#me thinking about claire often and how she deserves the world

[seeksbrother]

i've talked a little bit before about claire's perspective of love, and it does change within every ship that i have with people, but i want to post some of the basics that come in all ends of it, and things that my shipping partners characters will have to deal with when pursing romantic relations with miss claire redfield.

she wears her heart on her sleeve, despite the fact she's so tough natured. though her parents died when she was very young, the core of all relationships was her mother and father and it was a love that was so pure. her father would often come home form work with flowers for his wife, love language being gift giving. her mother's love language was words of affirmation and just saying consistently how much he meant to her.

when claire was in college, she definitely fooled around quite a bit, not really holding down much of a relationship but definitely had no problem getting people to be interested in her. in every verse she'll develop a crush on leon s. kennedy. ( obviously this grows or goes away depending on who i'm writing with and what is being written )

when she meets steve burnside, she isn't sure if the feelings she has towards him is something because of trauma or more, but she knows that losing him completely devastated her. ( ie. chris hearing claire breaking down in sobs when she's locked in a room. )

she does bounce back from it, but focuses everything into terrasave.

when she meets neil, he's sweet and kind, he listens to her, but he's also very boring. it's a safety that claire doesn't have to really stress about because she doesn't sense any danger on this end. that is until he betrays her in the worst way possible, it's a betrayal that destroys every aspect of trust she can ever put on another person.

it hardens her to the core.

[highhhfiveee]

safety net, part three

part two: 🚿 | part four: 🏆

pairing: pornstar!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: y/n gets a taste of mike's world and things begin to shift. wc: 3.1k tags: lots of mentions of porn, smut (descriptions of sex being filmed, featuring unprotected sex, dirty talk, clit rubbing, squirting, some workplace intimacy lmao), angst?, exposition! proofread many times but if there are still errors, idk what to say lmao

“wow."

"i know right," you say plainly, eyes wide at your best friend, claire, as you take a large gulp of your hot latte. claire cuts her gaze to you, puffing her cheeks out in a sigh. you were always so in awe by her, the feeling proved once again when she'd actually agreed wholeheartedly to view your boyfriend's porn.

"i still don't believe that you're dating him," she sputters with outrage as she points to your computer on the dining room table, open to a still of mike with dick in hand, coming on some dark-haired girl's keen face. "and i don't believe it even more so because you decided to wait six months before telling me. i thought we were best friends!"

you can tell her outrage is whimsical by the way she faints into your arms, and you reach forward to catch her. 

"yeah but, like, best friends from adolescence that don't see each other very often. last time i saw you was three months ago." 

"okay, but by then you'd been dating him for three months, and that's almost half a year!" 

"barely, claire." 

you couldn't even believe that you were dating him. you hadn't known how you two went from meeting outside an underwhelming, overpriced restaurant to making out and cuddling intimately in mike's bed four out of seven days a week. it'd felt like no time had passed at all; you'd just been living without thinking. mike took every worry off your shoulders, freeing you of anxiety in so many ways that you couldn't believe someone that caring and accommodating was real.

he paid for your sessions after you'd mindlessly rambled about not being able to afford this therapist you really liked. he sent you the credentials to his grocery delivery membership, encouraging you to get anything you wanted or needed. you could finally consistently get things that were good, and healthy. he paid your rent, and respected the fact that you didn't want to move in with him and wanted autonomy to work and pay for your other personal expenses.

"i just want you to be happy. you tell me what you want, and we'll make it happen."

he had you and it didn't feel real. you felt like you couldn't tell anyone about it, terrified that everything would crumble if you spoke even a word about him being your partner, so sweet and good and rewarding. you didn't want to hide him, but you didn't want things to collapse. not this time. 

you wouldn't be able to take it this time. 

you explain all this to claire, ending with, "i'm sorry it took so long. i just really want this to last." you'd told her about everything, even about dating simon briefly and how he led you to mike. 

claire nods, chewing on a wedge of pineapple speared by a fork. she's given up her fainting performance, once again munching on her breakfast and clicking the pad on your laptop. the video you two were watching resumes, and you watch her face for bit, eyes shifting around the screen in intrigue, before turning back to it as well.

"you deserve it, y/n. that simon guy sounded like a dickhead. an expired card, and the bathroom excuse? fucking lame." her voice doesn't chop through the amplified sound of both mike and the girl moaning, whiny and feral. they're absolutely gone, and you're really not thinking about simon anymore. fuck him. 

now, you thought of mike.

granted, you hadn't been like the people in mike's videos, up to a certain point. you'd done the kissing and the heavy petting, but you hadn't had sex at all, in any form, and he didn't pressure you into feeling like it was some sort of requirement. he agreed with taking it slow, placing emphasis on the romantic before the sexual. you knew there would be no issues with the sexual; why rush into it when you could have the slow burn, all the tension you wanted up until you were ready?

mike hadn't fought it, and yeah, you thought, you did deserve it. you deserved to be treated like this. 

"called me over for an art date, i guess you still painted," the girl mewls with a devilish smile, licking at mike's---sorry, chase cox's---come around her mouth. 

"mhm, baby. masterpiece, if i do say so myself." mike is so pretty on the screen; sweaty and flustered, but so confident at the same time, polite too. even when he's in an act, he's so attentive; he moves hair away from eyes and wipes spit off chins and cradles waists while he adjusts his hips to hit various angles, turning almost everyone he filmed with into a "braindead fucktoy"---claire's filthy words, not yours (though you didn't mind the idea). 

the video ends with a snippet of aftercare, the both of them wiping at each other's bodies with gentle motions. it's how they all end, and you think it's really nice, showing a crucial part of sex that most people forgo. you'd seen plenty of mike's videos by now, and knew that while some were vastly more kinky than others, they all followed the same formula of care, concern, and curtesy. 

you could tell mike lived by that, too. 

"well, i gotta scoot to work," claire murmurs, leaning down to grab for her bag. "but thank you for inviting me to breakfast so you could show and tell me that you've been dating a wildly handsome, generous, and charismatic sex worker. best videos i've seen by far, honestly. are you seeing him today?" 

you nod sheepishly, and claire laughs into the sky, doctored with comical bitterness. "well, let the record show that i am both extremely jealous and extraordinarily happy for you." she gives you a toothy smile, poking at your shoulder with both index fingers. "seriously. you deserve it all." 

you carry this thought with you as you ride in one of the company's chartered cars, traversing through the roads to their main studio, the biggest one in the city. there were only 4 throughout the metro area, but this one, a gigantic penthouse isolated at the top of a 275-foot tall apartment complex, had the most space and atmosphere of them all. you remember coming here to take your picture for the all-access card mike had given you. he was so happy to gift it to you a few months ago, finally getting through after bugging the execs to give him another card with unhindered access for months. 

"finally got the hard copy, just for you. got your name on it and everything," he'd smiled so wide, clipping it on one of his merch lanyards; white with black, serif text that read, "chase cox world domination". you'd fallen over in laughter, kissing at his cheeks while thanking him between giggles. 

you hadn't been here many times over the last three months, but when you were, you were able to slip through every door and security checkpoint without hassle. people knew who you were and attended to you, telling you exactly where mike was in the studio or offering to get you any refreshments or sundries you were after. you'd always declined, extending extreme gratitude to everyone servicing you, but today, you ask for a bottle of fancy artesian water. you deserve it. 

the few times you'd been here before were usually half-hours after mike had finished a scene, helping him pack up to head home for the day, but this time, you'd come early, wanting to catch a glimpse of him at work. 

you take the elevator to the top, stepping out into the concrete foyer of the industrial workspace. the gray of the material was accented with bright art and other pops of color in furniture and decor that conveyed the new age principles and ideology of the production company. it made sense why the videos were so honored, with the people behind them being young and progressive and on the right side of history (and design). 

there are eight rooms on the floor; three for shooting, three for aesthetics and dressing, one for an office, and one for storage. there were bathrooms in three of them and two down the main hallway that opened into the formal living room/break area and kitchen. you'd been told that mike was in the hunger room; this one set up for messier, more bodily fluid oriented videos, as opposed to the softer passion and kinkier desire shooting rooms. 

the rooms are all hidden behind frosted, sliding glass doors with the titles printed onto placards affixed next to them. you find hunger after walking a little, and gently pull on the handle. the door slides open soundlessly, and you're closing it behind you as you step inside, your eyes locked on the scene in front of you. 

mike and his partner are arranged on a leather couch in a living room set, his hips shoving into her in this perceptive way. he's reading her body language and reacting accordingly, and you can see why she's moaning so genuinely, feet dangling by the ankle over mike's shoulders. the couch is already drenched in liquid, wet and puddled under the girl's ass.

he grabs for the back of the couch to go deeper, leaning down to press kisses on her lips as the cameraman focuses in on where they're connected. the sound is so lewd, and it makes you press your thighs together as you watch alongside the small production crew. 

"feel good? happy to have a friend like me? someone who knows you, knows your body? someone who makes you feel better and come harder than your stupid fucking boyfriend?" his partner mewls out a broken, exasperated, "y-yyesssss" between gritted teeth as her moans get higher and higher pitched. suddenly, she's reaching at mike's back to scratch at his skin, screaming out as mike leans off to the side of her, massaging his fingertips over her clit and cooing, "yeah, just let go. know he's never made you feel like this, wasting this perfect pussy..."

his partner squirts against the camera with a screech, loud and raw but pretty. the lens is covered in a heavy spray of bodily fluid as she arches her back and grinds her mound into mike's hand, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "that's fucking it," he encourages, speaking in her ear as he looks down at the mess in his peripherals and rides her through it. "just the way you deserve." you swear he locks eyes with you when he says it, and he only confirms it with the small smirk he throws your way, managing to fit it into the ending of the shot. his eyes twinkle through the aftercare segment, and he talks with his spent coworker, calling, "she just wants to sit for a second" to a PA with a chuckle. 

"okay, ten minute break and then we're shooting the come shot."

her legs slowly straighten out as mike throws the towel he's handed around his waist and slides his feet into the slippers stored behind the couch. he grabs a water from an outstretched hand as he makes his way over to you, smelling like sweat and sex and glistening with this nearly angelic post-fuck glow. it's like he's coming down from the gates of porn heaven.

"hi, my love," he muses, pulling you into a tight hug before saying, "how much did you see?" 

"like right before the squirting. it's very..." you're not sure what to say, really. maybe, just maybe, you need to change your underwear, but you don't want to be weird about it. you're sure he's heard weird, and beyond weird, but you want to maintain composure in front of his coworkers. you give him a tight smile, resting your hand on his pulsing bicep. "just makes me think things." 

"maybe we should add 'thought-provoking' to the list of labels for the company," he jokes, taking a sip of water while winking at you. "you're a genius, baby." 

you're giggling along with him, opening your mouth to continue the joke when two tanned arms reach from behind him to cross in an X over his chest. a head peeks from behind him, and she's immediately unmistakable to you. 

it's his current scene partner, who is also the girl from the video you watched earlier today. the one eager for his come, whining for him to make a mess of her face while letting him beat his dick on her tongue. you think back to all of the videos you've seen her in where she's with mike. she always comes the hardest working with him, and vice versa. something about it makes you sick. 

she's smiling at his cheek, eyes focused on his as he turns his glance towards her. her arms get tighter around him and you notice how she gets closer, pressing her front tighter against his back. "caught your breath?" 

"you know i always do," she brags, licking at her canines as her stare moves to you, looking you up and down with snarky scrutiny. "casting department's starting to slack." 

you shrink, feeling so small that you don't feel like you're interrupting something anymore. you might as well just not be there, and you're about to sink into pitiful posture when mike snarls, "hey, watch yourself. y/n, this is amelie, and li, this is y/n, my girlfriend. i told you about her." the sound of mike saying the nickname turns to bile in your throat, searing you on the way down and keeping you from speaking.

amelie gives you a blank expression now, standing beside mike with no qualms at being fully naked in front of a stranger. "y/n, y/n...not ringing any bells," she places her hands on her hips, tossing her dark, sex-tousled hair over her collarbones. "sorry."

you don't know why you're daunted by her; you're usually daunted by no one, and able to speak up for yourself when people are acting catty. this time, you can't help but be unnerved by her perfection, or how close she is to it. perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect boobs...

"i'm kidding," amelie's smooth, beguiling voice rips you from your thoughts, and you're gasping for something to say when she continues, "he's shown me endless pictures, and knows that i think you're gorgeous." her tone picks up the tiniest bit as she quips, "my eyes are up here, by the way." she's throwing you off, frustrating you in so many ways and you're just stammering with mike looking between the two of you.

"i'm sorry---"

"it's really fine. millions of people have seen them, everyone's always thirsty for more of me and chase cox..." she drags the end of her sentence out as she runs the tips of her long, cherry red nails along the back of mike's neck, ending in a laugh.

"'mike schmidt' isn't a porn name, we already had this conversation." 

"neither is chase cox, if we're being real," they launch into a chitchat, and you once again feel like you're intruding. there's no denying that they have insane chemistry, but it still rips at you;  you're aware of them having an entire moment in front of you, complete with the body language and glances and suddenly, you don't care about their connection. mike was your boyfriend, and it didn't matter what she said or did. they'd made so many videos together, yet, every night he came home to you, and not her. 

"yeah, well you're still moaning chase when you come," 

"because i can't dox you like that--"

you clear your throat noisily, gaining their attention with an eyeroll, and amelie observes you and your curled lip with recognition of your game. she didn't expect you to have bite, not with the way you look now. you're not the assertive, 'take-no-shit' girl from the pictures mike showed her. she thinks you're merely a hint of that, and that it completely evaporates when someone lights a fire under your ass, but maybe she's wrong for once. "watched a bunch of your stuff. it was really good, you're talented." 

"thanks," her gratitude is dry and bitchy, and you're about to say more when a PA calls a two minute warning and she squints her eyes into slits at you. "hope you're ready to see a lot more of me." she uses mike's shoulder to pivot with a sly smirk, sauntering back to the now wiped down leather couch, ripples coursing through her ass with every step. 

you look to mike with astonishment, wondering where he's been during this whole thing, and who that girl is, and if she's genuine bad news or simply one of those callous girls that guys love to chase.

mike had defended you, sure, but he'd gotten captured too. what if she's indoctrinating him some--

"she's nice," you blurt, stopping yourself from the overthinking you'd resorted to. you needed to be nice to yourself. you deserved this, deserved everything you had with mike. nothing was taking that away from you, and you could feel secure in that. mike would reassure you.

he does, saying, "isn't she?" with a snicker. "don't worry about her, okay? it's her personality, and she does everyone like that, so she's not just targeting you. ignore her, and if you don't like the small jokes either, i can tell her to knock it off. whatever you want. also, lunch after i wrap?" 

you nod your head, about to say something again when the PA announces that it's time for shooting to start back up. mike gives you a fat kiss on the lips as he drops his towel into a director's chair next to you, and makes his way back over to amelie folded on the couch. her knees are by her chin at a filthy angle, and she's using a squeeze bottle with a tapered tip to squeeze shiny lube all over her clit and both holes. 

mike watches, rubbing his hand all through it to spread it around. amelie bites at her lip as he does, staring up at him with eyes that are filled with unadulterated lust, and he uses the leftover lube on his dick, stroking the slippery surface as he gets harder and harder in his hand. 

the director asks them if they're ready, and when they both answer yes, she says, "okay, we're gonna go insertion, sink in, wait five for the kiss, and go from there. alright...rolling...action." 

amelie flicks her eyes to you in a leer, winking at you like mike did earlier as he plunges into her sopping wet walls. her head falls back against the couch while she outstares you, open-mouthed moans transitioning into "cockdrunk" laughs that you know are calculated.  

you begin to chug your bottle of water, deliberately ogling her in return. you were down with playing a game for two, but not for long. 

lord. the hell i've gone through to get this up /: lmao i need to go to bed. things are about to heat up, so prepare yourselves for what's next to come!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf

[starsreminisce]

Our favorite Elain stan 🌷🦌☀️ !!

1. Why is Elain one of your favorite characters?

2. Is there a specific scene that made you like her?

3. What theories/headcanons do you have for Elain?

4. Feel free to share anything else about Elain that the questions didn’t cover!

1. Why is Elain one of your favorite characters?

She reminds me of one of my absolute favorite people in the world. Elain is someone who has been shaped by her circumstances, and the way she interacts with and responds to the world is a reflection of what she’s learned in order to survive. Elain best exemplifies the idea that two things can be true at the same time, even more so than Nesta. Yes, someone can be soft and caring but also capable of setting hard boundaries when something starts to affect them in a way they don’t like. She can do that. She can use violence when necessary, like when she stabbed the King of Hybern, but she can also hate doing it, as she often was described how much violence does affect her. Feyre said that Elain can be brave when needed, and I feel like that’s an aspect of her that’s often overlooked, even though it’s fundamental to who she is.

SJM typically writes FMCs in a certain way, but I’m excited to see her take on a softer, more magically-inclined Willow-like FMC, rather than her usual Buffy-esque characters.

2. Is there a specific scene that made you like her?

I thought it was really sweet how much of a romantic Elain is, already packing a bag for Feyre when she returned to the Spring Court. But what really stood out to me was when she said the Queens should burn in hell. It reminded me of how Lucien said the exact same line...

LITTLE DID I KNOW

3. What theories/headcanons do you have for Elain?

A headcanon of mine is that Elain took up baking because it's Jesminda's hobby, something she doesn’t even realize. Baking feels like a fall activity to me, so I always think there is some subconsciousness Elain has about how much her mate does affect her.

I also have a theory that Elain's increasing sun-like descriptions signify her and Lucien paralleling their development as they move toward who they want to be together. Her character growth in ACOSF shows that she is preparing to become a High Lady of a court. We've seen her softness in previous books, and ACOSF illustrates how Elain acts when she can no longer afford to be soft.

I believe both Elain and Lucien will be the couple that solidifies the connection between their world and TOG and CC.

4. Feel free to share anything else about Elain that the questions didn’t cover!

Elain’s issue isn’t with Lucien specifically, but with the bond itself. No matter who was on the receiving end of that bond, she would react the same way she is now. Her story will further explore and expand on that lore. If ACOSF was SJM processing difficult experiences in her own life, Elucien's book will likely reflect SJM’s college days, especially around the time she left for college, met her husband, and went through months of pushing and pulling before they decided to be together.

Elain says she doesn’t want a mate, and I find it fitting that her mate is someone who believed he no longer had one. I still think back to Elain dreamily mentioning how Tomas wanted to marry Nesta, and I believe she deserves someone willing to fight against all odds to be with her, which Lucien already did for Jesminda.

In the beginning of Outlander, Jamie rescues Claire multiple times, despite their marriage initially being one of convenience. Similarly, ACOWAR gave us a glimpse of how far Lucien is willing to go for Elain, and I think their book will highlight the depth of Lucien's determination to bring Elain the against-all-odds romance she dreams of.

I can’t wait to read how Elain realizes it’s not the bond that makes Lucien act this way, but that it’s because of who Lucien is at his core that they are mates.

I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you so much for asking!

[castleaudios]

Any Celine head-canons you wish to share? Perhaps? I am 100% here for all the little details. I’m on the same train as CW…

How did Celine and Claire meet?

Side note: I can only imagine and continue to admire how much work you’ve put into all of the background sounds and the effects along with it. I know I’m not alone when I say your channel is amazing and deserves more recognition <3

Celine often feels guilty for not being a purist about her tea preferences. After so many centuries you would thing she would be but she loves seeing the wild creations that people think of.

She's met and spent time with Frida Kahlo.

She doesn't enjoy the quiet and will often have music playing in the estate.

She prefers travel by boat than by plane!

Celine met Claire only a few months after the incident with Alexander, during the early stages of the trial. Claire was still in recovery and Celine offered her a room at the estate. The two spent a lot of time talking about the magical world since Claire and her pack weren't that involved with the wielder community before that. Poor Claires was terrified of her for the longest time, Celine thought it was incredibly endearing. She was shocked to discover Claire had Blood Magic.

Thank you so so much, that means a lot to me 💛

[purpleplaid17]

Jess Watches // Sun 16 June // Day 262 & Mon 17 June // Day 263 Synopses & Favourite Scenes & Poll

Sweet Kaaram Coffee (with mum) 1x08 Rule Number 5 (Finale)

The trip has changed the trio's lives, a bit too much.

The joy spreading throughout Sundari's entire body as she is reunited with her only true love, followed by devastation and heartbreak as she realizes Deva already said her goodbyes 38 years earlier and doesn't want to see her again. I was so distracted and distraught for them that I couldn't fully appreciate how much happier the others were now with much healthier relationships. I had lost all hope for Sundari when there came an unexpected knock on her door. The immense overwhelming delight as Deva asked SP to be her companion in their next chapter. 😭🥰

Call the Midwife (with mum) 8x00 Christmas Special 2018

As Christmas approaches, Sisters Julienne and Winifred are called to the Mother House, where important decisions must be made. Meanwhile, Trixie returns from Italy, and the midwives help with a difficult birth.

I can't help but feel the nun's level of servitude to God is just another way of controlling women. That they are constantly denying themselves small pleasures baffles me. Life is hard enough. However I did appreciate that the new Mother Superior made it so each Sister could go where they wanted.

Six Feet Under (rw) 2x12 I'll Take You

Rico remembers how he lost his father and got into the funeral business. Nate and Brenda attend her parents' remarriage. Keith, David, and Taylor are visited by a social worker. Nikoai responds indifferently when Ruth breaks up with him. Claire likes the prospect of attending LAC Arts school.

Rico gets rich, while Keith flips his switch. Brenda's parents get hitched, while Nikolai gets ditched. Nate wishes he and Brenda never met, while Claire continues to fight the comphet. And Ruth gets all the love and hugs because she deserves the world.

Invincible 2x02 In About Six Hours I Lose My Virginity to a Fish

It's summer break for Mark and his friends, but supervillains don't take a vacation. Mark is forced to face the consequences of Omni-Man's double life.

The show actually dealing with the aftermath of epic superhero battles. The destruction and chaos caused often being overlooked or purposely ignored. That with great power comes great responsibility and how important thinking is before you act when the consequences effect millions of people.

