#their stands both have to do with the weather

[metalarmsrcool]

bookworm blurb

pairing: bookworm!reader x rafe

synopsis: you’re trying to read your book but a certain someone can’t help but distract you

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy kink, pet names, MDNI

something about books always calmed you down. you were an anxious mess ninety nine percent of the time but reading always helped shut your mind off. it made you stop thinking about all the what ifs and kept you from overthinking. you could get so into a book sometimes hours would pass when in felt like only minutes. you could completely focus in on the words on the page and completely forget everything around you. which is why you didn’t notice him standing there watching you.

rafe thought it was cute how you could talk about books all day. he didn’t have the attention span to read that much but he always admired you for it. the way your face would light up when you discovered a new favorite. sometimes you would even cry when one of your favorite characters died. he hated when you cried of course but he found it so fucking endearing how connected you could be to these characters.

he shook his head and slowly walked towards you. your stomach was against the cushions, you knees bent with you feet in the air. your hair in a messy ponytail on the cusp of falling out. they’d spent the whole day home. the weather outside one of those rare cold, rainy days. you always said you loved listening to the rain as you read. it was the perfect background noise.

“hey sweetheart.”

you jumped, quickly closing your book. a blush already rising on your cheeks. you knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed but you always were. your thighs rubbed together as you turned your head to look up at him.

“you scared me!” you let out a laugh as you made to get up but his hands pushed your back down. “what’re you doin’? don’t you wanna sit with me?”

“ ‘course I wanna. but you look comfy, keep reading I just wanted to see you.”

he lifted your legs and slid under you. his hands immediately going to massage your thighs. he could never keep his hands off you for long. Whether it was holding your hand or playing with your hair.

you went back to your book. quickly getting immersed in the words again. it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to sit with you while you read. his hands mindlessly rubbing up and down. occasionally his fingers would drift a little too far up. fingertips grazing your underwear. you hadn’t bothered getting dressed this morning. simply throwing on a shirt and pair of panties.

you’re not sure how long has passed but you were a little more then halfway done with your book.

“baby?” his fingers stopped just below your underwear. tracing the fabrics edges but never straying to your center.

“hmm?”

he knew what he was doing. you’d manage to block him out for the most part. but he’s been getting touchier the longer you read.

“you’re so pretty.” both his hands came up to squeeze your ass and you let out a little moan.

your face was burning. you’d been together for a while now but you’d never get used to this. his words. his touch.

“my pretty girl. you’re reading one of those scenes aren’t you? think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs? don’t know why you read ‘em when i’m right here.”

you were dripping. it only took a few words and touches from him to have you soaking through your underwear. you tucked your face into your arms. your book falling onto the floor with a little thump.

“so wet. this for me or your little book?” his fingers were teasing. dragging back and forth over the material separating you from him. the material thin. his fingertips catching on your entrance every so often.

“for y-you. always for you.” god he was barely even touching you and you were a panting mess. “please rafe.”

his fingers stopped. his warmth gone in an instant. your head popped up about to ask why he stopped before you felt a sharp sting on your ass.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about you calling me that? try again sweetheart.”

his hand was massaging you over where he slapped. the skin sure to have a pink mark.

“p-please daddy. teasing too much.” you were shocked when he first asked you to call him that. you didn’t realize you’d liked it until you were a moaning mess beneath him, the word slipping out like you’d said it thousands of times before.

“see? that wasn’t so hard baby was it.”

your thighs clenched with his words. his voice alone could make you wet. he knew how to talk in a way that had you melt against him.

“you want my fingers sweet girl? your body’s tellin me ya do. so wet f’me. i don’t know why you bother wearing these. ‘m just gonna take them off.”

sure enough you felt him pulling the fabric don’t your thighs. you flushed as you felt your wetness trailing down your leg. his fingers coming back up to rub you. trailing up and your your slit. his fingernails catching on your clit making you whine.

“daddy. please.”

you could feel his gaze on you. you’d imagine a smirk lining his lips. you could feel how hard he’d become beneath you. the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. your hips trying to rub up against him.

“so needy. c’mon baby i wanna hear you say it.”

your face was flushed. you could feel sweat dripping down your neck. his fingers avoiding the one spot you needed him to touch.

“please. p-please fuck me with your fingers.”

his middle and pointer finger immediately dipped into you. you were so wet there wasn’t even any resistance.

“yes. yes. ohmygodplease.”

before you’d met him you’d tried touching yourself. but your fingers were too slim. too short to reach that one spot inside of you. rafe’s the first one to make you cum. his fingers thick and long enough that he barely has to try.

you hear him chuckle. his fingers dragging against your walls. in and out. in and out.

“god baby. you’re dripping down my fingers. feel good yeah? i can feel you gripping me. so fucking tight.”

he lets out a groan as your walls squeeze him. you’re so close. so fucking close. tears brim your eyes and you can’t help but buck against his fingers chasing that feeling. your stomachs tightening and you’re so close you slam your eyes shut. whining and moaning incoherent words. all you can feel is his rough fingers slamming inside you.

“god please i’m about to cum. please i-i need-“

“don’t worry baby. i know what you need.”

his thumb finds your clit. running tight and fast. you throw you head back.

“ohmyfuckinggod”

you feel that spot in your stomach snap. stars dance behind your eyelids as your body slumps on the couch.

you feel him move beneath you. he’s so hard beneath you it makes you whimper at the thought of how he feels inside you.

rafe’s hand, the one he wasn’t using, comes and and grabs your head. tilting your face to look at him.

“eyes on me baby. there she is.”

you’re blinking. your eyelids fighting the heaviness that weighs down your body. yet you feel your body clench as you watch him lick you off his fingers. his eyes never leaving yours.

you feel yourself dripping onto him. no doubt leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“so fucking sweet. here, taste yourself. lick my fingers clean.”

you weakly lean forward and take his fingers in your mouth. gagging slightly as he pushes them in farther.

“there you go. good girl, cleanin’ me up so well.”

um so hi. this is my first attempt at smut and omg what do you think.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D

⊱ General Fluffy Headcanons ⊰ || Mr. Scarletella Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Obsession/Possessiveness, Cultural Barriers (Mr. Scarletella Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions/Expresses Them Differently Than a Human Would). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~900 words Request: “Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D” Author’s Note: I’ll be honest with y’all, writing straight-up fluff for these characters is really hard to do lmao. I try to stay as canon-compliant as possible (it’s low-key a curse, but it’s such a great way to practice writing 😔), so I hope these are fluffy enough for you given, well… the source material as a whole haha. Mr. Scarletella wasn’t originally one of my favorite characters from the game, but he’s honestly starting to grow on me at a concerning speed – shout-out to all the artists on Twitter who have added to my enjoyment of this man. ✌️

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🩸: Whenever it rains, Mr. Scarletella is always standing right there next to you, holding his red umbrella over your form so you do not become drenched because of the dreary weather. He takes his job very seriously, too, not minding how cold water causes his clothing to cling to his already deathly cold skin. He does it with an ever-present smile, too, watching you with unblinking eyes while he happily follows you around. Mr. Scarletella doesn’t get cold, he typically doesn’t feel any physical sensation in the first place, so getting a little wet while being able to keep you dry is something he doesn’t mind doing for you. If you invite him to join you under the umbrella, he falters for a bit before eventually standing next to you, shielding both of you from the rain (he loves being able to stand that close to you – he can almost feel the warmth radiating from you, and he finds himself craving it even after the two of you have found somewhere to take shelter). 

🩸: If there’s something you express an interest in, whether or not Mr. Scarletella is around when you make the off-handed comment, you’ll wake up to it lying right in front of your door. It’s honestly a bit creepy sometimes, just waking up to the article of clothing you looked at for longer than three seconds or the book whose title you briefly mentioned sitting at your feet when you open the door. In the past, any gift he left used to just be haphazardly placed in front of the door, and it reminded you of when a cat would catch a mouse and bring it to their owner (you’re not going to talk about the time you woke up to a literal human heart waiting for you, though…). However, Mr. Scarletella noticed that humans who exchanged gifts typically had them wrapped in paper, so he started to mimic their behavior, too, in the hopes you would like them more. Sure, his wrap-jobs were bad, almost hilariously so, but it was the thought that mattered. 

🩸: Whenever he looks at you, his pupils further dilate (even more than they usually are – it’s almost to the point where his entire eye is purely black, the red of his irises lost in the dark void of his gaze). Mr. Scarletella loves being able to just look at you, needing nothing more in life. He’ll watch you with an unblinking stare while you do literally anything. Whether it be cleaning your home or making yourself a meal, he will observe you as if you were the most interesting thing to have ever existed. As stated before, Mr. Scarletella is very good at mimicking human behaviors so, sometimes, he’ll ask if he can join you in whatever task you’re doing. He’ll copy the way you clean the floors or perfectly execute chopping the vegetables for the dish you were making after showing him what to do a single time. He’s very pleasant to be with during moments like these since he’s very good at acting like a human most of the time (other times, though – say if you need something from the top shelf – his body will twist and morph in very unsettling ways... It just emphasizes that, even if he’s good at pretending, he still isn’t human at the end of the day).   

🩸: Being with Mr. Scarletella means that you cannot have an unserious relationship, it’s just not in his vocabulary (because he’s obsessive, especially regarding you). He’s devoted to you entirely – body, mind, and soul – gladly letting you have the red umbrella to do with it whatever you wish. He’ll shiver slightly whenever you hold it in your hands, your touch is so strangely gentle as you softly run your fingers along the handle or press a kiss to the unassuming object. It hurts but in a different way. A part of him wishes you would just throw the umbrella to the ground, dig your heel into it, and have him experience a pain that was easier for him to understand… but you don’t. He loves your sweet touches, even if it’s painful and causes his chest to ache. He finds himself wishing he could touch you in that way, too, his ghost-like caresses causing your skin to tingle with static whenever his feather-light hands graze over your flesh (he loves cuddles and loving touches, even if he can’t experience them with you in a conventional sense). 

