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trulybetty · 1 month ago

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no flights tonight | part three.

pairing: modern day au!pero x f!reader word count: 3,265 warnings: 18+, oral female receiving, p in v, these two are consenting adults with a known shared history, take it as you will summary: with flights delayed due to the snow, and a wedding to attend, you find yourself stranded at the airport and with the last person you want to run into, your ex. ao3: linked

x. series masterlist

Part Three.

The bed creaked as Pero shifted, your eyes struggled to open as the faint sounds of his muttered curses pulled you from the edge of sleep. His movements weren't big, but consistent enough and punctuated by enough sighs of frustration that it made you turn over.

"Are you going to keep this up all night?" you asked, your voice cutting through the dark, "I thought you were okay."

He let out a soft, bitter laugh. "I didn't realize me breathing was such a problem for you."

"It's not the breathing—it's the tossing and turning. If I'd known sharing a bed with you would be this annoying, I would have left you to suffer on the couch."

He rolled onto his back, his profile silhouetted against the faint light of the snowstorm outside. If you weren't so irritated with him already, you'd admit how it highlighted the handsome features of his face.

"You're the one who told me to get on the bed. Now you want me to lie still like a corpse?"

"It's not too much to ask, is it?" you snapped, propping yourself on your side, "Lie still, don't hog the blanket, and don't keep sighing like the whole world is against you."

"The word is against me," he muttered, his voice low but tinged with sarcasm. "I'm stuck in a motel, snowed in with you."

"Oh, don't act like this is worse for you than it is me," you shot back, sitting up full now. "You think I wanted to be here with you? Sharing a car, sharing a room? Having to listen to your self-righteousness? You're not exactly a prize, Pero," the words out of your mouth before you could reign them back in.

He snorted, his expression darkening. "You've made that very clear."

The sharpness of his words hit harder than you expected, even if you had made the first jab. You didn't know what to say. The tension in the room thickened, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down.

"Why do you do that?" you asked finally, your voice softer but still edged with frustration. "Turn everything into some self-pitying comment? Like you're the only one who got hurt?"

His head turned sharply, his eyes locking onto yours in the dark. "What do you want me to say? That I didn't screw up? That I don't regret it? Fine—I regret it. I regret everything."

The rawness in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was stare. Then he sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"You think this is easy?” he shook his head as he tsked, “Being here, with you, knowing how I—" he cut himself off, shaking his head, "Forget it."

"No," you said, your voice firm now. "Finish it. Knowing how you what?"

His jaw clenched, his frustration palpable, "Knowing I still care about you. There. You happy now?" he huffed.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken for too long. Your chest tightened, a mix of anger and something softer rising to the surface.

"You could've said that months ago," you said, your voice trembling slightly, "Instead, you just… left. Like it was just easier to throw it all away than figure it out."

"I didn't walk away because it was easy," he snapped. "I walked away because nothing was ever enough. I didn't think I could be enough. Because no matter what I did, it was ever enough."

"That's bullshit and you know it," the anger bubbling over now, "you didn't even try."

"I tried!" he shouted, his voice rising before he lowered it again, biting out the next words through clenched teeth. "You think I didn't try? You think I didn't lie awake every damn night, wondering how the hell I could fix things?"

"Then why didn't you say something?" you demanded, your voice breaking. "Why didn't you stick around?"

His eyes burned into yours, the tension between you snapping like a taut wire, "Because I didn't think you wanted me to, it’s not like you were forthcoming either,” he shot back, his voice a mix of anger and hurt, “you shut me out just as much as I shut you out. Don’t sit there acting like you’re some saint in this, I wasn’t the only one who made mistakes.”

The heat of his words stung, but deep down, you knew there was truth in them. The silence that followed was deafening, the air between you thick with all the things you both should've said to each other months ago. Your breathing was shallow, your heart pounding as you stared at him, his expression raw and unguarded for the first time in what felt like forever.

Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your lips crashing into his. The kiss was desperate, frustration and longing spilling over in a tangle of breaths and movement. For a moment, he didn't react, but then his hands were on you, pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid you'd pull away.

It wasn't soft, or even sweet—it was messy and overwhelming, all teeth and heat as months of suppressed emotion poured out between you. His hand slid up your back to your neck, tilting your head back as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that was leaving you breathless.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"This is a bad idea," he murmured, his voice was low and rough, eliciting a warmth that settled between your hips.

"Probably," you admitted, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, "but right now, I really don't care."

Without further thought, and you weren’t entirely sure who made the next move, his lips were on yours again, hot and fevered and full of everything you’d missed. He rolled you over, his weight feeling like a powder keg above you pressing you into the mattress as he deepened the kiss. His fingers, rough and calloused, bit into you but it only served more to elicit a warm tightness in your stomach that you relished in.

“We should stop,” he murmured against your lips, no conviction in his voice though as he pulled at the hem of the t-shirt you wore.

“Absolutely,” you nodded as you craned your neck back, allowing him to kiss the delicate underside of your jaw as his hand ran up the inside of your shirt.

He made a low sound in his throat that almost sounded like a growl as his fingers found your bare breasts, taking delight in the feel of them under his hand, his thumb brushing over your nipple in a way that sent jolts of pleasure straight through you. Your breathing hitched, and he paused for just a moment, his dark eyes searching yours, though he was looking for a reason to stop—or your permission to continue.

“Do you still want me to stop?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

You managed a breathless laugh shaking your head, “Not even a little.”

He didn’t wait for further instructions, it was all the encouragement he needed. His lips found yours again, hungrier this time, and his hand slid lower, tracing the curve of your waist and hip with a tenderness that contrasted the urgency of his kiss. It was as if he was familiarizing himself with home. You arched against him, and he took advantage of the moment to pull both your sleep pants and panties down your legs.

Your fingers tangled in his hair pulling him closer, his mouth moved down your neck, making your skin feel like it was on fire. You tugged on his hair when his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your collarbone. Reluctantly your hands left his hair, making their way down to the hem of his shirt, your fingers splaying across the hard planes of his stomach and chest, pausing under the familiar way his muscles tensed under your chest. You pushed the fabric up, impatiently tugging it over his head. He sat up briefly to help you pull it off of him completely and wasted no time reclaiming your lips with his.

His hands roamed your body with desperation as if reclaiming lost land that made your head spin as he moved to touch every inch of your exposed skin he could reach with hot wanting kisses that against the chill of the room sent a shiver down your spine as he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat.

Your shirt had ridden up in the frenzy, but it was still clinging to you stubbornly. Pero’s fingers found the hem again, tugging at it impatiently as his lips returned to yours, bruising and insistent. You could feel the waves of frustration coming off of him—his movements rougher and a growl escaping his throat when the fabric of your shirt bunched up awkwardly again.

“Por Dios,” he muttered against your mouth, yanked at the offending shirt with almost a feral determination. “Why are you still wearing this damn thing?”

You couldn’t help but let out the laugh that bubbled up in light of his irritation, “You’re the one who hasn’t taken it off yet.”

His narrowed eyes met yours, dark and smouldering with an intensity that made your pulse race, “Fine,” he said gruffly, pulling your shirt off and over your head in one swift motion. He paused suddenly, taking you in. The way he looked at you—like he was rediscovering something he'd lost but never stopped longing for—made your chest ache.

It didn’t take long for his mouth to follow a trail down to the curve of your hip and the dip where your thigh met your pelvis his stubble scraping deliciously against your delicate skin as he kissed and nipped his way. He paused, taking you in, his hot breath on your mound was infuriating as it felt both like a tease and a promise. His hands gripped your thighs, your hips arched, searching for contact, but he held firm.

“Patience,” he murmured, his voice low and rough and dripping with authority.

But you didn’t have the patience to give, desperate to ignite something, your fingers trailed your stomach and down, down to your soaking heat—a finger trailing back up, teasing yourself. You bit down on your lip at the spark that shot off and when Pero leaned in and licked at your fingers that dipped in further. It drew out a groan—the feel of your fingers moving in and out with the heat of his tongue was heady on its own, but when Pero’s mouth finally descended, his tongue replacing your fingers, the sound that tore from your throat was anything but quiet. He growled against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

His grip on your thighs tightened as he worked you with a relentlessness that spoke of familiarity and intent, like he remembered every single thing that made you come undone and was determined to remind you of all of it.

Your hands fisted in the sheets before finding their way back to his hair, gripping tightly as he had you trembling. His name fell from your lips in broken gasps and Pero groaned against you in response, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you.

“Dammit,” you cursed under your breath, as your hips buckled. He chuckled darkly at that, the sound low and sinful before his mouth redoubled its efforts and his fingers joined the fray.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you steady as he pushed you closer to the edge, his tongue and fingers relentless despite your mewls and the way your thighs trembled in his grasp. The coil inside you got tighter and tighter, each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers pulling you closer to a precipice you were desperate to reach.

“Pero,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the tension inside you reached its peak. He growled your name low in his throat at the sound of his name on your lips, and that was it—that was all it took.

A wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him, His mouth didn’t stop immediately, easing you through the aftershocks with decadent strokes of his tongue until your body finally sagged against the mattress.

He pulled away slowly, almost reluctantly, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh before crawling back up your body, his lips dropping kisses to your heated skin as he went. The sight of him, the stubble of his beard glistened faintly in the dim light, his hair mussed from your hands, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths coupled with that smug, lopsided grin tugged at his lips—made your stomach twist in ways that had nothing to do with the reverberations of your release.

His lips met yours in a kiss, not as hungry and not as intense as before—it was soft, almost reverent, as if was savouring the moment. You could taste yourself on him, a mix of salt and heat that made your stomach flutter all over again. His hand cradled your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek in a gesture so tender it almost hurt.

“Do you have any idea…” he started but trailed off, his voice cracking as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “How much I’ve missed this? Missed you?”

It struck you then how much had been left unsaid between the two of you since the spring, how many nights you’d spent replaying arguments, texts that had gone unsent. Your fingers found the curls at the nape of his neck, relishing in the feel of the longer hair he’d grown out over the summer. Anything that would be said between you would steal from the moment and you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. You needed to be there, with him, and feel the weight of his words sink into your skin, like they were returning home.

He let out a shaky breath against your neck, his body relaxing into yours as if he’d been holding himself together by sheer force of will up until this moment. The warmth radiating from his body was a stark contrast to the cold that lingered in the room, and for the first time in months, you felt complete.

He pushed himself up to look down at you, “If you want me to stop… tell me now.”

You swallowed hard, the dim light casting shadows across his features, but his eyes—those deep, expressive brown eyes—had a hold on you. There was something raw, something vulnerable in them that made your chest ache. Pero Tovar was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, yet here he was, saying it all without having to say it.

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him, “I need to hear it,” he murmured, his accent thickening with the weight of his emotions behind it, “Tell me.”

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely audible but carrying all the certainty you felt at that moment, “I’m sure.”

His thumb grazed your lips, and your tongue shot out to lick the tip, hearing his guttural groan only as he slid into you, filling you in only a way he could. He paused, adjusting to you, afraid if he moved too quick the moment might be over. He began to move in a slow and deliberate rhythm that was at odds with the restraint that you could feel in his broad shoulders as you held on.

