#the theme is again. DISFUNCT.

[visceraspit]

i used to be like " why are the sims houses so mismatched these homes look so bad" but then i started looking at zillow and by god they're charging Above market value for this shit look at this garbage

and just for fun: what is this.

what. the fuck is this.

i dont even know where this is in its respective house i shit you not i have NO idea

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: yes…Virgin!Gale + Maureen/Gale bonding

Universe: Friends in the Crucible (pacific au)

Summary: “Get laid, Buck.” Doc Egan prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve your jitters better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

Warnings: all the sex! 18+.|| both tender and feral || Doc Egan being a unorthodox but loving menace, a theme of ptsd and body tremors/insomnia -poor Gale is going through it after a whole war, drug mentions, erectile disfunction, Maureen is aggressive but everything’s consensual, usage of the word “Jap”. Graphic descriptions of Gale’s virginity loss, male overstimulation and an amusing amount of thought given to Bucky’s existence during the act … im sure that won’t lead to anything when Maureen returns to base and reports to Egan about it, right? Hahaha of course not, that would be craaazy

Word count: 10k

“Buck, come on now, it’s not a prison sentence, it’s just a little time off.”

“I don’t need time off.” Gale reiterated, a panicked sort of fierceness creeping into his tone as his appeal now stretched into something longer than the usual flippant favors Egan was customarily so eager to dole out.

“Those hands suggest ya do.” John gave a not unkind glance of sympathy at the twitching fingers rattling on the armrests of Cleven’s chair.

12 rescue missions in 15 days. Flying upwards of ten hours each. He’d done worse before, but then again, that had been when he was fresh, younger, less banged up from the head hitting the cockpit wall.

“Sending me to go watch flamingos and contemplate sand or some shit isn’t gonna make me steadier.” Gale very much feared his gripes were beginning to sound like begs, “Don’t send me off like this. Don’t.”

“Petrified of flamingos?” John hummed, glancing down at his chart as if contemplating making a note of this new malady, “Maybe if your dad had taken you to a zoo once or twice as a kid you’d not be scared stiff of the prospect.”

Cleven stared back at him with the most hurt eyes John had ever seen. He balled his own fist up to remember the rightness of his point, even if he’d delivered it about as clumsily as a marriage proposal at a funeral. “The hell would you say something like that?” Buck whispered, not even angry, just utterly lost.

“Buck, I’m just sayin’ -inability to slow or be alone, it’s classic symptoms of battle fatigue.”

“I don’t wanna sit on a beach when I could be helping, I’m perfectly capable of still helping! You know it!”

“But you can’t sleep.” John circled back to where this all began, with Gale asking if there was anything to knock a fella out when 82 hours of insomnia wasn’t sufficiently exhausting.

“Give me something, you’re a doctor! Goddamnit, John!” Gale finally broke, voice raising and fists clenched.

“Surgeon, technically.” John gave him a wane smile, “And I can’t dope up an active pilot.”

“Just an active surgeon.” Gale sneered, tit for tat on the insults.

John nodded grimly but murmured, “The day Gale Cleven becomes John Egan is a day this whole operation can pack up and go home.”

“So you're being the better man,” Gale scoffed, “-sending me to watch flamingos.”

“I’m not givin’ you shit.“ he confirmed, “Unless it’s an assignment.”

“Will it keep me outta the flak asylum?”

“If you comply to all the regulations, maybe.” Egan shrugged.

“Go on?”

“Get laid, Buck.” his friend prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve you better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

“That’s your ultimatum?”

“No, no, my ultimatum is that you go on a little sabbatical with one of my nurses, she’ll keep an eye on you and you can make yourself useful, helping her unload heavy shit at the aid station they’re setting up at Peleliu. My recommendation is that when she comes into your room at the end of the day and drops her knickers, you lay back and think of Wyoming.”

Major Cleven had thought of a million and one ways to bribe or ally the prospective nurse to his side of the deal once he knew which unfortunate female Egan was going to pick for this deplorable detail. Calling his friend a pimp and a bastard had done little good, threatening malpractice and a hardness of heart towards Gale’s own principles -even less. So Gale figured when the time came he’d just gently turn the well meaning comfort gal away and maybe pay her off to lie that they’d done it: for his hand’s sake.

After all, if she was willing to do this, was she even a nurse or was she someone Bucky dressed up in Red Cross arm bands like some sleazy fantasy? Gale didn’t think any of the nurses he’d encountered would be willing to go along with such a sordid “assignment.” Sure, some of them were -carefree. Indulgent. Easy, as the men sometimes called them before getting a stinging cheek that proved them wrong. But they were a proud bunch and they had earned it.

Rolling a toothpick in his cheek, Buck pondered these things while sat on the bench of a Goony Bird waiting for his nurse to hop into the cargo hold with him and off they’d go to Pelilu. The situation was made worse by the suspense of who it might be and the insulting foreignness of being on a plane but not piloting. It made Gale feel an odd sort of feeling close to self pity that he hadn’t felt in ages, not since he was a kid and the nostalgia of it wrung him out of all energy. He made himself sit on that metal bench motionless as the heat index rose on the tarmac and made up a fun little game involving trying to see if he could get his hands to stop tremoring for five seconds straight.

So far he’d lost his own wager each time. He told himself if he could make it to five seconds then the nurse Bucky had sent would be a gray haired matron and this really was just a sabbatical to lift boxes and breathe ocean air and get Gale to laugh at himself.

Then Maureen Kendeigh climbed into the hold and squeezed past their cargo of medicine crates and plopped down right next to him, leg bumping his and breathing like a race horse. “I have jogged here the entire way from administration.” she wheezed, tugging at the collar of her shirt where her glistening throat was bobbing in thirst. “Sorry I’m so late, Major. Am I late?”

It could have been Bucky sat next to him: the choice of phrasing was so familiar, the damnable ability to force forgiveness for tardiness with a single smile so predictable. Gale found dread knotting his stomach at the realization it would be her, even as a warmth spread all over him at her sweet presence that had the odd effect of steadying his hands despite the panicked fuzz of his brain at her proximity.

Oh he didn’t want this. No, no, no. He’d like to think of Maureen very much apart, apart from anything but her heroism, not her wide spread stance on the bench beside him or the idea of her dropping her knickers and making him think of Wyoming. He preferred her very much not attainable in the deeper ways and very much not what he saw himself with when all this was over. Whatever she and Doc Egan had was between them and he’d held it up like a shield to keep himself in check, a boy's code of honor about not encroaching on his friend’s girl. Even if said friend didn’t have the decency to make said girl “his” girl.

But to have Maureen dished up to him on a platter by John when John must have suspected some of Gale’s appreciation for her professional merits -it was somehow worse than any dressed up floozy or the easy new intern. He’d not be able to pay Maureen off without insulting her. Or outing Egan’s intent. Maybe she didn’t know. What if Gale spilled the beans and she was as harmless as himself? What if—

“God, Major, did you sleep at all?” Maureen’s steady fingers were gripping his expressionless face and suddenly turned him towards her, one thumb swiping a tender crescent in his under eyes.

Gale’s eyes seemed to forget blinking was a thing, they grew wide and stayed wide at her inspection and the sandy wind blowing in from the tarmac stung at them as they dried out. “No,” he found his voice and it came out more winded than hers, “you’re not late.” he lied.

Once they get to the island, touchdown and unload, there’s then three hours of driving around the pitted old warzone to the aid station. There’s more foliage the more they go, less mortar pitted earth, but the increasing tropical paradise surroundings put Gale on edge. Maureen drives them to their unexplored destination as confident and recklessly as Bucky would, little surprise there. Gale can’t help glancing at her with unabashed amusement for the way she keeps her pistol propped on top of the steering wheel with one grip, facing out like a top turret for their hood, while keeping the map balanced on her thigh.

He cradles his own BAR with loose arms, ready to use it. Sure they secured the island months ago, but still, not infrequently some Jap comes out of his hiding hole, a cave, or whatever fucking tree he resides in and surrenders. Or, conversely, some of them have charged with guns blazing or sword drawn, deciding to go out and a bang of glory and take with them whichever hapless American happens to be nearby. That Emperor worship shit ain’t happening on on Gale’s watch, and so Maureen gets to drive -she didn’t have to beg like that, he was going to let her- and he shoulders the duty of keeping his eyes peeled for the next bush becoming animate and running at them, pulled pin grenade in hand.

“Some relaxation.” he jokes as their jeep lurches into another crater. If it’s not the bomb pits it’s the massive roots crawling over the smashed earth the Marine Corps call a road.

“It’s a reverse strategy!” she informs, grin wide as a shark’s and Gale could almost draw a little pencil mustache above that top lip and pretend it’s Bucky torturing him thus -hey, that might be a good mode of thought to keep everything strictly professional- “Like when nothing else works, you kick the broken thing.” Gale politely ignores the urge to argue about being broken, that’s not her point… he hopes, “You’re all shook up,” she goes on, voice raised to be heard over the rev of her driving, “and calm hasn’t worked, so why not shake you up worse?!”

He squints at her, fully aware he isn’t being chummy like she is trying to be, knowing he’s being a stick in the mud but he’s dying under the uncertainty, chafing under the pretense. Does she know? Or does she not? Five times today he’s resisted the urge to slap her chest like he would Demarco’s and ask her levelly, man to man, if she knows. “If this doesn’t work then what?” he asks anyway, sober as hell despite the comedic jostling and even Maureen’s joviality dims in the face of his dour mood.

“Then we’ll have to get real unorthodox.” she replies, allowing something close to annoyance at his attitude to seep into her own expression and Gale refuses to pull his eyes off her.

Do you know? He wants to ask.

“Stop scowling at me and watch for Japs.” she snaps at him so suddenly and so heated he genuinely spooks and turns his body back towards their horizon.

It’s worse than he thought. Worse than he imagined on the times he lost the bet with his hands and let his mind go somewhere besides a practical joke from Bucky and a gray haired spinster nurse as his companion. The aid station is on the edge of the new camp, far off enough to be genuinely secluded from both sights and smells of the navy station. It’s a tiki hut, thatched roof and swinging mesh door and lovely little veranda and palm trees and waves lapping up the back steps.

It looks like the sorta place people advertise for honeymoons and Gale stares at it with a 100 yard stare once Maureen grinds the gears to park.

“Jesus.” he knows his mouth is curling in disgust and beside him Maureen huffs in disgust with him.

She jumps out of her side of the jeep, not a shred of amusement left on her face. Gale sits and stares and listens to the roar of surf and the clinking of the cooling engine.

“Not bad.” she grunts under the burden of a crate which Gale should be lifting if he could just make his legs work and his mind obey. “But I bet it’s gonna be a bitch to keep the gnats out though, so much foliage around.”

Her hips sway like a tantalizing pendulum when she jogs up the bungalow stairs, her waist somehow accentuated by the way her arms are lifted to keep the crate hoisted on her strong shoulder and Gale has the perfect seat to watch it. How did he never notice the lines on her before she was doing hard labor? Then he recalls, she’s mostly been in flight suits around him, he’s never seen her paired down to collared shirts and belted pants. How’d he never notice the lines on that gi-

“Don’t make me drive this thing in the surf to wake you up.” her slap on his listless forearm rouses him to realize she’s back out at the jeep, standing beside him looking at him as he sits here catatonic like the mental case he’s showing symptoms of being. “And take your jacket off, you’re gonna get overheated being so formal.”

“Are you in on it?” he snaps suddenly as she grins at him over his first crate. He can’t tell if she’s mocking him or not but he’s damn tired of it.

“In on what?” Her face falls.

He can’t do it. He just can’t do it and he hates himself for being such a coward. “This.” he chooses vagueness and it tastes foreign and awful on his tongue.

“It’s a week out of the cockpit in paradise, Cleven,” Maureen’s own expression holds back no disdain for his pissy attitude, “man the hell up.”

What Maureen, Gale and five other technicians had loaded into the jeep and it’s buggy in the course of two hours, takes the mere two of them close to four to unload. And that’s even with Gale keeping a rapid pace to his work like a sweating maniac, feverishly wanting to stop thinking for once. His jacket and shirt are thrown over the chairs that are actually provided as furniture in the place and Maureen’s tie lays discarded on the accompanying desk. The rooms are bare but there’s two beds in the bedroom with crisp sheets that have only a bit of pollen dusting them and there’s a desk, as mentioned, three chairs in the main room and Maureen insists they can use crates for a table.

The back room is for the actual medical aid, and Maureen insists nothing gets moved into it until she can sanitize the whole place. So they stack the boxes in the main room and in the bedroom and when the sun gets lower they’re relieved to find there’s some dubious provisions for electricity in the place.

“I can get it to work.” Gale decides as Maureen tries flicking the light switch ten times as if to see if the bare bulb will grow a will of its own and turn on for her. It reminds him so much of Bucky’s brand of idiocy that Gale almost forgets himself and reaches out to swat her hand away from the futile flicking.

“Ok, then you do that while I keep unloading.” she insists, “Won’t be able to do anything if it’s pitch dark in here.”

So Gale drags a chair over and begins to fiddle with the wires tacked to the ceiling, risking electrocution so Maureen Kendeigh can see her way around as she tromps past him again and again in the same path with yet another crate.

He’s good with his hands. Excellent, in fact, judging by how one bulb flickers then stays steady, then another and another until the inside of the bungalow is aglow with cozy light: enough light for Maureen to appreciate his sweat soaked singlet and the way it rides up his belly when his arms are up and how it’s bright enough for her to scrub the exam room effectively when laying in a room with an insomniatic Gale Cleven gets to her at 3:00 am.