🩸: If you ever find yourself being bothered by someone who won’t leave you alone or someone who won’t take no for an answer, well… they may or may not end up missing. If you don’t want Mr. Scarletella to take care of anyone who is bothering you for you, you’ll definitely have to explain that it’s not appropriate because of the differences in your cultures – death and murder are common in the other world, after all (I’d also explain to him that he cannot harm or threaten people you care about, either, since he honestly wants you all to himself). This does mean, though, that you know that you’re safe no matter where you are. Mr. Scarletella is always watching you so, if you find yourself in a situation where your safety is at risk, you honestly have nothing to fear. He’ll keep you safe – you’re his love, his world, his reason for living, and he won’t let someone else take that from him.

[red-doll-face]

Getting caught in the rain with Arthur leads to him finding creative ways to warm you up.

(high honor) arthur morgan x fem. reader

I love this trope! prob been done before but I cant resist... 😔Can you believe I wanted this to be a short head canon post?? LMAO it ended up way longer than that. That's why it has a more casual thing going on despite being super long 🥲Happy thanksgiving! This is for the girlies who are stuck with family and need something absolutely filthy to read !!! 💕💕💕💕💕

Warnings: NSFW content, vaginal sex, while honor isn't too relevant, arthur is very sweet and hes kind of a weenie here, in a good way! arthur does not have bad intentions here, he's genuinely a sweet little man...

-

Thinking of begging Arthur to take you away from camp for a while. Maybe you haven't had a bath in a bit or you're sick of hearing Swanson drunkenly parade around camp. But you've decided to ask Arthur, he's always so sweet to you and you know he won't say no. And Arthur and his stupid bleeding heart (the one that bleeds so much more for you) grumbles and pretends he's thinking about it but really he'd probably say yes to anything that came from your lips. He has no regrets when he sees the smile you give him. You're hoisted up onto the back of his horse, holding onto his waist so you don't fall. Arthur is desperately trying to play it cool. 

Then the rain starts coming down, you're soaked through very quickly and Arthur, such a gentleman, sheds his coat to give it to you, except now he is soaked through as well. The both of you are freezing and he tells you that you have to stop until the weather clears. He’s cussing up a storm worse than the one you're in. You nod, just wanting to be warm, wracked by shivers. He comes up on an abandoned shack and guides you inside, shutting the rain out. You're standing in the center of the room, looking like a wet cat after a miserable bath, Arthur is kind enough to take his coat off of you, giving you a ratty old, moth bitten blanket but it doesn't do much of anything for the cold. Trying to get a fire going proves fruitful but it's a small one and the wind blowing in from the flue almost puts it out several times.

Arthur feels so helpless, sitting there watching your teeth start to chatter as you sit in front of the pathetic little fire. He's trying to apologize (Ah, I’m sorry, I didn't know it was gonna come down like that,) but you only tell him it's not his fault. He has to help, all he wants to do is help. Things aren't getting any better and he doesn't want you to come down with something on account of him being an idiot. And then he gets an idea. He’s red all over flushed at the thought but he knows taking your soaking clothes off would help. And he's standing there, awkwardly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck while he tries to hide under his hat. He’s gently clearing his throat, trying to get your attention. 

“Maybe we could try… I…could…” he's nervously stumbling through his words and he's looking at you, sitting on the floor, desperately trying to warm your hands by the fire. You look up to him but he can hardly speak, so enraptured by the look of utter trust, reliance on him. His mouth hangs open but he swallows the lump of spit in his mouth. He tries to shake off these boyish jitters he gets around you. “Uhhh- I mean, it would be better if we weren't sittin’ round in these clothes, I guess, can’t be doin’ you any good...”  

“Really, you think so…?” Your voice is quiet and meek, struggling to say anything past the clicking of your teeth and the shivers. “Well then, turn around, Arthur,” at your obvious attempt to be modest, he nods stiffly and turns towards the wall, listening to you take your dress and your underskirts off, landing in a wet plop on the floor. You whine, peeling yourself out of your undergarments before a quiet ok leaves your lips. He turns and you're desperately covering yourself with that dusty blanket, legs bare, fabric hardly long enough to cover the soft mound between your legs, the fat of your inner thighs squished together. Arthur has a hard time keeping his gaze from locking onto any of the inviting bits of skin you show him. You're embarrassed, biting your lip, squeezing your arms around yourself. 

“Aren't you gonna- Arthur, you're gonna do it too, right?” Arthur has a hesitant nod and a course even though he just now thought he should probably follow along to help make you more comfortable. He’s removing his hat first, nothing to hide under now and he notices that you watch him take his gun belt off, unfastening his suspenders from his pants. You finally look away, his boots and his pants are peeled off and his shirt is unbuttoned. He’s breathing heavily now, naked as the day he was born. But you won't stop shivering. Your hair is still wet. And the fire is struggling to warm you from the bitter cold that clings to the dusty air. There isn't much left to burn for the fire. 

“You want me to hold you?” It's out of his mouth before he can stop it, trying to smack away these thoughts about the glimpses he’s getting of your naked figure underneath the blanket. He swears it's only out of necessity, that you're just not warming up fast enough. “Don’t want you gettin’ sick on me,” He really does only want you comfortable. Unrealistically hoping this won't change what you most likely consider a friendship. You nod, vigorously. 

“I think it would be ok, maybe if you just didn’t- didn’t look. Just- don’t look,” and you're desperate, curling up in his lap in front of the wavering fire. You're unable to look at him, but you still rub into him, enjoying how his body warms up a lot faster than yours. And both of you make some excuse that things would be better without that old blanket between you two. And suddenly you're pressed into him, his arms tight around you while he looks at the ceiling to avoid staring at things he shouldn't. Arthur struggles hard to keep from rubbing upwards into you, trying to keep you from sitting directly between his legs, afraid the way his body reacts to the feel of your body will scare you, scandalize you. But you only seem to want to be there more, getting comfortable with him. His chest hair tickles you, the hair creeps all the way down his torso. You giggle softly as it tickles you. His heart beats fast at the feel of you, so soft compared to the roughness of him.

As if all of the blood hasn't already rushed down to the very center of him, you just have to sit squarely on his lap. He tries to readjust you but it's too late and you've felt him, hard as a rock, pushing at you. He's so embarrassed, stumbling over an apology, “Shit-I-I’m sorry, I-” in that surly voice, all rough and low. you gasp and look over your shoulder. You see how he can hardly stand to look at you with his pretty blue gem-toned eyes. Instead he shows you his profile as he turns away. 

“It's ok”, Arthur has no idea how he's supposed to look at you after this, he can't see himself looking you in the eyes for a long while after you've felt his cock nudging the swell of your ass, unable to deny his own reaction to you. Hopefully he’ll be able to dismiss it as a fluke and not a devastating hope that you’d be interested in him that he's been crushing down for months now. He's trying to will away the burgeoning desire just under his skin, tamping down fires that rage on. And you look up at him again with that look of trust in your eyes, too ashamed to continue touching you, wholeheartedly convinced you don't like him. 

But then you're only closer than you were, looking up at him, so close, he's breathing in your scent, sweet and like fresh summer rain. His eyes search yours for any inclination and all you have to do is put your hand on his prickly cheek for him to lean and kiss you, hands on his broad chest, rushing over the warmth you can feel. How he ends up with you on his lap, tits pressed up against his hairy chest, his big hands squeezing at your hips, he's not too sure. Your arms are over his shoulders, playing with his light brown hair sweetly, rubbing the sore muscles in his back. And the glide of his tongue over yours is heaven, he swears. You whine into his kisses, the heat between the both of you licks over your skin, noses clumsily bumping into each other. 

Then he’s on top of you, tucking you over the blanket. “You gotta tell me you want this, want me,” and all you can do is say “Yes, please, Arthur, please,” features showing your ecstasy, anticipating his hands on you.

His hands are rough; petting down your sides. Any worries he had about being too old, too ugly and too brutish for you are forgotten when you kiss him, spread your legs for him to fit between them. When you push your breasts in his hands when he goes to touch them. Your nipples are hard from the cold but his hands start to warm them up when he gropes at them, squeezing languidly at your breasts, grabbing handfuls.

It's not long before he’s pinning your thighs up with his hands, spreading you and licking eagerly between your legs, so selfless. Letting you moan as loud as you like, telling you how good you taste, the roughened pads of his fingers circling at the sensitive button at the top of your slit. And he's so strong, doesn't put much effort into keeping your legs up. He has dulcet praises for you, “Such a pretty girl, darlin’, jus’ beautiful,” making you soften and ease.

He’s so warm, holding you, like you wanted him to, messy kisses that taste like you. The very tip of him catches on you, dipping softly between your folds. Your nails dig into him, thighs clench tight. He's sweet talking to you, shushing you, rubbing hard at the delicate little nub, getting you as wet as possible. Saying how good you look. How he must be dreaming. That’s my girl is what he says when you soak his fingers with your own arousal, heat rising to the apples of your cheeks. Even more when he's working his cock inside of you, panting, he seems overwhelmed, mumbling and groaning praises to you, his sweet girl, perfect in that slow easy voice of his. You feel him carefully easing you open, hissing at the feel of you wrapped tight on him and leaking down his shaft. You can't say much but his name, begging him not to stop, feeling his fingers almost bruise the tender softness of your hips. 

Arthur pushes so deep, a growl of pleasure leaking from his lips. You didn't think he would feel so big. Telling him how big he is and feels; “You're so big, Arthur,” in a wispy moan, makes him groan. He just wants to hear how much you like him. The rhythm he was trying to keep slow and careful speeds up. And he doesn't last very long, poor thing. It's been a while for him and he's flushed bright red, embarrassed and feeling a tad emasculated. The disappointed son of a bitch he lets out has you petting his hair back tenderly.

But all you have to do is give him a minute, kiss and nip gently, lock your legs around him so he can't pull away, until he's pushing his own seed deeper, mindlessly pinning you under his weight. He loves feeling so close to you, so small underneath him. 