The bite of your nails elicited a shark intake of breath from him, a sound that sent a thrill through you. “You’re killing me,” he muttered against your lips, his voice dripping with need.

“Good,” you shot back breathlessly, a smirk on your lips.

The way he grinned—crooked and boyish—made your heart stutter before he kissed you again, this time deeper, more urgent. It was as if it held everything he couldn’t put into words.

He shifted, angling deep inside you and an involuntary moan escaped your lips as pleasure sparked anew. He swallowed the sound greedily, his hand snaking down to grip your thigh and hitch it higher against his hip. This new angle brought him even closer, and you swear you thought you saw his eyes roll back into his head.

It was faster now, messy, and your fingers reached down, caressing both yourself and him with each fervent stroke as you both spiralled closer to the edge. His breath was hot and ragged against your neck as he pressed deeper, his movements becoming more erratic, less controlled. The knot coiling tight in your core threatened to snap at any moment.

“Say it,” he rasped, his voice a desperate please as his hips surged forward, hitting that one perfect spot that had you crying out his name, “Dime que todavía me quieres. Say you still want me.” his voice quiet and hoarse.

Your nails raked down his back in an attempt to hold on a little longer as you struggled to catch your breath, “Pero,” you gasped, your voice trembling, “I—”

He shifted slightly, angling himself just right, and whatever words you were about to say dissolved into an incoherent moan. He smirked against your shoulder, clearly pleased with himself, but there was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you when he pulled back to meet your eyes.

“Say it,” he repeated, softer this time, almost a whisper as he tried to hold off in his need to hear you say it, to know that there was still something here.

You cupped his face, brushing your thumb across the scar on his brow—the one you’d kissed so many times before. His forehead dropped to yours, his thrusts sloppy as the tension reached breaking point, and when the words came, they spilled from your lips with no restraint as you tumbled over and under into your second undoing from him.

“I still love you,” you cried, the words tumbling out between gasps, raw and unfiltered. “I never stopped loving you.”

The effect was immediate. Pero groaned, deep and guttural, his movements losing any semblance of rhythm as he buried himself deeper, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that was all-consuming—messy and desperate, teeth clashing and tongues tangling. His hands gripped the sheets at either side of your head to steady him as he drove into you, chasing his release with an almost frantic urgency.

“Dios mío,” he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your bodies moving together. His forehead pressed into yours again, his breath hot and uneven, his voice barely audible, but you could hear him repeating it over and over again, “Te quiero tanto, tanto…” like a prayer, only increasing in intensity.

Then you felt it—the way his body tensed, the way his rhythm faltered before he couldn’t hold back anymore. With one final thrust, he let go, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he found his release. The sensation of him spilling into you sent another shudder through your body, an unexpected aftershock that left you breathless.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sounds were your heavy breathing, the faint creak of the mattress beneath you and the howl of the wind outside.

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostoriesgift24 and #pedrostories

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sonqgmi-sims · 1 year ago

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SIMS 2: My Essential Mods/CC

Hi everyone! I figured since I have been playing Sims 2 a lot lately, I'd provide my current essentials! Will update as I try more things, but this is valid as of February 1, 2024! ♥

Links for everything are under the cut! Found throughout MTS, Tumblr and other Sims Youtubers!

If any links don't work please let me know so I can try to find replacements!

View my video here!

AFTER INSTALLING SIMS 2 (Windows 10) Sim Shadow Fix: Fixes that weird shadow box glitch! Increase Resolution Fix: Have to go into the data files and alter some things to make it compatible for Windows 10!

NEIGHBORHOOD MODS Seasons Icons In Color: Colors the Season Icons in gameplay and in neighborhood view! Easy To Decorate Camera Mod: See more of the neighborhood map that you couldn't see before! CAS MODS Widescreen CAS Fix: Fixes the UI so your sim isn't covered! There's options for every resolution! (I use 1920x1080) More CAS Columns: Adds more Columns in CAS! Just like in TS4! Evie's Equal Genetics: Equal chance for offspring to receive dominant and recessive genes! 5 Custom Genetics Haircolors: Custom recolors for the Maxis hairs! Chocolate (Brown+Black), Sandy (Brown+Blonde), Icy (White Blonde), Auburn (Brown+Red) and Caramel (Brown+Red+Blonde)!

BUILD & BUY MODS Sim Blender: The holy grail of Sims 2 Mods. Can do anything with this! ACR: Sims autonomously Woohoo, Try for Baby, Get into Relationships, etc! Great for drama & storytelling! OFB Shelf Recolors: Beautiful wood recolors for the OFB Shelves! (The OG's were kinda ugly lmfao) Stay Things Shrub: Choose which items stay after a sim moves out! Monique's Hacked Computer: Pay bills, Order clothing, etc! Object Rotator: Rotate objects on an angle! Small, Large and End Tables! Lifetime Want Chooser: Pick your sims LTW!

LIFESPAN MODS 1 Day = 1 Year (Sims): As the title says! More realistic as I consider 1 sim day a year! 1 Day = 1 Year (Pets): Same as the Sim version, but for pets!

UNIVERSITY MODS Uni After Birthday Party: Teens can throw a birthday party and before blowing out candles, the game asks if you'd like to go to college first! Semester Changes: College is now 8 days instead of 24! Faster Uni Education: 24-48 Hour semesters! There Can Only Be One Professor: 2 per major seemed much, so I like this one! Generates less NPC's for me :D Doctors Need Degrees: Depending on your sims education/grades, they can either be stuck at career level 1 or 10!

GAMEPLAY MODS No 20K Handouts: As it says :) Now my sims aren't wealthy! Extended Family Treated As Family: Always hated it when second cousins could marry. This prevents it :) Community Time Project: Time spent on community lot matches with time at the home! Memory Manipulator: Hide/adjust Sims memories without using SimPE Break Up Via Phone: End a relationship over the phone! (Going Steady, Marriage, Engagement) 50 New Lifetime Wants: Adds new LTW's to the game! OFB Adopt Teen&Townie: Adopt Babies-Teens!

PREGNANCY MODS Shorter Pet Pregnancy: Pets give birth within 1 sim day! The default seemed way too long, so this is a must :) PregRel NL+: Can't find original post so I can't remember what it does, but I found a secondary version below! PregRel Compatibility Patch: Negative reactions to baby bumps if your significant other suspects cheating! Alternate Pregnancy Controller Lite: Possibility of your sims getting a miscarriage (Only had it happen once so far!) Triplets & Quads: Allows up to 4 babies to be born at once!

DEATH MODS Death By Childbirth: Morbid, but I like this for storytelling! Select Your Cemetery: When your sim lives alone and dies, a prompt shows up to move the tombstone to any lot! Now you don't have to cram the younger generations in your home ♥

MISC MODS/HACKS Last Name Copier: Edit/Change a Sims last name without using SimPE! Baby Pet Creator: Create a puppy/kitten with stray genetics! CJ Smart EP Checker: Does nothing, but it is required if you use any of Cyjon's mods! TS1 Prank Calls: Get the same funny and scary prank calls from Sims 1!

BONUS & EXTRAS The Christian Collection: On a MTS forum post, (look for Liv Lukas's post) but ChristianLov's mods are no longer able to be found separately. This is also linked where I put the Baby Pet Creator! Sims 2 Store Content: I only use the extra cars in my game, but there's loads of new stuff!

TOOLS SimPE: Edit ages, relationships, memories, family trees, etc! Sims2Pack Clean Installer: Used to install new lots and sims into your game! Mootilda's Hood Checker: Check any custom neighborhoods for corruption! Bat Box (FFS Lot Debugger): Similar to the Sim Blender. Here's the Vase version!

#ts2 #mods #sims 2 #sims 2 mods #the sims 2 #mine

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allmoshnobrain · 11 months ago

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 03 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 4,7k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

"C’mere," he whispered, and I nodded quickly, sitting beside him on the couch. I sighed, glancing down at my hands, fidgeting nervously with my fingers. With him right there, I was all over the place, unsure of what to do with myself. My heart fluttered when he reached out, placing his hand on mine, and I felt my cheeks flush as I looked up and noticed just how close he was. "You wanted to chat, right?"

✦ on this chapter: james hetfield x female!oc, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, pov change

✦ a/n: New chapter's here! First of all, I might not be able to update the next part on Monday. I'm halfway through writing it, but my days have been crazy busy, so it might take me a bit longer to wrap it up. But I swear, as soon as it's ready, I'll get it posted! This chapter is really special to me because we're diving into Dave's POV; I put a lot of heart into capturing his feelings just right, so I hope you guys like it. Feedback is welcome, thanks for reading! 🖤

✧ In terms of love, sunflowers symbolize pure and steadfast love, like Clytie who constantly gazed at Apollo. Therefore, giving someone a sunflower means telling them: “my love for you will be constant, and unchanged, like how the sunflower always faces the sun”. ✧

February 20, 1992

I sighed nervously, wringing my hands as I paced back and forth in my home's living room. After getting back in touch with Dave, we’d decided to meet up and have a chat about everything — the past, the present, and maybe the future. I didn't know what to make of his sudden reappearance in my life, unsure how it might shake up all the delicate balance I'd been trying to maintain lately. I’d left a message on James' voicemail the day before, filling him in on our reunion and our plans to catch up. Figured James should hear it straight from me, especially since he was the one who helped me hunt down Dave back in the day, spending months on end trying to track him down.

Now, though, it wasn't James occupying my thoughts, but Dave. I studied myself in the mirror; decked out in a cute dress, my cheeks flushed, my eyes gleaming with anticipation like they hadn't in ages. I'd even indulged in a touch of red lipstick, which now seemed a bit too much as I battled my nerves. Did I really care that much about whether he found me pretty?

I felt kind of silly, to be honest. But deep down, I knew I wanted to see him. I wanted to hear his voice again. Our call the day before had been brief, just a few hesitant words passing between us before I realized that talking on the phone wasn't cutting it. I needed to see him face-to-face, even if it was just to put a final chapter on our story once and for all.

I couldn't help but gasp with surprise when the doorbell chimed, my heart leaping into overdrive as a blush crept up my cheeks. Rushing to the door, I swung it open, my smile widening as I met Dave's gaze, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. He didn't even seem real, a vision straight out of a dream, his ginger hair catching the sunlight, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. It was everything I’d ever wanted, seeing him again like this, as if all my dreams were being handed to me on a silver platter.

"You’re here," I murmured dumbly, which earned a soft chuckle from him.

"Hey. Of course I am," he said, handing me the bouquet of sunflowers. I blushed as I accepted them, a delighted grin stubbornly forming on my lips. "These are for you."

"Oh, thanks, Dave," I replied, trying to contain the urge to throw myself into his arms right then and there. It seemed Dave was grappling with a similar hesitation; he reached out, lifting my chin, his thumb tracing my cheek. I sighed, feeling my heart kick up a notch. "So... you wanna come in?"

We stepped into my place; Dave plopped down on one of the couches in the living room while I scurried off to find a vase for the flowers. I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and found one, filling it with water in a hurry. Carrying it back to the living room, I set it on a small table near the window. Turning back to Dave, I caught his calm smile, feeling the weight of all the unsaid words hanging in the air between us.

