#so like... it's allowed I think I am allowed to have done some Stuff Management and no art today! all things considered!!

[milgram-en]

Trial 3 - Melting Temperature Voice Drama (Side-by-Side English Translation)

Google Docs version of this translation. If using/reuploading/reposting this translation, do not remove the translator's notes and do not change the translations. Credit and link if using. Any additional Translator's Notes will be found in the replies and/or Google Docs. (Transcript may not be accurate and action descriptions were added with discretion. It will all be updated when the Trial 3 script books are released.) This is technically an interpretation (translation of an auditory source) translated into text. Check the original post before reblogging as TLs are occasionally revisited and edited.

エス　「ユノ」 ES: YUNO. ユノ　「看守さん？」 YUNO: Warden-san? エス　「第3審はお前が最初だな」 ES: You’re the first in the Third Trial. ユノ　「うん。そうだね。不思議な気分だな。ハルカがいない……ハルカ……。きっとあたしがハルカのこと面倒見てあげるって選択肢もあったと思うんだよな。でもなんか……あたしが触っていいものじゃないと思った綺麗だから…汚いからさ、あたし」 YUNO: Yep, that’s right. It feels kinda weird. HARUKA’s not here… HARUKA… I’m sure that there was probably a choice for me to take to take care of HARUKA. But, for some reason… it felt like he was someone I wasn’t allowed to touch, because he was beautiful… and I’m… dirty. エス　「僕のせいだわかってたのに……ムウの言う通り……こうなることはわかっていたのに」 ES: I knew it was my fault… Just like MUU said… I knew it was going to turn out like this. ユノ　「そうかもそうかもしれないね。そう言ってあげれば、少しは看守さんが楽になるへっ…」 YUNO: Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. If you say stuff like that, maybe it’ll ease your mind a bit, heh… エス　「そうだな…」 ES: Yeah… ユノ　「あっ、いじめるのやめなきゃね！これが最後なんだし……」 YUNO: Ah- I gotta stop bullying you! This is the last time we’re gonna have something like this after all… エス　「お前には……いつも痛いところを疲れっぱなしだよ」 ES: You… always manage to strike where it hurts the most, you know. ユノ　「えっ…自分で死を選ぶことがいいことなんてもちろん思わないけどさ……あの子が死んだって知った時……あたしは少し揺らえましかったんだ。自分の命を投げ撃つほど大事なものに出会ったことがないから……やっぱりハルカは綺麗だなって思った」 YUNO: Eh… I don’t think choosing to die is a good thing, of course, but… when I found out that kid died… I was kinda shaken. I’ve never found something so important that it’s worth throwing my life away for so… that’s why I thought HARUKA really was beautiful. エス　「綺麗？ハルカかか？」 ES: Beautiful? HARUKA?? ユノ　「ん、うん。シドウさんもマヒルさんもだけどね。人殺しなのかもしれないけどさ……あの人たちはとても綺麗だった」 YUNO: Mhm, yeah. That includes SHIDOU-san and MAHIRU-san too. They might be murderers but… they really were beautiful people. [T/N: 綺麗 (kirei) was deliberately interpreted-translated as "beautiful" instead of its alternative meanings of "pure/neat/clean". "Pure" and "clean" evokes imagery of total innocence which directly goes against what Yuno was asking Es/Wardens/You as its reductive, simplifying a person's complexities, ignoring their sins, emotions, and all. Whereas what is considered "beautiful" is subjective, unbound by external judgements within the truth of one's heart. YUNO saying "I'm... dirty" also seemed to be a better fit for as it can apply to staining whatever "beauty"/"beautiful" means- whether the qualifications for "beautiful" contain pureness or cleanness or being a person with a heart, being a person with emotions, convictions, etc. "Beautiful" in the context of sinners (囚人) retains the complexity of people that YUNO asks people to not reduce.] エス　「わからないな僕には……まだそう思えない」 ES: I… don’t get it. I can’t see it- not yet, at least. ユノ　「悲しいの？看守さん」 YUNO: Are you sad? Warden-san? エス　「あぁ、そうだよ。僕はあいつらが死んで、悲しいんだ。どうすればよかったのか」 ES: Yeah, I am. They died and I’m sad. I don’t know what I should’ve done. ユノ　「わかんないよね、それは。一度しか無いんだから、人生のんって楽しめばいいんじゃないかな、たくさん。ずっとあたしたちと一緒にいてくれた、看守さんには、悲しむ権にくらいあるでしょ」 YUNO: No one really does. You only get one shot at life after all, so I think you should enjoy it as much as you can. Besides, you’ve been with us all this time, Warden-san. You have the right to be sad at least.

ES breathes out shakily. エス　「ずいぶん優しいじゃないか」 ES: You’re being awfully kind. ユノ　「普通だよ」 YUNO: I’m just being normal. エス　「少し意外だな。お前はどんな状況になっても、標標としているものだと思っていた」 ES: It’s a bit surprising. I’d thought you were the type to stay cool and unaffected no matter what happened. ユノ　「フ。本当に、あたしもそう思ってたなぁ」 YUNO: Heh- Honestly, I thought so too. エス　「何がお前をそうした……僕に、赦され続けたことか」 ES: What made you that way…? Was it because I kept on forgiving you? ユノ　「え？いいよ。別にそれはどうでもいいの」 YUNO: Huh? Nah. That stuff never really mattered. エス　「へぇ……まったく。看守しがいのない奴だ」 ES: Heh… Of course you’d say that. You’re not even the kind of person worth being a Warden to. ユノ　「看守しがいのある女になんかなりたくないからね」 YUNO: It’s exactly because I have no intention of being the kind of girl you’d want to protect. エス　「違いない」 ES: No doubt about that. ユノ　「でしょ？」 YUNO: Right? エス　「マヒルが……お前を変えたのは、ずっとカンビをしてくれてたんだろう」 ES: MAHIRU was… She’s the one who changed you. She was always looking out for you, wasn’t she? ユノ　「そうかもしれないね。変わったのかを知らなぁ、はしゃぐきになれないだけかも……あたしさマヒルさんが死ぬ時そばにいたんだよね」 YUNO: Maybe. I don’t know if I’ve really changed. Maybe I just can’t bring myself to be cheery anymore… I was there with MAHIRU-san when she died, y’know? エス　「そうか。ありがとう」 ES: I see. Thank you for being there. ユノ　「いや、全然だよ。シドウさんが死んじゃったら何もできなくてさ、弱ってくのを見てるしかなかった……。でも、たくさん喋ったんだよね。マヒルさん最後までおしゃべり大好きでさ……マヒルさんってすっごいおとめでさ……恋愛に夢見ててさ、大好きな人のお嫁さんになって、一緒に赤ちゃん育てるのが夢なんだって」 YUNO: No, not at all. I couldn’t do anything when SHIDOU-san died, I could only watch him get weaker… But, I yapped a lot with MAHIRU-san. MAHIRU-san loved to talk until the very end… MAHIRU-san was such a hopeless romantic… dreaming of love, wanting to be the bride of someone she loves, dreaming of raising a baby together. エス　「そうか。マヒルらしいな」 ES: I see. That sounds like MAHIRU. ユノ　「今時いないよね、あんな人。……本当…笑っちゃうよね。あんないい人の夢だった赤ちゃん……あたしみたいな女のところに来たんだよ」 YUNO: You don’t really see people like that these days. …Seriously…it’s almost laughable- That baby a good person like her dreamed of… ended up inside someone like me instead. エス　「ユノ……」 ES: YUNO… ユノ　「面白いよね？あたしが殺したもの……マヒルさんが心から欲しがってたものなんだ……赦されたから何って感じでしょ。バカみたい」 YUNO: Isn’t it kinda funny? The thing I killed… was the very thing MAHIRU-san wanted most in the world. So what if I was forgiven? It’s just so stupid. エス　「……僕が言われたセリフをそのまま返すぞ」 ES: …Then I’ll just go ahead and return the words you once told me. ユノ　「えー？」 YUNO: Huh? エス　「悲しめばいいんじゃないか。笑わなくてもいいんじゃないか」 ES: It’s okay to be sad. You don’t have to smile or laugh around either. ���ノ　「何言ってんの?」 YUNO: What are you saying? エス　「笑わなくてもいい。冷えた振りをしなくていい。お前にだって……悲しむ権利はあるだろ」 ES: You don’t have to laugh or smile. You don’t have to pretend to be cold. Even you… have the right to grieve. ユノ　「ない」 YUNO: I don’t. エス　「何故だ」 ES: Why not? ユノ　「いいんだよ」 YUNO: It’s nothing.

エス　「ずっと一緒にいたんだろ……ずっと話していたんだろう……人殺しどうしだろうと……友人だろ」 ES: You were always with them… always talking together… Even if you’re both murderers… you were friends. ユノ　「友人?」 YUNO: Friends? エス　「もう一度言うよ……悲しむ権利くらいあるだろう」 ES: I’ll say it again… You have the right to be sad. ユノ　「友人？なのかな？お互いどこの誰かも知らないのに」 YUNO: Friends? Really? We didn’t even know who each other really was. エス　「ああ……僕はそう思う」 ES: Ah… But it seemed that way to me. ユノ　「無理だよ……無理だ……」 YUNO: No way… There’s no way… エス　「抑える必要なんてない。悲しいもの、悲しいと言えばいい」 ES: There’s no need to hold it in. If something is sad, it’s okay to say it’s sad. ユノ　「悲しんでいい訳ないじゃん……悲しんでいい訳ないじゃん⁈　なんで？だって、あたしは赤ちゃんを殺したのに、殺したとき何も思わなかったのに、ハルカが死んだとか、シドウさんが死んだとか、マヒルさんが死んだとかで……悲しんでいい訳ないじゃん。」 YUNO: It’s not okay for me to be sad… I have no right to be sad!?!!! Why? I killed a baby. And I felt nothing when I did it. So how can I be sad now with HARUKA dying, SHIDOU-san dying, MAHIRU-san dying…? There’s no way I’m allowed to grieve. エス　「……ユノ」 ES: …YUNO. ユノ　「そんな資格なんてあれ訳ないじゃん……。あたしさ、全部わかんの。小さい時から相手が何したら喜ぶか大抵わかる……つまんないの、全部つまんないの！」 YUNO: There’s no way I have any right… I just- I get it, everything. Ever since I was little, I could usually tell what would make someone happy… It’s all so boring- Everything is boring! エス　「聞かせてくれ、お前のこと」 ES: Tell me… about yourself. ユノ　「適当なことやってさ、自分の中にもう一つ命があるって知って……ただただ気持ち悪いだけだったこの先、どういう人生をくるか分かっちゃった……めんどくさくなっちゃった」 YUNO: I was just messing around, then I found out there was a life inside of me… it just felt so gross. I could already see how my whole life would “have” to go from then on… I just got so tired of it all. エス　「だから…殺した」 ES: So that’s… why you killed it. ユノ　「そう…そうだよ。いや、わかんない。そうなのかな。考えてたらクラクラして、階段から落ちた」 YUNO: Yeah… I guess. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Thinking about it made my head all dizzy and I fell down the stairs. エス　「落ちた？」 ES: Fell? ユノ　「そう、落ちた。だからしばらくさんあたしここが死後の世界だと思ってたよ。赤ちゃんと一緒に死んだんだって」 YUNO: Yeah, fell. That’s why I really thought that this place was the afterlife for a while. And that I died with the baby. エス　「違うんだな」 ES: But that wasn’t it. ユノ　「���。思い出した。ここに連れて来られるまでの記憶。階段から落ちて自分のお腹の中から命が失われて、入院してた。でもちょっと入院したら、学校に戻れたんだよね。最後の記憶���退院して初めての登校中……なんとも思わなかったんだよね……あたし。赤ちゃんが自分の中のからいなくなっても」 YUNO: Yep. I remembered my memories before I was brought here. I fell down the stairs, the life inside me was lost, and I was hospitalized. But after a short stay at the hospital, I was able to go back to school. My last memory is from my first day back at school after being discharged from the hospital… I felt nothing... Even though the baby inside me was gone. エス　「そういうものなのか」 ES: Is that how it is? ユノ　「ただ傷が治るように、何事もなかったように、日常に戻るんだなって……なんなんだろうね命って……そう思ったの覚えてる、何も感じない自分は変なんだって……」 YUNO: Just like a wound healing, life simply goes on like nothing happened… What even is life… I remember thinking that- and that something was wrong with me for not feeling anything… エス　「お前の気持ちを僕は簡単に理解できるとは言えない。でも、だからといってお前が人の死を悲しんじゃいけないわけじゃー」 ES: I won’t pretend that it’s easy to understand how you feel. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to grieve over someone’s death—

ユノ　「なんで他の人が死んで悲しむのさ。今更人の命の大事さに気づく。そんな勝手が赦される⁈　あたしがあの子にできることなんて…ずっとさめたままでいることだけだよ」 YUNO: Why do I get to be sad about someone else dying? Because I suddenly realized life is precious now? Because I’m permitted to be that selfish?! The only thing I can do for that kid… is to stay [aware/numb] forever. [T/N: Because さめた (sameta) can mean either “to wake up to reality/to be disillusioned” or “to be cold/numb”, the sentence あたしがあの子にできることなんて…ずっとさめたままでいることだけだよ (atashi ga ano ko ni dekiru koto nante… zutto sameta mama de iru koto dake dayo) can mean: 1. The only thing I can do for that kid… is to stay awake forever- to never dream and just stay in reality; 2. The only thing I can do for that kid… is to stay numb forever.] エス　「お前はきちんと傷ついていたよ…。ただ、見てこなかっただけだ……自分の傷を……痛みを麻痺させていただけだと思う」 ES: You were definitely hurting… You just didn’t see it… You…numbed yourself to your pain. ユノ　「あんたに何がわからないよ。ただの子供でしょ」 YUNO: What would you know? You’re just a kid. エス　「わからないよ。お前と一緒で……まだ子供だ。でもお前の心の中を見てきたよ。お前の歌を……ずっと聞いてきたんだ……。自分で言うほど、お前は冷たい人間じゃないよ」 ES: I don’t know. You and me… we’re just kids. But I’ve seen your heart. I’ve listened to its entirety… your songs... You’re not as cold as you pretend to be. ユノ　「……そうか」 YUNO: …is that so. エス　「ぁ、そうだ」 ES: Yeah. ユノ　「看守さんはどうすんの?」 YUNO: So, what’re you gonna do now, Warden-san? エス　「どうとは？」 ES: What do you mean? ユノ　「まだ続けるの、ミルグラム……もう破綻してるでしょ、ココ。看守さんが続けなきゃいけない理由はある?」 YUNO: You still gonna keep MILGRAM going…? This place is already falling apart. Does Warden-san even have a reason to keep going? エス　「そう…だな。まだわからない。他の囚人と会っていく中で考えようと思う。」 ES: Yeah…maybe. I don’t know yet. I’ll think about it as I meet with the other Prisoners. ユノ　「そっか…それもいいかもね」 YUNO: I. see… Maybe that’s fine too. エス　「なぁ、 最後だから聞いていいか」 ES: Hey- Since this is the end, can I ask you something? ユノ　「ん?」 YUNO: Hm? エス　「お前はどうすれば満足だったんだ」 ES: What would’ve satisfied you? ユノ　「どういうこと?」 YUNO: What do you mean? エス　「赦されても、赦されなくても、不満だっただろ、お前」 ES: Whether you were forgiven, whether you weren’t forgiven- You wouldn’t have felt satisfied either way. ユノ　「うん。あたしもそう思う。ミルグラム自体気に食わないもん、言ったでしょ?人が人を裁くなんて無理だって」 YUNO: Yeah. I think so too. I’ve told you before that I never liked MILGRAM itself, right? And that people judging people, people deciding people is impossible- it doesn’t work out. エス　「よく覚えているよ」 ES: I remember it well. ユノ　「看守さんがなんとなく他のみんな音を判断したかはわかってるけどさ。あたしからしたら、結局全部好気嫌いだよ。立場は違えば…思うことなんて違うんだもん」 YUNO: I, more-or-less, know how Warden-san has judged everyone else. But to me, it was all just picking favorites- what you like and dislike. Different perspectives… different beliefs. エス　「そうだな……どんな囚人だって100対0なんてことはなかった……よくわかるよ」 ES: Yeah… I understand. No sinner was ever just Black-or-White… I get that now. [T/N: 囚人 (shuujin) can mean either "prisoner" or "sinner". The themes in Melting Temperature that seemingly aim to melt away rigid labels that simplify characters and persons makes the word "sinner" fit its context and story better. "Prisoner" creates a binding and limiting label that reduces a person to a polarity of non-innocence whereas "sinner" allows examination of that sinner-person beyond just the sin.] ユノ　「あたしが何を求めていたか……こわ……大体看守さんの言いたいことはわかるよ。あたしは叱られたかったのかもしれない？あとなんだろ、寂しかったのかもしれない？あたしから言わせれば、全部そうで、全部違う」 YUNO: What I was really looking for…? It’s a scary thought… I guess I kinda get what Warden-san is trying to say. Maybe I just wanted someone to scold me- to tell me I was wrong? Or maybe, I was lonely? If there’s anything I can say, all of it’s true and none of it’s true. エス　「どういうことだ」 ES: What do you mean?

ユノ　「��うに違いないとか、こう思わないのはおかしいとかさ……あたしが何を感じたかなんて決めつけないで…理由なんて一つじゃないし理由なんてないかもしれない。お願いだからさ、あたしのこと、分かりやすくしないでよ」 YUNO: Stuff like “It’s like this for her” or “It’s weird not to think this for her”... Don’t assume how I felt. There isn’t just one reason- there might not even be a reason at all. Please… don’t try to make me into something so simple. エス　「……お前らしいよ」 ES: …That’s such a you thing to say. ユノ　「うんうん。人間ってそういうもんなんだと思うよ」 YUNO: Yep, yep. I think that’s just how people are. エス　「そうか。勉強になったよ」 ES: I see. I’ve learned something today. A bell tolls from within the clock in the room. The structure of the interrogation room begins to change. ユノ　「もう？」 YUNO: Already? エス　「時間か……」 ES: Time’s up… ユノ　「そっか。お別れだね」 YUNO: Huh. This is goodbye, then. エス　「あぁ……」 ES: Yeah… ユノ　「ちょっと……看守さん？」 YUNO: Wait a sec… Warden-san? エス　「なんだ？」 ES: What is it? ユノ　「ちょっとおいでよ」 YUNO: C’mere for a sec.

ES walks over slowly, as if the clock ticking down to the beginning of the end was of no issue. YUNO hugs ES. ユノ　「はい」 YUNO: There we go. エス　「……ユノ」 ES: …YUNO. ユノ　「ハグ。えへぇ……普段なら2.5撮ってるところだけど、無料にしておくよ」 YUNO: Hug! Ehe… Normally I’d charge 2500 for this, but I’ll let you have it for free. エス　「不欠だ」 ES: Scandalous. ユノ　「えへ。ウソウソ。マヒルさんならきっとこうしてお送り出したと思うからさ。看守さんのこと」 YUNO: Hehe. Just kidding. MAHIRU-san probably would’ve seen you off like this too. If it were you, Warden-san. ユノ　「ふぅ、いろいろ込めた。はい！」 YUNO: Whew- I put a lot into that- There! YUNO lets go of ES. ユノ　「終わり！なんて言うかさ、そうん……頑張ってよ！」 YUNO: The end! What else to say I guess… Do your best! エス　「はぁ……」 ES: Yeah… ユノ　「看守さんにはいろいろ言ったし、今もミルグラムなんてくだらないって新速思うけどさ」 YUNO: I’ve said a lot to Warden-san, and I still think MILGRAM is a load of shit. エス　「まだ言うか」 ES: Still going on about that? ユノ　「あたしはここに来なかったら、自分のしたことを改めて考えることなんてなかったかもしれない。きっとあたしのしたことを日常の中に消えていた……あたしの中にもう一人いたこと、忘れてしまっていた」 YUNO: But if I hadn’t come here, maybe I never would’ve thought twice about what I did. It would’ve just disappeared into the background of my life… that another person had been inside me. I would’ve completely forgotten about it.

エス　「ユノ……」 ES: YUNO… ユノ　「あたしのことを考えてくれたことは、ありがとう。あたしを、もう一人か死んじゃってたけど。私たちを知ってくれてありがとう」 YUNO: Thank you for thinking about me. One person inside of me is already dead, but… thank you for getting to know us. エス　「僕も…お前を知れてよかった……忘れないよ…お前と、もう一人」 ES: I’m… also glad I got to know you. I won’t forget… you and the other one. ユノ　「それだけは……よかったかな。ありがとう、看守さん。バイバイ！また会えたらいいね！」 YUNO: If nothing else… I’m glad for that. Thanks, Warden-san. Bye-bye! Hope we meet again! エス　「あ、こちらこそ……ありがとう」 ES: Yeah… Thank you as well. エス　「囚人番号2番……。いやー」 ES: Prisoner Number 2… No- ユノ　「？」 YUNO: Huh? エス　「これは、要らないな」 ES: That’s not needed anymore. ES takes their hat off and throws it to the ground. ユノ　「もし……捨てちゃうの?」 YUNO: You’re really… You’re throwing it away? エス　「あぁ、ここからは看守じゃない。最後くらいは、ただの僕であろうと思う」 ES: Yeah, from here on out I’m not a Warden. At least for now, I want to just be me. YUNO smiles, impressed. It was time to say goodbye. ユノ　「フヘ……いいじゃん、エス」 YUNO: Heh… Not bad, Es. Es looks back at Yuno, the corners of their mouth matching that of the gentle expression on Yuno’s. Their eyes soften. エス　「樫木優乃、お前の罪を歌え」 ES: Yuno Kashiki, sing your sins!

