#i am happy to help and will do what i can to adjust assignments or make things more accessible

[farkenshnoffingottom]

My university has also turned ai detection off, thankfully. Another reblog on this post said turnitin uses 'unusual grammar' as evidence of ai, which is such a big problem. It's not just ESL students, either, it also targets first gen students, people from poor school districts who've never gotten individual attention from a teacher because classes are too big, etc., and disproportionately POCs, even if English is their first language. I teach intro/gen ed courses, and so many of my students have never been taught how to write in an 'academic' way, and that's the kind of stuff that gets pinged by turnitin

I'm gonna echo op and say they're also just bad essays. No specific evidence is not a dead giveaway, because many of my students don't use evidence in the way I've asked them to, but it is already a mark against the essay. A major giveaway I've seen is suddenly switching topics to something that's not really connected, but I've also got a lot of students who just never learned how to use transitions, so I can't assume it's ai. So the official guidance from my department lines up with my own strategy of just grading it like it's a student-written paper, and that leaves us with all of the previously stated problems

Op's right about really bad papers making me grumpy when grading, and I try to step away and come back to an essay later when that happens to see if I was being unfair, but usually it's still not anywhere near meeting the assignment requirements. My own advice to students: showing us you're trying can really make a difference. Grading is subjective, and one of the things that makes me more generous in how I'm grading something is if you've emailed me or we've had a conversation beforehand. Partly it's just that I now recognize your name out of a class of too many to count, and that shows me you're engaged and trying. But also, it means that when I come across a point that isn't really clear in your writing, I have a sense of what you were trying to say, and it becomes a matter of your writing missing the mark rather than you not understanding the subject, and that has much more wiggle room (I don't like making this assumption, but when the only interaction I have from someone is an essay that doesn't make sense, I don't really have another reference point)

An important message to college students: Why you shouldn't use ChatGPT or other "AI" to write papers.

Here's the thing: Unlike plagiarism, where I can always find the exact source a student used, it's difficult to impossible to prove that a student used ChatGPT to write their paper. Which means I have to grade it as though the student wrote it.

So if your professor can't prove it, why shouldn't you use it?

Well, first off, it doesn't write good papers. Grading them as if the student did write it themself, so far I've given GPT-enhanced papers two Ds and an F.

If you're unlucky enough to get a professor like me, they've designed their assignments to be hard to plagiarize, which means they'll also be hard to get "AI" to write well. To get a good paper out of ChatGPT for my class, you'd have to write a prompt that's so long, with so many specifics, that you might as well just write the paper yourself.

ChatGPT absolutely loves to make broad, vague statements about, for example, what topics a book covers. Sadly for my students, I ask for specific examples from the book, and it's not so good at that. Nor is it good at explaining exactly why that example is connected to a concept from class. To get a good paper out of it, you'd have to have already identified the concepts you want to discuss and the relevant examples, and quite honestly if you can do that it'll be easier to write your own paper than to coax ChatGPT to write a decent paper.

The second reason you shouldn't do it?

IT WILL PUT YOUR PROFESSOR IN A REALLY FUCKING BAD MOOD. WHEN I'M IN A BAD MOOD I AM NOT GOING TO BE GENEROUS WITH MY GRADING.

I can't prove it's written by ChatGPT, but I can tell. It does not write like a college freshman. It writes like a professional copywriter churning out articles for a content farm. And much like a large language model, the more papers written by it I see, the better I get at identifying it, because it turns out there are certain phrases it really, really likes using.

Once I think you're using ChatGPT I will be extremely annoyed while I grade your paper. I will grade it as if you wrote it, but I will not grade it generously. I will not give you the benefit of the doubt if I'm not sure whether you understood a concept or not. I will not squint and try to understand how you thought two things are connected that I do not think are connected.

Moreover, I will continue to not feel generous when calculating your final grade for the class. Usually, if someone has been coming to class regularly all semester, turned things in on time, etc, then I might be willing to give them a tiny bit of help - round a 79.3% up to a B-, say. If you get a 79.3%, you will get your C+ and you'd better be thankful for it, because if you try to complain or claim you weren't using AI, I'll be letting the college's academic disciplinary committee decide what grade you should get.

Eventually my school will probably write actual guidelines for me to follow when I suspect use of AI, but for now, it's the wild west and it is in your best interest to avoid a showdown with me.

[drchucktingle]

Hi Dr Tingle

Thank you so much for your work, your words really speak a lot to me. I was wondering how do you get to that feeling of joy? I think I’ve forgotten how to feel and I would very much like to know how you get to that feeling.

Thank you for your existence

oh this is great question first of all gotta say thank you for phrasing this way and asking what CHUCK does, not what YOU should do. i will not tell others what THEY need to do (that kind of thing is always dang red flag for chuck) but i would love to share my own journey.

finding joy has a lot of paths and roadblocks and it is different for all buckaroos. sometimes there is chemical imbalance or trauma or you are trapped in a endless maze of harmful patterns, and sometimes life is just difficult in a very average everyday way that IN ITSELF is overwhelming. just existing is A LOT bud.

here is why i am usually very happy and in a state of joy: way of GRATITUDE. now keep in mind this is not that simple and my words are not cure all for every bud, but if it helps i will explain my thoughts.

THE CALL OF THE LONESOME TRAIN is the awareness that our time here in this reality will end, and this call is a double edged sword. it can haunt you and bring great sadness, and it can tear your dang heart out when someone you love has to board. but for chuck it is also the source of my gratitude and motivation.

i am constantly aware that i will eventually have a LAST DAY on this timeline. i do not know when or where or how i will board the lonesome train, but it is a guarantee this time will come. if i picture myself on this day, lets say lyin in a dang hospital bed, i know that personally i will REALLY NOT WANT TO LEAVE. on this last day surrounded by loved ones everything has VALUE. i will think 'just one last walk in the park' 'just one last kiss' 'just one last chocolate milk' 'just one last quiet moment looking at the way light moves on the floor from the window'

i will have SO MUCH GRATITUDE FOR EVERYTHING ON MY LAST DAY and think 'i would pay a million dollars for one final trot around the block'. but here is the thing: EVERY DAY HAS THAT MUCH VALUE WE JUST DO NOT HAVE THE PERSPECTIVE TO REALIZE IT. every moment is all just grains of sand and those grains are always the same sand, we just assign different value to them.

so when i wake up in the morning i often think 'one day i will look back and give anything to be here,' even if it is a stormy day, or i have a difficult task or a hard talk ahead. even if i am sick or tired or depressed. i am aware that as a human being trotting through this reality i am going to tend to UNDERVALUE the present. and then i try to give the present the value it deserves.

hope that helps bud. my way is not the 'correct' way and maybe you can find a better one for yourself, but it might be worth giving this technique a shot if you would like. maybe you can adjust and find a good balance that is all your own. LOVE IS REAL

[depressoesssspresso]

“No way,” you said shaking your head while munching on some popcorn from the bowl. Your legs were over his as you both relaxed on the Common Room couch. James smiles while you both make eye contact.

“What do you mean no way? I definitely had a bigger crush on you than you on me,” he laughs as he adjusts his glasses. This “argument” of who had a bigger crush on who had been going on for the last fifteen minutes.

“Are you actually joking? Do you think I just happen to carry an extra water bottle every time you had a quidditch game?” You laugh and blush at the memory, “Thought I was such a samaritan the way I was like ‘No yeah I think I have an extra water if you’d like’ knowing damn well I packed it just to have an excuse to talk to you,” You and James’ faces turned red from how long you have been laughing. The two of you have been going out for over 3 1/2 years and would love to rehash this discussion from time to time.

“But that was so cute. Ok but actually how much tutoring did you think I needed? In our third year, I started asking you for help in classes because our schedules didn’t match up. You were like ‘Ugh this Ancient Runes assignment is so hard. Then the smooth boy I am would be like ‘I know right it’s so hard. Let’s do it together.’ I wasn’t even taking Ancient Runes. I was taking Divination,” he bashfully admitted. You giggle at his revelation and continue to eat your popcorn.

“No I knew,” you began, “ I obviously got the hint when you never showed up for class. But you were too sweet to turn down I couldn’t say no. I thought it was weird but that’s sort of your trade mark.” He playfully glared at you while you stuck out your tongue. “ No but seriously, the Quidditch match. I was total heart eyes for you. Even Peter noticed it. Peter!”

“ Well darling, what can I say,” he smirked at you lightly slap his shoulder. “ Y/N, Sirius almost threw a bludger at me in the middle of the game so I would pay attention because I kept looking back at you to see if you were looking at me.” You laugh so hard that you start to lightly choke on your popcorn which causes James to laugh even harder. Tears brimmed both your eyes as you remember the day Sirius and James got into a mini hissy fit in the middle of the game. Sirius slapped James’ shoulder and James almost pushed Sirius off the broom. Let’s just say Madame Hooch wasn’t happy in the end.

“Ok,Ok,Ok, but do you remember me telling Emily Scobell that you were gay so she doesn’t ask you to the Yule Ball. Told her that you and Sirius were mad for each other” You say sitting up straight and sitting cross cross Apple sauce facing your boyfriend. His eyes bulge out and dramatically whip his head towards you.

“THAT WAS YOU!” He yelled while laughing. “I gave Sirius hell for that. Thought he was telling girls we were together to get them to stop coming up to me as a prank.” [A/N Kyle in South Park What the hell are you telling people that we’re a gay couple😭] “ What about my family emergencies?” You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion as he gives you the biggest smile while pulling you to his chest.

“What family emergencies?” You question.

“Whenever I wanted to have an intimate conversation with you and was too shy to start, I would come up to you saying there’s been a death in the family. You would then comfort me and give me all your attention,” he giggles as you playfully gasp and hit his chest again sitting up.

“YOU WANKER!” You say in between giggles, “ You told me your grandparents passed away.” This only caused him to die further of laughter.

“ I told you that excuse every week. How many grandparents do you think I have!” James says with an undying smile. Your stomach begins to hurt from how badly you’re laughing.

“YOU MET THEM ON CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY TOO” He continues which causes you to laugh so hard no sound comes out.

“ Oh yeah, I forgot,” you say wiping your tears. As both you laughed dies down, you snuggle back into James chest. “ Damn, we really had it bad for each other, did we?” He kisses the top of your forehead.

“ We still do,” he whispers and he hugs you tight.

[cowgurrrl]

Slow It Down Cowboy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this ended up being so chunky but I hope that’s okay

Summary: The wall [5.8k!!!]

Warnings: academic blackmail??, bad administrative decisions, an even worse parent, Joel comforting reader, more art talk, slight angst

As the sun sets earlier and the weather dips below the usual heat, things actually start looking pretty good. Andie, somehow, found time off of work and is coming home for a few days during the long winter break. You've gotten back to making art you actually care about now that you're in a race with Joel. All your students are settled and starting to come out of their shells, making more experimental art. Ellie continues to show up with cups of coffee with your name on them before anyone else can spill into your classroom, and you continue to text Joel. 

How much are you spending on coffee now?

I thought we agreed to keep certain things secret.

Joel Miller.

Hush. You deserve it.

In between lessons and at lunch, you'll manage to catch each other at the right time and shoot messages off as fast as they come in. He helps you fix a squeaky chair over text, and you help him set up a care package to send to Sarah. It's nice even though you haven't really seen him since the night of the gallery opening. Even things at the bar seem to be doing better, and you're making enough to not have to worry so much. But you're most proud of the list of students whose art will be shown at the winter showcase, Ellie's work among them. 

You make a big deal about it and send in an announcement to be read in the morning, congratulating all the students. You even go out of your way to announce it in all your classes and offer extra credit to any student who shows up to support their classmates. Surprisingly, your rag-tag group of moody teenagers actually seem keen about the opportunity. Things are going well. You're happy, healthy, financially stable(ish), and your guards are down for the first time in a long time.

You're working with quiet music playing over your computer when the knock at your door sounds during planning period. You stand to open it, but before you can, you hear a jangle of keys and the popping of the lock. Principal Martinez walks in, squints at you, and immediately turns on the overhead fluorescent lights that haven't been used in God knows how long. They buzz in protest as your eyes adjust. 

"Hey!" You manage to sound cheery even though she looks like she means business. "I'm assuming you're here about the winter showcase?" You ask, and the line between her brows deepens.

"The what?"

"The showcase? A couple of my kids from the art club got accepted to have their artwork shown in a gallery downtown. It was on the announcements this morning. I can send you the information about when the event is." You offer. Something clicks, and she shakes her head now that she knows what you're talking about. 

"Oh, that," she says. "No, I'm not here about that." 

"Am I in trouble?" 

"Not exactly." She says, and you feel panic pool in your stomach like an unwanted visitor. "Dalton Green's father has brought his grade in your class to my attention."

"He hasn't turned anything in to me since September. I can't grade an empty page," you say, hoping that she's as aware as you are that it's the beginning of November. "I sent an email to his father and football coach back in October, but I still haven't seen any work from him."

"Mr. Green says he's positive his son has turned in work. Are you sure you haven't just misplaced it?" 

"No, I've graded and given back every single assignment from the semester." 

"Let me be clear," she says. "Are you sure you haven't just forgotten to put his grades in? It's an easy mistake to make. You could always just input them now so that he's eligible to continue playing. You wouldn't want to bench a perfectly responsible young man. Would you?"

"Ma'am, are you suggesting I lie about Dalton's grades just so he can keep playing football?" You ask, your panic quickly turning into frustration. 

"It'd be such a silly thing to fail something as simple as art. Especially when the funding for the school comes directly from our team's ability to perform. Sometimes, as teachers, we have to make sacrifices to ensure the greater good of our students." She says. It never fails to surprise you how condescending people can be when it comes to your job. Martinez will be gone in a year to fight for a place on the school board, and it's clear she's not pulling her punches even now. Still, you're floored by the ask. Never in your career have you been asked by a principal to lie about a student's grades. 

"I'd be willing to make certain accommodations, but I'm really not comfortable doing that. If he wanted to turn something in, I could find a way to give him half credit." You say. Her face changes almost imperceptibly before she straightens up with a cynical smile. 

"Well, I think since you had the idea, you should be the one to call his father and tell him the good news," she says it like it's a reward, but it feels like more of a punishment. Your good mood comes crumbling around you as she looks at you expectantly. You have principles as a teacher. This is one of them, but how far are you willing to go to protect it? "I have a meeting with some people from the school board, but please let me know what conclusion you and Mr. Green come to regarding Dalton's grades." She says as she walks out of your room, not even bothering to look at you over her shoulder as she speaks to you.

"Fuck," you mutter as the door closes behind her. You stare at the phone and think about your options. You can't let her walk all over you just because she's your boss, and you won't compromise your values just so the football program will thrive. But you also really don't want to make this phone call. If Dalton's dad is as pleasant as he seems over email, you can't imagine this going well. "Fuck." You say again as you pick up the receiver and search your records for Dalton's dad's phone number. You find it, and in a burst of confidence, dial the number and listen to the line ring, secretly hoping he won't pick up. 

"Green." His dad says in place of a greeting, and you take a deep breath.

"Hi, Mr. Green. This is Dalton's art teacher from school. I understand you had some issues regarding his grade in my class?" You tread very carefully, but even then, he scoffs.

"You're damn right I have some issues. Why are you failin' him? He's gotta pass to play football, and Principal Martinez said you'd get it sorted." 

"Yes, sir, that's why I'm calling," you say. "Dalton hasn't turned in any of the assignments I've given out since September, and because of that, I've been unable to give him a good grade. However, I can make some arrangements to give him half credit for every assignment he turns in before the end of next week. That should give him more than enough time between classes and practice." 

"He told me you lost his assignments."

"No, sir, I haven't received anything from him." You say. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and you almost hope the call dropped before he can respond. 

"Are you sayin' my son's a liar?" 

You spend the next twenty minutes being berated over the phone, not even allowed to get a word in without being cut off. Several times throughout the call, you think about hanging up and unplugging the phone, but you know that'd only make it worse. God forbid he show up at the school and humiliate you in front of the other staff or, worse, students. No wonder Dalton has issues if this is how his father speaks to people. If your day wasn't ruined by your encounter with the principal, it certainly is now. You handle it as well as possible until he gets near the end of his rant and takes a deep breath.

"I just can't believe they'd let a teacher as horrible as you work there. What right do you have to teach anything?" He says, and that's what really gets under your skin. Suddenly, hot tears spring in your eyes, and your throat feels like sandpaper.

"I don't know." It is the only thing you can think to say.

"Call me back when you have a real fuckin' solution and not whatever bullshit this is." He spits before hanging up the phone. You put the receiver down and bury your head in your hands, trying your best not to cry. Your molars buzz, and it feels like your head is swelling with pain. His insults and backhanded comments echo in your ears, and you can't hold the tears back any longer. 

What a fucking shit show. You know Martinez won't do anything about the verbal abuse unless you're willing to lie about grades, which is a ridiculous request in the first place. Dalton's dad won't back down, and you can safely assume Coach Sanders is next up on the roster if you don't do something soon. Why can't you get a kid to turn in a fucking piece of paper? Are you really that bad of a teacher that you're losing an argument with a seventeen-year-old? Is this the hill you want to die on? 

You think about going upstairs and seeking refuge in Mrs. Tomlinson's English class, your favorite coworker and the one who hides the good snacks in her desk, but you know she has a class, and you don't want to embarrass yourself. Andie is seven hours ahead and probably asleep. You're friends with people from the bar but not good enough friends that you could call them crying about a situation like this. The realization that you're alone in this makes you more emotional, and you have to stifle your sobs behind your hand. 

You jump when your doorknob twists open again, and you half-expect Martinez to be there with an I-told-you-so look on her face. You quickly turn so your back is to the door and wipe the tears on your face. You can't stand to be humiliated again today. When you turn back to see who entered your classroom, Joel's big brown eyes soften when he sees how upset you are. 

"Honey," he murmurs, and you almost start sobbing again at his soft tone. "What's goin' on?" 

"I didn't know you were coming today." You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together. He walks over and drops his toolbox on a nearby table so he can pull you up from your chair. 

"Supposed to be a surprise." He says as he tucks you into his chest. You hug him tightly and let him rub your back in the quiet of your classroom. His shirt smells like laundry detergent and the cold wind sweeping through the hill country. He should be wearing a jacket, but he's not, and you can feel goosebumps on his skin. For a minute, you just cling to him and cry, staining his shirt with tears, but he doesn't care. He's patient and shushes you gently as he adjusts his hold on you to bring you closer. You bury your face in his neck, and he kisses your head. 

"What are you doing here?" You ask into his skin. 