The way you feel clenching down on him, moaning for him, begging him to keep going has him rutting into you, following his instincts, brain feeling like it's melting. He's harder than he has ever been, listening to the sound of your wetness slide on him, the mess he’s left between your thighs sounding dirty and sticky. You don't have to tell him to keep rubbing you, grinding your hips into his so he can press into the perfect spot. 

His thumb is rubbing at the very center of you, that tender bud, so sensitive, has you pushed to the edge and falling over, legs locking up behind him, bucking and moaning much too loud. You sink your fingers into the layer of fat over his broad muscles, arching your back, feeling so complete. Seeing you so relaxed, feeling so good because of him makes him push as deep as he can, making your toes curl, forcing more of his cum even deeper, a sloppy wet mess that drips out of you when he pulls out. But he revels in those few moments where he's catching his breath, still so deep inside of you, feeling you pulse on him. 

Arthur can’t not hold you afterwards, unsure what to say. He thinks it might be too soon for I love you, maybe you’ll be scared away by his raw sentiments and his lovesick words. But you stare into his eyes; his heart jumps when he blurts it out in the silence, too late to shut his damn mouth. But you only smile and say you love him too. You're the farthest thing from cold, tucked into his chest, not even noticing that the rain has stopped.

Thank you for reading! SO sorry this ended up being so long. Excited to write more for high honor arthur, this was more fun than i thought... I love him 😔😳

[krirebr]

Thanksgiving has always been… a little difficult with your family, but whose isn’t? You tried warning Curtis about how terrible they could be, but he didn’t think it was this bad. Year after year, they ask you if you’re bringing a special someone, giving fake sympathetic smiles when you say ‘no’ yet again. So they stopped asking, until you showed up with this beefcake on your arm this year. And of course you cousin gets up to instantly tear you apart in front of him, like she always does because how dare someone have something better than her. Jealous priss. But you’re not gonna let her get away with it. Not this time. And as soon as you stand up to her, Curtis is so proud to be with someone so strong, giving you this look, an admiring smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, from his spot next to you at the table.

Oh Essie, this prompt tapped into some extended family stuff for me. It's been many years since I've had to do the whole big family holiday thing, and I'll be honest, I don't miss it.

I hope you enjoy what I came up with!

Let Us Eat Quickly

Pairing: Curtis Everett x demisexual demiromantic female reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: friendly but toxic family, probably a little aphobia, amatonormativity out the wazoo, explicit language All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Masterlist

A/N: Big thanks to @stellar-solar-flare who helped me gut check this and @darsynia who poured through so much Thanksgiving poetry to help me settle on a title. It comes from Home for Thanksgiving by Linda Pastan

You stood at the door, Curtis beside you with his hand on your back. “It’s not too late to turn around,” you mumbled to him.

He just chuckled good-naturedly. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one, meeting your family for the first time. Relax, I know how families can be. It’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you think,” you said under your breath, then pasted on a smile as the door opened to reveal your aunt.

She immediately threw her arms around you. “Oh my god! It’s been so long!” She pulled back and then looked at Curtis, her eyes widening. “Holy smokes, he really does exist! When your mom told me you were bringing someone, I couldn’t believe it. Figured it had to be a figment of her imagination. But look at him! He’s real!”

You took a deep breath. “Uh, yeah. This is Curtis. Curtis, this is my Aunt Jan.”

Curtis reached out to shake her hand, a completely bewildered expression on his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jan pulled him into a hug instead. “So nice to meet you, honey! You don’t know just how much of a miracle you are!” Once she let him go, she ushered you both inside. She called into the house, letting everyone know you were there. “And she’s brought her real-life boyfriend!”

“What the fuck?” Curtis mumbled.

You squeezed his hand. “That’s just how she is,” you whispered.

You moved through the house, greeting various aunts, uncles, and cousins, weathering the over-the-top shock from all of them. You could tell Curtis was getting irritated, so you tried rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand in soothing circles. You finally reached the den and found who you’d been searching for. 

Your dad leapt up from the couch excitedly to wrap you in a big hug. “Hi honey,” he said. Then, low enough for only the two of you to hear, “You should have turned around when you had the chance.”

“Yeah, well, this idiot,” you affectionately gestured to Curtis, “really wanted to meet my family.”

Your dad shook his head with a chuckle, “Rookie mistake,” he said, then pulled Curtis into an equally big hug. It’d never not make you so warm inside, just how much your dad loved Curtis. 

Once he’d been let go, Curtis just sort of gaped at the two of you sheepishly. “I’m not sure I knew what I was walking into,” he muttered. 

“Rookie mistake,” your dad said, again, before sitting back down. “Your mom is in the kitchen.”

You made your way there, finding her cooking away with Jan and the rest of her sisters. Just like your dad, she was thrilled to see Curtis. It made your heart swell.

A few of your aunts continued to make “good-natured” comments on what a surprise and relief it was that you’d finally brought someone. You nodded through it, barely listening, before tugging Curtis behind you to go find your grandma. 

He stopped you as soon as you were in the hallway. “Babe, do they not know you’re demi?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “God, no! Can you imagine? It’d take forever to explain it, and then when I was done, I’d just get a lot of ‘Isn’t that how everyone is?’ while still giving me all of this bullshit. It’d be a waste of breath.” Curtis did not look happy about that, so you grabbed his hand. “Hey, all of the people I actually care about know. That’s enough for me. These are just people I have to see once a year because of an accident of birth. They don’t get to know all of me.” He seemed to relax a little at that and you smiled. “All right, let’s go find Grandma. Get ready. She’s gonna say all sorts of shit that’s gonna make you really uncomfortable.”

Sure enough, the first thing your grandma said to Curtis was, “I’ve been praying a nice young man would come into her life. She’s been so lonely for so long.” You turned your head away as you rolled your eyes, hard. But luckily you looked back in time to see the shocked look on his face when she said she sure did hope she didn’t die before she got to see you get married. You tried so hard not to laugh, that you sent yourself into a coughing fit.

Extracting yourself with a chipper, “Ok, grandma! We’ll see you at dinner!” you took Curtis into the backyard to kill time before food.

Sitting on the decorative retaining wall, Curtis threaded his fingers through yours. “I can see why your sister doesn’t come to these things.”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed. “She has to deal with all that and go hungry. These people have no idea how to cook for a vegetarian. They put chicken broth in the mashed potatoes!”

He just stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re too nice to them.”

You took a step closer, fully in his space, and shrugged. “They just– They can’t conceive of a life experience outside of their own. They all got married in their early twenties and had kids right away. The traditional way works for them, so why wouldn’t it work for everyone else? They don’t really know what to do with someone with different priorities, different feelings, and attractions. It’s how it’s always been. I’m used to it. I mostly just think it’s funny now.”

He wrapped you in his arms so that you could feel his warmth in the crisp fall weather. “I hate that you’ve had to get used to this.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “You make things better,” you said softly. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

You stayed like that for several moments before your phone buzzed with a text from your dad, letting you know that dinner was ready. 

You both settled down at the far end of the table, about to start filling your plates when your heavily pregnant cousin Kat took the seat across from you. “Oh, sunovabitch,” you muttered under your breath, causing Curtis to look concerned. 

Before you could reassure him, Kat got both of your attention. “Oh my gosh, it’s been such a long time! I’m so glad you could come!” Then she turned to the man next to you. “And you must be Curtis! You’re all anyone can talk about. I’m Kat, her favorite cousin.” Before Curtis could respond, she continued. “So tell me, ‘cause I’m dying to know, how exactly did she get you here?”

Curtis looked at you, confused, then raised an eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”

“Well, she’s just never brought anyone before. Not ever. And then when she finally does, it’s someone who looks like you?? My theory is she hired you off of Craig’s List. That or blackmail.” And then she laughed, in that very specific way that was just friendly enough that she could claim she was only joking. You knew it well. She’d been doing it for over thirty years.

You felt Curtis stiffen next to you, One look at him told you he was itching to respond, his mouth beginning to open, but you knew Kat. You knew she was just getting started and whatever response would just feed into whatever she wanted. So you covered his hand with yours in what you hoped was a soothing manner to hopefully stop him.

You caught Kat’s eye and she smirked, but then it faltered when you matched it with one of your own. “Actually, Kat,” you said, so casually, “I also have something I’ve been wondering. Is it the pregnancy hormones that have made you so unpleasant or have you always been this way? Since I genuinely can’t remember the last time you weren’t pregnant, I thought I’d ask.”

She gaped at you for a moment, as you looked at her calmly, patiently waiting for an answer. You didn’t need to look at Curtis to know that he was trying to hide a grin. Across from you, Kat finally found her words, “How dare–”

“I’m sorry,” you cut her off, “was that invasive? Rude? I should probably mind my own damn business, huh?”

“I–” she started again, but you weren’t done yet.

“Someday, I hope you’ll figure out that there are so many ways to be happy, not just one prescribed path. And hopefully, you’ll find whatever you’re looking for on the path you’ve chosen.”

There was a long beat of silence. Then, quietly, her eyes a little wide, she said, “I have. I’m happy.” There was a note in her voice, you thought, that sounded a little like she was trying to convince herself as much as you.

“Good,” you nodded, decisively, “I’m glad. I’m happy too. I was happy before Curtis and I’m happy now.” Without waiting for a response, you turned fully to Curtis beside you. He was beaming at you, pride just oozing out of him, his eyes sparkling. You smiled too, the biggest since you’d gotten there. “Do you want some stuffing?” you asked him, completely shutting down the previous conversation. “Aunt Jan’s stuffing is really good.”

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23

[keen-li]

What you need | 04

Synopsis: everybody needs, but how do you define need? Do you even know what you need.

Genre: best friends au, angst, fluff, smut, slow burn.

Jungkook x fem reader.

Wc: 3.5k

Warning: not proof read.