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

Skin and Scales Headcanons

Due to the mutation, the turtles are now immune to acne. However, they are stuck with other skin stuff...

Additional S/O!Reader Headcanons because the world sucks rn and I needed it

I invite discourse! Nothing solid here, I just like to think about it. I am NOT a biology expert

- His epidermis is a mutated genetic mix of skin and scales

- Different areas on his body have thicker patches of scales

- Which is also different for each turtle

- Some of them have thick scales on the back of their neck, the others don't. Some have scales on their scalp, others done. Leo has a very smooth head of skin, and the other brothers have scales on their cheeks and scalp.

- The thicker the scales, the less sensation they feel there.

- He is very bald. Super bald. No hair whatsoever anywhere. Bald representation

-He sweats, like a normal guy. His immune system is really good at fighting infections, so no acne. But he has no hair follicles. He doesn't get goosbumps

- He sheds, but less now that he's older. About once a year

- They try to stay in the water during a shedding week. It helps speed up the process and fights the ichyness

- The shedding isn't just happening to his scales; his skin sheds just like the rest of his body.

- He sheds in pieces. He hates how flakey it is and tries to clean himself and the lair as much as possible.

- Peeling off shed that's not ready doesn't HURT but it doesn't work either. It won't come off smoothly or in bigger chunks, and trying to peel stuff too early prolongs itchiness.

- He tries not to pick at it.

- Shedding SCUTES can hurt once in a while.

- Scute sheds from his carapace are very thick, and unless its left alone long enough to separate from his shell, it can stick out awkwardly and catch painfully on stuff, or rip off too soon and leave a little bit of bleeding. Like ripping off a nail with skin still attached to it.

- Scute sheds itch like crazy

- Espeically around injured/healing areas. Like Raph's broken shell, or under where Donnie usually keeps his backpack on.

- He tries really hard to scrub his body to expholiate, especially off his face and head. He doesn't like to see it

- Expholiating is important. Buildup of unshed scales can cause injury and infection.

- He dosen't start to build a daily facial routine until he's older. Men be like that 🙄

- They can bruise, but the color is just a really dark dark green, almost black. Unless it's around a paler colored spot, like his eyes or mouth. Then it looks more purple.

- The parts were they have skin are the most sensitive and vulnerable

- They all have sensitive skin around their eyes and lips

- Their palms are covered in skin, but because they are always working and training that skin is very rough and calloused.

-They do NOT have finger prints

-He has stretch marks. Around his arm-pits, sides and thighs. They are pale stripes between stretched scales or skin. It's so cute

Reader Headcanons

- You will always, ALWAYS have the imprint of his scales on your body if you're not careful

- He's an extremely textured guy. It's almost more dangerous than the GIANT hickies he gives you.

- If you enjoy grooming your turtle, you will have a HAYDAY during Shed week

-Peeling off his scales is SOO satisfying

- And he is so shiny and colorful underneath

- After his shed is when you can see his stripes and spots the best. They all still have them, just in different spots

-And his scute sheds are big and thick enough that its kinda tempting to keep one

-especially since the Scute sheds carry a faint imprint of his shell patterns

-He'll hate it though omg

-He'll be like no >:( that's gross. Throw it away

- You managed to steal a real pretty one that made you think of him, and he walked into your room one day to saw it framed on the wall and he looked at you like this:

-you will NOT see faint patterns of his tattoos on his shed. The ink is too deep in the dermis layer. It's his epidermis that is always shedding.

-he only allows you picking and scrubbing his scales like this because it gets your hands on him

-he does love the attention.

-he can always fall asleep if he's already in a warm bath and your gently scrubbing his back or face

-he HATES the shedding. He hates it. Always has. Always will. It's inhuman and they are worried about what you think of it and of him

-sometimes if he's at your place and its shedding week he can get skin flakes all over the place and he gets embarrassed

-so exfoliating and grooming is a MUST

Hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to add your own thoughts.

[noctiva]

Gonna be a lil depraved in your inbox~

I just got done buying some new underwear, and man. Toby with a girlfriend who likes the cute stuff, drags him to Victoria's secret so he can help her choose. Thrusting pair after pair into his hands, cooing over how soft the silk and lace is, "ooo do you think this color would look cute?", holding them up to see how they'd fit in that cute v between her tummy and her thighs, making him sweat bullets as he tries so hard to keep it down, be goooooood boy be good!!

Not allowed in the fitting rooms while she tries em on so he's getting selfie after fitting room selfie of all the styles like "hmmmmm I cant decide, which do you think??" And it takes all his willpower to not drool on the screen as he frantically types "both, all, yes, every single one-"

Cute absentminded girlfriend, who gets dressed in the morning in bed next to him. Leaves the pair she wore last night on the sheets next to him like a little present, just for him to fondle that silky cottony softness between his fingers as he ruts himself mindlessly against the mattress. Groaning when he lifts them to his face to get a sniff, press his mouth against the soft material, hips stuttering as he creams a mess into his pants.

Cute girlfriend getting frustrated cuz she JUST bought new pairs and now they're all gone? Weird 🤨🤨

oh this is so based.

toby is THE #1 panty sniffing freak in my brain. he’s just desperate like that LOLLLL. he’s just like, super big on scents. like a sniffer dog. he’s one to take a good hearty inhale before eating you out so yeah he’s DEFINITELY snagging whichever pair of your panties he can get his hands on. (preferably from the hamper. it’s no fun if they’re freshly washed and your scent has been all stripped clean 🙄🙄)

ANYWAY this is WONDERFUL brain food for me. Toby is such a socially awkward boyfailure that quite honestly you’d have to probably drag him into victorias secret with you by the collar of his shirt.

“Am I e-even allowed to go in there?”

“Are you s-sure? You’re 100% sure?”

“I can just w-wait outside y’know, the-there’s a bench right there-“

And once you do actually manage to wrangle him in there he’s a goddamn mess. his brain would like, short circuit. Eyes darting around at all the mannequins, all the expensive lingerie, garments that left barely anything to the imagination. Imagining what they’d look like on you. How fun it would be to peel them off of you.

He would resort to gluing his gaze to the floor, his ears burning red as he shuffles along behind you, already fighting against his own dick LOLLLL

of course though, you wouldn’t make it easy on him. where’s the fun in that!!!!

“Oh, these are cute!” As you hold up a lacy thong for him to see, forcing his gaze upwards. When you hold them up to your body his eyes go wide, and his shoulders tense up. “Imagine? And they’re so soft! Feel!”

He doesn’t really have a choice, so he curls his fingers around the material you all but shove into his hands, letting out a strained hum and a shaky; “Y-Yeah. Cute. Soft.” All while donning the complexion of a tomato.

And the dressing room?? It’s like you’re trying to kill him. You have to know what you’re doing to him, right? Sending him photos of you nearly bare, lit in the sultry lighting that the change room provided. If he had to be honest, he’s barely paying attention to the stuff you’re trying on - swallowing back drool that pools in his mouth as his shaky fingers type back replies that are riddled with typos but no less enthusiastic.

‘so prwtty. you should gt that one’

‘you said that about every single one I’ve showed you.’

‘I kno. get them all.’

And also? Yeah. They aren’t lasting a week in your home until they’re going missing. Toby keeps one pair shoved in his jacket pocket at all times. another, he swiped from you after you got dressed and drooled all over it - so he’s got to wash it first. another, because it was just so silky soft. perfect to stroke his cock with.

(he’s really not slick about it either. you’ll probably find a pair under his pillow on his side of the bed.)

(to which he’ll just go. ‘huh. wonder how that got there.’)

[milkoomi]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ it-girl school tips ᝰ.ᐟ

a new semester is around the corner for a lot of us, and i’m seeing so many blog posts about study/school tips, and i thought i’d share a few of my own that i’ve began to implement into my own school routine that helped me succeed during the fall semester!

just to preface: i took 2, almost 3, gap years after my first year at a university. i realized i was so burnt out after high school and my mental health wasn’t where i needed it to be, so i took a very much needed break! i started back up in school earlier last year in the spring, and i am flourishing! i’ve reconnected with my love and passion for my education and i’ve eased myself back into a comfortable, but effective, routine that’s helped me succeed!

let’s begin !!

ᝰ.ᐟ find/create a good study environment

having a cozy, comfortable, and nice place to get your studying done will make your sessions so much more enjoyable! you’ll feel more motivated to get work done in a space that you feel good in! so whether it be your own space, your favorite café, or even your school’s library, having a good environment to focus on your schoolwork will increase your productivity and make you feel good about studying!

a darling mutual of mine created this post that has helpful tips on creating your desired study space - @glowettee ♡︎ i also highly recommend her page for other tips related to studying, personal growth, & just becoming that girl!

ᝰ.ᐟ make use of a planner

planners are essential in maintaining organization throughout the semester/school year! whether it’s a digital or physical planner, find one that’s appealing to you! find a planner that suits your aesthetic, or your desired aesthetic, and make good use of it. it’ll help you keep track of what days & times you have a certain class, important due dates, and planning out your homework schedule!

if you have a pretty plain planner, decorate it! use fun or aesthetically pleasing stickers and use fun colored pens & highlighters; just make it super personable to you!

ᝰ.ᐟ organize, organize, organize

make sure any and all paperwork for all of your courses are organized! i personally love using accordion folders because they have tabs that you can label for each class or each week of a class! having some kind of organization method will keep you and your schoolwork in check!

how to maintain organization:

as your semester progresses, it gets pretty easy to let your organization slip through the cracks and turn into a mess.

create an organized binder to store older papers from your courses! this will be useful when midterms or finals come around and you need to look back at old worksheets, handouts, etc. you can have a big binder that’s divided by different tabs dedicated to each class you’re taking or you can get different binders for each class and organize that way!

throw out anything that no longer serves you! amongst all the papers, notes, packets, there’s bound to be things that you will no longer need. toss them out, shred them, just get rid of them! the more papers you have stocked up in folders or binders, the less room you’ll have to keep track of the real important stuff

track each week of the semester! keep that syllabus handy so you can keep track of what’s going on for each week in your classes. when you reach the point of midterms, a long weekend, or even a break (like spring break) find some time to look at the past weeks & the weeks ahead and reorganize and just reset your organization of papers, notes, etc.

ᝰ.ᐟ create a checklist for your assignments

as your classes pile up, so will your homework, and it starts to get overwhelming when you start thinking about everything you have to complete for the week. creating a checklist for what needs to get done will allow you to prioritize the most important assignments, help you practice time management, and also feel satisfaction as you check off each assignment!

this helped me immensely throughout the semester. majority of my classes were 8 week courses, so everything was pretty fast paced and due dates came up a lot sooner than i thought. whenever i made a checklist for everything i needed to do, it eased a lot of my stress because i allowed myself to break down each class and the corresponding assignments & it made me realize that i didn’t have too much to do (or at least i tricked my brain into thinking that)

i made my checklist literally through my notes app on my phone, and it was so satisfying to add the little green checkmark emoji after each assignment!

ᝰ.ᐟ don’t be afraid to ask questions

any time i struggled in a class and i was too afraid/embarrassed to ask a question, i ended up doing poorly in that class and it made studying and completing assignments so much more challenging for me. so don’t be afraid to ask questions! your teachers/professors/instructors are there to help you! they’re there to answer any and all questions you might have! asking questions also just helps you understand the material better and get any clarification you might need!

the more questions you ask, the better informed you are, and the more likely you’ll succeed!

ᝰ.ᐟ use school supplies you love

having those aesthetically pleasing school supplies actually gave me so much more motivation to get work done! using stuff that you’re excited to use during your semester will make doing schoolwork & studying so much more enjoyable for you!

ᝰ.ᐟ set the mood for your study sessions

listen to a good study playlist, light a candle, set up some cozy lighting, grab your favorite drink, and just set a good, calming mood for yourself while you study! i love having lofi play softly in the background while i’m studying, and since i do most of my studying at home, i make the lighting in my room nice and dim and get my desk lamp set up. i’ll also have a cup of coffee, tea, or water near by that i can sip on!

ᝰ.ᐟ take breaks

burn-out is extremely real and you’ll quickly feel it when you spend majority of your time studying and giving yourself way less time to rest and relax.

for longer study sessions, take 20 min. breaks after each hour! i remember taking an english course when i first started college and one of the books we were required to read was one on studying tips! (i really wish i remembered what it was called, i unfortunately misplaced it) one of the things i remembered from that book was the 20 minute rule. this time slot allows you an ample amount of time to rest your mind and take a break! you can rest your eyes, scroll through your phone, stand up/stretch and grab a snack, or just step away from your study area for 20 minutes!

set a timer! let’s say you wanna work on homework for an hour & a half, set a timer and just do all the work that you can within that time. once your timer goes off, stop doing what you’re doing and set another timer with the same amount of time to go do something you enjoy or get yourself to relax!

i can’t stress this enough: please take breaks. your mental/emotional well-being should always be your top priority! you can’t do your best in school if you, yourself, are not doing the best.

𝜗𝜚 final notes 𝜗𝜚

being that girl in school is only possible when you put your best foot forward. stay on top of your self care, keep yourself organized, and come up with a routine! a good routine will get you great results!

i wish you all a great start of your upcoming semester and i know that every single one of you will flourish during it too!

live and love, babe.

sincerely, juno ⭑.ᐟ

[m-jelly]

Dont know if this request is allowed or not but can you write something with levi and his s/o have a kid that had a nightmare and was scared so badly that he or she wet the bed? And they kid scared to cry because they were worried how levi would react because they know he likes stuff clean?

Hi, I've recently done something very similar to this, so I'll try to make it a bit different.

It's okay

Levi x fem reader

Modern AU, married, dad Levi, mum reader, fluff, reassuring Levi, good dad Levi.

Evan has a terrible nightmare and wets the bed. He's worried his daddy will be upset that he made a mess, so he tries to clean up but Levi catches him. Evan cries but Levi reassures him it's okay and helps him out.

Evan sat up in bed, the last of his nightmare fading away. He hiccuped a little before looking down and seeing he'd wet the bed. "Oh no." He whimpered, it was the middle of the night, and he was sure his daddy would not be happy about the mess.

With a bit of care, he managed to move his little body and climb out of bed. He remembered seeing how his mummy and daddy had changed his sheets before, so he tried even though he was small and five. With as much strength as possible, he tugged on his covers, ending up with the whole quilt and undersheet in his hands.

He stumbled along to his door with all his things dragging behind him. He sniffled a few times as he walked the hall as quietly as possible. Evan was trying to be brave as he walked in the dark of his home. He didn't want to wake up his daddy or his pregnant mummy.

"Evan?"

Evan froze at hearing his dad's sleepy voice. "Mm."

"What are you up to?"

Evan slowly turned to face his dad, who was only wearing PJ bottoms. Tears filled Evan's eyes. "I'm sorry, daddy."

Levi's eyes widened. "Evan." He rushed over to his son as he stood in the hall, sobbing. "It's okay." He knelt in front of him and hugged him tightly. "It's okay. Daddy's here." He waited for Evan to calm down a bit so he could speak. "Alright, kiddo, tell me what happened."

"I had a nightmare."

He ruffled Evan's hair. "Oh, I'm sorry, Evan. Daddy gets nightmares, too."

Evan sniffed. "I wet the bed." He welled up and began sobbing again. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm a bad boy."

Levi panicked. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. You're not a bad boy." He wiped Evan's tears away. "You're not a bad boy."

"I am. Daddy hates mess."

He cupped his son's face and kissed his cheek a few times. "You're not bad. You're a good boy. You're a very good boy."

He sniffed. "Really?"

Levi nodded. "Yes. I'm always proud of you. I'm sorry if I made you think I'd be mad at you. I'm not at all. Accidents happen, okay?" He smiled at his son. "Sorry that you thought I'd be mad. I'm a bad daddy, huh?"

Evan shook his head. "Nooo, Daddy is amazing."

Levi hugged Evan tightly. "I love you so much."

"Love you too, Daddy."

Levi let him go, gathered up the bed things and walked. "Come on, buddy. We need to get you new clothes and your bed sorted."

"Okay." Evan held some of Levi's bottoms as they walked. "Is Mummy okay?"

"Mummy is still asleep."

"Good."

Levi chuckled. "You worry about Mummy like I do, huh?"

Evan nodded. "Yes."

Levi reached the laundry room, placed everything on the side and grabbed some fresh bed clothes you'd cleaned that day. "New bottoms for you, buddy." Levi helped Evan out of his things, cleaned his legs up and changed him. "Better?"

Evan smiled. "It has bunnies on it."

"It does." Levi put everything in the washing machine before grabbing new things for the bed. "So, what was your nightmare?"

Evan held Levi's hand as they walked back to his room. "Don't remember."

"Well, next time something scary happens, you shout for me, okay?"

Evan nodded. "Yes, Daddy."

Levi changed the bed with Evan's help. "I can scare the bad things away."

"Yes." Evan giggled. "Daddy is tough."

"I am." He lifted Evan up and put him in bed. "You want your rabbit?"

"Please."

Levi handed Evan his cuddly rabbit. "Here you go."

"Thank you." He gasped. "Mummy."

Levi looked over at the door to see you there, rubbing your eyes. "Yes, she's so very beautiful."

"Beautiful Mummy!"

You walked over and kissed Evan's cheek. "Thank you. Is everything okay in here?"

"I had a bad dream and had an accident."

Levi ruffled Evan's hair. "He thought I'd be angry. So, we chatted, and he now knows that I'd never be mad at him. Accidents happen and it's okay."

You ruffled Evan's hair. "Of course, it's okay sweetheart. We're here for you, okay? We love you so much."

"Love you too."

"Do you want to sleep with us?"

Evan shook his head. "I'll be brave and sleep here!" He grinned with pride.

You smiled. "Alright, but if you need us come running to us, okay?"

"Promise!"

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Three

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy on this chapter. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.7k

A/N : ... Billy is/continues to be clueless, but at least he's cute doing it😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

Master List

Chapter Three

His hand stayed in yours all the way up to the fourth floor and to your door.

Or maybe it was your hand in his.

Honestly, there was no telling which of you was holding on, and it didn’t even cross your mind to wonder about it until you stopped outside your door. Billy stayed next to you, looking at you expectantly and you realised that he actually wanted to go into your apartment.

Your discomfort grew as he remained silent, not even offering an explanation as to what he wanted or why he was still there.

“What are you going to do? Check my apartment for monsters?” You asked, exasperated, finally untangling your hand from his so you could find your keeps and unlock the door.

He didn’t answer, he just fixed you with an unimpressed look, almost as if he thought you should know what he wanted. Once the lock clicked, you hesitated, hoping he’d take the hint. But, of course, he didn’t. 

You rolled your eyes and pushed the door open, allowing him to follow you into your apartment. As soon as you were inside, the door was shut and the latch was slid into place. 

A relieved sigh slipped from your lips as you finally kicked off your uncomfortable shoes, but any relief you felt was short-lived when you looked at the looming figure of Billy Russo in your apartment.

“So... am I supposed to offer you a drink?” You asked, barely managing to hold back the awkward frustration that was building inside of you.

“Coffee would be great,” Billy answered.

If his attention had been on you, he might have caught the flicker of annoyance on your face as you huffed and headed towards the kitchen, but he was too busy glancing around your sparse apartment.

While it might not have been the nicest apartment, and you’d done little to make it more homely in the six months that you’d been there, it wasn’t some awful shithole. It had potential - you just needed to find the time, money, and inclination to do something with it. It was mid at worst, and a work in progress at best. But it was safe and warm, and had more than enough space for you.

Most importantly, you were happy with it - it was the best that you could afford.

So, you didn’t even stop to think about why Billy was looking around the place as if you’d dragged him into a hovel, nor did you question the silence.

It was a little strange though. You knew that he hadn’t always been filthy rich. In fact, it was well known that he’d grown up with nothing and he’d built himself up. It was all pretty inspirational stuff. So, it made no sense for him to find your apartment offensive.

You tried to ignore it, putting a fresh filter in the coffee machine before starting it up, doing everything and anything you could not to look at him.

“I thought -” he started but stopped himself.

“What?” You prompted, biting back a sigh as you grabbed a couple of mugs.

“I thought I paid you better than... this.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your -”

“It is my business if you’re hiding something that’s going to make me look bad,” he interrupted.

There was no sharpness in his voice, no accusation, but you still didn’t like it. It wasn’t his business. You weren’t some under-performing asset and you weren’t about to let him treat you like one.

You all but slammed the mug in your hand onto the counter, losing what little composure you had left. It was a wonder that the mug didn’t break, but you didn’t stop to think about that.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight,” you started. The sudden and uncharacteristic sharpness in your voice clearly caught him off-guard because he damn near winced. “You dragged me into this and now I’m on the hook if things go wrong. But my money and how I live is my business, now yours. I like this apartment. I like living here. And that’s all there is to it.”

There was no missing the way his eyes widened as you spoke - while you had more than enough experience with his moods and temper, he’d never seen yours. But it was about time. If you were going to spend six months at his side, you were going to do it as yourself and not as the docile PA who did everything she could to keep him happy.

You were a human being and he needed to understand that.

You forced yourself to turn from him to grab the coffee pot, pouring two mugs;  black coffee for him and adding cream to your own.

“You like living in an apartment that has hardly any furniture?” He asked after a few seconds of silence, a hint of playfulness in his tone as if he was trying to lighten the mood.

You considered calling him out, telling him that he could just turn an awkward situation of his creation into a joke to get out of it, but it had been a long day and you were exhausted.

You just wanted him to drink his coffee and leave.

“I have a job that doesn’t exactly give me a lot of time to go furniture shopping,” you said, earning a forced smile from Billy. “Unless you want me to do it from my desk, instead of making sure you get your lunch on time.”