As it surely will. God! -the man is as impossible as he is beautiful, and while she doubted she’d manage it with him before, the sheer amount of fury she feels towards him right now leaves no doubt. She’ll shake him up. Like a Fuckin’ Martini. And he doesn’t have to like it, probably won’t, but they’ll both feel better after. “In on it” -he’s got the gall to ask but not the balls to spell it out, she can’t abide a quasi gentleman and so far Gale Cleven’s been nothing but the genuine article. Until now, now when he can’t accept certain human things about himself like fatigue or attraction, and he takes it out on her with a sullenness belonging to a much older man.

Maureen’s fine with that, she thinks as ogles the glowing golden skin of his sheened shoulders on one of her passes with a crate, she can take her mad out on him, too. And she’s got a lot of it. More than John Egan was ever able to lick away.

By 15:00, and some change to the second hand, Gale Cleven was still awake. Little surprise there, not to him, but even though it didn’t matter he found himself thoroughly annoyed and taking it out with a lethal glare at the vague gray ceiling, lit by a massive moon over the ocean. Wire and chairs but no curtains -an oversight about the furnishings. It wouldn’t have mattered, he knew that, and still the racket Maureen was making put his teeth on edge. It wasn’t Benny’s snoring or John’s drunken mumbling but it was a consistent *swoosh, swish* of industry that had Gale feeling a mixture of guilt and determination to keep lying here while she scrubbed.

It had not occurred to him she might’ve needed this break, too. Such as it was, effective as it was not proving. He knew she’d seen some combat in the beginning at Manila, maybe even worse than Iwo but long hours doing what she was doing now, where she was doing it, was no joke.

The urge to get up and help her was strong but then, so was the crippling fear of being around her in the dead of night and inviting any more of the bossy familiarity she’d tucked him into bed with. A magnesium capsule! She’d made him take three of the maternity horse pills and told him to calm the hell down as if he didn't have ample reason to be on edge with her laying a foot away on another bed, stripped down to her cotton slip. Of course Gale would cite war horrors if anyone asked why he couldn’t sleep but to be frank, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t managing it these days and it had started awhile ago. Before Maureen Kendeigh glowed sweaty and luminous in the moonlight while gripping his cheeks and puckering his protesting mouth and plopping pills on his lolling tongue.

Thinking of it made his face flame with embarrassment for such a childish resistance. But god, her nursley familiarity sent a cross signal to his brain each time she helped herself to his flesh and no amount of berating himself while sweating in these rough sheets could dislodge the reaction. Closer to fifteen hundred than was remotely chivalrous, Gale threw off his sweat soaked bedding and tromped into the glow of light outside their bedroom, shuffling blearily into the little exam room. He faltered for a brief ten seconds at the doorway watching her undulating movements with sponge in hand and knees on the floor, white slip clinging like a second skin from the sweat.

He felt the sudden medical urge to lick her like the cattle back home lick at the salt block, a strange way of quenching thirst. Was ninety two hours without sleep considered genuine grounds for insanity? He felt like maybe he should be keeping a diary of these fevered thoughts to report back to John and see if he needed to get turned in. This wasn’t horniness, this was salt cravings. Yeah, yeah that’s what it was.

“You hypocrite.” he felt emboldened to tease and his voice came out rough and lower than even he expected, the disuse of laying there for ages taking a toll.

Maureen looked up like she’d been spooked herself, a slip and stall of her scrubbing, hair hanging about her face so unprofessionally he realized he’d never seen it in such…disarray. “Oh, the baby’s awake.” she grinned back and he felt an indulgence settle in his gut for her he didn’t know existed, “I see my magnesium capsules were a cure all.”

“Oh yeah, knock a horse out.” he agreed derisively.

“Your eyes are droopier.” she found a silver lining and as if reminded of the grit in them, his large fists came up and rubbed them meanly.

Like a little boy, she thought, watching him in the harsh light of the bare bulb, warm wood all around him the same color as all that sweaty skin and those skivvies hanging onto the lithest set of hips she may have ever seen. Looked as if one deep breath of that lean belly and the fabric would be goners, slipping down to the floor dramatically like a woman’s pantyhose in those unfortunate comics where that’s always occurring just when she wants to cross a busy street. Maybe if she could make him belly laugh-

She wished she knew how. She wondered if he knew how.

“Got another Sponge?” he asked and she was reminded why she liked him so much.

“Top crate, there, left, there that one.” She directed him with jerks of her chin until he was at the right one, “I’m using antiseptic.” she warned.

“I know,” he answered, dropping to his knees beside her and making use of her bucket to dunk his sponge, “smell’s been givin’ me a headache.”

Maureen’s mouth twitched at his tired grumpiness, more endearing now he was still putting effort into being near the caustic shit and the way his golden hair flopped on his forehead with his scrubbing movements. If his hips were that fluid, that rhythmic in cleaning a floor, how much more could she teach him to be—“Yeah, I’m sure it’s the anti-septic giving you a headache.” she snarked.

They ate sandwiches he’d gotten from the navy camp’s mess on the back porch, letting the sea water lap at their feet. A little stale but it was a much needed breakfast and Gale brought fresh water back, too, and a report that they were nice fellas and entirely too undressed for her to ever go see. That suited her fine, they’d be a pest if they knew a woman was up here and personally speaking she only needed one man for company, crate lifting, and doing the job well. And she rather had her heart set on it being Gale Cleven. Especially now she got to stare at him under the bright morning sun with a tropical breeze and more skin on display than at a swimsuit contest. He’d put on a singlet, as if to mark that a day had begun even if they hadn’t slept the night, but that was promptly sweat soaked and tiny nipples were pebbling under it from the breeze.

“Did they ask if a nurse came with you?” she pressed him between bites.

“Yeah.” he swallowed his bite thickly and licked at the mayo collecting at the corner of his mouth with typical precision, “And I lied.”

“Well, well,” she cooed, making him roll his eyes, “how’d that feel?”

“I have lied before.” he balked.

The look he gave her was both thunderous and remincent and she repented that line of questioning, used to distinguishing in her patients whether a wound was from wartime or stemmed from childhood. “Well who’d you say came with?” she asked.

“A technician.” he mumbled, blushing for some reason.

“Mm, someone nice and hairy and stinky-“

“Stop.” he begged.

“-not anyone they’d wanna meet.”

“I did it for you!”

“-if that makes you sleep at night, Cleven.” she humored him and like lightning, the back of his hand had flicked out and thumped her on the sternum, hard.

“Shit!” Maureen clutched the place, more in surprise than pain although he’d walloped her good and well.

“Shit!” He parroted in mortification, holding his hand like it was an offensive weapon.

“What was that for?” she laughed, “Do I remind you that much of Benny? Are you missing him that bad? Is that who you pretended was with you up here? Huh? Huh? Benny Demarco, now that’s a beauty to hide under a bushel-“

She was crowding him in on the steps and he was teetering towards falling off, too alarmed at his own outburst to trust his instincts now to shove her off without causing harm -and she knew it. She pressed her advantage and crawled over him with her teasing comments about Demarco until his long body had bowed so far away from her’s it was levitating and then toppled predictably into the surf.

“Fuck it’s cold!” he wheezed out as the embrace of the old pacific drenched him and rolled him about at her feet for a few delightful moments before he got his footing and rose, shaking his hair out of his eyes and grabbing for the steps.

“Sea bathing was in doctor Egan’s regimen.” she informed remorselessly before extending a merciful hand to help him up. He was slippery and shiny as an eel coming up and the grip of his hand was as strong as she expected. And still she found it intoxicating, the duality of him as he stood there pouting and bitchy over being cooled off. “Stay right there baby, I’ll get you a towel.” she patted his chest, right where he’d smacked hers, and went inside.

“I’m not your baby.” She heard him holler to her through the door-less porch. “I’m not your baby.” he reiterated vehemently but lower again when she came out with the towel.

“Yes you are.” she argued, “For this week you’re my baby, whether that’s a literal infant or not is your choice -and don’t start arguing, you’ve got to stop it, no one’s making you do a damn thing.” she insisted, hand raised and his mouth closed satisfyingly as a result, “You’ll be my baby. I know you already had a baby, no? Our baby? Shared her with ten other men, that’s generous of you-“

“-Ensign!-“

“-so I’m not gonna be your baby. You’ll be mine and you can find me something to be for the week.” she watched closely as recognition of her logic began to dawn and settle on him, “I could be anyone. I could be Benny Demarco, for instance. If that’s who you wanna lay next to.”

Gale didn’t speak for a long while, eyes off to the side watching the surf lap at the steps and she was still standing there, holding his unused towel. “Who do you want me to be?” he asked finally and his grave perception just about winded her in its raw honesty.

“You.” she replied honestly, “Whichever version of you made it here with me.”

“An infant -a baby.” he scoffed and she was suspicious those eyes were watery. And too delayed for it to be from the salt.

“My baby.” she replied, “Never had one before.”

“With respect ma’am, that’s Bullshit.” he argued in a fierce hiss, “I know you have, with John and -and-“

“I’ve been somebody’s,” she clarified, “but I think I’ve grown out of that. You’ll be my baby, huh? It’s not marriage, Cleven, it’s a week in paradise and hopefully some shut eye, too. So do you want me to be Benny?”

Those watery eyes let one single tear go trickling down his pink cheek alongside the rivulets of ocean water dripping from his hair and Maureen had never felt a single thing heat her up quite like it. “No,” his chuckle was thick and he sniffed, “not Benny. Maybe uh, God, I dunno, I’ve never had anyone.”

“Then we can make it up entirely.” she was pleased by the idea of not being a stand-in, although god knows she and John could sympathize more about the need for that than anyone. “We’ll be castaways.” she suggested, sitting back down on the porch now the confrontation was dwindling and in full confirmation of her suspicions, he sat again beside her without fuss.

“Marooned.” he disagreed, chin resting on his hands and a boyish tug pulling up the corner of his lips. “Something insane you did landed us here.”

“Mm, took liberties with the captain's daughter, perhaps?” she teased, daring to run a finger along those golden shoulders and collect a few salt drops. He shuddered under her but stayed put.

“I’m not playing fair maiden for you.” he retorted but his eyes were fond.

“Mm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maureen was still impossible and Gale felt his gut burn in a bizzare sort of drive to prove her wrong. He’d hardly ever felt this even with all the jokes from the boys, not even with all the temptations from the girls, it just hadn’t seemed something that needed proving. Every flea and salmon could do it, he never doubted when he got married he could manage it credibly enough.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” his voice sounded like he’d come to a decision and Maureen squinted at his profile until it clicked.

“I’ve never been married before.” she observed breezily.

“And I never planned on being married for just a week.” he replied.

“Isn’t there a film about this?” she asked, “Cary Grant gets stuck on an island and he marries his castaway but then they get rescued and there’s a first wife?”

“Yeah, I think so, actually.” he thumbed at his bottom lip in contemplation and Maureen found it endlessly distracting, along with the bird song and the ocean crash and the sunshine.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” she agreed then, settling back on her elbows to stare up at the sun and let it add a few freckles, “And when it’s over and you’re rescued, I’ll be the better woman and let Our Baby have you.”

“You’ll always be the best of women, Maureen.” he sounded like the admittance took every fiber of his resolve to say, but she’d heard it before in his voice weeks ago when she was patching him up.

If a tear slipped out the corner of her shut eyes and down a sun warmed cheek, she wasn’t going to make a deal of it, not until she felt his finger catch it tenderly before it dropped from her jaw and rolled it back up.

She felt her lip wobble traitorously and perhaps there were more tears planning to follow and betray her but the shivering shock of his full lips, pressed to her bare shoulder, stemmed the flood. Maureen held her breath and kept her eyelids sealed, an orange glow of sunshine behind them as all her senses attuned to the drag of his caresses up to the juncture of her shoulder, the press of his body next to her on the porch boards, the suspenseful absence of his hands. They were soft as marshmallows, those lips, and a stray tip of his tongue caught her clavicle as he worked his way up a path that almost seemed premeditated, as if he’d thought of doing this a million times but held back. Now he allowed himself and the assured intimacy of his mouth made her body heat soar almost beyond her endurance as he crept up her throat and onto her cheek.

A kitten lick to that tear track down her cheek and Maureen was whimpering from something else entirely, breaking ranks and turning her head to gaze at him, nearly stunned by how close he was, how alive, how beautiful, how blue. There were his hands now, one propped beneath her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek. Her lips were tingling with anticipation by the time he’d lowered his face far enough and brushed her mouth with his.

Maybe he’d done his fair share of kissing the girls back home goodbye, or maybe it was a talent given along with this impossible lips, or perhaps she’d wanted it so long that the final having of it sent Maureen spiraling with something oddly like obsession.

Kissing was enough for the longest time, the shore sounds and the squawking of ocean birds and the feel of Gale Cleven laying more and more atop her as his tongue met hers and danced. She scratched the back of that tanned neck like she dreamed of doing a dozen times, little scritches to his hairline that had him sagging against her kisses to the point of crushing.

She allowed herself the liberty of running her hands along his lean sides, taking in the graceful taper of his waist, the dip of his back, the sopping wet waistband of his briefs. She wondered if this is how men feel with a young girl, when there’s so much loveliness one wants to maul it and mark it and watch it respond. Anything to make him moan again into her mouth, wrenched and helpless and appreciative of her all at once, anything for him to hump his hips against her thigh in a manner so mindless he didn’t seem himself at all.

When he pulled away, dazed and winded from his own exertions, he seemed to have left behind all his inhibitions, stark need written on his face and only some doubt of what he was allowed yet remaining. “Are we gonna?-“ he trailed off, raspy voiced and trembling with suspense.

“Going to what?” she couldn’t abide it any longer, his demureness, “Say your mind, Cleven.”

“Do it.” he let out with a wince.

“Well I don’t know, Mr. Jones, you tell me. Are we gonna?”

Gale huffed and threw his head back, trying to regain some sense of mind, lip savagely pulled between his teeth. “Yeah. We are.” he decided.

“Then finish your sandwich.” she patted his waist and pushed him off.

“I can’t!” he begged with a groan from where he’d spilled out on the porch like a boneless dummy. “Not now.”

