#how do you explain the bear naked fight?

[u5an5]

Explaining stuff from tf2 to someone who doesn't know the lore is wild.

Like, how do you explain that no, Medic can't return Demo his eye. Not because he's unable to, he've already done it multiple times, but because Demo's eye socket is cursed and each time he did regrow it, by halloween it always got possessed, flied out of his head and tried to kill everyone. Including going back in time to prevent them from being born by killing their parents. And that Medic have done it enough times that he removed part of Demos brain just so he stopped asking and doesn't remember thinking about it, and then be able to say with full confidence it isn't even top 20 weirdest things in lore

[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.

[mashiraostail]

can you do HCs of mundane turn ons for the main companions ? PLEASE <3

These are fun

omg maybe my Wyll bias is showing his is way longer. He just eats like he eats everyyyy time.

Slight nsfw under the cut :3 maybe more than slight

Shadowheart: Watching your hands, especially if you've already slept together or started a relationship. She looovvess your hands, she loves to watch you fiddle with things, thumbing at the pages of a book, picking locks, or spinning a small blade between your hands. She could probably explain it in depth if she wanted to, but she was a lady of simple wants and desires and so she doesn't feel the need. She'll fantasize about your nimble, practiced hands all night if you've managed a particularly impressive slight of hand. She's already attracted to the rest of you, so imagining how skilled you are is the final nail in the coffin for her. She'd want to feel your hands in her hair, grazing down her back, tracing the divot of her spine. She wonders how quickly you could undress her, how quickly you could undo her with just your hands.

Astarion: He enjoys seeing you with Scratch and the owl bear, and Tara and all the other furry (or hairless feline) friends you make on your adventure. He isn't sure why. It makes him feel warm, and after decades of chasing burning hot desire a pleasant warmth is a thousand times more satisfying. Though he'll groan and complain at your acts of benevolence to other people, he can't help but feel a soft spot form for animals. He didn't think he'd enjoy seeing someone be so kind and warm. He does. There are moments where he's watching you befriend yet another stray, scratching behind it's ears or under it's chin where he almost longs to switch places. He'll be the first to admit he's lead such a terrible life, a truly loving and gentle touch has been far and few in between. Seeing you care for the four legged friends you've made makes him feel hopeful, he wonders if you would care for him like this. If you would extend such a gracious and gentle touch to him. He feels warm at the thought of it. Soft lips and a feather light touch tracing down his chest, over his stomach. Would you smile and coo praise at him the same way you did with the cub? Would you call him wonderful and brilliant too? Would you mean it?

Gale: Obviously we know he enjoys watching you in a fight, he's said so himself. So I'll do you one better, the inverse. Seeing you freshly cleaned, sparkling with the water of whatever river or lake you'd jumped into drives him just as mad, or maybe it's your wet hair. It doesn't come from the typical carnal sort of desire to make you dirty and sweaty again, no, that's not Gale's style. He just wants to see, all of it, every inch of your perfect, clean skin. He wants to feel your wet hair against his palms, or huddled into the crook of his neck while he touches you all over. The smell of your soap and the way your wet skin looks even more supple than when it's dry is so painfully inviting for him. Some may say that Gale just loves you, dirty, clean, dry, wet, and so on..maybe that is the case. Something about your still slightly damp, freshly cleaned skin is especially intoxicating. He really does just want to touch and kiss, not to sully or dirty just to love and enjoy. He doesn't even know that body worship is a kink that's just how he acts.

Lae'zel: Being an asshole Bickering. At first it actually pisses her off, your snide remarks, the way you brush her off or roll your eyes should make her angry at you, she should hit you, instead she just wants to pounce on you, she wants to wipe that smug look off your face...with her face...while you're both naked. It pisses her off, it makes her stumble over her words, forget herself. She can hardly look at you when she insults you. If you laugh at her, she'll be white knuckling through the end of your argument, then she'll go rub off in private. Unless you notice, and once you get to know her better it probably isn't too hard to see. Turn your rude bickering into coy teasing, egg her on and on until she simply can't help but give into herself ('what are you gonna do about it?' 'ok, make me.' 'I'd like to see you try' etc...) It'll be an angry sort of lay but not a bad one at all, and once you're bent at her will she'll ease up on you, once you've been together a while she may even apologize for being rough with you. No promises.

Wyll: He loooveees when you're sleepy. Propped up trying to read a book but you're eyelids are slipping closed every few seconds? Trying to wash up but having to scrub your face just to get through the routine? Sleepy giggles at Gale's decidedly unfunny joke? He can't help but just imagine you cuddling up to him, asking for sleepy kisses, trying to sneak cold hands into the hem of his shirt to rest on his warm belly. He can't help it, you're so intoxicatingly lovely when you're tired like this and though he feels terribly un-gentlemanly he can't deny the fire in his stomach when you yawn and say his name "Oh Wyll, " you snuffle with the yawn and look at him with tired eyes, "I might need to call it a night." He may have to bite back some strangled noise of arousal, especially if you're already trying to cuddle up with him. He can't help but let his mind wander to how you'd be so sleepy and coy with him had he the mind to take you some place private. It would be a bold faced lie if he said he didn't think about settling down with you, wrapping you up from behind, letting his hands roam freely, and in your tired state he doubts you'd be very hard to work up. You'd be too sleepy to resist all your desires, he thinks about the way you'd release all your inhibitions, he wonders where you would kiss him, you'd indulge him all your secrets biting and licking him in all the places you'd been secretly admiring. He wouldn't complain, he burned to know it all actually, in a sort of selfish way. What were you normally too shy to tell him? What drove you mad for him? He wouldn't mind your sleepy groping, he'd happily let you bite and moan and prod at him. You'd guide his hands to where you wanted them and lazily take what you desired and he would just be so happy to take care of you. You would have a sleepy sort of romp he'd set the pace, huddle you close, kiss you and praise you and it would all be lovely and drowsing and put you both to a great nights rest together.

Karlach: The back of your neck (especially if you have long hair that usually covers it). If she ever tells you and you laugh she'll tell you to fuck right off about it. She can't explain it, watching you pull your hair up, or guide it over your shoulder is entrancing enough but then there it is. The nape of your neck, the short hairs there, your skin looks soo smooth and perfect, she wants to kiss it, or maybe bite it, depending on how frustrated she's feeling. She'll think about pressing her thumbs into it and watch all the tension in your shoulders melt away. She's always favored coming up from behind, she's always pulling your hair over your shoulder, or offering to tie it up for you to 'get it out of your face!'. It's a self serving gesture at it's core. She'll think about kissing it, feeling it flush under her hands and lips. When you do finally get together she'll enjoy seeing the way the nape of your neck glistens with sweat while your together, she thinks it's a great place to have a hold of you for a multitude of reasons.

Halsin: He likes seeing you exert yourself, maybe it's some kind of primal instinct or something, or maybe he just likes to know how far he'll be able to push you later that night. Either way, he can't help it, he thinks it may get better as you grow closer but it only grows worse. Blood and grime caked to your skin don't deter him at all, and if we were drunk enough he'd admit the smell of your sweat, and the salty taste of it on your skin when he kissed or licked or bit you drove him mad. He struggles to be subtle when he watches you after a fight or during a long up hill hike. The rise and fall of your chest makes something in him tighten, the glisten of sweat on your skin, seeing your hair stick to your forehead, the flush of your cheeks and the way your lips part to take in deeper breaths....it all drives him a bit mad. He'll quell his desire to ambush you and drag you off to a secluded forest alcove with a myriad of debauched daydreams, all of them making his stomach stir. First he'll wonder if he could get you into a similarly winded state, if he could make sweat roll down your back, if you would melt for him like you melted at the unrelenting heat of the sun. How would his name sound as a desperate gasp for air? How hot would your cheeks feel under his fingertips when he takes you by the chin and squeezes your face in his hand? The way your lips open to take in deep and thankful breaths only makes him want to completely ravish your mouth. He thinks about what it would take for him to exhaust you so much the weight of own head would be too heavy and he'd have to keep you up with a fistful of your hair.

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 10: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt.1)

Summary: You and Soap both struggle to sleep. You have nightmares all night while Soap tries to rationalize his feelings and help you cope with the nightmares.

Word Count: 6,821

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, slight smut, nudity, graphic description of blood in nightmares

A/N: I had a few comments on Wattpad asking for a specific scene for this chapter, so I modified the chapter to include that. Please enjoy, like, comment, and reblog 🫶🏻

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Bitter Allies • Part 10

No matter what he does, Soap cannot get to sleep tonight. It not like he's too hot, and he wasn't horribly uncomfortable in his bed either. Yet, he's been tossing and turning for hours. While there was no way of telling time, he knows it has to be past midnight at this point.

He's not completely clueless as to what's keeping him up though. Any time he tries to quiet his mind, it always end up wandering back to the woman lying silently in her cot a few feet away from him. He can't stop thinking about you. About what happened today, or in this case, what happened yesterday. Within the last twenty-four hours.

It wasn't even the fact he faced off with a black bear. Hell that didn't really scared him much. He was a well traveled soldier was this point and had survived the wilds of Russia. He'd learned how to handle wild animals of all sorts. No, the thing bothering him was feeling like he almost lost you today.

Having sex with you just the day before had opened his eyes to new feelings he felt towards you. It was easy to push that down with time and put his walls back up. He could just call it a mistake and move on, pretend like it meant nothing. But something as drastic as hearing you scream in terror, begging for him to get to you, looking so frightened and small and vulnerable, shaking and sobbing as he held you... it was different than just having sex.

At least with sex, he could blame his new feelings on the fact you'd done something so intimate. He felt different towards you cause you made him feel good, because sex makes people feel closer to each other, because it was exciting and fun, because he normally didn't sleep around just for fun, so doing it as a one time thing was confusing for him. There were a million excuses to explain how he felt. But with what happened with the bear, he couldn't fully rationalize those feelings.

When he heard you scream, his blood ran ice cold. He'd never felt such panic at the thought that you might be in trouble. Even thinking about it now makes his heart beat a little faster. Then when he finally got to you, and you looked so scared, something in him just snapped. He wanted to protect you, but not in the same way he wanted to protect his brothers and sisters in arms. He couldn't explain it.

Once that bear had run off, all he wanted to do was get to you. Make sure you were ok. The thought of you being hurt filled him with dread. It wasn't like that with his other squad mates. If the 141 boys got hurt, he'd be worried and concerned, but with you he'd almost felt sick. He didn't think of himself as sexist, but maybe it was because you were a woman. But he'd worked with other women before and never felt that way about one he liked let alone you, who he couldn't stand.

Then when you started trembling, he could have died. He had to fight off the urge to wrap you up in his arms and hold you close to him. He probably would have had you not been naked. Even if he could brush or excuse everything else, this was one thing he couldn't explain. He had never felt such a stong urge to want to hold someone. The only other time he could think of having a feeling that strong would have been when his sisters got scared when they were kids. He'd certainly never wanted to hug Ghost or the others or any other female he'd worked with.

Then of course once you got inside, and you wouldn't shut up about how you almost died, that kept bringing up all those feelings tenfold. He couldn't stop thinking about himself not being fast enough. Not getting to you in time. Feeling panicked, filled with dread, wanting to hug you close to him and never let go.

He couldn't make sense of it. Had these feelings always been here, and they'd just been hidden behind layers and layers of hate and resentment? And when you'd finally cleared your minds, is that when it could finally come through. God... did he actually like you? And more than just another teammate.

Soap growls, slapping his hands over his hands and dragging them down. He was going insane. This cabin was making him absolutely insane. He wanted to go back so desperately to when it was simple, but there was no turning back now. Hell, he still had the rest of today with you and then two more days past that. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. You had "started over" after all. You'd even done that stupid little bid of reintroducing yourselves to each other.

A huff leaves Soap as he thinks about that. Fuck it'd been so fucking cute. Your annoyingly adorable pout when he didn't shake your hand right away and even more adorable look when he had. He'd never thought of you as cute. Annoying fit, but not adorable. Something had changed, and he didn't like it, but he did.

He glances over to where you lay, fast asleep and breathing peacefully. You're on your side facing him, his liner pulled up right to your chin. It's so dark out he can't really make out your face. The wood stove between your cots, which normally did have a fire going during the night, was currently not being used. It was a warmer night, so he decided there was no point in starting a fire. The only light source was coming from the moon, but it was only a half moon. It barely illuminated the room.

Soap is about to give up on trying to sleep for the night and go to the kitchen and draw or maybe journal for a bit. Or as Gaz would say, write in his diary. Whatever you wanted to call it, writing things out helped get stuff off his mind.

He's about to get out of bed when he hears a faint whimper from your side of the tiny room. He stills for a moment, looking over at you when you do it again. Your cot makes the God awful creaking sounds it always makes whenever you move the slightest bit, and Soap watches you curl into a tight ball. You're starting to breathe heavy, taking very small gasps, and he knows you're having a nightmare.

You sound like you had right after the bear attack, only on a smaller scale. He frowns at he listens to you, only able to tolerate it for a few seconds before he's slipping out of bed and taking the two quick steps to your side.

He kneels down, able to see your face a little better now that he's closer. It's pinched up, your brows furrowed and lips turned downward in a frown. He feels the longing in his chest once again to hug you close to him and comfort you, but he won't let himself. Instead, he places a hand on your arm, giving you a very gentle shake to try and wake you up from whatever is plaguing you.

"Oi, lass." He whispers softly. "Hey, States. Wake up." He adds a little louder when you don't come out of sleep the first time.

You startle awake, taking in a big gasp of air and jumping. Your hand flies out to grab at his arm, and he lets you sit up. Your eyes are widened in fear, and he quickly tries to calm you down.

"Hey, easy." He tells you gently. "You were having a nightmare."

