#sometimes he thinks of the smell of them; making him miss her out of nowhere

[icarusredwings]

Once landed, Logan and Wade were gearing up. There was already an entire search party here, dogs, squad, all of them talking, some parts of the woods taped off. It made Logan's hair raise.

"What's wrong? Hank said you did good by killing that kid." Wade tells him, his snow suit bright red, boots, gloves, and some markings black.

"I didn't kill that kid. That's apprently the problem..." he grumbles, his breath looking just as thick as his cigar smoke. He gave a small shake, not used to the blizzard feeling over his nose again. He was retired. Too old for this shit..

"I fucked up, Wade..."

"What do you mean? You smelled something bad so you attacked it. That's 10 out of 10 wolverine-ing right there. If theyre too stupid to see it, thats their problem." He mutters, stopping in his tracks, Noticing the way Logan had stopped in his, death glaring.

"You found Scotty didn't you?" He looks to where Logans daggers are going. "Yup. You did. Well for now lets ignore him and focus on the little girl. And then after we can beat him to a bloody pulp until he apologizes to you."

Logan growls, trudging forward through the snow towards him.

"Hey?? Hello? Earth to Logan?..... peanut?.... Uugghh god you're so fucking stubborn.." He groans, complaining as he follows suit. "Didnt you hear anything I just said? Girl- then kick ass. There's a checklist!"

Logan couldn't hear his husband complaining, beelining for that asshole, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against a rangers truck. "Give me one damn good reason you drug my ass out here on a PLANE!" He snarls at him, popping the other hands claws out.

"Wolverine! That's enough!" A woman calls, before Scott could even threaten him back.

Turning his head, Logan glared, about to bark a 'What!?' Before seeing her. Standing there, was Ororo, still as beautiful as ever, wrinkles and all. She still was rocking that funky hair cut and she was still (in the snow) wearing those killer boots.

And she. Looked. PISSED.

"Ooh snap- youre in trouble now." Wade mutters, scooting out of frame.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"He-" He tries to explain, but mama bear Ro wasn't having it.

"Ah ah! I don't want to hear it! Let him go."

"But-"

"Now. Logan." Her arms cross, turning to give him that LOOK. She's always had that look. The kind that made unruely little kids behave.. and apprently the Wolverine... even in this old age.

Growling, he lets go of Scott, who drimatically coughs. "What is wrong with you!??"

"You sent a plane on purpose! And-!"

"I said ENOUGH!" Thunder cracks out of nowhere, the sky perfectly clear until now, lightning sparking in the clouds.

The two boys look at her, hell, Even Wade sits down. Right there in the snow. Criss cross apple sauce. ".. Yes ma'am.." he whispers out of instinct.

She gives Wade a look of being pleased with his unquestioned obedience, letting him sigh of relief. "You two. I am TIRED. Of this. Fed up! It has been almost 30 years and you two are STILL having such petty debates! There is a child MISSING and you two rather fight about who has the bigger penis!"

Wade coughs. "Logan- " Only to be shot an instant death glare. "Sorry ma'am, but it's true your honor." He salutes, sitting up straight as Ro rolls her eyes, stepping forward.

"Well do it sometime else!! Because so the godess help you, if this little girl doesn't survive? You will be sorry. Do I make myself clear?"

".. Crystal." Scott says, glaring at logan from the side of his visor, rubbing his neck a bit drimatically.

"Logan?" Her brow raised, tilting her head towards him.

"....Fine! But just know that if she dies... It's his fault." He growls, going quiet as he puts the claws away, crossing his arms.

"Good. Now get to work. I'm keeping it as clear as possible, but it takes a lot of power, so hurry up. We're already past the 48-hour mark..." She says this with a sense of melancholic bite as she turned, her cape flowing over as she walked away.

For a moment the boys were silent, only glaring into each others souls, eyes dark with dislike for one another to th very core.

"....soooo... you guys gonna kiss or what?" Wade asks, being shot two more death glares, making him put his hands up. "Fine fine! Lets go find the kid...sheesh.." Standing, he begins to walk off, towards the officers to see if they had anything for Logan to sniff.

Standing there, tense and still, Logan glared needles into him. If he stared any harder he hoped Scott would burst into flames.

"Logan! Come on!" Wade calls as Logan ignores him.

"... Better get going.... your husband is calling." Scott says, but the tone in his voice implied that Logan was the wife, enforcing a negitive gender association that only pissed Logan off anymore.

Slowly starting to walk off, Logan paused. "Better run along, Slim... Daddys calling... Oh wait.."

He walks away, leaving Scott to grit his teeth, tightening his fist into a ball..

Thinking about old Worst Wolverine being called by each of the X men individually after they have a falling out because Logan injured a child very badly to the point the only reason they didn't die is because another classmates healing abilities all while he just... walked away.

Well- ran.. away... leaving a child to die. He's tried to explain thousands of times that he blacked out, that he didn't remember doing any of this. He tries to say that maybe it was someone else, that mystique did this shit all the time in his universe.

"Yeah, well!? This isn't your universe! Because the REAL Logan would never do this.." Scott screams at him as Logan leaves the Mansion for the last time. He doesn't come back. He didn't even get to tell his Xkits goodbye. It got to the point where Laura dropped out, taking Gabby with her, wanting nothing to do with the school anymore.

So now, here he is. In Maine, an old fisherman, part-time hunter, and the only people he lets around him have healing factors.

He lives with Wade, who still- by the way- doesn't have any grey hairs (maybe because hes bald but- yk)

One night, while Logan is out, making himself feel useful by feeding the small town they're in, providing for more poor families, feeding their children's hungry mouths and asking nothing in return but respect. (It gets to the point that the children cheer when they see Logan, wanting to hug him, but he growls at them to get off, too afraid of hurting them) Wade finally awnsers the ringing phone.

"What." There's vemon in his tone, but soon his eyes widden, and he frowns.

Walking outside he stands there a moment, knowing Logan can hear him.

He ignores him, looking at the fish, litsening, his breathing slowing as he skewers some with his claws. Its not exactly spear fishing but- close.

"What?" His voice is almost annoyed, as if knowing what his long time Husband was about to ask him.

"Logan.."

"No."

"Logan-"

He shakes his head. "Don't care."

"...She's missing."

He pauses, turning after scraping the dead fish into a bucket. "Who's missing?"

"There's a little girl missing."

"So?"

"Logan!"

"I'm not helping them, Wade. That's final." He growls.

For a moment, Wade frowns, but he didn't learn to obey thy husband like the bible said.

He never did.

"Logan, there's a 6 year old out there. All alone. Cold. Probably going to be eaten by wolves!" He shouts from the back porch, knowing his place enough to stay here and not come near his fish. Even after all these years, Logan was still finicky over his food. "And all because some old fart won't help her!"

The silence thickened as Logan thought about it, the hero side of his brain yelling 'We'll find her!' And the hurt old part of him saying 'That's not my buisness.'

".. You find her then." He compromises.

"I can't! And if anyone knows those Canadian woods, it's you! You said you knew those forests like the back of your hand!" Wade protests. "If I could smell someone through miles of freezing snow, I would. But I can't. So here I am, asking The Wolverine to go do what he does best."

He grunts, glaring. "And that is?"

"Helping a little girl get back to her mommy..." Wade says, knowing that he was sold. He knew he was sold the moment he told him to do it himself. "She doesn't have much time, Logan." He sighs, putting a cherry on top.

The greyed man huffed, grumbling under his breath for a moment. "Who will stay here with the dog?"

"Gabby can! She loves gabs." Gott'em.

"What about Laura? Why can't she find her?"

Shit.

"Logan, Laura has barley been in those woods. You've lived in them for years. So. What will it be. Pull up your panties and go save a little girls life? Or do it anyway when our baby girl gets lost too?"

Logan scoffs, disappointed. "..She wouldn't get lost.."

"She would if the scent kept being blown away.."

Wade adds, seeing the 'god damn it, he's right.' look on the old mans brow.

He lets out a large sigh. "...I don't want any help."

"Oh well too fucking bad bucko, I'm gonna go pack my snow suit!"

"No! I mean... I don’t want any help from THEM.."

"No promises. I'm not letting poor Susie die just because you have a grudge. Now put your fish in the freezer and lets go! They're coming to pick us up-"

"I ain't flying!!" Logan snarls, watching as his lover ran off, having a deep feeling that he would be in the air shortly..

[rwby-confess]

Confession #358

[tacticaldiary]

Gentle Hands

Request: Hey there! I love your writing so much and I was wondering if you could have some Johnny MacTavish brainrot with me. Johnny comes home from a looooong deployment and he wants to do nothing but collapse on the bed or couch. Until he sees our dear reader, cuddled up in their bed with one of his shirts on a pillow she’s cuddling. He can smell his cologne on the fabric and…whatever happens after that is up to you!

Pairing: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Genre: Fluff (You deserve it after the marathon of angst I've been feeding you)

"You're sore?" She asks, taking a second to look him over slowly, and goddamn if it doesn't make him shiver.

"Nothing a few days with my girl won't fix." He says, trying to lean up again, groaning when she leans back out of reach. "Bonnie, your killin' me-"

A/N: The way I scrambled to write this the second I could, there's always time for Soap brainrot in this household

Masterlist

Sometimes he thinks the pinging of bullets ricocheting off of metal follows him out of the battlefield. It's the only explanation for the ever present tension in his shoulder after a long gruelling mission.

Soap sighs, stretching out a shoulder while he digs his house keys out from his duffel bag. The keys feel cool and foreign against his fingers as he clumsily slots them in a turns the lock.

It's been nine weeks since he's unlocked his front door.

Haphazardly pushing off his shoes in the entryway, he throws his bag onto the floor and peers farther into the house. Despite his exhaustion, a smile finds itself on his face at the prospect of seeing her again.

God, he misses her. It was difficult to contact anyone outside of his team when on a mission, even moreso when they were black. The fear of their lines being tapped and tracked is very real, and Soap would rather wait a few weeks to see her than compromise her safety and theirs by allowing himself one fleeting moment with her.

"Bonnie? You there?" He calls out, stepping into the kitchen. Empty. He fights the urge to collapse onto the couch when he checks the living room, the lack of sleep catching up on him.

He's surprised he's still standing, honestly. The OP he'd been on had been in a far mountain range, a lot of trekking and camping out in the middle of a humid, highly vegetated area. Visibility had been rough and they'd taken turns sleeping a couple of hours before they continues trekking towards the enemy safehouse they were aiming to ambush.

He hadn't been able to sleep on the chopper back either, buzzing with the knowledge that he'd finally see her again after months and months.

A damn real bed seemed like heaven after resting on a rough muddy floor for weeks.  

It was the middle of the day, but she was nowhere in the house. Not in her favourite armchair by the fireplace, nor in the garage or any of the bathrooms. He frowns a little. She could be out, then?

It's not until Soap pushes open the door to their bedroom that the next call of her name dies in his throat immediately.

His hand slips off the doorknob, hangs by his side as he takes in the sight, a soft grin on his lips.

There she was, sound asleep, arms cuddled around a pillow that had one of his t-shirts stretched around it. She looked so peaceful, face half obscured by the way she'd nuzzled into the fabric.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, he tries to make minimal noise as he shucks off his shirt and sits on the bed next to her.

Huffing under his breath, he gently tugs the pillow out of her grasp, slides in next to her, adjusting himself until her face is tucked into his neck, not any different from how she was with that pillow.

As if on instinct, her body relaxes, sinking into him and curling closer.

Bliss.

Utter bliss.

A deep, satisfied rumble in his chest as he relaxes, holding the woman he loves so much in their room, their bed, with clean sheets and a heart full of love, is what prompts her to wake up.

With a small groan, she makes a move to pull what she thinks is her pillow closer, but what she grabs isn't a feather-filled soft cushion.

Hard muscle meets her palm, strong and familiar.

"Pawin' at me already, hen?" The deep, tired voice in her ear has a pleased shiver running down her spine, and her eyes fluttering open quickly. "I barely made it through the door."

"Johnny?" She mumbles, eyes widening as the hand around her waist tightens in response. "Johnny!" She pushes herself up on her knees in surprise.

Sure enough, laying right in front of her was the man in the flesh, smiling up lazily, satisfied with her reaction. With a happy squeal, she lunges forward, hugging him tightly. She giggles when he catches her by the waist, sighing into her shoulder and clutching her body to his tightly.

He lets her straddle his waist, looking down at him like she couldn't quite believe it. Her hands roam over his chest as if to assure herself that he was there, actually under her, that he was home.

They lock eyes for a moment, and neither of them knows who moves first but they pull each other into a hard kiss, moving against each other with a practiced familiar ease.

"Missed you," She mumbles against his lips as he runs a hand through her hair. He hums, lets her pull away and cup his jaw. "Missed you so damn much, Johnny."

"I know, baby. Seem like ya had my spot covered though." He grins teasingly, stroking her hair and nodding to the shirt-clad pillow on the ground.

The way she goes red is adorable.

"I told you I missed you." She mumbles. "It just...it still smelled like you, helps me when I miss you more than usual, you know?" She admits. A small pang of sadness hits him at the knowledge that she missed him enough to resort to this...makeshift Soap?

"I missed you too. This is one hell of a welcome." He smiles up at her, squeezing her waist.

She shakes her head but can't chase away the smile on her face. He was home. Johnny, her Johnny.

"Stay around and there'll be much more of that." She teases.

"Minx." He groans, propping himself up on his elbows to bring her into another kiss. As he's doing so, the ache in his shoulder tightens and he winces, a movement not missed by her. She stops him with a hand on his chest.

"You're sore?" She asks, taking a second to look him over slowly, and goddamn if it doesn't make him shiver.

