#i NEED these grades to fix themselves god

[laughingfcx]

guys i overpromise and underdeliver ik but like. um., yeah i dont even get time to log into tumblr rn but ill be free for a week soon and there will be spam (i hope)

[moonwayne]

𝙞 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙭 𝙝𝙞𝙢 (𝙣𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙞 𝙘𝙖𝙣)

- 𝙟𝙖𝙨��𝙣 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙙/𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

warnings: smoking/drinking, injury, guns, blood, talks of religion???? idrk… for the sake of the story, let’s pretend jason has a little smokey-smoke from time to time, mkay?

In the dimly lit and ever crowded bar, you watched with vigilant eyes as he brought the cigarette to his mouth. Watched the way he inhaled deeply and then exhaled the cloud which billowed out like a freight train through a small town. He had always had such a way with his words and his movements, it was hard to take your eyes off of him. To everyone else he was simply a reckless, loud and occasionally obnoxious man, with his crude jokes and blasé attitude wrapped in a leather jacket.

“Bit of a head case, ain’t he?” The woman sat next to you had leaned over, her tone of voice laced with judgment.

You chuckled and leaned back over, whispering, “Well, I am biased, he’s my man.”

You saw her shake her head and heard the quiet mumbling to the person next to her, picking up the small uttering of “God help her.”

Your good lord doesn’t need to lift a finger, you thought to yourself, coy grin splayed across your face, “Don’t worry, I can fix him.” She raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing your statement, “No really, I can.” You smiled, before returning your gaze to Jason, not noticing the judgemental look the woman and her friend had shot your way, thinking you yourself must be crazy too. And only I can.

“Ready, babe?” He asked, hand finding yours in the darkness. You nodded and he led you outside where he placed a helmet on your head, giving you a lopsided grin as he secured it, before climbing onto his bike. You followed suit, and wrapped your arms around his waist, beneath his jacket just as he liked. As you were on your journey back home, you saw the glint in his eyes appear as he raised his hands from the hike handles, lifting them up in the air and letting out a loud yell of excitement. You smiled and gently and slowly pushed his arms back down, burying your face into his back and reveling in the moment with him.

Up in your apartment, wrapped up in your sheets that had found themselves entangled around both you and Jason, you gazed lovingly into his captivating eyes. His hand, warm and so calloused from his pistol softly traced hearts on your face. You kissed him softly, hands roaming up to his hair and running your fingers through it.

He was a perfect case for my certain skill set. After all, you thought, he had a halo of the highest grade, he just hadn’t met you yet.

“What’s running through that pretty little head of yours?” He asked, voice low.

“Just thinking, I can show you heaven..” You leaned up close to his ear to whisper, watching as his skin rose with goosebumps. You pressed a finger against his lips as his face neared closer to yours and spoke softly “If you’ll be an angel, all mine.” You winked as he grinned slyly, leaning in again before his phone rang, signifying a request for his presence somewhere else in Gotham. He groaned and gave you a quick peck as you watched him put on his red hood attire. He sauntered over to your window and pushed up the screen before sitting in the frame, body halfway out and looked back to you.

“Be careful, please.” You pleaded, mind already filling with the worst scenarios.

“Always. I’ll be back soon, and we can pick this up again. I’m not done with you.” He spoke as a promise, before sending you a wink of his own and climbing down. You watched as he climbed onto his bike before returning your attention to your room. Looking around, you noticed he’d left one of his guns on your nightstand. I can handle a dangerous man. You said to yourself.

Later, a little while after you had made a cup of warm tea and settled in with your latest read, a loud and familiar thump thump! came from your window.

“It’s open.” You replied lazily. In came Jason, in all his glory, complete with a dazed look in his eye and marks that definitely were not there before painted on his body. It took you a second before realizing there was also a steady stream of blood running down his side. You gasped before rushing to his aid with a med kit. It took you awhile, the job not completed without a few winces and grunts, as well as some tears, although the last were from you, before he was all patched up.

“You said you were gonna be careful.” You reminded him, twirling a strand of his white hair around your finger softly. “I know babe. I’m sorry.” He apologized, “I’ll go lighter next time.” He told you, but the playful grin across his face told you he was not even considering it. You sighed and let your head fall onto his shoulder, exhausted.

I can fix him, no really I can. You reminded yourself again, thinking back to those ladies in the bar before letting reality creep in, like a dying wave across your feet at a beach’s shore. Woah maybe I can’t.

did we like? first time writing for Jason.

let me know your thoughts 🤍

x

[redhead1180]

I see you

Pairing - JJ x fem!reader

Summary - After Y/N, JJ's best friend, has an embarrassing encounter with another guy, JJ finally decides to step up and claim what he wants.

Warnings MDNI - Cursing, embarrassing situation in front of people, oral (m & f receiving), degradation (r degrades self), self-esteem issues, unprotected sex (p in v, wrap before you tap it), creampie, praising

Words - 4.0k

A/N - I don't usually write fluffy smut, but here we are, and I hope you like it. I usually don't describe readers, I want reader to put themselves in the story, but this one is a bit personal. It's kinda autobiographical in it is similar to how my boyfriend and I got together. I NEED to thank @jjxkiaraxpopexcleoxjohnbxsarah for the beautiful moodboard she made for my story. I love u girl 😘! Did not get beta read, wanted to get this out since I have had it almost done for a month.

I couldn't stop the tears that fell down my face, as I drove to my home away from home, the Chateau. I probably shouldn't be driving, but had to get away from the embarrassment at school. God I was such an idiot for thinking that Brandon might like me. For the past month, he had been sweet, a little flirty, getting to know me, but all he really wanted was to get in with Kie. He wanted her, not me. Kie didn't like him already and when she found this out was probably gonna punch him, which did make me smile. Kie was my best friend and always had my back.

I finally pull up to John B's house and take a deep breath. This place always seemed to calm me or maybe it was my friends. My family of misfits I started collecting at the ripe age of 5. It started with JJ, I met him on the playground and thought he looked like a lost puppy with his big blue eyes, unruly blonde (almost white) hair, dirt on his face, and torn clothes. I remember asking if he wanted a friend and he said sure and we became inseparable. Then in 3rd grade I collected John B, another lost puppy, then Pope, Kie, and last Sarah. Well honestly John B collected her, but she was family now.

Wiping the tears off my cheeks, I get out of the car and head in the house. I wasn’t sure if anyone was home, so I grabbed a beer and went out to the back porch. And there laying on the couch, on his stomach, fast asleep was the original lost puppy, JJ himself. His dad was out of jail and he hadn't been to school the last few days, which was never a good thing. Again, a calm washed over me, stilling my mind, and momentarily squashing the rage.

Walking over to the couch, I run my fingers through JJ's hair and whisper a "scoot" in his ear. He grunts but raises his head enough for me to slip under him and sit, before putting it back down in your lap. You guys sit there a bit in silence, me sipping the beer looking out at the marsh while JJ slept. Eventually he begins to stir and rolls over to look up at you.

"What's got you drinking in the middle of the day, princess?" he asks his voice all husky and sleepy.

"Bad day" I grumble, taking another long swig.

He grabs the end of some of my hair, swinging it around. "Ok, tell Papa J your troubles, let's see if I can fix them." he teases.

"I don't think you can fix this one J, not anything to fix really" I mumble as I look down at him tears forming in my eyes again.

"Woah, hey, hey, what's with the waterworks" he asks, concern in his voice, as he sits up and pulls me in a hug.

I shrug "Just another miserable day in my love life, if you can call it that" I sniffle.

JJ stiffens a little, although I don't pay it much mind. He pulls back to look at me and asks "Um, what happened"

"Well," I sigh "Turns out Brandon didn't want to go out with me, he just wanted to use me to get to Kie" I turn to take another swig of beer. "He decides today in study hall, he would ask about if I could give him Kie's digits. When I asked why, he said so he could ask her out. I must have looked confused, cause he laughs and says, Oh you didn't think I was into you did you?" I down another sip of beer "I said Well yeah, he laughs, literally laughs in my face JJ. I was so humiliated I just got up and walked out. He hollers back at me, so is that a no?" I down the rest of the beer.

I finally look at JJ and he is red in the face and has a murderous look in his eyes, "I'mma kill him" he growls.

"I might let you" I tearfully chuckle "I mean what is wrong with me? I know I'm not as pretty as Kie and Sarah. My hair is this ugly red and I'm covered in freckles, I hate it. But fuck. I know I'm not as brash as Kie or bubbly as Sarah, but I like to have fun. I know I seem bookish, but that is cause I really want out of this town. I just don't see why guys can't see me." I throw my head back on the couch out of breath.

*I see you" JJ almost whispers.

I snap my head up and look at him. "What?" I ask quietly.

JJ stands up and goes to the porch screen and stares out for a minute, I'm about to ask him again, when he looks down, does a little nod. I hear him mumble "fuck it" and turns back to me.

"I suck at this shit, but here goes. I see you" he says "No you're not as pretty Kie or Sarah, you're prettier. They don't hold a candle to you, nobody does on this godforsaken island" He starts to pace a little, wringing his hands, as if figuring out what to say "Your hair isn't an ugly red, it's the colors of the sunset. The reds, golds, and oranges that people take tons of pictures of cause it is so fucking beautiful, that's what I see everyday when I look at you. Your freckles? They make your skin glow in the summer, like your some kind of fucking goddess." He chuckles, "In the winter they fade to more a pink and make you look like you’re blushing all the time."

"JJ-"

"No, shut up" he demands "I just sat there and listened to you fucking degrade yourself, so you're gonna sit there and fucking listen to me now." He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Ok"

"Ok" he nods " As far not being brash or bubbly like Kie and Sarah, no you're not. You're feisty, temperamental, loyal, and can throw a punch better than most guys. I mean at 10 years old you threw a damn beer bottle at my dad and told him to fucking leave me alone. You have more guts than all of us put together. And yes, you are a blast to hang out with, I mean you can drink most guys under the table." He starts pacing again "Fuck I don't if we would all be friends if it wasn't for you. And I would wager your smarter than Pope, but won't say anything cause it's his thing. And do not ever fault yourself for wanting off this island"

I look at him with my mouth open, tears forming, but not cause I'm sad, but because I never knew anyone saw me like that.

"Do you know how hard it is to see you date other guys and help put the pieces back together for you, when I know, I KNOW, that I would never treat you like that." He says pleadingly "I have waited so long to be that next guy, and yeah it's my fault for not speaking up, but I am now." He comes and kneels in front of me and cups my face. "I want to show you how special you are and tell every guy to eat shit cause she's mine." He laughs.

I can only stare at him for the moment, my mind reeling from his confession. JJ is not one for sharing, even to me his best friend for 13 years. My emotions were all over the place. I felt tears well up on my lashline as realization slammed into me. I always loved JJ, he was my ride or die, but it hit me that I had been in love with him for awhile. I just didn't know it.

I must have taken too long, cause I saw JJ's face fall, he sniffed and looked down. He started to remove his hands from my face. I came back to reality and grabbed his hands. His head snapped back up and I smiled at him.

"JJ" I choked out over the lump on my throat "I didn't know, but I-" I took a deep breath "I want you to be that guy. I want to be yours."

JJ's eyes grew wide and he chuckled "Yea?"

I leaned forward and slammed my lips on his, I could tell he was shocked at first but it didn't last long. He wrapped one hand around the back of my neck and the other wrapped around my waist pulling me on his lap. I moaned as he slid his tongue over my bottom lip, asking me to open up. When I did, he slipped his in and our tongues danced for dominance. He slid his hand up through my hair, cupping my head and deepening the kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck, melting into it, his other hand grabbing the fat of ass and squeezing.

Air was becoming a need as my lungs begin to burn. I was feeling slightly dizzy, not sure if was the kiss or needing air. I pull back enough to gasp, JJ chasing my mouth and kissing me again. My panties were soaked and a needy throbbing had settled into my core. I rolled my hips over JJ's dick; he leaned his head back and groaned loudly.

"Y/N if you want to stop, tell me now. I won't be able to if we keep this up" JJ murmured against my lips.

"I don't want to stop" I rasp out looking him in the eyes. "I want you to claim me, I want to be yours."

"Fuck" he growled "Wrap your legs around me" he demands.

I do as asked and he stands up with me in his arms. I can feel his ab muscles flexing and his thigh muscles harden, making me swoon a little. He smirks at me as he carries me to the spare, which is basically his room. He lays me on the bed and lays on me with his arms holding him up so he doesn't smash me.

"God I never imagined this would actually happen" he says as gently pushes my hair out of my face. "I have dreamed about it, hell, I've jerked off to your pictures more than I want to admit." He chuckles, his cheeks turning pink. "I never thought you would want me and I didn't want to screw up our friendship"

"It's real J, it's happening"

I reach to kiss him and he meets me, claiming my mouth in toe curling kiss. His hands play with the hem of my shirt and he looks at me for permission.

"Yea" I whisper.

"Arms up baby" he instructs as he tugs my shirt off and throws it behind him.

He kisses along my jawline down my neck. When he gets to a spot on my neck right above my shoulder, pleasure shoots through me and I buck my hips up at him. I feel more than see him smirk and hear a whispered "There you are".

He bites and kisses the spot, leaving his mark, as I feel a fire start in my stomach and I am whining and squirming under him.

"More J" I whine out, "I need more."

He continues his assault down my chest, kissing the areas of my breast he can reach around my bra. I feel his hand slide under me and he unhooks my bra with one flick. I giggle.

"Pretty slick move there"

He grins, "I've might've had some practice" he teases as he rips it of me and it flies through the air. He looks and stares at my breasts for a minute mouth slightly open.

"God your beautiful" he groans as he latches his mouth onto one nipple and his hand kneads and pinches the other one.

I arch my back up to him, moaning from the heat building between my thighs. "J" I whine.

He trails kisses down my stomach to the waistband of my shorts. He looks up at me again, his fingers on the button.

"You still good baby" he asks, his pupils blown.

"Mhmm" I hum out, getting antsy wanting his mouth on me.

JJ unbuttons my shorts and pulls them off. He trails kisses up along my inner thighs until he gets to my soaked panties.

"God your so fucking wet, babygirl. This all for me?" He teasingly asks.

*Mhmm baby, only for you" I rasp out.

JJ kisses my covered cunt before hooking his fingers in the waistband of my panties and pulling them off. His hands caress my legs as they move back up to my hips. He leaves kisses along my legs until his mouth is back in front of my soaked pussy. He gently blows on it causing me to buck my hips and gasp.

"JJ" I gasp out, grabbing a fistful of sheets on each side of me. "Please" I beg.

He wraps his arms under and back over my thighs, pulling me closer to him.

"Please what, baby?" JJ coos at me. He is so close to my cunt; I can feel his hot breath against my lower lips. The mixture of his hot breath and the coolness from my wetness, gives me goosebumps and makes me shudder. The nickname causes me to clench around nothing and I hear JJ chuckle. With a feather light touch, he slowly rubs his finger over my lower lips.

"Please J I need you to eat me" I beg, rolling my hips to try get closer to his mouth.

He licks a strip from my hole to my clit and I loudly moan out. He moves my legs over his shoulders as he licks my ever-swelling nub. I realize he is licking two Js, certifiably claiming my pussy. I giggle and feel him smile when he realizes I figured out what he was doing.

His tongue moves down to my hole and I groan as he pushes his tongue in me. I grab his hair pulling it, the heat in my stomach growing with each thrust.

"Look at me baby" JJ commands.

I look down at him, staring into his eyes, almost completely black now. I watch him as he fucks me with his tongue. My core begins to tingle and I feel my orgasm close. I grind in his mouth, searching for my release. He moves back up to my clit, sucking and licking. He gently thrust one finger in me, I throw my head back and let out a breathy cry. He adds another finger, pumping both fingers in and out. I groan out, one hand pulling his hair and the other grabs the headboard.

"J I'm gonna cum* I gasp out breathlessly.

"C'mon baby, cum on my face" JJ moans, "God your so fucking sweet"

He curls his fingers hitting that sweet spot and bites my clit. I cry out as the band snaps in my stomach, causing me to clench around his fingers and juices to flow on to his face. He groans and I can hear him slurping up all my release like he had not drank in days. He rides me through it, finally getting up and laying down on me. His mouth and chin covered in my slick and he is grinning like a Cheshire cat. He snuggles in between my thighs.

"That was so fucking hot" JJ grins as he leans down to kiss me, letting me taste myself in his mouth. The kiss quickly heats up and I can feel how hard he is thru his shorts.

"You have too many clothes on." I pout, tugging his shirt. He reaches behind him grabbing the shirt and pulling over his head. I start unbuttoning his shorts and pushing them down his legs.

"A little eager ain't we princess" he chuckles as he gets up and takes his shorts and boxers off. His rock hard cock slapping his stomach and standing salute.

My eyes go a little wide. JJ wasn't extremely girthy, although it was big, but he was long the end curving slightly. He has the prettiest pink tip that was getting darker by the minute.

"Like what ya see baby?" He smirked.

"Fuck me" I gasped out in a whisper.

"Oh, I plan to princess” JJ smirks as he crawls up the bed. “I plan to fuck you until my name is the only one you scream” he kisses up my leg “until I have ruined you to anyone else” he kisses my clit “until I have kissed every inch of you” he kisses my breast, nibbling the nipple “until I’ve shown you how much I love you” he kisses me passionately, making me moan and thrust my hips up into him, and causing my toes curl. For fucks sakes, this boy knew how to kiss.

“JJ, please” I moan, “I need you inside me.”

“Shit babygirl” JJ groaned, “you can’t say that shit. I will blow my load, and I’m not ready to yet”

While he’s distracted, I flip us over and began kissing down his neck and onto his chest. I continue to leave open mouth kisses down his chest, over his stomach, nibbling along his happy trail.