"I... Yeah," I murmured, then sighed, trying to calm myself. "Dave... Last time we were together... The day you ended things with me..." I hesitated, seeing a storm of sadness and hurt stirring in his eyes, but he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, urging me to continue. "That day... it was a mess. Most of it was my fault, but... I swear, Dave, I didn't cheat on you with James. I..." I struggled to keep going, feeling the weight of old wounds reopening, tears threatening to spill over and choking my voice. "Please," I finally choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please, believe me. I can explain everything, I..."

I couldn’t keep talking; suddenly, the doorbell rang. I jumped, glancing nervously at Dave as the sound repeated.

"You should get that," Dave said, offering me a faint smile, though tension still lingered in the air. I nodded anxiously, making my way to the door.

I swung the door open, and there stood James.

"James?" I blinked, tension gripping my body. "What are you..."

"I got your voicemail. Where is he?" he growled, seizing me by the shoulders and shoving me aside before I could answer. Oh no, I thought, trailing after him into the house. He marched in with long, heavy strides, heading straight for the living room where he found Dave, who rose to his feet at the sight of him, a tempest brewing in his hazel eyes. "You!" James bellowed. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"James, chill!" I clutched his arm, meeting his eyes with a mix of exasperation and pleading. "We're just having a conversation. I told you we agreed to talk!"

"So now you have to report every move to him?" Dave shot back, his brow furrowing at me.

"Take a look in the mirror, man. Like you weren't a control freak when you two were together. You think I don't know you guys fought every time Nore wanted to see us?" James snapped, and Dave's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I ain't here to chat with you, Hetfield. It's best if you bounce," he growled, his tone carrying a hint of threat. I glanced between James and Dave, my pulse quickening. Oh no, not this again.

James chuckled, dripping with sarcasm.

"Ain't here to chat with you either, Mustaine. But you've got some serious nerve rolling up here after all the crap you pulled. You don't get to waltz back into her life like nothing happened. Like you didn't hurt her."

I gawked at James, my eyes widening in surprise. So, that's why he'd shown up? To defend me? All along, I figured if I crossed paths with Dave again, he'd be stoked for me, b ut clearly, that wasn't the case.

"Funny," Dave shot back, a wry smirk curling his lips. "Real funny, coming from you. Like you and Lars didn't pull the shit you did on me. Like you weren't trying to steal her from me from the start. You reckon I didn't catch the way you looked at her?"

"Well, in the end, I came out on top, didn't I?" James edged closer, his tone dripping with venomous irony. "I got the band, and I got the girl. What about you?"

"James, knock it off!" I interjected, and both of them swung their gazes towards me, as if just remembering I was there. "Did you forget Dave's here 'cause I invited him? I wanted to sort things out with him, alright? Lay off him!"

James arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback and a bit peeved by my response. I held his gaze, my cheeks flushing under Dave's watchful eyes, but I refused to break eye contact with James, a silent exchange playing out between us. He eventually rolled his eyes and made his way to the door.

"Ugh," I grumbled, frustrated, trailing after him. "James, come on!"

"What the fuck, Nore!" he exclaimed, wheeling around, and I instinctively took a step back. "What the fuck were you thinking, inviting this guy over?"

"I already told you I needed to talk to him! James, he deserves to know the truth. It's not right for him to keep believing I did him dirty like that..."

"That was ages ago. Why's it such a big deal now?"

"Of course it's a big deal! And what you and the guys did, booting him out of the band, matters too. You should at least say you're sorry..."

"Here you go again, sticking up for him like he didn't fuck up," James growled, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me! All these years, I've done nothing but love and protect you. He fucking left you! He left you high and dry, then went around bad-mouthing you to everyone without even considering your feelings, without even giving you a chance to explain. Did you ever think that you could've set things straight ages ago if he'd stopped to listen? You shouldn't even give him the time of day, Nore."

"James, we were kids ," I said, my voice quieter now , trying to bring some calm to the heated moment, trying to make him understand. "I messed up plenty too. You cheated on your girlfriend to be with me. We're no saints here, okay?"

"Well, if you think this guy is here to just patch things up and be buddies afterwards, you're dead wrong, alright? Dead wrong, and you know it. Bet he's still sore about losing you, because if he's not over getting booted from the band, would he really be over that?"

"And why does that even matter? This isn't about him moving on from me or not, it's about us making things right..."

"Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit about making things right with him."

"And that's the fucking problem!" I exclaimed, frustrated. "There was a time when you'd get why this means so much to me. There was a time when you'd want me to do what makes me happy! So either you were bullshitting me or you've changed so much that you just don't give a damn anymore. Honestly, I don't know which is worse."

James stared at me for a moment, hurt and shock in his gaze, the same old hurt that always resurfaced between us — the hurt of not being able to understand each other anymore. He sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips as he closed his eyes.

"What happened between us and him is in the past," he growled. "I don't need to keep going over that, and I sure as hell don't owe him an apology. If you feel like you do... Don't come crying to me when he screws you over again."

"James..." I started, reaching out to grab his hand, but it was too late. He shook his head, pulling away, and stormed off, hopping into his car and slamming the door shut before speeding off. I watched him leave, my heart pounding as tears welled up in my eyes, wondering if I'd ever find a way to make things right with both Dave and James without causing even more hurt along the way.

☆

I've never been one to let things slide easily.

Holding onto grudges was kind of my thing. In a world that had kicked me and spat on my face since day one, anger had been my go-to move, sword and shield rolled into one, keeping me safe from the emptiness that always lurked.

Sometimes I'd been pretty good at channeling that anger into something productive, but other times? Well, let's just say it was a rocky ride. It was like walking a tightrope, flirting with self-destruction, and usually, things didn't end well — not for me, and definitely not for the people around me.

Grudges kept me on my toes. They kept me sharp. Couldn't forget, couldn't let myself get fooled again by someone who'd already done me wrong. And I was cool with that, like a ticking time bomb kind of cool, until I thought I found someone who got me. Someone who could put out the flames, show me the softer side of life, the morning sun's warmth instead of the heat of a fire.

She had always been my Achilles' heel.

We were lost children, lost in the haze of our youth, drowning our sorrows in booze, trying to escape everything that hurt us. I started falling for her then, in a simple way, because she was like me, yet she was good. Kind in a way that baffled me, that I couldn't wrap my head around. How could she see so much good in me when I couldn't even see it myself? How could she trust me so completely, with a trust that scared the hell out of me because I wasn't used to that kind of tenderness, that kind of affection?

Before I knew it, my love had turned into devotion. A devotion so deep it mingled with the marrow of my bones, making me stronger and weaker in equal measure. ‘Cause when I lost everything but her, the fear that she might be next only drove us apart.

Eleanore. Eleanore. Nore.

It wasn't a walk in the park to forget her after it all went south. For the longest time, I wanted to forget her, to despise her just like I did with Lars and James for booting me out of Metallica. After some time, it became a piece of cake to act like I didn't give a shit, that I was better off without her, that I was over her and ready to move on, diving into other kisses, other lovers. Drowning myself in whatever substance I could find, anything to drown out the hollow feeling inside.

But without her shining light, I was adrift.

As weeks turned into months and months into years, my fury toward her slowly simmered down enough for me to see that what I felt wasn't anger, but love. A love wounded and raw, twisting my heart in an endless pit. I longed for her, but it was too late; it wasn't rocket science to figure out that she and James were living the dream of a perfect relationship while folks seemed to get a kick out of keeping me posted on every move Metallica made without me. And I tried to sell myself the story that it was for the best; that if she’d left me, it was better for her to be with someone who truly lit up her world. That I wasn't, and had never been, good enough, worthy enough of her love.

And to add insult to injury, it's not like I didn't have my own demons to wrestle with. As the years rolled on, my reliance on any and all substances that could numb me from reality grew worse by the day, until it reached a breaking point. My first go-round in rehab fell short; I found myself making repeat visits to those gloomy facilities more times than I could tally up. And all along, I was just searching for something, anything, to reassure me that I was headed in the right direction. Something that could pull me back from the brink, something that could save me.

And then I found her.

As fleeting as our reunion had been, it was enough to shatter any facade of normalcy I had managed to cobble together. Because deep down, I knew that after laying eyes on her again, I couldn't live with myself if I let the opportunity to reconnect slip through my fingers. It was like her presence had wiped away all the pent-up anger I harbored inside. But beneath that anger lurked pain and fear. After all, hadn't she chosen James over me in the end? How could her reappearance not feel like a mirage, especially when she had once shown me the purest, most sincere form of love, only to snatch it away and make me believe I didn't deserve any of it?

That I didn't deserve her. And that she was worthy of something better.

When she asked to meet up to discuss the past, I couldn't bring myself to refuse. How could I deny her anything? And there I was, the Dave Mustaine, known for my sarcasm, anger, and aggression, completely bending to the whims of a woman. But not just any woman.

Her.

I found myself buying her flowers and eagerly anticipating our meeting like some lovesick teenager. Not because I was after a quick fuck or a girl dazzled by my wealth and fame, but simply because it was her. And God knows how when she was around, it was like everything else faded into the background. I dared to hope that her sudden reappearance in my life, after so much pain, emptiness, and longing, was a sign that good things were on the horizon.

But life's never that simple, is it?

Then James showed up, with his anger, arrogance, and disdain. My heart sank as I watched the intimate exchange between them, even in the midst of a fight. The silent communication in their glances held the weight of years of companionship, two souls deeply entwined on the same journey. And I couldn't help but envy James because he knew a side of her that I no longer did. He had stolen it from me, something I’d lost when I was deceived and betrayed by those I once considered my family.

But as I listened to their argument, and her desperate pleas for him to understand that all she wanted was to make things right and explain herself, I couldn't help but remember one of the things that had made me fall head over heels in love with her in the first place: her unwavering loyalty, always ready to defend those she cared about, the same loyalty that had her standing by my side without a second thought when my world came crashing down. Loyalty. I swear I never cheated on you with James. That's what she’d said, right? And I realized I believed her, but that didn't make things any easier. Because if that was true, then had I truly shut her out of my life, without even giving her a chance to explain herself, all over some stupid misunderstanding?

It wasn't surprising that James was furious with her for still holding onto any hope of patching things up with me. Fuck . I mean, it wasn't like this was anything new, but had I really been that big of an idiot?

I didn't even deserve her to look at me. I should just leave, spare her from my anger, my bitterness, and my mistakes. But how could I when she was right there, her blue eyes shimmering with tears she tried to choke back, so close and so real?

"I'm sorry, Dave," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I didn't know James was gonna barge in here and stir up such a mess, I..." She sighed, seeming lost for words, wrapping her arms around herself, looking so confused and alone that I couldn't resist. Striding over to her, I pulled her into a hug, holding her tight against my chest, hoping against hope that this would be enough for her to grasp everything I was feeling but couldn't put into words. She smelled like cinnamon and cardamom and this unique sweetness that was just her, and it made me ravenous. I buried my face in her hair, one hand gripping the back of her head while the other pulled her closer, and she hugged me back, like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You were telling the truth, huh?" I murmured, my heart aching. "You and James... You weren't really together that day?"