"Nothing a few days with my girl won't fix." He says, trying to lean up again, groaning when she leans back out of reach. "Bonnie, your killin' me-"

"You look like shit, Johnny." She says bluntly, watching him pause to gape at her in mock offense. "You need to rest tonight, okay? Let me take care of you." Much to his dismay, she slides off of him, prods at his shoulder ordering him to flip over.

Too tired to argue, he turns onto his stomach with minimal protest.

Soap truthfully does look like hell; tired, dark circles lining his eyes, but the desire to have her close in any way he can clouds any and all other thoughts. "You know I love ya on top of me, but might I ask what you're doing?"

Johnny presses his cheek to the cool pillow to glance over at her curiously. He watches her straddle his back, her weight tearing a small sigh out of him, his aching muscles relaxing under the soothing weight.

"Nine weeks haven't taken your voice away yet, I see." She rolls her eyes, hands travelling up his bare back to his shoulders. Her eyes linger on those strong muscles she's felt countless times under her hands, her nails, her mouth...

"It takes more than that. Besides, ya love my voice-" She chooses that moment to press into one of the tight knots in his back, red flushing up her neck at the deep, surprised groan Johnny cuts his sentence off with. His head drops into the pillow, his back going up and down with a deep breath.  

Love his voice she does. She certainly does.

Her hands knead at the tension in his back, his shoulders, working out the knots built from weeks of stress.

Here. This moment right here. It makes the weeks of loneliness worth it. Days spent without him, waking up to an empty cold bed with only the remnants of his belongings scattered around the house to occupy her thoughts. It was all worth it when she got to feel the warm press of his skin against hers, when she got to welcome him back like this and spend the rest of her days with him.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they claim.

Her lips press gentle kisses down his spine as she works, soft presses that convey more love than she could ever verbalise.

"I fucking love you." He breathes. Goosebumps flash across his skin when she smiles, kissing the back of his neck. It warms her from the inside out.

"I love you too." She responds quietly, resuming her work. She kisses every mark, every freckle, and blemish, replacing every memory of harsh shoves and painful encounters with a gentle, loving touch. It reminds him that through the horrors he saw every time he strapped his gear on, there would always be people as good as her in the world. Untouched by darkness and willing to love someone like him, someone with so much damn blood on his hands.

Seemingly satisfied by her assurance, he relaxes, relishing the press of her hands against him. The room falls into a comfortable silence, mostly because he's too tired and blissed out to fill it with his usual chatter. A couple of minutes later, he's putty under her hands, languid and relaxed, his shoulders devoid of the tension he came in with.

It's only when his back rises and falls, deep and steady that she slides off of him.

He's fallen asleep, she notes with a smile. At ease, he's a sight to behold. She pulls the warm blanket over both their forms, shuffling close to him.

Johnny's arm comes around her, pulling her close instinctually. His soft mumble is incoherent.

He sought out her nearness, even when unconscious.

The press of his body is familiar, so achingly familiar. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his body lull her to sleep, comfortable and relieved.

She drifts off knowing that the next time she woke up it would be in his arms. Loved, protected, and cherished.  

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Comment and Like!

(15/07/2023)

[hozierandco]

Callum Turner x Reader // Phone Sex

A.N: Very smutty. Anonymous requested phone sex, there it is.

Plot: As Callum starts the shooting of a new feature film, he feels very horny. His girlfriend too. Phones might be the key to their problem.

Callum had just finished packing his suitcase when Posy, his pug, entered the room. As usual, the dog smelled that he would be leaving for long enough for her to miss him. She lay her pink nose on his thigh as he had kneeled on the floor to pet her. Y/N was witnessing the scene while folding the clothes that had not fit in the suitcase. She too was starting to feel the weight of the departure on her shoulders. 

Y/N and Callum had been dating for four years and were engaged for three months but it still was harsh to see him leave, even after all those sets and award shows he would attend by himself, sometimes on another hemisphere. Once Posy had had her share of hugs and pats on the head, Callum turned to his girlfriend. He reached out for her, grasped her hips to bring her closer to his chest and lifted her chin as she was looking at the floor with a tear by the corner of her eye. He placed a kiss on her lips as gently as a dove landing while whispering in her ear: “You’re the love of my life. I’ll be home soon, darling!”

Though the distance between the two of them for the upcoming weeks was shorter than usual as Callum was going to Belfast and Y/N was staying in London for her own job, the couple felt terrible about it. Y/N accompanied Callum to Heathrow and watched him check-in. He waved goodbye at her behind the high wall of glass and was soon nowhere to be found.

***

“I’ve arrived sweetheart and I already miss u xx”, Callum texted as he landed at Belfast airport.

Y/N read that text over and over again, as she was preparing some Earl grey. She muffled herself in some blankets that still smelled like her lover and played some TV show on Netflix. She had no idea what the plot or the title to that show were as she was focusing mostly on her dog and phone. 

Y/N had always needed some time to accommodate to Callum being away. She knew that in a few days, she would be able to socialise with her friends again and going for drinks with her colleagues after work but as for tonight, she felt no energy and fell asleep rather quickly after.

When she woke up the next day, she emerged with some notifications on her phone. Along with spams on her mailbox, she had received two texts from Callum:

// 07.23 am - Callum // Hi darling, hope you’re ok. I feel like shit, missing u like crazy

// 07.31 am - Callum // Forgot to tell u just how much I adore u

His first text was an understatement. In fact, Callum had not slept much the night before as he had kept on thinking of Y/N for most of the night. He missed her habit of making up (terrible) jokes in all situations, her Earl grey which was like a drug to him, and also the intimacy the two were sharing. 

Usually, Callum was dealing well with the lack of sex his job could come with. Usually, he was fine with onanism and some sexting with his girlfriend. But ever since the two of them had gotten engaged, and for a reason he ignored, the sex had become amazing. It was incredible before the engagement but now it was out of this world. And they had not been separated ever since the engagement party. 

Needless to say, Callum was getting very much horny just thinking about her girlfriend being naked or touching his chest. By 2 pm, he took a break to go get a lunch and enjoyed that time to text Y/N. 

// 02.08 pm - Callum // I miss you and your body

When Y/N read that, she was relieved that she was not the only thinking that as she had this thought and this thought only on her mind. She caught herself daydreaming of making love to Callum during a meeting in the morning and she could not help but to imagine what it would be like to have him. The two of them had had sex before going to the airport, so only a few hours prior but it was difficult not to imagine something else.

// 02.54 pm - Y/N // I wish I could be yours too

// 04.11 pm - Callum // How about I call you tonight to get it settled?

Callum had never imagined suggesting something as crude as that. They had never thought of having phone sex but desperate situations call for drastic remedies, he thought.

// 04.48 pm - Y/N // I dare you!

Y/N could not quite believe what she had just read as Callum was not the resourceful when it came to sex. His education had made him rather shy to talk about the subject, even more so to initiate it. But Y/N was willing to give it a try.

// 05.02 pm - Callum // Is 10 tonight fine by you?

// 05.07 pm - Y/N // Yes! Can’t wait!

Y/N was feeling a sexual tension growing as she was imagining the call and she was glad she could clock out from her dayshift and go back home to make herself comfortable. As soon as she arrived, she rushed to her closet to pick fancy underwear. She knew exactly which ones were driving Callum absolutely crazy and gazed in the mirror at the beauty she had in front of her. Red truly was her colour, she thought. 

After running some errands and making her some food, she felt as though she could start the session on her own and started moving her hands below her trousers but then she received a call from Callum.

// 09.56 pm - Call entering: Callum //

“Hi darling, I’ve waited so long for this…”

“Hey Cal, getting horny much?”

“You have no idea. It was tough concentrating on my script with you on my mind”

Y/N lay in their bed, her eyes facing the ceiling and one hand on her chest, actively searching for her breasts. By doing that, she got the camera rolling and asked for FaceTime to get started. 

“Ooh, I see you put on that naughty bodysuit I got you, huh? You know it drives me insane to see you wearing it”

“Take a wild guess as to why I put it on then”

“Good, I see you’re as excited as I am”

“You have no idea what went through my mind all afternoon. All the indecent stuff I was thinking of that got me blushing”

“Hmmm”, Callum slightly moaned through the phone.

“What would you do to me if you were in London right now?”, Y/N asked as candidly as possible while she ran her other hand on her thigh.

“I would bite your lips with my teeth and then I would lick your tits, making them as red as your gown”

“Would you allow me to touch your chest back?”

“Oh darling, I would allow you to do everything”

“Touch your chest then”, Y/N ordered.

“We’ve got the right to order stuff now? If so, play with your tits. Show me how red they’re getting”

Y/N obliged as Callum slid his hands under his shirt.

“Take your shirt off. I want to see it too”

“Commanding, much?”

“I thought I had the right to ask you anything”

“Hmm, sure. Anything for you”

“Touch your thighs with your other hand so we’re equal”

“You’ve been touching yourself, haven’t you, huh? Couldn’t wait for me”

“Didn’t make myself come though. I can’t wait for you to do that to me”, Y/N replied.

“That bodysuit is fine but you know what I’d love to see even more?”

“Let me guess”, Y/N said while taking off one strap of the discussed piece of clothing. 

“That’s right, take it off so I can admire your gorgeous body. God! You’re fucking hot like that too”

“Get higher with your hands. Show me how hard you got, pretty boy!”

Callum took off his trousers and a bulge could be seen from his underwear.

“I would do anything to play with it right now. But for now, you’ll have to do it for me. Stroke it slowly”

“I like that bossy tone of yours. Do you want me to remove my boxers for you?”

“Huh-huh. Let me see what my cunt is missing”

Callum took off his underwear, unveiling a boner that he had had for a good amount of his day. He gently began touching the length, imitating the back and forth movement of penetrating Y/N. 

Y/N could feel her loins getting wet by the second she noticed his movements and mostly when Callum got to moaning unintelligibly words that sounded like pleas. She reached for her labias and grazed the surface, with Callum’s cock as sole thing on her mind.

Callum sensed some pre-cum on his fingers as he was getting close to the edge. He asked between two moans “I want to see you getting wet for me. I want to imagine myself fucking you”

Y/N approached the phone to her thighs and showed him how her fingers were taking care of the pond between her legs.

“God, Y/N! You’re so fucking hot! I wish I could come inside you”

Y/N moaned at the suggestion. She too was wishing for that. To have her pussy circling his cock so tight that she would feel every drop dripping out of it.

“Keep playing with yourself. I’m gonna fucking come”, Callum warned as the veins of his cock were showing on screen. 

Callum stroked harder and harder, feeling a near release as he grabbed a pillow near him to press something. 

“Y/N, fuck!”, he moaned as his cock emptied on a towel. He gasped for air as he came back from his ejaculation.

Seeing that, Y/N wanted her share to and asked Callum to talk to her.

“When I come home, I’m gonna lick every part of you and fuck you so hard that I’ll make you moan the way you just made me come. Think of your fingers as though they were mine. Play with yourself, baby. I love that sight”, Callum could not stop talking as he felt his cock wanting a second round by just looking at Y/N touching herself.

Y/N put her fingers as instructed by Callum, playing with her pussy with a rapid pace. Though she could not comprehend most of what was happening, she sensed her breathing growing heavy. A few moans escaped her mouth before she ultimately cried out “You’re gonna make me come, Cal”

“Good. Carry on, I want to hear you moan louder”

“I’m…”, Y/N hardly found a way to express herself as she hit a spot Callum knew by heart would make her flail.

“You’re so hot when you come for me”, Callum snickered as Y/N was done with exhaling after having come. 

“I’m still waiting for the live version of that. But I guess we could do it every day before you’re coming back”

“I wouldn’t mind”, Callum commented.

[happy-beeeps]

Naïveté

Summary: Astarion begins to reconcile with the fact he might have fallen for you, only to worry you've caught an interest in someone else. Earllllllly act 2, minor spoilers for act 2!

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav

Warnings/tags: fluff, miscommunication if you squint, jealous!astarion, platonic!wyll x tav, slightly ooc Astarion because I'm still learning to write him so be nice PLEASE😭🥺

WC: 2k

a/n: I'm finishing a character sheet for tav so we can have her backstory, but she's who I've been using this playthrough and I've been really enjoying her story. When I post on Ao3 she'll have a name, but I'm going to leave her unnamed here! Also, will have a seperate BG3 spot on my masterlist soon!

It’s late at camp, and by the time you finish indulging in a bottle of wine with Karlach, you figure you’re the only one still up. It’s been a long night, and an even longer few days, spent trudging through the grimy depths of the Shadowcursed lands and just barely making it out of the encounter with Marcus alive. Isobel had given you the ability to travel freely, but all you could do was set up camp near the inn.

The firelight is dim when you make your way back from the secluded spot near Karlach’s tent, and Astarion’s tent is sealed tightly. You contemplate going over, just peaking your head in to see if he’s deep in trance yet, but you change your mind. After your previous night’s conversation, you’re still not sure on speaking terms. It plays out over and over again in your mind. Naive, he’d called you, your heart was too big. 

You tried to be reasonable. You were naive. You were young, and perhaps no one but Wyll new exactly how young. To be ninety as an elf was to be just becoming an adult. No one else had known, no else had asked, including Astarion. You chalked it up to his truly immortal lifespan, he hadn’t cared about aging for 200 years, why start now?

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him, or the thrill that shook your bones when he would quietly rush into your tent each morning, murmuring the incantation for lesser restoration. You still thought of the way he looked at Gale when he asked to consume that locket all those days back. “I’m glad you let him suffer for a moment, darling,” he’d murmured into your ear that night, his breath tingly on your neck, “That one’s ours.”

There’d been other nights since your first night together, while you hadn’t slept together in completion since, all passion and teeth and sweat. Sometimes you’d just kiss him, wrapped up in nothing else but this bliss of arms and scent. Lately though, he’d been closed off—distant. His conversation the previous night had come out of nowhere, as if you were standing on the doorstep of Moonrise Towers that very instant. 

