#like it’s literally a nickname for my name

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 4- The Chase

Summary: You can only keep running from Frankie Morales for so long. At some point, he'll catch up to you, whether you like it, or not.

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Do I spy a hint of... ✨feelings✨??? Yearning, a hint of teenage violence (Santi deserves it, it's okay), the appearance of the Miller Brothers, Frankie basically looking like this 🥺 for the last half of this chapter, banter because I live for it

A/N: I'm convinced that teenage Frankie and the Frontier Boys are the best characters to write for, period 😭 I never thought I would live to see the day where my chapters are less than 5K (?!?) but I'm really trying to be better about posting on a schedule- If you would rather have them be longer and wait two weeks between chapters instead of once a week, let ya girl know 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thank you for all of your kind words about this story, your kind comments literally fuel me and make my heart explode, ily 🥹💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Fall of 2005, Age 16

For as much as he hates school, there will be two classes Frankie knows he’ll always pass with flying colors- Gym and Math. 

When he and Santi went to pick up their 11th grade class schedules before the start of the school year, you would have thought they’d won the lottery when they looked down on the crinkled half sheets of paper to find they were both in the same 6th period gym class. 

Five weeks into the start of Junior year, Frankie’s now convinced that Santi and his new friends, Will and Benny Miller, are in on some sort of scheme to make him fail the one class he’s guaranteed an “A�� in. 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, for the love of God, will you please slow down?!” 

Santi’s all but huffing at the pace Frankie had set for the four of them to run the two miles they’re supposed to finish by the end of class, only three of the eight laps they need to run around the track completed. 

“We’re not even going that fast, Santi, you’re fine.” 

Frankie can’t help but laugh at the way his friend is laboring behind him. Sure, Santi’s got football to thank for keeping him looking less like a gangly string bean than Frankie does, but even at 16, the boyish satisfaction of knowing he’ll always be faster than his friend is undeniable.

“Do you do like, cross country or somethin’, Frankie?” 

“Yeah man, I thought Santi said you swam not ran.” 

The Miller Brothers were a new addition to his and Santi’s long standing friendship duo. Will and Benny moved from North Carolina over the summer and had befriended Santi after a few weeks of preseason football camp that the high school held before the start of the school year. Of course, that meant Frankie became friends by proxy shortly after. 

Frankie was fond enough of the two, but the group was still stuck in the awkward dating phase of friendship where everything was just enough of a pissing match to prove that they were worthy enough of each other’s company. 

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team, I don’t do cross country or anything like that.” Frankie shrugs, rounding the curve of the track with ease as he leads the pack to their halfway point. 

“Then how the hell did you get so fast?” Benny pants, the straw blonde hair matted to his forehead with sweat scrunching as he pinches his brows in a mixture of confusion and unadmitted pain. 

“‘Cause he likes to go running with MacKenzie.” 

Santi’s lips curl to a devious smile as he watches Frankie’s face grow red from his sing-songy taunting. At least with the Millers, Frankie could pretend to chalk the hot, pink sting in his cheeks to the mile he’s been running. Unfortunately, he can’t assume the same with Santi. 

“Shut up, Santi.” Frankie grumbles, picking up his pace to the point he knows it’ll make Santi’s lungs strain just enough to keep him from rambling. 

“Oh shit, like, MacKenzie Anderson, MacKenzie?” Will’s face lights up, his less than lengthy friendship making him blissfully unaware of the history between you and Frankie, “She’s hot.” 

“Ew, n- no, she’s not. That’s weird.” 

The other three are surprised Frankie’s pants have yet to set on fire after such a bold lie. 

“They go run together every weekend.” 

At this point, it’s pure mockery the way Santi is teasing him, pushing Frankie to his limits to see how much he can get away with before his friend breaks. 

“So like, are you guys, dating or something?” 

“What?! No! No- She’s like, my best friend. I just- She plays soccer, so I go run with her to help her train and stuff. It’s good cardio, anyways.” 

Frankie doesn’t mean to snap at Benny for his question. It’s a secondary response to the way his chest is tightening and heart is racing as the eyes of all his friends stay peeled to him, like a guilty suspect in a courtroom everyone is waiting to catch in the midst of their lie. 

“Running’s not the only kind of cardio he wishes he was doing with MacKenzie, huh Frankie?” 

The boys are too busy snickering at each other to realize that Frankie’s completely stopped in his tracks ahead of them, turning around with arms outstretched to greet Santi with a brute shove to the ground as they collide. 

“I said shut UP, Santi!”

Frankie doesn’t intend for it to draw as much attention as it does, how the way he’s practically screaming at his friend he’s pushed to the ground has garnered the attention of everyone else in his gym class.

“Jesus, Frankie, it was just a joke! Chill out!” 

Will and Benny help Santi off the rubber of the track, leaving him and Frankie in a silent stare down of flared nostrils and gritted teeth, bodies boiling with teenage testosterone. 

Despite his rage, Frankie has enough self control to keep from saying (or doing) anything else he’ll regret, forcing himself to take off running in a frustrated huff of silence, heart in his throat and fists clenched, leaving behind his group of friends.  

“Shit. Is he always like that when you talk about her?” Will asks, still slightly stunned by the altercation he’s just witnessed, considering Frankie’s usual calm and quiet demeanor. 

“Yup.” Santi replies, popping the “p” at the end of his answer, “Well, not always this bad, but still,  ya know?”  

“Why?” Benny chimes in, the three of them slowly beginning their trot back around the track, lengths behind their fuming friend. 

“‘Cause they’re like, secretly in love with each other. They say they’re just friends, but they act like they’re fucking married.” Santi pretends to gag as he forces his eyes to roll as far back in his head as they possibly can. “He’s been extra pissy because yesterday he found out this guy, Nick Walsh, who’s some senior on the boy’s soccer team, tried to ask her to Homecoming.” 

“Did she say yes?” 

“No! That’s the thing! I don’t know why he’s got his fucking granny panties in a knot about it. Whatever, man. Not my problem.” 

The Miller brothers exchange intrigued glances, wondering how much more they can pry out of Santi as they mope around the track, hoping they can at least make the second half of their two miles entertaining. 

“If he’s mad about it, why didn’t he just ask her?” Will shrugs, offering up what seems like a reasonable solution to his new friend’s problem. 

“Ask him, dude. I have no fucking clue. They’re going with the same group of friends, so they’re gonna spend the whole night together, anyways. Honestly, if you want my opinion, I think he knows he doesn’t have the balls to nut up and ask her himself ‘cause he’s worried she’s gonna say no.” 

Despite the 23 other kids in the class who are also being forced to run circles around the track, there’s only one who makes the three of them freeze as he passes by, feeling the hole he’s burning through the back of their heads. Santi knows he’s too loudmouthed for his own good, and that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Frankie didn’t make out what he had to say as he snuck up behind him. 