If he wanted to say anything else on the matter, he kept it to himself, but you were sure you saw a brief moment of understanding finally pass over his face. You were good at your job, you knew he knew at least that much, but clearly he’d never stopped to think about just how much it took for you to be that good.

With little more than a nod of your head, you directed him to the threadbare sofa that sat in front of the TV - a TV that was currently standing on a stack of old cookery books. 

If Billy had an opinion on it, he chose to keep it to himself.

He sat on one end of the sofa, you sat on the other, a single solitary seat between you, but it might as well have been miles with how things suddenly felt between the pair of you.

“So,” he said, leaving that one little word to hang in the air between you, as if he expected you to know what to do with it. When you shrugged, he clarified; “don’t you think we ought to talk about tonight?”

“I hope you’re not intending to give me a performance review.”

You were joking, but only just.

Billy almost laughed but shook his head. “No it’s just - well, at dinner you obviously had some notes about what I was doing wrong, so I figure we should at least try to get on the same page.”

Immediately you found yourself wondering if it was you or Billy that would be expected to try.

“Okay,” you said but chose not to expand on it, instead waiting to see where he wanted the conversation to go.

You caught him staring at his mug for a second, and you wondered if his usual confidence had started to abandon him after your outburst in the kitchen, or if he was just as tired as you were.

“Okay,” he said, mirroring your comment and the pause that followed, seeming to hope you’d jump in. When you didn’t, he continued; “I suppose we should start with the kiss.”

Just the mention of it had your heart fluttering, the memory of the moment filling your mind. It had been so gentle, so tender, and just the thought of it had you nervously running your tongue over your lower lip and heat licking across your cheeks.

“What about it?” You asked, lifting your mug and taking a slow sip, hoping to hide the sudden worry that had started to fill you.

(Had there been something wrong with the kiss? Had you done something wrong? Had you  kissed him wrong? Was he going to tell you that he’d hated it?)

“Was it - was it okay?” He asked. “I mean - we didn’t discuss it beforehand, and I know I should have asked permission or given you a little more warning.”

Oh.

He seemed genuinely uncomfortable at the thought that he might have forced you to do something you weren’t comfortable with and that was... odd and unexpected. And, in a weird way, it was incredibly sweet.

“It was fine,” you answered quickly, cheeks burning hotter with every awkward word, “more than fine. I mean - unexpected, sure, but if we’re going to sell this, then I guess we’ll have to kiss sometimes...”

“Right,” he agreed with an audible sigh of relief, “and it’s not like it really means anything.”

“Right.”

It didn’t mean anything.

Nothing.

Not a damned thing.

(So why was the memory causing your heart to pound?)

In retrospect, you were willing to chalk the butterflies in your stomach up to shock. He’d taken you by surprise with the kiss. And, sure, you were willing to admit that you’d always harboured a vague curiosity about your boss and what it would be like to be kissed by him - though it had always been an obviously silly, unprofessional thought that you’d never had any intention of acting on before tonight.

Even you weren’t so ridiculous that you couldn’t admit that Billy was an attractive man, and his looks were only one of countless reasons why so many women seemed desperate to be at his side.

“What I said,” you started awkwardly, needing to say it before you lost the nerve, “when I assumed that your other relationships had been meaningless, I - I shouldn’t’ve said that. It wasn’t fair.”

Billy nodded, silently accepting the apology.

“I’m sorry if I was... dismissive when you suggested going to that movie festival,” he said, glancing away from you. “The truth is a lot of my dates are usually very one-note; it’s dinner or a gala or some exclusive club. I don’t really...”

He trailed off into an awkward sigh, and you were left trying to read between the lines. Fortunately, you knew enough about him to put two and two together. It had always been your assumption that he used the women he was with, that he got what he wanted then kicked them to the curb, but you were starting to realise that he was probably used just as much.

Billy Russo opened a lot of doors, and to aspiring models, actresses, and socialites - well, you could see why they’d want to be seen on his arm, and how they could use him to step up a couple of rungs on the social ladder.

And, for reasons you didn’t want to consider, that made you feel sad.

“Don’t you ever just go out and do things for fun?” You asked, not really thinking too much about the question.

“Fun?” He repeated, seeming confused by the concept. “Was tonight not fun?”

Then, again, he was looking at you like you were from another planet and he had no idea how to even begin to understand you. And you - you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, even though you were sure it didn’t help the situation.

“Billy, I like Italian food as much as the next person, and I’ll never say no to the chance to have some tiramisu, but going to a restaurant isn’t exactly fun,” you told him and instantly regretted it as the corner of his lips started to tug downwards. “Not that I didn’t have fun with you but - c’mon, we probably had more fun in the car than we did at the restaurant.”

“That was fun for you? Just... talking to me?”

Again there was that pang of something, that uncomfortable squeeze beneath your ribs of - what? Pity?

“Of course it was,” you answered before your own paranoia decided to rear its ugly head again. “Did you not -”

“No - I mean, yeah, I enjoyed it. I just -” he seemed to struggle for a few seconds, “- I don’t know, guess I’m just not used to people wanting that from me.”

You took a breath, biting back all the little things you wanted to say, reassurances that you wanted to give that somehow felt too personal to offer your boss. Perhaps, instead, you could show him. Even if it was all pretend, it didn’t mean that you couldn’t have fun and enjoy each other’s company, right? 

“Then maybe that’s where we should start?” You offered. “We can try new things, have some fun, and do things differently to how you normally do them? If that doesn’t convince VDK that you’re a changed man, nothing will.”

Billy took a second to consider the offer before nodding. “Okay. We can start with that movie festival.”

“Great,” you said with a smile, immediately reaching for your phone.

He watched you as your focus completely shifted from him to your phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Booking tickets,” you explained, still tapping away on your phone. “And I’ll have to make sure that your schedule is completely clear.”

“Oh, shouldn’t I do -” he started and then abruptly stopped, letting out an awkward laugh.

You looked up from your phone, fixing him with a questioning look before it dawned on you.

“Did you just realise that you usually rely on me to book these sorts of things for you?” You asked, fighting back a smirk.

How many times had he told someone that he’d do something with one breath, only to ask you to do it for him with the next? It was ridiculous in a funny sort of way just how much you did to ensure that his life ran smoothly. In fact, you were a little shocked that he’d been able to book the restaurant tonight without your help.

“Right. Guess I should pay you overtime if you’re going to be doing all this extra work for me for the next six months,” Billy said, laughing.

“To be fair, you’re not exactly the most demanding boss I’ve ever had.” You barely even looked up from your phone as you spoke.

“No?”

“Not really,” you shrugged. “At least, not anymore.”

If Billy wanted to know what you meant by that, he didn’t ask, instead he lifted his mug and took a long, slow drink.

“You’re good at reading me,” he offered, “good at anticipating what I want before I even ask. Good with other people too - never seen anyone render Frank speechless with a coffee and a bear claw before.”

An unseemly snort of laughter escaped you, the kind of sound that would only be described as piggish, and you felt your cheeks grow hotter as you desperately tried to ignore the amused look Billy shot you. 

“Okay the, uh - the tickets are booked,” you said, keeping your eyes on your phone for a few seconds more.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, fifty dollars, I got VIP tickets so we don’t have to queue for any of the screenings,” you explained, wondering if you should have asked before ordering the more expensive tickets.

“Fifty dollars for two VIP tickets?” He asked, sounding almost amused at the low cost.

“No, I mean, yours cost fifty, I -”

“You’re not paying for your own ticket,” Billy told you firmly, already pulling out his own phone, no doubt to transfer the money to you.

You wanted to argue because he’d just spent god only knew how much at Bianchi’s, but you knew that tone of voice and you knew he was not going to take no for an answer. And, honestly, again, it was late and you were getting tired.

“Fine, but I’m paying for the popcorn,” you countered.

It was Billy’s turn to roll his eyes but, surprisingly, he didn’t argue. In fact, he seemed to find it funny. And, again, you found yourself wondering what his real dates were like and if they expected him to pay for everything. Maybe that was why they wanted him in the first place, so he’d pay for everything.

Even though he was your boss and you were, eventually at least, going to be paid for pretending to date him, it just seemed sleazy to take advantage of him like that.

Case and point, the dress.

You drained the last of your coffee and looked down at yourself.

“While you’re here, you might as well wait while I change out of this dress. I kept the tags so you should be able to take it back and -”

“Take it back?” He said, confused again.

“Yeah, so you can get it refunded.”

“Why would I -”

You didn’t even let him finish the question before letting out a heavy sigh. “Because it’s expensive. Too expensive. And it’s not like I’ll wear it again.”

He looked ready to respond immediately but then some thought seemed to strike, causing an uncomfortable look to spread across his face.

“You don’t like it.” Statement not a question. He sounded disappointed, almost like a little kid finding out that their dad never really liked the novelty ties they brought them every single Christmas.

“It’s not that, it’s -” 

“I thought you liked that colour,” he continued, ignoring your protests. “You have a sweater in that shade, and it really brings out the colour of your eyes...”

Whatever you might have wanted to say died on your lips. You hadn’t worn the sweater in question in well over a month, and it seemed unthinkable to you that he’d actually remembered it, thought about it even, when he was picking the dress. (And you actively avoided even thinking about the eye comment.)

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said as your eyes dropped to look at the dress again. “It’s a beautiful dress, it’s just... too much? I look ridiculous prancing around in a dress that cost so much.”

“You don’t want it because it’s too expensive?” He asked, barely holding back a laugh. “I think you’re the first person to ever complain that a gift cost too much.”

Billy didn’t seem to realise that that statement said just as much about him and his life as it did you and yours. It made you remember the way he’d called you out for assuming all of his past relationships had been meaningless; had he been trying to buy their affection, or did he only manage to find women who wanted him for his money?

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? I’m supposed to be different from the others,” you tried to explain. “And, anyway, I don’t want people thinking I’m some gold digger or that you’re my... my sugar daddy.”

A sudden gasp of laughter escaped Billy, shaking his body so violently that he almost spilled what was left of his coffee.

“Christ, please don’t call me that again.”

You had to laugh as well, if only to relieve the tension in your body.

“I guess it’s good to know that you’re not into that,” you said, smirking at him. “I don’t think I could keep a straight face if you were.”

“No, that’s the one thing you don’t have to worry about,” he said.

And there was something in his words, some hidden meaning you couldn’t quite grasp, a warning even, but you didn’t dare ask what he was trying to tell you. It didn’t matter. Nothing was ever going to happen between you.

Without warning, Billy drained the last of his coffee and got to his feet.

“I want you to keep the dress,” he told you, “even if you decide to sell it. Though, I’d prefer that you didn’t, I think you look lovely in it.”

Suddenly, your lungs refused to draw breath and all you could do was stare at him, wondering if he was playing some cruel trick, or if he was just telling you he thought you looked lovely because that was just what was expected of him. 

Either way, it took you a few seconds to realise that he was leaving and get to your feet to follow after, watching as he placed his coffee mug by the sink before heading towards the door.

“I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

“Yes, Mr - Billy,” you said, your eyes following his hand as he unlatched the door.

He turned back to look at you as he started to open the door. “And, for the record, what you said earlier, about people seeing you as a downgrade to the women I usually date, I think you’re wrong.”

He didn’t expand on the comment or give you a chance to ask before slipping out of your apartment and, finally, leaving you alone.

As you laid in bed that night, the dress carefully folded and placed back into the box along with all the tags, you found yourself thinking about him and the bizarre evening you’d spent together.

You’d seen a side to him that you’d never seen before, and allowed him to see far more of yourself than you were usually comfortable with, but it was his laugh that you couldn’t get out of your head. You’d heard him laugh, seen him smile, countless times, but never like he had tonight in those strange little moments that seemed to catch him off-guard.

Of course, you didn’t think it was you per se that had brought out that side of him but, rather, the honesty of the situation. It was clear he was used to dates being performative,  transactional almost, the women he was seeing taking whatever they wanted from him while he got - what? Sex, probably.

You pushed that thought away, knowing it would only complicate things to dwell on it.

Tonight had just been the first night, and you still had six months to go.

Closing your eyes, you drifted off with the hopes that things could only get easier.

Your weekend went the way that you weekends often did. Saturday was spent making sure you had everything that you’d need for the following week, which included a couple of hours spent trying to find a better pair of shoes for the next time Billy decided he wanted to take you to dinner. And Sunday was spent the way your Sundays normally were; visiting your brother.

But your trip to Saint Martin’s was cut a little shorter than usual, Seb was tired and managed to fall asleep as you were reading to him, and  you’d never had the heart to wake him when he was sleeping. 

You spoke with the people responsible for his care, assuring them that the fee increase would not be a problem  and, then, you went on your way. 

On your way home you decided to stop to treat yourself to a new book and the rest of the weekend was lost to the pages of Stephen King’s The Institute.

Come Monday morning something was off. 

Your commute went as normal but, when you stepped into The Bean Grinder to grab your usual coffees and a bear claw for Billy, you were met with strange smiles. As you left, you stopped to check yourself and make sure you hadn’t left the apartment in your pyjamas or had messed up your make-up, but you looked normal, average.

You decided that it must just be them, something going on in the coffee shop that you didn’t need to know about.

As you stepped into Anvil, there were more little glances from people waiting by the elevator as you headed to the security barrier.

“Morning Carl,” you said, working extra hard to force your smile and sound happy. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he answered, thankfully sounding like his usual self. “Got that video of Lyra’s recital if you want to see?”

Something normal, something that wasn’t weird.

“Definitely,” you answered without hesitation, placing your coffee and food on the security desk as he headed towards you, phone in hand.

He hit play and you stepped a little closer to look at the screen. There was a little girl, only eight years old, dressed in a frilly red dress, playing Amazing Grace on clarinet. You watched with a smile almost as wide as Carl’s, amazed at how talented the little girl was.

You were so caught up in the video, that you didn’t realise someone was behind you until you felt a hand on the small of your back.

Somehow you managed to bite back a squeal of shock, as your head whipped around to see Billy. Carl also had a similar response and started to pull back his phone.

“What are you watching?” Billy asked.

His tone was friendly, but it was obvious that Carl felt caught out by Mr Russo’s sudden appearance, like he was about to get in trouble.

“Carl was showing me his daughter’s clarinet recital,” you explained, “she’s really good.”

You flashed Carl a reassuring smile, refusing to believe even for a second that he was going to get in trouble. He wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let him.

“Oh, okay,” was all Billy said. “Are you heading up now?”

“Yeah,” you said, again smiling at Carl and offering him a slight but reassuring nod. “I’ll see you later Carl.”

With that you grabbed the coffees and bear claw from the desk and started to follow Billy towards the elevator. About halfway there, he relieved you of the coffees, earning a smile from you.

“Are you always so friendly with everyone?” He asked as the elevator door slid shut.

“I guess?” You answered, shrugging. “Carl’s always been really nice to me. The other week he let me borrow his umbrella when I had to go out to get lunch.”

Billy didn’t say anything - you doubted that he cared, but you wanted to make sure he understood that Carl was a good employee and, more than that, someone you liked. In fact, he remained silent for the rest of the short trip up to the top floor of the building.

The elevator gave a ding and Billy let you step out first, though you quickly stopped in your tracks when you found Mr Castle leaning against your desk. You looked from him to Billy and back again, a mild look of shock on your face as you tried to figure out if you’d forgotten to schedule a meeting.

“What are you doing up here this early on a Monday, Frankie?” Billy asked, grinning at his friend.

“Just thought I’d come see if you had any of those bear claws goin’ spare,” Castle answered, looking directly at you.

“Oh, I didn’t know that you’d -” you looked down at the paper bag in your hand, “- I can run back across and -”

“Relax, I’m kiddin’” Mr Castle interrupted before you could get too flustered. “Just, do me a favour, blink twice if Bill here is blackmailin’ you.”

You did blink, but it was more than twice.

“What?” You asked, not getting the joke.

Billy clearly understood what Frank was getting at because he let out a forced sigh.

“Fucking hell, Frankie, leave her alone,” Billy said, not bothering to hold back his annoyance.

He turned to look at you for a moment, letting you take your coffee from the tray, and hand him the paper bag with his breakfast. Then he nodded towards his office and Frank Castle followed him inside.

It wasn’t until you sat at your desk and opened your laptop that your strange morning finally started to make sense to you.

You’d set up the google alert for professional reasons, wanting to make sure that nothing libellous or damaging to Anvil was posted about Billy. More often than not, whenever it pinged it was just photos of him and whichever woman happened to be on his arm, stories about him, stories about him at clubs or galas. Or restaurants.

Your heart stopped and you felt sick when you clicked the alert and saw photos of you and Billy at Bianchi’s; holding hands, eating dinner... kissing.

New York’s most eligible bachelor, Billy Russo, takes unknown to Bianchi’s. 

Even if you’d wanted to read the article you couldn’t have. You couldn’t focus your eyes, couldn’t - anything. Closing your laptop, you tugged at the top button of your blouse, feeling like you were being choked by your own collar.

That was why everyone was being weird with you. They thought - fuck, what did they think?

You couldn’t decide what was worse, that they thought you were just someone he was fucking before he moved on to the next, or that you were sleeping with Billy to advance your career.

Somehow, you managed to stand from your desk and make your way to the small bathroom, locking yourself in while you forced yourself through some breathing exercises to try and push the panic away.

Realistically, you knew that you should have expected it - all of Billy’s dates ended up with unwanted publicity in the gossip blogs and the society sections, after all - but seeing those photos of yourself, in that dress, tangled up in Billy Russo’s arms had you feeling more insecure about yourself than you had in years.

The only saving grace was the fact that they hadn’t known your name to publish, though you were sure that wouldn’t last.

It took ten minutes for you to calm down and compose yourself, but the sick feeling in your gut lingered long after you returned to your desk and tried to start your day again, minimising the window that had your photo on.

Frank Castle sauntered out of Billy’s office about twenty minutes later. He gave you a look, a smile that you didn’t understand but he didn’t speak until he was in the elevator and the doors were closing.

“No accountin' for taste, I guess.”

And, with that you felt some part of you break.

Before you could stop to consider what you were doing, your laptop was under your arm and you were walking into Billy’s office. He seemed a little shocked at you just barging in, but didn’t say anything. Approaching his desk, you opened your laptop and put it down in front of him, maximising the gossip blog window again.

You wanted to say something; look at that, someone was photographing us, someone was invading our privacy. Instead, you said nothing, allowing Billy a moment to scan the pictures and the story about his date with an unknown woman.

He didn’t seem shocked, he didn’t even seem to care.

Until he saw your face.

“I...” whatever he wanted to say seemed to die on his lips. Billy took a breath before continuing. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to it now that I didn’t stop to think how you’d feel about it.”

“No one believes it,” you said, quietly, feeling like it was all you could manage. “It won’t work, even Mr Castle -”

“Frank? What did Frank say?” Billy asked, a sharpness slipping into his voice as he got to his feet. For a moment you wondered if he was about to hunt Frank Castle down.

“That there’s no accounting for taste and - and he’s right, Billy. No one will believe that you’d want -” your voice threatened to break.

Before you could finish, you found yourself pulled against him, his arms tight around your body as he held you.

“No - no, that’s not what he meant,” he said, trying to reassure you. “He doesn’t understand why you’d want to be with me, not the other way around.”

Oh.

Closing your eyes tight, you melted against his chest, letting him hold you for a few sweet moments.

Billy pulled back, his hands framing your face, forcing you to look at him, and you found an unexpected look of concern. You barely even noticed the way one of his thumbs was tenderly stroking your cheek because you were too busy getting lost in his eyes.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “If it’s going to make you uncomfortable or upset you, I can find another way to get the VDK contract.”

Right. The VDK contract. That was what all of this was for.

You managed to shake your head.

“No, I can -” there was an audible break in your voice and you forced yourself to take a step back, out of his hold. “Sorry. I just - it took me by surprise. I never - I guess I never stopped to think that this is how it would have to be.”

Billy gave an understanding nod, seeming to think on it a moment before offering; “if you want to take the day -”

“No. No, I can’t do that,” you quickly said. “People are already going to assume that I’m getting special treatment from you, and I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.”

“Alright, fine,” Billy relented but you could tell he wasn’t entirely happy about it. “But I’m taking you out for lunch today, okay?”

“Maybe we  -”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he told you. “Anyway, I think it’s about time I got the coffees and pastries for a change.”

All you could do was nod. It felt like your throat was closing up, and your lungs were starting to strain again. You nodded again as you gathered up your laptop and left Billy’s office and, as you were closing the door behind him, he told you to be ready for lunch at midday.

As you sat back down at your desk, you found yourself wondering just how you were going to survive six months of this. Of course you knew that you’d have to be seen with him again but you’d never really stopped to think about how what you were doing outside of Anvil would bleed into your work life. Honestly, you hadn’t had time to consider much of anything, everything was happening so fast.

You tried desperately to lose yourself in your work over the next few hours, but you kept finding your eyes on the clock, counting down the minutes until he was going to appear from his office to take you for lunch.

A/N : 😅 so I realise now that I should have pointed out that this is going to be a slightly slower burn than some of my other fics (especially compared to Love, Sick Love) but I hope you'll indulge me for the ridiculous cuteness that is a clueless Billy Russo. There's a lot of set-up involved in getting the characters to where I need them to be so I can start the drama but more is going to start happening in the next couple of chapters.

As always thanks so much the likes/comments/reblogs on this, I hope you're enjoying the fluff as much as I am. Have a wonderful weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

Tag list :

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[thesiltverses]

Hello! Writing first to thank you for such an extraordinary creation - as a piece of writing and even more so in performance. Every episode manages to somehow build on and outdo the last; you navigated that transition from a smaller scale story of grisly mysteries and personal crises of faith to a grand scale of war, revolution and political satire with absolute aplomb, and never lost that throughline of exceptional characterisation and sharp writing, always steering to the most interesting conflicts. You are always very humble in your public comments, but I hope you allow yourself a little pride, because this is absolutely top notch stuff.

