#would my egg have cracked any sooner

[theycallme-ook]

One like and I read Loki: Agent of Asgard by Al Ewing and fulfill the prophecy

[violet-embers]

The first time I saw a trans woman was in porn. I was pretty young then, in early middle school I think. My first thoughts about trans women only existed in a sexual context, since that was the only place I saw us mentioned

The next time I saw trans people mentioned was a TV show presumably about trans people and transitioning. I didn't watch it, only saw the description because even as a kid I had already internalized the idea that it was taboo and I would get in trouble if my parents walked in and I was watching it

Eventually I saw enough TV and cop shows to see an episode with the dead trans hooker trope. It further reinforced the building idea that trans women were something else, separate from "normal" people and always on the outskirts of society

And then Caitlyn Jenner came out. At my Catholic middle school there were few kind things said about her and plenty of nasty comments, but this was the first time I saw trans people being publicly talked about

In high school my views on trans people started to fracture. On one hand, I was being pushed the idea that gender was about what's in your pants, that if you've got a dick your a man and there's nothing that can be done about it. On the other hand, early high school me had stumbled across some gender change erotica and quickly became obsessed with it. While it wasn't great representation, it was still pretty positive about transitioning. The people in those stories were always happier afterwards

I struggled to reconcile what parts of society were saying about trans people with my daydreaming about what I'd do if I woke up the next morning as a girl. Eventually I decided that it was just a fetish. I just thought it was hot, there was no way I could be trans because I was just a normal person. I wasn't weird or a spectacle for others to gawk at, I was just a person

Around that time I also met a trans person in passing for the first time. One of the trans guys at my high school was in one of the musicals that I went to because some of my friends were also in them. When I was talking to my friends about it after someone mentioned the trans guy and that he was trans. I wasn't really sure what to think so I kinda just didn't think about it. Thinking back, there were a few trans guys at my high school but I don't think there was a single out trans woman

Eventually in college I actually met some trans and nonbinary people. In some classes we introduced ourselves on the first day with names and pronouns which was my first exposure to people using pronouns other than just he/him and she/her. I had a few classes with trans and nonbinary people, including a survey of transgender studies class I took in my last semester. I had plenty of excuses for why I was taking it (I needed a few more credits to graduate. It still had room open. It fit with my other classes. It seemed interesting. I'm trying to be a good ally.)

Around this time as well I found some trans creators online like ContraPoints and Philosophy Tube (whom I had watched before she came out as trans). I was weirdly excited and interested when Odyssey Eurobeat came out as trans and I went to go listen to some of her music right after I heard. I was starting to have examples of trans people just being people. Not just porn stars or public spectacles, but people

Later I met and befriended a few trans women, one of whom was extremely open about her transness and happened to share a video which started the initial steps of my egg cracking and figuring out who I am now

If I had actually known any trans women, if the world had been kinder to trans people, if representation of trans women as people existed and was well known, I might have been able to realize who I was sooner. I would have been able to exist as myself for more than a tiny fragment of my life so far

Representation matters, both in media and in daily life. Trans people being out and open about who they are made it possible for me to realize that about myself. Please never stop being who you are

[writingforatwistedworld]

just thought of something random — shower thoughts. So, you know how even if you score 0 on twistunes it still counts as “clearing it”? Imagine you doing that with a self aware au. to make it funny, how about riddle, Vil, and Sebek

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, self-destructive behavior, violence, abusive behavior, unhealthy lifestyle, murder, religion, obsessive themes

Riddle Rosehearts/Vil Schoenheit/Sebek Zigvolt-Scoring 0 whilst playing Twistunes

Here you are, our (perhaps) determined twistunes player, usually (or maybe not) trying your best

And that is fine and dandy and lalala happy happy

The TWST cast, however, doesn't see the twistunes as rhythm mini games though

For them, you are guiding them in some sort of task, not hearing the huge orchestra that appeared out of nowhere

There is always your guiding hand, reassuring that things go right even when a certain feline (*cough* not looking at you Grim*cough*) decides to act all high and mighty

Until, one day, there you are not helping anymore

Another splendid day to do your most splendid bidding... in the form of baking a cake

Yeah, I know, what daunting task you have layed upon him!

But he know he doesn't need to worry. After all, you are there to help him (not like his magic could do that for him in one second I mean come on there has to be a spell to crack some eggs and spill some milk ISN'T SLEEPING BEAUTY CANON OVER THERE??!)

He picks up the whisk... and nothing

Ok... maybe you just weren't looking! So he puts it down and then picks it up again

Nothing… Aren't you funny! Messing with him like that… (No pls help he is dying on the inside has he broken a rule? He followed rule 199 perfectly, wear blue if you need to whisk eggs)

One second later and he is panicking

This is a test, right?

If you could look through the coding on the other side you would see a panicking riddle who is this close to setting the kitchen on fire

At least that is the case until Trey finally steps in and decides to help his childhood friend out

After everything is finally over, Riddle is panicking

He has lost your favor, you didn't help him with this mighty task: shoving dough into an oven

Riddle will without any question learn how to bake cakes

Heartslabyul will eat salty snacks after dinner for a while but ok, unlike other things Riddle has done in your name this is rather tame

That does not mean he is kind to himself though

He will deprive himself of anything that makes him happy. Whether that is cake or his precious time with his friends

Sooner than later he is once more the red tyrant on his throne, “chopping” heads off all the time once more.

But everything but imperfection for you

Vil was just practicing dancing for that competition again

He took great pride in being guided by you

After all, who could say they were being taught dancing by the personification of perfection itself? (Although he was surprised that you knew modern dances, most of the time you were pictured in more traditional and old-fashioned settings)

Until suddenly you didn't guide him anymore

And thus, the floor and Vils face became very good acquaintances (You could hear Rook screaming from somewhere "Pas le visage!")

On that day Vil learned that your guidance had one up and downside

The up was, he always danced perfectly. The down, he forgot how to do it on his own

Now, we are talking about mister I-have-at-least-500-Thaumarks-on-my-face-in-makeup

So of course he is going overboard immediately

"Oh how nice, Vil Schoenheit is practicing"- No. This guy has gotten a warning from his doctor that he needs to stop because otherwise his legs could sustain damage from so much training

Epel? Well Epel is living in hell right now. Poor little apple gets the full brunt of his frustration

Overall, Vil gets toxic, and I don't mean just toxic but toxic toxic, but what about his more private life?

Well, he is just miserable, and horrible to himself, but most of all miserable

He turns back to his self before his overblot, being unnervingly perfect, having absolutely no chill when it's about being his best self

But there has to be a reason why you have abandoned him. You are his muse, the reason why he forced Epel into a routine that can only be described with "uh... help?"

But enough excuses! He had his salad and now he needs to train. His doctor? Well his doctor doesn't want to achieve being close to you so what does he know

(He got send into the hospital with a broken leg later that day. Talk about self-destructive behavior)

(ouch, my ears)

Let's assume that Sebek gets a twistune in which he practices his skills with the sword

He thought you were proud of him, you helping him to become stronger so he could fulfill your bidding (well-seasoned yandere readers what I mean)

Then, he felt your guidance slipping like the sword now sticking dangerously close to his foot in the ground

Many screams, one description: panic

When Lilia heard the not so crocodile-y crocodile scream bloody murder on the outside he thought that someone just didn't speak fondly enough for Sebek about Malleus

So wannabe Batman was more than surprised when he learned that you just “abandoned” his student

This leads to now, Sebek sitting in front of the small altar he has in his room (a trademark of Valley of Roses students)

Seek isn't Malleus (I know, shockers) so there isn't gold

But what if there is something different he can offer you? You left him when he was using his sword so could you want… (No Sebek, no, stop it)

Suddenly disappearances happen all over the school

Weirdly, they seem mostly from Sunset Savanna or the Shaftlands… the two places where you are least seen as an alrighty ruler/God and more as an inspiration

Such a shame that the officer hired to look into this was also from the Shaftlands. Guess that adds to the pile of disappearances

All whilst this is happening Sebek is busy cleaning his clothing and sword. Can't be dirty when he prays to you

With hope in his voice he tells you about his deeds but why aren't you coming back? Is it not enough? It's not.. enough…

This world is filthy, he says. This world needs to be cleaned of the pests that don't show you the loyalty and respect, he says.