"O-oh.." He hears you weakly mutter. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

Soap frowns at your question and shakes his head. "Nah, I was already up."

"Why are you still? Can't you fall sleep?" You ask, and he knows he can't tell you the real reason why he's awake. That he can't sleep because you were tormenting his mind.

"It's just a bit warm is all. I'm too hot to get comfortable." It wasn't a complete lie, just a half truth. "I'll be fine. Go back to sleep, aye?" He gets up, moving back over to his cot and setting down. He hears you mumble an "alright" before your cot starts squeaking again as you settle.

Soap stares up at the ceiling, you now in the forefront of his mind once again. All those odd unexplainable feelings from earlier had resurfaced, and he had to push them all back down once more. He just needed to sleep it off. Maybe his mind was just tired, and he wasn't thinking straight. That had to be it. He'd think more clearly in the morning.

He tries to sleep, but he still can't get himself to drift off. Cursing softly and kicking his blanket off in frustration, he fishes out his journal from under his pillow and gets up to go into the kitchen. It's not much brighter out there, but the small table sat by the window allowed for slightly more light to come in.

Opening his journal to a new page, he begins to scribble his feelings into the book. He writes about the argument from the morning, about the things he said to you. He writes about hearing your voice and how it made him panic. About the bear, how small you felt, about the moments right after and how he hates that you make him feel this way. He hated you long before this, and now he just had more reasons to add to that. More reasons to hate you.

But then why can't I hate you...

The last words he wants to write in his journal don't make it down onto the paper as his attention is torn away from the book. A sob is coming from the bedroom. Standing before his mind can catch up, he opens the bedroom and peaks inside. You're asleep again, he's pretty sure, back on your side and sobbing. Your breath has a panicked rhythm, more so than before.

And then, if it wasn't hard enough, he hears you call his name in a mumbled and slurred speech. Pleading with him, crying for him, and it's like his heart being ripped from his chest. Like he's reliving the encounter with you, and he can't stand it anymore.

In a few quick strides, he's back to your side, gently shaking you awake again.

***

Big black sharp claws, a horrible pain in your stomach, blood staining the clear water, guts floating up right before your eyes. Your guts. The pain is intense, feeling like a burning sensation. You scream, hands gripping onto black fur and pushing away the animal that is trying to bit at your throat. Your arms shake as you struggle to hold the beast back. You scream again, this time for the one man you know is here to help you.

Please, you don't want to die like this...

The bear's head turns and bites your arm, pain radiating where its teeth sink in. You let go, ripping your arm free, but also ripping the flesh from your arm and leaving the bones bare. You don't know how you haven't passed out yet.

As you look at your arm, screaming in horror at the all too real visual, the bear lunges, teeth sinking into your throat. Your head is pinned to the side as the pain sinks in, as breathing becomes harder.

Through your tears, you see him. Standing on the side of the lake shore, looking out towards you. His arms are crossed, his expression stern. You beg him to help you, the words coming out even despite the animal crushing your throat. You plead, reaching out your mangled arm to him, but he turns away. He disappears into the trees, leaving you behind.

You thought you could trust him... you remember starting over... why was this happening?

The bear forces you under water then, its large body pinning you to the bottom on the lake, head thrashing as it tears at your throat. You gasp, somehow able to breathe in the water, and when your eyes open it's pitch black.

The pressure is still on your chest, the burning in your stomach and neck, but you're able to move better. Maybe it let you go, but you can't see anything. You sit up, gasping and blindly grabbing at the air in front of you to grab the bear before it can get you again. You miss every time though until it grabs your arms again, and you cry out as you duck away, fearing it's going to get you again.

As you duck, your head sits something solid, and you pause. The pain starts to leave your body, besides your head, and you realize you're not in water anymore. You make out a window that has a tiny bit of moonlight shining through it and realize you'd hit your head right on the frame. Then your ears start to work and you hear someone saying your name.

"States please! You're having a nightmare! Lass, you're just dreaming, it's alright!"

You immediately recognize the Scottish accent, but you don't quite interpret the message he's giving. The freshest memory you have of him is of him walking away while you got mauled. You rip your arms away, trying to get away, but you can't. A hard wall blocks you in.

"No!! Get away! You left! You fucking left me to die!" You scream at him, still not in the right mind.

He puts his hands on your thighs by your knees, rubbing soothing shapes with this fingers. "Shhh, it's alright. You were having a nightmare. You're alright. Please, calm down. It's alright." He coos over and over again. "Just a nightmare. Deep breaths. Come back to me, hen."

Your breathing starts to slow slightly as your mind separates reality from dreamscape. Memories of what actually occurred flood your head, but now you're just left with the raw feeling of terror from what you made up. You cry, hands covering your face as you remember the fear, the pain, the feeling of teeth and ripping flesh.

You feel yourself move, being pulled into Soap's chest. His large arms wrap around your body and hold you firmly against him. He guides your head to lay on his shoulder, forehead tucked against his neck. You don't fight it, maybe because you're still kind of out of it, maybe because it feels nice. He's so warm, he's whispering gentle things to you in a deep voice, and his hands rub soft circles on your back as you sob.

"I've got ya... It's alright now. You were just dreaming. Just a nightmare." He repeats, one of his hands gently cradling the back of your head and bushing softly through your hair.

"I-I-t-it was-s hor-horri-ble..." You finally choke out, beginning to hyperventilate more than cry.

"I know... I know..." Soap says softly, holding you a bit tighter while you struggle for air. "It's ok though. Just breathe for me."

"It attacked me... I felt its teeth in my throat, and it cut me open, and you were th-there..." You're just making yourself upset all over again as you recall everything that happened. "You just watched. You wouldn't help, and then you left me..."

"Oh hell, lass..." Soap frowns as he listens to you somewhat explain your dream through broken words. "It wasn't real, hen. It wasn't real."

"But it felt real..." You whimper.

"Hey, look at me." Soap says gently, moving his hand to your chin and pulling you away from him just slightly. Your eyes meet his, and you can just barely make out the whites from his bright blue irises. "It was not real. I know it felt like it, but it wasn't. I know we fight a lot. I know we are a pain in each other's asses, but listen to me. You are still 141. I will always have your back. No bear is going to get you on my watch. You hear me? Don't you think for one second that I would just leave you. When I heard your scream, I never run so fast in my damn life to get to you."

You're left speechless when he's done. How do you respond to something like that? It was so sweet, so heartfelt, so not the Soap MacTavish you knew. You'd been seeing small glimpses of this softer side of his, but nothing like this. His words are a soothing balm to the terrors you dreamt of, and you've never been so grateful to have him here with you.

"Soap..." You whisper, holding his gaze and allowing your body to ease itself of tension. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do." He drops his hand from your chin, settling it on your hips instead. "I don't want you dead. I don't not like you that much."

You laugh softly, probably because you're exhausted. It was a long day, and to top it off, nightmares sort of took a lot out of you. At least he didn't hate you. He wouldn't be here holding you in his arms if he did.

"Thank you." You tell him softly. "For everything. For coming to save me, for giving me your shirt, for making me soup, and calming me down, and... I really appreciate it."

"Don't do that. You don't need to do that. My mum would have beheaded me if she knew I didn't help a lady in distress. Plus, I just couldn't stand the sound of your cot when you thrash around." He grumbles, but you know he doesn't mean that.

"Well, my parents wouldn't be happy if I didn't acknowledge it." You throw back at him. "Plus I don't want to hear you bitch about how I never even said thank you."

"Brat." Soap chuckles. "Go to sleep. Don't need you to be grouchy tomorrow."

You're smiling, but it quickly fades at the idea of going to sleep. Despite Soap making you feel better, the nightmares still tickles at the back of your mind. Just waiting for you to shut your eyes so it can take over once more.

"I... I might stay up for a little bit." You say slowly.

"I know you're exhausted. You had a stressful day. Get some sleep, lass." He tells you softly, trying to gently push you to lay down, but you don't let him.

"But what if I have another nightmare?"

Soap pauses for a moment when you say that. You can't make out his expression in the dark, but you feel like he's clenching his jaw. There's a beat of silence before he continues.

"Then I'll be right here." He assures you. "You'll be alright."

"Well, I don't want to keep waking you up."

"Eh, you haven't yet. Still hadn't been able to get to sleep. Don't worry about me though." Soap starts to gently nudge you to get you to lay done. You're a bit reluctant, but you let him. You sink back onto your cot, the springs creating a symphony of whiny metallic screeches as you do. "Fucking hell, I hate your bed so much." He grumbles.

You roll your eyes, sighing heavily. You would argue more with him about your squeaky cot, ask him how he thinks you felt having to sleep on it, but you're actually pretty tired. So you opt to just lay back and hope you won't dream at all.

"Alright. But if I wake you up though I'm not gonna feel bad." You yawn softly.

"Yeah whatever, you-" Soap pauses to yawn as well. "Probably wouldn't have regardless." He finishes.

You giggle a little bit. "Goodnight, Soap."

"Night, States."

***

You're not sure what time it is, but you wake up in a cold sweat, Soap gently shaking your arm. Your cheeks are damp, and it still takes you a second to figure out that you're not dreaming anymore. Although you are getting quicker at coming around with each time he wakes you up.

You still grab his wrist in a death grip, breathing heavily as you look in the dark at him. He's still shushing you softly like he had the other times, though he sounds a lot more tired now. You're definitely waking him up.

"Hell, States. You're fine. Just another nightmare." He says, rubbing his face with his free hand when you won't let go of his other hand immediately. "It's alright, lass. Can you let go of my arm?"

You blink a few times, coming back once again. His words take a few seconds to register, and you release him once they do. You're far past feeling guilty now. You've woken him up a few times now. The nightmares are not letting up or going away.

"Sorry... Fuck what the hell is wrong with me..." You sigh, drying your cheeks on your shirt as you sit up. This was probably the fifth time now. It had to be close to 0400 but it's too hard to tell. The room was still in total darkness, so you know it's not quite 0700 yet.

Soap sighs softly, stinking down to sit on the edge of your bed, making the springs make a horrid noise. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're just dealing with a lot. Processing stuff. You'll probably be fine tomorrow."

"I want to be fine now." You complain. You felt bad for keeping him awake. If it was just you, you wouldn't care, but this was exhausting for Soap too.

"Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. Only thing you can do is just go back to sleep."

You can tell he doesn't really want to stay up with you. He wants to sleep, and you can't blame him. He's been up all night essentially and any sleep he is getting is being interrupted. You're honestly surprised he hadn't snapped at you yet.

"The sun's gotta be rising soon. I think I'm just going to stay up." You say, pushing the liner down and pulling your legs free.

"You don't know that. Could be only 0200 for all we know." He counters, but he doesn't push it. "But if you wanna stay up for a bit though that's fine. I just wanna sleep. I'm fucking tired."

You frown, watching as he gets up and drags his feet as he walks over to his side of the room. "I know you are. I'm sorry."

"Eh," Soap waves a hand back towards you as he crawls back into his cot. "It's fine. You can't help it." He yawns, the sound a little obnoxious and dramatic. "Just don't stay up too long." He adds, already half asleep the second his head hits his pillow.

"Alright." You agree, not even sure he's heard you. After a few minutes, he's already softly snoring.

You carefully try to get off your cot, wincing as the squeaking from the springs echo in the quiet room. Soap's snoring continues on uninterrupted though. Normally, you moving even the slightest bit would make him wake up and gripe, so that was a testament to how out of it he truly was.

The rest of the walk to the bedroom door is silent in comparison once you're off your cot. Even the slight squeak of the door hinges is nothing. Once you're in the kitchen, you can breathe a sigh of relief, glad to finally give Soap a little time to actually get some sleep. Though now you're cursed with trying to find something to do to occupy your mind.

It's far too dark to do something like read. You could use the flashlight, but you don't want to waste the batteries on something like that. You'd rather have it for emergencies. Cooking was also out of the question. The pots and pans and the smell of food would probably just wake Soap up again. Plus it was dark still. It was a little hard to cook without being able to see what you're doing.

You can, however, make yourself a drink. It was just a mixture of purified water from your cantina and a cherry flavoring packet, but it was something to occupy your mind for a few seconds and gave you something somewhat tasty to drink.

You set about digging through the box for the flavor you want, finding what you hope is a red and not an orange packet. When you tear it open though, a strong scent of cherry confirms it was the right flavor. You mix it into some water, trying to stir your cup quietly. Every time the spoon hits the side of the metal cup, it sounds so loud in the quiet night air.

You're about done with your stirring and are about to go sit at the little table when you hear a stick snapping somewhere outside. You inhale sharply, your body going tense. You try to rationalize with yourself that it's nothing. Just a deer or something else. But of course your sleep deprived, stressed out, overactive, brain thinks it's the bear.

No matter how much you tell yourself it's nothing and to calm down, your heart rate just keeps getting higher and higher. You can't make yourself calm down. Even if your rational brain knew it wasn't in danger, that didn't keep all the sensors from firing off.

Then you hear another twig snap, this one closer to the cabin. A horrible shiver runs up your spine as you imagine it is the bear. Smelling you from outside, right outside the door. It could just bust down that door and get you. And it's dark out, its fur would blend in so well that you wouldn't even see it coming.

That's enough to set you off. Your hands shake as you try to place your cup down somewhere it won't spill. You just want to be back in your bed. Right by Soap. An extra door between you and whatever else is outside.

The cup doesn't quite make it though. What was most likely just a crab apple from a nearby tree falls and lands on the roof by the deck. It rolls from the roof and hits the deck, making a thumping sound, which makes you jolt. Your frazzled mind doesn't think it's a nut though. You imagine it's the sound of a bear knocking something over outside while it makes its way up onto the deck.