[shallowseeker]

Strangely, I think the SPNWin finale rejuvenated my need to work on Feelings of excitement and infatuation. (I'm no writer. I just like to explore things clumsily I shoot from the fuckin' hip on everything i'm so sorry.) Some spoilers for The Winchesters below, and some shoddily written fic snippets I pulled out that tickle my fancy:

I often enjoy thinking of hunting in the context of the war of it all. or being cheated out of life. God, in The Winchesters tonight, Joan hit that for me SO well, and likewise that just reverberated down into Dean, like a bell that shakes up your entire brain.

And I just...adored that Dean is STILL struggling with meaning-making outside of saving the world. He's not ready yet to value his life as a basic deserving thing on its own, so he's looking for more work. He's bargaining for a glimpse of that perfect apple pie life, all while shedding his flannel and turning up the volume on different kinds of music. This was a journey of self-discovery.

Anyway, this has definitely hit the right spot for me. I'll probably reread and edit my shit this weekend, actually, because I have beans for my brain and take a stab at righting the very necessary Claire parts I need to finish the rest. Someday I'll pay a real writer to go in and make it flow, but today is not that day.

Egads. Eureka. Etc.

I think a lot of grieving is hard when life gives you a rough shake. It's something I tried to give a nod to a little bit in chapter 2 of the fic:

///

“So if bringing people back from the dead is evil,” Jack whispers harshly, “and you brought me back, then it follows that we’re just like them. Evil.”

That shuts Sam up. Maggie gives him a painful wince. “Jack, family is different,” Sam tries again, and oh, he's struggling with this. “D-decisions coming from a place of love is not the same as a—a power grab.”

Jack gives a derisive little laugh that, horrifyingly, reminds Sam of Lucifer. “Like when Cas power-grabbed the purgatory souls to save our family.”

“Jack,” Sam says his name like a warning, and for the first time in all the time he's taken care of Jack, he can feel his own temper building, and that voice telling him to unleash his anger...sounds a lot like John Winchester. He chokes it back. He's not John Winchester. "Jack, you need to listen."

“No, you listen. You're not my dad!” His voice has enough force that it bounces through the entire kitchen, pinging pots and pans on weird frequencies like tuning forks. It's a twisting knife into Sam’s gut, and he knows what that actually feels like. This might be worse.

He watches Jack's chest heave—up and down, up and down—and then Jack thuds out of the kitchen. Sam feels his eyes water and he’s suddenly so irrationally angry. Even though he'd offered to handle it, he's furious that Dean and Cas aren’t here, that they went fucking shopping when they knew Jack was like this. Sam's never had to discipline Jack. It’s just like when Sam got stern with Claire. They don’t—they just don’t take to Sam as well when he's the one doing it. Not like how they instinctually react to Dean or Cas. It's not fair.

In his head, he’d imagined Jack opening up, tucking his head into Sam's neck, and maybe even crying, but this—

“Sam.” It’s Maggie. Sam had forgotten all about her. She looks so achingly sincere.

“No,” Sam chokes, embarrassed. He holds up a hand and tries to get hold of himself. “No. He’s right.”

“About what?” Maggie prods gently.

“About all of it.”

“No, Sam," she murmurs. "He isn’t.”

When Sam lifts his head, he doesn’t see a bubbly girl. Instead, Maggie is a battle worn young woman with sad, haunted eyes. Too worldly. “I grew up in it. In war. It’s kill or be killed. You always choose your family. That’s the tragedy of—of war. You know? It is. It’s not like normal people.”

Sam, horrifying, stifles what might be the beginnings of something watery and weak. "Okay. Yeah.”

“You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye, Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you’ll never know, The hell where youth and laughter go.”

Sam thinks he sees a smoldering wasteland in her eyes. “Maggie?”

“It’s uh—my dad used to read us poetry. I was small. It feels different when you never got a normal, right? We hang on to our families because we got cheated, Sam. It’d be easier to let go if we hadn’t.”

[biosurvive]

random dialogue prompts -> @biovaliant: "when are you going to apologize to me?"

An unsettling feeling settles over Chris, her question an innocent one and yet it felt like a sharp knife to his chest. Claire's sofa was sinking from both of their combined weights, and it felt as sunken as his heart did in his chest as he turns to steal a glance at her, lips in a firm frown. "I honestly don't know how." The admission comes out plainly, and he breathes in a sharp inhale of air. He always wondered if Claire resented him for the life she was now living, his mistake of dragging her into the world of monsters and terrorism when he could have easily just told her where he was so she didn't flee to Raccoon City to find him and hence never got wrapped up in Umbrella, Wesker and everything else. Claire was his biggest regret, and he often found himself thinking about just what she'd be doing with her life if she didn't have TerraSave weighing her down.

"A casual apology would just sound... disingenuous. Words don't really mean much when you're the reason your sister is so traumatized. I was supposed to protect you and I failed at that, Claire. A sorry just can't cover how I feel or what you deserve to hear from me. " Wetting his lips he reaches out to lay a hand on her own, voice softer now in case Jill was listening from the other room. "Do you blame me? Is there any resentment there because if there is that's fine, but I'd prefer if you just got what you need to say out. I'll take anything you need to say, Claire, no matter how harsh. Please don't bottle up how you feel."

[clairethecutepup]

The Dreams and Nightmares We Share (Ch. 4)

[Chapter Title: Starting the Path to New Areas… and Danger]

On the potential edge of death… They were all borderline DEAD. 

It’s no wonder the quintet spoke not a single word amongst each other. However, Sarah’s prior unhappiness in letting the others accompany herself and Jimmy was unhelpful: Seve wouldn’t stop returning the woman’s harsh stare, Alexis worried about proving herself “helpful” enough, and Claire clung the tightest she could to Jimmy’s arm. The man understood his friend’s point and everything, but he wishes she didn’t expound her feelings in the very manner she had… Even Sarah wondered what everyone else she knew would’ve said, if they saw her telling some apparent kids: “Screw you, kiddos, ‘cause you three basically can die for all I care if it makes things easier on me.”

Still, Sarah hated to admit it, but she would prioritize her focus and concerns on people she actually knows. After all, should she really risk her chance at becoming someone who deserved to be born into Ed’s life-- and everyone else’s! --for some random kids? They’re not even from “her world,” or how they all agreed to describe their different and waking environments… Even more so, they’re not the ones she’s practically wronged her entire existence and are thus owed nothing from her. Yet, it’s not exactly a self-comforting logic when Jimmy is, once again, better at showing compassion and comparatively making her fit the “demon spawn” remark often thrown at her.

Jimmy… If only she could honestly be more like him, then perhaps she’d have less regrets. In fact, what must he think of her recent words? Possibly, he’s repeating the sense of forgiveness that Sarah often deduces to be a matter of best friendship; yet, that’s not to say even he wouldn’t be a tad bothered by Sarah’s personal decision. He did seem to be earnestly pleading with that reaper for Seve’s and Alexis’ own lives because of their ages, not just as a means of convincing the dog to let everyone live. Well, all Sarah can really do and hope for now is that nothing increases the tension… 

Seve, on the other hand, has no intentions of letting said tension die down. Sure, he’s not interested in provoking Sarah enough that she’ll recreate the violent fit he witnessed against the pigs; but he’s not easily letting her clear disregard for anyone else, save for her “precious” Jimmy, slide. It’s not like Seve’s asking that he, Alexis and Claire suddenly become the most important beings in Sarah’s existence; but perhaps a little concern about them and the people who’d miss them wouldn’t hurt… After all, Seve knew Sarah would be furious herself, if he spouted off like she and Jimmy could get screwed for all the goat cared. Honestly, it wasn’t that much of a lie in regards to just Sarah: if she didn’t care about him or his friend, he cares even less for the temperamental woman. As for Jimmy, he seemed alright and actually realized other people can-- surprise, surprise --matter, too.

Jimmy certainly was considering other people: his entire group currently. He’s worried about Sarah’s creation of friction earlier. He’s never been a fan of turmoil amongst peers: when it wasn’t breaking his younger self’s sensitive heart, it’s now a concern of cooperation and loyalty within a group that his adult self joined. After all, who are he and Sarah to ask for such, if Sarah denied much willingness to genuinely return it?

Claire continues to cling to his side, feeling her own concerns of aforementioned “loyalties.” This wasn’t her tagging along with friends and family back home, but completely new strangers. Sure, she’s found solace in Jimmy, but what if a cruel Sarah managed to convince even him to get rid of her? Would Sarah actually be willing to do whatever it took to get rid of Claire and the goats? She doesn’t seem to like having them around, even if Jimmy seemed like he wanted it… Claire needed to step up her “helping” game, just to be safe. Of course, maybe she should also keep an eye on said goats…? Seve still seems pretty scary and easily aggressive when angered (Claire thinks he’ll punch Sarah soon), and Alexis has that zany touch of chaotic energy to her and seems keen on providing the pup with unwanted contact.

Alexis certainly didn’t feel energetic at the moment… She’s afraid for herself and Seve, and she’s worried how their families will react if they don’t return. In fact, what would she do if Seve wasn’t able to make it back with her? Her only friend… She can’t help but also wonder how everyone else’s families and friends would react, if they also failed to return. It doesn’t alleviate her fears, when she knows that… not-so-nice entities can use dreams and the realms to their advantage, like even the devil himself. In fact, what the reaper said previously about such vicious entities lying in wait, Alexis worries if her and Seve’s corn powers could be enough to protect everyone. She’s not even sure if Sarah’s terrifying strength could be enough…

Yet, there’s one thought that they all share together, something the husky had mentioned: 

“Keep an eye out for your own faces, it means you’ve finally been chosen by someone. Unfortunately, it’s more about telling others to ‘hunt elsewhere,’ than them needing to rely on any trickery… But hey, if they don’t wear your face, it means they don’t want you; so I wouldn’t worry too much about an impersonator trying to get the rest of your group. Well, unless you’re not the only ones to decide on ‘teaming up.’ Overall, I’d keep close and keep an even closer eye out for any uncanny resemblances…”

Oh great, Seve thought, now there could somehow be an even more terrifying version of Sarah... She also better not count on him to help out too much, if some "evil twin" decided to finally make a move. He's got a feeling she might not be so inclined to assist him herself... Actually, did they really need to risk any chance of encountering some deadly doubles? Alexis could always travel around in portals, so maybe she could just transport them to wherever they were supposed to go?

"Sorry Seve, I can't..."

"What?!" he shrugs, "Come on, Lex, you can practically use portals to get around anywhere in dreams, or stuff like 'em! Why can'tcha do the same here-- especially when we're supposed to have better corn powers now?!"

"But Seve, I don't even know where we're supposed to go, either!"

"Can'tcha still follow our strings here?"

The goat-boy motions a hoof to the glowing white string tied to his finger, prompting a shaken head from his friend.

"I still can't make portals that are too far away from each other, Seve... I'm also still having trouble making portals we can both travel in together, so it'll be extra hard to make one that can fit everyone  in, too. There's also still some places I can't seem to travel to, either, no matter how hard I try... It kinda doesn't help that I don't really know the layout of this particular dream realm anyway, so I could end up teleporting us somewhere dangerous. We might not just simply wake up after getting hurt enough, if..." she grimaces, seeming ready to cry again, "... if we're not just sleeping... 

So, I really don't want to take any chances of ending up in a bad spot or anyone getting scrambled because of me..." she then gulps, "I-I also don't want to risk any 'evil twins' knowing we're in a portal... W-What if they could have the power to redirect it to them and take one of us away?! That husky did say they knew when we got here, so maybe they'd also know if we're inside and traveling through something...? They sound like they're really good at sensing things..."

Seve sighs at the realization things won't be so easy, but Alexis made too many good points. They're especially something to consider, when they have no idea what sort of abilities these "evil twins" would have. In fact, they could literally teleport behind the group and snatch someone away, for all they knew. ... Actually, perhaps they should all keep watch in different directions, than have all of themselves simply stare forward. Claire was half wolf, so perhaps they could also have her keep guard with her ears and nose?

"Well, can ya at least make travelin' easier, some other way?" Seve sighs, "Maybe you can make a car or somethin'?"

"Hey, if you can, do it!" Sarah interrupts, "I'm not walking the whole way, if I don't have to!"

"Mmm, I dunno..." Seve pretends to ponder, "It would involve still having us around, so..."

"Will you get over it already?!" Sarah leans into his face, "It's not exactly like you were jumping at the chance to be my and Jimmy's escort back home!"

"Everyone, please...!" Jimmy intervenes, pushing them apart and causing Claire to release him, "I know we haven't exactly made the best of impressions," he shoots Sarah a quick look, "but having this turmoil amongst ourselves will only see us vanquished, far before any vile fiend has the chance to do away with us instead!"

Seve rebuttals the typical: "she started it!"

Sarah snarls, "And I can finish it, too!"

Jimmy groans, while Alexis approaches her friend.

"Seve, he's right," she pulls his arm, "I know she's pretty angry, but it won't be good to fight all the time!"

"Oh, it's just me who is?!" Sarah scoffs, "Do you know your own friend here?!"

"At least I get angry for good reasons!" Seve retorts, "You’ve done nothin' but rage, ever since we met!"

"Well, can you blame me?!" Sarah crosses her arms, "I end up in some weird place and then find out it's because I'm apparently DEAD!"

"Which is why we all feel on edge now!" Jimmy tries another intervention, sternly staring the goat and woman down this time, "We're all terrified, we're all stressed out and furious because of it; but 'doomed' will be added to our list of misfortunes, if we don't learn to better get along and cooperate!" he looks at his friend, "Sarah, I'm sorry, but they have full right to a sour taste within their mouths, after you expressed no concern for their well-being. Stop giving them further reason to possibly detest us," he snaps his head to Seve, "As for you, I'm terribly sorry Sarah dismissed all of you like that-- really, I am --but you need to move on from it and stop giving her any reason to justify any feelings of indifference she may have!" he straightens up, his eyes shifting between them, "Do I make myself clear...?"

Sarah grimaces; while Seve, Alexis and Claire stare with wide eyes. It's always jarring for anyone, especially Sarah herself, to see her friend forgo the typical sweet and approachable demeanor; but Jimmy was a man not without his "BS limits," to put it profanely. As for the other three, especially Claire, they had come to believe Sarah the true harbinger of fury and Jimmy the shielding peacemaker. Still, Claire wouldn't suddenly react to him as timidly, she knows the clear difference between someone naturally aggressive and those who needed a simple (and reasonable) push. Otherwise, she'd constantly be afraid toward two of her own family members. 

However, Jimmy's overall "threatening-ness" was an invalid factor, his point was effective enough: they must focus more on cooperation than quarreling, if they wish to successfully venture back home. The past had been done and impressions had been made, so may as well focus on the current aspects: they need to care less on how they feel about each other and more on working together.

“Seve, please…” Alexis adds, “I know she doesn’t like us and I know you don’t like her, but fighting all the time won’t help… Not even if you do it just a little bit.”

“Alright, fine,” Seve growls, “I’ll try and drop it… But we’re definitely not cool, though.”

“Whatever…” Sarah rolls her eyes, “I’m fine with not being anything more than some stupid means to an end…” she sighs and folds her arms, “I just wanna go home...”

"We all do, Sarah..." Jimmy sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder, "But, as we've said, we need to work together."

He then looks to Claire and offers a palm, which the pup happily takes again; however, she still felt uneasy and worried toward the resentment that likely still lingered, even if now to be hidden than expressed. Her tail and ears stiffen up, when Alexis offers a comforting pat on the back.

"Don't worry," Alexis promises, "at the very least, Seve's got ME to make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble; and it looks like Sarah has Jimmy here to set HER straight! So, I think we're all good, from here on out!"

"What'd'ya mean: 'keep me out of trouble'?!" Seve demands, "I seem to get into more trouble because of ya, sometimes! ... When you're not just causing it for me, anyway."

"What do you think Jimmy is?" Sarah snorts, "My handler? I don't need him to relax, you know, just don't annoy me..."

"So, have we all come to an agreement then?" Jimmy asks, "No more fighting amongst ourselves?"

Seve replies, "Yeah, yeah..."

Sarah agrees, "Fine."

The two then face each other, for a simultaneous: "Just watch yourself... No, YOU!"

Jimmy sighs and pinches his nose's bridge.

"Good enough, I suppose..." he begins walking, "Anyhow, let's see where these strings take us..."

Alexis follows and replies, "I'm pretty sure he said it was our bodies..."

She briefly grimaces but devolves into a normal frown, before following Jimmy. Claire, still holding his hand again, naturally moved along with him. Seve and Sarah maintain their shared glare, shortly into their following walk; however, they soon break eye contact and stand beside their respective friends. Claire moves to hide behind Jimmy's side, when Sarah walks alongside him.

Suddenly, Claire shivers: she holds her trembling body, trying to wrap her large wolf tail around herself.

"What's wrong?" Jimmy stops and holds her shoulders, "Are you alright?"

"C-C-Cold..."

"Why?" Seve asks, "It ain't even windy..."

Claire's coldness subsided, taking her shivering stance away with it. She then anxiously looks at the ground, when realizing she has everyone's attention.

Sarah states, "Well, that was weird of you..."

"Some people just get cold easily, Sarah," Jimmy pats Claire's head, "It's nothing to make quite a fuss over."

Not for the reasons he assumed Claire's sudden chill came from, anyhow... The true cause hides her transparent form behind a distant rock, despite still being invisible to the naked eye. Now, it's time to see if that little runt would be worth the effort of claiming, depending on the memories and whatnot her soul's quickly collected "essence" would share... As she contemplated her potential target, she'd simply “tag along” for now and join the group in approaching the path ahead.

But for now, the unaware group wouldn't need to worry about the entity tagging along; although, they could've sworn the husky also mentioned something about "sudden chills."  Perhaps it'd be best for the now-uneased group to exercise caution... Claire herself exercises a tad more fear instead. It was her that felt the forewarned chill, so the trembling returns-- although with some tears and a feeling of panicked nausea. Is some scary version of her going to pop out soon?!

"Hey, it's alright..." Jimmy gently holds her shoulders again, "I don't see any dooming signs of a cruel fate, at the hands of a doppelganger, anywhere. You were probably just hit by a sudden wind, that's all."

Claire may be slow witted, but she's not dim witted-- or so she often pouts and rebuttals within. She can easily see the slight sweat and panicked eyes of his face, which both betray his attempts at maintaining a calmer atmosphere. After all, it won't help to have goats, humans, and "hybrids" turning into headless chickens. Still, it doesn't matter how calm Jimmy is (or tries to be): the husky's warning has been too well-revived within their heads, so they all glance around once more and break into a run down the path.

How entertaining, maybe the sudden entity should just go ahead and try absorbing the runt's soul after all? If they got all worked up over a little freezing touch, then they're sure to be downright hysterical if a second wolf-girl just so happens to walk up. Honestly, her memories and world aren't looking too bad, anyway.

Claire takes the lead of the fleeing group, her terror and sense of endangerment the greatest: for all she knows, something is about to pop out with her face and possibly do who-wants-to-know-what. It'd also be quite guilting, the idea that everyone else could suffer now because she had to be something's main choice already! She hastens off, her equally lengthed arms and legs allowing for the quadrupedal speed boost. Everyone else slows to a stop, now that the potential “monster magnet” is far ahead and away; although, some are less relieved than others… 

"H-Hey, wait!" Alexis cries, reaching out a hoof, "W-We should probably stick together!"

Seve sighs, "Okay, I know I'm gonna stoop to Sarah's level here..."

The redhead snarls, "HEY!"

"But, maybe we should just let her go off..." Seve grimaces, "I mean, if she really is about to attract somethin'..."

"No way!" Alexis protests, "We have to stick together!"

"I agree!" Jimmy adds, "After all, Sarah, you'd still stick by me, wouldn't you-- no matter what could currently have its dastardly sights set upon me?"

"You'd do the same, too," Alexis looks at her friend, "right, Seve? I would for you!"

Seve reminds, "You're forgettin' the fact none of us really know her..."

"He's got a point, can't believe I'm agreeing with HIM..." Sarah sighs, "Jimmy, it wouldn't just be you, but EVERYONE ELSE here we could lose if something really is after her right now!"

"Sarah, I still stand by my previous point," Jimmy rebuttals, "If you'd be willing to follow after me, why not anyone else-- relationships mattering naught?!"

"Yeah Seve," Alexis agrees, "it's not fair if we'd do the same for each other, but not anyone else! Maybe you’re not her friend or family, but she probably has some back home, too; so we can't just leave her!"

Jimmy nods and folds his arms, "Another valid point..."

Seve and Sarah look at each other again, but with less disdain and more consideration this time. Those two had a point: if Alexis or Jimmy were the ones running off because they felt the "foreboding doppelganger chill" or whatever, then Seve or Sarah would be demanding the others go after to help and avoid losing sight of them. In fact, if Jimmy and Alexis somehow felt it simultaneously and fled together, Seve and Sarah would certainly each grab either of Clare's wrists and literally drag her along to help them. Still, is it wise to potentially endanger themselves and their friends for some random girl…?

Jimmy also made another point: "He said they supposedly 'examine' us, before they decide on any actual attempt to lay claim to us; and therefore it doesn't automatically mean any cementing of one's fate, so something might not already have decided it wants her. Secondly, what if it turns out to somehow not be something sizing her up for ill desires? Then we've allowed her to run off on her own and succumb to some horrible fate alone-- and all for no actual reason! I don't see any other true signs to confirm something will be approaching soon, do you?”

Sarah returns her own good point: “Even if something decided it didn’t want her, what if it ends up deciding on one of us instead?!  ‘Here, you freak, if you don’t like her, here’s four more options!’”

“Sarah, may I again point out how hypocritical you’d be with myself…?”

“Yeah, and if it does want her,” Seve adds, “then ya really think it’s gonna be cool with us tryin’ to tell it otherwise?”

“Seve, like Jimmy said,” Alexis points a thumb at the man, “you’d also be a hippo, but with me instead.”

Seve gives her a strange look.

“... You and words, sometimes…”

“Sarah, please…” Jimmy puts a hand on her shoulder, “I mean it, when I say: ‘I cannot live through having a hand in another Ed-like incident, by my own action or lack thereof.’”

“Quit using him to make me do what you want, Jimmy…!” Sarah growls, pulling away. Then, she sighs and lets her shoulders drop, “... But fine, since you’re just gonna keep throwing the whole, ‘If it were me,’ crap in my face…”

Alexis then holds her hooves together, biting her upper lip in a grinning manner and leaning toward (and onto) Seve. Of course, she tops it off with a few eye-batting blinks.

