#can’t wait to feel a little more like myself and share in all the madness again 💗

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

💌 hi everyone, just wanted to drop in and let you know i’m experiencing some very challenging stuff with my health right now so i might be a little quieter than usual on here as i get to grips with things and recover. to anyone who’s sent me messages - thank you so much and i’ll reply as soon as i can. i’ll probably be around on here intermittently even if i’m not up to actively posting, and hope i’ll be back properly very soon. thank you to everyone who makes this such a safe little space of escapism. i might be quieter on here at the moment, but trust me when i say i am more grateful for it and the light it brings than ever 💌

[wakeup01]

A Matching Pair

Goddammit. Why does he always have to argue about it. Can’t he ever put himself in my shoes and try and be more understanding.” I mumble to myself as my boyfriend fades out of sight down the empty train car. I sigh and stare out the window of the train, listening to the world outside shudder past.

“This space free?” Comes an excited voice, I look up to see a fit young guy casually drop onto the seat opposite me. He looked no older than 22 and was outfitted for some kind of sports game, with a designer tracksuit sagging off his hips, a red jersey that pressed against his lean stomach and a glossy puffer jacket.

“Uhhh…not really.” I remark, side-eying his trendy permed hair, perfectly styled and faded. I had never really understood the appeal of…‘fuckboys’; rich but devoid of personality - aside from the prepackaged one they adopt. In this case even I had to admit that he was rather attractive, in a blunt, dumb ‘grammer is for losers’ sort of way. There was a casual air of confidence in the way he carried himself, narcissistic? Sure, but maybe a little ego didn’t hurt, especially in the bedroom.

Shame he obviously wouldn’t be a sub - he’d look nice around my cock, although I can picture my boyfriend tripping over himself to placate his every whim. The perks of this ‘open relationship’ we had seemed increasingly one sided. Ugh. I’m quickly reminded of our argument, and my indignation wins out over my misguided lust.

“Mate, you look proper mad.” He chuckles, kicking off his trainers. He stretches out his legs and rests them on the seat next to mine.

“Name’s Dominic and I’m not….mad.” My voice trails off.

“Uh oh. Who is she then blud?” He gestures at me with his hands, rattling the horde of bracelets that buried his wrists.

“He.”

“Pftt. I should ‘av guessed. It’s all the same to me. I’m Trev ‘btw’. You off to the gay convention?” There’s a wry smile that is hard to be angry at, in fact I feel strangely comfortable with him. He seemed like a good listener.

“Funny, but yes. Meeting our friend Nate there.” I cross my arms in a futile attempt to appear more dominant.

“Wait, they have those now?” My eyes squint at him. “Just fucking with you. I got a game the next town over. I’m a player.”

“Wow, you don’t say.”

“Maybe you’ve seen me play on the tele eh?” He puts on a face and flashes his shiny white teeth proudly.

“Sure…” He was in a professional team? Like I’d know.

“So spill, what’s the issue with yuh ‘boy’? His ‘bussy’ too small?” My mouth begins to move before I really get the chance to think about what I’m saying, or why I’m telling him at all.

“Ugh. He just never tries to see things from my perspective, he always expects me to play the ‘top’. About everything. And I don’t share his weird kinks.”

“TMI. Oh. You’re the top? And your name is Dom? ‘Lolz’. Is your boy called SUBastian?” He laughs mischievously. His brazen use of text speech was strangely endearing, something I thought impossible.

“Dominic. And no, his name’s Addy.” I correct, flatly.

“Uh huh. Yeah, and have you tried the same? See things from Addy’s point of view. Find equal ground right. Maybe I can help. It’s like when there’s a disagreement in our footy team.”

“I don’t think it’s quite the same thing…”

“Should give it a try Dom, see how it feels to be the sub. It can be fun to let someone else take charge. Easy too when you don’t overthink it. Go on, just lay back and relax.” Yes, I’m sure this will solve all our problems. I humour him anyway, resting my back against the seat’s cushion. Ten seconds pass in silence, just the hum of the train carriage throbbing rhythmically.

“This is stupid-“

“Shush.” Trev stares at me intently, trapping my eyes into his own. I don’t think to look away, why would I. He continues talking, I hear the words floating past me but don’t register what they are. It feels like minutes until his fingers snap in front of his face, and the spell is broken. He just smiles and waits expectantly for me to reply. His legs move from the seat next to me and I follow their movement.

“I—I guess.” I stutter, unsure of what I’m replying to, feeling slightly dizzy, like waking from a dream. For some reason my eyes seem drawn to his feet, now resting on the edge of my own seat, fidgeting between my thighs. I didn’t notice that they were sockless before… or that they were so big.

“Deeper.” He snaps his fingers again. My eyes are feeling so heavy, it’s becoming harder to keep them open. “Picture your boy sitting in your place. See it in your head.” I think about him, see his dreamy smile, like the one growing on my face. “So easy.” Trev repeats, my head nodding absently to his words. He adjusts and pushes his feet against my groin. Hmmf. I should tell him to stop. To stop…

“Uhh.” The dull sound leaves my lips instead of the words I wanted, the rubbing sensation fraying the edges of my thoughts.

Trev’s fingers fiddle at his pockets. He pulls out a vape stick and blows a huge bubblegum flavoured cloud of smoke into my face. The fumes flow through my open mouth and circle my head. His hands appear to be moving in slow motion, like everything was suddenly at half speed.

“Being in charge is exhausting huh. Much better to just relax and follow along, like your boyfriend would.” Yeah, he would probably do whatever this guy asked him to.

“I bet he’d rub my feet If I told him to.”

“Yeah.” I agree, wrapping my hands around Trev’s chunky feet - he definitely would. I run my fingers up and down his sole, picturing my boyfriend in this situation.

“Eyes up here fam.”

*snap*

I look back up at him, falling into his stare once more, entranced. My hands continue to massage him, passing over the curves and arches of his large feet. The shame of doing this in a public place completely lost on me. “Good foot boy.” I fail to hold back a moan at the validation. Is this what it feels like? It feels…nice, good.

I sense my body start to slowly lean forward of its own volition. Trev loudly exhales, his lips pursing. Another dose of bubblegum mist fogs my view. “What else would your boy do?”

“Don’t know…”

“Bet he’d love to sniff my lush feet hm?”

Probably, I think. He was way more kinky than me about such things. This guy’s feet were quite ripe after all, maybe if I got a bit closer…no—no what am I doing? I begin to pull back when his intense eyes narrow at me.

“It’s okay. I can see you want to take a whiff too. Boy.” His inflection changed on the last word. There was something about the way he said it. Powerful.

“My—my boyfriend will be-“ My voice cracks.

“Put your fucking nose here. And sniff my cheesy feet.” He orders, accentuating each word, dropping all pretence - his finger snapping and pointing down.

It’s like a switch being pressed in my head. The words cut like a knife right through any lingering hesitation. My face lowers and inhales deeply, sucking up his harsh scent.

“Yeah.” I mumble from behind his feet in a daze.

“Yeah what?”

*snap snap*

“Yes sir.” I don’t know why I said it, it just slipped from my lips and then it was too late to take it back. Too late to stop, as my face leans down to his foot like a magnet. Too late to pretend I didn’t want a sniff, my nostrils breathing the thick musky air.

“A good start boy.” I tentatively take a couple more whiffs, a part of me still attempting to hold back, feeling self aware. He rolls his eyes and shoves his feet forcefully into my face, my nose pushed snugly between his big toe. His stench shrouds my head like a cloud. The concept of ‘disgusting’ faded to nothingness.

“Salt and vinegar flavour, your fav.” Trev asserts. It became true the moment the words left his lips. Salty and eye watering. My favourite. My cock liked it too apparently.

“You look so much better under me, worshiping me - where you belong. Keep going.” And I did. Breathing deeply, in and out. In and out. The heat from his foot radiates outwards, travelling down my body, seeping into my skin. “Wouldn’t your boy agree to be at my feet at all times If that’s what I wanted?” He—I would. I want nothing else.

“Of course sir.” I say, unaware that the words would seal my fate.

Something is changing. A shift in weight. My whole body starts to feel lighter, filling with air. My skin itches, a rash forming across it’s surface - bleaching every inch an even, clean white. The rash crawls down my chest, flattening my modest set of abs, leaving everything it touches incredibly soft, absorbent and flexible. Tiny strands of fuzzy cotton fabric poke out from each pore; the changes showed no sign of stopping.

Everything is happening all at once, alarms try and go off in my brain but it’s preoccupied swimming in a musky drunken stupor. My feet seem to leave the floor as my form inexplicably shrinks, the length of my arms folding inwards as my body simplifies.

“Look at you bruv. You were easy as fuck.” I gaze up at him, his smug face towering over me, looking so far away. A puff of vape smoke floats down towards me, particles dissolving on my cushioned skin. The sweet aroma mixes with the smell of his sour feet. “Just one look into my eyes and you were done. Get socked bro.”

Trev started to appear bigger and bigger, his feet dwarfing my new size, now taking up my whole view. It was like my essence was being pulled around his foot. My mouth opens and his toes slip effortlessly inside, stretching me out and making themselves at home. The rest of his foot follows, his ankle resting at my opening. It sets off my gag reflex momentarily, before feeling perfectly natural, like I was tailor made for his foot.

“Sorry bud, they’re a size 13.”

The taste of his potent sole explodes into me. I’m violently shaken out of my trance-like haze, the world around me speeds up. I try and desperately pull away, lucidity returning like a slap to the face. Why am I on the floor? Why is his foot in my mouth?! Oh shit oh shit!

“Get socked!” Trev yells enthusiastically. “Get fucking socked!”

Control is slipping away. My skin pulls taut around his foot, the fabric digging between his toes. It feels as though every part of me is pressed against him, his warmth surrounding me. My new shape settles into place, defined by his smooth curves.

I can’t move my ‘body’ at all, but all my senses still persist…somehow. My blurry vision clears, a sudden shift in view makes me disoriented. It’s as if I have a pov of the room from the bottom of Trev’s foot, he lowers it to the floor and my worldview erratically drops to carpet level before going dark. The material of the carpet brushes against me, the strange sensation is embarrassingly pleasing; bringing attention to the absence of my cock. Relief now seemed impossible.

“Socked. Man, I love that initial freshness. Tbh, it makes the inevitable even more fun.”

He pushes the weight of his foot into me, his sweaty soles sticking to my tight fabric body. It feels humiliating to be literally stuck on the ground. His stench clings to me, soaking me in his foot musk. The imprint of his toes yellowing my surface. It’s like having his foot down my throat, perpetually swallowing his mind numbing sweat.

“Mmm that’s good, you hang so tightly. A perfect fit. Hope you like sucking on my rank fucking toes. Cuz now you’re just my stinky ripe sock. Fucking idiot. Can’t wait to get you worn in.”

That’s not possible, I can’t be a sock…it defies logic. This is a nightmare I’m about to wake up from, any second now…any second…

He pulls at me and stretches my ribbed opening up and over his tracksuit, stuffing the silky material into me.

“So much more… pliable.” Trev wiggles his toes and my body conforms to it’s every movement, lodging in between each one. I try and desperately struggle, do something. I manage to achieve a light wriggle that only helps pull myself tighter against his skin.

Trev lifts his foot and points it towards the window, the dark night air rushing past outside. A clear reflection echoes back. I stare at it in disbelief, wanting to blink the reality from my eyes. A caricature of my shocked face is crudely printed on the underside of the sock - trapped frozen in time, with the word ‘SNIFF’ sewn into the fabric. The material was already beginning to discolour. Logic or not, That’s all I am now - a cheap white sock. His sock. An object.

“Basic as fuck boy makes basic as fuck sock. Lit.” He points out, smirking in the reflection while he checks out his new kit. Trev puts his feet back up on the seat, letting me watch the empty space where I had been sitting - back when I was more than just his property.

“Enjoy the view, while you can cheesy. You’re going to spend most of your time staring at the floor, or the inside of my fumigated sneaker.” What joy. I hadn’t even thought about that, about what comes next. Surely he didn’t plan to keep me like this? “Hmm. I think the name Dominic is a bit too fancy for you now, how about…sock. Simple, to the point.” Trev steps me back against the ground, his heel slightly raised. “Suits you, don’t you think sock?”

Light footsteps thud from down the carriage, getting closer and closer. “Hey babe. I wanted to apologise, Nate thinks—who are you? Umm where’s my boyfriend?” Addy had returned, this was my chance.

I wanted to shout and cry out to him, to get his attention anyway possible. I conjured a barely audible rustle and then nothing. All it did was reinforce how small and subservient I now felt, forced to listen to my owner in silence.

“Oh he’s not gone far, cutie. Sit.”

I hear my boyfriend stammer from above. All it took was one compliment and he turned to putty. In most cases it was endearing, but right now I needed him to be anything but agreeable.

I feel the weight on me shift. I glide through the air again, Addy’s expression coming into view across from me, from us.

“He’s…” Addy looks me over curiously.

“Yep. He got socked.”

“Gosh. That’s…hot.” His cheeks blush.

WHAAT! You’ve got to be kidding me! Damn, why did he have to be so kinky when I need him to rescue me. I can recognise his horny face a mile away.

“Now it’s your turn. Look at my eyes.” Trev’s voice taking on a more serious tone. Addy’s eyes dart up, quickly becoming ensnared by Trev’s hypnotic gaze. No, please snap out of it. “Good, keep looking. Relax. Let me give you the deets. In a few minutes you’re gonna have the privilege of having my foot up your arse, sucking up my sweat as a thin piece of fabric like your bf. You’ll be my sock puppet, controlled completely by my foot. You can already feel my toes pushing at your mind. You want it. Say it.” Trev waves me back and forth, hypnotically.

“But…mmm,”

“Say it.”

*snap*

“I — I want to be your smelly sock puppet. Pleaseee Master.” He moans in a trance.

“Course you do.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Addy’s shorts were noticeably tenting, a wet spot forming at the tip. He was getting off on the idea! “Sock puppet. Look at your boy, read the word sewn into him. You know what to do.”

Addy’s head leans towards me, eclipsing my vision. His huge nose presses up against me, his eyes dilating. I can feel his wavering breath brush at my cotton skin. He did exactly what the sock - me, said to and sniffed. The hesitant whiffs quickly devolve into enthusiastic huffing.

“Babeee. Hmmf. You smell so niceee. Mmmm.”

“That’s an obedient sock sniffing sock puppet.” Trev assured him. ”Now onto the other one.” Addy moves away from my view, I can only see him shuffling at the edge of my narrow locked vision. “Ready to join him?”

“Yes masterrrr.” Addy’s voice slurs monotonously. “Enter me and take control. We’re both yours.” Like hell we are!

“I want you to lick this foot clean like a dirty dog before it becomes your new home.” I hear him start to slobber all over Trev. “Good puppet. Get socked.”

The sound of my boyfriend licking and moaning in heat continued for what felt like an eternity. There was nothing I could do but be suspended in the air like my owner deemed appropriate.

“It’s time to become a puppet. Turn around and spread that cute bubble butt. There we go, feel my foot enter your rear, filling you up, fucking your tiny brain. Ufff. Tight. Fuck. Let’s stretch you out, nice and wide. Ahh that’s better. Your hole clamping around my ankle. Yeah. Becoming soft and flexible. A sock puppet. A sweat guzzling, empty-headed, dirty filthy sock puppet.” I can just about see Addy’s head, craning back in pleasure as he’s foot fucked.

“Butt feels…Hnng my—my body…” Addy pants desperately.

“Now belongs to my fat fucking foot. SOCK. PUPPET.

“Pu—puppet.” Addy’s bobbing head pulls out of sight, compressing around the invader inside him.

“Sock puppet. Surrendered all free will. Sock puppet. Commanded by feet. What are you?”

“I’m a sock… a sock puppet. Mmmmf…I’m a soooommfff.”

His voice goes silent. I can only assume he’s turning into a perfect match for Trev’s other foot. The thought horrifies me, but also gets me a little excited. I glimpse a pristine white shape shudder next to me. Trev sits up and places both feet flat on the ground, in order to admire his new additions to the collection.

“Hell yeah. You two make the cutest pair. Glad I could help bring you ‘together’. And no more worries about disagreements ‘lmao’. Go on, kiss and make up.”

Trev bends his legs and points me at Addy’s new form, his lustful face captured on the socks sole; the word ‘LICK’ was immortalised above. I was for sniffing and he for licking, it made a bizarre kind of sense to my addled brain. He brings his feet together and rubs us both against each other, our ‘faces’ pressed closely. My mind blurs, the friction bringing searing white hot bliss. God it’s amazing. He was so soft! Please more. More! Babe. Don’t stop. Get socked!

Trev eventually pulls us apart, I watch the folds of Addy’s loose fabric pull taut, finalising his transformation. He made a cute sock, just like me. We were now on equal footing. Wait, what am I thinking? This is insane, I don’t want this! Was I stuck like this? Would it be really so bad? No, stop.

I realised that the smell was permeating my thoughts, twisting them. Knowing that didn’t change how good it felt, how good his touch felt, his musk.

“Don’t worry, when I go to replace you I’ll be sure to sell you on as a pair to one of my foot sluts. Let’s be honest, as socks go, you’re kinda ‘mid’ at best.” The comment did nothing to reassure me about turning back to human. “Man you gay nerds are so dumb, none of you can resist my scent. It’s like you want to be part of my fit. Even my sneaks gave more of a struggle than you two lovebirds. All I need now is some new undies to stretch over my ass and hug my fat dong and balls. Know anyone?” Trev pauses and then laughs to himself.