You are in full panic mode. Water spills over the rim of the cup as you jump, and you hurriedly set it down. Once your hands are free, you bolt back into the bedroom. You don't mean to, but you end up slamming the door in your hurry. It doesn't immediately occur to you how loud it was, but it was enough to wake Soap up.

The poor Scot jumps awake, the loud bang nearly giving him a heart attack. He's on high alert as his eyes search the darkness for what caused the loud sound. He's drawn instantly to your dark figure by the door, and he can hear you breathing heavily but quietly.

"States?" You hear him ask hesitantly. "What the hell? What's wrong?"

You flinch when you hear his voice. You'd managed to wake him up yet again. Though you feel an odd mix of guilt and relief. You hate to admit it, but there is a part of you that is happy he's awake.

"There.. there's something outside..." You say softly, as though the imagery thing out there would hear.

"What?" Soap asks. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"There was a noise! I heard something on the porch and-and-"

"Oh Christ." Soap sighs. "Lass, it's probably nothing." He tries to reassure you, but you don't budge. Your tense figure stays standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around yourself as you watch the door.

"But-"

Then you hear a loud bang, and your heart jumps to your throat. It definitely came from outside. There was no way something in the kitchen had fallen over. You quickly back up until you're at Soap's side, tears collecting at the rim of your vision. Your heart is pounding, and you're doing everything you can to not have a full panic attack.

"See! I told you! What if the bear is back!?" You cry out.

Soap up on his feet instantly. Seeing him so alert only makes you want to panic more though. If he is this ready to go, then it really could be that the bear was back.

"What are you doing?!" You ask him, unable to keep the panic from your voice.

"I'm just gonna go check it out. I'll be right back." He tells you rather calmly. You're anything but calm though.

"No! Don't do that! What if something happens?!" You grab his arm before he can leave, making him look back at you.

"I doubt the bear is back. That thing was scared shitless. Just stay here. I'll only be a minute." He gives your hand a little pat, and despite any further protesting from you, he leaves to go check the sound out.

You have an internal debate with yourself on if you should go with him or not. You are terrified to face off with that black bear again, but you also don't want Soap to be by himself if it is back. Sure, he scared it off the first time, but you wanted to have his back like he had yours. After a few seconds of going back and forth in your head, you finally give in and rush after him.

"Soap! Wait up!" You sigh, running to catch up with him in the kitchen.

By the time you get there, Soap has already grabbed the flashlight and is shining it out the windows on the side where the banging sound had come from. His hand is cupped by his eyes as he looks around.

"I don't see anything out there." He assures you as you stand close to him, too scared to look for yourself.

"Well the bear is black. Kinda blends in right now." You mutter, chewing on your lip.

Soap huffs softly, standing up straight again as he looks back over to you. "Most bears sleep during this time. I am pretty certain it's not out there.

"Then what was that loud sound? Huh?" You worry, frowning at him. Soap groans, and you watch in confusion and then panic as he goes the door. "Don't fucking go out there! Are you crazy?!"

He's already out the door though, shining the light outside and looking over the porch. You manage to make yourself go to the doorway, watching him helplessly as he scouts it out.

"There's a bucket out here that's been knocked over. It was pro- Jesus! Fucking!" Soap jumps suddenly, taking a quick step back towards the door, which makes you jump.

"What?? What?!?" You shout, bouncing on your heels slightly as you try to make yourself stay and not run. You feel like your heart is going to explode it's beating so hard.

Soap takes a deep breath, placing a hand over his chest to calm himself down. "Just a fucking raccoon. Scared the shit out of me. See, have a look." He motions for you to come look as he shines the light.

Your feet stay firmly planted, but you do strain to look outside, and you can see a raccoon in the middle of the yard, its eyes glowing due to the light shining on it. It's frozen in place, on its way back to the woods. Then it suddenly turns and runs the rest of the way back.

"It probably just knocked that bucket over. Looking for food or something." Soap pieces together, turning and heading back inside. He shuts the door and places the flashlight back on its shelf. "No bear though. Come on, let's get back to bed."

You still haven't left your spot, trembling as you still don't feel safe. You know it's irrational to think the bear is still out there, even though Soap just proved it was most likely just a raccoon you'd been hearing, but you can't help it. The only thing that makes you move is when Soap comes over and gently grabs hold of your hips, trying to pull you away from your frozen state.

You resisting at first, but it doesn't take much for Soap to get you walking back to the bedroom. Your arms are folded over your chest, shivering both from fear and because the opened door has let some of the chilly night air in.

"Fuck. You're shaking again." Soap sighs, his hand rubbing your back as he guides you through the bedroom door. "You need to relax and stop working yourself up."

"I can't help it!" You frown, your exhausted mind breaking down a bit. "I've had fucking I don't even know how many nightmares about it now. I'm so tired, but I'm scared to sleep. But if I stay awake, then every little sound makes me imagine the bear just stalking the outside of the cabin! I just want to sleep..." You let out a little sob.

"Oh, States... you're killing me." Soap sighs, giving your back a few pats. "Here, come give me a hand real quick." He leaves your side, and you watch him out over to your cot. You're confused at first and then wince as the railing of your bed make jarring sounds as he moves it.

"What are doing?" You ask him, plugging one ear to help mute the sound.

"I'm moving your cot next to mine for the night." He explains. "Come give us a hand." He walks around to the side and gives it a push, essentially doing all the work himself. The beds are already close to being next to each other.

"You really don't have to-" You try to protest, but with a final shove, the beds are now side by side, almost creating one mattress.

"There." Soap sighs, crawling over yours and settling onto his own. "Come on. I'm tired." He pats your mattress firmly. "Get your ass in this bed and go to sleep." He grumbles, readjusting his pillow and blanket while he speaks.

"Was that really necessary?" You question, though you really don't feel like arguing.

"Yes." Soap says firmly. "Now I don't have to keep getting up.  You have another nightmare, I'm just going to kick you. You start blabbering about a bear, and I can just slap you."

His explanation, though a little harsh sounding, makes you smile a bit. He was clearly doing this so you felt safer. Also probably cause he truly was sick of you waking him up, but the sediment was there. Slowly, you walk over to the bed and sink down onto the mattress, fidgeting until you get comfortable. It pulls a long groan from Soap.

"That sounds even worse up close..." He complains, making you smile again.

"We could trade cots you know." You offer, getting a dry laugh from him.

"Yeah, not a chance. Sleep tight, States."

"Sweet fucking dreams." You mumble back.

***

You're out in the middle of the lake, the sun is shining on your back as you scrub your front with a wash cloth. The water is warm for once, you notice. It feels like you're taking a regular bath back at your parent's home in the US, expect for the fact you're outside. You're completely unaware of your surroundings, not paying any mind to what's around you as you bathe. It's so peaceful out, you don't feel the need to.

A twig snapping somewhere off in the distance breaks the visage of peace. You gasp and quickly turn to scan the woods for any dangers. All you see is the lush greenery. The only movement is from the wind blowing through the leafs. You want to go back to bathing, but you just can't shake the feeling that something is with you.

Then a pair of red eyes can be seen in the middle of out of the bushes. The red is a stark contrast to the green leafs, and you find yourself freezing as you stare into them. Slowly, the eyes get closer, a nose and head appearing as a snarling bear shows itself. You gasp, feeling yourself shrink down. The fear that had been clawing at you starts up again, making your heart pound in your chest.

Then, you feel something behind you. Something sharp grabs onto your sides, teeth sink into the side of your neck. You scream, trying to get away, but the thing behind you pulls you back, not letting you escape so easily. Terror fills you, and you think the bear has somehow gotten behind you. But then the bear talks.

"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to frighten you."

A deep Scottish drawl fills your ears. You pause as the sharp, what you thought were claws, smooth out and turn into warm palms. The teeth biting down on your neck ease up, and the stinging feeling turns into the warm press of lips. You're confused for a long moment.

"S-Soap?" You question, trying to look behind you. It's hard to turn your head though when the person's head is pressed into the side of your neck, leaving delicate kisses over where teeth had once been. You know it's him though.

"Soap, th-there's a bear! We need to go!" You try to urge him, completely ignoring the fact that you're naked and he's kissing you. "It's over there! Please! It's going to get us if w-"

"Don't you worry about that. It's not gonna get you as long as I'm here." He promises, a hand sliding up your body and cupping one of your breasts. His thumb circles at your nipple, pulling a gasp from you.

"What the hell are you doing?" You question him, grabbing at his hands as they cup your breasts. You look down, the sight making you feel heavy all of a sudden. "We need to get in the cabin." You attempt to leave, but Soap tightens his grip, pulling you firmly against him. You feel his firm, definitely naked body, against your backside. Even more shocking, you can feel an even firmer something else pressing into your lower back.

"You're safe with me, lass. Nothing is gonna try to harm you as long as I'm here. So you can relax. I've got you, hen."

He starts to kiss at the side of your neck once more, hitting every spot that makes you weak in the knees. Your eyes remain on the tree line, scanning for that bear. There is no sign of it now though. There is no longer a feeling of fear. Just a warmth and a feeling of safety. You start to involuntarily relax, putting more weight back onto Soap and letting him hold you.

"There we are..." Soap whispers to you, his hands starting to dip lower now. It slides down your stomach, fingers teasing the sensitive skin just above your pelvis. "You're safe. Not gonna let anything get you, bonnie."

You sigh, eyes fluttering a little as you feel his hips begin to rub against your ass. His member is thick and firm against you and slippery from the water. He's starting to breathe in your ear, the puffs slow and steady, matching the intensity of his movements.

"You gonna let me take care of you? Let me make you feel good. Let me help you relax a little bit." He whispers to you softly, his kisses trailing up the side of your neck, sucking little hickies here and there.

You're finding it hard to focus on anything but him anymore. The lake, trees, cabin, bear. All seem to fade into the foreground. You want to talk, but it's like your tongue had gone numb. It feels heavy in your mouth, all senses dim. It only to heightens every touch, kiss, and movement of him. All you can manage in response to him is a soft hum.

Then wordlessly, you feel his slick member dragging down along your backside and settling between your legs. He feels so hot against your throbbing need. You feel yourself arching to try and move his cock head to your entrance. It nudges it softly, making your whimper. You can feel him probing, his swollen tip poking around, looking for its way in. And when he finds it, and starts to sink in, you vision gets blurry, and the dream starts to fade.

[poquiii]

 König x reader  /  Ghost x reader  Headcanons

 They are like fathers. 

König

● König grew up in an incomplete family, but he still knows what it is to love.

● But he will never get used to how tiny children are.

● The first time he sees your baby, he can't pick them up. He was so afraid of hurting them.

● König walked around your bed for a long time, looking at the little lump in your hands.

● You insisted that he take them in his hands and he sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, watching you put them in his huge, rough and scarred hands.

● Since then, he has made it his goal to be the best dad ever, to make you and your children proud of him.

● He will learn to cook well. He will tell the baby's breakfast so he doesn't have to do it for you.

● If you have a daughter, he won't be afraid to look silly when your daughter wants to paint his nails with pink nail polish.

● He will also learn how to braid her hair.

● He doesn't think it's anything shameful to play dolls with her and make Troop 141 drink tea with her and her teddy bear. (He doesn't fit at her little table, so he sits on the floor, bent in half.)

● He will always treat her like a princess and fend off her suitors.

● He won't have to try particularly hard, all he has to do is stand next to her when he picks her up from school and everyone will go around them.

● If you have a son, Koenig will do everything he wanted from his father when he wasn't around when he was growing up.

● He will teach him how to play soccer, fight, and handle a knife (which you don't approve of, by the way. But he'll just put his head down and mumble awkwardly about self-defense. However, if you don't take pity, he'll back off and teach your son to defend himself with his fists instead)

● He will gladly buy them a dog and train them as the best defense for his child.

● He will carry them on his shoulders and toss them in the air, enjoying the children's laughter.

● He does not want his children to know what he is doing. He avoids these conversations at family dinner in every way possible, asking you and your children more about their day.

● He likes to take his family on picnics and trips to the amusement park.

● He will in all seriousness cry over Disney cartoons when a child asks to watch it with him. (”Coco” broke him.)

● He will always try.

● And he is ready to protect all of you from any danger at the cost of his own life.

Ghost.

● He didn't want this baby.

● That phrase he threw out in a panic made your heart freeze in your chest and your hands clutch at your stomach.

● He immediately started making excuses: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- Fuck! I didn't-"

● He'll spend a long time trying to explain to you that he's just afraid.

● He's afraid of being a bad father.

● He's barely learned to show his love for you and he's afraid of hurting you, of hurting you.

● Even more so, he was afraid for a defenseless little creature.

● His child. It took him a long time to come to terms with the thought.

● But when he held the little bundle in his hands and your child's little hands reached out to him, something clicked in his chest.

● He would kill for them.

● He would die for them.

● He will do anything for them. Just like he did for you.

● He'll learn how to change diapers, swaddle the baby, make applesauce, and move around even more quietly than before so he doesn't wake them or you. 

● After all, he knows how tired you are.

● He didn't wear a balaclava at home. He understood that the child was afraid of it.

● For a while he thought he was naked with his face open. But first you started kissing his cheeks every time you ran into him in the hallway of your house, and then the baby started touching his face with his little fingers and smiling.

● And for the first time, he felt comfortable without Ghost. It was just Simon Riley.

● If you have a daughter, he won't be a soft dad. On the contrary. He'll teach her to fight better than any boy. He'll do anything to keep his beautiful, beautiful girl safe.

● And yes, he's the kind of father who demonstratively cleans his gun in front of his daughter's boyfriend when he walks her out on her first date.

● If you have a son, Ghost will treat him like a little warrior. "You have to protect mommy while I'm gone."