And he's right. Frankie hears every word.

If he wasn’t at school, he wouldn’t think twice about punching Santi so hard in the gut it would knock the wind right out of him. But right now, all he can do is keep running, faster and faster, one foot in front of the other. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, no one will be able to see the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, or the disappointment that’s drained every ounce of color he’s got left in his face. 

Maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the cold, hard truth of the way Santi’s words ring in his ears and put bricks in his chest. 

Maybe, just maybe, if he runs fast enough, somewhere along the worn high school track he’ll find the courage to prove himself wrong. 

You, Present 

You’re convinced he’s following you. He has to be. 

All you wanted to do this morning was to go for a run to clear your head, to blow off some steam after the shit show that had been yesterday’s first interaction with Frankie in the past three years. You were confined to your room for the better half of the day, your dad keeping Frankie hostage in your home far too long for your liking. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to deny a dying man whatever he wants, even if it’s Frankie Morales’s unwelcome presence in your living room. It also meant having to listen to your dad ramble about Frankie for the next several hours after he’d left, politely nodding at all the compliments and praise your father had to give him while your blood boiled in silence. 

Now, all you wanted to do was to run until your head was free of Frankie for just a little while.

It seemed like Frankie had other plans. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt the first quarter mile, hell, you even tried to just play it off as unlucky timing at the half mile point. But now, you’re a mile into your run, turning on to Fuller Street with Frankie still trotting behind you. It’s clearly not an accident he’s chosen the same path for his morning jog. 

“There are other ways you can go run, you know.” You shout at Frankie without even turning your head over your shoulder, thinking that maybe he’s assumed you hadn’t noticed him and your not so subtle suggestion will get him to turn around. 

“It’s a free country. I can run where I want.” 

Part of you wishes you would have turned to look back at him so he could see the way your eyes met the back of your skull from rolling them so hard, but you keep your gaze glued to the pavement in front of you. You won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence.  

“Can you please just go run somewhere else? I’m just trying to enjoy my morning and you’re not helping, Frankie.” 

“Not trying to bother you, just trying to run. I didn’t have anything to say until you started talking to me.” 

You know if you turned around right now, he’d have that stupid little smug grin hiding in the corner of his cheeks. A battle of wits is his favorite game to play. He’s learned how to strategize, to stay calm, cool and collected in the midst of your chaos, waiting until you hit the breaking point of his crazy you can’t bear to tolerate anymore. Your jaw tenses with the long exhale you take as you prepare to go head to head. 

“I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t been following me the past mile.” 

“How do you know I’m following you?” 

“You’ve literally been running ten feet behind me for the past twelve minutes.” 

“Who says I wasn’t planning on running this way to begin with but you just got a head start?” 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, please just go pick a different way to run.” 

“Who put you in charge of the running police? Do I have to sign a permit before I go jog now?” 

“Go. Run. Somewhere. Else.” 

“No. You don’t get to tell me where to run. This is the way I wanna go, so I’m gonna keep going until-” 

“No! I know you don’t want to go this way!” You’ve accepted defeat, swinging around to storm towards Frankie, stopping dead in his tracks as he realizes the ferocity you’re approaching him with, “I know for a fact you don’t wanna run this way. You know how I know? Because you hate running down Fuller Street. You would run five miles out of your way before you even considered running down this street on your own free will. There hasn’t been a single time we’ve ever run down this street where you haven’t complained the entire way because of how much you hate the hill at the end of the road before we turn onto Wilson way! That’s how I know, Frankie! So stop pretending like you just happened to choose the same way as me by accident, and just leave me alone! Ugh!” 

You’re positive there’s a trail of steam streaming behind you with the way you’re absolutely fuming, turning back around to take off as fast as your body will let you. You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but straight ahead, too afraid that if you turn around, those stupid, sad brown eyes will make you feel guilty enough to give him the last word he doesn’t deserve. 

Your feet are flying so fast across the pavement, you’re convinced he’s given up, shocked into submission by your anger that he’ll at least let you finish the rest of your run in peace. Your eyes are still locked on the horizon ahead. It’s the arrogance of your self-reassurance that doesn’t even let you contemplate the thought that several yards behind you, Frankie lets out a quiet “fuck me” before letting his hands drop from their place on his hips to chase behind you at full speed. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” 

It’s a stupid question. It’s obvious Frankie has said a prayer to hope his knees don’t give out on him as he runs as fast as possible to try and catch up to you. The rhythmic thump of his sneakers pounding against the concrete catches your attention enough to see how quickly he’s gaining on you. It only makes you run faster. 

“Jesus- fuck this hill- MacKenzie, will you fucking slow down?” 

You won’t admit you’re probably just as exhausted as Frankie from the way you’ve been sprinting up the steep incline at the end of the road, but his exasperated huffs are enough to keep you pushing through the pain, mental and physical. 

“No. Run faster.” 

You’re hopeful it’s early enough that no one is awake to see the comedic game of cat and mouse you and Frankie are playing in the middle of the road, chasing each other like you’re on the playground in a childish round of tag. You’d never admit to his face that you know he’s stronger, even faster than you, but the grip he settles around your arm as he finally catches up to you lets you know you’ve lost. 

“Let go of me, Frankie!” 

If the street wasn’t already awake from your wild game of chase, your scream certainly would have gotten their attention. 

“Jesus Christ, MacKenzie, will you just let me talk to you for two fucking seconds?! Please, just- fuck- please just let me fucking talk to you, okay? Please.” 

Even if you wanted to keep running, there was no use. Truth be told, it wasn’t the grasp he had around your arm that was the thing keeping you from sprinting off into the distance. What had you frozen in place was that pathetic pout you knew was splayed across his face, burning a hole in the back of your head. What’s worse, was that you could feel it burning a hole through your chest, too. 

The all too familiar pain that came with holding onto the same, shriveled shred of hope that maybe this time, he’d prove you wrong. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t let you down. 

“Fine.” You barely mutter the word loud enough to hear as you turn around to face him, eyes still looking everywhere but directly at him. 

“I’m sorry, Kenz. I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up.” 

Somehow, his second apology stings worse than the first. It still doesn’t mean you won’t deny how much it hurts. 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

You let your gaze lift just enough to see the way he’s gnawing at his bottom lip, chewing at it like he’s trying to digest his own thoughts before they come out of his mouth. 

“What I said that night at Santi’s wedding, I just-” He pauses, knowing you can hear it clear as day in your head too.

“Fuck you, MacKenzie. Fuck you for ruining my life. It’ll be better off without you fucking in it.” 

“I- I- Fuck. I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I regret ever saying it. I think all the time about how much I regret it. I just, I was in a bad place.” 

