#pick one they’ve all contributed

[the-lily-blooms-late]

brain is absolutely ROTTING besties

[gothwineaunts]

Wow, hello!

So, I was actually feeling pretty motivated to write this post yesterday. But things have gotten exponentially worse, and I admit the pressure is getting to me. There seem to be a ton of expectations surrounding what I should be saying here, in order to… I guess, absolve myself? As if there’s a checklist people want me to go through to perform the “perfect” creator apology. But, I don’t see the point. I care a lot about this community and I think you deserve something a lot more sincere than some hollow chat-gpt apology. I understand that that’s foolish, on my part. Things are done that way so often because they work. But what you’ll find throughout this post, is that I’m kind of an idiot about some things. I’m stubborn and hard-headed and a little bit pretentious. And so, what I’m planning to do here is to simply tell you the truth about what happened. No cherry picking. All my mistakes, but also the context that goes with them. And at the end, my formal apology. This is a long and winding tale with a lot of characters. I’m going to be sharing some usernames as we go, in the interest of clarity and transparency. You’ll understand why with the context. But please do not seek these people out. Don’t pick fights with them. It will only make everything worse, for all involved.

Cool? Cool. But first I need to address the elephant in the room. This will probably seem like irrelevant drama at first, but this is the nuance and background that I wasn’t adequately able to articulate the night before last. In more ways than one, this is a story told in twos. The first set of twos is you, the readers. Who you are, and what you’re hoping to find out in this post.

1.      The overwhelming majority of you, are earnestly wanting to understand what has happened in the Nevermore Discord. You are concerned that I am not who you hoped I was. You are disappointed, and I understand why. To you, I am so sorry. I want to say that things are not as bad as they seem, but that is not for me to decide. You will need to draw your own conclusions from the words I write. And I understand, whatever you choose to do next.

2.      And there is a small, but incredibly vocal minority of people who are absolutely living for this. They are spreading complete fabrications with no screenshots to speak of. Horrible, horrible accusations. People who are more excited about watching a dumpsterfire than they are about the series that brought them here in the first place. I’m not going to attempt to cater to those people in this post. Because nothing will ever be good enough. Everything that can be taken in bad faith will be taken in bad faith. It would be pointless. But you’ll see them in the comments and reblogs. This is a known group to not only myself, but many others. I will share some of their names in a later section so you know who to watch for. They will make a lot of noise around this post because they’ve been trying to make something like this happen for actual years. And now that I had a genuinely concerning response that good people reasonably want me to explain, they’re lunging at the chance to throw absolutely anything at the wall. It’s parasocial levels of hatred. This is some deep and horrible lore.

The next set of twos is how two things can be true at the same time. And that is exactly what is going on here, in this situation. Let me be really clear, because I don’t want either truth to be lost in my explanation as they are intrinsically linked to one another.

1.      I did a downright terrible job explaining myself in the Discord when people started asking about crimson. I can give you all kinds of contributing factors for this, and I might later. But none of them really matter. It was incredibly careless of me to use “egging them on” and “cried wolf”  to describe what I understood. At the time I was really laser-focused on expressing what happened as simply and quickly as possible because the channel replies were paused and I felt like everyone was just waiting for me to be finished with my message. But after stepping back, I immediately understood how badly I messed up, because of course these idioms are routinely weaponized against survivors of SA and CSA. That is not how I intended to use them. It was an unfortunate case of one thing looking and sounding like another thing. Incredibly ham-fisted and irresponsible on my part. To the survivors who read my words and felt that it echoed their past experiences, I’m heartbroken that I did that to you. That lapse of judgement was a betrayal to both you and me. I don’t know where my head went, and I’m just blown away by my own lack of awareness in that message. So for that I am and will continue to be sorry.

2.      The second thing that can be true is that, while you are all absolutely owed an explanation and an apology, there are also some people amongst you who are using this fuck-up on my part as a springboard to take me down.  These people have been trying to get a call out post to pop off about me for at least a year, and they have been very quick to jump into the reblogs and comments about this very serious topic with complete lies and slander. Just, anything that might stick to the wall. We’ll address this later on as well. But please understand that me discussing the harassment I’ve faced from these groups is not at the expense of me also owning up to my faults and taking the proper accountability.

And the last set of twos is one I’ve alluded to in the first sets, concerning a pair of toxic side-servers that ran adjacent to the main Nevermore Discord. Completely unofficial cliques. And invisible to myself and Flynn and our mod team. We were eventually made aware that both of them were breaking laws and Discord ToS in ways that leaked into our server and affected our members negatively. As such, both groups were mass-banned. And the cliques are the ones running a majority of the discourse you’ve been seeing here, because while they are formally banned from the discord, we have absolutely no say in their participation on Tumblr. Now, keep in mind. Both of these groups were uncovered after crimson was banned the first time. That’s important later.

Clique #1

My understanding of the first group is that it started as a gaming server for people who met one another through the Nevermore Discord. I don’t know when or why it started being used to talk shit about other readers, but I do know that it got really vicious. And it was sort of an open secret for long before I knew anything about it. I found out after that there were a lot of people passively in this server, just observing. It was that much of a spectacle.

Now, this clique had been pretty rude. Like they’d try to start fights with me in the discord fairly often, both in the Patreon and free spaces. But it wasn’t grounds for dismissal until we found out about the baiting and the alts.  These people had a lot of grievances, but one really united them: they were extremely upset about anyone who would ship Prospero.

Many of you know, that Prospero is an aromantic character, canonically. And you may notice that canonically, he has no apparent love interest. But this group wanted to make sure other readers were not thinking about Prospero in relationships, or creating ship content of him for any reason on the grounds that it would be considered a “proship.” I told them (and I stand on this) that it’s not up to them to police the thoughts of other readers, and that aromantic people have widely varying lifestyles and experiences and do not need to be infantilized that way.

This turned out to be a bad move on my part, because it brought with it an onslaught of alt accounts coming in and "innocently" kicking up what I now refer to as the “prosp-aro” debate every time they had the chance. But because of this and what a common occurrence it was, we started being able to pick out the alts. And we realized that this group of people had been using the same alt accounts with different names to antagonize certain readers they’d decided they hated, and it had gone on for a long time.

I did a lot of investigative work in dms trying to figure out who all was responsible for the harassment, and settled on a list that was vetted by three different people who knew about the clique. And all three of these people insisted that, while Laci was in the group and in a lot of the screencaps saying pretty dubious things, that she was good people. So I believe them, and let Laci stay. This group was banned on April 3, 2024, and contained the following users:

-          lilnatx (nat)

-          suitino (sushi)

-          jj_the_jet_plane (layden)

-          rivsticks (jasper)

-          atheimee (athena)

-          jinxs.com (lanx/jinx)

-          smartestginger (nico)

-          thereallandofbugs (bugs)

-          rosienemui (rosie)

These were the names they were known by on the Discord. I don’t have the Tumblr accounts tied to these identities. But some might be the same. I know a lot of them are here.  It should be noted that jinx was later unbanned due to pressure from Laci that they had been banned in error, after the fact. We allowed them back in after a few days as a favor to Laci since the situation seemed like it was very stressful for her. This would prove to be yet another a mistake since, as you have probably seen in the screenshots from the night before last, jinx rapidly escalated things to another level while I was trying to figure out how to handle crimson’s unbanning and subsequent rebanning an hour later.

Clique #2

Phew. Still with me? Great. The second group we needed to ban was one that actually started long before the first one, but was a lot smaller and comparatively more subtle. This group, to my knowledge, cropped up around the time that ep. 39 of Nevermore was released. (11/10/22) We knew about this group but not who all was involved in it or in what capacity for a very long time. They would consistently post things on Tumblr trying to start a scandal. I recall posts alleging that we were racists, or SA apologists, or that we were sending death threats to a random confessions account.

To be clear, these allegations are completely false. This clique will say anything. Like a recent post one of them put up during this discourse said that hiwi (our mod) is both a r*pe apologist and a childhood friend of mine and that’s the only reason she hasn’t been banned. Hiwi is absolutely nothing of the sort, and I have never met her in person. In fact, she lives on the other side of the continent.

Now, this clique is a little different than the first. The first, to my knowledge, was a group of friends that got toxic and felt morally superior about their opinions and it all kind of got away from them. The vibe was a little catty, I guess. Gossipy. But this clique has more of a stalker vibe. It’s dark.

They’ve had it out specifically for me for as long as I can remember. And some of them (at least one, at all times) would subscribe to our patreon, both to sow dissent in our stream chats and also to leak literally all the content back to the others, including me talking about random shit like what I ate for lunch. Just so they could like. Laugh about it, I guess. I’ll never understand why. [Editing note: because in the final moments of proofreading this post I see one of these people has made some master post about what a terrible person I am? A lot of those screenshots are from Patreon channels and the guy STILL has them laying around. I’m telling you, they stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.] 

The biggest grievance this clique had is that any ship with Montresor is an “SA fetish ship” because to them he is a r*pist because of how he made Ada bark (?) and since Montrada is canon, that means we are supporters of SA, and that Morella and Ada should be together instead. Listen, I’ll level with you, this one baffles me. I don’t even know how to begin to untangle it. But if you see a lot of vitriol about us being SA apologists from these users, it’s because Montresor exists. That’s pretty much it.

You can ask them for screencaps ‘til you’re blue in the face, but unless they build fake ones from the ground up, they’re never going to be able to back up their wild claims. Simply put, they’re provocateurs, and they use the scariest words they can to whip people up into a panic.

We became aware that they were leaking patreon content when one of them was caught publicly referring to things that were being said behind a paywall when we knew they weren’t a patron. It unraveled from there.  People who knew about their antics shared screenshots and information with us, and we finally realized the scope of the clique’s hatred and banned whoever was even left in the Nevermore Discord. But they continue to be active in the community on tumblr. You’ll have seen them around. They were banned on 5/11/2024 and the names involved are as follows (again, a mishmash of discord names, nicknames, and tumblr accounts):

- percy (gremlinguy145 on tumblr)

- queenmorningrose (annabel-lee-nevermore on tumblr)

- spoopycactus630 (spoopy-nevermore-dump on tumblr)

- grif/horrorshow (conscience-grim on tumblr)

- unreqiknizd

- duke aralt (westofthestyx)

- eden (sapphic-mad-scientist on tumblr)

- priemium

Again I’d like to reiterate. The point in sharing these names is not to incite any sort of response against these people. But they are folding themselves into the fray and doing what they can to whip everyone else up into a mob, and all as we’re talking about a discord server that they have been banned from for months now. The above context is also relevant for the next section, which is why you’re all here in the first place.

What the hell happened with Crimson?

I hope it’s not confusing, but now we’re going back to 3/14/2024, before anything I just outlined above had come to light. The cliques were quietly doing their harassment and baiting and raiding and whatever-the-hell behind the scenes, but Flynn and I and the mods were blissfully unaware of how bad it was getting. We get a dm from Laci. The same Laci who was part of Clique #1 and was rescued from being banned with the others by her friends outside the group. Jinx’s friend, who managed to get them unbanned as well. You have probably seen these screencaps already, but I will show them to you again, just in case.

Sufficed to say, we were immediately alarmed by the information Laci shared in her DM with us. Now, I want to be very clear about this because it’s been lost in the game of telephone. What Laci outlines in her dm to me, were the events that occurred between six users (including crimson) in a group chat with minors. Everyone in the evidence was censored (pfp and username), as was the image that crimson showed them. When I asked, Laci agreed to give me one name of one of the minors in the dm. I’ll call them Alice, but that is not their real name. I asked if I could talk to Alice about this, I was told by Laci, no. Alice doesn’t want to talk. I was like, ok I understand, that’s fine. 

I hope it makes sense when I say that it is not feasible for us to moderate the things that happen in peoples’ dms. As you’ve seen above, the mod team doesn’t usually get involved with drama unless whatever is happening is directly affecting the experience people are having in the Nevermore Discord because that is all we can see and the only place we have any real authority.  But this was obviously a special case. We banned crimson very quickly without asking any follow-up questions, because of course we did!? I’ve seen people say I’m harboring or defending crimson or that we’re buddies but we barely spoke, ever. They were a stranger to me then, and they still are now.

But something about the entire situation wasn’t adding up to me. And I want to be clear that none of this is in any way meant to discredit csa survivors, I’m really just trying to put you in my headspace and walk you through my thought process. But I found that the evidence was just, sort of strange. Laci started her dm explaining that she found this information out because she and a group of people were investigating crimson for ‘art tracing’ which felt, to me, like a bizarre non-sequitur and totally irrelevant next to the evidence of them showing nsfw content to minors. Petty, kind of. Like I wanted to ask – why were you doing that in the first place? People trace Flynn’s art all the time. As long as they’re not selling it, it’s not a big deal.

Most of the crops are from a PC but the windows are oddly small, and only contain a couple messages at a time. Some have American formatted time and some have European formatted time. So different users, I assume? The names were blotted out, which I would understand for a public call-out but not for a private report to the mod team. Laci was not in this gc at any point in time, despite being the one to report. 

One of the users was apparently 12, to which I ask – what is a 12-year-old doing on discord at all? If we knew who they were, we would have reported the account. Discord is not a safe place for a child that age, let alone a small group chat. Along with 18-year-old Crimson, there was also a 22- and 17-year-old in the chat, which left us wondering – why hadn’t anything been done?

I had no evidence that anyone ever told crimson they were minors, and I feel if it existed, it would have been in the screencap dump (I find that sometimes a noticeable lack of key evidence is evidence in itself). No one seems to have tried to kick crimson from the group chat or report their account for inappropriate behavior. Then there’s the fact that this is a group chat. Anyone in it can leave at any time. 

Then I came across the messages that started this whole gc, and it only got stranger when I realized Alice started it, called it “Women Lovers” and created it “so we can talk about Nevermore women without having to filter ourselves” after they all reacted to a sultry but sfw drawing of Lenore that crimson had made and posted in our hideout channel. And all that made me wonder why Alice didn’t just kick crimson, if she had admin power?  Do you see what I mean? It’s just all a bit head tilty. I noticed it at the time. But I said nothing. Because it didn’t matter. Crimson, no matter what happened, exposed minors to nsfw content. And that’s on them. And I’ve never in my life defended it. We banned them.

Crimson was beside herself. She came off humiliated and apologetic, and insisted she had no idea and begged to come back to a community she said she loved. But we told her no, there’s no coming back from doing what she did.

Time passes and we uncover Clique #1. And while we figured out who the main players were, I dmed with Laci. And it was Laci herself, who tells me that it was Alice who made most of Clique #1’s alt accounts, and that it was Alice who used those alt accounts to harass people and try to get them to start fights or say something that might get them in trouble. 

And I’ll be honest with you, the mod team still didn’t think much of it, outside of – we need to figure out which accounts were the alts. So we did. We had several confirmed to us.  And those accounts were zeroing in on certain users that the clique didn’t like. At the time we noticed two notable targets in addition to the mod team. I won’t name them, it’s their business if they want to weigh in about all that. But in screencaps, they’ll be labeled Target #1 and Target #2.

More time passes and Clique #2 comes to light. As you can imagine, by now we’re feeling disillusioned, and very tired of trying to moderate shit we cannot see for ourselves. And that’s when crimson comes back to very hesitantly ask if they might be able to appeal their ban. It wasn’t until then that it occurred to us that Laci (on behalf of Alice) was the only one who ever reported anything to us about Crimson. 

And I want to just say that again. Because it’s gotten lost too. Laci was the only person who ever reported Crimson. There was not one single other person who ever sent a modmail or a dm or even a ping to anybody on the mod team. I have since (only yesterday) seen some screencaps that are rather skin crawly, but even those happened in yet another side server. Thinking on this, the mods went back through the known alt accounts Alice had used. And they found that Alice harassed crimson both on her main account and on the same alt accounts that she used to harass the other targets.

By now, Alice is banned for completely unrelated reasons. Not because of what happened with Crimson. I’ve seen that one flying around and I’m sorry it’s just not true. It’s because she was relentlessly harassing and cyberbullying people in the discord we moderate. Laci is still there, but had lost my trust, for being involved with both the drama I’ve mentioned here and more that I don’t care to dip into. It’s ultimately irrelevant. But what am I going to say to Laci? “Hey, did you and Alice, by any chance, coordinate some kind of bizarre trap together to get crimson banned from the discord because you suspected them of tracing their art?” And once again. Because I want to keep this top of mind. Even if that were the case, it doesn’t make what Crimson did alright, and it never will. Sharing nsfw content in front of minors is a disgusting thing to do. And one that we frankly are really irritating about in the moderation of the discord. I’ve heard people say that we over-moderate when it comes to art. 

But all this stuff about a “known pedophile?” If it was known, then we were on the outs. And to even this minute right now, I don’t have any conclusive evidence that Crimson is a pedophile. The evidence I have is that Crimson shared nsfw with a group of people whose ages they did not know. Which is fucking gross. It’s an adult’s responsibility to make sure they’re speaking with other adults before posting things of that nature. 

But at the time, the way I read the situation is that Crimson had only just stopped being a minor and was egregiously negligent in how they were speaking and what they were posting, likely in part due to them not being aware enough of their adult responsibilities.  And hey. I know some of you are chomping at the bit. You can call me naïve for this! This is what I’m referring to when I say that I can be a real idiot. But I feel everyone has been very quick to call Crimson a pedophile. I know this is pedantic to say, but the prerequisite for being a pedophile is “being attracted to minors.” Based on the information I had at my fingertips, I did not think Crimson sought out these minors. Crimson was invited to the gc, they did not ask to join. 

I have seen discussions about all the things crimson did to their victims since we unbanned them but I have not seen screencaps to support that whole ‘marriage proposal’ thing, and again I think it sounds a bit odd coming as a pedophilia accusation from someone only one year younger than crimson.  

But you know what? I don’t know crimson. Maybe we were wrong. But even if we weren’t, I realize in hindsight that it was a stupid decision for the mod team to give them a second chance. We didn’t have anyone to consult about what happened because all the other people in the chat had been obscured from me and I didn’t feel like Laci would give me a straight answer. 

The mods and I felt at the time that crimson, like the other targets of Clique #1, had been singled out and that they deserved another very closely monitored chance in the discord, which they said they still missed dearly. I’m a bleeding heart, alright? A total sap. I know that. But being honest with you, I felt bad. It feels horrible to be singled out and targeted. And I was probably too close to that feeling at the time, seeing as we were on the tail end of finding out the Clique #2 had pursued me so relentlessly for so long. 

So for my part, I’m sorry. I made a rash decision that was influenced by some very personal circumstances. And we should have left it alone. Based on the evidence I've seen, I don’t know if I personally would call crimson a pedophile and certainly I wouldn't call them a known pedophile, but I am regretful that we risked it either way.

When I was trying to explain all of this in the west common room channel two nights back, things had boiled over and were already getting out of hand very quickly. A lot of brand new accounts were joining the discord with one word intros just to start conflicts in the public server with crimson. Alts. Either from banned users or burner accounts. And I got panicky. One of the mods paused the messages in west common room but no one besides me was available to handle the situation at that moment. Reacts about being silenced were pouring in and I felt pressured to quickly take over and try to explain. 

In my rush, I stupidly didn’t backread more than a quick skim. And I ate shit, y’all. You saw. One thing I want to state outright. I’m talking a lot about my thoughts and my feelings and it’s because I don’t wanna speak for Flynn or for the mods. But I didn’t make this decision alone. In fact, I was dragging my feet and being really lazy about okaying the whole thing. Just because I was busy, not because I was fretting over it or anything. But I had to be pinged and then literally tapped on the shoulder by Flynn, asking me to respond to mod chat when this was being discussed earlier that day. That doesn’t change the fact that I was part of the decision. I agreed to unban crimson. Foolishly. I understand that, now. 

I hope that now it makes some more sense though, how it came to happen. I never meant to hurt anyone. My own past and present feelings got in the way, and I own that. But in the moment, my personal intention was to give crimson a second chance because I felt that they’d been targeted by Clique #1. Not to ignore anyone’s concerns or make them feel unsafe, even if those were the ultimate outcome.  