I was struck by Paige's final words, that she hopes what they left would be found 'flawed, inadequate, yearning'. As the show went on, I was surprised - in a good way - that the show's politics gradually crystalised into a full-on nihilist anarchism, something perhaps even along the lines of Monsieur Dupont. (Muna used the 'a' word in one of the Q&As but it was pretty evident even before that). Taking these gods as a metaphor for ideologies and social systems, the scope of it becomes pretty universal - and unsparing. And, equally, hard to answer.

I wondered when the Many Below/Wound Tree was introduced what answers they would find: what political movement could truly resist cooption or becoming its own horrible self-sustaining egregore. And in the end the answer you express I suppose is a negative one: that even Paige's god of victims is a tool, one that must eventually be discarded to go into some unknown place beyond it all (to walk away from Omelas), towards something that narrative fiction - as a form of the 'endless words' that are derided so much in the third season - can no longer address. Which I respect - to pose the question is vital, even if the tools can't reach any answers if they even exist.

I think this struggle exists in many stories that address themes of making a break from the rapacious society that created them (and take it seriously) - your Baru Cormorants and Mononoke-himes. We can describe the problem vividly, but since we do not have a counterexample to hand, any story we tell about ~what is to be done~ and what it will look like when it is feels like it will be just as hollow as the spins and angles and parasitic fantasies that so many characters advance in the Silt Verses. (How could there possibly be a time where it finally works out, after we have seen all this? But then, what are we living for?)

To try to make this a question and not a ramble, I wanted to ask - what do you see as the role of fiction in addressing the horrible machinery of this world? Is it enough to pose the question particularly sharply, skewer the bad and inadequate answers, and leave the readers/listeners to figure out how to make the killing of gods concrete? How do we punch through the bounds of it all being Content, another product to be bought and sold? What does it mean to sit here and fantasise about people making that revolutionary break when there is no revolution to be had?

I don't know what answer I'm hoping for here, but given the themes of the show, I feel like this must be a kind of thing you've thought about, and probably have a far more developed line of thought than I do. And if this is a bit too much to drop in your inbox on a Saturday morning, I will say again thank you for writing this story and all the actors for making it so strikingly concrete - it truly means a lot, and I will treasure it.

Hi, and thank you for listening and for a beautifully written and thoughtful ask! ('Horrible machinery of the world' stopped me dead in my tracks.) And I am very proud, genuinely.

I don't have a good enough answer to your questions, and for me a lot of TSV is very much about trying to figure those answers out, but let me try and sum up my perspective bit by bit.

Is it enough for fiction to pose the question, without also proposing the answer?

I don't think it's enough for fiction as a collective body of work.

I'd argue there's probably a tendency towards open-endedness and irresolution in these individual narratives simply because it feels like a more honest acknowledgement that in real life, the foe has yet to take a real body blow and will not go down easy; that the foe, in fact, is the marketplace for the work itself and ironically profits from the popularity of stories with easy heroic victories over villains who represent capitalism. That these stories inevitably become a pleasant consumable that serves our complacency within the belly of the beast, a kind of daily tonic to reassure us that good always triumphs and regular people always come out on top.

I also think that the sheer scale and scope of the topic creates its own challenges; you probably can't engage thoroughly enough with both the dystopian question and your ideas for a utopian answer all in a single story, without ultimately turning the latter into that false reassurance, a quick handwave of a happy ending.

You mention Omelas, and I think we could illustrate the problem by looking at how LeGuin handles her two successive masterpieces:

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, which gives us the titular resource-rich u(dys)topia built on invisible suffering, and the dissidents who turn their backs on that world and walk out into the inhospitable wilderness in search of something better.

The Dispossessed, which as its premise gives us Anarres, an imperfect but sympathetic anarchist society whose adherents turned their backs on a neighbouring world of capitalist plenty to live out in the inhospitable wilderness in search of something better.

Anarres can very reasonably be viewed as LeGuin's direct answer to the question posed by Omelas, and she would have likely had it in her mind already as she wrote Omelas. But if the short story had ended with 'I hear that against all odds, the ones who walk away have successfully founded an anarchist utopia where hardship is everywhere but it's shared as equitably as possible. THE END', the amount of lazy shorthand and empty comfort involved in that happier ending would inevitably make it a dishonest and unserious offering.

Instead, Anarres is a starting premise to be interrogated at length over the course of a separate story, rather than a happy ending to simply reassure the reader that better things are possible - and even at the end of the novel LeGuin's unresolved questions are still very similar to the ones that we're left with in Omelas (and the same questions that I feel like we were knocking about in The Silt Verses, and which I guess you could argue are all lingering concerns at the end of Mononoke, as well): how and where can we find space to create and sustain a genuine alternative when the narrative environment of capitalism is so powerfully all-subsuming and constantly growing to fill the space? Do we need to disconnect entirely, vanishing as if dead? If we disconnect, how can we possibly survive and what inhumanities or ethical compromises will be required of us? If we do survive, is our isolationism a dereliction of human responsibility to those left behind?

All of which is to say that I think present-day fiction absolutely can make the attempt to meaningfully explore potential alternative-utopian solutions in more depth and with far more tangibility than we attempted with TSV - but that dystopian fiction like ours which concludes with the unexplored promise of a revolutionary utopia and the vague reassurance that the irrepressible human spirit will figure things out from here on out (Chewbacca gets a medal, everyone's in the streets wearing a Guy Fawkes mask) doesn't do much more than dramatically undermine its own goal of disrupting the audience's comfort.

That said, one of my big regrets this season was that we didn't succeed in more engagingly exploring and articulating the Woundtree camp's development into a flawed but functioning society in Dispossessed fashion ahead of the ending. That was my intention, but what quickly became clear was that in a dramatic format, with a limited cast, it was just endless static meeting-room scenes with Paige and Elgin discussing difficult responses to impossible challenges, while everyone else was out having dynamic and exciting adventures with lots of fun and exciting gods. Dystopias remain too entertaining for utopias' own good.

What do you see as the role of fiction in addressing the horrible machinery of this world?

I believe that absurdist horror fiction specifically, founded on the principle of 'people in a world that makes no sense, deluding themselves that it definitely does make sense' can play a very powerful role in that stated purpose.

Many horror traditions carry the baggage of inbuilt or inadvertent conservatism - the concept of a peaceable, passive, safe, middle-class Normality which is then disrupted by a terrifying outside threat (alien, ultra-foreign, ultra-low-class, underworldly, wild, etc). But absurdist horror very directly identifies Normality as the true source of our terror and very directly confronts our human response to it. It creates the right environment for us to ask all of the good questions. Isn't this an unsustainable nightmare we're living in? Why are we expending so much energy pretending it isn't? How do we get out and what do we do if we can't?

Probably the only listener reaction that's genuinely frustrated me about both of our shows is the folks who come away turning their noses up at the bluntness of that approach and acting like they've Solved The Art simply for figuring out where our broad sympathies lie. "Hm, just listened to The Silt Verses and I understood it at once; it's clearly trying to say that capitalism is bad. A little heavy-handed in its messaging for my liking, hm-hm!"

Not to go full Garth Marenghi, but for me the directness of the provocation and the obvious outrageousness of the nightmare is the point; it then allows us to go to places that other genres (or more understated critiques) generally can't.

How do we punch through the bounds of it all being Content, another product to be bought and sold? What does it mean to sit here and fantasise about people making that revolutionary break when there is no revolution to be had?

God, I don't know.

Maybe it means nothing; maybe we can't punch through; maybe there is no story unruly enough to be truly unco-optable, and therefore even the most radical fiction ultimately serves as a distraction, a placebo, a reassurance (that we are not alone, that better things are possible) which will impact the wider world more by keeping us subscribed to the Kindle app than by any action we might feel inspired to take.

Amazon is paying Boots Riley to make TV shows. Disney won much praise for delivering a revolutionary fantasy in a Star Wars shell. Apple is funding excellent, discomfiting and furious corporate satires about how we happily ignore invisible worker abuses for the sake of our own lifestyles, but they also cannot be considered accountable for the deaths of Congolese child-labourers in the global cobalt supply chain. The Dispossessed is in development as a limited series and the LeGuin estate are closely involved.

The master doesn't just own the tools, he's been buying up the guillotines as well.

What if, as with the unknowable nothingness outside of Omelas, the only art that cannot be reduced to product in net service of the status quo is the art that's so invisible and inaccessible and disconnected as to not exist at all? Does being relatively small and ramshackle really lend us any ideological purity, any genuine detachment? You can listen to The Silt Verses on Apple and Spotify and Amazon Music. Brought to you by Acast.

Chapter 36 with Dev and Seb was to a large extent intended as an articulation of that worry. To what extent can we still trust in the integrity of a sincere love story (one that we want to believe in) it if takes place in an insincere and predatory environment? Can any meaningful story be told honestly within such a space?

This stuff really worries me. I think it's probably right to worry. I don't know the answer. I do know that there are some folks for whom the show has made a tangible difference in terms of their life's direction, and that's a huge comfort to me.

There was someone who said it helped them find their faith, strangely and wonderfully. Someone else who said it contributed to their decision not to go down a more lucrative career path within what they view as an exploitative industry. (I hope they don't regret that decision; I hope it makes them happy.)

So there's something there. Maybe.

[thewalrusespublicist]

"Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol)"

OMG no way! Your blog is one of the best here! What i love the most is reading the analysis and meta from the users, there's always more information and good takes, and yours are always quite deep and insightful.

I would love if you share your opinions about Stuart as well. I feel like he is obviously more sanctified that he should be since he died young (like that insane quote from his mom saying that Brian told her that Stuart could have been the Beatles' manager, no way lol) and i feel his memory has been used to attack Paul, sometimes in a very unfair way. Like, i don't deny the teenage drama and jealousy that Paul felt about him but he *was* a shitty bass player and the band was Paul's future, he was allowed to criticized him not only for being John's new bestie. I also think John played with them both but i lack of your eloquence so i will love to read your take about it.

Hi anon! And the other anons!

Thank you again and to all the other messages I got, they were extremely sweet and really made my day. :)

From my inbox, it's clear you guys want to know about Stu and his role in the Beatles legacy. Well you asked for it and a novel you shall have. Be warned this might be the longest post I've done so grab like a drink or something.

A few disclaimers: I wish and had intended for this to be more of a deep dive into Stu as a whole person rather than just his relationship with John and Paul. Unfortunately I just didn't have the space to do it. If you want to know more about Stu I would highly recommend @eppysboys' blog which is the source for all things Stu Sutcliffe and where I got a lot of this info. Please check their stuff out. Also, I'm going to be a bit blunter on this than maybe I usually am because this topic has been irritating me for some time. Oh also I’m trying my best to answer a lot of asks in one post so please forgive if I don’t fully answer your specific ask about this!

Stu in a perfect world should be a fandom darling: an exciting cipher, a handsome artistic talent that died way too soon who had a major influence in the early Beatles style. It's like there’s this secret other James Dean looking mf Beatle hidden away to uncover, that's cool and he is cool! The problem is that he’s sort of becomes radioactive to talk about in a normal way due to how he's been portrayed and utilised in some biographies and fandom spaces, particularly those that have been infected by John Lennon aspirational boy bestie syndrome. As those types of spaces cannot seem to exist without tearing down Paul to prop John up as their special lil guy, Stu as John's other best friend has become the ideal heavy object to hit Paul McCartney over the head with. It's like a corrosive element, the minute Stu hits a Beatles bio, the biographer suddenly loses all training in objectivity and source work and starts waxing lyrical about 100 percent reliable never biased or wrong Saint Stu of Hamburg who died for our condom arson sins and that Paul McCartney should feel bad about every day of his life for not worshipping Stu and not accepting his own ‘place’ in life as John's just-some-guy placeholder best friend. I’ve personally seen so many posts and forums where Stu being mentioned leads to a legion of comments about how Paul could never have been Stu (correct both ways) and how John would never have even glanced at Paul for much longer if Stu had been alive. Sidenote: If you seriously think that the musical savant from down the road whom John went on to produce the most prolific song writing partnership in history with couldnt have kept his attention for long then I'm begging you on hands and knees to get your head out of the arse of your John Lennon body pillow and be serious. But anyway…

This boy bestie battle royale approach has in turn lead to a reflex reaction where Stu gets studiously ignored by other sections of the fandom as a precedent has been set that shining a light on him diminishes Paul and John's relationship with Paul. It's frustrating because if people weren't so keen to cut Paul out of his own story then we would get a much better nuanced view of every single person involved.

So let's put aside all of our defenses, cut the John Lennon loved one ranking system bullshit and lets look at the actual question here which is what was John and Stu's relationship really like and what did he mean to John?

John and Stu met at art college a year or so after Paul and John met. Up to that point John and Paul had their fun little codependant thing going on but Stu quickly became a huge fixture in John's life. Stu had things that Paul couldn't really offer at that point in time. John was at his heart a musician who aspired to be seen as an artist (he would later express surprise that he didn't become an artist). Stu was the passionate artist who knew tons about the art of the period that could teach and inspire John. Their creative leanings meant they could work on projects together and share art notebooks and poetry. (Including yes the one with anti-semitic story which I mention again as I believe it's an important thing to remember when it comes to both John and Stu and the culture of the time.) Stuart by the sounds of it was even writing a novel about John at the time of his death. They were fascinated and inspired by each other.

So, creatively they fired each other up but more importantly perhaps, Stu and John were peers. It's funny to think about when you see the Beatles later but at the time Paul and George were the kids in their school uniform coming to see their cool older friend at art school. That's an important divide. When Paul and George's parents insisted their kids do their homework and go to bed, John and Stu could stay up and talk all hours of the night, which they did. They also could rent a place together and spend long hours chatting (despite John moving out later after realising electricity cost money lol.) There's a different dynamic that the age similarity offered as well. Whilst Paul would later somewhat grow into this role, Stu could act as an authority figure to John as well as open up to John in a way you can really only do with your peers. Stu was the person John opened up to throughout Stu's life:

How long can one go on writing and writing like you. I now don’t really know who I’m writing to or why it’s quiet peculiar. I usually write like this and forget about it but if I put it in a little part of my [almost?] secret self in the hands of someone miles away who will wonder what the hell is going on or just pass it off as toilet paper. Anyway I don’t care really what happens because when I think about it, it’s so bloody unimportant – but what is important who has the right to say that this letter is not important and this is a something any way – anyway – anyway – yeah! I wonder what it would be like to be a cretin or something. I bet it’s gear. & how are you keepin Stuart old chap are you as ok – is life as good – bad shite, great – wonderful as it was or is it just a thousand years of nothing and coolness on and on and on. I think this is it Goodbye Stu don’t write out of – er what is it? well not because you think you ought to write when you feel like So goodbye (from John you know the one with glasses) ANYWAY BYE BYE see you soon I don’t know why I said that I remember a time when everyone I loved hated me because I hated them so what so what so fucking what I remember a time when belly buttons were knee high when only shitting was dirty and everything else clean + beautiful I can’t remember anything without a sadness So deep that it hardly becomes known to me so deep that its tears leave me a spectator of my own STUPIDITY + so I go rambling on with a hey nonny nonny nonny no

Extract from a letter to Stuart Sutcliffe from John Lennon, 1961

By lots of accounts Stu was gentle but firm when it came to telling John he'd gone too far. John references this aspect of Stu to Hunter Davies:

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I'd believe him."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

In this way I kind of see Stu as a proto-Yoko. John was so insecure and uncertain about his grip on the world and reality that he relied on Stu to be his point of reference and guide. Paul did this too later and I think in Hunter Davies John mentions this, but not at this time period and not as much due to their competitiveness. This may be why some people saw Stu as the person that really understood John at this time period:

"During the turbulent adolescence that prefaced a turbulent manhood, hardly anyone knew Lennon as intimately as Stuart Sutcliffe. If they weren't exactly David and Jonathan, June Furlong, one of the life models at Liverpool's Regional College of Art, had "never seen two teenagers as close as those two."

The Gospel According To Lennon by Alan Clayson

Now this person likely never met John and Paul together but this is only one of many similar quotes and even Julia captain of John and Paul's friendship boat seems to agree there was a period where Stu dominated and Paul 'kept his distance' from the John-Cyn-Stu 'menage-a-trois'. But the friendship wasn't perfect and his position as John's ultimate best friend was never iron clad. This is best outlined by the shit they pulled when John convinced him to join on Bass for the Beatles.

Despite being John's best friend, Stu was teased and bullied:

"They argued as usual amongst themselves, but most of all they picked on Stu, the newest member of the group. John, George and Paul had been with each other long enough to know that rows and arguments and criticism didn't mean much. If it did, you just argued back. "We were terrible," says John. "We'd tell Stu he couldn't sit with us, or eat with us. We'd tell him to go away, and he did." At one hotel they stayed at, a variety show had just left. There had been a dwarf in the show and they found out which bed he had slept in and said that would have to be Stu's. They certainly weren't going to sleep in it. So Stu had to. "That was how he learned to be with us," says John. "It was all stupid, but that was what we were like."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

Why John encouraged this I have no idea, maybe jealousy over Stu's looks and wanting to play people off each other? Things were tense in both Scotland and Hamburg, especially between Stu and Paul. As I said in my last post, the girls were fighting and it was mutual. Paul was mad for both fair and immature teenage-boy reasons. Stu could not be bothered with the bass most of the time and couldn't really play well and was only there as he was '(John's) best friend' (ouch for Paul). Paul conversely had given up higher education to be there and was sending lots of money back home. He also was dating the girl Paul fancied. Stu was popular with the new group and also did mean things like help John steal Paul's money when money was really tight for him. Paul in turn was a passive aggressive, jealous and mean. It all came to ahead in the punch up onstage which according to Spitz came about from Paul wanting money back and saying that Stu could borrow some from Astrid. Stu goes for him and reports vary from full-on bust up to embarrassing scuffle. Stu then goes to where Astrid and Paul's gf Dot are, demands Dot leaves and goes on a rant about Paul. Now all of this must be framed in the context of Stu receiving increasing brain damage from his condition that seemingly lead to mood swings and anger. Nevertheless, the mutual needling and anger, as well as John's refusal to do/say fuck all about it, especially given how protective John was of Stu, suggests that it wasn’t straightforward and/or John may have been playing some games to make both feel threatened. This would also make sense as to why we hear conflicting accounts of John and Stu being the centre of everything and everyone else in orbit AND John and Paul being the centre and everyone else playing catch-up, as well as John giving Paul the lead to take him round the Reeperbahn when John got dressed in the gorilla costume. (I know Paul may have just been the closest there but that always gave off bestie behaviour to me.)

(I did get an ask about how John and Paul's friendship survived it, I think it was damaged by Hamburg. When Paul got back home he got a job at a construction site and there's just a vibe of everything being a bit on tenterhooks. John also acts a bit weird at the period, not talking to anyone for a few weeks then making a lot of weird demands from Paul. I'm really not sure what to make of it.)

Even when he's back in Liverpool, John still writes long letters to Stu and vice-versa. I can't find it at all but I’ve read a really sad interview with John saying he missed his best mate and it's a shame that he's not with them. He had no idea at that point that Stu had already died of a brain hemorrhage at 21.

John is said to have gone into hysterics when he found out Stu had died. A lot of people who've spoken about this time (Aunt Mimi, his sister Julia, the Exsis) concur that at this point Stu was his best friend and the death shattered him. He even told Astrid he wished he could give his life for Stu’s. This is backed up by the fact that John never forgot Stu and his shadow lingered for the rest of John's life:

Stu was recalled in In My Life

Years later, after John composed the first of his truly poignant and heartfelt Beatles songs, "In My Life"—with its lines about "friends I still can recall/some are dead and some are living"—he revealed to me that the two people he had had uppermost in mind were myself and Stuart Sutcliffe. And then he stunned me with a statement that I'd never heard him address to anyone—least of all to another man. "You know, Pete," he said softly, "I do love you. But," he quickly added, "I loved Stuart as well."

Weird that Paul isn't mentioned surely you think that he would be mentioned if Pete was there too okay, okay my tin hat is going away this isn't the time

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life

In 1965 John drew Stu on a postcard

He apparently said this about Stu prior to sending the postcard, prompted by an article about Stuart.

The card had been sent from Genoa mid-way through the Beatles' Italian tour. [...] But the conversation had become maudlin when I reminded him that he was going to talk to me for an article about Stuart. [...] In that sad telephone conversation before they set off for Milan, I asked him if he was happy: 'I'd be a lot happier if Stuart was still part of us,' he said, 'The Beatles would be complete.' And before he rang off he said 'Ill send you something.'

He also appears on the cover of Sgt Pepper

As mentioned, Stu gets mentioned in Hunter Davies in terms of wistfulness and guilt AND he gets a mention in John's insane 'if I were a homosexual' ramblings in early 70s. According to Yoko, John also wanted Yoko to write letters to him and didn't think it would be strange because Stu wrote letters to him.

I have a pet theory that as with a lot of things for John, his unresolved grief over Stu really came to the fore in the late 60s now that he had actually had a chance to sit down and think about things. I believe it was partially why he wanted Yoko to write letters and why he gets mentioned in the early 70s as a collaborator/best friend and not in 1980 where John only gives that credit to Paul and Yoko. I think with the cracks with Paul, John had started to think back on his old friend and guide and what advice he would give.

Stuarts presence is still felt throughout the seventies:

“He told me everything. He loved to talk about Hamburg. There were no secrets. It was the kind of life I never knew…. It meant total freedom. At his side always was Stuart, sweet Stuart. There wasn’t a time in John’s life when he didn’t think about Stuart. He spoke always of his love and respect for Stuart.”