Prev | next

-

You can be mad at Jungkook for many reasons, but not for when he tells the truth. It’s not that you’re really mad at him; you’re mad at the fact that he was right. The truth is a huge pill to swallow, and you’ve got the smallest throat in the world.

Jungkook calls you stubborn, but you call yourself strong-willed—strong-willed to avoid the truth and advice, especially from Jungkook. He dishes out honesty quite well; every one of your friends does.

Like in any other friendship, your stubbornness tends to cause you and Jungkook to butt heads. But he’s learned to navigate around it, and one way is to let you be. Talking to you while you’re in a mood never gets anywhere. That’s what he did last night, and the guilt ate him raw.

He’ll wait for you to talk to him, and wait he will. But it’s never for long.

“You don’t have the chocolate ones?” Your gaze avoids him as you ask. You've been avoiding eye contact all morning, and it's been difficult considering you've been bumping into him while trying to make breakfast—a breakfast he would have gladly made for you.

Childish is what you assume Jungkook is thinking, but he should be well aware of how childish you are. In addition to being childish, you have an intense fear of confrontation. You’d rather hide than tend to an issue of importance; it’s easier.

Jungkook doesn't see it that way. He prefers to deal with things as they arise, especially when it comes to a dispute between you both. But that’s not to say he’s perfect; he can be a coward too, though he leans toward not letting it show.

Your body is turned away from him but still standing close, wanting to feel his warmth—something to remind you that he doesn’t completely hate you for lashing out. He gets you; he hopes you know it.

Jungkook’s eyes scan his kitchen shelves in search of that chocolate cereal you love. He got it for when you come over. He’s not a huge fan of it; they always stay on the same shelf, the one above where he stands. “They’re here.” He leans over to reach the top shelf where they were in plain sight. Contemplating whether you actually didn’t know or you wanted to fill the awkward air between the two of you, he hands the box to you.

You mumble a little thank you as he hands it to you. His hand lingers on the box a second longer as he considers being the one to start talking. He’s waiting for you, sure, but he’s also aware of how hard it is for you to address even the most minuscule of conflicts.

Your night was cold, like your recent previous nights. Even though Jungkook made sure you had the thickest blanket he owned, it wouldn’t be fair to blame it on the weather because it’s warm outside, even at night. Blaming his air conditioner wouldn’t be fair either; Jungkook gives you all the freedom to turn it up or down.

Maybe it’s the fact that you went to sleep ‘mad’ at Jungkook or yourself. The line is very blurry when it comes to who gets the blame. That’s your thought process.

You know Jungkook, and you’re well aware he won’t talk to you unless you speak to him first. You’re sure he feels bad in some way, and you feel bad for it. He shouldn’t feel bad; he was right. Why the heck are you even blaming him?

So, after a large gulp down the rock, you decide to break the awkward and painful silence. “Are you mad?” It comes out as a whisper, and he barely hears it.

Jungkook is quick to hear the mumbling from you but can't quite comprehend the sound. "Huh?” He turns to you, faced away from him, which adds to his confusion. Are you talking to him or not?

“I’m asking if you’re upset?” You try to make it louder, but it’s just as low as before. Why do you get so timid? You hate confrontation so much.

Jungkook chuckles, and for a moment, you feel like he’s mocking you, but it’s far from his intention. You’re just amusing when you behave like this. “Y/N, I can’t hear you,” he states in a volume you should try to emulate.

“Don’t tell me you can’t look at me.” He turns back to his breakfast, which he abandoned to attend to you. “And when I tell you you’re like a baby, you want to disagree?” He smiles to himself. One thing Jungkook is never going to do is force you to do something.

“I’m not,” you try to argue as you finally turn to him, but he doesn’t do

the same this time, too focused on his food. A smirk lines his lips perfectly, and faint dimples adorn his cheeks. Is he relishing in this?

“Look at how you were cowering away like I was gonna bite you.” He spreads butter on his toast, unlike you, who prefers not to have bread in toast form for breakfast.

The air thins, and you feel more relaxed to just speak. In exchange for anxiety, sadness sets in. You pout.

“Sorry,” you mumble. He’s aware of what you mean, and it’s funny how quickly and shyly you say it.

“Don’t apologize,” he shakes his head at you. Once the silence sinks in again, Jungkook decides to help you. “Tell me. What did you want to say?” His soft voice ushers you on, along with his relaxed body turned toward you.

“I was asking if you’re upset.” You lean against his counter and bite down on your lower lip—an act to hide from Jungkook's gaze?

He furrows his brows in confusion. His breakfast can wait. He walks to you and stops when his feet hit yours. Placing his hands on his hips, he asks, “Upset with who? You?” His body towers over you, and you feel his soft eyes analyze your features.

When you nod, he smiles and moves in to wrap his arms around you. “Awh, bunny,” he coos, taking your face into his palms.

“I’m not mad at you; if anything, I’m more upset with myself.”

“Why would you be mad at yourself? I was wrong.” Your voice is soft and regretful. The last person on this earth you’d want to argue with is Jungkook, and you hate it when you do. “I shouldn’t have been so quick to get mad.”

“Yeah, but I should’ve phrased myself better.” He looks down at you, and when you realize just how close you are, you scoot away a bit. Jungkook catches it and slowly lets you go. Awkwardness sets in, but this time it’s in a different form—a form bearing the image of your ex.

You’re comfortable with Jungkook, and you’ll say that a million times, but something about being so close to him makes you think about being with Yunho. Yunho had always been the person you ran to when you weren’t okay (while you were together), and he’d hold you just like that. His loving eyes looking down at you, his warmth keeping you closer to him on colder or lonely days. But since you broke up, Jungkook has been the one to be there for you like always. Maybe it’s because you can’t get Yunho out of your head; you’ve been missing him of late, and it’s messing with your mind. You haven’t been able to go back to the way you were; that’s probably the reason. You just hope Jungkook can realize that.

You hope you get your act together soon. You'd hate to see Yunho on the face of every man who cares about you, especially on Jungkook's.

“You’re entitled to your feelings; don’t ever apologize for that.” Jungkook, now feeling a shift in warmth, turns to his now cold toast. If he puts it back in the toaster, it’ll go back to being warm, right?

“So, you’re not mad?”

He shakes his head. “But I am mad that you make me buy those for you.” His tone and the air around you shift back to playful, and the smile on his face makes you smile as well.

You giggle. “And you’re cute for it.”

“You’re gonna have to pay me back one day for how much I’ve spent.”

You place your hand on your heart in feigned patriotism to your words. “And I’ll give you back every penny.”

Jungkook laughs, knowing he wouldn’t take them anyway. He enjoys buying them for you.

Life really knows how to bring you back to reality, and it does seem to enjoy seeing you unhappy.

“If you won’t make it, it’s fine,” you speak to Jungkook through your phone. The call has lasted longer than it should because he can’t stop apologizing. “Jungkook, if you can’t make it, it’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal.” Your eyes recognize the words on your paper, but you aren't paying them any mind.

“Are you saying lunch with me is not that big of a deal, Y/L/N?”

Ever since you two started eating lunch together, you’ve never missed a day, but today is different. Jungkook informed you he had some extra work that would overlap with your planned schedule, so you would be having lunch by yourself. And that’s fine.

You don’t mind at all; it’s not like it’s on purpose. Of course,

you do enjoy eating lunch with him, and you are sad about not having him around for the lunch you might not eat. But it’s life, and sooner or later, you two will be consumed with responsibilities that you won’t be able to hang out at all. You don’t like the thought of it, but you have to acknowledge the possibility.

You had a taste of it when you were in a relationship with Yunho. You and Jungkook didn’t hang out as much, and your teasing was reduced to respect your relationship. It’s only a matter of time before Jungkook gets a girlfriend, and you have to spend less time together. A girlfriend to share things with—or you will get a boyfriend, or at least a fling.

It may seem like you’re bad friends, but it’s not that way. Even if either of you were in a relationship, you’d still hang out and call each other; that wouldn’t change. It’s not like you’re only friends when you’re both single. But it’s obvious that when one is in a relationship, their time will be cut down compared to when they were single. And that’s okay; it’s not something you fret over, like you and Jungkook will stop being friends. Never.

Jungkook definitely understood and respected your relationship when you were with Yunho, and you still found time to hang out. Besides, all this applies to Willoe and Jimin as well. Even though it seems like you’re paired off, you’re all still friends in the same way.

You do tend to wonder what it’ll be like when Jungkook gets a girlfriend, though. Over your years of friendship, he has had some flings and situationships, but he’s never had a relationship that involved him being emotionally attached. He’s not a player in any sort of way; he wouldn’t toy with a girl’s heart. He just never made an emotional commitment to them, which he made known to them. He always made it clear that he wasn’t into relationships. Maybe he’s non-committal? He’s never really taken the time to sit down and think about it. But he’s well aware that, for some reason, he’s not looking for a relationship, and lately, even sexual relationships haven’t been on his mind.

You chuckle. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Playing with the pen in your hand, you contemplate even going for lunch. You do have work too, though it’s something that can wait. Plus, you don’t feel hungry anyway. This was one of the reasons you liked going for lunch with Jungkook. Apart from getting to hang out with him, it kept you eating. If Jungkook is there, you are forced to eat and not get distracted. Because eating alone will lead you to have unwarranted thoughts about Yunho, and you’d end up losing your appetite. You won’t deny how your lunches are the only time you eat a proper meal. At home, when you’re alone, all you eat is snacks.

“I know,” you aren’t able to see it, but on the other side, an angry and short Isabel signals for Jungkook to get off the phone. He furrows his brows at her. “Anyway, I’ll call you later. Sorry for not being able to make it.”

There he goes again. You smile. In the background, you can hear a female voice call his name in a warning tone, and by his rushed words, you can tell he’s on borrowed time. He would’ve ended this call long ago, but he enjoys dragging them out.

“Cut the call, Jungkook.” You want him to as well, and he can’t help but pout at how everyone wants him to end his call.

“I will. Don’t forget to eat your lunch.”

“I will.”

You won’t.