“You’re gonna need it, the water too, trust me on this.”

“Are we gonna -make love? Or go for a forced march?” he protested but lifted the canteen to his lips anyways when she gave him a look and proceeded to drink it dry.

“How would you know the difference?” she teased and he had the good humor to roll his eyes. If all went according to Egan’s plan, they oughta hibernate for twelve hours of sleep afterwards and she wanted him hydrated and ready for that. Maureen had a plan of her own, which certainly might lead to such a sleep, but it also involved not getting off that boy for love of God or money until he was as useless as a wet rag and the impertinent gnawing between her own legs was replaced by a good ache.

Cleven was staring at his sandwich remorsefully, “I can’t get this down, Maureen.” he declared with sudden finality and then, without preamble he threw it into the sea. “C’mon, Mrs Jones.” he held out his hand for her as he stood up, something close to an excited grin taking over his face.

He was so confident now, having come to a decision, and Maureen found herself naturally bending to his direction, placing her hand in his large palm and allowing him to haul her to her feet as gently as a dance partner. “We’ve got a bed.” she reminded blissfully into another kiss, anchored to his face by the persistent hands snarled lovingly into her salt tousled curls: this hair Maureen, this hair drove me mad.

“And we’re gonna use it.” he agreed, walking her backwards up the porch until he feet were skidding over the threshold, his tongue still sucking her own.

She stopped him there with a hand to the willowy plane of his belly, a regulated, principled woman to the last, and snapped the still soaked waistband of his drawers. “Off, you’ll make the sheets wet and sandy.”

Their sweat would accomplish dampening them enough in this muggy heat, they didn’t need sand and ocean water to boot. Maureen ducked beneath his arm and went back out to grab the discarded towel.

“I don’t want a trail of drips on our clean floor.”

Gale smiled softly at the usage of “our” -it felt right somehow, to share things with her. They’d been at it for some time, it came naturally like it had with Bucky and the few other boys who he knew would be something special and unlike anything else after this. It was a little bittersweet to know he was living the best days of his life, right here and now, enviable, irretrievable moments of raw connection slipping away with each drip, drip, drip onto the threshold. It was a heartache in the making and it was a spur for the moment. Back home they’d never understand, and any old observer would see nothing unique, but Gale could allow himself the rightness of sharing just one more thing. Why not cement it fully, irrevocably, as the closest brush he’d ever come to with another soul- he’d asked himself the same with Bucky, knew it was already an established fact.

Maureen’s lips were warm where they pressed to his back, the space between his shoulders, towel held to his waist. “You’re not shy of me, are ya, baby?” she whispered in his ear, thumbing at the still worn briefs.

He could feel himself this past hour hardening and softening, so many times in the space of so many minutes he was dizzy with it, the way his brain would have the upper hand and then, suddenly no, it all rushed south. Which now left shyness as the only real excuse for the way he burned and shrank and burned and shrank in turn at each of her touches.

“You gonna give me the towel?” he asked instead.

“Once it’s safe to do so.” she replied primly, in her familiar nursing voice, and he hated the shudder that tore through him. She stepped under his arm again, around him and into the house, and stood in the shade of the it with the towel spread invitingly, tauntingly. A whole yard and a half between then and she’d decreed no drips past the threshold. Gale’s cheeks burned as did his eyes, smarting with brimming tears from an odd frustration he’d only ever felt over a botched mission, an anger at not being able to bomb his target and make it worthwhile, a petty frustration he always felt before the cold rage of lost men fully registered.

Futile tears: Gale yanked the skivvies down and stepped out of them efficiently.

Maureen wasn’t smiling at him from the shade anymore, not even a smirk, she looked hungry. She looked like Bucky, taking in “a view.” Gale didn’t know ladies ticked that way -or maybe they didn’t, maybe only Maureen did. The blush in his cheeks ran down his chest and spilled onto his belly and his fists clenched without thought.

“When the man of the house,” Maureen was reciting some inane pamphlet she no doubt did not heed or else they’d never be here, “respects the whims of the lady in small matters, he will find the lady more submissive to issues of larger stake such a-“

Gale made a dash at her, to shut her up, and she fled from him to the bedroom, feet smacking on the hardwood and cotton slip fluttering up her thighs -his towel with her.

“I want you bare.” he told her when he had her, struggling in his arms before the bed, a lush friction where he pressed tightly behind her.

“Then sit,” she sounded genuinely breathy, trapped to him and he had never heard her like that before, it made him want to hold fast, “and I’ll make your dreams come true.”

It was just a slip, no garters and no braisere or girdle, yet still Gale sat himself on the bed and Maureen bit her cheek to keep from laughing at the modest way he deposited the towel on his lap, covering what she’d been eyeing and thanking her luck for. A cock as pretty as his face -now if she could just make it stand up fully.

“You ready?” she deferred to him as she stood there before the bed, being looked on with all the reverence and trepidation of a goddess by this seated acolyte.

“Please,” he nodded furiously, “please show me.”

It felt a little wrong to expose oneself in front of such an angelic being, curtainless windows throwing in the sun on him all golden and untouched, white scratchy sheets and white draped towel making it a bower of innocence for a brief moment. It also felt right, to throw off everything but what they’d been born with. Off went rank, obligations and expectations, as easily as dragging the slip over her head.

She tossed the article of clothing behind her for good measure -and dramatic effect- then noted with satisfaction the bleary eyed comprehension of her charms from Gale Cleven where he sat with his mouth hung so slack he was liable to drool.

“Incredible.” he muttered, husky and a little slurred, his hand raising without his own volition to beckon her closer, a plea, command.

Maureen swayed on her feet, nearer and nearer until she was standing above him, between his parted legs and she shuddered as he laid that broad palm on her hip and dragged it up her side in an admiring swath, thumbing at her belly and catching her ribs in his hold.

“Those flight suits of yours, they don’t…they don’t let show the half of it.” Gale declared, mesmerized, face hovering closer and closer until his lips were pressing against her flesh, right under her sternum, his forehead pressed to the underside of one pendulous breast, nuzzling as he became aware of that, bunting like a calf at her breast with his face, gone silly with access.

“Whadda ya think?” she giggled, the silliness of Gale Cleven gone stupid over making yams jiggle being the exact sort of thing that made life worth living, and being a woman exquisitely satisfying.

“They’re so goddamn soft.” he moaned around a bit of the underside, still hadn’t worked his way to a nipple. He seemed too preoccupied with their give and bounce to make a more calculated use of them. Maybe if men hadn’t been told what to do with them, they’d do what Gale Cleven was doing and rub their face against them and let them rest on their foreheads. There was a charm to this ignorance as he licked the salty sweat from their undersides with a surprisingly brave tongue.

The clumsy misuse was oddly effective for Maureen, what Gale lacked in skill he made up for in unstudied appreciation and nothing got her quite so ready as being appreciated to the point of foolishness. Her first conquest had been a boy at school who hadn’t minded tripping in his track shoes, day after day, to try to catch up to her on her bicycle, just to give her a flower or trinket. He was laughed at for his devotion until he broke the school track record next year, and Maureen was sure to remind him of her role in his success. They’d soon found a mutually beneficial reward system and Maureen had adopted that attitude as a maxim for the future, her dates and conquests may have been many but each of them in their own way had been appreciative -or else she was jumping out the window, damn the twelve foot drop out the dormitory.

No one, however, had looked quite so gifted by her mere existence as Gale Cleven did while he clutched at her hips and smushed her flesh between his hands like it were some fine dough and he was an artisan.

Discreetly, and it was easy to be so with his face buried in her bosoms, Maureen glanced between them at the tool she had such hopes for and found it, unsurprisingly, twitching and dribbling against his thigh, half hard but flapping about like a fish on dry land, the discarded towel no match for its movement. He’d need a hand, literally and metaphorically, and as she raked her nails through his blond curls and directed his slick mouth to a nipple, she felt him sag even further into her hold. Maureen weighed her next step carefully, trying to tamp down her own wants. She’d need to be sure but slow, careful not to spook him, or antagonize or embarrass.

She wondered if he even realized the same banged-up-head condition that sent him out here was most likely responsible for the jitters that kept him flopping. She wasn’t so conceited as to assume he’d not bedded a woman yet out of mere dysfunction, Cleven was a man of principle and strict notions regarding how the world should be, and he wasn’t one to build those notions on passing medical conditions.

“You like ‘em?” Maureen teased him, shocked at how hoarse her own voice had gone in the interim.

“Gonna make a home in here.” he mumbled in the affirmative, slack grin molded to the valley between them, blue eyes wide as the skies outside peering up at her.

“Got a job for you, baby.” she murmured, thumbing at the scar on his cheek.

“What’s that Mrs. Jones?” his voice alone made her mad with need, as did the saucy turn of his mouth so wonderfully foreign she didn’t know how she’d control herself until he was ready.

“Need you to lick a little landing strip, right here.” she ran her finger along the somewhat tacky skin between her breasts, sweat and his sloppy kisses having partway done the job already.

“What for?” Gale asked, hushed and curious.

“You’ll see soon enough.” she recalled how effective her nursing voice had been on him, and pulled it out now it seemed beneficial.

She had been right, with only a hesitant spark of aggravated defiance, Gale dipped his head and stuck out that pink tongue, lapping a swath up between her breasts as directed, flaming eyes locked on hers as she shivered from the breeze on spit slicked flesh.

“Again.” she told him, and his hands came up to hold her breasts apart as he did it again, and again and once more under his own direction until it was shiny and messy and his nose was gleaming, too.

“What’s it for?” He demanded once more, pink cheeked and swallowing hard as his mouth had dried out from his efforts.

“I told you, silly,” she replied casually, “it’s a landing strip.” and with as little fuss as possible she got to her knees before he’d registered the absence of her standing above him. “Gale, let go of the damned towel.”

She held in a laugh of delight at the tortured color he had grown to, veins running like so much ivy up and down him and a vibrant pink tip that matched his lips. Maureen wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look him in the face again without thinking of this drizzling little pink mushroom.

“You oughta count your blessings, Gale Cleven, it was a close call, my coming along at all.” she informed him soberly while his mind visibly vacated his body at the repeated sighting of his sputtering cock emerging from between the pillowy press of her breasts, “It was pretty touch and go there for a bit, I was quite sure in fact, that Bucky was gonna help himself to this assignment.”

“Maureen!” Gale thundered, except his usual imposing ire was much diluted by his quivering belly and hoarse voice.

“What?” she brushed off his scandalized displeasure with a grin, feeling cocky herself as he hadn’t flagged on her in minutes and was beginning to gush in earnest, “Bucky loves the beach.”

“Sure, Maureen.”

“In the end he decided I had what it takes.” she went on conversationally, ignoring the inhuman sounds that came out of him when she casually spit on his tip, the better to work her lips around him, “These.” she clarified, pressing her breasts to his thighs as she wrapped her mouth around him and sucked.

“Fuck, hell, Maureen! Sorry, sorry, oh fuck!” -not even Gale Cleven had expected his hips to fly up that hard and fast, knocking on the back of her throat.

She laid her hands on his squirmy hips and did her best impression of a Listerine gargle round his tip, which sent a shudder through him so strong she thought he might’ve climaxed already.

“Maureen, Maureen come on, get up here, please.” now he yanked at her hair, desperate for once and that was a pleasure to hear.

“What baby?” she pulled off him.

“Gotta kiss you.” he told her firmly, and hauled her bodily up by her armpits, rolling her under him in the bed.

Kisses -sure, Gale, kisses.

He was moaning atop her, wiry and flexing his hips against her, wriggling to get between her thighs and she let him, hungry and expectant when he slotted easily in place. He pressed his lips to hers ardently, then reared back in shock at the taste of his own precum in her mouth and on her lips.

“Salty.” he whispered as if to himself before licking his lips and going back for more. “What do I need’to do?” he whispered urgently against her mouth as she rocked against him and he rocked back until they’d frustrated each other thoroughly with mere caresses.

“Put it in, my baby.” she whispered back.

“First though, don’t I need to-to do- something? Something first?” he could barely think straight but he’d heard enough talk about this, about gentlemen and the necessity of some form of chivalrous preparation. The way discipline and intuition set apart an average pilot from an excellent one. Bucky had talked a lot about getting girls ready, making them squirm, revving them up, for all his apparent disinterest during the topic, Gale had been listening.

“You’ve done it already, Mr. Jones.” she giggled, reaching between them to drag him more firmly through the wanton swamp he’d made of her. “I’m ready, I’m so ready.”

“Oh fuck, s’wet.” he mumbled the obvious before willingly letting her guide him in, his body following her tug like his cock were a leash.

“Jesus,— Gale!” Maureen choked as he bottomed out in a sudden plunge, shocked at the stretch despite the gauging of his size. “You’re so deep, oh baby you’re a big one aren't ya.”

“You ok?” he whimpered, shuddering on top of her again and again at the incomparable feeling of being inside another’s body.

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she gasped, “Hurts so good, you can move, baby.”

“You’re so warm.” he sounded close to worshipful he was so drunk off her, and Maureen spared a moment to smirk at the fate of man: come tearing their way out of a woman to begin their lives only to spend the rest of it trying to and needing to get back in.

He did try to move, she’d give him that. And while Maureen was more than half expecting it, still, it was mildly comical to see the confusion flash across his blissful face right as the buildup was snatched from him and he was suddenly shaking into the real event before he knew it, betrayed and euphoric all at once. The muscles in his belly and back and neck seized and his hips lunged in a series of uncoordinated pumps and she could read the panic in his eyes right before they rolled back -a begrudging admittance that this was nothing at all like the steady predictability of his hand.

“That’s it baby, that’s my baby, feel nice, huh?”

Gale didn’t answer her, too occupied whimpering with a taut throat and jaw clenched so tight he could snap a hinge like that. He was shaking worse than before when the spasms subsided and the tiniest pressure to his sweat slicked neck had him buckling to lay pressed against her, half senseless from the force of his release.

