the slit of his drawers, to tug his shaft to orgasm, it had been beside the antiseptics. And that had some sort of parable in it, she thought now. Recalling how she’d had to talk him down off a panic as soon as he had shuddered and given her the sought after reward, hot and sticky and plentiful as only a virgin’s would be. He was not comforted until gauze and betadine was used copiously to clean her hand, and the nurse was later puzzled as to why when she entered only one had needed treatment, but both left stained with the orange stuff.

Back then a word, a flick of her eyes would have Gale in full pursuit, bodily if not mentally. She could wage a war with his ever so impeccable spirit and win it with the help of his own flesh. Now? Now he couldn’t even respond, not even pretend it. And he’d tried to warn her and she’d thought he’d been begging and she realized he wanted to stall her, keep it from her, one more thing.

These thoughts carried her dozens of rows down, combine after combine, lost in a flurry of snowflakes that were turning gradually pink as the sun rose. It was beautiful here before all the footprints ruined it.

At the far end of the sector, outside the last combine before the fence that separated them from the Brits, Maureen spotted a huddle of men gathered around a fire pit. She hadn’t known those were even allowed, not doubting that its proximity to the fence had some other subversive reason beyond warmth, and if she thought it then the guards must have. Yet here it was alright, jugs hung over it from a makeshift spit and crackers impaled and being toasted on the same. Maureen’s mouth watered, as much at the thought of genuinely smoke flavored food as she did at the heat. She was still undecided as to her course of action when a loud guffaw, followed by a familiar and harsh curse made her startle.

Polish airmen -or, at least by way of America. They would be sat out in the cold at dawn and they would toast their crackers. Maureen had frequently used her brief passes from Thorpe to terrorize other officer clubs, finding the joy of it a great distraction and some of the girls had joined her at it. She was usually greeted in such escapades with shock or even disgust but the men’s flailing helplessness in the face of a female serviceman always served as a full quota of contentment.

No one had terrorized her back as good as she gave until the Poles. And then they had bought her a drink, and lamented with her that she had not become a fighter pilot. Because Maureen still held a flame for the small craft, resentful that her decent piloting had been considered too poor for the clunky birds, for she knew she wasn't all bad, it was merely those awful forts and their terrible bulk. The Poles had agreed and bought her another drink, and tried to seduce her to their squadron. That had been a happy night and she’d come back to barracks so late as to break curfew, and chatted Gale’s ear off in drunken joy about her wonderful time and her new friends.

Maureen now eyed the fire in the snow and the group of foreign speaking men around it and tugged off her cap, allowing her hair free. And she sauntered up with calculated aimlessness, as if she were indeed only checking out their s’mores to ridicule them compared to her combine’s delicacies. It was effective, they defended their crackers vehemently and she remained derisive, this called for a demand that she try them and so she did and admitted they weren’t too bad but were too dry to be gotten down her throat. So they then passed her coffee and she had to squat to receive it and then she was given a seat to finish it and before long, she was one of the huddle and her feint at leaving them was argued against so heartily she knew she’d won, and so she stayed and played cards and told stories and drank hot water with boys who had been born over here but were in many cases educated not far from her house. And when afternoon came and went she stayed, and when evening fell and the guards became stricter with the perimeter and their fire, she snuck in with them into their combine and there played drinking games despite the violation of curfew.

For the Poles had liquor in this hell hole. And that, Maureen thought, was the true measure of a great nation, their capacity for ingenuity and irrepressible spirits.

Gale entered his own combine in the falling dark with the persistent press of a gun barrel at his lower back, right about at the kidneys, he figured. It was the only thing possible to persuade him to keep from looking, and the others were filing in right ahead of him, saving him a bullet their only motivation for abandoning the search. The guards locked the door after them, and Gale’s chest heaved in panic at the thought of her out there somewhere and locked out and him locked in.

“Fuckin’ Kendeigh.” Murph grumbled but without any heat,

taking himself to his barracks.

Bucky kept pacing up and down the hall with his hands in his hair, snapping at anyone who dared clog his promenade. “Jerries said it was time for bed -so get in your goddamn beds!”

“Why would she do this?” Gale begged him again and Bucky huffed again at it, furious for him.