You’re not sure what to say. Fuck, you’re not even sure what to feel. Part of you wants to scream at him, kick him in the crotch and berate him for how badly the past three years have hurt you. Part of you just wants to stand there and cry, to say nothing and let your tears flow and spill your emotions down your cheeks. Part of you wants to hug him, to believe him, to have him hold you so tightly against his chest that his apology seeps into your skin until you’ve forgiven him. 

But none of those parts are strong enough to win out alone. Instead, they’ve formed together to create a strange sort of storm that brews in your belly, swirling it so violently, it makes you want to vomit. 

“But you still said it, Frankie. You still said it. If my dad weren’t dying, would you even be here? Would you have ever apologized? Or are you just choosing to apologize now because it’s convenient and you feel like you have to?” 

It’s the first time you can bring yourself to look him in the face. You can see how his brain is churning with the same type of vicious waves that are in the pit of your stomach, drowning out the brown of his eyes. You both are lost in the midst of the storm, but you’ve got a lifeboat. He’s sinking below the thrashing tides, looking for you to let him board your ship. You won’t let him on unless he fights his way through the current to get to you. 

“I should have apologized a long time ago.” 

“Then why didn’t you?” 

“I don’t- I don’t know. I was scared you’d never forgive me.” 

You swear you feel the grip he still has on your forearm tighten just for a moment. Now that he has you, he’s too scared to let you go. 

“Just- Jesus- Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I have to forgive you now, Frankie.” 

“Will you ever?” 

“Ever, what?” 

“Forgive me?” 

Your brain wants to say no. God, with everything in you does it want to say no. But that same stupid pain in your chest that lives and dies by that stupid shred of hope you’ll always hold onto just won’t let you. 

“I don’t know. I- I don’t know, Frankie.” 

You can’t ignore the way he’s still holding your arm. The shred of hope doesn’t want him to let go, even when you scowl at the way his fingers wrap around your skin. You scowl because of how his touch burns your skin, the way it ignites a fire in your gut from how tenderly he touches you. It makes you scrunch your face in frustration and confusion, trying to block out all the times he’s touched you like this before, fingers grazing against your skin in a desperate plea for affection, not forgiveness. He’s holding onto your arm to see if you’ll let him in the lifeboat- if you’ll offer him a chance to save himself. 

“I get it. I’m sorry, Kenz. I hope you at least know I mean it.” 

“I do.” 

You’re not sure what makes you want to offer him a last chance at survival. You’ve been separated by different sides of the same storm for so long- You can’t attest to the way he’s had to fight through it to stay alive, but if it’s anything like the side of the squall you’ve been stuck on, there’s a strange relief in finding in finding someone who knows the hell you’ve faced to keep from drowning in the undertow. You can’t seem to bear letting him drown right in front of you without even trying to help. 

“I still hate you, ya know.” You sigh, a defiant cry to prove to him you’re not happy about the path you’ve chosen. 

“Yeah, that’s fair. I deserve that.” 

It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh in so long. Even though it’s a muffled huff, trying to hide behind the raise of his eyebrows and nod of his head at the ground, you know it’s there, in that same corner of his smirk he gets when he knows there’s no point in arguing with you- there’s no denying it’s there. 

There’s no denying it makes you do the same. 

“You gonna let me finish the rest of my run in peace, Morales?” 

“Yeah, I guess. Only ‘cause I still hate this fucking hill.” 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[jasvtsc]

dean winchester x angel!reader headcanons!!!

his favorite nickname gotta be birdie

however, when he’s mad or annoyed he’s naming all different types of birds he can think of

pigeon and parrot being the most frequent ones

he washes your hair for you

at this point it’s a habit of his and he finds it soothing, just spending some quality time with you

you ask him a lot of questions AND I MEAN A LOT

when you see sth new or hear about sth he’s the first person you come to for explanation

at first he found it annoying and would often told you to ‘get lost’ or ‘ask sammy’ — because of his initial dislike of angels

but as the time went by he started finding it adorable — you just wanted to spend more time with him

he knows you’re a celestial being, a literal angel, but that doesn’t mean that this man does not worry

CAUSE HE DOES

a tiny scratch? dean’s PANICKING

the distressed ‘BIRDIE’ or ‘SWEETHEART’ being heard within 10 miles radius

you’re certified john winchester hater

if it was up to you? you’d kick him out of heaven for good (along with mary)

he takes you on late night drives, playing all his favorite songs and showing you ‘what being a human is really about’

dean cusses like a sailor and throws the word ‘motherfucker’ left and right

however, as soon as you’re around he goes quiet and acts like a saint

WE SAY NO TO ANGEL CORRUPTION! ~ said by dean winchester at some point in his life

he’s ready to beat up sam when a small ‘shit’ slips out of his mouth

if you ever thought that dean would be whipped for someone? HE ABSOLUTELY FUCKING WOULD

he absolutely loves running his fingers through your wings (and he knows it makes you excited…)

he doesn’t let you use your powers on him — except for when he’s badly hurt

although as soon as you could make a pie appear out of nowhere he changed his mind about that

you’re his sweetheart and he’ll do anything to protect you (once again, you’re an angel but he cares so <3 )

a/n: dean x angel!reader might be my favorite trope of all time I SWEAR

[olivette-branch]

Oh baby, is it time.

normally this is where you'd expect to see @yamball and her magnificent primers.

Alas, it is but me and my attempt to let the world know about the puck-slinging, hit-throwing, scared of haunted houses, pale as a vampire forward that has captured our hearts:

Tye Kartye

photo credits: steph chambers

*disclaimer: all of this information is googleable & found across various interviews from Tye, his parents and other information surrounding him & games he has been in! If you want a link to a specific article, please feel free to ask! Also, feel free to send this to others, but keep the primer on tumblr & don't crosspost to other platforms :) keeping fourth walls intact is very important to me.

Childhood

Tye Kartye was born to Richelle & Todd Kartye on April 20, 2001.

His mom is a clinical nurse educator & his father is a chemistry teacher in Kingston.

Tye also has a younger sister, Talya, who is two years younger. They were both also incredibly athletic kids. Tye played soccer and hockey, plus touch football while Talya played basketball and volleyball.

This boy is also so hardworking. Well-known by the nickname, "No Quit" Kartye, he is constantly lauded by numerous past coaches as incredibly hard-working, and focused. To quote his dad, he knew from his childhood that, "he wanted and was going to be in the NHL."

included also, since there are very few photos of Karts as a kiddo: here are some of his Prezi's. Note from topics like stick flex to environmental effects, he is so dedicated and focused in his details. Truly a teachers' son

Stick Flex Prezi

Environmental Effects Prezi

Tough Road Ahead

Of course, Tye's path hasn't been easy to where he is and it starts pretty young.

He took the more traditional route, played in house leagues before going up into high school hockey and then AA & AAA.

Of course, then comes time for the OHL draft. Karts isn't drafted in the first round, nor the second round, not even the third.