“Fuck, Y/N/N” JJ moaned, “I thought you wanted me inside you”

“Got distracted” I mumble as I kitten lick the precum off his perfectly pink tip. JJ groans and his hands fly to my head, grabbing my hair. He pulls me up off him and back to his lips by my hair.

“As much as I want to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours,” he rasps against my lips, “the first time I cum with you will be inside you. Now you have a choice, ride me or lay down and spread’em” he growled.

I literally shudder from the amount of juices that gush out of me. He smirks at me, knowing he has me ready to explode, the little shit.

“Ride you,” I whisper as he pulls me up on his lap and I position myself to hover over him. I reach down and hold him, lining him up, I push the tip causing him to hiss. I look straight at him as I push myself down slowly, feeling every inch of his cock stretching me. Both of us are trying not to close our eyes in pleasure, not wanting to miss this moment. Finally, I feel his hairs against my clit, and I close my eyes and dig my nails into his chest. I moan from the feeling of being so full and I hear him groan “fuck baby”. I clench around him, causing him to moan and squeeze my hips. I pull up until just the tip is in me and slam back down, he throws his head back and hisses “fucking hell”. I slowly began to speed up my bouncing, another release quickly building up in my core. Placing my hands on JJ’s chest, I change the angle of my bouncing and feel JJ grab my hips and squeeze.

“Oh fuck, babygirl” he moaned, head thrown back into the pillow. I closed my eyes and felt him kiss my cervix. While I wasn’t looking, he wrapped his arms around my back and flipped us. I let out a yelp of surprise.

“What the hell, J” I fussed looking up at him. He gently slapped my thigh, causing me to clench around him and moan.

“Yea, we’ll explore that later” he smirked, “I wasn’t gonna last there, this pussy feels like heaven.” He breathed against my mouth, as he started to thrust into me. I moaned into his mouth as he claimed my lips, causing a fresh wave of juices to cover him. I wrapped my arms around his back, digging my nails in and, I know, leaving marks. He groaned sliding one hand to my hip and the other to grabbing my hair.

“Fuck Y/N, why didn’t we do this sooner?” JJ rasped out.

“I don’t know” I groaned.

“Har- harder, ple- please, baby” I stuttered out, the pet name making JJ groan. He put both hands behind my thighs and pushed them into my chest. I cried out from the new sensation, JJ slamming into me harder. I could feel the band in my stomach tighten as he thrust harder and deeper. I couldn’t form words, my brain mush, letting little “uh- uhs” every time he hit my G-spot. I scratched hard down JJ’s back, making him hiss, as my walls fluttered around his cock.

“You close babygirl?” he whispered in my ear.

I just nodded, words failing me. He reached around and used his thumb to rub my clit with little circles.

“Let go, mama” JJ moaned.

That was all it took and the band snapped. I cried out, arching my back, as my vision went blurry around the edges and all I saw was white. My legs shook from the intensity and my ears rang, drowning out JJ.

“That’s my good -fuck- girl -oh fuck” I barely heard JJ right before he slammed into me holding it. I could feel hot ropes of cum shoot into me as I heard JJ moan “fuckfuckfuck” in my ear.

JJ slowly began pushing in and out, riding our highs out, whispering in my ear “Fuck, you’re mine, you’re mine, baby” over and over.

“Yes” I gasped over and over until it was no more than a whisper.

JJ stopped and collapsed on me, still inside me, our sweaty, sticky bodies suctioning together. Both of us panting, trying to catch our breath. I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead.

“I kinda can’t believe we just did that” I giggle into his hair. He raised his head up, smiling, looking at me.

“Yea, me either. It was pretty amazing” he says leaning in for a kiss.

I smile into the kiss and giggle “Yeah it was.”

We hear the doors of the Twinkie, open and close, and soon hear Kie yelling my name. JJ pulled a blanket over us, but didn’t get off.

“In here” he yells and gives me a shit eating grin. I gave a him a confused look.

Kie walks in and jumps and screams, slamming the door closed. Then opens it again to get a better look, then slams it again.

“REALLY JJ” Kie yells, but you can hear the laughter in her voice. “I heard what Brandon did and was concerned for Y/N, but seems like you cheered her up.”

“Yup got it covered” JJ hollered back.

“By the way, I punched him for you” Kie hollered back. “Thanks” I yelled laughing.

“What the hell is going on?” you hear John B ask, simultaneously hearing Kie “No, don’t open!”

Next thing you see is John B with the door open, you burying your head and groaning into JJ’s chest, Pope behind him, eyes all bugged out. Sarah trying to peek between Kie and John B’s arms.

“Oh, hoh” John B grinned, while Sarah squealed and giggled.

“Guys, can we have a little privacy” JJ smirked looking at you.

“Yup, just glad it all worked out” John B smiles while closing the door.

I looked up at JJ, smiling “Yeah it sure did” as JJ leaned in for a kiss.

Tagging some moots: @haven247 @princessmaybank @rafescurtainbangz @rafesthroatbaby @pankowkisses @pankowperfection @babygorewhore @drewstarkeyslut @drudyslut @kraekat29 @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @starfxkr

[venusgirltarot]

How Is Your Person Feeling About You? ࿐ྂ。

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

If you would like a personal reading from me, you can get one here!

Pile 1 ࿐

Pile one, your person may be someone you knew years ago. A childhood friend or a short fling that just wasn’t right at the time. You’ve either found each other again or never left and have been friends this whole time. Your person feels like they never quite match up to you and I heard “your expectations” but I don’t think you have or have ever had expectations for them. You’ve always loved them as themselves but they don’t seem to realize that.

If you guys have been friends, they may have seen you in other relationships and compare themselves to your exes, always feeling like they don’t quite measure up. They also compare themselves to you, they feel like you always do things by the book and you’re very intelligent. Maybe they feel you’ve gone about things in the way society deems as “correct” or “ideal”. For example, going to college right after high school, getting good grades, holding a stable job, etc. or possibly have a good family and home life that they don’t have.

They may have taken the steps to turn themselves into the person they feel is deserving of you and your attention. Possibly becoming someone you don’t really recognize anymore. This could be because you don’t really recognize them but could also be because they’ve distanced themselves from you so you haven’t gotten the chance to know this new version of them because they haven’t given you that chance.

There’s a distance between the two of you that seems to he fueled by this stubbornness and refusal to let your guard down and just open up to each other. You may have been in or recently gotten out of a relationship that upset this person. They may have finally come to terms with their romantic feelings for you and we’re thinking about opening up to you when you got into this relationship and it made them distance themselves and possibly even have resentment for you and this relationship.

There’s a lack of communication that I really think the two of you could benefit from. I think a conversation could change everything for the two of you if you just have it a chance and opened up to each other.

During the reading I heard “always an angel never a god” from a boygenius song (I’m so sorry I can’t remember which) “never could quite measure up” “one step ahead of you” and I channeled the song “The Less I Know The Better” by Tame Impala

Pile 2 ࿐

You may have recently ended things with this person or cut ties and moved on. You felt your needs weren’t being met and the energy wasn’t being reciprocated so you “kept it moving” is what I heard and “nobody has time for that” as well 😭 you knew you were deserving of more so you decided to leave this connection behind and go find more and you made a good decision in doing that.

I kept hearing “Everything I Didn’t Say” by 5SOS when I was shuffling. It seems like your person understands that there’s more they could’ve done but at the same time, I don’t think they’re expressing that to you. They may have entered this connection with the idea that it would be “easy” or “low maintenance” so they could focus on their career and put you on the back burner and didn’t take any of your issues or needs seriously. They didn’t expect you to walk away but refuse to see that their lack of communication and refusal to contribute to it was the real downfall of the relationship.

They may have the idea that material things like clothes, flowers, dinners, etc. would’ve fixed it when emotional connection and vulnerability is what you really wanted. I heard “you didn’t ever really know me” there was a lack of any sort of connection in this relationship and this person’s failure to realize that just cements the fact that walking away is the best decision you could’ve made.

I think you would have fully supported them in pursuing their career had they communicated that with you but they failed to do that and continue to lack the communication and emotional maturity needed to maintain a stable and healthy relationship.

You have an amazing person coming in, pile 2. Someone that’s understand and appreciates you and your energy. Someone that doesn’t neglect you, your wants, or your needs. There’s someone coming in that is worth your time and energy but that is not this person and you did the right thing by walking away. Please don’t ever doubt that. I heard “stay true to yourself” and “keep it moving”

Pile 3 ࿐

Don’t hold yourself back, pile 3. You may have met this person recently at a group outing/event or work. I heard “that’s my man” while shuffling. This is oddly specific but Taylor Swift may have been playing in the background when you met this person. You may have been in a group of people but your full attention was on each other, even if you two didn’t notice the other staring. There were a lot of stolen glances between the two of you and very subtle flirting. Subtle enough that you’re still questioning whether or not they were flirting with you. They were. The feelings are very much mutual.

You may be rejecting yourself before this person gets the chance to. Shutting down the idea of the two of you as couple to save yourself from hurt because for some reason you’re so sure it won’t but what if it does? What if you talk to them and they tell you your feelings are mutual and you finally get to feel that love you see everyone else receiving but have never received yourself? Stop letting your fears and insecurities hold you back and take that chance.

You’re worthy of love and affection from not only yourself, but others as well. This person is not “too good” for you and it is possible that they could like you back because they do. I heard “like a lot” 😭 the feelings are most definitely mutual, stop doubting yourself. Stop thinking no one could ever have a crush on you because they can and they do because of course they would. You’re amazing, stop doubting that. Why are you fighting your own happiness? It’s here. The love you’ve been wanting and fantasizing about is here, fall into it and stop questioning yourself.

I don’t have to tell you what this person is feeling for you because your feelings are identical. What you feel for them they feel for you. You’re definitely mirroring each other. Don’t take anything too seriously and approach this connection in a light playful way and see where it goes.

I hope this reading has brought you some sort of peace, clarification, or happiness! Feedback is always appreciated :) have a good day or night. Sending you love and light!

[askhezureviews]

Okay so judging by these screenshots for Episode 10. It looks the episode was thankfully rewritten, so that would mean the Millie S-Word scene was scrapped, what do you think?

I held off on answering this yet, and FYI I have not watched this episode yet. However, from my understand and Viv’s confirmation, they have indeed changed this episode. THANK GOD. Like seriously THANK YOU. When I first read those leaks I actually felt sick. I’m so glad someone on the team realized this wasn’t a good idea. I’d say my respect had risen, I am genuinely, genuinely relieved at this. However, it does feel like I’m giving credit for them doing the bare minimum morally correct thing to really do in this situation.

Anyone who tried to defend millie trying to kill herself because she’s a bad wife to moxie - sorry there is no such thing as being a bad wife. (Unless you cheat I guess)

You’re married to someone, you share assets and live together. Any preconceived notions about not being a good “wife” to your husband ? You’re not soft or sweet enough, you don’t clean or cook enough? That’s not an insecurity. That’s internalized misogyny, people.

What’s unusual is Viv’s manipulative way of confirming the leaks are no longer viable, she claimed the leaks were for an “episode that they weren’t making anymore” but what she means to say is that , those leaks were an old draft they decided to change/fix for this current episode. Acting as Vivziepop’s PR manager here to fix this blunder:

“Those leaks are no longer canon. They were early rough drafts for the episode and we decided to change them.”

Or better yet: “Those leaks were early rough drafts, and we decided to change them for several reasons. In the early concept, millie, along with the rest of the cast, is manipulated into almost killing themselves due to their insecurities overwhelming them. We realized that Millie’s insecurity did not make sense due to the fact that her backstory episode has yet to release, on top of it lacking any context or sense based off what was shown of her character thus far. It left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth, so we knew we needed to rewrite this.”

I feel like I’m a teacher grading papers everytime I see one of Viv’s catty twitter posts asdfghjkl again if she had a PR that she’d listen to that would help her convey her words in the right way, she would not have so many haters and would save so much face in terms of her reputation!!!

Again, have not watched this episode yet but from what I hear, it’s possible really good things. Like Millie’s backstory maybe.

Brandon Rogers apparently came back to write this episode. There was an Instagram post where he said it was an “honor” to write this episode, when he was involved in writing most of season 1. That just implies he was indeed kicked off the writing team by Viv. I’m telling you guys, if I watch this episode and it’s actually good like I’m hearing, it’s because of Brandon.

This is Brandon’s show, he was the one carrying it until Viv flicked him off, and that’s one of the reasons why season 2 is in shambles as it is.

Regardless, I’m excited and grateful to see him come back. My opinion on the recent episode will be pending until I have the time to watch it.

[kairiscorner]

HEARME OUT 🌼

ive been seeing fics about bad boy x good girl

and i've been seeing novels about hockey players x nerd

YOU ALREADY KNOW WHO I HAVE IN MIND HAHAH ♪(´ε｀*)

he has shitty grades despite being an athletic star so reader tutors him

ITS REALLY SPECIFIC BUT OH YM GO smth abt the bad boy x good girl dynamic does SOMETHING to me ( ≧ᗜ≦)

oH MY GOD ,,, YES PLEASE. LOWKEY WANNA MAKE THIS A SERIES LIKE THE COLLEGE MIGGY ONE HEHEHHEHEHEHEHHE

soccer captain!bad boy!miguel o'hara x nerdy!fem!reader (part 1...?)

the clock mounted on the library wall behind you endlessly ticked all monotonously and rhythmically, ticking you off even more as you tapped your foot against the floorboards impatiently. you knew he was going to have practice after school for an hour and a half, his coach confirmed it with you when you asked–but where the hell was he? you sighed as you shut the book whose contents you were studying closed and began to fix your things and leave–that was, until a loud slam was heard from across the library, which the librarian gave a disgruntled 'shush' for, and the boy of the hour (and the past few) was finally here.

he was all sweaty, his dark, curly locks sweeping over his forehead as he walked over to you and pulled a chair up; slumping into it with a thump, angering the library's patrons and the librarian themselves. you frowned and crinkled your eyebrows at the lack of manners this boy had, and his lack of tact for you taking precious hours out of your day was annoying you beyond belief. "you're late." you reminded him as you folded your arms over your chest. miguel merely chuckled and sat back in his chair. "so what? i'm here now, aren't i?" you grumbled at his cocky response and shook your head gently.

you opened up the book you were reviewing earlier, and before you could even begin to speak, the minute you looked over at miguel, he was napping. with a huff and a look of frustration, you shut the book closed again and leaned over across the table—smacking the top of his head with the book. he mumbled in pain and furrowed his eyebrows at you, looking pissed. "what was that for?" he asked you in a grumble. you opened the book again and reread a few passages. "to wake your lazy ass up." you answered nonchalantly, without even looking up at him. miguel folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at you. "just so you know, i'm carrying the whole school's soccer team by myself—i'm far from lazy." "in soccer, you might not be, but in terms of... academics..." you trailed off, purposefully making miguel knit his eyebrows together again and making him grumble and lean back into his chair. "just don't act like you're any better than me, which you aren't, dork." he mumbled to you as you took a pen and began writing down some notes. "i'm doing no such thing, you himbo of a jock." you replied to him with a little quip.

though as you were writing, miguel's bigger hand wrapped itself around your wrist, prompting you to look up from the book and papers you were holding and up at his hazel brown eyes. they looked soft, maybe a little... bright, even? wait, why were you even noticing these things, you hardly ever spoke to him—the main reason you were even in the same space as this usually loud, crass, crude jock was because he was in a rough position with his grades. his coach suggested you tutor him after school to keep his act together, or else he'd be off the team entirely; what you weren't expecting was him touching you randomly, this wasn't in the agreement. "what?" "thanks... for doing this for me." he muttered to you, looking into your eyes all sweetly; but you weren't falling for it, you knew he had a reputation for making other people swoon for him effortlessly with his words, if he wanted something else from you, he should just say it directly now. "it's not for you, it's extra credit, which i'll be needing eventually." you correct him as you pull away. miguel chuckled at your response. "extra credit? you already tire the teachers too much with all your babbling in class and being bossy in group projects." "success doesn't come easily, o'hara." "oh, trust me... i know." he said with a light smirk as he stared up at you as he propped his chin up on his folded arms on the table.

you whacked his head with the papers this time, and he grumbled again in frustration at how unfunny this whole shtick was becoming to him. the librarian shushed you two as a second warning, and you leaned in close to him to teach him the lessons he missed wasn't listening to because he was busy napping in class in a hushed voice; though you worried he was focusing on... other things while you were teaching him. what kinds of things? oh, you'll see for yourself eventually.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[hannie-dul-set]

babe pls write anything for taehyun and my life will be yours 💞😠

[get your shit together]. kang taehyun has always been gifted with the sharpness to notice things first. thanks to this, he’s always been the one to swoop in at the last minute to save your group from trouble.

for example, in fourth grade, when you guys were fooling around in soobin’s living room a little too close to his mom’s favorite vase, taehyun noticed the old ceramic wobble before it could smash into the ground, right before his mom’s footsteps welcomed themselves in. another instance was during study hall in middle school, when you and beomgyu were playing connect four behind a stack of books, taehyun managed to kick your chairs from behind as a warning before your teacher could notice you two and send you to detention.

taehyun has always been pretty sharp. nothing goes under the radar. not even how kai lights up ever so subtly whenever you give him special attention. not even the shift in beomgyu’s gaze when you comforted him after his last breakup. not even how soobin keeps and keeps and keeps trying to flake out on hang-outs whenever you’re around. not even yeonjun’s half-assed attempts to stay in touch ever since he left for university.

“hey, get your fucking shit together.”

none of these things had gone unnoticed. he doesn’t understand why the other four are failing to notice things.