“She give you grief last night?” Bucky asked wisely, the loyalty in his voice soothes Gale, as does the structure of his sentence, it suggested it wasn’t his fault. And Gale wanted to believe that and he just as strongly he knew it was wrong of him.

He had been in the wrong and he didn’t deserve Bucky’s sympathy for this or the damn radio. They’d been talking of repairs every spare minute of this day that hadn’t been taken up with trying to find Maureen. And while Bucky could remain as adamant as he wanted, that it wasn’t his fault that his radio didn’t work -it didn’t change the fact that his failure now meant Bucky was gonna try something awful instead, like climbing the fence with a pregnant woman on his shoulders. And it was all because Gale couldn’t fucking make a connection. Just as he couldn’t connect to his own body for Maureen and now she’d probably gone over the fence too, or got shot trying.

“So fuckin’ unless.” He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and mashed the tears away.

“She call ya that?” Egan barked, and Gale didn’t need to see his frown to know he was about to track down Kendeigh to punch her, not rescue her.

“No, don’t need a dame to tell me what’s what.”

He didn’t see it coming so he was reasonably startled when he found his hands dislodged from his eyes and his face suddenly collided into the weave of a musky sweater, Bucky’s hand gripping the nape of his neck like he were a child. That hand was so damn large Gale could imagine he was young again and his father was holding him. “Somethin’s gonna come to you,” this reassuring rumble was light years away from his father’s belittlements and he shuddered, “I’ll get you new wire or somethin’ but just- ain’t your fault, Buck, and that goddamn parakeet needs snow down her pants if she can’t see it too.”

No one pretended to sleep that night, even once the lights were out. Ida sat up in her bunk with her brother beside her, a telling lack of sympathy being expressed for Maureen’s self inflicted plight. Ida had spent her own time at the radio and while it hadn’t done much good, it had gone some way to reassure Gale she didn’t see anything amiss. It ought to work.

Small talk was kept carefully low in the bunks, and Bucky kept a firm position on Gale’s bunk, sitting upright with his legs slung over his friend’s boney knees, affectionately trapping him in a lying posture. Bucky had taken to entrapments here in camp, perhaps the barbed wire inspired him.

They had already given Benny his fair share of chiding for not going out with Maureen that the morning, although Brady’s report of her absence in the time he had fetched water plainly represented someone not wishing for accompaniment -or, as Brady so helpfully reminded of the obvious, her desire to obey Cleven’s long standing order on the matter.

It was probably close to 0100 when a great commotion sounded outside, followed by a crash bang of the combine’s main doors being thrown wide and the rhythmic tread of jackboots had everyone pouring out of their bunks and standing at the ready, -they weren’t sure for what, but it wasn’t something you wanted to be caught lying down for. Gale wrenched open the door, expectancy already perfectly in place on his face until he caught sight of Kendeigh, hauled like a child between the guards and one of their captains met his eye with unimpressed disdain.

“This we found in wrong sector.” he explained, gesticulating to Maureen with a gloved hand, “Sleeping under combine steps. I have told you, Major, I cannot guarantee safety of your females when they are alone, something happen to them, you blame me but I told you! Cannot guarantee.”

“Understood.” Cleven gave him his soberest nod, feeling ill and angry and watching warily for the next move, wondering when he could get his lost package back, yet not wanting to appear eager.

“Discipline, major, discipline!” The Captain insisted and Gale felt Bucky’s heat searing at his back as he pressed forward, taking the German’s eyes away from Gale’s, preventing something rash.

“Oh believe me, sir,” Bucky drawled as he pressed forward, the guards posture confidant and lax, “discipline will be met.” he took the brave step of gripping Kendeigh’s coat flap in his hand and tugging her forward, a movement that yanked her free of the gaurds’s grip.

“Met?” the officer was confused, anger and annoyance tinged his repetition.

Bucky shook Maureen meanly by her coat in emphasis of his statement, “Discipline!” he agreed, insistent.

“Well?” It appeared the officer intended to wait until it was meted out.

Bucky stalled and Gale caught Maureen’s panicked eyes even as her nose flared rebelliously with measured breaths, trying to get on top of it all. Gale felt himself pushed to the side abruptly, having to catch himself on the door as Ida Brady strode past him into the hall, the book she’d been perusing still clutched in her hand.