"I found your missin' piece for the projector. I thought I'd come install it for you so you'd stop fallin' off things tryna get it to work," he says. He leans back just enough to swipe your hair out of your eyes and rests his hands on either side of your face so you can see him. You want to turn away because you know you look like a crying mess, but he doesn't flinch. "There she is," he whispers fondly when you meet his eyes. "Your turn. What happened that's got you all upset?" He asks, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to catch stray tears. 

"Just… a really shitty call with a parent." You say, not wanting to get into specifics just yet. 

"Anythin' I can do?" He asks, and you shake your head. Just his presence is enough to make you feel better. His big, warm hands holding you like you're precious is a big plus, too. You run your hands over the muscles hidden by his shirt and take a deep breath. 

"Just this," you say, and he smiles. "'S a very nice surprise."

"I might've had ulterior motives." He says sheepishly, and you chuckle.

"What are your ulterior motives, maverick?" You ask. You honestly don't know where the nickname came from, but it's stuck around. You've heard it used by old southern women when talking about someone who's independent or doesn't follow the rules. "There goes maverick again!" They'd say when their unruly son would go speeding by in the kitchen. You think the private name suits him.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks quietly, without a hint of shame or doubt in his voice. You almost fold just because of how he's looking at you through his long eyelashes. Almost. The age-old sound of your projector whirring reminds you where you are, and you straighten up.

"Not here."

"After I fix the projector?" He negotiates, and you laugh at how quickly he bounces back.

"After you fix the projector and we're not on school campus anymore." 

"Deal," he says as he turns away from you and toward his toolbox. "You should time me. This might be the fastest replacement I've ever done."

"You're really that motivated now?" You tease, the levity between you two draining the dredges of your bad afternoon from your brain. He smiles and digs in his toolbox for the right screwdriver. 

"For you? Of course." He says. You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting a smile, and he winks at you. He's barely standing on a chair before you grab his arm and stop him.

"Wait," you say. You're not really sure what the plan is, but you also don't care. Joel, however, looks confused. "I found an old step stool in my storage closet the other day, but it's on the top shelf. If you can get it down, that might be a little safer."

"You've had a step stool this whole time, and you're still climbin' on tables?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at you. "You're gonna put me in an early grave one of these days."

"Quit that," you laugh as he steps off the chair. "I didn't have time to get it down whenever I needed it, and I just forgot about it until the other day. C'mon, I'll show you where it is." He sighs dramatically but follows you into the dusty storage room filled floor to ceiling with various art supplies. It's hidden by a suspicious-looking, windowless door just off to the right of your classroom. You think it might've been used as a tornado shelter when the school was much smaller and younger, but since then, it's been renovated into a personal storage room. 

The second the door closes behind him, you turn around, push him against it, and kiss him before you can change your mind. He gasps into you like he wasn't expecting this but quickly grabs your waist, anchoring to you and kissing you back feverishly. You really had planned on making him wait until you were safe, far away from school grounds, instead of pulling him into the nearest private space like a teenager. But you figured if Martinez can break the rules, why can't you? 

Your hand snakes through his hair and plays with the curls at the nape of his neck, drawing a content sigh from Joel. His lips are a little chapped and firm against yours. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, and you want more. You tip your mouth up to him to kiss him deeper, and he grips your hips hard, his fingers grazing the skin just under the hem of your shirt. You test scratching your nails over the back of his neck, and he shudders beautifully under your touch. In one move, he switches places with you and pins you between him and the door. 

With him in control, he slows down just a little, kissing you softly like he's got all the time in the world. You've realized Joel likes treating you like you're made of porcelain. Like all it would take is one wrong move, and you'd fall apart under his touch. He lets you make the first move every time, tying his hands behind his back until you say the word in an impressive show of self-control. Even at the art gallery, when there was so much tension between you, you thought you'd choke on it; he wasn't the one who initiated. The knee-jerk reaction of flipping your positions against the door to take control is his first show of power, and you like it. What do you need to do to get him to do it again?

The bell sounding through the intercom breaks you apart, and you groan at the intrusion. Nothing is keeping you after school today but you aren't ready to separate from Joel just yet. You rest your head on the door and stare at him as you vaguely hear the sounds of rowdy kids flooding the hallways. His lips are swollen and a little pink, and his hair is messy from all your pulling. 

"What?" He questions your staring and you shake your head.

"I just like looking at you," you say. "Your hair is also a mess, but that's a completely different story." 

"And whose fault is that?" He laughs and musses his curls back into place. You help with a few strands at the back and smile when everything is tame again. 

"Good as new." You say. Now, it's his turn to peer at you, and you give him a confused look. You swipe under your eyes as if there's mascara stuck there and fix your hair, waiting for him to give you the all-clear, but he just chuckles.

"I can't believe you pulled me into a closet to make out." 

"Me neither, honestly." You admit as the both of you dissolve into delirious laughter. You wait in the closet for a few more minutes so the hallways can clear out (and you can kiss a little more) before you finally exit, checking that it's clear and then opening the door wider for Joel. When he sees his toolbox sitting on the desk where he left it, he sighs and glances between you and the ceiling. 

"I'm never gonna get to fix that goddamn projector." He mutters, and you laugh as you pass in front of him and pat his shoulder. 

"Next time, maverick." You say. His grumbles disappear as you pack up your stuff side-by-side in silence. It's nice to not feel like you always have to fill the space with conversation. It's enough for papers to rustle as they land in your bag and his tools to clink as they find their proper homes. The hallways have gone quiet, and the eerie silence of an empty school slowly creeps up on you. 

Joel's boots squeaking catch your attention as you unplug your computer and start turning off various lamps around the classroom. He stands in front of the whiteboard where you have a big print of a Rothko painting displayed for today's art history lesson. He tilts his head as he looks at it like he's trying to find some hidden meaning or perspective, and you smile to yourself at the motion. 

"Lots of people think it's not much to look at." You break the silence from the back of the room, and he looks at you over your shoulder.

"I didn't say that."

"I know. I'm just letting you know what certain historians say," you say. You finish with all the lamps, and the only light coming into the classroom is the little bit of natural light streaming in from the windows near the ceiling. Stray dust spins in the air as you join him in looking at the poster of the Rothko, and you try to imagine what he's thinking. 

It's a little unnerving, like most of the ones Rothko made towards the end of his life. The vast darkness on the top half of the painting is daunting, while the gray at the bottom helps ground the viewer, at least a little. If you look closely enough, you can see the various washes and brushstrokes he used to create the painting. Obviously, a lot of skill and time went into something like this, even though not everyone wants to see it. "It's hard to know what it meant to him. It probably didn't mean anything, honestly. He wanted people to have sensory experiences with his art, so you only get as much as you put into it." You explain, and Joel nods but doesn't look away from the painting.

"Is it the surface of the moon?" He asks. 

"What makes you say that?" You interrogate, trying to hide your excitement at getting to hear him tell you what he thinks of art. 

"Well, it kinda looks like I'm standin' on the moon and lookin' out into space." He says as he runs his finger over the divide between the two colors. 

"Where's the Earth, then?"

"Maybe I'm on the dark side of the moon." 

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says. "Maybe the Earth is just too far away, and I can't reach it, but I know it's there. If the moon started spinnin' faster or somethin', I could see it, but maybe it's not for me to see..." It's incredibly profound, even if he doesn't realize it. You see where he's coming from based on what you know about his past and almost want to reach for his hand, but you don't. "But I don't know. What do I know bout art?"

"A lot," you answer quickly, hating how he talks about himself like he's stupid. "You know a lot. That was a really good analysis." He hums noncommittally and bumps your shoulder with his. 

"What bout you? What's it to you?" He asks, and you sigh as you look the colors over again.

"A wall and the night sky." 

"A wall?" 

"Yeah. It's either protecting me or keeping me in, but either way, it's there, and there's not much I can do about it. I could stay where I am and never find out what's beyond it and be safe, or I could climb the wall and never be the same again. I wouldn't know what's behind it or what's out there— that's why it's all black at the top— but maybe that's what's so interesting about it. The unknown." You say, and Joel hums. 

"You should be a teacher or somethin'." He says, and you laugh and move to grab your backpack off your desk. 

"It just might be in the cards for me," you say. "What's Ellie doing tonight? Don't you have to pick her up?" 

"She's actually going to the movies with some friends tonight." He says, beaming with pride, and you gasp dramatically.

"Is she really?"

"Sent her with twenty dollars and everythin'."

"Oh, that's so good! She's doing so good! I knew art club would get her out of her shell." You clap your hands, and he nods, smiling.

"She certainly ain't shy anymore. It feels like she's always on the phone with someone these days." He's a little nostalgic for the little girl who used to cling to her dad, and you make a sympathetic sound. 

"Don't you worry. I'm sure she'll want to hang out with her old dad during winter break."

"Old?!" He parrots as you usher him out of the room, your keys jingling on your arm. 

"Her words, not mine." You say as you walk out into the empty hallway with him and lock your classroom door behind you. He scoffs and grumbles something under his breath but doesn't push you for any insider information on Ellie. You like having your secrets with her, and as long as she's not a threat to herself or others, you'll keep those secrets until she's ready to tell him. 

You walk out to the parking lot together to catch the last few rays of sun scattering across the sky and smile when you see that Joel somehow managed to park close to your car. He loads his tools up in his truck bed while you throw your backpack in the backseat, but neither of you gets in your car immediately after things are settled. Instead, you wander back over to his truck and lean against one of the doors. 

"So, if Ellie's out with friends, what are you doing for the rest of the night?" You ask, and he smirks, stepping into your space. You think about scolding him, but the parking lot is practically empty. Plus, you like having him close. In the orange light of dusk, you feel safe next to him and his truck. He quirks an eyebrow at you and looks serious. 

"Are you askin' me on a date?"

"It's not a date."

"Is this the same thing like you weren't gonna kiss me, and then you did?" He teases. You roll your eyes and push off his truck, putting your arms up in defeat. 

"I didn't realize Joel Miller hated spontaneity so much. Fine, I'll stop doing it." You start walking back toward your car, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back before you can get far. You smile when your chest collides with his and look up at him. 

"Now, I didn't say all that," he says. "'M just surprised. You're gettin' ballsy."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't think so," he says as he leans forward like he's about to tell you a secret. "I think it's pretty hot, actually." He whispers lowly in your ear, his breath fanning out across your neck and making your face hot. You shove at his shoulder, but he just laughs and grabs your hand. "What? You don't like me callin' you hot?" 

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" 

"I ain't hearin' a 'no.'" 

"Yes, Joel, I like it. Is that what you wanna hear?" You finally relent, and he shrugs with every ounce of sass.

"Maybe," he says. "I also wanna hear what you were thinkin' for our not date."

"Oh, something super romantic." 

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Whataburger meals and milkshakes." You say, and he makes a play at his knees giving out under him. 

"A woman after my own heart." He groans, and you roll your eyes. 

You could take separate cars. It'd probably be easier for getting home and take away an extra stop, but you don't really care about that when you climb into the passenger's side of his truck. He doesn't seem surprised by your decision to ride with him and rests a hand on your thigh the second he pulls out of the school parking lot. He asks about your day, painting, and even if you've heard anything else from Henry as he drives. You rant a little about Principal Martinez and ask about his day, so he gets a turn ranting about headers and structural issues. You're not exactly sure what he's talking about, but you nod and listen anyway, and he doesn't critique you for not knowing. 

When you get to Whataburger, you have to scout to make sure there are no teenagers you recognize before going in. Of course, he opens the door and lets you order first like a gentleman, but you elbow him out of the way so you can pay before he can even reach for his wallet. By the look on his face, you would've thought you ripped a cookie out of his hands. "It's my turn!" You say, but he still looks shocked when you hand him his orange and white striped cup. You choose a booth near the back and continue talking about your days or recent developments until your food comes, and then you talk in between bites. It's not romantic, but it is comfortable. 

He updates you on Sarah's progress in medical school and even shows you pictures on his phone of the last time the three of them were all together. He looks lighter when he's with the both of them like all the pieces of his heart are bound in those girls. You like to think it is. He tells you how he's looking at grants for small-business owners in Austin and is eligible to apply for a good amount. "'M just nervous I won't get any." He says, and you shake your head.

"They've got insane amounts of money they're looking to give to hardworking people. I bet you'll be a millionaire by the end of this bet." You say, and he chuckles as he pops a fry in his mouth. 

"What bout you?" He asks.

"What about me?"

"How's the search for a gallery goin'?" You take a deep breath at his question and shrug.

"I don't really have anything to submit just yet, but some places are taking rolling submissions, so I can send something in whenever. I just want it to be good." 

"'M sure it will be." He says, and you give him a look. 

"You haven't even seen any of my work. What if it's awful?"

"Then I'd lie and say it's the best thing I've ever seen." 

"So you’re a iiar." 

"At least, I'd be a considerate liar." He says. You're about to start arguing with him about it when a pair of familiar eyes meet yours across the restaurant. Before you can even think about a tactic to get out of the situation, she's already up and walking toward your booth.

"Oh, shit," you mutter, and Joel's eyebrows furrow until he finds who you're looking at. His face falls exactly the same way you're sure yours did.

"Hi!" Marnie greets as she lands in front of you. "I haven't seen you in a minute!"

"I know! I've been meaning to text you about getting drinks, but I keep forgetting!" It's a lie. A considerate lie, but a lie nevertheless. 

"Oh, you're too sweet. We'll set somethin' up," she says as she turns to Joel. "And you! I haven't seen you since Sarah moved. How is she?" Oh, shit. How does she know you and Joel? He recovers quickly with a charming smile and a nod.

"Yes, ma'am. She's doin' real good up in Boston. Keepin' outta trouble and everythin'." 

"And Ellie? How's she doin'? She still makin' art?" 900,000 people in Austin and countless Whataburgers within 100 square miles, and the person who walks into the one you're in is the one you used to work with at school. Not only that, but she knows Joel's kids. She knows Joel. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yeah, she's still doin' art. She's good at it. She's seein' a movie with some friends from school tonight." He says, and Marnie's eyes light up at the mention of the high school while Joel tenses.

"Oh, my gosh, how's the new classroom? I completely forgot they renovated that old teacher's lounge a couple years ago." 

"It's good. The equipment's a little old, but nothing's fallen apart yet. You'll have to come see it sometime."

"We'll have to find a time!" She says, always insanely cheerful. "Well, I'll let y'all get back to your meal, but I'd be kickin' myself if I didn't come over here and say hello to you two. Joel, please tell the girls I said hi."

"Yes, ma'am," Joel says politely. With that, Marnie turns and walks back to her waiting husband and says something that sounds like, "I know them!" Your food is suddenly cold and unappetizing when you look at it, and your stomach is in knots. The warm bubble around you and Joel has burst, and you're left in the stark light of the truth. "D'you wanna go?" Joel whispers, and you nod. 

He takes your trays and throws away the food before opening the door for you to walk out into the cool night air, avoiding Marnie's stare the whole time. He doesn't reach for you or help you into the truck. He barely looks at you until you're in the safety of the cab. The world is spinning around you, and alarms are sounding in your brain. What the fuck just happened?

"How do you know her?" You ask Joel, staring straight ahead, and he swallows hard.

"She was Sarah and Ellie's science tutor," he says, and your eyes flutter shut. "How do you know her?"

"She was the science teacher at the high school during my first year there. She left to go to a different school after that, but we were pretty close."  

"So, she knows you're a teacher at the same school my kid goes to."

"And she knows Ellie does art, so she knows she would be one of my students." You slowly piece together how bad this could be. You got caught having dinner with the parents of one of your students. If Marnie says anything, word could travel through the district until Martinez hears about it. You'd be in much more trouble than you already are with her. You could be accused of giving Ellie special treatment and violating school policy. 

"Fuck." Joel mumbles, mirroring your exact thoughts, and you nod. 

"We can't do this." You whisper, not wanting to admit it, especially after such a nice day with him. He doesn't protest. He feels the gravity of the situation. You want to put your hand over his. You want to hug him. You want to comfort him the way he comforted you, but you can't. 

"I know." His voice is even and controlled like he's choosing his words carefully, but you can hear the disappointment in his words. You can't go back to an hour ago when you were laughing and pulling him into storage rooms. You have to stay where you are. You have to stay safe. He is the personification of your wall and you have to be okay with not knowing what’s beyond it.

You can't do this.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Change of Plans

A/N: Although I am SEVERAL days late at this point, this is a gift for @something-tofightfor - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RACHAEL! I hope your day was all that you wanted it to be, and that this year is the best fucking one yet. I so badly wanted this to be done in time, but you know me. Anywho, I love your guts and I hope you enjoy this chaotic little cake I whipped up with the help of one of your favorite cowboys.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: listen, don't do what Reader does here. Other than that... just some language. It's very tame. But don't do it.

Summary: Jack is there on business. You're there for pleasure.

He noticed you right away. 

Sitting in the waiting area near gate A-7, right leg crossed over your left and an open book in one hand, you caught his eye -

Well hello, gorgeous.

- and he had to repeatedly free his focus from your direction, reminding himself why he was at the airport in the first place. 

Damn it, Agent, you’ve got a job to do.

You turned the page of the book you were reading, letting out a sigh and stretching your neck, and Jack adjusted his position on the barstool he occupied so that he was forced to change his line of sight. He cleared his throat, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a sip. The bold, smoky flavor of the deep amber whiskey coated his tongue, and by the time he swallowed he was back on his task. 

He’d been sent to locate and detain a known associate of a crime boss that Statesman was attempting to bring down. Intel gathered from Agents assigned to the case suggested that the associate - a mid level player who occasionally dealt in black market weapons - would be traveling through Louisville on his way to meet with the mysterious and nefarious man they knew only as The Gatekeeper. The current theory was that The Gatekeeper was operating out of San Francisco - or more specifically, out of a secret underwater lair that was built into one of the foundational structures of the Golden Gate Bridge, hence his nickname. But Statesman had been unable to confirm that yet. Catching up with the Gatekeeper’s gun runner was their best bet when it came to pinning down his location for sure, and since he had the most experience with facial recognition and planting trackers, the assignment had gone to Agent Whiskey. 

So let’s find this shit kicker and get on with it so I can get on with… He resisted the urge to turn back in your direction. 

Setting his glass down on the cork coaster it was served to him on, he brought his newly emptied hand up to tap the arm of his gold wire glasses. At the touch of his fingertip, the stealth lens screens activated, and he used them to scan the faces of the people moving through the terminal. So far none had hit as a match for the Gatekeeper’s associate, but since the man was clever enough to book himself tickets on multiple flights that day to make it harder for anyone who might be looking to follow him, Jack had to keep checking until he either found his target or the last of those flights had taken off. 