But what do you say? Exactly. Nothing.

[assmaster-8000]

"lighter?" shatters the silence that proofed the two of you in the empty hallway.

cécile frowns — very little deviation from his default expression. in all the time you've grown tentatively closer to the man, you'd really have thought he'd express more than this constant gesture of having his foot stuck up his own ass.

"no." he simply hums. his scar-ridden index and middle fingers clutch the waist of his cigarette, and he pulls it from his mouth to huff. your eyes follow the tendrils of smoke as they feel their way through the air, opting to ignore how they reel your gaze in with a suggestive curl over to his lips. his very pouty lips. you can't count the amount of times you've had to pry your eyes off their intimate entanglement with his cigarette filter, crowbar and all, in the past 30 minutes. hopefully, your own cigarette will keep you rightfully occupied.

"don't be a douche," you drawl. "you're not the only one who needs a little material reprieve."

"my patience for your shit has hit its limit 5 minutes ago. go use one of the torches in the other hallway."

"what, and singe off half my face while i'm at it?"

cécile offers you a pointed look, choosing to exercise silence. it's all you need to know that yes— he would definitely pay to see that.

"i don't think gael would appreciate you and i matching looks." you chirp.

cécile offers you a second, even more pointed look.

"you won't get anywhere using master gael to butter up to me," he flicks his wrist to send the greyed ashes from his cigarette butt flying before taking another drag.

"what? c'mon, i don't need gael to hit that soft spot of yours. you and i both know by now that you've grown weaker for me, or is your ego clogging you up from downstairs?" you laugh hoarsely, opting for a little hee-hee and a little ha-ha.

if only cécile had any humor in him.

cécile lazily pushes himself off the wall to face you, red eyes boring holes into your very skull as he backs you up impossibly further against the wall. you acquiesce to his deliberate show of power, taking one small step after the next back — not in a deliberate show of submission, however. it's not uncommon for him to use his towering stature and piercing gaze to get you to back off as soon as you cross some micro-boundary. at first, it did the job. you were smart enough to heed the big, red STOP sign. now? when you can see the ridges of the scar tissue that eat into his face, when you can smell his heady cologne, when you can almost feel his fist clench at his side... it's hard not to get a little excited in the dangerous game of 'string along the cat with your own tail' and throw all caution to the wind.

"there isn't a single moment i don't wish my hands weren't around your neck. not a single one. i've never met someone more insufferable," he hisses under his breath. alas, the usual this-secret-third-definitely-fucked-up-thing tension that pervades the air you share daily bombards your senses at full force alongside the tendrils of smoke that forcibly flee his lips when he looks at you like that. "you are so incredibly lucky you are under the protection of the sovereigns, not like you're present upstairs enough to even acknowledge that, because if master gael weren't here, i'd have—"

before you can stop yourself, the impulse rising in your throat gleefully kills all civility you did your darned best to attempt as you cave into the everlasting urge to dangle your own flesh in front of the lion.

"you'd have, you'd have— what? cracked my head open like an egg on this wall? save that charade, you'll sooner bore me to death than kill me yourself." you bark with laughter in his face. he doesn't reel back, even as you're sure your moist breath fogs his skin. no, he bares his teeth and leans into the bait.

"i might not be a god like your master, but i'll be fucked if you think i'm a helpless little damsel because i'm all alone in your world. you'd have killed me a long time ago if you were less pussy for it, that's what." punctuating the end of your little jab, you snatch the cigarette straight from his lips. it's a herculean task to ignore the thrill of nicking your pinky on his metal jaw, much less brushing his bottom lip, but you manage. fuck, by god you do. his eyes narrow impossibly smaller, before his hand flies up to clamp like a bear trap around your wrist. the blossom of pain is a dull agony compared to the tiny nick. your bones ache and protest at full under the force of his grip, so hard you fear they just might break, but somehow— somehow, you manage to wrestle your hand close enough to your face.

leaning in so close your foreheads practically touch, you bring his used cigarette to your lips— and you present to him the most grand, shit-eating grin you could manage as you take a fat inhale. the nicotine doesn't hit you first. it's the fact that the filter was damp before you kissed it.

the rush does flood your brain eventually, but in the end? you can't deny it pales compared to his pupils widening at the sight your lips. oh, it's just too much fun to not make a show of the cigarette dragging against your mouth for him as you pull away to puff smoke straight into his face. this could be your new addiction. he barely blinks as it assaults his eyes, and his gaze snaps back up to yours.

"you are impossible." he growls.

"me? impossible?" you chuckle, killing whatever meager distance that placated the two of you so you could stare directly into his eyes while you snuff out the cigarette on the lapel of his coat. he barely acknowledges the singe of fabric compared to the smell of you. "you could've just handed me your lighter, y'know. avoid all this." you gesture with a lazy roll of your wrist.

"so what? you could find some other way to get on all my nerves?"

"hah, another pussy excuse and you know it."

"you were right about one thing," he breathes. "you are no god. i don't think you are even man— you are something dirtier. more akin to a devil, tormenting me with every breath."

"you flatter me, cécile."

"that wasn't a compliment."

—

author's note; im severely sleep deprived so this is not my best work however? however? it doesn't matter. i needed to produce a cécile blurb at all costs. trying to make content off him with vague crumbs and my ever drooping eyelids is hard but ill try again when the extended demo drops lols

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 5: A New Beginning

Prompt: "It's a new day, let's go"

After their New Year's kiss, Mulder is ready to start the new day and their new life. Scully on the other hand? Would like some sleep. Rating: T, wc: 1,030

Tagging @today-in-fic @xfficchallenges

“It’s a new day,” Mulder’s voice echoes from somewhere close, “let’s go.” All Scully can do is groan; it’s entirely too early for words. The sun, she thinks, is still hiding, too. And that’s exactly what she’s planning on doing, too. Five more minutes is all she needs.

“You said that five minutes ago.” Minty puffs of air hit her cheek and she’s reminded of her dog Queequeg, though his breath never smelled this good.

“Didn’t,” she says into the pillow, her eyes still firmly closed. If she doesn’t open them, she can pretend she’s still sleeping. This is nothing more than a dream. After all, Mulder stars in most of them. The number of times she’s woken up after dreaming about Mulder and his mouth is outrageous.

“You did.” In her dreams, though, his mouth is usually otherwise occupied. They don’t talk much then. Or at least he doesn’t. She sighs, smiling as she remembers a particularly nice one from a few nights ago when she was missing him at Christmas.

“I heard that.” His voice is warm and so very close. She leans in, craving his closeness, figuring that after last night, she is allowed to indulge. They did, after all, sleep together for the first time. Sleep was all they did, however. Doctor’s orders. Mulder’s arm needs to heal until he’s allowed more strenuous activities. He pouted and she has to admit she almost gave in, but she knows how he gets, and she doesn’t want to risk it. Selfishly, she wants their first time to be when Mulder is capable of using both his arms.

“Mulder, the new day just started,” she mumbles into her pillow.

“Not just a day new day, Scully. A whole new year and anyway, I’m awake.”

“Why? We went to bed late.” It was long after midnight when they finally got here. Helping Mulder with his sling, stealing a few kisses here and there, didn’t help. Neither did Mulder’s stomach grumble so loudly that they shared a plate of scrambled eggs at 2 a.m. before Scully took his hand and led him into her bedroom.