“Child.” she muttered loudly for the officer’s benefit before raising her book and striking Mauree square across the face, one cheek and then the other as the blow sent her staggering, sharp thwacks with the flat side of the volume.

Maureen took the reproof with good grace and a stunned whimper, Bucky’s still supportive clutch on her jacket keeping her from making a fully pathetic scene and melting to the floor.

“Go, in, get in bed.” Ida snapped her fingers, pointing to the door and when Maureen took a second too long to collect her spotted vision, Ida raised the book again and Maureen needed no more incentive, knowing if Ida did not deliver it the guards would.

She tumbled over the barracks threshold like a bedraggled orphan, hair snow drenched and cheeks throbbing, her jacket muddy and undone.

“Well done.” Johnny Brady greeted with montone venom and only Benny Demarco’s well placed foot tripped her and prevented her from clawing his face off in long suppressed spite.

She landed inelegantly on her face, elbows bent just enough to catch herself from a truly ugly splat, she was gathering herself for another spring when the troop of her officers sounded and the door closed and quiet fell over the place, lethal and accusing.

So the Germans had let her off easy then. Maureen drug herself up to her knees and suddenly wished she hadn’t, it felt too close to contrition.

She staggered upright, ignoring the indignity of having to push up on Brady’s knee to do so. Once on her own two feet she raked muddy fingers through her hair and smiled at her superiors, tired but dandy. They looked pissed and that was to be expected.

“The hell did you go?” The others seemed to acknowledge Gale had some right -or maybe it was responsibility- to address her first and it was leveled at her even more scathingly than she had braced for.

“For fresh air.” she chimed, leaning against a bunk brace, arms crossed easily.

“Sleepin’ out? Sneakin’ out?” Gale stormed on and Ida actually took pains to bypass him and climb into her own bunk, her merciful discipline administered she seemed to wash her hands of the business, “Flagrantly disobeying my expressed orders! Answer me! The hell were you thinking?”

“I wanted to get out,” she leveled back at him, her smirk grown sharp and practiced and debutant-worthy, “I wanted to be somewhere else besides in this stinking, miserable cabin with its miserable, stinking occupants. Nothing but a bunch of self righteous, maniacally focused dreamers who can’t have fun for shit.”

As soon as she said it, no regret came, only a feeling of utter validation. Indeed, what had changed since she had been gone? Ida was still sick and pregnant, Johnny was still fussy, Benny was still playing at cards, Bucky was still pushing Gale harder than any over the radio and her Cleven was cleaving to the damn thing like it were his god.

“I mean, tell me if I missed something essential!” She scoffed, “Some great development occur? Or was I needed for some great task you all missed me so desperately during? No? Didn’t think so. Because we don’t go anything in here except talk about getting out like it’s actually plausible and I’m sick as fuck of it and I-“ she pointed to herself, voice growing in volume as Gale’s own fury seemed to wane into something shocked and scared, “I have spent my day with men who have ingenuity and good humor and liquor, because they aren’t hopeless fucks like us. The Brit’s have a tunnel started, the Polish have one too along with a bathtub of potato peel vodka, and we have a pregnant colonel! Sto lat!”

It was terribly quiet for a moment, half the cabin's occupants intent on appearing discrete and the other half stunned into a sort of mortified offense.

“You gonna thrash her or am I?” Egan finally broke the tension, his head turning lazily to look at Gale, his mouth was grinning like he was eager and it made Maureen’s bruised cheeks flame. It seemed to be some private joke, Maureen could only tell by the way Cleven’s eyes widened in warning protest at his friend before biting his lip and sniffing harshly. Then the lights cut again and the place was plunged in darkness, it brought Maureen both relief at the obscurity and a strange feeling of terror at the pitch black surroundings. She still hated the dark, ever since those Gestapo cells.

“Take that filthy shit off and get in your bunk.” Gale’s voice so near and so sudden startled her, and it wasn’t rebellion that made her lag in response but he seemed to take it that way, the snap of his finger seeming dangerously close to her nose, and she felt his fingers pluck at her muddy coat, “Now, don’t test me, get in, now.”