“do you think avoiding her is doing more good than harm? quit being selfish and think about just how much you’re hurting her by staying away and keeping your distance.”

because, really—

“why are you acting as if moving out of the neighborhood is such a big deal? so what if you’re in college now. soobin’s gonna follow you there next year anyway. you’re already far away as is and you’re making it even harder for us to reach you.”

it doesn’t take an untrained eye—

“can’t you see that unloading all your feelings for her is making her uncomfortable? burdensome? i get that you like her, but quit being caught up in your own emotions to the point where you’re failing to consider everyone else’s.”

nor does it take quick wits and sensibilities—

“seriously, what exactly do you want? you say one thing and do another. you swore to move on and get over it, but you’re still expecting things, you’re still latching onto the hope that something more could happen.”

to notice just how shitty you feel about all of this. 

“i feel like things have gotten awfully tangled lately,” you sigh. it’s the middle of the night, and you called taehyun over for a quick stroll around the neighborhood. obviously, that’s not the only reason why you called for his presence. “i miss the old days where we can all just hang out with no issues.”

when you look at taehyun with a somber smile, he feels something heavy press into his ribcage from the inside. it suffocates the life out of him. it clogs his throat, constricts his breathing. he gives your hand a squeeze as tight as how his lungs are feeling.

“don’t worry.”

once again, kang taehyun has to be the one to swoop in so that no one gets in trouble. so that no one gets uncomfortable. so that no one ruins the god damned ten years of friendship you guys have built just because of feelings they can’t keep under wraps. 

“i’ll fix it.”

but in order to do that—

your smile brightens. his chest feels tighter. 

—he needs to get his shit together.

“thank you.” 

he can’t let himself fall for you too.

send me a kpop boy (txt/enha/zb1/bnd/dream) to toss into reverse harem hell! [yeonjun] [beomgyu]

[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

jack ‘canary’ skalbek — full backstory

this is incredibly self indulgent, but i wanted to get it out of my chest, i guess. it's raw and silly at times but i love it all the same and i hope you do too. ive never posted my writing on tumblr so i really hope it does ok out here heh.

18+ for swearing, canon COD violence, no explicit sex but alluding to further acts, just generally not for minors ! adult topics and characters individual trauma discussed within .

There’s something to be said about the haze of being a teenager in California in the early aughts. The warm, all-over feeling of the sun beating down on tanned, freckled skin. Bruised knees, busted knuckles. Spending every day in a lake or a river, god forbid the chlorine riddled soup of a swimming pool, making the most out of what time is had.

Jack Skalbek was, by all accounts, an average teenager, who did average teenage things. Smoking pot behind the bleachers when he should be in class, watching his marginally more athletic friends throw themselves at gym class like it actually mattered. Football, soccer — whatever it was, he could usually find Keegan and Alex there.

Keegan, a year his senior, and Alex a year older, the closest things he could call his friends. They’d spent much of their childhood daydreams running around town together, iPod plugged into a speaker on the back of one of their bikes, blasting some obnoxiously emo music that all of them indulged in. 2004 lends itself to that aspect, dyed hair and painted nails, one too many chains hanging off of Jack’s wallet.

Alex would never speak of it, but he could see it in little glimpses. Catch the fleeting hand-holds and hushed laughter, that look.

There was no way they weren't feeling something.

They just didn't know what to call it.

Sitting on the roof of Jack’s parent’s house, having climbed up through an access point that certainly wasn't meant to be used by 16 year olds, Keegan and Jack lingered. Long past Alex’s curfew, his need to return home leaves them in each other's presence.

“You decide anything about college yet?” Keegan asked, watching Jack fumble with his lighter in an attempt to light the cigarette between his lips. They tasted awful, and he didn't even like the nicotine buzz, but the ‘deep breathing' exercise was relaxing.

“No — I mean, I still have a year.” Jack huffed, sighing with satisfaction as he got it to light. The burn in his throat was comforting, but his attention was more focused on Keegan. “Did you?”

“Yeah.” Keegan murmured, his voice low and quiet. “I, uh, I was talkin’ to a recruiter downtown the other day.”

“Oh? Is that why you blew off our mall date?”

“It wasn't a date, but yes.” Keegan chuckled, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands. Worn from use, he slipped his thumbs through holes in the cuffs, the heather gray fabric fraying at the edges. He felt like he was doing the same thing, some days.

“So, like, what sport? Did you get picked up for football?”

“No, I mean, like — a Marine recruiter.”

“Oh! Yeah, I got that letter too — you actually went and talked to those guys?” Jack snickered, but Keegan was infinitely more serious about it. He had really gone and discussed a future in the military? What future was there in something like that? Brutish violence and bloodshed, all for some rich man’s greed — proxy wars.

“I mean, yeah. Alex came with me. They said I’d be a prime candidate. I’m taking the test soon to see where I place, but they said my grades were high enough that —”

“Slow down.” Jack turned to face the other boy entirely, the warm glow of the setting sun painting him somewhere between coral pink and tangerine. His eyes, though, were still an icy blue. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “You joined?”

“Enlisted.” The dark haired boy shrugged, fixing his gaze on Jack’s. “It’s no big deal, Jackie.”

“It’s a really big deal.”

“It’s not — it's the same as if you told me you were gonna go to art school in New York City.”

“Art school doesn't get me killed.” Jack said softly, almost embarrassed that his qualm with the entire thing was the idea of his person Keegan dying. His cheeks were flushed red, all heated up and uncomfortable. He averted his gaze, but Keegan's hand on his cheek returned him to reality.

“Is that what bothers you about it?”

“It's dangerous, Keegan. Y-You could get shot, or lose a leg, or —”

“I can live without a leg.”

“You're not funny.” Jack groaned, pushing Keegan's hand away only to feel it in his hair this time, fingers laced in-between his long grey-blonde hair. It grounded him, making his thoughts clear up and focus down to just one, very clear idea. “I don't want you to go. I-I thought you had to be 18 to enlist.”

“If I pass all the tests, they’ll make an exception. It’s still a couple months out, I’ll be 18 by the time I get out on deployment.” Keegan said whilst gently brushing through Jack’s hair, a bit tangled from being wet earlier that day, knotted with pool water. “This is somewhere I can make a difference.”

“But why does it have to be you?” Jack replied, having long forgotten his cigarette by now. It was mostly ash, all balanced perfectly at the end. One little twitch of his hand and it all fell off, leaving half an inch of smokable length behind. It didn't matter anymore, though.

“Because if I don't, and I just assume someone else will, nothing’ll ever change.”

“How poetic.” Jack mumbled, closing his eyes as Keegan’s hand drew forward, back to his jaw. Soft, gentle, well intentioned. Better than anyone that Jack could ever pray to fill the gap Keegan would surely leave behind with. It made his heart ache knowing that these nights were fleeting, slipping through his fingers already and Keegan hadn't even passed his exams yet. “Promise that you’ll come back from wherever they send you?”

Keegan bit back the words that came to mind first, acknowledging that he couldn't promise to come back. Men and women die all of the time overseas, and he could likely become one of the many that don’t come home outside of a casket. He looked down at Jack, those soft brown eyes enamored with him, and knew he had to make that impossible promise.

“I’ll come back to you.”

It happened quickly. His exams came up fast and he passed them with flying colors, eviscerating the physical testing all the same. Even with the sword of Damocles above their heads, they continued to share hurried kisses and late nights, begging for a few minutes more from the universe. Fighting the timer with every movement. Pressured by the impending doom, Jack started applying to colleges — it was a year too soon, but if Keegan could weasel his way into the Marine Corps at 17 then he could finesse his way into some pretentious art school.

Flashes in his memory now, images of his acceptance letter and Keegan’s coming just days apart, his call to action a far greater anomaly. He and Alex would be leaving for the opposite side of the country in a matter of weeks, ensuring Jack felt helpless. His best friends, whisked away to die in the middle of the desert.

The night before Keegan needed to be at the airport, to be sworn in and shipped off, he didn't spend a second longer at home than he needed to. He was at Jack’s house the second he finished packing, duffel bags discarded at the front door. Mrs. Skalbek would surely move them and re-fold the messy clothes, probably even press his uniform nicely for the next day — she knew it, too, the way that her boy was enraptured by the Russ kid.

She didn't mind, even if Keegan’s parents did. He was leaving, now, she could at least provide them with a safe home for one more evening.

Keegan half expected Jack to break down in tears, begging for him to change his mind or something, but he didn't. He opened the window of his room instead, letting the salt air in, a gentle breeze cooling the room down. Christmas lights strung from the ceiling the only real illumination save for the fading sunset, casting a pinkish glow over everything. On his desk, a closed sketchbook with about a million drawings of Keegan and Alex, though there was a distinct pattern of a particular set of blue eyes repeating every few pages. Then there was Jack laying on his bed, swallowed whole by the comforter, his sad and tired eyes fixed on Keegan in the doorway.

They skipped the “awkward” part fairly quickly.

No hello or how are you, just straight and to the point. Wrapped up in each other’s arms above the sheets, bodies warm and hazy at the edges, blurring the lines between a tangle of limbs. Jack didn't say a word as he closed his eyes and breathed in the achingly familiar scent of the gold standard of a boy he’d grown to love.

“Don’t get hung up on me, alright?” Keegan asked, sleep laced between his words.

“What’d’you mean?”

“Like…go and do whatever you’re gonna do in LA. Don’t worry about me. I can handle my own.”

“Respectfully, shut the fuck up. I’ll be worried about you until you’re home.”

“M’not gonna change your mind, am I?”

“No.” Jack replied, pulling Keegan in closer. It was much too hot for proximity like this, but neither seemed to care.

“At least make some good memories so we have somethin’ to talk about when I come back.”

Jack hummed in reply and drifted off to sleep against his will, waking up without another body in his bed. In a panic he sat up, making his head spin, but he realized Keegan was just getting dressed. He hadn't left yet. The uniform he wore looked foreign on his frame, a little too big on him, but he looked happy enough in it. Keegan looked up when Jack startled awake, a slight frown on his face.

“Wanted to slip out without wakin' you.”

“You didn't say goodbye.”

“That was the point, Jackie.” Keegan chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed, lacing his boots up with unpracticed hands. “I didn't wanna make you have to go through a goodbye.”

He was right. Goodbye sounded awful. It took Jack a moment of contemplation before he settled on an alternative, his half asleep brain convincing him it was a great idea.

“I love you.” Jack spoke softly, though confident in those three words. They'd remained an unspoken law thus far, only now being brought into the fabric of reality. They made Keegan stop in his tracks for a split second.

“I love you, too, Jackie.” He replied, his voice a solemn tone. After he finished tying his boots he turned and placed a kiss on Jack’s forehead, rustling his hair up one more time for good measure. “I’ll text you when I get to base. Be safe.”

‘made it 2 base. no phone 4 a few months. alex says hi. xx keegs.’

Jack loved and hated those text updates every single time he received one. They were few and far in-between, but they meant the world. It was all he really had left of Keegan. The following summer, after nearly a year of no real contact, Jack finally got a phone call. He was moving into his dorm at UCLA when his phone started blaring Keegan’s ringtone, setting his mind on high alert. Jack fumbled his phone open, pressing the green answer button as soon as his fingers stopped shaking enough to do so.

“Keegan?”

“Jackie.”

He’s alive.

“Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice. Holy shit.” Jack laughed, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes from the sheer emotional weight. He could hear idle chatter in the background, Alex’s voice included, carrying on about something he didn't quite understand. “How has it been?”

“Listen, I don't have a lot of time. We’re gonna be leaving for Tel Aviv, soon.” Keegan sounded all too serious, some of that warmth and wonder gone from his voice. It’d dropped an octave, too. “S’been good, Jackie. I just wanted to call and talk to you before we hit dirt.”

“Tel Aviv?” Jackie mumbled. “You’re in the middle of the war?”

“Fuckin’ neck deep in it.” Keegan replied quietly. “You made it to LA, right?”

“Didn't know you still got my texts.”

“Of course I do. I just — I don't have time to reply, some days. I don't have a good excuse, either. Just want to make sure you know I meant it, back then. Miss you like hell.”

“S’that your girl?” Someone’s voice called from a distance, earning a huff out of Keegan. “Is she hot?”

“Shut your fuckin’ trap!” He barked back. “Sorry, Jackie. Listen, I — I gotta bounce, I don't know how long we’ll be out here. Be safe for me, okay?”

“I — yeah, of course, K.” Jack stuttered, running a hand back through his hair in a self-soothing manner. Though Keegan hadn't said the words, Jack wanted to make sure that the point got across that he understood. “I love you, too.”

Click.

Radio silence did not begin to describe what followed that phone call. Jack pushed down his anxiety for a long, long while, ignoring all of the news outlets claiming that a civilian hospital in Tel-Aviv had been assaulted and defended by U.S. Marines. That there had been countless casualties, that those men would be honored posthumously with medals and awards. He didn't read a single article out of fear that he would see Keegan Russ or Alex Johnson in the list of names.

College flew by. The war raged on. He didn't hear from Keegan, his family, no one. Even when his mother called, he blew her off, fearing that she was calling to break the news of his untimely death in the Middle East. Birthday after birthday, year after year, and he had not even begun to fill the space in his chest with something real. Uppers and downers, party culture — it was his way of smothering the pain temporarily, far better than anything his psychologist offered him in way of coping.

Deep breathing exercises and journaling didn't bring Keegan back.

Nothing did.

Not drinking, not partying, not kissing strangers in bars — nothing.

The world continued to strife while Jack continued to linger in 2004, the better part of him remaining on the rooftop of his mom’s house. He especially noticed his inability to change with the rest of the world as ‘The Federation of the Americas’ rose to power. News of their rampage spread like wildfire until they, themselves had spread closer and closer to the U.S. Even when their leader was assinated, it didn't stop them.

Tensions were high, tides ebbing and flowing with every passing day, until 2017.

Jack Skalbek had settled into his life in Los Angeles. He had a house that he rented with a few roommates, a cat, a rather nice car — nothing was too awful those days. He could go outside on his porch and rip a bong like his life depended on it, seeing stars in broad daylight, and —

Wait.

Those aren't stars. It’s broad daylight.

Jack blinked a couple of times as he raised his hand over his eyes, shielding out the harsh glow of the sun. There were small pieces of something hurtling towards the earth, like shooting stars, and as they drew closer he knew they weren't small. They were large, flaming chunks of a spacecraft or something — that was the only logical explanation.

People were running. Something was rumbling.

Impact.

The earth split in two, directly through Los Angeles, and all Jack could do was run. He ran like he never had before, stumbling through the literally broken streets with little regard for anything else. His cat, Molly, leapt out into the street (he never quite stopped thanking God for that) and he scooped her up, hauling ass as fast as he could.

He never really stopped running.

Molly learned to stay at his side, mewling as they traversed what remained of Los Angeles for a while, eventually forced up North by the Federation’s invasion. Before he knew it, Jack had found company with a military squad, having been on base whenever ODIN hit. They stuck together in the aftermath, and when they found Jack essentially camping in the wilderness, they picked him up. At least then, he was “camping” with a group of heavily armed, skilled soldiers.

It didn't last long, the ideation that he could just tag along. Before he knew it, Lieutenant Ames had shoved a rifle into his hands.

“You're too tall to be a sniper and too lanky to be close quarters, so you’re gonna scout. Think you can manage that, Skalbek?” Ames asked, watching Jack inspect the rifle. He’d never used a gun before, or held one, but he supposed that now was as good a time as any to learn how. It would likely be the only difference between him living and dying, so it felt important.

A distant memory these days, although a sweet one, Keegan would have been proud of him. He had passable marksmanship, steady artist hands coming in handy for such a task. His lungs were a weakness, but it wasn't exactly commonplace to come upon large quantities of smokable substances in their travels. Stretching a pack of cigarettes became a habit, until he was barely smoking them at all. Once he could hold his breath long enough to get a few shots off, he was good enough.

That was all that mattered. He could protect himself in the wild.

Jack spent years with the same crew of men, calling them brothers. He never grew too close, never squinted to see Keegan’s face in theirs — he didn't think of those blue eyes often those days. It was hard to dream of good things in such a bad place, like a war-torn America, in desperate need of saving.

Jack just prayed that Keegan was alright, wherever he may be, whatever he may be doing. He had to have survived the initial attack in Tel Aviv.

The soldiers would gossip about a team of men that came from Santa Monica, made up of the survivors from Tel Aviv — fifteen men out of sixty that came out on top when up against five hundred Federation attackers. Ghosts, they were called, a supernatural force that somehow overcame the odds.

He believed that men had survived, but he didn't believe that they were so mythical. Though, after so many years of dissidence, some will cling to those little miracles out of desperation.

Hope was a very dangerous thing for anyone to have, let alone some random man from Northern California that barely survived Los Angeles' implosion, but he had it. Even if he would never admit such a thing aloud for fear of it being taken away. Jack spent most of his time from 2017 until 2022 doing the best he could to hold himself together, and eventually in the winter of that year, it came crashing down.

He woke up to gunshots. Loud, quick, violent. Close. Jack startled awake and reached for his rifle, but before he could even aim he felt a firm thunk on the side of his head. Everything hurts, his head ringing until he falls unconscious, and everything goes painfully black.

Jack had never been knocked unconscious before, but he learned quickly that the wake-up was infinitely worse than the go-down. Nothing was worse than realizing he was chained up, though. His hands were cuffed above his head, the distinct taste of copper rich on his tongue as his eyes fluttered.

“Fuck…” Jack breathed, the sound of his lungs almost wet. He’d surely aspirated his own blood, but he couldn't be certain he wasn't waterboarded by the way his lungs felt liquidy. “Hello?”