● Your son will be a copy of his father in both appearance and personality. He'll even steal Ghost masks from your closet and sneak them on to show he's as tough as Daddy.

● Ghost never objects. and always strokes his son's head affectionately.

● In fact, he's afraid his son will find out the truth about his father and hate him. 

● The ghost doesn't want to be what he used to be. He wants to be the best version of himself for his family.

● And every time you smile at him affectionately while he does your children's homework, you kiss him affectionately on the forehead, he knows he's doing the right thing.

● He will never yell at his children, never hit them or punish them harshly.

● He wants the best for them and knows he can't protect them from everything, so he tries to teach them everything he knows. To prepare them for hardships and make them strong both physically and mentally.

[nolita-fairytale]

try a little tenderness | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader one shot

summary: on the anniversary of mikey's death, you help carmy find a way to grieve. (set in the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone piece)

warnings: swearing, grief, mild angst, mentions of death & suicide, second person pov, no use of y/n

wc: 2.3k

a/n: i wrote this as a way to process my own grief over the loss of a close friend to suicide. i fell so deeply in love with 'the bear' because i saw myself in so many of these characters: how they responded to losing mikey, the nature of the loss, and the ways they fought their grief. i see so much of myself in carmy in the show and this ended up being really cathartic to write, even though it's been three years now. anyways, heavy shit ahead so don't feel obligated to read but thank you if you do.

(banner made by @allthefandomstogether)

Grief is a funny thing. 

For Carmy, most days it’s something easy to ignore – like an old friend that he’s managed to cut out of his day to day. He’s stopped calling, stopped picking up the phone, eliminated any and all thought about this thing that feels so foreign yet, so familiar at the same time. 

But now he has you – and he’s never been able to bullshit you for shit. Some days, he feels like you see right through him. He knows he’s been irritable, short, impatient at the restaurant (and sometimes at home too). It’s something you handle better than he expected – better than he thinks he deserves. 

“Honey, can we take a pause from this conversation? I just don’t think either of us are in the right headspace,” you’d asked him the other day when he’d tried to pick a fight with you. Completely caught off guard, Carmy had stared at you blankly in response, as if you’d suggested you both run naked down the street.

“If you wanna fight, we can fight. I just… don’t think this is what you’re upset about,” you’d explained, before slipping into the bedroom with the book you were halfway through. 

And today, after he’d tried to pick another fight with you, you’d stopped him again, like a tornado hitting an immovable wall. 

“Carmy, I’m not going to fight you about the dishes,” you’d sighed, shooting him a sympathetic look. “I’m gonna take a walk and pick some things up at the store for dinner. Is that still something you’d like to do?”

How could he forget when he’d been making his brother’s family recipe earlier that day, setting the braciole-filled dutch oven in the fridge to be put into the oven for later? But he almost has – another symptom of how checked out he’s been all week. 

He’s not used to this. He’s used to his siblings – his mom – picking fights over the smallest things that usually escalated into a screaming match. And while you were willing to fight over things that felt worthy to go to bat for, always quick to call him out when he’s being a dick, you don’t engage in his smaller, more frivolous attempts at starting something over the smallest, nitpicky things. 

It’s a whole new pattern for him, and he’ll admit, it’s harder than you make it look. 

Earlier in the week, he knew he’d been in a trash mood. Then he looked at the calendar and saw what date was coming:

2/22/23. 

Oh. 

No wonder he’s been such an ass. 

And now wonder you’ve been such a saint.  

“Oh, um…” he stammers, as he realizes his memory has failed him again. “Uh… yeah, we can still do that.”

He’d forgotten you’d made plans for dinner in preparation for today, and truthfully, he’d been so absent-minded all week that he’s forgotten – forgotten about the plan, forgotten about what day it was, forgotten that that day was now today. Thankfully, you’d had the sense to make sure he was off that day, coordinating with the staff of The Bear to make it happen. While you knew everyone would be grieving today, you weren’t interested in a repeat of last year when the both of you were still in New York.

Sydney, the real hero of this story, had moved mountains to get everyone’s schedules nailed down for this week – knowing it’d be a hard week for everyone that knew and loved Mikey. 

“No, we do not need a repeat of last year,” Sydney had agreed, as you’d explained to her the shit show that was Carmy going into work that night, one year ago. “Don’t worry. I’ll run the kitchen. Tap as many newer staff as I can to work too.”

With the recent press about The Bear (not to mention Sydney’s official James Beard finalist status) there’d been a huge increase in applicants lately. You couldn’t thank Syd enough. 

“Okay. I love you, Carm. I’ll be back in a bit,” you reassure, before grabbing his keys and your coat.

“Yeah,” he mutters quietly, as he watches you go. 

*

After lighting up a few in the apartment, he lays down on the couch, turning on something mind-numbing to not pay attention to on the TV. He’s not sure when or how long it takes him to drift off to sleep, but one minute he’s blinking his eyes closed, and the next he can hear the sounds of pots and pans clamoring around the kitchen. 

He feels guilty: guilty for being an ass, guilty for trying to start something, guilty about what Mikey did.

You’ve told him time and time again: “I don’t think it’s fair to yourself to carry this much blame, Bear.” While normally, he’d love the way his familial nickname sounded coming from you, he’d winced at the mention – just because today, it hits a little too close to home. 

He knows it’s not fair to himself – or to you – but it’s something he’s just not ready to let go of yet. 

He can smell the braciole he’d prepared earlier that day; you’ve already put it in the oven, letting it braise slowly like it was meant to be. He recalled the conversation you both had had about this a few weeks ago. 

“Let’s make a meal he’d like,” you’d proposed, wanting to be a supportive 

“The braciole. Or maybe his spaghetti,” he’d suggested, so matter-of-factly that you could tell he was trying to mask his emotions.

“Maybe both?” you’d countered him. 

“Yeah,” he‘d agreed, quick to put himself out of the discomfort the conversation was causing him. 

“How do you feel about maybe asking some of the others to stop by, Only if they want. Only if you’re up for it,” you’d continued, cautiously. 

“Can I let you know?” he’d asked. 

“Sure,” you’d agreed, even though you knew he wouldn’t be bringing it up again. 

As Carmy sits up from the couch, his mind drifting back to the present, he sees you posted up in front of his little apartment’s stove top, working on his brother’s spaghetti sauce. Pangs of guilt fill his chest, and he feels like absolute garbage for being a dick earlier. He can’t picture doing anything else tonight and he’s glad you had the foresight to do this. Carmy rubs the sleep out of his eyes, watching you move around the kitchen. You’ve got a window open just in case that tricky little smoke alarm goes off while you’re steeping the garlic in olive oil. 

You’re busy trying to maneuver the largest saute pan Carmy owns over the burner for maximum heat exposure when he approaches. The sun’s already set, and the heat from the kitchen leaves a fog on the windows right near the stove, as you shake the saute pan by its handle. 

“Hey,” Carmy says, his voice rough with sleep. 

“Hey,” you reply, a soft smile on your lips as you turn to him. “Sleep alright?”

His unruly curls seem exceptionally messy this evening, and you can smell the remnants of the cigarettes he smoked while you were out. You hate how sexy you still find the nasty habit, even though you’ve tried your best to get him to cut back, citing lung cancer as a top reason. As much as you hate to admit it, you’re eager to taste the cigarettes on his lips, wiping your hands on your jeans because, unlike Carmy, you could care less to wear an apron at home. Framing his face with both of your hands, you place a gentle kiss on his lips, breathing him in as he kisses you back. 

“Sorry I was an ass earlier,” Carmy says, in between kisses. 

“Thanks. You’re kind of allowed to be an ass today though,” you say back. 

He can’t believe you’re letting him off the hook this easily. 

“And what about tomorrow?” he asks, taking a more playful approach this time. 

“No, definitely not. Cut off. Ass privileges? Revoked,” you’re quick to banter back, earning a dry laugh from your boyfriend. 

As you return to your post in front of the stove, Carmy slaps your butt playfully from your earlier comment, eliciting a giggle from you as he does it. He watches you work, adding salt to the tomato, onion, and butter you’re reducing in the saute pan, while the saucepan-filled olive oil/garlic/basil mixture comes up to a simmer. 

“I know you’ve always said that Mikey’s pasta was over-sauced and under seasoned… but it sounds like he just needed a little extra salt and a few little tweaks here and there,” you continue, tasting the tomato sauce. 

He’s not ready to taste the sauce just yet, even though he’d suggested you make the spaghetti in the first place. He watches as you use a spoon to check for salt levels, tasting the sauce first. You throw your head back as the salty tomato mixture hits your tongue. Carmy watches you carefully as you remove the sprig of basil with a pair of tongs, tossing it into a deli container for the trash later. Placing the deli container on the counter next to the rest of things you need to dispose of, his eyes linger on the 28 oz San Marzanos. 

Because the small ones taste better…. 

You busy yourself with straining the oil, setting it aside to add to the sauce towards the end of the process. Carmy checks his phone briefly, seeing a few texts from Richie, Syd, and Tina – all just checking in. 

“Silly question, I know. But how are you doing?” you ask him, having found a good stopping point. 

Carmy thinks about it for a second. He’s not sure how he wants to answer – how he’s supposed to answer this question. 

“I’m… I don’t know,” he managed to get out. 

You nod in acceptance, before replying with an empathetic, “That makes sense.”

“It doesn’t feel real, I guess?” he admits, taking his time as the words fall out of his mouth. 

“I can only imagine, Carm,” you sympathize. “Wanna help me out?”

“Yeah,” he replies, a half smile on his face. 

You’re so kind, so understanding, so empathetic, and he can’t picture spending this day with anyone but you. He thinks back to last year – when he got the news. It was the worst day of his life and regardless of that fact, you’d been there: caring enough to show up, to fight with him, to make sure he ate something. And then that night… the night you crossed the line, slept together even though both of you knew it was a bad idea, that there was no way you could start something real. 

He’s not sure how you got from there to here, but he thanks his lucky stars for whatever good deed he’s done in a past life that’s led to it. 

“Thank you for this,” he says intentionally, making sure you hear him as he continues with, in reference to earlier, “... and I love you too.”

You don’t expect anything from him, and he’s grateful, because he’s not sure he has anything to give. Not today. 

You give him the softest smile, something that makes him want to melt right there and then when you reply with:

“You don’t need to thank me.”

You step aside, making space for Carmy as you give him a task to do to help with dinner. You made the executive decision not to scale Michael’s recipes down, making them as written – family style. If anything, you hope to bring some of the leftovers, sharing his food in honor of his life. You wish you could’ve met Mikey, and since you didn’t get to, making his food feels like the best way to get to know the man Carmy loved and admired so much. 

You queue up a good playlist, working in perfect harmony with Carmy till dinner is ready to eat. Between the braciole and the spaghetti, you know you’ll have more than enough leftovers to feed the two of you for the next week. You let Carmy plate – something he’s truly exceptional at – watching him as he creates a perfect twirl of spaghetti before tearing a few pieces of basil for garnish. As you bring the spaghetti to Carmy’s small dining table that is only meant to seat two, he plates up the braciole on one plate for the both of you to share. You set the table, enjoying the sounds of the playlist you’ve set for the night, before sitting down to eat. 

Carmy takes his first bite of the spaghetti, knowing that it’s not going to be an easy thing for him. You watch closely as he tastes the sauce, his eyes closing and face turning a darker shade redder. 

You wait a beat, letting him settle in before asking:

“What do you think?” 

He nods his head, “It’s fire.” You can see that he’s holding back tears, not ready to lose all control just yet. “It’s actually better… than Mikey’s”

You eat your dinner quietly. It’s the good kind of quiet but the air feels heavy. Carmy may not always have the words for what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t need to right now. You try the braciole together, sharing one plate as he tells you about how Mikey refused to use raisins, even though that’s how they grew up eating the beef dish. You listen, letting him travel down memory lane, only as far as he’d like tog. 

Halfway through dinner, Carmy says something that surprises you:

“We’ve got more than enough leftovers to feed a large family of… twenty,” he states plainly. His blue eyes water as he continues with an ask. “You uh… maybe wanna pack this up and take it to the restaurant tonight?”

“Yeah, Bear. I think everyone would love that," you agree, the smallest smile on your lips. "Would you... wanna tell me a little about him? On our walk there?"

Carmy nods, "Sure. Yeah, I-. I think I can do that."

*

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery@strawberryalicia @astronautelilanded @veryplatoniccircunstances @fonteyn @hlkwrites @not-two-shrimp

[kit-williams]

Can I get some cream pie action with Tulio?

This is at the start of my inbox...

I guess happy Mating Press March

Male Lead: Tulio Female Lead: Psychi Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Yandere Space Marines Canon Status: I dunno probably not its why I gave it the ending that I did I let the spirit of the fic take me TW: Smut, Yandere behavior, Tulio behavior, dubcon?, cream pie Tag List: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

Note: Yeah keeping the canon status format thing from Fluffuary it's helpful for these sorts of asks.

The spice wine rushed over their tongues as it flowed freely and by the throne he wished he could allow such things to get him somewhat intoxicated but he would not stoop so low as to drinking mjod. He looked over to Psychi who wasn't used to such fine wines as her cheeks were flushed and given how her tunic was he could see how the tops of her breasts were flushed as well.

He forces himself to think about fighting tyrannids instead of the thoughts of how soft those would feel against his face... or how his tongue would run against her nipple... how he would suckle hard like a hungry babe. He grits his teeth as he forgets about the foul xeno he was suppose to be thinking about and thinks about the woman drinking and eating with him naked.

"Tulio?" She slurs softly as his eyes look to her and notice how her eyes are looking down... he follows her gaze and his face flushes as his own tunic is doing a terrible job to hide his desire.

"P-Psychoula I can explain." He felt like he was going through puberty again.