You were so lost in your own thoughts, consumed of Astarion, that you nearly missed Wyll’s form standing near the dimming fire, moving around in a dance you actually recognized.

“I hope I’m not interrupting practice,” you smiled, giving the man ample warning before you stumbled into his rehearsal. 

Wyll wheeled on you, a faint blush growing across his cheeks. “It’s one of those old courting dances, it’d be a cold day in the hells before I’d ever forget them.”

“Oh I’m quite familiar,” you murmured, thinking back to your own youth, your own debutante ball, before you lost everything. “Everyone else around here forgets I come from taste.”

Wyll snorts, “Sure don’t smell like it.”

Your friendship with Wyll is a special thing. No one else can understand what it felt like to be from a Noble family, the expectations and the experience it comes with. When your family had been killed and their wealth assumed, you were completely on your own. Learning how to pickpockets and lie had not been a part of your expensive and tasteful education.

Dancing, however, came second nature.

You move to stand in front of him without really thinking, decades of experience guiding your motions. “Go on, let’s see what you can do.”

He’s a fine partner, moving cautiously around you and guiding your hand easily. Even when he brings you closer for a slightly more intimate dance, his hands nor his eyes never stray. 

“I wonder what I’d have done if I ever saw you at one of the balls my father sent me too.” He murmurs.

“I’m certain you did. Though you would’ve been young. I haven’t been in nearly a decade.”

He chuckles, and clucks his tongue for a moment, “Just practically a baby, far to young to approach Fey nobility.” Before bowing in front of you and wishing you goodnight. There’s the smallest beat where he looks at you as if he has something to say. You look at him for the smallest moment. It would be so easy to love him, if you were anyone else. He’s exactly who your father would have picked for you, save his humanity. But, despite it, you can’t. You can’t fake the flutter you get when you Astarion’s cold hands tickle your fingers, or the tickle of his hair on your cheek when he’s pressed against your neck. You’re not naive enough to admit this to Astarion, but from the fleeting glance you send to his tent, you can see that Wyll already knows. He leaves you with a knowing glance and a soft goodnight. You go back to your own tent, happy to have removed the thought of the curse, of Ketheric, and even of your own problems for just a moment.

So full of contentedness in fact, you don’t notice the scarlet eyes peering at you from the slat of their tent, a whirlwind of emotions cascading over them.

* * *

Astarion doesn’t hide his mild disdain for Wyll, or anyone to be fair, to begin with, but the following morning he bears down on the man like an ogre. “I didn’t anticipate you being quite so light on your feet. The Blade stands at the ready, and also ready to pirouette, I suppose?”

Wyll rolls his eyes at Astarion’s quip, used to the sarcasm, but somewhat surprised at the intensity of the rogue’s grip on his arm. “Wasn’t aware I couldn’t have past times.”

“By all means feel free to entertain us with a ballet in between slaughters,” his voice hushes as you walk by, looking at the two men skeptically, “I’d just prefer if your duets didn’t happen whilst I’m trying to read.”

Wyll follows Astarion’s slightly fleeting to his retreating gaze. You’re standing behind him, out of earshot, leaning against Lae’zel’s tent while she sharpens your sword. Astarion’s stare is enough to allow him to piece everything together. “Can I give you a word of advice?”

“Only if you accept that I may ignore it entirely.”

“She’s wonderful. And she’s made her choice without giving anyone else a chance. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste it, wouldn’t kill you to get to know her.”

Wyll walks away, and Astarion is left alone again with his thoughts. Contrary to Wyll’s belief, he thinks it might actually kill him to get to know you. He’s been balancing precariously on his fight to not let himself be fully consumed by you and your grace, your goodness. You were a spoilt little thing, he was sure of that, and he had meant what he said that night by the water. It didn’t mean it hurt his chest more when your face fell. “Naive?” there was a crack in your cool, crafted facade. Genuine hurt had settled there for a moment, and something akin to disappointment. He hadn’t known how to face you since, hadn’t known how to say “I’m sorry! I’m falling for you and can’t help it and I’m terrified!”

So instead he said nothing at all, and resolved to say something later.

* * *

You had just gotten back to camp for the night, Karlach nearly giggling at the amount of gold she had stuffed in her pockets from the tollhouse. You had noticed Astarion’s eyes on you, heavy and pensive, when you had dealt with the Master of Coin, how easily you’d convinced her to simply cease to be. That was perhaps the easiest transition from nobility to rogue you had, the gift of a silver tongue and wide, batting eyes.

You changed into your camp clothes and watched Karlach throw gold pieces at an increasingly irritated Lae’zel, Gale standing nearby doing his best to keep spirits high in this eerie camp, working with whatever cured meats and cheeses you still had to attempt to make a dinner. You had changed into camp clothes and grabbed one of the books you had found in the tollmaster’s office, a shockingly smutty romance novel that had to be even older than you. It was quiet in the corner you found, somewhere even Halsin’s booming laugh had faded into quiet background noise. You tried to not think about your surroundings, about your increasing frustration with Astarion, or the odd way his gaze had hung on you all day. 

“I’m always impressed by that tongue of yours, petal.” The vampire’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and he settled beside you on the ground, arms behind him as he reclined easily next to you.

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, and the pet name. “Yet you’ve been leaving me and my tongue to our thoughts the past few days.” You huffed, flipping the book to the next page, though not really reading any of it 

If Astarion could blush, he looked as if he would. “We’ve been a bit busy darling. I’ve been…strategizing.”

“Strategizing?”

“Precisely.”

The quiet overtook the two of you. After being so distant, if he didn’t want to come to you, then so be it. You could not—would not–crack first. He could not even begin to know the bubbling furnace of your feelings, or you’d be positively done for.

“How old are you?”

His question strikes you, strikes you enough that you set the book off to the side and face him. “At what point did you start to ask me questions?”

“When I realized I had done something to anger my favorite companion,” his fingers reach out and trace small patterns on your skin. “How old are you?”

“Ninety.” Your voice moves to a whisper at the end of the word, and his eyebrows quirk.

“Only ninety and yet alone. And Balduran?”

“Yes, but I haven’t lived there since I was seventy five.”

“Something happened,” he rocks upward, now sitting nearer to you. “You weren’t supposed to be like this.”

“Perhaps that’s why I’m so naive.” It comes out more bitter than you meant, but oh well. He deserved it.

“Naive wasn’t the right word,” he looks like he’s fighting himself to turn out the next sentence. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

You smile softly, laying a hand on top of his. “I don’t know if I believe that, but I appreciate the apology.”

He grins, his deep set smile lines settling in your favorite way. “Tell me about your childhood.”

You shrug, “There’s not much to say. I was an only child, an only daughter. I used to play the lyre, learn languages, paint–”

“You come from nobility.”

“I sort of thought it was obvious,” you shrug and tap your knee against his, “I wasn’t supposed to be out in the middle of a campground, much less learning the ways of a rogue.”

“What were you supposed to be?”

“A wife, I guess.”

“And while I’m sure suitors everywhere are devastated, I much prefer my rogue.”

My. You don’t say anything and neither does he. You let the word hang there, testing to see if he reaches back to grab it, but he doesn’t. It gets quiet for a moment after that, and you can see him spinning the illusion in his head. You, swathed in organza, spinning around a marble ballroom, entertaining suitors. 

“Is that why you danced with Wyll?”

“Ah,” you smile and rest your head on his shoulder. You love these fleeting moments of intimacy, where you can both pretend to be nothing more than lovers on an adventure. “So this was spurred by jealousy?”

“As if I have anything to be jealous over Wyll. He wishes he looked half as good as me.” His words lack their normal bite, and he turns his head softly, so he’s speaking quietly, just to you. “But perhaps in the future you’d let me take you for a spin.”

You press your hand against his on the ground. “You need only ask.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

There’s so much more you both want to say, confessions on the precipice of both your minds, but you say nothing. You idle together a touch longer, hands resting against each other, pretending neither of you can get hurt, envisioning a world where it’s him spinning you across the dance floor in a world where you could have each other.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 24

summary: You are reflecting on your complicated feelings about Randall being taken away, dropped off to the middle of nowhere until you realize they're returned with the prisoner in tow. Tensions rise between you and Daryl as you face the darker realities of the new world. In a flashback, Daryl faces Merle’s teasing about you, with Merle mocking him for his unresolved feelings and how things ended between them.

warnings: canon violence

x flash forward x

Days later, Rick and Shane were out with a car, taking the kid out to the middle of nowhere to drop him off, as Hershel had mended his torn leg. You had barely gotten a good look at him and decided it was better to keep your distance, sticking to your chores. With Daryl.

There was something about manual labor that always helped you center yourself. The meditative, repetitive motions allowed your brain to drift, sometimes to nowhere at all. It gave you a break from the constant chaos, the never-ending barrage of thoughts. Today, your mind wandered back to Dana, the last time you saw her sharp in your memory. You missed her wide, infectious smile, the way she could so easily chat with anyone she met. As much as it used to drive you crazy when she dragged you to parties only to disappear into the crowd with one of her boyfriends or sorority sisters, she was sweet at heart. She always saw the good in people, even when you couldn’t. What you wouldn’t give to have her here, with you, at the farm—anything to make it feel a little less lonely. 

Sweat drips down your forehead as you thrust the pitchfork into a pile of manure, your muscles straining under the weight as you lift and dump it into the wheelbarrow. It’s physical, mindless, grounding. But suddenly, your grip falters. The pitchfork slips from your hands, clattering against the wooden wall of the stall with a loud thud.

Your breath hitched, your mind stumbling over the sudden memory that surfaced.

Randall. Randy.

The frat boy from the party.

A rush of foggy memories hit you hard. The taste of strong beer and the smell of weed filling your senses. The sound of house music blaring through cheap speakers, the heat of bodies pressed too close together. A drunk kiss in a kitchen, sweaty twenty-somethings passing around booze like it was water, laughing at nothing, lost in their carefree world where your only real concern was your grade point average.

They’d taken him away— to drop him off for good. You should feel relieved, you tell yourself. He’s trouble. Everyone agreed. Hell, Shane practically screamed it, and Rick wasn’t far behind in thinking the same. But knowing they were driving him out to the middle of nowhere, leaving him behind like some unwanted baggage, makes your stomach churn.

You grab the pitchfork again, this time with a little more force, but the repetitive work isn’t doing its job of grounding you anymore. Your thoughts circle back to that night at the party—the way Randy had flirted with you, the kiss, a distraction. He was goofy, maybe a little stupid, but not a bad guy. At least, you hadn’t thought so then.

It all felt surreal now, thinking of how you’d met him as Randy, just another college kid. Now he was Randall, the prisoner—the guy Shane swears is a threat, the one they fear would bring his people down on the farm.

Was that really who he is? You don’t know. A part of you feels guilty for never giving him a chance to explain. The memory of him laughing in a hazy room, drunk and carefree, didn’t match the image of the dangerous guy they described. What if they were wrong? What if he was just a scared kid caught up in the wrong mess?

But then again, how well do you really know him?

Your fingers tighten on the handle of the pitchfork as you consider all of it. Maybe it was better this way—letting him go, putting that part of your life behind you, just like you’d done with so many other pieces of your past. But still, as you look out over the fields, a heaviness settles over you. Was he out there now, somewhere? Lost, alone?

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to push down the nagging guilt creeping into your chest. Relief mingles with confusion. You don’t know if you’re sad for him, or just sad for the life you left behind—the life where Randy was nothing more than a goofy frat boy with a quick smile, and the world hadn’t yet gone to hell.

A small part of you considers telling someone, but then comes the dilemma: who? Shane? He'd probably blow up, twist it into something bigger, something about your judgment. You weren’t surprised he didn’t recognize him. There was so much going on at that time and he probably dealt with plenty of drunk kids at parties. Daryl? The idea makes your chest tighten. What if he thought less of you for it? You both have been through too much already, and you weren’t sure you could handle seeing that disappointment in his eyes, especially after last night. Maybe it wasn’t worth saying anything at all. You aren’t even sure if Randy remembered you, and even if he did, what difference would it make now? It didn’t even matter– Rick and Shane had taken him away. There’s nothing you can do about it anymore.

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

A couple of hours later, you found yourself standing in the doorway of the stables, the golden afternoon light casting long shadows across the farm. Wiping the back of your hand on your brow and the satisfaction of chores finished, you realize with a sinking feeling that Rick and Shane have been back for a while. The sedan sits parked by the house, dirt caked on its tires, and your heart rate quickens. You wipe your hands on your jeans, and start walking toward the group of people scattered near the farmhouse. 

You spot Rick first, his face tight with frustration as he speaks quietly to Hershel on the porch. His face is bruised up, his lip cut. Things must’ve gone badly. Gathering your nerves, you call out, “Rick? What happened? Everything go okay when you dropped Rand—the kid off?”

Rick turns to you, his eyes dark with tension, “We brought him back,” he says after a pause, “Said he knew Maggie—knew who Hershel was. He’s tied up in the barn. Daryl’s in there now, questioning him about his group. I’m takin’ the night to decide what to do with him.” He was looking at you like he was trying to convey something outside of his words. You wondered what really happened at the drop off. 

Your heart skips a beat at what he actually says. They brought him back here, and Daryl is interrogating Randall—Randy. The truth you’ve been holding suddenly becomes too much. You nod, swallowing hard, and quickly make your way to the barn, your footsteps feeling heavier with each step. You need to talk to Daryl.

“You shouldn’t go in there!” Rick yells, but his words barely register. Your breath comes in gasps as you reach the barn doors, pressing your forehead against the rough wood. Inside, Randy’s voice filters through, his words sharp and clear despite the pounding of your heart. He’s telling Daryl about his people—thirty men—that brought him into their group.

And then, the story changes. Your gut twists painfully as Randy talks about how his men attacked a family, how they went after the teen girls while the father watched, helpless.