She peeled it off and let it flop heavily to the floor before kicking off her boots with the same carelessness, and then taking a step up, digging her frozen toes into Benny’s mattress and hauling herself up to the next level, laying down with a shiver in the cold sheets. The quiet sounds of rustling and bedding filled the place, the others putting themselves away for the night too, but to her relief no one seemed to be murmuring about her. Then the bunk creaked again and the unmistakable feel of someone climbing in beside her made her gasp.

Gale, of course it was Gale, laid himself out atop her, like he planned to keep her there by his weight alone like Bucky had with Ida, and an odd feeling suddenly took possession of Maureen’s chest, one she hadn’t felt all day: she felt undeserving. His head was hard and awkward against her clavicle but she didn’t want to budge him, secretly and utterly grateful he was being kind, that he was not ignoring her. Maybe Ida was right and she was childish but if that were the case, what was to be done about it? She was as she was and she needed him, so tentatively after a few minutes, she withdrew her legs out from under his own and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him close all along her like they were mating, she meant it as a hug and she felt him limp and heavy between her thighs but she did not withdraw.

Gale waited patiently until the snores began, wind whistling outside so loudly it would cover their whispers, and she shuddered to think of herself being petty enough to try to sleep in that icebox. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” he rasped at last, raising his head a little and trying to get a read on her in the semi dark. “Maureen, you can’t worry me like that, please.”

“I’m tired.” her voice was weak from the effort to hold back an ugly sob.

“You've been tired before.” he soothed, “What about today? What about last night? What’s all this? C’mon, you can tell me, I need ya to tell me.”

Maureen sighed raggedly, always a sucker for his cajoling voice, more so when she knew she deserved and expected the thrashing. “You don’t need me that way. You don’t need me at all.”

Gale dropped his head a little, his hand reaching up to pinch his nose, humiliation and impotence warring with need to assure her. “I'm sorry about that.” he settled for, “I’m too fucked right now, I admit it. It’s all just, it’s a lot, we’ve all got a lot goin’ on. You too, I know, I’m just not right up there, Maureen. Doesn’t mean I don’t need you.”

“You don’t need me during the day and you don’t need me at night.” she had tried to dissuade herself of this painful reality, truly! -but those were the facts as she saw them and it hurt her worse than him.

“I’m doing this for you!” he begged, his large hand cupping the side of her throat and she would love to think it a caress but he was only trying to make a point, one she contested vehemently in her heart. “I won’t be okay until you’re safe, baby.”

Maureen scoffed, thick and bitter, she had no child, she had no threat, she didn’t need to get out. “I don’t have any reason to get out!” She seethed back, “What’s in it for me? Besides you dead and me too, maybe I’ll get sent back to the Gestapo. That’ll be lark. I don’t need to get out, Major, I need-“

Gale was panting in her face, hot and hurried as her own ire rose with each word, “What do you need?” he goaded, and she could hear him lick his lips.

“I need you to pay attention to me.” she said it.

And to anyone else it would have sounded the most petty thing of all, but to Gale Cleven it was something he already knew deep down when he wasn’t so caught up in the imminent might-be’s of their situation, when he wasn’t needing to save Bucky from himself, or Ida from being put down or Johnny from whatever Greek hell that doctor had enlisted him in. He knew Maureen needed him, not his brains or what he could give, not really, she just wanted his flesh, and he had never bartered in that currency before her, having always assumed it was cheap if not with love. He was not sure he was loved but he knew it was not cheap, whatever it was they shared. And he knew she needed him. Just as he needed her, even though he could not manifest it as he wished.

He could kiss her, though. That he could do.

She did not expect the plush press of his lips when she saw him duck his head against the halo of window light. He kisses with intent and with reproof and the part of her that enjoys his anger begins to thrum to life as mercy and justice both battle in his kiss, his tongue all forgiveness and his teeth implacable rightness.

“Why?” she whines at him, feeling herself need and yet he lays between her legs useless as a girl, “why’re you when you can’t-“ she has insulted him enough today, she trails off with surprising tact.

“Don’t mean I don’t need you.” his voice has gone gruff like it does when he holds her head firmly and grinds his once hard cock down her throat, “Don’t mean your boy don’t want you.”