It had been dark, but Mulder’s expression, even with painkillers running through his system, was solemn. This was a big step for them. He had made the first one when he kissed her in public at midnight. She was making the next one. The final one, she figured, they’d take together. Once Mulder was fully healed and not a second sooner (but also not a second later).

“I know you’re not a morning person,” he says softly, and all her exasperation just vanishes. This is the man she’s been in love with for longer than she cares to admit. She cracks open an eye and he might be a bit blurry, but there he is next to her with a big, toothy smile and spiky hair. His happiness is contagious.

“I started making coffee,” he says, pressing the softest kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“Mulder, morning breath,” she complains.

“I brushed my teeth.”

“But I didn’t.”

“I don’t care, Scully. You’re delicious either way.” She laughs at this, feeling freer than she has in a long time. Her laughter dies down, but a soft smile remains on her face, mirroring Mulder’s. Who, quite frankly, looks drugged.

“Have you taken your painkillers yet?” she asks him, her hand on his arm, gently stroking it. He shakes his head.

“Wanted to see you wake up.” He smiles sheepishly at her, making her want to kiss him again and again.

“In how much pain are you?”

“Right now? None. I’m looking at you.” Any other time, she might have rolled her eyes or call him crazy, but he’s so serious, so earnest.

“You still need to take them, though, all right?” He nods at her.

“Doing everything you say, Dr. Scully.”

“Since when?”

“Since last night.” Another toothy grin and she finds she can’t get enough of them. She can’t get enough of Mulder. Being woken up like this – even if it’s too early, even if she does not want to get up just yet – is preferable to him calling her in the middle of the night, saying she needs to get ready for a case in the middle of nowhere.

“Is that your New Year’s resolution?” she asks, scooting even closer to him. Soon, she’ll be lying on top of him. Somehow she thinks he wouldn’t even mind. His shoulder, however, might.

“I want that shoulder to heal as quickly as possible. I have plans.”

“Do you?” He nods, not taking his eyes off of her. He leans closer and captures her lips in a short, but thorough kiss.

“Morning breath, Mulder,” Scully repeated, winded. “Again, I don’t care. I couldn’t wait to wake up and kiss you again. Well, I couldn’t wait for you to wake up. You took your sweet time.”

“Some of us need more than four hours a night.”

“So, breakfast is out of the question? Last night you’d say we should go visit your mom today.” ‘We’. That simple word warms her heart. And he had listened to her.

“We should,” she says softly. “She’s going to be happy, seeing you.”

“Even with this?” He points at his arm still in its sling. “And this?” He gently touches the abrasions on her throat that she’d forgotten about.

“That’s what turtlenecks are for.”

“Happy to know you own turtlenecks.” He waggles his eyebrows at her.

“We don’t have time to discuss possible uses of turtlenecks if you’re serious about getting breakfast and visiting my mom.”

“We could save time showering together?”

“No shower for you today.”

“Do you think your mom will still accept me when I stink?”

“She loves you,” Scully says, stretching. Mulder’s eyes follow her every movement, hoping to catch a glimpse of naked skin. “Let’s get you your painkillers and then we’ll see what happens today, okay?”

“Can I get a kiss with my painkillers?” Scully bites her lip to stop another smile.

“If you let me brush my teeth first.”

He lets her; it's not just a new day, she realizes, but a whole new beginning.

[unculturedswine-101]

I'm the fox you've been waiting for! (Benny O'Donnell x reader)

Chapter 1: Schools out

A/N: The amount of Benny fics on ANY platform is abismal so I gotta do a solid for myself and all the Benny sluts out there..this will be a series don't you worry *also just for stories sake, Jodie is not Mitch's sister, you are.

Chapter 2

WARNINGS: Cigarette (via you and others), your ass gets smacked, quick peak down a shirt

It was the last day of your junior year of high school, and it couldn't be over any sooner. Before your final class, you helped Jodie and Darla load the last few bags of groceries into her truck, sighing as you felt the hot Texas sun beaming down.

Meanwhile, Ms. Wilks hadn't even arrived at her own class yet, as Shavonne, Jaye, Cynthia, Jodi, you and Pink discussed the best Gilligan's Island episodes. Before long, Pink was recruited by Don to leave the class, and things soon fell dull as you began to doodle in your sketchbook. Until Shavonne nodded her head towards the group and the four of you left to smoke in the bathroom (a very common ''trip'' you girls would take during class). As cigarettes were dispensed amongst the group, Jaye began ranting about the ''male pornographic fantasy'' on Gilligan's island. Shavonne and I exchanged looks, while Jodi argued that at least the professor was really sexy. You laughed and decided to make a dash for the hallway, hearing the booming laughs of the guys echo throughout the building.

''All right, let's go kick some ass!'' You heard Benny say, you jogged to catch up with them ''Hey you guys, wait up!'' At the sound of your voice, the boy's heads instantly turn toward you - most notably Benny, who runs up first. At Lee High School, you were known to turn the heads of guys and girls alike. You did take in how you looked; makeup, curlers before bed to set your hair and clothes that most of your paycheck went to. ''What?'' Benny asks ''Hey Benny, I've got a favor to ask you'' you asked, teasingly running your hands across his toned biceps. ''Whatever you need'' he smirks. You lean forward to touch his paddle ''Take it easy on my brother this summer, okay? All..of you'' Turning and facing toward Don and Pink to include them in on the subject. They chuckle, Mitch Kramer?'' Benny laughs, yeah Mitch Kramer'' you reply, hoping they'll have mercy on your freshman brother. ''Yeah, yeah I'm gonna give him a beating he'll never forget!'' He exclaims as he cracks his hand down on the hard wooden paddle. ''Just don't get him more than the other guys…any of you'' trying to compromise. You knew the guys had been waiting since September for this day to come, but you couldn't help but worry about your brother's sore ass all summer. ''You got our word sis'' Pink reassures; ''your little brother will be okay''. As he finishes, you notice Benny take a quick peek down your shirt, only for you to catch his eyes as you reply with a simple ''thanks, see you guys!'' As you turn away, you both hear and feel a big smack, courtesy of Benny on your ass. ''Ow! Benny…'' You turn around to see all 3 guys laughing as you catch up with Shavonne, Jodi and Jaye. ''These guys I don't know…'' you sigh to your friends as you return to class ''You know you like it'' Shavonne returns.

Seemingly everyone in the Classroom is bored out of their minds, with the vast majority of you staring at the ticking clock. Finally, it sounds leaving a herd of students to make a bolt for the front door. You get on the other side of Shavonne as she starts up her truck, Jaye climbing in the other side. ''Do you think Darla is just a little too excited about terrorizing these poor girls?'' You ask the truck. ''I mean totally, but do you remember how brutal our hazing was? It took almost a week to wash egg out of my hair'' Shavonne complained, running her fingers through it, as if the shells and yolks were still caking it.

[writefinch]

Communion

(cn: piss, foot stuff)

It clicked for me about a month ago, years after it had become apparent to the people who knew me, but I'm not short-sighted and self-pitying enough to think that meant I'd wasted time or could've made the leap sooner. If I was less kind to myself I'd say 'boy, I had the maps and I knew the landmarks so how'd I end up in the wilderness so long' but I was sailing through fog, and you know what? When I saw that landmass looming in the distance, I sailed towards it.

I didn't know totally what it meant, still don't in fact. Last year I joked about being a cis boy dyke, and since then I've struck the 'cis' and I'm shaky on the 'boy' and the part that was a joke was the truest thing of all.  Am I a boy? Maybe. A woman? I don't think so. A man? I truly fucking hope not. A good girl? Put a collar on me and we'll see.