I’ll find him. Soon as he shows up I’ll- 

But Jack didn’t even need to finish the thought, because his lenses detected the person he’d been waiting for before he could. Just as he was about to get up from his seat and position himself to intercept his target, though, he saw something else flash across his lenses. 

Mission directive has changed. Do not detain. Intel from Kingsman suggests associate may also be working with Golden Circle remnants in Canada. New directive is only to place the tracker and not to pursue until we know for sure who he is meeting. Agents in Vancouver and San Francisco have been put on alert and will be activated as needed. 

Jack blinked twice to acknowledge Ginger’s message, then used the movement of his eyes to send a question in response. 

Received. Return to HQ? 

He had his jet on standby there at the airport in the event that he needed to abscond with The Gatekeeper’s man, and he assumed that since that was no longer necessary, Champ and Ginger would want him to come back and await further information. Keeping one eye on his target, he used the other to read the new message that flashed across his lens, finding it to be a surprise. 

Negative. Don’t want to risk the chance of counter tracking. Take the Pony somewhere for a few days first. Vegas or Denver are preferable but Mexico City is also available. 

Well, shoot. Looks like I’m takin’ a vacation. My favorite kind of mission. 

Ginger had listed cities where Statesman owned properties that were reserved for off duty use - for when Agents had to lay low for a while, or for when they needed a safe place to recover from injuries sustained in the line of duty. There were several more located around the world, but judging by the selection that was presented to him, they wanted him to stay close enough to either have him back in Kentucky in a matter of hours, or send him to California or British Columbia in a pinch when the intel on who the associate was meeting with came back. 

Received. Target inbound. Contact when directive complete. 

With that, he lifted his finger up to tap the arm of his glasses once more, the screens deactivating so that he could remove them, folding them for safe storage in the inner pocket of his jacket. In a turn of luck, his mark headed straight for the bar he was seated at and sat down two stools over. He showed no signs of having made Jack for a secret operative, not even bothering to look in his direction as he ordered a drink from the bartender. 

Perfect. 

Jack’s grin was imperceptible as he used his thumb and pointer finger to pull one of the small “buttons” from the cuff of his jacket sleeve. Flattening it with a tight pinch, he dropped the bio-tracker into his own beverage and watched as it dissolved into the liquid. It finished just as the bartender placed a rocks glass of whiskey on a coaster in front of Jack’s target. He waited for the other man to take a sip, and then he closed the distance, scooting over one stool so that he was right next to him, and then he greeted the man with a jovial tone. 

“Did my ears deceive me just now, or did I hear you order the Statesman 12 year, my friend?” Jack pointed to the other man’s glass while holding his own. 

The other man turned to face Jack, a semi-scowl on his face, his annoyance over being addressed by a seemingly drunken stranger as a “friend” clearly written in gray-green eyes. “What?” He glanced down at Jack’s glass and then at his own. “Oh.” He grunted and gave Jack a nod before taking another sip of his drink. “Yeah. You drinking the same, I take it?” He arched one eyebrow and turned back to face the television screen behind the bar without waiting for the answer to the question he’d just asked. 

“Smoothest bourbon there is.” Jack held up his glass, inspecting the contents. To anyone else’s eye - even the man beside him - it would appear as though he were simply appreciating the way the overhead lights streaked through the rich amber liquid. In truth, he was making sure that the button-turned-tracker had been completely infused into the drink. Seeing that it was, he glanced over and caught his mark with his own glass midway to his lips once more.

Slow down there, son, leave some for our toast. 

Reaching for the man’s elbow, he stopped him from draining the last of his beverage. “How about we both raise our glasses to good taste and safe travels?” 

The other man jerked his arm away as though he’d been burned, the motion accompanied by a deeply frustrated sigh. Checking his watch, he rolled his eyes and shook his head at Jack. “Sure Fine. Just make it quick, I have a flight to catch.” 

As he presented his glass for the toast, Jack aggressively clinked the rim of his against it - with just enough force so that some of his drink had sloshed into the other man’s glass without him noticing. “Quick it is. Safe travels.” 

“Uh huh.” The sketch of a scowl was back as the man nodded again, knocking back the remainder of his drink, including the tracker. “Same to you.” With that, he slapped a fifty on the bar and left his empty glass, on his way to whatever gate would take him to whatever scumbag was waiting for him. 

The Gatekeeper or the Golden Circle… or whoever the fuck else. We’ll know soon enough. 

Taking his glasses back out of his pocket, Jack unfolded them and put them back on his face. With a tap of his finger the one-way screens hidden in the lenses activated again, and through a series of blinks and subtle eye movements, he sent confirmation of his mission back to Ginger Ale. 

Tracker planted. Target in motion. 

Before he got a response, though, he was distracted by a voice coming from over his shoulder. “Excuse me? Is anyone sitting there?” 

He turned towards the speaker and his eyes widened, lips lifting into a slight grin when he saw that it was you. 

Hot damn, she’s even prettier up close. 

His grin grew at your sudden, small intake of breath when your eyes met. “All yours.” Using one hand, he pulled the stool out for you as Ginger’s message started to scroll across his field of vision. 

You muttered a thank you as you chewed your lower lip. “You didn’t have to-” 

Well done Agent Whiskey. The tracker is live and we are following its movement. Which location did you select? 

“Now darlin’, what kind of gentleman would I be if I only did what I had to do?” He smiled, covertly answering Ginger’s question. 

Not sure yet. Stay tuned. 

You let out a sound that was almost a laugh, shrugging. “You’d be like most gentlemen I’ve known, I guess.” 

Agent, we need to know- 

Jack brought his hand up and tapped the side of his glasses, closing the communication screen and letting Ginger’s message go unfinished. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and it wouldn’t be the last. He always eventually got back to her and never made her wait too long. But his focus had been drawn to you all afternoon, and now that you were sitting directly beside him, he wasn’t going to rush the interaction he’d been putting off for hours. 

“Then allow me to introduce to you a different kind.” He reached up and swept his hat from his head, laying it on the bartop, and extended his free hand to you.  “Jack Daniels.” 

–  –  – 

15 Minutes Earlier…

You checked your watch with a sigh, noting that you still had a little under an hour before you’d be called for boarding. 

It’s fine. That means I can start another chapter now. You rolled your eyes. I’ll need a new book for the flight home at this rate, though. 

It was one of those flights that didn’t make sense - with a 4 hour layover in a city that was completely out of the way of your destination. But that was why you’d been able to find tickets for only $48 each way, less than three days out. Things at work had been hectic, and you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to get the time off until the very last minute. So even though it certainly wouldn’t have been your first choice if you’d been able to book it months ago when the trip was first brought up, you were perfectly content to take the unnecessary stopover in Louisville on your way to Las Vegas. 

Doesn’t hurt when the people watching prospects are this interesting, either. 

You glanced over at the nearby bar and the astoundingly attractive man seated there who’d snagged your attention as soon as he arrived. He, like a handful of others in the terminal, wore a dark felted Stetson But unlike most, it suited him. As did his perfectly tailored suit and- 

Oh, fuck, he’s wearing glasses now. And they look damn good on him, too. 

You cleared your throat and forced your thoughts back to your trip and your reason for taking the less than desirable layover. Even though it meant spending hours alone in an airport, you were excited, because it also meant being able to see several of your friends who lived far away, and being able to celebrate your birthday with them. Well, not just your birthday. The trip was meant to be a group celebration to make up for the fact that you hadn’t all been able to get together for a birthday in years. Since there happened to be two of you who had birthdays in January, that was the month that was chosen. But the dates that were settled on had included your actual birthday smack dab in the middle of them, and you were looking forward to having something fun to do with people you missed. 

Which was why you groaned as you read the notification that popped up on your phone regarding the flight status. 

Delayed - Mechanical Issues 

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath, closing the airline app and tapping your phone screen to open the group chat so you could fill the others in on your situation. Before you finished typing though, your phone vibrated in your hand and a picture popped up of two of your friends - Jess and Maddy - both wearing ear to ear smiles at Harry Reid International, the text from Jess simply reading two words followed by several exclamation marks: We’re here!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Kayla chimed in next, responding with an emphatic YAY! and sending a screenshot of her GPS, showing that she was just under 2 hours out. Be there so soon! 

Nat still had her phone on airplane mode since she’d only taken off from LAX about an hour earlier, so you didn’t bother waiting for an update from her before you finished typing your own. 

Bad news, my flight out of Louisville is delayed. :( Mechanical issues… No idea when I’ll be there now, but I’ll keep you all posted. 

You sent the message and tucked your phone into the outer pocket of your bag as disappointment set in. As it was, the rest of your friends were already supposed to arrive half a day before you. But now, it was looking like you were going to miss out on the entire first day of the trip. 

Or more. 

Frowning at the thought, you tried not to let yourself get too upset until you had a better idea of your situation. You told yourself that it could be something quick and easy to remedy - maybe you’d only have to wait one more hour. Maybe less. Either way, you decided that since half of the group was already there, it meant that the vacation had unofficially started, and it was time you treated yourself to a drink. 

And if I know Jess and Maddy, they’re doing the same right now. 

You picked up your bag, slinging the strap over your shoulder, and headed towards the bar. It was moderately crowded, only a few stools left vacant scattered here and between other travelers. But as you got closer you noticed that the man you’d caught yourself spending more time watching than any of the others was still seated there - and that the seat beside him had just become empty. 

Perfect timing. 

That confidence lasted only until the man spun at the sound of your voice, and seeing him up close had nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. 

Oh, shit. He’s- 

By the time he’d given you his name along with his hand to shake, you’d noticed things about him that you hadn’t from across the room. Like the flecks of tan and gold that lightened his dark brown eyes, the distinct bow of his upper lip beneath his mustache and how it rested against the plush pillow of the lower one, the way you couldn’t see a stitch of leather on him aside from his boots, but the smell of it - along with bergamot - clung to him and made him even more appealing. 

You swallowed, his warm hand wrapping around yours and squeezing as you managed to tell him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack.” 

Without letting go of your hand or releasing your eyes from the lock his own had on them, he repeated your name back to you, the sound of it making your face grow warm. “Pleasure’s all mine, I promise you.” 

When he winked as he withdrew his hand, you knew you were screwed. You ordered yourself a drink - something local, a bourbon you’d not seen before called Statesman - and Jack, though approving of your choice, simply asked for a glass of water. As you brought the glass to your lips, another thought popped into your head. 

But am I really screwed, though? Because… he seems just as interested as I am. 

Over the next half hour, you and Jack made small talk and subtly flirted in smirks and glances. You asked him what brought him to the airport that day, to which he’d answered: 

“Had some business here earlier. But that’s done, so the rest of my evening is completely free.” 

You shook your head at that, taking another sip of your drink. Damn that’s good. “Don’t you have a flight to catch?” 

At that, he grinned and spread his large hands wide. “Ah, well, that is one of the perks of being my own pilot.” He raised one eyebrow and leaned towards you. “I can leave whenever I choose.” 

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. That definitely makes him even more attractive somehow, though. 

You mouthed the word wow and let out a stunted laugh as you reached into your bag to retrieve your phone. Some time had passed and you were hoping that there would be another notification about the status of your delayed flight. “That must be nice.” You groaned as you saw that there was nothing new from the airline, and several texts from your friends expressing their dismay over your travel woes. Shaking the phone in your hand, you sighed. “I’m here on a layover that got delayed and the rest of my friends are already in Vegas.” Looking over at him, you wet your lips with your tongue. “I’d love to be able to just… hop in and take off whenever I wanted to.”

–  –  –  

Well, shit. Did she just say Vegas? 

Clearing his throat, Jack reached up to tap the arm of his glasses. Several missed messages came through at once, all from Ginger, but he blinked them away as he spoke. “Well, I know we’ve only just met, and I’m not trying to make any suggestions-” Though I could. “- But I happen to be going to Sin City myself tonight.” He had to contain his grin at the flash in your eyes as he used the nickname for the gambling town. “I’d be more than happy to take you with me.” 

Destination selected. Las Vegas, Nevada, USA. 

You sucked in a breath at his proposition, and though he knew you were likely considering saying no, he hoped you’d say yes. “I… Jack, I couldn’t ask you to-” 

“You’re not. I’m askin’. I’ll show you my license and everything to prove that I’m legit, but darlin’, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.” He tilted his head towards the window. “No tellin’ how long they’ll need to fix that bird, and if your friends are already there…” He trailed off and shrugged, returning his gaze to you. “My jet is fully fueled and ready to go. I could get you there so you don’t have to miss out too much. More than you already have, I mean.” 

He could practically hear Ginger’s reply when it came through, but he fought the urge to let out a snort as he read it. 

IT’S ABOUT TIME, AGENT. Make sure your friend buckles up. We’ll contact you when you can return to HQ. 

You bit your lower lip again, and he couldn’t help but watch the way your teeth dug into your flesh. “I…” He saw the rest of your protest dissolve the same way the tracker had earlier, your eyes shifting from skeptical to excited until that’s all he saw in them. You laughed, then, lifting your hand and holding up one finger. “Alright. I’ll… yes. I’ll take you up on it. But on one condition.” 

Received. Will await contact. Over. 

Jack reached up to tap his glasses before removing them and stowing them in his pocket. He leaned in closer to you, concentrating on the quirk of your lips and the mixture of impulse and instinct in your eyes. “Let’s hear it.” 

“You let me buy you a drink once we get there.” You said it over the rim of your glass as you finished the last of it, eyes on him as you swallowed. 

An excuse to go out with a beautiful woman? That’s the condition? 

Jack flashed you a smile. “I think those terms are more than agreeable, ma’am.” 

–  –  –  

What the fuck am I doing? 

You half laughed at yourself, but at the same time there was something about Jack that made you feel like you could trust him. You were aware that that could be a danger in and of itself, but your gut told you he was a good man, and you had always felt that you were a good and accurate judge of character. 

How’s it any different from meeting a guy and getting in his car with him? It’s not, really. 

It was, and you knew it was, but you hadn’t been wrong yet. And as much as you wanted to get to Vegas to see your friends, you also found yourself wanting more time to get to know Jack. He was offering you the chance to do both of those things, and even though you were looking for one, you couldn’t find a downside. 

Pulling out your phone, you opened the group chat and sent one text before switching it to airplane mode. 

Change of plans. Met a (really good looking) pilot who was on his way to Vegas and offered me a ride. Sending a screenshot of his license number in case I go missing hahaha. Just kidding. I’ll be fine. See you soon!

You knew what they’d say when they saw your message. 

Jess would likely just send a thumbs up - or possibly a photo of herself giving a thumbs up. 

Maddy would emphasize your message and respond with something like Okay but don’t die! 

Kayla’s message would be a more whimsical reaction like Jesus take the wheel! (Wait do planes have wheels?) or Life is short, take rides from hot pilots when you can with the peace sign emoji. 

And Nat would send advice from several documentaries and podcasts she’d seen or listened to, about what to do if you were being abducted. 

You laughed to yourself again at the entire situation. 

“Alright, Jack.” You hopped down from your stool and picked up your bag. “I’m ready when you are.” 

He stood, taking his hat from the bartop and placing it on his head. “No time like the present.” Running his hands over his clothes, he smoothed out his suit jacket. “Follow me, darlin’. And give me that.” He pointed his chin towards your bag. “I’m a gentleman, remember? Where would my manners be if I let a lady carry her own bags?” 

You shook your head with a smile and handed over your carry-on, leaving you with only your purse. “I don’t know. You’re teaching me about gentlemen, remember?” 

You knew when you saw his eyes darken that you’d made the right call. 

“Oh, sugar. I remember. Few hours to Vegas. Plenty of time for me to teach you things.” With that he started walking and you were left to follow, slightly stunned at the implications in his tone and in his words. 

This is definitely going to be a trip to remember, that’s for sure. 

.

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know by sending a message or filling out the form on my masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @dihra-vesa @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @novemberrain221 @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @Noisynightmarepoetry

[alshaverpressbox]

the minnesota wild as High School Musical characters

did I take this too seriously? yes. have I spent the last week thinking about this? also yes. anyway, the context: we were assigned the wildcats by a swede. @babygirlspurgeon kept tagging things with HSM lyrics. @wildaboutmnhockey created the masterpiece video of the mn wild set to getcha head in the game. so now here I am!!! this has been meticulously constructed with the help of my friend who doesn't know anything about the wild beyond what I tell her (shoutout to zoe for being balls to the wall no matter what I throw at her! who else will discuss the misc. cunt levels of the wild players with me). anyway to make this easier on ourselves we constructed a reality wherein High School Musical is being recreated on ice & instead of basketball in the plot it's hockey, so this is NOT about who's most like a character etc (though that ended up being a large part of it anyway whoops), but who could embody them best in a production of it. since the cast for HSM is not...particularly large, I was really getting down into the weeds with minor parts to fit (almost) the whole roster in here, so most everyone has their moment!!! anyway. and lastly. I am just saying that mounting this show during intermissions could maybe fix the nightmare this season has been & bring the team together. because they are. after all. all in this together.

tldr: this is basically a fancast of HSM using only the minnesota wild. I am not explaining myself any further

***

Troy Bolton // Matt Boldy

look. we really had to waffle between many options for Troy and this is where we ended up. my thoughts on matt boldy have been semi-well documented at this point, so mr. white bread bimbo feels like an organic option for this role. I feel like he can really serve us some mid-range semi-insensitive high school jock realness + angst without trying too hard. plus: I feel like he'll play off Shawzy as Gabriella really well.

Gabriella Montez // Mason Shaw

for as fucking annoying as Gabriella is at points, there's an earnest authenticity there that shawzy so easily embodies. his "let's play hockey" moment from playoffs 2023........he has the emotional RANGE and will murder When There Was Me and You in cold blood. plus, much like gabriella does for troy in HSM, mason will be able to coax that emotional performance from boldy as troy with his whole do-it-for-shawzy energy. what else can be said!!! the boys love him!! so don't worry, shawzy!! you soon will be soaring. flying. and breaking free.

Sharpay Evans // Marcus Foligno

marcus foligno the man that you are. he can and WILL serve the cunt necessary to be Sharpay. he will commit body and soul to bringing this role to life, though we may have to adjust the line "evaporate, tall person" to be more appropriate. anyway. I would give SO much in this life to see moose perform Bop to the Top. who will fund this with me.

Ryan Evans // Mats Zuccarello

known funky little man mats zuccarello does SO WELL as Ryan in my mind. his dancing has been well documented so you KNOW he's gonna absolutely kill the game with those jazz squares (it's a crowd favorite! everybody loves a good jazz square), plus his affable, everyman, team-first energy is exactly what the role of ryan demands. also: the idea of him as ryan and foligno as sharpay....chef's kiss.