So, completely underprepared and defensive, I jumped into west common room and I just. Blew it. Totally fucking blew it. I knew it instantly but it’s hard to stay logical when people are telling you you’re vile and evil and they’re sick that they ever thought you were a good person and that they’ll never see you the same way again. My mind went blank and I don’t really remember much of what happened next. But I said what I said, and I should have done better. 

I wish there was a word bigger than sorry. I’m beside myself. I know there was probably a way to make everyone happy. To make everything okay. But I wasn't clever enough to figure it out in the moment, and it eats at me. So it’s like I’m sorry for my poor judgment and my terrible choice of words, but there’s another layer where I’m also sorry for not matching how wonderful this community is with how wonderful (or well, unwonderful) I was two nights ago. I promise I am going to work harder to be better for you all.

Again, to every victim of SA and CSA, my heart is with you, more personally than you might realize. I don’t think I could have handled my explanation in a worse way. And I’m so so sorry.

Moving forward, I am also going to take an enormous step back from moderating and participating in the discord in general. I feel like a lot of this happened because I was still treating it like it belonged to a smaller fandom, like Shiloh’s. But realistically, I don’t have time to both moderate and make the series itself, and I really dragged my feet on being honest with myself about that. And for that too, I apologize. We’re going to get more mods, they’re going to have full control of the moderation, and Flynn and I are going to do what we love more than anything in the world and just make Nevermore.

I understand if you won’t be there for it. This is not a flattering picture I’ve painted for you. And you’d be well within your rights, to decide not to give us another chance. But it's been a pleasure to lurk here in this wildly talented corner of tumblr. And I’ll never forget it. <3 Yours truly, -Kit Trace

[readwritealldayallnight]

Right With You (Part 2)

Captain John Price x Reader

wc: 2.8k words

warnings/tags: fluff, mutual pining

“Any time you’re ready lass, would be real convenient!”

“Well you’re kidding me right?” You shout back to the Scot stood on the other side of the door. “This isn’t actually the dress you expect me to wear??”

“Laswell wanted something where they wouldn’t suspect you’d be able to hide any weapons on you.” Gaz, equally waiting for you in the hallway, attempts to interject some logic into the situation. “Sorry if it’s a bit small…”

“A bit small? I don’t suspect I can hide myself in this thing! Let alone a gun.” You mumble to yourself, begrudgingly pulling the zipper as high as you can manage in the garment. Admittedly, it’s not the worst dress that could’ve been picked out for you.

It is your size, and it’s certainly not constricting enough that you worry it’ll compromise your ability to perform the mission tonight. It definitely is much more form fitting than anything you’ve worn in a long time, and certainly hugs your figure in a way the 141 hasn’t seen before, leaving you feeling apprehensive.

But Soap is right, unfortunately. You don’t have time to waste feeling self-conscious about your outfit, you’re here to play a role tonight. And part of that role is going to have to be coming across as much more confident than you currently feel.

Taking a deep breath, you smooth the fabric of the skin tight dress down, definitely not trying to dry the nervous sweat off of your hands. Deciding to just get it over with, you swing the door open, stepping out in the hallway to meet the waiting Sergeants, pointedly avoiding their eyes. At least, until Soap lets out a wolf whistle.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph… look at you bon…” Soap murmurs under his breath, heavy gaze looking you up and down.

“Shut up, Soap.” You grumble, adjusting the hem of the dress, feeling a blush spread across your face.

“Nah, he’s right, love. You look proper stunnin’.” Gaz adds, doing a better job of keeping his eyes on your face, a kind smile plastered on his own. You offer him a meek smile in return, brushing your hair over your shoulder.

A part of you feels silly. You’re got makeup on, your hair is done, you’re wearing a pair of modest but still fancier-than-you’d-ever-really-wear heels, and a dress that leaves little to the imagination. In comparison to the intimidating, fully geared-up, macho Sergeants stood before you, you look like you belong in different worlds, let alone the same task force.

But even you cannot deny, this get up of yours will certainly catch the attention of your target, which is the whole point of this operation. It doesn’t feel like it right now, still smelling of hairspray and remembering not to accidentally smudge your lipstick, but you are contributing the team, which is all you ever really want.

Any doubts that still linger in your mind are immediately squashed however, the moment your Captain turns the corner and locks eyes with you.

“Ah Cap! Finally got this one out of her cave.” Soap teases, having spotted Price. His elbow playfully nudges your side, and though you’d usually get him back with as much vigour, you cannot avert your gaze from the pair of sea glass orbs that slowly, oh so slowly, move away from your own and take in the sight before him.

You can see his throat bob as he swallows harshly, heady gaze travelling from your heel strapped feet, up your legs, perhaps straying a fraction of a second too long on your chest, before landing on your face again. Any feelings of self consciousness have been completely erased, your cheeks feeling as though they might be catching fire with how warm they’ve become.

“Everything in order?” He asks, slowly slinking his way closer to the three of you, a hand reaching up to scratch through his beard. You notice your Captain is fully geared up as well, and you hope you haven’t been making everyone wait for you as you got ready.

“Aye, sir.” Gaz confirms with a nod, hands grabbing ahold of his tactical vest. “Do we know which vehicle I’ll be takin’ her in?”

The plan was for Gaz to act as your driver, taking you as close to the gates as he would be allowed to go. The rest of the lads would be approaching from a different direction, finding their own opportunities to get as near as they can without drawing attention. The goal was still for you to distract the target, and hopefully lure him to a secluded spot where your men would be waiting for him.

In theory, it should be straight-forward enough. You’d memorized photographs of your target to be able to pick him out of the crowd more easily, there were a handful of other operatives that would be lingering throughout the party, ready to interfere should something go wrong. Really, all bases had been covered and accounted for, which is why you were genuinely surprised to hear the Captain say:

“Slight change o’ plans. I’ll be takin’ her myself.” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine, something you hoped wasn’t noticeable to the two men who were now glancing at their superior in confusion. “I want you on with Ghost and Soap. We’ll rendezvous once I’ve seen her in.” He reaches into one of his pockets, pulling out a pair of keys.

You can tell the Sergeants want to ask questions, glancing between each other and Price, but the Captain’s voice holds a certainly finality to it, that they choose instead to nod in agreement.

“Sure thing, Cap.” Gaz says to him, before turning to face you. He offers your upper arm a gentle squeeze of encouragement. “You’ve got this.”

“Aye, yer right she does! We’ll see ya on the other side, aye lass?” Soap forgoes the gentleness of his colleague and instead gives you a firm but loving punch to the bicep. The men offer their Captain nods of acknowledgement, before they’re slinking their way past him and down the hall, leaving the two of you alone.

With a few feet still separating you, you poke the floor with the tip of your shows, suddenly finding his gaze too heavy to meet.

“I know. I must look like one of those beauty pageant toddlers they ha-”

“Beautiful.” Price cuts you off instantly. Your head snaps up, finding him to be stepping closer, shortening the distance between your bodies. “You’re … so beautiful.”

Okay, now you’re certain that it has to look as though you’ve applied an absurd amount of blush to your cheeks, feeling your face grow impossibly warmer at this compliment.

“Don’t even try an’ call yourself anything else, love, because you won’t be convincing me.” He’s now stood in front of you, only a foot apart, so similar to how close he’d been just a few nights previous, as he taught you to dance. His hands claps and unclamp at his sides, as though he’s unsure of what to do with them suddenly.

He knows what he wants to do. When you’re shyly smiling up at him like this, sweet blush painted across your soft skin, wearing something like that, all he wants to do is hold you as close as he once dared to, to feel your heart beating rapidly against his own, to slide his hands up to your face and pull your lips to his once more, just once more.

However, he knows he has to be a Captain right now. The two of you aren’t hidden in the privacy of his office late at night, where the consequences of your actions feel inconsequential in comparison to the heat building between a man and a woman. You’re in a public hallway on base, where anyone could walk by and see you, not as two individuals with raging, undeniable chemistry, but as a soldier and her superior.

Price knows how hard you’ve worked to get to where you are now, and how much pride you take in everything you do. He would never want to risk putting you in any position where someone could question how you earned your way up the ranks. He is still your Captain, and as new and exciting as whatever has begun to build between the two of you is, in addition to how tight the front of his slacks have suddenly become, he has to remember that fact.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly to him, equally aware of your surroundings. “You’re driving me now? Something happen?” You can’t help but to ask with a raise of your brow.

“Nah,” he informs you, jutting his chin in the direction where he’d come from, indicating you’d best start heading to the garage. He permits himself to spread a palm between your shoulder blades as he walks alongside you, a perfectly respectful, appropriate touch, but still an excuse to get his hands on you. “You’ll have to forgive me love, but I’m not lettin’ any of these other muppets alone with you while you’re lookin’ like this.” He tilts his head down enough so that only you can hear him, giving you a quick wink when he sees your eyes widen slightly.

“I think I’ll be a little more forgiving when I’m not wearing these heels anymore.” You tease, trying to not let his comments get to your head. This is the first time you’re alone with John since he’d kissed you in his office those few nights ago. From such a large, intimidating, burly man, you might have expected his kiss to have been rough, commanding, assertive.

But the way John Price had held your face in his large palms, gaze scanning your expression for any hint of reluctance, groan of desperation rumbling in the back of his throat, he was nothing short of reverent. When your lashes had fluttered shut, his lips met yours in the softest, gentlest caress, as though he were still waiting for you to change your mind. Realizing that you weren’t going anywhere, he allowed himself to release a deep breath of relief though his nostrils, warm breath fanning across your features, as his lips more insistently pressed against yours.

His stubble grazed your skin and you both stood there for what might have been a minute or an hour, the rest of the world long forgotten as you held one another close. Truly, John could not recall the last time he’d felt so at peace. Everything just felt so right with you.

When he had eventually pulled away, lungs desperate for air, your gasping breaths met in the middle as satisfied smiles tugged at the corners of your mouths. Still holding onto you, John had pressed one final kiss to your forehead, before declaring that it was well past time you made your way to bed, watching as you practically floated out of the room, both of your hearts still threatening to leap out of your chests.

“They hurtin’ ya?” He asks in concern, glancing down at the heels in question.

“They’re alright. Don’t think heels are meant to be comfortable honestly. You oughta start making recruits wear ‘em as punishments.” You joke, earning you a small scoff and a sideways smile from him.

“Well, m’afraid you’ve still got a long night ahead of you yet, pretty.” You’ve finally made it to the garage, and he opens the door for you, letting you walk in first. If you catch him looking at your bum it’s only because he’s making sure his soldier is ready for a mission, definitely nothing else. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good. I’m ready. I feel ready.” You’re surprised at how confident your voice sounds as you answer him. It’s true, you do feel as ready as you can be for this mission. You’d all gone over every aspect of the mission again in that morning’s briefing. The impromptu dance lesson from John put your only real concern at ease. But a small part of you isn’t being so truthful. Yes, you’re ready for the mission and you’ll do whatever has to be done to ensure its success. However another part of you, a part that been lying dormant until only recently, doesn’t feel so ready to dance. At least, not with someone who isn’t John. You don’t feel ready to put your hands on someone else, and to in turn feel their hands on your body.

But this is what the mission calls for this time. Hell, maybe if you’re really good at your job you can sweet talk the target and get him alone without ever having to get him on the dance floor. The sooner the job is done, the sooner you’re out of these heels, and back with your boys (because you definitely love them all equally and don’t favour any superior at all, nope).

“That’s good.” He says, eyes scanning the garage for the vehicle he plans to lead you to. Noticing a distinct absence of anyone else present, Price allows the hand between your shoulder blades to slowly slip down more towards the small of your back. “We’ve already got eyes covering nearly every inch of that place. We’ll be closer than you realize.” His reassurance is welcome, as is the heat that his wide palm spreads to your skin through the thin fabric of your dress.

You walk up to a black armoured vehicle, one of the bases more civilian resembling ones. Price leads you to the side door, where you presume he’s going to open the door for you again, but instead he leans his shoulder against it, turning to face your front.

“Grabbed this for ya.” He says, reaching into another pocket before extending his palm out to you. The tiny earpiece almost looks comically small in his massive hand, but that’s the point. The device is small enough that no one should notice it, and it’ll allow you to stay in contact with the rest of the team while you’re inside. You take it from him, ignoring the spark that shoots through your nerve endings at the feeling of your skin touching his for a brief moment. Slipping the device in your ear, you wait for him to move from the door, but he still remains in his spot.

“Anything else?” You question, brows scrunching in confusion, noticing that he’s not exactly meeting your gaze anymore. His eyes meet your once more, almost as if he hadn’t himself noticed his distraction.

“Right, yes. Um-” He’s reaching into his back pocket, appearing as though he’s more reluctant this time around. What he pulls out, steals your breath away. A shimmering, simple jewel the size of your thumbnail hangs from a delicate chain. This item clearly didn’t come from the armoury nor the technology sector of the base. “Wanted to give you this as well. Wanted you to have it.” His fingers delicately wrap around your wrist, gently pulling your hand up to slip the jewelry into your palm, closing your fingers around it.

“John…” You say, taking the time to admire the necklace, and how each angle catches and reflects the light so stunningly.

“It’s a panic alarm as well.” He explains after clearing his throat. “You press on it and I’ll come runnin’, love. No matter what.”

“It goes to everyone?” You question, holding the necklace up to the light.

“No. Just me.” At that, you lower your hand, gaze shifting back to his eyes, which haven’t left your face for a moment. “Want you to feel as safe as possible on this one. You feel hesitant about anything, you press it, and I’ll be there.” He steps closer now, reach to hold both your hands in his own, attempting to get across how serious he is. Mission be damned, you are your safety is his priority.

“Just you, huh?” You whisper, gazing up at him with a look on your face that if you could see, you’d probably want to smack off. But right now, you can’t feel anything but grateful towards the man in front of you.

“Just me.” He whispers back. You stand there for a while, holding each others hands, gazing into your eyes as though the answers to the universe are hidden in them, if only you can search far enough. But you know that time is ticking. Wordlessly, you slip your hands from his, holding the necklace up for him to see. With a lift of your brow, you tell him everything he needs to know, turning around so that he may slip the dainty jewelry around your neck.

As he fastens the clasp securely, his hands rest atop your shoulders, spinning you back around to face him.

“I’ll be with you the whole time.” He says. “Right with you.”

Part 3

[b1rds3ye]

Helloo!! I've seen the LED Mask Reader x 141, and I got an idea that the mask gets wet by anything, water, drinks, whTever you can think off, and it malfunctions, and Readers mask is still worn despite it like just being pure bLaCK, and the squad is just trying to guess what mood reader is in? :DD

PLEASE THIS IS SO FUNNY. The 141 cares about you, they know you inside and out, but they’ve taken the mask for granted when it comes to knowing your emotions. You were the most expressive member of the team but now your mask was broken and due to how specialised the parts for your mask are, it won’t be fixed until another week.

Soap absolutely tries to turn it into a game. He keeps goading Gaz on to make a bet about what your mood is but it becomes quite impressive how they manage to read you by body language alone now, they’ve picked up quirks about you that you didn’t even notice… or so they think. They can get into quite heated debates about who knows you better.

“Their shoulders rose with that breath, they’re pissed.”

“Nah, that happens when L.T. forgets his mask is on 'n' steals a drink, they’re laughing.”

“They’re just breathing you twats,” Ghost sighs as he walks past. The sergeants always huff at his answers but he's right more often than not.

Simon doesn’t join in on the sergeants' antics often, not unless he can benefit from it. If Johnny raises the bet high enough he’ll contribute his own take on your mood. These days though the sergeants dread him joining in, Simon’s experiences both with a mask and being a superior in the military gives him the upper hand at reading you.

The easier way would just be asking how you're feeling but for one, that's not fun. And secondly, a private beat them to the punch.

"You all good, Masky?"

"Yep," you reply curtly as the private takes the sign to move away. The 141 members all stare at you, recording that singular worded response into their mind, rewinding and then repeating the sound again and again. The choppiness of your syllable suggested irritability, evident by Gaz's satisfactory smirk. He stands up tall, ready to approach you and comfort you...

Until one soldier beat him to it, the only one who had the all the more experience than any of them.

"Drink up, Sergeant," Price states as he slides a water bottle across the table to you. You catch it. "Thirsty, aren't you?"

"... how'd you know?" you ask, flabbergasted.

"Captain's intuition," he replies, leaning back on the desk, arms folded. He shoots a look to the rest of the Task Force. He's getting that money.

(Jokes aside, these antics only happen on base. When out on missions, you're all on the same wavelength and often times the 141 know how you feel before even you're aware)

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[troublesomesnitch]

Uneasy Lies the Head

Aegon Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen (but subtle)

This is my contribution to @targaryen-dynasty's Sleepover Challenge! I was given the prompt only one bed/forced proximity and came up with this little drabble.

Contents: masturbation, lots of incestuous vibes, but no actual incest (sorry). Also minor 'historical' and HOTD inaccuracies.

Words: 1600

Military camps are a humble affair. Even for a king. 

They have been on the march for days, waiting for news of the enemy’s movements, and enduring the most discouraging conditions. Dust caking onto their skin, painful bug bites, and having to shit in a ditch in the woods, just to name a few.

Aegon’s tent is the nicest by far, but it is still a poor imitation of what he is used to. There are furs laid out on the ground, and an oil lamp hung from the rafters, but the banner on the wall is crooked, and the furnishings leave much to be desired. All they’ve arranged for him is a wobbly table, six uncomfortable chairs, and two cots on the ground. 

One for the king, and one for his brother. 

They have not shared a chamber since they were boys. Aegon doesn’t mind it so much, but Aemond’s mouth forms an even thinner line than usual, and he makes a terrible fuss when he undresses for bed. It will be scorching hot in the tent come the morning, but his shirt stays on, and he pulls at the edge until it reaches the middle of his thighs. Lest anything indecent be on show. 

“Seven hells, I’m your brother,” Aegon says, but it only earns him an irritated sound as Aemond settles on his cot. Flat on his back, hands folded over his chest, and not a single wrinkle in the sheets draped across his form. 

Aegon retires too, much earlier than he usually would. He is sore in his muscles, and fed up with bickering advisors and difficult decisions. With riding all day, with hurry up and wait. 

There are wineskins being passed around outside, and girls too, the usual camp followers. But none of them much appealed to him tonight. Nothing out here really does.

And yet. 

When Aegon wakes sometime in the small hours, it is with a terrible ache between his legs. His cock is hard, lying stiff and leaking against his stomach, and there is a tightness in his balls that demands attention. 

He has not had the chance to indulge in pleasures of the solitary kind, as the camp offers him no privacy - not when he is surrounded by lords at all times, and certainly not now, with Aemond sleeping just a few feet away. 

He is so close that Aegon can hear his slow breaths, and smell his scent of sweat and expensive oils. Somehow, it is strangely comforting. Nice to know that he perspires just the same as everyone else, even if there’s still a pleasant hint of sandalwood underneath.

In fact, Aegon does not believe he has ever seen his brother in such a candid state as just now. Aemond’s face is flushed with heat, and his lips are ever so slightly parted; dry and chapped from the harsh summer sun. The shirt is still on, but damp with sweat and loosened at the neck, baring his glistening collar bones; the golden hair that curls on his chest. 

Aegon still has that boyish quality about him, but Aemond looks like a fully grown man. Like someone who could and should lead an army to battle. He acts more like a grown man too, as Aegon will be the first to admit. Noble. Dignified. 

Aemond would never be caught drunkenly roaming the streets of King’s Landing. He does not share his brother's fondness for spirits and women. 

Once, when they were alone in the training yard, Aegon had dared to ask you do fuck, right?, and Aemond had rolled his eye and looked at him as though it was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. 

Aegon took that as a yes. 