Mistake.

A Federation soldier joined him in that cell within seconds, and he learned to keep his mouth shut from then on. It went on for a week straight, the torture, getting beat senseless day in and out by Feds just for fun. They’d laugh, dump alcohol on his gaping wounds, break bones like it was a game. One of them took a bat to his knee on the last day of that first week, and he was sure that he would die in that cell.

Cold. Alone. Bloody.

Months went by. Long, arduous. Sometimes he wouldn't see another human being for several days, and then he would be forced to take a beating alongside another of the soldiers from his company. He wasn't sure when he started referring to himself as one of them, as a soldier, but the Feds saw him that way too.

Corporal Skalbek. The punching bag.

Six. Long. Months.

He was happy that he was still alive on occasion, but most days were spent half-conscious and starving for breath. He couldn't even scream anymore. His throat was so terribly dry he was certain that it was only wet from his blood, coating every gulp with the distinct taste of it. If he coughed, it’d sputter out and paint his pale flesh with an array of sanguine specks, blending with the other stains from the physical abuse. Bruises littered his body, alongside gashes and lacerations, marks from where ligatures had dug into his skin.

The handcuffs were always the worst, a little too rusty and worn, sure to give him tetanus if he survived this ordeal. But, in some sort of optimistic turn, he wasn't sure he would survive it.

If Jack closed his eyes, he could almost hear Marines charging the camp, barking orders over gunfire. That, however, was a fantasy, just like the idea of going home was. Well, at least back to the U.S.. LA wasn't home anymore, and he didn't rightly have a place to live since the soldiers he ran with were always moving, but he would be happy to live in an abandoned motel for the rest of his days at this rate.

Fantasies of a better life left him feeling warm and fuzzy inside despite the exhaustion gripping his every emotion. He was sure, now, that he was starting to see things that weren't really there. Disturbed cognitive functioning is a symptom of mental deterioration, and with the way his mind was creating custom imagery of Marines coming to save him he had to be close to death at this rate. The deafening sound of gunfire traveled closer down the hallway, echoing off the walls alongside the repetitive drum-beat of bootfalls.

“Clear every room — I want every last one of these boys to survive.” A voice shouted, followed by a few affirmative replies of some kind. Jack perked up, straining the cuffs holding his hands up, aggravating the painful friction wounds. A fresh stream of blood ran down his forearms, warm and wet.

It took a few minutes for him to actually believe that someone was here to rescue him from this hell, but once he did he started fighting his restraints. Trying desperately to make the chains jingle but failing at that as well. The pain in his wrists was too much to simply push through it, and he truthfully couldn't feel the lower half of his body anymore. He tried to push himself up on his knees but they were in pure agony.

It wasn't fair.

They’d never hear him.

When they came to the door of his cell, a pair of eyes appeared in the barred enclosure, glancing the room over. He opened his mouth to speak, to beg for mercy, but once more nothing came out. Jack fought his restraints once again and the eyes lit up. Next thing he knew, the door was wide open and he was sure that this was all some vivid hallucination before his death.

The man looked to be a grim reaper, or a twisted angel of mercy. His eyes were nearly white, they were so blue and he knew right then and there that it was him.

He couldn’t mistake those eyes.

“Hey — look’a’me. You’re gonna be jus’ fine.” The man’s voice was low and gravelly, husky in every sense of the word. He went to whimper his excitement but, well…it came out as a coughing fit, blood coating his dry lips once again. Did he not recognize Jack? Has so much changed? Did he not look like himself anymore? “Don't push yourself.”

Jack huffed and sat patiently as the man, who’s last name was too blurry to read and he knew it anyway, broke the cuffs off his wrists with bolt cutters. It hurt, but it reminded him that this was actually happening and that he was alive still. Air still filled his lungs at a quickened pace, he could still feel the warmth of another person’s flesh on his. The man had gloves on, but there was life in his touch — gripping Jack’s fragile and broken body.

“Can you walk?” He asks. Jack shakes his head rapidly and the man doesn't reply, picking the semi-emaciated other up without hesitation. When they enter the hallway, Jack can see the blurry outlines of other men populating the space, both his soldier friends and Marines. “Merrick! Got the last one — he’s not doing too hot.”

“Exfil’s outside — he’s still breathing?’ ‘Merrick’ called back, a fuzzy figure in the distance.

“Barely. Pulse is thready.” The man holding him barked back to Merrick, leaving Jack wondering if he would die anyways, regardless of being saved. It was getting hard to stay awake now that he knew he wasn't going to be stuck in captivity any longer, his eyelids fighting sleep. He knew he was safe. “Hey — stay awake. Eyes on me.”

Jack suddenly felt his eyes open wide again, fixing on the man holding him. He felt like a teenager all over again, looking up through tired eyes on that last day before he lost his best friends to a war he was now fighting, too.

“There we go…eyes on me. Just a few more minutes.” Focusing on that voice wasn't hard. It had gotten deeper, but it was as familiar as breathing.

It was just a few more, in truth. Jack found himself seated in the back of a Humvee, bleeding all over the fabric interior. His body begged for sleep but his blue-eyed angel kept nudging him awake, occasionally pinching his arm to make sure he felt something enough to keep him awake.

“Stop it. You fall asleep, you die.” He huffed in frustration as Jack dozed off again.

“Don't be such a prick, Keegan. He’s a prisoner of war.” Merrick called from the front passenger seat, gazing back at Jack and his mangled body. A mess of limbs and blood, but with the widest smile he could possibly muster. It was him. In the flesh, breathing right in front of him, holding his hand. “You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

Oh, he would be just fine.

Upon arriving in Fort Santa Monica, he was allowed to rest. Anesthetic sleep was never truly restful, as it was artificial, but it was enough for him to walk in a more lucid state. His vision wasn't blurry, his head was no longer pounding, and he didn't taste blood.

A much better day in Jack’s book by a hundred miles.

He rolled onto his side and overlooked the small med-bay, the typical hustle and bustle of a hospital environment carrying on beyond the curtain. It smelled sterile there, but it was welcome in comparison to the scent of rust and rot. The flat white surface of the curtain was disrupted by a hand, followed by the presence of Keegan fucking Russ.

“Didn't think you'd be awake so soon.” He sort of darts his gaze away from Jack, embarrassed that he’d come to sit with a man that he’d presumed to be unconscious. The trouble, though, really came when Jack went to reply. No noise came out. His throat was sore, but it likely only felt that way because morphine was smothering any real pain he would normally be feeling. He touched at his throat anxiously, fingertips dancing across bandages wrapped around the entirety of his neck. “I can do most of the talking, s’alright. I’d like to know who I’m talking to, though. You know sign language or something?”

Jack rolled his eyes. It definitely made sense for him, a person with functional vocal chords and ears six months ago, to have learned sign language. Keegan chuckled at the display of attitude, not a clue in his mind still that he was who he was.

“Stop me when I say the right letter. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J—”

Jack tapped Keegan’s hand. A flash of recognition crossed his face before he continued.

“Okay, J. A—”

Another tap.

“J-A…A, B, C—”

Tap.

“Jack?” Keegan spoke softly. “You — sorry, you kinda look like someone I know. His name was Jack, too. When LA went, he went, too.”

Huh? How had he even heard something like that? How was he so certain that Jack was dead?

“Nevermind. I’m, uh, Sergeant, First Class. Keegan Russ. You in pain or anything, Jack? I’m sure I could get them to sneak you a little extra morphine or something. Maybe a cigarette? Not that you should smoke with your throat torn open, I guess…”

Jack stared up at him. If there was any uncertainty, it was resolved immediately.

“What’s that fuckin’ look for?”

Jack went to speak and he literally squeaked in place of words. God damnit.

“Exactly. Go on, get some sleep. I’ll be around with a better way for you to talk, later.” Keegan said as he left, pulling the curtain shut once again. Instead of throwing a fit because Keegan didn't recognize him, Jack opted for sleep, coiling up on his side as the morphine lulled him into a sense of security, the warmth putting him out like a light.

A man of his word as he always had been, Keegan returned after Jack got some much-needed sleep, food, and water. He looked somewhat disappointed though, taking a seat across from Jack’s bed.

“Does a pen and paper work? I really thought I’d have a more innovative solution to the, uh, no-talking thing but…” Keegan said sheepishly as he snatched the medical clipboard from the side table of Jack’s bed, flipping to a blank sheet of paper before handing it to Jack alongside a pen.

‘It’s fine.’ Jack wrote, turning it to face Keegan. ‘My wrists hurt, though.’

“I figured — Doc said you got some pretty deep lacs. I’ll keep it brief. Your last name?”

‘Skalbek.’

“No it isn't.” Keegan’s expression dropped. “Don't fuck around. Who the fuck told you that?”

Jack furrowed his brow and turned the clipboard around, scribbling out a response as fast as he could before Keegan reasonably flipped out. ‘Do I not look the same?’

“You're not Jackie.”

‘How can I prove it?’

“You can't. Fucking…that's a sick prank, you know that? Whoever the hell told you his name is gettin' gutted.” Keegan stood up and turned to leave, only serving to frustrate Jack more. How did he not recognize him? It would seem that while he was excited to see Keegan again, Keegan was…upset? He licked his lips, dry and cracked as they were, and did the only thing he figured would work.

He whistled.

He whistled the tune to Drowning Lessons by My Chemical Romance. It was cheesy and fucking stupid, but he knew for a fact that Keegan knew it because they’d bought the CD together. They didn’t rip it off of Limewire or Napster, no, they bought the actual disc.

They would listen to that song on repeat, Jack never quite shutting up about the bridge and the melodies of Gerard Way’s gang vocals, and Keegan always said it was easily the best song on the record. He knew that they were never really together, and they never had a song, but if they did it would be that. He whistled until Keegan’s expression softened up, and he pulled his mask up over his head.

Same oceanic blue eyes, same slightly crooked nose, a few more scars. Still Keegan.

“I searched the wreckage at that address he — you sent me.”

Now, it was Jack’s turn for rightful emotional revelations. Keegan still got his texts in 2017? He only texted out of habit, out of a desire to vent every once in a while to nobody, even knowing that Keegan was dead. Being convinced that he was, at least.

“I found a body, I…”

‘Housemate. I had three.’ Jack wrote, urgent this time.

“He was so-so burnt that I…I thought the worst, I guess, I —” Keegan stuttered, his eyes never quite leaving Jack. The gap between them was much too far all of a sudden. “I need a minute.”

‘Take your time.’ Jack wrote back, but Keegan was gone before he could even turn the paper around. He sighed and leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes once again. He would never know, but Keegan practically bolted outside because he didn't want to crack in front of anyone, let alone Jack. The dark haired man locked himself in a broom closet and covered his mouth with his gloved hand, chest heaving with pure emotion as he panicked. His entire world view was shattered by that one living, breathing man out there.

Keegan Russ was not a man that broke down often. He fought back the urge to feel anything about this for two decades, to let his emotions get the best of him, but there was little he could do to stop it now. Jack was alive, a miracle in it of itself, but he was right there in front of Keegan. Busted and bruised, shattered bones and a scruffy face, but it was Jack.

He always regretted not getting a hold of him once they survived Tel Aviv, but there was little he could do about his mistakes now. They had already been done. Truthfully at the time it didn't seem like such a terrible thing, Keegan always had the hope that he would make it to UCLA to see Jack when the war ended, but it never did. Then, he looked forward to seeing him again when he moved to the outskirts of the city, but when ODIN struck LA…

In his mind, Jack had died. He had already mourned him and their brief respite of time together. The grief was simply something he grew around, letting it become a piece of his past that he could lovingly look back upon. Smile, knowing he gave Jack the best version of himself, untainted by war and violence.

Now what was he?

A killer, hardened by years of killing Federation soldiers indiscriminately, unable to look himself in the mirror on the bad days. The last thing that they never see coming. A ghost.

Jack didn't deserve that.

After all of that time, of burying his first and only semblance of love in the backyard outside next to who he used to be, he was sitting right there. If he opened up the door right in front of himself, he was right out there.

He moved his hand from his mouth once he was sure his breathing had regulated down to normal, taking a couple of shaky and unsure breaths before feeling satisfied. The last thing he needed was for their medic to appear out of nowhere and start prodding Jack again, only to see Keegan visibly shaken by seemingly nothing.

It wasn't Jack's fault that everything panned out the way it did, and if it was anyone’s fault it would be Keegan’s. He left, not the other way around. In fact, his squad was responsible for Tel Aviv, which sparked the following energy crisis, inevitably landing them where they are today. Here. In Santa Monica, perhaps the last safe place close to No Man’s Land.

There were two options.

He could, reasonably, walk away and let the medical staff deal with Jack. This could end right here and now, send him on his way with the survivors of the squad he was found with. Keegan would never have to see him again, never have to let him see this mangled version of himself that he had become.

Alternatively, he could walk back out there and sit back down, and start from the top. A do-over. Pretend that the last twenty or so years weren't so long, own up to his fuckups, and make a new starting point here and now. It would be infinitely more difficult, but Keegan also knew that it was indubitably the right thing to do.

With a few more seconds of silence to think about what he was about to choose, he stood up from the pile of boxes he’d been sitting on in the closet, and then went right back to Jack’s side.

“Sorry.” Keegan said quietly as he re-opened and shut the curtain again, sort of standing at the end of the bed rather than sitting in the chair he had previously been in. He was too full of anxious energy to sit down, having to actively think about not tapping his boot on the tile floor. “I just — you have to understand why this is weird for me.”

‘I thought the same when you unchained me.’ Jack wrote, earning a little sad-puppy look from Keegan. It was much harder to see Jack all beaten up and bruised knowing that it was, in fact, Jack.

“You don't look the same, for the record. I don't know who this badass, battle-worn version of Jackie is.”

‘Me neither.’ Jack shrugged.

“He seems like an alright guy.” Keegan said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’ll have to tell me about him whenever you can talk again, huh?”

‘How about you tell me about this Sergeant Russ guy?’

“Very funny. You need some sleep, y’look like shit, Jack.”

‘Come on. You’d have, like, pretty good bedtime stories.’

Keegan couldn't help it, he laughed at that one, a wide smile on his face. Still the same little spark of attitude that he always had, just with a few more years of bite to them.

“Fine — what’d’you wanna know?”

‘Tel Aviv.’

“Not right now. How about…basic training?”

‘Fine.’

It became a ritual, almost. Every single night without fail, Keegan would return to his side with something he stole from the mess hall and a new story, carrying the conversation enough for the two of them. Beforehand, he had been the quiet one, but Jack had involuntarily taken that role. He told him tales of Task Force: STALKER and the Ghosts. Their adventures through the entirety of the war, how many lives they saved — shit, he even got to hang out with Alex, too, on occasion. Well, Ajax, now.

It also became ritualistic that every single night, without fail, he'd wake up in a cold sweat.

He could only manage to gasp for breath, clutching at his throat as he set the attached heart monitors off time and time again. The ringing noise it made was most insensitive to someone having a panic attack, but it at least actually alerted the medic to his state. Grim, his name was, as in reaper.

It was no comfort to have a medic named after death itself at first, but he learned rather early on that Grim was a saint. He’d show up, mute the monitors and administer anti-anxiety medication, which was in short supply, but useful all the same.

Jack wasn’t terribly embarrassed about it either, he’d survived something traumatic and deserved to feel any way about it that he wanted to, until Keegan witnessed one of those late-night panic attacks. He'd fallen asleep in the chair beside Jack’s bed after a late night of one-sided conversation, barely awakened by the quickened breathing of the man in the bed beside him. Jack had never had panic attacks as a teenager, but the heavy breathing and scared eyes were a dead giveaway. Grim had learned to leave the monitor’s sound off, so it wasn't blaring, but Jack was still gasping for breath. His hands were clasped over his chest, eyes screwed shut as he tried to get his heart to slow down.

He looked over when he saw Keegan jolt awake, his eyes flicking anxiously up and down the other man as his cheeks flushed red. Fully embarrassed of the way the trauma affected him so deeply. It meant he was damaged goods. Discardable for something more favorable, less troubled.

“Y’alright? Should I get Grim?” Keegan asks, genuine concern laced into his words. He was so soft spoken it was almost scary, gruff texture never leaving even at a low volume.

“No.” Jack squeaked out, wincing at the pain. It sounded painful, too, a fragile pitch that wavered for the brief second it was spoken. His hand rubbed at the front of his throat, hoping to smother the pain out.

“Easy, Jackie.” Keegan replied, his brow knit in worry.

“M’fine.” Jack hacked, that wet feeling in his lungs returning in a phantasmal way.

“You're not. Take a deep breath. You’re safe. I’m here.” It was so very grounding, hearing those words spoken aloud. He was safe. He was alive. He was no longer cuffed to a wall in some dank basement.

He was with Keegan again.

Jack heaved a few more anxious breaths out, hand grasping at his chest for purchase until Keegan grabbed it, stopping him from scratching at the bandages constricting his breathing, a bit of a frown hidden beneath his mask. At first, Jack struggled, but he gave in after a few short moments of Keegan’s firm, gloved grasp on his twitching fingers.

“Thanks—” His voice comes out timid in both tone and volume.

“Stop trying to talk. You’re just gonna make it hurt worse.”

“Fuck —” Cough. “— off.”

“Just tryin’ t’help.” Keegan murmured, giving Jack’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You've been having night terrors like that a lot?”

Jack went to reply but bit his tongue, squeezing his hand instead.

“Yes?” squeeze. “Okay — hey, I can work with that. Do you want me to stay?”

Jack didn't reply. He just held Keegan's hand tighter, not letting go for a long, long time.