You stumble back from the door, bile rising in your throat. This can’t be the same Randy. You thought you knew him—but you realize you never really knew him. He was some kid you met for 30 minutes, if that, in a drunken haze. 

You stand at the door as you deliberate. Maybe you should walk away. Maybe it’s better if you don’t face him.

But no, you had to know if it was the same kid. Needed to see for yourself. Your fingers curl into fists, and with sudden resolve, you shove the barn doors open, the old wood groaning loudly in protest. The dim light inside barely illuminates the grim scene before you. Daryl stands over Randy with bloodied knuckles and knife in hand– his expression cold and hard. Randy is slumped against a wooden post, wrists bound, face bloody.

As the door swings open, Daryl’s eyes dart to you. His expression shifts instantly, surprise flaring for a second before his face hardens. “Get outta here,” he growls, taking a step toward you, his body tense, protective. “Ain’t safe for you in here.”

Your feet root to the spot, heart pounding. “I heard him, Daryl… about what his group did.”

His gaze sharpens, fury brimming beneath his eyes. “Then you know you don’t wanna be here for this. Get out.”

At the sound of the door or maybe your voice, Randy’s head jerks up, and his big brown eyes widen in recognition. “Hey! Hey, I know you!” he gasps, his voice rough and panicked. There’s something desperate in his tone, as if you’re his knight in shining armor.

Your stomach churns at the sight of him. Visions of a memory of him holding a beer to his lips with a twinkle in his eye flash in your mind, but are washed away by the look of him now, bloodied up and shaken.

Daryl’s head snaps toward you, his eyes narrowing. There’s surprise there, but it quickly gives way to anger. “You know this guy?” His voice is rough, an accusation laced with confusion.

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I—yeah. I met him once.”

Randy’s face lights up, hopeful. “Yeah! Y/N, right? We met at Brad’s party a few months ago! You remember, don’t you? We got busted that night by the cops!”

Hearing him say your name like that, like you’re old friends, makes your skin crawl. You thought you knew him, but you didn’t know anything. Not really.

Daryl’s expression darkens. “Brad’s party?” he echoes, his voice low and dangerous. “What the hell is that?”

“From school,” you murmur, trying to explain, but Daryl’s face only hardens more.

The mention of that night—the distant, hazy memory of a life that feels like it belonged to someone else—twists your insides. You thought you knew him. But you didn’t know this Randy.

“College?” Daryl spits, his voice rough with disbelief. “This kid? He just told me somethin’ real interestin’ about his group.” The knife in his hand glints in the faint light, a clear threat.

“I heard it all,” you say quietly, your voice trembling.

Randy’s voice cracks with desperation. “Y/N, no, I’m not like them! You know me!”

“Don’t you dare talk to her,” Daryl growls, his rage boiling over as he flies at Randy, smashing his fist into the kid’s face. Blood splatters from Randy’s mouth, and a guttural cry escapes him.

“Daryl, stop!” you cry out, stepping forward, but Daryl’s not listening. His fists slam into Randy over and over, each hit harder than the last.

“Get out of here, Y/N!” Daryl shouts at you between hits, his voice raw with anger. “Now!”

You freeze for a moment, torn between your instinct to stay and help and the fear curling around your heart. You turn and run, your mind spinning with guilt and confusion, wondering if showing your face here had just destroyed everything.

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

You sit with your head in your hands in an open lawn chair as the group talks to one another when you and Daryl return. Daryl’s bloody knuckles hold his crossbow over his shoulder as he stands next to you.

“Boy’s got a gang—30 men,” Daryl starts, his voice low but steady, cutting through the murmurs of the group. Everyone quiets to listen, the gravity of his words sinking in. “They’ve got heavy artillery and ain’t lookin’ to make friends.”

You feel your stomach churn, and you rub your hands down your face, pulling at your skin as if you could rub away the dread crawling inside you. Daryl pauses for a moment, his gaze shifting down to you briefly before he continues, his voice growing harder.

“They roll through here, our boys are dead.” His words send a shiver down your spine, but you can feel him hesitate next to you, his eyes tightening with something darker, something worse, as he looks up to Rick. “And our women—” His voice falters, but he pushes through, “they’re gonna wish they were.”

The blunt horror in his tone cuts through the group like a knife, the cold truth settling over everyone. Carol’s voice breaks the silence, her eyes flicking toward Daryl’s bruised and bloody knuckles. “What did you do?” she asks softly, her gaze heavy with concern.

Daryl doesn’t answer, but you stand, your movements slow and deliberate as you take his hand gently in yours, careful to avoid the torn skin and raw knuckles from when he crushed Randy’s face. You glance at Carol, your voice quiet but firm, the weight of it carrying through the tension. “What he had to.”

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

It’s quiet back in Daryl’s tent, far away from the group. His hand is in yours as you gently dab at his bloodied knuckles, raw and swollen. He sits still, his eyes following your every move, but he hasn’t said much since you started.

The silence between you isn’t awkward—it never really is—but there’s tension. You can feel Daryl’s eyes on you, waiting for something. Eventually, his gravelly voice breaks through the quiet.

“How’d ya know that kid?” His tone isn’t accusing, but it carries enough concern that it makes you pause.

You press the cloth a little too hard against his knuckles, making him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. “Sorry,” you mumble, still avoiding his gaze. “It’s not important.”

“Bullshit,” Daryl mutters, his voice low. He tugs his hand back slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “It’s important enough that you didn’t tell me.”

You sigh, dipping the cloth back into the bowl, watching as the water swirls red for a moment before clearing again. “It was a long time ago,” you say quietly. “Before all this.” You gesture vaguely around, indicating the world outside the tent—the world that’s changed everything.

Daryl frowns, his brow furrowing as he studies your face. “What’s that mean? College?” he asks, his voice carrying a mixture of surprise and frustration. “That kid ain’t the same anymore, Y/N. None of us are.”

You nod, focusing on cleaning the blood from his hand again. “I know. He’s just... someone from a different time.”

As you say it, your mind keeps racing back to the barn, to the way Randy looked at you. He’s not just a frat boy anymore; he’s tied to something darker, more dangerous. And yet, there’s a part of you that can’t let go of those memories, can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to his story.

“Maybe I should talk to him,” you say suddenly, surprising even yourself as the words slip out.

Daryl’s head jerks up, his eyes narrowing. “Talk to him?” His voice is sharp, disbelief etched in every word. “The hell for?”

You hesitate, unsure how to explain what you’re feeling. “I don’t know... maybe I can get more out of him. Maybe he’s not as bad as you think.”

Daryl’s face hardens, and he pulls his hand away completely this time. “You’re outta your damn mind if you think that,” he growls. “That kid’s group did awful things, Y/N. He’s dangerous, and I ain’t lettin’ you anywhere near him.”

“Let me, Daryl? Since when do you boss me around?” you challenge him.

Daryl stands up, grabbing his crossbow from the corner, his expression unreadable and ignoring your question. “Stay away from him,” he says flatly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You watch him leave the tent, the flap swinging behind him as he disappears into the late afternoon sunlight. For a moment, you just sit there, staring down at your hands, the memory of Randy’s panicked expression in the barn still fresh in your mind. Maybe Daryl’s right, maybe Randy is just another threat. But something in the pit of your stomach tells you there’s more to it than that—and ignoring it won’t be easy.

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

X flashback x

Daryl

The room was thick with the stale stench of cigarette smoke and beer. Merle leaned back in his usual spot, sprawled out in a beat-up recliner, boots kicked up on the cluttered table. Daryl sat across from him, hunched forward, glaring at the floor, his whole body tense. He hadn’t said much since Y/N left, and Merle was getting real tired of the silence.

Merle took a drag off his cigarette, eyeing Daryl with a smirk. “You gonna sit there mopin’ all day, or you gonna tell me what’s got you actin’ like someone ran over your dog?”

Daryl stayed quiet, jaw clenched tight.

Merle blew out a cloud of smoke and let out a sharp laugh. “Lemme guess—it’s about her, ain’t it? Y/N. You finally pissed her off enough, and now she’s gone, huh? You really screwed it up this time, didn’t ya?”

Daryl shifted, but he didn’t take the bait. Merle wasn’t letting up, though. He could see the way his little brother was stewing, and he was gonna get a rise out of him one way or another.

“Hell, you nearly killed two of my boys for touchin’ her, didn’t ya?” Merle leaned forward, chuckling. “Funny how you goin’ all wild on ‘em didn’t exactly keep her around.”

That got Daryl’s attention. He lifted his head, his eyes burning with a flicker of anger.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Merle continued, grinning. “Them two junkies thought they could get handsy, and you knocked their damn teeth in. Shoulda been there myself, would’ve done the same thing. But hell, Daryl, what were you expectin’? A medal? She ain’t yours.”

Daryl’s fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. He could still see it in his head—those two assholes laughing, thinking they could touch her like that. He didn’t regret a single punch.

Merle leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “What’s even funnier is you doin’ all that ‘cause you’re too chickenshit to admit why you really care so much. Ain’t like it’s a secret, brother. You’re all twisted up ‘cause you got yourself wrapped around that girl, and now look at ya. It’s pathetic.”

“Shut up, Merle,” Daryl growled, finally meeting his brother’s mocking gaze.

Merle just laughed harder. “Oh, don’t give me that. Everyone can see it. Hell, it’s written all over your face. You’re in deep with her, but you’re too damn stubborn to admit it. And now? Now you let her walk away, all ‘cause you ain’t got the guts to do somethin’ about it.”

Daryl shot up from his seat, his face flushed with anger. “I said, shut the hell up.”

Merle wasn’t fazed. He just grinned wider, like he was enjoying every second of it. “Hit a nerve, didn’t I? Come on, Daryl, you’re actin’ like a lovesick puppy and everyone knows it but you. The only one you’re foolin’ is yourself.”

Daryl’s hands twitched at his sides, itching to throw a punch, but he held back. Barely.

“Look, man, I get it,” Merle continued, his tone dropping just a little. “She was the best thing you had goin’, maybe the best either of us had goin’. And you let her slip through your fingers ‘cause you’re too damn scared. But don’t come cryin’ to me when she’s gone for good and you’re left here mopin’ like a fool.”

Daryl stood there, seething, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t deny what Merle was saying, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear it. Especially not from him.

Merle shook his head again, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Shoulda just claimed her when you had the chance. But nah, you’ll just keep lettin’ her go, won’t ya? You’re real good at that.”

The words stung, but Daryl bit his tongue, refusing to let Merle get the best of him. Not this time.

[riptidesblog]

Ninjago hcs

Kai's(Smith-Jiang family's) eye color hcs:either amber,brown or sea-green eyes just like Maya's,while Nya has brown(I think this one is canon) and Ray has amber/brown eyes

After unmerging with the sea Nya's eyes started changing colors to match the nearest body of water:sea-green when near the ocean,grayish when near something like a bottle of water or sink water and etc.They will also turn glowing blue when she uses her powers on a large scale (they once turned blood-red bc she was treating an injury and blood has water in it)

Post-Crystallized:sometimes parts of her body would turn into liquid during the adjusting to being a human again(during which her eyes would be white like the foam)

After unmerging with the sea her powers became even more stronger and easier to control.After all,Nya was one with them for an entire year

The reason Nya couldn't get out the water in Jay's lungs during Seabound was because all of it kept responding,including blood and the water in Jay's body and she couldn't risk drawing out too much water and/or blood to help Jay

Pixal has Jay saved in her contacts as "extra charger"

The pink clothes Nya wore during Prime Empire shorts were given to her by Cole(they used to be Lilly's)

Nya makes the best coffee,not even Zane can match her skill there and surprisingly enough, Cole is a close second when it comes to drinks

The public didn't know Nya used to be Samurai X until a new one showed up and ninja had to answer some questions during interviews

Kai is a history nerd

All the ninja know basic first-aid,though Nya and Zane are the best medics.Kai is/was good with taking care of dragons

For a while after he learned that he was a nindroid,Zane didn't know how his body functioned beyond the basics.It's after HoT that he started learning more about himself instead of relying on Pixal,Jay or Nya all the time

All the ninja wear a bracelet that is made of interwined threads of their colors (gray for Nya,purple for Pix,gold for Wu and the rest are obvious)

Nya loves animals(this one is based on Wu's teas ep and how she seemed to like Zippy in the Island)

All the ninja+Pix see Wu as a father figure(even if some of them already have fathers)

Same with Misako

Mrs.Benedict constantly scares Lloyd by appearing out of nowhere in the weirdest places

Mrs.Benedict loves Nya and Pixal the most out of the entire group

After Seabound-Crystallized Nya always smells like sea and the salty air of the beach

Wu and Misako are best friends(the love triangles/angles in ninjago are a pain,so I'm ignoring them),but when it comes to history they're rivals worse than Oni and Dragons,FSM and Overlord combined.It's always fun for the ninja to watch their debates(especially when Misako is right bc those are the times when Wu says that he was there when the events happened)

Garmadon and Maya were best friends,same with Ray and Wu

Wu is Kai's godfather,Garmadon and Misako are Nya's

Wu anonymously helped Smith-Jiang siblings when he heard that their parents were gone,but he didn't take them in for two reasons: he wasn't doing well after Garm's banishment and he didn't have a legal identity to prove that he could take the siblings(not that it would have stopped him,but the first point stands)

Jay and Nya weren't in a relationship until s6, they weren't a couple during or before s3,but did go on dates or hangouts

Nya has a green burn-scar thing from Tiger Widow venom

Nya misses being a part of the sea and hates herself for it

Zane sometimes missed the cold of the Never-realm and how close he was to his element as Ice Emperor

Nya still has marks all over her body from merging with the sea and sometimes they glow

Elemental masters are naturally more durable and stronger than humans(the reason Cole managed to survive the Oni clouds) and once they master their powers,they age slower too (they look younger than they actually are)

[felinecryptid]

Revelations

(or how Pav and Miles Fucked Up and Maya Auntie Fucked Miguel Up)

Maya did not think her day was gonna end with her trying to chuck a belan at a thug wearing a blue and red body suit.