As each minute passed my mind became more subdued, it was relaxing, becoming content. The part that was angry, defiant, was shrinking. A bubbling happiness was slowly expanding within me. I did my best to push it back but with my senses overwhelmed, it was a seemingly losing battle. Addy was probably already loving every second of it.

“Let’s have some fun. Which one of you will make a good cum sock? Who am I kidding, you’ll both be great. But for now…”

He peels me free from his foot, holding me limply in the air. For a moment I feel incredibly empty, already missing his warmth. The disappointment is short lived; I’m quickly filled out as he pulls me over a stiff pole. His cock. His glorious thick shaft. I’m forced to swallow it whole, it’s tip poking at my edges.

With his hand around me he wanks me furiously, using me as sleeve. ‘Don’t enjoy it’, I shout internally. This sucks. This sucks! It’s hard to ignore the pleasure it brings the both of us. Oh god I’m being stretched out by him completely. It sucks. Sucks… this…mmm. Faster. Go faster! Fill me! Cum inside me, mark me as yours!

My sexy owners pumping reaches a crescendo, now with both hands thrusting me up and down. One final tug. A grunt. A twitch. Thick copious splooge unloads right into me, flooding my interior. His fuckboy seed is absorbed into me, my cotton body sucking up every drop. A dark patch spreads across me and crusts over as it dries. The bitter taste lingers, like the cum was sat on my tongue.

“Fuck me, that was sweet. But enough fun.” Trev pulls me off his dick and janks me back over his foot, his toes push against my cum stained dark spot, still damp.

Trev’s phone starts to ring with some loud trap song. “Trev. Yeah. Yeah mate. Course, you fucka. Be arriving soon. Mint, I got me some new gear too. Ace. Uh huh…K, chat tomorrow.”

What would have normally been inane babble to me made a concerning amount of sense, like his identity was somehow rubbing off on me.

He stands up, dragging something over to him with his other foot. I’m lifted high into the air, tauntingly hovering over his beat up shoe. I can’t help but look down at my future smelly prison. I don’t think my mind can take any more…

It didn’t help knowing that the sneaker was once a guy, now heavily used. It was like seeing a glimpse of my own fate. Mmmm.

“Let’s get you acquainted.”

I see the trainer hurtle towards me as I’m lowered to the floor. My edges slide effortlessly into the pungent confines of his sneaker, the thick stale air engulfing me. I’m pressed against the stained sole and squelch against it’s moist surface; the outline of his foot clearly indented into the material. My vision goes pitch black.

The stench is blasted at me from all sides. Fuck me. I don’t stand a chance against it, my mind is drowned beneath its waves. Sinking below as new, more simple desires emerge.

There’s a muffled sound of an announcement playing overhead. “Guess this is where we get off lads. I should probably warn you, me mates and I have a footie match tomorrow. And I don’t plan on removing you, after that I expect you won’t even want to be turned back. Not that I ever planned to. I’m sure you stinkheads don’t object? Sorted.”

I didn’t object, in fact, I— I think I was looking forward to it. My printed face would probably be completely yellow by the end of it, as it should. Mmm.

The weight of his foot lifts as I feel myself rise from the floor and then just as quickly I’m pushed back down to the ground. My boyfriend being subject to the same in tandem. A second later and it happens again and then again, each step the strength of his body squishes me against the shoes insole, which sticks to my surface. And each time, my brain is submerged in a pleasant sweaty haze, scattering whatever dim thoughts I had left. The weight flattening my mind to sodden mush. Rewarding me for fulfilling my role as his smelly, mindless sock, us both huffing at our owners beautiful addictive feet. Together.

“Maybe we should stop off at that gay convention first, see how many noses we can get pressed against you two while you get sucked dry. Plus, we could find that friend of yours to get wrapped around my big sweaty butt.”

Yeahhh…I bet Nate would make a perfect pair of fucking briefs.

[charliemwrites]

Three to Flee

Commission from the very sweet @ignoreprotocol

Someone leaves the door open and the pets get out.

Content Warning: Established kidnapping situation, unhealthy relationships, collaring

Author's Note: This does not mean Keeper/Kept is back. As far as I'm concerned, that story is finished, but this was a special case.

Shockingly, it’s not Feral that brings it up first.

The girls are having a little picnic at the edge of Johnny and Shy Thing’s yard, shaded by the tall trees. The men are chatting on the porch, sharing cigars and whiskey, far from earshot. Good behavior has earned them this bit of privacy, and so far, they’ve just used it to exchange keeper notes and offer bedroom advice.

“I can’t believe you don’t even have a fence,” Good Girl muses, glancing at the forest beyond. Her own yard is well fortified. It’s not just the sturdy, unclimbable fence, but also the monitors and floodlights connected to it.

Shy Thing sheepishly mentions a failed escape attempt several months earlier, a mad dash through the woods that ended with her dirty and disciplined. That prompts Good Girl to confess her own ill-fated getaway, a midnight attempt at sneaking out that resulted in a bruised ass.

Feral listens with her head cocked, nibbling at her apple slices. When their eyes turn to her, she shrugs.

“I haven’t tried to leave in a while,” she admits, “but I don’t think it would go well.”

Good Girl frowns. “How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

Feral snorts. “You’ve met Simon, haven’t you?”

All eyes turn to the boys on the porch. And there’s Simon, watching. Feral makes a rude gesture his way and they can see his shoulders shaking with a chuckle.

“Besides… it’s not so bad,” she muses. “Most of the time.”

Good Girl sits back, expression twisting. “I don’t want it to be ‘not so bad,’ I want it to be good. And I want it that way all the time.”

Shy Thing shifts. “What’s so wrong with John…?”

Good Girl huffs and begins picking at threads in the blanket. “He’s… fine. I mean, he would be if I could just leave. Don’t you miss being free?”

Feral hums.

“I… I miss going to the store when I wanted… or just… walking around town,” Shy Thing admits slowly. “I miss coffee shops and parks.”

Good Girl groans in agreement. “I miss the internet. It’s like being a fucking teenager again, having all my activity monitored.”

With a little more momentum now, Shy Things continues, “I haven’t been alone in months. Just… by myself. Doing whatever I want.”

“And not having rules,” Good Girl adds, sipping at the mojito John put in a little travel cup for her. “Fucking… sick of having a bedtime and chores and a fucking collar. Aren’t you sick of it?”

It’s directed at both of them, but Shy Thing nods, hands fidgeting.

“It gets to be a lot sometimes,” she mumbles, “I think I warmed up to Johnny out of pure exhaustion.”

Good Girl huffs again, worked into a proper fuss now. “And they’re so smug about it. Like we’re just these good, trained pets.”

Feral pipes up, “We could leave together.”

Both girls swivel to her with varying degrees of shock, hope, and disbelief.

“You said you didn’t think you could get past Simon,” Good Girl says.

Feral snorts and stretches out on her stomach in a mottled patch of sunlight creeping through the leaves.

“Yeah, I couldn’t on my own,” she explains, “but between the three of us…”

It’s uncomfortably simple when it happens. They just need to wait until the next big mission.

All three of them beg (or in Feral’s case, demand) to spend that time together while the keepers are away. It’s not unusual for the creatures to meet up when one or more of the men are gone. With all three off on a mission this time, they sniffle about being lonely and wanting company. That their houses feel too big and empty, that cooking for one is depressing.

Johnny caves instantly; John agrees on the stipulation that Good Girl is on her best behavior before he leaves. Simon, of course, is a foregone conclusion.

They go to Simon’s house. It’s the safest of the three homes and has the most space. Not to mention the girls will have some sort of access to the outside with the enclosed sunporch.

On the day of the mission, Good Girl and Shy Thing show up with fully packed bags, ready for their extended “sleepover” with Feral. The pets see their boys off, behave as normal for the cameras until Shy Thing gets the “heading out” message from Johnny. That’s the greenlight.

Feral has her own bag of things that she packs quickly and expertly. They fill a fourth bag with nonperishable provisions, just in case. Each of them has cash that they filched last minute from their keepers’ wallets – knowing they wouldn’t check them just before a classified mission.

The girls know it’ll be a day or two before anyone checks on them. Even Kyle is away with the team this time.

And then it all comes down to walking out the door.

The front door is, of course, locked. All the windows have alarms on them, and so does the garage door. But the sunporch…

“He didn’t lock the door,” Feral realizes as it swings open. And the alarm only engages when it’s locked.

All three of them take a single step out into the open air. And stop. Stare at each other a little moon-eyed.

They just left.

They stride at a quick clip around the side of the house and down the road. It’ll be an hour-long walk into town, but they have thick coats and each other for company. They chatter as they follow the pavement, just within the tree line out of caution. Pretend its giddy celebration at their escape and not a distraction from the creeping mix of dread and uncertainty beginning to simmer within each of them.

When they reach town, they blend into the crowds, weaving through the streets until they find a low-end hotel. It won’t be anything fancy, but at least it seems clean enough. Good Girl does all the talking with the receptionist (also a lady, thank god) since Feral and Shy Thing are jittery from so many people. They get a one-bed room with easy access to the fire exit.

 It’s only after they’re inside that reality sinks its claws in.

They’re free. For the first time in months, they’re outside with no one standing behind their shoulders or holding their arms. No one to appease, nothing to behave for.

And Shy Thing throws up in the toilet.

“This is scary,” she wheezes, eyes watering. “I’m scared. I want—”

Though she stops, the other two know what the end of that sentence was. Good Girl rubs her back.

“Don’t worry, they’re not going to find us,” she soothes like she doesn’t know why Shy Thing is really scared.

Neither Shy Thing nor Feral reply. The answer hangs in the air, unspoken. We want them to.

Feral, feeling restless, goes back into the main room and begins rummaging through her bag.

“What are you doing?” Good Girl asks, giving Shy Thing privacy to clean up.

“Looking for something to cut that off with.” Feral nods to Good Girl’s collar. “It’s probably chipped or something. We should have taken it off at home.”

She stops as the blood drains from her fellow creature’s face. They stare at each other across the tiny motel room, the weight of their successful plan pressing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“I…” Good Girl rasps, “I…”

“You don’t want to.”

Her eyes well with tears. “No.”

Feral drops her bag and crumples to the ground, tugging her knees up to her chest.

“Why don’t I want to?” Good Girl whispers, curling her arms around herself. “This… this was my idea. I complain all the time. Why do I miss him already?”

Shy Thing appears in the doorway, sniffling. “I-I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t imagine life without Johnny. I… I don’t know if I want to have a life without Johnny.”

And Feral, still on the floor and trembling all over, just looks at them with huge tears running down her face.

Needless to say, when three rather miffed keepers in full combat gear throw the door open at 3am, they are not expecting armfuls of distraught creatures sobbing into their chests.

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

HELLO. smut request: ari + thigh riding (but make it a punishment). that is all. BYE

That Ain't Workin' Tonight

PAIRINGS: Ari Levinson x Girlfriend!Reader

WARNINGS: Swearing, allusions towards unprotected sex (my loves, please wrap your man's ding-dong before hopping on it), Daddy kink, nipple sucking, mentions of cum, squirting, THIGH RIDING!! (an absolute fave) (If I missed anything out, please feel free to DM me 😊)

WORD COUNT: 1,620

ENJOY!

Stumbling into the apartment, you toe your heels off clumsily. And the fact that you are slightly intoxicated is not helping you at all.

Being the top employee at your firm, you finally got the promotion you worked your ass for. And your girls wanted to treat you to a night out.

You couldn’t deny that the idea of having a night where you didn’t have to think about work was entirely enticing.

So, you kissed your boyfriend goodbye and told him a rushed ‘don’t wait up’ before slipping out of your shared apartment.

Ari was all for you having a fun night with your girls, but what he was not having was you not answering any of his texts.

The 6’3 man knows his woman can handle herself, but still, he can’t help but feel the need to check up on you every hour.

And his worry just increases tenfold when you don’t even come online for the rest of the night. He checked your location, and it stayed constant throughout the entire time, which calmed his thoughts by a milligram. But still.

So, there he sat on the couch, waiting for you to get home.

And you finally did.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts, sweetheart?” His arms are crossed over his chest as he looks over at you.

The short cotton-red dress stops at your knees and flays around your hips every time you move your body a certain way.

You hiccup before you answer, “I was out, Ari. I told you, baby.” The alcohol still in your veins made you a little woozy, so you stumbled again and almost fell. But if it wasn’t for the counter in the open kitchen, you would’ve fallen.

“Sweetheart,” he says, getting up from the couch and making his way to you. When he does, he softly grabs you by your shoulders and redirects you to the living room. He walks with you and sits you down before crouching in front of your body.

“I can walk by myself, mister.” You pout and cross your arms, your drunken state still possessing your body.

Ari chuckles and takes a hold of your chin, sweeping his thumb over your pouted bottom lip.

“You didn’t answer my question, sweetheart,” he says with a serious face, looking at you with that look.

And you instantly sober up.

You’re in trouble.

“I-, I was-,” you’re a mess trying to form any sort of sentence; you squirm in your seat under the stare of your boyfriend.

Ari tsk’s, “not the answer I wanted, sweetheart.” He caresses the side of your face before tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Tell me. Why didn’t you answer my texts?” He says it slowly, like trying to make sure you get how mad he is.

“Didn’t see ‘em,” you whisper, placing your hands on your thighs. Ari hums disappointedly, “it ain't like you to ignore texts, sweetheart.”

“I'm sorry, Ari. I didn’t mean to.” You think you can get away with this? Throw on some charm and innocence. You know your man loves that.

“Ah, ah, ah. That ain’t workin’ tonight, sweetheart,” he says, shaking his head, his hand trailing down to encompass the column of your throat. You inhale sharply and squirm even more in your position.

“You know, I’m not really happy, princess,” he says, trailing his other hand up your leg and skimming the area around your knee. “You’ve been a bad girl tonight, yeah?” He nods at you, expecting an answer.

You know this version of Ari, and this version is the one you can’t say no to either.

You nod as a response, afraid that your voice might crack with anticipation if you utter a word.

“Words, baby. Daddy needs to hear you speak, sweetheart,” he says, tightening his grip slightly around your neck and making you gasp as your eyes slightly close shut at the sensation.

And in a moment, everything changes.

You don’t know how, but suddenly Ari’s moving, and you’re sitting on his lap. He moves his hands up and down your thighs, slowly inching your dress higher and higher.

He groans at the sight of the lacey, nude underwear you have on. “All so dolled up, huh?” He leans in and starts kissing at that one spot below your ear, grazing his teeth on your skin.

You shudder and whimper at the feeling. Your hands move to grip his broad shoulders, and you whine into the crook of his neck.

He chuckles as he continues to abuse the expanse of your neck with his bruising kisses.

“Daddy was going to treat his baby tonight; he knows how hard you worked for that promotion.” He hooks his fingers at the hem of your underwear and drags them off before flinging them somewhere in your apartment.

You let out a soft moan, “Ari.” He grips your thighs hard. You're pretty sure there’s going to be a bruise there in the morning. “Don’t think that’s right, pretty girl,” he says, smacking your thigh gently, and you gasp. “Daddy, please.” You throw your head back and beg at the man in front of you. "There we go," he smirks.

You move your hips to grind at the clothed tent forming beneath his cotton shorts, but Ari looks at you with a slightly disapproving face.

His hands immediately go to your hips, and he moves you to sit on top of one of his thick, muscled thighs.

"Oh, sweetheart, you got to earn my cock tonight,” he smirks at you before settling in and leaning back on the couch.

You blush at the comment and gulp, “I-I don’t know what you mean, Daddy.” Ari chuckles. “Oh, I think you do, princess.”

He leans in and captures your lips in a heated kiss. You run your hands through his hair and grip at the roots. He growls and bites your lower lip, making you moan softly.

Ari grabs your hips yet again and starts to move you back and forth on his thigh.

“Ride my thigh, baby,” he growls against your lips.

You nod and go back to grab his shoulders. Then you start to move yourself up and down on his thigh, you moan at the friction you feel against your sensitive little button, and you start moving faster.

“Yeah. That feels good, baby?” Ari roams his hands all over your body, caressing and groping every inch of you that is and isn’t covered.

He unbuttons the front of your dress and lets it fall off your shoulders, and he groans at the sight of your boobs moving in tandem with your humping.

He reaches for your back and unhooks your bra. He takes it off for you and throws it somewhere. Then he dips his head in and takes one of your pebbeld nipples into his mouth and starts sucking hard.

You grip onto his hair for dear life as you move your hips over his muscular leg, and your moans get louder and higher in pitch as you feel your slick coat his thigh.

“Daddy, it feels so good,” you whine, and you throw your head back, biting your lip, trying to quiet your moans.

“Nuh uh, baby, non’ a that lip-biting business,” he lightly taps your cheek. “Let me hear you how good I make you feel,” he says, starting to lightly bounce his leg, and it’s game over for you.

“Oh fuck!” You drop your head onto his shoulder and start to drag your pussy on his hairy thigh. The wet squelching of your cunt makes the tent in Ari’s pants incredibly painful to resist.

“Daddy, daddy, please. I’m going to come,” you whine harder against his shoulder and yell when you feel his calloused thumb rubbing at your clit.

Your moans are high and shrill, as you are near your climax.

“Attagirl, that’s it. Make daddy proud; make a mess on my leg,” he presses down on your clit and rubs at a speed you didn’t think even existed. He switches breasts and starts his assault on the other one.