It was unconventional, this method of communication, but it got the point across. One for yes, two for no became the gold standard, especially when he was able to leave the med-bay and explore a bit. Fort Santa Monica was in no state of beauty, sure, but from what he could see it was a haven. There were refugee camps surrounding the military installments, packed tight with families and off-duty soldiers alike, lining the sandbag ridden streets. It was engineered to be impossible to take, the perfect place to shack up just outside of No Man’s Land.

Jack stood outside once he was cleared to walk again, leaning on a railing that overlooked the dismantled city. He was in a great deal of pain most days, but he’d rather grit his teeth and bare it over scarfing down painkillers. A brace and a dream, he could get just about anything accomplished these days.

“Elias said he wants to talk to you.” Keegan’s voice came as a shock, giving Jack the slightest bit of a scare. He turned on his heels to look up at the other man, brow knit in confusion. “Don't know why, don't ask. C’mon.”

What the hell could STALKER’s Lieutenant even want with him? The Ghosts weren’t exactly arms wide open to anyone in particular. They were brothers forged in blood and dirt, and he certainly was not present during Operation Sand Viper. So, short of kicking him out of the encampment, he had no idea what thee Elias Walker could possibly want.

Nothing bad, surprisingly.

“You must be Jackie Skalbek — pleasure. Elias Walker.” A firm handshake from the older man, setting Jack back a few notches. He felt awkward and terribly small next to such a force of power. Keegan had told him so many stories by now that he was certain Elias was inhuman purely based on skill and drive to do more, do better. Jack nodded a reply and Keegan stood quietly by, waiting for his presence to be necessitated.

“So…you’re the infamous Jack.” Elias smiled. “Keegan didn't shut up about you in…what was it, ‘06?”

“Embarrassing.” Keegan huffed, averting his gaze.

“I gotta say, son, your squad sung some high praises of you. Keegan, too. You’ve got a lotta reputation preceding you.” His squad? The soldiers he’d been shacked up with. They were saying he’d done well? His marksmanship was nothing to scoff at, sure, he had steady hands — but make him a soldier it did not. “I know you’re still taking it easy for now, but…we need warm bodies. Desperately. I’m sure Sergeant Russ filled you in on our work, the things that STALKER is responsible for?”

“Only the good parts, I promise.” Keegan said jokingly, earning a bit of a glare from Elias.

“Point is, if you’re up to the challenge, I could use the hands around here. You’re no Marine, but I betcha I can make one out of you yet.” Elias had a sort of warm smile, a confidence that exuded from every word he spoke, that almost made Jack feel like he could do it. How could he fit into the very rigid spot here, though? The lifestyle was hard and rigorous, made for men with years of experience in the field, not…him. “What's that look for?”

“I —” Jack squeaked. Squeaked! In front of Elias Fucking Walker. Frustrated with his own inability to produce a sound that wasn't equivalent to a hamster, he turned to Keegan. Now, they hadn't tried lip reading, but there wasn't exactly a better way to deal with this.

“He’s — slow the fuck down, Jackie, Jesus — he doesn't think he’s cut out for it.” Keegan roughly translated the quick talking, focused on the irregular way Jack formed certain words, the way he most definitely still had a slight lisp based on the way his tongue caught his front teeth sometimes. His fully grown voice was probably lovely if he could choke out more than two words at a time.

“I have it on pretty good authority that before the Federation got their paws on you, you were the best sniper among that squad of army veterans.”

“That was before the Federation.” Keegan translated once again, a slight sadness to the way he spoke the words. It didn't feel good knowing that he’d taken such a confidence blow from being held hostage — it made sense, though. Nobody comes out of that sort of ordeal without a few loose marbles. “He doesn't want to get someone killed because of his inexperience.”

“I understand that, but you've got a certain…quality. It’s that resilience, Jack. That’s what being a Ghost is.”

It resonated deep in his chest, the way that he spoke of what comprised a Ghost. Surviving against all odds. Coming back from ungodly nightmares and asking the world if that was all it had. Having the guts and courage to do what just be done. When Alex and Keegan enlisted, he knew they had more willpower than he ever would, and he wondered how Elias could possibly see that quality in him.

Scrawny, terrified, shaking, Jack Skalbek.

That was no Ghost. He was no soldier.

“I’m not who you think I am.” Keegan spoke his words once more, shaking his head just a little. “I did what I had to do to survive out there, but that's it.”.

“You can live, not just survive. I just need you to have a little faith in yourself, huh? Those boys you ran with sure have it. There’s a lotta folks out there that can't fight for themselves, that’s why we’re here — you can make that difference for folks. It’s up to you, though, I won't force it. I just know a Ghost when I see one, and I have a real good feeling that you’d be at home with us.”

Home. Home wasn't a place anymore, was it? Not since his home got blasted off the face of the earth by ODIN, not since his family and housemates got —

Then, there was us. The Ghosts. His closest friends from growing up.

Men that he’d spent weeks hearing stories of, the legend of brothers in arms coated in blood and sand, walking corpses. He was not made to do that, let alone the minimal work he’d put in during his travels. Jack realized he was just looking at Elias with shock and awe still, shaking his head to get his thoughts right.

Jack knew that if he took this opportunity, he’d be roped into this war for good. Moreso than if he only stuck around for Keegan’s company. There wouldn't be a way out of it, not that there was now, but he would cement his future if he trained to take up work with STALKER. He swallowed his fear, the anxiety welling in his stomach, and extended a hand to Elias.

“Good.” Elias shook his hand, taking it as the ‘yes’ answer that it was. “Once you're cleared for duty, we'll see how well you do.”

“Y-Yessir.” Jack managed to speak, a slight terror in his eyes that paired well with the confidence that came from actually forcing words out.

This, of course, meant that he was now privileged enough to meet the rest of the Ghosts. He’d met them in passing, trailing around behind Keegan most days like a lost dog, but now they were becoming acquainted. They were few in number compared to normal squads and battalions, but they were a force to be reckoned with.

Ajax was more than thrilled to see Jack again, having a much more overwhelmingly positive reaction to his presence than Keegan had. Saying that ‘I knew you weren’t dead because you’re too stubborn to die.’ It almost felt like the before again, memories flickering back to life in the back of his mind. Synapses that hadn't fired in decades.

Kick was the friendliest by far. He sat down with Jack before any proper training and got him kitted out, thrusting a marksman rifle into his hands before he even had the chance to protest. Boasting American made quality, a magazine that would make Vogue blush, and a scope with dual magnification. The matter of his tactical gear would come later, but Kick was more than satisfied to ramble about the specs of his firearms whilst Jack listened intently. He promised him custom gear and maybe even a mask, one day, but he needed more time.

Torch, Grim — they were well acquainted enough from his time in the medical bay under Grim’s watch, Torch often spending his days down there as well for an extra set of hands. He worked in demolitions, but that didn't mean he didn't have surgically delicate hands to assist when Grim couldn't get to something himself. He was actually the one to remove Jack’s stitches — a painfully long process that was almost, but not quite, as bad as his bones getting shattered in the first place. Grim would occasionally cheer ‘you’re doing great!’ and Jack couldn't be sure if he meant him or Torch.

Merrick, though, he was the tough one to crack. Cold, harsh — but effective. He was a decorated officer, completing the SEAL training at 17 years old with flying colors. Sure, Keegan and Ajax had become Marines at the same age, but that wasn't the same as being a Navy SEAL. It was overachievement to the highest degree, except he wasn't showing off — he was just that good. Jack felt small and insignificant in the presence of a man like him, who could outsmart entire battalions of Feds without much forethought.

He was out of his league, and Merrick knew it from the moment they met.

Sitting in the arsenal, having been gifted his uniform by Kick, but too terrified to put it on, Jack just held it. It was dark gray in color, camouflage and flat black as well, though the vest and accompanying guards were all matte black. They’d given him the standard patches that matched everyone else’s, a STALKER insignia set, but his name was the most jarring one to observe.

Skalbek. Corporal Skalbek.

He wasn't even enlisted — how could he be classified as a Corporal? The soldiers called him one, sure, but it was mostly in a teasing way. Jack thumbed over the embroidery and took a deep breath, deciding it would be better to just get dressed and have an existential crisis later. He had to tape and brace his knee in order to walk for long periods, but he’d grown used to the limp in his gait by now that it didn't bother him much anymore. The return of his voice, though, did bother him.

Even as he strapped his gear into place and laced his boots, every little huff or grunt of exertion felt foreign in his mouth. He didn't know what he was supposed to say for himself, truthfully, so he wasn't comfortable with using his voice. It was impossible to even fathom an explanation for how he ended up here, for what he went through in that cell — so he just didn't.

Instinct always takes over, though.

“You all set, blondie?” Keegan asked, leaning in the doorway of the arsenal. He could see Jack all geared up, but it felt right to ask.

“Yeah. All set.” Jack spoke, unaware that he'd even done so at first. Keegan knew better than to overreact, though, it would likely scare him off. Take that pretty voice away. If he wanted to talk, he could, and Keegan wouldn't apply pressure in any way.

“Good, good…lemme see.” Keegan said as Jack turned to face him, sort of standing awkwardly with his arms down at his sides. He looked lost. Uncomfortable in all of th buckles and straps, like the gear was suffocating the life out of him. “You look suicidal.”

“I’m —” Jack stopped himself, a bit shocked in his expression.

“You were doing great.” Keegan huffed in response, mildly disappointed. “The uniform looks good, though, Jackie.”

Jack rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, watching Keegan draw in closer across the room. He picked up the other man’s marksman rifle, inspecting it for a moment before handing it back to Jack.

“Needs some dirt on it — lucky for you, we’re just doing recon. Nothing crazy, just gettin’ your boots wet out in the field.” Keegan watched Jack take the rifle back, clicking the carry strap around his neck into place, carefully snapping the scope cover on for travel. He looked nervous, like a kid on his first day of school, only with much more weighing on his chest. It made sense. He hadn’t been sure of himself the entire time Elias was giving him a golden opportunity, so it made sense that confidence wasn't leaking out of his every movement. “Stand up straight, act like you know what you're doing until you do. Merrick prefers his name or his title, not sir, if you decide to talk to him.”

Jack nodded, letting a shaky breath out. He held up a thumbs up, hand trembling ever so slightly, pathetically. Keegan reached out and steadied it.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you.”

Jack turned his hand and held his pinky out, raising a brow. Without much hesitation, just the normal amount from a tough guy, Keegan did the same and interlocked them. He leaned in instinctively and pressed where his mouth would be under the mask to Jack’s knuckles. It was a thing from years ago, something they did to “seal” a promise. Jack was surprised that he remembered, but not upset by any means.

It wasn't a terribly long drive to the recon point. It felt that way because of the deathly silence in the SUV, save for Merrick giving the mission brief. Kick sat in the passenger seat beside their Captain, humming to himself as they flew down the dirt roads, jostling over every bump. Jack kept his eyes on the floor until they arrived at the infil, at which point he and Keegan exited the vehicle. It was fairly heavily wooded, the area well covered and higher than the place they were doing recon on, making it ideal for a sniper’s nest. Jack had a natural sense for that sort of thing, carefully and quietly slinking around the woods before coming to a tall, heavily branched tree. He looked it up and down, sizing it up, then looked at Keegan. He was all searching for a nest, a ways away into the brush.

“You take up high, I’ll go down low?” Keegan asked into the comms for confirmation as he found a comfortable place to get vantage from, half expecting a vocal response from Jack and half expecting a snap or something in reply.

Whistle.

“That works.” Keegan chuckled to himself as he pulled his rifle off his back and nestled into the dirt, mounting the tripod on a hard surface so that he could get a stable view. Meanwhile, Jack climbed up into the large redwood. He struggled at first because of his knee, but eventually he powered through and hoisted himself into straddling a large limb. “Are you in position?”

Whistle.

“Heard that. Merrick, we’re locked. Watchin’ exits.”

“Roger — the place should be empty, but you know how that goes. We’ll clean and clear, then raid for supplies.” Merrick replied, voice a low crackle over the comms, before silence fell over the area. Jack relaxed back against the trunk of the tree as he racked a round in his rifle, sliding the bolt into place as he looked down the scope. It was peaceful, almost, quiet. The idle rustle of birds in the trees and the quiet thrum of the earth breezing past, only occasionally interrupted by the crackle of activity over the radio.

Jack hummed quietly, the soft rumble of his voice in his throat only truly comfortable in a muffled manner, barely making any sound at all. He felt his finger gently sliding over the trigger, not quite squeezing just yet — there was next to no movement ahead, save for Merrick and Kick as they navigated the empty warehouse.

They spent a long while going through the place room by room, combing it through, picking up any usable supplies. Sterile equipment, alcohol, first aid kit materials — all sorts of things. It had been vacant for quite a while, clearly, despite old Federation flags flying above. They’d yet to reoccupy it after their removal, meaning everything inside was up to date and ripe for the taking.

Jack’s gaze traveled around outside, flickering from the warehouse to the dirt road leading up to it, watching a car start to close in. Federation flags. His eyes went wide and he stuttered to speak, nothing quite coming out. Damn anxiety reaching up from the depths of his stomach to choke him out internally, clawing his vocal chords into submission.

Three, rapid fire whistles. High pitched and quiet all at once, ringing out through the comms.

“Movement?” Keegan asked quickly.

One.

“Got it. Watch your backs, boys. How many?” Keegan called.

Five.

“Five tangoes, on their way to your position.”

“He didn't say anything, Keegan. Are you sure you're not hearin’ things?” Kick asked, almost a laugh to his voice when he spoke.

“I’m sure.” Keegan asserted, glancing over through the blur of leaves and trees blocking his view of Jack. He had to be right. A couple of seconds pass and he can see the vehicle for himself, five Federation soldiers climbing out slowly. Stalking their prey. Merrick and Kick. Jack wasn’t scared, though, knowing very well that he only had one shot before they were aware of him.

He let out all of the breath he had been holding in from his lungs, took a deep breath and released it slowly, feeling the unsteadiness slip out of reach.

Bang.

Two down. One shot.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Jack gave a long, drawn out whistle of satisfaction as he took a new breath in.

“All clear.” Keegan exhaled. “Nice fuckin’ shots, Jackie.”

Pride washed over him all at once. The warm, fuzzy feeling of success seeped into his bones and made him blush all over, a hot feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“We're on our way out now to confirm kills. Meet us down here?” Merrick asked.

“Rog.” Keegan replied, leaving Jack to watch the doors in anticipation. Before he knew it, Keegan had made his way over, looking up at Jack perched in the tree. He rocked back on his heels slightly, taken aback by the way Jack had curled himself up onto a tree limb, nearly wrapped around it as he aimed down sight. His cheek was pressed up against his rifle, keeping him nice and steady.. “Look like a bird up there, y'know that, Jackie?”

Jack sat up straight, a bit surprised. He hadn't been listening at all to his surroundings, sort of zoned out as he watched down his scope. A bird? He prayed that didn’t stick.

“The whistling works. Got my attention real fuckin’ quick.” Keegan extended a hand to Jack, helping him climb down from the tree unceremoniously. He replied with a playful whistle, a smile crossing his expression briefly. After collecting his first 5 confirmed kills as a Ghost, they returned to base in the same car they came in. Quiet, at first, but Merrick broke the silence midway back to HQ.

“Quiet type, huh, Skalbek?” Merrick asked, glancing back in the rear view mirror.

“Leave him be.” Keegan asserted. His voice always seemed to be quiet and soft spoken, but he had a bite to it that showed he meant business. If anything good happened to Keegan while he was gone, it was that voice.

“Didn't mean anything by it. You did great out there, Jack.” Merrick defended himself.

Silently, Jack thumbed over the pristine Federation tags before stuffing them into the pocket on his vest. He didn't like the idea of keeping trophies, but those tags were proof that he could actually do some good here.

It took a long time for him to truly feel that way.

Like, the first time he got to see his own dormitory. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a room with four walls and a bed right down the hallway from the showers, but it was his room with four walls and a bed. Dark, cozy sheets on the mattress, a warm light overhead — his name on the door. Jack actually sort of felt important for once in his life, and he began to understand the draw and appeal of military life. There was one tiny problem with the lone dorm, though.

Even at UCLA, he dormed with someone else. His first apartment had a roommate, and the same man moved with him into their home in Los Angeles with a handful of friends. He had no siblings as a child, but Keegan and Alex were at his house so frequently he may as well have at that point. Being alone did not come easily to Jack.

“Hey — came to drop off your tags.” Keegan knocked at the door, a little whistle coming from inside telling him to enter. When he threw the door open he saw Jack sitting on his bed, legs crossed, just sort of looking lost once again. A recurring theme for the blonde. “Need some decor in here, seriously. It’s abysmal.”

Jack just sort of shrugged, catching his tags mid-air when Keegan threw them, the jingling making him flinch slightly. They had, of course, his name on them. Blood type, affiliation, spot for a call sign if one ever stuck to him. He thumbed over the engraving before undoing the clasp and snapping it back into place around his neck, stuffing it beneath his shirt. It was ice cold, but the metal would warm and warp to him eventually. Become like a second skin, something he couldn't go anywhere without.

“I had something else, too, but — s’up to you if you want it or not. Could always make your own.” Keegan added as he came a bit further into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside Jack. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a piece of black fabric, neatly folded into a little square. When unfolded, Jack could see it was a mask, his very own. It looked similar in pattern to Keegan’s, but noticably neater and cleaner in texture and facial features — across the mouth were two black strips in an X. Maybe a little bit on the nose, but he couldn't complain.

“It’s not great compared to what you could probably do — don't know if you’re still into the whole art thing these days.”

Jack shook his head, turning the mask over a couple of times in his hands before he went to put it on. The fabric was thick, making him uncomfortable at first, but once it was in place he could breathe easily. He looked over at Keegan as if to ask how he looked, the scrunched up wrinkles around the other’s eyes telling him everything he needed to know.