"No," she sobbed, her voice heavy with sorrow, and I held her even tighter. "No, we weren't..."

"It's alright. It’s okay, sweetheart," I whispered, the pet name slipping out without me even realizing it, the weight of my mistakes threatening to crush me with regret. I wanted to cry too, but I couldn’t, not now. I had to stay strong for her. "I'm here. Let it out, I'm here."

I held her until her sobs subsided, her breathing slowing down. She pulled back a bit, looking up at me, her face tantalizingly close to mine, and I had to use all my strength not to kiss her right there .

"You don't wanna chase after James?" I questioned, trying to hide the distress in my voice. She shook her head, looking like she might burst into tears again any second.

"No, not right now. It'd just make everything worse. We'd end up arguing more,” she whispered, her cheeks damp from her tears. “He's angry, Dave. And he's been holding onto that anger for ages, and I don't know how to help him..."

"Hey, it's alright. You'll figure it out, I'm sure."

"We weren't together. I mean, that day," she started, breaking away from my embrace and heading to the couch, where she took a seat. I took a seat too, unable to stand even a moment apart from her. "I knew James had feelings for me. I knew because he'd kissed me once, out of the blue, and I knew I couldn't keep ignoring the way he felt."

She paused, and I nodded, pushing down the surge of jealousy and anger bubbling up inside me.

"I… I liked him too. But I loved you. I was so, so in love with you. And I’d chosen you . I would always, always, always have chosen you. That day, running into him was just a total coincidence. I didn’t even know he was gonna be there. I mean, I get it now, I should've told you everything back then. But honestly, I was scared stiff. Didn't wanna risk pushing you even further away. It was all my fault..."

"No," I cut in, squeezing her hand, small, soft, and warm, in mine. "No. I should've let you explain. You were my girlfriend, after all. I owed you that much, Nore."

"I tried to track you down afterward, you know, to explain myself," she confessed, her voice choked, those pleading blue eyes of hers practically begging for understanding. "But it never quite panned out. And then..."

"And then?" I prodded gently. She glanced away, nibbling on her lower lip, like she was wrestling with the right words. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, urging her on.

"And then... There was that song."

I let out a rough breath. Mustaine, you fucking idiot. She didn't have to spell it out. I knew exactly which song she meant, a tune born from my anger and bitterness, a misguided attempt at bravado fueled by some foolish hope that she'd hear it and come chasing after me, even if it was just for a fight. But in the end, it only drove Nore farther from me. If there was a prize for boneheaded moves, I'd have been on that podium in a heartbeat.

"And you never bothered to find me," she murmured, her voice laced with hurt, her gaze dropping to her hands, her lower lip trembling just enough to betray her pain. It was like watching a wounded bird, helpless and vulnerable after falling off its nest.

God, how I longed for her to forgive me, even for the sins I had not sinned.

"I tried," I admitted, and she glanced up at me quick, cheeks flushing the sweetest shade of pink, those blue eyes of hers sparkling like they could stop my heart. Why was she happy to hear that? Why was she messing with my head like this? Didn't she love James now? Tears threatened to well up again, the lump in my throat tightening. I couldn't stand this. "I did try. But you were gone. Off touring in Europe with him. And then a year later or so, Cliff pops up at one of my gigs. I asked about you, wanted to see you. But he shut me down," I revealed bitterly. "Told me to get over it. Said you and James were together. That you were in love. So I threw in the towel."

She looked utterly surprised, like it was news to her. After all these years, I'd figured she didn't give a damn. So why the sudden interest? Why act like she didn't know? It felt like she was ripping my heart out all over again. Because, painful as it was to admit, I still loved her. I had never, ever, ever stopped loving her. And now she was back in my life, with those piercing blue eyes and that gentle heart, thinking she could save me, thinking she could fix things. Innocent. Pure. Wasting her heart on the wreck that I was.

And I couldn't even muster the guts to lay it bare — that I was a screw-up. That I was useless, that she oughta go off and be happy with James 'cause she'd never fix what was broken in me. I didn't deserve that. But I wanted it — I wanted to be near her. I was too damn selfish. I wanted her goodness. Her innocence. I needed it to belong to me, and only me, and no one else.

I didn't deserve her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, gripping my hands tight. "I just... I thought you didn't want me around anymore. I didn't know, Dave," she sniffled. Was she crying? She shouldn't be. She hadn't done anything, anything wrong. Maybe I should've pushed harder. Maybe I should've listened. Maybe I should've gone after her, fought for her. But now, it felt too late.

"I should go," I muttered, even though it tore me up inside. "I don't want... You and James, Nore, you two are together..."

"But we're not, " she blurted out. I went still, locked into her blue gaze. Please, don't toy with me like this. "Things with James, Dave... They're complicated. But we're not together. Not like that. We..." Her voice hitched, and all I wanted was to hold her, to never let her go, to never let her cry again. "We're both broken. Cliff's death... It tore us apart."

And there it was. That vulnerability. I'd noticed it, how she seemed fragile now compared to the lively girl I once knew. This was new, and it broke my heart that she’d changed to feel ruined. It crushed me that the happy, determined, kind girl I once knew had become a wounded woman. A woman still grieving, even years after losing the one who'd shaped her world.

And it stung even more that I was such a worthless piece of shit that I felt selfishly relieved to hear she and James were no longer together.

"Please, don't string me along like this," I managed to whisper. She chuckled, her voice trembling, then met my gaze.

"Dave. Would I lie to you about something like this?" she asked, almost sweetly. Oh, this devil of a woman. If only she knew how she had me in the palm of her hand right then. "Please... I don't want you to leave."

"What should I do?" I practically pleaded. Just tell me what to do because I can't take this anymore. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I want to—

"Stay with me," she breathed, her fingers weaving through mine. My heart raced, disbelief flooding me. I didn't deserve it, this happiness. I didn't deserve her.

Yet there she was.

Yet she wanted me.

My hand shook as I reached out to touch her face gently. I traced the curve of her lower lip with my thumb, watching as she blushed, her lips parting ever so slightly, anticipation gleaming in her eyes. I pulled her close, my mind racing as much as my heart, and kissed her, our lips moving together, my tongue exploring her mouth eagerly, tasting her like it would be the last time. Because maybe it would. Maybe this was all just a dream, and I would wake up in my cold bed, miserable and stupid and alone without her.

Because this was too good to be true. That a woman this small could hold this much power over me, over my heart, felt almost like a joke. But there she was. She was beautiful. She was kind.

And she wanted me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope @ilovepapahet

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tricksterringmaster · 4 months ago

Text

another long very chaotic personal rant, getting it out there (again, i know, i absolutely hate myself too for it, no one really needs to read it, but i just feel better having it posted)

i hate so much when there is THE ARTIST in fandom. a big figure whose art become the face of characters, the face of the ship and everything.

there are ofc always big and small artists, but it's just so fucking overwhelming to see these particular people. especially when they grow out of nowhere in several months, achieving results you can only dream of and for which you will probably never have enough time, talent and what not.

i tried so hard and got so far but in the end it doesn't even matter or whatever linking park said.

sometimes i just want to get a little lucky at least fucking once instead of contantly grinding, living on 4 hours of sleep and moving like a fucking turtle in everything, no matter how much time i spend and how hard i try.

i want to be praised on these fucking discord servers without dragging my art all over the place like a seller person on the market. i want someone to use my art in their stupid slideshow on tiktok. i want them to get it and post it as illustration for some quote they liked on twitter. hell, i don't care, steal it, sell it, say it yours. for me it just means you love it so much, with my paranoia i won't be able to make money from my art anyway in this fucking country.

i want to feel like what i do makes sense and worth it in the end.

would be nice to feel like that about things irl too, but it seems even more impossible, because i'm absolute failure of a person.

i know i need to be happy and grateful about what i have, i need to compare myself to my past self, but it's just not what i feel at all. my past self had quite some moments of being better than me now, even if this self wasn't aware of it in these particular moments.

life feels so fucking unfair, and i feel jealous, angry, petty, overwhelemed, miserable and "i should stop sleeping at all, take 100 courses to get better, do 1000 tutorials, do more sport, eat even less, do better, better, better NOW" about it. and stop fucking crying, because it's petty and no one needs it.

i also feel so fucking guilty about being happy about occasional nice comments and words only for a moment, instead of focusing on them for longer times, i can't fight these dread and anxiety of feeling insignificant forever. these days it's worthy throwing a party if someone decided to say something nice, but i feel happy for a day and then get back to feeling like shit.

i also feel guilty for wanting these things when i know people who have it even worse. but just knowing that someone had it worse is perspective, not particularly a better feeling. i feel bad we all have it so bad. i'd prefer us all to succeed and achieve what we want. find communities, find love, find appreciation. and be fucking happy, be content, not on the constant "happy for a moment and then dread-dread-dread" rollecoaster that never fucking stops.

all i see is not the light at the end of the tonnel, but the tonnel at the end of the light and it gets closer and closer, darker and darker every other week.

i know that i'm annoying and talk about feeling bad often these days, but it just how it is. sometimes you are a mess and you have to live through it, hoping it all will end one way or another.

i'll talk with my therapist about it, but my next session is only on friday, so here is some extremely chaotic self-reflection. i need to survive this thursday and part of friday to get there and somehow work in process. there is a prospect of losing a job now, but no one knows anything, haha. sometimes it feels that good news are out of stock at all.

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wyked-ao3 · 4 months ago

Note

Hellooooooooooo my dear ,

I'd like to know what are the inspirations for TPKODR.

I know that is a big project and something that you had in mind for several years.

What was for you the first idea, input, the origin of it?

If there is one, or multiple ones

Thank you!!

so I suppose I'll go more in depth this time...

The pirate's cursed god series (TPCG) started at least to me as a fantasy world which is why the fae might be just a little more developed lore wise than the pirates...at times.

TPKODR was the missing link of how to start it all—so I was not tossing people into the deep end of the lore.

My fascination with mythology and pirates is probably what inspired most of it that didn't come to me in nightmares and or odd dreams caused by fevers...

The spirit fae and the gods were the first to be created in a way...then came alo g the earth and fire fae...air and water were the last to be made really culturally wise.

What exactly was the first idea...of the series well it's been scrapped as it didn't work so well with everything else going on and that was the tree people being a more active participant of the story. Yeah I couldn't figure out how to blend the lore and that smoothly without throwing a it's magic with no explanation so it was the first part to be erased as I wrote the first book.. eventually y'all will get to meet a few but they don't like to wander to far from the places they live.

Braith, Jade, Adoh, Solace and Kieran (some were recently named) were my first OC's to come to me a bit over seven years ago...but some of the lore was created well before that lol.

the shadow realm was the next part crafted along with the swords.. and then the crafting of my own twist on the Davy Jones lore.

A lot of the lore was crafted when I was in a mythology phase (I haven't left that one btw) but sometimes it will have symbolism that has to do with trees or fae or herbology....