Soon the line beeps, and you’re left with his contact to look at and the candid picture of him you took. You doubt he's aware of its existence. If he saw it, he'd make you delete it and put a 'better one.' But it's cute, and you like it.

The smile you have on your face is wiped off when you’re met with Hoseok’s looming figure. Now, when you look at it, why is his figure more noticeable now?

“Not going for lunch?” he asks in a tone you can’t decipher the intention behind.

You start to arrange the papers on your desk for no reason and in no particular order. “No.”

“Why?” he shoots back immediately.

You sigh as you look at him. You did want to hurl back a snarky comment, but you’re running low on energy. “Not hungry.”

“Shame.” He says, and you prepare yourself for what he wants to say. “The boss wanted to have lunch with you, but since you’re not hungry, I’ll tell—”

“When did I say I wasn’t hungry?” He’s about

to argue, and you see it on his face, but you step in before he can say anything.

“He wants to have lunch with me for real?” You stand and eye him skeptically.

Hoseok nods, not much enthusiasm behind it.

You stare at him with an I-hope-you-aren’t-lying look.

Hoseok loves to mess with you, but the good thing about him is that he knows when not to.

“Go see for yourself.”

Your stomach fills with butterflies of nervousness as you walk, your previous worries forgotten. You turn to give Hoseok a last look, and he shrugs.

It would be a big deal for you if your boss wanted to have lunch with you. This means a lot.

Who are you kidding? You’re starving.

“Again?” you groan.

Jungkook pulls at his lip before he speaks. “I know.” He sighs. “There’s a lot of work here for some reason.” He explains.

It’s been several days, and the weekend approaches, yet you two still haven’t been able to have lunch together. It’s life; you accept that, but it’s still such a bummer. Plus, you’ve been meaning to talk to Jungkook about something—maybe tell him why you and Yunho actually broke up.

You’ve been reflecting on it, and maybe after you talk to him about it, you’ll stop thinking about Yunho.

“It's alright,” you say with a sad pout. Jungkook can feel it through the phone, and it breaks his heart. “Wanted to talk to you,” you say, and Jungkook shifts his feet that were stationary on the cement floors of the workshop.

The air shifts, and concern grows at your tone. “About?” he waits for your answer, which he already knows.

“Yunho.” It’s through a heavy heart and a sour throat that you’re even able to say his name. “But since you’re busy, it’s fine; we can talk when you’re free.”

“Yeah, sure.” He is worried, but there’s nothing much he can do in this moment, and he knows it’s not something that can be talked about on the phone, especially when you’re both at work. So, he makes an internal promise to make time for you.

“Talk to you later,” you say, your voice far from okay.

“I haven’t seen her in a week and some days,” Jungkook informs, his mind still in thought. “Plus, I don’t think it’s the best time to tell her; it seems like she’s still hung up on him.”

Of course, you are; it’s only been what? A month?

“Yeah, Willoe was talking to her yesterday, and I think I heard her crying.” He follows up, explaining that he hasn’t had the time to call you yet.

Jungkook’s heart physically drops, and his friend can clearly see that.

“Must not be easy keeping that secret from her.” Jungkook leans back into his couch, clearly disturbed.

It’s definitely hard keeping anything from you, but this, especially, has taken a toll on him. A whole month? He never thought he’d keep something from you for this long. Does he even want to tell you? Keeping it is killing him, but the thought of you knowing and seeing what it might do to you kills him even more. To make it worse, it’s been more evident lately that you’ve been thinking about the bastard. He can tell when you do.

You space out and just forget everything around you. And that sad look on your face isn’t missed by him. He wants to do everything in his power to make you feel better, but there’s only so much he can do. Plus, Isabel has him doing extra hours at work, which has just made your time spent together less. He can only imagine how alone you’ve felt.

He knows you’ve got Willoe and Jimin, but for some reason, you’ve all been busy. Jimin is trying to get down on a project he’s on, Willoe is out on a work trip, and he himself is working overtime. He knows you’ve been busy too, especially with trying to get your promotion. You’re only able to call each other on the phone. And sometimes those calls aren’t guaranteed because when he’s heading home from work, you’re asleep.

Or ignoring him. He chuckles; he knows you’d never seriously ignore him.

“It pisses me off every time I think about it, man.” Jungkook positions the camera so Jimin can see him. “Did I tell you I fucking punched him?” Jungkook smiles at the memory.

Jimin raises his brows in shock. “Seriously?” Jimin laughs at the thought. “You should’ve told me so that I could get my fair share too.”

Jungkook laughs. He takes a drink of his beer.

And with that, he’s reminded of the weighty task ahead—telling you about taking a swing at your ex-boyfriend. If he had to break the news to someone else that their boyfriend was cheating, it would be straightforward. But with you, it feels like a heavy stone lodged in his chest. The thought of seeing the pain in your eyes causes him physical anguish. Over the years, you’ve become someone incredibly special to him, and the idea of you suffering cuts deeper than he ever expected. He’s never cared for anyone the way he cares for you.

“You’re gonna tell her, though?” Jungkook scoffs, trying to mask his uncertainty as he sees his blond friend raise an eyebrow at him.

“I will,” he replies, but the conviction in his voice falters. Jimin can see right through him, and that gnawing doubt eats away at Jungkook. He knows he has your best interests at heart, but the last thing he wants to do is hurt you further. The thought of you finding out about Yunho’s betrayal sends a chill down his spine.

Jimin shakes his head, concern etched across his face. “I feel so bad for her,” he says, knowing he’d never voice that sentiment to you directly, aware of how much you despise pity. “She said she’s taking a break from dating, so I hope that helps her.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, but the relief is fleeting. “Don’t tell Willoe, though,” he says, his voice dropping as if speaking the name might summon trouble.

“Really?” Jimin’s tone rises, incredulous.

Jungkook shoots him a warning glare, and Jimin rolls his eyes in response. “Fine, I won’t tell her.”

“Don’t. If she knows, then Y/N will automatically find out,” Jungkook insists, the urgency in his voice palpable.

Jimin nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. “Gotta go now,” he says, glancing at his watch. Jungkook’s attention drifts to his phone, where a message from work blinks at him.

“Hey, they need me at work,” he mutters, the words feeling heavy on his tongue.

“Alright, it was nice talking to you,” Jimin replies, but Jungkook can hear the underlying concern.

Jungkook pauses, feeling the sincerity of the moment weigh down on him. “So sincere, gross,” he retorts, trying to lighten the mood, but it falls flat.

“Just say it back,” Jimin presses, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

“Fine. It was nice chilling with you too, Jimin.” He cringes at the words, the smug smile on Jimin’s face only amplifying his discomfort.

“Love you,” Jimin says, half-joking, but the sentiment hangs in the air like an unspoken truth.

“Don’t push it,” Jungkook replies, though the words feel hollow. Jimin laughs, but Jungkook knows he would never say it back. “But if I were Y/N, you would’ve said it back,” Jimin teases, and Jungkook’s heart sinks further.

“Yeah, but you’re not.”

As he leans back into his couch, a storm of thoughts churns in his mind. He contemplates the idea of telling you, but the fear grips him. You’ve gone a month without knowing the truth—what could a little more time do? He wrestles with the notion that he should wait until you’re more healed, but each passing moment feels like a betrayal in itself. The longer he holds back, the more he feels he’s complicit in Yunho’s deceit.

What if you never truly heal? What if you deserve to know the truth now? The internal conflict rages within him. He knows he has to make a decision soon, but right now, he can’t shake the feeling that revealing the truth would only add to your pain.

The clock ticks in the background, and Jungkook knows he can’t ignore this forever. The question lingers: when is the right time to shatter your world and reveal the truth?

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

a/n: writing this chapter has been a rollercoaster for me, from the lack of motivation and inspiration to the elephant in the room which is the fact that this was supposed to be 20k words long. sigh. from 20k to 3k

I had so much written and in a way I loved but I don't know what happened and the file got lost. and because of that I lost a lot of motivation and just wanted to be over with the chapter.

sorry for the shitty chapter, the following will be better. please don't let this chapter or the previous be your impression of this series. it's gonna get better. love y'all and thanks for the support and patience. (if you were even waiting lol)

Tagged: @jksusawife@mother2monsters@gimeow

[razrogue]

That Night Under Those Stars (Sten)

Female Tabris x Sten

Tags: Post DAO, Goodbyes, Unrequited Love

Notes: Finally finished this little thing about these two. Enjoy!

Words: 860

Read on AO3

It'd been almost three weeks since the defeat of the archdemon and Denerim was beginning to see some semblance of normalcy. The skies were no longer choked by smoke and haze. The charred remains of some buildings and haphazardly built reinforcements no longer smoldered. The citizens and soldiers had been hard at work trying to rebuild what the darkspawn tried to destroy.

Southern Thedas was too wet and too cold and too gray for his tastes. He missed the warm weather, blue skies, and green hues of home. That was all set to change soon. He'd finally gotten passage to make his way back towards Par Vollen and was set to sail out the next morning. The only survivor of his convoy that'd been sent out for reconnaissance, it felt like it had been years with how much had taken place since she freed him from that cage in Lothering.

Raucous singing and cheering could be heard all the way on the side of the building as everyone tried to wind down from the day. She'd stepped outside to get a little breather and ever observant, he followed shortly behind. The two of them rested there side by side in the chilly night air, propped against the wall as they quietly stared at the night sky together.

Sten watched out of the corner of his eye as Briva inched a little closer, not enough for them to touch but enough that she could feel his warmth. Much like she'd do some nights when he was keeping watch over the camp. Nights when the nightmares were too much so she'd forgo sleep and just keep watch with him. He'd never imagined that his life would be so impacted by the small elf standing beside him tonight. The rogue who'd lockpicked his cage in Lothering to set him free. Fuck the chantry she'd said as the lock fell to the ground and motioned for him to join them. The archer who's knack for precision with a bow surprised even him as she could almost rival some of Par Vollen's best with more discipline he'd always he tell her. He couldn't have anticipated what would become of their adventures that one night he decided to spar with her. What she lacked in discipline and structure, she made up for in unpredictability and guile. Her dagger work could make anyone a little uneasy with the way she handled herself. Always finding the openings and when she couldn't find a way, she fought dirty and made one. Methods he didn't approve of but they were effective nonetheless. The two of them sparred and trained. He sought to correct while she sought to upend and they usually reached a draw at the end. A conclusion most surprising to both but enjoyable either way.