The thing about fog is that you can't just step back and get a big picture view of everything. My instincts tell me that if I want to figure things out I should look at them at a remove, see where it fits into everything around it, map things out and move forward cautiously. That's what I want to do, it's what I've always done, but fog makes it impossible. You have to get in close if you want to see things, you can't keep it at a distance.

I couldn't move ahead and start hormones right away, not for a few months, for reasons I won't get into here. Delays don't sit well with me brain because I know my brain and I don't trust it, I don't trust it not to treat this like some other big rewarding involving project like learning Polish or playing Go, decide we're too busy and it's too scary and shove the whole thing into a mental oubliette to never see the light of day again. Sure, my friends call me Charlotte now and I've got she/her next to my Discord username, but I wanted something stronger, I wanted something that would cut into me.

I can't remember the name of the first trans woman I knew as a person, rather than as a punchline to a cruel joke. It was on Tumblr and it must have been after 2015 because I remember she had an Undyne avatar, but maybe not, because surely Violet, the "boy" I'd been practically engaged to, had come out as trans at that point? Surely I knew Skeeter, that poor, vicious mess of a girl well enough by then? It must have been earlier than that, the ponies had turned me queer by 2013 at the latest.

No, no, the Undyne-avatar lady was the first time I saw someone I knew be openly *Marxist-Leninist*, she was just also trans.

Anyway I don't know what it was, but even though I was rock-solid confident in being cis and a guy (a guy or a dude, it never bought me any joy to think of myself as a 'man'), something about trans women just really stuck with me. I found their stories compelling, I found their experiences interesting and oddly relatable, though I didn't suffer dysphoria as I thought they described it. I made friends with some trans girls, some of my friends became trans girls, and suddenly most of my friends were trans girls. I burned at injustices done to them, I bought hormones for friends, donated to trans street medic projects, helped newly-cracked eggs get in touch with DIY medding sources, y'know, normal cis ally stuff.

Recently, I realized that I loved trans women. I fucking love them so much. I fucking love all of the varied and fractious transfemme communities that have allowed me to be a part of them, as nothing more than a cis guy who draws a lot of porn. I'm not going to say anything about Blahaj and Bridget and pink coding socks because I know the girl who fucking hates that silly terminally-online stereotype and I know the girl who *is* that silly terminally online stereotype and I love them both and love so many trans girls in all their aspects between and beyond those boundaries. I have never found myself so close to any group of people, so filled with admiration and wonder and love and lust for them, so overjoyed by their trust and friendship and confidence in me, so blessed to call myself a friend and contemporary, as I have of the trans women in my life.

I had accepted some time ago, with no pain and more than a little pride, that I would admire them but be apart from them, that my place would be as a welcome guest, that I would be among them but not one of them, and--

A crack has opened within me to let the light seep in.

I'm one of them. I really am one of them, they're mine and I am theirs and I never want to let this go, this revelation is a gift that I'm barely beginning to comprehend and I can't bear the thought that I might let it pass me by and slouch back into darkness.

So, I would bring a change upon myself, in a way that was small but could not be un-changed, a vow that could not be forgotten, only consciously recanted.

I cut out a lot of the idea before I brought it up, mostly out of time and expedience. I thought of a prayer to Inanna, but that felt like a clumsy thing to rush, and I decided I'd make a shrine to her only once I had the wisdom to pay Her proper respects. I liked the idea of getting caned or whipped in a purifying way first, but that felt too much like regular kink, just inspiration for another drawing. The idea of doing the ritual under psychedelics intrigued me but, well, I've never done anything but amphetamines and poppers before, and I didn't want to dull the experience of either the ritual or the drugs by combining the two under my own inexperience - though, I did include poppers.

Alice, Emily and Lily - not their real names but you get the picture - were very good about it. They told me it was a cute idea, and we met up at Emily's ground-floor studio flat on Sunday night. We'd have been playing board games anyway, and they even seemed a little excited by the idea, even if they weren't buzzing from anticipation like me.

I'd only worn the clothes once since I'd bought them - black tights, a knee-length straight skirt, a black blouse - but my heart didn't pound like that the first time I put them on. I shaved my face upwards and against the grain, my skin still annoyingly stubble-grey, but that would show much less in the candlelight.

When I stepped out of Emily's bathroom the girls had already set things up, candles and all. They were sitting on chairs in a semi-circle, backlit by flickering orange candlelight. As I approached they got stage giggles; I did too, it felt infectious.

Once the giggles had cleared, Alice, in the middle, asked me to state my name and purpose.

'My name is Sophie, and I am here to recieve communion.'

'Very well,' said Alice, and pointed to a spot between their chairs marked in white tape. I knelt there, a bowl of water to one side and a small bag at the other.

I turned to Lily, bowed my head, and asked her if I could wash her feet. She nodded, and I took the bowl and wash cloth and gently cleaned her feet with warm water. Once they were clean and free of sweat and sock lint, I bent down to dry them with my hair. She nodded her approval, and I asked Emily if I could do the same for her. Likewise I cleaned her feet and likewise dried them with my hair. Alice did not get her feet out, for me nor anyone, and instead allowed me to lick her shiny black boots, which only had the faintest hint of grit to them.

Once I had performed the ablutions, the girls daubed me. Alice held my jaw firm in one hand as she applied mascara to each of my lashes with the other, Emily let me rest my chin on her fingertip as she painted my lips a vibrant red, and Lily stroked my hair as she marked my cheeks with blush. They cooed and called me pretty, and Lily's blush felt superfluous.

I presented each of them with a gift: An Adventure Time tarot deck for Lily, a sharpening stone for Emily, a guide to mushrooms for Alice. They accepted the gifts, and gave me gifts in return: a simple black choker from Lily, a bottle of amyl nitrite from Emily, a stack of trans zines from Alice. My voice cracked a little as I thanked them, and cracked a little more after they watched me take a few long, heady hits from the poppers bottle.

Alice asked me if I was ready to recieve communion; I begged her, please, yes.

She took a blister pack of 2mg estradiol and popped out a single blue pill. I knelt and looked up at her, eyes open, heart thumping, mouth wide.

She placed the tiny pill on my tongue and said, 'Sophie, this bread is your flesh, which is given to you.'

Then, she stood up, unzipped her jeans, pulled her limp cock out of her underwear and pushed it between my lips, which I wrapped tight around it.

'Sophie, this wine is your blood, drink this in rememberance of yourself.'

It took her a moment to start pissing, and her urine immediately washed the pill down my throat. It tasted fucking disgusting, almost as salty as seawater with that weird, almost chemical aftertaste. It turned my stomach, and I felt euphoric as I sucked it down.

After that they praised me and called me a girl and a faggot and a whore, and I kept sucking Alice's cock until Emily wanted a blowjob too, and from there it turned into regular lesbian sex, Lily's chastity cage clinking fruitlessly against mine as Emily went around biting us both and Alice had me lick her armpit clean of sweat, fingering and kissing and pinching until we all got tired enough to start watching movies in Emily's bed.

I got up and fetched drinks and sandwiches for everyone and something happened between aftercare, the aftermath of a religious service, and an after-action report. They all kept calling me a pretty girl, which I *really* liked, and Alice asked me how the whole thing had turned out, if I felt anything had changed, and I had to eat two salami and cucumber sandwiches before I could figure out my answer.

Something had changed, but the change had happened months ago, and it had taken communion for me to see it. It didn't clear up my questions or reveal hidden knowledge, I don't know if I'm a she/her boy or a he/him girl, I don't know if I'm actually a woman or just not at all a man, I don't know if this is a thing I've become or if I've been this all along and it's taken this long to discover it. I don't even know if I've really settled on Sophie.

All I got from communion, from this sacred connection of love and knowledge from other trans girls to me, was surety in the things I already kinda knew:

I'm transgender as fuck and I'm a big fucking dyke.