And that’s all she needed, really.

Along with the feeling of his fingertips walking down her bare stomach, his hand somehow sneaking its way through her layers undetected until now. It awakes a trail of fire down to her core, her core that is already ablaze by his kissing, his neglect, his language.

“My baby.” she moans in ascent, loudly and exultant and a little mournful.

“I gotchue, I got you.” he swears into her mouth and his hand wastes no time in slithering between her legs, elegant fingers cupping her and smearing her arousal around beneath his fingertips.

“Fuck them into me.” she begs, his hand swiping and rubbing at her heat until her hole clenches in desperation, wanting the burn of a stretch.

He is used to her instructions, they’d have accomplished nothing these last months without them, he is able to obey without ceding one bit of control in the kiss and the dichotomy of it, of him, makes her spiral as long fingers plunge, three at a time into her like he’s mad at her, and she cums from it alone with a hoarse cry of shock. He leans up and over her, hair aglow in the dim light and his hand beginning to slam again and again between her legs, forearm hard at work before he brings his wrist to her mouth.

“Bite.” he tells her, an offer and an order and she does, repaying him the vicious assault below her waist where she is tugged apart and jammed at with all too much finesse, his thumb swiping at the apex of her slit everytime he plunges knuckle deep. Gale knows by now the signs of her peak but he pushes beyond it, adds his pinky until all four digits wreak havoc and makes her go again. She uses his wrist out of necessity not to wake the whole place. The sounds of her squelching may have done it for her.

He pets her after, his palm warmed up by his work and it cups and soothes her as she jerks and jolts and settles, and his nose nuzzles her own sweetly, murmuring her name again and again just how she likes it.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” he begs between smooches and Maureen feels entirely too weak to deny him.

“Ok.”

“Promise?” his tone and his hand grow firm again.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” he sighs beside her and she thinks she could fall asleep now he’s wrung her out. He pets her a few moments longer, as if loathe to pull his hand free. He cups her one more time, collecting her wetness in the crook of his fingers before at last he does, carefully bringing his hand up and out of her waistband. He holds it in front of himself for a brief moment as if debating how to enact his thoughts, and she watches him curiously because he does not lick his digits clean like usual, perhaps she is too soiled tonight, even for his devotion.

Instead she watches him roll onto his back, hand still aloft and glittery with an obscene amount of sticky pleasure and his other hand trails to his own fly, popping the button deftly with his left hand and tugging down the fastening. Her breath catches in her throat, suspense and arousal at the familiar motion making her perk once more. Gale shimmies his clothing down his thighs until she can see him just barely, lying fat and peaceful against his thigh. He deserves a little peace, she thinks, now that she is not so cross with him.

She holds his gaze in startled suspense as he locks eyes with her, wanting her to stare when he moves his wet hand down and wraps it around himself, smearing her juices all over his soft member, clear and creamy swirls rubbed into the pink meat of him, down to his very balls.

“There,” he manages between her kisses as she assails him anew with desperate appreciation, “you’ve still got me. I’m still yours.”

She drags her hand down there to feel the sticky evidence of his promise, to rub and fondle him as he lays dormant in her palm. She has often snickered to him that he is too tidy to ever fully have sex, he has had qualms over even what they do with their hands, their mouths as well. He was pleased she could swallow only for the mess it prevented. She’s often told him he’ll find coupling a filthy business and he oughta brace himself. This tacky feeling under her palm is the closest they’ve ever gotten to the act, her fluids touching him there, drying on him. She appreciates the gesture, more than here heart can bear to ponder: she also knows he’ll regret it.

“I’ve got some amends to make.” she acknowledges after giving him one last kiss and checking that the coast is clear. Egan is doubtless still awake as usual and perhaps Brady, but it can’t be helped and she doesn’t give a damn. “Try to be quiet -don’t think too hard on it, it’s fine if this is all it is.” she preemptively cautions before he can realize what she intends.

She slinks down the length of him, careful not to jar the whole bunk, careful to keep a low profile to the blankets before dipping her head in the little nest of covers shoved around his thighs. Despite her assurances Gale makes a keening noise of confusion when her tongue darts out without preamble and licks up the seam of his balls.