Maureen had always loved this part of sex, the pliable, bewildered, smushed man atop her like she’d sucked his soul out, when he’d rendered it up to her so willingly, so desperately, forcefully even, chasing his own eventual weakness. Long limbs aligning on top of hers, the hot pants of winded breath against her breasts, the hands listlessly holding on wherever that had last tried to grip and control her. The view from above with Gale Cleven was something additional, beautiful and glistening with bronzed swaths of sun exposed skin and the pale whites of his thighs and ass making a perfect little outline of absent shorts, his golden hair tousled beyond salvaging and that luscious mouth, drooling like a babe’s.

“So this is what Bucky’s been talkin’ about.” he mumbled into her breast, cheek smashed and enunciation shot to hell.

Maureen laughed in disbelief, “Thinking of him even now? Really, he’s going to be impossible if we tell him.”

“Just sayin’, now I know.” he defended, lazily rubbing his partly softened cock inside her with a shimmy of his hips that was quickly followed by an overly sensitive mewl.

“You don’t know anything, Angel boy.” she insisted and Gale raised his head at that, sour that she’d still contradict him after thirty seconds of vigorous pumping. “Let me see your hands.”

He had some trouble recalling where he put them but eventually he found them under her hips and withdrew them from their warm shelter to present them, warily. “Well, damn.” he muttered to himself, somewhat shocked by just how badly the shakes had worsened. “Looks like that treatment backfired.”

“More of a dose dependent case, I’d say.” Maureen corrected and circled each wrist with her hands and brought them up to her lips to kiss.

Gale’s face smoothed at her softness and a shy smile lit up his bleary eyes while she felt a twitch of his spent cock deep inside her, swishing about the mess he’d made like a dog’s tail after getting pats. “You have the most beautiful hands.” she informed him earnestly and balls deep inside her she watched as one single innocuous compliment sent him scarlet with a blush. “And they’ll be yours again soon.” she promised.

His gentle expression and bright red cheeks crumpled rather suddenly and before either of them seemed to expect it, fat teardrops had escaped the blue of his eyes and rolled down the crimson flesh of his face.

“Goddamnit.” he cursed hoarsely, in an absolute rage at himself, regaining his hands from her grip insistently to bring them up to his own face, hiding from her behind harsh fists that rubbed at his wet eyes like he could grind the grief and weariness out between his knuckles.

Unbalanced as he was without hands to support him, and legs gone jellied from his fast fading pleasure, Maureen chose to capitalize on it as a nurse would a brief state of insensibility to move a patient to a cleaner cot. Remorselessly she pressed at his shoulder and lifted their still joined hips until he tipped over, rolling onto his back beneath her. “We’ll have none of that.” she told him with loving adamance from her new perch, prying his hands away and pressing them to the sheets beside his head. “The hiding, I mean.” she clarified and he looked all of hardly past twenty laying there with wobbly lips and wet eyes unobscured, “I’m a very great proponent of crying,” she went on conversationally which confused him more but kept him too preoccupied to stifle his tears, “De-sanguination is still a highly esteemed practice, you know, it means to drain the body. One type of draining often triggers the other.”

“You gonna start bleeding me?” he asked wryly.

“Oh, maybe, you’d look so pretty all streaked up.” she teased and ran a sharp thumbnail over his pinned wrist.

Well, that got him hard again. Fascinating.

“You know what’s got your hands like this-“ she whispered softly, “-probably the same reason you flop, too.”

“Huh.”

“Pretty common.” she assured.

“Quit tellin’ me I’m common.” He growled, tickling her sides and she grabbed his hands, pinning them again playfully.

“Nothing common about you, sweet baby.” she swore, leaning down to kiss him and enjoying the way he met her strongly, surely, “Gale, can I move?” she asked, half strangled by the taut string of need coiled in her belly, tugged to madness by the bulk of him still resting limply inside.

“Move?” he was perplexed.

“I’m going to die if I don’t get some friction.” she whispered, somehow shy to admit that in the face of his innocent bewilderment, “God -please tell me someone has informed you women finish, too?”

“Bucky says they clamp up so tight you can’t help but blow.” Gale recited dutifully, “Which is what just happened, right?”

Maureen grinned wide and wicked before dragging her hips up till he was barely in, then plopping down into the cradle of his hips, making him let out a “oomph.”

“Maureen?” he questioned, half knowing already he had been mistaken but hell, to go again? “Maureen- I’ll die if we go again.”

“What a way to go.” she muttered, her pace atop him increasing as did the tortured gasps tumbling from his lips. His spunk was making terribly wet, lewdly sloppy sounds of suction each time she slammed down on his cock and the visual of her exerting herself on top of him was something so blatant and jiggly he could hardly endure the visual feast of it.

“Shit, shit I can’t-“ he growled while his trembling hands latched onto her hips in a grip that was anything but dissuading. “Maureen.” he begged her for…he knew not what.

“Come on Mr. Jones,” she clasped her hands around his face and aligned their noses, rubbing like a kiss with each movement of her lower body, “you’re not one to leave your missus needy, I know you’re not. Not when you’ve got such pretty hands-“

-a shudder from him.

“and a clever tongue-“

-a whine from him that sounded close to a wounded dog’s it was so lasting.

“-or a tool this capable.”

“Maureen.” he groaned.

“Baby, my baby.” she begged, “You’ve got what I need, come on, take me apart.”

Like he trusted himself for the first time since they began this endeavor, she felt his body bow up beneath her, his arm flexing strongly across her hips, his legs braced beneath her and a heavy hand clutching her neck, then he was driving up into her with a wild abandon she only ever hoped was simmering beneath that cool exterior. When she finished he hadn’t stopped, and Maureen found herself crying out like a feral thing into the hollow of his clavicle as the brutal pummeling went on, satisfaction drug out of her over and over in harsh ruts.

“That more like it?” he panted the harsher he grew, a hand around her jaw pushing her face away from his so he might see the damage he was doing.

“Yes, yes oh baby, yes!” she swore through clenched teeth, it had been too long and each blissful peak only aggravated her further, made her hungrier, that and the fact he was so proportioned as to be a constant delight just shy of pain, “Hell Gale, do ya hear us?” she gloated, propping herself back on his thighs to watch the shiny pink of him flash in and out of her wet sheath.

Mesmerized, Gale didn’t reply, but he dragged a hand up her belly and felt for the way it tensed at each intrusion, the span of his fingers an incredible thing across her skin. “Can’t believe you can take it, easy as that.” he marveled, his thumb straying and pulling apart her petals the better to watch.

“Thumb it right there.” she directed gently, reaching down to move his calloused finger over her bud, right above where he split her apart, “That’s it, ya feel that too, huh?”

“Fuck you’re tight.” his voice cracked and his eyes shot wide again.

“Are you -?”

“Maybe.” there was a wobble of blissed uncertainty in his voice until she stopped her movements and he let out a sob before he could catch it. “Maureen, please.”

“Please what, baby?” she was chuckling at him, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I let you-“ he pleaded, still thinking things worked that way, “-now I need, please Maureen...”

“Oh you can.” she assured and his face lightened but his eyes stayed wary, “But just know, I won’t be stopping.”

“What?”

“You remember how that feels, don’t ya baby?” she reminded, gently pushing him to lie back and beginning their movements anew, “So good you can’t stand it, so messy and easy for me, so tender and much for you?”

“Jesus.” he wheezed, his lean belly caving in with his heavy pants, but she felt him throbbing inside her and his pupils were large as saucers, “You’re as mean as Bucky.” he whined, voice gone high in panicked pleasure.

“Thank you, but really I’m not.” she laughed, gently thumbing away an errant tear that rolled down his cheek. “Not quite.”

“Maureen, please, please you’re too pretty!” he begged nonsensically even as his hips began to snap into hers, invigorated and forceful.

“Hold it Gale, try to hold it.” Maureen gasped, staring down at the prettiest face she’d ever seen as his brow began to furrow, “Or don’t, all the same to me.”

“I’m gonna flip you.” he swore and a few seconds of inaction passed, marked by the slam of her hips down onto his, and she thought he didn’t mean it until she gave him a daring look and suddenly she was careening backwards, head jolting against the sheets and body laid out firmly beneath him.

“Goddamn.” she swore at the way he hadn’t dislodged an inch during the whole maneuver, suddenly pressed just as deeply as before, his hips working like a piston and his hands tight and strong on her neck. “Goddamn baby. Oh goddamn that’s good.”

“S’good?” he begged her to repeat, some dizzying natural force propelling him harder and faster and needier.

“You’re so good.” she was adamant as she hung about his neck and locked her ankles in the small of his back. “You’re so good I’m - I’m -gonna-“

“What was that about holdin’ it?” he hissed, smile cocky and smug.

“Bull ain’t out of the gate yet Cleven,” she cautioned but her hips had begun to lift of their own accord, a tremble taking hold of her, “But I’m close, I’m, i'm real cl- oh God!”

“Come on sweet Maureen, wanna make ya -wanna do it for ya. Give ya what you need, Mrs Jones.” Gale’s hoarse and sweet nothings poured hot and breathy in her ear and Maureen found herself locked and gripping him before she knew it, moaning into his neck as he moved in and out, in and out as she’d only ever dreamed of.

When she cracked her dazzled eyes open again he was panting above her, the clink of his dog tags gently bumping her chin with each sway deeper, lashes batting in a golden flutter as he too began to lose himself, slower, more drawn out and yet every bit as desperate as the first time.

“Look at me baby, look at me when ya do.” she pleaded, gently gripping his chin as his mouth fell open in a series of little noises of effort that went straight to her belly grown hot and molten with the feeling of him spurting inside.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” Gale was working atop her in pained delight, lips so smeared and face so sweaty he looked like he might melt at any minute, “thank you, oh fuck, thank you, sweet Maureen.” he chanted low and dreamy, again and again until he drove in once more and stayed.

Those clear blue eyes fagged in an exhausted ecstasy, his head dropping impossibly further with each ragged pant until his face was barely hovering over her breasts, neck bent and forhead slowly pressing into the swell of them. His forearms gave out and those hands of his stayed trapped beneath her shoulder blades.

“Sleep Angel baby,” Maureen coaxed, hand cradling the back of his dear head to her breasts, feeling a low lazy peace settle over her at the feel of his dead weight plugging her up and the lovely wringing out she’d just endured, “let’s just sleep, dear boy.”

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[inari-zaheer]

requesting hcs of nebula pining over female reader please and thank you! set after gotg 3 and reader is one of the teachers who teaches the kids they saved from the high evolutionary

Nebula Pining Over Fem! Reader

Pairing:Nebula x Reader

Tw:Angst with a happy ending

—————————————

Ever since the events of the battle against the High Evolutionary, Nebula got way sadder than usual

Sure they saved a bunch of people and lots of civilizations, but right when she was getting used to her lil disfunctional family they decided that they needed some time apart of the group

She helped everywhere she could in Knowhere, from building stuff, to fixing equipment, till a day where Kraglin asked her if she could help with teaching the children the basics of self defense

It was definitely not what she was used to, but coming from a "family" of abuse she understood the importance of it

An that's when she met you!

As she was waiting for her class with the children start, she saw you on one of the windows of the building teaching the children how to comunicate with everyone

From that moment she felt weird, overwhelmed, it was a feeling that she never felt before, and the fact that she didn't knew what it was only made her upset

She was going to pretend that it was nothing, until a day when her session with the kids ended that you went to talk to her

You waited just so you could thank her for what she was doing with the children, because as they were learning your language they were able to tell the horrible things they suffered on the ship

It was a simple thank you, but that didn't help Nebula with her feelings, quite the opposite actually

But after the group kinda dissipated she had no one to talk to

Her sister was not the same she lived with before the battle with Thanos, Quil was back on Terra and the most important person who could maybe help her, Mantis, was somewhere in the space, and it was obvious that Rocket, Groot and Drax where out of question

Every day you would stay to watch the kids you quickly bonded to see their improvement (definitely not for the goddess of a woman who was teaching them that you were slowly caughting feelings for)

Geeting closer to her, telling how cool her abilities were, saying how one day you wanted to be as strong as her

And every day that passed she got more intrigued by her own feelings towards you

Until one day Kraglin was telling her about some movie tapes that Yondu had found for Peter but didn't had the opportunity to give them, so he asked if she could keep them safe on her room till he came back

She wasn't exactly the type to like music or this so called movies, but she was just so bored one day that, when she was sure no one would ever know, she put a movie on the device that Rocket had made for Peter if they ever found one of those

She did not knew or cared about the name of the movie in question, but one of the main themes that kept poping over and over again made her understand everything

It was love!

Oh fuck it was love

Those were her first thoughts when she realized it, immediately turning off the thing and throwing the tape as far as she could

She could not feel love for you, in her head love wasn’t meant for her, she wasn’t worthy of love

But then again, why would you love her? A killer, a destroyer, machine

And after that day, she was not the same again

She asked to change the day of the sessions just so she would not see you, avoided you everywhere in Knowhere, and asked everybody to tell people to just leave her alone

She kept pushing the feeling back, and one day she cried for the second time in her entire life for a person

But she underestimated you

One day you simply showed up at her door, and even when she pretended she was not there you just screamed that you were going to wait

Seeing you really weren’t gonna budge she opened the door for you and saw your state

You looked sad, tired and even a bit sick

She went to ask what did you wanted but was met with a "did i do something wrong?"

Of course she was not understanding, but you just asked why she started avoiding you out of nowhere, almost starting to cry

Then all of the conflicted feelings she was feeling immediately turned into guilt

How could she do something like this to you? To leave you in that state just cause she could not understand what was happening

Then she finally could not wait any longer and told you everything, how she felt about you, how she was scared of those feelings, and how she thought she did not deserve any of what you wanted to give her

You immediately told her that it didn't matter the stuff she had done, the past was in the past and she deserved someone to help her see that things could be great, that she deserved to feel love and be loved

She said she was not used to it, but asked if she could give you a hug

It was kinda akward, but you could see that this was definelly just the beginning of something special between the both of you

[chaotikanvas]

Hi, hi! Been a while since I last posted some writing huh? This is a small second part of the fic I wrote for @lavenoon 's wonderful Accidentally Undercover AU!