He would like for them to share a girl sometime, like royal princes should, like Father and Daemon undoubtedly did in their youth. He would even let Aemond choose the girl, picky as he is, and let him have first pick of her openings too. He’d choose her cunt of course, because that is the proper way, but he wouldn’t call it her cunt, he would call it something more poetic and ridiculous. Her womanhood. Her flower. 

Twat. 

But it is still a nice thing for Aegon to imagine when he starts quietly fisting his cock under the sheet. A whore kneeling on a bed, Aemond behind her and himself by her head. Cocks buried to the hilt, and wet, squelching noises coming from both ends. Aemond’s balls slapping against her arse, and his own hitting her chin. 

Or, if that is not to Aemond’s liking, then Aegon would be glad to switch places. The girl would be on her back, and he would fuck her the usual way, and they could make her squeeze her tits together and have Aemond fuck the valley in between. Because that is the one thing Aegon knows about his brother’s preferences - he does like a good pair of tits. And it’d be perfect for Aegon too, because while he would get to feel the girl’s insides, he would also be able to look at the action in front of him. See her fleshy, bouncing tits, and Aemond’s cock sliding in between. Hard, and glistening with oil, as obviously they would need some lubrication. Aegon could even help hold her tits in place, if need be. In such a position, his and Aemond’s bodies would be so close that they’d have no choice but to move together, keep the same rhythm, or else neither would be able to find his release. What a dirty thing that would be, to fuck like that. Together. 

But unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that Aemond would ever agree to something so exceedingly intimate.

So perhaps they would take turns instead, in which case Aegon would be charitable and volunteer to be second for once. He would not ask the girl to wash herself in between - he would fuck her right after, while her cunt was still full of his brother’s emission. 

And of course, the filthiest thing of all would be to make use of both of her holes at once. Aegon can think of only one position that would make it possible: the girl would have to be on all fours, and Aemond would lie underneath her and fuck up into her cunt. He would have her tits in his face, squeezing them tight and sucking on her nipples, and then Aegon would stand between his legs and slide his cock into the girl’s arse. 

The thought of it makes his balls feel tight, and he pumps his cock with one hand, and massages his sack with the other, spurred on by the filthy images in his head. 

A pretty girl bent over a table, or riding his brother, or taking them both in her mouth at the same time. His own cock pulsing in her arse. Aemond in his moment of ecstasy, spilling himself all over her tits. 

They would leave her covered and full of their royal seed. Dragon’s seed. Surely for a common whore there could be no higher honour. 

Aegon tries his best to keep silent when he comes, gritting his teeth and gripping onto the edge of his cot. His cock throbs, and he rubs the tip of it hard, each squirt of seed making his body tremble and his hips thrust up. Unwittingly, and over and over until he finally feels relieved and can wipe his fingers clean on the sheet. 

It is quiet in the tent, and unsettlingly quiet outside. The sounds of drunkenness have died down, and even the grasshoppers have stopped chirping, as if time itself stood still. 

With his urges now taken care of, it takes only moments for the knot in Aegon's stomach to tighten once more.

There will be a great battle, and then several more after that, and hundreds, thousands of men will die in his name. Their wives will mourn, and their children will starve when no one is left to farm the lands, and all of the grains they have saved will soon be requisitioned for the armies. Green and black alike. 

In the weeks that have passed since his coronation, Aegon has come to realise that his father’s crown was too light and too shiny, and that the blackened iron he now wears is a better adornment. It is heavy, and ugly, and a much truer reflection of what it means to be king; of the burden he must now carry on his woefully ill-prepared shoulders. 

There are two with whom he can share it, though. Two who would die for his cause, out of love as much as duty, and one of them is asleep in this very room. 

“Aemond,” he calls, quietly, like he would often do when they were very little and still slept in the nursery. As if to make sure he was still there. “Aemond. Aemond. Aemond?”

“What,” Aemond grumbles, hoarse with sleep, but as irritable as always. He stirs on his cot, wiping the sweat off his brow and shuffling around under the sheet. The soaked shirt is pulled over his head and tossed aside. Too hot.

“I told you,” Aegon says. 

“Are you quite finished,” is his brother’s sullen response. 

It must just be the talking he’s referring to, but. Aegon can’t be sure.

Proof read, but my brain is mush today, so sincere apologies for all the stuff I've missed.

[libraincarnate]

astrology notes: 12 🏰

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences. with that being said, i'm still learning along the way & i may come back to edit this post to make corrections. above all this is just for fun. lastly, keep in mind that i’m not reading your birth chart and i know nothing about you. these are just some possibilities that may or may not apply to you. enjoy!

➷ capricorn/saturn doms: they absolutely won’t be an enabler. they’re big on competence and aren’t too fond of overdependent people. it’s lowkey repulsive to them when people won’t even bother trying, choose not to put in the work, or they always want/expect people to do things that they’re capable of doing for themselves. they value independence so they don’t just encourage others to be independent but they expect themselves to be independent and competent as well. otherwise they’ll put in the effort to learn. they hold themselves to the same standards they have for others.

➷ gemini in the 7th house, especially with inner planets or a stellium: for these natives, the person they end up marrying must be funny. might even be a deal breaker for them if their partner isn’t funny. they love to laugh, like to joke with they’re friends/loved ones, so they have to be able to laugh and joke with the person they’re going to spend the rest of their life with. may desire someone with a similar sense of humor. they bring an upbeat & lighthearted energy into their relationships and they need to be able to express themselves or feel comfortable enough to be themselves. communication is also of great importance in their relationships. they may want to text and talk to their favorite people all through out the day.

➷ saturn brings difficulties and challenges but there are also rewards. so if your saturn placement has only brought you trouble or hardship stay tuned to see the blessings in disguise, how/where your hard work pays off,  how/where you’ll reap what you've sowed.

saturn in the 10th house - you may experience conflict with your bosses, those who are superior to you or have more authority than you. they may be condescending, a classist, a megalomaniac, or they held you back in some way. but you endure that mistreatment and later on you receive a promotion, you obtain a leadership position, maybe you take their spot. but in your new position you don’t treat your subordinates like your bosses or mentors have treated you. you’ve learned from that experience, you know what it’s like. you treat all your employees or the people working under you with the same respect, you consider and value their ideas, you give them opportunities or bonuses when deserved, they feel like you’re a good leader, they learn from you and may consider you the best boss they’ve ever had. as a result, this can contribute to a good reputation and can benefit your career.

saturn in the 2nd house - you may experience issues with your self-esteem. could be the type to look in the mirror and pick yourself apart. may be hard on yourself or too critical. perhaps you’ve been picked on or you’ve been belittled by others. but then you may start a career in the fashion/beauty industry, perhaps you become a model. because you worked through the issues that saturn presented you with regarding your confidence or your beauty, you’re now impervious to the critics, their words don’t get to you because you know yourself, you know what you’ve gone through to become a stronger person. the people who teased you now look at you with envy or admiration. you’re confident in front of casting directors, you have tough skin, you don’t compare yourself to other models, your confidence oozes through your magazine covers, you have a strong presence on the runway. and perhaps there’s a sense of professionalism about you that makes clients or designers come back for more, time after time, leading to longevity or an impressive resume or portfolio.

saturn in the 4th house - you may have been your own parent, probably felt like you had to raise yourself and your siblings. may have felt more like a parent to your parents than they were to you. you couldn’t depend on your family or mom so you we’re only able to depend on yourself. you had to be an adult when you were just a kid. your experiences here can make you feel reluctant to have children of your own. but if you do have end up having kids, you could make a great parent. yes saturn can be strict, and you may be a parent that emphasizes rules, respect, hard work, etc. but you’ll also give them the childhood experience you didn’t get to have. your upbringing/family life was hard so you want it to be better and smoother for them. they don’t have to feel the burdens of life and responsibilities so early and so harshly, they have someone they can depend on, a parent that’s always there for them. raising them to be awesome human beings with good morals, passing on the wisdom & life lessons you’ve gained, giving them the affection you didn’t receive, making home feel like a safe environment. you’re patient with them. the difficult times at home gave you experiences and lessons that make parenthood easier to handle. and that child or your children may help you heal you from those emotional wounds. you might look back on those tough times and be proud of yourself when you see the family you came from and the family you’ve created.

the themes of saturn may not always be fun but they’re necessary. and depending on the way saturn plays out in your chart, it may present you with things that you’ll later look back on and be grateful for.

➷ leo in the 12th house: may struggle with the idea of fame or popularity, shying away from the spotlight but lowkey wanting it, struggling with self-expression, you stand out but want to hide, reminds me of this emoji 🎭, you appear happy & sunny on the outside but you may feel dead inside, could express your pain through music, acting, or art. you're aware of the activity in your subconscious. you're introspective, and more humble, not boastful or flashy. could be proud of how you’ve faced adversity or overcame the suffering you've experienced, you could be like a light to others who have faced similar experiences, potentially leading them out of their suffering. seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, you may have the tendency to remain hopeful despite everything you’ve endured.

➷ virgos remind me of cats because they’re always cleaning/grooming themselves. they constantly check their nails making sure they’re free of dirt & looking nice, they smell good, their clothes fit well and look presentable, primping their hair, making sure their skin isn’t dry/ashy, checking for nose/eye boogers, etc. idk about you guys but they���re the type of person i’d sleep with, like thank you for not being dusty and respecting me & my body. you guys know that saying “common sense isn’t so common” ? well neither is proper basic hygiene or cleanliness so i don't blame them for their tendencies.

➷ mercury dominants: probably good at typing and they type fast. may enjoy typing and testing their typing speed, trying to beat their previous wpm. naturally good with their hands, sewing, cooking, building, doing hair, drawing, etc. random, but they're probably good at untangling things like necklaces.

➷ mars in the 6th house: once they get going, they work nonstop. they want to get everything done at once. the type to do things one after another with short breaks or none at all. they may take on more than they can handle and force themselves to complete all their tasks but that’s because they can be so driven and hardworking. the types to take their work home with them. this can be detrimental for their health but for employers this is someone you’d most likely want to hire.

➷ your lilith sign may show you where you have scars (including surgery scars), where you often get cuts/wounds/pain, or the body part you obsess over because you see flaws:

gemini - hands, arms, shoulders

pisces - feet

capricorn - knees, joints

leo - heart, back, hair

cancer - chest/breasts

aries - head, face, eyes

➷ chiron in aquarius: may have experienced troubling friendships, or losing a lot of friends. loyal to a fault, you put great effort into your friendships, maybe you were more considerate, more eager to be their friend, and you’re probably a good, genuine friend, but the love and energy you showed them wasn’t reciprocated or they suddenly turned on you.

➷ stewie from family guy has to have prominent capricorn & aquarius placements. he’s sarcastic, funny with a dry sense of humor, so damn smart, smarter than his peers, wise beyond his years, inventive, independent, ambitious, great with technology & he has so many cool devices & gadgets, he’s a baby but he’s mature, logical, and his personality makes him appear older than he looks. hmm, probably some scorpio or aries in his chart too because he’s also revengeful, holds grudges, strategic, driven, and can be violent. despite his possible aquarius placements, his main and constant friend has been the family dog brian who is mature and much older (56 in dog years) than stewie. he must have some stuff going on in his 4th house too, he basically hates his family & he's so mean to them, especially his mom 😂 maybe he has mars in his 4th house. he’s straightforward & tends to be condescending and harsh/rude. he also likes to be in control & he’s an initiator which may be due to the cardinal energy if he does any have capricorn and aries placements.

➷ gemini rising/mercury, sag rising/mercury: because you're so funny & sarcastic people may not take you or your words seriously because they always think you're joking. others can be shocked when you have to take it up a notch to show them you’re serious cause they don’t see that side of you often. your reaction is unexpected. but you also don't take life seriously either. with that being said, it’s rare to see these natives fuming especially with more reserved moon signs or those that like to have control over their emotions like capricorn, virgo, and scorpio moon.

➷ taurus in the 6th house: may be prone to procrastination and being messy. taurus is often described as lazy or not quick to act, so they might not be the types to put things back where they got it from or they clean up in a half-assed manner. and they’re stubborn so if they don’t want to do something or they want to do it later, it may be hard to dissuade them. i’ve also noticed they tend to have stable employment & this is partly due to their great work ethic and determination. they always have a job, if they’re unemployed it’s not for long, or they've worked at the same job for many years making it a huge part of their career and resume.

➷ pluto in the 7th house: may be possessive of their relationships. not just romantic relationships, but their relationships with those who are important or closest to them. best friend, family, etc. you’re their favorite person so they want to be your favorite person. if they have a best friend, they don't want that person to have other best friends, they want to be the closest person to them. i also think this stems from a place of control & fear. they don’t get close to a lot of people but they’ve opened up to a few selected people & shared some of their secrets with them, so they don’t want the people they’ve trusted to potentially share those things with others or to form stronger bonds with other people because they might leave them for someone else.

➷ 9th house ruler in the 5th house: sunday school teacher for children, arts/fashion school, may have played sports in college/university, a division 1 or 2 school maybe, a sports coach, possibly a hedonist, popular in school, interested in child development, learning could be something you enjoy, confident in your intelligence, creating and planning fun trips, proud of your academic achievements, lots of college parties & hookups, having a pleasurable and memorable college experience, the type to either put fun before their studies or to go to class late & still drunk from the night before but you excel anyways, inspired by different cultures, could be good at playing games like chess.

9th house ruler in the 8th house - religious trauma, a natural interest in the occult or esoteric spiritual practices, may study finance or business, well versed in psychology, may be a therapist, mortuary school, challenging the law, unpleasant or negative experiences with spirits, someone who possesses profound knowledge, people may ask you, “how do you know that stuff?” may teach others about sex & the reproductive systems like sexual education, sharing your knowledge about astrology.

9th house ruler in the 11th house - science over spirituality, studying politics, could like traveling or going on vacation with your friends, an atheist, could be the wisest one or religious one in your friend group, the friend people go to for advice, philanthropic/generous, might’ve gone to trade school, took online/virtual classes, received alternative education other than the traditional college/university, part of a sorority/fraternity, interested in astronomy, big dreams, wanting to make an impact in the world, possessing knowledge & ideas that could change the world in some way.

➷ empty 2nd house: when it comes to your personal belongings, most of the things you have may have been given to you or someone purchased them for you, you can be low-maintenance, not really having any personal income, but you may have money from other sources like an inheritance or a benefactor, or you rely on your family or government assistant for your financial needs, others might pay your bills, you may be indifferent to shopping, might not cook often, possibly having a simple wardrobe, nothing too fancy, not materialistic, could be indifferent towards money, you’re not impressed by it.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Eddie picks where they go Wednesday night, since they’re in his city, after all. He insists upon picking Steve up from the hotel, too, since it’s on the way to the Mockingbird from his place.

When he walks into the hotel, Steve is sitting on a sofa in the lobby, waiting for him. They smile at one another and Steve meets him halfway across the room.

“Hey,” Steve greets, biting at his lip and looking over Eddie. “You look nice.”

“You, too.” Eddie says, softly, reaching out to trail his fingers along the soft threading of the cardigan before hooking his arm under Steve’s. “Did you scope out the menu to see if you like anything?”

“I did. The Mockingbird is actually one of the places that popped up when I was trying to find a decent place for us to go tonight, but I wasn’t sure if it would be too hipster-y for you.” Steve admits as they walk out to Eddie’s Jeep.

“It’s a little on the hipster side, but it’s in a really cool part of the city. And it’s close enough to walk to part two of our date.” Eddie grins, opening the passenger door for Steve, who raises his eyebrows and grins.

“Already can’t enough enough of me, huh?” He teases, then waits until they’re both settled and moving out of the parking to follow up. “How is there already a part two when part one hasn’t happened yet?”

“Because while you may not have been paying attention, we’ve gotten really good at this whole ‘grabbing food and drinks’ together thing. So we’ve got to throw a little spice in to make it different.” Eddie says, glancing at Steve and sending him a wink before his eyes divert back to the road.

The ride gives Steve a moment to take everything in. Eddie’s leather jacket, gray button up and signature black jeans. The Jeep, which occurs to Steve is not a rental and is his personal, everyday use car, has a lot of personality. An opal charm hangs from around the rear view mirror, there’s a few guitar picks in the cup holders and a binder of CDs occupies the bin in the passenger door.

“Am I passing the inspection?” Eddie asks after a few street lights, a small smile on his face as Steve flushes. 

“I’m not inspecting anything, I’m just. Curious,” He admits, makes a show of looking around before looking back at Eddie and teasing, “it’s a lot cleaner than I expected for your car.” 

Eddie laughs out loud at that, shakes his head, and bites his lip before answering. “Jeff gave me shit about cleaning it out before you got in, but it wasn’t that much worse than this. I basically cleaned receipts and straw wrappers out the cup holders.” He explains, and both of them relax as Steve reaches over to rub at Eddie’s arm closest to him.

They’re in deep conversation across the table from one another as their meal arrives, and it feels exactly like every other time they’ve been out for dinner except that it’s not, somehow, and Steve can’t think of how to explain that it’s weird without being weird at all. Eddie’s all hand-gestures and wide eyes and grins as he explains what it’s been like recording the band’s newest music, and Steve gets lost in the other’s excitement. It’s easy to do, and it’s a place Steve doesn’t mind finding himself. Eddie is music; his laugh, a melody. While Steve’s decidedly not the musician among them, he makes his best efforts to keep the performance alive.

The conversation shifts to how Steve’s feeling, riding the high of his return to the ice. It’s still strange for him to think about, really, so he doesn’t have much to contribute other than that he’s processing.

“And I should thank you, by the way,” Steve says, reaching over the table to settle his hand over Eddie’s, thumb brushing over his knuckles softly. “I figure it’s your reaction that got everyone on their feet. Can’t say I’ll ever experience anything like that ever again, so. Thank you.”

Eddie flushes, bites at his lip and turns his hand over under Steve’s to wrap fingers gently around his wrist. “I think it had everything to do with you. I’m just happy you were able to get back to doing what you love.”

That warmth returns to Steve’s chest, and he squeezes Eddie’s wrist back, but decides they have to change the topic or he’ll either get too sentimental for a first date or teary; neither of which he’s hoping for tonight.

“So, what’s next on the agenda?” He asks once their plates have been cleared away and the meal paid for. “I believe you mentioned a part two?”

Eddie grins and raises his eyebrow across the table.

“How do you feel about arcade games?”

~~~

“This is so much more than just arcade games, Eddie.” Steve laughs as they walk into a black brick building. It obviously used to be some kind of warehouse but it had been transformed into a massive barcade, with vintage games and pinball machines, indoor bocce ball courts, and even a bowling alley… and that’s just what Steve could see from the front door.

“Too much? We can just go mini-golfing, that’s right around the corner, too.” Eddie offers, looking sheepish. Steve wraps his arm through Eddie’s, pulling him closer as they walk further inside.

“If you think I’m not going to kick your ass at bowling, you’ve got another thing coming.” He teases, grinning wide when Eddie laughs and leads the way to get them shoes and a lane to play in. 

What Steve doesn’t expect, however, is for Eddie to bowl extraordinarily well.

“I feel like I’ve been manipulated into something here,” Steve accuses playfully, kicking a foot in Eddie’s direction without any real intent as the other scored another perfect strike.

“There’s plenty you don’t know about me, Stevie.” Eddie teases, sipping from his drink before he shrugs. “For example, bet you didn’t know that I was on the Hawkins High Bowling Team in 2008.”

“Hawkins had a bowling team?” Steve asks, honestly surprised, earning a bark of a laugh from Eddie. 

“Roane County Champs that year.” Eddie flops into his seat and gestures for Steve to take his turn. He manages a spare, and turns back to Eddie full of new curiosities.

“Just 2008? You were what, a freshman? That’s the only year you played?” He rapid fires through too many questions, unable to keep them inside himself. But Eddie just smiles, seemingly unfazed by the interrogation he’d brought on himself.

“I was a freshman, yeah.” Eddie nods, also racking up a spare before leaning over the score keeper to get a little closer to Steve while maintaining a safe amount of space between them. “Wayne thought it’d be good for me to join a sports team. Make friends. Wasn’t super athletic, and the alley in town had discount Tuesdays, so it was cheap to practice. Joined up, helped win the title. Then Principal Higgins rolled out a participation fee, and we couldn’t afford it anymore. Thus ended Eddie Munson’s athletic career.”

Steve listens intently, considering how different their worlds truly had been. No expense had been spared to make sure Steve had every opportunity available to him in the hockey world, not while he was young. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like if a participation fee had kept him from the hockey team. And here Eddie was, still weirdly good at bowling, having accepted that it was something he’d have to give up.

“I dunno, man, you’re pretty athletic. I’ve seen you jump and run around on stage, remember? I think that’s way more of a workout than my practices or games.” Steve counters, reaching over the score table to trace his fingers over Eddie’s tattooed forearms. The other just narrows his eyes a bit, before giving Steve a soft smile.

“You’re worrying about me missing out on something with bowling, aren’t you?” Eddie asks, reading Steve like a book, but doesn't wait for an answer before hooking his hand under Steve’s elbow to hold him close. “It wasn’t a dream I missed out on, you’re not looking at a would-be pro-bowler or anything. I was okay, and it was a way to pass the time after everything with my parents went down. I ended up using the half of the participation fee Wayne was able to save up to buy my first electric guitar, so. I think it all worked out as it was supposed to.” Eddie explains, and Steve felt a little lighter knowing the other’s perspective.