"No need Tulio." She says putting down her goblet as she crawls into his lounge chair and the wine must have made his darling bold as her hand starts to pet the cloth covered cock.

It twitches under her ministrations... of course it would for her hands. Tulio can't help but moan like some sort of virgin with the way her hand touches him. "Psychoula!" He bites his cheek to stop cumming right there.

His cry out causes her to flinch her hand away but she still felt emboldened as she leans forward with tears in her eyes, "Tulio please I have to repay you somehow!" He goes to stop her but she undoes the ties for her tunic letting it fall to her hips bearing her breasts to him and she crawls between his legs nuzzling his clothed cock. "Please... let me repay you." She hiccups softly.

He shouldn't he really shouldn't... it isn't proper.... so why was he undoing his tunic?! Why did he order her to undo her hair... of course it was to thread his fingers through her hair griping a handful as he watches her run her tongue against his cock. He shutters as he watches her lick a pearl of precum from the tip of his cock watching the way the white pearl of cum smears upon the pink of her tongue. How her eyes are half lidded as she lavishes her affections upon his flesh... running her hands up and down the shaft that isn't receiving her direct attention.

Tulio grits his teeth as he resists bucking up... as lurid as his desires and dreams may get he knows she has limits and he can't hurt her... but the way she tries to take as much as she can in her mouth... he hears her gag softly and the sensation of her saliva running down his cock is too much. He gently pulls on her hair, "Off now." He orders and she pulls off with a pop as she pants softly. She rubs her face and the flesh of her breasts against him.

He should stop. He should stop.... why isn't he stopping?! The voice inside his head whimpers as he grabs her chin and pulls her into a deep kiss tasting himself mingling with the spiced wine as he is doing everything wrong as he doesn't spend the time to prep her he just rubs his cock head against her cunt and then feels how she pushes herself down onto him... slowly pushing down each inch after inch... his hand against her cheek as he watches her get that blissed fucked out look.

"Please Tulio... please..." She begs softly and he bucks his hips up as his reply. He grunts and huffs and snarls as he has to restrain himself from burying hard and fast... he wants her and she's there on him pleading for him to fuck her and he wants to do so much! So MUCH! To her but he has a limited amount of time... unless he just keeps going until his body gives out. He pants at the horrid thought as they seem to spiral out of him as she... should be awake for these moments... but she didn't need to be awake is what the voice in his head says.

He came inside of her at those thoughts and lurid desires. He flipped her over less then gently as he looked down at her spread cunt still wrapped around his cock as his cum overflowed the sides and he pulled her legs to his chest as he thrusted down listening to her cries of pleasure and mercy as he knew she was overstimulated but just a little more! He bucked down hard, grunting like an animal, as he chanted her name and she mewled his own name so pathetically and at his mercy. He moans as he felt her walls strangle his cock and he flooded her fertile valley with his seed looking down at the way her walls were so spread as cum stained her thighs and oozed down her ass, making its way over her puckered bud. Tears left their mark on her face as she was sprawled over his lounge chair just looking up at him whimpering.

But he wanted more? Why? Why was she looking at him like that?

"Tulio?" She whimpered before flinching-

He snapped awake feeling his hearts racing and his thighs moist and his own release filling his nose. He rubs a hand over his eyes groaning before he realizes something is on his arm... and that something is a someone... a Psychi just snuggling against his arm... the chill of the night not an issue with how she was wrapped around his arm like a hot water bottle keeping her warm. He groans feeling like an awful creature... it was not often that she slept over and whenever she did... he had such intense sexual dreams which made him feel like a monster just barely hanging on...

But he wasn't one... he reassures himself as he tucks her into bed... and he watches her for awhile... before he takes a small piece of her clothing to release the rest of such pent up feelings.

[warthogreporter]

Demon king here with the top 5 funniest ways I've acquired new human concubines, from least to most funny.

5. When someone broke into my harem trying to 'rescue' their totally not boyfriend, then decided to stay when said totally not boyfriend refused to leave and sold them on being my concubine. I spent so long reworking palace security after that incident but at least I got another beautiful human out of it.

4. That time I straight up kissed a human king in the middle of our big fight over what was then his kingdom. He got really embarrassed about it before the sleep spell took hold, it was cute.

3. So there's a spell that removes a person's armor, and all other clothes, equally practical and horny and nobody knows which got it invented. I used it on one guy and it turns out he had a prophecy about serving an enemy who saw him naked, so he joined me on the spot. Still think he might have made it up.

2. One of my friends (an Orc warlord) sent me a huge box one day with a note reading 'figured you needed more bears.' Had to explain to one of my generals what a bear meant in gay and then try to figure out which kind was in the box and how to handle it, thankfully it was the human kind.

Incidentally that general ended up getting into bears in both senses of the word because of that affair, he even won a battle for me by releasing literal bears on the enemy.

1. The guy who ran up to my palace and demanded to be used as a human sacrifice. We don't even do that. Turned out he had a crush on me and didn't know how to approach me, in addition to having like ten different complexes to work through.

[haldenlith]

Binary Stars - Ch 1

I come bearing an interesting little thing. Remember my occasional rambling about my mind concocting a seperate universe with Uldwyn (base Uldren) and Hal? And it's a cyberpunk styled universe with magic? But it's not the Destiny universe? But it uses a lot of story elements and themes from it? And that I was hesitant to call it an "Alternate Universe" because of that? Well I started writing on that. Decided to start things actually from Uldwyn's perspective, and... I don't think I'm going to explain much past that. Just keep in mind this is different and not Destiny. Also, the "Arachas" are this universe's Eliksni. They're renamed because of being physically different. I don't know if I'll put this on AO3 or not given how and what it is. Also title is a working title. I'm at a loss for a better one. (Essentially put a Turian from Mass Effect, a Predator from the Predator series, an Eliksni, a spider, and a Necromorph from Dead Space into a blender -- congratulations, you have an Arachas.) Anyway, there is a content warning for suicidal ideation and general mature themes.

They trudged through overly sanitized, brutalist corridors of biocrete and steel. Tight grips on tired arms, dragging him along, boots echoing and drowning out the softer patter of his bare feet on the cold, cold floor. Lunar Penal Facility K-1 was nothing like the prison back home. His people’s prison. Petra might have thrown him in there and thrown away the key, but at least he was left with some dignity there.

Earth Coalition’s government had other thoughts on what inmates of their maximum security prison got. Dignity was not high on that list. It was low, scattering the floor in the processing room, with his hair they’d so unceremoniously shaved off. Clothing stripped away, discarded, as guards looked on upon his naked body, packing rifles high powered enough that he’d be little more than meaty splatter on the walls if they felt so inclined. They probably did, they just valued their jobs more. Undergarments and a jumpsuit was issued in place of the dirty but finer, high quality garments he was dragged in wearing.

He started to dig his feet into the polished floor, started to fight. The faint hum of servos whirred as the cybernetics on one of the guards kicked into a higher gear, wrenching him along, forward. His feet caught, and he felt their hands loosen.

They let him stumble and fall face first into the hard floor. A metallic taste graced his mouth. He’d bit his lip hard enough to bleed. A stinging pain that was nothing in the face of what he already felt.

“Get up.” They grabbed him, dragged him to his feet, hauling him in front of another guard – clearly an administrator, tired and uninterested in any inmate’s woes. His orange eyes inspected them, focusing. A Full-Body. Those weirdos that went and got themselves turned into robots. Green optics stared back, a modulated voice scoffing.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in, bloody and beaten. What do people refer to you as now? ‘The Butcher Prince?’ If I had my way about it, we’d chuck you outside and let you suffocate to death outside the O2 zone, but that’s too good for you.” The clicking and clacking of keys on the keyboard followed. A metal collar was fitted onto him, connecting into the port on the back of his neck. His own cybernetic eyes glitched and struggled to refocus. Everything did in him. The thrum of magic in his magitek augments died. It wasn’t a collar.

It was a muzzle.

He glared through the thick crysglass window at the administrator click-clacking away on the keyboard. “From this day forth, you are no longer Uldwyn Sov, you are simply Inmate #7050. I don’t know what kind of tea and crumpet shit you got back in that Plutonian prison you busted out of, but you’re not getting any of that shit here. We do not give a fuck who you were before, you are Inmate #7050 now, and you are just as much a piece of shit as every other inmate in here. Welcome to Lunaris K-1.” The FB’s green oculars narrowed, and the modular voice added in what sounded like a sneer, if they had the ability to make any kind of a facial expression, “Enjoy your stay.”

Clockwork. Everything was clockwork. Wake up was at 0500. Breakfast was at 0600. Showers, every other day, at 0730. Duties started at 0900, ended at 1700. If you behave like a good dog, you get a snack somewhere during that. Dinner was at 1800…

Part of him appreciated the rigidity of the schedule. There was no deviation. Deviation equaled punishment. Simple. Effective. It filled the void for all of a week.

Breakfast at 0600.

“Hey! Hey you, you smarmy bastard. I had family on Pluto. Family your fucking alien cult murdered.” Uldwyn kept his eyes on his food, tuning the man out. It was bland. “Hey, you fucking prick, I’m talking to you!” It was food, so he couldn’t complain, but he’d certainly had better.

A crude shiv was produced and aimed at Uldwyn. The man learned quickly how hard the tables were as Uldwyn dodged and responded in kind, grabbing and slamming the man’s skull into the table enough times to ensure he was unconscious. He went back to his food. The cafeteria was a little chilly, or maybe he was just still adjusting to the breeze he could feel on his head. The fuzz was growing out, but in its current form, the sparse, stubborn bits of white stood out a bit more against the dark black of his hair.

More people saddled up to the table.

Uldwyn heaved a sigh. “I’m really not in the mood.”

All of a week was all that lasted before his first real prison fight. He grunted as he was slammed back into his cell. The cybernetic shackles let out a shrill beep before disengaging, allowing him to get his arms apart. He sat on the bed and stared at the floor.

He pondered why he dodged the shiv.

Dying was easier.

“Dying is easy. You don’t get to have easy.” That bastard’s voice echoed in his head. He looked up and saw other inmates through the heavy steel latticework geometry of the front of his cell. Challenging glares and hungry eyes. He was a bird of prey with clipped wings in a den of hungry wolves, gnashing their teeth.

Dying. Was easier.

He had nothing to hope for. No spark burned inside. Not any more. It was all burned to the ground.

The next fight was during Duties. Back in the cell.

His people hated him.

Another fight at Breakfast.

His sister was gone.

The showers. That one was particularly rough thanks to the slick floor. He couldn’t help but feel like the guards had been intentionally slower to respond that time.

Even the people on Earth hated him.

“He’s done. He has nothing left.” He could hear that bastard’s voice in his head better than his own, at times.

Two fights in one day. Two different groups. The first was during Duties, which had been cleaning this time. They learned how well trained Uldwyn was, and how anything could be a weapon with him. The second was during Dinner time. That one was the worst. He was hungry. He didn’t get to eat anything.

Even the Arachas gave him a wide berth. He had a target on his front and back. He was arguably the most dangerous inmate in the prison, going by what he was in there for. Anyone else that had achieved his body count had been killed.

Dying was easier.

They got the easy way out.

He was shoved into a new cell. Four walls. Biocrete painted white. Sterile. Cameras, tiny, violating, sitting the corners. The thick door re-engaged behind him.

The Butcher Prince finally had his own kingdom, solitary and isolated. How kind.

A new schedule. Wake up at 0500. Breakfast at 0530, arriving through a slot, heralded by a mockingly cheerful AI.

“You have approximately thirty minutes to consume your designated meal. The tray, with utensils, is to be returned to the receptacle for evaluation. Missing utensils will result in a mark on the inmate’s record and immediate cell search.”

Showers now only occurred once a week – he assumed it was a week, it was hard to tell anymore – at 0700.

Then… nothing. Nothing. Nothing but his thoughts. Nothing but the silence. Nothing but the faint hum of a vent blowing in recycled oxygen.

Dinner at 1730.

“You have approximately thirty minutes to consume your designated meal. The tray, with utensils, is to be returned to the receptacle for evaluation. Missing utensils will result in a mark on the inmate’s record and immediate cell search.”

Lights out at 1900.

He curled up on the cot. His hair was just long enough to run his fingers through now.

His face itched. He’d not had a beard in… a long time. Even if it was only scruff.

Wake up at 0500.

Breakfast at 0530.

“You have approximately thirty minutes to consume your designated meal. The tray, with utensils, is to be returned to the receptacle for evaluation. Missing utensils will result in a mark on the inmate’s record and immediate cell search.”

Silence.

Dinner at 1730.

“You have approximately thirty minutes to consume your designated meal. The tray, with utensils, is to be returned to the receptacle for evaluation. Missing utensils will result in a mark on the inmate’s record and immediate cell search.”

Lights out at 1900.

Wake up at 0500.

Silence.

Wake up at 0500.

Dying was easier.

Silence and the same four white walls.

DYING WAS EASIER.

Wake up at 0500.

DYING WAS EASIER.

Why didn’t he let her shoot him? Why did he not shoot him?

Wake up at 0500.

DYING WAS EASIER.

He hated him.

Wake up at 0500.

Silence and the same four white walls and the memory of the man that put him here. “Now deal with the consequences of your fucking actions.”

DYING WAS EASIER.

He wanted to die. He didn’t want to live with this.

Wake up at 0500.

IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.

This was hell.

YOU DESERVE THIS.

They should have killed him. The gun was there. It was loaded. It was pressed to him even after Petra was knocked unconscious and it was right there and he was staring right into those cheap dollar store synth-optics that the idiot had dared to compare to his own and he remembered sneering at the man and saying, “What are you waiting for?” And the man still didn’t do it.