Tye is drafted by the Soo Greyhounds in 2017 in the eighth round. Not only is he selected dead in the middle, but he also was cut his first training camp. Instead, he went back to midget AAA and worked his ass off.

In fact, his former coach John Dean, who was named HC of the Greyhounds in 2018-2019 had heard about the skinny kid told to get bigger/stronger in his exit meeting. He came in that year, and said about Karts that "Here comes this moose of a man, who clearly took direction very literally and took it to heart."

Karts took his time in the OHL, and spent a good bit of it working to improve. As it came closer to draft time, he bumped up his work to a more physical level. This was supposed to help his game, but also his potential for the draft. Keep this in mind.

Karts was first eligible for the 2019 draft. He was not selected. Now, he'll mention that he didn't feel he was ready at all at the time.

But! He does partake in the 2019 Development Camp for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

So, Karts plays another year and, is eligible for the 2020 draft.

He isn't selected again. In fact, routinely his scouting reports talk about his skating ability, or lack thereof. Even for a larger player for his age (6'0 and 175+), his skating was seemingly enough of a deterent. He was disappointed, especially after a good season.

Then 2020-21 hits and the OHL season is cancelled. Tye keeps practicing.

photo credits: this blog post about tye

The Undrafted Kid

2021 comes, and the Kraken need bodies for their first development camp. They've got draft picks (Matty Beniers, Ryker Evans, Ryan Winterton to name a few) but they've gotta invite a few more for the incoming guys to spend time with.

Mike Dawson, a scout for the Kraken, started doing his homework. He noted how weird it was this kid hadn't been picked, mentioned it might be because he's a later bloomer.

He gets an invite to the 2021 Development Camp, and while he doesn't get a contract the Kraken now know his name.

He begins to push in his 2021-22 season with the Greyhounds. Not only did he recieve an A, he also scored over 100 career points with them, but also ended the year 4th overall in league scoring, and led the league in PPGs and GWGs as well as ended the season with 79 points (and 57 PIMs, he's been a bit of yapper his whole life).

So March 2022 hits, and the Kraken finally bite. Tye gets an ELC, and he's ready to work.

Also additionally, Ron Francis is an ICON for Tye, who is a Soo Greyhounds alum. The Rink in the Soo is literally on Ron Francis Way.

CVF + Hard Work makes the Dream Work

Tye comes into the new CVF team for the 22-23 season. He attended Kraken training camp, but let's be real. Tye needed more time to prepare.

Karts comes in, and is ready to show off what he can do. He also is trading cold, Canadian weather for the hot Valley and grabbing his golf clubs.

Note of importance: he becomes really good friends with Ryker Evans & Luke Henman.

He starts as a fourth-liner. And, he struggles. He has little ice time, as well as few opportunities.

But, he gets better. And better, and better and better. Soon, he's one of the Firebird's top 6 forwards, and he's skyrocketing towards being a potential call up.

Although it comes later, by the end of the 22-23 Firebirds season (off of a devastating Game 7 loss to the Hershey Bears), Tye is awarded the Dudley "Red" Garrett Memorial Award for AHL Rookie of the year and is also placed on the AHL Rookie All-Star Team. He led all rookies in points, and appeared in every game for the Firebirds that season.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves, because Tye's breakout moments in the AHL don't just end there. They lead to the real deal.

photo credits: Firebirds Media

The Call Up & Goal Heard Round Colorado

So come April, Tye gets recalled to the Kraken who are going on a completely unprecedented and expected playoff run. Not only is it a little unexpected (he's a rookie coming up from his first year in the AHL instead of a vet, and he's having to replace the Jared McCann).

But, Tye gets it because of what has always been the case. He's a hardworker, a grinder and he will make others notice him through it.

So, he comes in for Game 5 of the First Round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs versus the Colorado Avalanche. He finds out that morning he's playing, and sends a single word text to his mom, just saying "playing" at 12:00 PM EST.

His parents begin their journey to Denver, arriving just a few minutes into the first period.

The first period stays scoreless, and the second begins. Geekie scores, before a response by Nathan MacKinnon.

Then a few moments later, Nate MacKinnon trips and is laying on the ground. The crowd is roaring for a call, and Eberle is skating the puck up and around Colorado goal. A quick shot down and a one-timer from Karts nails the puck in the back of the net past the Avs goalie.

Let me say, even for those as a fan of the Avs, the look on NateMac's face when this happens is unbelievable. He's in shock, completely. And meanwhile, Tye is having a fantastic time grinning and celebrating what only 7 other players have done, scoring their first goals in the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

Also, let it be noted that Karts gets back to the locker room after the game. Pure joy from his goal, and what is the first thing he does? Check his phone to see the Firebirds game and how they did.

Not only was that his first instinct, he also was almost more excited about the potential to be back down with the Firebirds. He loves following his dream, but god did he love the Firebirds and family he built there.

Of course, the Kraken’s road to the Stanley Cup is ended in Game 7 of the Second Round vs. the Stars. But! In this time, Kartye has stayed up and even in the place of Jared McCann in some spots.

And then he goes back down to CV for the harrowing journey that was their 22-23 Calder Cup Playoff Run.

photos credit: Steph Chambers & Icon Photography

The Summer After & Rookie Experiences

Of course, Tye became one to watch in the lead up to the 23-24 season.

During which included a delightful video with bestie Ryker Evans and Matt Tennyson, on Episode 7 of Tenny Talks.

I'm simply going to link to the video, because it is insanely funny and it also shows off Tye's personality so well.

So, the summer ends and Tye ends up with the Kraken for 23-24 season.

I could probably spend hours discussing this season, but for our key highlights we're gonna focus on just a few things.

Throwback to our note of importance: anytime Ryker gets called up, he stays in a hotel. Not only does he end up knowing the car valet by name, any time he does almost anything, it is with Tye & Joey. He literally went over to Tye’s to do laundry while Tye’s girlfriend cooked them dinner. Besties for real.

First and foremost, Tye doesn't get a ton of chances. First rookie up (really the only rookie during the season for the Kraken minus other call ups), he gets scratched first a decent amount of times, especially prior to December. But! He keeps working hard, and by the end of the season he has well cemented his place as a fourth liner (who can def move up the line up if needed to).

Second, he really starts to gain a lot of perspective & skills from Yanni Gourde. Note, not only did he dress up as the Easter Bunny in 2024 for the Kraken's kiddos (like Matty did in 2023), but he also really focuses on the aspects of his game that he can improve and make stronger. So what does he do?

He gets into a few scrums (which early on he loses badly), and becomes known as a player who will fight for his teammates. (key fights include: him absolutely lighting up Pospisil after the first period hit on Adam in the Kraken v. Calgary game on March 3).

He also starts to up his physicality. And when I say up, I mean up. Tye ended the 23-24 season with 229 hits, placing him 19th in the entire league.