[tailless-whale]

Disclaimer: this post is mostly just me working out my feelings, trying to figure out how I feel etc. Also it's kinda long.

Ok so my partner is coming out as nonbinary (they/she) and I have a lot of thoughts about it...

I'm super excited for them!!! That feeling of accepting that you're trans is overwhelming but also so thrilling. I remember when my egg started to crack and I was like "fuck, I really am a boy". I got such a thrill when I accepted who I am. I'm so excited for them to be feeling that way and to be going through that journey because it's something I'm experiencing myself and it's been absolutely fantastic. Sure there were some painful moments but the positives far outweigh any negatives I've experienced. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life because I'm finally living my authentic self, and I'm so excited to see my partner go through all that and find herself. I love hearing how they're feeling and seeing how she gets a little happier when they tell me about her plans to transition.

I've also been thinking about and reevaluating my sexuality in relation to her gender identity. I struggled with my sexuality a while, and only recently (thought I had) figured it out. I used to identify as pansexual, but when I started dating again I found that I'm much more attracted to men than I am to women. For the past year or so I've identified primarily as a gay man, and my partner's transition has made me question that. I love my partner dearly and I plan to stick with them regardless of how they identify, but I do worry. I think I'm primarily attracted to masculinity, and I'm concerned that my attraction will wane if they decide to be more feminine. I don't think it will, but I do worry. I am a little frustrated though - I thought I had finally figured myself out, that I had a label that fit me - and now I don't know what I am all over again.

I've also been thinking about the challenges they'll face as a nonbinary person in a binary world. I identified as nonbinary for a long time before transitioning to a binary trans man, and it was hard feeling like I couldn't quite express my gender without facing opposition from those around me because I wasn't conforming to traditional gender roles. I don't think she'll have many problems with their friends, but I think some of her family will be a different story. I can see some of their family misgendering them out of ignorance or prejudice, and it's difficult and dysphoria inducing to be misgendered by people close to you. I don't like that she'll probably have to deal with that because I know how badly that hurts. I don't want her to feel pain because they're pursuing what makes them happy :(

I'm also wondering if their gender identity will change over time. Mine sure did! I knew from the beginning of our relationship that although they identified externally as a cis man, that they certainly are not a cis man. To be completely honest, I've been waiting for them to accept that they're not a cis man, and to actually do something about it. I've watched them try to perform masculinity in the same way that I tried to perform femininity before my egg cracked. Our second date they told me they didn't like their name and they prefer to go by things other than their birth name, and that they've already tried out a few names. When I asked them what name they would have chosen for themselves, I filed that answer away and nearly a year later, she told me that she was thinking of going by that same name they told me our second date. They've made so many offhanded comments that made me say "oh yeah, they're definitely not cis" that I was surprised this didn't happen sooner. I'm so happy that she's starting to accept, and perhaps eventually embrace their newfound gender. I do wonder if they'll ever go full girl, but I don't want to push them towards something they don't want or something she's not ready to do yet.

They're planning on shaving off their beard on Thursday and I'm super nervous about that (they started growing it when we first started dating; they've had a beard the whole time we've been together) but I'm happy that she's doing what makes her happy. I know I'll love her regardless of how they choose to look 💜

Also, I love using they/she for her!!! It feels so natural; I always felt weird about calling them a he. I keep wanting to call them my girlfriend but I still need to ask how she feels about that... I default to partner for now but I'll admit while writing this post I accidentally typed "girlfriend" a few times and had to correct myself.

Regardless of my worries, I'm super happy and excited for my partner and I'm looking forward to holding their hand every step of the way as they embark on their journey to trans their gender. I'm literally giggling and kicking my feet thinking about how it feels to reach different milestones and feel validated in one's identity, and I'm so psyched to see them experience those feelings. This is the start of a new era for them and it's so exciting to see how excited she is to do this! :D

[danvillecheese]

why do u think act ur age is fucked

[cracks knuckles] alright. essay time. you asked for it.

I’ve done a similar response to this before here and mentioned something else about it here but I’ll go over it again since those posts are both from a while ago. also bear in mind I haven’t seen aya recently bc I don’t like it. okay let’s get into it

[also im gonna preface this saying maybe i sound very pessimistic but im ranting and its just gonna sound like im complaining because i am. i mean no real malice by the way. im simply a person with a blog.]

first off. they don’t use the show don’t tell as well as they could. in the what might have been montage, sure, they showed potential scenarios and how phineas felt (very briefly) when isa stopped visiting his backyard but it just feels so rushed. I get that they only had like 11 minutes to show it but idk there has to be another way to write it. or just not have it at all idk its just from a writing point of view the whole episode feels rushed and out of place from everything else continuity-wise. why not use little easter eggs planted in the show beforehand? operation crumbcake? pharmacists? meapless in seattle? god theres so many episodes with evidence that phineas liked her back even if he didnt know. just. continuity!!!!

second. why did their friends not try something sooner. it’s not like they didn’t know. like phineas seems to be okay with saying “i wish! i am so in the friend zone there” in front of his friends (that quote alone makes me lose my shit but that’s a whole other point) so clearly they knew about phineas. and isabella also wasn’t quiet about it (source: pnf s1-4). they had like four years of high school to do something and they planned it the day isa left for college? nah its just the least realistic thing ever for me. also them being 18 is like yeah okay maybe the slow burn was worth it and theyre way more grown up (i love a good slowburn) but ohhhhhh my god SURELY their friends were getting sick of them dancing around each other. just me?

third. and I’m sorry to ash simpson but oh my god I hate the character designs like They Would Not Fucking Look Like That. it almost feels like it completely disregards their arcs during the original summer. like yeah child chub disappears over ur teen years but sometimes it stays a little longer! make phineas less twiggy!! make isa look more like her mother! (am i about to redesign them again? whoops)

four. and i know this is no fault of dan and swampy but the show was about to end anyways and yet the entire friend group was paired off into hetero ships?? get fucking real. none of those kids are straight. realistically, i know it was a different time and gay marriage wasnt even legal in the us yet so it wasnt all that common to have queer romance on screen let alone on disney channel but like i said, the show was about to end. what were the disney channel execs gonna do? cancel it? lmao

five. "I am so in the friend zone there." "we are guys. we do not talk about our feelings." WHAT!!! i cant believe this shit is real. these lines of dialogue are canon. what the hell. what kind of message does that even send to younger, impressionable viewers? if ur a 10 year old boy watching that (ok fine maybe that isnt gonna stick with you forever but listen) and you go 'oh its okay to just bottle everything up and not tell my friends about my feelings about anything ever' that is insane! thats not how things should go!! like i get the whole "im so in the friend zone" and yes, this also has to do with the era but like if they wanted to be a more progressive cartoon that kids look up to and enjoy maybe they just. shouldn't have put that whole conversation in.

i barely have any problems with the b plot. in fact id watch the episode just for the kazoo solo. because that plot lines up with the continuity. i can totally see heinz having bowling night with perry and carl and monogram every week! i can totally see perry and monogram retired! and carl running owca and getting payed for it! that all checks out! that one makes sense and works with the canon! if they got that plot so right how did they get the a plot so wrong?

i can answer this question: fanservice. its an awful word, i know. act your age is a fanservicey episode which is why i think it crashed and burned. mml season 2 is rooted in the same issue: doof is very present and takes away from the original plot of the show. like, the one he wasnt even in until the last episode of s1. slightly getting off topic but it is the crux of the issue. fanservice doesnt make for good storytelling. even if it brings in the big bucks. at its core, telling the story the way it should be told is the best one. even if it pisses people off. a good portion of the viewers will still appreciate whatever ending the creators come up with. and no, im not saying phinbella shouldn't have become canon, in fact i really like the ship and all their dynamics, i just think they went about it the wrong way.

as someone who's written and published fic about them getting together in different universes (granted, they were from when i was younger so its mildly terrible. take them with a grain of salt) there are a lot of other ways to tell that story canonically. honestly, i think the best way of doing it was to keep it ambiguous. dont tell that story. let the viewers pick their own ending for phineas and isabella. maybe they dont get together after all. who knows!

thanks for the ask! hope you had fun getting lectured <3

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

During Twilight Peter and Charlotte visit. If they ate Charlie (idk he was patrolling/cut his thumb in the middle of nowhere), does Bella and Edward survive that? Would he lie about it to her? Or just New Moon early on and dip because somehow this is all about him lol

(I love both yours and vinelle's amazing work.)