~~~

“Next time you’re in Nashville, we’ll go to Pins for Duckpin Bowling. Maybe I’ll have less of an advantage.” Eddie teases, then barks out a laugh as Steve grunts loudly.

“You’re eating this up, but I kicked your ass at skee ball and Mortal Combat.” Steve pokes his index finger into the center of Eddie’s chest, glaring at him through a smile.

“Not that you were counting.” Eddie teases, barking out a laugh when Steve rolls his eyes.

Once they’re out of the bar, where the crowd is growing by the moment, Eddie takes a chance and wraps his arm around Steve’s waist. Without a breath of hesitation, Steve leans into Eddie’s body. Eddie’s almost surprised to feel the weight and warmth of a hand at his own waist as Steve returns the gesture, and he can’t help but bite back a smile.

“I’m glad you’re planning on next time already,” Steve eventually says, and while it’s almost certainly meant to be teasing, it sounds soft and sincere.

“You planning on getting rid of me already?” Eddie asks, and finds his own voice to have the same tone. Steve tips his head to the side, meeting Eddie’s eye, before he smiles and shakes his head. 

“Not quite yet, no.” He whispers, then rests his head against Eddie’s arm, gives his waist a soft squeeze and Eddie feels himself float away, impossibly more gone for the man pressed against his side.

Over the ride back to the hotel, Steve and Eddie talk about what their schedules look like for the next few weeks. The Blackhawks have a slim chance at making a Wild Card appearance in the playoffs, which leaves a lot of uncertainty in Steve’s schedule. Eddie, however, is a clean slate until tour rehearsals start in early May. They make preliminary plans for Eddie to head out to the next round of home games in Chicago toward the end of next week, both eager to see one another again as soon as possible.

But then Eddie’s pulling into the hotel parking lot and he stops in the car port, giving Steve a little smile.

“I hate that tonight’s over.” He admits, quietly. Steve smiles back, reaching across the center console to brush a strand of Eddie’s hair behind his ear, out of his face.

“I hate that tonight’s over, too,” Steve says, softly, biting at his lip. “You have no idea how much I wish I didn’t have to fly out tomorrow afternoon. I feel like we just got here.”

Eddie reaches up to hold Steve’s hand by his face, lacing their fingers together. “Well, now you get to get me out on a date in Chicago next week.” 

“You bet your ass I’m doing that,” Steve mumbles back, before he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “Got big shoes to fill, this was a pretty perfect first date.”

Eddie fights the blush threatening to fill out his cheeks as best as he can, in favor of pulling Steve’s hand in and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “Good night, Stevie.” Eddie whispers, and Steve smiles back, returns the goodbye, then climbs out of the car and waves as he makes his way into the hotel lobby.

Once he gets home, Eddie fires off a text to Steve to let him know he’s home safe, then hops into the shower. As soon as he’s clean and mostly dry, he collapses into bed, grinning a little too wide, and falls asleep pretty quickly.

When he wakes up the next morning, it’s to his phone buzzing under his pillow. He answers without looking at it, and grumbles rather than offering a greeting.

“Uh, Eddie?”

It’s Steve’s voice that has him fishing the phone out, looking at the screen to find Steve looking back at him, amused. 

“Did I wake you?” He asks around a grin.

“Shut up,” Eddie huffs out a laugh, rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand before physically rolling himself out of bed and taking his phone with him. “What time is it? I thought you were supposed to be flying out today.”

“I am. That’s not for a few hours, though. I wanted to call and say hello.” Steve explains, and Eddie stretches to crack his back, before he pauses in his walk to the bathroom. 

“I can’t take you with me in there, give me a second.” He mumbles, making Steve laugh again before he puts the phone down on his dresser and takes a quick bathroom break. He’s still drying his hands on his pajama pants when he walks back into frame, but looks a little more coherent as he picks the phone back up. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning phone call?”

“Is 10 o’clock considered early morning?” Steve retorts, just as the door bell rings through Eddie’s house.

“I swear to god, if Gareth forgot his key, he’s lucky you called before he rang that.” Eddie says, redirecting his course of travel from back to his bed to the stairs then the front door.

Steve immediately starts teasing. “It’s cute that you’re so grumpy in the morning. I feel like we’ve definitely talked before 10 and I don’t think you’ve ever been this grumpy.” 

“In my defense, I don’t think you’ve ever woken me up before.” Eddie responds, pulling open his front door and freezing as he’s met with Steve in person before him, chewing at his lip. “Oh. Uh. Hey?”

“Hi,” Steve laughs, hanging up the FaceTime. Eddie’s confused for a moment longer, before he pushes the door open further and invites Steve inside.

“You can, uh, come in. If you have time? I can show you around, if you want. I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

“Kinda the point of a surprise.” Steve smiles, stepping around Eddie and waiting until he’s closed the door to take a step closer. “I have a little bit of time, but I mostly couldn’t get on the plane to leave without…”

Steve pauses and it’s just long enough for Eddie to register that he stopped talking. He turns to look at Steve to make sure he’s okay, just as Steve steps toward him. Hands find his hips, turning Eddie’s body so they’re facing one another, and then Steve’s lips are on his and it feels like time has stopped around them.

Eddie’s reaction is a little delayed, which he’s blaming entirely on his having just woke up, but once he’s with the program again, his left hand slides around to cup the back of Steve’s head, holding him in place while his right hand settles at Steve’s hip. Their mouths work together for a long moment, before Steve pulls back slowly and lets out a heavy breath, licking over his lips and meeting Eddie’s eyes. 

“How long do you have before you have to be at the airport? I can drive you.” Eddie whispers, but his eyes are locked on Steve’s mouth, which makes the other laugh and nod.

“I’ve got, like, three hours.” He assures, and Eddie grins.

“Perfect, that’s plenty of time.” And with that, Eddie’s leaning back in to press another kiss to smiling lips.

TAG LIST:

@thegingerrapunzel @hotluncheddie @theoncelee

@hellfirebaby-86 @sanctumdemunson @steddiecamerarollameraroll

@messessentialist @romanticdestruction @hunterbow04

@annabanannabeth @dragonmama76 @eddie-munsons-lunchbox

@raisedbylibrarians @maya-custodios-dionach @beckkthewreck

@goodolefashionedloverboi @estrellami-1 @doctorqueensanatomy

@thelittleclare @innocentmapleleaf @paintsplatteredandimperfect

@angeldreamsoffanfic @yellowdevilkitten @ashleytrestte

@ser-ships-a-lot @silenzioperso @razzlerdazzler01 @stressy16

[the-boy-meets-evil]

today of all days | vernon

(the lull of the new year never really comes for you, which is fine. it's better to be busy. this year, you're a little too busy planning something else to worry much about valentine's day. It's never been your favorite holiday anyway. but, could your boyfriend have forgotten in entirely?)

pairing: vernon x afab!reader genre: est. relationship, non-idol!au | smut, slight angst, fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~4.6k warnings: mentions of food, there's a little angst, but it's mostly miscommunication, kissing, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, marking, unprotected sex (don't do this without talking about it), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, i think that's it

a/n: happy valentine's day to the always wonderful, absolutely amazing @wonwussy 💕 it's been so much fun to get to write this for you. i hope you enjoy it! this is part of @svthub's cupid for you valentine's exchange organized by my bby @wongyuseokie (who is very amazing and also made the banner & divider). happy valentine's (and carat day)!

There’s usually kind of a lull at the beginning of the new year. Like everyone decides that after the holidays, you’re due for a break. People try to work on their resolutions, businesses expect to see the drop off in their sales. Everything just feels more peaceful. It’s that calm before the storm when everything picks up again. 

Not for you, though. At least not this year. February brings Valentine’s Day and your boyfriend’s birthday. You don’t really care that much about the former. It’s nice to have someone to celebrate with, and you’re sure the two of you will do something, but it’s nothing crazy. As long as you have him and a quiet night in, you’re good. It’s the latter of the two things that’s keeping an otherwise peaceful time from being peaceful. 

Here’s the thing. Vernon isn’t one to make a big deal of his birthday, never has been. He feels similar to the way you feel about Valentine’s Day. He likes to do something to mark the passing of time, definitely enjoys the presents, but doesn’t feel the need for it to be some huge thing. It’s a little difficult, too, because he’s got another friend with the same birthday. For the years that they’ve been friends, they’ve always tried to work it around each other. Seokmin is a year older and feels a little more strongly about birthdays as something that should be celebrated. Somehow, that led to this year. A coordinated birthday for the two of them with all their friends there to celebrate the both of them. Two different cakes, two different contributions to the menu, and twice as many people to coordinate with. 

To say it’s been a bit of a headache is an understatement.

You love Vernon. He’s been your person for over two years and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. You also love to plan things for other people as a way to show them how much you care. This has just been a bigger undertaking than you imagined. Especially when you have to keep the party under wraps. Vernon knows you’re doing something with a group of friends. He thinks it’s only a small group. But, he’ll appreciate it all the same. Just like he seems to appreciate everything that you do. 

“Babe,” Vernon calls from the living room. He’s in the middle of gaming with Wonwoo, connected by their headsets.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Wonwoo says that I’m gonna get in trouble for not planning some big thing for Valentine’s,” Vernon tells you.

You can hear the protests from Vernon even through the headset, which makes you chuckle. “As long as we get to cook something together and have a night in, I’m good.” 

“See?” Vernon says triumphantly. There’s a pause where Wonwoo must be asking something. “Oh, yeah, I’m definitely getting a gift.” 

“What?” you ask with clear surprise. Gifts were not part of the plan for this year.

“It’s nothing big, but I’ve got the perfect idea,” Vernon says with a familiar look of mischief. 

“Oh no, no you are not,” you counter. He bursts out in a cackle. “Vernon, you are not getting strawberry flavored condoms for Valentine’s Day. We don’t even use condoms.” 

The laugh through Vernon’s headset is just as loud. You would probably be embarrassed if it was anyone else, but Wonwoo has been in both of your lives long enough that most barriers have been erased. 

“No, don’t worry, that wasn’t actually it. I have a plan,” Vernon says and you watch him suspiciously. “Promise!”

You decide to let it lie for the time being. At least partly, because you don’t want to keep standing there while he’s playing video games. Partly because you knew it meant he would be distracted enough that you could sneak off to the bedroom to make a call about the party. 

Jeonghan had not been your first choice for a party planning committee because sometimes it’s hard to get an actual thought out of him. You’re not always sure what he’s thinking. But, he’s Seokmin’s best friend and one of the best schemers you know. Thankfully, these days he really only uses his talents for good. Well, it would be thankfully if you didn’t harbor a grudge over a prank he played when you first met. 

Miraculously, Jeonghan is also free and willing to do some final planning. It’s that stage where the final group of friends get clued in. Some friends, who shall remain nameless, had to find out much closer to the day. They just couldn’t be trusted to keep the secret. You’re actually impressed that you’ve managed to keep it from Vernon and Seokmin. You confirm that Vernon doesn’t know. He would have absolutely told you. Jeonghan also confirms that Seokmin doesn’t know because he can’t keep a secret either. 

When you wander back out into the living room, Vernon is still very engrossed in his game. You kiss the top of his head, watch the small smile with his eyes trained on the screen, and plop down at the other end of the couch. You prop your computer on your lap and reach for your headphones when Vernon turns to you between matches.

“Wanna order in for dinner?” he asks and you smile.

“Oh from that place around the corner?” you suggest. Vernon rolls his eyes without any real annoyance. It’s your favorite place.

“Whatever you want, babe,” he says and turns back to the game.

It’s easy, not only because you like it, but also since you know what he orders there. He’s kind of a creature of habit. Maybe you are too, since you always want to order from the same place. It’ll give you a chance to watch a few things while waiting as well as giving Vernon the chance to keep playing with Wonwoo. The gaming is always seamless for them after years of working together. 

When the food arrives, Vernon finishes his last game so that he can eat with you. It’s one of the things you love about him. He’s so thoughtful with things like that. When you first moved in with him, you were a little worried. You had never lived with a partner and weren’t sure how to navigate it. As it turns out, with the right person, it’s pretty easy. You leave each other to do your own things and then come together after.

“You’re sure you’re okay with a quiet Valentine’s Day?” he asks when you curl into him after dinner.

“It’s a little late if I’m not considering it’s in two days,” you say with a light laugh.

“I’m being serious,” he says. 

“I’m good, Vernon. I’ve got you and we’re going to make something together,” you say.

“I promise not to burn down the kitchen,” he assures you.

“You’ve been getting a lot better,” you say. “Plus, we also have dinner this weekend for your birthday.” 

“We don’t really have to do anything crazy for my birthday, you know. It’s so close to Valentine’s Day and…” Vernon trails off before you press a kiss to his lips.

“I love to celebrate your birthday. It’s another year of you and everyone should be thankful for that,” you say. 

Valentine’s morning comes bright and early. Sun streams through the cracks in your shades. Not quite enough to wake you up, but enough for you to know that it’s morning. You smile and stretch out, thinking it’s probably earlier than you need to be up. As you’re considering waking Vernon up to celebrate the day when you register an emptiness.

You’re the only one in the bed. 

You open your eyes and confirm what you already knew. Vernon isn’t in bed with you. The door to the bathroom is open and the light is off, so he’s not in there either. Although you prefer to lay in bed to wake up, curiosity gets the better of you and propels you out of bed to the living room. The entire apartment is quiet, still. Well, still apart from your cat that’s weaving between your legs. He doesn’t seem hungry, so you think he’s just wondering what you’re doing. It’s odd that he would have left the apartment so early in the morning. 

Padding back to the bedroom, you find your phone on the nightstand, plugged in like it always is. When you unlock it, you have a myriad of messages and notifications. Conspicuously absent, though, is a message from your boyfriend. There’s nothing to tell you where he is or went or could be. Which is odd, yes, but mostly it just makes you a little irritated. Sure, you don’t ever want to make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. It’s plenty to spend the day with someone you love that loves you back. 

Vernon can be a little spacy at times. It’s not his best quality, but it’s also impossibly endearing. Maybe it’s because you know how much he’s thinking about when he’s got that look like he’s never had a thought in his life. It also makes him really chill, which matches you well. He doesn’t always have to be going or doing something. But, he’ll just as happily go out and be your shield because he’s much more of a people person than you are. 

All this to say, there’s part of you that wonders if the holiday just slipped his mind. It’s not like it’s a big deal, you said as much to him. But, you still expect something. Even if it’s just to know where he is so early in the morning. You hate that you wonder if he forgot because you trust Vernon with your life. He can get distracted sometimes. One time, he got so caught up in a project that he entirely forgot dinner plans with his friends. 

The mature thing to do would be to send him a text and ask where he is or even to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day. You’re not feeling especially mature, though. And you feel very justified in that annoyance because he’s the one that left early. He should be the one to let you know where he is. It should not be on you.

Trying to push the thoughts of Vernon out of your mind, you get ready for the day. Opt to leave earlier so you can buy yourself something to eat and some coffee on the way. By the time you reach work, you’re even more irritated rather than calmer. Every radio station was playing love songs that fit the genre. Every host seems to want to know what people’s plans are for the day. The coffee shop by your office was decorated in red, white, and pink hearts with all sorts of specials for the day. When you head into the office, it only gets worse. People have flowers on their desks, are exchanging happy wishes, talking about how they can’t wait to get out of work for their plans. Some people are spending it with partners, others are spending it with friends. Either way, everyone seems to have plans that are better than whatever will be waiting when you get home. Why did Vernon have to pick today of all days to be forgetful? 

Your work best friend stops by your desk with the typical cup of coffee mid morning and stops in his tracks when he senses your mood.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Minho asks. 

“Wow, hello to you too,” you respond when you take the coffee from him.

“You seem like you’re in a bad mood,” he says. 

“Maybe I am,” you answer. 

“But, it’s Valentine’s Day and you have, like, the most perfect boyfriend. What’s there to be mad about?” he asks. 

“Can’t be the most perfect boyfriend if he was gone before I woke up and didn’t even text me to say anything,” you say with all the irritation you feel.

That catches Minho’s attention. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I woke up and the bed was empty. No note. No text. Just empty,” you say. 

“And you haven’t heard from him?” Minho presses.

“No,” you say, only to be distracted by your phone lighting up.

“Looks like a message from him,” he observes.

You quickly glance at your phone, hating how eager you feel just to hear something from him. It’s disappointing, though.

Vernon: sorry that i wasn’t there when you woke up, i had a last minute errand Vernon: when do you think you’ll be home from work? 

Instead of telling Minho what happened, you just hand your phone over to him. His grimace says all you need to know. It’s not an overreaction. 

“That’s…all he’s said to you today?” he asks.

“You can scroll to see,” you say because he still has your phone.

“No thanks,” Minho says with a laugh. “I don’t wanna accidentally see something.”

“It was one time,” you say, snatching your phone back with an eye roll. 

“And I’m still scarred,” he says. “What are you going to say back?”

“Nothing,” you say.

“But…” he starts.

“No, I’m not saying anything. I know I’m chill about this holiday, but to not even say anything? And what errand does he have to do at 7 in the morning?” you ask, more irritated that you had been.

“If you want to hold onto a grudge, who am I to stop you?” he asks when he stands. “Let me know if he manages to get out of the dog house.” 

With that comment, he’s off to his own desk. It usually goes something like this every day anyway. Minho shows up with coffee for you, looking to see what you have to say. Even though he’s the one that has the best gossip. Sometimes, he just wants someone to share it with. It’s a nice reprieve from your irritation. One that he repeats in the afternoon, which is a break from the norm. Unfortunately, the irritation that settles in his wake is worse than before he stops by. 

You consider staying at work late when the end of the day comes. It’s not like you’re in a rush to head home. There’s also a part of you that wants to punish Vernon for forgetting a holiday that you don’t even care that much about. (Okay, maybe you care, but that’s the whole point of having someone you love that also loves you to spend it with.) Staying late by yourself feels even worse when nobody else from the office is. Everyone seems to be out the door as soon as the day ends. And, despite not answering any of Vernon’s messages, you know he’s home. At least it’ll give you the chance to figure out how to approach this.

The drive home gives you a chance to run through all sorts of conversations in your head. You’re still stewing, a bit, because you’re upset at how the day went. But, you’re also preparing yourself to have a potentially difficult conversation with Vernon. Of course, he’ll be receptive to your feelings. He always is. It’s more that you’re frustrated it happened in the first place and don’t want your feelings to seem invalid. 

All of that goes out the window the second you step into your apartment. The lights are low, so it takes your eyes a second to adjust. When they do, however, you see that Vernon has transformed your living room into a scene from your favorite video game. It’s like stepping into another world. Every little detail is so carefully thought out that you can’t even appreciate it all in one look. Your feet carry you forward to examine the small things. The ones that very obviously took extra effort. You’re so busy appreciating it all that you don’t even notice Vernon coming in from the kitchen.