I hope that answered your ask and here is a bonus answer

What inspired me to write my original story versus just letting the story remain in my head to be tweaked to death when I was bored or trying to go to sleep.....well that would be the friends I made while writing fanfiction... You @gioiaalbanoart as well as @lillybaaaka and @the-golden-comet along with several others who will be acknowledged in the dedication... Y'all inspired me to give it a try— especially when y'all were actually interested in the few plot points I mentioned ....y'all were kind and supportive even when it was some subpar fanfiction that I was writing and each of you have taught me something different that has helped pave the way. 🫂

So In a way the fanfiction writing led to this ... It taught me a lot even if I'm still pretty far from good especially with run on and fragmented sentences and I still probably overuse dialogue tags (I have acknowledged that's a weak point for me)

But we each have our own journey and process to writing and I think all author's are learning something new as the go.

A special thanks to my beta readers for pointing out things I was blind too mainly due to knowing everything that happens or what I meant by a line...🫂

Honestly I never really intended to write it out...but alas here we are and to save people some sanity I broke it up into the main storyline being 4 books versus it being one book about 2000pages long 0_o (my brain hurts at the thought of editing that)

Tagging the tag list Incase they were curious

@thatuselesshuman @gioiaalbanoart @lychhiker-writes @thecomfywriter @evilwriter37

@saebasanart @the-golden-comet @mauannacreates @kind-lion @alinacapellabooks

@kuebiko-writing @kaeru483 @theink-stainedfolk @unstableunicornsofasgard @mysticstarlightduck

@demon-sneeze @fromthenortheast @smellyrottentrees @honeybewrites @the-letterbox-archives

@illarian-rambling @paeliae-occasionally @leahpardo-pa-potato

#Answered ask #Original story #Tpcg

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madelinetess · 1 year ago

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So what if he got a little aggressive on the pitch today? Richard played the same way he lived, passionately. And as Zava said before the match, passion can mean both love and crime. Also fruit… and the Christian meaning… The word is actually pretty versatile… But it mostly means the first two things…

Today though, the passion meant that the quiet rage he felt ever since the team discovered that the BELIEVE sign was torn finally found its outlet.

He knew who was to blame and he saw red. Both figuratively and literally... He smiled to himself when he remembered the sound the ball made on contact with the Westham player when he slammed it into him. The red card was absolutely worth it.

He didn't really remember much of what happened afterwards. He knew that Isaac carried him off the field, but everything after that was a blur.

Coach Lasso's locker room talk was short and yet Richard still did not retain a word of it. The bus ride back home was spent sitting in silence, focusing extra hard on not exploding and ruining the already shitty mood of the rest of the team.

One thing however did manage to get him out of his spiral. A pair of blue eyes studying him carefully. Scanning every inch of his tensed up body. Jan Maas, sitting right next to him, was staring at him intently which was throwing Richard off. The French player glared back at his friend.

"There are already clips of you throwing that ball at the Westham Player on the internet" the Dutchman said, his accent seeping into the sentence. "On one hand it was incredibly satisfying and..." he paused and cleared his throat "and entertaining to watch, but he did not deserve it."

"What do you mean!?" A few people turned in their seats to look at them.

"He was not the one that ripped the sign. That was Nate. We should have won this match to show him who he messed with"

"Oi, Jan Maas" Jamie butted in "weren't cha also pissed?"

"I'm not saying I wasn't, this time I indeed played badly. The thing is, we hurt ourselves more than we harmed them." At this point almost everyone was listening in on the conversation.

"I'd say the poor fella that Dickie over here knocked down got plenty harmed" This time it was Colin that decided to comment and more than a few people nodded their heads clearly sharing the sentiment.

"Someone even made an edit of the moment! It's trending now!" Dani exclaimed with that radiant smile of his, and soon after a notification went off on everyone's phone as a link to the aforementioned clip found its way into the groupchat.

And just like that a little bit of life returned to the not so long ago gloomy footballers, the bus got livelier and the conversations seemed to at least slightly brighten everybody's mood.

The Frenchman however could not force himself to join any of them. He just sat there unmoving, looking out the window, not focusing on anything in particular.

Once back at their home stadium the whole team got out of the bus, and people all went their separate ways. Richard sat down inside his car and exhaled deeply while leaning his forehead on the steering wheel.

The silence bothered him, so he turned on the radio, but as soon as the Adele CD Jan had gifted him for Christmas started playing, he immediately turned it off. Rolling in the Deep was not the song for now… However much he loved her, today was not the day… They could have had it all, but he messed it up. And they lost.

Richard took out his phone to check the time, but was instead greeted by a text notification.

I'm coming over. Bring up some wine.

Why would Jan be coming over today, was he not tired? Was he not frustrated? All that Richard wanted to do now was to sleep off the loss, and maybe the wine part didn't sound so bad right now...

He somehow managed to get himself back home just in time to take a quick shower, throw on something comfy and make the trip to his cellar to pick something for them to drink.

While entering his kitchen he was greeted by Jan, rummaging through the cupboards to find the right wine glasses. It wasn't exactly a surprise, as they both owned the keys to each other's places since the last off-season and met up quite often, however Richard has just recently reorganised his kitchen, so the Dutchman was struggling to find the right glassware.

"In the middle one, the ones behind your usual mug."

"These?"

The man holding the bottle only nodded.

"Where to? The living room?"

"No offence to your really nice couch, but this is a bed-comfort level of conversation."

This was also nothing new. They had conversations where a park bench was sufficient, but they also had the privacy of a living room and comfort of a sofa types of talks. This one? This one apparently required the highest level of comfort that only a bed with an excessive amount of throw pillows could provide.

They both made their way upstairs and once in the bedroom, Richard set up the table for their glasses, while Jan threw an additional blanket on the bed. Once done with their respective tasks they both turned to look at each other.

"So..?"

"You are still angry" Jan said simply stating the obvious. Richard stood next to him quietly sipping on the wine. "I envy your passion," the Dutchman paused for a moment there, smiling softly to himself "but I also know that now you have nothing to target it at, and you will just let it get to your head. So I’m here so that you are not alone with your thoughts.”

“I’m not angry”

“Of course, and Jamie Tartt is not a prick”

Richard rolled his eyes at Jan and exhaled annoyedly, but put his glass down at the table he set up, and sat down on the bed motioning for his friend to join him. The Dutchman followed.

“I am not angry, I’m disappointed. In myself." The other footballer clearly wanted to interject, but the Frenchman continued before that could happen. “I should have played better. Just like you said, we should have proved them all wrong, and instead we threw the game. I am so mad that even Adele didn’t help…”

“Adele?”

Richard leaned back to rest his head against the wall behind them.

“Yes, I have the CD you got me for Christmas in my car. A song played and the words made me feel even worse, so I turned it off and you know I never turn off Adele”

Another shaky exhale on his part was followed by Jan’s hand making its way into Richard’s hair and combing through them. The shorter man, though surprised at first, leaned into the touch.

“I know how much that sign meant to me, and how angry I got seeing Nate tearing it, so I can’t imagine how you felt. I know how sentimental you are.”

The Dutchman’s fingers kept on getting tangled in the other’s hair, running soothing circles on his scalp while Richard listened to him.

“When you were telling me the story about the ghosts from the treatment room you mentioned the sand in the bottle, according to your retelling everyone else brought some object, be it a photo or a pair of shoes, but you brought sand…” Richard nodded slightly and leaned into his friend that was now sitting right next to him with his back also against the wall. “And for my first Christmas here I remember you bringing things that were your family tradition to the Higgins’ Christmas Party… Don’t even get me started on your photo album organisation system…”

At that they both exchanged a chuckle. It was true that Richard liked keeping all his photos meticulously organised in countless albums. Every team outing or a trip somewhere had a separate photo album complete with dates…

Jan looked at him and smiled warmly before continuing.

“You love with passion and without remembrance… You feel so much… even for the tiniest things… Sometimes I wish I was the sand…”

Realising what he’d said, Jan stopped everything he was doing, and Richard, who was mostly asleep at that moment shot up and looked straight at his… friend?

Time stood still and Jan sat there, hand still in Richard’s hair, terrified, waiting. The way he felt for so long, out in the open. And then the Frenchman spoke.

“Don’t.” Jan was ready to make his escape, but got cornered by the shorter man who threw his leg over his and was now sitting on his lap caging him between his body and the wall. “Don’t wish for that. I’d much rather have you as a person, than as some grains”

“Do you mean it?” Jan’s blue eyes stared firmly into Richard’s green ones.

“I didn’t drink nearly enough to start speaking nonsense. Of course I mean it.” He was looking at his lips. Then he was no longer looking at them, because they were covered with his own, hidden from everyone else in the world.