Slice of life kinda stuff has proven once again to be a challenge to write fkdjhgjh which is why between that and executive disfunction it took a while to get out, but now it's here and I hope you enjoy! Based on this post over here from a while ago! (Don't look if you want to go in completely blind XD)

Huge thanks to @zelda7999 and @lulu-lullabies who helped in the process, and also to @beps-brainrot for providing a fresh pair of eyes for a last revision!

Word count is around 12k!

(Also fair warning that there are some suggestive themes on this one, though I'm certain it doesn't go beyond any suggestiveness in the main fic! ^_^)

[derangedrhythms]

I now have Linda Sextons biography on my to-read list thankyou. Recs for psychologically intense novels or bios ? preferably with themes of madness.. mental disfunction.. I like reading about human nature and the strength of humanity, when your mind is being destructive over and over again .. a real battle..

The first book that comes to mind is 'An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness' by Kay Redfield Jamison.

'Girl, Interrupted' by Susanna Kaysen, 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' by Ken Kesey, 'The Bell Jar' by Sylvia Plath and 'The Bird's Nest' by Shirley Jackson are all either set in psychiatric hospitals or have themes of mental illness/personality disorder.

'The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer' and 'Killing for Company: The Case of Dennis Nilsen' by Brian Masters are two biographies of men who had incredibly destructive minds and were overcome by their passions and compulsions. I highly recommend them if you're at all interested in this sort of thing, but the subject matter can be intense and may be too much for some people.

Some favourites:

'Steppenwolf' by Hermann Hesse is one of the novels I've personally found to be the most 'psychologically intense'.

'The Sea, the Sea' by Iris Murdoch for its themes of obsession and self-deception.

'The Blind Owl' by Sadegh/Sadeq Hedayat, a novella with themes of delirium, obsession, death, decay...all my favourite things.

I hope there's something there that you will enjoy.

[alliumnoblade]

ok here i am again with another meta analysis for rick and morty season 6 because of course my obsession phase isn’t over yet

apparently this season is a lot focused on the family smith. it was a big hypothesis when he only had the titles for the season to base our opinions on, but also when it started to air it was pretty clear ALL the smiths are the main focus on this season. the dynamics they have as a family, the nuances, the ups and downs, how they (dis)function - it appears to be explored very heavily this season. lately (a little bit in season 5 too) all five of them seem to be treated as a family, and not just a bunch of people that happen to live together.

which is nice, i really appreciate it, especially because they seem to mix that with sci-fi stuff and humor and honestly i couldn’t ask for anything else (i can’t be the only one laughing the shit off myself this season all the jokes are landing to me please)

my point is, i wonder if the reason why they decide to explore this theme so much is due to quarentine.

right now the smith family are stuck with each other. with the portal gun broken, rick and morty can only go so far in their own dimension, and since they can’t afford to screw things up, they really seems to be doing things tamer and less dangerous than before. in other words, they have nowhere to run and rick needs to deal with his family more often now.

this sounds A LOT like quarentine to me. you going a little bonkers, but also needing to deal with your peer’s crazyness as well. it’s the time you need to confront how disfunctional your family really is but how you love them so deeply you have no other option but to endure them. (i’m talking about non-abusive homes here, please). personally, i think i got a lot closer to my parents and brother after this hell, and it seems fitting the writers went through that as well.

considering season six was written during a more flexible but still real part of the lockdown, i find it a good hypothesis they decide to write the show analog to what was happening in the real world. the smith family can go to school, work, go out to ice cream, but at the end of the day there’s not a lot they can do but to be under the same house for long period of time -  they can’t travel, they can’t pretend their problems don’t exist, they can’t go out often. they need to confront each other.

with this new premiere for episode 4, night family, it got really clear to me how they are willing to just dive deep into the family dynamics, making it more smith-centric. it has been a common theme that rick is acting more like a grandpa rather than a crazy asshole scientist lately, how beth is actually willing to be a good mother now, how jerry is finally being assertive about his place in his home, how morty and summer seems to have a more love-hate bond than just a i-cant-stand-you bond. they are still all fuck ups in their respective areas, they are still horrible people, but they are their OWN horrible people

also the fact that the smith family CHOOSE each other rather than just accept they need to live together adds a new layer to things. no one is from that reality, in the first episode they had the choice to be in their origin dimension if they wanted to and they’ve had tons of opportunities to just walk away before. after a long, long jurney with the same people since half the season 1 (and this jerry from season 2), we can say that the smith family aren’t connected because rick is a control freak, but because they do love each other and this is their burden to carry. in the end, family is a burden you can’t throw away, but it’s your burden and i love that.

and the fact that they actively made the choice to keep each other close is so much nicer than whatever the abusive dynamic they had in later seasons. it’s a found family, they became a found family even if disfunctional as hell. i love that

[sweetestpopcorn]

I’m aware you have issues with the entire show, i’ve read your blog. Just thought it was nice to see another having an issue with the laenor situation in particular after reading one of your answers. Not sure if it was intentional, but i don’t think you had to go off at me about your entire issues with the show.

I didn't go off on you. I am sorry you felt that way.

As you might now if you went through my blog this is a subject that deeply displeases me, and when people still want to bring it up honestly I don't know what reaction they expect.

I might be funny in my rant if I'm "in the mood" but most times the most unpleasant part of me will come out because: Everything about this show is trash and I want to make that clear.

I like to make a point that my view is not that X or Y didn't work, it's that nothing did and that I found everything absolutely atrocious. I don't even consider the Lenny lives thing the within the top maybe 10 things that are absolutely ridiculous with this show. And I absolutely will struggle to understand if that is someone's main issue and that is what ruined the show, or the chocking thing, is like excuse me? Have you not been paying attention to... everything?

Because in a show where Lana committed Dracaryscide, Droopy had f_cking LEPROSY, Matt has erectile disfunction, Renada and Alicia are bffs, Loserys murder was accidental, Anemia was cut open like a f_cking pig, and the usurpation was a joke, the Lenny thing is just keeping with the theme I guess.

But yes lets just ignore this steaming pile of cr@p and keep on watching for the... hype and validation from the rest of people without standards I guess.

Good god, anyone who complained about season 8 but is defending/justifying this lost all credibility. This makes season 8 look less atrocious! And just came to prove what I told months ago that D&D were the scapegoats. Were they to blame? Of course. Were they the only ones to blame? Nope!

There are plenty of spaces to go to to either gush about the show or say "oh wasn't it a shame that X happened? the rest was great!" But in my spaces, no sorry. I ask more of entertainment than this and I certainly ask more of "professional" writers than the crap that was put on display and makes 50 shades read like f_cking War and Peace. Hell, they make ANY fanfiction writer look like a pro! Not even in fanfiction have I ever encountered this amount of ludicrous events!

Again sorry if I was impolite but Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus

PS: This is not to you Anon, this is to everyone who feels the need to STILL comment on redacted on my comment section. I don't care if your favourite trope is murder victim to lover (credit to @alinahamsmsnahams for this one) but I do care if you come to pollute my comment section with that cr@p. Keep your favourite redacted content away from my spaces. Thank you!

[thetantiger]

Character Insight #11: Tree

Full Name: Tree Juniper Gnarlbranch Gender: Non-binary (he/they) Race: Worgen Class: Druid Specialization: Restoration Orientation: Bisexual Relatives: No Known Relatives Age: 33 Height: 6'8 (5'9 Human form) Voice reference: Hector Rivera - Coco Theme: Mary On A Cross - Ghost

[BACKSTORY]

Tree Gnarlbranch was born in Gilneas eighteen years before its fall. Their parents were rather uninvolved in their upbringing, instilling a distrust in Tree that progressively got worse and worse until Tree hardly spoke to the very people they lived with on a daily basis. As a result, Tree felt like they couldn't go to their parents about their issues, and often didn't. The main factor in solidifying their isolation from them, however, was Tree's identity as a non-binary person. Unfortunately, their parents were widely unsupportive, which only piled on to their feelings of ostracization. This was a catalyst for their distrust of their parents, and would ultimately lead them into looking for support through other means.

Those "other means" manifested themselves in the form of a female Kaldorei named Shadryssa Swiftbreeze. Shadryssa was one of the many Kaldorei that journeyed to the lands of Gilneas in order to help those afflicted with the Worgen curse--Tree being one of them. They met, and an immediate spark was apparent, evolving into a friendship and, later, a romantic relationship.

Then, the signs began to show. Shadryssa would increasingly and intentionally add on to Tree's isolation from their parents, and recommended they run away with her to join a group of Shadryssa's friends. Tree eventually agreed, and never saw their parents again. They ended up in Kalimdor together, living along the edges of Darkshore and Ashenvale amongst Shadryssa's "friends," who called themselves the Twilight's Hammer. They were focused on bringing darkness and chaos to the world of Azeroth, and if Tree acted unenthusiastic about serving their lord, Deathwing, they were threatened with punishment--as well as scolded by Shadryssa. Eventually, the disfunction grew to where she would physically assault them, even leaving a scar on their neck from when she dug her nails into it one time.

Despite Shadryssa's best efforts to keep Tree in line, however, the punishment soon came. Tree was often forced to sacrifice innocents in the name of the Twilight's Hammer, but when they again hesitated, they decided the ultimate punishment was to be given. As offering for their Old Gods, the Twilight's Hammer restrained Shadryssa--and sacrificed her in front of Tree. Scared into obedience and mourning the loss of their partner, they followed commands like a dog now. Tasked with protecting a door leading deeper into a Twilight's Hammer fortress, Tree fought against brave adventurers--and lost. They were bludgeoned hard enough in the side of the head--giving them the blind eye they now have--to fall unconscious. The adventurers either mistook them for being dead or took pity on them, for they did not finish the job and simply moved on.

Tree's brain was greatly affected. Their neural network had been damaged enough to revert them back to the state of a feral Worgen and, mindlessly, Tree escaped the facility and roamed across Azeroth. Eventually, strangers found them deep within the woods and, one of them being a druid, cured them back to a functioning cognitive state, and these people took them in as their friend. This group of people was known as none other than the Shadows of the Faithful, composed of adventurers and heroes looking to defend themselves and their loved ones from the threats of Azeroth. Slowly, Tree came out of their shell, gradually becoming more outgoing and comfortable in the positive and supportive environment of the Shadows of the Faithful. For the first time in Tree's life, people enjoyed their company unconditionally.

It is here that they met Randolph Heisenberg, a male Bloodfang Worgen rogue that seemed standoffish and lonesome at first, but to Tree appeared very friendly and talkative when actually approached. They met while Tree was beginning to restudy the Druidic arts, and was practicing healing the earth to repair the damage their role in the Cataclysm may have caused. Randolph was helpful, supportive and engaged--and, deep down, sensitive--and Tree, despite their previous experience with romance, couldn't help but enjoy the unfamiliar feeling of being valued and thought of in such a way.

Shadryssa wasn't going to let them go so easily, though. Out of sheer anger, her spirit returned to the mortal plane, and was able to capture Tree, continuing her abuse of them in her lair and seeking to restore glory to the Twilight's Hammer. The Faithful were after her, though. Hanethrick Grimsford, a Forsaken member of the Faithful's Horde sister organization, the Warblade Clan, had agreed to help Shadryssa in her mission in exchange for his own glory--but was secretly helping the interests of the Faithful instead. He was led right to Tree and helped them to escape, assisting them with their wounds and walking in the meantime. Tree was reunited with the Shadows of the Faithful, and, in the final showdown, panicked and encased themselves in roots out of fear of Shadryssa. While the rest of the Faithful battled her, they were short a healer, and quickly began to take on more and more wounds. As a void tendril lunged for Randolph, Tree finally snapped.

They were done. They were done cowering before Shadryssa and her violence. Now she had hurt people they cared about. Erupting in a void ability of their own, Tree rushed across the battlefield and stopped the tendril in its tracks with their teeth, ripping it away. Shadryssa taunted them and asked them if they were going to fight back, and Tree declined, raising their hands and allowing nature magic to sprout and grow in delicate vines, healing their friends around them.

Shadryssa was defeated. The Faithful's wounds were healing and closing as soon as they were inflicted. She fled, stumbling off a cliff and hanging on by one hand--and Tree offered to help her up. To give her a chance to change, just as they did.

Shadryssa declined, and let go, falling to her demise beneath her.

Tree had proven it to themselves that they were capable of bravery, of defending themselves, of standing up for what they knew was right. A confidence sparked in them, and they realized, in the middle of battle, how terrifying the concept of losing Randolph was. Tree admitted their feelings to him, and he reciprocated.

Since then, Tree has gradually been perfecting their healing magics, even growing antlers out of their head as their connection to Druidism improved. It was discovered along the way that Shadryssa was actually mother to a Kaldorei named Phoebelynn, her father being a Warden Captain named Mythodoran, and Tree helped Phoebe to learn her value outside of her mother's wretched identity. Tree and Randolph have been getting along great, their relationship steady and helpful to both parties, and the support they have been able to provide each other helping them greatly. Tree has remained as a healer for the Faithful and helped in countless combats, and is finally living the peace they'd missed out on for so long.

[THOUGHTS]

WHEW this took a while 'cause I kinda got burnt out on writing but HERE IT IS lol, I hope y'all enjoy this! Tree has been one of my favorites for a while from the way they've grown and blossomed and them and Randolph are just super sweet and wholesome. Also I referred to Tree exclusively as "they" throughout this post in order to maybe help some confusion by contrasting their pronouns with Randolph and Hanethrick's "he." I tend to do that in writing--for example Tree here goes by "he/they" so if they're alone in a writing scene with a female I usually write "he" but if they're in a writing scene with a male I usually write "they." Anyway thx for reading!