The band in your core snaps, and you squirt all over his thigh and soak his shorts. Your juices drip onto the floor and also stain his cotton shirt.

“Shit, m’ sorry, daddy,” you pout. Ari makes a final suck before popping off, then he shakes his head and smiles. "Nah, you did a good job, princess. You made Daddy proud,” he says, wiping his index and middle fingers up and down his thigh, gathering your release before popping them into his mouth and sucking them clean.

You whimper at the lewd sight, “daddy.”

“What do you want, baby girl?" Ari rubs your thigh; he picks you up effortlessly and walks the both of you to your shared bedroom.

He softly lays you down on your bed and takes off his shirt. When he sees you bite your lip, he smirks. “Ready to take Daddy’s cock, sweetheart? Ready to be a good girl?”

You nod hard, so adamant to feel him stretch you out.

You eagerly, and messily, take off your dress and drop it to the floor before shimming down so you lay flat.

Ari chuckles at your neediness. He takes off his shorts and pulls out his leaking cock from his boxers.

His manhood slaps his toned abs, and his puffy mushroom is blaring red and is shiny with his pre-cum. He spits on his hand and holds on to his shaft, moving his hand up and down.

He leans over you and kisses your nose before pushing your knees apart and settling in between them.

Ari chuckles as he slaps his tip on your entrance. “Open up f’me, sweetheart.”

💌💌💌

@yiiiikesmish

Mishhh, this ask!!! Love when horny girlies come together to be horny together.😌😌😌

Again, requests are open lovelies :)

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[childrenofcain-if]

Hi! I want to start by warning that this will probably be a long rant about how much i love your IFs. But first, I hope you feel better soon!

The first IF of yours i played was the pjo one, which sent me down a rabbit hole of going through the rest of them (still haven't played tcs but i will soon 🤞🏻). It was just BAFFLING how people could be so purposefully ignorant about the concept of fanfiction and accused you over and over of plagiarism like, please go outside and touch grass, clearly the internet has stopped your brain from developing critical thinking.

Anyways, the adaptation was so well done and faithful while also exuding a newness to it that i am very excited to see unravel. I understand at the moment it has been paused (and I don't know if you've addressed why it's no longer up) and i hope with time you can feel comfortable with it again. None of the shit you've gotten was deserved or even understandable but alas, it still happened. As a content creator myself, i truly truly sympathize with you. I hope these words offer some comfort, however small.

Same goes for WLB, but the awe at how descriptive and raw your writing is really peaked through in something of your own creation. I find myself revisiting it and experiencing the exhilaration from my first reading all over again. I can't wait to watch everyone around my mc descend into eldritch madness as they become more and more unhinged. Consequences of my own actions? Never heard of them, i want my mc to go apeshit!

Now, gods where do i start... TBOTYG is *chef's kiss* flawless, i never thought i could become so obsessed with anything with only one part. I awaited the demo with baited breath, already anticipating all the ways you would surprise and impress (and you did). Every choice, every scenario, the way you build your plot and characters, your descriptions (I don't know if you can tell that I'm a little too hung up on the writing aspect of it) of characters and actions and feelings. The amount of work and effort you put into characterization is so very clear and it feels very freeing to have that amount of control over a character that we're supposed to "relate" to (in the context of the narrative, almost as if living vicariously through them). i think that no matter how much time passes, your IFs will remain a staple in the community and every player who finds your gems will feel blessed and changed after playing.

It's gotten to the point I've created a whole google doc of my MC, and made fake ig accounts with interactions (just for myself, to cope with the anticipation) and this is a level of commitment I've only felt with my own OCs and works. In such a short time, your IFs have carved a deep space for themselves in my life. I find myself replaying and going through their official pages religiously even though I've read every post already.

a question! will every LI's gender be chosen individually? I'm wondering because C and D are suitmates, but is it doable if they're different genders? same for mc and V. I'm thinking yes but also wanted to be sure

Honestly very very sorry for the long rant, I'm sure you have better things to do 😭😭 but i had the uncontrollable urge to express my feelings on your art and it took me an entire day of trying to talk myself out of it (i failed).

(also, here's my mc's profile and dm box. her royal highness maxine's ig profile is private btw. going for c route first. Mitică is the romanian diminutive for the name Dimitru, and opsis is an ancient greek concept i thought would fit V)

i’m speechless (sentimentally), dear reader 😭 i still can’t believe some people would take the time out of their day to think about my silly little worlds and the characters in it, less of all like how i’ve written my works. every single time i hit a writer’s block or have the whole doxxing trauma flare up again, i think of quitting but it’s the urge to write stories and the joy of sharing it with everyone that is still keeping me going.

i can’t explain how much your words mean to me because this is what i write for. to have people relate to or identify with or adore the world and characters i’ve built is such a dream within itself. from the bottom of my heart, i am thankful for every single reader who has always been nothing but supportive from day one. if elias has his apple, i have y’all. and no, it doesn’t mean y’all can have my meagre inheritance but it’s the sentiment that counts.

to answer your question, every single LIs gender will be selectable! blackthorne hall has individual bedrooms per suite so y’all will only be sharing the common areas and kitchenette with V while having your own personal space. it’s more like an apartment than a usual college dorm tbh.

oh and please, rant away! i’d love nothing more than to hear about your MCs and the various headcanons, questions, or theories you might have!

(also please knock C down a few pegs, they desperately need it 😔)

[maweallgotohell]

OKAY NO WAIT

I was reading fanfiction a few minutes ago, right? And it was about halloween costumes. Well, Cameron in halloween costumes.

AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT JUST RANDOMLY CAME TO MY MIND?!?!

okok y’all aren’t ready for this scenario-

Imagine it being Halloween and yn and Cam are going to go to a Halloween party of one of their friends. He knew what costume you’d choose, because you loved it so much, you couldn’t shut up about it. He, however, kept his costume choice a secret. You were lowkey scared he’d come up with something either incredibly scary, weird or stupid but it was

so.

much.

worse.

Or better, in your case.

After a few years of you and him being in a relationship, you randomly told him, that you had an immense crush on his character Jerome Valeska when you were 17. You were a few years younger than him. He was 30 now and you were 25. So when he was 22, you were 17, which was when they released the second season of Gotham. (This shit took all my math knowledge omfg)

You two laughed about it together. Cameron was a bit surprised that you randomly shared your teenage crushes with him, but he found it cute and funny.

So anyways.

It was the evening of the party and you already waited for him in the kitchen, already wearing your (fav costume) costume.

Cam‘s costume must’ve been very time-, skill- and effort-consuming, because he had called someone he once worked with, to help him with it. By the time you were really curious about his costume. Why did he make it such a secret?

You didn’t want to be late, so you knocked on the bathroom door and called:“ Cam, darling, are you ready soon? We’re gonna be late.“

„Yeah, yeah, just a sec, hun!“, he answered from the other side of the door, giggling like a little child.

What the hell was up with him? His costume must be really great.

You went back down the stairs and waited for him at the bottom of the staircase.

After a few minutes, you heard the bathroom door creak open upstairs and him giggling. As he came downstairs you turned around and-

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Were you dreaming?

Wth was happening.

In front of you stood your boyfriend.

As Jerome mf Valeska.

You stopped breathing for a bit and felt like passing out any second. All those butterflies you felt for the character in your teens-

They were back.

„You like it?“, Cam smirked.

You just stared at him.

Then you just broke out into loud laughter.

„Wtf Cam HAHAHAH WHAT IS THIS“

You had to grab onto your thighs for support while wheezing and laughing.

„I thought, for this Halloween, I’d go as your teenage crush.“, he joined in on your laughter.

„I can’t take this Cam omfg. It’s so weird. I can’t take you seriously with this, you know that right?“

„Nah, I think you’re just even more in love with me right now.“, he grinned proudly.

„Yeah true.“

„Sooo“, he asked, a mischievous smirk on his face.

„ You still in love with lil ol‘ me?“, he asked in his deep Jerome voice.

Your face dropped.

„There is no way you can still do that.“, you said, blushing like mad.

He began laughing again.

„ Guess your crush on him is still there.“, he grinned.

„Yeah I guess the fictional crushes of teenage girls will never leave them.“, you said, a hand now over your mouth, still in shock.

„ Then let’s make little Yn‘s teenage dream come true and let her spend an evening with her bad boyfriend, Jerome Valeska.“, he grinned, placing an arm around your hip as he started guiding you towards the front door to leave.

„You know I’ll not be able to process this the whole evening, right?“, you asked, still a bit in shock.

„Yep.“, he grinned happily.

„Maybe my hot gf will be all over me even more the whole evening.“, he said, leaning down towards your ear, then whispering.

„ You look very hot btw hun. Gotta make sure to not let my feelings take over and take you home again just so I can have you all to myself, huh?“, he smirked.

You blushed. Yn exe literally stopped working.

You had literally the best boyfriend, Cameron Monaghan, who was also Jerome Valeska today..

Wtf.

„I love you so much Cameron, you know that?“

He smiled at you.

„ If you want you could even call me Jerome or J today.“, he smirked.

„But yeah, I know that. I love you too. And I love you more.“, he smiled proudly.

„But just don’t fall for Jerome more than for me, alright?“, he asked jokingly.

„No can do.“, you laughed at him as he poked your sides and started to tickle you as a response to your sassy answer.

—————

At the party, you two leaned on the bar waiting for your drinks. Well basically he leaned with his back against the bar and you leaned with your back against his hard chest, him having his arms around you. He put his head onto your shoulder and let out a sigh, making you shoot him a questioning look.

Then he raised his voice in the Jerome tone.

„It just feels good to be back.“

You giggled.

„Just don’t start killing people for real okay?“

„Why not? I wouldn’t harm you of course, doll. You’re the Bonnie to my Clyde.“, he murmured in your ear in that raspy voice.

You laughed.

„Hell yeah I am.“

You took his hand in yours and placed a soft kiss on its back.

„And nothing’s gonna change that.“, you added, now turning your head to the side and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled, turned his head in your direction as well and kissed you on your lips, soft and gentle, the sfx make up on his lips feeling funny but also kinda real, which was astonishing.

As you pulled back, you examined every inch of his scarred face. Then you absentmindedly traced the scar where his face was „sewn on again“.

This was literally the most romntic thing Cam could’ve ever done for you and you didn’t even think about it earlier. That he could dress as Jerome.

There was a moment of silence as you two looked at each other.

„ I love you.“, you said. It was the most genuine and honest tone of yours.

„ Just please don’t get stabbed in the neck again or fall off a building. I can’t handle that shit again 8 years later. Hurt bad enough at 17.“, you smirked, rolling your eyes.

He chuckled.

„ I promise.“, he said in a playful way, but then his expression turned serious.

„I could never leave you YN, really. I love you.“

——————-

You two had an amazing evening.

BROOO IMAGINE-

Guys it’s 4:22 am and I’m sick so I really don’t give a fuck about any mistakes in this. That’s also why there aren’t any cute symbols or pictures for the aesthetic, I’m literally writing this on my phone rn. So I’ll fix that and correct them later, okay?

Thanks

Love ya <3

Bye

[blakelysco-pilot]

All Of Me

From the Love Letters Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

Jo struggles with her response to Rosie's first letter but later finds help in an unlikely friend with shared common ground. It's his second letter back-to-back, however, that stacks her worry like wobbly apple crates, ready to tumble at a moment's notice.

Read part 2 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

October 1943

My Dearest Robbie, 

Today is Halloween, so it would be remiss of me not to wish you a Happy one. I know you won’t be celebrating; not that we are either, but it’s still heartwarming to see some of the littles in the neighborhood running up and down the streets looking for sweets. I’m saving a Hershey bar for when you’re back, so that we can share it like we always do. The leaves have all turned by now, and Prospect Park is a beautiful shade of golden hues. I’ve taken to walking with your sister, as it fills a small void in my days. She’s excellent company, and somehow always has some local gossip at the ready for when I need cheering up. I couldn’t help myself and told her the story of your bicycling disaster. Please don’t be too mad at me. I hope that by now, you’ve learned to ride a bike properly, and that poor Pappy hasn’t had to fish you out of any more ditches. Please thank him for me, because I don’t know what I would have done if he had not been there to rescue you.

If I know you at all, I know that you’ve been hemming and hawing over the weather over there, but the longer it rains in England, the better I feel knowing you’re on solid ground. I’m glad to know you’re able to find some respite in the Officers Club, even if it’s just some jazz records and mediocre scotch. Good company can make all the difference and it warms my heart to know you have that in your crew and fellow officers. I’m putting my bet in now on Nash and the Red Cross girl. Having someone is important, so if he finds that in her, I’m glad for them both. Tell Pappy not to be so pessimistic though, I’m sure Nash will make her very happy. 

Speaking of having someone waiting, I paid a visit to Harry Crosby’s wife, Jean. I thought she could use a friend, so we spent an afternoon in the city, having lunch and doing some shopping. It’s lonely enough moving to a new city, but with her husband overseas, I can’t imagine how she feels. I know how I feel waiting for you, and so she must feel it tenfold. With the holidays approaching, I’ve invited her to spend Thanksgiving with us. I couldn’t bear the idea of her spending it alone. She’s a darling woman, and I agree, we will have to double with her and Harry once you’re both home. 

Sweetheart, how you could ever think that I will not worry about you while you’re over there, is a mystery. I will worry, and miss you, every single day until you’re back home. I will be holding you to that date, Robbie, and am counting the days until we’re on the dance floor, together. Until then…

Forever yours, 

Jo

Reaching for the bottle of perfume on the dresser, Jo quickly spritzed a generous helping of the floral scent on the paper in her hand, to ensure it lasted the long journey, before folding it up and sliding it into its designated envelope. Carefully, and with a delicate hand, she addressed the letter to Thorpe Abbotts Airbase. She had received Rosie’s first letter earlier in the week, and had spent that time drafting multiple responses; all of which had ended up in the waste paper basket in the corner of her bedroom. She had spent three nights mulling it over, before deciding that she should clear her head, and write as if he was sitting next to her. Well, it was not so much her deciding as it was advice from Jean Crosby. If anyone had experience in writing these types of letters, it was Jean. And so, Jo had written as if Rosie was sitting next to her; as if he was leaning across the table and telling her the details of his latest adventure with enthusiasm, and she had written back with equal vigor. 

Picking up the letter, and her purse, she made her way from the bedroom, downstairs to where her mother was having coffee with Mrs. Rosenthal. Entering the kitchen, both women ceased their discussion to greet her, her mother holding out an envelope for her. 

“Josephine, this came in the mail for you.” 

Jo gently plucked the envelope from her mothers hand, smiling when she saw the handwriting on the front was none other than Rosie’s. Carefully, she slipped it into her purse to read once she was alone. 

“Another letter so quickly?” Her mother’s grin widened. “He must miss you terribly.”

“He doesn’t write to me that frequently,” Mrs. Rosenthal joked, sending a subtle wink in Jo’s direction. “But then again, he’s not in love with me.”

“Somehow, I think he’ll always love you most, Mrs. Rosenthal, and I’m quite alright with that.” Jo smiled. 

“Where are you off to?” Her mother asked, noticing that she had her purse in hand. 

“Off to post this to Robbie, and then to meet Jean Crosby for lunch.” 

“Oh, well then, travel safely, and let her know she’s welcome to come here for dinner tonight if she wants.” 

“I’ll let her know, mom,” Jo smiled, moving to bid her mother goodbye with a quick peck to the cheek, before doing the same with Mrs. Rosenthal. “Now, you two can go back to your gossip.”

“It’s not gossip, Josephine, if we’re talking about our children.” The older woman’s voice held a lilt to it as Jo exited the kitchen. 

“Then stop planning our wedding!” Jo called back with a laugh as she exited their home and made her way out into the Brooklyn sunshine.  

The fall air was chilly, but not unbearably so as she walked down the block to the Post Office, letter in hand and a prayer in her mind that it would reach Rosie safely. She knew that the post could be unreliable, and take time to reach those stationed overseas, but she hoped against all odds that maybe her letter would get to its intended recipient a little faster than all the rest. It was silly of her to think so, after all, she wasn’t the only woman in New York who was missing her sweetheart, but this was new to her. To both of them. Beginning a romance with thousands of miles between them. Some days Jo regretted not saying anything sooner, wondering if they would have had time before he shipped out. But, then she thinks to herself that they did have time; years together growing up, and learning the ways of each other inside and out, and for that she would always be thankful. 

A short cab ride later, and Jo was knocking on Jean Crosby’s front door. When the door swung open, Jean on the other side, the two women greeted each other as if they were old friends. A kinship that was shared in the dark times of war, but somehow found a ray of light to brighten their days. 

“Jo! I was starting to think you got lost!” Her friend teased. 

“No,” Jo grinned, red lips stretched into a smile. “I had to stop by the post and drop off Robbie’s letter.”

“Finally finished it, then?”

“I did. And just in time to reply to the one I got this morning.”

“Back to back?” Jean looked at her, eyebrow raised in what Jo could only describe as concern. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jean sighed, stopping mid way of pulling her white gloves on, to face Jo with a serious expression. 

“Well…”

“You don’t think…”

“The only time I get back to back letters from Bing, is when something bad is happening over there.”

“Jean…”

“If it came from him, he’s fine, honey.” she reached out, hand coming down over Jo’s in reassurance. 

“It’s in my purse,” Jo confessed. “I haven’t read it yet.”

“Do you want to go sit and read it before we leave?”

“I suppose I’d feel better if I knew for sure he was alright.”

Nodding, Jean pulled off her gloves, and dropped her purse back on the credenza by the door, before guiding Jo further into the house.