Thank you for the praise. Look, @therealvinelle, praise!

Well, yes and no.

The no is that Bella's immediately sent to move back with Renee. She has no guardian, Renee is able to take care of her with Charlie having been the backup choice to begin with. Bella's going back to Phoenix and then to Florida in a daze that she never solves the mystery of her father's death by rabid bears or Edward Cullen.

The other no is that the Cullens have broken the treaty. Part of the treaty is any friends of theirs don't eat in the area. Even though they only have one wolf, and the Cullens assume they have none, given that the Cullens did respect the treaty even when they thought there was no enforcement they'd leave Forks very quickly and not return.

Edward of course, is losing his goddamn mind at having lost BEELLLLLLLLAAAAAA and blames Jasper for this. Rosalie, too, blames Jasper becaus she really didn't want to move.

Now, Edward in theory can track her down. He's a shit tracker, but he has help in that Phil plays minor league ball. The internet is still in 2005 when it was much younger than today, but the dot com bubble is going strong, and Edward can and will search through every minor league team website to find where Phil Dwyer went if anywhere. I imagine he backs off initially, telling himself it's not for the best but a reminder that he really shouldn't be involved in Bella's life and it was never to be, but he also can't help himself.

That said, I also have 0 faith in him, as depending when he gets around to this, Bella's probably going to university in Florida where she will not be listed on a website and unless she gets stupid with My Space, Edward would have to search through a large population in every state school to find her. I have 0 faith in him when he couldn't find her in fucking Port Angeles. Even if it's before then, he's narrowed it down to a city in Florida. Woo hoo. That's a lot of people for him to sift through and again we have canonic record that Edward's bad at it.

I don't think he's finding her.

The yes is that, in some hypothetical fanfiction universe where Bella for some reason gets to stay in Forks, Edward probably redoubles his efforts to stay away from Bella in the short term but cracks like an egg sooner or later. He does likely confess to Bella that this happened, as he confesses to near everything when he takes her to the meadow, and given Bella in canon she wouldn't blame him or even Peter and Charlotte for it. It was all just a tragic accident and Edward's clearly torn up about it. Bella and Edward would survive (until he dumps her in his New Moon phase but then comes crawling back later).

[roboticspacecase]

Illuminacho said: I'd love to see a billdip hero x villain fic, of any length, I've been seeing a lot of tik toks with that dynamic, and I'd love to see it in billdip form, if you're still taking prompts

I've been working a lot, so prompts have been slow, but I promise I'm still going to do most of them! :D If I don't do one, it's because I just didn't know where to go with it ;w; but here's this one for y'all!

A loud bang filled the streets, rattling windows and setting off car alarms. People had long since found cover from the debris, so Dipper didn't look for anyone in need of help once the bright, yellow smoke cleared. Instead, his eyes landed on Cipher, the cause of all the trouble.

"You're such a stubborn little thing!" the villain sang as he stepped through the last plume of smoke. "It's so sad to see someone that calls himself a hero defending these banks that would sooner see the people starve than do an ounce of good."

Dipper grit his teeth, standing firmly in place. Cipher walked right up to him, stopping less than a foot away. "I don't support what they do, I support not hurting innocent people. You're trying to tear down buildings with people inside of them, and I don't think that's very nice. So yeah, I'm going to keep being stubborn."

Cipher chuckled, raising his gloved hands as if he were surrendering. "Oh, well, when you put it that way, I guess my entire world view is now changed, and you can take me to jail to serve time for all the crimes I've committed!"

"You're stalling, aren't you?" Dipper took a quick step back, eyes darting to the bank that was now missing a wall. "Is there a second bomb? Tell me now, Cipher! If you really have some ideal of protecting the masses, you'll at least let me try to find it."

A moment of silence fell between them as Cipher's hands slowly lowered, his lips stretching into a wide, sharp-toothed grin. Dipper always speculated that the villain didn't live a normal life outside of crime, seeing as someone would no doubt recognize such a smile and turn him in immediately.

"That's one thing I never got," Cipher hummed. "How you heroes never seem to realize that cracking a few eggs is the only way to make an omelet. Society will never help me turn on the powerful if all of them are making it out of these encounters alive! Besides, casualties cause drama, and I'm nothing if not a drama queen!"

Just as Cipher finishes speaking, another burst of yellow smoke exploded a few streets away from them. Dipper could hardly hear the villain laughing over the sounds of people screaming and running from the explosion. He tried to swing at Cipher, wanting to keep the villain there since he knew other heroes would be able to take care of the rest, only his hand was caught before he made contact.

Cipher yanked Dipper against him, still laughing as he pressed their masks together. "Pine Tree," he growled out, "you're always so eager to cut our time short. Don't you want to do the fun hero thing where you pretend to care about my feelings in hopes that it will sway me to your side and forever stop my evil schemes?"

The first few times Cipher had forced Dipper so close to him, Dipper could hardly breathe. His heart pounded away in his chest, and his mind raced to figure out some way out of his grasp. But now, even though he couldn't look Cipher in the eyes, Dipper stared right at him and took in even breaths.

"I've never pretended to care," he said softly. "You think I would even take the time to talk if I didn't care? Or that I'd be out here in the first place, putting out every fire you start, even if I limp home covered in burns?" Dipper placed his free hand on Cipher's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "I care about everyone's right to live a safe, happy life. Even yours, Cipher. But I can't allow people to hurt each other in the pursuit of that."

Cipher scoffed, though he stayed still and silent until sirens could be heard closing in on them. "Maybe one of these times I blow you up, I'll knock those rose-colored glasses off your face, and you'll finally see what I see." He let go of Dipper's hand, taking a step back. "I hope you will, eventually, Pine Tree. I enjoy our time together, and I think the two of us working together would lead to great things."

"I'll never work with you," Dipper huffed. "Not unless you see my side of things."

"Who knows," Cipher chuckled as a plume of smoke erupted at his feet, covering the villain, "maybe one day we'll both change our minds. Wouldn't that be dramatic?" His voice faded as the cloud did, leaving Dipper standing in the street to wait for the approaching police cars.

They all jumped out of their cars with their weapons drawn, expecting to see Cipher still standing there. But, of course, he always left just in time to never face the consequences of his actions.

Dipper made his escape as well, not wanting to have to answer their questions about why he let Cipher get away. That and he had somewhere to be. A date that he was running late to.

After a quick change at his apartment, Dipper hurried off to the café nearby, a place that thankfully never got hit by any sort of villain attacks. It always offered a tranquil environment, which is exactly why he and Bill always picked it for their lunches.

"There you are," his boyfriend said, gesturing to the seat across from him. "I was worried you'd be late again. Though, I'm one to talk, I'm no better at keeping time."

Dipper laughed as he sat down. "We're both bad at it, but at least we're here now. Today has been so busy with work. Lots of paperwork and writing to be done when there's always someone coming to me with news stories about villains and whatnot. We live in a wild world."

Bill gave him a soft smile, leaning forward so that he could grasp Dipper's hand. "Seems like no one is allowed to rest easy in today's world. But don't worry, I'll be your hero and always keep you safe."