Days turned into weeks, skirmishes turned into battles, each time they won and he was surprised a little more. Enough that she was changing his mind a little about what southern Thedas was capable of if there were more like her. They continued to spar with each other. Continued to win their battles. She helped him recover his sword and she finally earned his trust. He shared a little. It wasn't as annoying nor as pointless as he thought it would be. She shared a little more. He learned to see her outside of certain roles, despite how that notion defied everything he knew. Little by little, she had earned a different place, as some Qunari would call it, as Kadan. And so that night as Sten and his Kadan stood in an alley outside The Pearl, they enjoyed each other's company in silence.

Briva finally settled against his side, a sigh escaping her lips, the only noise made between the two of them as they stood there. They'd said very little before saying a lot but tonight they didn't need to say much more. He unclenched his fist, letting his fingers relax a little, making an opening without saying a word. An opening she sensed coming, her palm already poised and waiting for his thick calloused fingers. He glanced down briefly before clearing his throat, taking hold of her hand in a firm but still gentle grip. Briva grinned but said nothing as she watched him settle his fingers between hers before turning back to the starry sky. Tonight, that silence would have to hold all the things they couldn’t say and all the things they probably should. In another world at another time, they could have been something else, maybe something more.

Something like love, like lust, like devotion. But instead they only had right now. A time right now filled with admiration and taboo whispers of something more that would have to remain as such. They were on different paths, set to continue leading their different lives so they would cherish these times together and enjoy what they would share tonight. Tomorrow, he'd begin the journey back home. That bittersweet silence that the two of them would share that night for the last time in a dimly lit alley in Denerim. It would have to sustain what was between them until that other lifetime.

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

Hi!

I have a request for FellSwap Gold bros, UnderSwap bros, and Underfell Bros x SUPER shy reader!!

Reader having really bad social anxiety, has a hard time speaking up and is just super quiet, and just generally nervous all the time due to past trauma.

How do you think the skeletons would act towards an S/O being so shy??

Featuring: Sky, Honey, Red, Edge, Wine and Coffee.

Masterlist

Sky

You remind him of his brother a bit.. not completely since you two have a lot of differences yet it's probably the shy personality.

He has no problem with you being shy! He just wished you'd talk more when you two go out.. oh wait yeah you're socially anxious.

Sky does his best to keep you relaxed, he hates seeing people he loves nervous or anxious, he just hopes the methods he uses with his brother work with you too..

If you ever want to talk about your traumas with him, he'll feel honored, people only do this kind of thing when they trust each other, and to know you trust him enough to talk about traumatic things that have affected you in the past.. it makes him feel like he's one of the most important persons to you.

Please tell him if anything is bothering you, he doesn't want to see you uncomfortable nor panicked.

Honey

"Welcome to the club sweetheart.."

Honey also has a hard type speaking up, more with strangers than with people he's friends with, and his anxiety doesn't help much.

So, why not help each other out?

He's not the best, yet he's always there to listen to you if you'd like, and he'd be very happy if you'd hear him too.

At the end of the day, the books he writes are a distraction- an escape from reality he found to both make money and to do something he enjoys, so maybe you can find something to distract you too?

Your shyness doesn't bother him, if anything it's something he knows is a part of you, and he's always by your side when he can.

Red

Oh well, guess you two aren't really leaving the house..

Red doesn't really like leaving his house, so if he isn't working he's most definitely chilling on the couch.

He's not the best at giving advice, damn, the last time he gave someone advice that person tried to poison him, yet he'll be happy to listen to you if you're ever comfortable enough to do it.

Your shyness and quietness doesn't bother him in the least, it feels kinda good to just.. rant to you about work while cuddling y'know?

"Ya may not even realize, yet cha' make me the happiest skeleton in all earth sweetheart."

Edge

He's the literal opposite of you.

Edge has a talk with you, asking if you would like to have some therapy sessions, and if you agree he's already paying for it.

Tries to convince you to leave the house when he's not working and the weather is good, he doesn't force you but he'd be happy when you successfully socialize with someone, even just a little bit.

Stands up for you, no matter the situation. He's pretty famous because of his cooking you know? Who's gonna turn him down huh? One word and a security guard will take that person away.

He isn't someone to give advice about trauma, if anything he'd much rather hear you trauma-dump, that way he can find the best way to try and help.

Wine

His brother's just like you. He already knows what to do.

Won't force you to leave the house if you don't want to, yet he'll "reward" you with small things when you do, buying ice cream, plushies you want, books or video games if you like them.. you get the deal.

Something he noticed was wherever you go, his brother follows, guess Coffee finally found someone like him huh?

If someone even dares to be slightly rude towards you, Wine makes sure that person won't ever bother you again.

Anything you tell him, he'll give advice, no matter what it is.

Coffee

He's EXACTLY like you.

Coffee has a really bad social anxiety and has a hard time feeling comfortable to talk, so he mostly communicates by notes!

May influence you to do the same as him...

Doesn't bother him that you're quiet, quite the opposite actually, after hearing Rus and Cash ramble for HOURS on the swap papyruses reunion, he couldn't beg more for some silent cuddles with his loved one.

If you ever want to talk about your traumas with him, he's going to listen, even if he doesn't give the best advice.

[bibeagle]

The Lego Batman movie has a song that, if I'm not mistaken, plays on the credits. It's "I found you", and it's child Dick Grayson singing for Bruce. It's teeth-rotting wholesome and I'll prove this song fits ALL the batkids JUST with the chorus (and it'd be an incredible animatic):

"We were meant to be together"- Bruce being right there when Dick lost his parents, fate brought them together and formed the wonder duo.

"We've both been through some heavy weather"- Jason met Bruce by stealing the batmobile tires, little Jay has already been through a lot (and will go through the worst) and I don't even need to talk about Bruce. And yall know what happens regarding the Joker.

"It's all I've wanted for so long"- COME ONN this is literally Tim. He found out their secret IDs, he wanted to be robin and managed to do so, standing by Bruce's side when he knew he nedded it.

"A broken bone heals twice as strong"- Both Bruce and Damian were stiff and awkward in the beggining. Damian was so little and all that with Ra's and Talia happened and they both slowly healed together, still are.

"And I feel like we're the perfect team"- I'll admit I don't know much about the next kids as well as the first ones, but I'm sure Steph just- demanded Bruce to train her and they surprisingly turned out well, right?

"The greatest the world's ever seen"- Bruce and Cass being quiet and wearing all black and mixing perfectly with the shadows, please she's literally his daughter in every way asides from blood.

"And it proves that wishes do come true"- Again, sorry I don't know much, but Duke had fought together with all the robins before, right? Bruce had helped him and offered him to be his new protege. A new place beside Batman and unlike any other robin.

"'Cause you found me,"- Bruce taking them all in, one by one.

"And Batman, I found you."- All of them healing something inside Bruce, all of his kids there for him and making him turn into someone nothing like the person he was when he decided to become The Batman.

SHAFAFJHGAS COME ON IT'S PERFECT. It bothers me so much that I've only seen two or three videos regarding this song and whenever I see it, it's just Dick (don't get me wrong, I love him too much for my own good, but come on it fits so well). Someone, please please please make an animatic, draw this with the lyrics, a tiktok video, I don't know just please, anything, this is too perfect and I don't have the skills to recreate it💔

[slippinmickeys]

The Unseelie Court (5/16)

They had awoken early, before sunup, and Scully had drifted through the dark passage of the connecting door and into her own room, closing the door behind her. She met Mulder outside an hour later, tying the sash of her light woolen coat. 

When Mulder turned the engine over to get the heat going, he looked over at her. 

“Sheriff’s office or morgue?” he asked. 

“Sheriff’s office, I think,” she said. “We need to submit the leaf into evidence before the chain of custody gets murky. Then maybe we can all head over to the morgue together and figure out just what the hell is going on. I had the diener run another set of dental X-Rays on the new body.”

“The old body,” Mulder said. 

“The body,” Scully conceded, somewhat testily. 

Though it was past sunrise, the light was moody and Mulder turned on his headlights before he swung out of the motel parking lot. The radio gave a squelch of static and Scully reached forward and snapped it off, a heavy sigh briefly fogging up the passenger window, hiding the gray day on the window’s other side.

“You okay?” Mulder asked as they bumped over the curb and onto the roadway. It was something he probably wouldn’t have done before they’d started sleeping together, but a newly vulnerable part of him worried he’d done something wrong. 

“Fine,” she said. Of course. 

Mulder sighed himself, his mood suddenly matching that of the weather.

The sky wasn’t overcast; it was depressed, the cloud cover drooping so low it seemed to lean on top of the trees. 

The drive was short, no more than five minutes, and they were out of the car and strolling through the front doors of the Sheriff’s office before they’d had time to figure out a game plan. 

The deputy who’d met them at the morgue the evening before was sitting behind the duty desk, and he seemed just as startled to see them as he had twelve hours prior. 

“Deputy Miller,” Mulder said. “Before we talk to the Sheriff, I have some evidence that needs to be added to what the forensic unit pulled from the lakeshore yesterday. Can you see me back to the evidence room, please?”

“Um,” the deputy said. “Can I see your badge again?”

Mulder and Scully both flipped them up. 

“Alright,” Miller stood. “Okay. Um, follow me.”

For lack of anything else to do, Scully followed them, through the still fairly empty bullpen and into a back hallway, where Miller fumbled with a ring of keys before finding the right one and unlocking the evidence room door. 