Chad Danforth // Ryan Hartman

hartzy...hype man for the boys...put him a series of shirts with chirpy slogans on them for my enjoyment please!!! then make him walk around with sports props for the entire production. anyway, hartzy gives me the requisite jock bro energy necessary to pull off chad's role, as well as the bitchiness needed to essentially sabotage something that is making his best buddy troy happy. plus. I'm just SAYING. given chad and ryan's dynamic in HSM2. I am eyeing him and zuccy with anticipation.

Taylor McKessie // Joel Eriksson Ek

he's going the distance. he's going for speed. he's being cast as the tenacious captain of the scholastic decathlon team. mr. september is nothing but committed to his craft and this seriousness and dedication is EXACTLY what we need for taylor. that being said, our boy jeek is up for some shenanigans given the right situation, so will he manufacture a situation to rudely disrupt the decathlon & basketball finals? but of course!!

Kelsi Nielsen // Connor Dewar

who ELSE is going to bring enough weird girl energy to the table?? I feel like dewey 2 would take this SO seriously and the role of kelsi, while at times beyond fucking annoying, demands nothing but sincerity and dedication. he wouldn't be able to NOT take this seriously. this man has also stated that he would be a writer if not for hockey, so we can really get some method acting up in this bitch. essentially: put a bowler hat on that beast and watch him go.

Ms. Darbus // Marc-Andre Fleury

this role had to be rotated in my mind a lot before settling on a casting choice. I mean, goalies are weird, and I feel like flower would bring jussssst enough bizarro energy that would perfectly drive a middle-aged thespian who, for some reason, allowed a high school student to write and mount a musical that seems to make little to no sense. maybe it's all part of a large prank. who knows.

Coach Bolton // Jake Middleton

I can't pretend this is anything other than typecasting, I'm so sorry. I can't look at middsy without being reminded of the dad from Inside Out, plus "the mustache is saying pushing 50" according to my friend. I can also perfectly envision middsy yelling WHAT ARE THOSE TWO DOING IN A TREE with great dedication, so. assigned dilf at HSM casting

Lucille Bolton // Jared Spurgeon

does spurge deserve a larger role? maybe. possibly. probably. but look: once we cast middsy as troy's dad, spurgeon was quick to follow as troy's mom. who are we to fight the natural sexual chemistry of these two? anyway. assigned milf at HSM casting

Jason Cross // Brandon Duhaime

typecast as dumb jock from a team of jocks. what does that say about you, mr. duhaime??? anyway, dewey 1 is really going to deliver on the clueless but loyal bro vibes here. as a bonus. a very IMPORTANT bonus. I have to note that at the end of All in this Together jason is the one to remove kelsi's bowler hat and help her shoot a basket in a VERY flirtatious manner. and I AM all about putting the deweys in that situation, so help me god.

Zeke Baylor // Frédérick Gaudreau

he IS a sweetheart!!!!! a sweetheart!!!!! someday you WILL make the perfect crème brûlée, freddy!!! & your boys will love you for it!!!!

Martha Cox // Brock Faber

the glasses are giving nerd. and then THIS is giving pop and lock and jam and break.

Skater Who Plays the Cello // Jon Merrill

do I need to explain this one????? c'mon. he's so believable as a skater kid and ALSO as someone who plays the cello. the duality of man is contained in jonny "vibes" merrill.

(tbc)

[mistydeyes]

Hi! Would you be interested in doing an angst piece for Gaz?

Gaz ends up in the hospital/med tent and meets reader. They get to know each other until he ships out and reader can't wait to see him again - until he ends up back in front of them with extremely severe injuries...

a/n: i am so sorry this took me so long to get to but i LOVED this request and wanted to do it justice! thank you again for submitting anon :) there are no happy endings here so buckle up

a modern day florence nightingale

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: Fresh out of training, your first assignment is at the famous Queen Elizabeth's Hospital in Birmingham. While most of your colleagues dread their first assignment, you find yourself slowing falling in love with your newest patient.

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x nurse!gn!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds and violence, ANGST

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

"Corporal, you have a last-minute transfer to Room 7," the chief nurse paged and you closed out your evening reports. "Thanks, Captain, I'll check in and collect the vitals for you," you replied and made your way down the quiet hall. You were fresh out of training and on your first assignment which met you had the absolute pleasure of collecting vitals and performing monotonous tasks. However, while some other corporals groaned at their placement, you enjoyed finally having hands-on, out-of-classroom experience. As you approached the door, you pulled the clipboard which identified the patient and some of the pertinent medical history. You knocked on the door gently and announced yourself. "Sergeant Garrick, welcome to Queen Elizabeth's," you said as the man sat up in bed, "hopefully you won't have that long of a stay." You said this to all your patients, while you enjoyed the friendly conversations, a hospital wasn't an ideal permanent stay.

"Thank you, Corporal," he replied and the room seemed to light up with his smile, "besides the shrapnel getting dug out of my leg, it's been a pleasant stay." You smiled at his pleasant attitude, it wasn't often you had a patient like this yes. "Well I am happy to hear it, Sergeant, if you don't mind can I take some vitals?" you asked as you loosened the stethoscope from your neck. "As long as you call me Kyle, I have no complaints, Corporal," he responded and shined another bright smile. "Okay, Kyle, just sit up for me and breathe normally," you said as you went to the bedside and manually pumped the blood pressure cuff, and listened for the Korotkoff sounds. "119/78, nearly perfect," you remarked before you held out his hand to place a pulse oximeter. Just like before, his oxygen levels and pulse were ideal. "Look at you Kyle, the perfect patient!," you proudly said, "I'd give you a lolly if I had one." "I try, Corporal, I try," he joked and you checked his vitals on the monitor to make sure he would sleep through the night.

"Alright final few questions, can you rate your pain on a scale of 1-10?" you asked as you pulled out your chart. "Um a 4?" he said with a questioning tone, "Definitely not the worst injury I've gotten but my thigh still hurts like hell." Your smile faltered a bit before you flipped through the pages to see what medications he was put on post-operation. "The medication will kick in soon, it's not the strongest stuff but it should minimize some of that pain," you explained and he nodded in compliance. "Does the area feel hot or pulsating?" you continued with your routine questions. "Dirty wording there," he joked and you couldn't help but let out a chuckle, "can't say I'm experiencing that though." "Just some routine things, trust me I wish I could rewrite a lot," you sighed before finishing your assessment. "That's all for now, do you need anything before you get some rest?" you asked before adjusting the lights of the room and reclining his bed. "Not that I can think of, have a goodnight, Nightingale," he smiled and you exited the room. You closed the door gently and walked back to your station. As you sat down to record Kyle's nightly intake you found yourself smiling in content. Nightingale, you liked the sound of that especially when it was accompanied by his gorgeous smile and eyes.

The next evening, you were happy to see that Kyle was your first official 1-on-1 patient for your residency. His physical assessment demonstrated he would likely be an easy patient to round on and most people appreciated his positive attitude and lack of signs of sun downing. You were ecstatic as most had been giving difficult patients that would test their profession. As you received report from the morning staff, you couldn't help but wonder how to announce the "good news" to him. You didn't want to seem weird as most patients would be concerned at the enthusiasm a nurse showed at their injuries and hospital stay.

As you entered his room, you decided to play it cool and explain it as if it was a formality. "Good evening, Nightengale," he said as you entered the room. "Evening to you as well, Kyle. I'm just here to check on how you're doing and also let you know that I will be your primary nurse for the remainder of your stay," you explained and gave him a small smile. "Better now that you're here," he joked and your face began to flush, "the morning staff woke me by pulling back the curtains and tugging on my arm!" "They're new as well, not necessarily known for their bedside manner," you commented and Kyle could hear the slight twinge of annoyance in your voice. "Oh you're new as well?" he questioned as he complied with the routine of collecting vitals. "Fresh out of training," you explained as you wrote down his oxygen levels and pulse, "this is my first assignment." After going through your typical questions and happily hearing that his pain had decreased substantially, he continued with the conversation. "You're doing a great job, I honestly thought you had been here for years," he commented and you couldn't help but admit you loved the flow of compliments. "I had some experience in civilian hospitals and general trauma care before I decided on the career change," you explained as you prepped him for bed. "I'm sure you'll be able to tell me all about it while I'm here," he said before settling into bed. "I'd like that a lot Kyle, goodnight," you whispered before leaving the room again.

"I'm not joking, I did have the best sutures," you exclaimed as Kyle laughed heartily. Somehow you had gotten on the topic of basic trauma procedures and he simply could not imagine you on the battlefield. "I don't believe it," he said through a string of laughs, "your bedside manner is too good for that." "Who wouldn't want that after a gunshot wound?" you exclaimed, "If I had a bullet lodged in my abdomen, the least someone could do would be to entertain me." Kyle was just about to reply when you were paged to another patient's room. "Well I'll see you for your medication rounds then, sleep well, Kyle," you said sadly as you walked out. "I await your visit, nurse," he jokingly saluted and you turned off the lights. The next few weeks progressed the same, you learned more about Kyle's life before the military and he teased you incessantly about your previous life as a nurse. You even managed to sneak in some takeout for him so he wouldn't have to suffer through the disgusting, bland rations from the dining hall.

As you ate the buffet of Chinese takeout and looked at Kyle slurping the noodles, it was clear neither one of you wanted your time to end. You were cleaning up when you felt his gaze on you. "I think you have something on your cheek," he said and beckoned you to come closer. You felt his warm touch gently wipe away some excess sauce and linger on your face. Before you could speak, he took the moment to say something that caught you off-guard. "You look beautiful like this," he whispered and you could feel your cheeks turn pink. "You look so relaxed, not worrying about vitals and medications," he continued as he held your face softly. "Just wanted to say that," he finished and you felt his hand dropped. There was probably some manual somewhere that said what you did next was a dischargeable offense but you both didn't seem to care. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on your lips or your soft touch to his cheek but the way his lips felt against yours was worth any punishment. It was quick and gentle but you both pulled away with smiles plastered on your faces. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kyle," you whispered as you parted and shared another kiss before you exited the room.

The unit could tell that Kyle's appearance at Queen Elizabeth's changed your mood drastically. Maybe that's why no one told you of his discharge. You happily walked over to his room for an evening chat before you realized the bed was being stripped and prepped for another patient. "Sorry, must have gotten the wrong room," you sheepishly replied as the other nurses looked at you. You walked over to your commanding officer, the head nurse, to find out if there had been a room transfer. "Where's the patient in room 7?" you asked the head nurse. "Oh he was discharged earlier this morning," she replied, looking up briefly from the morning reports. You could feel your smile falter as she spoke. "Did he say where he was going?" you asked her, hoping for something, anything. "You know that information is confidential, Lieutenant," she replied and walked back to her station, leaving you along with a twinge of heartbreak.

Months went on without seeing Kyle. At first, you were saddened he left without saying anything but you gradually became angrier with each subsequent week. You went through all the stages of grief as you wished for any word from him. You thought you honestly had something special with him, he was your first patient after all. Were all the moments you had meaningless? You were at the boiling point when you saw, on your list of patients for the day, a Sergeant Kyle Garrick was in Room 15.

Needless to say, you were pissed when you stormed into the room. You finished your rounds for the day and angrily opened the door to Room 15. It was clear there was tension in the air as your gaze pierced Kyle. "Hey there, Nightingale" the man joked and you lost it. "'Hey there?' that's all I fucking get?" you said angrily. You didn't care who heard. "You sit in this bed for weeks, making me care about you, and then you fucking leave ONLY to come back here like this," you yelled as you eyed his leg casts, black eye, and IV drip. "Why the fuck are you acting like the one who got blown up?" he responded, anger rising in his tone. "I'm not one of your little girlfriends who is amazed that you're in the SAS, Kyle," you said viciously, you could feel hot tears run down your face. "I actually care about you and you fucking left me with nothing." With that, you walked out the door and turned to unleash a final comment. "I'll get another nurse to take care of your sorry ass" you choked out and shut the door on him.

[angeldelights-blog]

Im Autistic

I was diagnosed as Autistic just over a year ago now. I have moderate support needs but I wasn't diagnosed until I was an adult.

I was also given help at school but they just weren't sure why I needed the help. My parents made adjustments for everyday life like cutting out my tags in clothes, having a list of safe food, taking me out at more quite times so I didn't get overwhelmed.

I do a lot of the "sterotypical" traits of Autism but I feel that late diagnosed Autistic people who have moderate or high support needs aren't spoken about often and I guess this is my way of saying how I feel.

My assessment was confusing in the end, level 1 because I speak well but high support needs so basically in the middle. I need a lot of help in my dad to day life. I can't make phone calls without a meltdown but I was assigned a person to help but I can't afford them. Hospitals are funny if you email them even when you explain and having physical disabilities it's a battle to get both needs met. I speak well but most of my childhood I only spoke to my dad and mum about my special interest of communism, sociology and psychology... oh and cats! I still have a special interest in all of these including cats!

I have aggressive meltdowns, I have hurt before and I can't control them. I can't give eye contact and struggle when meeting new people. I need support. I do have a partner and he helps me all the time, he's amazing and supportive and helps me with my dad to day life.

I do stim but I am being taught to redirect my stimming to less harmful behaviours but finding fidget toys that feel right is hard

I use headphones as im sensitive to sound and always have been. This is a huge struggle for me.

I have around 100 squishmallows and soft toys but I wish I could have more but they cost a lot of money and being disabled you don't have a lot of spare money!

The soft toys I love! They feel so good on my skin, so soft and they make me happy.

I also happy flap as I call it, my partner says he knows when I'm happy because that's what I do and I don't even realise I'm doing it because it just happens.

I was bullied so much at school I have PTSD from it... I needed help with my maths as I have dyscalculia and I struggled in making friends so I was put in a group on how to make friends.

It's complex being diagnosed as an adult with higher support needs, not realising that all these people were already doing things in the background so I don't struggle as much.

I feel like I don't fully understand myself and I wish I could hide who I am at times. I wish I wasn't so obvious or didn't shutdown so people think I'm rude. I wish my headphones weren't seen as rude or that in childish to need communication cards or fidget toys. I wish I was seen as normal but I also understand the burden masking can cause for others. My only mask is a shutdown. .

So this is my experience as a late diagnosed moderate support needs adult and I think I'll post more as it was nice to get it all out...

[chiscribbs]

I found your Cloning Donnie idea and I was on my way to the bus. So~, out of both boredom and the thought not leaving my brain for- like- 2 hours, I started to draw out some part of the angst part.

Buuuuut, I don't know what they would talk about and I would like your help(if I am able to continue this) for what they should discuss...

Sooo~ would you be willing to help, or would you like it to be a surprise???? 👁👄👁

Asdfghjkl I'm flattered, thank you :'0

Also, I'm very sorry if I'm responding to this super late - I'm not in the habit of checking my inbox every day anymore and tumblr doesn't tell me when messages were sent asdfg.

Of course, I'd really love to see your personal interpretation of the scene! I realize that, without context, it could easily go a multitude of different ways and it's fun for me to see how other people's minds fill in the gaps. But if you want to know where my mind was at while drawing it, I'd be happy to talk a little bit about that, too. [Fair warning, tho: I'm not great at putting my thoughts into words? Which is generally why I opt to sketch them out instead. But I'll do my best and hopefully it'll make some sense lol.]

So - it's subject-to-change, depending on how the rest of the plot continues to work itself out in my brain, but for me - "Bad Feelings" Donnie opens up an opportunity to address some of Real Donnie's hidden fears/insecurities, the ones he doesn't like to acknowledge (hence the way the other Donnies react to this Donnie's presence, in particular.) Namely his struggles with relating his self-worth to usefulness and maybe how all the recent changes have likely been effecting him. Things that make him feel weak or less capable.

For instance: maybe he's having a hard time finding some stability now that all the constants in his life (save the big one, that being his family) have been challenged or taken away? Donnie's always been shown to have the hardest time adjusting to major changes, and they've been through a LOT of those lately (considering it's meant to take place after the movie). He doesn't often reach out or seek help in dealing with things, so I think it would be interesting to put him in a situation where that's really the only option. Leo has had similar struggles with self-worth and identity, as well as having to deal with the massive change of being assigned a leadership role, so these are things he can definitely relate to.

That's all I've really got at the moment. I'll leave it up to you to work out how they would go about discussing that and what the exact wording would be, if you decide to go this route at all. Regardless - I can't wait to see your version of the scene if/when you finish it! :>

[horrorslu7]

can you make a gunnar albright smut plz

Helloooo, of course I can! Turned out a bit angsty and very long sooo there's that. Hope you like it, though 🩷🫶🏻

Why'd you only call me when you're high?

Summary: You weren't good enough to be Gunnar's partner, but you were good enough for him to call you at 3 am after throwing a party.

Pairing: Gunnar Albright x Fem!reader.

Trigger warnings: Toxic relationship.

You met Gunnar when you started going to his prestigious private school like a year ago.

Your parents were rich but they were "new money" rich, obviously to you that didn't matter. Money is money and you must definitely had way more than before.

The people at your school had this general idea that almost everyone seemed to share that you might be like them economically wise but status wise you weren't even close, whatever that meant.

And by most people at your school I mean all of Gunnar's friends. He said he thought the same, and at the beginning he did. He looked at you and saw a rich but most definitely "inferior" girl.

You couldn't give less of a fuck being completely honest, you were too busy trying to adjust to this new world of money and better education to care about what some rich pricks had to say about you. But eventually, it caught up to you.

They weren't mean to you directly most times, but you could hear the laughs when you walked by and heard the whispers they said behind you in class. And let's not forget their disgusted glares directed at you when you walked in any room they were in.

Gunnar didn't have any intention of having a friendship with you, let alone having feelings for you. But you can't help who you fall for.

And you weren't happy about liking him either, but sadly, you did. And if someone ended up the most hurt out of your "relationship," it was most definitely you.

You and Gunnar first interacted directly because of a history assignment. You two had a presentation to make together and sadly had no other choice but to hang out in order to do it properly.

Gunnar invited you to his house, mainly because he didn't want to go to yours, and he ended up quite captivated by your personality. You seemed quite sensitive but also straightforward and quite careless in some aspects.

You were different from his friends and he quite liked it. With time, you two ended up having a bit of a hectic, secret, and mostly painful relationship.

If you could go back to that night, you two went to the bathroom of a party to make out and stop yourself, you would if it meant that now, you wouldn't be feeling sad and insecure.

One thing is knowing that some stupid pretentious rich kids don't like you and would never hang out with you, and another completely different thing is knowing that the boy you sneaked into your room late at night and talked about everything and anything for hours on end didn't want you to be seen with him. He made you question yourself all the time.