[ART]

Body ref Pride month doodles 2023 Restoration Druid spec art Tree x Randolph ship doodle Christmas doodles 2022 Reclaiming The Past Tree thirst art

[clacing]

General opinion on the other main ships of revstar ? (Kuromaya, Junnana and Futakao)

Kuromaya - Initially thought they were kind of overrated but then I watched their scenes again with a clear mind and I get it now. They make me absolutely deranged. Bad bitches who are fucking obsessed with each other and not even to an unhealthy degree but to the point that they will genuinely push and inspire each other to be the very best they can be by challenging each other for all eternity. Lots of thoughts about the Revue of Souls being Faust-themed and starting with Claudine saying that once she shows Maya brilliance she has never seen before, she will have her soul, but because neither of them will ever stop trying to one-up the other they’re just going to have to keep doing this dance until the end of time and they’re happy about it. They signed a contract in blood that says they’ve basically sold their souls to each other and they hold hands over it because that’s their Position Zero. Also I know them saying “We are flames that burn and fall together” is because of the whole fire motif in the movie but consider. They are literally twin flames. Everyone broke up while they ended up stronger than before and possibly tied together forever because they are the blueprint. The other girls better watch and learn this is how you do mutual obsession right I have no notes

Junnana - I think they’re cute I just don’t really get the hype around them yet. I was very surprised to see that they’re the second most popular ship ‘cause they didn’t have enough content to make any sort of impression on me. I know there's more stuff in the mangas and the games so I'll make my way through them eventually. Obsessed with whatever was going on between them in the movie though the angst was delicious

Futakao - I absolutely despise them I’m sorry. I’m all for disfunctional relationships I will ship some messed up shit but these two remind me too much of two ex-friends of mine who dated for years despite being terrible for each other and made the lives of everyone around them (ie ME) a living nightmare. Literally they acted the exact same way and had the exact same arguments so the moment Futaba and Kaoruko showed up on screen I started having war flashbacks I could not go through that again. I think Kaoruko has a lot of growing up to do and Futaba deserves better and maybe they'll find their way back to each other once they've matured a bit 'cause they clearly do love each other, I'm not opposed to that! Also Futaba going “You keep hogging me all to yourself.... you're so unfair” and tying her motorcycle key around Kaoruko’s ring finger while saying goodbye.... hit. But for now I hope they stay broken up for a long long while

[songsbanana]

Itunes apple support phone number

Itunes apple support phone number for free#

Itunes apple support phone number full#

This bug is resolved in the most recent version of the application. It is so stupid ~ I recommend typing messages in another app and then pasting it into signal when you are done.Īlso, FYI, if you want to copy text from a signal message, hold your finger on the message and then click on the little icon at the bottom of the screen that looks like two pieces of paper - nothing will ever appear that says “copy”. Highlighting a portion of your message is impossible it jumps from one end of the message to the other and will not allow you to scroll slowly to where you want to stop highlighting. If i try to move it further than that, the window just jumps back to the area where it is currently located and moves it to some random location nearby. I am completely unable to move the cursor more than a couple lines away from its current location at a time (and the text window doesn’t extend to more than 4 lines tall), so i have to scroll a couple lines away, click somewhere to move the cursor in the direction of where i want it to go, and repeat over and over again until it finally gets there. It is a nightmare trying to move the cursor to where you want it, or to highlight a specific section of your message. I don’t know if this disfunction is related to the particular phone (iPhone XR) that I am using Signal on now or if it is the same on other phones, but the “cursor” control on Signal is a disaster now. Nightmare editing messages on my iPhone XR Once I get all of my contacts to migrate to a more secure app, I’ll be uninstalling Signal, as it doesn't alert me any more anyway. Though no communication service is bullet proof, adding an additional layer of script to monetize Signal, (in my opinion) opens up a serious security breach that will eventually be exploited by hackers. That’s now going to change as word gets out that a backdoor for advertising has been installed in Signal’s app. I’m only here as a means to communicate with other hi level parties who feel safe using this app. Third party advertising has now become a security concern.

Itunes apple support phone number for free#

What do we expect for Free anyway? Obviously Signal’s original Mission Statement has changed. Obviously the developers of Signal had long term plans to monetize their once highly secure communication service? Soon, Signal will shut down all users that don’t update. This now opens up a backdoor for hackers.

Itunes apple support phone number full#

Yes, I allow full permissions for Signal.Īdditionally, I came here to update, but I dare not as Signal now allows third party stickers/ads. This is not the case with other messaging platforms. Now I have to keep opening the app to check for messages. Only once I click on the Signal icon do the alerts actually come in. I no longer receive an audible or visual notice when people send me a message. The service has now become pretty much useless. There’s even a text tool so that you can add more words to the 1,000 that your picture is already worth.įor support, questions, or more information, please visit:įollow us on Twitter and Instagram for all of the latest updates and announcements.

Picture this – Use the built-in image editing features to sketch, crop, and flip your outgoing photos.

Simon & Garfunkel wrote a hit song about it in 1964, and you can experience the sound of silence whenever you want by choosing “None” as your notification ringtone.

Sound familiar – Choose custom alerts for each contact, or disable noises completely.

Whisper in the shadows – Switch to the dark theme if you refuse to see the light.

Speak up – Whether they live across town or across the ocean, Signal’s enhanced audio and video quality will make your friends and family feel closer.

Be yourself – You can use your existing phone number and address book to securely communicate with your friends.

Development is supported by users like you.

Feel free – Signal is a completely independent 501c3 nonprofit.

Signal is optimized to operate in the most constrained environment possible.

Go fast – Messages are delivered quickly and reliably, even on slow networks.

Privacy isn’t an optional mode - it’s just the way that Signal works.

Say anything – State-of-the-art end-to-end encryption (powered by the open source Signal Protocol™) keeps your conversations secure.

Signal’s advanced privacy-preserving technology is always enabled, so you can focus on sharing the moments that matter with the people who matter to you. Send and receive high-fidelity messages, participate in HD voice/video calls, and explore a growing set of new features that help you stay connected. Millions of people use Signal every day for free and instantaneous communication anywhere in the world.

[waywardsummoner46]

A Tale of Four Spiders and Corruption

Pairing: Dark!Spiderman x3 x reader

Summary: Your universe’s Peter had screwed up big time. There was no escaping the consequences… especially when those consequences seemed to be obsessed with you.

Word Count: 3730

Warnings: Swearing, manipulation, hypnosis, aphrodisiacs, yandere/obsessive themes, corruption, non-consensual touching. If there are anymore, please let me know.

Author’s note: First and foremost, I am so, so sorry about practically disappearing for nearly two weeks. I have had barely any motivation to do anything and am only just feeling like my normal self again. I honestly don’t know if you enjoy this but I hope you do. I had a solid idea at the beginning but got completely carried away. I’m tagging everyone who liked the post I did earlier so if you don’t want to be on there please say so and I’ll remove you or I can add you if you’re interested. This is by far the darkest thing I’ve written and I’m feeling kinda ew about it. As always though, I hope you’re okay and let me know what you think!

______________________________

Where were you?

Blinking rapidly, you squinted in the darkness surrounding you. You tried to move your head but found that it was too heavy and was slumped against something hard yet soft.

Panicking slightly, you tried to move your limbs but no movement happened. They were bound so tight that you had no leverage at all.

Taking a deep breath, you focused on what you could feel before having a full blown panic attack. Whatever was underneath you was quite soft yet firm; probably a mattress then. Next, you tried to get a feel of what bound each of your limbs and felt something sticky but also quite… webby?

That didn’t make sense. Your web shooters A) shouldn’t disfunction and B) aren’t capable of restraining you as tightly as this.

Taking a deep breath to call yourself, you extended your fingers and wrapped them around the webbing encased your wrists and attempted to tear them off.

The position was awkward and immediately started making your arms hurt but you didn’t give up. When you finally managed to grip the webbing tight enough, you started to pull with all your might but was stopped by a voice shattering the silence.

“I don’t think you want to do that,” the masculine voice said. You gulped and searched your mind as to why that voice sounded familiar.

“You know, I really think I do. Especially since now I know that this is a kidnapping and you’re the one responsible, I’d say I really want to.” You increased the strength of your pull in pure spite of his words.

A hand grabbed you this time. Scratch that. Two hands grabbed each of your own and pried them delicately away from the webbing. You scoffed. “Oh how mature, three on one? Hardly fair.”

“It wouldn’t be fair if we were attacking you. It is fair though if we were doing this for your own good,” a bit younger than the other.

You heaved a frustrated laugh. “For my what? My own good? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself thank you very much. Now get your scrawny hands off of me! I don’t even know what you look like!”

As if by magic, the lights turned on. Blinking furiously, you tried to adjust to abrupt change of light and when you did a sound of pure horror ran through you.

“No. No no no no. You’re dead. You’re all dead. I killed you! How is this possible?”

All three Peter Parkers stood around you. The oldest opposite you, the tallest to your right and the youngest to your left. Consequently, all three Spider-Mans stood around you.

If it were anyone else in this situation, they would be overjoyed with having Spider-man in the same room as them, not to mention three. But your past with them is anything but joy and relief. No, it’s full with fear, horror and death.

Fear being the paralysing emotion you were constantly consumed by as each of them hunted you down across the multiverse.

Horror being the suffocating realisation that they’d never stop unless you submitted.

And death being their own, you’d killed them all. Each one slowly and painfully with every ounce of hatred and revulsion you could muster until only their mutilated corpses stared up into the stars.

Something had gone horribly wrong after the youngest Peter’s identity was revealed. He went to Doctor Strange, a good friend of yours, and pleaded with him to make everyone forget he was Spiderman. That was his first mistake.

It went okay for awhile but Peter insisted that some people remember who he was so Strange ended up changing the spell five times. Five times too many it seems as visitors started creeping up from other universes and into your own. None of them were friendly (maybe Otto but only after Peter had cured him).

After capturing them all, Peter went about trying to cure them. As always that didn’t go according to plan and they instead continued with their villainous intentions and murdered a bunch of people before trying to murder Peter himself.

Now, these villains were only here because they knew Peter’s identity in their own universes.

Matt Murdock, another good friend of yours and an excellent combatant, consistently informed you of what was going on and when he caught wind that another two Spider-Mans were in town? You knew you had to make yourself known.

You pretty much had the same abilities as Spider-Man except you hardly used them. Partially because you didn’t want the attention that would inevitably be on you and partially because Peter was doing a great job on his own.

But considering the power and the threat he faced now? You knew that something had to change, even with another two helping him, they were no match for a lizard, sparks boy, a living beach and a green elf. Doesn’t sound very threatening does it?

When you’d made your appearance, they’d all looked at each other as though expecting one to say “yeah, she’s with me.” But none of them did. So you became a mystery to them and soon an obsession.

The multiverse situation had escalated dramatically. The plan was to draw all of the otherworldly villains to the Statue of Liberty and cure them with a formula suited uniquely for each one.

After this universes Peter had contacted the Bugle, you’d all conversed as you waited. They started talking about what villains they’d defeated, where their webs come from (don’t ask) and last but not least: who the hell were you?

They never got an answer to that question until after the battle. After everything went catastrophically wrong. Doctor Strange turned up and tried to return everyone to their designated universes and whilst it was working, the Peters had another plan. They didn’t want to leave you, their latest obsession, all alone. So they bound Strange after knocking him out and imprisoned him deep underground.

They closed and returned everyone to their own universe apart from themselves as they had other plans for you. What they were you didn’t know, still didn’t and still don’t.

With Strange out of the way, they were free to do as they wished when they wished.

Before they could capture you, you fled the scene and got as far away from them as you could. First staying with Matt, then with his friend Jessica but you never felt safe. Searching for Stephen was also on the forefront of your mind but priority number one was staying away from the esteemed friendly neighbourhood Spidermen.

And it worked. Until it didn’t…

One day, you were walking down an alleyway just trying to get home when you heard three simultaneous thumps from behind you. Tensing up, you grasped the dagger concealed in your belt (you had no web fluid left) and turned slowly.

Each one of them had a wide smirk on their faces. Their entire posture screamed confidence and smugness but their eyes. Their eyes shook you to your core.

The pupils had disappeared and the whites the only thing present.

Staggering backwards in surprise you stuttered, “W-What the hell happened to you guys?”

They chuckled in return. An evil, malicious chuckle that shook terrified you down to your very core.

The tallest Peter responded. “We had a few adjustments. You know what it’s like jumping from universe to universe right, (Y/N)? Sometimes, mistakes just happen.” They all took a step forward and you took three steps backwards.

You gulped. “Okay, maybe I have jumped to a few universes from time to time but that still doesn’t explain what the fuck happened to you. Why are your eyes white?”

The oldest Peter said, ”I don’t know what you mean.” You were to call out on his sarcasm but when you blinked their eyes were back to normal.

You closed your eyes and raised your eyebrows, silently collecting your thoughts. “Okay, right. Yeah, no. Normal eyes,” you took a breath. “On that note, I’m gonna-ah!” You screamed and jumped away from the three people who were less than a metre away from you. “I’m going.”

The Peter who hadn’t spoken finally piped up. “Don’t think that’s a good idea. Do you honestly think we’ll let you go now?”

You pretended to ponder for awhile. “Mmmmmm, no. Which is exactly why I have friends who’ll help me with a wave of my hand.” As you said, a wave of a hand was all it took for portal to open up behind you (the sling ring that caused it was used by Jessica). “It’s been nice guys, really. But I gotta scram, toodlepip.”

Situations similar to this happened many, many times before you finally got your hand on a lab that hadn’t been blown up. Oh yeah, nearly every lab in your universe had been blown up as a result of Peter, Peter and Peter not wanting to give you the opportunity to make more web fluid. Well ha, jokes on them, you always found a way.