A deep blush covered Dipper's face, and he grabbed Bill's hand as well. "Oh, stop, you're too much. Did you order our drinks already? If you did, you got me hot chocolate instead of coffee, right?"

"Don't worry, Dipper," Bill hummed, kissing the back of Dipper's hand. "I remember all of your favorite things. At this point, I know more about you than you probably know about yourself."

Dipper snorted. Even though he and Bill had been dating for nearly a year, he had only let the blond know surface level things about him. It was just safer that way. "Nonsense, I'm a big mystery yet to be unraveled. You just don't know even that yet."

Bill laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I'll figure out everything about you eventually. It is my job as your boyfriend, after all."

[frizzle-tales]

It was as if she was that timid six year old girl again.

Jiyeon froze and couldn’t speak; as if her throat was squeezed shut, as Hayoung’s tone became harsher and harsher by the minute, her eyes disapproving, her lips in a tight line, as fury filled her eyes.

Jiyeon wanted this end, no more.

“I…” She only managed to stammer.

Why couldn’t she fucking talk?! Why were the words not leaving her mouth?

‘You only think about yourself, Jiyeon. I bet if I collected all the children in the world for the most childish child award, you’d win, by far!’ The woman screeched, hovering over the teary eyed child.

‘Mommy! I’m sorry!’ The young Jiyeon would sob, but her apology fell on deaf ears, rather, it was as if her pitiful apology enraged the woman even more, as she hurled insults and words at the defenseless child.

Jiyeon couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, she simply froze, her eyes only darting to Taehyung as he entered the room, and her heart sunk when she realized he wasn’t going to step in and rescue her— he’d simply stand back and watch.. just like he did with Namjoon.

How far would he let others go?

Jiyeon let out a whimper when she felt the burning sensation on her cheek, and her eyes widened, staring at the woman in front of her in disbelief, listening to her final words, before Hayoung concluded enough has been said and Jiyeon would finally be left alone. The young woman didn’t dare to cry, and instead took some deep breaths, trying to distract herself from crying.

‘Don’t make me mistake thinking you are good enough for my grandson.’

Good enough for her grandson? What did she mean exactly with that?

Before she could respond to the older woman’s request for a cup of tea, Taehyung merged into the conversation, and reminded her of one important fact: he could’ve chosen to give her the ultimate punishment to top it all off, but he didn’t.

“…Thank you.” She managed to say, still shaken up by what had just transpired but she nodded at the comment about groceries and moved to the fridge, opening it and starting to unpack the items on the counter. She opened the carton, took out the eggs needed, and shut it again, cracking them into the bowl.

The girl was tuned out as she was making breakfast, starting to feel it in her body; she hasn’t eaten for what felt like forever after all. The sooner breakfast would be ready, the sooner she would be able to eat and compensate for all that she missed the last couple of days.

‘…How awful, all of their crops were torched last night. The fire spread so far, it started to burn their home before emergency services arrived...’

What? Her gaze followed his grandmother’s eyes, and it was then that she recognized the logo on the carton and jam pot, and she could feel instant nausea hit her stomach when it dwelled on her.

He was there.

At her grandparents’ farm.

At his question, Jiyeon looked over to Taehyung, just now registering that Hayoung had left the kitchen and it was the two of them again.

“But why? They… they didn’t have anything to do with it. It was me, I was wrong.” If it was up to her, she would’ve rather had the punishment over them being punished. Why was he so cruel? She waited for a response, yet, his response didn’t make her feel any better or justified things, no matter what he would say.

Her poor grandparents.

Jiyeon held back tears, not wanting to give Taehyung the satisfaction of seeing her cry, instead she put all of her thoughts into making breakfast for the three of them, and when it was ready, she served their guest first, then Taehyung and then herself.

If it was up to Jiyeon, she wouldn’t have engaged in any conversations with his grandmother, but she knew better than to sulk and not respond to any questions or comments made by their guest, so she forced a polite smile and a nod here and there, tactfully replying to any of Hayoung’s questions or thoughts, and as soon as they were finished, she excused herself and went to do the dishes.

About an hour later, Hayoung bid them farewell and left, and it was just the two of them again.

However, Taehyung had plenty of work for Jiyeon, and she was soon on her way to the laundry room, starting the first task on the long to do list.

She missed this. Dull housewives tasks were a blessing after spending time in that horrible dungeon, with an equally horrible captor.

The washing machine door clicked shut and Jiyeon moved away, heading to the utility room to grab the vacuum to vacuum the home.

[🎙️]

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Taehyung grinned, his chest filling with pleasure at her gratitude.

Is this really all it would’ve taken to get what he wanted from her?

He tucked a few strands behind her ear, before leaning in to steal her lips in a kiss. A reward for behaving so well already.

Without another thought, his soon to be fiancé began on breakfast. Vegetables sizzling and the smell of spices filled the kitchen.

The killer watched her intently. Gazing his eyes over her features as she focused on the food in the pan.

She looked beautiful to him. The morning sun glowing on her frame.

And it was all for him. His hidden gem. He was the only one who looked at her this way, who could see her like this.

Eventually, his grandmother commented on the groceries, causing a smirk to pull on his lips. The cup in his hands lifted as he stole a sip of coffee.

“But why? They… they didn’t have anything to do with it. It was me, I was wrong.” Pain, maybe even a touch of anger slipped out of Jiyeon’s tone after Hayoung exited the kitchen.

“Oh, Jiyeonnie.” Taehyung tsked with a shake of his head. The cup clinking as it set down on the countertop. “It was you. It was all you, that’s why they were brought into this. Do you really not understand it by now?” He signed stalking up to her and lifting her chin so she had no choice but to look at his gaze. “I don’t think you take me seriously enough when I hurt only you. If you just behaved, I wouldn’t have had to do anything to them. Your behaviour forced my hand. Do you understand me now?”

He waited for her to answer before dropping her chin. “Finish breakfast, we’ll be taking C home soon.”

Which they did just that after their morning meal was cleaned up.

For the rest of the day, Taehyung sat on his laptop in the living room, a perfect spot to keep an eye on his little bird.

The sound of keys typing filled the room. Occasionally, his assistant would call, helping him catch up on anything he missed or needed to oversee.

“Have you finished the laundry?” Taehyung spoke without looking up from his computer screen, sensing the girl’s presence in the doorway.

After her answer, beckoned her over with a curl of his finger. “Come here, beside me.”

After taking one last look at the screen — the confirmed reservation for a hotel suite on Jeju Island — he closed his laptop.

When Jiyeon sat beside him, he pulled her legs to drape over his. “In 2 days.” He started, drawing circles with his thumb on her knee. “We’ll be leaving on a trip. I’ll give you a bag to pack your things. I want you to pack nice things to wear, understand?” He leaned in to whisper. “Something you’d know I’d like.” With a grin, he pulled away before moving her legs.

“Get a start on dinner.”

—

Stars still stretched across the charcoal sky. The sun no where in sight, not even peaking above the horizon.

“Every meeting has been rescheduled?”

“Yes, sir.” Taehyung’s assistant answered.

“Have no one call me, not unless it’s dire emergency, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Taehyung breathed in the late night — or rather early morning — air. It was merely after 5 in the morning, or somewhere around there.

He watched the last few of their bags be loaded into the plane.

“I’ll only be gone for a few days, you should know what to do by now.”

The killer’s assistant nodded before bowing. “It was nice seeing you again, Miss Yeui.” With that, he retreated back into the main building.

“Let’s go, sweetheart. We can sleep on the plane, hm?” He held his hand out to her, and when she took his, he guided her into the private plane.

Once they were inside the door sealed shut behind them.

Taehyung led her to where he wanted before an employee walked up to them.

“Would you like anything to eat or drink on your ride, Mr Kim?”