“I know we said no presents, but I wanted to do this anyway. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, pulling you out of your head.

“How did you…” you ask, unable to even finish the question.

“I found someone who had this whole set for their ex and wanted to get rid of it. He was practically giving it away, but I had to go pick it up like 2 hours away,” he says.

You look around and can tell the level of care that went into creating this. “That’s why you were gone when I woke up?” 

“Yeah, I left you notes on breakfast in the fridge and coffee in the microwave, but I guess you didn’t see those,” he says. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say and don’t even realize that tears started to fall until Vernon’s pulling you into his arms.

“It’s fine, what are you sorry for?” he asks, holding you tightly.

“I spent the whole day thinking you forgot Valentine’s Day and being mad. That’s why I didn’t answer your texts,” you say.

“I just figured it was a busy day and you were excited to get home,” Vernon says.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat.

He pulls back so that he can look down at you. Wipes the tears gently away from under your eyes. “It’s fine, babe. I’m not upset at you when I can be forgetful.” 

Nobody has ever done something like this for you. You can’t imagine how long it took to transform the living room this way. There aren’t any words you can think of to express how much it all means to you, so you just press your lips against his. Throw your hands around his neck to keep him close to you. He’s surprised, at least for a second, before he pulls you in tighter against him and kisses you back. It’s not the time to talk, at least not right now. How could you have thought this man would ever forget? 

“Can I show you what I was thinking about before I realized you were already gone this morning?” you ask when you break the kiss.

“Should I be concerned?” he asks.

“Just trust me,” you say and pull him into the bedroom with you. 

Any hesitations that he may have had disappear when you resume kissing him. Your fingers nimbly undo his pants so that you can slide them down his legs. The clothes come flying off in a flurry from there, far quicker than usual for the two of you. There’s just an urgency given the way the day went. Neither of you seems to want to let your lips leave the other. As Vernon kisses down your neck, you take the opportunity to push him back onto the bed.

It’s the first time you take a second and you appreciate how beautiful he is laying on the bed. The lean lines of his muscle, his eyes hungry as they drink your body in, the way his cock rests heavily on his stomach. You need to do something, though. You nudge his legs apart as you settle yourself onto the bed between them. 

“You don’t have to…” he starts and you’re quick to cut him off.

“I want to,” you insist. 

And you do. You take his cock into your hand and lick a stripe up it. It’s not enough, though, so you spit into your hand so you can run it along his length. He shudders under your touch. Once you wrap your lips around his tip, you pull a groan out of him. For just a second, his eyes close and his head lolls back on the pillow. It’s so pretty to watch him from this angle. To know that this man, usually so relaxed and chill, is so wound up under your power. It’s not long before he’s watching you, though. Letting out a stream of praise for how good you look with his cock in your mouth. How it turns him on, how you know just how to use your tongue. You hollow out your cheeks and it’s more than he can take.

Vernon pulls you up so that he can kiss you, so hard that you lose your breath. You’re a little off balance, which makes it easier for him to flip your positions. Now he’s the one between your legs. That same fervor is back when he spreads your lips so he can lick up your entrance. He’s always been insanely good with his mouth. It’s actually unfair. When his thumb circles your clit, you see stars for a second and arch your back into his mouth. All you can do is watch as he works his tongue in and out of your cunt. The thumb on your clit is bordering on too much sensation. Makes it hard for you to watch him even though you love the sight of him between your legs. 

“Fuck, Vernon, I need more,” you whine. 

“I should make you draw it out,” he says, still so close to your pussy that you can feel his breath.

“Please, Vernon, please,” you beg. You know it’ll make him cave.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he answers.

He runs his fingers through your folds before sliding one into your pussy. The moment his mouth finds your clit, he inserts a second finger and pumps into you at a punishing pace. It’s everything you can do not to squirm under his efforts. As it is, the words coming out of your mouth are entirely incoherent. What you want to say is that he’s a god with both his mouth and his fingers. That he knows just how to fit you where you need him most. That nobody has ever felt as good as him.

What you manage to yell out: “Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna come.” 

Vernon hums against your clit and it’s all too much. Your release is nearly instant. You don’t even notice how he guides you through your high or that he doesn’t remove his fingers until your body stops shaking. Miss the way he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing you. Not that you would mind. His lips wander down your neck to your chest, kissing all the way. He loves your breasts, loves the soft skin there. Loves to nip and watch the way you react. Most of all, he loves to leave marks there. Even if you won’t let him mark you where other people can see (at least, not often), you’ll always let him mark up your chest. He roughly sucks a mark into your sensitive skin and you squirm. 

Any other time, you would let him enjoy it. Let him take his time. Not today. You need to feel him. Need to have that connection with him. He seems to realize it too.

“Roll over on your side,” he directs. 

You hasten to do exactly what he asks. He slides right in behind you and you bring your leg forward a little so that it’ll be easier on him. One of his arms slides under your neck. The other lines his cock up at your entrance. He presses lightly, at least at first, giving you time before he’s fully inside you. No matter how many times you and Vernon fuck, you’ll never be fully prepared for the way he feels. It’s the most perfect type of full. Just enough of a stretch without it being overwhelming. 

It’s only a second before he starts moving, with his hand on your stomach. Not too fast. Just enough to give you the relief that you need. Not enough that it’s going to push you over the edge again. You’re still sensitive, though. The connectedness of your bodies is exactly what you need. It’s intimate in all the ways that you couldn’t tell him that you needed. But, he knows. Of course, he knows. This man knows you better than anyone else, a fact clear in how he thrusts into you.

Vernon’s free hand moves from your stomach up to your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and you groan out. That’s the other best part about your relationship with Vernon. There isn’t a need for constant communication during sex. He knows what you like and you know what he likes. He knows how to interrupt your moans and your pleas. Knows when to pick up the pace. 

It’s entirely too soon when you feel your second orgasm coming on. “I’m close, oh my god.” 

“I know, baby, just come for me,” Vernon urges as he continues to thrust hard into you.

Despite that, you try to hold out because you know that he’s not there yet, can feel it in the way he fucks into you. It’s a losing battle, though, and you end up coming even harder than the first time. Vernon fucks through your high before slowing down to give you a minute to breath. Always so considerate of what you need.

“It’s okay, keep going,” you urge.

He doesn’t have to ask if you’re sure, he can feel it in the way you clench around him. Makes him groan as he moves again. You’re still a little out of it from the two orgasms, so it doesn’t register just how sensitive you are. You tilt your head so that you can kiss him. Catch all his groans with your lips. Partly since you know how much the intimacy of it all means to him. Know that it’ll send him over the edge. 

A minute later it does just that. Even though you feel spent, he manages to pull a third orgasm out of you with his own. There’s a moment when you’re both catching your breath that neither of you move or even say anything. It gives you a moment to remember just how much you love him. Vernon slides out of you carefully and you roll over so that you can face him.

“I love you,” he says with a soft smile, fingers gently moving a few strands of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you say. 

“Do we have to get up right now?” he asks.

You shake your head and let him pull you into his body. His arms feel strong and safe around you. Like home, which is what he’s always been for you. From entirely too early into the relationship. A feeling that’s only grown in the time you’ve been together.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. 

“You don’t need to be, “ Vernon assures you. “I’m forgetful sometimes and you’ve been busy lately. I figured this was a good way to say thank you for everything you do.”

“What? The sex?” you joke. 

He huffs into your hair. “I take it all back.”

You pull back to look at him. “It was perfect. Almost as perfect as you.” 

A light blush creeps up. “I don’t know about that.” 

“I do,” you whisper into his skin when you cuddle back against his chest.

“We still have to cook dinner,” he says.

“Let’s just order something. I don’t want to move from this spot right now,” you say.

“We can stay as long as you want,” he says.

Forever, you think. That’s how long you want to stay with him. It’s never felt more real than it does right now. You think, by the way he holds you, that maybe he wants to be with you forever too. It may have gotten out to a rocky start, but it ends up being the most perfect Valentine’s Day of your life. 

[i-thirsty-boi]

Platonic Yandere Recoms X Navi Child Reader Part 2

~A/N: Sorry that this has taken so damn long! It was mostly done and I was stuck, but motivation hit me like a brick recently. So, I hope you enjoy the long awaited part 2! Unedited for now

Masterlist , Part 1

CW: character death (somewhat detailed), discussion of death

~

-During their few undisturbed months with you, the recom team had gotten into a routine with the daily activities all of you did. 

-The day started with you and Z getting up, showering and getting dressed together, though they still weren’t able to get you into socks or shoes, followed by having breakfast with everyone. Then you all did group language lessons until lunchtime. 

-After lunch, whoever was holding you at the time held you while you took an afternoon nap. Then you played around with them until dinner. And between dinner and bedtime, everyone wound down, with you cuddling into one of them. 

-And you were content with that routine, especially on the days where they took you outside, though they made sure to keep a very close eye on you while you were outside. 

-They knew that they were technically behind schedule for their mission, but they couldn’t bring themselves to care as they had a new personal mission, that being raising and taking care of you. 

-Though they wouldn’t stay undisturbed for long. 

… 

-It had been a normal day in their base with you, before the door opened and a surprise guest entered the building. 

-Everyone in the room flinched, especially you, and whipped their heads in the direction of the door to see who was coming into their base. 

All of their ears collectively went down when they saw their boss, General Ardmoire, come in looking like she meant business. She had her hands locked behind her back, back straight, and her head up with all of the authority she had dripping off of her. They had all stood up, with Mansk pushing you to stand behind his legs. And you clung to one of his legs while peaking around at the human woman who had them all on alert. Everyone had lined up in front of her, somewhat covering you from view, but she was still staring you down with precision. She addressed Quaritch to ask what the hell they’ve been doing, and why they have a native child with them. Mansk covered your ears while they went through the rundown of how they had taken you in, and how they’ve been taking care of you since then. You were just looking up at Mansk with wide, clueless eyes, wondering why he didn’t want you to hear what was being said. 

General Ardmoire just said that having and basically raising a child ripped from their culture was not going to help contribute to their mission. All of the adults around you were immediately pissed off and in disagreement with that idea. All of the recoms made eye contact and were immediately in agreement with what they needed to do to keep you. 

Mansk just picked you up and took you to another room while the rest of the team was left with the general. You just kept looking up at him with innocent confusion while being carried to another room in their base. You were sitting on his lap while practicing more of your english. Your ears briefly flicked towards the main room when a loud crack sound floated in from where the others were, but you were too focused on the foreign words to pay too much attention to it. Though you turned your whole head in that direction when you heard the door to the base open again. 

-Once you finished your mini lesson, you were brought back into the other room, the human woman was no longer there, and the rest of the adults were sitting on the stools around the table. 

-You looked around for the woman until someone distracted you with a cut up fruit, which you picked out of the bowl with your hands. You just received fond head shakes as your hand and lower face got covered in fruit juice. 

-Lyle just wiped off your face and hands before they continued with their daily routine with you. 

… 

-And unbeknownst to you, the general’s body was laying on the floor of the forest, getting picked at by the wild animals of Pandora’s forests. Gone to the world as soon as Lyle got his hands on her neck. 

-And once you were asleep against Z, the men went over to the main base with all of the human agents, barricaded the exits, then broke all of the windows as quietly as they could. 

-They observed to make sure that everyone inside stopped moving, then made their way back to their own base. 

-They each kissed your forehead and nodded to Z once they made it back, before going to sleep themselves. 

… 

-Though they didn’t stay in their base for very long because they knew that they wouldn’t have any resources left in a little bit. 

They had moved away from both of the RDA bases until they spotted a clan, then moved a bit away from it before building themselves a shelter. And took the pointers from the stories you told about your old clan to provide for themselves and you. Though they weren’t sure how to make the navi clothes, and just kept manually washing their human style clothes, though they were getting threadbare since they had been on their own for a couple months. 

Though the clan had begun to notice the new activity near them, and recognized the sky people features in the adults, and recognized that you were a native like them. And that didn’t make them feel good, so they notified the only man they thought would know what to do about it. Jake Sully. 

-And once Jake asked some questions about the appearance of the avatars, he was scared for you. Wondering why they have a toddler with them in the first place. 

-But he figured he needed to get to that clan and figure it out for himself. 

… 

-Jake made the quick trip to the clan that had reported the human-like navi seen with a child in the forest. 

-When he got there, the olo’eyktan greeted him, then brought him to the edge of their territory to discreetly observe the group together. 

-A veritable chill went down Jake’s spine when seeing the exact features of the group of navi. Being that he had once worked with, and fought a war against them. 

He confirmed the suspicions of the clan’s leader and said that he could handle this, but to have them stay close just in case things went south. He moved closer to the group along the branches of the trees until he was only a little bit away, then dropped down and walked around the tree to be in front of them. He put his hands up before getting their attention and watching all of them whip their heads around to look at him. The little kid with them shouted his name before having Z push them behind her. He just narrowed his eyes at that before asking what they were doing and why they were here. 

Jake watched as they all looked at each other before Quaritch stepped forward to talk to him. He put a hand up to keep Jake from walking backwards and told him that they had abandoned that mission, and gained a new perspective. Jake just furrowed his eyebrows to prompt him to continue with his explanation. Quearitch nodded and brought a hand to Jake’s shoulder to guide him to come sit with the rest of the group. 

As he sat with the group, the child, toddler really, came up to him and sat on his lap. He smiled and put a hand behind their back to keep them from falling before looking up at the group of, apparently, ex-RDA soldiers. They went into the story of how they had met the child, and what they had done to get them. They all looked down while explaining the death they caused, but perked up when saying that they had gained their little darling from the unfortunate event. They explained that they’d been building a routine with taking care of them and teaching them English and had completely forgotten about the missions they were given because you had become their priority. Then the general had shown up and tried to take you from them because she thought you were a ‘distraction’, and they had dealt with her accordingly, and that she was left for the forest creatures. Then they had busted the windows of the main RDA base in the forest in the night, so it was unlikely that any other humans that had come back would turn up. 

-Jake was surprised to say the least. He couldn’t say that any of these events were expected of these people, in his opinion. 

-He also hadn’t even noticed that he had been covering your ears basically since the retelling had started. He only realized when you had put your hands over his. 

-He just raised his eyebrows and playfully flipped you over and put your legs over one shoulder and tickled your tummy. You just scream and laugh before slapping at his hand. He just chuckled before setting you on your feet in front of him, pointedly ignoring the stares from the group around him. 

-After that he just sighed before asking what they intended to do now. 

-They had all made eye contact before saying they were ready to embrace the way of the ‘people’, as you had called it. Though they weren’t exactly sure how that would work, as they’ve been just doing their own thing in this place for a couple weeks. 

-Jake had a look of deep thought on his face before talking to you in navi, asking how you would feel about joining his clan and continuing to learn as you had before being with your current caretakers. 

-You had enthusiastically nodded before going up to Lyle and hopping in his lap. You heard him suggest moving them to be just outside of the Omatikaya clan and to have you learn from the clan teachers, along with teaching the adults the ways of the people like he learned. 

-They all came to an agreement before asking how soon they would be moving. 

-They had all said that they wouldn’t mind moving over there right then. So, Lyle stood up with you in his arms while everyone else grabbed all of the stuff they had with them and began to follow Jake through the forest towards his clan. 

-It had taken them a few hours of constant walking to make it to the Omatikaya clan, and as soon as they had entered the heart of it, there were stares from everyone settled on the group. 

-Jake just pointedly ignored them as he continued walking with the group towards his home, in the hopes of privately discussing the matters to come. Though he did notice the whispers and his own family attempting to stealthily follow them through the crowd. 

-Meanwhile, you were looking at everything in the clan with wonder and excitement because of the semi-familiar surroundings. 

-They had only just made it into Jake’s home to discuss the details of their future arrangement when the rest of Jake’s family stormed in behind them. 

Neytiri was the first to speak, immediately shrieking, “Ma Jake! What are these people doing here?!” She shouted this while angrily gesturing to the extra people in her home. 

Jake just put his hands up in front of them before saying that they will all explain the situation to them. Neytiri started to argue with him, stepping closer to him as she shouted more. You were just observing this with concern and confusion. You understood every word, and that made you very conflicted. You turned to ask Lyle why she was so mad at them, making him remember that you knew their language and gently covering your ears from the, no doubt, expletive filled tirade from Jake's wife. 

This, ultimately, just drew her attention to you. She scrunched her face and yelled harder at her husband to ask why a child was with them. Jake just kept telling her that they would explain everything to her. This only made her more mad, and you more upset. Your ears were pinned to the sides of your head, and your eyes, focused solely on Neytiri, were tearing up. All of the adults surrounding you were seeing the impending meltdown. You interrupted everybody in the vicinity by letting out a loud whimper. And as everyone looked at you, an atokirina gently rested on top of your head, staying long enough for everyone to see it before floating away. 

The whole group was staring at you in awe before processing the state you were currently in. Lyle and Z, who were closest, started comforting you, and Neytiri had finally started calming down while she touched Jake’s arm and shamefully lowered her ears. 

-Jake decided to defuse the situation by prompting the group with the offering of changes of clothes, in the Omatikayan style. 

-That made you perk up a bit, asking if they would really have clothes for you. 

-Jake smiled at you and assured you that they would get some clothes that you like for you. 

-You had calmed down and were now excited to get a change of clothes, a lot more familiar to what you were still used to. 

-Everyone present had calmed down, and Jake asked if you wanted to go with his children so they could get you new clothing. Which you accepted before being set down and leaving with the four other youngest people present. 

Neteyam had picked you up when you had fallen back to look at everything as they were going to where all of the spare clothing was. You were talking, in navi, about how you were going to pick out nice clothes for all of ‘your adults’, and how you had imagined them learning your ways. They all thought that it was endearing, but overall sad. They all shared a look before finally getting to the storage tent with the extra clothing for the clan. 

You were set down in front of the clothes that would fit you, and you immediately started looking through them. You had quickly picked out a very basic looking purple tewng, and were looking for a top that matched it. You ended up picking a top that had a mix of beading and knots to form a design. And after you changed you went to the adult sized clothing to pick out outfits for your adults. Just something basic before they learn to make their own. And you ignored the eyes on you as you were debating the choices you had. 

And once you had made your final selections for everyone, and had them sorted in your hands, you had gone back to the group of Jake’s children. Letting them know that you were ready to be brought back to the adults. 

-They didn’t say anything, just led you out of the tent with small smiles on their faces. 

-You started talking to the youngest girl, Tuk, while walking back to the family’s kelku. Occasionally one of the older siblings chimed in too. 

-You two had become fast friends in the time it took to get there. 

-You all had shown up just as they were finishing another argument, though they had come to a conclusion. 

-Z had immediately come up to you and lifted you by the armpits to move you into the middle of the group. And all of their attention went to the bundles of clothing in your arms. 

-You excitedly told them that you had picked out clothing for all of them, then eagerly passed out the clothes to them. 

-They all looked at them in confusion, and you laughed before saying you could help them. Though it sounded adorable coming from you because a couple months is not long enough to be fluent in english. 

-It was truly toddler speak, combined with a limited vocabulary. And they found your eagerness and, almost, babble to be the cutest thing ever. 

-Though they had to come to a compromise of you explaining the tewng to the guys, and waiting for them to change, before staying to help Z into the clothes. 

The Sullys were just observing this scene with apt attention. With harsh focus on the ex-soldiers. But they were intrigued with your offer to help them yourself, though they had assumed you had forgotten that they were there, and could also help. 

Jake decided to step in at the end, and offered to help the guys change himself to save time for the group. And though the men were cautious about changing in front of what used to be their enemy, they knew that they would do it for you. Along with knowing the attitudes of the navi people with exposure. So, they waited until most of the others present left before unfurling the clothes and wincing at the minimal coverage. Jake just laughed before telling them that he had the same reaction his first night with the clan. 