You made as much as you could and stuffed all of the canisters into the backpack you carried whilst placing one at each wrist.

Staring at it for awhile, you thought back over how you got into this situation. If only you hadn’t come out of hiding.

Snapping yourself out of it, you put on the hoodie you took off earlier abs exited the building dead set on killing them once and for all.

When you found them, you showed them no mercy. You surprised them and webbed their hands and feet to the roof of the building they were on. They looked at you in surprise and in shock.

No words escaped their lips before a dagger was thrust through each of their chests and blood spewed from their mouths. A slow death is what they deserved, yet it couldn’t be granted lest they overpowered you.

Chest heaving, you stood above their bodies and mourned the loss of heroes but most of all you relished in the peaceful and free feeling that overwhelmed you. Their eyes stated lifelessly ahead of them and you sobbed once more realising you’d just murdered them.

Matt found you up there four hours later, sitting on the edge of the building and crying your heart out. He sat by your side silently and hugged you tightly.

It took you awhile to move on from the all consuming grief but when you did, the world brightened up and everyone began to recover from the mayhem the unnaturally powerful Spidermen had caused.

The freedom that you’d felt had vanished once you realised the predicament you were in.

Tears rimmed your eyes and eventually started to spill. Your lips quivered abs your chest was slightly erratic. “Please leave me alone. Let me go, please.” Instantly, they all rushed closer to you ok the mattress and began coddling you.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhhh. Calm down, it’s okay,” one of them said.

“Take a deep breath. In and out, sweet,” another said.

The last one remained silent but reached for a glass of water and held it to your lips. Confused, you graciously took a couple of big gulps before bringing your head back.

“Pete-“

“Yeah?” Was heard three times.

“Guys what is going on?”

They seemed to have a silent conversation with each other before Peter one explained. “Basically we woke up to find daggers poking through our chests and, already knowing who did it, decided we needed to take responsibility and correct their behaviour.”

“Permanently,” they all concluded.

Their entire aura screamed threat and your spider senses - albeit not as powerful a theirs - were going haywire. Their faces showed no expressions yet it was clear they were talking about you. Oh god, they knew it was you. What we’re they going to do now? Licking your lips you asked, “And how would you do that?”

Peter three gleefully provided you sole insight. “Well, you remember we mentioned those adjustments? Turns out they included the ability to release mind altering pheromones.” You stared up at him in horror and began thrashing once more.

Peter two added, “Not different from how a male spider attracts a female spider for breeding season. Except there are two ways they do that, one is two release enticing pheromones and the other-“

“By making patterns with their webs or on the females body,” Peter one finished. They all seemed amused by your thrashing and gazed down at you adoringly. “There’s no point in struggling, beautiful.”

Spitting at his face you hissed, “There’s definitely a point, Peter. I’m not becoming some submissive or placid o-o-or obedient little bitch for you all. It just isn’t happening so get the fuck away from me and please go back to hell where you so clearly came from.”

A condescending smile spread across their faces. Then the lights went off after the unmistakable sound of a web shooter being used echoed throughout the massive room you were in.

Then the hands came and the tiny pinpricks of their fingers as they caressed up and down your bare legs and over your stomach.

Stroking you, tapping you and tracing your features with their careful hands only made you more anxious as you waited for a change. When none came you hesitantly spoke again. “Not to ruin the mood or anything but I don’t think it’s working.”

A whisper in your ear made you jump. “Oh it’s working, sweetheart. Your pupils are dilated and your heart rate is speeding up.”

Truth be told, what he said was the truth. They must’ve put their suits back on to be able to see in the dark like that or it’s another “adjustment”.

Your heart was pumping quite rapidly come to think about it but that was obviously just because of your anxiety. And you doubted that your pupils were dilated as there was nothing for you to see nor were you aroused whatsoever.

(The heat in your core you chose to ignore.)

“You’re lying.”

“Tut, tut, tut. I thought you were smarter than this,” Peter two said from to the side of you. Great, they’d changed places. Not disorientating at all.

The hands on your legs started creeping upwards and you thrashed around to deter their clear objective. The fingers on your stomach however, slipped underneath your shirt and cupped your breast, squeezing and kneading it until a quiet moan left your lips to which you immediately bit your lip to hold back anymore traitorous noises.

A finger pried your teeth away from your lips and then brushed some stray hairs behind your ears. “No don’t do that. Let us hear those pretty sounds.” Opting to disobey, you clamped down hard on your bottom lip until blood began to form and even then you didn’t relent.

A sigh was heard.

“Guys maybe we should go for plan B.”

“I think you’re right. If only to speed the process along.”

“Alright, who’s going first?”

You phased the conversation out briefly in exchange for quickly formulating a plan. If you could somehow convince them to release you from the webs then maybe you could attack when they least expect it…

Your eyes darted left to right whilst you though but stopped when a heavenly scent filled the air.

It invaded the air around you and attacked your senses, making your eyelids flutter and your teeth to let go of your lip. It was choking you. Consuming you entirely.

The scent was so strong that you were genuinely confused as to whether or not to head towards the source or as far away from it as possible. It was made for you as the webs were unwound from your limbs and you were manoeuvred into the lap of one Peter Parker - that was actually Peter three.

You began twisting and turning but refused to admit that your movements were already frighteningly sluggish and they had all of the advantage here.

He shushed you as though you were a delicate child. Gripping the back of your neck with his hand, he pressed your face into his neck where you realised the scent was strongest. Subconsciously, you were still struggling yet even you knew it was futile.

The scent was definitely strongest here and it brought tears to your eyes. Eyes that were slowly but surely glazing over.

“Please stop. You don’t want this and you don’t want me, no one ever does,” you whispered helplessly. An animalistic sound tore through each of their chests that made you tense up in the spot. They definitely weren’t able to do that before; what exactly had happened to them?

Peter’s fingers threaded through your hair and pushed your head even further into his neck. He tilted his head so that he was speaking into your hair. “We will always want you. Always. Don’t ever say that about yourself again, do you hear me?” You nodded dazedly. “Good. This’ll make the process even easier.”

Then the pinpricks in his fingertips were inserted into your head and caused your eyes to roll up into their sockets.

You began spasming in his arms. Another two fingers were placed at your temples then they too were inserted into your head. An image was playing inside of your mind. One that brought with it an overwhelming urge to obey and submit to the dominant males that were around you. It choked you and a scream tore itself from your throat.

Then it began changing and rerouting your brain functions. It began altering your body and its system. The urge to submit was fully engrained into your mind, at the forefront of everything. The urge to listen and to please your mates with all your might.

The urge to feed from them and the urge to mate with them consumed you.

Your eyesight was increased and along with it your hearing. A scent gland developed on either side of your neck and your body was now able to concoct webs at will.

Your body slowed to a stop and the hands were slowly released. You blinked blearily as you were lowered back down onto the bed, completely exhausted.

The lights were turned back on and you raised a hand up to cover your eyes. “You alright, sweet thing?” Your oldest mate asked. Removing your hand, you went to answer but choked on your words as the last bit of freewill you had was pushed forward when you realised the extent of the problem you were in.

Each of their suits were black. Covered in pure ebony black. The amazing colours of justice had been corrupted by a force that should’ve died long ago.

“No,” you whispered.

Their eyes went white and their suits spread over their hands. All of them rose from the bed and welcomed the otherworldly power that was bound deep within them. Gazing up at the ceiling, they clicked their necks before turning to you in unison.

“Yeah.”

“Venom? How is this possible?” You whimpered.

“This isn’t venom, babe. This is the new and improved versions of Spiderman all for you. See when our universes collided, there was another itty-bitty but if information that Strange forgot to mention.

“When alternate versions of the same being come into contact with one another, it causes an imbalance regarding literally everything.”

Peter two chimed in. “As a result, an extremely powerful being was alerted of this change and decided that something had to be done about it. To keep us under control per say.

“She said that we’d undergo some changes to enhance what we already were. We were powerful, strong and brave. But lonely most of all.”

Peter one. “She made us realise that we don’t have to be. All of our loved ones either left or got killed so she made one that couldn’t be. That was made for us, to love us and to stay with us forever. And in return, we’d love and stay with them forever too.

“We were unwilling at first - for some reason - but after she made us realise what exactly we could be and what we could make? We couldn’t refuse!”

They started caging you again and you began hyperventilating.

“You were the one she created because she was you!”

Then you passed out and welcomed the void of darkness as though it were an old friend.

_________________________

The three Spidermen gazed adoringly down at their new mate. Knowing soon how compliant she’d be they couldn’t resist the urge shiver that spread down their spines.

Deciding they’d had enough of the old warehouse they’d found, they took turns to swing her back to their nest. It was a huge spiderweb in the middle of nowhere yet they’d kept a shack to the side of it with a bed as she goes through the transition.

They settled her down and curled up beside her.

Things began crawling under her skin. Little lumps moving around just beneath the surface, begging to come out. Black veins spread all over her body and if open, her eyes would’ve been pitch black.

She was Zinzerena in another life. Goddess of spiders. The storied her last self had fed the three were lies for the most part. She needed them to commence the transition so that the celestial conscience could overtake the mortal one.

Her primary goal was to find a suitable mate and what glee she’d felt when realising there were three perfectly good ones right here, ripe for the picking.

Still buried deep within the girl’s mind, she struggled to push out three tendrils from the girls chest but when she did she offered one to each boy. The tendrils secreted a black liquid that would continue to change their bodies, similar to what was happening to the girl now and what had happened to them before hand.

They gazed hungrily at the tendrils and gratefully accepted when it was pushed into the backs of their necks, feeling the brief taste in the back of their tongues.

Their eyelids fluttered when an ancient voice echoed in their minds. “Yes, my precious. Soon I’ll have you all for myself and nothing can come between us. Rest well as come morning, the transition will take a painful turn and you’ll need to aid her in whatever way you can. Now sleep, my darling spiders.”

______________________________

Tag list~

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[amygdalagustd]

One of my favorite things about evangelion is how it shows that mental health is a systemic thing.

Everyone in the show is fucked up because their parents where fucked up. All the adults are fucked up because they went through disaster in their early twenties and all the kids are fucked up because they were children in the aftermath of disaster. Everyone is stuck in political and economical systems that they can't change and that don't benifit them. The completely lack of resources keeps everyone in line because there is nothing else they can do. Last but not least, the treat of the world ending looms over everyone's head and makes them throw away any kind of long term planning in favor of just surviving one more day.

A big theme in evangelion is how humans ultimately need relationships to fuction, but it's also about society and how it ultimately fails to provide them with this very basic need. Everyone in the show is so freaking lonely. They're all desperately trying to break free from their individual loneliness, but there is no way that they can win against the systems that work against them. No individual can break free from trauma when trauma is at the core of every aspect of society. They are all trying, but ultimately they all fall short, for themselves and for each other. As the systems continue to fail them, their attempts at attaining closeness become more disfunctional and extreme. In the end, Gendo significantly traumatises his only son and literally tries to end humanity in the most "main bad guy" way possible....simply so he can see his dead wife again. Society is a product of humanity, and it's ultimately here to serve us. When it fails to provide us with such a fundamental need we all have, it will eventually crumble, and that's what happens in evangelion.

[minetteskvareninova]

Hetalia Headcannons: Origins

(Because I’ve seen some truly shitty takes on this theme and I just want to try my hand at it.)

- Nations in Hetalia are basically animistic deities, who are largely too stupid to realize they have god-like powers. Kidding, but they really don’t see themselves as gods, and definitely don’t require to be treated as such - no, not even USA.

- The family tree of the Romance family is truly a mess to behold. It is known that Grandpa Rome and lady named Longobardia had a child named Italia, and that she was the mother of Lovino and Romano. He also took as a subject in his house (a la Romano under Austria) lady named Iberia, but her son Asturias probably wasn’t his, although he definitely raised the child. Asturias then had a long and sordid relationship with Al-Andalus, which produced Spain and Portugal. France was a child of Frankia of the Germanic family, but he was basically adopted by aging Rome, and it’s likely he was his father. Romania is a bastard child of Rome and... Well, noone knows for sure. Romania claims his mother was Dacia, but she died long before his birth, so many people suspect some lady from the Slavic family, or another family entirely. Switzerland probably fits into this and Germanic family in some way, shape or form, but noone is sure how. Belgium is a bastard child of France and sister of Netherlands that was raised by Austria, and all in all is MUCH more well-adjusted than that description would imply.

- Germanic family is even more of a mess due to their penchant for chimerism - a capability of related nations to fuse together into one being. They are all descendants of Germania, who had many children and even more grandchildren. The rest of the family tree is super murky; Netherlands, Nordic nations and probably England are distant cousins of Prussia, Germany and Austria. Germany and Prussia are brothers (in fact, Germany is a fusion of all of Prussia’s brothers), while Austria is a cousin of theirs. Again, Switzerland is probably related to them somehow, but it’s super unclear. What we do know is that he and Austria lived together for a while, but after a raging argument, Switzerland moved out and declared independence. Liechtenstein is Austria’s long lost sister.

- Slavic nation have a much clearer family tree. Mother Venedia had three sons, West, East and South Slavia, who are in turn fathers of all the current Slavic nations. West had two children, Great Moravia and Poland. There is some mess with Slovakia and Bohemia being originally one child, that is Great Moravia, but that one split in two after Hungary invaded - Bohemia fled westward, while Hungary found its twin Slovakia in the stuff she stole from Moravia. South had many children, who were basically just a mess of fusing, splitting and begetting children; this part of the tree doesn’t figure into the story that much anyway, but it’s interesting to note that Croatia and Slovenia have a history of living with both Hungary and Austria. East Slavia’s family is a disfunctional mess even by the standards of the nations. Slavia’s daughter Rus had three children, Belarus, Russia and Ukraine. Rus died in a war with Mongolia, leaving his children orphans. Ukraine was adopted by Poland, but as you can imagine, he wasn’t the most responsible of fathers, so she practically raised herself. Belarus grew up with the Baltics, but she always felt like she doesn’t belong, especially after Lithuania married Poland, for whom Belarus had nothing but disdain. You can imagine she was eager to join Russia after the partition of Poland. Russia lived as a servant in Mongolia’s house, untill he rose up and gained his father’s land back. Baltics are cousins of the Slavs, though there is some indication Estonia is just adopted.