Once settled in the living room, Jean began to step away, to allow Jo the privacy that a letter from your man overseas deserved, when Jo’s hand shot out to stop her. 

“Could you…?”

“Of course.” Jean smiled softly, settling into the sofa next to her, but with enough space not to read over her shoulder. 

Jo carefully opened the envelope, fingers trembling as she slid the paper from its confines. Unfolding it, her eyes scanned over the paper quickly, before releasing a shuddering breath of relief. 

“He’s alright,” her hand flew to her chest as the words escaped her. “He’s somewhere called the Flak House?”

“Never heard of that,” Jean looked confused. “What is it?”

My Dearest Jo,

Sweetheart, I can’t promise this letter will be as happy as my last one. What I can promise is that I’m alright, and spending the next week in the English countryside at a place called the Flak House. It’s a place used to help soldiers rest after rough missions. Jo, it’s been three rough ones, back to back, with what felt like no end in sight. I will spare you the details, because you shouldn’t have to read about all of the blood, and horrors, but I do sadly need to tell you that we lost Herbert Nash on the first mission. It happened so quickly, it didn’t register until I had my feet on the ground again. I broke the news to Helen, his Red Cross girl, and I pray that what I saw on her face, is something no one will ever have to see on yours. 

One day, maybe, I will give you the details of our third mission, but for now, I know I should be counting my blessings. And enjoying this time, because sweetheart, this estate truly is something, but the kind of something I would want to be enjoying with you. Together, in the warm sun, reading our favorite books, or rowing on the lake. The boys are enjoying their week of R&R, but I can’t find it in me to relax. Though, I suppose you knew that already. Nobody knows me better than you, Jo, and it’s a time like this that I wish I had you near. 

I couldn’t sleep, which is the reason for this letter, and I think a part of it is that I needed to make sure you knew I was alright. The other part of me, in some way, needed to get this all off my chest. I’m sorry for burdening you with these ugly truths. I’ll try not to do it often, and I hope that it doesn’t become a habit with every mission, that I’m left rattled to my core with fear. I can hear you telling me to take care of myself, and honey, I promise I’m trying. By the time this makes it to you back home, I will be long gone from my stay here, and back on base. I’m sorry for the short letter, darling. I promise the next one will be longer, and happier. Until then…

All of my love, always

Robbie

Jo finished reading, her stomach dropping as she turned to Jean, to confirm that the other woman had in fact, been right. 

“Jo, what is it?”

“He couldn’t say much, spared most of the details, but he said it was rough up there.”

“Is he alright?”

“Robbie’s fine,” Jo confirmed. “But, Herbert Nash, is dead.”

“Oh that poor Red Cross girl!” She gasped, hand coming to cover her mouth in shock. “Didn’t they just meet?”

“They did,” Jo nodded. “I told Robbie I was rooting for the pair in the letter I just posted.”

“How could you have known?”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel sore over it.”

“I know you do,” Jean sympathized. The woman had enough sense to stand, and pull Jo up with her, knowing if she didn’t get them out of the house, her friend would likely spiral with worry. “Now come on, put that letter back in your purse, and let’s get out of the house for a bit.”

With a sigh, Jo nodded, and carefully put the letter back in the safety of her purse, before turning and following Jean towards the front door. For now, she could breathe easy, knowing that Rosie was safe. She knew that his mind was likely full of dark clouds, replaying events of the damage over and over, causing him grief and sadness; it brought with it a melancholy feeling that she wasn’t with him, and couldn’t be there for him to lean on. She knew he had his crew, and now, Harry Crosby, and she prayed that he had the sense to use that to his advantage. 

Jo was grateful that she had Jean. Their afternoon out kept her mind off of the letter that was burning a hole in her purse, and the man who was an ocean away, suffering the loss of a friend. They had stopped by the Automat for lunch, before taking the train uptown for some window shopping, and at Jo’s insistence, a new hat for Jean. By the time she had gotten back home, her mother was already cleaning up dinner. Her father was in the living room, the radio on while he listened to the nightly news. 

“Josephine, you missed dinner.” Her mother lamented at the sound of the front door closing behind her. 

“I’m sorry, mom,” Jo sighed, entering the kitchen and sliding into one of the empty chairs. “We got a late start on our lunch.”

Turning from her spot at the sink, Mrs. Harris surveyed her daughter, before promptly shutting the water and moving to sit across from her. 

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Jean and I just had a busy day is all.”

“Josephine, don’t lie to me.” She spoke with the authority of a mother who meant business, and Jo couldn’t help the few tears that escaped from behind her eyes. 

“Robbie’s letter,” she swiftly wiped away the first stray tear. “Oh mom, he lost one of his closest friends!”

Mrs. Harris let out a shuddering breath at Jo’s admission. The fear she had felt at the sight of her daughter's tears made her think the absolute worst for the young man who had become part of their family, and stolen her daughter’s heart. 

“Who was it?” Mrs. Harris asked. 

“Herbert Nash. He trained with Robbie in Texas, and he was killed on their first mission.”

“May his soul rest in peace.” Mrs. Harris made the sign of the cross. 

“Robbie said it was so bad, three flights, back to back. He didn’t say much else, just that it was too much blood and horror to share.”

“Jesus, that poor boy.”

Jo fished the letter from her purse, sliding it across the table to her mother, giving a small nod for her to read it. 

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“Just the once.” Jo smiled slightly. 

“Well, alright then.”

Mrs. Harris pulled the paper from the envelope, and then the only sound in the room was the breathing of mother and daughter, and the muffled sound of the radio coming from the living room. The pair sat together until Jo’s mother folded the paper back up, and handed it back to her. The silence was growing thicker the longer they sat there, neither sure of what to say. When Jo’s father joined them in the kitchen, the two women seemed to snap out of their daze. 

“What’s going on in here then?”

“She’s got another letter from Robert.”

“Didn’t you just get one? Is he alright?” 

Jo nor her mother missed the recognition in Mr. Harris’ eyes. Having served in The Great War, he knew what could be in any one of the letters his daughter received, and he hoped for her sake, that none of them would make her cry the way she was now. 

“He’s fine. Lost a man during his first mission, and was sent to an estate for rest.” Her mother filled him in for her. 

“Jesus, already? Didn’t the boy just get over there?” Her father looked shocked. 

“He said it was really bad, dad.” Jo spoke up, finding her voice again. 

“Well, the best thing you can do is be there for him, even though you’re far away right now.” Her mother let her hand fall to cover hers, eyes filled with the understanding of a woman whose husband had been away once before. 

“Your mother was what kept me going during the war,” Her father agreed. “I can promise you, Robert will take your words with him up there when he’s flying.”

“Go now,” her mother ushered her out of the kitchen. “Clean yourself up and write him back. You’ll sleep better tonight knowing you got your feelings out.”

She felt heavy as she stood from her chair, her legs like lead as she made her way upstairs to her bedroom, numbness encompassing her until she had the door shut securely behind her. The words blood and horror swirling around in her mind over and over, like the edges of a cyclone that showed no signs of slowing down. Is that what this was? A storm that would continue to speed up, with nothing to stop it, until the last bomb was dropped, the last round fired? She wasn’t sure, but she turned the ideas over and over, words sticking together in her head as she changed for bed, removed her makeup, until finally, she pulled out the chair at her desk to begin her reply to Rosie. 

My Dearest Robbie, 

Sweetheart, I don’t think there are enough words for me to express just how sorry I am for you after opening your last letter. To lose Nash so quickly, and in such a way. I hope that it didn’t pain you too deeply to break that news to his Red Cross sweetheart, and that she is able to find some happiness again soon. Do not apologize for the length of your last letter. Every letter from you is something I treasure, whether it’s three words, or three pages. I will always reply, so long as you’ll have me. 

I’d like to hear more about the Estate you spent the week at, if you’re willing to talk about it. It does sound like the kind of place I would love to spend time with you, though, anywhere you are, is somewhere I want to be. Maybe we can escape somewhere lush and green once you return, and spend our days under the sun, with nothing but time on our hands. Until then, yes, you were right, I do wish you’d take care of yourself. I know you will, but that sometimes it takes a bit of pushing. Don’t try and shoulder the burden all alone, Robbie. You have people who will shoulder it with you; Pappy isn’t just your co-pilot in the sky. Try and remember that. 

I’d like to try and make you smile, if only for a moment. I found our mothers gossiping at the kitchen table this afternoon as I headed out. They claim it’s not gossip if they’re talking about their children; I suspect they’re plotting as usual. Speaking of your mother, try and squeeze in an extra letter for her, if you can. She misses you, though she claims to be alright with you writing to me more than her, I know she’d appreciate an extra piece of mail and to know you’re doing well. Don’t give her too much grief for the gossip, you know she can’t help it.

I’m counting the days until you’re here again, Robbie, and we can carry on as we were meant to; together. Until that time comes, I’m sending you all of my love. 

All of me, always

Jo

Read Part 4 Here

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @rowdy-redhead @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @at-1800-hours @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85

[christmassavestheyear]

hello!!! monthly recs just dropped, and BOY have i read some good ones this november. you can check out this months 911 rec list on the tag, and check back at the end of december for next month's! this is the first time i've actually done these as a formatted, planned thing, but i've given out some rec lists before. this month we've got mostly larry, but a little ziam sprinkled in there, even some qpr zouis!

🎤 I've Been Waiting (To Let Go Of Myself) || onlyangelolivia harry styles/louis tomlinson || 2.3k After a drunken night in 2024, Harry and Louis get back together for the first time since 2017. It brings about some questions about their relationship and how they'll go forward - if they go forward at all.

🎤 Still Dreamin' Bout You || @ireallysawanangel harry styles/louis tomlinson || 3.1k Harry doesn’t pay much attention to football. That’s proven even more apparent when the biggest football star in the UK walks into his juice bar and he doesn’t even notice. He does start to take notice when that football star keeps coming back.

🎤 limelight || @dehydratedpool harry styles/louis tomlinson || 20k During his first semester at Boston University circa 1989, a shy, socially awkward Harry meets a kind, outspoken Louis. In an attempt to show Louis how he feels, he creates a mixtape of songs. But Harry’s deep anxieties cloud him, and he can’t seem to understand whether or not Louis even wants him around, let alone likes him back. BLFF #175: 80s/90s AU (preferably high school or uni) in which a pining Harry burns Louis a CD with a bunch of love songs on it. With a side of angst please.

🎤 I'd Choose You Over Sleep || @homosociallyyours harry styles/louis tomlinson || 2.1k If there's one thing Louis values, it's a bit of sleeping in on the weekends. There's very little she'll let come between her and those few precious hours of the day. Harry might just make her shift her priorities. At least a little.

🎤 Jealous Hearts and Silk Nights || MoneyboxD zayn malik/liam payne || 4k Zayn and Liam show up to dinner mad at each other, but the night takes a turn when a flirty waiter sets his sights on Liam. Zayn? Not having it. Liam? Loving the chaos a little too much. Between jealous glares, smug smirks, and whispered promises, it’s clear this couple knows how to keep things interesting—even when they’re mad.

🎤 this cage was once just fine || @daggerandrose harry styles/louis tomlinson || 3.3k Harry expected Louis’ camaraderie to last only as long as they lived in the same dorm, but when Louis quite literally yelled across the dining hall for Harry to come sit with him the next school year, Harry was pleased to find that Louis’ friendship was more than just forced proximity. Now, hundreds of texts, FaceTimes, and even a week long summer vacation later, Harry and Louis are practically inseparable. Or the one where Harry pines for Louis

🎤 Fall and Rise of 1D || mysquitelouis harry styles/louis tomlinson || 12.5k Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have always shared a complicated bond, hidden beneath years of friendship and tension. As One Direction’s “On the Road Again” tour comes to an end, the band unravels—only to discover that management orchestrated their breakup with hidden contracts. Fueled by betrayal, Louis and Harry take legal action, uncovering shocking truths about Zayn’s departure and the manipulation that tore them apart. As the band fights to reunite, Niall and Liam come forward with heartfelt apologies, and Louis and Harry are forced to confront their feelings for each other. Can they rebuild their careers—and their love—while navigating the chaos of a broken band?

🎤 Breathe Me In || niallshouse harry styles/louis tomlinson || 2.6k A cold-induced asthma attack lands Harry in A&E and Louis is there to comfort him.

🎤 Trouble up (in hotel rooms) || @larryisinlove harry styles/louis tomlinson || 9.8k “Isn't this room 82?” Louis asked. Because he was confused, because that wasn't Liam, because those serene but serious green eyes intimidated him and because he had never, in all his life, felt as embarrassed as he did in that moment, and he couldn't think of anything else to say. “No,” replied the brown-haired man, in a hoarse voice; perhaps because he had just woken up, or because he was upset, or perhaps a mixture of both. “This is room 28”. “Oh” was all Louis could answer, as he wished that the carpet would swallow him up and make him disappear from probably the most uncomfortable moment of his life.

🎤 Maroon - The Lips I Used To Call Home || Anonymous harry styles/louis tomlinson || 4k The air in the apartment was cold, the cracked window was letting in the bite of winter but they didn’t feel it yet. Their skin was still warm, their bodies humming with the aftershocks of what had just happened. And yet, there was always the question, the one Harry couldn’t escape no matter how far he tried to run from it: Is it really over? Or a Maroon inspired one shot where everything’s uncertain and a tiny bit angsty. Really though, it’s not sad.

🎤 Special Instructions || @haztobegood zayn malik/louis tomlinson || 2.2k He didn’t mean for the drawings to become a thing. But they have. Every Tuesday night around eight o’clock, a take out order from Louis T. appears. Each order has new special instructions, requesting some change to the carefully curated dishes that Zayn has concocted. And every Tuesday night, Zayn doodles a response to those special instructions.

🎤 I'd Rather You (Hold Me) || @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed QPR zayn malik/louis tomlinson || 14.1k It’s just - this isn’t like them. It isn’t like Zayn to dodge his calls for days, not unless he’s seriously incapacitated or dead, but if that were the case, Louis would’ve heard. Because Louis is his emergency contact, for one, and both their families know how much they mean to one another. Someone would’ve called, if something had happened, unless Zayn was dead in his own house, and, oh God, what if Zayn’s dead in his own house and Louis has been mentally calling him a dickhead while he’s rotting on the bathroom floor? Spoiler: Zayn isn't dead. There is however, suddenly a baby.

STATS: # of fics: 12 # of authors: 12 # of words read: 79.5k

[arianatwycross]

Not so secret

Something I wrote to get myself out of writers block. A little jily secret relationship fic with a grumpy Sirius!

“Why are your lips pink?”  

James’ eyes widened a fraction, his fingers brushing his lips softly. “Pink? Aren’t they supposed to be pink?”  

Sirius narrows his eyes, “Not that pink.”  

James shakes his head and ignores the comment, turning around to head towards the bathroom.  

“Where were you anyway?” Sirius calls out.  

“Quidditch practice, you know that.”  

He doesn’t hear Sirius’ reply, but he does get a glance of a familiar stain of pink on his lips in the mirror.  

Shit.  

He brushes it off his lips in a hurry before stripping off his quidditch gear and slipping into the shower. He doesn’t want to wash the smell of her off him, but he must keep the ruse up.  

Changing into his school uniform, he heads back out to find Sirius arguing with Remus and Pete. His light eyes narrowed as he gestured theatrically.  

“What’s going on?” James demands. He’s used to his mates bickering, but Remus looks a little too flustered for it to not be serious.  

“Nothing.” Sirius throws at him angrily before storming out of the dorm room. James tilts an eyebrow up and waits for Remus to explain.  

“He’s just in a mood.”  

“That wasn’t just one of his moods, Moony. What’s up?”  

“Um-” Remus looks over at Pete, the two of them share an odd look before he shrugs, “Why don’t you ask him later, when he calms down?”  

James doesn’t like this. He hates not knowing, hates being unaware, especially with his friends.  

“Is he ok? Did something happen with...?” They don’t talk about Regulus enough for James to say his name.  

“No - it’s not but um, well it’s not really my business to say.”  

James frowns, but let's Remus and Pete go before he can demand more information.  

He finds Lily waiting for him outside class, an odd occurrence, so odd he stares at her blankly for a few seconds before he realises she’s speaking to him.  

“James?”  

His name wakes him up.  

“Lil? What are you doing?” He looks around frantically.  

She rolls her eyes, “You’re terrible at this.”  

“I’ve had a weird day.” He admits.  

She inspects his face, before replying. “Could we talk...later?”  

“Talk?” He raises a pointed eyebrow, a smirk growing on his face.  

She tuts but the corner of her lip twists into a smile. “We ‘talked’ enough this morning. Enough that we might have been seen...”  

James feels his cheeks heat, “What?” he chokes.  

“Look just meet me later? Usual time?”  

“Yeah...”  

She gives him a shy smile before turning on her heels and walking away. He watches her dark red ponytail bounce behind her, before his eyes drop to her ass. He can’t help it.  

“One would think, you two were going at it.” A familiar voice speaks up from behind him.  

He turns around to find his best mate, giving him a pointed look.  

“Huh?”  

“You lied to me.” Sirius adds.  

James blanches.  

“I saw you two this morning, that’s what she was talking about. You lied to me. About her.”  

James can hear the betrayal in Sirius’ tone and his stomach flips.  

“Mate, it’s new. I was going to tell you.”  

“How new?”  

“Five days?”  

This makes Sirius laugh, so much that James can’t help but smile. 

“Was this what you were mad at this morning?” James presses.  