Was it really just the status that you lacked? Or did he not want to be seen with you for something else?

Every saturday night was the same, Gunnar would throw a party, he wouldn't invite you and you would find out because one of your friends, you wouldn't go even if you knew about the party and after it ended Gunnar would call you to invite you to his house or ask you if he could go to yours.

And you always told yourself that this time it would be different and it never was. At the beginning you would tell him no and that you're tired but he would insist and tell you how much he wants to see you and how parties don't mean anything if you're not there at the end.

But this time it was really different.

It was currently 3 a.m., and usually, Gunnar's parties wouldn't end this early, but this time it seemed to be different. He has been calling you for thirty minutes now.

It was kinda funny to imagine his face when you didn't pick up and imagine how angrier and preoccupied it got with every call. And also with every text, which weren't just a few.

You have been in your living room watching movies since midnight, when your parents left because of some party a friend from work was throwing. Your phone was next to you on the couch on silence mode. You have grown tired of your ring tone on the 4th call, and vibration mode got tiring in the 7th call.

You had one foot up on the couch and the other hanging, not quite reaching the carpet. Your eyes were fixated on the screen, but your mind was somewhere else.

That was until you saw a light reflect on the shut curtains of your living room along with an engine of a car getting closer to your house and then stopping completely.

You got up thinking it must be your parents, hearing the quite aggressive knocks on the door once you got closer, you opened it being a bit weirded out and upon seeing Gunnar your face completely changed.

"Good to know you're still alive." He said with venom laced on his words when you opened the door. His gaze was quite dark.

"Yeah, well, I don't stop living when I'm not talking to you, much to your disbelief." You said with the same venomous tone.

Seeing Gunnar angry made you have this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you were too mad to think about that.

He rolled his eyes at your words and entered your house, pushing past you. "I was concerned, you know? Why weren't you answering my calls?"

"Why do you think you have the right to enter my house uninvited?" You asked and then hesitantly closed the door.

"When you sneak me in, I'm also not invited, and you don't seem to care." He smiled at you with that little smile he did when he was right and wanted to rub it in your face.

"Yeah, but those times I want to see you, and right now I don't, in case you didn't get the memo." Your eyes full of resentment never left his.

"I know that, I would like to know why if you don't mind."

"Because I'm tired of you being ashamed of me. You think you have all the rights in the world to just use me whenever you want and then pretend you don't know me in front of your friends? I'm done." It felt weird but liberating to finally say that. It has been bottled up for so long that you even got used to not saying it.

His gaze softened, and his eyes went from being full of anger and concern to being full of guilt and regret.

"I'm not ashamed of you, I just don't know how to tell them yet." He went silent for a second. You could see his eyes study you silently as his brain debated on what he was willing to do. "If what you really want is for me to tell them that we're together, then I will."

You scoffed. "And why should that mean something? You always say that Gunnar, and you never tell them."

It was true. The topic has come up on conversations before, and he always said that he would tell his friends about you two, but he never did. He would just participate less and less in the hate his friends would direct your way in conversations.

And you always thought maybe he'll actually come clean, except this time. And he proved you wrong.

His hands went straight to the pocket of his jeans reaching for his phone. Taking it in his hands, he opened the group chat he had with his friends and started typing.

Your expression changed to a puzzled one since you couldn't really see what was on his screen. "What are you doing?" You said in a much calmer tone that before but still with this hint of anger notable.

"What I should've done before." He said, finishing the text and sending it.

After that, he showed you the screen where you could clearly see the name of the group chat and his text, which said that you and him were dating for a while now and he didn't care if they wanted to stop being friends because of that but thought they should know.

"Here, you can see for yourself who's in the group chat." He pressed on his screen, and before he could show you, you kissed him passionately, placing your hands on his face softly.

The kiss caught Gunnar out off guard, but he quickly kissed back and shoved his phone back in his pocket so he could place his hands on your waist. You could taste the trace of liquor on his lips, but you didn't really care. It kind of added to the heat of the moment and turned you on a bit if you were being honest.

Slowly, he started to guide you to the living room. The back of your legs ended up pressed in the corner of the sofa that you were sitting on a few minutes ago. He pushed you softly, making you fall to the sofa, your head ending a few inches away from your phone.

Gunnar looked at it and then took it. "I thought you may have thrown it away." He joked and looked at you with a smirk on his lips before throwing the phone at the coffee table carelessly.

Your eyes kind of popped in surprise. "Hey! Be cautious, I still need that thing." You said, looking at him with a half joking half serious look.

"I can always buy you a new one." He joked cockily before kissing you again.

One of his hands was next to your head on the sofa while the other slowly made its way from caressing your cheek to hugging your neck. Your hands also traveled his body, going from his neck and the back of his head to his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it.

Your skin was way more warm than his, and his cold touch made you shiver slightly as it made his way down your body. He moved his hand from your neck to under your pj's top, caressing your ribs slowly, and then moving to play with the waistband of your shorts.

He played with them for a bit and then looked at you for approval to keep going. You looked at him with pleading eyes and with a breathy voice asked him to please not stop.

So he obeyed. He took off your shorts and then went back to your top, also taking it off.

His familar and very slightly dry lips from the cold left kisses on your chest, and then leaving meaningful hickeys on your chest, clavicle, and neck. He wanted everyone to know someone marked you, and he would make sure they knew that someone was him and no one else.

He lowered himself slowly, leaving behind a trail of kisses from your gorgeous chest, passing your abdomen, and then getting to your hips. His hands circled them quite harshly, probably leaving bruises for tomorrow, the slight pain making you more excited and full of anticipation.

Gunnar ended up kneeling on the floor, his face in between your legs, which he opened slowly after taking off your underwear. His kisses now went from the inside of one of your thighs to the other.

It was quite a sight to see. His hair was messy thanks to your desperate hands, his shirt almost completely unbuttoned, his veiny hands caressing your thighs, and his eyes going from your face to in-between your legs.

He started to accelerate his pace, making you a moaning mess and making you beg for more. The pit of your stomach became tight as your orgasm was closer, and he took advantage of that making his pace slower.

After a few more kisses, when he thought you had enough, he started very slowly circling your clit with his tongue. His fingers slowly entered you, making you moan and throw your head back.

At that moment, you thought you could most definitely forgive him anything. He was the only person who could make you feel that way.

Your moans transformed into groans, and after edging you for a bit, Gunnar decided he had enough for now. And picked up his pace again, making you come harshly moaning his name.

[winterchimez]

Beast in the Beauty - Chapter 4

pairing: profiler Hyunjae x detective f!reader 

genre & warnings: jack the ripper au, angst, violence, thriller, crime, mentions of prostitution, graphic description of death, major characters death, alcohol, some fluff

word count: 2,614

a/n: there’s a scene where the ripper’s letter is revealed where it might be disturbing for some readers, so i’ll put a 🌨️ at the beginning if you wish to skip it. 

series masterlist 

"Should I be happy about this Y/N?”

Eric clearly looked conflicted, because he was the one Selene chose to have the role-play situation with in the streets of Whitechapel. 

“Oh come on, it can't be too bad. Besides, you’re close to Selene and it’s only natural for her to pick you as the lucky one, counting out Haknyeon otherwise his fiancé wouldn’t let him live to see tomorrow that is.”

Your friend was clearly having second thoughts, ironic how a few hours ago he was all enthusiastic about encouraging the single men in the office to take up the offer. You can’t help but to laugh a bit. 

Oh Eric, poor little fella. 

Once Selene arrived at the office around 30 minutes before midnight, Chief Ayden wasted no time in briefing everybody about the deal. Apparently, Hyunjae was also involved in assigning everyone their own designated roles. The focus area was in between George Yard and Foster’s Street, as it was the killer’s active area as proven from the previous two cases. 

Eric and Selene were to be placed near Miller’s Court, it was in the more isolated area of Dorset Street, but perfect to catch on the killer if he were to strike again tonight. 

Both Hyunjae and Haknyeon were then stationed near where Eric and Selene were, in case the killer appears there will be more than enough detectives to jump right in for the arrest. You, on the other hand, was stationed at the entrance to Dorset Street, mainly because both Eric and Haknyeon refused to let you step foot near anywhere that was dark and unsafe, especially in the alleyways. 

You were definitely sulky for a bit, but decided to think straight and to believe that the killer could enter this entrance area at all times, so it was also a good spot for you to catch Jack himself red-handed if needed. A few more detectives were called in for this mission, and they were then scattered throughout the remaining areas for the stakeout mission. 

Once everyone was ready, all of you wasted no time in heading out to each of your designated spots. Right before you were about to part ways with everyone, Hyunjae decides to stop you by patting you on your shoulders, making you turn behind to face the male himself. 

“Here, take this.”

He hands you a rose gold pendant that has the shape of a shell at the end. You were confused. “What is this for?” You asked.

“Just in case anything happens, you can use this to give us a signal. Blow into the shell and I’ll be coming right to you before you know it. Also consider this as my gift to you.” He winks.

You somehow felt rest-assured with this simple gesture, not gonna lie you sure were a bit nervous and afraid of being part of this stakeout mission, especially when you have a high likelihood of meeting the killer in person. It is good to know that someone has your back nearby.

“Thank you Hyunjae, I appreciate that a lot. Please be safe out there.”

“Likewise Y/N. I’ll see you later.” 

It was already twenty minutes past midnight, and somehow the streets were surprisingly quiet. There weren’t too many prostitutes and clients out for the night, and somehow this silent feeling makes it even more eerie.

Eric and Selene have already been in their position for quite a while now, but the poor man has yet to adjust himself with whatever that he was supposed to do. 

“You’re cute Eric. I didn’t know you were shy when it came down to these things. Don’t worry I won’t bite you too much.” Selene giggled as she placed one of her palms onto his chest, moving it up ever so slightly. 

“Umm.. am I supposed to be happy about that?” The boy clearly had his face fully red-flushed, praying to the heavens that this killer would just appear any time right now so that all of these could be over with. 

Well apparently, it seems that Eric’s wishes had come true way sooner than expected. 

Minutes passed and a sinister loud scream was coming near the west side of Miller’s Court. Haknyeon’s direction. 

Eric and Selene wasted no time running towards the source of the scream. It should only take them two minutes to reach the designated spot, but somehow the situation that they were in made it felt like eternity. They could only hope that whoever that was is alright.

Or so they thought. 

They were too late. Haknyeon was nowhere to be seen, and the third victim was there lying in their own pool of blood. 

Selene let out a loud, sharp, piercing cry. It was too much for her to bear and witness. Eric immediately pulled her into his chest, trying to comfort her and to further avoid presenting the horrible sight right in front of Selene’s eyes anymore. You and the other detectives arrived a few minutes later, and were too flabbergasted with the sight beyond. 

This victim had far more gruesome wounds then the previous two, it was horrendous to say the least. To see that there were still fresh tears dripping down the sides of the victim’s eyes, anyone could tell that she hadn't been dead for long. 

Rage filled you and you balled up your fists, and you sprinted off into the dark alleyways, ignoring Eric’s screams of begging for you to come back. 

You couldn’t let the killer get away anymore. Not when all of you were this close to catching him red-handed. He was right in your fingertips. 

As the victim had just passed, you were certain that the killer still had to be somewhere nearby. Whitechapel was like a maze, and to truly escape from this district requires at least a good ten to fifteen minutes, even if one was familiar with all the routes and shortcuts available. 

You continued to run, not caring if you were out of breath, you had to catch the killer. 

As if the heaven’s heard your cry, you spotted an individual wearing a dark cape with a top hat from afar, looking right at your direction. It was dark and there was a distance between you two, so you couldn’t really make out his facial features. 

But one thing is for sure you were certain that you caught him smiling at you under the moonlight. 

With that, he turned on his heel to the opposite direction and took off.

“Stop!” You screamed and shouted as much as you could while chasing the individual. Boy, he sure was quick, if he wasn’t a murderer he could very well be an athlete competing for a triathlon. 

You know deep down that there is only a ten percent chance of you catching up with him, but you had to try nonetheless. 

Sure enough, the killer had put too much of a distance between you two, and you have lost sight of him after turning into one of the corners. You were frustrated, and you stomped your feet right into the ground. 

If only you were fast enough, Y/N. It was your one and only chance. You can’t help but to blame yourself for it. 

Instead of returning straight back to the crime scene, you decided to just sit down and catch a quick breather for a moment. 

Just then, you heard some shuffling noises coming closer to your direction.

Is the killer back to play cat and mouse with you?

You mentally and physically braced yourself of what’s to come, and you immediately took out your gun and aimed it into the direction where the source of the shuffling noises came from. Just as you were about to pull the trigger, the familiar voice made you lower down your gun.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

It was Hyunjae. 

“I could also ask you the same thing. Weren’t you at your spot?”

“I was. But then Haknyeon was the first to find the body and he took off running. Assuming he saw the killer himself I catch up with him to help, but the both of us got separated halfway, and that’s when I found you here now.”

You felt like your whole energy was sucked out from you, and you immediately slumped yourself down the ground, causing the male to jump right in to catch you in his arms. You covered both of your palms on your face, wishing all of this nightmare to be over with. 

All of you wasted no time in retreating back into the office after the incident. Selene was clearly extremely shaken up, which caused you to pull out your one and only cozy throw from beneath your drawers and draped it over her shoulders while giving her a warm cup of tea. You continued to stay by her side, taking her into your embrace as the men got onto sorting out the investigation reports. 

It was obvious that everyone was bummed by the fact that this stake out mission was a failure. Adding salt to the wound, you literally had an entire police force unit surrounding the designated area and yet you’ve let the killer slip out entirely from literally the palm of your hands. 

You couldn’t blame Chief Ayden’s frustration as he banged his fist right onto the hard concrete table and laid his head down low. He couldn’t keep living on with this nightmare and trauma any longer. 

You knew that all of you had to come up with an even better strategy, one that would actually place the killer in a tight pitch, where he would have no chance of escape. One that will not let the killer outsmart you. One that will put a stop to this sick game he was playing. 

In the midst of everyone’s frustration, one of the detectives from the forensics team suddenly came running into the station, clearly out of breath. 

As he tries his best to catch his breath, the young lad looks into the eyes of every single detective in the room, including you. In his hand holds a single envelope, with a good amount of blood stains surrounding it. Judging by the looks on his face, it was clear that he had read the contents of it and was horrified by what he found. 

Chief Ayden grabs hold of the envelope and places it right in the middle of the table. Your responsible friend, Eric, began to read the letter aloud, word by word. 

🌨️

Dearest boss,

It has been a week since I have resumed my activities and I can’t tell you how this was one of the best decisions that I have ever made. 

The flame that was once gone has now reignited and it has given me a whole new motivation to start killing again. 

Now that I am back from my slumber, let me set my current situation for you as I sit on my dining table to write this letter. 

My knives are now sharper than ever, and they truly give the best incisions I’ve ever seen. 

I gave the two ladies no time to squeal, for my sharp knife is capable of ending a life within seconds. 

Oh, but by the time this letter gets to you there is probably already a third victim. Ha ha. 

I assure you that for my next victim, I shall grant you a better performance. Perhaps I should take a body part and keep it as a souvenir? Or maybe I would be a dear and wrap it up nicely to post it to the police station instead. Maybe you should help me decide. 

I highly suggest that you publish my letter on the news. That way when the public realises how capable I am, the terror and horror in their eyes will most definitely give me the motivation and encouragement I need to find my fourth victim quicker don’t you think? 

Lastly, fyi. If you think I am somehow in relation to having medical knowledge because of how I am able to dissect the victims and such a perfect manner just like in the operation rooms, then you’re far more than ever to put me behind bars. 

Yours truly,

Jack The Ripper.

You gagged at how horrendous the letter was. You were glad that you covered Selene's ears this whole time, otherwise you were gonna have to deal with her screams till dawn, not that you could blame her though. 

The rest were the same. Disgust and horror was plastered all across their faces. 

This monster, Jack The Ripper, was truly the devil himself. 

With the killer’s handwritten letter in the police’s hands, the sudden realisation of fear sinks into every single one of you. The killer was going to strike again. And this time, it may be far quicker than the previous cases.

The police had to act quickly. But how on earth are you going to be able to do that when you have nothing to move forward with?

Yes, you have admitted to everyone that you came in contact with the killer face-to-face. But it was too dark to truly make out his facial features while you were on the run trying your best to catch the killer, and Haknyeon experienced the same thing right before you did. 

You were all beginning to sink into your seats, feeling dejected. That is until the forensics member further continues to present his findings from the case.

“We’re lucky this time. The killer was sloppy enough to leave one strand of hair behind.”

You literally almost jumped up from your chair in excitement, like you’ve won the lottery or something. And seemingly the rest of the team does the same. You wasted no time in examining the hair itself, and all of you sure were surprised with what it was. 

It was… blonde. 

Definitely not a colour you would’ve expected especially when all eye-witnesses including yourself have seen nothing but pure black and darkness when you’ve encountered the devil himself.

The forensics team had no time to waste and went straight into beginning the analysing process of the hair strand itself. The process will take at least a good three days, fastest, provided if everything goes well and smoothly throughout the entire procedure. In the meantime, the police have to definitely begin planning their next strategy. 

“So Chief Ayden, do you plan to publish the letter first thing in the morning?” Eric asked the superior man himself even knowing damn well what his answer might be.

“The last thing I wanna do is to send London off in a much more panic state than it already is. And I have definitely learnt it the hard way 30 years ago.”

Exactly. The original Jack The Ripper letter was indeed published in the papers right on the next morning Scotland Yard had received it. It definitely wasn’t the smartest decision the law enforcement has ever made. 

“The letter stays put and is safe in my office. Other than us, nobody else should be aware of the contents and the existence of this threat. Do you hear me?” Chief Ayden has definitely made it loud and clear, and the rest of you agreed with him without any opposition. 

“In the meantime, send more men on patrols around the streets and areas of interest, increase the security while keeping the public safe, especially the prostitutes. Await for my next instructions and continue to gather more intel as you go.” 