Why didn’t he do it? That’s what he tore across the kingdom to do, right? It was to be a reckoning? Wasn’t it? IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE. THE GUN WAS RIGHT THERE. JUST SHOOT.

I DESERVE IT. I DESERVE TO -

“Hey.” Uldwyn jumped at the voice. His orange eyes darted around the cell, the sleek cybernetic irises shifting and focusing rapidly as he inspected his space. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He’s losing it. Of course he’s losing it. He already lost it. “You’re not crazy.” More voices in his head. More lies. Something new to come and whisper lies in his ear. “I’m sorry that happened to you. You were vulnerable. They preyed on that.” You’re just like them. “No, I’m not. Here, let me show you.”

A soft glow materialized in the room. A ball of light, pure, warm, with other wisps dancing around it. Barely larger than a baseball. It was like a rainbow. So… inviting. It undulated as it spoke, soft and kind. “See?” Uldwyn stared through his bangs at the ball of light only two feet away.

So inviting and suspicious.

“… Uldwyn, you have officially lost whatever was left of your mind. Well done.” The ball made what could only be best described as an “exasperated circle” in the air while sighing.

“You’re not crazy! I’m real! I’m right here. Everyone here has loud thoughts, but yours are… especially loud. It’s like they’re screaming. Over and over. And you’re very bright. Your aura, that is. I’m sure you’re pretty smart, too, but I just wanted to clarify that.” Uldwyn arched up a brow.

“Bright. Right. And how do I know you aren’t some fresh new horror to torment me?” The ball of light dimmed, as if sulking.

“Oh. Well… I suppose you don’t know. All you can do is trust me.” Trust. What a peculiar word. He scarcely knew it anymore. A sigh escaped him. It wasn’t like he could do anything about this strange Entity choosing to occupy the cell with him. He pressed his back against the cold wall, stroking the short beard he now had. A short, patchy coat of black and white. At least his face didn’t itch anymore.

It was nice to hear a voice other than that of the AI.

“I know it’s a bit invasive to have done so, but in poking through your memories, I’ve seen other versions of you. I’d say you looked quite dashing clean shaven. Maybe that would make you feel better? Cleaning up? It’d at least be something to do.”

“What a wonderful idea. Let me just walk out and ask for a sharp object while languishing in prison. I’m sure they’ll just hand that and some shaving cream right over.” He didn’t even know what he looked like, truth be told. There were no mirrors in the cell. The only “luxury” he was granted was the luxury of knowing the time, communicated via an e-ink clock above the console by the door. Well, the console was a luxury, too. He wasn’t completely cut off. He could… make requests.

Hm.

“Oh well, you know, I was just… trying to figure out a way to cheer you up. Or… something.” The ball of light drooped, sulking. Uldwyn stood and lazily sauntered over to the console. It was sleek. A flat panel of glass. He pressed his hand to the sensor. After a moment, it beeped. The AI voice greeted him once more.

“Inmate #7050, what is your request?” He arched up an eyebrow.

“Um… I know this is a long shot, but is it… possible to get something to shave with?” It was ludicrous, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. The worst that could happen is being told no. There were a few moments of silence as a loading circle twirled on the glass.

“Inmate #7050, your request has been denied on the grounds that you would be armed with a sharp object with which to do harm to yourself.” That was exactly what he expected. “However –” He perked. “You may request to pay a visit to the barber facility that is provided as a form of enrichment to inmates. You have accrued one enrichment credit, which is sufficient for one visit.” He blinked a few times and glanced back at the ball of light floating in his room.

“I… alright. Yes, I… I’d like that. I wish to request a visit to the barber facility.” The loading circle appeared once more.

“Inmate #7050, your request has been approved. You now have zero enrichment credits. You may accrue more via good behavior. Your appointment is at 0630 tomorrow. Your allotted shower will follow.” Interesting. Uldwyn turned to look at the light floating by his cot. It shifted colors for a moment. He assumed that it was pleased with itself.

“… I’m not giving you any praise for this idea until after this ordeal, tomorrow.” The ball drooped in the air.

“Oh, alright,” it replied dejectedly. He returned to the cot, plunking down onto it. Dinner would come soon. Hopefully. “Still, at least you’re getting to have a little change of scenery, right? So that’s good.” Lamenting his inability to actually scan this odd little entity, he stared at it.

“So, what are you?” The ball of light expanded briefly, seeming to perk up.

“Oh, well, um… My kind doesn’t really have a name. We just kind of exist. I’ve heard some people call us ‘wisps’. Though, looking at the technical terminology of what is often defined as ‘wisp’, I don’t really feel that’s entirely accurate.” Uldwyn shook his head, which prompted his bangs to fall into his eyes.

Idly pushing his hair back out of the way, he inquired, “Okay, not a wisp. If I’m going to be stuck in a cell with you, I’d like to have a name for you or something.”

“A name! Right. A name. Um…” The ball floated back and forth before conceding, “I… don’t have one of those, either.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Why don’t you give me a name? It can be a token of our new friendship!” Uldwyn affixed the light with a deadpan stare.

“Friendship.”

“Yes! You seem like you could use a friend!” An unintentionally deep jab by the odd little fellow. A soft groan sounded from Uldwyn as he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his eyes slide closed.

“With all due respect, considering my past encounters with strange magical entities and creatures – which you appear to be aware of, thanks to rifling around in my head – I’m not particularly inclined to refer to you as a ‘friend’,” he paused, cracking an eye open. “A name, though… I think I can work with giving you a name, at least.” He let his hand fall to his lap and he stared at the ball of light. Smaller dots of light would sometimes flare and split off, orbiting it, before rejoining the mass. Like solar flares or…

Sparks.

“Sparky.” A new response was exhibited from the ball, as it seemed to frazzle and ripple in an irritated fashion.

“What?! No. I don’t like that name.”

“And I don’t like being confined to a cell for the rest of my life, yet here we are. You’re Sparky.” Sparky made a sound like a groan, sinking in the air.

“It’s awful, though! It makes me sound like I’m a dog or something,” he whined.

“Fine. Don’t have a name, then. I’ll just call you ‘Thing’.” Another new response: Sparky seemed to flatten out somewhat, resembling more of a flattened ellipse of light than a ball. He then returned to his spherical shape.

“Fiiiiiiine. I guess I’m Sparky, now.” Sparky’s presence made time tick by a bit more quickly, and before he realized it, Uldwyn heard the sounds of his food being delivered, along with the usual AI announcement about stealing utensils. The food was bland, as usual, though it was nutritious enough. As dehumanizing as the “Lunaris K-1” prison facility was, they did seem to at least try to keep the inmates fed and taken care of on a base “keep you alive” level. He’d hardly call “meeting the bare minimum” anything worth celebrating, though.

The harsh LED lights illuminating the room automatically shut off at 1900. Sparky was like a little nightlight in the darkness. If the security cameras watching the room could see him, there had been no indicator of it. Uldwyn still mostly suspected that he was hallucinating. Hallucinations were what got him in this mess, so how grossly fitting it was for him to be plagued with them in his darkest moments.

“Is my glow going to bother you? I can vanish for a bit so that you can sleep.”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright. Well… Good night, Uldwyn.” It was strange, perhaps even bizarre, to be wished well under the circumstances. It was ridiculous, even. Yet it was a small comfort, none-the-less. Not that it stopped the restless sleep, tossing and turning, punctuated by nightmares of laughter and screams.

O BROTHER MINE.

Sparky floated closer, summoned by the faint whimper that sounded from the slumbering man, only to dart back when Uldwyn woke with a cry, bolting up. Panting, he ran a hand over his face, trying to collect himself. He glanced to Sparky, who remained where he was, only a foot away.

“Are you okay?” The little light asked softly. Uldwyn simply growled softly and laid back down, pointedly putting his back to Sparky. He still found himself instinctively curling up, trying to find some sort of self-comfort. After a few moments, he heard soft humming behind him. He opened his eyes, but he didn’t turn around.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to help. I thought maybe a lullaby would help,” Sparky replied. “Do you… want me to stop?” Uldwyn stared into the darkness, silently contemplating the question.

“No. Go ahead.” The humming resumed. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was falling for the same trap all over again.

[duxwriter]

Ahem, more Ava's Demon cause brain rot theories/information

I supported the Kickstarter, and pointed out by another user (@fanlovedlt) Wrathia gets covered in snakes (though in the same chapter she speaks through a snake as well)

This is during Ava's dream and mind meeting after committing her act of wrath (more on why that means something later)

Now, Wrathia is covered in snakes

Snakes have a meaning (as most animals do)

With a shedding of their skin through sloughing, they are symbols of rebirth, transformation, immortality, and healing, but also are known as a creative life force and fertility on their own.

Now, Wrathia here, very Satan-esqu

Titan is even god coded

Chapter fifteen (called the first sin)

The following chapters (sixteen and twenty) are called "Hellfire" and "Paradise lost"

(Fun fact! Paradise lost is an epic poem written about the fall of mankind by John Milton featuring a very different version of Satan compared to how he was depicted at the time in old art and literature as well as making god the antagonist)

Now, why might this be important to what I have to say?

Snakes in the daytime mean good things, but in dreams, it's very different

Snakes in dreams typically represent a person in the dreamer's life who exhibits low, dirty, toxic, or poisonous behavior.

But they can also mean health or healing!

It can mean a sense of healing, personal transformation, or that you are moving forward.

But it also deals with the context of Ava and Wrathia in these scene's

Now, Wrathia speaks through a snake

If you know the story of Adam and Eve (note, Adam and Eve were both naked before eating the fruit from the tree of knowledge, the snake is in a tree and both Wrathia and Ava appear "naked")

Ava even calls Wrathia a "snake"

Usually a term to call someone false, fake, etc.

(very fitting for Wrathia's character)

Now, Wrathia doesn't have typical Satan horns

But they are known as demon horns (goat/sheep like, especially with the eyes)

Wrathia is regal, a demigod (as explained by Odin's peoples thoughts on how the universe happened, again, a very bible/god related story)

(note, there are seven sins, and it took six (the seventh to rest) days to make the world, there are also seven sins and seven virtues)

Satan was "regal" and "royal" as he was depicted now and (sorta) then

Where does this all lead?

Ava commits an act of wrath (term used in lieu of acts of many different religions concept of gods acting against mortals for slights or divine retribution, take the story of Niobe from Greek myth, where she says she's better than Leto so Artemis and Apollo slay her children in an act of wrath against her)

Ava basically makes hell (on titans planet) for people, and herself (note, she thought it was a dream, many people who commit or have been committed against think it's a dream/wish it was a dream)

Where I'm going with this is, It's very bible coded (as well as Alice in wonderland with the rabbit hole Ava basically sent herself down)

It both shows Ava's growth, Wrathia's horrid personality

Wrathia and Ava talk about a high, which often is said how hubris feels (or an act of defiance or fight/flight response when you pick to fight)

(also little tidbit, snake Wrathia is in a tree, which looks like a fig tree, fig trees are symbols of wisdom and success in abundance, but Jesus also cursed a fig tree in the bible, as a warning for people not to be hypocritical. Basically "Jesus Christ warning Christians that they must bear fruits after their conversion worthy of repentance or risk being condemned to Hell." Is how it's interpreted to many churches, but it also has several different meanings in the bible (like hunger for true worship, as it bore no fruit)

(also, the fruit of knowledge was never described, many simply assume it's an apple from paintings and modern media, but, it's very possible it could be any fruit, like a fig)

(we see here the tree is snapped, as in, it's been cursed/destroyed, again, the bible says Jesus cursed the tree)

(I also need to say, Fig trees can represent happiness in dreams)

[t1gerlilly]

So… I used to be a Supernatural fan. And Jensen Ackles talked on multiple occasions about how he loved the original Roadhouse movie

And I watched the new Roadhouse movie, which I heard had been “updated” and then the original movie, for the first time. The new movie is a nice ‘man redeems himself from dark past by cleaning up the town’ flick. It’s fine.

But the original? holy motherfucking fuck. The whole goddamn movie is a bi guy fantasy. Where the lead is eroticized (half naked gleaming in the sun ) and ogled…. By two older men. No people of a female persuasion in sight.

The first being the single bear gentleman who is renting him a room. The second being the super gay coded villain with his Uber gay second in command and harem of hench thugs.

The same “violence as symbolic sex” was present throughout the movie, with lots of sweaty clenches and phallic objects (poker sticks and beer bottles ) waved around in combat. There was also enough naked titties and random wall sex to give a veneer of straightness if anyone was suspicious that all of this highly charged man-on-man action was slightly bent.

All of the significant emotional content was between men. The main character brought in his (mentor? lover?) who was fridged for man pain. And the penultimate battle was between the crime boss’s boy toy and the main. The boy toy walked around the whole movie with his shirt open to the waist, with a George-Michael-esque single cross earring in his left ear(which was focused on with a glint), CLEARLY intending to signal he was gay. And then in the big (half naked) fight scene below he says like one thing to the main. Does he explain or justify? Nope. He says “I used to fuck guys like you in prison”. Then knifes him. Then gets killed.

Like. Death and sex and hot guys is like AIDS era gay culture with a small side of unimportant blondes to sex up and …seriously bi dude heaven.

And I was like…ok, if Jensen Ackles never figured out what was going on here. I just. I don’t even know what to say. Like it was ABSOLUTELY CRYSTAL CLEAR this was a made for gay movie with enough naked women to squeak by and THEY KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING!!! No question.

And it makes my head hurt to think that so much of the same subtext showed up at different points in Supernatural and all the (repressed, ignorant, oblivious?) guy writers just…didn’t see it?

I mean I’ve never speculated about Jensen. But holy fucking fuck if this is one of his favorite movies. I mean SERIOUSLY. WTF

(Pic below is during the fight where the boytoy (on left) tells the main (on the right) he used to fuck guys like him. And damn, could those pants get any tighter?)