Sirius shakes his head, “Partly, and then Moony had to hit me with his wise words.”  

“Wise words?”  

“I’ll tell you after you tell me how this happened and why the fuck you lied to me?!”  

James runs a hand through his hair as he grimaces, he nods to an empty corridor, aware of the all too nosey eyes and ears coming from the nearby classrooms.  

The two head off, side by side, James wondering himself how he ended up in the current situation.  

“She kissed me, after the party on Saturday...”  

“And?” Sirius presses, James can hear the excitement in his tone and smiles at the ground.  

“Fuck Pads, you should have seen me. It was like I’d never kissed a girl before. I just stood there. She kissed me, and I stood there.”  

Sirius laughs.  

“She looked so heartbroken when she pulled away, all I could do was grab her back and kiss her properly. We – uh, we didn’t stop for hours.”  

“You just kissed?” Sirius waggles his eyebrows, making James blush uncontrollably.  

“She would kill me for telling you, but no. But that’s all you’re getting!”  

A tense quiet fall over the two of them before Sirius asks, “But why did you lie?”  

“It was my idea, to keep it quiet. So don’t blame her!” 

“Why?” Sirius says so softly that it makes James stop.  

“You saw what happened to Marissa right? Because she started seeing Benji?” 

James shudders as he remembers finding Marissa circled by a group of Syltherins just weeks ago. The poor fourth year white as a sheet as she faced a group of boys just because she was a muggle born dating a pure blood.  

“Oh.”  

“I can’t let them do that to Lily. She’s already on their radar.”  

Sirius nods, “Ok. I get it. But you didn’t have to lie to us.”  

“I know.” James nods solemnly. “I kind of wanted Lily to myself for a little bit. It was fun sneaking around.”  

“You can still bloody sneak around with her. With us knowing, at least we can reserve the dorm room for you two.” Sirius winks but the gesture still seems slightly solemn.  

“I know mate, sorry. I guess I just got too caught up in trying to keep her safe.”  

“And in her pants...”  

This makes James snort and push his mate into a nearby suit of Armour.  

“Did you two....” Sirius waggles his eyebrows as James helps him up from the floor with a grin.  

“No... but we might as well have.”  

“Mate!” Sirius punches him in the shoulder, “You weren’t even going to bloody tell me you lost your virginity!”  

“I fucking haven’t. Yet! But fuck, be quiet.” James' eyes bounce around the corridor.  

Sirius laughs, “You wouldn’t last two seconds with her...your dream girl!” Sirius teases, pressing a hand to his chest theatrically.  

“Shut up.” James scoffs. “But uh, she wants to talk tonight, I think about you finding out...so maybe you could keep the boys out of the room for an hour or two?” 

Sirius smirks, “You really need an hour? I’m betting ten minutes.”  

James shoves Sirius into another suit of Armour and this time leaves him to pick himself up off the ground.  

[chloesreality]

IM ABOUT TO EXPLODE OMG

well duh she didn’t know…that was the point, her reaction had to be raw for klaus to believe it. but I think elena was more mad that Stefan actually went to those lengths with her all to scare klaus, Stefan was wrong in this scene, of course he was! but he had every right to want revenge on klaus for what he took from him and in that moment Stefan wasn’t thinking straight he put all his thoughts and feelings into one emotion. His hatred for klaus, (and even elena thought it was outa pocket for stefan because she cries about it after in the scene) and IMMEDIATELY Stefan deeply regrets his poor decision making and he punishes himself for it, he distances himself from elena, he stops drinking blood to make himself weak so he wouldn’t have the power to do that again, he apologised to elena, made it up to her by helping her, respecting her choices. Elena forgived him, but Stefan still can’t forgive himself and that’s the beauty of Stefan, he’s such a beautiful soul at heart. and Elena knows that, she’s seen it and even when she tries to stir some feelings in Stefan, he doesn’t give in because he doesn’t forgive himself. “I hurt you” “If I let myself care, all I feel is pain” just because Elena didn’t know his intentions in that moment, she understands afterwards and she lets it go, yes she was probably still shaken up, a little sad, but her heart lies with Stefans so it’s in her blood to forgive him.

AND THIS IS WHERE I EXPLODE. I WENT TO THE COMMENT SECTION.

EUAGHHHHHH stop I can’t do this anymore…(jk I can do this in my sleep) it’s eating me alive that people don’t look at context and actions as well as dialogue 😭

Stefan showed how sorry he was. as I explained above.

Damon begs. he might have waited but he doesn’t show he’s sorry, he just turns up at her house, has a breakdown to show how sorry he is.

+ what I don’t get is how was Stefan not sincere in his apology? how. How. HOW.

just because he didn’t outright say “oh Elena I’m so sorry” doesn’t make it any less of an apology. In fact his apology is better because he’s showing he’s sorry but he’s also showing his burdens, his guilt, the overwhelming feeling of care and love he has for Elena, and it pains him.

and Elenas already forgiven him because he showed his remorse at the mikealson ball when he helped her do what she wanted to do. so she doesn’t give up on him (and has never done so, because as I said earlier, she loves him so much it’s instinct, it’s in her blood, one soul they share, twin flame and all that)

this is literally from tiktok and I still felt like I needed to explain and express how I feel about it lmaoo

[askinkiskarma]

The Archer | Chapter VI: The Great War

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: Your secret meeting with your dad brings out the worst in you and your mate. The RDA go after one more tulkun in the beginning of the biggest fight of your lives - for your lives.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 9.7k words

Warnings/notes: lots of angst, mentions of death, blood, violence, cursing, SPOILERS for ATWOW

A/N: I apologise in advance for the next few chapters, but I am feeling feelings and you have to feel them with me!! This chapter took a little longer than expected, but I am trying to not kill myself juggling everything I currently have going on. As always, thank you so so much for engaging with the story, and replying, liking, reblogging, following etc etc. (all the good things). Ily all and can't wait to share the rest w you soon xoxoxo

You drew up some good faith treaties, I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely, but diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin’, screamin' from the crypt

Telling me to punish you for things you never did, so I justified it

You were hyperventilating a little, entering the tent that you now called home and revelling in the silence, which you needed desperately to make sense of what just happened. They did it, they killed a tulkun. You’ve heard from the Metkayina that they were doing that, far away from the village, but now they did it here. You knew instantly it was a ploy to drive Jake out, drive you all out, and you wondered meekly if Jake would answer. Even if he didn’t, you didn’t think the Metkayina would just let this slide. Your dad, your dad left you a message. And you lied about it. Why would you do that? What in tarnation possessed you to do something so stupid? You lied to Jake, to Neytiri… to Neteyam. 

You were mad, mad at Jake that it had to come to this point. You told him, you fucking told him months ago. You should have never run, ever. You told him they would find you eventually, you told him innocent beings would get hurt as a result of hiding. Death would follow you wherever you went because the RDA wouldn’t just give up, and they had very little to lose. People were disposable to them. You, on the other hand, all had everything to lose. 

You were mad at your father, for yet another atrocious act. You were mad that he desecrated any good association you had with his memory once again and made you hate him, hate yourself for having any connection to this cruel, sick, twisted individual. You were mad at your mother, who chose him, who allowed him to be your father, who protected and defended his honour and memory your entire life and in death, and you wondered what spell he put on her that she was so so blind about this man. 

You should just tell them. Tell your family and take them with you and just kill him. Your heart sank as you considered that he might kill them on the spot if he notices anyone else with you. Maybe they could take the ilu? Maybe you and Jake would be enough to take him down. You didn’t like how much your brain was screaming in pain at the thought, at watching your father, that you’ve never even met before, lying dead on the ground, bleeding out in front of you. Why should you care? Why do you care? Why did you lie? It was painful, near damn unbearable having to admit to yourself that you wanted to see him, you wondered what he had to say for himself, this man that has been an almost mythical thing in your life, that gave you self-loathing issues you can’t outrun and haven’t outgrown, this man, this man, this man. 

Maybe it was a trap. Maybe he wanted to draw you out to kidnap you, to use you as leverage to draw Jake out. Maybe he knew from Spider how close you were to the Sullys, knew you were bound to the hip with Lo’ak, knew you were mated with Neteyam, and that you would perhaps bring them along and he can get a Sully kid to threaten and manipulate the former Olo’eyktan. It was a good plan, you thought, except you would go alone, and you were more than capable of killing anyone who tried to get in your way. Your dad would learn that soon enough, as you were determined to finish this, once and for all, and free yourself of this burden and this nightmare that has plagued you far longer than anything else has.

Neteyam came into the tent before anyone else did, looking at you curiously. 

“Are you alright? You seemed quite shaken after seeing the tulkun.”

Calm yourself. You couldn’t lie to Neteyam. It was one thing having kept that you were sick, it was one thing to lie by omission. You couldn’t lie to your mate, but you had to try. 

“Can you blame me?”

He sighed, then approached you, pulling your body into a warm hug. His hand went to the back of your head, softly stroking your hair with the pad of his thumb in a calming motion. The guilt was eating at you, deep and unpleasant at his trusting, loving nature. You sniffled into his chest, soft tears escaping you and landing on him. You were crying because you were scared, because you felt like you were betraying your family, the only family you’ve ever known for a man who could be killing you tomorrow, or using you to kill them. You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

“It’s alright, Atan. We will be alright. Dad will come up with a plan.”

You didn’t say anything, afraid that any words out of your mouth will be a dead giveaway and Neteyam will be able to see right through you, as he usually could. 

The evening was quiet and tense, as your family returned to the tent after helping Ronal and Tonowari. There will be a funeral for Ro’a, and traditional rituals will take most of the morning tomorrow as a final farewell to the tulkun and her calf. Luckily, Tuk slept in between Neyriti and Jake tonight, and with a big lump in your throat and a thumping heart, you went to sleep nestled in Neteyam’s embrace. 

You waited patiently for everyone to be fast asleep around you, room filled with deep, regular breaths. You knew as soon as Neteyam fell asleep, as he twitched when he did, then started snoring softly in your ear. They were all light sleepers, except for Tuk and Lo’ak, trained soldiers, ready at a moment’s notice for trouble, ready for battle. You had to be careful, you had to put all that Na’vi stealth training to good use. 

It took a while, but eventually you made it out, carrying a handgun that you managed to remove silently from the tent, without having alerted anyone, and pushed passed the village into the mangrove forest where Neyn was. When you were sure you were past the point anyone could have heard you, you let out your calling cry, and you watched as your beautiful banshee made her way to you, cooing gently at your sight.

“Did I wake you, sweet girl? I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

You got on her, making Tsaheylu, and felt concern in her as she took you away in the dead of night, and without your mate to accompany you. She was a little scared, as she was very rarely on her own, Seze always keeping her company on such late nocturnal rides. 

You rode for a while, loving the feeling of the warm air on your face, loving being back on your ikran, that you used to fly with every day in your old life and you sighed soundlessly, knowing an ilu will never compare to this feeling right here, to this beautiful creature you knew was your spirit sister. You thought about Neyn, and how you would feel if you lost her, if she was killed, and you felt her wobble a little mid air as the intense emotions on your mind engulfed you both. You tried to calm yourself for her, so she could keep a steady pace and a straight path. She was here, she was okay, there was nothing to worry about. 

As was made clear in the crude note, about 10 kilometres east of the village was a small island with nothing on it that you could reasonably see except a deserted beach and a couple mangroves. It was small enough to know it was empty and safe, big enough to shield you both from any suspecting eyes. 

A man was waiting for you. An Avatar, he was tall and muscular, dressed in the same camo outfit as that night months ago, the night you almost died at Alien hands, just like so many Na’vi did before you. He was beautiful, you thought. Even in this form, you could recognise the traits you got from him, and you knew then anyone would be able to tell you were related, no matter which body you inhabited. 

“So it’s true.” You heard yourself saying, trying to reconcile the thought that this man was indeed your father, brought back from the dead. 

“What exactly are you? Are you an Avatar? You’re not controlling a body with your mind through a neurolink, so I guess Avatar is a bad name for it. Abomination would be my preferred trademark name, if you’re taking suggestions for T-shirts or action figures.” 

He wasn’t speaking, just looking at you intently, and you swore you saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. He came closer to you. Your hand picked up the gun you had tucked in your loincloth and pointed it straight at his face. 

Your thumb went to the hammer, that you pulled down. With the gun loaded and your index finger on the trigger, you saw the man flinch briefly, but he recovered immediately and continued to stare at you, at your face and features. 

“You have your mother’s eyes.” 

Your hand slightly trembled on the gun. 

“Stop. Whatever father daughter reunion you had in mind, you’re gonna be disappointed. I’m here to make you answer for your crimes.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you. Fuck, that’s where you got that from. 

“If you were here to make me answer for anything, you would’ve brought Jake Sully with you, or any of the kids you were with that night.” 

“You mean the night you almost killed me?” 

“Also you had no way of knowing this wasn’t a trap, but you came alone anyway. You put yourself in harm’s way to meet me here in secret. Just like I did.”

You don’t really have a comeback for that. So maybe he wasn’t some jarhead dropout after all. Didn’t matter. He’d be dead in a few minutes anyway. 

“I know you must have a million questions, just like I do. Can you please lower the gun so we can talk?” 

“I only have one question for you. How do you sleep at night?” Your eyes welled up, angry tears like needles, prodding, begging to be released. “You killed a Tulkun. Just like you killed so many Na’vi. How do you live with yourself?”

“I didn’t kill the Tulkun -“

“Do you think you’re gonna get away with this on a fucking technicality? Do you think that telling me it was all Quaritch is going to make this fucking better somehow?” 

He looked pained for a moment, gaze shifting from your face to the ground. He looked embarrassed. 

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” 

A silent sob escaped your lips. “Why? That was someone’s spirit sister. She was a beautiful creature, she didn’t deserve to die.” 

“Quaritch wants to bait you out in the open. He hoped that if he did that, you would attack.” 

You hissed loudly. “And what did you do? Watch?”

He recoiled a little at your words, embarrassment still ever present on his face. 

“Pretty much.” 

“That’s just as bad. Inaction is just as bad.”

“Inaction is necessary when you’re using them to find a daughter you have never met. I had to take that risk, I had to say nothing, and I don’t fucking regret it. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Not for long. I have nothing to say to you.”

“You do. I know you do, because you’re here. Please, just give me a chance. I need a chance.”

He sounded desperate and your welled-up eyes stung now, trying so hard to keep the tears in, trying to be strong, trying to not humour him, to not show him that this was tearing you apart, tearing apart all of the stitches of your patched up pretty new blue heart.

“Please, put the gun down.” Your lips trembled and fingers twitched on the trigger, and with a loud curse, you lowered your arm. 

“You know, I could have killed you that night. I killed two of your little friends, had you in my shot. It would have been an easy kill.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Your eyes moved from him to somewhere behind him, thinking hard, trying to justify it to yourself as much as him. It took a few minutes of introspection to figure out you had nothing.

“I don’t know.”

He moved from where he was and sat down by the beach, in a tiny enclosure that was shielded from areal view by the trees, but still overlooked the beautiful sea, flowing back and forth with soothing waves. He looked up at you expectantly, and you moved to a rock a little further away from him, facing his body, prepared for any possibility. He sighed.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“So, how did this...” You pointed with your gun, that you unloaded for the moment, all over his blue body. “...come to be?”

“When I first came to Pandora, part of the contract stated that if I die, I give permission for them to put my consciousness in an Avatar body so they can revive me in case they need me again. They did the tests and took the chip that contains…well, me… right before the last battle.”

“Why would you agree to that?”

“I didn’t really have a choice. I needed the job, I would have signed anything, done anything they asked.”

“Why?”

He didn’t look at you as he spoke, but to the distant sea, fiddling with his fingers. 

“I had a daughter. Back on Earth. Her name was Sarah. She was everything to me, and she got sick. I worked for the Air Force at the time, but they let me go after I sustained an injury in the war they said deemed me unfit for service. The money I was getting on vet benefits was not enough, not enough to save her,  not enough to matter. Then I found a job offer for the RDA, a mission to a beautiful far away planet. The pay was phenomenal, and I knew I was good enough to be accepted. I had accolades up the wazoo, and was desperate - exactly what they needed. They gave me the first pay check before we took off, and I had to have faith that the money was going to be enough to save my baby girl. When I came out of cryo, six years later, I found out she had died.”

You saw light reflecting a tear dropping on his face, and your heart hurt painfully in your chest. You have wondered for years, your whole life, what could have possibly gotten this man to give up a life on Earth for such a despicable cause, and now that you knew, you didn’t know if it was relieving you of your guilt or not. On one hand it did, because it was as good of an excuse as it got, but on the other hand, it amplified it at the horrid ways you have thought about your dad all these years. You thought him a cold-hearted killer, a monster. Turns out, just like Jake, just like Neteyam, just like you, he was just willing to give up his own life, his peace of mind, for someone he loved. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He smiled a sorrowful smile at you. “It was a long time ago. But anyway, when I found out, I was in pieces. Whatever heart I had left, my little baby took with her. I was jaded and broken, and wanted nothing to do with this world. But these men and women, the soldiers I met, they became my family in time. They pulled me out of a very dark place, and in turn I gave them my undying loyalty and whatever little was left of my soul. I knew then I would protect them with my life, and with the life of the Na’vi, if needs be. It wasn’t right, but it is who I am. Who I’ve been since as long as I remember. A soldier, an army man. I fight for my country, I fight for the job and for the squad, and I don’t complain, and I don’t question it. It was a good way of living, easy to digest, it helped me sleep at night.”