- Hungary, as far as we know, isn’t related to anyone, though there are some speculations about her being a daughter of some “original” Hungary and West Slavia. For her part, Hungary denies being related to the Slavs in any way, though she undoubtedly learned some of their mannerisms.

- England is... Complicated. It lives on the estates of the Celtic family, and was undoubtedly adopted by them, but his origins are more obscure, Germanic and/or Nordic. He also had a huge crush on France when he was a kid, spending a lot of time with, which is why he has some Romance manners despite not being actually related to that family.

[androgynousblackbox]

Thoughts about the fifth season (spoilers)

Okay, so normally I would make these posts as neutral as possible because I want them to reach anyone who enjoys the show. Even if you are someone that really fucking hates incest ships you can read them and still have an idea of what I liked, what didn’t, etc, without me bringing up that element. You can disagree or agree without being reminded “oh, yeah, he is one of THOSE fans I don’t like” and that is totally fine by me. Curate your own online experience and all that. But this is season is quite literally about the relationship between Rick and Morty, so as a rickmorty shipper I just can’t separate that from what I enjoyed about it and thus I am going to be talking from that position during all of this. If that makes you uncomfortable, that is cool, I get it. You can skip this one if you want. Also, this is going to be a general big mess of thoughts and whatever because I have lots of them so, bear with me. -Some of the shippers I was with on a server will know this already, but from the very first episode I was sure we were going to have two major themes: 1. Rick is a flawed human being, not a god, not a ultra genius who is always destined to be on top of everything and knows how to get out of any situation. Just a man. And that is why he needs other people, which is somethig he had to accept and understand about himself, especially after the fourth season was all about dethroning him as the patriarch of the family and break away the illusions that Beth had about her own father. We have standed too long having Rick win on everything and coming out like a badass, so it’s time to kick him down a bit and let him lose. 2. Morty’s heart is always going to get fucked over, which is something that gets even more explored on the Planetina episode: he wants a place to belong with a person who doesn’t make him feel like the odd one out. Combine the two and my idea was: they want to assure us about their relationship on some kind of way, this is about them and what they feel regarding each other. Probably about why or how Rick became so jaded because why else include Rick freaking out about Mr Nimbus just mentioning Diane’s name and how much he changed, on a first episode no less, if this isn’t something we are setting up to see later. They explicitely brought someone from Rick’s past to talk about that past and make a point to tell us that changed Rick. -So, we have the two major player set up like this: on one hand, Morty aspires for that companionship but he is not willing to compromise his own moral for it, whatever he has left after starting to take on some Rick’s traits. He is desperate for that connection and if that means leaving Rick behind, so be it. Rick will still be there anyway. On othe other hand, Rick also wants that connection and companionship but it’s too disfunctional and can’t make it quite work because there is always a part of him that wants to keep distance. With the alien lady, evne with the crows, it’s all about escapism and pretend like everything is fine, it’s just fun and he doesn’t have to care because they are just having a good time together. He tried to do that too with BP by keeping away the info about his daughter, but he called his bluff because BP knew Rick too much to not see that comic. It’s rebound after rebound because he is missing the one person that can keep him in check, that truly knows what a piece of fucking shit he is and somehow still comes back to him. BP saw that, knew what was happening, and prefered to get the fuck away because he didn’t want to compromise his own values like that either. But Rick doesn’t have that problem with Morty. It truly is Rick and Morty one hundread years because, no matter how fucking bad it gets, they still choose one another. -Now, the way they keep building up this relationship, these connection, even regarding the rest of the family, to me is brilliant in restrospect because it perfectly illustrate how much they have changed from what they were before and what that means. Morty is more independent and less afraid, right, but that doesn’t make him more happier because he is still lonely and Rick is being reminded, over and over again, that he can’t be alone either. -Regarding the way Morty have behaved, I have seen some people being concerned about how Morty is becoming more independent and therefore not relying on Rick as much for anything, so it’s like what is the point of their relationship anymore. And like, to me it makes sense they show because they have already told us on past seasons that Morty has stopped viewing Rick with that wide eyed expression for a long time. He is learning from him and can defend himself, so why does he need Rick at al? The answer is because he loves him. You can read that as platonic or romantic or whatever, but for better or for worse Morty just loves Rick. You shouldn’t love people because you need them, or at least that is not a healthy basis for any relationship. I said this on another post: you cannot make anyone to be your center for your mental health like that, and I feel like they aware of this point, which I really fucking love because it would have been easy as fuck to write any pairing like that.  -If you stay for the “Behind of scenes” scenes, the writers talk about how this season is about building trust between Rick and Morty. So it starts with Morty going around cleaning up some of the messes Rick left behind without telling Rick and then fucking the portal gun because he doesn’t trust Rick to not “kill him” to finding out he did that, just like Rick in fact doesn’t trust Morty to not be doing unnecesary bullshit. So Morty, hurt because his suspicions were right, puts an ultimatum and Rick, being the petty fuck we all know him to be, takes it kind because of course he would. -What does Morty does immediately after this? Latch onto another sketchy as fuck older man whose name ends with Ick and hope that is the connection he craves, because after all “we are like brothers now.” So rebound for him, rebound for Rick, rebounds for the crows, rebounds for everyone. Yay. -I know it has been however many years have passed since this show started, and it was obvious for fucking everyone who watched it, but I do really like that they use the exact words for how their dynamic has been: unhealthy, toxic, abusive. Lack of trust, lack of boundaries, secrets. Just straight up calling it as it is. So they have both of them confronting that fact, being aware of it, and to top it all off, make Morty the only being now on their universe that knows everything about Rick, every single thing he has kept even from BP, like the true reason he joined to their guerilla group, and still makes the conscious choice to go after Rick even when, as far he was aware of at least, there was another option.  -So, okay, now what, might someone ask. We have put everything out there and we have talked about what is wrong about their relationship, does this mean we are doing the boring healthy bullshit now? Well, nope. Considering that Morty did went out of his way to guilt trip Rick into getting back and Rick admits point blank admits he get it, Morty refusing to demand things be different because he is just desperate... they are still and probably always going to be a condependent mess, but hey, a condependent mess that at least is kinda self aware about it and won’t pull the “I am going to break up with you on a whim” move again, hopefully. I do think and expect some things to change, but only as far their dynamic during adventures goes and regarding the rest of the family, with everyone being on the know that those two are an item neither of them can get in between. Rick is probably still going to want to keep some things in control, he is still not going to express his feelings to Morty directly and Morty is still going to be a little shit that will want for validation that won’t come his way. It’s a shithole house, but at leat it’s their home kind of thing, and personally, that is how I like it. -The “adventures as a metaphor for a relationship so this is not like a real break up” is real funny when you hear the writers literally calling it a break up and a relatonship. Also, the amount of times that they say “my partner”. Like, I am sorry, but how the fuck I am supposed to believe this wasn’t for the shippers, fucking how? Like even if you aren’t one, and you go “it’s a metaphor!! it’s not like an actual relationship, they are not saying they are together as a couple”, that is flimsy as fuck because we have determined already that Rick uses adventures as an extension for all his relationships. There is a intentional paralel between BP and Morty and how Rick treats the both of them, like he would do anything for them but still be kind of a lying piece of shit too, so it’s definitely canon on the sense -Omg, we had miniature cute Mortys who like crayons and also big hot adult Morty, fucking finally. I cannot fucking believe they wouldn’t know the blessing they were throwing to fandom with that one, they know what they are doing.  -Rick as a boy dressing on the same colors of Morty could have been a cute little detail, like aww, they are family, so they pass down those colors from one generation to another because family, but fuck all of that, let’s make it creepy and fucked up because why not. But it’s also interesting because if Ricks breeded Mortys and put those colors on them, isn’t that another way of saying “you are connected to us just as much as we are connected to you”? Because they didn’t had to chose those colors, but they did it because it meant something for them. On a very fucked up way, I think they might even feel themselves more fathers to Morty than even Beth, because many of them didn’t cared manipulating her in order to gain more Mortys even if they could just clone them easily. -”You all really are bred for forgiveness”... Not really, or else “Evil Morty” wouldn’t exist and Cop Rick, the good one, would have never been attacked by using the attachment of Ricks against him. But Morty had made his choice and that choice was Rick, and even then Rick cannot fucking believe it so he has to reduce it to his breeding. -So, the finite curve has been destroyed and almost all Ricks were killed, the ones that weren’t coincidentally fucking off to another place just when that happened. That means that now there is true infinite universe where Rick is not the smartest man on the universe, where Rick doesn’t even exist at all, so we may have adventures where other people where the smartest people on their universe and Rick could finally meet his equal or someone even worse.  -The final speech of Mr Poppybutthole is kinda the perfect ending to everything, because he is talking avoid being afraid of the people he loves finding the “true” self of him and not loving him anymore, but Morty did that and he still loves Rick and, listen, I have FEELINGS about it, okay.  -After exploring this, which was the true only canonical mistery of the whole series, while also dumping off the backstory of Rick so nobody has to theorize about it anymore, it feels like they going two routes: either we are dumping anything about serialized anything, at least for a while, and we are back to just silly adventures with asshole grandpa and traumatized kid, or... we are introducing another big baddie that we are going to drag to hell and back. Maybe Evil Jerry? That could be fun to explore on the show. My bet is on the second option because I think that is the kind of thing that Justin really enjoys doing and that is why it appears on Solar Opposites as well, with the whole Wall as a central points behind all the shenanigans of the aliens.  -The only misteries left are: the weird Rick that killed his family, if he wasn’t killed already on the Citadel, and Birdperson reunion with his daughter, for which he might ask Rick’s help in the future when he cools down or maybe Rick gets his daughter back for him on a ridiculous plan to make him return his calls, because that is something he is going to pull. The Jessica thing and her quest for becoming an actual character with her own thing going on. -This finale made rickmorty canon on all the ways it could without having them literally making out willingly, and after Naruto, I don’t think that is a line they are not willing to cross at some point in the future, even if it’s just a joke. They already did with the parasites. I honestly don’t even know how you can watch the show and think “fuck yeah, they hate those ships just as much as I do!”, because with the way the writers talk about it and literally this entire season being nothing but a building up for their relationship, I would have been turned if I didn’t ship it already.

[its-chelisey-stuff]

“Bromance” a one night-only event. Produced by: Soju.

Makes sense to me. I love bromances, and I never discriminate the way they’re created.

You will in a minute, sweetie :)

“The thing is, bad people should date each other, so one good would be hurt” I can’t argue with that logic. Several people here on tumblr have stated that Wooyeon and Soo are awfully disfunctional people that should date each other just to save other poor souls from dating them. btw he actually called him hyung and I went soft for the rest of the scene.

HAHAHA I can guarantee you, he is not.

“One of them, will die“ HAHAHAHAHA wtf is he saying?!

CEO: “Are you going to keep on liking Kyung Wooyeon?” also, drunk Soo is so cute!!!

Awwwww Lee Soo, you sweet thing. You know, I actually believe you’re one of those annoying people that succeed at most things they try as long as they put their minds to it that’s Wooyeon was doomed from the start to like this man hahaha. Trauma and logic aside, I believe you’ll be a good boyfriend. A devoted one. I’m still a bit surprised at your transformation from the Soo we met for the first 6 eps. Is like you’re a different person, basically. And I know I’m always saying this, but SeongWu has made a wonderful job in this role

You know it, babe. The world knows it, so how come that you forget it when you’re sober?

I enjoyed a LOT this scene I laughed so hard it was hard to breathe after but I also enjoyed the bit before they got drunk, when Soo called him out for being clingy. CEO tried to criticize Soo as well, saying he was always pressuring Wooyeon again, that’s one of your faults, Joonsoo but Soo knows how to turn an insult into a compliment haha so it didn’t have the desired effect.

The only thing that did hurt Soo was the comment that Wooyeon doesn’t like him anymore, which CEO knows is completely untrue, and everyone knows it too, except for Wooyeon (who keeps denying it) and Soo himself (who believes he wronged her SO DAMN MUCH he erased all the feelings she had for him). Misunderstandings, the theme of the episode. *deep sigh*

Ps. The actors must’ve had a terrific time behind the scenes. The two also seem rather close, so I can’t imagine this scene was dificult at all to film. A sad thing we were deprived from this bromance in the drama, but let’s be glad it exists irl with SeongWu and DongJun.

[aria-asks]

RULES, AND GUIDLINES.

No requests when they are closed, if the bio says closed, and you send a request, that request will be deleted, you can ask again when they open up again.

For Nerodiversity requests please be specific as to what aspect you want a response to for example: stimming, executive disfunction, light sensitivity, routines ect. Neurodiverse people are just as varied as NT people if not more so (that's like the whole point lol) so I can't write for big broad spectrum.

Asks don't need to be explicitly about neurodiversity, they can't be about anything really.

Asks do not need to be romantic either.

NO MAP, NO DUB CON

Aromantic, asexual, a-spec asks welcome. Greys demis freys and all. You're valid and I love you.

Gender queer asks welcome as well, if you dont specify gender I will treat it as gender neutral.

Any other lgbt+ asks also welcome.

I will write suggestive themes, but not explicit scenes. Just not my jam.

One request at a time, one fandom at a time and up to 3 characters for now.

Fandoms open

Ikemen sengoku

Dragon age origins, and inquisition

Inuyasha

Hakuouki

Naruto

Vampire knight

Please keep in mind that I am not entirely familiar with all characters in every fandom