“We will make our next big move once we know the identity of the strand of blonde hair.” 

main masterlist

[antoncore]

yeah… i don’t like the heat either, ur right it’s difficult to enjoy things and i am very sensitive to temperature sometimes and have a hard time adjusting so i swear SO much and i just feel gross all the time :(

no pressure to respond with anything really, i’m just rambling but if riize were billionaires living in LA… i totally see someone like eunseok as a property developer.. or sungchan as the CEO of something or other… and i was trying to think about anton and maybe like a big time producer of some kind? like he has his own record label.. there was smth else i was thinking of too but now i’ve forgotten.

thinking of billionaire anton not being as well known for always having girls on his arm… women want him, for sure, but he’s been working on his business mainly, but the he meets you<33 idk

and on a soft note like, anton buying you expensive things, a new dress for every occasion, a new bag just because he loves you<33 taking you to all sorts of events with him because he wants everyone to see how beautiful you are and know how much he adores you<3 and maybe you’ve never really had aspirations before but he’s supportive of getting you started with whatever your heart desires to try! or, you’ve been working hard on your degree but with his support (emotionally and money ofc) you’re able to finally pursue what you’ve been wanting to do!

when he finally proposes to you he’d buy you the biggest ring🤭🤭 it’s so perfect and shiny and you’d have so many people fawning and gaggling and being so jealous of u… you’d have to stay off ur phone a bit to ignore the tabloids talking smack about u and entertaining rumours but it’s fine, you could even have a private getaway to some beach house or cottage with your fiancé in the meantime

and idk on a more nsfw note, people would always be asking (think i got this from another anon but) how you make it fit? anton is sooo big, they just couldn’t imagine😅😅🤧 anton buying you sexy lingerie outfits to wear and wait for him to get home, telling you not to be impatient and touch yourself before he gets there or he won’t be touching you at all… if you do, he makes you finish yourself off while he watches, or makes you ride his thigh and keeps his hands on the bed, just watching you struggle to pleasure yourself

he’d buy you a hi tech panty vibe to wear when you go run errands or when you go out to dinner together, enjoying the way you squirm and shift in your seat, telling you to enjoy your food, don’t be snobby… but you’re sweating and your vision is blurring because you can feel your orgasm approaching fast but it’s at that point that he shuts the toy off completely, your knees bumping against the table making all the plates jump and biting back the groan that threatens to erupt from your throat

i don’t see anton as being that mean all the time but if he knows you like it and want that sometimes, he’d be more than happy to oblige.. he just wants to give you everything you want, even if that means treating you like a filthy slut

- 🧸 anon

i see your visions with the jobs you assigned!!! i see sungchan being a ceo of some tech/healthcare company while eunseok is the city’s most famous property developer.

anton rlly would spoil you, he just wants to shout out that he loves you from the top of his lungs. he would be so supportive no matter what!!! i can envision if you wanted to start up a business (like a cute little coffee shop) he’d help you through each step like looking for the space, planning the interior design, marketing etc. and it would be so successful that you were able to open a couple more branches and he’d be so proud of you!!

and i can so see having a private getaway with after he proposed, he wanted an excuse to get away from all the people talking and he also wanted to spoil you. he’d take you to a luxury resort where you could just relax and be in each other’s presence (and fuck in the hotel room…and the pool…and the hot tub)

speaking of lingerie i rlly believe anton is a fan of white/pastel, i think i’ve discussed this a couple times on here ISNSNSB and imagine if he came home to you using the new wand he got you. he’d just make you continue as he sat on a chair, not really saying much to ensure that you were entirely responsible for your own pleasure :( when you finally decided to give up/when you came, he’d give you a kiss on the forehead and call you his good girl.

and omg he’d be so evil using the panties on you, he loved watching you squirm like a cute little slut :( you’re struggling to even eat or move around and it’s just funny for him to watch you being so pathetic for him!!!

[sharky-the-idiot]

A GUIDE TO CARING FOR YOUR VANILLY

1. Design a pen. This is the most important part of keeping him safe! It must be secure and protected, but with recognisable aspects so it's easier for him to adjust. For example, I like to give him vanillan tiles, white lilies & gravestones for the memories <3

2. Place him in the pen. This one can be tricky! Vanillys enjoy walking, so it can be tough to track them down. This is partially why it's so necessary to keep an eye on them in the pen! Vanillys are very light, so picking them up and gently dropping him inside the pen is typically the preferred method of transport

3. Give him Nourishment. Make sure there are jellyberries in sight, but far enough out of reach that he doesn't eat too many & you can give them to him whenever you deem appropriate :)

4. Assign a guard. Someone focused & strong, who can keep your Vanilly protected & safe. Vanillys, for all their sweetness, unfortunately tend to have lots of enemies, so it's important to keep these away from the pen

5. Give him some company! Vanillys are sociable beings, and thrive with another cookie nearby to talk to. Your guard could double as a companion, but they're typically a little too busy with their job to have time to relax. Vanillys make excellent fathers to stray parentless children, but anyone who he knows and gets on well with is always a good bet too!

In the drastic situation of a Vanilly's escape, it is vital to look over these steps and figure out which has gone wrong. Sometimes, a little tough love is necessary; further limiting contact with (or simply eliminating) those who might help him get out, switching out some of the more comfortable aspects of his pen with practical ones, changing guards due to incompetence. Installing a moat can be helpful, and higher, pointer fences prevent climbing over them. You can also remind him of the dangers the outside world poses by installing the graves of deceased loved ones nearby. Above all else, it's important to identify the problem and find the solution!

Here at Vanilly Pens, we want only what is best for your Vanilly. You can count on us to keep him safe, protected & (eventually) happy. For further information on how to care for these wonderful cookies, please contact @lilacthebooklover on tumblr.com

lilac I love you /p but I am not doing any of that.. my Vanilly is happy as is!!

[3xm-draconic]

The Jester and The Courier: a wild wasteland love

Chapter 16: Hellfire. 

Tomorrow came and everyone prepped to surprise Myrtle with a big birthday breakfast. Joshua whent up to her door to knock but heard…noises coming from her room…copulate noises…he immediately left.

“Why haven't you gotten her up yet!?” Boone mumbled as he adjusted his party hat, Joshua trying his best to hold in embarrassed laughter “she’s…ehem…currently occupied ”, “WITH WHAT?” Boone annoyedly hissed.

Boone whent to her door, “I wouldn’t” Raul said “I whent to go get her up, there is a sock on the doorknob”, “What?!” Boone gasped, he looked over at the door and sure enough there was one of her socks on the doorknob.

Boone grumbled “Ok…THAT does it!”, Boone opened the door…

“WAKEY WAKEY TIME FOR SCHOOL!” he screamed, Cicero and Myrtle who were bathing in the afterglow suddenly started to panic at the intrusion. Cicero screamed, scrambled and flopped out of the bed and Myrtle yelled at Boone “EH YO WHAT THE FUCK MAN!?”

Boone laughed “HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Now get the fuck out of bed and come open your presents” he laughed, he looked at Cicero with an angry “Iam watching you”  look.

Myrtle sighed and looked over at Cicero, they both started to laugh…

“~Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday-happy birthday dear Myrt!, Happy birthday to you!~” they all sang as they brought out a huge stack of birthday cake flavored flapjacks, “thanks guys, you are the best!” Myrtle smiled.

Myrtle sat down to eat when the doorbell to her room rang, Jane opened the door and an NCR soldier walked inside “Miss Merminns?”, “oh hey privet Kowalski, long time no see” she grinned, the man smiled sadly “I wish I would have come on better circumstances, you are no doubt a fine asset to the NCR but we have…a problem…with you”, Myrtle paused “what?...what did I do?!”

Her companions started to get ancy…especially Boone and Cicero…

“I’am going to have to arrest you for manslaughter”, “WHAT?” Myrtle gasped, “a scouting party found boot prints and fingerprints matching yours at a massacre scene. Jackal gang members may be vile but they did not deserve whatever you did…or did not…do, there is still debate on if it was you who committed such a crime seeing as how this doesn't fit you. Hsu is assigning you a lawyer and you are expected to be in court tomorrow at 0: 700. But for now you ae to be taken into NCR custody”

Her companions looked amongst themselves and at her “Myrt?” Boone looked at her agasped “what did you and Cicero do last night?...”

(Camp McCarran holding cells)

“All we did was go out, shoot some geckos…and…well” Myrtle flusteredly looked to Casidy and Raul from behind the bars, “fucked like a paire of jackrabbits?” Cassidy mumbled, Myrtle nodded and sighed…she hated lying to her friends…but she didn’t want Cicero to get into trouble with her…

“Iam sure this is something by the legion, some kind of tactic to make you look bad” Ulysses grumbled, “we’ll get to the bottom of it, Pumpkin” Lily assured her. Boone, Gannon and Joshua meanwhile were in the concourse with Cicero…

“So all you did was hunt?” Boone muttered curiously, “mm hmm” Cicero innocently nodded, “what did you hunt?” Gannon asked as he eyed Cicero suspiciously, “umm…geckos…” Cicero shrugged as he sipped on a glass of water.

Joshua closed his book and sighed…

“Can I have a moment alone with our friend here?”, Boone and Gannon looked at one another and then to him “you sure?”, “yes I am”, Boone nodded and Gannon and him left to go get food.

  “Cicero…” his gravelly voice was not loud or harsh…but instead…calm “I know”, Cicero nearly did a spit take “Know? Know what?”, “I know about Myrtle’s…tendencies…” the man leaned in “I know about her past…about the voice in her head” Joshua sighed “...I know what she’s done…”

Cicero grew quiet, “I hoped that my words, teachings and prayer would help her…but I can see that it has not improved her situation and neither has Usanagi’s treatment and therapy…I fear for her” Joshua looked down into his glass of soda “I feared what she would do…what she has done…” Joshua’s dark eyes looked directly into Cicero’s…

“And I know YOU know too…”

“well…Cicero dose…but she told me as we were hunting geckos…”, Joshua sighed again…“I hate liars, Cicero…” he set his half empty drink down “I know because I found out one night…”

“We were out in the Mojave. She snuck away from camp and I followed wondering where she was going…she snuck down to a small encampment where a solitary legionnaire was…poor man…he for all his evils…did not deserve what she did to him. When she saw me and realized I had bore witness to her actions…she broke down…she begged me not to tell the others, to tell them what she really is…” Joshua looked around “I see the NCR, New Vegas and others idolize her as a savior, as a hero…when she herself thinks she is a monster…when I know she is but a sad broken woman”.

He sipped a little more on his drink…

“Which brings me to you…Myrt would not tell anyone of her murderous nature…unless they either saw her…or…encouraged her” he eyed him “now if you are telling me the truth and you two did hunt geckos…she might have slipped away from you and committed her crime…or” he was nearly finished with his cup “you two did it together…”

Cicero was in a cold sweat “what will you do to Cicero if you think he encouraged her?...”, “well…as soon as I am finished with my drink…I’am going to shoot you…I don’t care if Myrtle likes you, you are a bad influence on her and I will introduce you to my god very, very soon…” his cup had barely a swig left, “what if Cicero is innocent? How can he prove he is not guilty!” he whimpered.

Joshua sighed “...if you are innocent, after I finish my drink I’ll wait and give you 10 seconds…if they come through the concourse doors with good news then it is by an act of god himself you live jester…if not”, Cicero heard him draw a gun under the table, “you are dead funny man…”

Cicero held his breath as Joshua started counting…

“10…

9…

8…”

Cicero looked at the doors, he began to silently pray to Sithis…

“7…

6…

5…”

Cicero could hear his heart thudding in his chest like the pounding of the drums of war!

“4…

3…

2…”

Cicero heard the gun’s safety click off…

“Joshua, Boone, Gannon!” cried an officer as he ran up to them “hey I’am glad I found you, hey Myrt’s free to go”, “what?” Joshua pondered as he stowed away his gun, “fingerprints came back wrong, it was an accident that hers got mixed up in with another file”, Joshua was quiet and glaring at Cicero with Boone and Gannon “thank you” he nodded to the officer “Well now Cicero, looks like I was wrong…”

Cicero breathed a heavy sigh of relief…

(Back at the 38)

Everyone was in bed but Myrtle…she looked out over Vegas through the big windows…she sighed and looked up to the night sky, into the dark void beyond…

“~Beata Maria, you know I am but a mortal woman and of my faith I am justly proud. Beata Maria, you know I'm not much purer than The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd. So tell me, Maria, why do I feel it here, Bloodlust? Why does it smolder and scorch my soul? I feel it, I see it! The love to see the sun glistening off crimson pools is blazing in me out of all control~”

“~Like fire

Hellfire

This fire in my skin

This burning desire

Is turning me to sin~”

She turned to her fireplace 

“~Is it my fault”

Am I to blame?

Who has sent this flame?”

If it's not my fault?

If it’s in God's plan…

Iam I the Devil he made so much stronger than a man?~”

She looked down at her gun, the one that bore the image of the holy virgin on it…

“~Protect me, Maria

Don't let this siren cast it’s spell

Don't let the fire sear my flesh and bone

Destroy this part of me

And let it taste the fires of hell

Or else let me know I am not in the wrong!~”

She sat down defeated…and looked at her gun…

“~Hellfire

Darkfire

Now it's my turn

I must choose correctly or my pyre

Let me be right or I will burn!

….

God have mercy on me

…

Oh please God have mercy on me

…

But I will be right

Or I will burn~”

[avocado-frog]

Happy STS! (Shh, I'm a day behind.) And because of that, today's a free space! Use it to ramble as you please! ♥️

As I say on the sts asks that I sometimes answer a day late, the S in sts stands for Sunday :)

The other day I deleted like five chapters (i had only WRITTEN one, but there were five outlined) because the arc was Too hard to write so I changed my mind. Now my outline + schedule are off so I've been adjusting that. The good news is that I don't have a chapter count of 55 anymore.

This is going to accidentally be the Here's How I Outline ask but that's okay I got a free space + I can do whatever I want

SO my step one is that i have a document for my basic outlines which include the character POV(s), chapter title, word count, and a few sentences, with a few more details. I do this part all in one go. Once I have an idea of how many chapters I'm going to have, I try and make it a number divisible by three (30 in forget me not, 21 in dahlia) (rosemary has five parts because I rolled a negative in Planning Ahead skills and had 11 characters instead of 12) so now that I have the parts divided I attach a character to it. I usually already have a flower in mind to attach to the character as well. I write my fun little flower paragraphs here :)

Step two is when I add all the chapters for part 1 (or 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 etc) with the Basic Outline. This is where I make my Real Outline for each chapter. I usually do this part in one go as well, or at least until I get bored. The Real Outline includes specific details, bits of dialogue that I want to remember, and stuff like that. I like to have this at a ratio depending on the word count I already assigned the chapter. If I want the word count to be 5,000, then the Real Outline is 500 words long. I'd explain my Ratio if I was good at explaining math concepts. but I'm not.

Step three is Draft 1. I do this part as if I am making a Guy. Draft one is Skeleton. Part 1 is the aforementioned Make the Outline a Certain Length. Part 2 is when I start writing the chapter, deleting parts of the outline as I write them until I have no outline left

Step four is when I put the recently outlined chapters on my Big Timeline that has everything on it- including character birth dates, dates of chapters, things included in dated flashback scenes, etc. Basically everything that I need to keep consistent/so that I don't have to go through 50 chapters to see how long ago something was. It's very helpful I strongly recommend having a Big TImeline actually. If anyone ever asks what my writing advice is it'd be to have a Big Timeline

Step five is Draft 2!!! This is where things have a tendency to get a little bit messy for me because I'm not bound by the laws of writing chapters in order anymore and the chapters that I like will probably be finished faster. Draft 2 is what I consider the Meat of my guy that I am creating. Draft 2 part 3 is where I add to each chapter to complete the Word Goal (unless I really just do not want to, or if it's close enough/don't have anything to add) (this step is optional) and Draft 2 part 4 is when I consider the chapter mostly done. This is where I just reread it and make sure everything is in order. I tend to skip this one too because I reread chapters when I'm editing anyway

Step six is my editing step. I don't know why I keep my editing checklist on a whole different thing but I Do. I'm actually going to move it right now really quick. Editing: 1st read through: italicize/mark with "/" (i post on ao3 sometimes and it doesn't automatically italicize) 2nd read through: check for spelling errors/maybe add or delete sentences 3rd read through: look for trigger warnings and write them down somewhere 4th read through: inconsistencies (write down the things that need to be consistent) check timeline if needed (3rd and 4th usually end up getting combined) 5th read through: read again

After I've waited a week, I repeat the 2nd and 5th part of the editing, and THEN the chapter is done and I have created a Guy.

Here's how they're differentiated:

I might've made that more complicated than it needed to be but it makes sense to me lol. Obviously this doesn't work for everyone and etc

[mandiemon3]

The Best Revenge is Living Well- Chapter 12

The captains were the last to return to the ship that night. They grinned and laughed, passing jokes back and forth as they boarded the ship, Lucius trailing a few feet behind them. The sun was still about an hour away from setting, starting its descent down towards the sea behind them, but the crew had all returned as soon as they could, most of them hoping to get early shore leave if they were able to show their captains that they had completed their assigned tasks. They had all stayed on deck, playing cards, crafting, or talking to kill time as they waited for their captains’ return.

“Ah, Mo!” Stede looked surprised to see them on board, leaning against the mainmast as they stared out over the water. They turned slowly as they realized they were being spoken to. “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Have a happy reunion?”

Mo stared blankly, not sure how to respond. Stede’s good-natured smile began to fade as his crew member’s face flushed, their hands clenching as their breathing sped up. Suddenly, they felt like they couldn’t breathe. They could vaguely hear the muffled sounds of speech around them over the roaring of the blood in their ears, and hazily noticed someone stepping closer to them as their vision grew spotty. They flinched as someone touched their shoulder from out of their line of vision. Before they knew it, they had drawn their knife, spinning to hold it against the throat of their attacker. They panted, nearing hyperventilation, as they blinked rapidly, trying to force their eyes to come back into focus. Slowly their vision began to adjust, hitting them with a second wave of fear when they recognized that the figure they were holding at knifepoint was Blackbeard. His eyes were calm, maybe even slightly amused, and he held his hands out to the sides in a calming pose.

Mo gasped, dropping their hand back down to their side as they realized what they had done. Their stomach lurched violently, and they stumbled to the side of the ship, clutching onto the railing for dear life as they emptied their stomach into the sea. Once they had expelled all of their stomach’s contents, they turned, pressing their back to the railing of the ship, and slid down it to sit. They pulled their legs up to their chest, doing their best to level their breathing.

Mo looked up, realizing that the captains still stood, fixed to their spots, a few feet away. Stede looked at them with horror and concern, his mouth hanging open, while Blackbeard seemed lost in thought, as though he was puzzling something out.

“Sorry,” Mo rasped out, fixing their stare down on their boots. “Didn’t mean…for any of that to happen. Shouldn’t have used my knife. Didn’t realize it was you, Edward.”

“I take it things didn’t go well then?” Stede asked gently. Mo glared at him. “Don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Their voice was stiff, and uncharacteristically cold.

Blackbeard frowned, his brow furrowed. “Hey,” he said firmly. “That’s your captain. You treat him with respect.”