“Maureen.” he sounds half strangled but his hand flies out, not to prevent her, but to pet her lustrous hair. She feels utterly content in that moment and continues her quest to tidy him up.

“You hate being sticky.” she reminds in a whisper before gently sucking on his soft tip, she can feel his belly heaving in relaxed sighs, the connection not fully alive and yet, potent all the same, he pets her hair more firmly and even pushes her head down further and she gets the hint, abandoning his soft cock head for the chubby vein beneath, licking stripes of herself off him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” she whispers to the inanimate little thing, remembering how meanly she squeezed it the night before. “I swear we’re still friends.”

Gale vaguely registers her apology to his bits and bobs but he is genuinely more distracted by two glinting shards across the room that have to be Bucky’s blazing eyes. Trained right on him. Holy hell, he feels himself shake and the closest thing to a twitch animates between his legs before he throws his hand over his eyes and pretends he is very alone. He pets her head more purposefully, long, feminine strands slipping through his fingers.

John Egan once put a bet on how long it would take these idiots to learn they were in love. It was once all a bit funny. And now, seeing in a dim haze what appears to be the ritual of making up, it’s not so funny any more. Today could have gone far worse, any attention to the women was bad attention and having Ida have to make a scene while hiding a belly like that was nearly criminal in Bucky’s mind.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t glad for Gale. No, he was so glad he was half jealous watching, imagining more than even seeing. He wondered if Maureen knew how much she loved him, he wondered how it compared to his own, and he ached like hell.

Next morning Gale woke up with a sore spot on his chest from the weight of her head lying there all night, and to the tinkering sounds of the metal water jugs being jostled. There was a laugh and a responding “shh” and another stifled laugh following. He rolled his head on the pillow and blearily cracked an eye open, taking in Brady and Maureen over their task. Or at least, Johnny was trying while fighting some whispered bit of comedy that Maureen continued despite Johnny’s wheezing protests and incompetent fumbling with his handles.

“You ain’t bein’ quiet, if ya think you are.” Benny’s grumble from the bunk below said what Gale was thinking, but he was too relieved to see Maureen awake, cheerful and integrated again to complain.

“I’m telling him about a Romanian girl in the other sector, met her yesterday.” Maureen stage whispered and Brady began to lose it again, muffling his whole face into his sleeve, milk pail abandoned on the floor so he could laugh. “There’s a fence between and she’s a fighter pilot but she’s seen him at his laps and she wants him.”

Benny stayed quiet a minute before his own laugh started and Gale could feel the vibrations of it from a whole bunk below. “She put in an order or somethin’?”

“Practically.” Maureen drawled, “She was so relieved to meet an American so arrangements can be made for my fellow. She has cows back home Johnny, she’d trade ten for you. Those big Eastern European cows, straight from a storybook, it’s worth consideration.”

“Grab your jug.” Johnny insisted instead in a small wheeze as he collected his own and strode out, looking behind to ensure she was following and beginning to laugh at eye contact. Maureen threw her head back and guffawed that ugly little cackle of hers as she went out.

“I think we missed part of the first act.” Benny observed about the joke from below, Gale didn’t know what talent it was but his co-pilot always seemed to sense when he was awake, no checking needed.

“Yup.” Gale puffed into his pillow, not giving a damn about the content of her material only that some material was back.

Someone else who was shit at playing asleep was John Egan. Gale slunk out of his bed quietly to not awake everyone else and went over to the sprawled out form of his friend, Ida tucked behind his back and the wall, genuinely asleep despite the nicotine she had coursing through her. Gale reached out and flicked at an overgrown curl dangling over his friend's face, the return momentum of it tickled his nose and he sneezed on compulsion.

“Sleep well?” Gale asked as Bucky stared up at him, betrayed and crinkly faced.

“Was.” he accused.

“Talk?” Buck proposed in a monosyllable and he watched Egan’s raw morning eyes shutter closed into something as readable as millponds.

“Yeah, sure.” There was a series of grunts and heaves of effort as Bucky righted himself and finally pushed out of the bunk, “Hall?” he asked while contemplating just how little he wanted to don boots right now.

“Hall’s fine.”