Jan’s hands stayed in Richard’s hair, but Richard’s roamed all over his neck, their kiss slowly but surely gaining momentum. There was no trace of the anger or disappointment that marked this day ever since the recording was presented to the team after the first half. The passion however, the passion that has always been there, somewhere under the surface, was now out in the late evening sun, and it was there to stay.

~~~

The ao3 link is here

#Ted lasso #richard montlaur #jan maas #afc richmond #Richmond boys #This was supposed to be a #janchard #short ficlet #But turned into this #No smut #Forget about it #I am not capable of writing that #You will take what I give you #So sorry about the Adele thing I don't control the headcanons my brain comes up with

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that-one-odd-shipper · 7 months ago

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🪼. New Fic . 🪼

(To the little Junichro and Tachihara anon, yours is getting started now :) I prioritized this one first.)

❤️‍🔥- A little Chuuya fic! This one actually made me very happy to write since I got inspo off my nieces actions for this one when she was over.

♦- This takes place right after my previous little Dazai fan fiction, let's say about a week later. I don't see many agere fics with Chuuya as the regressor, so I figured I'd feed the fandom with this one.

📣- I don't exactly have a picked out age for Chuuya in this, I wouldn't say younger than Dazai but definitely a not very talkative, sleepy yet excited kid. Also extremely clingy, skk is really alike when they are little in odd ways. This is the first time he's ever regressed, he doesn't even know he does.

❗- I'll attach the first few paragraphs for you to get a feel of the fic! Link to my ao3 and the fic itself will be at the end! Please enjoy, comment and like! Ps. This isn't the first sentences like I usually do. There's backstory at the start, so I figured I'd start further down.

Back to the current situation, Chuuya had a morbidly bad headache. He felt like tearing his skin off, that's how bad it was. Nothing worked, no pills, the rest of the sort.

Overwhelming, that's how it all felt. He had been granted permission to leave early that day because of it despite his paperwork. Another factor in his stress.

Although originally putting up a fight against it because the work would pile up, they insisted. So now he was here in his apartment.

God what he would give to just pass out in a warm bath, not have to worry about anything for hours and hours on end. But of course that couldn't happen..

When he turned the bend into the living room he found Dazai staring at a certain picture. Of course, of fucking course the bastard decided to be a nusince today.

When noticing Chuuya, he shot around taking the picture in his grasp. "Aw, the Hatrack's back! Do you really keep pictures like these up?"

Dazai held up the picture for him to see now, it was of Chuuya and the sheep. A picture he had taken ages ago that he refused to take down for reasons he doesn't wish to share.

The red-head stalked forward and tried to reach for the frame, cursing at Dazai. Now he held it far above Chuuya, taunting him. Can't he just get a break?

"Fucking bitch! Leave my shit alone, asshat!" Yea he cursed like eight times in that sentence, but he's stressed alright?

The brunette only laughed as a response, throwing it down for Chuuya to grab with his ability. And that he did, clutching it in his hands immediately.

"...Why are you here?" He sighed out, rubbing his temple. This was giving him a headache.

"Can't an owner check up on his dog?" Sang the man, plopping down on the couch.

"I'm not your dog-" Chuuya attempted to say, but his brain cut out in the middle aggravatingly. Static formed in his head making it increasingly difficult to focus.

If he slipped up that much Dazai didn't notice, starting to ramble about something stupid like slobber. Chuuya could care less at the moment.

He opted to move towards the kitchen, sitting down at the island and ignoring Dazai. Maybe be should cook? It would probably help the static and headache.

Dazai followed him over, continuing to speak. The words faded out without his control as he sat there. Was everything usual so loud? Because it was ear bleeding.

The red head doesn't trust himself to cook like this, he'll probably burn himself. Just another thing for Dazai to make fun of him for and my god why can't he just shut up?!

Chuuya couldn't do it. Too much, too loud. His limbs felt stuffy and his mind was covered in clouds so thick he couldn't think. Static noise in his head at all times, preventing him from even getting a thought in.

Chuuya's head pounded as if it was being hit by a baseball bat over and over and over. Everything was sticky, hot, and constricting.

___________________________________

Hope you liked the snippet :) the links to my ao3 and the story and bellow!

Story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57034897

My ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Odd_Shipper/pseuds/That_One_Odd_Shipper

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #fanfiction #age regression #age regressor #agere blog #dazai osamu #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs dazai

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alatariel-gildaen · 10 months ago

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Everything's going wrong, and I really feel like I'm about to lose it.

Firstly, we're stuck in a maisonette with rising damp and mould, and the freeholders are doing precisely NOTHING about it all.

This has caused major respiratory conditions for all three of us. The worst of the damp and mould is in my disabled son's bedroom - this is what it currently looks like in there

The wallpaper and plaster have fallen away, the wall itself is actually wet, I'm cleaning mould up every day. We've had to throw away toys, bedding, books, and clothes of his that have been destroyed by mould.

We can't move, because we own the flat and no one will buy it with this problem, and we can't fix it ourselves, because its a structural issue that is the responsibility of the freeholder, and they have done nothing but ignore our pleas for the last 2 and a half years.

Ok, ready for the rollercoaster that's making me lose it? Strap in.

Now, as my son is disabled, and we're a relatively low income family, we were able to apply to the family fund for a holiday, something we've not been able to afford to do for YEARS.

This Friday, we're due to fly out to the south of France for a week. The FF awarded us £500 towards the holiday, but we had to pay the rest out of our savings, costing us just about £1200, and depleting our savings to nothing. We figured it'd be worth it - the holiday park we're going to sounds utterly perfect for him, with lots of nature, wildlife, and secure facilities with easy access. Something we simply wouldn't have even considered without the FF's help. Yes, it was still expensive, but the memories would be utterly priceless.

A couple of week's ago my car's engine light came on. Honestly something I'd probably be ignoring right now normally, but my husband was due to take his driving test in it this week before we fly out, and we are pretty sure that you can't take it in a car with the engine light showing. We managed to get it seen, and it requires around £800 worth of repairs. I cannot function without a car - it's absolutely vital for transporting my son and keeping him safe.

As I mentioned before, we've all had respiratory problems linked to the mould. My poor son seems to have a permanent frog in his throat. I've been diagnosed with asthma following a cough that I've had now since last November. A few weeks ago, my husband developed a similar nasty cough. And last week that cough suddenly got worse. He was vomiting due to the cough, in pain from head to toe, shivering and shaking.

Yesterday it was so bad, we called NHS 111, and they were so worried, they sent out an ambulance.

He's been admitted to hospital with pneumonia caused by the damp and mould. He can't take his driving test (obviously) and we are most likely going to lose out on our holiday.

I'm self employed but been unable to work much due to illness, but I'm going to have to put that aside.

So, I'm begging you, please help out a struggling artist, mother to a disabled child, and wife to a terribly ill husband. If I can book in a few pet portraits, I'll be able to cover our mortgage this month, and hopefully recover some of our lost holiday money, as well as keep my car on the road.

Here are some examples of my work.

Mostly I work in coloured pencil on pastelmat, although occasionally I can also do drafting film (if the subject allows for it) Commissions are £140 for an A4 piece and that will include postage to anywhere in mainland UK - outside of the mainland, of course I'll have to charge extra for postage.

I appreciate these aren't cheap, but a lot of work goes into them. If you could please reblog to get this seen, I would appreciate it so so much.

I am in the process of setting up a website for these, but feel free to contact me here in the meantime.

Thank you so much for taking time to read, and reblogs to signal boost are hugely appreciated

#artists on tumblr #pencil artist #personal shizz #please help #please reblog #i'm genuinely scared for the future right now

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butchwheels · 1 month ago

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finally starting to use my old main acct again after years...

quick update for my server darlings!! <33

okay, so, i haven't used this account in ages.

i got really into building an awesome server! and do super incredible collabs with amazingly talented and intelligent leftists.

so, @ those amazing feminists & trans/detrans activists helping me collab on all kinds of wonderful projects, here's some updates:

i will be making weekly posts on here updating everyone on stuff and hopefully building a stronger more sustainable platform as a writer, and break into youtube. this is basically my personal & life management account instead of my usual one, but it's also where i will link my substack articles and eventually my youtube channel once i make it all more solid. it's also going to be a lot more bunnies-related! and i will have non-mutuals comments disabled a lot, sorry about that ;; i will only follow fellow server mods and close personal friends i make in fandom communities.

so this account will be for my own career shenanigans, and trying to cope as a freelancer trying to really make it into the journalism and youtube scene and wanting to hire people for substack/youtube collabs etc. not just the usual investigative journalism you're used to! i will be posting longer-form articles, and cover topics i usually don't.

if you are open to collaborating with fellow gyns to help me form a proper business plan for my personal life management, i encourage you to make a freelancer.com account or a similar website as a group and getting used to figuring out your own rates for consultations/etc. i would only want to get a business plan done if i can throw some money at it. but for now, i need money to throw first and foremost, right? so i'll be using this acct and my substack to actually hopefully be able to eventually survive as a professional writer... currently i'm broke and half starved a lot of the time, and have literally zero savings, so i need to get an assistant or hire a team of assistants to make me business plans and generally help me manage my life more efficiently ;; i will be paying per presentation, but i NEED people to do their due diligence and really google around to find appropriate rates first so i can time things right. until the end of summer 2025, i will be focused first and foremost on my personal substack & youtube channel, as well as doing freelance french translation & transcription.

if you're a mod on the gazette, feel free to take notes on things and make a google docs of ideas!! link me in the gazette server.

if you have consultations in mind, come up with some pricing. i'd prefer being presented with one as a team, so y'all can make a collaborative email and email me at [email protected] if you do figure out how you would price it so that it's all fair and everything. just kind of look into what rates are good for consultants and i'll be in touch once my substack is full of really good quality articles and my youtube is more settled... and my finances are more in order, enough to pay for proper consultations. that will probably be in autumn 2025, from the look of things! and i will be starting to do youtube livestreams and will need help with that as well, so if anyone is open to doing a presentation for one of the tuesday infodump/slideshow streams please hmu! i can give you a giftcard for it, or other server members might offer to help crowdfund it. it probably won't be super much, and it won't be until there's a month i can actually afford it, but feel free to start working on one together. i will be starting to make a list of presentations/consults i want to pay folks for.

i'm still trying to do translation & transcription as well, so getting back into the french world rn. i will be posting ONLY original content on here from now on, no more reblogs, and some will be totally unrelated to activism for once hahah ;; my comments will be mostly disabled except for server mods, but you can join and spy on my private journal if you're in the server!! hmu for the link.

in that journal i'll update y'all on everything i'm doing with this specific account. for longer updates relating to my investigative journalism, please subscribe to my substack, as linked in the server. i will be gradually shifting to primarily using this blog and substack to update folks until i'm a bit more established on substack, and hopefully this summer hiring an assistant to handle my social media updates and things like that for my website!

oh also, the winter gift exchange is 100% still happening! it'll get figured out throughout january. stay tuned!!

lots of awesome things coming! love ya buns!! 🫶

(speaking of, lots of bun pics incoming...)

#lay text #server #updates

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un-welcome · 2 months ago

Note

On anon because I'd prefer to keep my nose out of this overall, but have information I felt you'd want to know:

I saw some of your posts about @/brainpilled and thought you may like to know about this. I see you're friends with luluyam, but it doesn't look like she has her askbox open so I figured I'd alert you - brainpilled is up on Bluesky saying Yam and her friends (which I'm guessing includes you) have been harassing and drawing r@p3 art of her, which seems to be... Incredibly incorrect? Here's the post link, can send screenshots in DMs if you're unable to view:

https://bsky.app/profile/brainpilled.bsky.social/post/3lcvcta3l422w

Hi there, yea, we're friends with Luluyam! Have been for almost a year now. Dont be afraid to reach out in dms if you see this, but yeaa this is SOO not correct.

Brainpillrd, previously known as cultc0re, has been throwing this lie around for MONTHS without any let up. Lulu wants nothing to due with brainpilled anymore and its for good reason. Everything said in that link is fake, and I can verify myself. Shes referring to a piece of art between her old oc and lulu's oc, which WASNT EVEN OF THAT NATURE?

I wish she would just drop her beef with Yammy, even though I KNOW what it is, shes just mad she finally got deplatformed after 2+ years of harassing, stalking, and abusing others.

Oh btw Bodybag, Jinx, whichever you prefer, I know the oc of mine you stole wasn't the only one. I also know youre still actively following those that are into r@pe/non-con on bluesky, and you actively seem to be talking about pokemon that dont pass the harkness test on there too. And are you gonna address the feral p0rn on your deviantart as well? Your racist character designs? THAT is why you were run off the internet, NOT because youre transfem. Stop using your identity as a shield pooks.

Anything else she mentions about my friends, I will not be addressing in any form. They are all lies and I can prove in dms since I do have minors following me here! Please prove you are at least 18 or older before asking for evidence.

#brainpilled #drama post?#this isnt drama shes been stalking me since 2022 #i have her blocked EVERYWHERE for a reason #oh yea im still pissed about the fact she took Creator and sold them to someone else #oh and the vampire adopt too #how many more of my ocs have you taken huh?#do i bring up the fact shes 24 and had groomed at minimum two minors #im gonna let the victims speak up on their time though

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flydotnet · 6 months ago

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Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where I give myself stupidly niche requests according to this marvelous card… or something. It’s been three years dawg. (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

Besides, if I didn't mess up in the first place, this wouldn't have happened.

This fic is quite a long time in the making. I started working on it last year, before I even had the idea for Rice Vinegar, a previous entry in this bingo card series. I was reading/catching up to the absolute banging series that is Brimstone in my Garden, Roses set on Fire by @inkblackorchid. I was on my yearly YGO kick, this time mostly 5D's-related (it's either 5D's or Arc-V, I've come to notice) and reading Snapping Jaws and Piercing Horns (which you absolutely should read, btw, but I have a sneaking suspicion that, if you're reading this, then you've at least heard of SJPH), when the idea for this fic came to me. I really like the friendship between Aki and Crow that the series sets up during the WRGP arc, because it's got my two favourite 5D's characters involved and also it's got canonical whump material linked to it and I'm a sucker for that stuff. Everything was here for success; I was unemployed at the time so I had a bunch of free time on my hands, the inspiration was crisp and I could fuck around and find out with writing new characters I hadn't before. Issue: I hated what I was actually writing.

Since I was reading InkBlackOrchid's works, I was like "God, I need it to be as good as hers". Problem is, I don't have her writing style at all, all the while I was somehow attempting to pastiche how she writes Aki's POV. The result was a very spiteful narration that doesn't even fit Aki at this point of her character development or even the story I was trying to tell in the first place, and a lot of clumsy descriptions. It was bad, y'all. Now, that was the first draft. I had abandonned it at first, thinking I'd just never do anything with it nor with the idea I had, but I just happened to look at my AO3 subscriptions, remembered the banger 5D's fic series, and finally went on InkBlackOrchid's Tumblr. Reading her Autopsy of Crow series of posts reminded me of my WIP and made me want to finish it so I could throw my two cents in the 5D's fight.

I mention Brimstone in my Garden, Roses set on Fire this much because my love for this series is a genuine explanation for some elements of this fic. I like its version of canon so much I wrote established Faithship into this fic as if they were actually dating by this time of the series, forgetting that actually didn't happen in 5D's proper. Sorry not sorry on that front, btw, I've always shipped them and I don't think I'll stop anytime soon. The very first version of this idea wasn't even going to delve into Aki losing her powers after her crash pre-Team Catastrophe (my very own guilty pleasure of a duel, I actually really like it lol), but since I was so inspired by something that did, I figured I had to tackle the question as well. I hope it doesn't fall flat on its face. Be Careful what you Wish for had me by the gametes.

Wow, I had a lot of things to say for something that's kind of just whump I decided to write on a whim like a year ago, huh. I don't even know if my characters sound right (as in, I think my Aki is OOC, she's too open if that makes sense?), it's my first rodeo and it's scary but hey, getting out of your comfort zone is how you improve, ain't it? I don't know if this story is good, I didn't really rewatch 5D's before writing it, just pantsed it out based on memory and what I rewatched earlier this year (I think it was this year? I remember writing a post for my side Tumblr back then mentioning Max Verstappen out of all people and I wasn't into F1 until late 2023. Anyway).

-------------------------------

Outside the Comfort Zone

Summary: Aki passes by Yusei and Co.'s living quarters to retrieve a copybook. Crow makes it way harder than it has any right to be. (or: a recently-ish powerless Aki finds herself having to care for a very stubborn, unwell Crow, and it goes as well as you'd expect.)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's (set during the WRGP arc)

Word Count: 4K words

AO3 version available here.

Event run by @badthingshappenbingo

-------------------------------

There’s something off with the garage of Poppo’s Time, today.

Oh, of course, most of it is obvious: the air’s still, there’s a distinct lack of mechanical clicking and Yusei isn’t here. It’s a minutia of various little details that, added together, make the entire place tilt forty-five degrees to the left.

It’s, unfortunately, not just these which make her feel this way. Frankly, if it was, Aki would’ve already gone out the door and back home. She’s just here to recover a copybook and it should’ve only taken her mere minutes to do that; yet there she is, ten minutes after stepping on the other side of the door, still without her biology copybook, still in a home that isn’t hers, and unsure of where to take the situation next.

The reason might just be the odd-looking Crow that’s standing in the way between her copybook and her.

Is she friends with said Crow? Yes? Maybe? “Friends” sounds a bit strong for their relationship, she’d say; there are no strangers to each other, and she likes sharing a room with him enough to consider them on friendly terms, but they don’t share enough emotional intimacy for them to be friends. At least, that’s how she sees it – maybe he sees it another way.

(Or maybe they’re already friends, and she’s just too afraid of rejection to admit it to herself – better be safe than sorry, even around the most transparent person she knows).

Whatever their relationship is, what Aki knows without much doubt is that Crow isn’t looking like himself. His stance is slouched and unsteady, his hand is holding the doorway just a little too tight for comfort and his eyes look mussed. It’s like his gaze, while explicitly trying to focus on her, is instead looking at something right behind her – as if seeing through her, which is a thought Aki truly has no time to unpack.

“Oh, hi Aki,” he tells her with an indignant wave, head bobbing along with the sway of his hand.

“Goo – good afternoon.”

His smile turns into a puzzled expression, which doesn’t help the impression she’s gotten so far. He looks around, his left eye twitching and his brow furrowed, then looks back at her when it seems like he hasn’t found what he wanted.

“You not hangin’ out with Yusei?”

Aki almost freezes.

“What do you mean?” She asks back, a shiver going down her spine.

Crow’s brow furrows even further, finally pointing her in the direction of the dark rings under his eyes.

“What do you mean, what do you mean? You come here to hang with Yusei, right?”

“He’s… He’s not here, Crow,” her voice staggers against her will. “He’s in Peru with Jack. I just came her to get a copybook I forgot here.”

The reminder, as useless as it should’ve been, seems to have confused him even further.

“Why the fuck would they go to Peru?” Crow asks, anger sipping in his tone. “That’s on the other side of the damn planet!”

He then hacks a lung out, prompting Aki to jump out. It’s harsh, not unlike the coughs she’d get when she was ill as a child and it seemed like the world was melting around her, psychic powers mixing in with the fever – the powers who, like so many people before, have abandoned her.

The silence is too heavy. She can’t let herself falter now. She may be in danger – scratch that, she’s fine, Crow is the one who needs help as far as she’s concerned. They’re friends, or as close as it gets, and she needs to step up now that his foster brothers aren’t here.

“They’re there to follow on a lead Bommer gave them.”

Her heart sinks a little further when all she sees is confusion. In fact, anything she says seems to result in confusion.

“How? That guy’s dead, y’know,” he gulps with a wince. “I know. I watched it happen. And, like, the dead don’t send emails.”

It’s an understandably difficult thing to swallow, she’ll give it to him. To this day, and despite her (former) psychic powers and links to the extrasensory through her Signer’s Mark, she still has little idea how Carly or Misty have managed to rise from the dead. It’s beyond either of their comprehension.

What shouldn’t be for Crow, however, is the whole travel thing. He was there when Yusei and Jack announced they were going. He must’ve been there to fret over them and their budget like Jack likes to complain about. So how come he cannot remember any of this? Why is he so—

“What time is it already?” Crow asks out of the blue.

It takes her aback, but she looks over her phone screen anyway.

“It’s fifteen to six in the evening.”

His face gets splattered in surprise.

“Shit! I’ve got a shift to attend to!”

“What shi—”

His hand lets go of the doorway.

“Sorry to leave this quick, Aki, I’m in a hurry—”

He walks past her, but before he can make it past her, he folds in half into another coughing fit. Fearing the worst, Aki runs to catch him with her arms, the click of her heels almost hiding the harsh sound of his cough. Heat sips through his clothes and through her gloves, ringing the final alarm that finally allows her to deduce what it was that bothered her so much about his appearance.

Despite the audible pain in his breath and the grimace on his face when he moves his arms, Crow still tries rising to his feet on his own. He weakly bats her away with his hands, but he has to lean against the nearest wall to stay upright. It’s an unreal sight, knowing how stubborn and enduring he truly is. Where is the man who was driving with an injured shoulder mere weeks ago?

“Is this shift really that urgent?” She makes no attempt at hiding her ever-growing concern. “You don’t seem like in any state to go to work…”

“What day of the week are we on?” is all he says back to her.

“It’s… Wednesday? Why?”

Crow’s face finally lights up.

“Oh! I’ve got some time ahead of me then.” He chuckles, but it dissolves into a cough, and she can’t keep her grimace to herself. “I thought we were Monday, for some reason?”

“You honestly seem very out of it,” she ends up bluntly stating instead of going along. “I really don’t think you should go work today.” Or tomorrow.

“Can’t afford not to,” he croaks back, but it lacks any sort of sting.

What looks to her like a dizzy spell ends up taking his resolution out, his whole body pitching forward. Once more, almost in rhythm, her body moves on its own as a result, her arms catching him in his fall.

Heat lingers on her hands even after she has finished bringing him to his room.

Unlike most of Team 5Ds, Aki has never had to care for someone else. She has none of Yusei’s instinct for help nor Crow’s experience with dealing with children. Usually, when faced with this sort of situations, she’d entrust the person in need of care to someone with a lot more ease in this domain – as it turns out, most of the time, it’s asking Jack’s childhood friends to handle his problems, much to his protests. As such, she’s never had to play nursemaid before, and nobody has trusted her with such a role until Yusei came along, and for once, she hadn’t wanted that to change (except for Yusei, but this is a situation that’s unrelated to her current predicament).

Whatever she’s used to, unfortunately, is now out of the realm of possibility. The two people she could ask about it on any other occasion where the need could rise up are respectively currently in Peru with terrible reception and too busy refusing to stay in bed for much longer than a minute to give her a precious hand.

And, you know, you don’t usually ask someone who’s sick to take care of themselves, let alone help you in the process.