Mo scoffed, feeling anger begin to stir in their gut, making them heat up. “Listen man, I have had an unbelievably shitty day.” They spat the words out. “I’m sorry I used my knife on you, but I am not going to deal with this shit right now.”

Blackbeard bristled, but Stede stepped forward quickly, placing a calming hand on his upper arm.

“It’s okay, Ed,” he said. “I can handle this.” Stede turned back to Mo, releasing the other captain, who huffed and crossed his arms indignantly.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it, Stede.” Mo’s voice was low, warning their captain not to try his luck.

“I understand. I just think it might help to get it all out there. Get it off your chest.”

The pit of fiery anger in Mo’s stomach grew, making them half worry that they would spontaneously ignite and burn up, taking the wooden ship with them.

“You want to know what happened?” they asked, a hint of humor in their voice. They lifted their head, tears already streaming down their face as they looked at their captain. Their stupid, incompetent, ponce of a captain. Mo pushed themselves up to stand.

“What happened,” they said, voice rising with every word, “is that my family is gone, Stede! All of them!” Their heart hammered in their chest, threatening to burst out. “Even my shithead sibling, my best friend from home! All of them are fucking gone, and they’re never coming back, ever, and it’s my fault!” Mo shook with rage and grief. “I was gone, and they all died, without me! So,” they stepped closer to their captain, who had stiffened and paled, “what do you suggest I do, captain?” They sneered the word, inches from Stede’s face. “No amount of talking it through will fix this!” Their hands balled into fists, their nails digging into their palms painfully. “All we fucking do on this ship is talk! Because of this stupid fucking ship, I was here talking while my family was in danger!” They choked on a sob. “And now they’re gone. Now I have nothing.”

“Shit man,” Blackbeard mumbled, shifting his weight. “That is a shitty day.”

“Ed!” Stede chided quietly, trying not to further upset his sobbing crew member. “Mo,” he said, turning towards them, “do you want to sit down? Maybe have a chat about this?” He gently placed a hand on the pirate’s shoulder, flinching as they wrenched themselves away.

“I don’t want to fucking talk,” Mo spat. “To you or anyone. Talking isn’t going to fix anything.” The feeling in their chest tightened. They brought a hand up to paw at the chain around their neck, their fist closing around the locket and ring that hung from it. They had to do something. They couldn’t sit with these feelings for a second longer without exploding, or possibly imploding. They had to get everything out, to make their emotions physical.

“I know what I need to do,” Mo said. They glanced up, their gaze wandering over the crew that stood before them, afraid to move for fear of upsetting them more.

“And what would that be?” Stede asked gently, not wanting to set them off again.

Mo met their captain’s gaze. “I need to fight someone.” He faltered, a cloud of worry descending on him.

“Oh, I, uh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he stammered.

“Aww, come on, mate!” Blackbeard exclaimed, smacking his friend on the back jovially. “The poor little guy is suffering, they need to get things out. Let ‘em fight.” Stede looked back and forth between his crew member and his friend. Finally, he sighed, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Fine,” he said. “Fight, if you must. But please,” he added, painfully earnest, “be careful.” Blackbeard scoffed, rolling his eyes. He turned to face the crew. “Alright! Who here wants to help our Mo out with a good old-fashioned brawl?” The crew shuffled, looking at each other with uncertainty.

Mo felt like they could burst, overflowing with emotions they didn’t want. “Please,” they asked, trying to catch the eyes of even one of their friends. “Please, if any of you care about me.” They felt anger rising again as they all averted their gaze, no one daring to look at them. “Someone!” They felt their voice rise to a shout, pleading desperately. “Anyone! Please, just do this for me!”

Stede sighed as no one volunteered. “I’m sorry, Mo,” he said. “Doesn’t look like you’re going to get to fight this one out.” “Hold on,” Blackbeard said, stepping forward. “I’ll do it.”

The crew murmured amongst themselves, Black Pete gasping loudly.

“Oh, Ed.” Stede’s face was wrinkled with worry. “You don’t have to do this.” “I know.” Blackbeard began to step forward, edging closer to Mo.

“Wait!” Everyone turned, surprised to see Izzy approaching, rolling up his sleeves as he stepped down from the quarterdeck. “I’ll handle this, boss,” he said.

Even Blackbeard was taken aback, the crew murmuring again. “You sure, Iz?”

“Yeah.”

Izzy’s eyes were dark as he stepped forward. Mo could see the worry in his eyes, but his mouth was set in a hard line with determination. They gave him a look, telling him he didn’t have to do this, that they would fight Blackbeard if no one else was brave enough to step up. He gave a small shake of his head, making his point clear. Under no circumstances would he let that happen.

“Fine,” Mo said. They shot their crew a pointed look. “If no one else, will fight me, at least Izzy will.” They noticed Lucius and Frenchie standing together, Lucius with a hand over his mouth and Frenchie covering his mouth and nose with his scarf, hiding away as best as he could. They felt a pang, knowing they were worrying their friends, before shaking their head and focusing on the man in front of them.

Mo took a deep breath, raising their arms defensively. Izzy mirrored them, but did not move. He waited for them to throw the first punch, as usual. Lacking their usual patience, it only took a few moments for Mo to step forward and swing at Izzy. He stepped back, dodging easily, but didn’t swing back. Mo stepped forward again, pausing for a moment before swinging with their left arm, aiming at his torso. He deflected their swing, redirecting it so their arm moved past him without landing, but didn’t strike back when they left an opening.

Frustrated, Mo lowered their arms. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” they hissed, stepping close to Izzy, inches from his face. He didn’t respond, only looking at them with a sad determination in his eyes.

“Come on, Iz!” Blackbeard shouted. “Fight the poor bastard! They need it!”

Mo stepped back, swinging at Izzy again, aiming for his face this time. They growled when he quickly leaned back to dodge, expecting it and throwing a second punch at his stomach. The crew gasped as the blow landed.

“Well?” Mo asked, giving Izzy a moment to steady himself. “You gonna actually fight me now, or is this just a dance to you?” Still, no response. “Fucking fight me, Iz!” they demanded, growing more frustrated.

Mo stepped towards him again, forcing him further back, only a few feet away from the railing of the ship. They feigned a swing with their right hand, waiting for him to block them before punching him in the torse again with their left. This time, they didn’t give him time to recover, giving his chest a second punch with their right hand as he stumbled. They pulled back to level another blow when Izzy grabbed their arms, forcefully turning them and pinning them against him with their arms crossed over their chest, wrists held tightly in his hands.

Mo struggled, doing their best to free their arms, but Izzy’s grip only tightened. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered gruffly in their ear. “And I’m not going to let you hurt yourself.”

Mo yelled in frustration. They stomped their heavy boot on his foot, making the man groan with pain, but still he would not relent. Desperate, they threw their head back, knocking their skull into his with a painful clunk, but he still held on.

“Fucking fight me!”

“No.”

“You coward! Just fight me, Izzy!” They squirmed desperately, the feeling in their chest becoming too much, threatening to drown them alive. “Please!”

“No.”

Mo’s pleas turned to sobs, their struggles growing less fierce as they weakened, their emotions washing back over them. They leaned back against Izzy’s chest, no longer fighting to free themselves. They felt weak. Utterly pathetic as they stood in front of their crew, in front of their captains, and sobbed. They felt their knees tremble before giving way, sliding down to their knees on the deck, Izzy’s grip on them finally slacking to let them settle. He quickly followed them down, kneeling behind them and hugging them to him as they sobbed. He shifted, sitting down fully before guiding Mo to turn, sitting sideways between his legs. He cradled their head, pressing it against his chest, gently shushing them.

Izzy ignored the burning glare of his captain, the curious looks from the crew. He had half a mind to glare back, to dare anyone to say something, but there would be time to deal with them later. Right now, Mo needed him.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb along Mo’s cheek. They sniffled, clutching his shirt tightly. “Remember? We’ll figure this out.”

Izzy didn’t go so far as to kiss the top of their head, like he would have if they were in private. He knew there would be no deniability after this little display, no way to convince the others that there wasn’t something more between the two, but he was still a private man. If Mo hadn’t been so dangerously distraught, enough to fight the legendary Blackbeard, he might have held back and let them calm down on their own, but it was clear that he was needed.

Slowly, Mo began to calm down. Their breathing slowed, and their whimpers quieted as Izzy rubbed their arm. Once they had cried what felt like enough salt water to fill the ocean, they lifted their head. Izzy gave them a soft smile, wiping away the tears that stained their face. They leaned their forehead against his chest, breathing in the comforting smell of him, of sea salt, soap, and rum. They wished that they could stay like this forever, held close in Izzy’s arms, in their own little bubble, but they knew it couldn’t last.

Mo groaned softly as they lifted their head, forcing themselves to look over at the crowd that had witnessed their breakdown. Most of the crew looked baffled, clearly caught off guard by the whiplash of emotions that they had just seen. Lucius looked touched, if a little surprised, to see the two embracing. Frenchie had worry etched in his face, his hand playing awkwardly with his stubble as his eyes flitted around, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Mo sighed, resigning themselves to their fate. “Go ahead,” they said, gesturing vaguely. “Get it over with. Ask your questions. I know you have them.”

Black Pete was the first to chime in. “Uh, what’s going on with you two?” he asked, finger flicking between Mo and Izzy.

“That’s exactly what I would like to know,” Blackbeard said. His tone was even, but his eyes were dark and he had an edge to his voice, like the calm before a storm, ready to crash a ship against a rocky shore. “Izzy,” he continued. “A word.”

Izzy’s grip on Mo tightened, a scowl working its way onto his face. He couldn’t disobey a direct order, but he couldn’t leave his partner either, not when they were so unstable.

“That’s an order.” This was Blackbeard’s final warning.

“It’s alright,” Mo said, making Izzy snap his gaze back to them. “You should go.” Izzy’s eyes clouded, torn between two loyalties. “I’ll be alright. I promise. Go, Iz.”

Izzy hesitated, giving Mo a gentle look and an even gentler kiss on their temple before pushing himself up to stand, walking towards his captain. Blackbeard slung an arm over his shoulder, tightly gripping his first mate’s shoulder as he led him into the captain’s quarter. Mo winced as they saw the way Izzy tensed, his gloved hand tightening and relaxing at his side.

“Um, I guess I should go with them,” Stede said, uncertainty clear in his voice. "Unless I should stay?” He turned to look at his crew, as if expecting them to tell him what to do.

“You should go with them, Captain,” Frenchie suggested, still anxiously fiddling with his scarf. “Maybe make sure they don’t draw weapons, and all that.” Stede raised his eyebrows. That clearly hadn’t occurred to him. “Good thinking, Frenchie,” he said. He hurried to follow his friend into his quarters, pausing as he reached the door to say over his shoulder, “Feel better, Mo.”

As the door swung shut behind their captain, Mo felt the eyes of their crew return to them. They pulled their legs up to their chest, wrapping their arms around them and tucking their face against their knees.

“Go on,” they said, voice muffled. “Get your questions out.” They lifted their head slightly, just enough to peek at their friends. Frenchie was on his way to them, quickly sitting down next to them and wrapping one of his long arms around them. The rest of the crew stayed fixed to where they stood, seemingly still processing.

“Pete?” Mo asked. “You got any questions?”

Black Pete fumbled at being put on the spot. “I-I mean, I never really got an answer to the last one, so I guess that still stands.” “Right.” Mo stretched their legs out, smoothing their hands along their thighs as they took a deep breath. “Okay. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.” They gestured to the deck around them. “C’mon, folks. Take a seat. We’re talking it through like a crew, just like Captain has always wanted.”

Slowly, the crew shuffled forward, each taking a seat in a rough semicircle around Mo and Frenchie.

“Okay. So, you wanted to know what’s up with me and Izzy?” Pete nodded, as did Roach, Wee John, and the Swede. “Alright. Well, long story short, we’re together.” Black Pete frowned, clearly not understanding.

“Whaddaya mean, together?” Wee John asked, his face scrunched with confusion.

 Mo rolled their eyes. Had they been involved with anyone else, the crew would have just accepted it. “I mean, we’re in a relationship. We’re partners.”

“Like…sexually?” Jim asked.

Mo groaned. “Okay, this is kind of my fault, I guess, for not setting boundaries. Sorry to disappoint, but I won’t be answering any questions that Izzy wouldn’t want me to. We’re not just hooking up though, if that’s what you mean. We’re together. Like, a real couple.”

This time it was Roach who spoke up, raising one hand like a schoolchild, seeming more confused than ever. “Why?” he asked simply. “Why would you possibly want to be with him?”

Mo forced themselves to take a deep breath as Frenchie rubbed their shoulder, trying his best to keep them grounded. “Okay, some of that is fair. Izzy is…uptight. And he can lash out sometimes when he’s upset. I’m not blind to that. I know he’s hotheaded, and he can be a bit of an ass. But he’s changing.” They continued as their friends rolled their eyes. “It’s slow, but you can’t deny that he’s been nicer the last few months. And he’s not like that with me, never has been. He’s smart, and funny, and caring. And he treats me well, like I’m important.” Frenchie nudged Mo. “You are important, babe,” he said.

Mo smiled, resting their head on his shoulder. “He’s a good man,” they added. “I know you guys haven’t really been able to see that side of him, but you have to trust me that it’s there.”

“I have another question,” Black Pete announced.

“Go for it, mate. I want to power through all of these before Izzy comes back.” Mo turned to address the rest of the crew. “Please, no one give him a hard time about this. This is a really big deal for him. He’s really private, and awkward enough, and he’s already put himself through so much for me. It would mean a lot if you guys could hold off, or just save your questions and teasing for me, even if it’s just for my sake.”

The crew shifted, giving each other unhappy looks, but murmured in agreement.

“Uh, my question isn’t actually about Izzy,” Black Pete clarified. “It’s about…the other stuff. About your family.” Lucius elbowed him in the side, shooting him a dirty look.

Mo’s jaw clenched, but they nodded for him to continue.

“What happened? You said it’s your fault that…it happened, but how?”

Mo took a deep breath, shifting to press closer against Frenchie, holding his hand that wasn’t slung over their shoulder. “I-I have a brother,” they stammered. “He’s…not a good person. He’s violent, and unstable. He, uh, he spent most of our childhood trying to kill me, or hurt me in other ways.” They sniffled, playing with Frenchie’s long, nimble fingers. “He was always terrible, and really dangerous to be around, but he just got worse and worse as we got older. Eventually, it got to the point that I had to leave. He…he killed my parents, and my sibling. And I wasn’t there to protect them. So…yeah. It’s my fault, I guess.”

Lucius leaned forward, grabbing hold of the toe of their boot. “It’s not your fault,” he said. Mo looked up at him, their eyes somehow misty again, despite crying out what felt like all the water in the world. Lucius’ brow was furrowed, somehow both delicate and firm. “You’re not responsible for your brother. You did what you had to, and he made his own choices.” He paused. “I’m sorry you lost your family.”

“Me too,” Roach said, rubbing Mo’s back gently.

“Aye,” said Buttons. “You have our deepest sympathies, wean. Tis not easy to lose those we care about.” From behind him came a squawk. “Karl also relayed his condolences.” Mo smiled sadly. “Thanks, guys. And thank you, Karl,” they added. “You’re the nicest bird I’ve ever known.” “Aye, you’re going to make him blush.”

Mo chuckled weakly. They looked up to their crew. “I’m glad to have you guys,” they said quietly. “I know we’ve all had our ups and downs, but you all mean a lot to me.”

“Well,” said Roach, “you have said it before. We are a family.” Mo grabbed the cook’s hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

Jim shifted from their place next to Oluwande. “Are you going to get revenge?” they asked.

Mo frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think I have much of a choice.” They huffed out a humorless laugh. “His final way of screwing me over. I-I have to stay. I have to find him and kill him. So he can’t do this to someone else’s family.”

“You’re leaving?” Oluwande asked, shock clear in his voice. “But, what about the ship? And Izzy? Will Captain even allow it?”

Mo shrugged. “I don’t think there’s anything Stede can do to stop me, not that I really think he’d try.’ They looked down at their boots, “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I can tell you one thing though,” they looked back up, “I’ll be back. I’m not letting you guys get rid of me that easily. As for Izzy…it’ll be hard. It’ll be hell to be away from him, but he can’t leave the ship. He’s loyal to Blackbeard, and you guys need him. Plus, I imagine he would not do well on land for long, not with the old sea dog that he is.” They smiled fondly, feeling a pang in their heart. “We’ll figure something out. I’d swim across all seven seas to find him if I had to.”

“You must like him a lot,” the Swede observed.

“Yeah. I do. Probably more than I should, for my own good.”

“Well,” Frenchie said, toying with the rings on Mo’s hand, “if you’re staying, I’m staying with you.” Mo sighed, looking up at their friend with a frown on their face. “You don’t have to do that. You’re doing well here. I can’t ask you to leave it all for me.” “Good thing I’m offering then and not waiting for you to ask.” He gave a small smile. “We’re the dynamic duo, babe,” he teased. “How could we ever split up?”

Mo let their head drop onto his shoulder, resting against him as they gave a small huff. “I don’t deserve you,” they mumbled.

Frenchie ruffled their hair affectionately. “Ah, you know you do. One way or another, I’m sticking with you.” He frowned. “It’ll be hard to get Izzy to stay behind, y’know?”

Mo shrugged halfheartedly. “He’ll understand. He won’t like it,” they conceded, “but what else can we do?”

Everyone looked up as they heard approaching footsteps, all eyes turning to see Izzy returning from his private chat with the captains. He looked tense and frustrated, even more than usual, as Blackbeard glowered at him, Stede holding his shoulder calmly as they came to a stop on deck.

“Iz?” Mo asked uncertainly. They pushed themselves up to stand, Frenchie stabilizing them as they stumbled on their intertwined legs before walking over to their partner. They held his arms carefully, trying to catch his gaze. “Are you alright, love?” they asked quietly, growing concerned.

Izzy looked up from the deck, finally meeting their eyes. His forehead was creased, and the corners of his mouth were tugged down into a frown. He didn’t look sad. Just tired. So, so tired. Mo squeezed their grip on his arm, trying their best to ground him without being too affectionate in front of their audience, especially the agitated Blackbeard.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” Izzy rasped out. He brought an arm up to cup Mo’s face, pressing his forehead against theirs and letting out a shaky breath as he closed his eyes. Mo brought a hand up to rest on the back of Izzy’s neck, gently brushing their fingers against his soft hair as their thumb ran along the swallow tattooed on his neck.

“Izzy, you’re scaring me. What happened?”

Izzy cleared his throat, opening his eyes and standing back up, pulling back away from his partner. He glanced at the captains, looking for approval of some kind. Blackbeard scoffed, looking away, but Stede nodded, giving an encouraging smile.