“Fine…” the boy growls, “I don’t wanna keep hearing the, ‘But blah, blah, blah…’ crap, either…” he lifts a finger to his sharp overbite and tilts his head, “But, where exactly did she go…?”

A question better answered by the hidden beast that began Claire’s “examination,” as she followed after the pup when she bolted. Now that she’s all alone and so scared, it ain’t even funny? Oh wait, it is! It’ll make things easier, too, especially when there don’t seem to be any other “takers” of the runt, thus far. Actually, perhaps “retard” is the better word, when these memories don’t show her to be the smartest and most mentally complex person, like actually knowing how to do something as basic as talking. Maybe this could also be the perfect excuse to raise a little amusing hell in the town over? Hold on, perhaps she should backtrack on that “no takers” idea? She’s starting to pick up on the presence of “souls” (if stuff like her even had any) nearby, and they better just be interested in her little “pals” that are following after… 

After all, with five of them to choose overall, there'd surely be four more to come and help see everyone chosen. Every. Last. ONE.

---------

Author Notes:

In case it's not as obvious as I thought: NO, they cannot see the entity that just "scanned" Claire, or however YOU'D call it. Otherwise, they WOULD be headless chickens right now-- possibly emphasis on "headless," if everyone else does try getting in the way. Well, if this entity DOES want Claire.

I also hope I didn't make Sarah and (especially) Seve seem too heartless. They're the gruffer of their duos, plus you have to remember: they were recently told they're essentially "dead," something that'd already put ANYONE on edge, and now they're seeing warned signs of these demons possibly trying to hunt them ALREADY. Prime "What would YOU do?" situation here, honestly.

Also, if you're wondering why the reaper isn't tagging along, look back to the previous chapter where he said he can't fully protect a soul that isn't collected. Trust me, you're gonna see more details on the "Why?" aspect...

This chapter is also on the shorter side, 9 "pages" at most, but it still serves a point: easing the tensions that arose from Sarah's outburst in the prior chapter and explaining why these guys are equally sticking their necks out for random strangers they likely won't ever see again.

[finelytaylored]

Never felt like this before, take my name and make it yours.

Chapter 1: Nothing to lose, turns right into you.

Summary:

“Glad I don’t have to think of ways to keep your dad from having me dishonorably discharged and putting me six feet under for not wanting to date his daughter.”

Claire smiled and shook her head fondly. “He means well, and I can’t say he has bad taste in men” she said as her eyes traveled up and down Bradley’s body playfully. “But he really isn't equipped with the skills to read people as well as he should be able to.”

“Oh? What is it that he’s not seeing that you can?” Bradley asked, genuinely curious and engaged in the conversation now that he wasn’t worried about offending Claire with his disinterest in pursuing her romantically.

“Well, for starters, if he was as observant as he likes to think he is, he wouldn’t have wasted his time trying to set you up with me. He would have thought about personally introducing you to Daniel... and then If he was really paying attention he would have realized he should be trying to set you up with Jake right now.” Claire replied far too casually for someone that just turned his entire world upside-down. “It’s clear he respects you and would welcome you into the family, he’s just going about it the completely wrong way. Obviously.”

(read on Ao3) (Read full chapter below)

Admiral Kazansky and Admiral Seresin had never gotten along.

Admiral Seresin has never understood why Kazansky put reputation on the line time and time again for Pete “Maverick” Mitchell and how, despite that, he ended up being promoted to Commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet.

Despite his strong dislike towards Maverick and his disapproval of Iceman’s decision making whenever his other half was involved, Admiral Jacob Seresin Sr. had a great level of admiration and respect for Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. He was a skilled aviator - with the potential to be one of the best of his generation. If you asked Admiral Seresin, he would tell you Bradshaw was taught to fly by Kazansky. He didn’t take unnecessary risks in the air. Never pushed anything further than regulation permitted. He was unflinchingly calm and precise. Maverick never would have taught him to fly like that. He’d bet his wings on it.

At times he wished own son, his youngest child, Jacob Seresin Jr, flew more like Bradshaw. Jake looked up to Maverick and it took a lot of effort and string pulling and calling in favors for Admiral Seresin to keep him as far away from Pete Mitchell as possible when he could manage it.

When Kazansky needs to put a squadron together for a mission that requires the best of the best that the Navy has to offer, Seresin knows his son will be a candidate. He knows he deserves to be.

He knows his long, valiant effort of keeping his son away from Maverick will have to come to an end when he learns that somehow, he’d been assigned to teach and evaluate the candidates. His son would never forgive him if he did anything that jeopardized that opportunity. Getting called to Top Gun wasn’t something that came along all that often.

So, he lets it happen. He learns that Bradshaw will be among the candidates and can’t help but wonder how the Mitchell-Kazansky-Bradshaw household handled that situation. Even if he didn’t like the idea of putting Bradshaw in danger, Kazansky would’ve known he had to set aside personal feelings and select the candidates with the skills and experience that had the highest likelihood of successfully executing whatever was required. Maverick would have to do the same and compartmentalize while teaching and making the final selections. He couldn’t even begin to guess how Bradshaw was feeling, whether he was worried about being chosen and all of the other pilots thinking there was an element of favoritism, or if he was worried that he wouldn’t get chosen because Maverick couldn’t bring himself to send the boy that was practically his son into a situation he was highly likely to not return from.

His son Jake had met Bradley a few times before. Had complained about his flying being too safe, about the man hesitating in the air. About how he seemed fine settling for being a great pilot instead of trying to be the best pilot. The Admiral had always hoped the two of them spending time together during various deployments over the years meant some of Bradshaw’s flying style would rub off on Jake. It was just his luck that putting the two of them together seemed to have the opposite effect. His son saw Bradshaw as competition; someone who was capable of keeping up with him in the air and pushing him beyond what he believed his limits were. Part of him hoped the nature of this mission that called them both to Top Gun would be different. That they’d be forced into working together and finding a rhythm that wasn’t purely competitively antagonistic. He knew better than to hold his breath.

Being an Admiral, he was privy to a decent amount of classified information. He knew enough about what had happened on The Mission to privately relieved Jake hadn’t been chosen to fly it. He wasn’t at all surprised when he learned his son had disobeyed direct orders to save the lives of Maverick and Lieutenant Bradshaw, chalking up his second confirmed kill in the process. It was the first time Admiral Seresin had ever been glad to see his son emulate Maverick’s instinctual ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ style of flying while in the air.

Jake had received one hell of a verbal lashing from Cyclone but escaped without any disciplinary action or marks against his service record. He was to receive a service medal with the rest of the squadron that had flown the mission. The Admiral had always been proud of his son, but he was certain he had never been prouder than watching Jake stand on that stage being recognized for his exceptional service. He found it difficult not to get outwardly emotional and was thankful to have his wife & Jake’s mother Anne there to squeeze his hand and anchor him. Their eldest and middle children Daniel and Claire were also in attendance. It was a moment he’d never forget.

Admiral Seresin managed to call in a few favors to have the medal ceremony in Texas to make sure they could share that moment as a family. When he told Anne about it, she insisted he invite the squadron and their families to the Seresin home afterwards for a barbecue. She loved inviting guests into their home, and she knew this was the best and possible only opportunity to have their full family and all of the members of that incredibly special squadron together under one roof.

Admiral Seresin had planned on finding a moment to personally introduce Lieutenant Bradshaw to his daughter Claire. No one would ever be good enough for her, but he felt that Bradley Bradshaw was a man he believed could be worthy of her.

He was happy to see they seemed to hit it off right away, sitting angled towards each other, speaking animatedly and in their own little world.

They didn’t spend the entire night at each other’s sides, but they did keep drifting back together throughout the night, easily conversation flowing between them. He took it as a good sign that maybe he hadn’t been so far off.

At one point he had glanced over at them in time to catch Claire gently grasping his bicep as he leaned down to let her whisper something in his ear. A bright smile broke out on his face as she spoke. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, smiling just as widely at his response.

They all started to call it a night around 11pm, breaking off into groups with designated drivers to head back to the hotel for the night, Anne making the members of the squadron all promise to stop by for a casual brunch the next day before they all went their separate ways for the month of leave they had all been granted. Both Claire and Anne pulled Bradshaw into hugs before he was allowed out of the house for the night.

The following day, Bradshaw, Trace, Floyd, Fitch and Garcia all showed up to the house together around 10:00am. Machado, who the Seresin family had become very familiar with over the years had stayed over the previous night. Machado was the only one the Admiral had seen in civilian clothing prior to that day. It made them all look like a giant weight had been lifted off their shoulders.

Anne gave them all hugs as they walked into the kitchen, Claire greeting Trace and Bradshaw with hugs and flashing bright smiles to the rest of the group. They all made themselves at home in the living room. Trace and Floyd sat on the loveseat; Trace’s legs stretched out with her feet in Floyd’s lap. Fitch, Garcia and Daniel were on another couch, leaving Claire, Jake, Machado and the Admiral in various chairs that had been brought in to create more seating. Bradley was noticeably absent, having immediately insisted on being allowed to help Anne in the kitchen as she continued to put the finishing touches on brunch.

It didn’t take long for Claire to politely excuse herself and make her way towards the kitchen. She came back out 20 minutes later to announce the food was ready and they all stood up to help set the table.

Admiral Seresin wouldn’t find out until much later that Claire had gone to the kitchen to get some real alone time with Bradley - meaning time with Bradley away from him.

Brunch was a lively affair, with several conversations happening from across the table simultaneously. The group had truly bonded, and the Admiral could tell these were going to be lifelong friendships. He was glad to see Jake had found a group he was finally willing to let himself open up to. There had been real smiles on his face all morning, the trademark “Hangman” grins and smirks were nowhere to be seen. He had let his guard down and was letting himself just be Jake. The Admiral would never be able to repay the squadron for that, but they were honorary members of the family for life now and that felt like a good place to start.

Jake was even getting along with Bradshaw. There hadn’t been any bickering since the medal ceremony, and they were sitting next to each other at the table while they all indulged in the abundance of food that had been prepared. The Admiral hadn’t seen them interact prior to that trip to Texas but he’d listened to Jake bitch and moan about the other man for years; something had shifted between them since they returned home from the mission. Having someone risk their life to save your own or being on the other side of it and making an active decision to save someone else’s tended to change things; in this instance, it seemed, the change was going to be for the better.

+

Bradley knew there was a reason Admiral Seresin had made sure to personally introduce him to his daughter Claire after the medal ceremony. He had only ever met Admiral Seresin once before that night at the Seresin house and was introduced to the rest of the family for the first time. He had quickly discovered that Mrs. Seresin and Claire were very easy to get along with. Claire was witty and had a sharp sense of humor, and an absolutely devastating, charming smile to go along with it. If he was anyone else, he would have been over the moon that the Admiral was not-so-subtly trying to make something happen there. He was flattered for a lot of reasons, and he knew he had to navigate the situation very carefully.

Bradley had never come out to anyone he served with. The only people he had told – had ever felt comfortable enough to tell - were Ice and Mav.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of who he was. He had grown up in a home that encouraged him to be exactly who he was, and he found comfort in the fact that his family would accept him no matter what, even if nobody else did.

The Navy liked to believe they had made a lot of progress after DADT was gone but the truth was you still had to watch your back. There were plenty of men and women in positions of power that would find any reason they could do derail your career or at least make your days in service a living hell if they knew your sexuality or gender identity and didn’t “agree” with it.

Bradley didn’t necessarily have any ambitions about becoming an Admiral or rising the ranks before he retired, but he also didn’t want to make things unnecessarily difficult for himself if he could avoid it. He knew that he was highly respected by a lot of the brass who had a lot of power and until he found someone he wanted to settle down with, it wasn’t worth it to give them any reason to reconsider their positive regard toward him.

He hadn’t necessarily decided not to tell the Dagger Squadron or any of his wingmen throughout the years. It was just something that never really came up. His time spent with the Dagger Squadron was the closest he’d ever come to considering it. He had formed more of a bond with them in a short amount of time than he’d ever managed to with anyone he’d been assigned to fly with in his career at that point. He had a feeling that none of them would treat him any differently if they knew.

Bradley had his suspicions that a few of them were queer as well. He was fairly confident he had Phoenix, Bob and Fanboy figured out and that they would understand him. Hangman, Coyote and Payback he was less sure about and had written them off as straight but hadn’t ever observed any behavior from them that would lead Bradley to believe they were bigoted in any way.

Which was a giant pain in the ass for Bradley. He’d clearly been saving up all his luck and good fortune for the moment Hangman flew in at the literal last second and saved his and Mav’s life. If he had any left to spare, he would have found himself infatuated with Bob or Fanboy. Unfortunately, the moment he had met the youngest Seresin all those years ago, he knew he was in trouble. The man had caught his attention immediately. Bradley was actually mildly offended at how attractive he was. Nobody outside of Hollywood should have been allowed to walk around in public looking like that. It also didn’t help that the guy walked into any room like he owned the place. Confidence rolled off him in waves. He had a witty response to every quip thrown his way. His smile was flawless and just a bit too sharp around the edges to be sincere, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that was impossible not to be intrigued by.

And he was an absolute menace in the air. Bradley never stood a chance.

Bradley had never seen Hangman leave with any men or women after nights out, he’d never brought any significant others to any ceremonies and Bradley had only ever seen the Seresin family show up to see him off for deployments.

But the same could be said for himself, and for the rest of the Daggers. He was purely operating off assumptions, and it was difficult to solidify any of the conclusions he had drawn when the entire group was so comfortable around each other. They were all playfully flirty and casually physically affectionate to some level. There was a lot of teasing and banter, and he was normally pretty decent at reading people. Coyote and Payback were the least flirty with the other guys in the group but still played along. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy and himself were clearly the most comfortable with it but he couldn’t say that Hangman didn’t give them all a run for their money. It just felt different somehow.

Hangman flirted like he had a damn degree in it. It was polished and perfect, and it shouldn’t have worked at all with how rehearsed it felt. He never let it get personal and it still seemed to work every single time. He never changed his approach based on who was on the receiving end of it.

Well, almost never. It had taken Bradley a while to notice it, but Hangman was different with him. He figured it had something to do with their rivalry in the air. They constantly argued and gave each other shit over flying styles and techniques. Hangman never let Bradley forget that he was too careful, that he hesitated at all the wrong moments. Bradley made sure to remind him that being the fastest didn’t always mean being the best and that being the best meant nothing if you weren’t willing to adapt your flying style to fit with your team.

So, their interactions weren’t as fun and flirty and casual as their interactions were with everyone else. It felt more personal; like there was more at stake somehow. Like if they weren’t careful their jabs could actually hurt each other. Bradley knew they had both crossed that line a few times.

It helped Bradley keep himself in check. It was better for his sanity that they didn’t have an easy, flirtatious relationship. There was a far greater risk of him slipping up and showing his hand if that had been the case. He had every intention of keeping his frustratingly non-platonic interest in Hangman to himself and he had done a damn good job of it up to that point.

After The Mission, things changed. Bradley felt the shift happen almost immediately. He hadn’t had any time to adjust or to fully process it. Nobody had said anything, but he was sure that with how perceptive everyone was, they had all noticed it too.

It became less personal. There were no snarky comments about his flying. It was the same, effortless, charming remarks he’d been using on everyone else for years, and for the first time since they’d met, Bradley was on the receiving end of it. It had rattled him in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.

He knew it wasn’t real. He had watched the man use the same lines with the same delivery for nearly a decade at that point, but it had opened a box in the corner of his mind that he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to force closed again. He let himself start to wonder what Hangman actually flirting with someone he was interested in looked like. The man was not afraid of a challenge. He sought them out whenever he could, and the amount of focus he channeled into getting what he wanted was really something to behold. Bradley couldn’t even begin to imagine how overwhelming it would feel to be on the receiving end of that kind of undivided attention. He imagined it had to be similar to a strong, unrelenting current pulling you underwater that no amount of struggling against it would free you from. He couldn’t convince himself he’d even try to fight it, more than happy to let himself drown if it meant knowing what it felt like to have Hangman – Jake – look at him like that. Just once.

After being introduced to Claire, she made sure to let him know she had him figured out immediately, once they had found a semi-secluded area to sit down and talk.

“Before this conversation goes any further Lieutenant Bradshaw, you and I both know this” she paused to gesture between the two of them, “isn’t going anywhere, right?”

Bradley couldn’t help but laugh, caught slightly off guard by her bluntness. Having spent as much time as he did around her brother, he shouldn’t have been surprised. “Glad I don’t have to think of ways to keep your dad from having me dishonorably discharged and putting me six feet under for not wanting to date his daughter.”

Claire smiled and shook her head fondly. “He means well, and I can’t say he has bad taste in men” she said as her eyes traveled up and down Bradley’s body playfully. ““But he really isn't equipped with the skills to read people as well as he should be able to.”

“Oh? What is it that he’s not seeing that you can?” Bradley asked, genuinely curious and engaged in the conversation now that he wasn’t worried about offending Claire with his disinterest in pursuing her romantically.

“Well, for starters, if he was as observant as he likes to think he is, he wouldn’t have wasted his time trying to set you up with me. He would have thought about personally introducing you to Daniel… and then If he was really paying attention he would have realized he should be trying to set you up with Jake right now.” Claire replied far too casually for someone that just turned his entire world upside-down. “It’s clear he respects you and would welcome you into the family, he’s just going about it the completely wrong way. Obviously.”

“Obviously?!” Bradley choked on nothing, stuttering as his brain bluescreened in a flood of panic. “I – Claire, what- “

“Bradley – Can I call you Bradley? – Calm down, it’s okay.” She replied calmly, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. “You look like your entire life just flashed before your eyes. It’s not a big deal.”

Bradley took a few deep breaths as he desperately tried to get his thoughts in order. “Claire, it’s a huge deal. I’ve never been out in the Navy. I’ve never said a word to anyone my entire career, outside of family.” He calmly explained. “I just met you, and you read me like an open goddamn book.” He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I thought I had been so careful – so discreet. Now I’m starting to think everyone knows and just hasn’t said anything.”

“Knows about your sexuality or knows that you’re down tremendously bad for my younger brother?” Claire asked, not unkindly.

She was teasing him, but he could tell she was trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, not to make fun of him.

“Both? Either?” Bradley replied helplessly. “The first one I could live with. I’m not ashamed of who I am and if people already know and this is how my career has gone then I can’t really complain.” He said as he gestured to the ribbons and medals on his chest. “The second one… the second one would definitely be worse.”

Claire nodded in acknowledgement. “I know it’s not really my business, but can I ask why? I mean, I grew up with the idiot, I know he can be a lot to handle…”

Bradley snorted in amusement. “Him being a lot to handle isn’t the problem. For some stupid reason, I like that about him.” He couldn’t believe he was finally having this conversation with someone that wasn’t Mav or Ice and it was Jake’s sister of all people. “Like your father, I’d like to think I’m decent at reading people and I’ve just never… he’s never given me any reason to think it wasn’t a one-sided thing.” He said with a shrug.

“He’s never given you a reason to think he wasn’t straight, you mean.” Claire replied. It wasn’t a question.

“That’s always been a big part of it, yeah.” Bradley agreed. “I don’t have any aspirations of being an Admiral or a Commander or anything like that. I’m not afraid to put myself out there, but I need some sort of sign that there’s at least a mutual attraction. I don’t see the point in outing myself for someone who hasn’t given me any reason to believe they aren’t straight.”

Claire paused, a small furrow in her brow as she responded. “I can respect that. I hope you know that your secrets are safe with me. And for the record, I do think your friends may have already figured out your sexuality because you all seem very close… and I don’t think I can ease your mind when it comes to the second thing. It is possible I’ve noticed because we’re a close family and I pay attention, but if they have figured it out, it doesn’t seem like it bothers them.”

Bradley sighed. “To be fair, I don’t think I’m the only queer one in the Dagger squadron. We haven’t talked about it, obviously, but you’re right. We are close, especially after The Mission.”

“Alright, spill. I’m thinking … Phoenix and Fanboy are bi. Possibly Bob too, but I’m having a bit of a harder time getting a read on him” Claire replied.

Bradley leaned in a bit closer. “I think Bob might be gay, actually, but you could be right. We all flirt pretty openly with each other. Payback and Coyote aren’t quite as into most of the time, and when they are it’s more to indulge Hangma- your brother and his antics. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything though. Who fucking knows. We could all be queer and could’ve been talking about it with each other this whole time.”

“I’m sorry but that would be objectively hilarious. That would be the most predictable Navy bullshit ever. You know that, right?” Claire replied with a smirk.

“I hate how right you are about that.” Bradley replied. “I should probably just take one for the team and bring it up before we all go our separate ways for our leave. We’re supposed to be on assignment together after that, but who knows what’ll happen in the next month.”

“I know mom is basically forcing y’all to come over for brunch before y’all leave tomorrow. Maybe you could bring it up then?” Claire suggested. “At the very least I think it would make you feel better. It seems like you really care about these guys and I’m sure it would mean a lot to them to know you trust them that much.”

“I’ll think about it. See what the mood is like tomorrow.” Bradley replied.

“Now that we’ve cleared all that up, lets go grab a drink from the kitchen and you can tell me more about yourself.” Claire decided, standing and gently pulling him up by the wrist to follow her.

He was powerless to do anything other than what she asked at the point. Apparently, he just had a soft spot for the Seresin family. He was in so much more trouble than he could’ve possibly imagined.

+

The following morning, Nat, Bob, Mickey, Reuben and himself all crammed into one of the rental cars and made the way out to the Seresin home for brunch, as insisted upon by Anne or “Mama Seresin” as they had been instructed to call her if they weren’t comfortable being on a first name basis with the woman yet. It was a pleasant drive, everyone with a cup of coffee in their hands as they slowly allowed themselves to wake up, admiring the scenery as they drove by or quietly texting friends and family. Bradley had volunteered to drive as he figured he was the least exhausted and the grateful way they had all looked at him was all the thanks he needed.