Very much to her misfortune, this is all without taking into account that Crow is as stubborn as a patient as he is in every other thing. It was to be expected, of course, and Crow is nothing if not stubborn; but it hasn’t made anything easier. If anything, she should’ve seen it coming as soon as he was too beyond himself to know where his housemates were and why.

Still, it doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try her best in this situation. What friend would she be if she left a comrade in need on his own, harmful to himself? (And she craves for empathy, a part of her whispers, the part of her who misses her powers for the bond she enjoyed having with Black Rose).

Despite a losing battle against his own voice and the way his limbs tremble whenever he tries holding himself out of bed, Crow is insisting that, no, he’s fine to go work, and she has no reason to worry, because it’s not his first rodeo… or something along those lines. Admittedly, it’s difficult to understand everything when he’s struggling to push the sentence out of his throat to begin with, let alone articulate his thoughts.

All that ends up doing as a result is annoying her, because this is oh so similar to Yusei but in all the wrong ways, but that’s once more beside the point. She isn’t here to lash out her annoyance at Crow being an idiot, she’s here to make sure he doesn’t die an idiot.

“I’m tellin’ you, I’m fine,” he whines, a hand already back at gripping the edge of the blanket.

“Why are you so insistent on pretending you are?”

(She doubts it’s because of a martyr syndrome like Yusei’s).

“I’m not pretendin’ anythin’. I’m actually fine.”

His voice is feeble, his words tremble out of his mouth.

“Crow, I know you’re not. Please stop making this harder than it has to be.”

He deflates with a single, wheezing sigh.

“It’s Satellite nature, I guess,” he shrugs with a slight smile. “Both Yusei and Jack got it too, y’know.”

“Speaking of Yusei, right now you’re just like him in that regard.” She lets herself sigh. “Pretending like you’re fine when all signs point to the contrary.”

“Yeah, it’s… Y’know, when you were sick in Satellite, unless you had someone to shelter you and cover your back, ‘t was like signin’ your death certificate.” He coughs again, and it keeps dragging on, worsening, and it pangs at her heart every single time. “Guess that never went away, even now.”

“Even for something like a work shift?”

“Especially for a work shift. Do y’know how tight our finances are? Jack sure don’t seem to, that asshole!” A barking cough interrupts him. “Fuck this shit, I could be literally anywhere else but here. Plus…” He turns to her, and despite the evident weariness on his face and in his eyes, his gaze is sharp. “You should be doin’ better things with your time than watching over me, though.”

Aki rises an eyebrow.

“Such as?”

He shrugs again as a response.

“I dunno. Studyin’. Playin’ cards. Drivin’ a D-Wheel. Tryin’ to… sort through what mess that must’ve been for you, these past few weeks.”

The last bit hits her a lot harder than the previous ones. Having to replace Crow in haste due to a mysterious crash, the conflicting sentiment of her first race as a member of Team 5Ds, her own crash, and now, having to grapple with the sudden and unexplained disappearance of her powers… It’s been a lot of turmoil. Too much, in fact.

Despite all of the pain, it’s somewhat heartwarming to have someone genuinely worry for her, even if it tugs at an uncomfortable heartstring. It means she has the company she so desperately looked for and thought to have found in Divine, now truthful and actually what she needed. Yet, she feels uneasy when she has to show vulnerability in front of them, afraid of what they could take advantage of, of hidden intentions that may be hiding beneath a smile. Letting go of her masks has been terrifying, even if it’s the right thing to do.

For the longest time, she could protect herself with her powers. They were her curse, they were her blessing. They made her unlike the others but allowed her to connect with Black Rose and all of her deck. She misses them even now as she’s within the warmth of Team 5Ds; who don’t judge her for them like the others. Who care for her, like Yusei has ever since meeting her, like Crow is at the moment. Even in pain, they care.

The least she can do is pay them back now that gets the chance to. Now that her powers have left her more vulnerable than ever and created a void she can’t seem to fill on her own.

“I’ll be fine not brooding about it for a while,” is all she tells him in response.

Because it’s the truth. Sometimes, letting the dark clouds consume you is worse. It’ll always be worse, no matter how easy it looks.

“You sure? Because watching over an ill guy gets boring real fast.” He gives her a small smile. “I’d know, I’m usually the one doing the watching.”

She replies with a smile of her own.

“A bit of calm would do the both of us some good, I believe, after all that happened.”

He closes his eyes with a deep sigh.

“Can’t go against that, I guess.”

“Take some rest. I’ll be here by the time you wake up.”

It’s not intended to be a lie to make him feel better about sleeping.

“If you’re lookin’ for it, the medicine is in the cabinet in the bathroom. Pretty sure we got the right stuff at least.”

“I’ll go get it.”

That, and a basin of water, and everything she can remember from hazy memories of childhood illnesses.

Yusei once told her to write down thoughts that were confusing to her, as a way to at least alleviate the black clouds in her mind. He helped her pick a cute-looking notebook for it too, just the size of her uniform pockets, red with an embroidered rose on top of it. It seemed too fitting not to pick it, and Yusei seemed even happier about it than she was. She isn’t sure if what she’s writing in it right now makes sense, but it feels nice to have a place where to dump all of the thoughts that’d usually fester and poison her mind nonetheless.

The loss of her powers continues to leave her at a loss. The best way she can describe the feeling is a bittersweet void it’s left behind: she’s finally normal, like she wished for so long when pretending to be a witch, yet now that she is, it’s like this life wasn’t for her. She misses the bond she had with her Monsters, now that she can’t caress Black Rose Dragon like she could for so long. It makes her feel lonelier in a way that’s wrong to her. It’s like she never knew what she actually wanted out of life, out of the world.

Writing down this loss, this void and this coldness is what’s helping her process some of it. It onsets the way the melancholy would’ve taken ahead of her before she met Yusei and the others. It allows her some lookback and to keep her head out of the water until she can find a solution or get used to a new situation. It feels… soothing, at times, despite it just being scribbles on paper.

A hand strangles her arm, her hands lets go of her pen, her notebook falls to the ground.

“What—”

“Who the hell are you?!”

Shaken, she stares back at her assailant – a frazzled-looking Crow, his eyes glazed over and his pupils dilated. His breathing is erratic, coming out in little wheezes, his teeth gritting.

“I…”

Aki has no idea what to do. A stranger attacking her is no surprise, but a friend? Clearly, something is very wrong with Crow, and she has trouble connecting the dots as to why he’s in such a state. Did she not look after him hard enough? Is she just as neglectful as she was when she was isolated and lost, manipulated, used as a weapon? Is this retribution for that, to be forgotten by those she cherishes?

He lets go of her arm, seemingly against his will – it seems like he doesn’t have enough strength left to actually fight her. She can hardly breathe normally, every gasp of air coming quicker than the last, but she has to compose herself back anyway. She’s the one who’s supposed to fix things here, and now, she doesn’t want to destroy anyone further. Perhaps she can still find redemption.

“What’re you doin’ here?!”

Crow’s voice is unsteady, made all the worse by the cough that’s dried it into being hoarse, and his words slur together, making him very difficult to understand. Aki wishes she knew what do say back, but…

“I’m – I’m looking after you,” she explains back, because calming him down seems like a good idea.

He cocks an eyebrow at her, doubt just barely readable in his half-closed eyes.

“Who’re you?”

“I’m Aki. I’m Yusei’s girl… I’m his friend. I’m your friend.”

His hands grab at her shoulders.

“What’s tellin’ me you are, huh?!”

She looks around the room, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the pressure from his knuckles on his shoulders are, and the heat sipping from them almost right into her skin, before finding a sign of reassurance.

“See this basin of water?” She points it with her finger, he follows it to the bottom of the chair where she sits. “It’s mine. I was trying to keep your fever in check.” That sounded like a good idea, at the time. “I’m admittedly… not great at it, unlike you are, but I’m trying.”

His gaze slightly clears up – and then his eyes flutter close and don’t open up, leaving him in her arms once more.

It’s sort of a wake-up call for Aki, as she puts him back to bed. She should’ve kept a keener eye, but instead got lost in thoughts. She was so sure she had done all of the right things already, yet there she is, only realizing after the fact she wasn’t careful by being attacked by a delirious guy who mistook her for the enemy. Talk about failing at the mission you assigned yourself.

She takes off her gloves and puts a hand on his forehead – his fever has gone back up when she wasn’t looking. It makes sense, miserably so. But this is no time to mop for herself, she must be more like Yusei. She must help out her friend even if she has her own issues. She can’t do anything about her powers, but she can do something so Crow doesn’t have to see things that aren’t there.

So she picks up the washcloth that fell onto his lap and twists it cold again, determined to correct her mistakes.

Aki is staring at Crow when he finally opens his eyes again. They’re clear, able to follow the way her hair sways when she backs up from the bed and back into the chair. Her back is trying to make her pay for the unnatural positions she made it endure, but it’ll have to bear through it for a bit. She’s not letting him down now.

“Hey,” he tells her, stifling a cough.

“Glad to see you awake again,” she confesses. “How are you?”

“Erh… Sore. Sick. You know the deal.” He sits up with the help of the headboard of the bed. “How long was I asleep for?”

“I’d say… an hour or so.”

“And you’re still here?” He chuckles, even if it dissolves yet again into a coughing fit. “Gah, forgot how much that sucked.”

“I… I didn’t want to leave you alone like this.”

“Don’t worry, I went through worse. I’m a big bird, I can deal with it on my own.”

The way she’s staring back at him must’ve looked suspicious, because he looks concerned, now, and it’s like cold water seeping through her socks.

“Hey… Did something happen?”

“No, nothing. It’s… it’s not important.”

“Tch, you’re like Yusei. ‘Not important’ my ass.”

“I don’t think I should tell you about it.”

“You’re not makin’ your case any easier. Shoot ahead anyway.”

Aki looks at her hands on her lap, her knuckles almost white. Her skin looks slightly red, especially without her gloves.

“You weren’t yourself earlier,” she manages to get out, “and you thought I was some sort of enemy.”

She can’t bring herself to look up and see what his reaction to that is. Her head’s weighing heavily on her neck.

“Shit, did… I did something to you, right?”

“You… You tried to attack me, yes,” and she realizes how bad that sounds, “but it’s nothing. You weren’t yourself and it wasn’t a big deal. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound like you are, though… Shit, I’m so sorry, Aki…”

She rises a careful eye, only to see pain distort Crow’s pallid face.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she replies. “I should’ve done a better job.”

“Hey. Look at me, Aki.”

Hesitantly, she does – and finds no anger, no disappointment in Crow’s eyes, only compassion.

“You didn’t have to put up with my shit, and I was trying to push you away, but you did it anyway. Attacking you was wrong no matter what. You’ve got a lot to deal with at the moment and none of this is me. Don’t beat yourself up for not handlin’ everythin’ perfectly.” He smiles. “So, thanks, Aki. Don’t worry about good ol’ me, I’ll handle myself from now on.”

Silence follows.

“Though I get why you’d doubt that. We don’t really have a good track record when it comes to that stuff, do we.”

“Not really, no,” she manages to chuckle. “But friends need to trust each other.”

“You catch on quick!” He coughs into his elbow. “I’m sure it’s starting to get late, your parents may be worried. You should head home.”

“Can I… Can I stay here for a little longer? At least until Bruno comes back from whatever errand he may be running. I’d… feel better if I knew someone could watch you over.” Like she’d like it if she was as vulnerable as Crow is right now. “It keeps me occupied too.”

He gives her a sympathetic look from which she wants to recoil, but stops herself from doing.

“Make yourself a home, then. Yusei’s bedroom should be available.”

He winks, right in time for her face to warm up.

“Thank you, Crow.”

“If you need an ear to talk to and I ain’t sleepin’, don’t hesitate, okay? I promise I won’t bite your head off this time.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

She doubts she’ll bother him with this when all she’s tried to make him do today was resting, but she very much appreciates the reminder. It’s always nice to know she’s not only accepted, but also cared for by people whose honest intentions she can be sure of.

It’s making her feel welcome, and just for that, she’s more thankful – her and her missing powers, her and her conflicting feelings it, her and her past that she’s just now feeling comfortable with disclosing anything about. Her and the ghost that may continue pursuing her in the future, but which are leaving her mostly unscathed for now.

Perhaps that’s what home is – and it may just take the shape of a friend’s bedroom, or of a garage.

#bad things happen bingo #struggling against the caretaker #yu-gi-oh 5ds #izayoi aki #crow hogan #implied faithshipping because it's my one 5ds ship dammit #bthb #who knows what this fic's actual worth is wooops

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