“And then I met your mother.” His smile changed from one filled with sadness and pain to a happy one, a melancholic one, filled with love and wonder. “She was a shock to the system, to every system. She was kind, and loving, smart and curious, soft and patient, but also the most badass, brave, strong person I knew. It was such a complex mixture, I didn’t think anyone like that could exist. But she did. And, somehow, she saw me. She saw more in me than what I thought I was, she saw who I could be, who I think I wanted to be all my life without ever realising. I fell so deeply in love with her, I could feel my heart beating again. She was everything to me.”

The tears were falling freely down your face now, and you didn’t have it in you to stop it, didn’t have any power over your own mind, who had trouble understanding what it was going through, all the information it had to come to terms with in such a short span of time. 

“Spider said she died.” His voice broke as he said that, and you tried to compose yourself from becoming a sobbing mess.

“Yeah… she did. When I was ten. Cancer.” 

“Ovarian?”

Your eyes snapped to him, not being able to stop the shock on your face. 

“Her sister and grandmother died of ovarian cancer, too.”

You didn’t know that. She has never told you that. 

“Are you an Avatar? I didn’t think it was possible for them to make Avatars on Pandora.” 

“I’m not an Avatar, technically. I used to be, but I did the consciousness transfer, just like Jake did almost 20 years ago.”

“Why?”

You sighed loudly. You didn’t know whether you could trust him, whether he would use the information you gave him to betray and hurt you. But at the same time, you have waited for this chance your whole life. You have wanted to speak to the man in front of you, wanted to bond with your dad that you never even met, and so you had to try. 

“Multiple reasons. From an objective point of view, my human body wasn’t made to survive this world. I was stuck in a lab for 18 years, or stuck to an oxygen mask. It wasn’t ideal. From a subjective point of view, I fell in love. With this planet, with the Na’vi… with a boy. My mother and the scientists made me this Avatar so I can live my life the way it was meant to be lived: giving myself fully to it. So when I felt ready, I committed by becoming one of the people for life.”

“There has to be more to that story. I know we don’t have a lot of time, but please, just tell me everything you can.”

So you did. You spared little detail about your mostly miserable existence, hoping that it would make him feel like shit that he didn’t try harder to be part of your mother’s life, that he didn’t forsake his kinship bond with the murderous soldiers and ally himself with the Na’vi when he had the choice, perhaps ensuring his survival, and the presence of another parent in your life.

“Jake found me in the woods, and brought me to Norm and Max, but then my heart stopped for 30 minutes. In those 30 minutes, I saw her. I saw mum, and she told me the truth. That the cancer wasn’t what really killed her. What killed her was your death, that she was never able to get over. She was so depressed, so lost, she chose to die than become one of the people. I realised then I did the exact same thing throughout my whole life, and that I wanted more time, to heal, to love, to live. So Eywa gave me a second chance at life. And I took it. I cured the virus, I became Na’vi, and now I am here. That’s pretty much it.”

Gideon’s head was spinning with the influx of information that was being thrown at him. It was so hard, hearing everything, hearing everything he’s missed. It was hard to deal with knowing this girl sitting in front of him, beautiful and blue, a strong Na’vi warrior, was his, and that whoever she was, he had no part in it. His heart constricted hearing how much pain you have had to endure, how hard your life has been, and know he was directly responsible for at least some of it. His mind echoed with your words about his Jo, about how she died, about whyshe died. The hatred he felt for himself, for his actions and inactions quickly reached an all-time-high, and he almost prayed you’d change your mind and point that gun at him again and finish the job.He couldn’t speak, so he just stared into the abyss, hoping that words, any words would come to him, knowing they won’t, knowing no words would be enough, no words would ever erase or change the damage he had done, the anguish you’ve had to endure.

“This... Neteyam. Is he a good kid?” 

He saw you smile softly, almost bashful at the mention of this boy who was in a lot of your stories, who seemed to shine a light on your otherwise dark life.

“He’s the best. We’ve been through… a lot. And it’s not always been easy, in fact, for like a year and a half he was a lot of the reasons I hated this life, I wanted it to end. But whatever’s ever happened between us, our differences, our fights, it’s never been out of lack of love. On the contrary. I think both of us love each other a little too much for either of our sakes.” 

“Does he treat you well? Do they all… the Sullys, the village, do they treat you well?” 

You smiled again, at him this time, and Gideon swore his whole body stopped - your smile, your eyes, the glimmer in it… Jo. His Jo was still here. His Jo lived so well within you, every ounce of you a walking reminder of the woman he loved more than life itself. Soft, and brave, and strong, and smart and curious… like Jo. 

“They treat me well. They always have. I was the one who pushed them away for years, but their love and desire for me to be in their lives never wavered, and I could not be more grateful. They gave me a family, and a place of belonging. They gave me a squad, and I would do anything for them.” Your expression shifted suddenly, to a hard one, one directed at him. “Anything.” 

“Why are you here? Are you here to sell me out? Are there people spying on us, tracing back where I came from so they can find Jake? Are you here to kidnap me? You either set me up, or you took a big risk leaving that message for me, hoping no one would see it, hoping no one could read it. Which one is it?”

He hated how the first thing you thought of and associated him with is vile and cruel, and underhanded, but he couldn’t blame you. He didn’t have the best track record, otherwise he wouldn’t be standing here right now.

“If I wanted you kidnapped, or found, you would have been kidnapped, or found. Do you think I don’t know you and the Sullys are in Awa’atlu?”

You mouth fell agape, eyes wide and ears pushed back at the new piece of information. He saw your tail stop moving, a sign of alertness and fear, and watched as you cocked the gun and pointed it at his face again.

“Who else knows about this? When did you find out?” 

“No one else knows.”

“Then how would you know? How did you figure it out?” 

“I still have a few aces up my sleeve, kid. Your finger’s not on the trigger, so I don’t think you’re planning on shooting me yet. Can you please lower the gun?” 

“What exactly prompted this little change of heart, if this is even what this is?” 

Gideon pulled out the rock that he found in his makeshift grave and watched as your expression deepened from surprise and fear to shock, amazement. 

“This did. I found a little spot in the forest, where it turns out I died. I found the recording, I saw Weinfleet, that son of a bitch, kill me. Although I guess that’s fair considering I did the same to him. I found my body, that you buried. And this rock.”

Gideon looked at you, at this girl who was undoubtedly his, undoubtedly Jo’s, with awe displayed all across his features. He couldn’t believe you came from him. He wishes he could have seen you as a little girl, as a human, he is so sad he didn’t get to see you take your first steps, or say your first word, or shoot your first gun. He wishes more than anything he could have taught you. He loves you, he realises. He loves you, despite so little time, because you’re his, you’re Jo’s, the best of both of them.

The man saw you thinking intently, tugging at the inside of your lip so hard he was scared it was going to bleed. He didn’t know what to expect from you. It was easy enough to read you as your face mirrored your feelings as if he had a direct link to your thoughts through it, but somehow you were still an enigma to him. He’s never seen Sarah grow up, he’s never had to be a dad to a young woman, a fierce warrior, a scientist who thinks about everything, calculates three moves ahead. He wondered sadly if there is anything left for him to teach you - you seemed as self-sufficient as they come, and a twinge of jealousy for the Toruk Makto blossomed in him, for getting to raise you, for getting to see you grow up, for helping make you who you were right now.

“So what now? I mean it’s a long shot, but maybe I can convince Jake to let you come to Awa’atlu, we can go and ask the Olo’eyktan, we can say you had nothing to do with it, it will be hard, but maybe if I -“ 

“I’m not coming with.”

“What?” There was no more confusion or focus on your face, just anger, pure unadulterated rage. 

“I have to see this through. I have a better chance of protecting you if-“

“Oh, fucking stop. You’re really going to play the martyr act til the end, aren’t you?”

“I can protect you from them, I can find out wh-“

“YOU CAN'T FUCKING PROTECT ME. I DON’T NEED YOUR PROTECTION, I DON’T WANT YOUR PROTECTION.” 

“I need you to prove to me you’re better than I think you are. I need you to show me, that despite all the fucking horrendous things you have done, my mother wasn’t a fool to trust you. To love you.” 

“Don’t talk about your mother like that, girl.” Gideon was panting now, angry with you, with how quickly you were dismissing a perfectly rational plan for your emotions, for the desire to not part with a grudge you’ve held on to for 19 years. He understood it, but there was a line, and Jo was that line for him, always. 

“You go back, everything you have said to me, everything is moot. Because you have a chance to be better, to do better, you have a chance to fight on the right side once in your life, and you’re not going to take it?” 

“I’m not going to repeat myself. I have a better chance of protecting you, protecting the people you love… your family, from there. I can figure out what their plan is and I can warn you.” He pulled out a radio and receiver from one of his pockets. “Take it. It’s set on a different frequency than what they use, or you and the Sullys use. It can be for us. Wear it, I will contact you if anything happens, and you will know and you will be safe.”

You hissed loudly at your dad, tears pricking painfully at your eyes. 

“Are you really going to pass on an opportunity to protect your family, your mate, because of your ego? I know you want everything done your way and you think you are always right, and you know what? You probably are. But this is more important than this. Just take this.” He took your hand in his and opened your palm and placed the radio and receiver in it. He closed your fingers in a fist, and let you go. “I will be in your ear, I will be there to tell you if anything’s wrong. I will do my best to fight this fight the way I think is best, the way my gut is telling me to. And when this is over, I will come. And by then, I hope I will have proven myself at least enough to be worthy of a second chance. I want to get to know you. I want you to know me. And when this is over, maybe you’ll want to. But for now, I have to go. And so do you.” He looked up and you saw that eclipse will be over any minute. Shit. Time got away from you. Neteyam would have woken up by now. Fuck.

You saw him turn around and call for his ikran. You were shocked he had passed the Iknimaya, and you made a mental note to ask him about it when you saw him next. Just for research purposes, you weren’t curious for any other reason. His ikran was beautiful, dark blue with hints of gold and pink all over, almost like the opposite of yours, the yin to your yang. You called Neyn and she came quickly, batting her wings at you playfully. She made a new friend, it seems. You sighed as you got on her and made the bond. 

“Is Spider alright?” 

“He’s fine, he’s integrated at well as could be expected. I think him and Quaritch are bonding.” You didn’t like the sounds of that, but you said no more on the subject. You were late enough as it is.

“Prove me wrong. Please.” 

“I will, kid.” 

You both took off at the same time, in the opposite directions, and you turned around and watched him with tears swiftly running down your cheeks, blown away by the warm air hitting you in the face. Dad… 

As you made your way back, your mind was running a thousand miles a minute with so many thoughts that were fighting for dominance. The top contender was concern and mind-paralysing fear at the thought of seeing Neteyam and knowing he will know, know you were gone, know you couldn’t lie, you couldn’t even try because he would know that too, and the fight that would ensue as a result. When did things get so complicated? 

You were relieved to not see any lapis blue Na’vi anywhere in sight when you dismounted your ikran, and you quickly started making your way to the village when a voice, the voice, stopped you in your tracks, like shackles to your feet. 

“You know, when we saw that sign on the tulkun yesterday, I felt your heartbeat in your wrist increase to three times its normal speed. I could feel your panted breaths in the back of my neck. I knew something was wrong. You may be able to lie to my dad, to anyone else, but you can’t lie to me, Atan.” 

Your breathing was laboured and shallow, and you felt scared to turn around, to face him. He came so close to you, his breath was making the hairs on your back stand up like needles, hurting you from the forcefulness of his presence, from the anger that was so palpable it was pulsating all around you. 

“What did you do?” 

“Neteyam…” you turned around, and you regretted looking at him. Because this wasn’t your mate, not anymore. This was the perfect soldier, the Olo’eyktan in the making, the Na’vi warrior, and he was looking at you like you were a stranger to him, like you were the enemy.

“What did you do. I need to hear you say it.” His voice was calm, too calm and it reminded you of the knife he always kept on his waist, sharp and deadly.

“Neteyam…” 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“How long has what been going for?” 

“This, you mingling with the fucking enemy, you lying to my family, to your family.” 

Your eyes widened in disbelief, as you took in the accusations your mate was carelessly throwing at you, like pebbles on the surface of the sea. 

“I know you are upset, and I am sorry I lied, but please don’t jump to conclusions.” 

“The message on the tulkun was from my dad. It was the first time I have made contact with him. I haven’t been mingling with any enemies. I just wanted to see what he wanted. I have a gun, I was prepared to kill him.”

“Your dad is a fucking murderer, he could have killed you, he could have kidnapped you. It could be a trap. We could be fucking swarmed by the RDA in the next 20 minutes and it would all be your fault.”

You couldn’t believe him, you couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. Neteyam was many things, but he wasn’t cruel and he definitely wasn’t so quick to blame, to draw unwarranted conclusions. You have known he has been acting a little strange for a while, and you knew there were things eating at him that he is yet to share, but you hated how instead of communicating them, he was lashing out like a wounded animal. You felt anger bubbling in your stomach and you tried really hard to keep it at bay, knowing that both of you attacking each other will not be productive whatsoever. 

 “Neteyam, stop. You’re being unfair. I know you are mad at me, and I know you have been upset about things you have refused to talk to me about for a while, but I will not stand and watch you attack me.” 

“You are right, it was risky, and I am sorry. But I’m not fucking stupid. I was careful, I made sure nobody followed me as much as I possibly could. I didn’t tell you because I was scared if you came, and it was a trap, you were a much bigger prize than I was.” 

“Oh, that is such fucking bullshit. If you told me and I came, you had double the chance to defeat whoever was waiting for you, whoever left you the message. But you didn’t want that, did you? You seem to like saying one thing when you mean another, don’t you?” 

“Ok, what the fuck has gotten into you? This is so not about me leaving.”

“No, it IS about you leaving. It’s about you lying. It’s about how every time I think we’re in one fucking place, it turns out we’re about five steps behind.” 

Neteyam watched as you stretched on the grass of your clearing, taking deep breaths in with your eyes closed, peacefully enjoying the outside, which you never really saw anymore. It will be your 17th birthday in a couple months, and Neteyam was wondering sorrowfully if he will get to be there for it. It’s been eating at him, the realisation he needed to leave, leave your life forever, but he was painfully grasping at every chance to see you, still be with you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you, and soon, he’ll have to live through it. 

Recently, your relationship changed. You have always been close, so close the whole world around you felt like just a playpen for your souls alone, but recently, things… evolved. Everything about it felt heightened, like it reached new zeniths Neteyam never thought anyone would be able to feel without collapsing from the intensity it pulsated through his veins. He’s always loved you, Neteyam mused. His whole life, there was not a moment he has not loved you. 

But as he watched you on the grass, soft shiny skin, so unlike his own, your tiny figure and those eyes that, despite being closed, Neteyam knew every inflection of by heart, he knew he felt more, that he fell in love with you - deeply and irrevocably. It wasn’t a recent development, either, it has been going on for a while, but in light of everything he knew he had to do, Neteyam knew it would hurt even more to vocalise these thoughts or even acknowledge them for himself. Only hurt could come of whatever it was you two had, and there would be no cure for the calamitous heartbreak he would have to go through when he did decide to leave for good, so the less he thought about you two together, your body on him, his lips on yours, spoken confessions and wondrous nights - the better.

“Hey, do you ever think about kids?”

“Kids?”

“Yeah, about having kids. About the future, about little Neteyams running around the village, one day bound to inherit your titles, and your beautiful soul and your endless good looks. ”

He blushed at your comment. He has, Neteyam thought. Multiple times. He thought about a family, about them running through this clearing, about their mother singing to them with that incandescent voice and worn-down guitar, and then he had to stop thinking about it, because it hurt, it took him out, the pain of knowing it was never going to be possible. It nauseated him, the idea of another woman, a woman he’d have to love and give himself to, a woman that wouldn’t be you, and his children that wouldn’t have your eyes, or your hair, or your propensity for being a lovable know-it-all. 

“Not really. It’s still a lifetime away. I’m just trying to enjoy each day as it comes along.”

Neteyam watched as you propped yourself up on your elbows and eyed him inquisitively. You were so tiny, you had to stretch your neck to look at his face. 

“Liar. You’re not a carpe diem kind of guy. You think about everything. You told me you had your whole future planned out when we were like seven.” You got up and walked to where he was sitting on the ground, back against the bark of a tree. When you were on your feet, your face was at the same levels as his, so you got really close to him, so close he could feel your breath on his face, and tried to ignore the thumping heartbeat and shivers going down his spine at your proximity. It’s gotten easier in time, being this close to you, as you have always been a touchy person, so he had no way of avoiding it - not that he would want to avoid it. 

“So why are you lying to me, Ne-te-yam?” 

Neteyam gulped, and he wondered if you knew - what this was doing to him, what you were doing to him. Wondered if you felt the same way, if you also felt dizzy when he was this close, if you also felt your knees weaken in his presence. 

“I’m not lying… I used to have everything planned out, but not anymore. It’s a little more complicated, this whole life thing, than I thought it was going to be when we were young.” 

Your gaze shifted from him to somewhere behind him, and you looked sad and deep in thought, subtle pain obvious in the way your eyes glistened with new-found tears.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you ever think about kids?” Your eyes found his again, and you looked hurt by his comment, and the unshed tears found their way down you cheek, that you wiped immediately. You turned around and started walking towards the river, and you kneeled next to it, looking at the way the water flowed, peaceful and determined. 

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny… you asked me, so I assumed it’s because you were thinking about it.”