The deputy led them to a bankers box and handed over a clipboard to Mulder before removing the lid off the top and taking a step back. Mulder stopped writing when he looked down inside. 

“This is the wrong box, son,” Mulder said. 

Intrigued, Scully moved around his other side and peered in. Inside the box, encased in sealed plastic evidence bags, were the red toy bucket from near the body on the beach, as well as the beer bottle and coins. But the bottle was that of a weathered Bud Light, and the coins from Daly’s pocket were just a handful of dull pennies. The iron ingot was nowhere to be seen.

“This is the box from yesterday,” Miller said, going pale. “It says so right here.”

“The victim had a pocketful of rare coins and an iron ingot, and the beer bottle near the body was not Bud Light,” Mulder said. 

“Excuse me,” said a loud voice from the doorway. “Can I help you?”

All three of them turned to see the Sheriff standing in the doorway looking thunderous. 

“Miller, just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said, taking a step inside. “No one but law enforcement is allowed inside the evidence room. If the Prosecutor’s office finds out about this—”

“They’re FBI!” said Miller, at the same time Mulder said:

“Sheriff Cox.”

The Sheriff stopped his rant, cocking his head at Mulder. 

“We were just logging in evidence we got from our initial examination of Daly Carmichael in the morgue,” Mulder explained. “We ran into a bit of a situation last night and were hoping for your input.”

“You’re here about Daly Carmichael?” the Sheriff asked. “I didn’t think the FBI had jurisdiction, but I’d be more than happy to accept your help with the case.”

“Sir?” Scully said, confused. 

“I don’t know who called you, but—”

“You did,” Mulder said, setting the evidence log book down on top of the file box. “You called me. Yesterday morning.”

“I think you must have mistaken me for someone else. Did one of my deputies…”

Mulder turned and looked down at Scully, exchanging confused looks. 

“Yeah,” Mulder finally said. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened. It must have been one of your deputies.”

“Mulder?” Scully said quietly. He shook his head at her, just a quick motion and moved toward the Sheriff, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder and steering him out of the evidence room. 

“Why don’t you tell me about the case?” Mulder said. 

***

“Mulder what the fuck ?” Scully said, the very second they had walked out of the Sheriff’s office doors and into the brisk outside air. She had not called out Mulder in front of LLE for not pushing back on the collective amnesia they all seemed to be suffering, but she sure as hell wasn’t waiting any longer. He’d gone right along with it, reintroducing himself to deputies they’d spoken with yesterday, getting the full run-down on a case they were already investigating. She was appalled. 

“Did you see that?” Mulder said, excitedly. “No memory of meeting us yesterday. None of them! That rookie deputy, Andy, standing there in the bullpen. No idea who we were. And Deputy Avery, the relief on his face when the Sheriff asked him to give us the file and I told him we already had it? Avery had no idea where the file was and thought he was about to get his ass handed to him. Probably thinks we saved his career.”

“How do these people have no memory of yesterday, Mulder? It makes no sense .”

“I wonder if your diener Aeon remembers,” Mulder said. “Or if they got to him, too.”

“If who got to him? Mulder .”

Scully stopped short and grabbed Mulder by the arm, pulling him back toward her. 

“Mulder, explain to me what you think is going on. Because I’m about to march back in that building and demand an office-wide drug test. Or, I don’t know, look for a hypnotist in the closet! You didn’t press them on the fact that none of them seemed to remember anything about yesterday other than the fact that they found the body of an alleged missing person, nor the very important fact that evidence from the crime scene was very clearly swapped out .”

“Magic,” Mulder said. “I think we’re dealing with some kind of magic. And it started last night the moment you took this out of Daly Carmichael’s mouth.” At this he produced the evidence bag with the leaf in it. 

“You didn’t log it in?” 

“Under the circumstances? No,” he said. 

Scully blew out a breath. She couldn’t argue with that particular decision. 

“The Sheriff is going to follow us to the morgue,” Mulder said a little more gently. “Let’s…see how this all plays out.” 

He was walking to the car before Scully had a chance to fully register the word ���magic.”

***

“This is the body that was found on the beach yesterday morning?” Scully asked, still in her business suit and wool coat. She was standing at the head of the examination table looking down at the older body that had appeared the night before. “In exactly this condition?”

“That’s him,” the Sheriff said. “The techs from Richmond finished up at the scene and we shipped him over here. You said you took a look at him yesterday? Any idea what killed him?”

The Sheriff was standing not far from the table’s other side with Mulder flanking him to the right. Avery stood patiently just inside the door

“I haven’t had a chance to perform the autopsy yet,” Scully said. “All that’s been done is trace.” She turned toward the door. “Where’s the diener?” she asked. 

Aeon hadn’t shown his face yet, though the body and everything else was prepped and ready, and the dental X-rays were up and waiting to be looked at in the light box. The Sheriff assured her that copies had been sent to the state forensic dentist.

The night before, Aeon had been just as baffled as Mulder and Scully by the aged state of the body and had agreed to run another set of dental X-Rays. 

“Crazy that he was wearing the same clothes he went missing in,” Sheriff Cox said. “All these years later.”

“Assuming this is Daly Carmichael,” Scully said. 

“I mean…you don’t think it is?”

“Not without confirming his dental records.”

“I know you’re not a forensic dentist,” said the Sheriff. “But maybe you could take a look?” 

Scully glanced over at the dental X-rays in the light box. The ‘70s originals from Daly Carmichael were significantly smaller–the edges of the film rounded and hoary. Scully shared a look with Mulder and he nodded at her. She blew out an unhappy breath but nevertheless moved over to the lightbox and turned it on. 

The similarities were apparent the moment she looked at them. The second molar on the left side on all three X-rays showed identical amalgam fillings, each with an odd, distinct shape similar to that of Rhode Island. It wouldn’t take a forensic specialist to confirm that all three X-rays were of the same mouth-Daly Carmichael. 

“These,” she said, sighing unhappily, “appear to all be from the same person.”

“Daly Carmichael,” Mulder said, clarifying. 

“Yes,” Scully said. “Though I would still like confirmation from the forensic specialist.”

She knew it was a mere formality, but she was determined to do things by the book. 

“Still,” the Sheriff said, smiling. “It’s great to get confirmation. And close a case.”

“We still don’t know what killed him,” Scully said. 

“Can you find out? Your partner says you’re a forensic pathologist?”

Scully didn’t answer for so long that Mulder took a step forward. “Scully?” he said. “Can you?”

“I can try,” she said. 

***

When Scully emerged from the locker room having changed into scrubs, the Sheriff and his deputy were gone and Aeon was back, cornered by Mulder, who appeared to be questioning him. 

“So you remember us coming in here yesterday?” Mulder asked him.

“Of course I remember you coming in here yesterday,” Aeon said testily. “Hours after you should have been. And then all kinds of shit happened. You ruined my night.”

“Anybody else here yesterday? Where’s the local ME?”

“On vacation,” Aeon said. “This is a small county, Agent Mulder. It’s just the two of us.”

“Mulder,” Scully said, hoping to diffuse what was turning into a heated conversation. 

Her partner turned to her. The diener took the opportunity to step around him. 

“Do you need anything else before you begin your examination?” Aeon asked Scully.

“I’m good,” she said.

“I’m not done asking questions,” Mulder said. 

“I think you are,” said Aeon, and Mulder’s phone trilled from his pocket. The little man gave him a satisfied smirk.

Mulder reached in and pulled out his phone. “Skinner,” he said, looking down at the display. When he looked back up, the diener had left the bay. Mulder let the phone go to voicemail. He’d call his superior back.

“I guess they didn’t get to your diener,” Mulder said. “Who I don’t think I like.”

“The feeling appears to be mutual,” Scully said. “I’m just glad whatever insanity is happening down there at the Sheriff’s office doesn’t extend to here.”

Mulder had to agree with that one. “Do you think the body has any answers?”

“If it does,” Scully said, reaching out and grabbing a scalpel, “it’s not going to be magic.”

Mulder wasn’t so sure about that. He had long ago accepted that their job turned them into ecstatics, subject to mystical experiences. 

He thought about the dark opening into the trees by the lakeside, what he was now sure were Daly Carmichael’s footprints leading out of it.

“While you do this,” he said, moving to the door. “I’m going to go back to the crime scene.”

“Okay,” Scully said, reaching up to turn on the recording mic above her head, catching his eye before looking back down at the body before her. “Be careful, Mulder.”

“I will,” he assured her.

[usafphantom2]

#TomcatTuesday

#TomcatTails

First Night Launch Off the Boat

It was 1993 and I’d just graduated from the VF-124 Gunfighters at NAS Miramar. VF-124 was the RAG or Readiness Air Group back then, more recently called the FRS or Fleet Replacement Squadron now and was the F-14 training squadron. It had been an eventful January as I’d been assigned to the VF-24 Renegades, part of Carrier Air Group (CAG) 9 onboard USS NIMITZ (CVN-68) but still had some RAG Tactics hops to finish. Flying with VF-124 during the day doing a few 2 versus or 4 versus unknown syllabus hops (some good stories there!) and doing Field Carrier Landing Practice (FCLP) hops at night with VF=24. We were heading out on cruise on the 1st February so we had to get worked up and ready.

After a quick Carrier Qualification in VF-24, we were off on my first Western Pacific (WESTPAC) cruise, destined for places like Hong Kong, Singapore, Dubai, and more. The picture in this post is me on this first cruise. I was never much of a shutterbug so photos of me on the job are rare! Note here I’m standing by the trusty AIM-54C Phoenix missile mounted on the belly of the Tomcat. At this stage in the F-14’s life, she was just getting into the air-to-mud mission so was very much still a primary air-to-air platform so we’d be doing most of the fighter stuff for this cruise. Standard combat load at that time was “2/2/2” which translated to 2 x AIM-9 Sidewinder 2 x AIM-7 Sparrow, and 2 x AIM-54 Phoenix (I think I got that order right….been a while!)