And of my favorite: Tye is a Grade A yapper. Like literally, this man will yap whenever he needs to. And one of the most iconic times might I add is against Connor McDavid, who Karts almost succeeds to into scrapping with. Known non-fighter Connor McDavid. (Note: this occurred after McDavid checked Ryker Evans, these firebirds turned squids don't play about each other).

photo credits: steph chambers (i believe, but if not, please correct me!)

gifs from: @starshipoftheseus

This Season and Beyond

So where does that leave Tye now? Well, if you tune in to almost any Kraken game, you're sure to see him on the fourth line (likely with Yanni Gourde & Brandon Tanev).

He’s likely to be spotted hanging out with fellow former firebirds Joey Daccord, Shane Wright, and Ryker Evans. They all went to the Halloween party in a group costume and are frequent dinner buddies, with Joey finding gluten-free restaurants for himself and Ryker.

There's also some interest bubbling up, especially because as of posting this, the Kraken re-acquired Daniel Sprong. What does that mean? Well, due to lots of cap things & money stuff, the Kraken essentially with every player healthy can only carry a 20-man roster. This means either someone has to be traded, or you've gotta send the 13th forward down to the AHL. While Karts hasn't been rumored in any trades (and frankly his contract isn't big enough trade value-wise to really help), there is still the possibility he could go on waivers and be sent back down to CV if not performing. So this is definitely a step-up time while the Kraken wait for Vince Dunn to get off of LTIR (which we saw on the 11/12 game against CBJ, where Karts scored the first goal in the second period and his second of the year).

[sandwitchstories]

Full House

It will probably be quite a while before I write about the full family, but I wanted to share some of my silly little thoughts and see what you guys think. So.... Talk to me, goose!

For more adventures with Mouse and Dad!Sukuna, check out my Daddy Duty Series on my AO3 - Here! )

To read these headcannons on AO3 please click here !

Summary: Some of my random head canon's about Mouse's future siblings and their hijinks (thoughts and prayers for Uraume)

WC: 800+

CW: Reader referred to as Mama but not described, new siblings, Dad!sukuna, dilf sukuna, family fluff, SFW, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, boy dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms),

Blue Bow divider by : @thecutestgrotto

You and Sukuna ended up with three kids. That was it. You hit three and you were done. He was done. Uraume had been done. Three was the magic number. 

Your first child - Mouse - the adorable pinkette with audacity and charm who says ‘please and thank you’ after many things because she believes she cannot get in trouble if she is using her manners. She’s a wild child and she’s mischievous, but she does listen most of the time.

Your second child - Monkey - While he favors Sukuna in looks, that thick head of hair is the exact same color as yours. He is softer spoken than his sister and while he is not into everything because he is mischievous, he is into everything because he is curious and has one of those minds that thrives on taking things apart and understanding them. He’s a sweet little bookworm who tends to listen better than his big sister. Maybe someday he’ll rub off on her.

Your third child - Squirrel - Without the extra eyes and limbs, he is Sukuna’s absolute mini-me. He is outspoken and will stand his ground to literally anyone. He is into everything for the sheer sake of being into everything. He has absolutely no back down, no chill - just absolute chaos hidden behind chubby cheeks and a deceitfully angelic smile. In short, he is a walking middle finger. (I mentioned he is Sukuna’s Mini-me, right?)

Mouse was the one to give Monkey his nickname. It happened to be the very first time she met him.

“Hello baby! What’s his name, Mama?” Mouse leaned over to look at the baby. She had been asking for a name for weeks but you and Sukuna still had not decided. 

“We still haven’t decided yet,” you smiled, exhausted after the events of the day. You laid there with Sukuna at your side, Mouse in his lap poking her baby brother gently as you held him in your arms. You felt whole and at peace.

Mouse giggled as the baby grabbed onto her finger and made small noises. “Hmmm… He grabbed my hand and he’s got a lotta hair! He’s got long fingers and big eyes! Like a monkey!”

Sukua chuckled, “You wanna call your little brother Monkey, huh?

Mouse grinned and nodded at him, “Yeah, he looks like a monkey! A very cute monkey!”

“Then that’s what we’ll call him” Sukuna grinned, kissing his daughter's head as he reached over another hand to run his thumb over his son’s small head.

“No, absolutely not.” you said firmly, not even entertaining that idea.

“Not for his legal name. I am not cruel to my own children. Just his nickname, like she is Mouse. He is Monkey.”

You sighed, and looked down at the baby in your arms who now had his older sister hovering over his face calling his nickname softly in a funny voice. You knew then that you had already lost this battle. At least she is using her indoor voice.

You closed your eyes and rested your head back on your pillows. You turned your head to face Sukuna and opened your eyes. You smirked at him and said, “It’s better than Precious Three, I guess.” Sukuna was never living that one down. (a throwback to Precious Two)

Monkey loves to learn. Anything. He just loves to learn. Because of the fact that he is calmer, quieter and a better listener than his sister, Uraume allows him to help her cook. He was about 3 the first time you came into the kitchen and saw Uraume and him making rice cakes together. Uraume paused the food preparation for just a moment. They met your gaze head on and said with a straight face, “We can keep this one.” 

Monkey has a way with animals. Neither you nor Sukuna nor Uraume can explain it, but animals are just drawn to him. This includes other non human beings. 

Monkey befriended a 5 tailed Kitsune taking refuge in a shaded corner of your yard. He kept sneaking outside to sleep with it. About the 4th time you had to go outside and get him you told the damn thing to just come inside. And that is how your sweet summer child got you to adopt a 500 year old yokai. 

Welcome to the family, Tuna the kitsune!  (Neither you nor Sukuna had any idea why they chose that name, but it was a unanimous decision among the 3 of them and that was miracle enough for you both to roll with it. Always choose your battles wisely.)

Squirrel is called squirrel because he makes giant leaps from well, everything, and is easily distracted. 

It took exactly one time telling Squirrel to ask for things ‘nicely’ for that to become his version of ‘please and thank you.’ “Mama, up. Nicely!”

Squirrel who, as far as your two boys go, inherited all of his father’s agility has been caught numerous times trying to scale his way over the estate walls like a lizard. 

Squirrel is obsessed with rhinoceros beetles and frogs. He regularly tries to smuggle them in to keep as pets. 

You have watched this child stand physically toe to toe with his father, arms folded across his chest in an exact mirror of Sukuna, giving the giant man back his own mean mug more times than you can count. Obstinance, thy name is Squirrel. 

[tanjir0se]

Time for another tanjir0se character checklist here’s why you all need to put some love on my tiny sweet boy Okarun

AMBASSADOR AND PRIME MINISTER TO BIG SOULFUL BROWN EYES NATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🍂🤎🌰🪵😍

Little UFO freak with no friends and a huge heart. Boy do I die

Literally walked into a haunted tunnel and got his wiener stolen by a ghost just because he had a crush on the literal first girl to talk to him in. Ever.