“Little Ghost.” Keegan hummed, ruffling up Jack’s hair in a playful manner. “You’re one of us now, as far as I’m concerned.”

Wide eyes like saucers, just looking up at Keegan with awe, wondering how they'd managed this. Circling back to sitting in Jack’s room, though this time it was less than cozy. Even without the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over everything, though, Keegan was more sure than he ever had been that everything was worth it to end up here.

That summer, July was hot in Santa Monica. The sun bathed the city with regularity, not even letting up in the evening. Though, there seemed to be a brief respite in between months of hardship.

After a particularly good bout of missions, Jack even getting some more confidence in himself (and a call sign, while he was at it) they decided to have a small leisure break. Time for themselves, to breathe in without the threat of being dispatched on a mission looming overhead. Something that many of them hadn't had a chance to do in a long, long while. There often wasn't much remaining time for recreational drinking, but Keegan couldn't lie, there was something about Jack in the doorway of his dorm with two cans of beer that made his heart skip a couple of beats.

Sure, they’d stolen liquor as teenagers and gotten wasted on Jack’s roof. His mom always made sure that they were safe and well looked after when they made those foolish errors, giving them plenty of room to make mistakes and not feel stupid about it.

They had kind of missed out on sharing 21st birthdays, though. Keegan's was a year sooner than Jack’s, so they would've had to wait anyways, but they’d inadvertently waited over a decade. The crack of the pop-taps couldn't come soon enough, and neither could the ensuing burn of alcohol. It was liquid comfort, burning the whole way down and settling in the stomach, leaving every sensation tinged a hazy shade of amber.

Kick, in his endless curiosity, had obtained a camcorder at some rate. They had access to new technology, high quality drones and cameras, and yet he was obsessing over the film grain and scan lines of the older camera. It was probably as old as him, the brand name long scratched off from time and use, but he still boasted it’s American made durability. Pointing it at Jack after a couple of drinks, giggling to himself as he zoomed it in and out.

“Alright, alright — this one’s Jack. We’re still — heh — getting used to him, but this kid?” Kick turned the camera to himself for dramatic effect. “Sharpshooter. I think he could shoot the pimento out of a fucking olive from a hundred meters out.”

“He said that’s pushing it.” Keegan answered for Jack, having taken up that role nicely. They weren't quite at the point of telepathy, but beating ASL into his head was starting to work. Jack picked up usage of it back in college, so a refresher was needed before he could actually use it, but the main problem was teaching it to Keegan. He was impatient and short tempered, but he could learn it for the other's sake.

“Maybe! Maybe it's not! Only way to find out is to try, Jack.” Kick snickered as he turned the camera around again, watching through the viewfinder as Ajax joined Keegan and Jack on the balcony. The sunset over Santa Monica Pier was beautiful, even now, with a fort plopped overtop of it. Ajax took his spot between the two others, throwing his arms around them with a smile.

“Good to have the gang back together.” Ajax hummed, pulling Jack in a bit closer, spilling a little bit of his drink in the process. “Fucking missed you, kid, seriously. You have no idea what it was like dealing with Grumpy over here for 15 years without you.”

“I’m not grumpy.” Keegan huffed. “I’m apathetic.”

“Whatever you say.” Ajax laughed, snatching Keegan’s drink from his hand before disappearing back inside with Kick hot on his heels. It was a mostly empty can anyways, so he wasn't terribly disappointed. Still, he wanted to obtain just one more for the end of the night, grabbing one for Jack as well. Turns out, both of them grew up with quite the tolerance for the stuff despite having exactly zero when they were younger. Keegan’s resilience could be attributed to body mass, but Jack’s was built entirely on whiskey lullabies.

The years of travel were hard on him, a once soft and fearful creature of a boy, now…a man.

Keegan took a moment in the doorway to look at him, really look at him. Wearing sweat-shorts and that blasted knee brace, scars drawing up and down the length of his left leg. His sweatshirt, an increasingly well used and loved camouflage tarp of cloth, swallowing up his lanky frame with ease. Those pretty brown eyes, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon, casting tangerine and coral hues all over him.

It was straight out of a movie, or a memory, he couldn't tell.

What’re you staring at? Jack signed, catching Keegan a bit off guard. He bit at his bottom lip beneath his mask and unhooked one side of it to take a drink from the fresh can.

“You. Just…taking it all in.”

Take your time. I’m here now.

“Got no idea how good it feels to know that you're still kickin’ dirt up, Jackie, I…” Keegan stuttered a bit, an uncommon occurrence for him. He didn't feel that sort of nervousness often, hadn't since he left for basic. Scratch that. He hadn't felt genuinely nervous since Tel Aviv, calling Jack from the back of that plane, hands trembling in fear. This wasn't anything like that, though, this was the butterflies sort of nervousness. Somehow, infinitely more terrifying than getting shot at. “I want to make it up to you, somehow.”

What?

“The last…what, 15 years?”

We're older now. You know that. Can't go back and change what already happened. Jack shrugged, not quite grasping that Keegan meant it. He wanted to repair what damage had been done to whatever extent he could, even if things were vastly different, even if they were entirely different people now.

Whether Jack knew it or not, he still had the combination to Keegan's pad-lock chest, the chasm labeled hollow to keep anything good out. It didn't matter how they got here, what mattered was now Keegan has a shot at actually apologizing. Making right what he had once done wrong. He would regret not reaching out sooner until the day he was dead, but he could do better this time around. This is not the kind of opportunity he could squander.

No way in hell.

“I know. But…I can be the person now that I couldn't be then.” Keegan came closer until he was leaning up against the railing, too, overlooking the pier. If he looked up at the stars long enough, he could almost imagine the floating space trash left behind from ODIN, what didn't enter the atmosphere swirling and churning above their heads. “I’m not saying we pick up where we left off in ‘07, I’m just asking that you hear me out.”

Okay. I’ll bite.

“Plain and simple. We know what happened in-between then and now, but we can just…ignore it.” Keegan inched closer as he spoke, until he was shoulder to shoulder with the shorter man. The cold drink in his hand was all he had to steady himself, shocking his system into continuing to speak. “You know I loved you then and I still do.”

Jack swallowed. Loud. The can in his hand crinkled slightly under the pressure he was holding it with, his mouth dry. He still loved him? He? Stone cold, violence wrought, Keegan fucking Russ still loved him?

He, who hid at Jack’s house from his parents, always thanking Mrs. Skalbek for the place to stay, always denying how often he was there. Hiding the fleeting kisses, never lingering long enough to leave a mark on soft flesh. Lying to himself and his father, always forcing himself into the image of what he thought a man to be, never showing much softness at all.

Only to Jack, only back then, only behind closed doors.

This was a massive, groundbreaking departure from whomever that was back then. It took their semi-permanent separation for Keegan to admit that he loved Jack the first time, it only took a few months this go around. The promise of staying, rather than leaving or coming back, was much more emotionally grounding.

“Was that too much?” Keegan asked after a moment. He seemed on edge about Jack’s reaction, gaze flickering anywhere but on those soft brown eyes, eating him alive.

No. It's just been a long time.

“You probably moved on, like, a few months after I last called, huh?”

Never. Jack sighed softly in reply. There was emotion in the movement of his hands, his eyes portraying all of that sadness well. It was never really over.

Just five words, but those five words carried an unspeakable weight. Keegan stared for only a few seconds, going to speak when Jack continued.

Everything came back to you one way or another. My thesis for my degree was a portfolio full of you. I still texted you every time I needed to talk even if you didn't answer, I needed you. My mom called me every few months and I was so scared that she would tell me you were dead that I just didn't pick up. Everything I did up until the fucking world ended was about you, no matter how fast I ran.

It all spilled out so fast that Jack couldn't even be impressed with himself. His hands stuttered every once in a while on more complex words. The words themselves shocked Keegan, too, but that was secondary. He felt wholly guilty for ever letting himself get so close to Jack back then, because his own feverish dreams of doing something with his life just meant he did that to Jack. Got him hooked and ran, watching it spiral out of hand until he was sure he lost Jack forever. The red string tying them together threatened to be severed by the universe with every knot and fray in its threads.

But it never broke. It never fell lifeless.

He would've thought that Jack married, maybe even squeaked out a kid or two, joined the PTA. Cut his hair short and finally start making art for a living, take his kids to soccer practice — not wake up in the middle of the night missing his highschool boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Were they ever even that much?

Are you gonna say something or what, K? Jack added, breaking Keegan out of the cyclical nightmare of thoughts in his mind.

“I just didn't…know you felt that way about it.”

You had everything to lose by loving me, and you did it anyway. How could I ever move on from that? He wasn't speaking, but he was feeling every emotion from every word. Jack’s eyes were all welled with tears, a soft gasp escaping with every mouthed syllable. Threatening to spill out, but not quite making a sound.

Keegan knew what Jack meant. He would’ve been kicked out if his father ever caught wind of what Keegan was doing with ‘the no-good Skalbek boy’ down the street. If not for Jack’s mom, they would’ve never gotten as far as they did back then. Even then, it wasn't far. He would’ve been spitting teeth from that fight, if he ever found out, probably dead.

He’d unknowingly shown Jack that someone could love him enough to die for him, and as a consequence he never really learned how to be loved any less.

“You still feel that way?” Keegan asked after a moment of silence, a bit of his inhibition slipping away. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was just an old spark flickering back into life.

Always.

“Can I start trying to make up for that lost time, then?”

“Please.” Jack replied out loud, gaze averted out of embarrassment. That didn't last long, though, not with that spark beginning to rage into flames. Nothing could've kept Keegan’s hands off of him, his drink thrust into Jack’s hand so that he could pick him up a little bit easier. Hoisting him up onto the railing of the balcony for balance, strong arms laced around Jack holding him steady. The railing creaked, the drop was far, but neither of them seemed to give a damn.

Hot. Heavy. Hurried, whiplash kisses, hands in hair and lips on teeth. It was not gentle, it was not pretty, it was feverish and raw. Keegan could've made him bleed with sharp canines on his bared neck and he would’ve been quite alright with it.

Even when Kick threw the door open, trailed by Ajax with the camcorder, he couldn't have guessed what was going on outside until he saw it. Under the haze of one flickering light that never quite stays on long enough to catch a clear glimpse, but the camera picking up their meshed bodies nonetheless.

“Get a room, you two! Sheesh!” Ajax laughed, but impressively enough, neither seemed to care.

“Mmmhmm…Can’t hear you.” Keegan murmured against Jack’s lips, earning a snicker from the blonde in his arms, still faithfully holding both of their drinks.

“Talk about making up for lost time.” Ajax joked. Kick all too certain he would get chewed out by Keegan if he drunkenly giggled too, he stayed quiet. As quickly as they came they dipped back inside with Ajax pumping his fist, proclaiming that he always knew.

“This alright, Jack?” Keegan asked, breathless as he took a moment to cool off. Still holding the other man, just leaving some space between them for now. Foolishly, Jack dropped the cans so he could sign, a blush dusting his cheeks as the half-drank liquid spattered on the ground beneath them.

Haven’t been this alright since I don't know when.

“Can't lie to you, I never — you were — ugh, fuckin’ sounds pathetic…” Keegan sucked a breath in shakily and buried his face in the crook of Jack's neck, faint scent of cologne and body wash still attached to him. “Never let anyone get close after you. No-one.”

Touch-starved did not begin to cover it.

He didn't hug, he didn't do physical contact, skin-to-skin was a foreign thing. Jack was probably the last person who touched him with bare hands and he didn't convulse. Ajax was an exception to that rule, but it wasn't like they were snuggling. Pats on the back, pull-ups onto a ledge — those weren't intimate like this. He didn't get intimate.

Jack felt sort of dirty knowing he'd gone and tried to bury the feeling of needing someone he couldn't have in the arms of others, never succeeding, whereas Keegan had done the opposite. Instead of voicing that he only ran his hands through Keegan’s short, scruffy hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“You think it’s pathetic, don't you?” Keegan sighed, nuzzling into the other man with wandering butterfly kisses, lips ghosting over his main artery.

Two whistles for no.

“Hah! Sure thing, Jackie, sure…” He laughed. “Remind me to never ask you that sorta thing again, ‘cause even your whistles sound sarcastic.”

They weren't, but Jack would let him live in his little bubble. Moments like this were never long enough, and thankfully they got to spend the rest of the night catching up on the important things, previously undiscussed stories of Jack’s life in SoCal. It was good to know that they at least had a chance before things began to kick up once again.

For some reason, things didn't.

It was a pure, mostly calm stalemate.

Sure, they still got sent on patrols. They often made ventures to the No Man’s Land border, overlooking the minefields and traps, wondering what could possibly shift the tides. Piece by piece, some bizarre force of nature allowed them to rebuild what used to be between them.

Some nights that meant they’d climb atop the roof with Keegan's iPod, still functional despite a cracked screen and barely functional UI, and let the world melt away. If only for one night at a time they could pretend to be real people, living some sort of domestic existence in a place far from the halted war. Perhaps, in that distant timeline, they wouldn't even have survived a relationship in their teen years without the hardship they’d suffered.

As far as either was concerned, it made them stronger.

Forced them to learn what it meant to live without the other one. Of course, this meant that they knew how dull and awful life could be when it was empty, and they'd fight a hell of a lot harder to stay now that they'd been threatened with separation once.

Jack was a silent killer, Keegan a mouth full of vicious mockeries. Ghosts. Wisps in the wind. Dead already, living a better afterlife on the other side of the apocalypse. Nothing the Federation could throw their way would hold any weight, of this they were certain.

Until they did, of course.

No good thing lasts forever.

[randomshit657]

I’m going to be talking about OCD and Intrusive thoughts, and very briefly religious trauma. And maybe slight disordered eating. If that will bother you please skip.

Okay so I know that many people aren’t going to see this but if even one person sees this and maybe learns something I’ll be happy.

Okay so I have OCD, and that’s kind of what I want to talk about. I promise you I’m not trauma dumping just listen for a moment.

I’ve known I had OCD since I was in 4th grade but it never really felt like I actually had it because of all the stereotypes surrounding it.

I never needed to keep everything perfectly clean or check things multiple times or any of that. It took me years to actually accept I had it because of these stereotypes. Instead I just felt crazy or wrong or bad, and I don’t want anyone to feel that.

I thought that mine wasn’t that severe so it didn’t mean anything. Trust me it does. If you’ve been diagnosed or think you have it, I would highly recommend getting therapy because trust me you don’t want it to get bad.

Anyway I’m here to talk about some things about OCD. Starting with the intrusive thoughts.

I don’t think the intrusive thoughts that come with OCD are really discussed enough when in reality they are the reasons for the compulsions.

First things first intrusive thoughts aren’t “I want to dye my hair at 3 am.” That’s an impulsive thought there a huge difference, and I’m not trying to attack you for using intrusive thoughts in that context especially if you didn’t know the difference, but it’s important you know the difference and you the terms in the proper context.

And I say this because if people start believing intrusive thoughts are things you actually want to do but just do impulsively it’s going to cause a huge problem especially for people with OCD.

If you have OCD your intrusive thoughts can be terrible, awful things. That they don’t want to do. Let me repeat that people with OCD don’t want to do their intrusive thoughts hence the compulsions because their brain convinces them that whatever they do will stop the thoughts.

But those thoughts are just something impulsive you want to do they are a lot of the time truly disturbing things. Sometimes these thoughts will get so bad people with lock themselves in their houses because they are scared of hurting someone. When I’m actuality these people are the least likely to actually act on these thoughts.

Now let’s get onto compulsions. When most people think of compulsions they think of hand washing or having to do something a certain amount of times but we’ll that can be the case from some people those aren’t the only types of compulsions.

For example reassurance seeking can be a compulsion. Asking your friends things like “Am I a bad person?” Or “Do you still love me?” or whatever your intrusive thoughts are telling you.

I’m going to explain a few of mine because I would say mine aren’t as well known. For instance waking up every morning and the first thing I have to think being “Today is the day the world will end.” Because I was always told god would destroy it when I least expected it so now if I don’t repeat it every morning I’m on edge all day.

Or not being able to stomach anything that isn’t labeled gluten free or made by me, I also cant eat unless I know I can go home after on the off chance some gluten made it’s way into it and I get sick.

The last one I’m going to mention is being overly nice to everyone at school. I would have such vivid thoughts about someone hurting people at school that even if this person was a huge jerk I would be nice to them or go out of my way to complement them because that would somehow fix thing.

The point is compulsions come in all shapes and forms and OCD is rarely logical, but it doesn’t change the fact that it feels logical. Just because you don’t fit a the stereotype doesn’t mean you don’t have it. It’s important to know that because with everything else your probably going through with this disorder you don’t need denial on your plate aswell.

It’s important to try and get help for this disorder because honestly it can be scary, and can cause a hole pile of other issues. But if you can’t here are some pointers.

1. Do your best to not participate in the compulsions. Now this won’t be easy at all and that doesn’t mean they’ll go away but they’ll be easier to manage. Trust me. I was forced to break one from sheer in ability of not being able to do it and it sucked but I was happier than I had been in months after I got through that.

2. Remember the intrusive thoughts aren’t you, and tell your brain that to.

3. I know it sounds silly and might not help everyone it i know for me kind of talking to my brain like a child works. Like “I know what you are feeling is very real but why don’t we try watching tv for a bit and see if you still want to do it then. Okay?” And then just try and distract yourself. It’s not fool proof but you know.

4. Just remember you’re stronger than you think. I know it’s hard and some days are really going to suck. But as hard as it is you can work through it. It won’t go away but it will become easier.

Anyway that’s it. I know this is a little rambely but I hope it gets the point across.