Even though the car was void of any kind of conversation, driving gave him something to focus on and kept him from overthinking himself into a panic. He had meant what he said when he told Claire he would continue telling his squadron – his friends – the truth about his sexuality. He couldn’t bring himself to think they’d react badly but the idea of confirming what they probably already knew still made him nervous. Saying it out loud made it real in the part of his world that extended beyond his small, tight-knit family circle. If he went through with it, it was something he wouldn’t be able to take back.

After about 35 minutes of driving, they arrived at the house and Bradley parked off to the side of the driveway. He gently nudged Reuben awake, who had been lightly napping in the passenger seat, and the two of them exited the car and slowly brought Nat, Mickey and Bob back to the land of the living to join them.

Mama Seresin gave them all hugs as they walked into the kitchen, Claire greeting Nat and himself with hugs and bright smiles for the rest of the group. The group made themselves at home in the living room. Unsurprisingly Nat and Bob sat on the loveseat; Nat’s legs stretched out with her feet in Bob’s lap. The two had gotten very close in the short amount of time since Bob had been assigned as Nat’s back seater so it wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. Rueben, Mickey and the eldest Seresin brother, Daniel, were on another couch, leaving Claire, Jake, Javy, along with the Admiral in various chairs that had been brought in to create more seating.

As much as he wanted to spend time with his friends, Bradley had made his way to the kitchen, and immediately insisted on being allowed to help Mama Seresin in the kitchen as she continued to put the finishing touches on brunch.

He knew how much they all appreciated being invited into the Seresin home and being provided home cooked meals, the least he felt he could do was offer a helping hand if at all possible. He hadn’t thought about what it would be like to be alone in the kitchen with Jake and Claire’s mom, while her husband was trying to set him up with their daughter, while he was trying to pretend not to be infatuated with one of their sons. It was too late to back out of it now.

“You are a guest in this house Bradley Bradshaw. You do not have to be in here helpin’ me.” Anne assured, wiping her hands off on her apron.

“Yes ma’am, I’m aware of that, but this is the second day in a row you’ve welcomed us into your home with the offer of home cooked meals on top of that. It would be rude if at least one of us didn’t offer to help out, and trust me, you don’t want any of the others offering.” Bradley replied with a smile.

Anne laughed brightly, shaking her head. “You are quite the charmer. I can see why they like you so much.”

Bradley accepted the apron Anne held out to him before responding. “They, ma’am?”

“Oh, you stop that, Bradley. There’s no need for that kind of formality here. Anne or Mama Seresin. Take your pick.” She insisted with a kind smile and a look on her face that brokered no room for any arguments.

“If you insist, Anne.” Bradley replied. He knew most of the squad had opted to go with Mama Seresin, but he had his own personal hang ups that he still hadn’t gotten over when it came to using any variation of “mom” or “mama” in general. Maybe he’d be able to get past that at one point, but that day in the Seresin kitchen wasn’t going to be it. “What did you mean by ‘they’?”

“The family. It isn’t easy to get the stamp of approval from my husband, but you caught his eye quite a while ago. He has a lot of respect for you, and you earned it.” Anne explained. “From what I could see last night, you and Claire hit it off right away. Talked each other’s ears off practically all night.” She continued as she pulled a few items out of the fridge and handed them to him. “And Jake, of course. Your name has been brought up in this house since the day he met you. I felt like I had met you myself long before last night.”

Bradley cleared his throat as he felt a flush climbing up his neck and over his cheeks. “That’s – that’s quite a compliment. I’m not sure I know how to respond to that.” He replied. “I’ve had a lot of respect for the Admiral for a long time but obviously hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to him face-to-face until last night. I’m honored to know that he holds such a high opinion of me. Claire is a wonderful, terrifyingly clever woman. She reminds me a lot of Nat, so I’m not surprised we get along so well.”

Anne seemed amused by his response. “And Jake? I haven’t seen much of you two together but from what I’ve heard y’all are getting along a bit better than you did way back when.”

Bradley took a deep breath and fought against the urge to run a hand through his hair. At least he was helping prep the salad, so he had something to do with his hands. “I don’t know what he’s told you or what you’ve heard but things have definitely … shifted since we all got back from The Mission. I don’t really know how to explain it. I guess we were so competitive in the air and the rivalry we fell into just didn’t feel like it mattered after…”

Anne took pity on him and filled in the blank. “After he saved your life?”

Bradley swallowed thickly, keeping his gaze focused on the knife in his hand and the vegetables he was chopping. “Yeah. Even though I never actually hated him, we had put up this wall that was different from the friendships or work relationships we both had with everyone else. The moment I realized I wasn’t going to die – that he had put his life on the line for me, and for Mav – I knew I’d never be able to put that wall back up again but it’s the only way I’ve ever known how to interact with him.” Bradley admitted.

“I can’t begin to imagine what that feels like, after knowing someone for the better part of a decade, to have something like that happen and not know where y’all stand afterward.” Anne replied. “If it makes you feel any better, I think he’s struggling with it just as much as you are. It may not happen overnight, but it’ll all fall into place. You’ve just gotta give it some time. Which is easier said than done, I know.”

“She’s right, you know.” Bradley heard from over his shoulder and turned his head in time to see Claire walk into the kitchen. “Y’all will figure out what your new normal is. If you’re half as stubborn as Jake is, I have no doubt in my mind it’ll be sooner rather than later.”

Bradley flashed her a smile before he turned his attention back to the task at hand. “Come to help with the cooking?”

“Came to join in on the gossip.” She corrected with a wink. “Or to start it, if you two haven’t gotten there yet.”

Anne shoots Claire a look that Bradley doesn’t catch.

“You and I both know I would never hear the end of it if I started without you.” Anne replied.

“Am I going to regret putting myself in a position where you two can gang up on me and there’s nothing I can do about it? Because I feel like that’s what’s about to happen here.” Bradley asked, rhetorically.

“Probably.” Claire replied without hesitation. “But you and I are basically best friends now so you’re gonna have to get used to it. Might as well just accept it now.”

“Best friends, huh? What did I do to earn that title so quickly? It’s been like one day.” Bradley replied, lifting the cutting board and sliding the chopped vegetables into the salad bowl on the counter next to him.

Claire shrugged. “I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot more of you around this house, and I don’t know about you, but I quite enjoyed our conversations last night.”

“I did too, I’m just worried it gave your dad the wrong idea.” Bradley replied with a grimace.

Anne laughed. “Oh lord, don’t tell me he’s trying to set y’all up?” She said, glancing between the two of them.

“Dad has good taste, at least. I’ll give him that much.” Claire confirmed.

“We do have to at least give him credit for that, yes.” Anne agreed. “You do seem like you are quite a catch Bradley.”

Bradley felt himself blushing for the second time that day and ducked his head to try and hide it.

“I must admit I was actually hoping your father was on to something this time.” Anne replied. “We’ll just have to make you an honorary Seresin then, unless there’s another member of the family we can marry you off to.” She said jokingly.

Bradley felt the blush on his face get worse as it crept down to his neck. He heard Claire snort and then try to turn it into a cough to mask the laughter. He could feel two sets of eyes burning into his head and he forced himself to look up.

He wasn’t sure what exactly Anne saw when she looked at him in that moment, but there was an understanding in her eyes that told him she knew. “Oh. Oh.” She gasped.

She walked toward him slowly, closing the gap between them with just a few steps. He forced himself to hold eye contact with her, as much as he wanted to look away. Anne didn’t say anything, just continued to look at him, studying his face. Without warning, she reached up and pulled him into a hug. Bradley felt his breath catch in his throat and he only hesitated briefly before letting his eyes fall closed and allowing himself to wrap his arms around her and return the hug.

She gently rubbed his back. She pulled back and put a hand on his cheek, making sure he was looking into her eyes before she spoke. “You will always have a home here in Texas.” She whispered. “I know Pete and Tom take good care of you, but if you ever need anything, I expect you to call me. You understand?”

Bradley was overwhelmed, to say the least. He knew he was going to fail to keep the emotion out of his voice as he replied. “Yes ma’am.” He whispered, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and corrected himself. “Thank you, Anne.”

Anne pulled back and removed her hand from his cheek before she glanced over at her daughter. “Claire, will you let everyone know brunch is ready? We could use some extra hands to get the table set.”

Claire nodded. “Of course. I’ll send them in. Might be a few minutes.” She replied, giving them a meaningful look.

Bradley was thankful he was going to have a bit of time to compose himself before the others came into the room.

+

Brunch was a lively affair, with several conversations happening from across the table simultaneously. It was obvious that the group had truly bonded, and Bradley was starting to believe this was the start of lifelong friendships, no matter where they ended up being deployed in the future. Bradley hadn’t realized how much he had ached for something like that in his life, and now that he had it, he was going to make damn sure he put in the necessary effort to keep those relationships in his life.

He wasn’t sure how, but he was convinced that Claire had something to do with the fact that he ended up sitting next to Jake when they had all settled down to eat. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught her eye from across the table and she winked at him.

“So, what do y’all have planned for your month of leave? Must feel like more time than you know what to do with.” Anne asked, glancing around the table as she spoke.

“I’m flying to Philly tomorrow morning to spend a few weeks with my family. The rest I’m sure I’ll figure out.” Nat replied, smiling softly. “I’m looking forward to not having any plans for the first time in a long time.”

“Amen to that.” Javy replied, reaching out for a fist-bump which Nat returned without hesitation. “I’ll be taking full advantage of this world-famous Seresin hospitality for a few more days. If I’m not home by the weekend my mom will fly out here and drag me to Baton Rouge herself.”

“Javy, you know we love you but if you keep your momma waiting that long, I’ll drag you to the airport myself.” Anne replied, shaking her head.

“What about you Bradshaw? I suspect Maverick and Ice don’t have a month of leave of their own.” The Admiral asked.

Bradley cleared his throat before responding. “Well sir, Maverick is supposed to have a month of leave, since he did the fly The Mission. He’s still technically recovering, probably should still be in the hospital, but it’ll be a miracle if we can keep him at home for more than a week, a week and a half tops.” Bradley replied. “Ice won’t have any time off as far as I know, but we’ll make it work. We always have.”

“So, you’re planning on spending your leave in California, then?” The Admiral asked.

“That’s correct, sir. They’re the only family I’ve got so it wouldn’t make much sense for me to go anywhere else.” Bradley was thrown off by the question but tried not to let it show on his face.

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten what Mama told you, Bradley.” Claire cut in.

“I’ll say it again if I have to darlin’, and I’m sure Claire will have no problem remindin’ you too. You all are honorary members of this family.” Anne said. “Now I’m not expecting to see everyone again during this month of leave, but I do expect to see each of you back here again soon.”

“Except for you, Bradley. You have to come back before your month of leave is up or I’ll never forgive you.” Claire added, a shit-eating grin on her face.

The Admiral looked delighted by the idea. Bradley wanted the ground beneath him to open up and swallow him whole.

“Wait a second, how am I the last to know that we’re apparently adopting Bradshaw into the family? When did this even happen?” Jake asked. Bradley would’ve laughed at the baffled look on the other man’s face if he wasn’t busy dying of embarrassment.

“You upset you weren’t consulted first? Pretty sure you would’ve been outnumbered anyway.” Claire replied, sticking her tongue out.

“You’re such a child. Aren’t you supposed to be older than me?” he retorted with a fond smile on his face.

It was a smile Bradley had only had the pleasure of seeing a handful of times in all the years he had known Jake. It was a devastating sight and he had to force himself to look away. He hated himself for it, but without the presence of the wall that had been between them pre-mission, he couldn’t trust himself. He was afraid if he stared just a second too long, he’d give himself away.

“Anyway, let us know what dates work for you and how long you want to stay and there’ll be a room set up for you.’ Claire said, looking away from her brother and over at Bradley.

Bradley knew this was a fight he wasn’t going to win and that whether he wanted to or not, he’d be spending some more time in Texas in the near future. “Yes ma’am.” Bradley replied, mock-saluting Claire as he spoke. She just laughed and he couldn’t help but smile.

The remainder of the conversation continued as the others talked about their plans for leave and what they were looking forward to the most about being home. Bradley was thankful to have the attention off him as he thought about the conversation he wanted to have with the Daggers once Anne and The Admiral gave them a few minutes alone.

That opportunity came about 20 minutes later when everyone at the table was convinced they couldn’t eat another bite of food if their lives depended on it and Claire hung back to help Anne clear the table and clean up. The two women insisted they all go out to the back patio and take advantage of the lounges and the shade. The Admiral excused himself to his office and the Daggers all made their way outside.

He watched Bob, Rueben and Mickey fall into a heap together on one of the lounges, while Javy, Nat and Jake sprawled out on the other one.

“You gonna join us, Bradshaw or are you just gonna stand there all day?” Javy teased, encouraging the rest of the group to jeer at him.

“I was thinking about it, but it doesn’t really look like there’s any room for me.” He replied, glancing pointedly between the two lounges.

Nat smiled and shifted closer to Javy, creating a laughably small amount of space between her and Jake. “Plenty of room for you right here stud.” She said, patting the spot with her hand.

Bradley took a deep breath, internally debating whether he wanted to do this standing in front of them like he was giving a speech or pressed up against Jake. They both sounded like terrible options, and he didn’t have an excuse to join the group on the other lounge instead.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Nat.” He replied with a wink as he walked over to join them.

Javy sat pressed up against the back of the couch on one side, Jake mirroring him on the other. Nat sat up and shifted to give Bradley slightly more room to join them. He sat on the edge and let Nat direct him where she wanted him to go. He tried not to tense up when she guided him until his head was on Jake’s stomach. She then put her head on Javy’s chest and stretched out so her legs were resting on top of Bradley’s.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to relax. Jake didn’t feel tense, didn’t seem affected at all by Bradley’s head using his torso as a pillow. Bradley wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you guys about but I – maybe it’s stupid, maybe you all know already.” Bradley paused, trying to keep himself from rambling. “But it feels important, after everything. Doesn’t make sense not to tell you guys at this point.”

He felt Nat shift, lifting her head from his chest to look up at him and resting her chin on her hand. “If it’s stupid, you know we’ll tell you it’s stupid and never let you forget it.” She said, looking at him like she knew his mind was racing. “But I have a feeling it’s not, and I’m never wrong, right boys?”

The various ‘boos’ and scoffs and jeering she got in response put him at ease and he smiled at her, hoping she understood how grateful he was for her in that moment.

“I guess I should start by saying I have Admiral Seresin to thank for this, and I should probably give Claire some credit because when she hears about this, she’ll disown me as her newly appointed best friend if I don’t.” He felt more than he heard Jake laugh. “Claire is easy to talk to, and has a great sense of humor, and is absolutely terrifying when she wants to be. And, don’t hit me Jake, but I do have eyes, so I know she’s beautiful.”

Nat snorted out a laugh and he heard amused chuckles from a few of the others.

“And while I was flattered by The Admiral making sure to personally introduce us, and we did hit it off right away, I spent most of last night trying to figure out how to break it to him that she wasn’t my type without ending up dishonorably discharged, six feet under somewhere, or both.” Bradley continued.

“I knew you didn’t have taste, Bradshaw. Those godawful Hawaiian shirts you constantly wear told us that a long time ago.” Jake replied. Bradley couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the amused tone of his voice that let Bradley know he wasn’t about to get punched for turning down Jake’s sister.

“I’d really like to say I’m surprised that you somehow gained the respect of Admiral Seresin without even really trying – and then on top of that, you get him to like you enough that he personally went out of his way to try and set you up with Claire. And you’re not even interested. But somehow that’s so you.” Javy replied, shaking his head.

“Gee thanks, Coyote.” Bradley replied flatly. “It’s not my fault, alright. My life would be a lot fucking easier if I could fall in love with Claire or someone like her and settle down but that’s just not in the cards for me.”

“Why not, man? I know we give you a lot of shit but don’t sell yourself short Rooster. You’re a good dude.” Mickey replied.

“Thanks man, I appreciate that.” Bradley replied. “If I had big career aspirations, I might be tempted to make something like that work for the sake of keeping up appearances. There have been a few women here and there that I’ve been into enough to have casual flings with but honestly, physical attraction is as far as that goes. I’ve only ever seriously dated or been in relationships with men.”

He felt Jake tense up beneath him but didn’t dare look up at his face. He kept his eyes locked with Nat, who was looking back at him like she was proud of him. She slowly reached out with the hand that wasn’t supporting her chin and grabbed the hand that was resting on his chest, tangling their fingers together. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she spoke. “The longest relationship I’ve ever been in was with a woman. I’ve been in love with men and women, but god nothing has ever come close to how she made me feel when we were together.”

Bradley felt himself start to tear up and squeezed her hand in return. “I don’t know why I was so nervous to tell you. I had a feeling you’d understand, and I still couldn’t bring myself to just say it.” He knew the others were listening, but in that moment, he needed Nat to understand what her support meant to him, whether they had an audience or not.

“I get it. As much as I love being in the Navy, it doesn’t really feel like a safe space a lot of the time to talk about that kind of stuff.” Nat replied, “Even around people you trust.”

“If we’re doing this, then I guess I should put it out there that I’m hella gay. So, you’ve got my full support Brad.” Mickey admitted, a bright smile on his face.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have phrased it like that, exactly… but the same goes for me. In both cases.” Bob chimed in, a kind smile on his face.

“I am embarrassingly straight, as Jake likes to remind me, but if anyone tries to mess with any of you about the fact that you’re not, you better believe I will throw hands.” Javy added. “No one messes with my friends, especially not about that.”

“I am also a card-carrying member of ‘embarrassingly straight’ club and I second everything Javy just said.” Rueben chimed in, reaching across the space between the lounges to fist-bump the other man.

“As happy as it would make my father if I was, I am not a card-carrying member of that club.” Jake offered. “He’s always been supportive of me, in his own way. He’s never made me feel like I should be ashamed of it or anything like that, but he also knows I have career advancement aspirations before I retire and has made it clear that it’s better if I keep my personal life separate.”

For the first time since he laid down, Bradley looked up at Jake. He found he was surprised by how open Jake was in that moment. His guard was down completely, and he was letting his friends in on something he clearly didn’t talk about often. He was also processing the fact that Jake was not straight like Bradley had always assumed he was. He didn’t know what to do with that information and decided to file it away for later. Laying on the man’s stomach was not the time or place to have a crisis about it.

Jake was looking over in the direction of the other lounge as he continued. “Not all of us grew up with Iceman and Maverick as our support system, but now that I’ve gotten to know them… I’ve started to believe it might be possible to have both. The long, successful Naval career and the idyllic white picket fence situation.”

Bradley couldn’t help but laugh. “They are disgustingly domestic sometimes, so you’re not too far off there.” He felt Jake laugh in response and the rest of the group joined in, while also groaning about not wanting to know that much information about their former team leader and the Commander’s love life.

Bradley felt lighter than he had in years and pulled Natasha in close when she laid back down, placing her head on his chest instead of Javy’s.

“Oh I see how it is, I’m not a good enough pillow all of a sudden?” Javy exclaimed.

Nat huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes. She gave Bradley a kiss on the cheek before scooting back over to snuggle up close to Javy. He lifted his head slightly as he felt Jake shift underneath him.

“Sit up for a second.” Jake requested softly. Bradley did as he asked and took the opportunity to stretch his arms above his head. He heard shuffling and turned to see Jake had shifted to sit up a bit more than he had been. He nodded at Bradley, who took that as the signal to rejoin him. Jake patted his own chest with his hand.

Bradley shifted up as Jake lifted his arm to accommodate him. He laid his head down, unsure of which way he should face or how to position the rest of his body. Jake made the decision for him by wrapping his arm around Bradley shoulder and angling his body toward him rather than outwards towards Nat. In that position, the only place he could really place his arm was across Jake’s stomach. He didn’t have more than a few seconds to worry about it before eyes fluttered closed and he released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding as a hand gently brushed through his hair.

The silence that fell over the group was comfortable and none of them felt the needs to fill it with anything. Bradley felt himself starting to drift off, the steady beat of Jake’s heart and the feeling of Nat pressed up against his side lulling him into a peaceful state of sleep.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he jolted awake, hushed conversation happening around him. He shifted to pull his phone out of his pocket and squinted at the screen. 1:17pm. He’d only been out for around 30 minutes meaning he probably wouldn’t end up regretting the nap later. There was one unread text from Ice and he swiped across the screen to open it.

Hope you’re having a good time with the rest of the Daggers. Just wanted to let you know we made it back home. Let us know when to pick you up from the airport. See you soon.

Bradley typed out a quick reply, letting Ice know he was glad they made it home and they he’d keep the updated on what time his flight was supposed to be landing later that night. Reluctantly, he was going to have to start convincing the group they’d need to head back to the hotel soon. All of their flights were going to different places and leaving at different times.

“I can hear you thinking from over here. Stop it.” Nat said, poking him in the side.

Bradley flinched slightly at the contact, batting her hand away. “As much as I’d love to not have to think about a single thing right now, someone here has to make sure we get back to the hotel because it’ll end up being my fault if any of you miss your flights.”

The chorus of groans he received in response made him laugh out loud.

“You’re such an old man, trying to get us to behave like responsible adults.” Mickey replied, making an exaggerated gaging noise to get his point across.

“Fuck off Fanboy, I’m not that much older than you guys.” Bradley replied, lifting his hand high enough so that the middle finger he was holding up could be seen from the other lounge.

“I mean, you are the only one of us here that’s over 30…” Javy replied with a grin.

He heard Nat choking on a laugh next to him.

“I’ve changed my mind. This whole group bonding session we’re having right now was a bad idea. I hate all of you.” Bradley replied, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

Jake scoffed. “You wouldn’t last one day without us, and you know it Bradshaw.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got that backwards, Bagman.” Bradley replied. “None of you would last a day without me to drag your asses out of bed for training sessions before the sun is up or to remind you when you need to leave for the airport or to make greasy hangover breakfast none of you will admit you love even though you all get annoyed with me when I don’t make it.”

“Alright dad, you’ve made your point.” Nat replied. “Did absolutely nothing to help your case if you want us to stop calling you old man though.”

Bradley sighed, “Well, if it’s officially been decided that my youth is dead and buried, I guess it’s time for me to develop a ‘daddy’ kink. Find someone looking for an older man to teach them a thing or two.”

Loud groaning came from basically everyone and they all started talking over each other in their rush to heckle him.

“God dammit Rooster I did not need that image in my head…”

“I’m completely against kink shaming, but I may have to make an exception just for you dude.”