Yoko discussing Stu in When They Were Boys: The True Story of the Beatles’ Rise to the Top by Larry Kane

Coming to grips with his death is also present in Skywriting

SEAN O’HAIRE: What happened to Stuart Cliff? DR. FISCHY: What happened was a full exchange of energy where it was not needed within the expression of your own self or in the energies involved around and about you. We cannot call it a happening. We’ll say it is an awakening, for in that way it has served an expression from the past to the present and to the future to where there shall be more of that incomplete vibration expressed to you in a more fuller understanding.

Skywriting by Word of Mouth, John Lennon

This isn't exhaustive but I think from all this it's pretty clear that John adored Stu, John grieved Stu and kept grieving Stu. Stu had a specific place in his life as a confidant that he tried to recreate with Yoko. At the time of Stu's death, he was John's best friend, probably slightly over Paul. Stuart had been able to be both a friend and paternal presence, a confidant and an artistic collaborator. His presence and loss was one of the foundational points in John's life.

But as we've been asked to play this stupid game and so many bios like to make a hoopla about it, were they at their closest ever as close as John and Paul were at their height?

No.

How do we know? Because John told us so:

" He [Paul] still is the closest friend I've ever had, except for Yoko, so I'm still close to him whatever goes on."

John Lennon to an interviewer, 1971

But Walrus! John just says shit! How do we know he isn't leaving out Stu because the press don't know Stu. Well true John does just say shit but this is at a time where John isn't the most glowing about Paul and he's had no problem mentioning Stu in this time period ('one of my best friends ever' would have made a similar point).

But Walrus again! If John picked Stu over Paul when they were young why wouldn't he be the boy bestie of all time, and why would John say that he was closer to Paul? Well, because of the environment and timings. Stu's death happened near the beginning of John and Paul's major bonding moments. If you look at their personal timeline, Paris, the Nerk twins, and getting signed happened just before Stu died. That's missing the major years of Beatlemania, Key West, LSD, Paul growing more into being John's peer and a load of other huge moments in their lives. It's like how John writes to Cyn in 1962 about wanting the house to themselves and not have Paul around all the time. Would you say because he feels closer to Cyn then that John in his overall lifetime loved Cyn more than Paul? No, because relationships change over time and theirs were no exception. (One thing to consider as well is that we don't yet have many letters between John and Paul during their Beatles years and earlier, probably because they were spending so much time with each other. We know a couple exist that Paul considers too personal for publication but I'm sure there are others. It's easy to understand what John felt for Stu as we have the letters, I think we would also have an easier time understanding what John felt for Paul if we had the equivalent of those.)

At the end of the day Paul was the man he believed he had a psychic bond with, the man he couldn’t shut up about, the man whom he’d conquered the world with with their endless collaboration, the man with a twin personality to him and according to John spent more time with throughout the 60s than he had with Yoko ever. To be frank if Paul had died in 67' I don't think this would have been a conversation.

As mentioned early, in early 1970s John elevates his partnership with Stu to his collaborations with Paul and Yoko but by 1980 he’s pretty clear that Paul and Yoko are their own category.

"I was saying to somebody the other day, “There’s only two artists I’ve ever worked with for more than a one night stand, as it were. That’s Paul McCartney, and Yoko Ono.” And I think that’s a pretty damned good choice!!"

John Lennon interview with DJ Dave Sholin, 1980

There are of course the what ifs. Would Stu still being alive mean that John was not as close with Paul? Maybe, highly doubtful though as the Beatles experience was so intense. If Stu remained a Beatle would John be as close with Paul? If Stu remained a Beatle he wouldn't be Stu so no. At the same time who knows what it would have been like if Paul and John were peers from the off? I said this to @the62ndbugsfan when it comes to Stu vs Paul (hi girl sorry i've made our chat a whole ass post lol) but to go a bit Wuthering Heights, soulmates are made as much from the earth as they are of the stars. What binds us is our experiences just as much as our personalities. There may be a universe where Stu and John took on the art world together or became inseparable bffs again after the Beatles disbanded, but it is not our universe. In this universe Stu tragically died and John and Paul chose to become Lennon/McCartney and artistically unite themselves forever.

Even going back to Stu's lifetime, I've said it before and I'll say it again I find it interesting that not only did John choose to go to Paris with Paul rather than pay to meet up with Stu somewhere but that they arranged to meet up with Juergen and nobody told Stu until they'd already gone. Stu was shocked and didn't know if it meant the end of the Beatles which is a pretty big thing for him not to know about. Why didn't John tell him if they're apparently still writing long letters? Was it because he really wanted to do this with Paul and didn't want to hurt Stu's feelings? And that's really the point I want to make here. Due to his trauma John was preoccupied with reinforcing ranking of relationships within his life. But the thing is friendship rankings are made up guidelines and the reality is far more complicated. You can have a designated best friend but feel closer to another friend at times, you can want to do one thing specifically with one friend and not the other for various reasons. You can (as I do) have more than one equal best friend. Friendship as with most relationships are in a constant state of flux and each friendship you have will give and mean a different thing, even if they are of similar value to you.

Paul may have ended up closer to John than Stu had been, but that doesen't make John's relationship with Stu any less special. Nor does Stu negate the significance of Paul. Whilst both fit into John's pattern of intense relationships and demands related to that, both had unique positions and meaning to him. Considering what I've gone into about John's closeness to Stu, it actually says something deeply, borderline unnervingly, intense about John and Paul that Paul pipped Stu to the post. Maybe it's time Beatles bios accept the fact that John Lennon just wouldn't be into them like that, stop using a tragically prematurely deceased young man as a prop in their jealous psychological warfare against Paul McCartney, stop perpetuating one of the most damaging games that John did to his loved ones and allow both relationships the space to shine and showcase the amazing talent that was the Beatles and those that surrounded them.

[ronwestbreeze]

you're gonna go far | 6

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 8.5k

read on AO3

It was a little difficult to get out of bed that morning.

One of those days.

Long and exhausting. It was challenging to get stuff done. You knew things like this wouldn’t just go away instantly. But you hoped that maybe…

It wasn’t too bad like before. You were able to think about the chores that had to be done later in the day and pushed yourself out of the bedroom.

So you went through most of the day barely existing. Norm was the first to notice your slight change in behavior because he began trying to joke more with you—no matter how bad they ended up being—and tried getting you out of your head. And you were thankful for that. At least that’s what was different this time around. You weren’t entirely alone nor held up in your room.

That was progress, right? You honestly couldn’t tell. Sometimes you felt like you were still stuck, that you weren’t moving forward. Or getting better. At least back to what you used to be.

Yet, you’ve been this way—asleep—for so long that you have forgotten what you used to be like. You forgot when the last time you smiled. You forgot when you felt the most happy or any other emotion besides anger and grief.

You wondered where that part of you went. Some days you went searching. Other days you somberly accepted that it was a part of you, that you were never going to get back.

At some point, you figured it died along with your mother.

“You want me to check on the baby today?” Norm asked you as you were getting ready for your link for the day.

You shook your head as you sat on the link bed, “No, I’ll be fine. Just one of those days, you know? We all have em’.”

He frowned when you shrugged it off or appeared a little too nonchalant about it, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Thanks for offering though.”

“Anytime, Doc.” He gave you a pat on the shoulder, while watching you particularly closely, “Just tell me you need a break. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

He was nice. You needed something like that.

Neytiri noticed it too.

While the two of you were in the garden that day, Neytiri had been saying words in Na’vi for you to repeat. And you did it, not perfectly of course, but you managed. It was just that you didn’t take in any information. Not in the way she knew you to.

You had a certain look that told Neytiri you were hanging onto her every word, whenever you were learning something new from her. Eyes slightly vibrant with curiosity.

That look wasn’t there today. Instead, in its place was a dullness and lifeless sort of unfocused gaze.

Your ears were low again.

Neytiri didn’t know when she became so attentive to your moods or facial expressions. So much so that she could tell when you were somewhat happy and really, painfully sad—

You were just easy to read in this form.

Yes, that was it.

“What is wrong, tanhi?” Neytiri eventually asked because she didn’t completely despise you so much to ignore your change in mood.

There was a twitch in your ears when you heard your name being called. You looked up from the newly planted mushroom seeds you had been mentally counting at Neytiri to find her staring at you expectantly. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes, “You are not listening. I know you are distracted. What is wrong with you?”

You cringed at yourself for allowing yourself to get so distracted by your swimming thoughts. Drowning in them as usual. “It’s nothing. Just have a lot on my mind.”

But the answer did not satisfy her. Neytiri shook her head, “Sky People are always hiding their feelings. You are doing that. It is okay to be sad. It is natural.”

“I’m not hiding it—” You sighed, turning your gaze back to the mushroom seeds. “It’s just one of those days. Maybe—Maybe today I am sad. I could barely get out of bed and tomorrow it might be worse—what are you doing?”

You watched as Neytiri got up and moved behind you. A second later, you feel a brief tugging at your hair until it became loose from your short braid. “If you want to learn our ways, then you must take care of your hair. I look at it and it is a mess.”

“It was in a braid before…”

“I did not like it.”

With that, she got up again and trekked back into the forest. You watched her go in bewilderment at the sudden change of conversation and attitude from the Na’vi woman. You had no idea what had come over the woman or what made her suddenly leave, but you didn’t focus on it for too long. The confusion and startlement you had was enough energy to continue planting the rest of the mushrooms. You didn’t bother putting your hair back into a braid, not wanting to spend time threading through the thick strands until your fingers were too sore to complete your job. And the last thing you needed was something stopping you from finishing this one simple task—

A splash of cold water was suddenly dumped onto your head, leaving you soaking wet.

And terribly pissed.

You snapped your head behind you to find Neytiri placing the leaf down next to her—which was glistening with water. The same water that was now spilled all over you.

“Neytiri—ouch!”

“Hold still.” Neytiri hissed at you as she ran her long fingers through your hair.

You grumbled but reluctantly listened, still confused and a bit pissed at what was going on. And for a while, the two of you remained there. You, sitting on the ground still counting the seeds quietly to yourself while Neytiri stayed behind you. Braiding a few strands of hair.

It was then you realized just how different your hair was from the way it was in your human body. The hair length was very similar to how you used to wear it when you were a teenager. You wondered then just how old this avatar body was.

Once she was finally finished, she crouched down in front of you to get a better look. Her yellow irises scanning your face and her work. Tucking rebellious strands behind your ear, patting down some of the fuzziness, and making sure the braid was visible around your face.

You watched her quietly. And soon, when she was done obsessing over your hair, she watched you too.

It wasn’t the way you and Jake watched each other. This—this had something different about it.

Time was an illusion here. Trapped in her yellow gaze. You hadn’t realized you had been staring for so long—nor did you realize you had briefly glanced at her lips—until a sudden sound from the forest pulled the both of you out of this strange trance.

And once you snapped to your senses, your body quickly reacted. You shot to your feet and cleared your throat, “I gotta check on the avatar now.” You didn’t meet her gaze. “I’ll see you.”

Before she could stop you, you already scurried off. Stopping once you were far enough away out of her sight.

Stopping when you felt a new pair of eyes watching you rather closely.

You glanced around the forest surroundings as you approached the longhouse with a frown until your eyes locked on another pair of yellow eyes. Severe ones.

Tsu’tey was in the trees further away but enough for you to see him watching you, even when you caught him doing so. He did not look away from you. Narrowed eyes and that scowl resting on his angular face.

For a moment you wondered what the look was for. You wondered what he could yell at you about this time, even though you listened to his demands and had stayed away from the Omatikaya territory.

A scared part of you wondered if he had seen you and Neytiri just now.

Nothing happened. But still, it would give enough ammunition for him to verbally attack you. Hate you even more possibly.

Except there would be no battle today. As Tsu’tey disappeared within the trees without a word.

You were confused but relieved at the same time.

Dealing with an angry clan leader was not on your to-do list. Nor were you properly prepared for it.

After watching the trees in silence, you eventually went inside.

Neytiri watched your retreating figure with a frown, her heart…shifting—only a little bit as you disappeared. Her gaze then moved toward the trees, the area where the sound had come from before. And with an irritated frown, she got up and stalked toward the area.

They were still there. She could feel their eyes on her as she went further into the forest. With a hiss, she glared at the trees, “Come out. Enough hiding!”

Just a little bit above her, a few feet away a familiar warrior snaked out of the bushes and seated himself on the large branch with his usual expression he wore whenever he was away from their shared hut.

Neytiri frowned up at Tsu’tey, “You are watching me.”

“I am watching her.”

After a beat and a quiet sigh, Neytiri climbed up the tree and joined him. Despite his very sour mood, he tugged her close to his side as they sat together. On the branch, they had a good view of the Avatar Compound. A few dreamwalkers were running about but none of them seemed to bother Tsu’tey as much as you did. Neytiri could easily tell with how he kept glaring at the longhouse, the same place she always watched you disappear in whenever you left your false body.

“You have been spending time with her,” Tsu’tey stated more so than asking. There wasn’t much to hide, they both knew Neytiri spent some of her free time visiting you. Only when Tsu’tey or Jake are busy with their duties and she’s finished with hers before the both of them. “I do not like it.”

“She has done nothing.” Neytiri reasoned.

“Yet.”

“And what did I say if she does? I would kill her myself.”

As she said this, Neytiri felt a certain wavering in her heavy words. Like a part of her didn’t believe it anymore.

She rested her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm with a content sigh, “But I cannot ignore what the Great Mother has shown me. She has stopped my bow before and now she’s done it a second time. Do you not think it means something, yawne?”

In the corner of her, she watched as his jaw tightened, his features becoming particularly focused. “I do not trust this.”

“You do not trust the Great Mother?”

“That is not what I mean.” He corrected her calmly. Neytiri knew that Tsu’tey, like any other child of Eywa respected her and trusted in her signs. Always had. That was how he was raised. And she knew he wasn’t about to abandon that because of one demon.

But his words were still reluctant, “I do not know where our Great Mother is leading us. I do not know why she wants that demon spared—when she is just like the rest of them.”

Neytiri considered his words, “Perhaps she is like Jake—”

“There is only one Jake. And she is nothing like him.”

She made a sound of disagreement but didn’t push further on the subject. She noticed how tense he was, how tense he had been for the past week. She wondered then if he was truly upset by this or if there was something more to this quiet anger he so carefully restrained. Of course, his hatred for the Sky People was no question.

But Neytiri knew Tsu’tey.

Skin and bone. Heart and soul.

She knew her mate. Not only as a mate but as a friend. They had grown up together. Along with her sister, Sylwanin. There was nothing he could hide from her even if he tried.

“She may not be like Jake. But clearly, the Great Mother has chosen her for a reason. My mother even allows her to stay—I believe it is time you seek the answers.”

Tsu’tey scoffed but didn’t brush her off. Instead, he leaned in closer, allowing his hand to rest on her growing stomach. “You will be a great Tsahik.”

“Not as great as my mother. Nor my sister.”

Tsu’tey shook his head and cupped her cheek, “You will be great, my beautiful heart.”

A soft smile tugged at her lips only to falter when she noticed how exhausted he truly looked. How close he looked to breaking but hiding it. He could never hide it well from her. Nor Jake.

She then took his face in her hands and whispered soothingly, “What is it, my love?”

Knowing that there was no point in denying a response—knowing that Neytiri would not stop until she got what she wanted—Tsu’tey turned away from her to stare back at the compound.

“The Tipani clan are becoming reckless. They already do not like the Sky People that have stayed—but now that the demon has come, I worry they will begin to take matters into their own hands. I worry…that our clans will begin to clash.”

Neytiri took his hand in hers and pressed a gentle kiss onto his knuckles, “If it comes to it, I will stand by you. Jake will too. But I also will ask you to speak to our Great Mother about your troubles.” She caressed his exhausted lines with a small frown, “I worry for you, Tsu’tey. I do not want you to take on this task by yourself. You have Jake and I to be with you. That is why Eywa brought us together.”

Right then, he seemed to consider her words. His gaze was still unfocused while staring at the longhouse. A silence settled between them.

“Eywa has created this new path for us.” Tsu’tey mused. “Somedays I wonder if it will lead to something good in the end.”

“Do you think it won’t?”

He was silent. And Neytiri didn’t push.

When Tsu’tey went to the Vitraya Ramunong, the night had already settled around him. When he went to kneel at the tree, connecting his queue to one of the links, his prayers were silent. But his questions were clear. His intention was pure to the Great Mother.

What does it all mean? Guide me, All Mother.

So when a single atokirina flew away from the tree, Tsu’tey took to following it both out of curiosity and apprehension. The Great Mother’s answers weren’t always clear. If anything, her signs only led to more questions.

So, Tsu’tey wondered. He wondered if this would lead to any more answers.

Or just more unwanted questions.

Tsu’tey rushed through the forest, never losing sight of the spirit. He kept going and going until he was nearing the Sky People’s base. Until the trees suddenly became familiar. Until the grounds he had seen many times before unwillingly began to appear around him.

But his body never stopped moving. He never stopped following it. Too desperate for answers. Too desperate, too yearning.

Oh Eywa, he was yearning.

And then, and then, and then.

And then he was staring down at your still false body.

It was strange. Seeing no life in your face. Tsu’tey had only seen your false body from far away, but now seeing you up close. You looked so different yet the same as your human form.

Why was he here? Why did the spirit bring him to…

No.

No.

No.

His vision rippled. Your body morphed from your human form to your false body—impossible.

And then he woke up.

Awake.

Awake.

Awake.

Tsu’tey finally realized where he was. Instead of standing in the middle of the forest chasing an atokirina, instead of standing over your false body, he was back in his hut. With his mates sleeping next to him. With his son cuddled between both Jake and him. With Neytiri hugging his waist from behind.

A dream. It was only a dream.

But why you? Why you?

Why?

“Yawne?” Tsu’tey breathed out a sigh and looked over his shoulder to find Jake shifting out of his sleep, looking at him through heavy eyelids. He sat up a bit, careful not to disturb Neteyam’s sleep as he did, “Another nightmare?”

Tsu’tey hesitated—considered the question. The dream he just had. Was it a nightmare?

“No. I am fine. Go back to sleep, my love.”

Jake didn’t look entirely convinced but eventually lied back down. Usually, it took a while for Jake to fall asleep, so Tsu’tey lay back down, adjusting Neytiri’s arm around his waist and squeezing his other hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jake asked, his voice deep and sluggish.

Tsu’tey nodded, and tucked his nose into Neteyam’s cheek as gently as he could, “I am now.”

It took you a little longer to get out of bed the following week. But you managed. You watched a few more of your mother’s logs and even some of the other ones still in the system.

Dr. Augustine. Norm. Some guy named Quaritch. And then there was Jake Sully.

As a human.

You paused the video to examine his face. You suppose the traits matched his now blue form. The only difference was that instead of his longish dreads, he had a buzz cut in the video. And a tattoo poking out of his short sleeve shirt.

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget his face for the time being.

You also tried not to think about the fact that Neytiri hadn’t been back for about a week now. Which was normal. You didn’t overthink it. Especially not after that moment—

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget your thoughts about her.

Then you remembered Tsu’tey. Him watching you so closely. You hoped he didn’t see you and Neytiri. Frankly, you weren’t sure what would happen if he did know.

He’d kill you. That’s for sure.

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget all three of them.

When you finally got out of bed, you continued with your regular schedule and tried to think of literally anything else. You tended to your garden by yourself and continued checking the baby.

There was a bit of determination for yourself, to keep moving. To not stay in one place any longer or else you’d be stuck.

And you weren’t sure if you’d make it out if you did.

Jake continued visiting the tank room whenever he could.

Today was one of them. Only this time you made it before he did.

“How’s the baby?”

You glanced up briefly from your notes, “Healthy. It might be because Na’vi babies might grow faster in pregnancy—judging by that we might have a couple more months before it’s born.”

Jake nodded, his face serious, “Anything else?”

For a brief second you didn’t respond, too caught up in your thoughts until you realized he had asked you a question. Jake tilted his head, brows furrowed at you.

You shook your head eventually, “No, everything’s all normal.”

He stared at the belly for a moment longer before he left. You were somewhat surprised at his quick retreat but didn’t think much about it. He was some type of great warrior, he was probably busy with something else in his clan. If it meant that the two of you didn’t have to interact much with him anymore or probably a lot shorter than before, then you were okay with it.

It seemed he finally took the hint.

All you could do was keep moving.

Jake came again the next day.

This time around you brought out the ultrasound.

He watched you and the machine intensely. You noticed and gave a sound close to a huff or a snort, “Nothing’s wrong with it. I’m just doing a thorough check-up today.”

A quick look of relief crossed his otherwise exhausted features, “Right, right, of course.”

Once you got the ultrasound running and connected to the avatar, you immediately found the heartbeat with the blurry image of the fetus appearing on the screen. It had grown considerably since the first time you saw it.

“There she is.” You mumbled mostly to yourself. The heartbeat was calming in a way, easing your usual tense muscles.

Jake perked up instantly, staring at you in disbelief, “She? It’s a girl?”

You glanced up at him briefly to find a soft expression on his face upon looking at the fetus. Neteyam—who you just noticed attached to his chest—sleepily snuggled closer to his father’s chest. When his head moved out of the sling, Jake held the back of his head, giving it support.

“Yes.” You gave a short nod.

Another look of relief flashed across his face, this time he didn’t try to hide it like before. A small smile tugged at his lips, “That’s—That’s nice. Amazing.”

In the corner of your eye, you watched him. That easy fatherly expression fell upon his face. How soft his smile was, for something that wasn’t even his. You weren’t sure what to think of it—no, you expected it. It was foreign. A father loving his child. To you at least.