As we start our trek west, cruise begins. My first. I’d gotten carrier landings in the T-2 Buckeye and A-4 Skyhawk (both day only), had done CQ in VF-124 in the Tomcat (day and night), and had just recently re-qualified in VF-24 (day and night) so it’s not like I was TOTALLY unfamiliar with night landings. But mentally you have to factor in that this is the first REAL night flight from the boat on cruise. Up until that time, every CQ evolution was a training environment. All the movement, people, ships, deck crews, fuel, etc. were all focused on YOU to get you up to speed. Now was different. We were headed west. We’re not near a divert field. This was real. I liken it to the difference between banging golf balls with your driver at the range and teeing off on the #1 at Augusta during the Masters. Same movement, same club, same ball…..but VERY different.

Also, this was a bit ago and the focus on the Nuggets (new guys) was intense. They flew the sh*t out of you off the boat. Every day, every night. The worse the conditions, the more Nuggets they’d launch. Trial by fire, m’fer. Every flight was an opportunity to learn something, and since Nuggets didn’t know sh*t, launch ‘em!! It might still be like that......dunno.

My first scheduled cruise night flight is with the Maintenance Officer (an O4, Lieutenant Commander, senior RIO) “Butch”. I can’t recall the mission but likely just a night AIC (Air Intercept Control) flight against another fighter, with probably 12 or 14 other airplanes scheduled to launch. The brief went pretty well, but I’m just focused on getting back the ship without (a) shining my ass or (b) killing myself and Butch. True Fighter Guys will know that of those two, (a) is WAY worse than (b). “I’d rather die than look bad” was an oft repeated phrase. I did note during the brief that the metro guys (meteorological dudes or “weather guessers”) said that the weather would include “some clouds and rain”. Of note, the ship can actually avoid weather, we just didn’t that night. Thanks, ship.

So Butch and I suit up and head for the roof. Our ready room on NIMITZ was “Ready 8” all the way at the back of the ship so that’s where the jets were always parked (Tomcats on the back of the boat because there’s more room). He pops the hatch and HOLY SH*T that wind is blowing hard……and DAMN that’s a lot of rain…..blowing sideways. Gulp.

We crouch down against the wind and rain, climb up to the flight deck, spot our plane and start the preflight. Once done (and soaking wet) we both climb in and I notice that in addition to the high winds and driving sideways rain, we have a LOT of movement of the flight deck through the heavy seas. Great. Dark, rainy, windy, and pitching deck. Sidebar – during a carrier landing, if everything is perfectly steady and you’re perfectly on glide slop and on speed, your tailhook misses the back of the ship by 11 feet 7 inches. Well, tonight the deck is moving probably 10-15 deck up and down. You do the math.

So the canopy finally closes out the wind and rain and we get power on the jet. Butch is in full “encouragement mode” at this point because he knows I’m his ride home (back where the food is, as we say) and he’s GOT to keep me pumped up. “THIS IS F**KING AWESOME MAN!!!”, he shouts. I ask him if he really thinks we’re going and he’s like “Oh yean, man! This is gonna be GREAT!!”

I’m skeptical. There’s no WAY they’d launch us in these conditions.

THESE are the thoughts that we stupid Nuggets think. Silly Nugget.

Jet is started, final checks are done, and we signal to the yellow shirt (aircraft directors wear yellow shirts, more colors for different jobs….purple for fuel, brown for Plane Captain, white for medical/final checker, etc.). I’m still skeptical they’re going to send us. “Butch, you really think they’re gonna send us?”

“Oh yeah, man! We goin’ FLYIN! You can’t BUY training like this!”. That’s because know one is dumb enough to try and sell it, to be honest.

I look over and sure enough the director gives the signal to remove chocks and chains and signals for us to pull forward. Gulp again. While the rain is still hitting the cockpit from the side and the deck is doing its little dance, we make our way to Cat 3 (3 of 4 catapults on the boat). The director then passes me to the director on the CAT who stands in front of the jet, guiding me into the shuttle (hunk of steel connected to the catapult system below decks that will fling us off the boat, accelerating from 0 to 150 in 1.4 seconds).

He calls for wings out, flaps down and then we're turned over to the launch officer. He calls for full power, then full afterburner. I do my control wipe out, finally convinced that yes, we’re probably doing this. Everything looks good, so I turn on the external lights (off until that point) indicating I’m ready for launch and………BOOM, off we go into the blackness.

Throttle out of afterburner, gear up, flaps up and start the climb out going into the clouds at about 500 feet. Butch is doing his RIO thing and we keep climbing through the goo (clouds). We eventually break out of the clouds at around 26,000 feet and gosh it’s a beautiful night up here. Big, shiny moon, pretty stars. Down stairs? Not so much, but really nice way up here. Butch calls back to the ship and tells them that we broke out at 26K and the boat comes back with “Roger that, launch is canceled. Turn left 180 and we’ll start vectors for recovery”.

What? Launch canceled? Butch now teaches me about the idea of “the sacrificial Tomcat”. If the weather is not so good, shoot a Tomcat off the boat to go investigate the weather. It’s dual crewed and has LOTS of gas, so what could possibly go wrong, right? F**k.

So now we gotta get home back to the boat. That’s where the food is, and that’s where your stuff is, and there’s really no place else to go. We get vectors to final while dumping gas to get down to max trap weight. The maximum landing weight for the Tomcat was 54,000 pounds and a landing is called a “trap”, hence “max trap”. Empty weight is about 45,000 pounds and you carried 20,000 pounds of gas so we had to dump quite a bit.

Vectors complete, we wind up behind the boat at about 2 miles and are on glide slope coming down the chute. Another tidbit; everyone on the boat knows they launched the sacrificial Tomcat AND they know who’s in the jet….a Nugget. So all eyes are going to be on the ships TV that broadcasts every landing from a camera that’s recessed into the flight deck and looks right up the glide slope at the approaching aircraft. To say The Nugget Night Trap in Shitty Weather Show is popular is an understatement. It’s Must See TV.

Great.

Things actually went pretty well. I was always a good instrument flyer (looking only at the cockpit instruments), and for landing you lined up crosshairs on your screen so that they formed a perfect plus sign +. Drift left and the vertical needle moves to the right to tell you to come back right. Go low, and the horizontal needle goes up to tell you to add power to get back up on glide slope. Pretty straight forward, right?

By about a mile out, Butch is doing the soothing voice “loooookin good, bud……little high……there ya go…..loooooking gooood.” For me, that’s actually kind of helpful and it validates that I’m not completely out to lunch. The problem is that eventually you have to come off instruments and actually look at the ship to land. At about mile out and 500 feet, the ship is finally visible. At three-quarter mile, Butch calls the ball: “Two-oh-two, Tomcat ball, five-oh”, which translates to “I’m Jet # 202, we’re in a Tomcat and can see the visual landing aide/ball, and we have 5,000 pounds of gas). This is when I start my “transition scan” where you gently look up to make sure the boat is actually there, come back in one more time to verify the needles are centered and everything looks good, then come back out for the last time to start flying glide slope (“meatball”), centerline (“lineup”) speed (“angle of attack”) all the way to touch down.

This is NOT a picture I’d seen much and I had DEFINITELY never landed on a pitching deck.

“Gee, what do you know, you can actually SEE the deck moving waaaay down and then waaaay back up and HOLY SH*T WHY AM I LOOKING AT THE DECK GET BACK TO MEATBALL, LINEUP, ANGLE OF ATTACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”.

If you look at the deck while landing (“deck spotters”), there’s a better than average chance you’ll hit the back of the ship because it’s moving away from you at 20mph. That's not good.

Some lineup corrections, a couple “little power” calls from the LSO (Landing Signal Officer) and a couple more “looooking goods” from Butch and we cross the ramp (didn’t hit it, thank you), land in the wires and trap, going to full power in the wires in case we’d missed them all (“boltered”). Whew!!! Wings back, flaps up, and follow the director to parking. We shut down and Butch is again back to “That was AWESOME, MAN!!” He was likely just happy to be alive. And so was I after my first night launch on cruise.

And for the Naval Aviators out there, Paddles gave me a Fair Deuce.

DISCLAIMER - any inaccuracies in technical details are due soley to poor memory and being old.

@RSE_VB via X

[icetrolabe]

Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[whos-hotter-jjba]

Hottest Stand Battle - First Round Match 3

Stand abilities under the cut:

Love Love Deluxe: With Love Love Deluxe, Karera Sakunami makes hair grow wherever a designated target has touched, but only within a range of 80 m (260 ft) of herself.

Weather Report: Weather manipulates the surrounding atmosphere with his Stand, allowing him to freely summon several weather phenomena like wind, rain, or lightning to his advantage. He can make the gusts of wind strong enough to pierce through the human body and can manipulate the concentration of specific gases in a closed area (like oxygen). Weather Report can also create electrical currents within its User's body, allowing partial control of several people's bodies when it electrifies them. 

Heavy Weather, a sub-ability within Weather Report, alters the refraction angle of the sun's rays entering earth's atmosphere, creating rainbows. Those who see the rainbows will perceive themselves as being a snail due to a natural subliminal effect created by the altered refraction angle. This will turn people into snails physically as well. Once a person starts transforming into a snail, unless Weather himself is killed, the process is irreversible.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Jason, especially in that one Teen Titans comic, often complains about the lack of pants he has. And I'm haunted thinking about that at all times

[storm-driver]

i dont remember where, but i remember someone brought to my attention that roxas and ven's models are really inconsistent between the games, at least when it comes to their actual faces.

roxas is always supposed to have sora's face, but an uncanny resemblance to ventus, and that's pretty consistent. but for some reason, in DDD, ventus' model was swapped from the original face he had in BBS to looking like sora, as well.

and they did the same thing in kh3, both use basically the exact same face, except in one place. which was the ending cinematic (after the re:mind patch even) they still have different faces. and yknow, this just sits so odd with me.

[tipytap]

“but youre young! you shouldnt be in pain!” uh yeah thats kinda why its an issue bestie 😘💖