But then again, she was not expecting to find herself another nephew and a niece too.

Perhaps she should rewind a bit.

***

Maya's eyes opened to the light of sunrise shining through the thin curtains. Her phone rang with bird whistles under the pillow, and she stepped out of bed, already thinking about what to put in Pavitr's lunchbox. She loved her nephew, her baby since- since everything, but he ate like a buffalo and yet, he was still wasting away.

She could make him his favourite Pav Bhaji, she thought, taking out the vegetables to warm them up before she cooked them. Lord knows he suddenly started loving it out of nowhere, some months ago, around the same time he started staying out late and coming home exhausted and screaming 'Auntie, kuchh khaane ko hai kya, itni bhook lagi hai, pura imarat khajaun,' and proceeding to finish the entire contents of the refrigerator, including the karela bhaji. Pav never looked at karela bhaji. Even when there was nothing else in the house. It was very suspicious.

At first she thought it was that model girl, what-was-her-name, Gayatri. Maya warned Pavitr to not get very attached to her, she did not want her boy to get hurt, no. But this change of heart couldn't be because of Gayatri, no matter how much she snuck around when Maya wasn't home. She could smell the designer perfume in her nephew's room, the boy wasn't sneakier than his aunt. Pavitr looked visibly happier on days the perfume smelled the strongest. He laughed louder when she was over for snacks or homework, and Maya couldn't fault him for that. She might need to have a little talk about girls with him soon, Maya thought, spitting out toothpaste and rinsing her face.

So it wasn't the girl. Maya refused to think it was his other friend, Hobie. They were so sweet, even if she thought they could do with a little more substantial clothes than thin stockings and ratty jackets. She had mistaken them for a robber the day she met them, but hey, all that ends well? Right?

She walked back to the kitchen, in time to see a curly haired boy swing in through the window, barely missing her pudina plants.

"Are- arey?! Aap kaun?" Maya reached for the ladles she kept in the left drawer, fingers scrabbling at the smooth handle.

"Woah! Sorry for this, Maya Auntie!" The boy raised his hands. "Didn't think I'd run into you, I'm so sorry-"

"Who are you?" Maya pointed the potato masher she'd grabbed at him. "Why do you know my name?"

"Pav talks about you a lot, I'd be a bad friend if I didn't know your name," The boy said, tilting backwards over the water filter to avoid her potato masher. "I'm Miles,"

"Eh, I don't know how much is a mile, convert to kilometers."

"No, no, my name, its Miles," The boy looked at him, eyes wide. "Didn't Pav tell you?"

When did her boy start hanging out with another American boy? "He didn't say anything about you-"

"MILES!" The pink spidergirl Maya saw swinging around sometimes, landed on her sill, almost flipping all her pudina. "Miles, you're not supposed to be here!"

"And you are not supposed to be there, beta, khidki se utar jao," Maya gestured at her to get down, fearing for her plants. "Who are you now?"

"Ummm, I'm Spiderwoman?"

"Dikh raha hai. I meant who are you, not what do you do, dear."

"Oh, I, um-"

"Gw-wanda!" Pavitr called out, barging in unceremoniously in his sleep pants, without a shirt.

"Hey, um, Pav-"

"Pavitr beta, baniyan daal ke aa, kitni baar bola hai ladkiyon ke samne nanga mat ghoom," Maya stopped every conversation happening, pointing back at his room.

"Nanga kahan hun main," Pavitr muttered, pulling on a shirt lying just out of sight in the kitchen. Teen boys, kab sikhenge saaf safai. "Abhi thik hai?

"Han." Maya nodded at him, before turning to all three of them "What is happening, Pavitr dear, why do I have a random boy in winter clothes and spider didi standing in my kitchen?"

"It's a long story?" Pavitr tried.

Maya thought for a second. "You don't have to go to school today. Take the day off, explain this to me."

Maya definitely heard him cursing as he left to freshen up.

***

Maya set down plates full of poha and tall glasses of orange juice for everyone while they told her their 'long story'.

Handing out spoons to everyone, she sat herself down on the last armchair, reaching for the achaar jar on the table. "So Pavitr, why don't you introduce me to your friends? I would love to know how you are friends with- What's your name, honey?" She directed the last part at the girl in the spider suit.

"Gwen."

"Right, with Gwen."

Pavitr had stuffed his mouth full, chewing slowly. Gwen had taken her mask off, gingerly biting a piece of carrot picked out from the poha. Miles answered with something that made Maya almost spit out the spoonful of poha in her mouth.

“Uh, Pav you haven’t told her that you are spiderman yet?” Pavitr choked, and Maya thumped him harder than strictly necessary. Even if the Miles boy was lying, clearly Pav knew these kids and didn't tell her. Miles muttered a soft ‘ow’ as Maya turned back to him.

“Miles, beta, what are you saying?”

Miles looked like a deer in headlights, as Pav sunk down his seat trying to stuff even more poha into his mouth, giving the unmistakable impression of the squirrels she likes to feed on her walks.

Gwen shifted around like she would love to be anywhere but here. Maya stared at them, waiting for one of them to explain something about the situation.

It was Pavitr that finally broke the tense silence with a “I’m spiderman, Bua.”

Maya stared some more.

“I’m the kid that’s been swinging around the city, fighting the gundas, the bad guys. I hid this from you, because it wasn’t safe for you to know, so I won't ever be sorry for that, but I'm really sorry for hurting you by hiding a part of who I have become now.” Pavitr looked down at his lap, his voice hoarse like he was trying to not cry and Maya couldn't hold back anymore. She leaned over and hugged Pavitr tight, feeling his sigh of relief as he went limp in her embrace. Maya mostly felt, rather than see, the other two kids leave.

“I love you, beta, I’ll love whoever you are and will be, there is nothing in this world that could make me hate you or love you less.” Maya murmured, petting her nephew’s, no, her son’s hair.

Pavitr’s laugh was the best sound she had heard in months.

***

Pavitr called Miles and gwen back in after 3 minutes of intense embracing. They strolled in looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Maya glaced at the clock. It was hard to believe it had been only 20 minutes since Miles crashed into her kitchen.

“Im really sorry Maya Auntie, but we need to get going, or Miguel will-” Gwen clamped a hand over Miles’ mouth.

“Could you please stop revealing everything to her immediately before Pav’s had a chance to explain to her?”

“Who’s Miguel?” Maya asked.

“He’s like our employer? in a way, Pav can explain better,” Gwen looked pointedly at Pavitr.

Pavitr looked long suffering as he turned heavenwards for strength maybe, or just moral support because he knew Maya was not one for employment before he was an adult. Way too many people out in the world to take advantage of minors and their naivety.

“Miguel is like our organiser, he lets us know when there’s a job to be done, like assigns us on different vil- uhm- people,” Pavitr scratched his neck.

Maya has seen that exact tell since Pavitr was old enough to lie- from getting caught with malai around his lips at age 5 to sneaking gayatri or hobie into his room to turning his face away only months after his uncle, her husband had passed, hiding the tears still streaming down his face- all accompanied by the same scratch of his neck. She knew he was holding something back. “Pavitr, beta, organiser? Tu dallon ke saath kaam karta hai? Aur jobs? Kis tarah ke jobs?”

Pavitr turned red, but continued bravely, “Miguel dalla nhi hai! I mean, ek tarah se hai par, woh hame bas kuch bure logon ko marne bhejta hai aur mujhe toh itna zyaada bhi nahi bhejta, bua, mein baba ka kasam khake bolta hun, mujhe kuchh bhi nahi hua hai,” Pavitr wasn’t looking at her anymore.

Maya was furious. Not at Pavitr, never at him, but this random man, whom she has never met, told her nephew, her son, her baby, got him running around, doing his bidding? No way she was going to stand that. “Marne? Kya matlab? Jaise laat ghusa ya jaan se? Nahi rehne do, jo bhi karwata hai, dallali hi hai. Pavitr, you stay away from that man, and keep your friends away too.”

“I can’t, he is the reason we met in the first place,” Pavitr went on with a voice Maya couldn't quite place.

“What do you mean?”

It was Gwen who spoke up next. “He gave me a place to belong to when my dad was going to arrest me because he thought I- when he thought I k- killed someone dear to both of us, without ever hearing me out, and it is because of him and another woman that I met this bunch of nerds.”

“Are we just forgetting the fact that he also tried to kick you out of the society because I fuuh- ruined some stuff? And you actually were rooming with Hobie?” Miles frowned at Gwen, and it felt like they had had this conversation before and this conversation was going down the exact same route as the previous ones. Pav nodded along, agreeing with Miles.

Maya was furious and lost. “Wait, you were rooming with Hobie? As in Pav’s friend Hobie?” Gwen and Miles nodded. “What society? Why is Hobie associated with it?” She whirled onto Pavitr.

Pavitr shrunk like he wanted to melt into her kashmiri carpet instead of having this conversation, again. “The Spider-Society. A club, kinda, for all the spider people and spider animals and spider objects. Hobie is also spiderman, for their- place, in London. They travel here frequently because they have speciality transport clearance as Hobie’s crew. Well, ex-crew as of some months ago,” Pavitr shrugged. “They still have some perks for travelling, but they stay over sometimes.”

“When did they last come over?” Maya asked, doing some serious math mentally.

“Uhh, Thursday?”

“And what was the last time Gayatri came over?”

“Monday.”

“And what did Gayatri gift you for your birthday?

“A perfume from Versah- oh, shit. Sorry, uh, I'm just, gonna shut up now,” Pavitr blushed so deep, Maya was worried for his heart.

Maybe she should have a talk about boys with him instead.

“We are discussing this later, I want to know what exactly you've been doing with them that requires spraying half a bottle of perfume after they’re gone,” It was Gwen and Miles’ turn to look confused. Maya didn't bother to clarify anything.

“Tell me more about this Miguel dude,” Maya leaned back in her armchair.

“He tried to throw Miles off a train.” Gwen said, looking Miles straight in the eye.

“And sent all the society after him, like two thousand people,” Pav added.

“More like two hundred but go off, I guess,” Miles muttered, avoiding Gwen’s eyes

“Wait, how are you still alive? And how old is he?” Maya asked incredulously. These kids needed better guardians, and she was adopting them immediately. They can't be running around with this Miguel guy without adult supervision-

“He’s maybe thirty three? I’m not sure, Peter would know,” Miles shrugged, forgoing the first question entirely.

“He is an adult? And he tried to throw you, a kid, a child, off a train? I need to meet this guy, maybe have a little talk,” Maya Auntie stood up, fuming.

“What they didn't tell you, that Miguel also put Miles in a cage, so he would be unable to go save his loved ones from certain disaster,” Spoke a familiar British dude on her windowsill, thankfully not on the one with pudina on it. Maya’s favourite friend of Pavitr’s, though she wasn’t sure if friend was the correct word anymore, if it ever was.

“And Auntie, if you really wanna meet dear ol' Miggy, I can take you,” Hobie grinned, holding up a watch that glitched in and out of reality.

Maya missed the terrified looks on Gwen, Miles and Pavitr’s faces as she reached for it.

*****

Part 1 of 2

translation (as always, this is not direct translation, just close enough, or whatever fits better in context) (non direct translation marked with [])(also jsyk, everything is pronounced, exactly the way its written):

beta- son / [means as good as son]( i bet yall have this memorised)

belan- rolling pin

pav bhaji- buttered and toasted buns with curried potatoes and vegetables (as much as it pains me to describe it so, its simplest explanation and i have no patience its nearly 6 in the morning and i haven't slept a wink)

Auntie, kuchh khaane ko hai kya, itni bhook lagi hai, pura imarat khajaun- auntie, is there something to eat, im so hungry, i could eat a whole building

karela bhaji-spiced stir fried bitter gourd (which is very bitter, as you might have guessed, i personally like it, most people hate it)

pudina- mint plants (lmao)

Are- arey?! Aap kaun?- hey! who are you?

beta, khidki se utar jao- child, get down from the window

Dikh raha hai- i can see that

Pavitr beta, baniyan daal ke aa, kitni baar bola hai ladkiyon ke samne nanga mat ghoom- Pavitr dear, ive [literally told you so many times] to not roam about naked in front of girls

Nanga kahan hun main- [how am i naked]

kab sikhenge saaf safai- when will they learn cleanliness

Abhi thik hai- [is this fine?]

didi- older sister (term of respect, usually)

poha- stirfried soaked flat rice flakes and cubed vegetables with spices (again the simplest description)

Bua- aunt, who is the sister of your father (yep hindi has a word for that)

gundas- goons

malai- cream from milk

Tu dallon ke saath kaam karta hai? Aur jobs? Kis tarah ke jobs?- you're working with [ring leaders]? and jobs? what kind of jobs? (bc dalla (dallon- pl.) famously means pimp, but it actually also means 'person who leads extremely questionable stuff')

Miguel dalla nhi hai! I mean, ek tarah se hai par, woh hame bas kuch bure logon ko marne bhejta hai aur mujhe toh itna zyaada bhi nahi bhejta, bua, mein baba ka kasam khake bolta hun, mujhe kuchh bhi nahi hua hai- miguel is not a ring leader! i mean, he is kind of, [but he tells us to deal with bad people, and i don't even get assigned a lot, auntie, i swear on my father, nothing bad has happened to me]

Marne? Kya matlab? Jaise laat ghusa ya jaan se? Nahi rehne do, jo bhi karwata hai, dallali hi hai.- [deal with? as in beating them up? or taking them out?, no stop, i don't want to know, but whatever hes been doing, he is brokering you out, using your services]

kashmiri- [from Kashmir]

A/N:

i havent forgotten miles’ hypocrisy, we’ll definitely come back to that

the reason maya auntie didnt call miles out in the first place is that she doesn't know what is the etiquette for someone coming out as spiderman ( i say it like thats a new category in the alphabet mafia lmao) and she is a desi gossip queen, shes not refusing any source of information about anything (one thing i know that if desi aunties ran intelligence services, we’d all be fucked as hell) , we love her in this household

more seriously tho, family dynamics in india is just on a different plane of existence, and privacy, until like 20 years ago, was a ‘western’ concept, ‘made to weaken the integrity of society’ and as maya auntie is a product of that generation, she doesn't see anything wrong with miles exposing pav like that

i, however, know that is very wrong, and do not endorse or encourage it in anyway, and miles would be getting his sweets bc of that lil moment of breaking trust

it is just plot babyyyy

a little bit of explanation of the employment thing, bc the norm for employment is like 16 right? in india it is 18, or more normally 22, being a third world country, exploitation, generational trama and everything, yk

if there's something that's missing or wrong just lemme know bc im editing this at no sleep in 72 hours, pls don't be shy 💞

[kemsyne]

Wayfarer Week '24 - Turning Point

Celebrating the 3rd anniversary of Wayfarer IF by @idrellegames by having some MC feels.