They listened to the explanation from Jake before hesitantly taking off their previous clothes and putting on the loincloths, along with the other small accessories you picked for them. They were done quickly and swapped places with the others that needed to change. 

You went back in with Z and waited until she had taken off her other clothes before showing her how the loincloth went on and helping her with tying it. Then assisted with the top and helped position it in a nice way. They told her to sit still while you put a necklace and anklet on her. Once you were done you beamed at her with all the pride your little body could produce. You clutched onto her around her hips, and she walked out of the tent while holding onto you and swinging you around, you giggling all the way. The sight of it brought smiles to the entire group outside, with Tuk beginning to beg her father to do that with her too. Jake just shook his head before grabbing her, swinging her around in front of him as he waddled in a circle. 

Which was enough for her in the end. 

-Once everyone calmed down, and stopped picking at their clothes, they were told to follow Jake so they could pick out a spot to build their own kelku. 

-This had you very happy, pulling on Z’s hand as you guys began to walk into the forest behind the Sully’s home. 

-Your eyes had turned calculated as you looked up into the trees, assessing each one of them. Thinking about the possibilities for each of them and their limbs. 

-Your adults were a little surprised at how serious you got about picking a spot to build a home. Though they suspected that you would know which place would be best. 

-You had been walking around for a few minutes, looking back and forth up into the trees, eyes narrowed. And out of the corner of your eye, you saw a promising one. 

-You immediately turned in a different direction, quickly walking up to the thick tree you spotted. You looked up at its limbs, nodding as you walked around the base of the tree. 

-Though they got a bit panicked as you suddenly jumped up and started scurrying up the tree. You made it to the major limbs of the tree, poking and crawling around on them in your inspection. 

-You must have been happy with what you saw, because you started coming back down to the ground, and happily announced that that was the one. Asking how long it would take for the kelku to be built. 

-Jake just said it could take a while depending on how big it would be, and how much involvement you wanted in it. 

-You just beamed at him before prancing over to Mansk and reaching to be picked up, which he did quickly and swiftly. 

You guys made it back to the middle of the clan, and you pranced off with Jake, Neytiri, and Neteyam to grab food for everyone. It was a simple meal of some fruits and teylu, and you happily carried a couple portions with you back to your people. Neytiri was eyeing you from behind, wondering how you still act like a carefree child after what you’ve been through. She smiles a little bit as you start skipping to the ex-soldiers once they come into your view. Observing as you hopped up into the lap of the woman with no hair on the sides of her head. 

Their whole family watched as they had conversation with each other while doting on you, each one of them periodically giving you their full attention. And you were just basking in the familiar food and surroundings while being taken care of. They couldn’t help but smile at the situation while still being wary of the adults that you were with. And you occasionally helped Z adjust the top to her liking. Laughing when they huffed at the clothing. 

You started talking in your broken english about how you wanted the kelku to be built and set up. Slightly different from how the Omatikaya ones were, more like your home clan, and bigger to be able to fit everyone. All of them nodding along to what you were saying. They didn’t exactly see your vision, but would help as much as they could to achieve it for you. They wanted you to be happy and fulfilled. 

-And the next couple months were filled with you directing the adults helping to build the home how you saw it, when you weren’t in lessons with the other children. 

-You had made fast friends with Tuktirey, hanging out with her daily, and by extension her siblings. 

-You hadn’t been in lessons yet in your clan, and were the youngest attending. This meant that you weren’t expected to pick everything up as easily as the bigger kids, and had more free time to oversee the kelku being built. 

-You had really taken to weaving, and crafting. Making many clothing pieces, accessories, and baskets during the period of time the kelku was being built. 

-And you immediately claimed a space once it was done, toddling around to look at everything that’s now finished. 

-You watched as all of the adults explored the spaces and nooks in their new home, taking their time to explore everything. Each claiming a space as theirs eventually. 

-They had been training daily, and learning how to build and weave the home on the side. Though it was all worth it to see you so happy. They felt fulfilled providing joy for you. 

-They couldn’t help but smile as Lyle lifted you into his arms to help you hang up all of the clothing and other items you had made for everyone during your lessons. 

-Each of them gave you a kiss on your cheek after you dragged them back down the tree so you could all bathe after the excitement of the day. 

They had been taught how to make or acquire the items needed for bathing, and used that as one of the moments to be calm and dote on you to the highest degree. And even though they still weren’t used to how exposed the navi were, it was no longer as weird to bathe as a group and help each other. It was one of their most treasured moments when you allowed yourself to act more your age, as you tended to act more mature than a three year old should. You took it upon yourself to step up for them as they were plunged into a new life, and they really appreciated that. Though it was nice to see you allow yourself to be immature. To allow them to really baby you like they wanted, take the time to coddle you. You usually made no attempt to wash yourself, melting into their arms and allowing them to do it for you. 

They never realized that they were usually being observed during that time, their senses not as attuned to constantly observing around them. But it was usually Neytiri that perched herself in a tree by them and observed how they were with their guards down completely. Though they have been defying her expectations since they arrived back in her life. It has become a nice ritual for her, allowing her to relax in their presence and convince herself to stop being so distrustful of them. Seeing them caring for a child really made her feel for them. She knew the feeling herself, as a mother, even though all of her kids are mostly independent at this point. 

Originally, she was observing them like a hunter watching prey move through the trees, body tensed in her observation. But now she watches while relaxing on the branches above them. Laying on the branches, flicking her tail in content, while focused on the group. She appreciated your friendship with her children, approving of you and them influencing each other. And she was fond of your presence. Though she had never gotten to see you truly act your age like that. And that worried her, which she brought up to Jake from time to time. His words alone hadn’t calmed her, but these moments did. She saw you healing. So, she was content to see you relax and let yourself be a toddler, and be cared for. 

-Her attention snapped to the side as someone stopped next to her on the tree, though she relaxed again as she saw Jake settle beside her. 

-She figured it made sense that he would catch on eventually, as he had also been a little bit worried about the child. 

-He started silently watching the group with his wife. Having a small smile on his face as he saw what she had been going off to do recently. Feeling fond of seeing you act your age and enthusiastically accept the care offered to you.

-He saw Neytiri’s attitude towards the former soldiers change and had been wondering what brought it on. And now he saw it for himself. 

-Children change people, bring out their true colors in a sense. And he was happy to see the effect it had on the group of people in front of him. 

… 

-It had been some time since your home had been built, and all of you had been adjusting quickly. You to the new culture, and them to the navi life. 

-Though they were still learning the language and ways of life, they were making a major effort for your sake. 

-They saw how happy you were to speak the navi language with them, and do the things you were used to doing before. 

-They were acting as a family unit, and they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

~

Tags: @eywas-heir , @onlyreadz , @iggy5055 , @horniestbutterfly ,

[xchronicles]

Okay… real talk now, just between us girlies.

Aaron, if you’re reading this, you’re one of us and you’re always welcome in.

We joke, argue, and moan a lot about the J/C stuff - especially now with Prodigy being the latest new canon story. We all know, at the end of the day, they’re not real. However, what they represent and the impact they have on the audience is very real.

I watched Voyager back in the day when I was in primary school. My emotionally undeveloped self quickly picked up on the J/C stuff, and soon I found myself watching the show more and more, hoping that today’s episode would be about them or at least feature a lot of scenes with them together. I vividly remember the heartbreak after watching "Endgame" and being so confused on what I had just witnessed. I remember expecting the next episode, which never came, and feeling so confused. I felt betrayed by the show and didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. I was just a kid - exactly the target audience that Prodigy aims to reach.

Now, as an adult, that kid in me still feels that betrayal. I’ve always leaned on imaginary characters as a coping mechanism. As a girl who never quite fit into traditional gender roles and was often criticized for not being "girly" enough or not aligning with societal expectations, I found solace in the reversed gender norms between Janeway and Chakotay. At the time, I didn’t realize that this was what appealed to me so much.

What I’m trying to say is that making Janeway and Chakotay canon, no questions hanging, healthy relationship and all, is an incredible narrative tool to show that women can be in the position of power, having a career while also being in a loving, supportive relationship. It would teach younger audiences, especially girls, that they don’t have to choose between career and relationship and, more importantly, that they don’t have to strip down parts of who they really are to fit into a gender role box to be accepted as a proper woman.

I get frustrated watching interviews with Kate because whenever she asks why fans want the J/C relationship to become romantic, she never gets a good answer. I understand her pushback to some extent because I don’t think a man could ever give her an answer that truly resonated with her. Men don’t think about the constant criticism that women face about not being "womanly" enough. Kate gets told that fans want the relationship because she deserves it and that is the problem. It’s not about what she deserves - it's about the women who have been constantly told from a young age what is “appropriate” for them and that if they don't change they'll end up alone cause no man will want them. They’re the ones who truly deserve to see that they can have both, represented in a strong character like Janeway, whom they’ve admired be it for a year or over 20 years

Men do face their own set of pressures though, like being told they aren’t “man enough,” which can contribute to toxic masculinity. However, Prodigy has addressed this issue beautifully through Chakotay. He’s a wonderful example of strong, non-toxic masculinity, embodying the true essence of what it means to be a man. Season 2 did a fantastic job showcasing this with both Dal and Chakotay. I just wish we could see that same level of depth and growth for Janeway, particularly for young girls who look up to her. Right now, the message feels as if you have to choose between pursuing a career or pursuing a relationship.

Truth be told, I think a big part of the issue is that Kate views Janeway as Prodigy’s lead character, which might make her feel that maintaining the “will they or won’t they” tension is necessary to keep the audience engaged. That perspective might be true if the show were solely focused on Janeway like Voyager was, but Prodigy is so much more than that. The core of Prodigy is really about the young crew and their journey. In fact, younger viewers are likely more interested in the relationship between Gwyn and Dal. I truly believe that making J/C canon wouldn’t hurt the show - instead, it could provide a positive example for the young crew and their audience to look up to. Find solace in them just as I have when I was their age, minus the horrible heartbreak thanks to Endgame lol

[neiptune]

we do fall before we rise

cw: 1.4k wc, female reader, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries/bruising, mentions of slight harassment, friends to lovers, draken is a big dumb soft idiot, miscommunication my beloved. sponsored by @acidsbeats, thank you so much for trusting me with this and contributing to @ficsforgaza!

There’s no reason why Draken would be there, at your friend’s house, in the middle of the night. Something cold and unwelcome would be clawing at your stomach from the inside if you didn’t know how close they’ve always been, Mikey’s sister practically his sister too, the same way Manjiro is his brother.

“What?” crude bluntness shakes you from the numbness, stiffened limbs gaining their mobility once more.

“Where’s Emma?” is the only thing you can bring yourself to ask, tone matching his for good measure. It requires a whole lot of effort not to focus on his busted lip, dark circles underneath eyes that once didn’t bore into yours with such coldness.

“In Roppongi, out for the night”

He’s not asking you to come in but you’re not particularly inclined to leave either, the paper bag in your hands weighing exceptionally heavy.

“Why…”

“I needed a place to stay for a few days. Is the interrogation over?”

Only a few weeks prior to this awkwardly bitter encounter, you would’ve taken his face in your hands and inquired about the dried blood on his swollen bottom lip. Hell, maybe he would’ve come to you. Asked to be taken care of and of course you would’ve obliged, the way you have so many times throughout the years, ever since high school.

But now? Now he’s looking at you like you’re a stranger, someone he’d barely tolerate to share a room with. It makes your blood boil.

“Fuck off, Ryuguji” you push past him and make your way inside an apartment that’s a little yours as well, a safe space that has witnessed your highs and so many of your lows. Including the most recent one.

He may be acting childish but Ken knows better than to protest against your presence there: Emma’s home is your home. He’s the intruder.

“I’m just here to return some clothes” your pitch is as casual as it can be, hoping he’ll keep his distance while you quickly empty the bag of its content. They’re not really Emma’s, they’re yours. But you can’t really fix a laundry with blood-stained clothes at your place, with a nosy roommate, can you? No matter whether the blood is yours or not.

Unfortunately, he decides to quietly follow you to the bathroom, if for genuine curiosity or lack of faith it’s impossible to tell. What you also couldn’t tell, is how stupidly full your friend’s washing machine is: certainly enough for you to drop the white shirt to the floor while desperately attempting to push it in alongside your shorts.

“No, leave it-” it’s wishful thinking, really, the idea that he’d actually listen to you for a change. Draken crouches down to pick the shirt up for you (kindness? Eagerness for you to simply be done and leave?) only to then crumple it in his stupidly gigantic fist.

“Is this… what the fuck happened?”

“None of your business anymore” you snatch the shirt away, heat crawling from the base of your throat to your face as you shove it inside the washer and slam the door shut.

“Are you hurt?” the urgency in his voice makes you look up, mouth a thin, bitter line.

“I’m not”

There’s a storm brewing behind that all too familiar stare, indecision palpable as eyes you miss so badly roam across your features, explore with fierce attentiveness should they find any sign of pain or discomfort in your own stare. But then they reluctantly wander elsewhere, focus on the rest of your frame to make sure you’re not lying. And sure enough, there she is: an imperceptible shadow peeking from underneath long sleeves rolled up for practicality, teasing your right forearm. He doesn’t recognize the shape, can’t quite place it among all the other contours he has mapped out throughout the years. It’s not a mole, definitely not a birthmark. Then what…?

Your panic as you scramble to pull down your sleeve once more sets his instincts ablaze. You know Ken’s hands: they’re big, rough, often cold, capable of great destruction and outstanding tenderness when away from prying eyes. They’re something in between when they grab your arm, force the sleeve up fully as far as it can go, take a look at the bruise. At the threatening outline of fingers he wishes to snap in half.

“Who did this to you?” it’s low, guttural, eyes burning with a fury his tone doesn’t really match. For your sake, as always.

“It’s nothing” you attempt to tame a flame that poses the risk of becoming wildfire “I handled it”

“You handled what exactly?”

“I told you, it’s no-”

“Answer the goddamn question!”

“You’re hurting me, Ken!”

He inhales sharply, eases the hold over your arm immediately. The bruise looks back at him, mocks him, a sour reminder of what he’s always known: you’re a target. An easy one, that is. Your friendship, your loyalty, have always brought more burdens on your shoulders than benefits. Fuck. Who? How many? What did they want? Was it about Mikey, about him?

“Please tell me” he tries to control himself, fingers now closed around your wrist barely kept from quivering.

You sigh, defeated.

“This guy started bothering me on my way home, grabbed me a bit too forcefully. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I made good use of the self defense lessons you and Mikey gave me and Emma in high school. Happy now?”

Draken’s shoulder slump.

“The blood on your shirt…”

“Wasn’t mine”

Oh.

The small relief expanding in his chest like oil spreading out over water isn’t enough to satiate the rage. Daily dangers, regular small fucking threats finding you while you wander out in the world on your own. Without him. Because of his dumb fears, blind selfishness and…

“Now you can go back to pretending I don’t exist” your wrist slips easily out of his softer grasp but you can’t predict the way he grabs you by the jaw, forces you to look at him instead of spinning out of his hold.

“Don’t say that ever again”

“Then don’t suddenly act like you give a shit” you bark “it’s been months, Ken. You haven’t talked to me in months”

“I don’t allow myself to give a shit” he’s so close you can smell the expensive cologne he’s been using religiously ever since you gifted one bottle to him.

“What is that even supposed to mean? You were drunk out of your mind and kissed me at Mikey’s birthday party, so what? Is the regret weighing so heavy on you our entire friendship has to be fucking erased?”

“You were drunk enough to kiss me back, I barely had two beers!”

“I didn’t even get to drink, dumbass!”

He pauses, quietly letting the implications of what you have both just admitted sink in.

Draken’s heart hasn’t at all hardened despite all he’s been through. On the contrary: his heart is so tender it needs extra protection, walls and watchmen granting it a shield solid enough to take a few blows from time to time. Yours, however? That was one blow he wasn’t ready to take. Avoiding his best friend felt wrong, yet easier than admitting dangerous feelings that could have ruined one of the few, truly valuable things in his life.

“I think” he says quietly, lets go of your jaw and breathes in your scent, thankful as ever that you didn't run out of the bathroom right away “I’ve been an asshole. I’m sorry”

“Yes, you have been an asshole” frustration stings at the corners of your eyes “couldn’t even tell me you hated kissing me, no, you just had to disappear like a fucking child who-”

“I’m in love with you” the few strands of fair hair he leaves loose frame his handsome face perfectly “have been for a while, probably. Didn’t want to drag you into the mess so I gave you some space. Guess I could’ve handled it better”

You stand still, muscles frozen as you search for the hint of a lie, of travesty, in his softer gaze. All you find is weary sincerity. Suddenly, the memory of all the years spent side by side explodes in your chest like fireworks, warm and powerful. He’s your person, since forever.

“I’m sorry” Draken repets, a plea more than an apology “I understand if there’s someone else or if it’s too late or-”

You take his hand.

“There’s never been anyone else, idiot”

There never could've been.

[tokiwarcube]

The Bad Kind

Pickles hates his family, and everything to do with them… but there’s still that small piece of him that holds out hope for a normal life — for some modicum of love to be tossed his way. So maybe it isn’t weird that he’s attending this way-too-expensive wedding party… but what is weird is how chummy his mom is being with you.

Or, in which Pickles throws hands after Seth tries to get a little too friendly with you.

Pickles/Reader (GN) (Established relationship.)

Warnings: Seth. Nonconsensual touching (above belt)/sexual harassment, canon-typical violence. Happy ending, 3.1k. Enjoy!

He’s gonna pass out if he keeps breathing like this.

If Pickles had it his way, he'd never see his family again. It took a lot of work, and even more drugs, to forget the bulk of his childhood memories. And truthfully, few things would make him happier than to forget the rest of them, too. Just throw them away, leave them in the dark, and let him live. But try as he might, the past always has a way of clawing its way to the forefront of his mind, and into his life. Like right now.

His leg bounces rapidly from his seat at the edge of the ballroom, arms crossed over his chest as he picks incessantly at his cuticles. Seats flush against the wall, this small area has been your one place of refuge for the night. The rest of your small group had separated early, with most of the boys presumably wandering over to raid the bar and buffet, although from where you’re sitting, you can’t quite tell if they’ve stayed there or not. It's only once you reach out to take his hand in yours, smoothing over the blossoming red lines with your own gentle touch that he halts his movements. He turns to look at you then, finally tearing his eyes away from the crowd, gritting his teeth and pressing his mouth into a flat line. It’s a strained smile, but it’s something, at least.

You’re sure he’d burn this whole venue down if you weren’t in it right now.

"Inhaler?" You mouth.

He nods in turn, patting his pocket for emphasis, before interlocking his fingers with yours. He taps repeatedly, turning your hand this way and that as his eyes rake over the crowd, searching. You should be thankful that he’s staying seated, you suppose. Last time his parents guilted him into coming to one of these events — all hosted on his dime, mind you — he couldn’t help vying for some sort of attention and support from his mother, and the damage her umpteenth rejection left lasted far longer than you’d like to remember.

You lean into him, keeping your voice low: “You sure you don’t want to leave, hun?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

He very clearly isn’t, but you know well-enough that dragging him out of here right now would only make things worse — no matter how badly you want to leave. You hum, cupping the other side of his face with your free hand and press a kiss to his jawline.“Well, just let me know, okay?”

His lips upturn a fraction then, and he tears his eyes away from the crowd again to place a proper kiss to your lips. You smile softly as you pull away, and your mouth has just parted to distract him with some conversation — he had fallen asleep during your shitty little movie marathon last night, and you weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily about it — but before you can speak you’re interrupted by the click of heels on porcelain tile, and a harping voice that has you stiffening.

All things considered, time has treated Molly rather well — your lover had to have gotten his looks from somewhere, you suppose, and she’s contributed her half well enough. Although you doubt she would ever let you see her in any other state, judging by the expertly layered wine-red box dye. You absently wonder if the dye job was on Pickles’ paycheck as well. His grip tightens on your hand as she approaches, and you can feel the warmth leave his body almost instantaneously as she comes to a standstill in front of the two of you.