They went out together, it was quiet in the hall despite the awakening rustle in the various rooms off it. It stayed quiet once they’d both taken a wall to lean against because Gale Cleven wasn’t good at broaching topics despite his bravery to initiate their surroundings. Egan had a sense what this was about, but then, things usually weren’t about the thing they were about, they were about another thing reflected in the thing and that’s where he got lost. But watching Gale Cleven take in a breath five times only to exhale and chew his lip got a little tedious, even by his standards for how much he enjoyed watching his Buck at anything.

If this was about being observed last night, Egan sure as fuck wasn’t gonna take the blame for seeing shit in a packed dormitory. Or, combine, barracks, whatever. So, a sentence like -sorry I watched you get licked at like a bowl of milk last night- didn’t reflect his sentiments at all. And he’d never lied to Buck, not once, except maybe about not social engineering his way onto planes during rough missions. So instead he went with an easy going, “Must be nice to almost get everyone killed then get rewarded for it.”

Gale’s eyes sharpened instantly but the harsh retort Egan panted for didn’t come, instead something tired took over and Gale pinched his nose. “We’re all goin’ a little looney in here.”

“Are we?” Bucky hummed combatively, “How you crackin’ up these days?” it wasn't fair his Buck had all this weight on him and a fussy woman besides.

“I’m havin’ an affair with a fellow officer.” Gale recited in a devastated montone, and Egan hadn’t expected such transparency. Not in criminal language.

“Well,” he ceded, “there is that.”

“And occurrences like last night are gonna need to keep happenin.” Gale was informing him and Bucky didn’t know what to do with that, his tone was that of an officer but his soft blue eyes flicked with a plea to be understood. “To keep her -tame. Some sorta sane. She’s like you, she wasn’t meant for this place.”

“Just last week you told me nobody was.” Egan pointed out just to be contrary but he couldn’t help his grin and Buck caught sight of it before he could suppress it, knowing the banter and its innate kinship was back.

“I need you to promise me somethin’.” Gale went on, a nervous hand rubbing at the back of his neck and Bucky perked at the sight of that tick.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to promise to wait a week before you try anythin’.” Gale said, “You said I’d come up with somethin’ and I will, but I need a week Bucky. Give me that, can’t let you leave here without any direction of where to head toward. Wait on that radio, don’t you go off gettin’ yourself shot and Ida, too.”

A week in this place felt like a year, a week with an ever swelling woman felt like an eternity of valuable, crucial time. Bucky ran his bare toes over the splintering wood and tried to focus on the way the wood shards pricked at his frozen toes. “Alright.” he agreed, couldn’t help himself when Buck was looking at him like that and telling him he didn’t want him to die. “Alright.” He repeated more forcefully just to see Gale’s face clear and some old expression of peaceful relief smooth out his worry lines, not as much as Maureen’s tongue could do, Bucky wagered, but it was a little relief of his own he could give. “But you make a poor incentive for obeying you.” he pointed out cheekily, shoving off his wall to advance on Gale and shove a finger in those still full cheeks, “You gonna reward me if I disobey an’climb over on day six?”

Gale rolled his eyes, an expression all too pretty with his cheek distorted by Egan’s rough fingers, his eyes wary and loving all at once, Bucky had missed that look, it was coy as hell and one of his favorites on his friend. “Don’t count on it.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

MOTA taglist, I only have one so ignore if this is not the universe you signed up for:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

@elvismylove04

@blikebarbie92

@luminouslywriting

@justheretoreadthxxs

@bookotter01

@mads-weasley

@ka-ski

@darkestbeforethedawn16

@slowsweetlove

@richardslady121

@barbeygirl

@prfctplcsreads

@vaf24

@harrys-housewife

@claireelizabeth85

@pearlparty

@piastrinho

@sapienti0sat

@atrophyingaphrodite

[thesupernaturalhouse]

This started out as a funny snipper. How tf did it turn into a fanfic?? Also this took me so long anyways, pt3 of the accidental overlord vaggie fic

Alastor: shoves Vaggie between him and Rosie and drops Frank onto her lap

Vaggie: trying to process how tf a giant dragon got through an elevator among many other things

Carmilla: thank you for coming today. I've gathered you all here to talk about the millions of souls-

Vaggie squeaks so quiet no one hears her: I'm sorry fucking how many??....How- How do you check that?? Gets ignored

She's just squeezing poor frank like a stress toy

Carmilla ignores her: You own. And how their at risk with the new extermination schedule. And how we minimize the damage going to be caused by it.