The Drendes are, by account of several people, the least toxic Vestran aristocratic family.

The oldest memory Damsa has is foggy. A memory of a dream of a memory - she is lying in her childhood bed, sweat-soaked sheets sticking to her skin, and she feels like she is burning up and freezing to death at the same time. And she remembers her mother crying, sobbing, howling into her father’s chest… 

It takes nearly three decades for Damsa to find herself similarly distraught, teeth clenched, hot tears of anger streaming down her face. And the hopelessness, the helplessness, the biting cold loneliness in knowing there is nothing she can do, nothing she could have done, to save those she cares about setting deep into her core.

The Civil War has scarred Vestra, the Spire has fallen, and Damsa is left standing alone, with nowhere to go back to.

She remembers the inside of her father’s coat. Soft silk lining and the smell of his perfume, strong arms lifting her up from the ground, the rumble in his chest when he laughs at exasperated maids who had chased after Damsa out into the fields. Softly scolding words, the underlying worry in his voice as he carries her back to the supposed safety of their summer estate. 

Damsa remembers her older brother telling the tutors he has no idea where his sister is, with a tone and expression far too grim for his years. She remembers the ever so slightly theatrical sigh as he waits for her to finally crawl out of her hiding place in the study, the whisper and smell of parchment as he unrolls old maps and intricately drawn lineage charts on the table.

And her oldest brother, twice her age, nearly a man, sitting with her in a darkened room instead of mingling with the guests in the gardens. Even then Damsa had a nagging feeling it was somehow wrong; that the two of them, both of them, should have been out there with the others. 

She remembers watching his hands weave through the air, disappointment and frustration bleeding into his warm, ever-present smile when the carefully crafted illusions have no effect on her. She remembers him calling her hard to impress, and then performing card tricks, making them appear and disappear from his palms. Damsa remembers the sounds he’d pull from a lyre as fireworks painted the night sky with bright colours outside.

The memory of her mother taking Damsa's hands into her own gloved ones is the last one with her family by blood. Damsa still remembers the rush of excitement as her mother says, I want you to meet someone and think very carefully about their offer. She remembers hanging onto Cenric’s every word.

She remembers her brothers being away that evening, her parents standing in the shadowy arch of the gate as Damsa turns to look at them one last time from her perch on the driver's seat next to the Wayfarer.

She writes to her family. She thrusts the first letter into Cenric's hands as soon as she hears about his plans to make a trip down to Trost. I am well, it says. The Spire is beautiful, and I will be learning from the Grandmaster of the Order themselves. I will continue my studies on history and languages as well. At night, I can see the sky fill up with dancing colours outside my window.

No answer comes but it is a long way from Trost to Vodena, and little need for paper letters to travel it.

The second one is passed on through Varyn when she prepares for a meeting with some Artanian merchants. I am well, it repeats. The Spire is beautiful, and I am studying under the Grandmaster of the Order themselves. I am continuing lessons in history as well as languages and politics too. Everyone speaks mostly Arathian here. I miss hearing Vestran sometimes. I miss Vestran food. I have a friend, his name is Aeran.

No answer comes but not many people have reasons to come to Trost, much less the Spire, and there are many dangers on the way.

The third letter Damsa gets to send herself, after convincing Cenric to take her and Aeran on a small supply run. I am well, it assures. The spring is different here, colder, but the air is so crisp. The Grandmaster has started training me with a sword. My language and history studies are going well. The other Wayfarers have traveled so much, they have so many stories to tell.

No answer comes but Damsa continues writing. She gives the letters to Cenric and Varyn, other Wayfarers leaving the Spire after a respite from their adventures, the innkeep at Trost whenever she gets to accompany Sero going that way.

Every month or two she sends a letter. I am well, they say. I am learning so much. I am getting better at it all. No answer comes, and gradually the letters become shorter, the time between them grows longer and longer.

I am well, they all start. 

I am good with the sword.

I went on my first hunt.

I miss oranges.

I helped take down a dangerous beast.

I am going to accompany Sero on a real job.

I might visit Vestra after graduation.

Your daughter, Damsa, they all end.

But no answer ever comes. Damsa sits to write another letter a year or so after the last one. The quill hangs over the paper but no words come to her, so eventually she slashes across the page - a dark, angry line that rips through at the bottom; and she signs it, in bold letters, Damsa Drende. That is the last letter she ever sends from Spire to Vodena.

Damsa doesn't know it, but all her letters are neatly tucked in an ornate mahogany box, adorned with silver embellishments and a lock. Each one tied with a silk ribbon, edges faded, creases folded and refolded a thousand times. Each one a memory, a story, a map of her journey down a path that should have been, might have been, perhaps was never meant to be someone else's.

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty Five

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi besties <3

As always, the love for this version of them means the entire world. Look, you're going to yell at me a little for this chapter and I deserve it...so please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.1k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily sighs as she rolls onto her back, her hand resting over her eyes as she tries to will herself to fall asleep. She turns her head and looks at the baby monitor and she reaches out to activate the video, smiling sadly when she sees Lily fast asleep. She strokes her finger over the slightly grainy image, no small amount of guilt simmering in her gut as she idly wishes Lily would wake up so she could go and get her from the nursery and snuggle with her. The room had never felt so empty now Lily was sleeping in her room and Aaron was thousands of miles away, the air painfully quiet without her husband’s breathing and the surprisingly loud way a baby slept. 

She felt lonely, something she hadn’t felt since her first kiss with Aaron, his love a constant companion of hers even in the moments they were apart, a warm blanket resting over her shoulders at all times. It feels distant now, as if he’d taken it with him to the other side of the world, packed it up alongside the linen clothes she’d bought him and half her heart, an ache in her chest that seemed ever-present since she’d last seen him over three weeks ago. 

They’d spoken on the phone once in that time, the satellite phone he had both unreliable and crude. They’d exchanged a few emails and she’s sure if the circumstances were different she’d find it romantic, as if they were lovers from another time, kept apart by circumstance but held together by the written word. It doesn’t stop the loneliness that would set in at night. She was used to sleeping without him sometimes because of the nature of his job, but this was different. The further away she got from having seen him the worse she was sleeping. The sheets didn’t smell like him anymore, they just smelt like her.

It makes her feel awful because she isn’t alone. Lily is with her every second she’s not at work, and Jack is with them for half a week at a time, but it’s not the same. She loves her children with every part of her, but she misses the company of her husband, his reassuring smile when Lily didn’t sleep through the night, or how he’d effortlessly make them all breakfast in the morning, the constant lingering scent of burnt toast in the kitchen now she was in charge nowhere to be found.  She misses him, her partner in everything. The way he would know something was wrong just by looking at her, the barriers she’d put in place as a kid non-existent to him, or how a hug from him seemed to fix whatever was wrong, his embrace the safest place she’d ever known. 

She’s about to turn over, to wrap her arms around his pillow and hope that somehow it’s enough to get her to sleep, and then the door is pushed open, Jack’s small frame peeking around it, his hair visibly a mess from the small amount of light filtering in from the hallway. 

“Emily?”

Her heart cracks at the shake in his voice, the obvious tears that she can hear, and she sits up, switching on the light on the nightstand as she does so. She sighs sadly when she sees him, sticky tear tracks painted down his face, his pjyamas rumbled from where he’d been sleeping. 

“Oh, sweet boy,” she says, “What’s wrong?” 

He sniffs and wipes his face, still standing in the doorway, “Bad dream.” 

“Want to tell me what happened?” She asks and he shakes his head fiercely, she smiles sympathetically and pulls the covers back, patting the mattress on Aaron’s side of the bed to encourage him over, “Want to come sit with me for a little while?” 

His response is to jump onto the bed, moving at a speed she’s sure should be impossible for someone of his size, and he’s by her side in seconds, curled up against her with his head on her chest, his hand tangled in the neckline of her t-shirt, “Did you have a bad dream too?”

She runs her hand up and down his back, shifting them so they are laying back down, under no allusion that the little boy was going back to his own bed that night, “No, sweetie, I didn’t.” 

He frowns as he tilts his head to look up at her, “Then why are you awake?” 

She pushes his hair from his forehead and the concerned look on his face, his eyebrows pinched together just like Aaron’s, makes her ache. Aaron always said that Jack looked like Haley, and whilst Emily saw that too all she could see lately was him in the little boy. His facial expressions. His unwavering kindness. His smile. It was almost as if she was seeking out little bits of her husband where she could, keeping them nearby so she could relish in them, both Jack and Lily looking more like him every day.

“I just couldn’t sleep,” she says, kissing his forehead, “But that’s okay.” 

He hums, “You were awake to give me a magic hug.”

She smiles and nods, resting her cheek on the top of his head, “I’ll always be here to do that Jack,” she says, smiling softly as he idly plays with her necklace, his tiny fingers tracing the pendant, a small disk with a lily engraved on it that Aaron had bought her. She thinks he’s fallen asleep, the room quiet again apart from his breathing, until he says her name.

“Emmy?” 

Her smile gets slightly wider at the use of the nickname, something he uses less and less these days, his voice already thick with sleep, “Yes Jack?”

“I miss Daddy.” 

She feels herself get tense, her eyes drifting closed as she blows out a breath, holding him impossibly closer, his small body getting heavier as he falls asleep. 

“Me too, baby,” she says, kissing the top of his head again, “Me too.” 

___

She curses herself for not putting her phone on silent as soon as it starts to ring. She winces to herself and quickly closes the nursery door, not wanting to undo any of the hard work she’d done trying to get her daughter to sleep. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and walks down the stairs as she answers, smiling softly to herself as she sees Penelope’s name on the screen. 

“Pen, hey is everything okay?” 

“I know what you need.” 

She has to stop herself from saying ‘my husband back’ out loud, well aware it would ruin her friend's good mood and she chuckles dryly as she walks towards the living room, “What do I need?” 

“A night out.” 

She chuckles again as she sits down on the couch, shaking her head even though her friend can’t see her, “You’d better not mean tonight.” 

Penelope sighs and Emily can almost picture the look on her face, “JJ and I got talking about it as we were leaving the office, and it’s been a long time-”

“Look, Pen I appreciate the offer,” she says, cutting her friend off before she can carry on, irritation she knows Penelope doesn’t entirely deserve sparking in her gut, “But I have Lily. Remember her? The tiny version of me? You’ve bought her enough tutus I think I could open a ballet school.” 

Emily is sure she can hear JJ in the background. She was always the sensible one, the person who sat between Penelope’s exuberance and Emily’s occasional resistance to it, the middle ground that made their friendship work. She’d rejoined the team when Aaron went to Pakistan, Derek’s temporary promotion to Unit Chief leaving a gap in the team, and despite everything Emily was pleased that she was around more often again. There’s a muffled conversation she doesn’t hear, and she finds herself staring at her wedding picture, the photo Haley had taken for them that day almost a year ago, and she sighs, closing her eyes as her gaze drops to her lap. 

“Can’t someone watch her for a few hours?” 

She scoffs and shakes her head, the spark of irritation catching fire, her friend's well-intentioned meddling the gasoline she’d barely needed.

“Who, Pen? My husband, who is on the other side of the world? My father I don’t talk to? My mother who…” she drifts off and shakes her head, her lips pressed together as she just catches herself before she reveals more than she means to, her mother’s alcoholism something she’d never shared with anyone other than Aaron, “Just…you two have fun, okay? Maybe next time.” 

She hangs up before Penelope can say anything else, or before she herself could say something that would upset her friend. She groans and places her phone down on the couch, her hands over her eyes as she blows out a shaky breath. 

“Damn it,” she grumbles to herself, reaching for the remote to turn on the tv, the silence in the house almost suffocating, and eventually settling on a reality tv show she’d fallen in love with when she was nursing Lily. She walks around the house, doing small chores she’d put off for days, packing away Jack and Lily’s toys as she goes. 

She isn’t sure how much time has passed when she hears a gentle knock on the front door. She walks towards it, very much not in the mood for whoever is there, but grateful that they hadn’t rung the bell and risked waking up Lily. She blows out a steady breath when she looks through the peephole to find Penelope and JJ on her porch. She stands there for a moment, her head resting against the wood as she debates not answering the door at all. 

“We come in peace,” Penelope says, and Emily can’t help but laugh. She shakes her head and opens the door, her eyebrow raised as she looks at her friends. JJ is holding a take-out bag from their favourite Mexican restaurant, and Penelope has three plastic cups full of a frozen drink in a carrier in her hands, her smile mischievous as she lifts them slightly, “Did you know you can get margaritas to go if you hassle the wait staff enough?” 