NORMALIZATION OF MALE YEARNING NOW!!!

Bowl cut and big round glasses and the biggest tenderest heart in the world

Calls his only friend by her more formal last name and honorific except when he’s in his ‘cooler’ form, when he calls her a nickname. I cannot wait for the day he slips up and calls her that as his usual self. It’s going to make me explode

The arT STYLE HIM LIDDOL RED NOSE !! THE STARS IN MY BOYS EYES!! THE VISUAL STING EACH TIME HIS GLASSES REFLECT JUST THE RIGHT WAY TO SHOW HIS EYES INSTEAD OF BEING OPAQUE. PLEASE IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES

wears a school uniform unless he’s wearing his girlbestie’s clothes unless he’s wearing no pants.

Embarrassed by everything (relatable)

Doesn’t know how to talk to girls (also relatable)

VA is the same as Tanjiro from Demon Slayer making my protective instinct all the stronger. Like that’s my whole son. I have custody now.

I AM WRAPPING HIM IN A TORTILLA AND FRYING HIM IN A CAST IRON PAN AS WE SPEAK!!! HE WILL EXPERIENCE HORRORS HE DOES NOT DESERVE!!!!

[clonerightsagenda]

For now I think I'm going to use #crude monsters as my catchall tag because I respect a clever title. I'll try to backtag stuff but given tumblr's search function I'm going to pile all my current thoughts in one place so this one at least will be tagged.

Thesis

I've observed a theme in SFF works from the last decade connecting the undead/death magic with fossil fuels/climate change in a way that makes even more literal our contemporary society being powered by dead things (fossil fuels) and positions climate change/pollution as a 'haunting' we've brought upon ourselves. The specter of communism may have been haunting Europe, but the specter of petrochemicals now stalks the globe, and it's getting hot (or cold) in here.

Examples I have collected so far:

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir

This is the most blatant. House society runs on death even more visibly than our own. It was created by a man working to save the planet, but even his original project betrays a belief that humans can't possibly escape their extractive relationship with Earth - it relied on freezing the entire population until the Earth could recover, instead of changing anyone's behavior. John wipes out our society, but he ends up recreating a lot of its harmful structures, including a reliance on extraction and death. The Houses rely on labor performed by skeletal servitors (more akin to the original zombie-as-enslaved-labor than the modern ravenous swarm). They use material goods primarily made of plastic or human bone/tissue. The Empire expands by killing entire planetary ecosystems and harvesting the death energy, spawning vengeful hauntings that target necromancers (people born from and benefiting from this extractive process) and Lyctors (necromancers who have gone even further to make continual death and extraction core to their identity). John, the leader of the empire, is powered by the death of Earth, and that's what's literally keeping the lights on - when he's briefly killed, the sun starts to go out. Society's view of human life as fuel trickles down to the interpersonal level as well, with many characters blurring devotion and consumption, taking it as a personal rejection when someone refuses to eat them, or deciding that the kindest alternative to the societal status quo is mutual self-immolation (nuclear fusion?).

Beyond the resurrection beasts serving as the vengeance of slaughtered ecosystems, we also see the aftereffects of this regime in the River, which is filthy and polluted. The Cuyahoga River catching fire became a key symbol and tipping point in the environmental movement in the late 60s/70s, and here we have a river that's been befouled by however John broke the world.

Lockwood & Co by Jonathan Stroud

In this series, Britain is plagued by something no one wants to name. It's not haunting, it's a Problem. They're not ghosts, they're Visitors. The dead don't have names, they get nicknames like natural disasters. But at the root is a group of wealthy industrialists who are exacerbating a crisis and profiting off of it at the same time. Business leaders are invading the afterlife to extract a product literally made out of dead people, which stirs up the dead and heightens the Problem. Then they turn around and make money off it by selling key supplies and services (silver, iron, agents, etc.) The reliance on children's Talents is reminiscent of climate change rhetoric around young people. Polls suggest young people are the most aware and concerned about climate change (after all, like with Visitors, they can see and feel it most clearly). Many adults in Turbohaunted Britain are willfully ignorant of the situation, brush off their own responsibility, and talk about how "the children will save us", cheerfully dropping the problem into the laps of a generation that did not cause it but will inherit its worst effects. Of course it's not just children who suffer - the process of invading the Other Side is actively killing the people doing it as well, and yet they still won't stop, driven by extractive greed.

This extraction is also displacing a large population. The dead entering living Britain are victims, but they're dehumanized by the real wrongdoers who need an easy scapegoat and the money they can make off one. The later books in this series were published around the height of the European refugee "crisis", when Europe saw high numbers of migrants from Middle Eastern and North African nations experiencing instability that Western oil interests contributed to. Rather than recognizing their responsibility and welcoming these people, Europe as a whole mostly rejected and vilified them, and nations across the globe continue to latch onto cases where migrants do hurt someone as evidence that they're all dangerous monsters, using them as a smokescreen to deflect attention from the rich corporate architects of our collective misery.

The Scholomance by Naomi Novik

This is my third example, and I might be stretching the undead thing a bit, but not too much imo. In the Scholomance series, privileged magic users, primarily in Western and wealthy nations, live in extravagant protected enclaves, leaving everyone else at the mercy of dangerous monsters. It's eventually revealed that enclaves are literally built on the backs of human sacrifices, which spawn a tar pit-like monster (mawmouth) that roams around devouring people - mostly those unlucky individuals who don't get through the enclave gates, meaning the people who benefit are also the least impacted, just as we've seen with warming and climate disasters. Their comfort comes at a direct cost to everyone else. Mawmouths are made out of that original sacrifice but accumulate their screaming, perpetually dying victims, and El is eventually able to defeat them by reminding them that they're "already dead", so I'd say they're at least undead-adjacent.

When a Chinese wizard learns the secret of enclave construction, he confronts the Western enclaves, who refuse to stop. So, his faction feels they have no choice but to build their own enclaves, even if that makes the problem worse. It's reminiscent of how the West scolds "developing" nations for increasing their population and emissions despite having enjoyed the fruits of living large, carbon consumption-wise, for decades. ("We had our fun, now we're going to wag our fingers at anyone who doesn't want to sign emissions treaties. We're not following them though.") The New York enclave makes a more ~ethical~ mawmouth (Orion = greenwashing??) but mostly so they can weaponize it against anyone who argues with them. Orion being created as part of this arms race and El being born to 'balance' him out again hearkens to the idea that the children will somehow save us, and also revisits that children are the most impacted by our warming future, stuck cleaning up earlier generations' messes.