Finally looking aorund the room

Carmilla: Zestial, so god to see you- ....Alastor?? And- eyes narrow the protective overlord

Alastor, leaning over to block vaggie form view because he's petty as fuck: hello! Yes yes, I know, I've been absent for a longgg time and I'm sure youre all DYING to knwo where I've been~

Carmilla:...no. not really, shrugs but welcome back anyways I suppose....I am interested about who you've brought though....

Vaggie: just staring out into space, regretting her life choices and trying to count how many people owe her 'favors'

Carmilla slgihtly concerned/unnerved: In any case, this year's extermination was brutadal. A good 16% of the population was killed off. With them coming back in only 6 months I think it prudent that we-

Velvette: just fucking kicks the door open Yeah, I've got it handled Vox? Are you doubting me? ME might I remind you? Yeah, no. That's what I thought. Yes, yes, I know, thank you V, see you later Okay, bye, kisses darling!

Carmilla: nice of you to finally join us, Velvette. Will you.....colleges? be joining us?

Velvette: What? No way. They have better shit to do than to listen to some old windbag who think she's tough shit! Haha, no. Immm here to represent!

Carmilla:...charming. now, back to what I was saying, we need to-

Velvette: waves her arm frantically

Camilla feeling like a preschool teacher: yes??

Velvette: well, on the topic of discussssss throws exorcists head down let's discuss

Alastor: oooo tasty!!

Vaggie: ohhhhh my god....whispering to herself is that Tuff?? Wtf- how??

Carmilla:......where...did you get this?

Velvette: doesn't matter. We found it, though. And if these angle fuckers can be killed, then the game of cat and mouse has changed, the boys and I have-

Vaggies distressed squeaking as Velvette continues, Zestial jsut slumps his tea

Velvette:....the fuck is wrong with you two?? Looks at vaggie leans downs to get closer....also you're new

Vaggie: uhhhhh......thank?? You??

Velvette: narrows eyes before her head snaps ti zestial

Zestial: we shouldn't go to war with such meger proof.

Velvette:...meger- MEGER PROOF!? ITS a dead fucking Exorcist!!! What more do you WANT!? A video of it being killed?? No- this is definitive proof- if you can't see that, maybe you're going blind old man.

Zestial: it may be dead but how? It could be by a demon, but mayhaps it died due to unrelated reasons

Vaggie: Well, angles have hurt their own kind. Wouldn't be suprised if killing was another option for them

Everyone's heads snap to her

Vaggie:.....did....I say that out loud?

Carmillas narrows her eyes: how do you know that.

Vaggie: I um...I....I saw it happening?

Velvette:....wait aren't you the princesses whore? What are you doing out if your bird cage hm?

Vaggie: I....what??

Carmilla shaking her head: we're getting off topic.

Zestial: Carmilla is right. If we rush to war the angles would purge all of the sinners for daring to even TRY an uprising

Overlords: muttering

Alastor: why don't we put it to a vote?

Vaggie: depends is one of the options 'can we all just go home pelase?'

Alastor: hmmm no!

Vaggie grumbling: I hate you.

Velvette narrows eyes: ohhh okay I see. Grandpa's to scared to make a move! So then there's no point in it huh?

*the respect less song which I am not writing*

Zeezi: pft, what the hell? we literally JUST got here!

odette:....mom??

Carmille:....meeting dismissed.

Vaggie: uh, does this mean we can go home?- gets glared at .....okay sits back down like a scolded kid as she thinks about wtf jsut happened

Vaggie to herself in a defeated tone:.....she never told me how to see how many souls I own.....how many people owe me favors?

Proceeds to try and calculate and count on her fingers and Alastor watches in amusement, after sending off frank, and Rosie watches slightly concerned as to wtf her friend did to this teenage child....and maybe also finding it a bit funny

Part 2 | Part 3(here!) | Part 4