She sighs and stands back a little, still not moving enough to let them in, “Pen-”

“Look, I realise I went about this the wrong way,” she says, “I thought about it and-” she's cut off JJ clears her throat, her eyebrows raised as she throws Penelope an amused smile when they both look at her. Penelope rolls her eyes and looks back at Emily, “Fine, JJ told me off for getting too excited and not thinking everything through - and we brought girl's night to you.” 

She presses her lips together and swallows thicky, uncertainty still swirling through her. She twists her wedding rings around her finger and she shrugs half-heartedly, “I don’t know if I’m that much fun to be around at the moment.” 

Penelope frowns like that’s the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard, “Peaches, you’re our friend. We want to be around you all the time.” 

“And,” JJ says from behind Penelope, winking at Emily, “We brought churros.” 

She can’t help but smile and she shakes her head, sighing playfully as she steps back, finally giving them enough room to let them past her, “Fine,” she says, smiling wryly, “But next time lead with the churros.” 

They set up in the dining room, eating their dinner from the containers so she wouldn’t have to worry about dishes afterwards, and for a moment it feels normal. Emily can ignore that she hasn’t seen her husband in weeks, that she feels his absence like a physical ache. Instead, she laughs with her friends, all of her focus on the stories about the team that they fill her in on, both JJ and Penelope always happy to act as if nothing has changed. As if it was two years ago and they were asking her all sorts of questions about her relationship with Aaron that she refused to answer until she was several tequilas deep. 

She’s grateful for them, for the family she’d found in the most unlikely of places. The family she’d found right when she needed them the most. 

She’s about to suggest that they move to the living room when she hears Lily cry from upstairs and she smiles apologetically at them, “I’m going to go check on her,” she says, standing up, “I’ll meet you guys in the living room?” 

They both nod in response and she heads upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. When she makes it into Lily’s nursery the 10-month-old is standing up in her crib, supporting herself with her hands on the bars, and she’s crying loudly, her face bright red with it.

“Oh sweetheart,” Emily says, reaching into the crib and lifting her up, pressing a kiss to her dark hair as she settles her on her hip, “What’s wrong huh? I know you’re not hungry,” she says, pacing back and forth a little, sniffing the air slightly as well as patting the baby’s bottom to check it was dry, “And you don’t need a diaper change,” she tilts her head to look at her, smiling when Lily almost chases her embrace, her face pressed into her mother’s neck as she grips onto her tightly, “Oh, I see. You just wanted Mommy?” She kisses her cheek and smiles, her heart warming when Lily starts to calm down, her smile already breaking past her sadness now she has Emily’s attention, “Mommy’s friends are here, shall we go say hi?” 

She talks quietly to Lily as she heads back downstairs, humming along to the babbling that her little girl does almost all the time now, so close to actually speaking that Emily simply did her best to encourage it. She both wanted to hear her daughter’s voice and for Lily to wait until Aaron came home, the thought of him missing out on it almost too much for Emily to bear. She smiles as she joins her friends in the living room, bouncing Lily on her hip as she tries to get her to smile.

“We have another one for girl's night,” she says, her smile getting wider as her friends both gush over the baby, always acting like it had been forever since they’d seen her, like Emily didn’t almost constantly share photos of her with the team. 

“Hi Lily,” Penelope says, reaching out for her hand, smiling when Lily grabs two of her fingers, her grip tight, “You’re the youngest member of our little gang,” she says, raising her eyebrow at her friends as she sits back, taking a sip of her drink, “For now.”

Emily rolls her eyes and sits down, making sure Lily is secure on her lap, well aware that she’d likely fall asleep again soon, “My husband is currently on another continent, Pen,” she says, sounding more playful than she feels, “You’ll have to at least wait until he gets back before you start planning for me to have baby Hotchner number 3.” 

Undeterred, Penelope’s smile only gets wider, “But you are planning on having more?” She asks, her excitement clear, “Because JJ never gives me a straight answer on if she and Will are having another one and I need another BAU baby to spoil.” 

Emily catches JJ’s eye briefly, and she sees a flash of something. It’s a moment that passes by quickly and she decided to file it away for later, a conversation she wasn’t sure how to start right now. 

“Definitely,” she says, running her fingers through Lily’s hair, smiling when her little girl looks up at her, “Have you seen how cute she is? It would be a waste if we didn’t,” she smiles at Lily, “Would you like that, baby? If Mommy and Daddy made you a big sister one day?” She tickles the baby, drawing her sweet laugh out of her, ignoring how she can feel Penelope and JJ staring at her, fascinated by this side of her that they rarely got to see, “I know Dada would.” 

“Dada!” 

They all fall silent, and Emily briefly thinks she’s imagined it. Her smile slips off her face and she looks up at her friends, and thats all it takes for her to know they’ve heard it too. “Did she…” 

JJ moves closer, one of her hands on Emily’s shoulder, squeezing comfortingly as she leans over her and picks up the wedding picture from the side table. She puts it in Lily’s line of sight as she removes her hand from Emily’s shoulder to point at Aaron in the picture. 

“Who’s that Lily?” JJ asks, her voice soft and encouraging, “Is that Dada?”

“Dada!” Lily says again, grasping at the picture before JJ can move it out of reach, not wanting Lily to accidentally drop it and then hurt herself. 

“Good job, Lil’ Peaches!” Penelope says, her enthusiasm clear, her tone matching JJ’s.

Emily barely reacts, her eyes fixed on her daughter as the baby smiles widely at the encouragement, clapping her hands together as she mirrors JJ. She feels like she’s underwater, her eyes watering as she tries to live in the moment, to enjoy one of her daughter’s firsts, but it’s muted. The colour of it dulled by Aaron’s absence, and she takes a moment to grieve the way she’d imagined this. Both of them huddled together with their little girl, one full of glee that she’d said their name first and the other pretending they were upset when they were nothing less than proud of their baby girl.

She blows out a shaky breath and smiles, pulling herself out of it, forcing herself back into the present as she lifts Lily from her lap, peppering her face with kisses before she hugs her close, breathing in the scent of her. 

“Good job, baby,” she says, clearing her throat to ignore the shake to her voice, smiling gratefully at JJ when she places her hand on her knee without saying anything, the slight squeeze she gives to the joint saying everything it needed to, “Mommy is so proud of you,” she kisses the side of Lily’s head again, “Daddy is too.” 

She wondered how she’d tell him this, how she’d break the news that he’d missed something he’d so desperately wanted, and not for the first time since he’d left she regrets ever encouraging him to go. 

-x-

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[aceofthegreenajah]

wot reread status: made it to baerlon.

Everything past the first trollocs showing up until they were over the river was just so good. Really good. I didn’t want to stop reading. After things calmed down I’m not tearing through the book anymore, but I’m still having a good time.

I mostly really like being in Rand’s head in this part. He’s scared and scrambling and feeling alone and helpless. He’s scared about Tam, worried for Egwene. Sometimes he’s a bit of a brat - has stupid arguments and such - but it’s still understandable.

Egwene starts off by not believing them about why they’re leaving, and coming along and having a good time when the boys are terrified. And that Rand still handles very gracefully - he’s a little frustrated, but mostly just scared for her.

And then she starts her journey to become Aes Sedai, when we’ve had a lot of emphasis on how people see them as not much better than trollocs. That’s much harder for him to swallow, but he starts getting over that by the time they make it to baerlon.

So it takes him a few days - so what? He’s been told these horrible stories about Aes Sedai all his life, and Moiraine hasn’t exactly been all sunshine and roses. She has saved them - but very much for her own purposes.

Also do we think he actually lost that trolloc who came out of the window after him naturally, or was there channeling involved? I don’t have a physical book in front of me so I can’t go and check it now, but knowing how well trollocs in general smell and hear that sounds very lucky. I know the Bela thing is at the very least channeling, but do we know if that was his first time?

Rambling about some book/show differences below.

The book does linger a lot in how much people hate Aes Sedai - I didn’t count, but there have been at least four scenes I can think of where it’s been emphasized. And probably half a dozen more where it’s been mentioned, like when we’re told what whitecloaks are about and that tear hates everything to do with channeling.

It’s not that the show didn’t show it at all - my spouse caught it and he has 0 knowledge of the books. But, well, they showed it by a) one scene at the inn; b) one scene with Nynaeve who has a reason to hold a grudge; c) the ferryman mentioning it in a tense situation just before he dies; d) Rand opposing Moiraine.

(I know this is not an exhaustive list - for example, the attitude towards Aes Sedai is shown also by how Moiraine is greeted in Fal Dara, where they assume she’s just there to meddle. But these are in the first few episodes where it’s the most important to establish.)

So if you’re not a book reader who knows to pay attention, I do see how you’d think ‘this is just Rand being whiny’. Especially if you already love Moiraine, doubly if you’re the kind of watcher who does other stuff at the same time and might miss subtleties as a result.

It might have worked a bit better if there were adults, or just more people, raising worries about Moiraine in the show. There is the one scene with the parents, but it’s just them talking, not people trying to drive them out of the village like in the books. (Even if it was just a couple of people.) So it doesn’t seem as serious.

But then, unless you want to make one of the important characters - like Tam or someone - a lot more anti-Aes Sedai than in the books, you’d need a new speaking part for it. And more runtime, for a scene that ultimately leads nowhere. So in the end I think they did it pretty much as well as they could.

Random other differences: I really like that Mat didn’t do the stupid Pippin thing in the show, immediately talking about things they less than an hour ago were told to not even think about. The scene in the baths made me want to facepalm. I do like Mat in the show a lot more in general than book-1 Mat.

Whitecloaks are introduced as - well, as a gang in the books. While in the show Valda is immediately unsettling and terrifying. Might have more thoughts about that later, but for now they’ve barely been mentioned.

I didn’t remember Baerlon is currently full of miners from the mountains! So the mining town in the show might be inspired by that, unless it’s something that’s on the later Rand/Mat roadtrip that I’ve forgotten. Probably a combination.

[za-baransu]

brushes his hair to keep it pretty

There is something particular about memories combined with sounds and sensations. With smells and visuals. Something that could trigger them at any moment when only the mind was so willing to overcome a barrier placed without acknowledgement of its invisible construction. Something buried deep within jumbled thoughts, like the end of a maze found when getting lost while running further and further without any want and need to find the true end of it all. It was perhaps a place to leave something there. To place a secret, a treasure, where none could truly find it, where none were supposed to, none allowed to be aware of it - a little gem in a little box - but if one were to truly think about, this small secret could encompass it all.

Something wonderful. Or something horrible.

Sometimes, it would be enough to break it all down within that gentle movement of hands through fine and barely tangled hair. With fingertips parting ways in those endless waves of fine and shimmery tresses, slowly, as if to make sure that no discomfort would befall him where he knew none would ever be able to find him. It was a peculiar way of interacting with him: to catch the Quincy in that moment of wanted dissociation from the world and everybody around them, just for those few little instances that could drag an ever-turning, ever-churning mind of attention away from whatever order he had yet to fulfil, while artfully crafting that very picture of white noise - in the way hands would grasp for a strand again and again. In the way the chosen brush would glide through it, attentively making sure not a single spot would be missed.

It is a sound everybody knew. It is a sort of white noise that could quell whatever tumultuous and tempestuous idea would rummage through his thoughts and allow a margin of calm to befall him. It is a sound one might yet want to learn how to describe without the obvious, and one Jugram had grown quite fond of over the years he had allowed Lovek to be as close as this to him.

And it was a sound that triggered a found little recollection of something similar. Burnt out into barely of a shape, a bare reminder of a form somewhere in the depths of his memory, a fleeting little glimpse of a past that should be closed off and hidden. Forgotten as it was; for nothing like this were to ever come back. It rages a picture of a burning forest, a burning little town in the middle of nowhere when only ever his history had repeated itself and the Grandmaster's reaction to it all had been just as empty, just as devoid as the sheer abundance of anger boiling in another forlorn one's face the very night it had happened. It were two memories, now that it had settled on drawing it all out.

Both burning. Both screaming. One was older than the other. [ one was his dearest friend's village? the other was his own---? ] He had seen and thought and felt that before, this anger - but it was not there anymore.

Now? Now when his head would shake for a bit in trying to rid himself of the strain put under for holding so still, so unknowingly still under mild and careful ministrations, it was enough for him to breathe out a laugh.

What a weird thing to happen at that moment, underneath bright skies, shimmering in clear blues. Sitting here in the castle's courtyard, amongst lush greens and verdant, bright and untouched by servants who had not yet come to disturb them both. " Having fun? " It was a mild little display of a realisation that Lovek had begun humming a tune of - at least as much as he was able to bring up the want to recall - a song played at one of the balls only days prior. Something he had found rather discordant and loud, yet for one of his closest ones, it had struck a fancy. Ah, he would not deny such [ his Majesty had said the same if he recalls? ]. Merely making to turn his head for just a bit, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow.

He could see the smile. Hear the laugh. It was easy to realise that despite what his companion had set out to do, desirable had been something else. But who could truly wonder about it? He had listened to the servants here and there whispering and murmuring about their desires to get their hands on him for once, to adorn his hair with bejewelled accessories, to mayhaps braid it - just like the Emperor's aide had done so now in numerous little interlinked and interloped creations. One more bold and bigger than some of the others, now all that may be left for a finishing touch, was to fasten the cascade of hair with a silken thread.

No missing awareness that this was the next wish, and nothing more but a sigh would leave him when Lovek's work had been done. So much for just wishing to brush his hair, but who was he to complain? Thus do hands find his caregiver's; a brush of fingertips in regard to feeling whatever intricately conducted masterpiece now set to embellish his form and in a sense? Yes, there was a breaking, a burning, knowledge that something like this had been his everyday occurrence so many - such uncountable - years ago.