Hi Nay by Motzie Dapul

This connection was made during a Discord conversation and not by me, so I really need to relisten to the podcast with this framing in mind. A group of mostly wealthy Elders gain magical power through sowing the Toronto landscapes with Foci that harvest energy from death. The ones that bother with justifications say it's for the greater good and the deaths at least are random chance, but in reality the Elders are safe and their Foci impact the unprotected, just as we pretend natural disasters and pandemics are great equalizers when really they and other climate-induced destruction hit frontline populations hardest. Just like the wealthy in our world, they're profiting off of people's deaths and looking the other way as man-made disasters caused by their actions destroy people.

Additionally, the use of death magic at scale destabilizes the barrier between the worlds of the living and the dead, and locations where a Focus has activated in the past are more likely to experience problems again. Essentially it's a feedback loop, the way we see exponential warming and increased disasters as different 'symptoms' of climate change feed off each other. Foci creating corrupt, repulsive "miasmas" that distort the world around them is also reminiscent of ecological damage and pollution.

The showrunner has indicated future episodes might tackle this theme more directly, so I'm excited about that!

Limitations

Of these four works, three were written by white authors living in what I would categorize as an extracting area of the world rather than an extraction zone. All four works are at least primarily in English for an English-speaking audience. This does not reflect the frontline communities most vulnerable to the current ravages of climate change, and I would not be surprised if this theme has arisen in works I have not found, either because they did not make it through mainstream publishing's gatekeeping or because I do not speak the language.

That being said, hauntings often have their logic. There's unfinished business, someone (something?) wants revenge, people crossed lines they shouldn't have. So perhaps this theme popping up in extractive countries is an acknowledgement of that culpability, admitting that we dug up these angry dead, and now we don't know how to put them back to rest. Shame the rest of the world is paying for our trespass.

I'll continue to keep an eye out for more examples of this theme; feel free to let me know if you spot one!

[autumn-opossum]

The fact that Mae is just a shortened version of my name and Qimir says it many times throughout the show..

[teenagenutant]

for some reason i have been thinking about fusions a lot recently... here's some of my takes ^_^

[a-most-beloved-fool]

another wildly unimportant star trek pet peeve of mine is that i kinda hate it when people persistently call kirk "james", either in fic or in posts. like, yes, he's james t kirk. that's his name. but. he's jim. he asks people to call him jim. every time, it's jim. idk, maybe I'm too trans, but I figure that when someone tells you their preferred name, you use it.

I know a guy named bill. his name's william, sure, but he's bill. he specifically said so. I know an alexandria, who is always ally, and I know an aleksandra who is never ever a nickname. I know a thomas who flat out refuses to be tom. y'know? hell, I know a john who goes exclusively by jack, and a sarah who's riley. and it's rude as hell to ignore that.

I do understand that it's. a bit Silly to have that strong of an opinion on whether or not to call a fictional character by a nickname, but. oh well. i'm a bit silly i guess. like, yeah. it doesn't matter. he's not real. he doesn't care.

but he's jim to me.

[raiiny-bay]

the boys, 80s-ified

[moeblob]

Right and his work menaces (Brent and Karen).

I don't remember last I mentioned it but apart from crude nicknames to people (except Chris), he also just puts them in his phone really weird (except Chris, who is literally in his phone as Chris). And I bring this up because in Right's phone, Karen is saved as "Lawful Obligation".

[surlifen]

new sona ref at long last! and I named him finally (sort of) (was stuck between two so I've uploaded different versions of the ref in different places LMAO)

just in time for artfight teehee

[saturnwisteria]

library books that’ll never be returned, for someone of your own choice (perhaps your OC? 😊)

Yesterday I was telling myself I'm probably just not the OC writing type, and then today I was seized by the throat and wrote this straight through for 5 hours. Thank you for the prompt!

Yeva Rosova woke before dawn with everyone else, even though she would not be flying today. The flak that had bit into her shoulder on the last mission had made sure of that. It stopped her from sleeping on the side she favored, and if being grounded hadn't made her restless enough, then being thrust out of sleep by the sensation of coals burning under her skin, to find she had unconsciously rolled over onto her bad arm, would do it.

It wasn't that she was bitter about being grounded; no, that she understood, because Yeva was not a pilot, and therefore actually sensible about the fact that her injury, although not serious, would still prevent her from doing her job to the best of her ability. So no, she was not bitter, but it would not have been inaccurate to say that she was more than a little peeved to not be going up with her crew.

Especially in the wake of the last mission. The absence of Major Cleven could be felt around base like a deep contusion: invisible on the surface, but felt with every movement. No one would say it, but the ache was impossible to ignore with Major Egan's dead eyes haunting them all.

She drained her coffee to the dregs, twirling the grounds in the mug like her mama used to. She didn't really believe in scrying truth from the remnants of a person's drink, but she had woken up already forlorn and found herself craving the familiar.

That feeling disappeared quickly.

For a moment, she's a little kid again. Little Yeva who waddled after her мама on house visits, who was shy and quiet but not scared of the sickness that filled the room. Who stared with big dark eyes at yellowed skin or inflamed joints or angry abrasions slick with pus and plasma and didn't flinch, but crept closer. She watched with fascination when her mother would pull out the glass jar full of fat, crawling maggots and place them on a patient's crowded lesions.

Sometimes what her mama did would work, sometimes not. Occasionally, Yeva would walk into the house, hand clutching her mama's tightly, and she would know nothing could be done. It was a smell in the air, thick breath and dry skin and the tang of ointment; or maybe it was the family's desperation that would linger visibly in the room, casting a cloak over her eyes. Either way, Little Yeva was never wrong.

Death did not scare Yeva; she had known it too often as a child to think of it as anything other than a forgiving figure. Now, it stood silently in the corner of every room. In the interrogation hut, spacious where it should have been crowded. In the barracks, solemn gazes where there should have been rowdy laughter.

She saw it on the hardstands, lurking under the bellies of countless forts, shadowy hands stretching out along their wings in anticipation of the moment where they would be allowed to tug them down, down, down.

Most of all, she saw it now in the dark shapes hunkered at the base of her mug, portents of the future, reflecting bad omens on the horizon. She slammed the mug down and stood up quickly, a few members of her crew looked up at her in question, but she waved them off. If she doesn't speak it, it can't come true.

That was not how tasseography worked, but perhaps her superstitions would cancel each other out.

She found Addy smoking outside, eyes trained on the lightening sky. Yeva walked over to stand next to her, and when Addy nodded in greeting, Yeva leaned wordlessly into her side. It was a little awkward, given that Addy was a few inches shorter, but Yeva didn't care. It seemed Addy didn't either, as she crossed her arms over her chest and allowed Yeva's arm to slide deeper against her side, bringing them closer.

Yeva "Bones" Rosova and Addison "Guts" Guthrie had met in basic. They had both gone to the recruitment station intending to join the Army Nurse Corps, and both had made a last minute decision upon hearing the news that a select few branches were opening a limited amount of active combat positions to women. Both of them, it turns out, had wanted to see what the world looked like from above the clouds.