“Develop one? I call bullshit. No way that isn’t already a thing for you.”

“With those horrendous Hawaiian shirts and the whole pornstache thing being your trademark, why am I even surprised.”

“I am experiencing so much regret right now, remind me to never call you dad in any context ever again.”

Bradley’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how wide he had been smiling. Regretfully, he sat up and shuffled his way to the edge of the lounge. “Alright kids, I expect you all to be in the car and ready to head back to the hotel in 15.”

He stood, stretching his arms over his head and watched as the rest of the group slowly untangled themselves from one another and stood to join him.

Saying goodbye to the Seresin family was a lot more difficult than Bradley had expected it to be. Anne and Claire had welcomed him with open arms and within a matter of days had made their home feel like his home. No matter what happened in the future, the Seresin home would hold a special place in his heart for many reasons, but mainly the past hour the Daggers had spent bonding for the first time as friends. It hadn’t been a mandatory team building exercise they reluctantly participated in because their lives damn well depended on trusting each other. It was something they had chosen to do. It was something they wanted to do.

He owed Claire a lot for encouraging him to take that step. He supposed agreeing to spend a few more of his leave days in Texas was the least he could do, if that’s what she really wanted. Bradley couldn’t imagine why she would want that, but he had to admit it felt good to be not only accepted but embraced without hesitation. He didn’t have many friends outside of the military, mostly due to the hectic nature of his lifestyle that he had little to no control over for about 80% of the year. Even though Claire came from a military family, Bradley had a feeling she’d be more than happy to help him find some footing in the real world, if he asked; to actually feel grounded and comfortable in his own skin as a civilian.

He hoped a day would come when he wasn’t fucking terrified that the Admiral was going to banish him from the state of Texas, or the continental United States for not marrying his daughter, and could thank him for the introduction that, at the very least, had given him the gift of her friendship and a second place he could call home if he ever needed it.

[lady-o-ren]

The Dig

You can read this on ao3 // HERE //

Suffolk, England

1939

“What's going on in Sutton Hoo, then that has you in such a hurry?”

James Fsaser reluctantly looked up from where his head had been braced on his leather satchel, clutched atop his knees, and gave the old ferryman a one-eyed stare.

“I've a job. Digging,” he swallowed, trying mightily to keep himself from retching as the wee boat he was in bobbed up and down like a mad carousel.

“You came all the way from Scotland to dig like a dog?” He laughed hoarsely, hawking up a wad of phlegm into the murky river water as he swung his oars.

“Ipswich,” Fraser muttered, turning a bit more green.

Ipswich Museum to be exact.

He'd been hired to help excavate a centuries old burial site located at a rural estate in Sutton Hoo, overseen by the archeologist, Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. A woman much admired (or envied depending on the man) for her keen mind and boundless curiosity (and unrivaled stubbornness that often spiraled into outright defiance according to those same particular men) that had her uprooting half of Great Britain in pursuit of the secrets hidden beneath the mossy plains. And more often than not her instincts were right and another antiquity would be dusted off to be reborn again.

Fraser wasn't sure what he'd done to earn the right to work by her side but Christ, he wouldn't question how lucky he was.

The boat then suddenly coasted to an abrupt stop against the rivers side.

“Here we are, Mr. Fraser. All in one piece. And I thank you for keeping me boat and boots tidy,” said the old ferryman with a wink.

Fraser didn't bother with a retort, he was just happy that the world had blessedly stopped spinning and hopped onto wonderfully solid land.

Smoothing the wrinkles from his attire and fixing his father's old grey cap atop his head (taking special care to tuck in his dark ginger curls that always peeked out from just under the rim), he made his way down the brambled path that the old man said led to the big house. After a brief introduction with the owner of the estate, he was then directed to where he'd be working, and trotted past the trees and sprawling country green to an open field.

From afar, Fraser could see three burial mounds jutting from the earth, grassy topped with yellow dandelions sprouting all over.

But what made his breath catch was the sight of the woman he'd been so eager to meet.

She was surveying the site with her hands on her trousered waist looking like a general on the cusp of conquest. Sensing his approach, she turned away from her prize and future glory, her short curls bouncing and gleaming a rich shade of earth in the dewy sunlight, and met his gaze with her own.

Sharp with intelligence. Kindled with mirth. Shimmering like molten gold.

"A Dhia," Fraser whispered to the fragrant spring air, and took off his cap, twisting it between his hands that ached to trace and memorize every curve of the archeologist's face.

She waved him over seeing him linger and a terrible heat sprang to the young lad's face at having been caught staring at the beauty like a halfwit, and forced his legs to move. Prayed he didn't fall flat on his face.

"Hullo there," she greeted, and clasped her small hand to his, but there was nothing dainty about its grasp. Fraser could feel the years of hard-earned experience chiseled in her palm that held his hand firmly, letting him know exactly who he'd be working for.

It sent a thrill down his spine.

"I'm Dr. Claire Beauchamp. And you must be the very late Mr. Fraser I've been waiting for."

"Aye, and I beg yer pardon for that, ma’am," Fraser replied in earnest, detecting a subtle spike of irritation in her voice, seeing the annoyed flick of her brow. "The morning train was running late.” By three hours! “ Then I had to wait for the ferryman to take me across the river -" He'd been taking his "tea" in the pub " - all a lousy excuse, I ken, but I promise ye it willna happen again."

Beauchamp crossed her arms and tipped her head to the side giving Fraser a scrutinizing once over that made his throat bob and the blood in his heart to palpitate.

"Good," she smirked, nodding her approval from his noticeable discomfort. "If you're anything like how the stiffs at Ipswich Museum described we'll get along well."

He clenched his jaw at the mention of the museum, the cantankerous men who worked there. Especially a certain Dr. Randall, who valued a good cigar over the work of a “farm boy”.

"And what do they say of me, if I may ask?"

Beauchamp bit her full bottom lip (wonderfully pink Fraser bashfully noted), quirking wryly.

“Quite a lot depending on who you ask. From what I've gathered you're hardworking, painfully intelligent and have an innate knack for reading the earth. But that you're also highly unorthodox, difficult and the most insufferable Scotsman ever to step foot in Ipswich. So naturally I had to work with you."

He let out a tightly held breath and chuckled softly.

"Weel, who am I to argue wi' a reference like that. I'm passionate about my work and little else, apart from food and kin. And while I've never been disrespectful to reason, I haven't the patience for men who think a title is deserving of my unquestionable fealty."

"And why should you? The conviction of a Viking is something to be admired not belittled,” she praised, making Fraser glow. "I only wish I could've been there to witness how you earned the ire of half the museum.”

“I'm merely in the right and they the wrong, more often than not,” he shrugged.

“I'm just as terrible,” she proudly grinned. ”But I know we'll make a good team. We'll have to if we want to tackle this lot.”

She motioned her head at the site looming tall, brimming with excitement that spoke to Fraser's own spirit.

"If that's so then it'll be an honor working wi' ye, ma'am."

He shook her hand once more and thought he felt her thumb move against his knuckle, light and curious as a brush stroke.

//

Working with two assistants from her previous digs (the studious Jeremy Foster and the wide-eyed youth Elias Pound), Fraser and Beauchamp made great strides in plowing the core of the mound that was the larger of the three, even when logic argued that the dip in the middle meant thieves of the past had already plundered it's horde.

But Fraser's gut and bones told him that there was something different about this one.

Beauchamp had thought so too.

"There's something grand and marvelous here begging to be found. Don't you think? Can't you feel it?"

The deeper they dug only intensified that feeling.

As had his attraction to the irrepressibly brilliant Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

However, after a fortuitous streak of good weather, the air started to blow with the sweet scent of rain and the leaves of the oak trees that dotted the lush clearing turned toward the skies, parched and longing.

"We have some time, I think, before the rain comes," said Beauchamp, gauging the skies westward still clear of thunderclouds.

Fraser leaned against his shovel in the hollow of earth he stood in, his dirt stained sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and could see the mad impulse to defy mother nature flash in her eyes.

"Usually I'd agree wi' ye, ma’am, but yer hair -" his mouth flicked upward in unbridled appreciation. "Is curling like a tumbleweed."

She pressed a dirt-flecked hand near her temple and felt the wild frizzy pushback of flyaway curls fallen loose from her twisted bun, springing around her face like a mane.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she huffed. “Have I been like this all morning, Fraser?”

"Pretty much," he grinned, enjoying how her usual regal self pinked across her freckled cheeks and the wee scrunch of her nose.

But Fraser's smile faltered, catching himself for a fool, and averted his attention down to the soil where his heart had fallen. Writhed. Burrowed with the worms and roots.

For what use was it for a man like him to yearn for a woman like her?

He swallowed the hopeless lump in his throat.

"Shall we go for lunch then, wait for the weather to clear?"

Hearing the word lunch, Foster and Pound looked up from their own end of the excavation with hunger in their eyes.

"Did that on purpose did you?" said Beauchamp, throwing an accusatory glance at the ginger lad while trying to gather her wayward curls back to partial respectability.

He gave her a half smile.

"The Almighty is the one making it rain, ma’am. Take it up wi' him."

She sighed and her hands fell to her waist as she took one last disappointing glance above.

"I would if He ever bothered to listen,” she frowned, then gave the other men a nod that made them hoot and holler.

“Numpties,” she mumbled, though did so fondly, and puffed at a rebellious forelock flirting with the wind.

After covering the ditch with a tarp secured to the ground, the men headed for the local pub raucously singing an old drinking song with a few choice words changed.

Our Lady must have been an Admiral, a Sultan or a Queen

And to her praises we shall always sing

A pint for our Lady Beauchamp who fills us up with cheer

A pint for our Lady Beauchamp . . .

Their lady laughed and rolled her eyes, before waving the lads off with a promise to catch up to gather her things, and headed to the shepherd's hut that had been provided by the estate.

Fraser glanced back watching her go, and after a moment's hesitation where he reasoned it would be rude to leave without her, he too told the others he'd forgotten something and went after Beauchamp.

Cursing himself an "EEJIT!" every step of the way.

//

Inside the hut was a small curtained window softly lighting the room from the back and two wooden scuffed chairs positioned along the side wall with a table snugly fit between them. Beauchamp herself was crouched by the table legs where Fraser had left his satchel but it was now laid open on its side, contents spilled over.

At his unexpected appearance that shadowed the doorway, she turned his way with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, I was just grabbing my bag when I tipped yours over and . . ."

She held up his small green fieldbook opened at the first page.

And white-hot panic flooded Fraser's veins.

"The writing caught my eye," she continued on, seemingly unaware that the poor lad was gripping the doorway for support. "I didn't know you spoke gaelic beyond the odd phrase here and there. That you can even write it too is something of a feat,” she said, impressed by the words secreted on the page.

“Aye,” he managed to breathe, relieved that she hadn't seen a thing. Not a thing! “I don't get much practice living away from home so I speak it in my mind and heart, write letters to my family when I can.”

“You've spoken of a sister, if I'm not mistaken. Older or younger?" She prodded, as if he were a new discovery, and he answered in hopes to distract her from what she still held in her hands.

Felt a fluttering warmth overtake him that she recalled him having a sister.

"Jenny,” he said, as he moved to kneel down beside her to stuff his scant belongings back in his bag. “She's older and feels the need to remind me of that fact whenever we see one another.”

“And you're the brat aren't you?”

Despite his predicament, Fraser couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

"I was the devil's spawn, aye, but Jen was no angel. We once got into a terrible stramash about our chores on the farm, the way wee bairns do, and I ended up telling her she had a face uglier than a coo, smelled worse than one too. Next I knew, I was being tackled to the ground wi' my face shoved into a ripe pile of coo shite and my sister above me laughing her wicked wee arse off.”

Beauchamp broke into laughter and it made his stomach do a flip.

“I'm sorry, that must've been awful for you, but I think I may love your sister for that.”

“Everybody says so. Not sure it was worth it in the end myself . . .” said Fraser, his voice suddenly trailing off at the end seeing her attention turn back to the page.

His mind spiraled into action.

"But we really should get going before the rain catches us. It looks to be a downpour, a terrible one.”

“Well it's a good thing we're under a roof then isn't it?” She countered, eyes sparkling through her long lashes. “ Besides I'd rather have an impromptu lesson in gaelic on what,” she paused, squinting down at the book opened on her knees. “Baa-mia-’bruu -” means.”

“Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr,” he begrudgingly corrected, wondering how rude it would be to just snatch his own fieldbook away. But then Beauchamp smiled as if charmed by his voice and echoed back his words with near perfect silky inflections, looking pleased as punch as she did so.

Endearing herself even more to the young Scot's already smitten heart.

“Verra good,” he hummed softly.

“Absolute luck,” she grinned, tapping her fingers atop his writing. “Now tell me what does it all mean?”

He shook his head embarrassed. "You'll think me daft, ma’am."

"I promise I won't."

She said it in such an earnest way, Jamie knew she spoke true. But then a deep rumble of thunder sliced through the air, enough to give Beauchamp a jolt that made her forefinger on the page slip and Fraser's stomach to rip and plummet to the old wood floor.

There, drawn on the page, was Beauchamp's face staring back at her.

“It’s nothing but some wee scribbles,” he stammered to explain, reaching for the book only for her to angle it away.

“You're right about that,” she agreed, her fine brows furrowing as she traced a slim finger to her pencil drawn cheek. “You've made one of my eyes bigger than the other, my nose a dash too long and -"

Her eyes went comically round as she pressed the pages to her chest, a sudden thought coming to her.

"You don't have anyone posed in the nude here do you?"

"O-Of course not! I'd never. I- I'd -"

"Breathe Fraser, I was only teasing you," she nearly giggled, but then her face softened with regret seeing his own face take on the horrible color of a split beet left to shrivel in the sun.

“But really, why bother with me?”

He had no answer but the one that pounded from his heart, a noise like a thousand drums that all struck the same adoring note. She could see it beaming from his face and a hushed silence fell between them as the rain finally came down, hitting the rooftop in a pitter-patter that enveloped her quietly spoken -

“Oh.”

That single utterance had Jamie wishing the rain would flood and swallow him up but it was now or never to speak his heart. No matter that hers would never be his to cherish.

Looking down at his hands, anxiously wringing the strap of his satchel, he spoke.

“There was never any helping it, me liking you. I'd never seen a sight sae fair as you, stubborn as you, nor wonderful as you. And I could never get ye out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried, but ye were always there like the sun and air."

He lifted his gaze to her likeness on the page.

"And then I just started filling my fieldbook wi' pictures of you if only to have something to remind me of you for when the job ends and we part ways. But I'm none so good as ye can see. I never could capture the grit and fire of yer spirit, the way yer curls bristle in excitement or the way yer eyes glow like a match to a candlewick . . . "

His heart tightened as his words faltered while Beauchamp remained quiet. Then like a blow to his chest she flipped through the small book once more, her face unreadable as stone. She looked through his sketches, one of her curls drawn like the ripples of the tide, another of her hands digging through the earth, and of her lush determined mouth curved into a beaming smile, bitten with impatience, beneath a perfect speckled nose.

And threaded between her gestures, her features were more bits of gaelic.

 A bòidhchead . . .

Tha pian orm . . .

Tha cho teann sa tha a ’bhriogais gam iomain

"I told you I was no good. I ken I should just rip up the pages -” Fraser began to miserably say, but Beauchamp hushed him by taking his hand in hers and softly stroked her thumb against the work-hardened skin. 

"You have a fine hand, Fraser. Especially for making my nose look as delicate as Garbo’s,” she smiled, cheeks touched lovely in pink.

Then in a moment that made it hard for Fraser to breathe, she simply said . . .

“Ask me for a drink.”

He blinked, thinking he misheard her, mouth agape. But there was no mistaking what brightened her eyes to shine like whisky.

“Ask me,” she repeated impatiently, almost laughing, as she squeezed his hand. 

Fraser inhaled sharply and tentatively squeezed her small hand back.

“Will ye join me for a pint, ma’am?”

“Claire,” she grinned, and coyly tilted her head . “And of course I will. Took you long enough to ask,” she winked, making Fraser stare at her in charmed disbelief.

And then Beauchamp closed the distance between them, hand light as a feather against his chest.

“But first you ought to kiss me, Fraser. It's still raining and I might catch a chill from all this waiting."

Still staring at her mesmerized, with questions that could wait another day flitting through his mind, Fraser wove an errant bonnie curl around his fingers and smoothed it behind her ear. Letting his thumb drag against her cheek.

“It's Jamie,” he murmured, in a brush of his lips to hers. 

And on and on it went.

//

Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr. . .

I dreamt about the mourning. The deaths of great men. Terrible men. Old and young. Of Kings lost in battle buried beneath us. They cried out to me and the Earth came to life and twisted her roots around me, dragging me inside her womb. Dark and cold, breathless like a cave. But I wasn't frightened. I saw lights rushing around me, bright as the twilight sky. The souls that lie ahead. Surrounding us.

They brought me to you.

//

A/N: This had a ton of notes and explanations so you can read all those on ao3. But for sure I’ll say here this is very loosely based on the movie The Dig.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Omg thank you so much for writing my request for tom :) Can I ask for a part two where you try not to read the comments, but end up doing so, and most are good, so it's fine. Until you post a picture of you on your account, and tom's fans start calling you names, and tom's so tired of all that happening that he posts on his account a whole paragraph about how his personal life it's no one's business?

Posted

This is part two, find the first part here

Summary | previously Tom had accidentally posted a picture of the two of you, exposing your relationship. And so, you decide to purposely do the same on your Instagram, though the response is much different than what his post had received.

Warnings | hate comments, some angst, swear and demeaning words

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Tom was asleep beside you, his head tucked into the crook of your neck, you were able to feel his gentle, slumbering breathing against your skin, and it caused goose bumps to prickle upon the outer layer of your flesh.

The two of you had vastly fallen asleep upon the couch, and your phone was on the coffee table, and to say that you were itchy to reach for it was an understatement. There would be comments on the picture that Tom accidentally put online, and you were hungry to see them, whilst simultaneously nervous.

Tom was a big actor, known for his presence in the marvel cinematic universe upon many other projects, and some of his fans, whilst proven during Comic-Con panels, were borderline crazy. They’d snap if they even so much as saw something that they didn’t like, and this time, you would be on the receiving end of it.

Being motionlessly captured, with your face on show, was certain to bring much attention. You too were within the acting department, but there had been no correlation between the pair of you until now, most of the world weren’t even aware that you knew each other. And not to mention, your span of reaching an audience was smaller, although, certainly not non existent.

You had reprised fame during your appearance on Modern Family, as the friendly neighbour of Phil and Claire, and a classmate of their eldest daughter, and not to mention Luke was crushing hard on the character you played, though, with that said, your character laughed his efforts off due to the age difference, yet still found his pining weird and often uncomfortable.

Another role that you were becoming known for was your character in Netflix’s Irregulars, where you met Harrison Osterfield, Tom’s best friend. Through filming the show, you were introduced to the Spider-Man actor, and the pair of you had hit it off almost instantly, if you didn’t include Tom keeping his amorous distance, wary just in case there was something going on between you and your mutual friend. To his relief, there wasn’t.

And thus, when he received that confirmation, he was far more forward, yet respectful at the same time with his intentions. That was how you had ended up here, as he half used you as a pillow, his arms wrapped around his ribs, and his soft peaceful snores filling the void in the air.

Stretching your arm at its furthest length, your fingertips wrestled with the side of your phone, padding it closer to yourself, so that you could slide it across the small living room table, and closer to yourself. You were victorious in your efforts, and so on you unlocked your screen, going to your camera app, and leaning sideways so that you could snap a few pictures of your predicament with your loving and sweet boyfriend.

Looking at the images that you had captured, a smile arose upon your face; you truly did love this man, and you wanted the whole world to know how much you adored him. You wanted them to see that you cared about him, and that he was in good hands with you, to cool off any of his fans that were processing their hurt feelings for seeing Tom with another woman, show him that he was getting the love that he deserved.

Extreme courage coursed through your veins, focusing within your fingertips as you opened insta, gulping as you readied to post the image. There was no editing required, it was perfect just like him. And so, the caption was something to think about, you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you were dating as the online community already assumed, the priority was to show them that you cared about him.

‘He’s taking a nap, and crushing my hip a little, but I don’t mind 😌’ you typed, your finger hovering over the post button as you chewed your lip. It was easy to press your digit down, and so, taking a breath, you did just that, encouraged by the previous and kind comments on Tom’s earlier post.

Within a matter of minutes, your phone was blowing up, and you were too tempted not to glance at the growing comment section. There were various accounts, some supporting your confidence to show such a domestic version of yourself with Tom, you assumed that they were your followers, and the ones that weren’t so light hearted were those that intently watched anything on the media that involved Tom.

‘He’s too good looking for her, she should be dating someone within her league. Tom is clearly taking pity on this hoe.’

‘Aw look at him, and ew, look at the state of her. He could do sm better 😔’

‘Why doesn’t she look like his exes, they were hot af, and now he’s with some rando that is after his fame and money. Maybe she should just take better roles if she wants to get noticed so bad.’

Your eyes kept reeling through the intentionally hateful words that continued to come through beneath the image. Tears began to fall from your eyes as you tried to stifle the movements and the sound of your gentle sobbing, as to not wake Tom. Quickly, your fingers raced through the social media, and you, knowing that there would still be presence of the image somewhere online, you deleted it, muting notifications and shuffled back into Tom.

The man stirred, tugging you closer by your waist, pressing a kiss to your locks as he awoke. He noticed however the way that you refused to face him, and so he rolled you over with a gentle grip on your shoulder, frowning when he saw the recognisable redness beneath your eyes, and the sad expression floating within your eyes.

“Princess, what’s going on?” He wiped his thumb beneath your bottom lashes, collecting your tears as he worriedly looked down at you. His brown eyes searched every inch of your face for an idea, but found nothing but your broken hearted expression.

“It’s nothing Tommy.” You tried and failed to convince the man, wincing half heartedly as he sat back on his thighs, gripping your hips so that he could pull you up with him, giving him a clearer view of your face. It was clear that he did not believe you, and he hummed, trying to make you give in. Eventually, after much concerned staring, you gave in, slumping your shoulders as you tucked your arms around the back of his neck. “I posted a picture of us, the response wasn’t great.”