Her gaze is piercing, and all at once he feels like a child again -- punished for crimes far too severe for his small hands to commit.

"Pickles, I was wondering when you would show up." Her voice is uncharacteristically chipper, but it lacks an element of invitation. She turns to you then, and when you lock eyes with her, her pinked lips turn upward, although this too lacks something critical.

“And it’s so good to see you again, too.” Your name rolls off her lips with ease, and your eyebrows bounce in surprise. “I hope my son hasn’t been giving you too much trouble at work? I mean really, with all the work that you do…”

Frankly, you hadn’t expected her to remember you at all — your first (and last) interaction could hardly even classed as a “meeting,” with how quickly it had ended. Vague memories of tequila and flashing lights — the faint recollection a firm handshake as you introduced yourself as his partner glimmers somewhere in the back of your mind — before being pulled away by a clamoring crowd. The memories are a bit fuzzy with all of the commotion — one of the boys had thrown hands with a waiter during the annual (mandatory) Christmas get-together, and after that, everything beyond getting the hell out of there was irrelevant. You can’t quite recall if you had ever told her exactly what you do for Dethklok, but you chalk it up to the trace alcohol that was in your system at the time.

“No, uh,” you stumble, “Things have been going great, actually. Smooth sailing, always a blessing to do what I love for a living.”

Her eyes crinkle at your reaction, laughing politely. She swirls her wine around in her glass absently, eyes trained on you. Pickles’ brow furrows in your peripherals, and you’d be lying if something didn’t feel off.

“Mom—”

“Now, don’t be modest dear,” she extends her hand towards you, manicured nails glimmering in the white light of the venue, “I’m sure it must be hard, corralling all of those boys. You really must have your work cut out for you!”

“Ah, really, they’re not much trouble at all.” You squeeze Pickles’ hand affectionately, dragging your thumb across his index. Her refusal to acknowledge her son isn’t lost on you. “Plus, it’s nice being able to make art with my boyfriend. It’s a good gig.” You titter out a soft laugh of your own, to be polite — don’t cause a scene.

She hums, sipping her wine. That seems to be the extent of her acknowledgement, however.

“Really, your work is incredible. Sure, it might not be my cup of tea…” She pauses then, tilting her head to the side. “But it’s good. Very good. I’d love to hear more about your process over a glass. Do you drink wine?” She shows you teeth then, eyes darting between your hand and her own.

“Ah, not—”

“Babe,” Pickles squeezes your hand, patting the top fondly before shooting a soft smile at you, “It’s fine, go have fun.”

There’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes when he says it, and this is quite frankly the opposite of fun to you — especially with the growing unease brewing in your stomach at her insistent gaze — but with a look like that, you find it hard to say no. You wonder if this is the most amiably she’s acknowledged him in recent years, and it’s that exact thought that pushes you to your feet. Maybe you can slip in a good word or two.

You smile back at him, drawing your hand from his hold to cup his face — beard scratching fondly against your hand — and press a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah? Alright hun, let me know if you need anything, okay?”

And with that you’re taking his mother’s hand, and letting her drag you across the room. It’s a bit too pristine and white for your tastes — white marble walls melt into the ground, creating a strange sort of homogeneity that, even with the towering pillars that intersperse the room, make the expensive sight rather… bland, visually. You move through the crowd towards the small bar at the front, talking all the while about the newest album and your contributions — the crowd is larger than you would have thought for Pickles’ family, although to be fair, he couldn’t remember whose wedding he was paying for this time, so you suppose they could have simply been one of the more tolerable extended members. The boys are nowhere to be found, surprisingly — you absently wonder if there’s another bar in the building, or if they’ve simply fucked off to cause mischief elsewhere.

She hails the bartender, signalling for another glass of her own drink as you speak. And for what it’s worth, you are engrossed in your conversation — you swirl the wine in your glass, watching the dark drink cradle the glass again and again as you walk her through the creative process. She nods, humming politely with a sip from her glass every now and again, occasionally casting a look towards your untouched glass. You have half the mind to offer it to her with how she’s staring it down — you wouldn’t miss it, really.

“Well, that is quite a bit of work, now isn’t it?” She smiles at you again, and that growing unease returns once again.

“You know, my son Seth is getting into the music business too. I’m sure he’d appreciate any pointers you have.” Her eyes look past you for a moment, brightening sincerely for the first time tonight as she rises from her seat. You follow her movements as she walks past you, and you feel your stomach sink when you see where she’s pacing off to.

Or, more accurately, to whom.

“You two will have so much to talk about, I bet you'll get along just perfect."

Seth trades places with her, and you feel your stomach sink. Of course she has ulterior motives. You’re being used as a business consultant. You sigh internally, forcing a smile onto your face when your eyes lock. The smarmy grin on his face leaves a growing pit of disgust in your stomach, and you realize that this has absolutely been the plan from the beginning. Fucker. You sigh to yourself, gritting your teeth: All you’ve gotta do is give him some vague pointers, you tell yourself — nothing you haven’t done before.

It’s easy to get along with someone when you can’t get a word in, edge-wise.

You sip at the wine absently, letting your eyes unfocus as he rambles at you — it isn’t a particularly good wine, certainly not the exact drink you would have chosen — although to be fair, if you knew you were going to be listening to Seth talk for the rest of the night, you would have chosen something stronger.

“It’s gonna be great, I know it—”

Like absinthe.

“— I’ve got a producer lined up to work with us and everything—”

Or Everclear.

“—We’re only missing a few people in this whole thing—”

Hell, you’d do a shot of lead-radiator moonshine, if it would put you out of your fucking misery. Maybe you’d go blind, so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. You don’t think bad moonshine could make you go deaf, which really would be the ultimate reprieve right now, but you’d be damned if you wouldn’t give it a shot, anyways. You hum absently, letting your eyes roam the wall behind him in search of a clock, but no cigar. You feel like you’ve been here for a fucking century.

“—and it's like, I get it, the money must drive you crazy. But listen, you and me, we could really do something. A babe like you would drive sales crazy—”

Hold on.

You blink back into focus and furrow your brow at his words, pausing at you bring your glass back down to the table.

“I’m sorry?” You can’t help the incredulity that bleeds into your voice, but he seems to misconstrue your offense as something else entirely.

"I mean it, you're gorgeous. You could do so much more than this… thing, you’ve got going on with my brother." he leans forward into your personal space, "You've just gotta let me work my magic."

You feel the bubbles of anger rising in your throat, but you quickly shove it down. Don’t cause a scene, you repeat to yourself. You grit your teeth and force a tight-lipped smile onto your face.

"I'm not sure what you're implying," you force, "but I'm perfectly happy where I am, thank you."

You pat the top of the bar, signaling the end to your conversation, before rising to your feet. It’s not worth causing a scene over a shitty sales pitch, or bad flirting. You polish off your glass in a final sip, tossing a $20 onto the granite top before moving to stride past Seth; only, you don’t.

“Come on, babe,” His hand lands on your bicep, pressing you back gently towards the seat. But you don’t budge, pulling your upper body away from him further. The nickname, ordinarily sparking such sweet feelings in your chest when spoken from the lips of your lover, sounds repugnant in Seth’s mouth. But worse than that is his touch — the unwanted contact, however brief it might have been, makes your skin crawl. You take a step back, looking to put some distance between you two.

“Don’t touch me, thanks.” You keep your voice steady despite the repulsion, and even as anger and anxiety begins to take over when he rises from his seat to follow you. You know he’s not going to do shit in a public space like this, but that doesn’t help to assuage the nervousness brewing in you. You step back again, trying to make distance and filter into the crowd, but he mirrors the movement.

“Listen—” he starts as he reaches forward -- to touch your arm? Your hair? You can't be sure, because as you step back to dodge his advance again, Pickles appears seemingly out of nowhere.

You hear the crack of fist on jaw more than you see it, and the sound of shattering glass follows just after. The people at the bar flee from the scene in a panic as Seth’s back meets the granite where you had just been, but he doesn’t have time to strike back at Pickles as the smaller man’s fist meets his face. Crunching cartilage gives way to a sudden cacophony of shrieking, and you’re shoved harshly in the panic, with only brief snippits of words filtering through it all.

"Don't fucking touch them!"

"Get off of him!"

"Oh, fuck you!"

You stumble, pushing yourself forward as you right your footing. A circle has opened up around the two of them, and with rapidly darting eyes, you see Molly on the edge of the ring — face as red as her hair as she screams something you can’t quite make out, but it's then that you see his father stomping his way through the crowd on the other side, and you leap back into action.

Pickles has his fists curled in the front of Seth's dress shirt, pressing him flush against the bartop, and he seems torn between hitting him again and simply throttling him — although with the blood pooling from the latter's nose and mouth, you suspect he’s gotten more than a few good hits in already. It’ll have to do.

“Babe, we’ve gotta fucking bail.”

Calvert’s shoes sound like gunshots on the marble flooring as he stomps towards the three of you, and you don’t know what the fuck he thinks he’s gonna do, but that’s exactly when you decide to simply hook your arms under Pickles’, pulling him off his brother. He’s about to duck in for another hit, but your insistent tugging combined with the head tilt you give to signal that it’s time to fucking leave is enough to get him to let up.

His breathing is labored — he put his inhaler in his pocket this morning, you’re certain, — and you all but drag him through the crowd the second he nods back at you.

Clutched pearls, wide eyes, and parted mouths — the faces in the crowd blur into a smear of shock and fear, stoked further by the frightened whispers that seem to choke the room. But you don't spare the time to bask in the tension, parting the crowd with a determined stride, and before you know it the cool night air kisses your skin.

You vaguely hear the rest of the guys follow you out the door — where the hell they were for all of this would be a question for the next day— but the two of you don’t stop running until you reach the car.

A breathy giggle escapes you as you bounce into the velvet interior, and you realize at some point in your scramble you had lost a shoe to the night. You stretch yourself into the corner space of the limousine, holding your hands out towards Pickles.

He pants, stopping just before the lip of the door, bowing with his hands on his knees.

“Jesus Christ,” he pants, “Hold on, just gi- give me a second.”

You laugh, leaning forward to pull him in. “You can breathe better sitting, you know.”

He makes some sort of unintelligible noise, glancing up before taking your offered hands.

“I’m not made for running,” he says, dropping into your arms. He catches his breath for a few minutes — left pocket has inhaler, you remember, although he never pulls for it. His breathing evens out slowly, and once he’s capable of speaking again, he pulls back to look at you. His brows are knitted in concern, hands coming to cradle your biceps.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you at all?”

You loop your arms over his shoulders, dragging the blunt of your nails along the back of his neck fondly. Maybe you should be more rattled — maybe you’ll crash in a little bit once the adrenaline high of the past few minutes comes down — but with the lightness in your chest, you suspect you’ll be okay. The feel of him on your biceps, and not the vile hands of moments ago, soothes over the residual anxiety. You smile, squishing his face between your fingers and placing a kiss to his pouting lips.

“Call me babe?”

He furrows his brow, searching your eyes for something, before murmuring a quiet “babe?” through your grip on his cheeks.

You laugh to yourself, grinning wide. Yeah, you’ll be fine. You place another kiss to his lips and return your hand to its home around his shoulders, gazing at him fondly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think I should have got to hit him at least once, though.”

Laughter filters through the limo as he relaxes in your hold, and that’s when you know that he’ll be okay, too.

“He’s a little freak, Pickles.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“The bad kind.”

“Yeah dude, I know.”

[modanisgf]

002. HESISTATING

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wc: <1k

if you told haerin only an hour ago that she would be going to the girls basketball practice after school, she would call you insane. she wasn’t even sure right now why she was there, agreeing to something danielle said earlier on impulse.

haerin had walked down the hallway absorbed in her phone, not noticing they were approaching the gym. danielle and aeri opened the doors, the loud nose alarming haerin.

“why are we here?” haerin questioned, receiving confused glances from the two in front of her.

“we’re here to monitor over the girls basketball practice, we wanna see how we need to divide funding this month. i thought dani told you?” aeri said.

“are you serious..” haerin mumbled, ignoring the head shake danielle gave her.

“maybe you should start listening to what i say haerin.” danielle says, sighing.

“you talked to me while i was drafting funding for prom.” haerin deadpans.

“okay well, i needed you to come. i knew you weren’t gonna say yes cause of yn..” danielle says, mumbling the last part.

“she’s practicing right now?!”

“look haerin you’ll be fine, i don’t even get why you hate the girl she’s really nice.” aeri shrugs, “plus you have to be here, you are the treasurer.”

“you’re just saying that cause she’s yizhuo’s friend.” haerin says.

“i’m not..” aeri says, sighing.

“anyways, let’s go in!” danielle says, entering the gym with aeri following.

haerin hesitated to follow her friends, but soon went in picking up her pace in order to catch up with them. she ignored the eyes she felt staring at her, keeping her eyes trained on in front of her.

the trio took a seat in the stands together, them being the last to enter allowing the practice to commence. the practice had a smooth start up, each player working on their shooting first.

unfortunately for haerin, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. the way you played was so smooth and satisfying to watch, resulting you being the star player. you made every shot look easy, and even analyzed your teammates forms to provide feedback.

it was one of the many things kang haerin hated about you, you were extremely good at what you did, years of practice and experience contributing to it. haerin still remembered when she would call you up, only for you to tell her the same thing everytime she asked to hang out.

‘i’m practicing.’

the sentence rang in her head whenever she thought about you, reminding her of how you never set aside time for her.

haerin refocused on watching your team play, trying not to reminisce on the past. she felt her eyes roll when she saw you and ningning cheer each other on, the two of you making the most baskets.

danielle and aeri were talking silently, the conversation now registering in haerin’s brain.

“they’re really good.” danielle states, aeri nodding.

“what do you think haerin?” aeri asks, looking at the girl next to her.

“i agree with danielle, it looks like they’ve been practicing a lot.” haerin says, aeri nodding again.

“so far so good.”

the practice continued smoothly, mainly consisting of you and ningning excelling in each category. little did haerin know, you were trying to get her attention. you never tried this hard in practice, it resulting in you getting pulled over by one of your teammates.

“who’s in the crowd that your trying to impress?” rei asks.

“no one.” you start, “just trying to work harder this season.”

rei just dismissed the conversation, knowing you were lying. she’d probably find out soon, your friends not being the best at keeping secrets.

the practice finally came to a close, the three girls in the stands finalizing their decisions on the budget. haerin wrote all of it down, putting the paper in her binder after.

they all left the gym quickly after that, aeri leaving first leaving haerin and danielle.

“i saw you.” danielle says ominously.

“huh?”

“looking at yn.”

haerin froze, not knowing what to even say to her.

“the way she plays is just satisfying, there was nothing else to it.” haerin says, receiving a unconvinced look from dani.

“you want her so bad.”

“no i don’t?!”

TAGS 🏷️ (OPEN) — @jayjj7 @saysirhc @sixflame438 @ajjilhan @amourjins @isither @sserajeans @greenniee @isabbellle @gayforalll @leeohknows @airice @yeetaberry127 @l0l44444 @inosfavgf @emphobics @edamboon @s3mz @newhairnewjeans @xen248 @nooneissheree @wintersgff @haechansbbg @gtfoiydlyj

— if your name is red i can’t tag!

[kinardsevan]

30 day fluff prompt challenge: (welcome to) day four

"messing around in IKEA"

“Look, I just wanted the meatballs, we don’t actually have to stay.” 

Evan turns on his heel towards Tommy as they pass through a bedroom setup into a kitchen display.

“Last I checked, you said the walls are still pretty bare,” he replies. “And we still need to find an option for the kitchen cabinets.” 

Tommy chuckles at him, shakes his head. He’d been secretly putting this trip off for over two weeks because he knew that his husband would want to look at everything. As it was, between the two of them and their interest in building things with their hands, it was fairly unlikely that being in IKEA would do much more than just give them ideas on the build-out they were going to ultimately do themselves in their new house. 

“Babe,” Evan drawls, practically frothing at the mouth as he comes to stand in front of a cooktop. “It’s induction.” 

Tommy leans over, looking at the price tag attached to the appliance. “It’s also thirteen hundred dollars.” 

Evan glances over his shoulder at him, a smirk playing on his lips. “I could make that up in a month’s worth of cooking for our friends.” 

Tommy chuckles again, eyeing up the appliance a bit more. One thing he’s already planned to have extra spending money for is the cooking appliances for their kitchen. He’d never hold his husband back from being his best chef, especially when Tommy gets to reap the benefits. 

“So are we going to look at cabinets or not,” Tommy asks him after a beat. He draws his gaze away from the induction cooktop, expecting Evan to still be in front of him, only to find him standing in the next room over. It’s a bedroom set-up with a nursery tucked off to the side, and the way Evan is running his fingers over the side of the crib makes something in Tommy cause his heart to skip a beat. 

They’ve had a rough go of it lately. They’d had an easy time getting a surrogate—Kameron and Connor had been down to help without so much as a second thought, especially given how often they reminded Evan that they were grateful for their son. However, after trying to go the easy route of at-home insemination, they’d swung for IVF, which hadn’t been cheap for them either. 

They’d also been through three miscarriages. Two had taken place in the early weeks, one before there was even a measureable heartbeat. But the last one had been during the fourth month. They’d already started picking names, and Maddie had been starting the plans for a baby shower. Getting that phone call from Kameron had absolutely wrecked them. After that, Kameron had politely asked them if she could bow out, and neither of them held it against her for needing to. Those losses had been trauma for all four of them—Connor included. 

Initially, Tommy dismissed it to himself as bad DNA. Both he and Evan had contributed to the cause but made it clear to their doctor that they weren’t interested in knowing who the biological father was. He had assumed after the first loss that maybe it was his fault, given that Evan and Kameron had already produced a healthy pregnancy and a live birth. But then the second one happened, and he felt inclined to ask, at which point their doctor had confirmed that both men’s donations had each been given a shot, that it wasn’t either of them causing the issue, just a bad roll of the dice. And then the third pregnancy happened, and things were going well, and Tommy was pretty sure that the baby was probably biologically Evan’s, but he didn’t care because they finally had a baby with a heartbeat outside of the first trimester. 

At least, they had. 

He sighs and pushes their cart forward, across the space into the nursery area that Evan is standing in. 

“Where’s your head at,” he asks, sliding a hand around his husband’s waist, staring down into the empty crib. There’s a teddy bear tucked in the corner. 

“Baby kicks,” Evan replies, running his fingers over the enamel paint. 

Tommy gives a small smile, turning his head and kissing his husband’s birthmark. 

“I hope she has one right here, just like you,” he murmurs. Evan sighs, leaning into the gesture. 

“She’s not even mine biologically,” Evan replies when he pulls away, looks up at Tommy. 

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him for just a tick. “Only because genetic material shouldn’t be mixed between siblings.” 

Evan rolls his eyes and looks back down at the crib, a smile still playing on his features. 

“She’ll still be a Buckley,” he comments. “That’s all I care about.” 

“Mmm. Which means she could still have that birthmark.” 

After Kameron, Evan had been rudderless. They’d talked about adoption, had started the process for foster care and were meeting with some private agencies, but they both knew that even that was going to be a years-long process. Truth be told, Tommy wasn’t entirely sure what convinced him to think that calling Maddie was a good idea, but he’d been willing to do anything to help the situation after seeing the way his husband suffered in silence for months on end. 

At the time, he’d felt bad, mostly because he hadn’t asked Chimney if he’d be okay with the idea first. But Maddie had said yes without a second thought. Granted, there had been a brief period when, after he’d told Evan about Maddie agreeing to try, that Evan had mentioned the option for his sister to provide the other half of the baby’s DNA, given that they’d burned all their embryos with Kameron. That question had been a little out of left field for both Maddie and Chimney. For about thirty-six hours, Tommy had been convinced Maddie would end the entire conversation, not hold any interest at that point in helping. 

But then, by some miracle, she’d said yes. To all of it. 

That had been nearly six months ago. 