[alexfromjersey]

CHAPTER II: the day after

warnings: mature language

a/n: 2.1K words

IT WAS THE NEXT DAY AFTER HURRICANE AGATHA hit Kildare Island. Agatha did a decent amount of damage to the island. Trees were knocked down, roads were flooded, power was out, and cell phone towers were out. Seven and Susan were up at the crack of dawn to assess the damage done to their home. Thankfully, the only damage is a couple of broken windows from branches smacking into the glass and a few leaks but nothing that they couldn't fix. After making sure Seven was good, Susan went into work for her long shift at the Sheriffs department.

Now she was bored, she fixed everything that needed fixing. There was no power so she couldn't even occupy herself by catching up on her movies and shows. She also didn't have her car. It was taken away and sold after she went to juvie. But she did still have her BMX bike. She went to garage to search for it and she found it in the deepest corner collecting dust. She pulled it out only to find out that both tires were beyond flat and the chain was snapped.

"Seriously?" Seven groaned.

Unfortunately, Seven would of taken the bike to Gaz's Auto Shop but couldn't due to her mandatory check in with her probation officer Michael Rhodes in twenty minutes. For the next six months Seven has to check in with Rhodes or she gets shipped back to the mainland but this time in adult jail for a long time. Seven didn't want to go to adult prison so she made a promise to her mother that she won't miss a check in or take a risk by violating the rules. So Seven grabbed her bookbag filled with extra clothes and snacks and walked to probation office.

It took fifteen minutes but she made it with a couple of minutes to spare. She walked into the office and it wasn't that busy, thank god, only three people in there.

"I'm here for my check in with Michael Rhodes" Seven stated to the receptionist.

"Okay, he's on a call right now but I'll grab you once he's finished" The receptionist answered. Seven nodded and took a seat by the door. She sat there looking around at the dumb motivational quotes on the walls. No one pays attention to them and it felt like she was sitting in a dentist office.

"Peterkin, your probation officer is ready for you" The receptionist called out.

Seven got up from the very uncomfortable waiting chair and walked to office in the back of the building. She took a seat in a chair in front a dark skinned male that looked stressed.

(Played by John David Washington)

"Seven Peterkin, daughter of Susan Peterkin and Bishop Westcott. Did ten months in a Juvenile Detention Center on the mainland for criminal trespass and second-degree assault. You got a pretty big reputation on this island kid, everywhere I turn somebody has something to say about Seven Peterkin, the Sheriff's daughter" Rhodes stated.

"I really don't care about what people say about me" Seven shrugged and sat back in the chair she was sitting in.

"Yeah I could tell by the way you look. You don't have a care in the world. I've met a lot of kids like you, putting on a facade to either please others or themselves. That tough girl act ain't gonna work with me" Rhodes spoke.

Seven let out a chuckle, "You just assumed that I'm putting on a tough girl act by the way I look? That's hilarious."

"Oh so you like to laugh huh? Okay, since you think everything is hilarious to you, here are my rules. You are prohibited from drinking and smoking, your curfew is at 10:00 not a minute later, you are to comply to any search and seizures I deem necessary, maintain good behavior and good grades once school reopens, participate in anger management counseling, and serve 520 hours of community service. Failure to adhere to these rules will result in a probation revoke and being shipped back to a much more stricter juvenile detention center." Rhodes informed the girl.

"Anger management? Are you serious? I don't need no anger management counseling" Seven scoffed.

"Mandatory anger management counseling starting tomorrow morning at 8am" Rhodes emphasized.

Seven let out another scoff but no more words were said from the teenager.

"Glad we're on the same page. Now take this cup, pee in it, and leave it on the outside table" Rhodes ordered and handed Seven a piss cup. She rolled her eyes before taking the cup. But before she left her eyes caught something on the man's file cabinet. It was a picture, a picture of Rhodes and Ezekiel smiling hard. It looked at least a few years old because Rhodes didn't have a full grown beard in the picture.

"Is there a problem Peterkin?" Rhodes questioned.

Seven turned toward him, "Nah, no problem at all."

She left the office and did her business in the bathroom and left the man's office. The teenager quickly left the building and walked towards the docks. She sat at the end of the dock feeling upset. No matter what, she could not escape her evil stepfather. Everywhere she turned someone knew him or was extremely loyal to him. It was frustrating because all she wanted was to at least go a day without seeing his face.

"Seven!"

She looked up at the yell of her name to see her friends pulling up in the HMS Pogue. She jumped into the boat as John B was pulling up and then he sped off down the ravine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group of five were enjoying their time, laughing and giggling at each other. Pope was now driving the boat and Kiara, JJ, and John B were drinking beers. Seven was drinking orange juice from a crushed water bottle, the events from earlier long forgotten in her mind. She was having a good time with her friends so she focused on that.

"Let me show you a party trick" JJ said and walked to the front of the boat. "Hey Pope, can you go a little faster please?"

"Oh no" Seven muttered. The brown skinned girl sat on the front of the boat next to Kie.

"Oh god, here we go, I'm moving. It doesn't work, we've tried this like 6,000 times" John B groaned and moved the back of the boat.

"I got this, it's gonna work!" JJ yelled in reassurance. Seven watched JJ tilt his head back and hold his beer up to let the wind guide the beer into his mouth. He tried it all the time and he never succeeded but JJ was determined to succeed one day.

"Oh my god, you're getting beer in my hair" Kiara exclaimed. Seven put her hand up to shield her from the many droplets of the beer.

"All right! All right" Pope yelled and also shielded his eyes from the beer. All of his friends were yelling at JJ to stop with the beer but Seven stood up and grabbed JJ from behind. The two started to wrestle but suddenly the boat jerked violently and sent the two teens flying into the water.

"Jesus Pope" Kiara exclaimed.

After a moment, JJ and Seven resurfaced groaning, "Dude, you kneed me in my face" Seven groaned.

"I didn't mean too." JJ countered and floated on the surface. Seven can taste something metallic in her mouth.

"You guys okay?" Pope asked his friends in the water.

"I think my heels touched the back of my head" JJ moaned painfully. Seven just gave Pope a thumbs up in response.

"What the hell happened Pope?" Seven questioned and started swimming to the side of the boat.

"Sandbar. The channel changed" Pope answered the girl.

"No shit" JJ mocked the boy and swam to the boat. Seven pulled herself onto the boat. Once she's on the boat she pulled off of her soaking wet tank top, leaving her in a black sports bra and soaked gray shorts. Thankfully, she took her shoes off a while ago.

John B glanced around the marsh, "This is probably gonna mess this whole place up" He commented.

"Hey, I saved the beer though."

"Congrats JJ" John B said unenthusiastically.

Seven still tasted metal in her mouth. So she put her finger on her lip and felt a thick substance on it. She realized that JJ kneeing her in the face made her bite the inside of her lip hard. She grabbed a napkin and placed it on her lip.

"Guys...I think there's a boat down there" Seven heard Pope say. She looked up from her napkin to see Pope at the front of the boat looking over the edge.

"Shut up" John B dismissed.

"No way" Kiara waved the Heyward boy off.

Seven walked to the front of the boat where Pope is. Her eyes widen a bit when she saw a sunken boat. "Holy shit, there is a boat down there" Seven said. John B and Kiara joined the two at the tip of the boat and saw what Pope and Seven were seeing.

Seven tossed the napkin to the side before diving back into the water. John B and Kiara jumped in after her.

"Think there's a dead body down there?" Pope questioned as he struggled to take his shirt off. Eventually, he jumped in the water. The five friends all swam down to the boat but only got to look at it for half a second before they had to swim back to the surface for air.

"You guys saw that right?" JJ questioned the group.

"Hell yeah we did" Seven responded. The rest of the friends agreeing with the Peterkin girl. "It looked like a Grady-White" Seven said and swam to the boat.

"It is a grady-white, a new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy" JJ informed the group. The five teenagers all pulled themselves up onto the boat soaking wet, "That's a primo rig."

"Yeah, that's the boat I saw when I surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something" John B questioned.

"You surfed the surge without me? The betrayal" Seven commented.

"I called you like four times" John B answered.

"You did? Whoops" Seven shrugged. The girl sat at the back of boat and shook her to get rid of the excess water in her hair.

"You surfed the surge?" Kiara questioned.

"That's my boy. Pogue style" JJ complimented and dapped John B.

"Wait, wait. Do we know whose boat that is?" Pope asked.

"No, but we're about to find out" John B replied.

"Dude, it's too deep" JJ commented.

"Oh, for the weak and feeable, JJ" John B remarked as he pulled out the anchor from the boat.

"Well, I'm not resuscitating you. I'm just making that clear up front" JJ added.

"I'm not either so don't ask" Seven commented.

"Betrayal Sev" John B joked. Seven just shrugged and put on a tank top. The Routledge boy made his way to the front of the boat with the anchor in his hands getting ready to dive down.

"John B..." Kie sighed.

John B just chuckled, "What?"

Seven glanced at the Carrera girl who had a look of disapproval on her face. It was pretty known that this group of friends love to do dangerous stuff, it was in their blood, especially the three Mustard-teers (JJ, John B, and Seven). Always finding or putting themselves in dangerous situations.

"Diver down, fool" Pope saluted.

"Diver down" John B saluted back.

Seven then pushed the tall boy into the water with a laugh. The four friends waited overlooking the side of the boat for their friend. It felt like eternity when suddenly John B popped up to the surface.

"Oh my god, that took forever" Kiara sighed.

"Any dead bodies?"

"Looting potential?"

Pope and JJ spit questions at John B which to replied no too. But he held up an familiar hotel key.

"I found an motel key though" John B stated. Pope and Seven helped him get back on the boat while JJ pulled the anchor up.

"I know where this is. I've been there before" Seven informed the group. The curly haired girl then got behind the wheel of the boat to drive to their destination.

"You've been to a motel before?" Pope questioned.

Seven smirked, "Yeah, it was either a motel or the back of a Kia Soul...Kia Soul's are very tight can't really do too much in there."

A disgusted expression appeared on Kiara's face while JJ and John B agreed with the girl. Pope didn't know how to respond to that so he decided to sit down.

"Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard, maybe we'll get a finder's fee" Kiara suggested.

"Yeah, and not work all summer. Thanks, Agatha, ya batch" JJ added.

[pyxis-tracking-and-merc]

[Log -02]

I've found that the smell of sulfur seems to have permanently ingrained itself into my clothes from the fall and destruction of Alanixis.

Stars above know I have tried to remove the smell in numerous ways, but it seems to prefer to stay, which is a bit of a pain and can easily be fixed by simply throwing away these clothes, but I have yet to do so. I have a feeling I won't be anytime soon either.

I've also found myself using my amulet more often than not now, even wearing it in the shower. In it's own odd way, it makes me feel more like myself and less like an Alanixian. More specifically, less like a higher Alanixian.

I realized this only upon someone pointing out that I no longer ask for permission to put it on, but rather have been asking if they would prefer I remove the amulet for any particular reason.

On the topic of the Alanixians comes the 12 adults and 13 children I brought back to Earth with me.

Despite my attempts of getting them to no longer worship me as their god, they continue to do so. They've even taken up artistic measures to create a religious symbol. (Pictured below)

I suppose I cannot entirely fault them. I did say that they could do what they pleased with their freedom, and it seems they've chosen to continue to worship and pray to me. Though on a more positive note, I was incredibly glad to learn they did not use blood to make the art they showed me of the new religious symbol. Many of them have taken to art in various forms, ranging from paintings to culinary masterpieces.

They are still in the process of choosing their names. The children have been enrolled into school at the age levels they look like. The youngest being placed in first grade and the oldest being placed as a freshman in high-school. I am glad they've picked up on human mannerisms quicker than I did when I first came to this planet. As for the adults, they have taken to calling themselves my siblings when asked if they have any relation to me.

This has caused some mild tension in the fact that I am now needing to lie about having siblings. The lie I've chosen is that we were separated at birth due to a mix up at the hospital and that I'd been unaware that I had siblings at all. Nonetheless twelve of them. They've all also chosen the same last name, wishing to remain all as family. Which would at least be accurate considering they all are actually siblings. Making the thirteen children cousins to one another. I have figured out ages. The oldest adult is about 130 while the youngest child is about 20. Seeing as they are not higher Alanixians, they will age along with the rest of the population of humans, although it will be at a slower rate. So they've all chosen "human" ages as well.

Some of them are thinking about leaving New York and traveling through the US, or even other countries. Which I am happy for, seeing that they have the freedom. But it also frightens me for the fact that I will not be able to watch and protect over them as easily.

....

Dear stars above I fear I may be turning into their protector and God after all.

[abronzeagegod]

ETS WIP Chapter 8: The Time Between

Aeth took two weeks off. They needed and it, and honestly after everything that had happened, they just wanted to be without technology more complicated than their microwave for a while.

Part of the problem was the dreams.

The hospital had medical grade wards against dreams and outside interference. Along with the drugs, they prolonged the subconscious torture that Aeth always seemed to save up for themself.

The first long stretch of their time off was just fixing their sleep schedule, trying to get rest, and letting the nighttime horrors play themselves out.

It was a less than ideal situation.

They saw Lyta a few times over the extended break. She still had to work, and Aeth was terrible company in the beginning when they still weren't fully sleeping. She would drop off some food and stuff for Aeth, but left them to their own devices and spaces.

Lyta knew when to pull, when to push, and when to leave well enough alone.

Eventually, Aeth did start to feel better, to sleep better, but they were stuck in their routine of feeling bad for themself and not doing anything.

The routine that had helped them recover from the events their went through had started to become the crutch that was holding them back.

Finally, what broke them out of the habit of feeling bad for themselves was a phone call.

Aeth reluctantly answered the phone.

"Hello, this is Jer Ollowollu, you assisted me and my family with our computer and the small god we had in it," the voice on the other side of the phone.

Instantly Aeth's mood shifted. "Yes, I remember. How is everything going?"

"Well! We're actually expecting our little god to be cleared in the coming days. In the meantime we're looking for a computer to put them in. Something stable and we can use for a while without having any work or maintenance or upgrades we'll need to do. We hoped you would have a recommendation for us, and maybe help us put everything together with the Lance Corporal returns."

"Of course, I can send you a couple of recommendations tomorrow," Aeth said. "And we can get an install and tutorial set up for a few days from now, so that everything is ready."

They set up a time to install a computer and quickly sent an email of some good computers that the company had on hand that would fit the needs of the small family.

After that was done, Aeth sent an email to their boss. They would be back to work tomorrow.

<run-script-timejump></script>

Returning to work felt odd.

It wasn't that they had finally broken out of their routine of mild depression and were forcing themself out and into a new routine. It was that everyone at work was behaving oddly.

One of the first things Aeth noticed when they got in was that their coworker Yir was at the fridge pulling out a canned triple espresso drink. Which was something she had sworn off a few months ago because it was very badly effecting her mood and sleep since she had found herself drinking too many a day. Even her doctor had told her to slow down on the high caffeine drinks.

"Yir, you OK?" Aeth asked as they put their things away in their locker.

"Great, what's it to you?" she snapped.

"You haven't been drinking that stuff in a while, I was concerned."

"Thanks for being my parent, I'm so glad you're concerned. Fuck off."

Yir stopped off, drinking their caffeine down at a pace that seemed unhealthy. Aeth was left feeling attacked and like today was going to be a long day.

Aeth already found their mood souring and it was hard to not reflect the general feeling of animosity back at everyone.

They worked really hard to keep their customer service voice calm and steady on the phone but even the people calling in were being rude, mean, and demanding impossible things.

Sure enough it was a very long, very tiring day.

As Aeth was clocking out and getting ready to go, they found Lyta coming back in from being out in the field.

"These dumbasses!" Lyta loudly yelled at her phone, her anger was radiating off of her, almost turning up the room's temperature.

"You too?" Aeth asked.

"What?" Lyta asked looking up from her phone finally.

"Everyone seems to be having a day today and it's exhausting."

"Yeah, it's just a good day to be mad at shit," Lyta said. A moment later she finally put her phone away. "How was your day? Was it good to be back?"

Aeth shrugged. "Fine, but people everywhere have been really annoying."

"Let's go find something to eat, and then we can sit in front of the TV," Lyta offered.

"That sounds good."

When they found themselves at Lyta's place with some takeout, watching the first episode of a new scripted show, Aeth's mood hadn't really improved.

Lyta was back on her phone, watching short videos that were causing her to yell things or curse at them, and even worse, leave terrible comments.

Eventually, Aeth reached over and took her phone out of her hands.

"Give that back!" Lyta snarled.

"You're not paying attention. You wanted to watch this with me," Aeth said. "You're not watching."

"I'm paying attention!"

"Watch with me, or I'll give you the phone back and go home," Aeth said firmly.

Lyta crossed her arms and pouted. "Fine!"

By the time the episode was over (they had to restart it), without her phone to distract her, Lyta was back to herself.

"Sorry," she apologized when Aeth was starting to head home. "Sometimes it just feels good to be angry, even if it's not actually good for me."

Aeth just nodded. They didn't have anything really to say, so they just accepted the apology and went home to shower and try to find a moment of solace in the day that was too long and too annoying.

Their apartment was something of a refuge, finally a safe space away from all the nonsense and people that were making this day so much harder and stupider than it reasonably should have been. The shower washed away the remains of the day, the last of the nonsense went away down the drain with the dirt and the grime that came with it.

Aeth was feeling this day more than most other days. This whole week, month, year had been nothing short of a fiasco.

Really, they were just ready for it to be over.

Or for something to change.

There was a sigh that came from them while they were still in the shower. It was the kind of sigh that came from the base of their spine and in the depths of their guts that built until it touched every nerve and then the release was long, slow, and robbed them of every inch of breath in their lungs.