You didn’t know your father. Nor did you have a father figure in your life. That type of love was unfamiliar to you.

Love itself was a foreign concept that you could not yet grasp. The only time you could truly say you experienced something close—similar to love—was with your mother.

And if love was like this—heavy. Leaving you…like this.

You weren’t sure you would want to experience any type of love ever again.

“You sure you’re ready to take on another?” You raised your brows, not looking up from the belly.

Jake looked at you, “Do you care for my answer?”

“I am watching over her. I suppose I should make sure she is left with somewhat tolerable parents—that is, if there aren’t any problems with her when she’s born.” You hummed, rolling your eyes at the sudden look of worry on his face. “Relax, that’s the standard check-up of any baby—well, I don’t know how different it will be compared to human ones.”

A beat went by before he finally answered, “I wouldn’t be honest if I said I wasn’t nervous. What new parent isn’t?”

“Mmm.”

The rest of the session was just the two of you, sitting in a somewhat comfortable silence. Comfortable for you because you were able to ignore him without any problems. And Jake wasn’t being too talkative or apologetic, which was a plus. But he was noticeably less hostile toward you as the time went by. Showing that he was taking the truce quite seriously and keeping his end of the bargain.

In other words, the truce was possibly the best option for you both. You could work in peace without being hammered or interrogated. And Jake would continue his visits without any problems.

You still didn’t like him. And you were sure the feelings were mutual.

But things were becoming easier.

And sometimes you like easy. Just as much as a challenge.

There was a part of him that was curious. Jake didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand Neytiri’s easy trust in you but it only made him more curious as he kept coming to see the baby.

Of course, you were guarded and curt around him. And he was quite the same but that didn’t mean he wasn’t at least a little bit interested in why you were so important to their deity.

So many questions.

A part of him wanted to ask Eywa himself—he wasn’t much used to praying to her but he would now and then out of respect for the People. If he asked, he would possibly gain an answer—which was incredibly rare—or he would gain more questions, which was the more common response.

So, Jake took to finding things out for himself. Even if it meant doing it the hard way. Even if it meant getting his head out of his ass and finally putting things into perspective.

Jake Sully was willing to at least keep this tolerable relationship with you going. Keeping this stable cord steady. You weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. It was time he had to get used to it. It was time for him to get over himself.

And he was willing to show that he did want something different. That he was ready to change, to finally understand you in a way.

But you still didn’t like him. Which was fine.

He didn’t like himself all that much either.

Another week went by and Neytiri still hadn’t come back. Surprisingly, you found yourself missing her. And when you began missing others, you got angry.

Since you didn’t feel like going through that process again, you resolved yourself to thinking that she must’ve gotten busy with her clan. Or grown tired of watching over you and your depressing personality once she realized that you weren’t a threat to her clan.

That must’ve been it. That’s what you chose to believe at that moment.

One day at a time.

You moved forward. Because you had to.

Throughout the week you focused on your work tending to the garden, checking on the baby, and even taking on more responsibilities around Hell’s Gate.

Sometimes you’d help Dr. Patel in the bio labs, other times you went with the other avatars to train your body. There were also days you would help Norm pack different human items he’d usually bring for the Na’vi children of the Omatikaya Clan. You, of course, never ventured too close to their territory whenever you went with him to drop off the items. You’d either stay in the ship you flew in or stay at the base as he left on his own.

Jake still kept coming around but his time there became shorter and shorter with each visit. Again, you didn’t bat an eye. You welcomed it and continued with your work.

Toward the end of your busy and long week, you woke up with a start when a blaring sound struck your room. It had to have been the middle of the night as you looked around frantically, only to realize the sound was coming from your tablet.

Quickly, you grabbed it to find the alarm was the system alerting you something was wrong.

And the problem was coming from the tank room.

You stumbled out of your bedroom and dashed through the long halls until you finally ended up in the tank room. Not caring that you were probably making a bunch of noise in the process.

When you got to Augustine’s tank, your heart sank when you found Grace’s avatar was violently twitching with the lights inside of the tank blaring a red.

“Fuck!” You hissed as you immediately checked for the problem.

The first thing you checked was the avatar itself. Her heart and the baby’s were fine but the avatar’s was slightly elevated, probably in response to whatever was happening to the machine which was the next thing you began to check.

There you discovered that something in it was malfunctioning. Throwing the liquid temperature off, the placentiums weren’t giving any more nutrients like they were supposed to. Whatever was going on, you didn’t have time to fix it or the machine.

If you wasted time like that more damage could be done and you weren’t going to risk that. Especially when the baby was in there. Especially when the baby could receive the worst of your mistake. Of this malfunction.

So, you worked fast.

You searched the room for an empty tank—which you were able to find and rolled it over next to the one Dr. Augustine’s avatar was in. You pulled the empty tank open just as Norm and a few other scientists entered.

“What happened?!” Norm questioned hastily.

Quickly, you jumped down from the empty tank and rushed toward Grace’s, “It’s malfunctioning. I don’t know why but we have to move her.”

Thankfully, Norm didn’t ask any more questions. He ordered the other scientists to help you.

You worked quickly. Draining the rest of the liquid from the tank, carefully moving the avatar—this required multiple hands—until you placed it in the new tank.

“Track her heart rate.” You ordered one of them.

A second later, a woman responded, “Stable but its body temperature’s dropping fast.”

By the time she said that you closed the tank. “Norm, fill it up.”

You jumped down, grabbed the heart monitor from the female scientist, and watched the lines closely. The tank was nearly filled up as Norm came up beside you.

Along with the heart monitor, your heart pounded through your ears as the tank finally filled up. You gave the monitor to Norm and went to adjust the temperature back to the usual settings.

When the blue lights came on it felt as if the room breathed a huge sigh of relief. You took the monitor back as Norm hummed, “Lucky you were the one to get here first. And quick thinking too—do you know what went wrong with the other one?”

The rest of the scientists poured out of the room as you slowly shook your head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t waste time, Spellman. Not when it could’ve risked the baby.”

Norm nodded and patted your shoulder, “You’re right. Good work, Doc.” He moved to the other side of the tank with a thoughtful expression. “You want me to stay and help with anything else?”

The lines on the monitor were stable, which brought you some sense of comfort. And yet the slight panic remained. “No, no. I’m good here. You can go back to bed. I’ll finish up here soon.”

“Okay.” Norm eventually moved toward the exit. “Get some sleep, Reeds. I’m serious.”

You nodded without looking at him. “Yeah, sure. Goodnight.”

“Good morning.” Norm corrected with a tired grin.

With that, Norm left. You breathed in a steady breath before grabbing a chair from the corner of the lab and sinking onto it. The monitor was kept nearby, the heart rate melodic in your ears as you set your tablet down on your lap.

For a while, you studied how far along the avatar was. It had been a good couple of months since you first discovered the child—which left her at about twenty-four to twenty-seven weeks at least. That’s not even counting when she first got pregnant. But compared to a human, the Na’vi pregnancy went by a lot faster, which also confirmed your theory.

Or maybe your perception of time was fucked up with how distracted and busy you had been.

Was that why the malfunction happened? Were you too distracted to notice any faults in the system during your usual sessions? What did happen?

You contemplated this for a while. Until your mind became hazy and your eyes droopy. At some point, you fell asleep next to the tank because there was no way you would leave the fetus’ side at that point. Not after all of that.

It felt as if your eyes had been closed for only a couple of seconds before you were suddenly jolted awake to find Norm standing over you.

“What happened? Is it the tank again?” You instantly asked, turning to check on the tank.

“No, no, no—the—she’s fine!” Norm quickly assured while easing you back into your chair. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

You stared at him for a beat, both a tired and an annoyed expression easily falling upon your face. “Well, I assure you I certainly wasn’t sitting with my eyes closed just then.”

Norm winced, “Sorry. I thought you’d want to get in your own bed before Jake gets here.” He rubbed the back of his neck as you got up from the chair. “I had to tell him what happened—he’s flying over now.”

“That’s fine.” You grumbled. “I can stand just one day in the same room with him. Besides, I should probably figure out what went wrong with that tank.”

Norm nodded, “Okay—uh, should I be a mediator for the both of you or..?”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like I’m meeting their clan leader.”

“You really need to try and get along with him.” Norm chuckled with a shake of his head.

You scowled, “Are you going to keep yapping in my ear about it or be useful?”

“Alright, alright, don’t an ass.” He strolled toward the doorway. “Jake’ll be here in fifteen.”

Once he left, you got to work again. You weren’t an official engineer but you knew a good amount of information from your training back on Earth. You hoisted yourself up and into the tank before you began taking it apart. You stood in it, trying to find out what exactly had gone wrong—while glancing at the heart monitor now and then.

Your brain was moving quickly yet hazily from the sleep. Eyes honed in on the mess of wires in front of you. So distracted by your silent questions and theories that you didn’t hear the incoming footsteps. Only the voice that followed after.

“What happened? Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine.” You replied immediately, watching in the corner of your eye as he approached the new tank. His hair was tied back and across his chest was a leather strap that carried what looked like a machete. “It was just a malfunction with the tank. We were able to get her out before any real damage could be done.”

Jake frowned, “Malfunction? How the hell did you let that happen?!”

“Look, I don’t know.” You replied calmly, ignoring the twitch in your jaw. “I’m still trying to figure all that out. But she’s out of it and fine. Norm helped if that makes you feel better—”

“I thought you had things handled? What happened to that?” Jake scowled, his tone vicious.

“I do.”

“Then what the hell happened—”

“I already said I don’t know!” You seethed, glaring down at the group of wires now hanging from your hands. Somewhere in the back of your brain, you realized that Norm really did have to stand between the two of you. That this truce wasn’t stable enough. That the two of them were just too explosive. “The hell do you think I’m trying to do? Kill the baby?!”

You missed the way Jake’s face faltered slightly, catching himself. “No…No, that’s not what I—”

“Then get off my fucking dick!” You snapped, throwing a piece of the tank to the floor with a clatter.

All sound was gone from the room then.

This was the last thing you wanted to deal with. Being scolded like some child—like you already weren’t beating yourself up over this mess.

You sunk onto the floor of the tank and continued working. Because that’s what you were best at. Not conversations. Not people. Not love.

Work. It was everything to you.

Already you were mentally drowning Jake out, ignoring the fact that there was another person in the room with you. But eventually, you realized that there was nothing wrong with the wires. It must’ve been something else. Another theory down the drain.

Jake uttered your name at one point. And you ignored him.

There was a sigh followed by a short pause before he spoke, “I’m sorry.” You continued ignoring him. There was something about his apologies. You were just tired of them. “That wasn’t fair, you’re right. I shouldn’t have come at you like that—”

“Augustine’s avatar is over there.” You mumbled. “You can check on her yourself.”

There was another silence but you were too focused on what was in front of you to notice or care. You were so determined to ignore him and the sting in the corners of your eyes.

You didn’t like to cry. Especially in front of others.

Thankfully, you ignored him long enough until you realized you were finally alone.

After a while, you breathed out a tired sigh.

Fortunately, as the days went by there were no other problems with the new tank or baby, but it didn’t stop you from always double-checking everything after that close call. So much so that you didn’t realize how much sleep you were missing until Norm pulled you away from your work and forced you back into your room. Locked the door and everything just to make his point.

With the promise of Norm taking care of your work, you eventually allowed yourself to sleep for practically the entire day. Not without the tablet on the dresser next to your bed of course.

Even after catching up on some semblance of sleep, Norm still didn’t let you get back to your schedule right away. Which irritated you of course.

“I don’t want you in my garden, Spellman.”

He rolled his eyes, “And I don’t want you stressing yourself out. As your friend and colleague who happens to care about your well-being, I demand you stay away from the garden until you’re completely rested.”

You frowned at him, “We’re friends?”

“Shut up and accept my love.”

And he kept true to his word. Norm kept you away from the gardens, even the tank room. And made sure that the scientists knew how to keep you away as well. He covered all of his bases.

Damn him.

You couldn’t sit around and do nothing though. So, at some point you were so desperate you resorted to practically begging Norm to just give you something to do that would distract you throughout the whole day. You nagged and nagged and nagged until Norm finally gave in.

“There’s an old link shack north of Hell’s Gate. We’ve been thinking about restoring all of them around the area. But that particular shack’s connection is a little wonky. Maybe you could head over and restock the supplies with your avatar. Maybe even fix the connection while you’re at it.”

You nodded quickly, “Yeah, sure thing. I’ll get on that—”

“And don’t try to sneak your way to the gardens!” Norm added sternly, sending you a look over his shoulder while clicking away at his computer. “Plus, you won’t need the Samson ships. The shack’s not too far from here.”

With that, you went to grab supplies, such as med kits, weapons—one gun and a few stacks of ammo—blankets, Na’vi weapons, a hunting knife, and a bow with a few arrows. You kept the hunting knife to yourself just in case.

After getting all of this, you placed the bag of supplies in the compound longhouse where your avatar always slept when you weren’t linked. Once you got to your link bed and linked up with your avatar, you grabbed the hunting knife and the bag of supplies before taking off north from Hell’s Gate.

The sky was grey today with a few darker clouds on the horizon instead of the shimmering blue you were used to. A storm might’ve been coming.

Which meant you had to make this trip quick. There was no telling how bad these storms could get on this planet.

Similar to how you traveled through the forest with Neytiri, you took to the trees so that you’d have less of a chance of running into or disturbing any of Pandora’s finest. Hopefully, you had learned to be quiet enough to not draw any attention your way as well.

As time went by, the sky got darker. You followed the coordinates Norm gave you while slipping through the trees like the true shadow you were. Traveling and climbing through the trees got easier as you went. You had done it enough times with Neytiri that you knew what to do and how to do it. Albeit not perfectly, but enough to get by. Blending into the environment as best as you could.

You enjoyed it, the vibrant life and colors of the forest once again. Every time felt like you were taking in Pandora for the very first time. Every time felt like a huge breath of the freshest air. Here, you were weightless. You weren’t a scientist. You weren’t human. You weren’t an avatar. You were just were.

You existed here. You were real.

Truly this place was everything you dreamed of when you were younger.

Rain began to pour by the time you spotted the shack. It was propped up and well hidden in a large tree, with moss growing out of the sides, the entire thing looking like it hadn’t been used in a long time.

You slid down from a branch as quietly as you could and landed in front of the metal entrance. By the time you got the door open and crouched inside, you were soaking wet from the rain.

The shack itself wasn’t too small, which surprised you. It must’ve been made to allow avatars to be able to roam freely through here without too much trouble.

Once the door was closed, you sunk onto the empty cot in the corner of the shack and began unpacking the supplies. The med kit went into the cabinets above a wooden table attached to the wall. The blankets went on the cot. The gun and ammo went under the cot in a long black case filled with old and rusted weapons you had to throw out into the rain. You kept the hunting knife tucked in your shorts.

The rain kept going. It was relaxing. Stopping for a moment to listen. Smelling it through the cracked window next to the cot you sat on.

It was nice. You could stay here if you wanted. This could’ve been your new home if you didn’t have responsibilities at Hell’s Gate.

Lastly, you worked on the radio that sat on the wooden table—which you assumed was connected to the main base. So, for the next few minutes, you took your time messing with the radio. Listening to either ongoing static or barely audible voices going in and out. At some point, you messed with the wires a few times before Norm’s voice finally came through.

“Tomato. Tomato. Tomato.”

You pressed one of the buttons, “Hey, Norm.”

“Oh, Jesus! Reeds!” Norm startled. “Warn a guy next time!”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, “I just wanted to test if it worked. Clearly, I fixed it.”

A snap of thunder drew you away from the radio. Seemed like it was getting worse out there. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been out there until now.

Norm seemed to realize this too, “You gonna stay there and unlink?”

“Mmm.” You paused. “I’m gonna try bringing the avatar back.”

He sighed, “Alright, good luck.”

“Don’t need it.” You said as you got up. “I’m too awesome.”

“Whatever, Reeds.”

Another clap of thunder filled the air as you stepped out of the shack. Immediately you were soaked by how heavy the rain was.

Thunder continued to boom, making your skin jump every now and then. It was just terribly cold, making you start to run so that you could get out of it faster.

You ran and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, only to realize just how much noise you were making and that the area was too unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t long until you realized how lost you were. It was just too dark to navigate your way back or recognize any familiar spots guiding your way.

With that in mind, you went toward the nearest tree and began to climb.

But your body was yanked away from the tree bark almost instantly as you were tackled down to the ground by a large weight. Your left shoulder exploded with vicious pain as if a bunch of sharp knives buried itself into your skin and continued to tear through it.

A strangled scream left your lips as the thunder clapped in the sky once more. You could barely see the creature but it was a dark, large beast. Digging further into your shoulder.

You hadn’t even seen it coming. You hadn’t been paying attention.

Now…

Now you might die because of it.

You tried shoving at it, managing to get most of its weight off of you. But the teeth were still in your shoulder. There was still pain. There was still warm liquid dripping down your arm.

When you moved your leg, you remembered the hunting knife in your shorts. Immediately, you dug into your pocket and found the handle instantly.

After that, you didn’t waste any time stabbing at it blindly and desperately. You did this, you kept going until more warm liquid covered your knife-wielding arm. You did this until the animal was limp against your body. Until you were able to push it off and scramble to your feet and run.

The pain was awful but bearable enough for you to run back to the shack at least. Mud was all over your clothes—some of it in your mouth. If anything, you probably looked insane right now.

You ran. Ran. Ran. Ran. Ran. Way too clumsy to be quiet. What’s worse was you had no clue where you were. And there was more shuffling coming from the bushes and trees surrounding you. If anything, you were probably throwing yourself further into the lion’s den.

It wasn’t long until a black creature suddenly came out of the bushes in front of you, causing you to stumble to a stop as it made its way toward you. Sleek and dangerous. Eyes locked on you.

Thunder boomed again. An identical creature came out from your right. Another on your left. Another. And another. And another.

Until you were surrounded. Until you knew there was no way you were going to make it out of this.

You kept your knife in front of you, trying to ignore the pain in your shoulder, the warm liquid running down your arm, the shakiness in your legs. You began to wonder how much blood you were losing with your energy slowly dwindling as time went by—no, it didn’t matter.

Damn it, you weren’t going to die here! Not like this.

“Come on!” You hissed as you pointed the knife at them. “Come on!”

They growled at you, closing in. Finally, one of them pounced toward you. With the knife, you slashed at it. At that, the creature cringed away and missed you entirely but that didn’t mean the others were going to try their luck.

Out of instinct, you stumbled back as two more tried coming for you. Your back hit a tree as you yelled and swung your knife wildly at them.

Only neither the creature nor your blow landed.

The two creatures were thrown to the side as another clap of thunder struck your ears.

Another figure emerged from the trees and rushed toward you.

Instantly, you swung the knife, only for it to be caught in an iron grip.

You screamed.

“Hey, hey, easy!”

It took you only a couple of moments for you to register the words and that they were coming from a familiar avatar. The last person you ever expected to be here.

Jake lowered your arm with a hiss. You blinked as another round of thunder rattled your ears.

The creatures were closing in again. Jake turned his back to you, hissing at them. His larger arm stretched in front of you protectively when one of them got a little too close for his liking. The creature hissed back

You watched warily behind him, still clutching the dirtied knife. Both of you exhausted and animalistic. Yellow eyes glimmering. One with warning and the other with desperation.

Jake looked terrifying in this light. Just as murderous and dangerous as the animals that surrounded you.

You remained behind him, trembling but glaring. Gripping that knife like your life depended on it.

There was suddenly more shuffling, more thunder, and the creatures then scattered.

You, dumbfounded by this, spoke shakily, “Why did they—”

Jake grabbed your wrist holding the knife.

“We need to move.” He said, dragging you forward.

The two of you ran in the opposite direction of the creatures. He hauled you up a tree before climbing up himself. “Is there a link shack nearby?”

For a moment, you wondered how he knew about the link shacks. You leaned on a branch both to catch your breath and because the quick movements left you a bit dizzy. When you couldn’t come up with plausible answers to your silent question you instead said, “I just came back from one. North from here—I don’t know how far it is.”

Your body leaned a little too far. Jake was quick to grab you in his stronger, more stable arms as he pulled you away from falling off the edge, “Hey, hey, Reeds, I need you here with me, okay? Just stay awake long enough until we get to the shack and we’ll clean you up.”

“I’ve...I’m losing a lot of…” Blood. Blood was what you wanted to say. But the adrenalin was wearing out. Your shoulder throbbed horribly. Exhaustion weighed you down and placed inconvenient black spots in your vision.

“I know.” He draped your good arm over his shoulder and kept you upright. “I know, we’ll get there. I promise.”

There was no arguing with him. You were soaked to the bone and in a hell of a lot of pain. Going back to the shack was your best bet in this horrid weather.

Jake continued to support your weight as the two of you followed the same coordinates leading back to the shack—or rather you haze inaudible directions of what you could remember from the information Norm had given you while Jake haphazardly followed.

Thankfully, the rest of the way wasn’t a long journey. Or maybe you just kept blacking in and out along the way, you didn’t know.

Jake and you stumbled through the door of the shack. He closed the door while you made your way to the radio with whatever strength you had left.

“Norm.” You tapped the radio while wincing. The pain in your shoulder was getting worse. Before now you had been tolerating it. “Norm, can you hear me?”

The static went on.

“Storm must be messing with the signal,” Jake said from behind you as he rummaged through the shack. “We should stay here until the storm settles—”

You rested your head against the small table, the rest of his words becoming nothing but muffled noise to your ears. God, you’ve lost so much blood. And you were so tired.

For a moment, just for a few seconds, you wanted to sleep. Only for a moment.

“Reeds.”

A larger hand rested on the back of your neck, bringing you slightly out of your unconsciousness.