“You know I can’t think about kids, Neteyam. I can’t have kids, unless I have them with Spider.” You rolled your eyes and laughed a joyless laugh and he felt anger envelop him just at the mere thought. Agonising images were flashing through his mind, of you two, a much better fit for each other, compatible in biology and bodies and he felt suddenly sick and regretful of ever asking. 

He faintly saw you look back at him, and you clarified - you knew, knew he needed it. “I’m never having children with Spider, Neteyam. I was just saying, unlike you, the prospect is never in the cards for me. You will go off, find yourself a suitable mate, beautiful and smart and kind and fit to be a Tsahik, you will have a life and a family. I won’t. I will never have a tiny me running around, I’ll never have my parents’ genes, and everything I’ve learnt, and everything I am live on.”

You sighed, and the tears were falling swiftly in the palms resting upwards in your lap.

“Would you? If you could? Have kids… with someone else?” 

You smiled a small sorrowful smile, and looked up at the sky, almost as if you were praying to whoever could hear you.

“If I could… yes. With… someone else.” 

“Just fucking admit you don’t want to have my kids. You don’t want a family.” 

And the hits keep coming. So that’s what this is about. The guilt you felt about lying to him and sneaking out was quickly dissipating and being replaced with rage, burning heavily and brightly, wanting to leave nothing but destruction in its wake. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. Why? Why are so desperate for those pills, why do you hate the thought of having a baby with me so much? Do you have any fucking clue how that makes me feel?”

“NO, Neteyam! No, I have no fucking clue, because you won’t fucking talk to me. You have some nerve to hold these feelings inside after months of me asking you what is wrong, of KNOWING you are not ok, you LYING about it and then exploding in my face and demanding an explanation in this way.” 

“You know what? You are right. I don’t want a baby with you.” As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you knew it was too late. You knew you made a mistake. Because while the words were true, they were also not the whole truth. And as you watched your mate’s heart shatter in front of you, yours did too. It was too late to stop, though, as the rage was eating at your insides, begging to be released. 

“Why in God’s name would I want a child with a man who continuously puts himself at risk and will most likely get themselves fucking killed in the nearby future?! I grew up without a parent, Neteyam. I grew up without a dad. And I grew up with a mother who was heartbroken because of the lack of dad, and killed herself when I was fucking 10 years old. Do you have any idea what that does to someone? Do you have any idea the hell I have lived through my whole life? The holes in my chest nobody was able to fix, not even you, they’re still there. They’re patched up nice and neat, as well as anybody could hope for, but they’re still there. They will always be there.  I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, much less on my child. So no, I do not want a baby that will grow up an orphan, that’s why I am so fucking desperate for those pills. And if you bothered to ever share with me, share what’s been bothering you, you’d know this.” 

Neteyam looked broken, eyes on you but not really, unfocused and distant, and you tried to calm down, tried to make words come out that could fix your previous ones. Your eyes were frozen on his, frozen on the tears forming in them, watching as they fell down his cheek and onto his bare chest. Eventually, it’s like he snapped back to life, and he started moving, not sparing you a second look. As he passed you by, you grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him. He removed his arm from your grasp like it burned him, like being touched by you was poisonous, and you winced at it, knowing deep down you deserved it. 

“Neteyam… I have dreamt about having a family with you for so long I can’t even remember when it started. I dreamt about our children, careless and free, happy and loud, running around the village, swimming in our clearing. I dreamt about teaching them guitar, and watching you teach them how to hunt or shoot a bow. I dreamt about them growing up and feeling sad about how quickly time is passing but being grateful for being able to watch it go by. I dreamt about their Iknimaya, and flying together for the first time. I dreamt so many things, for a long time my dreams were the only things keeping me going. Even when you were gone, the dreams, they never left. I had to live with knowing they would never come true for so long before I got the Avatar. I had to live with knowing I’d have to watch you have someone else’s babies, and it killed me. It killed me.” You were crying now, your chest convulsing in pain at the memories, at the present, at seeing Neteyam’s back tense and rigid, of not being able to look into his eyes. “When I got my Avatar, and we started being close again… when you kissed me for the first time, when you held me in your arms before my Iknimaya, I had flashes, flashes of hope, that despite my sickness, maybe those dreams weren’t impossible anymore. They were quickly shattered, of course, but they were there. Then after my consciousness transfer, the humans came back, and I was scared. I was scared of having a family during an active war. I thought we both agreed on that. Then watching you continuously put yourself at risk for Lo’ak, watching as you almost died in that train battle, it snapped something in me. My entire life, all the hurt and the pain of being orphaned came back full blast. Neteyam, if you die, I will too. And I don’t want to put an innocent being, our innocent being through that.” 

“Please, try to understand.”

You watched as Neteyam left you without another word and you were unsure if you would ever be able to fix this and you couldn’t help clutch your chest to try to alleviate the pain that was so strong it was radiating all throughout your body, just like one sentence, over and over. Did I lose him? Did I lose him? Did I lose him?

Neteyam walked towards a village like a ghost, like zombie, like a body without a soul, or a mind, just robotically taking step after step, trying to figure out if he could wake up, if this was a nightmare, if it was some sick joke. 

I don’t want a baby with you. I don’t want a baby with you. I don’t want a baby with you. 

Crack after crack, the pieces of his heart shattered like a broken jigsaw, like the one he did with you and Kiri when you were children, huddled together in the recreation hub. So he was right. He was right, his insecurities, however ridiculous they seemed sometimes, they were not without merit. You didn’t want his children. Not children, just his children. Because of who he is, because of his life choices and his desire to protect his family, his brother, you didn’t want him. Neteyam heard you justify it, and maybe somewhere deep, deep inside of him, he knew you had a point, that your own unique circumstances entitled you to this view, that you weren’t being unreasonable, but the hurt, the pain, the anguish and betrayal, they ran deeper. What was he supposed to do now? How would you ever be able to resolve this?

He noticed absentmindedly that there was commotion in the village, screams and wails coming from the Olo’eyktan’s tent. He felt himself walking towards it, with no real input from his mind, which was numb and in its own isolated, desolate little world. 

He heard Tonowari’s imposing voice, screaming over the booming voices of the villagers. As he approached, he saw his family, his father in the middle of the crowd, desperation all over his features. 

“This war has come to us! We knew about the hunting of our tulkun people, but it was over the horizon, far away! Now, it is HERE!” Neteyam saw the Metkayina poke their tongues out in a war cry, and he knew what he feared, what his family feared, is finally here. There was no avoiding it, the war with the Sky People, no avoiding the deaths that followed. Fear enveloped him, momentarily replacing the anguish you put in him, and he wondered where you were, if you had run away, as you used to like doing when you were young. Were you in danger? 

“Look, you have got to understand how the Sky People think.” His dad was trying to force his voice through the ululation, trying to get them to see reason. “They don’t care about the great balance.”

“WE DON’T ANSWER TO SKY PEOPLE.”

Neteyam couldn’t help his voice from speaking. “Listen. Listen to him.”

“They are not going to stop, this is only the beginning. You have to… tell your tulkun to leave. You gotta tell them to go far away!” 

“Leave?!” The Tsahik look disgusted with his dad, and he knew the Metkayina would never understand. None of them will, because they have never lived through what the Omatikaya had. They had no idea the depth of the cruelty, and lack of morals that plagued the aliens. They had no idea the loss his village suffered at their hands, and the sacrifices his family had to make. 

“You live among us and you learn nothing!”

“WE WILL FIGHT TO PROTECT OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS!”

“No no no no! IF YOU ATTACK, IF YOU FIGHT, THEN THEY WILL DESTROY YOU!” Pointing at Ronal’s pregnant belly, his father continued. “They will destroy everything that you love!”

“Hear my words!”

Like an out-of-body experience, Neteyam heard himself speak yet again. “Listen to my father. He speaks the truth.” 

The Toruk Makto picked the red impaling rod they found on the tulkun yesterday, got up to where the Olo’eyktan was so he was towering above everyone else, and pointed it for everyone to see. 

There was quiet all around him now, the villagers watching his dad carefully, with focused eyes. 

“You tell the tulkun that if they’re hit by one of these, they’re marked for death. And call for me, I’ll silence it. Saving their lives. That’s all that matters, right? Saving your family.”

“Tell the tulkun.” 

“Go, go!” 

Ululating can be heard all around as the Metkayina hurried and dove in the water, rushing to warn their brothers and sisters. Neteyam’s gaze shifted instantly to Lo’ak. He wouldn’t…

He would, it turns out, as Neteyam saw his baby brother hurrying out of the tent. He followed in his footsteps, knowing very well what Lo’ak was intending, knowing he had to stop him, no matter what. 

Neteyam watched as the younger Sully was sneakily placing a saddle on his ilu. 

“No way you’re running out today, baby brother.”

“I have to warn Payakan about the pingers.”

Neteyam was in no mood for this.

“No. You have got to keep your skxawng ass here.”

“He is outcast. There’s nobody to warn him but me.” Neteyam saw Lo’ak getting aggravated, the way he always got - his brother had no control over his emotions, never had, always ready and more than willing to explode at the slightest perceived slight. 

“Why do you always have to make things so hard, Lo’ak?”

“No, you mean why can’t I be the perfect son like you?” Neteyam’s heart took yet another beating, and he was unsure how much longer it could continue going in light of today, in light of everything it has had to suffer. First you, now Lo’ak, it seems everyone he loved was taking turns kicking him until the breath was knocked out of his lungs, until he would be unable to stand back up. 

“The perfect little soldier. Well, I’m not you!” 

The anger overtook Neteyam, who made his way so close to Lo’ak he was towering over him, a dark expression marring his features. 

“I’m not you. He’s my brother. I’m going.”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

“He’s your brother?” He pulled Lo’ak by the arm as he was turning away, speaking through clenched teeth. “No, I’m your brother!”

The conversation was interrupted by Tsireya and Ao’nung, both of whom jumped from their ilu and onto the platform they were on. 

“Lo’ak!” 

His brother took the opportunity that presented itself when Neteyam’s attention shifted onto the two siblings to escape his tight grip and jump into the water, immediately leaving towards Three Brothers Rock, where Payakan was. 

Neteyam didn’t think of anything else besides saving Lo’ak in that moment, and, as he called for his own ilu, he finally knew in his heart that you were right. 

You were flying, faster than you should be, considering the rain pouring all around you and the fact you could barely see a few meters in front of you, but you couldn’t stop. Because if you stopped, you’d have to think, you’d have to deal with the consequences of your actions, and that would be too much, too painful. Neyn was worried, as she could also not see, but she trusted you to guide her, she trusted you to keep her alive - her worry extended to you as well, to the horrid mood that seem to plague you, for the deep anguish in your soul that was making her cry loudly. You tried to calm her down, petting her gently. 

“Tam tam…” 

You have been going for a while now, longer than you knew you should have. You had little idea where you were, and where you were going. You didn’t even know if you could go back. Would you be able to face Neteyam again? Would you share a tent, would you ever be able to fix this?

You were so harsh, harsher than you needed to be. You hated his predisposition for following in his brother’s dangerous steps, but you promised him you’d be there to fix it. You told him you didn’t want to change him, that you would be there to patch him up. You told him you’d protect him. And instead of doing that, you struck him where it hurt most. You both had a habit of hurting each other, both had a habit of shooting to kill when in pain. So much has changed in between you, so much has changed in your worlds except the one thing that should have, that one thing that needed to. 

“Kid, are you there?” 

The voice pulled you out of your pondering, a voice you now recognised as your dad’s. 

“I’m here. Over.” 

“I don’t have a lot of time. The ship is hunting another tulkun. A solitary one.”

Oh, no… It can’t be.

“We’re about two klicks out. Kid… the Sully kids are there too.”

You felt all air being pushed from your lungs, unable to breathe in, feeling yourself becoming faint at the lack of oxygen and maddening heartbeat deafening you. 

“I will try to stop them. I don’t know if I can do this on my own.” 

Breathe. Try to breathe. 

“Hold your position. I’m coming. Get me a gun. Over and out.” 

Kiri. Tuk. Lo’ak…. Neteyam. Adrenaline coursed through your veins like icy water, waking you up, focusing your mind. You had no time to go back. You willed Neyn towards where you thought Three Brothers Rock was, and prepared yourself to fight for your life, for your family’s life, for your dad’s life. 

Your mind flashed to your fight with Neteyam, knowing you had to do everything in your power to make it right, not knowing that fight was the last conversation you will ever have with him before both of your lives are changed - forever. 

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr @amortencjja

[asher-agere]

Me? Requesting headcanons while my last ones haven’t even been finished yet? It’s more likely than you would think! I enjoy your writing and I enjoy talking to you so I can’t help but wanna send in another request…

Anyways I do actually have extra text for this one other than stating the obvious so uhm! I am working on something super cool right now (since I’ve given up hope for a Land of The Lustrous season two I’ve decided to just animate & voice act some of my favorite scenes from the manga that weren’t adapted in season one of the anime myself and I’m working on one and it looks surprisingly good so far)

Anyways request time!! Can you share your thoughts on caregiver Fyodor with a vent regressor little… sighs. This one is actually based on my one experience regressing during the day rather than things I do normally. It was not very joyful nor whimsical.

That sounds like it’ll be so cool! I saw when you answered my request that procrastination is taking over though… Remember I believe in you! I’m sure you can do it, take as much time as you need!

⋆♱✮♱⋆

ִֶָ࣪☾. Vent regression is never fun. And Fyodor hates seeing his little one upset… So he does everything in his power to keep them happy! Fyodor likes to control things to keep himself happy, keeping his little one happy? Just as important of course! He’ll do whatever it takes, he has just about no limits if his little one is upset, god forbid they’ve worked themselves up to tears. He doesn’t even want to let them get to that point

ִֶָ࣪☾. He’ll buy anything and everything that can comfort his baby! Comfort food? Already bought. Pacifiers help during panic attacks, forces someone to breathe through their nose to prevent hyperventilating. Weighted plushies and blankets. Light projectors to never sleep in the dark. Comfort show on in the background 24/7 of course. And he’ll play his cello! I love the idea of caregiver Fyodor playing his cello for his little one hehe

ִֶָ࣪☾. Fyodor very much so wants to eliminate all problems. Sensory issues? New clothes and calm music immediately, lights turned off or low. Someone was mean to his little one? He’ll handle them, make sure they leave his baby alone, then go comfort them! Explaining how the mean person was wrong and how his baby is sooo amazing! Favorite show had to stop being produced? He’ll literally fund the studio if it means they’ll keep producing stuff

ִֶָ࣪☾. He’ll always check in! Ask the little how they’re feeling if they’re big enough to talk. If they’re only able to do simple words he’ll find a system with like colors or temperature to explain how they’re feeling. Or if they’re totally nonverbal he can work with hand signals, drawing, etc. Many options! He wants to give his baby alllll the options possible so he can know how they’re feeling and fix any problems!

ִֶָ࣪☾. Very very pushy on water. Vent regression usually ends in crying, even if he tries really hard to avoid it. And crying is super dehydrating! So water is the solution! He’ll buy cute sippy cups or bottles, and he’ll put extra stuff in the water like honey or flavoring! It helps it not only taste better but also to feel better on the little ones sore throat. Plus the cute cup is really encouraging! Especially if he holds the bottle for them, makes them feel soooo tiny

ִֶָ࣪☾. He’s very patient with tantrums! He understands that a little baby can’t express their feelings to well, so they burst out in a tantrum usually! While this isn’t ideal of course, he’d never get mad! He waits for them to calm down, offering comforting words and affection. Then while they’re calming down he’ll try to find the problem, and a solution! He doesn’t want anything upsetting his little baby, they don’t deserve all that yucky stress (>﹏<)

ִֶָ࣪☾. Babbling can actually be really helpful! He’ll hold his little one on his lap and gently rub their hips to soothe them and ask them what’s wrong. He’ll listen diligently! Even if he can’t understand a single word they’re saying, he’ll listen! He’s always gonna be there for them. He’ll nod along, reacting as if he understands them perfectly and reassuring them that everything is ok!

ִֶָ࣪☾. Fyodor always makes sure his little one is taking care of themselves! Makes sure they’re eating, taking baths, and getting outside enough. He’ll make their favorite foods, served on a cute plate of course. He’ll make them special bubble bath’s with all sorts of calming soaps and lotions. He’ll bring some toys outside to play in the grass to make sure the little one is getting some sunlight and fresh air

⋆♱✮♱⋆

My life is finally calming down! The Comic Con was… An event. I had fun though! There were three BSD cosplayers and I saw three different Miku cosplays! (A strawberry Miku actually won a huge cosplay reward!!!! Go Vocaloid fans!) Also my caregiver made a tumblr account because I finally explained to them I’m not just a girl! So that’s exciting, now they can see all my posts and I can get even more praise ＼(＾O＾)／

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒🚒

Ooooh yay! 102 for 🚒:

---

Buck doesn’t reply. He feels like an idiot. Yeah, of course Bobby knows. He knows better than anyone. 

“I don’t know if I told you,” Bobby says. “Or if Hen told you… Because I only told her. But I almost ruined my relationship with Athena when she asked me to move in with her.”

“R-really?” Buck asks.

It’s hard to imagine anything ever coming between the two of them. He knows, of course, that all relationships have their challenges. Even if Bobby doesn’t share his with Buck. But to him, the two of them have always seemed so solid. He can’t imagine Bobby almost ruining anything. 

“Really,” Bobby nods. “She asked me just before our first Christmas together.”

“Wait,” Buck says. “Isn’t that when you proposed?”