Instantly, Tom’s brows uplifted, surprised by your action, though he had a strong inkling of a feeling that the reaction that you had earned was not complimentary. These were not tears of joy, instead they were stricken rivers of anguish and insecurity running down the length of your face.

“Let me see.” He spoke, softly to you, but his intents towards defending you strong. You shook your head lightly, tracing circles upon his knees as you gulped, flickering your guilty gaze up to his watchful eyes.

“I deleted it. I just couldn’t deal with knowing that the longer that it was up, the more hate would be directed at me. I’m sorry.” Tom grasped your face by your tense jaw, his fingers stroking your chin as he sadly stared at you.

“Never be sorry. Now send me the picture you used so that I can give everyone a piece of my mind.” Reaching for your phone, you sent the image to him, and in a second his device pinged, revealing that it had successfully sent to him.

“Cute.” He described the picture, his hands furiously typing away on his phone, his constant unsettling of his rabidly moving fingers drawing anxiousness from you. “And some.” Tom finally breathed, closing his phone as you went to his account, checking what he had posted publicly.

‘This may concern some people, who keep sticking their noses in where it does not involve them. I appreciate you all, the support, the love, everything. But one thing that I do not stand for is people coming at my girlfriend just because they don’t approve of our relationship. If you check mate, I never asked for your opinion, I love y/n, and some online hate, that needs to stop otherwise you are not someone I want to be calling themselves a fan of me, needs to stop. It makes no one happy or feel healthy with spreading such toxicity around the internet, if you don’t like something, then keep your blood mouths shut, this has nothing to do with you, it is just me and my girlfriend. I’d think you’d want me to be happy, because I want the same for all of you, so can people please give my partner some respect, she’s done nothing wrong but bravely chose to reach out to you all, and she had that spat back in her face. It’s not on, and I want this to stop now.’

“Tom...” you were shocked by the paragraph, it came across as aggressive, and very over protective. His action, that could affect how he was cried by people that put him on a pedestal, and that made you feel guilty that he had reached out to them in such a way.

“It’s okay baby, I’d do anything for you, and you know that. No one messes with my girl.” He put his arm around your shoulders as he pulled you close placing a kiss upon your forehead. Not only was he your boyfriend, but he was your protector, your knight on a shining cell phone.

[thefanficmonster]

I may or may not have just sent the 3 word challenge in my real account instead of anon... I'm sorry. Please don't answer there. :)

When you post, post answering here please.

Again, much love,

📚🌻

Don't worry dear! Your identity shall remain a secret 🥰 Here's yet another fic with my Resident Evil OC: Gwen Winters (she’s an adult guys, don’t worry. However this is still an Older Man/Younger Woman relationship)

The words dear  📚🌻 Anon gave me in their previous ask were: Unruly, endurable and system. Please enjoy!

What happens in the gym....

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC

Warnings: Swearing, Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Angsty Romance

“Sure, throw me in the fire like you always do, Leon!“ Chris snaps, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at his best friend while the two stand in the dimly lit gym.

“Chris, you’re a BSAA captain, for the love of God! You should know better than to complain about something as little as this!“ Leon, while significantly calmer tone and demeanor-wise, is glaring daggers of his own.

“Why me, damn it?! And why her?!“ Chris is not done with his attempts to get out of the situation Leon’s trying to land him in and his partner’s honestly done with it.

“And why not?! You see the same potential I see, why would it be so hard to train her? She’s a quick learner, she’s disciplined when she wants to be and she’s already skilled to a certain degree. You’ve made soldiers out of total wimps before, why is she such a hassle to you?!“

“Because she’s disciplined when she wants to be and I guarantee she won’t want to when she’s around me. She’s unruly, selfish, arrogant and a Chris-phobe. I’m telling you, she hates me!“

It’s about time Leon’s had enough of this conversation. To be honest, he was done with it as soon as it started but he stayed, thinking he’d be able to change Chris’ mind but seeing as how this is a hopeless case, he’s just been wasting his time. “Does she? Or are you projecting your hate for her onto her?” Slinging his duffel bag containing his training gear over his shoulder, Leon finally makes that realization that these are ten minutes of his life he’ll never get back and storms out of the gym without another word.

Chris doesn’t attempt to stop him, in fact, he’s relieved he left. He sighs, silently hating himself for all the shit he said and how he meant none of it. It was all hard bullshit and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed that Leon didn’t realize. Either way, he’s been cleared of possible suspicion, even if training the newest BSAA rookie still remains as his task.

Gwen Winters, she’s such a fucking handful. One cannot tell if it’s because she’s angry with the world, angry with herself or just straight up picked up on the habits of the family that took her in when she was rescued from Raccoon City where she was held as an experiment hamster. A chemistry project basically. Ethan and Mia were recovering from the events back in Louisiana at the time, still probably are, that is not some shit you get over, so they thought having another person in the house would help them. And help Gwen did. See, Gwen isn’t a handful with everyone. In fact, she’s a real sweetheart and Chris knows it too, despite his bogus claims. He knows she’s got a heart and soul of gold and is built with the will of a BSAA soldier already. All she needs is a bit better fighting skills and she’s good to go. 

He sees how she acts with everyone around him. She’s been quick to make friends with Jill and his sister Claire and she’s even got Leon’s liking and trust which is hella hard to get, especially after all the shit with Ada. She’s overall a super sweet and lovely girl, even with him from time to time. He’s seen her welcoming, friendly smiles whenever he stops by the Winters’ home. He’s heard her laugh at the jokes he rarely cracks.

Then why does she act like she hates him so often? And why does he claim he hates her?

Chris is snapped back to reality by the sound of rough impact. It’s a very distinct noise, one he places immediately: the sound of fists hitting a punching bag. It’s the middle of the night, almost midnight actually, and knowing how lazy the soldiers on his team are, he can only assume it’s either his sister or Jill, given that Leon just left. However, they’ve had people sneak in to train for free before, so it’d be for the best if he went to check who was releasing some pent up energy on the poor punching bag. Judging by the intensity of the punches being thrown, sounds like the person might be angry as well.

And they have every right to be. Because they are Gwen.

Chris’ face goes a bit red at the sight of the infuriated rookie giving the punching bag her all, punishing it the way she’d want to do to her superior she just heard call her all the names she hates being referred by.

“Winters I-“

“Unruly?“ Punch “Selfish?” Punch “Arrogant?” Punch

She stills herself, sighing and wiping the droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You say all that and expect me not to be a Chris-phobe?” She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her shoulders before continuing her wrath over the piece of equipment she’s threatening to destroy. She hasn’t spared him a single look yet, something he’s rather grateful for because the last thing he wants to see is whatever her gaze is hiding right now. “I’ll talk to Leon.” She says, her voice leveled and breathy, far from the pissed off tone she was just using. This calmness is a lot scarier though. “I’ll tell him I don’t want you to be my trainer. To be perfectly clear, I never wanted you to train me in the first place. I’m just not the type to complain, you know. I’m not picky. Beggers can’t be choosers. I take what I can get. And you were all I was offered, but...” she trails off, delivering a particularly hard punch, “It’s not gonna work. I may not be picky, but I know when to draw the line. I know when I deserve better.”

“Kid, you really have no idea what the case really is here.“ He attempts desperately, taunted by the thought of acting on his instincts and approaching her even if that means being the recipient of one of those hard punches.

“You know, I’m strong. I’m skilled. I can hold my own in a fight quite nicely. I’m endurable. I’m not afraid to work my ass off and sweat and pant like a dog after workouts. There’s not a line I wouldn’t cross, but you still choose to make me feel lesser than any soldier you’ve ever come across, that’s really lovely of you, Captain Redfield.“

“Winters, please...“

“It’s ok, I won’t tell Ethan and Mia. I’m sure they’ll send you to hell over it. I’m not petty like that.“

He’s had enough. He’s had enough of hearing that hurt tone in her voice. He’s done hearing these words she’s so certain are true but aren’t. He’s done lying to her and to himself. Before he can even think twice about it, he grabs her by the arms gently but firmly, turning her to face him despite her hostile attempts to free herself from his hold like a wild animal caught in a trap. He’s surprised when she relaxes, probably seeing that as a quicker way out of the situation rather than struggling though if she tried to free herself any longer he would’ve probably let her go.

“Fucking hell, Gwen, listen to me.“ He looks her dead in the eyes, catching onto the spark of shock created by his use of her first name. But he also sees something else, something that looks dangerously a lot like tears. He knows she won’t cry, especially not in front of him, but knowing that he’s the cause behind the welling of those crystal droplets in her always shiny, always smiling eyes breaks him. When she doesn’t look away nor protest, he continues, “I can’t be your captain. I can’t be your trainer. I can’t be any of that. I’m a strictly professional man, and it’d be highly unprofessional of me to take you in as my soldier.”

“But why?“ She’s fully aware she sounds like a whiny kid - exactly how she thinks he envisions her sometimes - but she couldn’t care less. She wants and needs answers. She knows she won’t be able to fall asleep or keep coming back to the training center if she doesn’t get them.

It’s blatantly clear this is far from easy for Chris. His first instinct is to look away, let go of her, run away like he always does - not that she’d let him do such a thing but still. He’s finds the words impossible to spit out yet he oh so desperately feels the need to get them out of his system. And so, he gathers all the strength within him and finally forces himself to say it.

“Because a captain isn’t supposed to look at a soldier the way I look at you.“

Sure, it sounds cryptic as heck but he has no doubt she’ll catch on. Gwen is a smart and sharp girl, among many other things. She confirms this when barely three seconds after he’s said it, he notices her eyes widening

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t.“ He says simply, a small, regretful smile playing across his lips as his hand slides down her arm to take hold of hers, “I just admitted my dirtiest secret to you and you are still gonna remind me how unprofessional I am by using my title, Kid?“

She purses her lips, the shock momentarily replaced by her signature mild glare, “Well, you just admitted your biggest secret to me and yet you still choose to call me ‘Kid’, huh?”

He chuckles, letting his other hand repeat the movements of the first, “Sorry, force of habit.” His thumbs brush against her knuckles briefly as his head falls, his gaze fixating on where their bodies are connected, “You know, I didn’t tell you this to get myself any pity or anything. I just wanted you to understand and....wanted to get it off my chest. Ethan will kill me if he finds out, won’t he?” He suddenly asks, regaining the courage to look up at her once again.

She giggles, “Who says he’s gonna find out?”

Chris bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head, “You’re right, there’s nothing really to find out abo-”

Gwen has never been a chatter nor can she tolerate when people beat around the bush so she’s quick to cut them off sometimes, no matter how rude that may seem or sound. However, just to clarify, her chosen method of cutting a person off isn’t always kissing them. Just saying - this is a special situation requiring special methods.

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of her lips on his, Chris’ eyes close automatically but not even a second later he responds to the kiss properly: wrapping his arms around Gwen’s waist as her hands travel up to cup his face. The kiss is short - too short if either of them is to be asked - but it’s worth all the words they didn’t say despite wanting to.

When they pull away, Gwen gives him a mischievous smile, “Now he could find out about that and then shit would go south. That’d suck, wouldn’t it Chris?“

He’s only ever heard her say his name twice, once in passing conversation with Claire and once earlier when she paraphrased his term ‘Chris-phobe’, both time spoken with some dose of dislike he now realizes was a cover-up all along. Turns out the two are a lot more alike than they initially thought. Regardless, hearing her say his name with fondness instead of bitterness makes his heart flutter, his body yearn to have her closer, his lips wanting to be in contact with hers again. But he’s a patient and self-controlled man, he’s nothing if not willpower sculpted in a human body, so he keeps his distance, waiting for her to pick the moves, waiting for her to make the decisions just like she’s his captain.

“Big time.“ He manages to say, voice coarse all of a sudden, barely able to leave his throat. “So it stays here, right?”

She giggles again, bringing her lips within an inch or two away from his, taunting him, threatening to break his self-control, “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, Redfield.”

Golden rules of discretion, ones he mustn’t break ever. Especially not when his captain - Captain Gwen Winters - holds so much power over him.

[sobsicles]

Opening Line Tag Game

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @dont-offend-the-bees - thanks! ill just do my spn fics and not any ive co-written because i didn't start the first chapters for those, though they're very good (Season Z and The Bad Santa Clause, respectively, that are fics written by a group of many amazing authors!)

Dean starts falling in love with him on a slow Sunday morning under slanted sunlight that slips through the gaps in the trees. — six hundred sundays (and many more)

Why did the curtains have to be yellow? — i want to do with you (what spring does to cherry trees)

In a bar on a Tuesday morning, it's a few months out from the final shot at the world ending. But hey, Chuck's long gone, and everything has worked out for the best, and the world keeps right on turning. Funny how that goes, huh? — dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination)

There are certain moments in one's life when things go exactly as planned. It's like the stars align and the skies open up to reveal rays of sunlight and, against all odds, everything seems to be in perfect harmony. This is a phenomenon that Dean is genuinely not accustomed to, as it doesn't really happen for him. — finding hope (and finding him)

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment. — break the skin (to break the barriers)

The first time Dean and Cas kiss, it's not even really a kiss at all. It is, in fact, mouth-to-mouth. — a kiss for every season (literally)

The brass chip slides back and forth in a small path across the leaning desk Bobby has had for years and still hasn't gotten around to fixing. The chip reads: To thine own self be true. Unity. Service. Recovery. — separate ways and sleeping dogs

Getting used to Heaven is something of a marvel. It ain't perfect, and Dean thinks he'd hate it if it was, which is probably why it isn't. There's just enough human-esque nuances to it that keep it feeling like life rather than death, and he's thankful for that because he's got the smallest inkling that he should have gotten to live a little longer than he did. — oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith

So, the first thing that happens is Castiel comes back. It's at a pretty inconvenient time, considering the amount of pain Dean is in and how close he is to being dead. — things happen (they do, and they do, and they do)

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. — what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now)

It's different now, no matter how much they're pretending it's not. Mostly out of self-preservation, because sometimes their sanity is hanging by a mere thread and it's so obvious that they simply have no choice but to fake it 'til they make it. They've done a lot of that through the years, practically crafted it into a fine art, but this is the best performance yet. — according to all known laws of life

Time is different here. — what they deserve (it's better this way)

The first realization he remembers having is that the stars are oddly bright from where he lies sprawled on his back. The second, of course, is that there are troubling sounds coming from some vague point to his left. He supposes that's fair—vision and auditory processes are usually the first thing people make sense of when they wake. He knows that much, at least. Not much else, though. — Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You)

Dean would think that a failsafe like this wouldn't exist. It doesn't quite add up in his head when he sits down and thinks about it, but Sam assures him over and over that it's well within the realm of possibility for the Men of Letters--supposed smart people--to come up with something as stupid as this. — home is where the heart is (and you have mine)

The blackbirds start singing a dawn. — profoundly bonded (by law)

So. So, the thing about desperation, and want, and desire, and how it controls, is that it's all bullshit, and Dean wants absolutely no part in it. — staring at ceiling in the dark, same empty feeling in your heart (love comes slow and it goes so fast)

Cas wasn't a music fanatic of any kind, Dean knew this firsthand. Sure, he listened to whatever Dean was listening to, or whatever was playing in the car on long trips. But he never went out of his way to listen to music in his spare time. — listen to the song in my soul (only you can hear)

All things considered, Castiel found solace in the fact that his life couldn't get any worse than this. — Just A Touch

There were a few things that were known about Dean Winchester, undeniable things that hadn't wavered once in his entire life. — a helping hand (let's not be friends)

Dean was merely ten years old when he discovered that bridges didn't close the gap between two worlds. — The Bridges We Built

insane to me that none of these opened up on dialogue. i don't open up with dialogue that often, as it turns out. also, most of these fics are dean pov. only three of these out of twenty are cas pov (1, 12, 18). my personal five favorites out of these: 3, 5, 10, 14, 15.

im supposed to tag people, but like, i want anyone who wants to do it to do it! if you see this and want to do it, definitely do so! tag me if you do; i'd love to see your answers!

[onlyangelcas]

rosé flowing with your chosen family

my addition to @spnwomenweek ☼ day 2: family | read on ao3

“Claire,” Kaia says softly, placing her hand on Claire’s shoulder. “This is your family, what are you so worried about?”

Claire sighs, unsure of what exactly is so nerve wracking about walking into a house filled with her loved ones. Her back is resting against the side of her beat up station wagon, one sneaker kicking uselessly at the gravel under her feet and Kaia is looking at her with those concerned eyes that make her stomach knot up with guilt.

In front of her, past the somewhat wild front lawn, is Sam and Eileen’s new home, where their family is gathered for a last minute housewarming party. Sam and Eileen had put in an offer a few days after their wedding back in March, eager to get out of the dingy bunker and begin their life as a married couple. Claire was happy for them, Sam deserved a life of domesticity, just as Cas and Dean did.

It was weird, those first few weeks after the Winchsesters had defeated Chuck, God, whatever. Claire was devastated by the news of Cas being taken by the Empty, she hardly moved from her bed in the days following. Left confused, broken, and grieving an angel who was like her father in more ways than just his appearance. Kaia was supportive, of course, content to cuddle up next to her and run a soothing hand through her hair or convince her to eat a real meal at least once a day.

Before she even had the chance to fully process the loss of Cas, Jack and Dean had rescued him from the Empty. She remembered Jody’s voice calling out to her, she had slid from her bed and padded toward the front door. Claire was shocked to see Cas standing there, normal trench coat and suit traded in for a sweater and jeans, his hand tightly holding Dean’s. The two men had looked at her with concern, probably taking in her wrinkled pajamas, two-day-old bun, and the dark circles under her eyes. She had passed on asking the millions of questions that had flooded her mind in favor of wrapping herself tightly around Cas.

Claire had never been one to show her emotions so viscerally, but in that moment she couldn’t help the tears that quickly rolled down her cheeks. The joy of seeing Cas, when she thought he was gone for good, standing in her living room full of life and having apparently worked out whatever feelings he had for Dean, was overwhelming. Cas held her tightly while Dean ran a soothing hand across her back, and she wept openly for the first time since the Bad Place.

After that, things had returned to normal. Not normal for Claire, because all she had really known for the last few years was hunting, but the kind of normal where she didn’t have to kill monsters or worry that Sam and Dean were off getting themselves in trouble. There weren’t any monsters to hunt anymore, which left her feeling empty and useless for months. Kaia had pulled her out of that, like Kaia always did, and they decided to travel across the country and see the places they had never been able to enjoy before. It was freeing, to be on the open road, enjoying just being alive.

Claire and Kaia often passed through Kansas to visit Cas, Dean, and Jack at their house on the lake or to swing by the bunker to see Sam and Eileen. They never missed a birthday, wedding, or big event. Which is how they found themselves back in Kansas, Jody had called to let them know everyone was getting together for a housewarming party for Sam and Eileen. Her and Kaia had been in Memphis, enjoying barbecue and Blues, so the drive wasn’t too much of a hassle.

“Earth to blondie,” Kaia says, snapping Claire back to the present. “Are we going inside anytime soon? I’m starving, babe.”

Claire clears her throat, “Yeah, sorry. Lost in my head.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She looks into Kaia’s eyes, the usual soft brown painted with worry, and smiles in hopes it will ease her girlfriend’s concern, “No, I’m good, just overthinking. Let’s go eat.”

Kaia gives her a tentative smile, wrapping her hand around Claire’s and pulling her in for a chaste kiss.

They approach the front door, Claire raises her hand to knock but before her knuckles make contact the door swings open, revealing Sam with a grin spread across his face. He quickly wraps them both up in a hug and pulls them inside the loud and lively house. Claire and Kaia congratulate him on the house before breaking away to greet Jody, Donna, Alex, and Patience.

After hugs are exchanged and road trip updates are given, Claire slips away to the kitchen for a drink and Kaia heads toward Cas and Eileen who are clearly gossiping in ASL in the far corner of the living room.

Claire yanks open the fridge and helps herself to a beer, twisting off the cap and taking a long drink before propping herself against the counter.

“Hello Claire,” Jack says happily from where he’s sitting at the kitchen island, Claire hadn’t even noticed him when she first came in.

“Jack, jeeze, you scared me.”

“My apologies, I didn’t realize you hadn’t seen me.” Jack responds, his hands wrapped around a can of root beer.

“Yeah, I guess I was a little lost in thought.” She says, turning her head toward the door where the sound of Dean’s laughter is filtering through.

There’s a pause then, as Claire contemplates how she ended up here, with this ragtag group of former hunters, angels, and a witch that she calls family. It’s weird, she had always expected her dad to show back up one day and make their family whole again, back when she was young and naive. It’s even weirder, she thinks, that this band of misfits has become a better image of family than she could ever imagine to have with her mother and father. Claire had come to think of herself as a combination of Novak-Winchester-Mills-Hanscum for quite some time now, content to be part of this chosen family.

She still missed her mom and dad, from time to time, wondered what life would have been like if they had stayed with her. Claire never let herself spend too long on that path, knowing that if things had been different she would have never known Jody or Alex, she would never have known Cas, or Sam and Dean, she never would have fallen in love with Kaia. She has a family now; she found a mother in Jody and Donna, Castiel and Dean became her kind-of dads, Sam and Eileen the closest thing she has to an uncle and aunt, Alex and Patience are her sisters, Jack her brother. It’s weird and mismatched, but it’s hers and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Claire,” Jack says, breaking her out of her thoughts. “You seem troubled.”

Claire flashes him a watery smile, suddenly overcome with affection for her perfectly messed up family, “Actually the opposite.”

Jack smiles back at her, a gap-toothed goofy grin, “Oh, I thought you were upset.”

She pushes herself away from the counter, abandoning her beer on the stone surface, and makes her way over to Jack. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Claire, anything.” Jack says, his head tilting up slightly to lock eyes with Claire, who is standing close enough that she’s marginally taller than Jack sitting down.

Claire pulls Jack into a hug, wrapping her arms so tightly around him that her ribs ache, “I love you.”

Jack slowly loops his arms around Claire, resting his cheek against her shoulder, “I love you, too.”

She lets out a wet laugh, giving Jack one final squeeze before pulling away.

“Well,” A gruff voice says from the doorway. “Isn’t that just a sight for sore eyes.”

Claire whips her head around to find Dean lounging against the doorframe, his face soft with a bit of fondness in his eyes.