Jake kept calling your name. “Hey, where’s the med kits at? We need to work on your arm, okay? And I need you to stay awake. Can’t have you unlinking in this condition.”

Sluggishly, you nodded, “They’re in the cabinets.”

More thunder rolled by. Jake left your side briefly to search through the cabinets above you. You leaned back in your seat, staring bleakly up at the ceiling.

“How long do these storms last?” You asked.

The thunder responded with a clap.

sorry for the long wait! hopefully it was all worth the wait. another 8k chapter, yay, that wasn't difficult to write at all lol! but now jake and reeds are alone in a shack. anything could happen....

(i'm not adding anymore people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @squirtlebob @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

[best-kh-rarepair-tournament]

Good morning I am here to remind you all that Demyx is in fact the biggest loser in KH and if you vote against him you're objectively WRONG. This man is the ultimate failboy.

He blatantly cheats in his boss battle with the fucking water clone QTE and he still dies, and like can you even blame him for fighting dirty because he turned up on Weapon Assignment Day and they gave him a musical instrument. All the other Org members get to do this menacing slow walk coupled with unbroken eye contact when they approach Sora in battle, but nooo this clown has to stare at his plinky-plonky instrument of murder instead while walking towards you cause he has to play fucking Guitar Hero to fight.

And then he dies and Jiminy Cricket roasts him in his journal. This dumbass gets roasted by A BUG. AN ARTHOPOD. A LITERAL INSECT.

And he absolutely deserves the roasting because have you seen him in Days?? Nobody ever shuts up about how he's That One Coworker who absolutely refuses to ever do anything. And they're right, like do you know how many times he's seen standing in the break room (not counting cutscenes)? ONCE. ONE SINGULAR TIME. Otherwise he spends the entire game on that stupid angular sofa.

And the sidequests he gives you, my god. If he's not telling you to find some stupid treasure chests, he's all like "hey Roxas could you go scour every inch of Halloween Town for Heartless k thx bye", and if you for some reason decide to humor him and do his actual goddamn work for him? What does he give you in return? MORE FUCKING WORK. Like at least the other Org members have the decency to be like "hey well done, now you can do this extra mission that only super cool people are allowed to do" but not this idiot, oh no he LITERALLY TELLS YOU he's rewarding you for doing his job for him by MAKING YOU DO MORE FUCKING WORK FOR HIM. The Lion the Witch and the Audacity of this Bitch.

And there's this one point where he's like "hey Roxas please go to the Moogle and synthesize two potions together", bitch the game practically drowns you in potions and the Moogle is like ten feet away from where you're sitting, go do it yourself you lazy fuck.

AND he's fucking useless in multiplayer. His limit requires way too much effort and it's got such poor accuracy that it hits something maybe twice a week. And when he inevitably loses his loss animation on the results screen shows him falling out his stupid tall chair. smh Donald can do a whole stomping tantrum dance on the chair when he loses but this absolute walnut somehow manages to fall off when trying to punch the chair in frustration. Actual reality-defying failboy-ism.

OH AND WE HAVEN'T EVEN TALKED ABOUT KH3 YET. He comes back because god knows why and manages to ruin Xehanort's plans because his SHEER INCOMPETENCE means nobody would ever think he'd be willing and/or able to do anything useful for anyone. And he steals a catchphrase from the early/mid-2000s KH fandom like this man could not be more cringe if he tried, and he definitely tries because my GOD have you seen that Re:Mind cutscene with him?? "see all the cool kids have one right" well you are neither of those things so why the fuck do you have one

Fucker doesn't even have a proper name yet. It's been almost 20 years and we still don't know what his real name is. If that's not loser behavior I don't know what is.

And it gets even worse if you consider the non-canon stuff! In the manga he's somehow even more of a failure, which shouldn't even be physically possible. For fuck's sakes he gets his ass handed to him by Pluto. PLUTO. THIS DUMB FUCK PICKS A FIGHT WITH MICKEY MOUSE'S DOG AND LOSES.

Meanwhile on the novel side of things we've got his Character Files short story (I think that counts as novel-adjacent but I digress), where it's implied he rejoined the Real Org because he wanted friends. This ABSOLUTE CALCIUM-DEFICIENT NINCOMPOOP joined a fucking apocalypse cult because that's the only way he could get friends?? and even that didn't work because all they do is roast him. My god we've truly reached a level of patheticness beyond the comprehension of the feeble human mind.

jfc I swear if I didn't love him with every single solitary cell in my body the mere thought of this idiot would make me cringe myself into the Shadow Dimension.

.

[steelheart-redux]

how often do you draw/how do you manage to do. that much work (uploading a comic every tuesday and thursday(?)…) is there any tips you use to save time and also sanity. also hi your comic is really good both art and story wise…

hello!

well. how do i update 2-3 times a week. i will be honest one part of it is just that i am kind of nuts. do not try to match my update schedule unless you also have the Evil Need To Output Pages As Fast As Possible. it is perfectly okay (and frankly more normal) to update at a slower pace. i just naturally draw very very quickly, and am going a little bonkers from having these guys stuck in only my head for 2 years.

but in terms of actual advice. most of my advice is aimed at people who live at the whims of their dysfunctional brains, so it boils down to making the creation of comic pages Not An Arduous Task.

for me, that comes in the form of doing as much work as possible upfront.

i keep comic planning (writing the story, researching things, scripting if i do that, thumbnails, etc.) a fairly separate thing from actually making the comic panels. i make Big Decisions and set up everything i need page-wise on days that i have more motivation, to make it easier to do work on days i have less.

for example, say i'm feeling pretty foggy today, but i know I wanted to get page 54 done. So I go, and instead of seeing a completely blank document (scary!), i see this:

the composition is already there, the dialogue is decided (though admittedly i do change that a lot), and i already have a zarian render ready to go. the thinking is done! i just have to do the legwork, which at that point is pretty mindless. i watch a lot of youtube while i do these.

i also organize my pages in a weird way that i find rewarding, but this answer is pretty long already lol. i'll elaborate if asked.

so that's sanity. as for time, i've talked about using 3d models for characters and props. you don't have to make them if you don't know how, i know csp(?) has built-in asset libraries, and there's plenty of stuff online. make color palettes, if you can! i didn't know procreate had a color palette feature for way too long!!!! also, reuse backgrounds! please reuse backgrounds. if you're like me and get kind of squinchy about doing it, just blur it (comic style allowing) or use props and characters to cover up more noticeable things, and/or draw over things to make it slightly different. i've used the same background panel six times in the past few pages. did you notice?

lastly, don't beat yourself up for not following your planned page creation schedule to a T. things happen. life happens. it's okay. but also, if you're like me, know there might be some days where you do have to give yourself a bit of a kick in the pants to get things going. all the stuff i talked about above is designed to make that easier.

i hope this makes sense, and thank you for reading!

[honeybeetlejuice]

Alien Stage is clearly a metaphor for the entertainment industry (especially the idoling industry), so let's talk about it. Because I feel as if that is overshadowed in the fandom.

(A post by not only a massive alien stage fan, but a newer child actress.)

TW: SA, CHILD EXPLOITATION, TALK OF BEAUTY STANDARDS & DIET CULTURE

I've heard people talk about Alien Stage being a metaphor for the idoling industry, but no one really goes in depth that I've seen. I also have a bit of experience and have done tons of research on the entertainment industry for my own career as an actress (who's currently looking for their first acting job. No, this isn't to try to be scouted, it's just to clarify i am not super experienced-)

So here's everything I could find that parallels. I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors, my cat is laying on my arm right now and will not move-

The treatment of the contestants by aliens in alien stage, resembles the way people treat idols in media in our reality. People fan and obsess over their stage personas, yet behind closed doors they are horribly mistreated and abused.

Trauma and tragedy is exploited. In real life, talent shows and the like will make contestants use something bad that's happened to them to gain sympathy points from the audience. In Alien Stage, do I genuinely even need to explain? That show is a massive amount of tragedy, and Mizisua was almost definitely put together in round one for a reason -- to play with the aliens' feelings.

The way aliens exploit pet humans for fame and use them, is similar to the way parents/guardians exploit their children as child actresses. Children are trained from a young age to fit this standard and be entertainment for us.

SA is extremely common in the entertainment industry. Tons of people in the industry, especially producers and directors, end up being fucking creeps who sexually abuse the people they work with. I can name a plentitude of cases. I am not a victim of this myself so I cannot speak for victims, but it is something that absolutely happens. And in Alien Stage, Luka and Till (I've also heard Ivan?) have both been implied to be sexually abused, meaning it's probably not uncommon in that world either.

Insane beauty standards. IRL as an actor, you are fatshamed, every part of your body and appearance is nitpicked, you absolutely have to fit a beauty standard. Many people are extremely insecure, plastic surgery is common too. Not to mention, diet culture runs fucking rampant. People often are put through insane and risky diets. This is especially bad in the idoling industry. Then in Alien Stage, you can probably take note of multiple characters, but I'm going to focus on Luka for this point. Luka's eating habits are canonically strictly managed, and he isn't allowed to eat much. Not to mention, Luka, and likely other characters were literally fucking BRED FOR THIS?? Like its implied they quite literally kept making him again and again until they found one that fit their standard, resulting in all his issues as well.

Dare I say no privacy. The humans in alien stage are quite literally watched by aliens 24/7, allowed no freedom or privacy. In real life, maybe it isn't exactly this for actors, but people dig into their personal lives and allow them no privacy. People doxx information and stalk actors, to the point where there's been cases of people having to move houses because of crazy fans. When people ask to stay out the spotlight, people find them anyways.

May be forgetting some stuff, but my point is that Alien Stage is a metaphor for the entertainment industry, especially the idol industry. We are the real life aliens, if you think about it.

I honestly wish people talked about it more. It's so important to the show yet I feel like it's overshadowed by the romance aspects. That or it's a lack of media literacy. I'm honestly unsure.

[meirimerens]

what's your time management mystery secret to excel at college, art, reading, cooking, working out, blogging, commuting, etc simultaneously?!. do you procrastinate never? ever need time to stare at a wall do nothing relax decompress?

I think I answered multiple asks that were just kind of parts of this one, I cannot for the life of me find them again so I'm just gonna possibly repeat myself etc

1) "excell at college"

I've had academic aptitudes/ease since I was little ("""""gifted kid""""") and they didn't disappear as an adult. My cursus demands a specific Eye (recognition), critical thinking, knowing to follow methodologies, and eventually yes some dates, this is a lot of stuff I've done my entire life and do like for fun, so I'm in my element. If I was in a scientific field I would be eating the dirt and barely scrapping passing grades. hence why I didn't choose one. The only real advice I have for this is a) TAKE NOTES BY HAND. I HELPS THE INFORMATION STAY IN YOUR BRAIN. AND ALLOWS FOR MORE FLUID ASSOCIATIONS ON THE PAGE. b) as soon as you can after the class, make worksheets of that class is done to TLDR it and keep the main things from. Small things you keep in a separate ring binder you can flip through. c) Do not go to class with 4hrs of sleep in the legs you will regret it. d) if you can, do Stuff from your cursus like. Outside of class. I need critical thinking for my classes -> I read and watch movies and go to the theater so I can use my Thinking muscles. I need greek for my greek class I read bilingual copies of greek plays to work out my Linguistic Pattern Noticing muscles. I need to describe artworks for class I go see artworks, in person or online, and think. Add: i will tell you I have multiple times exited a midterms telling to myself "I sucked so bad I'm gonna barely get a passing grade" and in the end it was more than fine. Idk how i do that.

2) "excell at [...] art"

Excelling at art is purely subjective and I feel like I've somewhat stagnated for a bit. The #realones know I used to be able to Churn Out 2 a week if not more, now it's a miracle if I put out 2 a month. I focus on one drawing at the time (or try to.....) and use my weekends and the one day every two week I have where I don't have class to work on them. Knowing I need to set time aside for them makes me want to be more diligent in my painting of them.

3) "... reading"

ALWAYS HAVE A BOOK IN YOUR BACKPACK OR WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE CARRYING!!!!!!! I'm not fucking around. I do most of my reading in the 30 minutes of subway I have every morning and 30 minutes back at night, and between classes. This of course will not work if you have to drive or walk the whole way to campus. But for me I can. Book in your backpack. Long line at the uni canteen? get some reading in. You arrive in front of the doors 5 minutes early and the prof is 5 minutes late? reading. Exam that takes an hours out of the 2 of the class and you finish early? Reading.

4) "... cooking"

One-pot meals. I'm so serious. It's the only thing I do. I have a youtube playlist full of "easy" "quick" whatever else recipes and I alternate depending on what I have in the pantry and want. I planned my meal for the week on the weekend and go grocery shopping on monday morning as I don't have classes. I am also lucky to live In The City so I can literally go grab an ingredience on my way home from school or at 8PM monday to friday.

5) "... working out"

Oh I've gone weeks without working out. Quite frankly. Weeks because I was stressed, because I had midterms, whatever. But when I do I a) do it at home. lol. I dont got Gym Time or Gym Money. b) work out quickly after lunch or dinner (not #optimal but idgafffff I just want to workout) c) do not do it for more than 30 minutes. lol. I don't got time for that. You find tonsss of "follow-along 10/15/20 minutes workout" videos on youtube you can follow in the comfort of your own home and you feel great afterwardssss

6) "... blogging"

Oh you're in my phone. That's the easiest thing of it all. Blogging and even when I'm studying at home my puter is just here.

7) "... commuting"

You just gotta wake up long enough before to catch the bus or the subway don't you. Like there's no secret to it. I never have to take a car to move around in the city, I'm subwaymaxxing, I have a bus to and from the countryside, just gotta wake up. Every day I thank the gods that I don't have to drive to go to college thank you goddesses of fate and chance for having me born here.

8) "Do [i] procrastinate ever"

You will never guess what I'm doing now. Basically on days where I don't have class that's what I'm doing. Sometimes so hard I drive myself crazy. Sometimes I'm stuck in immobility spirals, locked in my own mind screaming at myself to get a move on, unable to do so, and it drives me insane. Maybe he's born with it maybe it's executive dysfunction.

9) "ever need to stare at a wall do nothing decompress"

Every day. That's what the weekends are for, even more the weekends where I can go back to my countryside. Built for the isolated rural monastery's scriptorium, made to study in the city. Etc.

Another thing: I am quite often in genuine, physical pain from stress and strain (recurring headaches mostly), around end of semester exams I am absolutely out-of-my-mind stressed, but you don't see any of that, and when you do I get silly with it posting. I have bad days too 👍 like reallllll real bad lollll and I have to rawdog them all. At any given point there is always one part of the ~optimal~ human life I am neglecting (not enough rest <- typical; falling behind on my coursework; not keep up with my skincare so I get mad I break out; buying sandwiches instead of making the food i planned to; not drawing or writing which pisses me of; not going outside and taking the sun on enough;...)

you just don't see that lol

[darkuselesssomebody]

𝕡𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕪 - dark!basil stitt x dark!reader

complete masterlist

words || 𝟛.𝟟𝕜

summary || in which the reader is a manipulative bitch - and basil snaps because of it

a/n || this is really, really dark lowkey eek!! also i don't know if this is too late (it's still 2023 where i am) but this is my entry for @romana-after-dark's dead dove december event! if you're into dark content, they're an s-tier pedro and oscar writer!

➵ warnings for specific content before the divider

➵ i never watched lightningface so if he's ooc excuse me, also, reader is very manipulative and lowkey a bad person too!!

➵ not proofread

➵ comment/message if you'd have a request

warnings || smut/dark (dddne)

➵ unwanted creampie and sex

➵ unprotected sex and cunnilingus

➵ spanking and slapping

➵ manipulation

➵ death threats and some pain play-ish stuff

➵ degradation/name calling

“tell me about it, right?” she giggles into the phone, feet propped up as she lays back on her couch, hearing some tinkering in the kitchen, “yeah, sorry about that, jas, that’s just - i’m getting my sink fixed right now.”

in the bathroom, basil hears that, and smiles a little to himself. she sounded appreciative, right? he’s helping make her life easier, which is what matters.

after a few more minutes, he’s done, and he sits back, sighing in relief. he sits back up, coming out and seeing her on the couch. god, is she gorgeous. her body stretches out, allowing a little glimmer of skin as her shirt rides up. she’s got a big grin on her face, talking to her friend, and she wants to just go over and press a sweet kiss to her lips.

“yeah, he was mental, i swear i’m still sore!” she jokes to her friend, and his face falls. ‘he’? who is ‘he’? basil swallows. it must just be a PT or something. yeah, that was it. after managing to convince himself, his smile returns. maybe she’d like a massage?

approaching her with that grin on his face, she looks up at him with an expectant raise of her brow, “just a second, jas.” she takes the phone away from her ear.

“done?” she points to her bathroom.

“yep!” he responds excitably, and she hums - not in appreciation, but in expectancy.

“good. thanks.” but it’s out of habit, “bye, basil” she forces a smile, shooing him off.

to him, it’s a wave, “yeah, see you! wanna - um, i was wondering if you maybe wanted me to order some food for you tonight? maybe we could eat together?” he suggests, and she has to resist a roll of her eyes.

“we’ll see.” she curtly dismisses him, and he nods, leaving and closing the door of her house, returning to his own just across the hall. returning to her phone call, she scoffs, “god, did you hear that?” her voice lowers - the walls are thin, “yeah, jas, he’s that neighbor i told you about. total loser, but he does whatever i want.” she giggles, “he thinks i’m gonna fuck him. whatever, that’s not my problem. can you imagine, he buys me food, he fixes my shit, i get him to vacuum sometimes. like my own little manservant.”

like her little dog.

basil was painfully in love with his neighbor. she was just so sweet, she paid him attention, and sometimes - when she was a little drunk or was sleepy, she’d lay against him, cuddling. the feeling of her thighs against his own, her breath on her chest, or the way her fingers teasingly toyed with the hem of his shirt - right above his cock.

maybe he didn’t have only holy intentions - yeah, maybe he did want to fuck her - but he’d never be greedy for more than what she gave him, not wanting to ruin their relationship.

and it paid off, that one night she had been wine drunk, and had invited him over, asking for only the cheap gift of thai food in return for her priceless company. as they sat back on her couch, watching tv as she ate and drank, there was a point where her hand had wandered - bored by the movie. her head laid on his chest, a leg hooked around his own, especially touchy because it was a cold night - and he was warm. as basil breathed in the smell of her perfume, he could imagine them to be dating or - if he could imagine a small glimmer on her finger - married. he held her around the waist softly, and she hadn’t yet pulled away, much to his joy.

her hand slowly trails over his chest and then his biceps, before sitting up a little, and pulling his head down to his. her lips find his, as she breathes into his mouth. it’s a lazy kiss, purely driven by the alcohol, and her need for warmth and contact.

his eyes widen in shock, but he wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste, pulling her closer and - while he let her lead the kiss - his fingers go to her hair, pulling it out of her face to kiss her better. she whimpers softly, arms wrapping around his neck, before finally pulling away. she hums in satisfaction, burying her face in his neck.

“goodnight.” she mumbles, promptly falling asleep on top of him. his head reels, but he’s on cloud 9.

“goodnight.” he kisses the top of her head, laying back as he also lets himself fall asleep.

they never spoke about it again.

she didn’t let herself get drunk with him anymore, and he cursed himself as to how to solve the issue. nonetheless, they still spent time together, and he would still do anything for her, but things were different.

but her mind was working differently. annoyingly, that kiss with basil was getting her disgustingly hot and bothered. this wasn’t the plan: she wasn’t planning to ever actually fuck him, lest she lose all the leverage she had been building by teasing him. that’s why she’d been so strict in not touching him for the next few weeks: reducing her temptation.

but it was getting too much. she spent far too much time with her hands between her thighs, thinking of him (but nothing close to how much he’d do the same for her), and she needed an out. but, she also had to make sure basil wouldn’t become confident, and stay out of line.

she had an idea.

she called him over that night. an ordinary thing to occur, but, when he joins her shortly after, his mouth falls open.

she’s in this gorgeous, deeply hued camisole that just does down to her hips, and as his eyes travel lower, the lacy panties she wears makes his breath catch. she has to bite her lip to stop the smirk that threatens to grace it.

“basil.” she murmurs her name, and he snaps out of it, finally looking up at her.

“what… are you doing?” he thickly swallows.

“you don’t like it?” she teases, and he immediately shakes his head fervently.

“no - no - you… you look…” he doesn’t know how to describe it, “beautiful.” perhaps a cliche - but he doesn’t use it in the standard way. she exactly embodies the word. for once, a genuine smile pulls at her lips. it makes her heart warm, and she almost feels bad for what she’s about to do.

almost.

she gestures him forward, and he stumbles due to the speed at which he tries to reach her. finally, once he does, she points to the couch.

“sit.” she orders, and he agrees, getting on the couch, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “you’re not very subtle, basil.” she murmurs, slowly sitting on his lap. his cheeks burn.

“s-sorry?”

“you know how hard it is when you wanna hang out with your good friend, and you know all he’s thinking about is fucking you?” her voice is vicious, and he swallows thickly.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers, looking into her eyes, an evident begging in them. he’s pleading that she’ll forgive him. her fingers go to gently weave through his hair.

“it’s hard… you know?” she says softly, playing the victim to a tee, “i thought that… maybe that’s the only thing you see when you look at me.” she admits - but it’s a complete lie.

“never, oh - oh my god.” the thought makes basil sick. she - she thinks he sees her as an object?! “i swear, i see you as so much more than that - yes, you’re fucking gorgeous, but you’re so much more than just your body!” he assures, but she pretends to already be hurt.

“you’re just saying that, you know i’ll give myself up to you with these sweet words and-” he says her name softly.