Mo was confused when Izzy took their hand. “Come with me,” he said, leading them down into the ship, down to his cabin.

They tried to ask what was going on as they were pulled along, practically dragged behind Izzy as he walked them to the one place on the ship where they could have privacy. He just shushed them, promising to tell them everything once they were there.

Once the two had made it into Izzy’s cabin, Izzy making sure the door was secured behind them, Mo looked at their partner, waiting impatiently to be filled in one what had happened in his meeting with the captains. Izzy stood before them, looking unsure how to proceed. Slowly, he reached out, wrapping his arms around Mo, pulling them to his chest.

Mo frowned, still very confused, but wrapped their arms around him, holding him firmly. They propped their head up on his shoulder to look at him. “Izzy, darling, please tell me what happened,” they pleaded. “As much as I love your hugs, this is really freaking me out.”

He sighed. “I told them everything,” he began. “About us, how we’ve been in a relationship. Told them that we hid it because we didn’t know if it would be allowed, because of my position as first mate. They had some questions about that.” Mo’s face scrunched in confusion. “What kind of questions?” they asked, reaching a hand up to rub their thumb against his cheekbone.

“Asking if you were getting special treatment, if our relationship was distracting me.” He paused, grimacing. “If I had done anything to pressure you.” His voice was lower, gruffer than usual.

“Hey,” Mo said, regaining Izzy’s attention. “You’ve never pressured me to do anything, and I’ll tell the captains as much.” They scowled. How dare they insinuate that he would do something like that? That had to have been Stede, being overly cautious of his crew. Not even Blackbeard would be so cruel on purpose, to think so lowly of him or imply that the only way someone could love him would be through force.

Izzy sighed, leaning into the hand still caressing his cheek. “They were right to ask,” he said. “They had to make sure you were alright.” He frowned again. “I could have done without Bonnet’s shock at someone wanting to be with me, though,” he admitted.

“Oh, darling.” It hurt to see Izzy like this. He was already a rather insecure man, after years of being treated like he was only worthy of common decency when someone wanted something from him. “Of course I want to be with you. You’re a wonderful man, even if you can’t always see it. Fuck anyone who dares to say anything different. I’ll stab them myself.”

Izzy chuckled at the offer, unable to fight a small smile. He turned his head slightly, pressing a quick kiss to the heel of Mo’s hand, enjoying the light blush that crept over their face.

“I thought I was supposed to be the violent one?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, well, people better start showing you the respect you deserve if you want it to stay that way,” Mo huffed. Izzy ran a hand through their short hair, his gaze filled with such love and adoration, that Mo was half afraid that their heart would burst.

“What else did they say?” they asked quietly, gently stroking his swallow tattoo.

“Not much. Edward was upset, to say the least, but Bonnet, twat that he is, was actually able to calm him down a bit.” Izzy was clearly reluctant to praise the eccentric captain. “Told him that everyone should feel free to pursue love, even pirates. That if he was truly my friend, he would want to see me happy.”

Mo smiled softly. “That’s actually pretty sweet. How did Blackbeard react to that?” Izzy sighed. “Well, he’s not used to this sort of thing. With the lives we’ve had, love is the kind of thing that gets you killed. He’s not happy about it, by any means, but Bonnet convinced him not to ban it outright.”

Mo grinned, snaking their arms up to rest behind Izzy’s neck. “Well, that’s good news, right? We can see each other, without having to hide anymore!” Their grin widened when Izzy smiled.  “‘Course,” they continued, “it probably won’t change anything too much. I imagine we’ll still want to keep private things private, and you don’t seem like the type to want to kiss in front of others. Not quite like Black Pete and Lucius,” they joked, getting a scoff and eyeroll out of Izzy.

“How do you feel about this?” they asked, turning serious. Izzy’s face clouded, his brow creasing with worry again as he frowned faintly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. He adjusted his grip on Mo’s waist, pulling them closer. “I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore, or worry about my position getting in the way. But…” he trailed off, frowning.

“Are you worried about Blackbeard?”

Izzy nodded. “I’m worried that something will happen. That he’ll change his mind, and decide that you make me weak.” His grip tightened. “Blackbeard doesn’t stand for weakness. He gets rid of it.”

“Hey,” Mo said gently. “We’re going to be alright. Aside from him generally seeming like a decent guy so far, I really don’t think that he’d do anything drastic with Stede here. We all know how infatuated he is with him, and he wouldn’t want to risk losing that over some weird hangup of perceived weakness.” Izzy scowled, clearly not a fan of his boss’ relationship with Stede, and Mo paused, not sure if they should continue.

“I think he might be a little insecure right now,” Mo confessed, earning a confused look from Izzy. “You’re his best friend, and his oldest friend. You’re the person he’s always known he could count on, and he just found out you’ve been in a relationship that you’ve been hiding, specifically from him. That’s got to put him in a weird place.” Izzy frowned. “And on top of that, you’re his first mate. His very, very loyal first mate, who has always been purely devoted to him, and now there’s this weird new thing where he might think that if it came down to it, you’d choose me over him.” Izzy opened his mouth to speak, but Mo cut him off, wanting to finish their last thought before letting him speak. “It doesn’t matter if that’s true or not, but you have to understand that this is probably a lot for him to take in at once.” Izzy sighed in annoyance. “You might have a point,” he quietly admitted, clearly not thrilled by it. “Well, he'll have to learn to deal with it. What’s done is done, and I’m not giving this up just for his comfort. Especially not when he has that flouncy twat to comfort him.”

Mo chuckled. “Insults aside, that was actually very sweet,” they said, nuzzling their face into Izzy’s neck. “I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me today,” they whispered. “You really are the best, Iz. Don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Izzy kissed their forehead, rubbing their back. “Anytime, love.”

Mo felt more at home than they had for a long time, but couldn’t ignore the growing anxiety that was eating away at them. As much as it broke their heart, they had to tell him that they had to stay.

Reluctantly, Mo pulled their face away, giving Izzy’s check a soft kiss before stepping back fully. They cleared their throat, not sure how to begin.

“There is another thing we need to talk about.” Izzy frowned, but gave a small nod, encouraging them to continue.

Mo took a deep breath. “My family is dead,” they said plainly. “They’re dead, but my shithead, psychopath brother is still out there. I have to find him, and kill him, so he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

Izzy crossed his arms over his chest, adjusting his stance as he processed. His eyes flitted around, seemingly trying to find an answer to an unknown question on Mo’s face.

“Okay,” he said finally. “How do you propose we do that?”

Mo felt another pang. We. He didn’t even know what they were planning, and he wanted to help. They reached out and took his hand, uncrossing his arms in the process, and led him to sit on his bed. “I have to stay,” they said as they both settled down. “I have to track him down, wherever he went, so I can end this once and for all.” They paused, taking a deep breath before they forced themselves to continue, to say the hardest part. “And…you can’t come with me.” Izzy’s face changed rapidly, flashing from confusion to concern to hurt. Mo squeezed his hand, hoping he would let them finish.

“I love you, Izzy,” they confessed, their voice shaking with emotion. “I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything, but I need you to stay with the ship. Believe me, I want nothing more than to be with you, wherever we have to be for that to happen, but this crew needs you. The captains do too.” They cupped his face, feeling their eyes begin to water, hopefully for the last time that day. “I promise, I’ll come back to you. I just need to do this one thing, and then I’ll never leave you again, for as long as it takes for you to get sick of me.”

Izzy’s eyes were misty, a bit of water had welled up for him too as he stared down at his lap. “I’ll never get sick of you,” he mumbled softly, almost under his breath. He looked up, and Mo felt their first tears drop at how devastated he looked. “I should be with you,” he said, almost begging. “You’ve already been through so much, you shouldn’t be alone.” “I won’t be alone, love. Frenchie, sweet bastard, has already insisted that he’s coming with me. Basically told me that he’ll stow away if he has to.” Mo paused, wishing there was something they could say to comfort Izzy, to let him know that they would be okay, and that they would come back to him. “I know Frenchie isn’t the most intimidating person in the world, but he’ll look out for me, and make sure I don’t get too hot headed and mess things up.” Izzy was looking at his lap again, unable to meet his partner’s gaze. “Do you not want me to be with you?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, baby,” Mo whispered. They reached out to cradle his cheek, turning his head to look at them. “Of course I want you with me,” they said, as earnest as one could be. “It’s killing me to even think about being away from you. I want nothing more than to just stay with you. But I have to do this. And as much as I love this crew, they wouldn’t survive without you. I…I’ve already lost one family. I can’t afford to lose another. Please, I’m asking you because I trust you to take care of them. Once I do this, I’ll come back, and I promise we’ll never have to be apart again. There won’t be anything left for me on land, and we can just sail and pirate for as long as you’d like. And if you’d ever like to do anything else, I’ll be right there with you.”

Izzy cleared his throat. “I understand,” he rasped out. His brown eyes seemed extra dark as he looked at Mo, still just as upset, but resigned to his partner’s decision. He took their hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Just promise to come back.”

Mo smiled weakly, leaning forward to kiss him. It was a soft, desperate kiss, the kiss of two lovers who didn’t want to be separated. “I promise,” they whispered, pulling back just enough to look into his dark, expressive eyes. They rubbed his neck, hoping to reassure him, to massage away any lingering doubt.

“Should we go back up there?” Mo asked quietly, nodding towards the door.

Izzy groaned, letting his head drop down to rest his forehead on Mo’s shoulder. “Probably,” he admitted. “If we’re gone much longer, Edward might have a meltdown, think we’re doing something we’re not supposed to.” Mo chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair and gently scratching his scalp, enjoying the small sighs he let out at the contact. “I don’t think he really gets a say in what we do in here.”

Izzy barked out a laugh, muffled by Mo’s shoulder.

“I mean, what would he do?” they continued. “Just come in, stand in the corner and scold you? There’s no real, non-insane way for him to justify being mad at you for that.” They laughed. “Even the usual ‘real pirates don’t do that’ argument doesn’t really apply.”

Izzy tilted his head, leaning against them more fully as he looked up. “You’d be surprised.”

Mo tilted their head, awkwardly looking down at their partner. “Really?”

Izzy nodded. “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, there’s always the Spriggs’ and the Pete’s on every ship, but a lot of pirates just fall out of the routine.” He smirked. “For some reason, some have trouble with intimacy. Seems they have a hard time trusting people.” Mo feigned a gasp, still playing with his hair. “Really? Well, that doesn’t sound like anyone I know.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Mo chuckled. “Hey, you’re doing better than most would, I’m sure. I obviously don’t know all the crazy, terrible things you’ve seen during your life, but I’m sure it would be enough to drive most of the crew mad, me included, probably.” They pressed a kiss to his forehead, giving him a grin. “Plus, you’re doing well enough to be able to get back into the routine pretty easily. Or at least I haven’t heard any complaints. Sounds like you’re doing better than the average pirate.” They smirked as Izzy blushed, burying his face into their neck to hide how red his face was turning.

“Fuck off.”

“And here I was thinking you liked it when I praised you,” Mo mused aloud, enjoying teasing the man. “Well, if you don’t, I suppose I could always stop.”

Izzy’s face turned, glaring up at them as best as he could with his face stained bright red.

“Alright,” they said, giving up their game. “I would never do that, and you know it.” They kissed the tip of his nose. “You know there’s no way to get me to stop complimenting you. Not when you make it so easy to do,” they added.

Izzy huffed. Mo smiled, knowing he liked the attention, even if he wasn’t comfortable admitting it yet. They gave him a soft kiss, one he eagerly lifted his head for.

“Come on, love,” Mo said, dragging their thumb gently over the tattoo under his eye. “Think we should head back up. Don’t think we should find out just yet how Blackbeard responds when he thinks you’re doing things you shouldn’t.”

The crew still sat in a semi-circle on deck when Izzy and Mo emerged from the ship. Their positions had changed, some moving to be able to talk to others more easily, but they were all still huddled up, discussing how their days had gone and the shocking news they had learned. They looked up when they heard the door close, some hushing when they saw the subjects of their discussion had rejoined them.

Stede stood with Blackbeard at the head of the ship. Blackbeard was still visibly upset, his movements sharper and more erratic than usual as he spoke. He somehow seemed to have ever more energy that usual, a remarkable feat, and moved like his life depended on it, as if he was a shark who would drown if he stopped swimming. Stede was soothing him, as best as he could. His body language was calm, and he put a soft hand on his friend’s back, his touch light so as not to aggravate him further. Stede locked eyes with Mo across the length of the ship as they closed the door leading up from below deck behind them. Blackbeard turned when he saw the change in Stede, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Mo standing with his first mate.

“Uh oh,” Mo said, gripping Izzy’s wrist. “We’ve been spotted.” Blackbeard strode up to them, huffing lightly, as Stede followed in his wake. The fearsome pirate seemed more uncomfortable and agitated than angry.

“Izzy,” he greeted. “Mo. Can I have a word with you? Promise I’ll be quick.” He was speaking to Mo, who looked, shocked, at Izzy. Izzy met their gaze but didn’t react, letting them make their own choice.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Of course.” Mo followed Blackbeard as led them back to the head, leaving Stede behind with Izzy. They weren’t sure which conversation would be more uncomfortable, the one they were being forced into, or the one they were leaving behind.

Once they reached the other end of the ship, Blackbeard turned, looking Mo up and down intently, scrutinizing them. Mo shifted uncomfortably in their boots, trying their best to remain calm and not let their nerves get the best of them.

Blackbeard groaned as he leaned back against the railing. “Alright,” he said, speaking very casually, almost unsettling so. “Here’s the deal. Izzy is important to me. He’s my first mate, and my oldest friend. We know each other in ways no one else does. So,” he leaned forward, clasping a firm hand on Mo’s shoulder and squeezing, “if you hurt that man, in any way, I will kill you.” Mo stiffened, jumping at the sudden contact. “You understand me?” They nodded, not sure where this was going. “And don’t even think about getting any ideas about stealing him away. The best thing about Iz is his devotion. If you mess that up-“ “You’ll kill me,” Mo finished for him. “Got it.” They had no hesitation to meet the fearsome pirate’s gaze, making him huff out a short laugh. They cleared their throat.

“Just for the record, Edward, or Blackbeard, whichever you’re being right now, I really don’t care, I would never hurt Izzy. He’s a good man, better than I deserve probably, and I’m always going to do what I can to do right by him. As for his loyalties, that’s up to him.” They paused, examining the face of the man in front of them. “I’m not in this to steal him away from you. I just want to be with him, to make him happy. And for whatever reason, you make him happy, Edward. So, I wouldn’t dream of separating you, not when it would only break his heart.”

Blackbeard frowned. He obviously didn’t care for being spoken to this way, as though he was an equal to the pirate before him, or worse, a subordinate. Part of him admired their bravery though, and he gave a small smile, just an upturn of one corner of his mouth, when he recognized the fiery glow behind their eyes as passion. Finally, someone who wouldn’t hold back. Who wouldn’t shirk away from the name Blackbeard.

“By the way,” Mo continued, crossing their arms across their chest, “while we’re on the subject of treating people we care about well. I don’t understand the full nature of your relationship with my captain.” Edward tensed, his body language changing to be defensive. “I don’t know if I’d care to, and I certainly don’t think it’s any of my business. Whatever it is you two have, though, be nice to him, Edward. He’s a good person, and I would really hate to have an issue with you if you hurt him.”

Edward’s gaze was unreadable, but he gave a stiff nod.

“Good,” Mo said. “Glad we could get that settled. Neither of us will hurt anyone.” They gave a hesitant smile. “Shouldn’t be too hard, you seem a decent enough fellow. I was hoping that after everything came out, about me and Izzy, that we might be able to get along. Not that we weren’t before,” they rushed to add, “but, y’know. Izzy had suggested I give you a wide berth. Didn’t want to draw suspicions.”

Blackbeard groaned, shaking his head. “Sounds like Iz. Always has been an uptight bastard.”

Mo bit their tongue, resisting the urge to defend their partner, knowing he wouldn’t want them to start anything on his behalf.  Blackbeard eyed them again. He no longer seemed to be searching for flaws, instead just taking them in.

“You might do him some good,” he admitted. “Draw him out of his shell a little. Seen him with you. Before all of this,” he added, waiving a hand. “Thought he might like you, at least a bit more than the rest. It’s not very often Izzy meets someone he doesn’t threaten to stab or maim.” He looked up, catching Mo’s gaze. “Seen you get him to talk to Frenchie. Don’t think he’s threatened him either.” He sighed. “Don’t know how you’ve done it, mate, but you’re changing him. For the better, I reckon.”

Mo shrugged, looking down at their boots as they shifted their weight. They didn’t know how to respond to praise from Blackbeard, not expecting it in the slightest.

“He was already pretty great,” they said eventually. “He just needs some help with his people skills.” Blackbeard laughed, almost doubling over from the force of it. No, this wasn’t Blackbeard, Mo realized. This was Edward. Maybe it always had been.

“’People skills’!” he cackling, clapping his hands. “I like that! Oh, I tell you, you lot, on this crew, have got it figured out. The whole pirate thing is really not all it’s made out to be. Pretty soon it gets pretty fuckin’ boring, but you, you all make it fun! You don’t give a single shit what anyone else thinks about you, and it’s-it’s fuckin’ mesmerizing.”

“I think we have Captain Bonnet to thank for that.” “Yeah, you probably do.” Edward’s eyes twinkled with fondness, a small smile on his face. He cocked his head to the side, looking at Mo. “I think we will get along, Mo,” he said. “We already have one thing in common.” He pointed across the deck to where Izzy stood, trapped in a conversation with Stede, a slight grimace on his face until he realized he was being watched. His eyes darted to where his partner and his captain stood, his expression softening as he gave a small wave.

Mo blushed, a small smile creeping its way onto his face as they returned his wave.

“Aww, you guys are cute!” Edward teased. “For Iz, that’s a huge thing. Think the most affection he’s ever really shown is public is passing out on someone after drinking too much.” He chuckled as Mo raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he doesn’t drink so much anymore. Thinks it’s a weakness to be out of sorts like that. Think it might also have to do a bit with how honest he gets. He doesn’t like being all open like that, thinks it’s weakness too.”

Mo hummed. Come to think of it, they’d never seen Izzy more than slightly buzzed.

“Well,” Edward continued. "Maybe you’ll be able to get him through that.” He frowned. “I miss the old Izzy. Anyway, I won’t be keeping you. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page about Izzy. Like you said, I’d hate to have an issue with you. But,” he continued, “Izzy comes first. You do anything to him, and I’ll do what I have to.”

Mo nodded. “Aye aye, Captain Blackbeard.”