“Hello Dean,” Jack says, his face still twisted up in a goofy grin.

Dean stalks forward into the kitchen, quickly wrapping the two up in a warm embrace and pressing a kiss to the top of their heads. He pulls away just as quickly as he pulled them in, locking eyes with Claire and giving her a look that conveys all the words he can’t say out loud.

“Jack helped me get a bunch of Sammy’s baby pictures scanned onto a CD and I’m gonna put ‘em up on the TV for everyone, you don't wanna miss it.” Dean says, giving her a gentle pat on the back.

She laughs, “Sounds mortifying, I can’t wait to see Sam’s face.”

“C’mon,” He says, jerking his head toward the living room before turning and heading out the door.

Claire watches him and Jack disappear into the other room, smiling to herself as she snatches up her beer and heads into the chaos. Cas, Kaia, and Eileen are still deep in conversation. Jody and Donna are whispering quietly to each other on the other side of the room. Rowena, Patience, and Alex are pressed together on the couch, a martini glass dangling from Rowena’s hand as she gestures wildly, obviously recounting an insane tale as the other women listen with rapt attention.

She slides in next to Sam, who is leaning against the stairway railing, eyeing Jack and Dean with suspicion as they fiddle with the disc player next to the TV.

“This is a great house, Sammy.”

Sam looks down at her, smiling slightly, “It’s not bad, but it’s the people who really make it home.”

Claire returns his smile, then turns back to the scene in front of her; all her favorite people, the people she loves most in the world, gathered in one room.

Dean always says, family don’t end with blood, something his own stand-in father, Bobby, used to tell him. Claire never met Bobby, but she thinks he might have been onto something.

[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK V | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 5! Read Part 4 here!

SOUNDTRACK:

Falling - Opia.

Her - Majid Jordan.

Daylight - Maroon 5.

Word Count: 4,619.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, drinking, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Junior Year.

Las Vegas,

Nevada.

“Hey.”

You pulled up the cover, holding it over your body and looking down at Matthew. His head was perched between your legs, and his lips were covered in slickness. “Hey,” you replied. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, and placed a kiss on your inner thigh. “Wanted to ask you something.”

“Right now?” 

He laughed, “Oh, relax, princess. You’ll get your nut. I just wanted to see if...maybe, you might wanna go to Vegas?”

“Vegas?” you mumbled. “Why?”

“A bunch of us are going for spring break. I’m gonna be everyone’s tour guide, my mom is putting us up for the week. You should come.”

“You know what?” You smiled. “I should come. I really, really should. So, c’mon, get back to it.” You grabbed onto his hair, twirling it on your fingers. 

“Bossy,” he whispered. He leaned down and continued to eat you out. Your head fell back against the pillow, you let out a happy sigh. 

“Worst timing ever, Matthew. Ask me in, like, 10 minutes.”

He stopped, gasping, “10 minutes?” 

“Fine, 15, 20, I don’t care. Just please—“

It took approximately 16 minutes. Matthew was able to get you off with his mouth in no time, and the two of you tangled together in a sloppy kiss. His cock pushed into you, his hand wrapped around your throat and you went dizzy as he pressed his fingers into your neck. It was three in the morning, soft music was playing through Matthew’s room, the lights were dim. The brief seperation last semester happened, it was over, and you both silently agreed that it shouldn’t happen again. 

Since returning from Christmas break last month, you’ve gone back to your late night schedule. Aside from seeing each other in class and parties and hangouts, you spent the hours between midnight and three AM at Matthew’s place. It often left you tired for your 8 o’clock class, but it was worth it. You were getting dicked down — very well, by the way — Matthew and you were getting along, laughing and cracking inside jokes with one another. Things were great. Hence, Matthew’s invitation to Nevada. 

“So?” He said, holding you against his chest after the deed was over. 

“So? So what?”

“Vegas? Spring break?”

“To meet your mommy?”

“Well—“ he stuttered. “Yeah, it’s her house, so you’ll probably meet her.”

“You gonna bring me home to your mom? And say ‘hey, mom, this is [y/n], my nutty buddy.’?” You laughed. 

“If that’s how you’d like to be introduced,” he shrugged. “I was just gonna tell her your name and keep it at that.”

“Wow, I’ve never been so honored!”

You shook his head at you, giggling, “A simple no would suffice.”

You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips, “I’ll go.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll go,” you repeated. “To Vegas. Count me in.” 

“Cool,” he smiled. “Cool.” 

“Only if Claire can come, too.”

He sighed, “Claire.”

“That’s my condition. Take it or leave it, dude.”

He took it.

You got a few hours rest in your own dorm, and woke up promptly to shower and get ready for class. When you got out of the bathroom, Claire was awake, brushing her teeth in front of the mirror. 

“Hey,” you grinned, drying off your hair. 

“Morning!” She pipped.

“Hey,” You began to get dressed. “You didn’t have plans for spring break, did you?”

“In what world would I have spring break plans that you don’t know about?” She asked. 

“Right,” you nodded. “So, how would you feel about going to Vegas?” 

Claire stopped applying her makeup and turned to you, “Vegas?”

“Yeah. We fly out the Sunday before break. What do you think?”

She leaned against the wall, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Sunday...” she whispered. “This wouldn’t be, uh, the trip Matthew’s taking everyone on, would it?”

You took a step back, freezing from buttoning your shirt. “Well...yeah, I guess. I’m not sure, I just got invited by someone else.”

“Who?”

“Huh?”

“Who invited you?”

“Um—“

“Cause I can’t think of anyone in our friend group that would invite you on Gube’s trip, knowing...how you feel about him.” She crossed her arms.

“So...is that a no to Vegas?” 

She sighed, shook her head, “C’mon, [y/n]...”

“What?”

“Are you...are you fucking Matthew again?”

Her words hit like a bullet. They blew through you like a disaster, racking your stomach with nerves and knots and fear. You felt yourself falling in this pit of despair, of terror, the realization that your worst fear had come to life. And you could only say one thing: 

“Huh?”

“Oh, God!” She shouted. “You are! You’re fucking Matthew again!”

You gasped, “C-Claire, what...what are you talking about?” 

“Oh, cut the shit, [y/n]! I saw you guys in the pool at the beach house, okay?”

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes and ducking your head to avoid her gaze.

“Claire...”

“He treated you like trash, [y/n]! He fucked me, he fucked you, and broke your heart—“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. The Roni thing had you depressed for weeks. And I thought maybe Alex was getting your mind off it. Oh, my God, [y/n], tell me you did not dump Alex to mess around with Matthew. Please, please tell me you have not been running around here, letting Matthew Gubler put his dick in you.”

“Stop!” You shouted. 

“What is it about him? I used to have to pay you five bucks just to be in the same room as him. Now, he’s got you out at all hours of the night, and running off to Vegas?”

“What’s your deal, Claire?”

“My deal is that you’re my best friend. My very best friend. You deserve better.”

“I’m going to class,” you muttered. You continued to fix your outfit, moving on to your hair — which you quickly styled. You grabbed your backpack and headed out without another word. From you or Claire. 

You didn’t mention this spat to Matthew. You just began spending an abnormal amount of time at his place, but he didn’t mind. He welcomed you with open arms, supplied you with an ample amount of sex. He helped you study, waited up for you after ballet practice, and always, always kissed you goodbye when you left. 

When spring break rolled around, Claire and you weren’t on speaking terms. She was well aware that all the time you were spending away was spent with Matthew, and she refused to entertain it. She spoke roommate business with you, kept things civil, but there were no late night movie marathons or afternoon lunches. 

“I’m leaving for Vegas,” you told her, hauling your suitcase. 

“Okay,” she replied, flipping through a book on her bed, and not looking up from it.

You sighed, “Okay.”

Matthew greeted you at the airport, keeping his distance to keep from alerting the rest of your friends to the relationship. “Hey, where’s Claire?”

You gulped, “Um, uh, she’s not coming. I didn’t tell you?”

“Oh. No, you didn’t. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Hey, how much money do you think I can win in one week?” You changed the subject.

He giggled, “I’m gonna have to keep my eye on you, aren’t I?”

“And keep me close,” you whispered. “Very close.”

You sat separately on the plane, but took the same car to his house. Matthew held the door open for everyone, winking at you as you came in last. His house was charming, had family photos plastered on the wall. 

“Aw, look,” you murmured to him, pointing at a baby picture of him on the wall. “Little Matthew!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep it moving,” he rolled his eyes, and put his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the house. 

The group gathered in the living room, silently admiring the place. “My boy!” Matthew’s mom exclaimed, rushing from the kitchen with her arms wide open. This big smile grew out on Matthew’s face, and it made you smile instantly. His mom engulfed him a tender hug, holding him close, rubbing his back.

“Mom, you remember everyone,” Matthew said, his arm around his mom’s shoulders. He renamed everyone in the room, pointing them out to her. “And this is [y/n],” he motioned to you, giving you a faint smile. 

“Hi, Mrs. Gubler,” you greeted her. You reached out to shake her hand, and she shook it softly. 

“[y/n]...” She whispered, subtly glancing at Matthew. “Okay. Nice to meet you, [y/n].”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Matthew quickly ushered everyone upstairs. He showed your friends to the guest rooms, and while they were getting squared away, you waited in the hall patiently. He came up to you, your smiles mirroring each other’s, and the distance between you two was dangerously small.

“So, should I just set up my stuff out here? Lay down in the corridor?” You chuckled.

He shook his head, “Come on.” He grabbed your hand and your suitcase, and led you down the hallway. He pulled you into a bedroom on the right, set your stuff down on the mattress, and closed the door. 

“This is my room?” You asked.

“It sure is,” he nodded. “And the best part about it is that, there’s a room right next door.” He took slow strides up to you, a smirk on his face. You let him wrap his arms around you waist, pull you close. “And... tonight, or, every night this week, the door to that bedroom will be open. Real late at night. If you’d like to come check it out.”

“Oh, yeah?” You mumbled. 

“Yeah,” he put his forehead against yours, sighing. “I have to go talk to my mom. Be here when I get back.” 

“I might be,” you shrugged, watching him as he separated his body from yours. He gave you one last smile before leaving. 

Downstairs, Matthew’s mom was cleaning up the living room, talking to his roommate Steve. Matthew took a seat on the couch, kicking his feet up on the table. “Hey, my love! Is everyone settled in?” She asked Matthew. 

“Yeah, yeah, they’re getting there,” he replied.

“And your girlfriend?” She added.

He cut his eyes up to her, then Steve. Steve was chuckling under his breath. “I don’t have a girlfriend, mom.” 

“Oh? [y/n]’s not your girlfriend?”

“What? No,” he shook his head. “No. She’s not.”

“She’s new. I’ve never met her before.”

“Yeah...well, she...she’s my...uh—“

“Are you guys...are you...” His mom hesitated. He looked up at her, confused, until she raised her eyesbrows at him suggestively. 

“Oh, God, mom! Don’t ask me that!” He groaned, hopping up from the couch.

“I’ll explain.” Steve directed at Matthew’s mother. Matthew stopped in his tracks, and look at Steve, his arms crossed. “Matthew’s in love with [y/n].” 

“What?” Matthew shouted. “I am not—why would you say that?” His face turned bright red, the words flailing from his lips in jumbled stutters. 

“Oh, you really like her,” his mom grinned. 

“I don’t!” Matthew’s voice squeaked. 

“Matthew, I saw the way you two looked at each other. I saw how you came in with her, how you introduced her. You like her.”

“I’m hungry. Who’s hungry? I’m gonna see if everyone wants to go out for dinner.” Matthew rambled as he left the room. 

Matthew didn’t speak to you much throughout the day. He let you ride in his car, but not in the front seat. He started to pull the chair out for you at dinner, but played it off like that wasn’t his intention. It was his idea to show you all a nearby bar, and there, he was knocking drinks back, partying with friends, joking around. When you smiled at him, he pretended not to notice, and ducked his head down. And while your friends were keeping you plenty happy, you suddenly didn’t feel like being out anymore. 

You took an uber back to Matthew’s house, alone, and let yourself in through the back door as he had mentioned earlier. It was nearly two in the morning, pitch black, and you wound up getting lost upstairs. You waltzed into your room, at least you thought so. But when you opened the door, you came face to face with a room covered in movie posters, decorated with spooky trinkets. There was a blue undertone, a full size bed pushed against the wall and it smelled of smoke and mint. 

“You found it.”

“Ah!” You jumped, and turned around. “Fuck,” you huffed. “I’ve gotta get you a bell or something. What the hell, Matthew?”

“Why’d you leave tonight?” Matthew asked, stepping in and closing the door.

“I was tired. I wanted to sleep.” You shrugged. 

“In here?”

“I got lost. I can leave,” you sighed, and started heading for the door. 

Matthew grabbed onto your waist, and pulled your body into his. “What’s up, princess?” 

“Nothing. What’s up with you?” You scoffed. 

“What’s the supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been weird tonight! Why? Is it your mom? Are you — are you not comfortable with me being here?” 

“What? That’s crazy—“

“No, it’s not. Maybe me being here was a bad idea.” 

Matthew sighed, and ran his fingers through your hair. He turned away and walked up to his dresser, “You wanna know one reason I’m so excited to have you here?” 

You stared at the ground shyly, “Why?” 

He rummaged through his things, pulling out a small object that he craddled in his hands. “Because here...I have this.” He held up a sleek, professional looking camera.

You eyed it, stumped, “A go-pro?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Thought we could put it to use.” 

You tried to stifle your grin, “Put it to use?”

“Yeah. Let’s make a movie.”

You laughed dryly, “A movie?” 

“Yeah. A dirty one.” 

“Um...no!” You exclaimed. 

“Why not?” 

“Because...icky.”

He chuckled, “It’s not icky. It’s the same thing we always do. Just caught on film. C’mon, please? Pleeeease? I’ll make it tasteful.”

You rolled your eyes and exhaled, eyeing him intently. “Fine,” you agreed. “But, I have one condition.” 

“Name it.”

His bed was comfortable, soft. It permanently smelled like him. You laid on your back, your dress pushed up your thighs, and your panties laid on the floor. You held the tiny camera in your hands and had the lense aimed between your legs. You tried not to moan too loudly, Matthew working his mouth on you underneath the bed sheets. He was putting on a performance, twirling his tongue on your clit, sucking on it, humming in delight. 

You couldn’t help but touch his nose, admiring the way it sat on his face and grazed against your pelvis. You pressed your fingertip onto the bridge of his nose and ran it down to the tip, smiling down at him. He opened his eyes and peered in the camera. Watching on the camera screen, you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of his irises, his gaze filled with intensity and lust. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, your thumb tracing his cheekbone, “Come suck on my tits.” You commanded. 

He grinned, and he quietly began to kiss up your stomach. You kept the camera close to his face, capturing his every move. His tongue swirled around your nipple, and you had to push his hair out of his face to catch the action. The camera picked up the sound of your whimpers, the sight of Matthew gropping your breasts, his lips on you. 

Matthew kissed a trail up to your neck, sucking on your skin, so you could angle the camera and get a nice little shot of the two of you bundled up. “Give me this,” he whispered, taking the camera from your hand. 

He sat back and filmed himself undoing his pants, pulling his cock out and stroking himself. “Want me to fuck you?” He asked, and angled the camera at your face. You looked into the lense and nodded, twirling your hair on your finger. 

He bit down on his lip, pointed the camera back down at his cock, and pushed the tip into you. He listened to the wet sound of him sinking inside of you, pulling out halfway and them slamming back in. You tensed up and gripped onto the duvet cover, gasping. He immediately focused the camera on your face, watching through the screen as he pounded into you. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, your eyes rolling back. Matthew was practically drooling over you, huffing and puffing as he writhed on top of you. His shoulder were too far away for you to grab onto, but you dug your nails into his torso. You face was laced with pleasure and estacy, sweat forming on your forehead, your lips parted slightly. 

Matthew’s other hand held onto your face, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. He continued to record your face as his thumb slid into your mouth. 

“Look at me,” he begged. “Look at me.”

Your eyes flickered up the camera, your lips tightened around his thumb and he nearly exploded. “Oh, God, you’re so hot,” he huffed. “You’re so fucking hot, princess.”

You whimpered against his skin, your jaw dropping down to release strangled moans. His hand dropped down to cup your boob, massage it between his fingers. He centered the camera on your chest, watching as your boobs bounced up and down. The camera followed his hand down to your clit, and he recorded himself fucking you and rubbing the sensitive nerve. You trembled underneath his touch, beginning to fall apart. 

“You gonna come, baby?” He panted, camera pointed at your face. You nodded quickly, your face hot, your lip caught between your teeth. “Come on, come on my cock.”

His voice sent you over the edge, and the camera caught everything. You — quivering, groaning, moaning, gritting your teeth. It set Matthew on fire. He fucked you through your orgasm, until you were melting into the mattress. His hips bucked into you sloppily, and aggressively, now videoing his cock with the camera. 

He moved the camera perfectly, capturing the moment he pulled out and came on your dress. His hand moved quickly to jerk himself off, until every last drop was on the fabric. He crumbled into a fit of breathy groans, hunching over and trying to catch his breath. 

“My dress,” you whined.

“Well,” he sighed, shutting the camera off. “Guess you’ll just have to take it off then.” 

By the time spring break was over, the two of you had made 5 videos. The number of times you fucked, however, was much greater. You were grateful for an opportunity to get back at him for every hickey he’d given you in the past. You constantly left marks on him that he had to hide from his mother, and you enjoyed every second of his squirming. Feeling much looser and more relaxed in Vegas, the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. Still secretive, still sneaky, just...less. You even got up the courage to sit on his lap in front of everyone, and no one said a word. 

They did, however, let you sit with him on the plane ride home. 

Matthew gave you a kiss on the cheek before you headed back to your dorm. You stepped up to your front door, took in a deep breath, and stared at the peephole. You weren’t ready. Ready to tell Claire everything that had happened. Even though there was no one in the world you wanted to tell more. But she had made her feelings about the situation very clear, and you had to respect that. So, instead of facing up to her right away, you left. You didn’t even think about why, or where you were going. Because the destination was obvious.

“[y/n]?” Matthew said as he answered the door. He looked down, noticing your suitcase still at your side. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, locked myself out the room. Can I stay here for a bit? Just until Claire gets back.” You asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded, letting you into the suite. 

You got to his room and instantly crashed on his bed, feeling so comfortable. “Jet lag?” He laughed.

“Amongst other things.”

“You really need to let your body adjust to the time change.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, pulling the covers over your body and snuggling into the pillows. He laughed at you, and sighed. Then he crawled into bed with you, and you let him hold you close. Thinking you were falling asleep, Matthew lightly ran his fingers down your cheek. It was soft and gentle and felt nice. And you desperately wished for a way to have this. To have him. Without losing your best friend.

But things between you and Claire just got worse. 

Over the next few weeks, she not only kept you at arms length, but Matthew as well. Despite living with you, she found creative ways to keep your conversations short and brief, and oftentimes would leave before you got back from Matthew’s. And despite being Matthew’s friend, she managed to avoid him at every party, every class. It just sucked. Because you were so, so happy, and then there was Claire. 

“We have to move out,” she grumbled as she entered the room.

“What?” You were stocking your mini fridge, but stopped to look at her. 

“They’re kicking us out because of this goddamn virus! Fuck!” She shouted. 

“What? Where’d you hear that?” 

“The school just sent out an email.”

You rushed over to your bed, grabbing your phone off your mattress. The email notification popped up, causing a vibration in your hand, and you opened the app right away. All NYU students to be moved out of campus housing by Sunday.

“Sunday?” You shouted. “Sunday? They expect me to pack all my shit in 4 days?”

Claire would’ve responded, but she was too busy already getting her stuff together, and you were occupied with rampant thoughts about, well, everything. You’d have to pack. Everything. Clear out your room. You’d have to call home. Have someone help. Fuck. You’d have to live at home. Home. For months. You couldn’t go out on campus, couldn’t see your friends, your friends!

Matthew. Oh, God. Matthew. 

He crossed your mind everyday for the next 2 days, as you packed your room into boxes and bags. He didn’t attempt to contact you, probably too busy with his own packing. Your family would be picking you up Saturday morning. So, you felt it best to go say goodbye on Friday. 

It was almost midnight, and you had just finished packing. You stood outside of Matthew’s bedroom door for a long time, after having been let in by his suitemate. Before you could knock, the door swung open and the two of you nearly collided. 

“Oh! [y/n].”

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he mumbled. “I was just on my way to see you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, I’m leaving tomorrow morning. So, I wanted to come say...goodbye.” The words were hard to push out, and they hit Matthew even harder. His heart sunk to his stomach, and he wanted to do anything, anything, to make it go away. 

He grabbed onto your face and pulled you into a passionate kiss. You instinctively gripped onto his shirt, your face contorted in shock and confusion. He pulled you into the room, slamming the door behind you. 

“Matthew,” you whispered, but he continued to press his lips to yours. “Matthew.” You repeated as he began to kiss your neck. Your legs started to go weak, your breathing sped up. “Matthew, wait.”

He stopped abruptly and looked you in the eye, your face in his palm. “What is it?”

“I just—“ you sighed. “Are you okay?”

He digested the words for a second, looking down at you with a soft gaze. He kissed you once again, arms now around your waist, chest pressed against yours. You gave in. You both needed this. 

It was hungry. Eager. Clothes were torn off in less than a minute. Matthew pushed you onto the bed, tangled his fingers in your hair and devoured your body. He left a trail of hickies from your neck, to your chest, to your rib cage. The sensation was so overwhelming that you couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling, attempting to control your breathing. 

Soft kisses on your thighs led to an intense session of him eating you out, him pressing you against his face, his tongue encircling your clit. You rolled your hips against his mouth, gasping his name and pulling his hair. He worked himself to the brink, his jaw going numb, until you cried out his name as you came. It was an other-worldly, hypersensitive, super sonic orgasm. And it took you a minute to recover. 

His body laid on top of yours, his lips on your neck, his torso between your legs. You whined into your mouth as he pressed his dick in you, slowly, gently, until he was buried inside you. You could feel his arm muscles contracting and relaxing under your touch. His breath hit your shoulder with each quiet groan that escaped his lips. He put his forehead against yours, watching your face as he moved in and out of you at a steady pace.