“don’t think like that, please, don’t think like that.” he begs, taking her hands, “how - how can i show you how much you mean to me. please, tell me, and i’ll do it.” he’s holding her hands so tenderly, he wants to lavish her in ways she’s never even thought of.

she goes quiet, and he’s dead terrified he’s lost her.

“i want you to forget any insecurity you may ever have, i want to make sure you never lift a finger, i want you to never yearn and to only be satisfied.” his voice is thin - needy. “i want to worship you.”

that’s what she needs to hear.

“you do?” she murmurs.

“i’m begging you to let me show you how much you mean to me.” there it is. she smirks.

“can i… suggest something?” she asks - in faux timidness.

“anything.” he assures her.

“maybe… so i feel the most… assured… if we have sex, can i take charge?” he blinks. it’s not much different than their current relationship, so he immediately agrees.

“of course, of course. that’s totally fine.” he assures, and she smiles.

“alright, good - that’s good. thank you, basil!” she chirps, and his heart warms.

“yeah, of course.”

but that’s when the switch occurs.

“get off the couch.” she orders, and he blinks, a little shocked by her flip from a shy tone to a commanding one, but he complies, standing up.

she takes his place, sitting on the couch, before looking at him expectantly, “on your knees, c’mon.” his cheeks heat, as his brow furrows curiously, falling to his knees. “you said you wanna worship me, right?” she smirks, when he nods, “take off my socks.” she orders, the woolly socks that he knew she wore as she was always cold felt itchy against his fingers, as he pulls them off. she hums happily, and raises a brow when he presses a kiss to each sole, “fuck, i knew you were freaky.”she giggles, letting him kiss her ankles, “how much have you thought about this?” a small whimper escapes his throat.

“a-ages.” he admits, and she smiles.

“okay, stop.” she commands, and he stops his mouthing of her feet, “come closer.” he places her calves over her shoulders, shuffling closer to her - and, as much as he tried to be respectable about it, his eyes fell onto the small breadth of her covered by her underwear. she held his forehead - almost brutishly - to deter him, “behave. did i say you could look at her?” she scolds him, and he bites his lip.

“no, i’m sorry.” smiling, she lets go of his head.

“what should i do with you now?” she whispers, and he looks at her thighs pleadingly.

“can i touch your thighs? can i feel you?” he begs, and she laughs.

“go on.” she assures, as she pets his hair. he really is like her little puppy.

kissing up her thighs, she inhales her scent, brain going into overload.

“oh - oh, please, let me taste you, please!” she begs, and she smirks. he was begging - just as she wanted.

“take my panties off.” she whispers, and he sighs in relief, as if a massive weight has been taken off his shoulders.

"oh - oh, thank you - thank you," he breathes out, inching closer to let his fingers hook into the sides of her underwear, pulling them past her thighs and down, off her ankles.

when she finally spreads her legs, his mouth waters as the pretty prize between them, biting his lip.

"can i taste you?" he wants to confirm it. his body's buzzing, he needs her so bad.

"how bad do you want it?" she goads, and he bites her tongue.

"i don't think i can explain it." he admits, and her cheeks warm. what a compliment.

"yes, you can taste me." lowering his head slowly to her cunt, he spreads her legs, holding onto her thighs that are draped over his shoulders tightly. goosebumps erupt over her flesh at the sensation of his breath on her skin.

"you're wet?" he asks excitedly, unbelieving that he can coax this reaction from her.

"I'm not exactly feeling patient, basil." she warns, and he swallows.

"yeah, okay." he licks up the length of her cunt, and her breath hitches, catching in her throat as she puts her hand over her mouth, gently biting a knuckle to disguise her moan. motivated by the action, he spreads her wider, licking experimentally and quickly, sucking softly and harshly, making sure to keep trying different things until one finally breaks her dam of willpower, and her back arches as she loudly moans into the otherwise empty apartment.

"oh my god-" she cries out, panting as her hand clutches his hair, pulling him closer into her weeping cunt, desperate for his continued ministrations, "use your fingers." she gasps out, and he immediately obliges, bringing a finger to her hole as he sucks at her clit. he slowly pushes it into her, and - per more whimpered instructions from her - he curls his finger inside her, making her thighs squeeze around his head,

"just like that, keep doing just that." she assures, looking at him with the closest thing to love that she feels for him - desperation and satisfaction, because good lord, is she close. but it can't end like this. she needs to make this last longer.

just as she feels herself on the precipice of her climax, she pulls his head away from her cunt - to both her and his chagrin.

"why?" he whines, simultaneously pulling out his fingers, as she struggles to catch her breath. using him to help herself up, she stands, looking down at him.

"get on the couch." she pants, and he does as he asks, "take your shirt off," the instruction continues, and his deft fingers - one still drenched in her slick - quickly unbutton the shirt, pulling it off his broad frame. she bites her lip, bending so that her fingers can reach his fly and jean button, swiftly undoing them.

"i'm gonna fuck you. and you're just gonna take whatever i give to you, understood?" he nods silently as he looks up at her, and she hums in satisfaction and she pulls down his trousers. seeing his eyes all blown out is a crazy power trip, and it all becomes better as she straddles him. palming his hard cock through his boxers, she notices the way he twitches and how his moans gargle in his throat, all while he desperately bucks until her hips. "keep your hands behind your back." she instructs, and he nods, a whimper bubbling up to his tongue. after his hands are securely behind his back, she sighs happily. truly, she could do anything to him now, and he'd just take it. she wanted to know how much he could handle.

she started by fishing out his - inexplicably impressive cock. it was almost comical - how little sex appeal he oozed while hiding this weapon away from the rest of the world.

then, she simply ghosted her fingers over his tip, owning to a few stuttered bucks of his hips. she returned each of those with a scolding smack on any skin she could find - usually, his chest.

she slowly raised to her knees, lining him up with her entrance as she looks down at him, "don't move without permission." she whispers, and a strangled groan releases from him, making her laugh. finally, though, when he agrees, she sinks down on him, moaning out behind her hand as he does the same - though without the muffle and rather unashamedly.

she doesn’t move for a moment, and he waits.

another moment, and he waits.

another, and he’s done. he starts thrusting up, wanting the both of them to chase their pleasure, and her eyes widen, as she slaps his cheek. stunned, his movements immediately stop.

he dared to go against her word?

she hated that he undermined the power she held over him. pulling at his hair, her eyes blow out in anger.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” she hisses, and he winces.

“i’m sorry-” he tries, but she slaps him again.

“you think we’re equals? you can just pull that shit?” he wonders where all this anger is coming from, almost fearful. she doesn’t want to admit that her rage stems from the fact that she liked the sensation of his thrusts - enough to almost just… let him continue, even against her orders. she can’t lose that power she has on him, “you wanna know how little you really fucking matter?” she growls, grabbing her phone, and thrusting it in his face.

still disoriented, he swallows as he looks at what she’s showing him - a chain of texts. about him. they’re from her, to her friends, all mocking and making fun of him.

his heart, quite literally, shatters. he had thought this entire time, that - though they may be little more than friends - she at least liked his company, liked hanging out with him, appreciated him. but now, to read her stating how annoying and clingy he is, how she hated hanging out with him, but accepted it whenever he came with some gift or food, how she had used him, a heartbreak made his blood pump harshly in his ears. but when he glances at her smug smile behind the phone, it’s not just heartbreak. it’s rage.

“is this real?” he whispers, voice so low she can barely hear him.

“aww, poor puppy, thought i was - what? in love with you?” she mocks, knowing he won’t do a thing in retaliation.

that’s where she’s wrong.

trembling in rage, he grabs her phone, throwing it ferociously onto the floor, breaking it immediately. her eyes widen in shock, but before she can shout at him, his hands wrap around her throat, choking her with such a rage - she’s worried he might break her windpipe.

she claws at his hands, as he pulls her off of him, and slams her, face first, into the couch. her eyes well as she feels her nose smash into it, pained to hell as she cries out, trying to clutch it, but it’s of no help, as he’s already sinking back into her tight, wet, and suddenly rejecting cunt. but his pulling cock gets past the resistance bottoming out with a gurgled sigh of satisfaction. his hands go back to her throat, with a softer hold, as he wants to feel her pulse under his fingers. tearfully, she looks back at him in terror.

“basil, what are you-” he slaps her ass so hard, she wonders if his palm took her flesh with it. crying out, she sobs, giving up entirely, as she looks away, still clutching her nose.

“shut the fuck up, bitch.” he hisses harshly, voice and cadence not only deadly - but lethal, as his fingers flex experimentally on her throat. pulling her up so her back is pressed against his chest, and his other hand palms her tits, something he’d been wishing to do so long. but in his fantasies - he’s delicate, not so much anymore, as he roughly tweaks and pinches and grips her nipples.

then again, she’s a different woman than what he’d imagined as well.

this time, he’s not slow in his thrusts, he’s harsh and mean, thrusting in and out of her cunt to the sweet melody of her cries and sobs, muffled by the hand clutching her now bleeding nose. his moans are loud and gruff in her ear, causing an overlord of her senses, and she’s terrified.

“i should fucking kill you.” he hisses, and she whimpers, sobbing harder, “but you’re too good - of - a - fuck!” he punctuates every word with a thrust, but his voice sounds almost sweet and reassuring - only able to be distinguished as a facade due to the undertone of a growl behind every word.

“i’m sorry, please-” she begs, but he slaps her ass again, thrusting deeper, as he hits her cervix with each thrust, making her cry out in pain.

“did i say you could speak?” he hisses. she shakes her head, terrified, and shutting up. he’s getting close. unfortunately, she is too, “calling me a fucking puppy, saying you’re my fucking master - whose cunt’s the one squeezing my cock, huh? who’s the one begging - for - my - mercy?” he growls, once again, thrusting to each word, and she cums around him - a strange mix of the pain on her nose and ass, her restricted ability to breathe, and his sharp, filling thrusts are the perfect mix for her to reach climax, jolting and twitching as her cunt grips his cock, and her core tightens.

he holds her up even as she slumps in exhaustion, pulling her back by her hair to see her face as he tells her,

“i’m gonna cum in you.” he whispers, kissing her cheek tenderly. her eyes widen.

“no - no, please don’t - please, i’m not on birth control-” she begs, but he bites her earlobe to quieten her.

“shut the fuck up. you’re gonna be my cumdump. say that you understand.” he whispers, and she swallows.

“i - wait, please-” he slaps her again, and she squeaks, “yes, yes - i understand! i’ll be your cumdump!” he growls in satisfaction, finally releasing her and letting her fall forward onto the couch, as he grips her hips pulling her ass to him as he cums inside her, moaning loudly in relief.

there’s a few beats of silence, and afterwards, he looks down at her with a snarl. he’s disgusted, and pulls away - not by his actions, but that he hadn’t lived up to his expectations. she was an evil, and he was a vigilante. that - the cum dripping down her thighs, her perhaps broken nose, her whimpers and cries - that was revenge. it was necessary.

after cleaning up and getting ready, he looks back at her. she’s sitting up, curled into herself as she was turned away, crying into her palms.

she looked like a puppy - scolded for bad behaviors. and in many ways, she was.

he sighs in satisfaction.

it was necessary.

[borderlinereminders]

Losing someone can be so beyond words. Here is some advice for losing a FP but it can probably be applied to losing someone in general!

Some things I like to remind myself are:

The feelings are temporary. They will pass. No matter how crushing they may be, you won't feel like this forever. Sometimes it can help to remember that what we're feeling is temporary because when we forget that and think it's how we're going to feel forever, it can make us feel so hopeless. So here's your reminder. This isn't forever.

You survived without them before, and you can do it again. I promise. It doesn't mean it'll be easy but it can help to have the reminder that we existed before then, and survived before them and we can do both of those things again.

Be kind to yourself. You are valid and you are allowed your emotions.

Healing is not linear. Grief isn't linear. And for a lot of us, when we lose our FP, it is something we need to heal from. It is something we grieve about. And it's okay if we feel ourselves doing better for a bit and then falling back. It doesn't mean you've failed or anything like that.

Some things I do:

Note that these are all personal things I do and aren't rules for how you should cope. I'm sure your own list will differ! But maybe my list will inspire you to think of ideas for your own list!

Focus on myself. Even when it's uncomfortable and I don't want to, I focus on my hobbies. I focus on finding new hobbies. Sometimes I make a list of different hobbies I've never tried, and then I go through it and try them at least once to see if I enjoy something. If not, it gets scratched off. These could be new shows, books, activities, etc.

Feel the emotions. Usually not all at once because it's too much, but my instinct is to bury the emotions. To turn my emotions off entirely ((I'm sure others relate to the turning them off thing. It's like a switch I can use). And it's uncomfortable, but sometimes I force myself to feel them. In bits as I can handle it. Allow yourself time to grieve.

Focus on my DBT skills like Urge Surfing for any urges that arise or Radical Acceptance for accepting my feelings.

Come up with a Crisis Plan in case I start to spiral. Here’s my walk through on that.

I diversified my relationships. I think this is an important thing to do. Even if you have a FP currently. Diversifying your relationships to have other people in your support system can be really good.

This is a personal choice, but I cut off all ties. I used to keep screenshots of messages they wrote assuring me they cared and stuff like that. I deleted all screenshots. I also made sure I couldn't look at their profiles and check on them. I made sure their numbers were deleted and anything else.

I like to do nice things for someone else. It's hard sometimes to get there, but there's a feeling I get when I make someone smile or help someone out that makes me feel a bit lighter. It reminds me that I am valuable as I am. This is actually a part of the ACCEPTS skill if you're interested in reading more about that.

Work on forgiving myself. Maybe you don't feel you need this, and that's valid. But I did. I had to learn to forgive myself for not knowing better, for making mistakes, and I always remind myself that I am human. In connection with this, I work on letting go of any regrets I have. It's easier said than done, I know. It's important for me to remember that I can't change the past, so dwelling on any regrets doesn't help me. What I can do is learn from them and do better.

I know it's hard. But it really does get better. I have lost FP's and thought the entire world was ending and that I would never recover. I still think about them sometimes, but it's such a dull ache that I barely notice it. It might always hurt a little, but it will be manageable.

Here are some other coping ideas.

You can do this.

[peachglazewrites]

𝚖𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 𖧧 𝚝𝚕𝚘𝚞

a/n: I got requested for some Mel stuff and I cannot express to you how excited I am to be writing more about her!!! Mel has quickly taken over my life, and I find myself thinking of her often. she plays a really big part of my longfic, dream of us in a year, so I've already had to spend a lot of time expanding on her character.

but here you go! a proper list of all my little Mel headcanons. we don't have a lot to work on, so a lot of this comes from my own analysis of the game and other characters, plus some things i think would be fun.

please be respectful and lovely when interacting! Mel isn't everyone's favourite, but she's one of mine, and I'd love to share with you what makes her special to me.

thank you!! ♡︎

word count: 1.5k (i like to yap about her leave me alone!!!)

𖧧 Her full name is Melanie Jacobs ♡︎ She never EVER goes by her full name unless she has to, to the point where people have forgotten that her name isn't just Mel.

𖧧 Mel is just as stubborn as Abby. When she gets her mind set on something, that’s it—there’s no talking her out of it. Well, there is, but you’ll have to deal with her letting you know how displeased she is, how she would much rather be doing XYZ than whatever she’s doing now.

𖧧 Mel and Abby are actually similar in a lot of ways, more than anyone thinks. They used to be a lot closer when they were younger, and for good reasons. They had similar ideals and goals, but also humour. Mel can be just as sarcastic and dry as Abby, which is one of the things that drew Abby to her in the first place.

𖧧 Mel has a rebellious streak that she’s managed to tame in her adulthood, but she still likes to indulge. It’s part of the reason why she likes going to the aquarium so much. Yes, she thinks it’s beautiful and she loves spending the time with Owen, but it reminds her of when she was with the Fireflies—how she used to sneak off base to explore the city surrounds, or tiptoe out of the barracks to attend late-night get togethers with a bunch of the other teens.

𖧧 Alice and Mel bonding so deeply wasn’t actually meant to happen. Mel is a medic, so while she does go out on patrol and has use for the dogs, she’s not out there as often as the other soldiers. But after getting ambushed on a patrol and forced to hide out in a gas station, she spent the time waiting for backup to arrive tending to Alice who had been shot. It wasn’t fatal, and she might have been fine without intervention, but Mel helped anyways.

Since then, Alice has always been much more receptive to Mel than anyone else. Not that she wouldn’t listen to commands, or that she wasn’t brilliantly trained—but the way those two work together is unlike anything else.

𖧧 Mel’s been pulled up once or twice for treating Alice too much like a pet, that she needs to remember the balance between work and play when it comes to these dogs. But they’re quickly silenced when Mel runs through a series of commands with Alice, all silent and based on the smallest of hand gestures.

𖧧 Mel refuses to let anyone do her laundry for her. She knows there are people whose entire jobs are to do the base’s laundry, but she says it makes her feel bad. She also just prefers the routine, the mundanity of going down and doing it herself. And if her clothes come out smelling nicer than everyone else’s, almost like they’ve been washed with a hint of lavender, that’s her business and not theirs.

𖧧 Mel’s actually a pretty picky eater! She hates when her foods are too liquidy, so she refuses to eat soup and will hand her broth from her stews of noodles to other people once she’s done eating the solids out of them. She’s also not a fan of carrots, or when food has too many different textures.

She’d never allow herself to be picky like this while with the Fireflies, and definitely not while the Salt Lake Crew were marching towards Seattle, but now that she has the luxury of abundance, she lets herself have her likes and dislikes.

𖧧 Along the same vein, she’s also allergic to shellfish! She can still eat fish, but things like crabs, prawns, and octopus she cannot have.

𖧧 Mel has a really romantic heart. She will swoon over grand gestures and proclamations of love, even if PDA makes her feel embarrassed. She thinks that there’s still plenty of space in a world like this to love and be loved in return. She will make time to indulge in date nights and romantic evenings.

𖧧 Her love languages are physical touch and acts of service. She is always placing a hand on someone’s shoulder, hugging them to her chest, holding their hand, etc. She doesn’t even notice she’s doing it half the time.

She also goes out of her way to do things she knows her loved ones will enjoy or appreciate. A lot of it manifests in sewing up clothing, her medic hands steady and used to suturing.

𖧧 Mel is also a killer when it comes to gifts. Others seem to forget how connected Mel is to everyone on base, which comes with the territory of being a medic. People feel like they owe her favours, which she doesn’t use for anything except for asking them to keep an eye out for things while outside base. She still finds a way to pay them back, though.

She also gets discounts down at the markets, which once again she rarely uses unless the stallholders are especially insistent.

𖧧 Her favourite colour is purple. She has no big reason for it, she just likes it. It becomes a thing for her though, having multiple purple clothing items in her wardrobe. Someone left a purple clipboard for her to use at work one day, which soon came with a matching purple pen.

𖧧 Spit really grosses her out. She can handle blood, vomit, all sorts of other fluids that no one should have to deal with—but spit or mucus? Absolutely not. It has her holding back a gag, sometimes even having to excuse herself for a moment to dry heave in private before coming back in.

𖧧 Mel was offered a promotion of sorts, something higher up in the chain that would give her a lot more responsibility, but she declined. She was grateful and very honoured, but she didn’t want the extra responsibility if it meant she wouldn’t be on the floor as much. Her priority here is to help people, to tend to the wounded and care for the sick. She appreciates the offer, but she’d much rather be doing long hard shifts like this than anything else.

𖧧 Mel says she doesn’t care what the baby is, but she secretly hopes that it’s a girl. She couldn’t tell you why, she has no actual reason, and when the baby comes and it turns out to be a boy, she will forget she ever had a preference. But she always defaults to calling the baby she, even when she doesn’t realise it.

𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 :')

𖧧 Her and Nora were together when the attack on the hospital happened. They were hiding out in one of the doctor's offices, huddled under a desk together. They could hear everything as Joel passed through, and stayed hiding there for hours afterwards. They’ve been especially close since then, a bond tying them together.

𖧧 Nora was slightly more trained than Mel by the time the attack happened, so there were still some things that Jerry had yet to, and would never end up teaching Mel. Nora sat with Mel after everything, during their trip to Seattle, and taught Mel everything that she hadn’t known. It was a way to remember and honour the doctor, but also try and distract from the shock and trauma of it all.

𖧧 Mel and Owen grew close because they were both ‘mourning’ Abby. They both tried to help Abby move on, but she was most definitely not receptive to it, and ended up pushing them away (whether she meant to or not). They had this in common, and spent a lot of nights just talking, expressing frustrations and trying to work through their own feelings. Things naturally progressed from there.

𖧧 Jackson freaked her out, made her uncomfortable, but not in the way everyone thinks. Obviously seeing Joel tortured like that, seeing him laying there on that tile with his head cracked open didn’t sit right with her, but it wasn’t that.

People just assume that because Mel doesn’t see death like this happen in front of her, that she should obviously be messed up by it. But she’s a medic. She sees stuff like that all of the time.

She’s had people she knows die under her hands, seen the aftermath of senseless brutality, had to try and desperately fix things that shouldn’t need to be fixed in the first place.

It was Ellie that got her. The girl being held to the floor as she watched her father die, sobbing and pleading for them to let him go, screaming for him to get up. That’s what made her sick to her stomach, had her heart racing and her head spinning.

And yeah, she was one of the few to advocate that they kill her, that they take her out because she’d seen too much. But it’s because she’d seen first hand what this does to someone, what this kind of traumatic grief turns into.

And she’d been right. She’d known all the way in that moment in Jackson, looking between the sobbing girl on the floor and the one wielding the club across the room—two different girls, but two sides of the same coin.

(sorry that last one was so long I just think she's really interesting and think the way Joel's death impacted everyone differently is really compelling.)

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