Aeth was ready for something different, for some catalyst to cause a change that pushed them into something hopefully better.

When they got out of the shower there was a message from Lyta.

They looked at the message, even if they didn't feel the energy to respond.

It was a link, and another apology.

"Sorry. You had a day and I didn't make it better. Wish I could make your days better instead of worse ;(" the text said.

The link sent Aeth to a site, since their phone did not have whatever app this was sent from it took them to the website mirror.

Eventually there was a video of an absolutely adorable void-cat trying to absorb an entire tuba which resulted in a series of very funny noises, both from the tuba, and the very distressed tubist. It was a very cute video and it did make Aeth smile.

The algorithm and whatever driving force behind the app automatically started playing "exclusive content only on the app" and considering that Lyta sent them a video of a void-cat there was no shortage of cute animal videos.

Aeth didn't respond for several minutes because they were sucked into the world of the app and the animal videos they kept showing them.

Eventually they did respond a short message.

"It's always better with you. but going from worse to bad ins't the best"

"but i appreciate you"

It was with only a small reluctance that Aeth downloaded the app Swwarm.

i have a kofi where you can read chapters early

[lichtecht]

PART 8

of the dfk audiobook translation

@cnka

Bökh: „The play, that the Externs present at the end of the school year under your instruction.“ Direktorin Kreuzkamm: „The Flying Classroom?“ Bökh: „The Flying Classroom! I mean, the last enactment was a grand success!“

Direktorin Kreuzkamm: „You think so?“ Bökh: „Of course! Personally, I think an enhancement could only be achieved with a big performance by the Externs and Internals together. What do you think?“ Direktorin Kreuzkamm, skeptically: „Herr Bökh, I don’t know.“ Bökh: „Your enthusiasm for theatre will infect all the kids!“

Narrator (audiobook): Bökh’s flattering words achieve the desired result with the principal. She smiles and even blushes a little.

Bökh: „Hm? Okay, I’ve really got to go now.“ (whispered) „Have a nice day!“

Bökh leaves.

Direktorin Kreuzkamm, to herself: „Yeah. A beautiful day!“

Frau Kreuzkamm scampers to her class as well.

SCENE CHANGE

Narrator (audiobook): Martina and her class, which also includes Jo, Matze, Uli and Ruda, have math class with Herrn Bökh, who is currently walking through the rows of seats and checking that everyone is working on the math exercises by themselves.

Narrator (audiobook): He stops at Martina’s table and looks over her shoulder. 

Bökh, whispering: „Martina, what did you get last in maths?“ Martina, whispering: „A 1.“ Bökh, whispering: „Yeah? Okay.“

[Note: I don’t know if you’re familiar with the german system? The grades are 1 to 6, with 1 being the best and 6 meaning you failed completely]

He walks away. The school bell rings.

Narrator (audiobook): The school bell releases the kids from their maths-torture. Feeling relieved, they leave the classroom, but Herr Bökh has something on his chest.

Bökh: „Uli, Matze, Jo. Please stay with me for a moment.“

They halt at their tables and come up to the front desk.

Bökh: „Apparently, someone 'decorated' the new skate park with a graffiti. Can you tell me something about that?“ Jo: „We’re not allowed to use that anyway.“ Bökh: „Ach. Where is that written?“ Kids: (shrug silently) Bökh: „So you have nothing to do with it?“ Jo: „And if we did?“ Bökh: „Then I would insist on the restoration of the wall.“ Jo: „And if not?“ Bökh: „Then I would have to think of a punishment.“ Matze: „I could do without one.“ Uli, hissed: „Matze!“ Bökh: „…Then you wouldn’t be allowed… to greet me for fourteen days.“ Jo: „That’s all?“

Martina: (hushed) „Jo!“ (to Bökh) „We’ll fix it.“ Bökh: (quietly) „See.“ (normally) „So. Have a wonderful day.“

Narrator (audiobook): Martina had the last word. So the four get to work before school starts the next morning and paint over Jo's graffiti masterpiece. Only three, actually, because Jo only watches them while they work.

Jo: „Yeees, very pretty. Order at last, huh.“ Martina: „For God's sake, Jo! You could at least help!“ Jo: „I get it. You don’t want trouble, find everything all cozy. But there’s war here! You need to pick a side.“ Martina: „I don’t have to do anything! Except study.“ Matze, from afar: „Guys, look what I found! Cool, right?“

Narrator (audiobook): Matze points to the skateboard in his hand.

Jo: „Man, we could be best friends. But it won’t work this way. You’re an Internal, don’t you get it?!“

Martina puts down her paint.

Martina: „Then let’s skate.“ Jo: „Skate??“ Martina: „The Externs wouldn’t like that, would they?“ Jo: „Now?“ Martina: „Yeah. Or are you scared?“ Jo: (scoffs)

Epic skater music ⚡️🛹🔥🎶 starts playing.

[Isn't in the soundtrack :((]

Narrator (audiobook): Martina grabs the skateboard and gets started. The others don’t believe their eyes. Martina seems to be a small skate pro. She rocks the half pipe like she’d been born on the board.

[tathrin]

✏ 🐺 ⚠ 📚 please! :D

Answers for this LotR ask-game.

✏ rewrites: here's a pencil, which ONE thing in the novels/films are you changing?

Oh gods, just one? Ughhh that's hard. Okay, even stretching the definition of "one thing" to the utmost limit to be an entire character subplot...I'm still torn between Give Arwen An Actual Coherent Plotline (which I think would do the best thing to fix for the movies) and Show Legolas And Gimli's Friendship Arc (because that's at least something that just gets largely overlooked-and-glossed-over with the occasional flicker of lip-service paid to it at random rather than being an absolute cluster-fuck of incoherent half-assed thoughts that stumble all over themselves without any actual fucking resolution/explanation like the Arwen Stuff). Much as I would personally like to see the latter, I think if I were actually given the chance to change one thing, then it would be the Arwen Situation just because that's such a fucking MESS and it really needs fixed.

If we're going with literally just one single thing, then: Denethor burns to death on the pyre instead of running like three fucking miles to the end of the city what the fuck.

🐺 GROND GROND GROND: which of the battles is your favourite to watch? is there a combat scene in particular that you enjoy?

The Battle of Helm's Deep. As much as it bothers me that the elves are there without any plausible explanation, and especially that they just fucking disappear from the entire plot as soon as it's over, it also looks so damn good to watch! And my irritation is mitigated by the GRIN that I absolutely cannot stop from breaking out over my features every single time I hear "that is no orc-horn!" and see the look on Théoden's face when Haldir walks in (and the smug little grin on Legolas's face too because let's face it, he doesn't get to be a little shit in the movies the way he is in the books and that is a crime) as well as by the absolute fucking BEAUTY of that battle itself, not least of all the heart-wrenching scene where Haldir dies. THAT MUSIC OH MY FUCKING GODS AM I RIGHT!? Gods, even when you're watching it as critically as possible and picking-out the bits where cause/effect break-down and narrative order was shuffled in ways that don't make logistical sense and picking up on the minute little errors and inconsistencies...it's still so damn fucking good.

(btw I know I cannot be the only one who noticed, but since it seems that many of the little details that the early movie-fandom used to talk over obsessively in the 2000s have fallen out of common knowledge in more recent years...who else desperately wants to see the footage of the cut where it's Legolas who hauls Gimli out of the water after the wall is breached, rather than Aragorn? Because it's Legolas's hand that actually pulls him up, but then the footage cuts to Aragorn helping Gimli away...but it was Legolas whose hand pulls him out of the water, Legolas who yeeted himself down the stairs on an orc-shield to get to Gimli, so why don't we get to see the rest of that!?)

PJ, the Extended Editions are godsends don't get me wrong...but could we have ALL the deleted footage sometime? Pretty pretty please with elevensies on top?

⚠ fucking buckleberry ferry: from the clip of Dom and Billy discussing the one swear word they could theoretically get by censors, which line would you change?

I honestly don't know, because I don't know that that would actually do anything to add to the weight of things? But a very soft, "oh fuck" when Théoden sees the Nazgûl flying towards him, perhaps!

📚 boxset: how were you first introduced to Middle Earth?

My little brother actually read them first, and he made me read them. I think I was in eighth grade? Give or take a year or two.

Our mom had a collection of "classic novels" that she'd gotten from some kind of book-club some years back, so we had copies of all four books on the "fancy shelves" in the living room next to all the "real literature" and boring biographies and stuff, so I read nice pretty leatherbound editions first, with lovely maps and illustrations, and I think that added to the "weight" of the story in a way, because none of my other fantasy/sci-fi books ever merited such treatment so it made them feel special.

But it also made me leery of reading them tbh, because I'd spent my whole youth being told that the books I liked were crappy books that just Could Not Compare to the Worthwhile Literature that real readers liked (and which were, imo, usually shit). So I'd actually ignored LotR my whole life because it was on the Fancy Book Shelf so I assumed they were also crap. But my brother insisted that I suck-it-up and read them anyway, and that I had to read all of them and not just The Hobbit and call it a day (he knows what a stubborn, contrary person I am, and that it was A: going to take several thousand words for me to give them a fair chance and also B: the Hobbit alone wasn't going to blow me away) and I was reluctant, but he persisted and I did and oh boy was he right. Then like one or two years later, we found out they were making movies so of course we had to re-read them so we'd be ready and I think we both read them at least a dozen times between then and the release of Fellowship, to the point where mom eventually bought us each our own paperback copies so keep us from pestering each other lmao.

(The Silm took a while. I had to literally trap myself on a train freshman year of college with nothing else to do in order to get through that one the first time shhhh.)

[whumpers-inc]

At a university whumpee finds an ad for like a program to help them study. They are procrastinating a lot/ bad grades/ even failing. They agree to the terms. It seems to them like a weird reality show frat house thing but they want to have better grades. And if it is too weird they can drop out anytime right? So they move in with whumper.

this ask is from 2021 iamsosorry anon!!

"Finals making you want to scream? Need someone to tie you down and finish that assignment for you? We can help you, call this number!" The coloured paper plastered across the campus apparently advertised a study-help program. Whumpee stared at it. From the day they'd miraculously gotten in, their grades had plummeted. Failing was an understatement. One last shot, they promised themselves as they dialled the number. One last chance.

Following the brief phone call's instructions, Whumpee showed up at the dingy house that afternoon. Apparently there was a "suitability assessment" first. Whatever. As long as someone could fix their grades. The doorbell chimed for a long time, too long, and Whumpee realised they were nervous. They mentally slapped themselves. This was going to be fine.

The door swung open. A man, dressed in a tattered button up and pants stood in the opening. He extended his hand and as Whumpee took it, they noticed what looked like ketchup stains on the sleeve wrists and strangely, under his nails. Not particularly professional, they decided but accepted his invitation to enter.

Inside, it appeared their apparent tutor had never heard of either electricity or waste bins. In the dim light, Whumpee made out piles of bloody tissues, old food, rags and dark smeared utensils. Crinkling their lip in disgust, they followed the man into his living room.

"Please, take a seat." The man gestured to the couches and Whumpee picked the least stained one. They sat and glanced around them, an uncomfortable feeling settling in their stomach. The tattered, closed curtains made the room claustrophobic. They tried to shrug it off as their apparent tutor settled across from them.

"So, you are struggling in school?"

Whumpee nodded.

"Then you have come to the right place. I am an expert in my field."

This was somewhat reassuring. "It's not just one subject." Whumpee made eye contact to ensure this man understood the seriousness of their problems. "It's all of them. I've got two weeks before they're going to terminate my enrolment."

The man smiled. "I can help you. In fact, I can make all your problems go away. "

"How?"

"My teaching methods are highly specialised. I won't disclose them but you need to trust me. My teaching is what will fix your grades." The man leaned closer. "You will be required to stay here while you study. Just to minimise any distractions of course."

Whumpee stood. "Um, I think I can work it out myself." They walked toward the door. "I've remember my sister is a professor at Harvard so I'll probably get her to-"

"Your grades are guaranteed As."

"-I'll stay."

The man smiled. "A smart decision." He produced several crumpled pieces of paper and a pen. "Just sign these and we'll be ready to start your education."

Whumpee took them gingerly and scanned the practically illegible print. Something, something, all autonomy relinquished, something, injuries up to death, a smudge, "I of a sound mind declare". They glanced back at the man. "What the hell's this?"

"Nothing of concern. Just a little clause for my own protection. Just sign the papers please." The man folded his hands tightly as he watched Whumpee.

Whumpee hesitated.

"All As guaranteed."

Whumpee scrawled a signature across the bottom.

"Well done." The man took the pages back. "Call your friends and tell them not to worry if you disappear completely. You're obviously going to be to bogged down in study. And if, god forbid-" he smiled slyly "- you suddenly decided to drop out, no one would need to know. You would simply disappear."

[fryingpan1234567]

I got a Hogwarts thing for ya

So Gryffindors, right.

They’ve got poor impulse control, they’re headstrong and good leaders, and they have the mental ability to overcome most/ all challenges if faced by fear (aka courage lol).

The Sorting Hat puts you in your forever-category on your first night at Hogwarts. You then spend all day every single day with those people at different stages of evolving into Level 8 Houses, you as well. You become accustomed to this.

Second Year Gryffs are starting to get the hang of things- they know their way around the castle well enough, and they’ve learned to be loud for attention. But if someone asked them to down an entire box of every flavor-beans, they’ll still hesitate to the challenge.

Fifth Years are pretty much sick of school. They’re zoned into reality in class less than ten percent of the time. They’re willing to either cram for the OWLs less than twelve hours before them or fail, they don’t care by this point. If someone dared them to jump off the tower they’d do it. The only adult they’ll still listen to with zero question is McGonagall.

Seventh Years… oh man. Skipping classes. Literally zero filter or common sense, if they had any before. Underage drinking and/or magic, maybe even around the Muggle friends they trust. Nearly every single one of them has broken their wand at least once and had to get it fixed or replaced. Not a single bone in their body hasn’t been broken, bent, or dislocated at least once as well.

Now our Hufflepuffs. Puff people are kind and considerate, patient as well, and they’re good peacekeepers as well as deescalation MASTERS.

First Years are almost too soft- sometimes the older ones will giggle when one of them tries to carry books for three of their friends as well as their own from class to class, because they haven’t quite gotten the hang on what it actually means to be kind and not bend over backwards for everyone.

Third Years are usually at the stage when Puffs master the ability to chill other people out. Sometimes they even have luck getting Gryffs to sit down and realize it’s not a good plan to steal from Snape’s secret potions closet, although that’s still pretty rare (you can’t really talk a Gryff out of a dare, but everyone’s tried at least once). They can be right alongside teachers pulling fighting students apart, and they tend to be the right-brained class teachers’ favorites (botany, DATDA).

Seventh Years are gods at mediation and have really got a grasp on kindness and sympathy. They’re the only successful ones to get Gryffs to think things through, get Ravenclaws to take care of themselves, and Slytherins to not carry out murders in the middle of potions class. If you need to talk to someone, you go to an older Hufflepuff.

Ravenclaws are wise, have good judgement, and think logically. Sometimes they lack in the emotional intelligence and compassion department, but they make up for it in quick thinking and good grades.

Second Year Ravenclaws are acing all their classes and have been since day 1. They don’t love every class, like botany and magical creatures, but they study during meals and before sleep. All their focus is on having good grades because that’s what they think it means to be smart, and while the older kids pat them on the back, they try to explain that good grades and intelligence aren’t the same thing.

They don’t fully get that until around fifth year. They’ve improved their critical thinking and puzzling skills, they’ve accidentally hurt people’s feelings, and their sleep schedule is somewhat decent. They’re all addicted to coffee, but they know what amount is healthy. They finally understand that they weren’t picked for the house because of their grades, but because they can challenge their minds. They let up on themselves (at least a little) by sixth year.

Seventh Years don’t sleep. Their grades are decent enough but not perfect. They’ll deadass tell the riddle painting to fuck off and it’ll open. They make ungodly concoctions of Red Bull, coffee, extra shots of espresso, and who knows what the fuck else to last 38 hours on like 40 minutes of sleep. GOD tier Minecraft and Animal Crossing builds (that’s how older Ravenclaws are categorized- Minecraft or AC lol). They know spells that have been long forgotten, but most of them are relatively harmless- showers of sparks that don’t really do anything, conjuring pigeons that only live for three hours, things like that. They get together with Slytherins to make up long words that sound like spells, but really are just gibberish and enjoy the way Gryffs squirm uncomfortably.

Slytherins are cunning, ambitious, cutthroat, and really good liars. They are loyal to an absolute fault- they’d kill and die for people they care about. No one can match their sarcasm or insults, and Gryffindors are the only ones who come even close to their humor and meme references.

First Years are too over-the-top with their bigotry and asshole-ness, and the older ones do their best to beat that out of them. Flick in the side of the head for racism, extra ASL homework for homophobia, running fucking laps for sexism and slurs. By second year, they learn not to fuck with other people in a genuinely mean way… at least most of the time.

Third Year Slytherins are fluent in sign language to speak with the mermaids of the lake and fully use that to their advantage- signing at each other in class to cheat on tests, making fun of dumb assignments, things like that. They’ve been fluent in sarcasm since First, but they’ve mastered perfect insults and clapbacks like omg-

Seventh Years are so scary no one but Seventh Year Gryffs are willing to fuck with them. They could kill with a glare, they manage to make school uniform look fire in a way no one else seems to be able to get right, and one sideways look in a friend’s direction and you’ll be hexed for weeks. They protect every little, not just from their own house, from jock Gryffs, emotionless Ravenclaws, lecturing Puff People. But they won’t babysit. Don’t ask us for that.