They had landed in the 100th Bomb Group, in the 418th squadron, in separate crews but together nonetheless. Addy as a tail gunner, and Yeva as a top turret gunner/flight engineer.

In a few minutes, the mess hall would empty and trucks would begin to fill with crews ready to fight for yet another day. Yeva tries to ignore the feeling stirring in her gut, the sensation that something bad is about to happen.

Her mama had loved to tell her that she had been born with a sixth sense, a secret knowledge for knowing when something was amiss. Yeva had cherished this attention when she had thought she would be following in her mother's footsteps as the village's 'barefoot doctor.' She had clung to it as her secret weapon through training, where she proved again and again to be adept at quickly identifying issues and failures and finding solutions. And when she had finally started flying real missions, and the problems had turned from textbook to reality, she had found that more than once, following a hunch had saved her ass.

Now, watching Addy take a final pull before crushing her cigarette with her toes, Yeva despised this gift for the first time in her life.

The mess door flew open, and airmen began to file out, heading toward the trucks waiting on the tarmac. Addy stood up straight beside her, stretching out her arms above her head, before turning to Yeva with a signature Addison Guthrie grin; sweeter than honey and warm enough to melt the frosting off a cupcake. It sent a fresh wave of curdling worry through Yeva.

"Well, here we are," Addy said.

"Here we are," Yeva replied, taking the moment to memorize Addy's face. Deep grey eyes shining, brown hair pinned back, pale lips stretched wide in a smile that revealed both the dimple in her left cheek and the gap between her middle teeth, which Yeva had always found charming. Makes me look like the hillbilly I am, Addy would always say, purposefully making her West Virginian accent thicker.

"Guts!" Lieutenant Hoerr called from over by the trucks, "Time to load up. Get it moving!"

"Looks like someone's sour about getting kicked from their seat." Addy sighed, adjusting her jacket collar, and the lilac scarf tied there. Yeva's heart thrummed as Addy started to turn away.

"Wait," Yeva blurts. Addy looks back at her, soft smile still in place, and so fucking beautiful it threatens to steal the breath from her lungs. She wants to say, don't go where I can't follow. She wants to say, I don't know how to do this without you. Instead, she takes her own scarf out from her pocket, light pink and white stripes, and holds it out.

"Here, take it. So part of me can come with you," she says in a rush. Addy stares down at the offering, an emotion Yeva doesn't recognize flickering in her eyes, before she takes it, holding it gently I'm her hands. Yeva expects her to fold it up and put it in her pocket. Instead, she reaches up and unknots her own scarf, pulling it off, and ties Yeva's scarf in its place. Tucks the ends down into her jacket, the fabric resting just above her heart.

And then she leans over, loops her own scarf around Yeva's neck, and ties it up, hands resting on Yeva's shoulders to admire her work. "There," she says, "Now you'll have a little piece of me, too."

"Guts, come on, let's go!" Gangwer yells from where he sits, the rest of the crew of Mlle Zig Zig waiting for her. Addy laughs, and then pulls Yeva into the tightest hug she's ever had. It makes Yeva's arm twinge, but she's sure as hell not about to complain. It lasts for all of a second, and then she's jogging away.

"I'll see you later!" She shouts over her shoulder.

All Yeva can do is believe her.

●●●

Addy doesn't come back. Save for one crew, no one else does, either. Yeva wants to curse the entire world, to punch the walls until her knuckles crack and bleed, to cry until there's no emotion left in her.

She doesn't do any of that. She sits on the floor in front of Addy's bunk and stares at the contents of her trunk.

There's a couple letters, one addressed to her parents, another to her brother; two years older than her and in the navy. Yeva sets them aside. She doesn't know for certain that Addy is dead, but if she is, it's better to grow accustomed to the idea, rather than deny it now and have it break her later.

There's the pretty blue dress she'd wear to go dancing the couple of times they'd had leave. Yeva runs her fingers over the fabric, soft and well-worn. Underneath that is a stack of books, taken from her hometown's library. Addy had offered to pay a fee, since she'd be gone for so long and these were her favorite stories, but the librarian had told her to just take them. Bring 'em back after you win this war. Teach these men a thing or two while you're at it. Yeva wonders who will return them now.

Tucked away in one corner is her embroidery kit, threads in a rainbow of colors lined up neatly next to two wooden frames. Yeva's hand comes up to the scarf at her neck, runs her thumb over the little blue flowers that Addy had embroidered in the corners. She blinks back the tears that spring up.

She can't do this. She can't write to Addy's parents, she can't return her library books, she can't look at the things she left behind. Not when she's become one of them.

Yeva closes the trunk, rubs the numbness out of her legs, and goes outside. The night is cool, the air carrying the song of crickets and night birds. She leans back against the barracks and stares at the sky that Addy disappeared into.

Wherever you are, she thinks, fingers tracing the edges of the little blue flowers, know that I am still with you.

[tofuless]

Just now realizing there's two ninjago characters I share a name with now...

[art-ofatypical]

OC-Tober: Day 14: Who/what inspired your OC?

Its a little complicated, and City is a sona of ours so that influences a lot, soo.... I wrote it out like ingredients?

[sqlmn]

Art I did during my break but don't wanna post on main but you know what. I like Levi and Richard (and Arienne the redhead).

Basically, Levi and Richard go to school together, Richard decides to go by the name Richard and the only person to without question go along with "I'm a boy now" is Levi who calls him Dick. And then gets into fist fights with boys that don't call him Richard. So Richard falls pretty much in love in school then his parents divorce and he moves away.

Many years later (10+) Richard meets Levi again and it's very much nothing grand. Levi overhears Richard introducing himself to someone and is like "lmao Dick? You work here now? Sucks to be you" and Richard is immediately 'I love him so much I hate myself for how easily I give up all dignity for him' but yeah. They work in different departments so Levi does more behind the scenes stuff while Richard talks to clients and is very social.

And their coworkers in both departments love Richard because he's such a nice guy and Levi's department hates Levi a lot cause he's an asshole. (then stuff happens that would require a tw blah blah blah) So after a month of Levi not being at work he returns and Richard immediately goes over to the department to check on him and he's just. Incredibly mellow. No cussing and no cockiness and worst of all, he's being called Richard which is very much not correct from Levi. So he points it out that no one else calls him Dick and if he had a problem with it he would have said something by now so hey, maybe don't suddenly change the entire friendship on your own. (So Levi texts him later to say "sorry for being a dick, Dick" and Richard is v happy and content with that turn out)

Richard is honestly tragically created out of spite for the fact I saw a name IRL and I know that the state that I live in would in fact NOT have someone that intentionally funny and trans so I have to make my own funny trans guy to fill the void.