You hummed softly, and kissed his lips, then his cheek, then his neck. His mouth dropped open, and he couldn’t stop himself from moaning. “Oh, my God, [y/n],” he panted. He never said your name to you. Ever. Very rarely. Especially not in bed. And it tore you apart. You held onto him for dear life and looked him in the eye as you massaged your clit.

Your moans increased in volume together, both of you nearing your release at once. You whimpered uncontrollably, your eyes fluttering closed. You couldn’t see Matthew watching you, but he was. He watched the way your hair framed your face, your expression of pleasure. He placed soft kisses all over your face, and the moment he caught your lips on his, you came. You accidentally bit down on his lip, and he let out a weak moan.

“S-sorry,” you whispered. 

“It’s okay,” he nodded. “It’s okay. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, baby.”

He followed his words with a grunt, slamming himself into you. Your chests rubbed against each other’s, the bed squeaked along with the movement of Matthew’s hips. His moans became breathy, vulnerable, and he proactively pulled himself out of you. You dazedly reached down and stroked his cock, watching his face as he trembled. He said your name again, faintly, very faintly, in a fit of moans as he released himself onto your stomach. 

You were sticky and sweaty and gross — both of you — but you held each other close, panting and wheezing. 

You spent the night at his dorm for the first time that night. The two of you slept cuddled up, his head on your chest, your arms wrapped around each other. At six in the morning, you woke up and slid out of bed without waking Matthew. You kept your vision away from him as you got dressed. And when you were ready to go, you turned to him and admired him.

He looked peaceful, soft. You wanted nothing more than to wake him up, stay in bed with him for hours. But you couldn’t, and you wouldn’t. So you gave him a kiss on top of his head, and you left.

[PART 6.]

[rechoired]

A problem with the Tales Of Arcadia community

First and foremost, I’d like to ask anyone taking the time to read this to please read the post all the way through before commenting on the matter. There is a lot of dirty laundry to unpack here, and some points will be building off previous ones.

I’ll get right to the point. Most everybody in the Tales of Arcadia fandom will have heard of the blog imthegingerninja / ginger-le-gay. She is one of the most well-known ToA-centric blogs, after all. (If you’re wanting to avoid her on Twitter as well, her account is Margaret Bell, or @The_Book_Bell.)

This is your PSA, TOA fandom: Ginger is a toxic, manipulative person.

This is not a claim I like to make lightly, but it’s long overdue that this issue is properly brought up within the fandom. 

I’ve seen so many people wonder why the Tales of Arcadia fandom is so small. Well, I and many others very strongly believe that Ginger is one of the main reasons for that, if not the main one. To make matters easier, I’ve tried to break this down into some main points. So let’s take a look at how Ginger falls under this category.

Disclaimer: Please DO NOT look at this post as an excuse to harass Ginger or any other blog mentioned here. This sort of behavior is NOT acceptable. The point of this post is to educate those who may not know the extent of her harrowing behavior, nothing more.

1. Dishonesty and Death Threats

[EDIT: Shortly after this post went up, she started blatantly lying about me to try to cover for herself. You can see those lies being easily disproven here]

Ginger has been kicked from at least three Tales of Arcadia servers, all for similar reasons of violence. While I cannot provide screenshots as I am no longer part of the servers they were in, there are multiple witnesses that can verify the disgusting behavior she engaged in. The one I saw specifically was her saying that certain members of the fandom should be gathered up and hunted for sport, among other gross things. (Elaboration of why can be found in point 3, though it still doesn’t excuse this kind of talk)

Here is some points made by another blog that also sums up similar issues with Ginger, though:

While there were multiple instances of her inciting violence towards others, this is unfortunately one topic I cannot provide specific screenshots for at this time. But I will add them in as I can find them. That being said, I want to move to the dishonesty, something I do have a screenshot for.

While you could argue that people sometimes notice the similar things, this is far too close together to be considered an “original find”. The reblog button is there for a reason, but she instead decides to steal the OP’s premise and present it as her own original thought.

There have been a couple other blogs that have confirmed that their theories and analysis posts were often stolen and presented as Ginger’s own as well, to the point where they stopped bothering even making such posts, as the above blog points out. (Out of respect for their privacy, I will not be naming these blogs. Say what you will about that possibly weakening my point, but if she’s willing to so blatantly steal from that person shown above, it shouldn’t surprise you that she’s so willing to do it to others.)

Theory-making and analysis posts aren’t as solidly “original content” as a piece of art or fanfiction, sure, but it’s still common fandom courtesy to give credit where it’s due. Ginger has intentionally avoided extending that courtesy far too many times.

2. Hypocrisy

Most of this is going to be about past Merlin vs. Morgana drama, though there are also words to be said for the incredibly shaky relationships she forms with “friends”.

But first let’s talk about those wizards.

This is a topic I’ve tried to approach with Ginger before, but she borderline refused to acknowledge any of the points I was trying to make, and when she did, I don’t know if I just wasn’t being clear or what, but it honestly looked as though she was purposefully trying to misunderstand what I was saying in her bizarre responses. (To be fair, I was sending messages out of anger because she vagueposted about a blog I admired, calling them a “disgusting creep” because of them simply saying they’d hoped Jim and Merlin would be able to actually bond at some point... Not really a justifiable reaction to such a harmless thought, in my opinion. But my point is, I recognize that the circumstances may have clouded my ability to vocalize my thoughts clearly.)

That aside, we should first acknowledge this post Ginger made to save face after having gotten some backlash about hate-train related things (Side note: I couldn’t find the original post, so this is a screenshot I got from someone else. I did not add the writing. The text underneath it should still be slightly readable, I hope.):

Taken at face value, this is a very reasonable post. I think everybody would and should be able to agree on it. Hate-meme him for fun, sure, but don’t actually harass or insult others over a fictional character. Simple, right?

Apparently not, because Ginger’s done loads of that to others. Probably why the “LOL” was added in, I bet.

This post confused me. First of all, exploring dark topics (”angst”, as you put it) has never been a rare occurrence, every fandom has that content, most in heavy abundance. I’ve noticed no staggering difference in volume of this fandom compared to others I’ve been in. People enjoy angst not because they think the character “deserves to be in pain”, they enjoy a fictional blow to their own emotions. There’s lots of different reasons people like angst, but it’s barely ever been out of a genuine hate for whatever character’s the focus, from all the things I’ve seen. Your own friends have indulged in Jim angst and body horror posts before, does that mean you think they’re awful people? I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain something like this.

Also, way to basically admit you think all Merlin stans get off on child torture. So much for “If you like Merlin as a character, you’re valid”, am I right? God, what a mess of a post. (It’s been very recently deleted, which makes me wonder if she got more backlash on it, but just... wow.)

Let’s look at another one.

Again. Vagueposting about someone specific, I’d wager, since most of the people I’ve seen comment on this topic either think both characters are morally gray, or hate both. 

But of course, when it comes to Morgana, suddenly excusing bad behavior can be justified. Ginger can call someone a disgusting creep because they want a familial bond between Jim and Merlin, that’s just wrong, but pushing the Mom-gana narrative with the genocidal abuser and Toby is completely fine, folks.

(Note: I would like to point out that I really don’t care about what theories and hopes people have for Morgana. You should be allowed to love that character in any way you want, same as I would say for Merlin. My issue with these examples is the completely brazen hypocrisy in which these two characters are treated. You’re obviously allowed to love Morgana without consequence, but the same should be said for any character of the show, and yet it’s not.)

The most obvious instance of this double-standard is well observable here, I believe: 

... I think this mostly speaks for itself. Sorry, but this is very blatantly trying to excuse Morgana’s actions, here.

Oh hey, remember that post about Ginger saying that liking Merlin must mean you want to see Jim in horrible pain? 

Say anything similar about her with Morgana, and suddenly she takes issue with this line of reasoning! 

I’m sorry, but if you can’t take this sort of thing, then you shouldn’t be dishing it out. One of your own friends is still getting hate over the simple fact of liking Merlin, and all this mentality is exactly why.

Let’s look at one more.

Fun fact! Morgana horrifically abused somebody for centuries, tried to kill multiple kids, took horrible advantage of Claire (probably traumatized her), and canonically wanted to genocide humanity, not to mention all the OTHER murders she's committed, both directly and indirectly.

But somehow pointing any of this out “doesn’t count”. This is why the fandom keeps saying more and more things like this: 

And this:

I could be going through her constant hating on Merlin and people who like Merlin for days straight, but I hope you all get the idea by now.

Again, I would like to just reiterate: You can like whatever character you want for whatever reason you want. The problem with this case is the hypocrisy and mistreatment of others, not your taste in characters.

Now interestingly enough, she’s lately been singing a different tune about the guy, switching from the “I hate Merlin I hope he dies!!!” mentality to “Oh he should get a redemption arc too :)” sort of thing.

I’m highly convinced that the only reasons for this “change of heart” is because of the constant backlash she was getting for the obnoxious amount of hate posts being thrown around all the time, but also because Aaron Waltke keeps tabs on the fandom more lately, and has spoken himself about Merlin not being a villain.

I could go on about this point forever, but I think I’ll just leave the Merlin topic with this post going through the hypocrisy of the Merlin Hate Train. In fact, here’s two just for fun.

Now onto more real-world focused areas of hypocrisy. One such instance can be found in Ginger’s Janus Disorder server. 

Just take a look at this post.

While the offender in this case isn’t Ginger specifically, it still takes place in her server, and she made no moves to enforce her “No discourse” rule. All over... what? A random kudos on a fanfiction that’s not even about anything controversial since all characters involved are adults? I immensely don’t understand the point of why this ever had to be an issue, or why nobody spoke up about how ridiculous this is.

I’d also like to point out a certain user called firecat17. For some quick context, waaay back in the Kung Fu Panda fandom (around 2018), this user had been harassing people and saying incredibly vile things, a person of which Ginger had a bit of a feud, but firecat’s anon threats had gotten to the point where Ginger ended up having to block their IP. 

Obviously, the user firecat was the one in the wrong, here. (Also, the irony in this comment is through the roof...)

Interesting point there, Ginger. Sure would be nice if you practiced what you preached.

Why am I bringing this random old drama up, you may ask? Well, it just strikes me as strange that someone who was so vile to Ginger is suddenly on her okay-list again, sending her asks and getting casual responses as if nothing ever happened.

To be fair, there is the possibility that they worked out their differences in private. But given the severity of the kinds of words being exchanged, I would still find that rather suspicious.

When someone who’s said things so vile can be so easily forgiven, yet something as harmless as leaving a kudos on some random fanfiction is considered grounds for harassment, it’s obvious there’s no stability or room for trust among this group of people. Unsurprising when there’s been several instances of this “friend group” turning on each other.

If you think you’re somehow different, that your “friendship” with Ginger or the others is more valued than that, then I’m sorry to burst your bubble but it’s likely not true. She’d throw you under the bus at the hint of you doing something she deems problematic, as it’s happened to multiple blogs before you.

3. Demonization of and insensitivity towards s*xual abuse victims

(This topic is one that’s hard for me to talk about, being a victim of CSA myself, so I’ve gathered some different sources to do most of the main talking for me. I tried to form more commentary on this myself, but I get too emotionally charged in my responses, and I don’t want that to cloud any reader’s perception of what I’m trying to communicate here, so I’ll try to keep most of my comments brief on this one.)

One thing recently brought to my attention about Ginger and her squad that especially bothers me is their rashness in labeling people p*dophiles and p*do apologists. If these claims were true, then I wouldn’t have a problem with it.

But these people are accusing others of these horrible things and threatening them on the sole basis of fictional content.

Now before you fly off the handle at me, let me be very clear: I absolutely understand that there are gross people out there who use the “It’s all just fiction” argument to hide their actual, pr*datory behaviors. (We’ve all probably seen at least one or two neckbeard memes of that caliber)

But like it or not, exploring traumatic themes through a fictional lens is something that has been studied and proven to be a genuine coping mechanism for some. It’s not something that works for me, but I knew a few people from past therapy groups that it worked surprisingly well for. Bringing a trauma into a controlled environment and processing it through fictional means can and does help some victims deal with what they went through. 

It’s important to understand that not everyone processes their experience in the same neat, little boxes you have laid out as the only “acceptable” ways of coping. Trauma fiction and expressive arts therapy are commonly used by victims, and it does help some people, whether you like it or not.

I’m already dragging this on too much, so here are some sources for better-worded information on the topic (Warning: Most of these deal with highly sensitive themes such as gun violence and s*xual abuse.)

Source 1 - Source 2 - Source 3 - Source 4 - Source 5 (pages 61 onward, specifically) - Source 6 - Source 7 - Source 8 - Source 9 - Source 10 (and believe me, if those all don’t satisfy you, I can easily supply more.)

And this quote from source 9 I think sums it up best:

“Fiction works differently. My imagination gives me a framework to process the grief and terror and the consequences, even when I myself have not found any resolution. It allows me to enter my own traumatic experiences sideways and linger inside them, if I know I can give them to characters who might be lucky enough to find the antidote: love, connection, community, family. In other words, I can enter — and exit — the trauma loop through stories that are not exactly the same as mine.

This goes for the reader also. Recent studies periodically assure us that stories — literary fiction, hardcover books, even the simple act of reading — promote empathy. We rarely have identical experiences, so fiction is how we practice linking our similar or parallel realities so we can feel them. This seems particularly useful in our current society, where we are all so separated, and are working so hard to block the violence that keeps happening to us from our minds.

Fiction connects us, and it can also contribute to our healing. When we see ourselves in worlds we don’t live in, like The Handmaid’s Tale or The Color Purple, sometimes, that very different violence helps us finally process our own. Because as much as our memoirs and testimonies are brave and validating, fiction does not just mirror our truths so they are safe to experience; it also helps us endure the aftermath. Because long after the immediate experience is over, survival struggles onward, in every moment of our daily lives.”

While most professionals have in the past advised that victims keep their trauma-related works more private, to only show it to your trusted friends or family, the fast-growing use of the internet has led more people to sharing it in an online platform, which is not unexpected behavior.

I unfortunately don’t have the screenshot of the original post, but there was a post made some time back literally telling a fandom member to go and hang themselves over this garbage. A survivor of s*xual abuse, no less. And to top that off, one of Ginger’s squad @emmy-puff commented in support of that violent post, as well as blatantly misgendering the target of it. While, again, I was unable to get screenshots, there are multiple witnesses to this instance, one Anonymous even having called them out on it back when it happened. (I suspect that Emmy deleted that answer due to how bad it made them look.) If anybody reading this has screenshots of the initial post or the ask that came of it, please feel free to share.

I don’t care who you are or who you’re talking about, if you use misgendering someone as a way to hurt them, then you are an insult to the trans community. That is an awful thing to do, and you lose so much credibility if that’s the only thing you can fall back on when getting in a fight with someone. While this post isn’t about Emmy specifically, this is exactly the kind of hateful rhetoric that’s being encouraged in the environment Ginger’s made.

Another thing I would like to point out on this matter is an instance that happened in the ToA fandom a couple years back. I, again, don’t have screenshots available (I believe the original post ended up deleted) but the post in question caused enough of a fuss that I’m sure a few people must remember it... 

A while back, there was an artist that posted uncensored, untagged r*pe art of Aaarrrgghh, Gunmar, and Jim in the main Trollhunters tag. As you can imagine, this infuriated many people. Many of which are among the list of those who’ve been labeled “p*do apologists”. Almost the very minute that post showed up in the tag with no trigger warnings of any kind, the fandom immediately got on OP’s tail about it, because they all shared that basic understanding of “This is a traumatizing subject for many people and they should have the ability to avoid it”. If the people you’ve labelled as pr*dator supporters were really as awful as you say they are, they would’ve jumped to that person’s defense, too. But they were completely against OP’s horrible lack of consideration of survivors, right alongside the rest of the fandom.

Am I saying you have to like trauma fiction? Absolutely not. Are there people that make trauma fiction that are actual pr*dators? I’m sure there are. But those people would be that way whether trauma fiction was out there or not. Gross people have existed and will always exist regardless of what media is out there.

I deeply understand the controversy, uncertainty, and stress that surrounds this topic, I promise you, I do. But the fact of the matter is, some people actually do use trauma fiction and expressive arts therapy as a way of coping, as has been observed in people even from ages as young as 5. To say otherwise is blatantly untrue. This isn’t a matter of opinion or morals, this is plain, studied facts that you cannot change about human psychology.

Nobody should ever have to go through something as horrible as s*xual abuse of any kind, and I know how deeply upsetting it can be to see certain images or stories with those themes in play. Those users with a sense of decency and understanding for fellow victims will tag their posts with the appropriate warnings. After that, it’s up to you to filter out what you don’t want to see. You curate your own internet experience, and it’s just plain irrational to try and harass everyone into conforming to your rules. While it’s an 18+ blog’s job to make sure to tag and label their content appropriately, it is your job to block the things you don’t want to see, whether you’re an adult or a minor. It is YOUR job to blacklist content that you know will upset you, because it is always going to exist on the internet, and any internet user needs to know and understand that. Multiple times I’d seen people going off about posts that were already appropriately trigger-tagged. If you don’t have those upsetting tags blacklisted by now, then the fault is mostly on you in that kind of case, not the OP.

Before I end this topic off, just one more example of blatant disrespect towards victims:

I’m sorry, but the absolute nerve of comparing some random fictional character you’re petty over to an actual pr*dator who’s terribly hurt real children is just awful. Imagine how insulted one of Onion’s victims would be if they saw that. Lord.

Ginger claims to care about victims, but she’s made it abundantly clear that she only cares about those that behave the way she think a victim should.

4. Ableism 

I’m going to just show a couple posts here and let them mostly speak for themselves. 

Just... my God. You looked at the definition of psychopath and decided that was enough to give you qualification to speak like this about it? Do you realize the extensive work and study of human psychology goes into the diagnosis and understandings of psychopathy? Not to mention, you just admit to thinking people deserve hate because of a mental disorder they legitimately have no control over? I’m sorry, but that is just cruel. Demonization of the mentally ill is not cute or funny. Next.

While I’m still annoyed with Emmy’s transphobic treatment of another user mentioned earlier, they make a very solid point in this instance. (The first post they referenced has since been deleted, but here’s the second one speaking out against the ableism.) I feel I don’t need to add much to this, as these points have already been argued very well by users better qualified to speak on the subject than I.

5. Manipulation tactics

This part is more observations of two kinds of abuse tactics Ginger appears to demonstrate, using the above as points of reference. 

First, there’s DARVO.

Then, less formally, there’s this good point about online cult mentality.

Before you say anything, obviously I don’t think Ginger thinks of herself as some sort of deity. While it could be argued that she considers herself a point of authority within the TOA fandom maybe, I haven’t seen enough of this to say for sure how far that goes. So that point can be ignored, because it mostly doesn’t apply in this case. (The “Dictating parts of your online life” might also not apply, but I can’t say for sure as I haven’t gotten any confirmation of that sort of thing in Ginger’s group.)

But there are grains of truth in the other four points, especially that last one. Plain and simple, she’s made people afraid to speak their minds about even harmless things such as character analysis.

Ginger is someone who can’t seem to comprehend different viewpoints and life experiences. She’s extremely unsympathetic towards people she doesn’t understand, as can be observed in above examples. Assuming malicious intent from everybody you can’t understand is a dangerous and hurtful mindset to have, for both you and those who you unnecessarily scorn.

There are a few outcomes I’ve speculated should she ever come to see this post.

1. She will ignore this post completely, pretending as if it doesn’t exist

2. She will dismiss me as being some sort of horrible person, a p*do apologist or something of the sort (despite being a victim of that myself, clearly she doesn’t care about who’s actually been hurt by real p*dos or not if they don’t conform to her narrow worldview), and claim nothing I’ve said bears any meaning, despite the extensive evidence I’ve provided.

3. She will get people to try and attack me. 

4. She will actually address these points in a tactful, mature, and serious manner instead of her usual act of trying to dismiss everything at the slightest hint of non-conformity. (The least likely outcome, but one can dream.)

I could add to this post all day, but it’s long enough as it is and my focus was on getting the main points out of the way. I understand that I lack some of the receipts necessary to back myself up in a few parts, but I know that many other fans have bared witness to those things, so I know there will be at least some people who’ll know what I speak of is true, and that’s good enough for me.

That being said, if anybody has screenshots of the instances I wasn’t able to provide for, it would be greatly appreciated if you could add them into the conversation.

!!!-If you have screenshots, but are too uncomfortable to get involved in this, then you can private-message them to me and I would be grateful and more than happy to add them in while keeping you completely anonymous.-!!!

(I've removed the section with all the tags, as I recognize it was probably going overboard. My goal was just to spread information, not to try and involve those tagged, but I understand how that may have gotten lost in translation and made people uncomfortable. Also, it apparently was showing up multiple times in people’s notifications when I only tagged people twice, so I’m not sure why that glitch happened, but I apologize for that annoyance as well.)

Now, to end us off, my responses to questions or angry comments I’m probably going to get:

You don’t even have all the evidence! How are we to know you’re not just lying about some of this?

Admittedly, I don’t have as much screenshot proof as I would like, that’s true. But for most of the instances I couldn’t provide for, there were other witnesses to her bad behavior. I don’t really have the need to lie when there’s already a lot of knowledge out there of the bad stuff she has done. Nor do I really have the emotional investment in this fandom anymore to lie for the pointless reason of causing drama.

Why post this on a throwaway account if you think people are on your side?

I just don’t really want my main blog associated with TOA anymore, to be frank.

You tagged a bunch of people, so you must be trying to get them to attack Ginger!

No. I tagged a bunch of people because I think this information should be heard on a wider scale, considering the position Ginger has in the fandom. I don’t want her or anybody else to be attacked, but her negative impact on this fandom deserves to be acknowledged.

Again, I don’t think Ginger or any of the others deserve harassment or cyberbullying or anything of that manner, that’s kind of what this whole post is against. And it just hurts the situation more than it helps it. What bothers me is how she’s never apologized for or even once acknowledged the gross way she’s treated people. While she might be more low-key about it now, she still treats people who don’t deserve it like garbage. There are still several people upset about the damage she’s caused to this fandom, rightfully so. I wouldn’t be so loud about making this post if I didn’t think it was something worth drawing attention to. 

Thank you for reading.