“Alright,” Tommy murmurs after a beat. “We still have a few weeks before the shower and we don’t have the time or money to put together an entire nursery right now when we need to make sure the rest of the house is in order in the next three months.” 

Evan lets out another sigh, this one far more contented. 

“Fine,” he murmurs. “But I want some of that chocolate cake they have in the restaurant. Plus, I promised Maddie I’d bring her the strawberry shortcake.” 

Tommy laughs, letting Evan pull him out of the room. 

“You Buckleys and your sugar intake,” he comments. “Here’s hoping Lucy gets my metabolism.” 

Evan turns on his heel, narrows his eyes at his husband. 

“Here’s hoping she doesn’t have your sass.” 

[fan-goddess]

Chapter One: A child’s dream

Catch up on the fic here!

Chapter Summary: You’ve had your previous thoughts on Abraham. Only now he’s come back into your life, they’ve seemed to change to something up can’t control

Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale

Warnings: Talk of arranged marriages, most likely incorrect stuff about Romani culture, crushes, (if I miss any things let me know!)

Ever since you were young, you have always known that you would be married to a man not of your choosing. It was common knowledge in your community how your husband would be chosen for you by your mother and father, whose decisions you have relied upon for so many years.

It felt almost natural, as It had never been something you'd ever feared. If anything, you were quite calm about the whole thing.

It wasn’t as if you were going through something you didn’t already know. Your mother had taught you young what it was you needed to do to be considered a perfect Romani wife by your husband. Some of your fondest memories from when you were a young girl involved you in the kitchen with your mother, who took great pride in making sure you knew all the recipes needed to cook a proper meal for your future family. Though they certainly each had their moments.

From the burn on your wrist you got when you'd splashed boiling water from a too full pot, to the scarred over cut on your finger when you’d been distracted cutting parsnips. From the many years of life, your skin was etched with memories. Still, like most girls in the community, it was one of the few ways to get the undivided attention from your mother, so you hardly complained.

Your father though, as much as he, like all fathers in the community, expected his daughter to be the good wife for their future husband, he never allowed the idea to pass through his head that you would be possibly disrespected by him. It was very much of a shock to you that when you were a girl verging on womanhood, your father brought you to the camps nearby forest and l taught you what it was you needed to do in any situation gone wrong. Compared to most fathers, It was a rare concern to hold, and yet you were considerably grateful for it years later when you were finally allowed to venture into the nearby villages alone, and found what it was exactly what some men did to women while they were on their own.

Your friends, all consisting of the daughters of other members of the community you grew up with, from what you could tell did not seem to have fathers who shared the same concerns as yours did. If anything, it was as if their fathers were fully prepared to give them away to the man who presented the best gift/reason, so he could intertwine his and their daughter’s familiar ties. Most fathers it seemed wanted to use their daughters as a way to better contribute to the community of travellers you all lived with.

Yet when you’d asked your friends on their opinion of the matter, they didn’t seem to care very much. If anything, they seemed a little too eager by the prospects of a marriage outcome like their parents to think of any possible repercussions of what could happen.

It had even become a game to the lot of you. Where one girl would name five random men, some belonging to the community some not, and a girl would need to list them in order of how much they’d want to marry them. It was what the lot of you were doing now whilst you all hung out round the back of one of the caravans, sitting wherever you could to avoid staining your clothes on the muddy floor. At the tender age of fifteen, giggling your hearts out as you all hoped for a future like your parents.

“Okay! Now you need to pick between…. Karl, Lee, Lucas, Jamerson and… Abraham!” One of your friends said, pointing to you to answer whilst you begin to mindlessly laugh with your mates. It was nice to do this. To be so close to girls you knew would be living practically next door to you for your whole life.

They all began to join in laughing loudly though as you proclaimed your preference name by name with a small smile. And when you got to the last name of the list, they’d looked shocked and gasped most loudly of all when Abraham’s name was spoken.

“But he’s so handsome!” One wide eyed girl had said.

Another chimed in, “Have you not seen his muscles? He helps my father with the log cutting and believe me when I say, those muscles were something else...”

“Of course I’ve seen him!” You say, sipping at some random drink that may or may not be yours. “He’s got the hair and personality of Elvis damn Presley!”

Like it had begun, the girls all began to giggle in unison once more. And when Missy Ferguson became raving about her dream man needing to be over six foot, laughter echoed and the cycle began all over again.

It had been nearly a year when you crossed paths with Abraham again.

Your father, now unable to physically help to provide for the family, took it upon himself to enlist the help of a fellow man in the community to do the tasks he himself was no longer able to do. Aka, chop the wood and help hunt the livestock.

He hadn’t told you of his decision, which is why you made such a shocked face when you heard a knock early one morning, opened the door, and found yourself face to face with Abraham. Who much to your appreciation, didn’t seem to show his reaction to your very poorly hidden gawking.

“Abe my boy!” Your father happily shouted from the kitchen table, not even giving you a clue as to what was possibly happening. Still, you step aside with your mouth practically hanging open and let Abraham in, finding yourself strangely timid over his sudden entrance into your home.

You quickly retreat back to your small room to allow the two men to talk, and yet the curiosity naws at you desperately when you hear the two usually stoic men laughing like the oldest pals in the world in your kitchen.

Your ears stay perked as you lay your head against the door. Annoyance bubbling within you as very few words could be made out.

Who knew such a shabby caravan has such great soundproof walls…. You muse, quickly stepping away to look busy as you hear footsteps come close to your door, before passing and opening the front door and closing it again soon after.

You peak your head out after couple minutes to be safe, and the first thing you see is your father with a hot cup of tea in his hands. A sigh falling from his lips as you make your way over to him.

“So what did he want.” You ask, adding a tea bag to a random old mug as you pour your own cup of tea with a smile.

“Nothing much bullet. I asked him to come over to ask him a favour or two, and the bloke accepted them.” Trust your father to give you no extra information. If only it was your mother who’d made the arrangement and talked to him. Then she’d be talking for Britain.

You give a small hum as an acknowledgement, and try to distract yourself by mindlessly sipping at the tea in your hands after pouring a splash of milk in.

Humming as you taste it, but only to burn your tongue and yell a loud swear not even a few seconds later.

“Always tell you to wait a minute...” Your father says, almost teasing you as he calmly sips his own tea. The smug thing…

“And I always ignore you!” You smile, allowing yourself to sink into the sofas comfy mismatched cushions beside him.

It’s strange, as whist you sip at your tea, your brain it seems cannot allow itself to stop thinking of Abraham, no matter how hard you try and think of something else.

What was it your father wanted from Abraham of all people? It was probably to help with chores he can’t do anymore, you thought. The injury he’d sustained earlier in the year making it so your father couldn’t do the hard labouring tasks as he used to anymore.

Hopefully you wouldn’t have to see him anymore though, you think, gulping the rest of your drink with vigour. Even though a minute later your gasping like you suddenly were about to breathe fire with how hot the tea was.

The afternoon of the next day, a knock rang through the whole home. And when you opened the door, to your surprise, you were greeted by four dead pheasants and a small rabbit hanging from a piece of string in Abrahams hands.

“I’ve got some wood to give you too, it’s down there beside me.” He grunts, seemingly unphased by your look at bewilderment that you cannot seem to be able to hide no matter how much you try.

“Thank you very much...” You choke, slightly disgusted by the sight of floppy carcasses as he hands the string that holds them all over to you, before stepping away to grab the medium stack of wooden logs by his legs that he now holds in front of you.

If you’re honest, you’re sort of in the deep end as you have no idea what to do. So you just put the animals where you can in the fridge for your father to hopefully deal with later, and awkwardly try to get the wood from his hold without directly touching him.

“I’ll be back in two days with some more logs, and in four days with more food.” He says, before leaving as quickly as he came. The sound of his boots hitting the muddy ground echoing loudly, excluding the sounds of your own inner thoughts that just scream utter nonsense at you. Abraham name loudest of all.

Abraham seemed to be a man of his word, as he came just like he said he would. On the second day of with a whole pile of wood in his arms, and on the fourth with more dead animals hanging by a string between his fingers.

You somehow managed to control yourself by answering with a simple nod and a small thanks, to which he’s begin to acknowledge with a distinct nod and leave soon as he came. Your mother however, when you’d pass her the items whenever she was home, always made sure to sing his praises for what he’d been doing recently.

“Oh what a good boy he is!” She praised whilst she began to prepare one of the many pheasants he’d brought for dinner that night.

“He’s a man mum, not a damn dog!” You snap whilst you cut up the potatoes into small pieces. You don’t know why you’re all of a sudden so spiteful towards him. Why should you? He’s only being treated like he’s all of a sudden your families favourite child for gods sake...

“Hey now! Watch that mouth young lady!” Your mum says, sending you a sharp look out the corner of her eye that already manages to send shivers down your spine. In her eyes, the discipline of a child never gets old, no matter how much they age.

“He’s doing us such a favour by helping your dad out! You know what, I think we should send him a home cooked pheasant pie as a thank you present! That boy sure needs a home cooked meal, I’m sure of it!”

You groan in annoyance, and it’s brought on with yet another sharp look, but joined with a quick yet sharp tap on your knuckles with her wooden spoon that makes sure to stop you quickly in your bad mood.

Though much to your annoyance, dinner was made and cooked not as slow as you’d like. As not even a couple minutes after you and your parents finished your dinner and placed the plates by the sink, your mother quick as a fiddle nipped to the freezer where she whipped out a smaller pheasant pie to place in your hands with an annoyingly smug smile.

“Make sure to tell him thank you from all of us!” She shouts, leaning on the edge of the doorframe still in her apron as she ushered you off to the direction of where Abraham lived. “And make sure to tell me when you get back exactly what he says when you give it to him!”

“Yes mum!” You answer back, practically grumbling with a face liked a rotten peach while you walk to the other side of the camp with the dish still in your hands.

The dish is still cold in your hands from being in the freezer, yet to your liking it seems to effectively bring your thoughts away from the man you’ll be quickly visiting. Away from the thoughts involving his eyes, that somehow have gotten bluer over the course of the years you went out of touch with him. Or his arms, that appear to have even more tattoos tattered on them from when you last properly looked at him at fifteen.

Before you even know it though, you’re at his door, knocking at it with the tip of your feet as you make sure not to drop the ceramic dish in your hands. If you did, you think you’d never hear the end of it from your mother.

Still, no matter how tightly you held it before, you almost find yourself dropping it either way when Abraham opens the door, and you find yourself face to face with his bare naked chest decorated in various ink in various places. The golden glint of his chain around his neck contrasting almost beautifully against his skin.

You can’t speak as an awkward silence manages to overwhelm you, while Abraham’s own face moulds into that a cheeky grin. You can feel your own face turning a deep shade of red as you realise he’s caught you gawking like an absolute idiot.

“We- I mean, my mum, made you a pie from some of the meat you brought us. A-as a thank you present for helping out with dad.” You stutter, thrusting the dish into his hands while he continues to grin almost spitefully at you. If there’s one thing you remember, it’s that he’s most certainly kept the same smugness from when the two of you were teenagers.

“Thanks pretty girl. I’ll see you in a couple days with another delivery.” Is all he says, turning to give you an almost teasing glimpse of his naked back, before using his own foot to shut the door behind him with a sharp slam.

You can’t find yourself able to move as you continue to stand on the steps like an idiot. Your feet feel as if they’re frozen, with your mouth somehow finding itself hanging slightly open, and your mind screaming at you only one thing.

Abraham has a tattoo on his fucking back.

It was a strangely delicate looking thing on his right shoulder blade. You couldn’t tell what it was with how quickly he moved away, but you could tell it was about the side of your palm. What it was supposed to be though, you can’t say, but you’re way too focused on the body itself rather than the tattoo to even think about it. You already knew he had some. He hadn’t exactly hidden them when he’d opened the door shirtless showing the ones he had on his arms and front of his body. Yet still, that tattoo on his back stood out to you compared to all the others. It looked almost delicate. Soft even.

But fuck. Why did he have to be so attractive now of all the times?

You walk back home confused. Yet soon as you get through your door you’re immediately bombarded with questions from your mother with her ever raging nosiness.

“He said thanks for the pie, not much else.” Is all you get out before you manage to shut your bedroom door behind you, your mother’s disappointed sigh somehow managing to make it through it. Even though somehow days ago you couldn’t even manage to make out Abraham and your father’s conversation in the room next door.

You fling yourself across the bed and in pure exhaustion lay on it face down. You shut your eyes and attempt to sleep the days confusion away from you, but you can’t. Abraham somehow manages to consume you whole without even trying.

At fifteen, to you, he had just been this cocky little shit who went round annoying all the girls with his smirk and his charm. The only time you’d seen him break the usual facade of cockiness was when he asked you to date him when the two of you were younger. It’d been an awkward thing even you had to admit, but you were practically still a kid at the time. So no particular grievances were exactly made from his change of heart when you rejected him. but it was for the best. It never would’ve worked out. Right? Besides, before you knew it, he’d moved on to some new, curvy looking girl from the nearby village.

Yet now…. now he’s oddly a man. A man with tattoos and such a sudden involvement in your life that it’s almost like a sort of slap on the face. And somehow it’s cause of your father of all people.

The only thing you manage to think off though, is what the hell are you going to do now…

[birchbow]

I’ve been thinking about drones and just the whole logistics of it all. They’ve got to pick up two contributions from every troll? One after another? So presumably the pails get filled ahead of time. Would a troll have enough time to help out more than one pitch/flush partner if there’s an odd number of trolls total? Or is someone just SOL if they’re on a ship with an odd number of trolls? Oh hell, on the dark carnival there’s sometimes prisoners - and jeez, what about them?? Ah this got kind of dark and now I’m second guessing sending it, but I’m curious about your thoughts, feel free to ignore if you like!

These ARE the questions lol. I've been hammering away and I'm putting together a theory I will call the Tax Fraud Drone Theory and I am figuring pieces of it out as I type this at two AM, lol. CW of course for drone-season/fuck-or-die related discussion because: terrible bug aliens from hellmurder planet.

tl;dr, drones are a basic system that expects to hit up trolls in tribal/village numbers and slowly, methodically iterate their way through. Their system isn't evolved for modern trollish community structures, and often won't have the storage capacity to hit every single troll or couple (especially in a whole city) before they head back to the Mother Grub--so you can gamble and get by with one quadrant. OR even dodge them completely, but the contagious effect of their pheromonal presence will make you real sorry if you do! Further extensive rambling under the cut.

SO: a concept.

The basic function of drones is to follow the pheromonal/scent trail of trolls to a population center and go down the line demanding donations. (Theoretically, hitting different areas of the planet in waves, always coming and going, so the whole population isn't incapacitated at once.)

in situations that would have been natural when trolls were first established as a species, drones would largely find you living in groups ranging from a small travelling clade to a manageably village-sized collection of hives, SO:

In those circumstances, the drones could simply progress logically from iteration to iteration, prioritizing people who haven't contributed and then starting over with the people who have had the longest break since their first contribution, until pitch and flush contributions have been collected from everybody and/or the people who can't keep up have been culled.

(Presumably people who were near the start of the chain and already checked both boxes sometimes find it in their heart/spades to flip pitch or flush with an unlucky straggler, although that's risky if you don't genuinely think you can summon up a compatible enough match to satisfy the drones)

This is part of the reason drone pheromones send trolls into such an altered state, because odds are good you'll have to be in the mood for a hot second while the drones work their way around your community, and also will have to fuck several times.

Plus, I could imagine it's not unheard-of on-planet for one drone to finish up and then another one to show up a day later, attracted by the increased number of trolls and their much "louder" pheromonal signature! If we assume the drones are a semi-sentient purpose-driven messenger evolved to serve the Mother Grub (which I do haha) it's not like they would have a database.

(Drone pheromones would also function as a sort of indirect, auxillary means of reinforcing their purpose--not having quadrants to bone down with when drones are around is harshly physically/ mentally taxing and even if you managed to evade them and/or lock yourself up alone, most trolls will be fucked up enough they'll end up culled shortly afterward anyway.)

While trolls can't produce drone pheromones themselves, they're triggered by it to involuntarily produce a similar substance, which is notably incredibly "contagious" to other trolls around them, so even one drone in an area can have far-reaching ripple effects of Horny Time

BUT: Even prior to the Rebellion of Beasts, in semi-modern Alternia, trolls often lived in much larger cities than the drones' basic biology and capabilities could iterate combinations for, and so they would just continue to fill buckets from the next "fresh" troll they caught a whiff of, preferentially alternating pitch and flush, until all the drones dispatched to the area had reached capacity.

THUS: while it's still crucial to have strong quadrants filled if you want to be relatively safe, not every troll will be necessarily be demanded to consummate both, but WATCH OUT

Basically in the same way that you COULD falsify your taxes, but you could get audited at any time and then you're fucked, you CAN go into drone season with just one quadrant (or even no quadrants at all if you're feeling incredibly lucky and live in a super crowded area). BUT if the drones happen to get to the end of a chain of quadrants and end up next door, and you're the nearest relatively "fresh" troll they sniff out, you're dead meat.

It's also possible to physically lock yourself away from the drones but it requires heavy fortifications--it's also wildly illegal and grounds for immediate culling, and fiercely policed by the community, since every troll that tries that shit makes it that much harder and more deadly for everybody else.

If you get caught by your neighbors building some kind of panic room or something you are IMMEDIATELY under intense scrutiny and you BETTER be seen out and about every single drone season. Or a neighbor is likely to take things into their own hands and take you out of the gene pool themself.

While usually the exponentially-increasing privilege of the hemospectrum makes higher bloods exempt from shit like that, the exponentially decreasing physical numbers of colder bloods means that a different kind of social pressure is leaning on highbloods, a more noblesse oblige expectation that you'll do your part to keep the ruling classes populated with fresh blood from powerful couplings.

That said, a rare few especially powerful or crucial members of the empire can be ruled exempt by the empress, which basically just means she says explicitly that you get to build a bunker and lock your door when the drones come around--along with one or two other trolls For Your Health.

The Grand Highblood, a handful of seadwellers from her court that don't tideally suck, and any especially competent imperial generals of the various divisions of her army tend to fall under exemption, although she'll revoke it off-handed if you fuck up, so there's a lot of impetus to stay on top of your game.

In modern Post-Rebellion Alternia, trolls out on the farthest warfronts have increasing amounts of time between drone seasons, because the drones have to fly out from Alternia, track down ships and then fly all the way back. This is one of the many ways the empire encourages people to get way the fuck out onto the frontlines.

But they could still show up at any time, including to ships actively on the war front, so like. you better watch out you better watch out YOU BETTER WATCH OUT YOU BETTER--

In cases like the Church Fleet as I've written it, where there are prisoners present on-ship, it's just kind of expected that their lives are going to hornily suck absolute shit for several days while the drones are on-board, but the fortifications to keep prisoners secure also do keep the drones out.

In pursuit of not having prisoners die prematurely of dehydration and exhaustion, which is a very real risk if you're just locked up by yourself alone during drone season, I'd guess a lot of ships with prisoners just kind of throw them in groups into cells with extra food/water supplies and come back to pick up the pieces after the drones are gone again.

In some ways, a better way to spend the drone season than most free trolls, because you're locked up and don't have to worry about the drones! But also: kind of a nightmare hahaaa @_@ And also you're still a troll prisoner so like. You're going to die eventually anyway.

It's not good! But like, what about the Alternian empire is tbh. Hell society of the murder-bugs.

Bonus concept I'm chewing on: pheromone trails are a workable sollution on-planet, but basically impossible to follow all the way out into space--the reason the drones can find you no matter how far away you run to set up a colony is that the Mother Grub and her drones actually folded the Glb'golyb into a symbiotic relationship early in Alternian history/troll evolution. Her psychic connection to every troll in the empire means that they can get general positioning data from her and then hone in by smell when they arrive within direct sensory range. The Mother Grub gets to fulfill her purpose, and Glb'golyb basically farms trolls and lusii for food, taking her tithe of flesh from the Mother Grub's worker bees trolls (the general population).