But it does not matter, anymore. " Thank you. I appreciate it. " @adenial 💕

[aafrillia]

DAY 3: A MEMORY

Talking about memory, means we're referring to past events that stay in our mind, either short-term or long-term. It's said memory or something we remember in the past is often reconstructed based on various factors such as emotions, context, and our current state of mind. That's why people sometimes remember the same event differently.

You see, humans are forgetful, but somehow we can recall long-forgotten memories by something that relates to those memories such as smell, song, place, or anything. Certain memories just pop up out of nowhere. Interesting, right?

Well then, let's get into my childhood memory when I was in my grandparents' care. I think I was 4 or 5 when my parents opened their business which got them so busy that they decided to ask for grandma's and pa's help to take care of the ol' me. I remember, I hated it so much when my dad sent me to my grandparents' house. I basically threw a tantrum every morning because I didn't want to go, LOL.

BUT, despite the whole ordeal, my grandma and gramps always got me cheered up again. They would let me follow them around and play all day, sometimes bribed me with snacks so I would stop crying, haha. By all means, grandma and gramps are the most loving and amazing people in my life. They taught me a lot when I was just so little.

I got to enjoy how fun it was to take care of the farm with gramps. He always took me to the farm to help him with his vegetables, especially during harvest season. I remember I was so excited when he let me collect ripened cucumber with him. It's one of the memories I cherish a lot and can't forget.

With grandma, I became a little maid with a long list of chores in my hand. I wasn't forced to do them all though, because grandma knew how to encourage me to do the chores willingly. I'm so grateful for her because without her I will never get to experience the joy of doing chores which I don't seem to get in my age now (sad). Obviously, I learnt a lot about household things from her such as doing laundry, mopping, sweeping, cooking, doing the dishes, and other stuff. Among those, I enjoyed doing laundry and cooking a lot.

I remember grandma and I cooked on a traditional stove, so we gotta collect woods first before cooking. I was in charge of the fire, so I had to make sure the fire wasn't too big or too small when cooking by putting the woods in or out of the stove. I'm not gonna lie it was scary to be near the fire, but the process of cooking foods on that conventional stuff made it worth it and fun.

Sharing my memories with them here gets me nostalgic and yearning at the same time. I miss my grandma and gramps dearly. I will never forget their loves and sacrifices for me. I pray that they rest in peace. Aamiin.

[the-firebird69]

If they ship left from Antarctica the ice cap would be gone if Tommy F was down there people would know about it by now but I'm saying is that I think their ships are there they haven't left her out yet because of the machine will retrieve them and put them in the machine and the embeds are probably a simple reverse or versus and everybody's chasing your tail and the machines are gigantic computers much bigger than you would think and those storms over America where nowhere near big enough and there's no evidence of that massive amount of ice melting and being put back the contours are not that much different and there's mountains and things it would be gone

Zues Hera

He says he seems to get people to look into it and you're all a bunch of dead meat here and he's slowly figured it out and he can't get you out of the way and Dave is still here and his computer still here and he's killing you to escape like he used to and your massive fools for the clans massive massive fools

Mac Daddy

There's another group of people here who are going after animals that are wild and dangerous killing them and bring them home and the animals kill you and take off and they kill people who mess with them as soon as seeing if you in the past and they don't bother him one of them came up to him what's with someone and put his teeth on his hand and our son dropped back and the Wolf understood something not going to hurt you and I want you to see it and he said it back and our son bowed a little and he walked away and that was what the wolf wanted he felt great the whole day then he looked at these idiots and said you're not doing a damn thing for me just holding me here and treating me like a dog and he heard you chuckling and he said what's so funny because of what's down below and they're big and a lot of things get killed so I'm stuck here he said yeah I guess so you got to make the best of it I'm stuck here too looks he says that's how big you are it's a big surprise and he says it says no way and I have cousins who are green and that's what I'll call you gray wolf so he looks around and says I think that's my name and people started calling him that and he's going around today saying it he's a great wolf and he's the alpha and tons of people said it and it was fun but this is not fun here it smells like poop everywhere it's better than bugs and they're down below and they're trying to get rid of them no we are and get rid of a lot of them he says huge streams to them go by him sometimes and they're quiet they said he's seen them and they're like four inches and we did see it happen and they do kill them quick and they eat them out and they get a little bigger than smaller but it's annoying but they do kill them and they said they're nasty and says that's horrifying I saw a big one and his eyes are beautiful and I do understand that and then I smacked him someone that was not visible and the leaves hit its face and stuck and the leader of the warlock or corks he knows about it so he found him one day and he said it's my brother but it's my nephew and we looked and it was there he said what is that thing he said I'm safer here like right behind the house you said there's probably a bunch of them out there so we look now with equipment and he said this is incredible and so he wants to stay here and there are dinosaurs out there too dinosaurs down there so her son says Trump and company are in New Zealand and people say stuff's missing and they think it went to Antarctica and that's where the mega computer is and they don't think Tommy f is there and they went down and they didn't see anything but it's a very huge hole and now people are going to go there

Thor Freya

Wow that's hell this is hell

Mac

Olympus

This is great it's my home and I was sitting on it and it's huge and they were using me now I'm going to get back at them and Ken is horrified says he's not doing anything is a fat lazy slob it's got a combo there and it's starting to see it and they are doing something and it's starting to become too late

Hera

[sweetsummercashmere]

King of the Navy

(Photo Credit: Source Pinterest, Author is 1975SlidesN_0002, Accessed November 29th 2023, link: https://pin.it/72TEa0L)

Orion

“King of the Navy”

(Schedule)

6:00am Wake up, Smoothie, Morning Jog.

Waking up late is for those who make it nowhere. I need to remind myself daily of the burden I could become. The burden that drags down my family. But no, I wake up, fight the weak feelings that pull me back to the warmth of my pillow, and walk to the kitchen. Make my smoothie.

“Spinach, raspberries, protein mix, water, and ice”.

Leaves me hungry but I cannot give up, pain is temporary, I remind myself this every second I feel restless. For every weak point I remember the moments my family found out my mom passed. When dad took up drinking, and missed work daily. Those moments motivate me.

I jog up the hill I used to sled down in the winters, and through my whole neighborhood.

7:00am Wake up dad for Work, have a Protein Bar.

Although I shouldn’t have to wake him up, I do it regardless, because we're family. I remember when he would wake up before I did, make mom breakfast, and drive us to school before heading to work. He was so motivated, I can’t become him, the world keeps moving.

After my runs, I do have a Clif Bar, gotta get the calories from somewhere. Can’t pass out from low iron anymore, it can be hard though, to keep up my energy, I put out too much the doctor says but I don’t take in enough.

7:30am Prayers for Iris, Pers, and Dad.

Everyday, I make prayers for my family. Things can be rough with handling my relationships to each of them, but I always remind myself of what we all had to deal with. And that mom would want us to get along. Mostly, I pray for Iris. She’s always in her room, on her phone, I yell at her sometimes to even get out of bed for dinner, I want her outside, doing normal teenage things. It hurts even more as dad always says she’s just like her mother. So I pray that Iris can be good again, to be that rainbow of sunshine she used to be, and get off whatever poetic app she’s stuck on.

7:45am Gym

8:30am Shower and Morning Routine.

Cold showers only. It helps the blood circulate, for your mind to wake up, and to push yourself to do things you're uncomfortable with. It’s almost like an exposure therapy ordeal.

After showers, I shave, and spray on my cologne. I like this one my mom got me years ago called “Jazz Club” from Replica. One time our family went shopping, and Pers tried on every perfume in Sephora, and while I was waiting, I went and smelled that one, and I loved it alot. Without even telling her, mom noticed it made me smile, and saved up for me to get it for Christmas. I’ll always remember how much she noticed the little things, it was so special.

I only spray it once per day, it’s almost gone and I think it’s a waste to buy something so expensive when dad can barely afford the house anymore. But the smell takes me back. Back to that Christmas, it's the one thing that hasn’t changed since she passed, I like that it's still.

(Photo Credit: Source: Fragrantica, Accessed December 1st 2023, link: https://www.fragrantica.com/perfume/Maison-Martin-Margiela/Jazz-Club-20541.html)

9:00am Work at the Lumber Yard

5:00pm Make Dinner, and Read Before Bed.

9:45pm Music

Before I go to bed I listen to music to calm down, this night I listened to “Summer” by BROCKHAMPTON, one of my current faves, great for my morning jogs too, motivation to live the best day you can, I always have to be keep moving, I can’t stand still, I never will.

[thcophagy]

pressure seemed to be his biggest problem. everything felt so incredibly heavy, the weight of every possible choice weighing down on him like a ton of bricks, making it impossible to make any decision. if that girl had gone ahead and kissed him, at least that was one less decision to make, his first kiss had been taken care of and whether it was good or bad no longer truly mattered. he was still waiting for that moment, and the pressure of making it something good and memorable had made it entirely undesirable to pursue. fern's words were able to actually penetrate him past the usual level of basic acknowledgement, he would always take what she said to heart but actually believing anything she said when it came time for him to tell it to himself was much harder to stomach. this way, he didn't have any defences up, he couldn't tense and hide himself from the truth of the matter which was maybe he wasn't the inadequate loser he so often made himself out to be. admitting that meant having to unlearn so many truths about himself he had decided upon, not because others had proved them true but because he had labelled them as such. a whole lifetime of turning himself into an outcast because he believed he was too broken to ever be seen as something good. well, even though it was her job, if fern believed he was worth something, he had to try and believe it too. she wasn't a liar, she was kind and smart and funny, she made him laugh when he felt like crying, she was the single most wonderful person he knew and surely a person that good could tell whether or not the people around them were good too. all of a sudden, like something out one of his dreams, he felt a hand against his hair and he let out a small sigh of contentment. people had played with his hair before, predominantly while trying to work out how to cut it or rid it of its tendency to knot, but never so tenderly. any bubbling feeling od self-loathing melted away, leaving him once again in that sweet, peaceful place, only this time he could feel fern there with him. her hand in his hair, the smell of her perfume wrapping around him like a warm winter coat, she was nowhere and yet everywhere too. his hips shifted at the feeling of a hand around his own, it wasn't a bold movement, so subtle it was possible to miss altogether but that feeling had returned once more, the one that tempted him to think about things he knew were wrong. it didn't help that fern was so close, speaking so sweetly to him about all the affection he was one day going to receive. maybe he did deserve to be touched, he just hadn't found the right person to do it yet. "sometimes i think about what would have happened if she did kiss me." arlo spoke after what felt like a long while of silence. "most of the time it ends in the doorway and i go back home, but sometimes she invites me back in and we go up to her room." it felt like the right thing to confess to for some reason, or it did when he followed that twitch of interest growing in his lower stomach. "it made me feel bad to think about her in that way, but sometimes i couldn't help it. she'd kiss me more and then let me take off her shirt, and after that i'd have to stop thinking about it because it would get too much."

even without directly asking, fern was able to infer that arlo lacked a great deal of romantic experience. surely he would’ve mentioned something about any past flings or exes should they have existed, and yet nothing of that sort had ever come up before, so she could only assume. the cure to his anxiety wasn’t hiding between the legs of the right girl, but a genuine relationship might help him in the confidence department. knowing arlo, though, he would be the type to tie his self worth to the opinion of another, and a bad break up could potentially crush him, so perhaps it was for the best that he’d been unlucky in love. “yeah? well that’s ok, scared is normal. it’s an intimidating thing, right? your first kiss? there’s a lot of pressure there.” she’d gone ahead and assumed that would’ve been his first kiss, and he could correct her if she was off base. “but everything seems scary before you try it, doesn’t it? maybe if you would’ve done it then, you would’ve seen it wasn’t all that scary. or maybe not… it’s just something to think about.” hearing him elaborate further on his thoughts regarding the girl's feelings, fern felt a pang of sadness twisting in her gut, only able to imagine the all-consuming loneliness that came along with believing yourself to be wholly undesirable. he couldn’t plausibly see any reality in which a pretty high school girl might’ve wanted to kiss his teenage self, but from the perspective of a former teenage girl, fern was certain that assumption was nothing but a fabrication produced by his own insecurity. “how do you know that for certain, though? all you know is what was going through your own head, but you have no idea what she thought about you. i know you think you know these things for a fact, but you don’t. we need to work on your ability to accept that what you perceive to be ‘reality’ may not actually be objective reality. does that make sense?” when it came to most aspects of his life, arlo could be so uncertain, and yet when it came to his beliefs about his own value, or lack thereof, he was so steadfast. “i bet you did change her opinion of you. maybe she wasn’t willing to jump your bones or anything, but you said she didn't wanna be near you when you first started tutoring her, right? and in the end, she gave you a hug of her own free will. you didn’t ask her for one, she did it because she wanted to. she didn’t like you at first just because she didn’t know you, but once she got to know you, she liked you. at least a little, at least enough to hug you.” her chest was aching in response to him describing the way the hug had made him feel, brows drawn together in concern as she tried to calculate which approach would give him the proper reassurance he needed right now. “it’s not impossible,” she insisted. “you have so many likable qualities! honestly, the only reason you’re not a beloved public figure by now is because you’re too scared to let anyone close enough to see who you really are.” unable to help herself, fern got up from her chair and crossed over to the couch he was laid out across, crouching down beside him as she studied his facial features while his eyes were still closed. after a moment, she reached out and softly stroked a hand from his forehead up through his curls. touch wasn’t a part of hypnotherapy she’d even incorporated before— she tried to keep physical contact in general to a minimum with her patients— but it’s clearly what arlo needed in the moment. “it will. eventually, you’ll be getting so much affection from someone, you won’t even be able to remember any one hug or kiss. it’ll just be a constant, it’ll be the norm. there’s still so much time for you to get everything you deserve…” the hand that wasn’t stroking his hair grasped one of the hands he had resting on his chest, giving it a comforting squeeze.