[kiss-my-freckle]

Most episodes are written like their seasons - they end opposite how they start. This is the 3rd installment of my 14 episode series post. For those who don't know me, you can take and use my gifs any time you want.

3x3: The End of the Affair

3x3 opens with a Datherine phone call and Elena's hope. 3x3 ends with a Datherine phone call and Elena's heartbreak.

This episode repeats a lot in 3x5 because Elena will experience her own version of the 20s in current time. So yes, you'll find parallels between 3x3 and 3x5.

This is where things start to get heavy because Damon and Elena are in love with each other, and both are completely "in the know" about it. He has no reason to be terrified of Elena's love for him, and he's not at all shy lol. He pushed Elena to confess her love for him in 3x2. Because she confessed, you continue to see how Damon approaches her feelings for him. Understand tthis is my own interpretation of the writing.

This is Elena fighting her love for him -

This is Elena's love for him -

Damon knows fear when he sees it, so he pulls a reverse. He wants Elena to get comfortable with her feelings for him.

This is Elena's love for him -

This is Elena fighting her love for him -

Fighting one's love requires resisting temptation. The closer Damon gets to Elena, the more tempting he is. She can't be this close to Damon. He would NOT climb into bed and get that "cozy close" with Elena if all she had for him were friendship feelings. In her bed with her teddy bear, sure... but not in bed with her.

Damon is the same with her confession. Different in the fact that he has to push the confession until he hits her boundary.

Elena confessed her love for Damon because he pushed her to.

"I didn't want to see you get hurt, okay? I was… I was worried about you."

Damon's first confession push -

"You know you were dreaming about me. Explains the drool." ("What made you change your mind?")

Damon's second confession push -

"It came in a dream. I was naked. You would have loved it." ("So what changed your mind?")

Damon's third confession push -

"Ooh. Put these in the 'yes' pile." ("What changed your mind, Elena?")

He hits her boundary. This is Elena fighting her love for him -

A great battle… Elena fighting her feelings while Damon fights her fear. Just look at her reaction. The fact that he told her he was naked in his dream and she would've loved it, and said this two episodes after she literally saw him naked lol

Damon has two trains running at once... Elena's love for him and rescuing Stefan. "I had an hour to realize what a bad idea it was to leave you here alone, process it, and move on. Are you okay?" A good scene when Damon returns to Stefan's apartment. I'd gif it all, but this post would be too long. Difficult for Damon and Elena because this isn't like their other road trips. She's deep in his world, and not accustomed to his "in the moment" pace. This hasn't been her life, put it that way.

Despite Damon's love for Elena and his knowledge of her love for him, he's respectful on all things Stefan. He's truly preparing Elena to see his full-blown ripper brother, as he still believes Stefan flipped his humanity switch. That's why he offers up the chance for her to read his journal, and takes her to his apartment. Take notice how he refers to it as Stefan's "second personality" home. Sounds better than the Ripper's home.

My favorite part is his fear. He knows based on her responses that she's underestimating Stefan despite his attempts to prepare her for it. He fears she's not ready, that she's being far too casual about it, so he needs... reassurance. He will die if she doesn't take him seriously. "But you're going to have about five minutes tops before that hybrid freak rips my heart out. So please, tell me you can do this." Take notice his tone change on that last word because THIS is Ripper Stefan and Klaus is far more powerful than Ray. He's basically begging Elena for his life.

This is a truth they continue to show -

"You know, Stefan blames me for trying to tear him from his brother, but I think we both know who really came between them. You."

SHE is the reason Stefan won't come home, period.

This is Stefan not respecting Elena's choice -

I point this out because Stefan doesn't "always" respect her choice even though fans like to believe he does. Stefan sees no point. He's been feeding on human blood all summer. He feels it's a waste of time to put her at risk with Klaus just to come home and spend half her life getting straight.

A bit complicated to explain, but -

The last time you see Elena, she's telling Damon to drive. They don't show them during their car ride home, they don't even show Damon walking Elena to her door. This is their last attempt to rescue Stefan, and Stefan's last chance to take them up on their rescue. That said, their darkness and light theme continues, even in their soundtracks. Shelter by Birdy starts to play as Elena is shown holding her necklace.

♪ Can I make it better with the lights turned on ♪

"I don't want to run anymore, Nik! All we do is run."

This is where it gets complicated. The necklace, the soundtrack, and Rebekah not wanting to run. Watch how all three collide with each other. I consider this triple a foreshadow of Elena's death. No "shelter" needed. It's time for that necklace to come off.

I'm always looking at angle shots, so have this final hit -

[bohemian-nights]

Imagine building a “ship” based on rumours 🤡 that explains why you are so miserable, dumb and obsessed with Daemyra😂 Matt Smith just said that no one can trust mushroom at comic con few days ago 😂 Daemyra is everything you crave for your deranged (self-inserted👀) 🚢

You feel better now? Come off anon and say it with your whole chest if you do not. I promise I will not bite🤗

Now let’s get into your deeply flawed accusations, shall we😊:

1. Daemon and Nettles’ romantic relationship is based on more than just rumors (Mushroom is not the only source despite you people falsely claiming that he is). I know that you Dumbnyra, my apologies, Daemyra stans are a little slow so let me break it down for you:

In both Fire & Blood and in The Rise of the Dragon (left passages) Maester Norren’s(who was there with them at Maidenpool unlike Mushroom) testimony is used to support the claim that Daemon and Nettles were lovers.

Of course, I know that you are going to say that Maester Norren is the same one who mentions Daemon doting on Nettles like a daughter, but what man bathes with his grown daughter or someone who he sees as his daughter? I also know that you’ll spout out some bull crap about how in The Wheel of Time two friends bathed together and it was platonic. Don’t do that.

I want you to show me a piece of media where a father(or father figure) is bathing naked with his grown adult daughter and it wasn’t considered creepy and weird🙃

Would you consider it normal if Rhaenyra bathed with Corlys 🙃 Or better yet, would you take a bath with your father or a fatherly figure at the age you are now 🙃 Is that what you do for father daughter bonding time ☺️

Furthermore, in Fire & Blood, Lord Mooton’s brother(top right passage) makes note of how fond Daemon is of Nettles. Fond enough that the man who murders family members including children for his own advancement would fight through sixty men, burn down a castle, and would lay his life down for Netty.

Daemon chooses to put Nettles first, disobeying his beloved wife’s orders(remember she wanted him back by her side in Kings Landing not going after Aemond by himself) and betraying her trust causing her to ultimately lose the war and her life:

“Long leagues to the north, in a castle overlooking the Bay of Crabs, another lord found himself sliding down a sword’s edge as well. From King’s Landing came a raven bearing the queen’s message to Manfryd Mooton, Lord of Maidenpool: he was to deliver her the head of the bastard girl Nettles, who had been judged guilty of high treason. “No harm is to be done my lord husband, Prince Daemon of House Targaryen,” Her Grace commanded. “Send him back to me when the deed is done, for we have urgent need of him.” -Fire & Blood

“By evenfall, Rhaenyra Targaryen found herself sore beset on every side, her reign in ruins. “The queen wept when they told her how Ser Lorent died,” Mushroom testifies, “but she raged when she learned that Maidenpool had gone over to the foe, that the girl Nettles had escaped, that her own beloved consort had betrayed her, and she trembled when Lady Mysaria warned her against the coming dark, that this night would be worse than the last.” -Fire & Blood

In The World of Ice & Fire (in the above bottom right passage) Nettles is unquestionably recognized as being Daemon’s lover.

In the Novella The Princess and the Queen Daemon and Nettles are said to be lovers:

“Long leagues to the North in a castle overlooking The Bay of Crabs, another lord found himself sliding down a sword’s edge as well. From King’s Landing came a raven bearing the queen’s message to Manfryd Mooton, Lord of Maidenpool. He was to deliver her the head of the bastard girl Nettles who was said to become Prince Daemon’s lover.”

Lastly, we also have this little piece of media where Nettles is once again stated to be Daemon’s lover.

I can not reiterate this enough, none of the above sources cite Mushroom’s testimony as evidence for Daemon and Nettles being lovers and Daemon loving Nettles. We are not making sh!t up or basing Daemon and Nettles’ relationship off of Mushroom’s salacious tales. They are claimed to be lovers in every(because once again despite in Fire & Blood Maester Norren saying Daemon doted on Nettles like a daughter he is the one providing evidence for their sexual and romantic relationship) single edition of the story.

2. HOTD and shipping Daemon and Nettles is my hobby. The only time I talk about your ship is in defense of my ship or if someone is asking me about your ship.

That being said, while this is a hobby, I’m not going to turn a blind eye to the blatant anti-Blackness and misogynoir that is rife in this fandom. Misogynoir that is perpetuated mainly by your side of the fandom, so what you are not going to do is come for me because I call you people out on your bs.

What we are not going to do is act like I came out the gate swinging for your ship when I did not. You people are actively making Black fans' experience in fandoms(which is supposed to be a fun space) unenjoyable because we either have to ignore your racism or make posts like these defending ourselves on why we say what we say or ship what we ship. So save your miserable, dumb, deranged, and obsessed accusations for the people who are spouting out this bull crap:

3. Matt was referring to the rumors that Daemon and Alicent had an affair in The Rogue Prince novella (these rumors were cut from Fire & Blood):

He was not referring to Daemon and Nettles’ relationship. You would know that if you were actually paying attention, but I understand that the facts are not your side of the fandom’s forte. I understand that y’all would rather make up bs to prop up your sinking ship than hear the cold hard truth 🤷🏽‍♀️

At any rate, the show has already incorporated some of Mushroom’s bawdy tales (notably the brothel fiasco😊):

And I don’t think I need to remind you he’s not the only one who mentions Daemon and Nettles’ relationship(revisit point 1. if you need that reminder 😊)

4. There is nothing about your ship that I want for my ship because I don’t crave this for Daemon and Nettles:

Or this:

Or this:

(This is the fate that awaits your self insert, who is a racist sociopath that thinks the appropriate response to finding out your husband is with someone you deem as being lesser is to go on a racist tirade and commit a hate crime , when the love of her life leaves her on read while saving Netty🤷🏽‍♀️)

I sincerely hope that Daemon and Nettles’ romantic relationship is nothing like your ship and I hope that we get to see this come to life:

“How the prince and his bastard girl spent their last night beneath Lord Mooton's roof is not recorded, but as dawn broke they appeared together in the yard, and Prince Daemon helped Nettles saddle Sheepstealer one last time. It was her custom to feed him each day before she flew; dragons bend easier to their rider's will when full. That morning she fed him a black ram, the largest in all Maidenpool, slitting the ram's throat herself. Her riding leathers were stained with blood when she mounted her dragon, Maester Norren records, and "her cheeks were stained with tears." No word of farewell was spoken betwixt man and maid, but as Sheepstealer beat his leathery brown wings and climbed into the dawn sky, Caraxes raised his head and gave a scream that shattered every window in Jonquil's Tower. High above the town, Nettles turned her dragon toward the Bay of Crabs, and vanished in the morning mists, never to be seen again at court or castle.” -Fire & Blood

Or this(which has more of a real possibility of happening than Dumbnyra, oops I mean Daemyra, riding off into the sunset together since your fave turns into a BBQ Dragon special 🍗):

“The singers tell us that the old prince survived the fall and afterward made his way back to the girl Nettles, to spend the remainder of his days at her side.” -Fire & Blood

And of course this:

Again, if you guys think Dumbnyra, sorry, Daemyra is some epic romance then honey you are watching the wrong show/reading the wrong book. Daemon choking Rhaenyra’s lights out hours after she gave birth to lizard alone should have told you everything you need to know.

Nettles is coming whether you like it or not so you can go cry about it with the rest of the butthurt Aryan-I mean Valyrian supremacist girlies ☺️

[notumbusbumbus]

Memoir, in Third Person

Notty Bumbo

So. Here you are. Born. Existent. The doctor hands you over, like a slab of wriggling meat. But, there’s a problem, the doctor says. He gives the problem a name. He explains the problem, tells your parents the problem can be fixed. Your parents are relieved. They do what they are told.

You grow. You survive infancy, toddler-dom. You survive surgeries. Braces. Countless walks nearly naked, in plaster casts, in braces, in confusion before dozens of doctors, medical students, your mother. Your father is seldom there. You grow older, barely survive the bullies in school. The endless humiliations. Your father’s growing rage. Ugly footwear. more braces, metal, leather, a medically prescribed bondage. Frequent pronouncements of your future failures as a human being by your father, often following another application of his wide leather belt. Not sado-masochism. Just sado.

You spend years of your life trying to manage the endless pain, the frustration of wanting to do so many things the world has been telling you are outside your wheelhouse. You stare at your body in mirrors, convinced they lie, they spite your dreams, they reinforce the absolutism of pending failure after humiliation after unanswered demands to any and all absent gods. You realize, early in your teens, that you are completely on your own. At sixteen, even the doctors abandon you: “You are now cured. Go have a life”.

It takes many years before you understand that doctors who specialize in adults have no idea whatsoever to do for you. How to help.

You finally reach the moment when you tell the world to go fuck itself. You will do all those things everyone keeps insisting you can’t do, shouldn’t do. You work, you climb mountains, you fight forest fires, you run from bears, you lose jobs as fast as you find them because the pain always wins. You fall into love, stumble out again. Finally, a relationship lasts, though filled with more challenges. Some you handle, others you survive. Nobody can believe you did any of these things.

Years go by. You slowly feel the effects on your body earned by all your earlier foolishness. You fight daily against this internalized judgement, you were trying to live the best life you could. But a price is always owed, consequences unavoidable.