Bobby smiles, like he’s remembering the day. 

“Yes. It is.”

“I don’t understand,” Buck admits. 

“Well, when she asked me, I sort of panicked,” Bobby explains. “A lot of that was guilt. Feeling like I didn’t deserve a second chance at a family.”

Buck frowns. He hates that Bobby ever felt like that. Back then, and more recently too. 

“But also,” Bobby continues. “Moving forward, taking that step? Terrifying. I’ve been faced with losing Athena a handful of times now. And every time… Well, it’s hard to imagine surviving that again.”

“But you proposed,” Buck says. “So obviously you got past that.”

“Yes and no,” Bobby replies. “I’m still scared of losing her all the time. Loving someone that much? It’s scary. And I know you know that.”

Buck thinks of watching Eddie get shot in front of him. Of watching the earth close with him underneath it. Or of the panic he felt when Eddie said he was leaving the team. Worse, when he was mad at him after the lawsuit, and wouldn’t talk to him. Losing Eddie is the worst case scenario. It always has been. 

“Staying alone would have been safe,” Bobby continues, seeing his words having an impact on Buck’s face. “Protecting myself from caring more, and potentially hurting more. But I never would have been happy, Buck. For all the fear, there has been so much happiness.”

Buck takes a shuddering little breath he doesn’t mean to let out. 

“I don’t think I’d be unhappy with Tommy,” Buck says. “But…”

“But it’s not as happy as you could be,” Bobby says.

“No,” Buck agrees. “Eddie’s… It’s different. He’s…” 

Bobby nods. He knows. 

“So, what are we doing here, kid?” Bobby asks. “At the end of the day, the only thing you need to be worrying about right now is how to make him feel better about what just happened.”

About what just…

Oh.

When Eddie outed himself accidentally via radio. And implied his feelings for Buck. God, yes. Eddie is probably losing his mind. 

“And we’re absolutely sure it was about me?” Buck asks. “Like beyond a shadow of a doubt?”

Bobby’s expression flattens. “Buck, I swear…”

“Sorry. You’re right, you’re right.”

▪️▪️▪️

Admittedly, just because Buck knows what he has to do, doesn’t mean he does it well. He’s still nervous. Like, incredibly nervous. 

It takes the ambulance a while to get back from the hospital. Buck has a sneaking suspicion they also stopped and let Eddie panic. He can’t blame them. Eddie actually has far more cause to panic than Buck, to be fair. 

When they do get back, they don’t get a chance to talk. Not really. 

Eddie walks up the loft stairs, sees Buck anxiously cleaning what was already a decently clean kitchen, and they both freeze.

“Hi,” Buck says, cleaning spray gripped tight in his hand.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. 

“Garden shears guy okay?’ Buck asks.

Stupid. Fucking stupid. Now Eddie’s going to think Buck is pretending he didn’t hear what he heard. 

Eddie blinks. “Uh, yeah. No. He’ll be okay.”

[polonium-snap]

Bkdk plot bunnies pt 5

- Bkdk are already together and in 3rd year

- Todoroki, Deku, Bakugou, and Endeavor are chasing some villain and they split up (todoroki and Deku, Endeavor and Bakugou.

- Todoroki and Deku catch the villain and tell Endeavor

- “Bakugou has been hit by a civilians quirk by mistake.”

- “What?! Is Kacchan ok?!” Deku asked worriedly as Todoroki and him handed over the villain to the police

- “He’s fine, the quirk is not lethal but he’ll be…different for while” Endeavor explained “we’ll discuss this properly at my office”

- Deku, and Todoroki waited in Endeavor’s office, the former freaking out

- “What if it’s permanent? Endeavor said it was not lethal, but that doesn’t mean that I w-“

- Endeavor arrived to the office

- Behind Endeavor was Katsuki looking at them timidly “I-I’m sorry for worrying you I-Izuku…”

- That shocked Deku into silence and he looked at Endeavor with bafflement and waiting for an explanation.

- Endeavor sighed “The quirk is called ‘vulnerability break’ it makes the person emotionally vulnerable by being timid and unable to control their emotions, it won’t last more than a few days.”

- “Bakugou won’t like this once he’s back to normal” Todoroki said

- Unexpectedly Katsuki’s eyes filled with tears.

- “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Todoroki said concerned.

- “Kacchan…” Deku approached Katsuki to calm him down.

- Endeavor sighed. “Take him back to the dorms and keep me updated on his condition”

- The group of three made their way to the dorms stopping at the door

- “Todoroki-kun, could you go in first and explain the situation?”

- Todoroki nodded and entered

- “I’m s-s-sorry for being a-an inconvenience….” Katsuki said shyly and a bit upset

- Izuku smiled encouragingly “Not at all Kacchan! I don’t mind, and I’m sure todoroki doesn’t either.” He said . “I’m sure you’d take care of me if I was in your shoes.”

- Katsuki looked away an blushed violently “I-I-I w-would…”

- Izuku almost died because of the cuteness of his boyfriend

- They entered the common room and were met by their classmates in the common room

- “Oi, Blasty! Is it true you got hit by a quirk?” Denki asked as the bakusquad sorrounded the now shy boy.

- “I d-did.” Katsuki stuttered, flabbergasted by the sudden attention

- “Oh my god, aren’t you the cutest?” Mina shrieked

- They continued their usual teasing, but Katsuki unlike usual was not telling them to shut up and looked uncomfortable

- Izuku got lowkey mad at Bakugou’s friends because they were teasing his boyfriend too much “Ok guys that’s enough.” He said unusually firm

- He took Bakugou to his room where they talked and Katsuki calmed down a little

- “I can go if you want, I imagine you want to be alone right now.” Izuku said

- “No!” Katsuki said loudly before blushing violently at his outburst “When I’m with you I feel more like myself.” This time he didn’t stutter but was still red

- Izuku literally almost had a heart attack because Katsuki usually was not as direct with his feelings “I-okay, I’ll stay then.”

- They slept in the bed together and shared a few kisses

- The next day they were in some joint exercise with help of the business course and Katsuki was paired up with some Piece Of Shit asshole

- “I can’t believe I’m seeing the great explosion murder or whatever being shy!” The man laughed and Katsuki blushed in embarrassment

- “Sh-sh-shut up…” was the meek response Katsuki was able to muster

- “….You know, you’re quite cute like this, why don’t we go out before you turn back into a ticking bomb.” The boy slid his hand off the wall and rested it on Katsuki’s waist who jumped and froze

- “I do- I don’t t-think that would b-be a good idea…” Bakugou said

- The asshole hasdthe gall to slide his hand lower, almost groping Katsuki’s ass

- The blonde squeaked, finally attracting the attention of Kirishima

- “Hey, dude stop!” The redhead said frowning and starting to make his way to Katsuki

- Before he could reach the blonde the offending student was slammed on the wall by green electric flashes

- “What exactly do you think you’re doing?!” Deku asked, his eyes bright green in rage

- “H-he wasn’t saying no!” The asshole struggled against Izuku’s iron grip

- Izuku looked about ready to start a fight “He was clearly uncomfortable you piece of sh-“

- “Come on, bro he looks like he understands, let’s not break out on a fight” Kirishima tried to defuse his classmates anger “he’s going to leave Bakugou alone, right?” The business course student raised his hands as if giving up

- Izuku turned around to check on his boyfriend who was shaking. Just as they started walking away

- “Slut wanted it anyway.” Said POS student

- This time there was no one to stop Izuku from throwing a punch yelling at the top of his lungs

- The next day Bakugou wakes up embarrassed but kind of turned on by Izuku’s protectiveness while Katsuki was affected by the quirk

- Izuku had a very nice weekend as his boyfriend who hated ‘owing people shit’ gave him a nice reward

Pt 1| pt 2| pt 2.5| pt 3| pt 4 | pt 6| pt 7

[spooky-stille]

Hello you lot, it’s been a little while, how are you all doing?

I’m writing this, distracting myself from last minute packing for Glastonbury which is coming at me quick this weekend. I’m massively disorganised at the best of times so it’s absolute chaos round here. Piles of stuff all over the place. Gambling on no rain which feels like a bit of a risk, but hey. Glastonbury for me is like summer’s answer to Christmas, so I’m well excited. Some of our most surreal and favourite gigs ever have been there, but I’ve also been coming as a punter with my mates for years and years. And while I know the idea of living in a busy, noisy field to watch music for 5 days straight is a lot of people’s idea of hell, I can’t bloody wait (even if I’ve got that anticipation-sick-stomach feeling you get before a big night). There’s so much great music on the lineup this year, but that magical parallel universe of a festival site is vast and sprawling, so feel free to imagine me and my mates - running around like headless chickens, trying to be in 6 places at once - from now til Monday. Actually don’t do that, no one needs that image.

 

 

The main reason I’m writing this is because I’ve made some new music and am in the process of getting it all ready for you to hear. I wanted to find a way to be directly in touch about all of that, about what’s been happening with us, what’s to come, and as a way to share a bunch of recommendations and things that I think are interesting (and hope you will too).

So, this is a hello to anyone who’s new here, and of course hi again to anyone who’s been around for a while. Cheers for reading this (I’m impressed if you’ve made it this far). I’m properly excited for what’s up next (more on that later) and in the meantime I’ll do my best to make these mails worth your time.

When me and the guys and our whole touring team finished our tours at the end of last year it felt like the right time for us all to take a proper break. Obviously we’re insanely lucky to get to play music and to travel all over the world with it, but we hadn’t really, properly stopped at all since we started out more than 10 years ago. Touring’s been this dominant line that’s cut right through and across most of our adult lives. While it can be an amazing whirlwind and is of course a huge privilege, it can also be completely all consuming, and, like loads of things in life, it’s not without its challenges. So, for that and for many different reasons, this year felt like the right time to not book any gigs at all and see what life looked like. It’s genuinely the first time since Bastille started that there’s been nothing scheduled. Mad.

We’ve all been off doing different things and getting on with life, while getting used to being in one place for a while. For me - in what’ll come as no surprise to anyone who knows me - I’ve not really been that great at sitting still or taking a break. I’ve been busy working on some fun things… so why would I want to not be doing that?!

 

Being home and being around has been genuinely brilliant, I’m really loving it. Part of that has been because for the first time in ages I’ve had the time to work on music and songwriting at home on my laptop, very much like how I did back when I was making the songs that became Bad Blood. This year so far has been such a fun and creatively satisfying time and I’ve felt well lucky having the space to chase a bunch of ideas and see where they lead and what they become. It probably sounds (and is) pretty self indulgent, but it’s been great.

Amongst all of that stuff (and general life stuff) I’ve used the time to travel a bunch, to take in as many films/books/gigs/shows/art as possible, I spent some time out at sea on the Greenpeace boat in the Bermuda Triangle (?!?!?), ran a half marathon for Warchild with some mates (thanks so much to anyone who sponsored - you’re brilliant), Tour-Managed my friends band FOURS on their UK tour with To Kill A King, and have been working away on a whole load of different projects with some brilliant people. I’ve also been learning the guitar… something I’ve always wanted to do but never seemed able to properly focus on.

 

 

And the reason I’ve learned guitar has to do with that new music I mentioned. There’ll be loads more news to come on that in the very near future (I’m excited to talk about the process and ideas behind it all… come on guys it’s my weird brain here so nothing’s ever as simple as it could be). I’ve tried to approach the whole process of recording and beyond in a totally different way, and I’m beyond excited to share it all with you.

For now… I’ve got to get back to packing or I’ll find myself on Sunday with no clean pants. I’m  here in my room with my head in my phone, sat amongst these piles and I haven’t even found a bag for any of it yet, so I better get on with it.

And to anyone here that’s also heading to Glastonbury this weekend, I hope you’re all packed and ready, and maybe I’ll bump into you there somewhere? (Oh s**t, also don’t forget to come to Pilton Palais on Sunday to join me and the editor of Empire Magazine having a chat about Nosferatu and horror films!)

Speak soon.

Dan x

[superstringtheory]

Sicktember 2023- "talentless", OFMD Ed/Stede

Sicktember 2023- prompt #7 “you’re a jerk when you’re sick” 

Ed’s not good at being sick. 

He’s not good at any of this, really, but for some reason a bunch of people decided that his flag was scary or whatever and at this point will pretty much fall all over themselves giving him all of their shit. 

Well, and of course there’s Izzy, who’s still mad at him, but who’d kill half the people in the Caribbean in the name of Blackbeard if Ed asked him to. 

Izzy, who’d recently come back from a covert little operation all congested and wet leather, hoarse voice even rougher than usual. 

Izzy’s fault, then, for sharing more than just intel. 

Ed sniffles, and then stops midway through wiping his nose on his sleeve when Stede comes into the bedroom from the auxiliary closet, looking radiant and healthful in a lavender coat. 

“Sweetheart,” Stede says. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.” 

Ed gives him the most nonplussed look. 

“And hearing that makes me feel even better,” he says, and clears his throat. 

“Do you want anything?” Stede asks. 

“Nope,” Ed says, popping the ‘p.’ “I can take care of myself. Did just fine before you got here, and I seem to recall that when you got here, you were the one needed caretaking.” He clears his throat again, looking away when Stede shoots him a knowing look. 

“Well,” Ed says, standing from where he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed. “Time to go check on the crew.” 

“Isn’t it storming?” Stede asks. 

“All the better reason to check on them.” 

“There’s no way you’d want to stay down here? I’m sure they’re doing fine.” 

“It’s mostly your crew, Stede,” Ed says in a patronizing tone, which is only ruined a little bit by sniffling. “They’re better at arts and crafts than sailing.” 

“Fine,” Stede says. “Enjoy your pneumonia.” 

Stede does regret saying that, later. 

*** 

Ed’s not good at being sick. 

It’s drippy and it’s achy and he can’t find the words for how to make it better. Everything he says comes out of his mouth harsh, barbed, a stick sharpened at both ends. Stede had been right; it is storming, but even so he’d appeared on deck about twenty minutes after Ed, seemingly not concerned about getting his new lavender outfit wet. 

“How’s it going up here?” Stede says in a bright tone, and Ed can almost hear the eye-roll that Jim gives. Ed feels about the same, except worse because there’s something with claws in his throat. 

“Boss’s all wet,” Izzy growls, and Stede lifts a blonde eyebrow. It’s incredibly stupid how good his hair looks when it’s rain-dampened, curling more at the edges, haloing his face. 

Ed sniffs, trying to surreptitiously wipe his nose. 

“Gotta go check on something belowdeck,” he manages, after Stede looks like he’s going to step forward and shove a handkerchief into Ed’s face or something equally embarrassing. Ed doesn’t wait or attempt any further explanation- by the time he’s down the stairs, he has to stop and lean back against the wall for a moment. 

Izzy’d been right- he is all wet, and he feels chilled to the bone, still achy and out-of-sorts. Ed coughs, then swears as he hears the distinctive sound of Stede’s heeled shoes coming down the stairs. 

“Sweetheart?” Stede’s voice calls, and Ed forces himself to straighten up. “Are you sure you didn’t want to head back to our quarters?” 

He actually does have a handkerchief in his hand now, and he’s moving towards Ed with it with that little creased forehead look he gets whenever Ed tells what he’d thought was a funny story about being an adolescent on Hornigold’s ship that actually sounds pretty fucked up once he hears it again. 

“M’fine,” Ed says, hating the way his voice goes all raspy. “Just gonna check on our stores.” 

Stede’s gently taking him by the elbow now, still with that concerned expression. 

“That’s not your job, love, I’m sure it’s all taken care of.” 

Ed twists away, out of Stede’s grasp. 

“Everything on this ship is my job. I’m the captain, aren’t I?” 

Maybe that would’ve come out better if he hadn’t had to cough afterwards, but he’s sure that Stede gets the point. 

Ed glares at Stede for a long moment, and then Stede takes a step back. 

“Noted,” he says, and even though Ed had pushed him away, now that Stede’s leaving, Stede is all Ed wants. 

*** 

There isn’t really anything to do in the store room, but Ed spends too much time in there anyway, feeling worse and worse. He can’t seem to get warm, and his throat feels like it’s on fire, and not the fun kind of fire like when he and Stede had set that ship of rich idiots ablaze. 

He falls into a kind of doze, too stubborn to simply creep back to the cabin and crawl under the covers. Stede probably hates him now. 

Just thinking of Stede brings a kind of visual miasma of him, a hazy version of his lavender coat. And an auditory hallucination, too- the sound of Stede’s heeled shoes, stepping even closer. And– oh, it’s actually Stede. 

Ed wants to apologize, wants to tell Stede that he hadn’t meant it, that he’s just sick and miserable and his throat hurts and his head hurts and– 

All that comes out is a small whining sound, raspy and painful. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Stede’s voice is soft and warm. His eyes are gentle, and suddenly Stede’s bent over and Ed’s burrowing himself into Stede’s neck, stifling a cough into Stede’s chest.

Ed starts to say something but has to keep coughing, and Stede just tsks at him and presses his lovely cool hand against Ed’s neck. 

“Let’s get you back into bed, hmm?” Stede’s saying, and then he’s pulling Ed up to a stand, supporting him as they make their way back to the cabin. “Get you in bed and get you cooled down.” 

Stede’s strong arm around his waist, his hand on Ed’s forehead, the crinkle of concern in Stede’s gaze- it all speaks to what’s coming next: the tepid bath, the cold cloths for Ed’s head, the tinctures of honey and rum. Throughout it all, Stede there by his side, murmuring and fussing. 

Ed’s still not good at being sick, but Stede is wonderful at taking care of him.