You get older. New things erupt. You learn one day you weren’t born with just one named flaw. You were born with several, never diagnosed. They begin to visit you, drag at your spine, your legs, your mind. More surgeries, newer pains, sharper regrets. You keep going. You have no real choices. You get up, place your feet on the floor. Hope this day goes a bit easier on you. Hope grows into a ghost whose moans no longer frighten anyone.

You recite the names of all your demons. You study them better than the doctors ever bothered to, have considered necessary. Doctors can do no harm if they do nothing, obscuring the fine print in their sacred oath. Knowing what a thing is called offers scant relief. Brings instead a deepening knowledge of what the future holds for you. Holds against you. Holds you under until you drown in pains impossible to describe to a doctor, in any language they think they understand.

You often think of giving up, of collapse, of presenting the accumulated bill to those absent gods. You realize, early in life, you are curious, a strong desire to learn, to understand, To find answers to “why me”, one that morphs eventually into ”why anyone”.  But no one did this to you, and you stop believing in gods that refuse to respond. You will never answer this question. You can never stop asking it.

You continue to seek the answers to yourself, your purpose, your path through the wilderness, your necessary inclusion into the fabric of existence. You are never asked to arrive, you will never be asked when, if, how you will leave. You are never asked to stay. You were not, you are, you are not. You don’t even get to end in a spectacle, go nova, remind the world you were here.

Your bones are a cage for your softness. Your skull a prison for your truth. Your feet have been bound since the beginning: you tell yourself you’ve become an expert on living inside cages. You get up, you struggle through, you lay back down. Everyone, everything, you are told - by people who don’t even know the names for your despair - over and over, dies. Ends. Ceases to be.

Yet, you remain… curious. You’ve done so many things, thought yourself across the Universe, paid the price of this body while continuing to try for more. Became an astronaut of dreams. Deepened your knowledge. Widened your vision. Disproved endless echoes of failure and despair, though despair, well…

So. What else is out there? How can I get there? What will it cost? How will I return? So many questions, never enough answers.

Even the most important one: Will there still be cages?

[mks-grin]

Alright! Here goes uh

What type of bender would each counselor be + what sub-element bending could they do?

Okay! So I didn’t know about sub bending so I watched an entire video on explaining bending so I would have a better and more informed clue. I have only seen this show as a kiddo and that was way before Legend of Korra so bear with me as my knowledge is mad interpretive.

Also I did not choose to interpret anyone as without a bending ability despite that about one quarter of the population in this universe would have the ability to bend. I also do not understand exactly the Fire Warriors / Avatar. I will not assign anyone to be either of those things.

So! Jacob. I think Jacob would be an earth bender! He is shown to be both a physical and emotional character. In canon, he runs around all night, cries, and if you play your cards right - he survives while totally barefoot and part naked! As far as I am aware an earth bender’s movements are sturdier than the other elements, and Toph is shown as being barefoot as a means of making up for her lack of vision. Jacob’s strength when met with the difficulties faced by friends creates an emotional, but almost unmovable version of himself.

I don’t think it is well exemplified in canon, but Jacob would typically be dependable. I think Jacob sees himself as the big brother of the group and would do anything to help his friends. He feels a strong sense of duty to stand up for his friends if challenged by unfair odds.

He naturally would have a great aptitude for earth bending, and easily irritates others who struggle to perfect their own techniques. His natural aptitude allowed him to learn metal bending earlier than peers and he is locally known for being a little bit of a show off about it. Good spirited “just being proud of yourself show off.”

Ryan, our boy. Would have been without power for a while , if that’s possible? He seems like someone who was without power until a specific event came to be - and only then would he be able to react on instinct and use a power that was previously hidden to him. After that specific event he realized he was a fire bender.

In canon Ryan is seen as being pulled in many different directions, his sister, his education, and the prospect of having a partner. He seems almost helpless and without clear direction. When talking to his peers he shies away from asking for help and Chris doesn’t actually help him. I think this can be support for why he would be “directionless” with bending too.

Because he would discover the ability later on in life, he does not have the natural aptitude, unlike Jacob. He has to work twice as hard to do half as much and him. Which he finds wildly irritating. He is earlier in the process than his peers, so sub-bending is further away for him. ((However I expect he eventually be able to master lightning - and only because Justice Smith is in Detective Pikachu and that seems funny to me.))

Abigail! Water bender, through and through, and it should be easy to see why. Abi is seen as being a sensitive character who has emotional conversations with many of her peers. She has these conversations with both Emma and Nick. Two people who she really cares about. Sensitive like water benders, she has genuine intentions and would even feel bad about things that COULD have happened, but didn’t.

Abigail used to take the time to work with younger people who have discovered their ability to water bend. She is not particularly skilled, and her fight or flight doesn’t always work in her favor. However, after meeting her Hackett’s Quarry peers she might be inspired by then to do more with her ability that she initial thought. She would better develop how to create ice and make her water bending ability both defensive and offensive. She has a strong sense of Justice and knows she cannot change the world sitting on the sidelines.

Eventually she might learn how to manipulate the water in plants, maybe freezing the water inside of trees to harden then into an impassable shape.

Nick, would be a fire bender. Nick is shown in canon to be a follower instead of a leader and depending on your choices he can be rude to Abi even before infection. Nick has drive, but has yet to discover what his drive should be focused on. He confides in Abi saying like “Sure, I’m good at something, but what?”

Being driven by this restlessness and lack of direction, like Ryan, Nick would focus on his fire bending skills rather than focus on emotional connections or other courses of work. It is a sort of lonely life, but “when you’re this strong it would be wasteful to try and determine a fate separate of your bending abilities”.

Nick might be a little more lost than his peers, but his bending ability would outmatch Ryan and Abigail as of right now.

Dylan is an air bender. Being a little more content with who he is while being the group glue, Dylan fits as our token air bender.

Dylan is jovial in canon and even makes light of losing a limb! The line I can most distinctly picture him saying is “Peace and Love”! While, jovial and sometimes silly, I think Dylan best incapsulates the naive, hard working, and spiritual connectedness that is necessary to be an air bender. He simultaneously seems naive and wise for his years. He seems to represent a more balanced life than his peers. He doesn’t seem afraid of the future - yet doesn’t know the future. He would like a relationship - but doesn’t pursue it for most of the summer. He likes to be a group extrovert - but also spend a good amount of time alone in the Radio Hut.

Now for actually ability, our boy is just as clumsy as a bender as he is in TQ. Because there are less air benders around he has to learn everything on his own. His movements are very experimental and only by accident did he learn to do some of the cool party tricks he knows. He and Abigail would be on a similar playing field.

Kaitlyn is a water bender. Growing up to be tough and icy makes her a non traditional water bender when it comes to what she thinks is right. She is temperamental and the way she bends expresses that.

In canon Kaitlyn was saying it nonchalantly, but says “I go where my people need me”.

While this is biblical and feel free to skip if it is not your thing lmao, but when playing The Quarry with my friends a friend pointed out that this line of Kaitlyn’s reminded her of something in the Bible. Ruth 1:16 “Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people.” The speaker Ruth is comforting her mother in law after they have lost the men in their family. (I think, idk)

I think this is paralleled to some of the scenes you can get with Kaitlyn with Dylan. Kaitlyn choosing not to run away and abandon Dylan in the kitchen, depending on your actions she might (accidentally) sacrifice herself and Caleb in the freezer, talking with Dylan about his and Ryan’s moment at the campfire. She is dedicated and bonded to him. She shares no resentment towards him despite their shared interest in Ryan. I think these traits lean in the direction of being a water bender because she is genuinely good and not motivated to help herself as much as she is motivated to help her friends (despite her sharp tongue). Her sharp tongue is what hides the sensitive side of Kaitlyn from a passive viewer.

As she gets older she chooses to begin a quiet development of blood bending - only to use if her or a loved one’s life depends on it and it is a last resort. Sometimes evil can only be struck down by a worse evil.

Emma is a fire bender. Fire-y and quick witted, this match up just makes sense. Some of the counselors are harder to interpret, but Emma is not one those counselors for me.

In canon, Emma spends a great deal of her night alone, directly responsible for herself and doesn’t end up needing the help of someone else to stay alive. She is firm in her views of the future and won’t compromise for someone else if that life won’t satisfy her.

Her toughness might cause her to seem like an earth bender to you, but I think the sense of duty that an earth bender might have is missing from Emma. She absolutely is not a team player, not because she doesn’t love her friends, but her brain just doesn’t think that way. She can stand up for herself and her first instinct is to assume that her friends can as well. She was born to be both an ass-kicker and heart-breaker.

Laura is an earth bender. While I initially thought she ought to be a fire bender it is important to realize her actions in the Hackett house and afterwards are not her more “simple / true” self. I associate the fire bending ability to belong so someone who is a little more emotionally lost in life and motivated by goals not by love / the wellness of other. This is why Emma, Nick and Ryan are our fire-benders.

She has a sense of duty to her loved ones and is sturdier than average. Her dependable and genuine nature makes her a better team player than some of her peers.

In canon Laura dedicates what might be the last night of her life, to saving Max. Her endurance outmatches many of her peers and she definitely shows us she’s a hard headed bad ass! She helps Ryan as well in his pursuit for the truth - hoping it will prove Chris’ innocence.

Able to get pissed and use that to her advantage, instead of letting it cloud her mind, she can bend metal as well as sand. One of her favorite things to do, when necessary, is just toss sand into someone’s eyes. Not really a bending thing, but it’s funny to her and functional.

Max is a water bender. As water-benders have more power at night and on the night of a full moon 👀 it is fitting for Max to be one! Max and Laura compliment each other well and I thought they should represent the idea that almost opposites attract.

If Max were able to develop the ability to heal with his water he would be a nice compliment to Laura’s abilities. What she might lack in speed he makes up for. What he lacks in endurance she picks up the slack on.

( He was the hardest one tbh, he gets like.. no screen time, sorry I can’t think of much more!)

TL; DR

Earth: Laura, Jacob because they have a sense of duty to protect others AND communal well being.

Fire: Nick, Ryan, Emma because they don’t know what they’re doing with their lives yet. They feel younger and more clouded than their peers.

Water Abi, Kaitlyn, Max because they are genuine people who are more selfless than their peers. They are maybe underestimated.

Air: Dylan because Air Benders are the most rare I sorta compared Aang’s traits to the counselors to see who felt the most similar. Clumsy, wise and jovial seem to define what makes Dylan an air bender to me.

[immediatebreakfast]

Marmion time once again!

The fourth canto is the compeling errand given to lord Marmion after the dinner. A very politically charged canto since it mentions a tense situation between england, and Scotland which could very much escalate into a war. Moreover, in this exsct situation is where lord Marmion has to accomplish this errand.

No bird whose feathers gaily flaunt Delights in cage to bide; ... In fair Queen Margaret’s bower. We hold our greyhound in our hand, Our falcon on our glove; But where shall we find leash or band For dame that loves to rove? Let the wild falcon soar her swing, She’ll stoop when she has tired her wing.

The bird symbolism in the poem is very well used within the character of lord Marmion. He is established as a lord, but unlike the role that he could have played, Marmion is more of a knightly leader that uses his position as a lord to command his men. Restless to accomplish great things, and not yet satisfied to sit still. Marmion is the falcon whose eyes see everything, and actions help the Queen. The use of "trapped" in the first canto now seems to reflect Marmion's light distate for formalities such as these even if they are crucial to his campaings.

Nay, if with royal James’s bride The lovely Lady Heron bide, Behold me here a messenger, Your tender greetings prompt to bear; For to the Scottish court addressed, I journey at our King’s behest, And pray you, of your grace, provide For me and mine, a trusty guide.

So that is what is needed, a guide through Scotland as a errand for the english King. Lord Marmion, and his men need to act as messengers to represent the King in the eyes of the Scottish court. A task in which they need a guide, more specifically a religious guide that could guide them, and be a voice of reason and peace in between all of the knights.

A herald were my fitting guide; Or friar, sworn in peace to bide Or pardoner, or travelling priest, Or strolling pilgrim, at the least.

A very reasonable request. Yet, thanks to @warrioreowynofrohan helpful explanation, and the poem itself admiting through the captain's the failures of their political system, we learn that literally none of the clergy in Norham are suited for the job at all.

And though a bishop built this fort, Few holy brethren here resort; Even our good chaplain, as I ween, Since our last siege we have not seen: The mass he might not sing or say, Upon one stinted meal a day; So safe he sat in Durham aisle, And prayed for our success the while.

This chaplain didn't like that he had to ratio his food like everyone else so he just left Norham, and to this day has not come back.

Our Norham vicar, woe betide, Is all too well in case to ride; The priest of Shoreswood—he could rein The wildest war-horse in your train; But then, no spearman in the hall Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl.

The vicar is in excellent condition to go! The problem is that he might as well be another knight with how much he likes to fight.

And then, the one who made me laugh, the Friar John of Tillmouth.

A blithesome brother at the can, A welcome guest in hall and bower, He knows each castle, town, and tower, In which the wine and ale is good, ’Twixt Newcastle and Holyrood. But that good man, as ill befalls, Hath seldom left our castle walls, Since, on the vigil of Saint Bede, In evil hour, he crossed the Tweed, To teach Dame Alison her creed. Old Bughtrig found him with his wife; And John, an enemy to strife, Sans frock and hood, fled for his life.

An alcoholic friar who is known for gambling, and straight up has by @warrioreowynofrohan's own words, "a neighbouring Scottish lord after his head because he snuck across the border, slept with the lord’s wife, was caught in the act, and ran away naked."

What a charming man of the cloth huh. However, and very solemnly, young Selby (Heron's nephew) explains that friar John is literally the best option they have if they want lord Marmion to do his errand well.