“Water, 2 of them, thank you.”

The woman nodded, smiling before retreated back to a smaller private part of the plane.

“Are you nervous?” Taehyung relaxed back into his seat, dragging his eyes down before back up the girl.

He knew it was her first flight after all.

[anomalocaris-lesbian]

People are so fucking weird about trans women! If someone had suggested to me before my egg cracked that i might be a trans woman i would be so grateful? I dont know how id have reacted in the moment but it would have been nice to have words to describe how i was feeling earlier.

When i was still in primary school i told an older girl family friend (she was probably like. 13 to my 9ish) that i wanted to be a girl. She told me no i didn't because then id have to get pregnant and give birth and that would be horrible. She was immature and had probably just had sex ed class but like. Do you have any idea how much being shut down like that held me back. I didnt question my gender again until i was 15. This is only tangentially related i guess. She wasnt being transphobic she was just 13. My point is that the answer to people saying eggy or otherwise genderfucky stuff is not to shut down the discussion.

It can only be positive to encourage people to examine their experiences and give them words to use that might describe their experiences. I dont think that my childhood was wasted thinking i was a boy but if i had known sooner i could have lived extra years as my authentic self. Or at least been able to make that decision for myself.

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black River, Chapter 14

A/N  At long last, the truth about Henry, Murtagh, Julia and the whole shebang comes to light.  Jamie and Claire have people in their corner, but will it be enough?

Previous chapters are available on my AO3 page.

“And then what happened?” Claire was held rapt by the story Murtagh was relating, his typical dour demenour nowhere in sight, blue eyes sparkling with mirth beneath thundercloud eyebrows.

“Brian said that if the lad sought tae blame a fox fer all the missing eggs, he could at least harry the hens a spell so as tae make the lie more convincing.”

“Was Jamie punished?” she leaned forward, delighting in the chance to explore another side of the man she’d fallen in love with.

“He’d eaten a dozen raw eggs, lass.  He didna leave the privy ‘til after nightfall.  I reckon Brian felt twas punishment enough and that he’d remember it far longer than any hiding he might give.”

Merry peals of laughter echoed off the rocks, startling several birds into flight.  The sound cut Murtagh like tiny blades, even as it warmed his heart.  Claire’s laugh was a perfect facsimile of Julia’s.

“He sounds like quite a handful,” she commented, unaware of the older man’s torment.

“Oh, aye.  A more devious wee rascal ye ne’er did see.  Brian would send him tae bide wi’ me a spell when he felt himself losing patience. Ellen understood him better.  Peas in a pod, those twa.”

The pair spoke of Jamie’s mother as the cart proceeded down the valley at a sedate pace.  They passed brochs and castles, farms and shielings, all in advanced states of dereliction.  It was a haunting landscape, emptied of life as though some biblical plague had swept through and rid the lush fields and overhanging moors of everything but sheep.

“Ellen was a proud woman,” Murtagh explained.  “She was a Mackenzie, ken, from a branch o’ the clan that hadna suffered as much as most.  They didna approve o’ her marriage tae a mere Fraser crofter, sae when Brian wanted tae go tae her father tae ask fer help wi’ the rents, she refused.  T’would have saved them both a fair deal o’ hardship. The lad is no different.  He’d sooner suffer as compromise his damned principles.”  Murtagh gave Claire a shrewd look.  “T’will fall tae ye tae be the practical one an’ drag the stubborn oaf tae see sense.”

Claire sniffed in dismissal.  “I assure you, Mr. Fitzgibbons, I am more than equal to the task.”

***

Mrs. Crook’s weepy cries of relief brought Rosemary rushing into the kitchen where she came across a sight that cracked her usual unflappable poise.

“Claire!” she cried, throwing her arms around her niece.  “Murtagh??”

“Hallo, Rosemary. Ye’re lookin’ well,” the hermit said, tam clutched between his hands and a blush detectable beneath his scraggly beard.

Pulling herself together, Rosemary asked Mrs. Crook to prepare a warm meal for the pair, despite Murtagh’s protestations that he couldn’t stay.

“Nonsense,” Rosemary insisted.  “It’s gone eight o’clock.  You can’t make your way home in the dark.”  With a significant look, she added, “The men are out searching for Claire.  They won’t be back until at least tomorrow.”

Wooed by the promise of home cooked food and female companionship, Murtagh settled onto a stool before the great hearth and proceeded to charm Mrs. Crook with his Highland brogue and odes to her cuisine.  

Once fed Claire grew sleepy, no doubt worn out by the emotional tumult of the past two days.  Rosemary helped her to her bedroom and into her nightdress, then sat on the edge of her bed and began to brush the matts and tangles from her hair while Claire told the tale of her rescue.  She could make out scrapes and bruises on the young woman’s fingers where her hands lay clasped on the coverlet.

“This Highland lad,” Rosemary asked cautiously between strokes, “he didn’t… impose himself on you?”

“Jamie would never do such a thing!” Claire said, sitting bolt upright in indignation.  “He’s decent. Honourable.  We want to be married,” she added quietly.  “He’s going to ask father’s permission once he’s saved up enough money to start our life together.”

Rosemary sighed.  “I was afraid it was something like that.”

“Will you help us, Aunt Rosemary?” Claire asked, sounding more like the girl she’d raised like her own.

“I can try, but I can’t promise anything.  You know how strong willed your father can be when it comes to his daughter.”

Claire bit her lip, every morsel of doubt and inquiry visible on her transparent face.

“What is it, child?” Rosemary prodded gently.

Unable to contain the gathering suspicion she harboured, Claire blurted out, “Am I really his daughter?”

Rosemary startled visibly before once again donning her smooth mask.

“What did Murtagh tell you?” she asked with an intimation of dread.

“Nothing,” Claire sighed.  “But he had a picture of my mother in his hut.  And you two are obviously acquainted.”   When her aunt didn’t reply, she resorted to begging until Rosemary gave way.

“Once upon a time,” her aunt began, as though telling her a bedtime story, “there lived a young woman named Julia Morriston.  She was beautiful, free-spirited, and used to being the centre of everyone’s attention.  She met two best friends at a country dance, and both fell hopelessly in love with her. They competed for her affections as young men do, until finally she declared that the first to make his fortune would win her hand.  It was a childish impulse that had lasting ramifications we all live with to this day.”

Rosemary looked pained; her profile turned to the window as though she was seeing the decades-old scene play out across the frosted glass.  

“One young man pulled together every pound he had and gambled in one bold stroke on a horse named Blair Atholl in the Derby.  He won, at fifty to one odds.  He was rich.”

“Father,” Claire said, very familiar with the story of how the Beauchamp family fortune came into existence.  “And Murtagh?” she asked.

“Murtagh,” Rosemary smiled wistfully, “decided to try his hand at making whisky.”

***

Claire woke the next morning to the lowing of cattle and the crack of a stock whip.  Rushing to her window, she watched Jamie and Rollo drive the stray cows down the lane and into the nearest holding yard.  The Highlander sat tall and proud in the saddle, his sweaty hair the colour of a banked fire where it met the early morning light.  Sensing her gaze, Jamie looked up and broke into a glinting smile that shot an arrow of joy directly at her heart.  Anticipating his arrival at the manor house, Claire hastened to make herself presentable.

Jamie was bone-weary but burning with the flame of victorious virtue.  He’d retrieved Beauchamp’s cattle; every last recalcitrant one of them.  Even the prospect of having to search for a new position far from his Sassenach lass couldn’t quite dampen his spirits, especially when he caught her watching him with frank female appraisal.  He stabled Donas, performed some brisk ablutions at the well, and hastened towards the manor, careful to enter via the kitchen since he was still in his filthy riding clothes.

“Ye’re back early,” Murtagh said once he had extricated himself from the arms of the Netherton cook.  “We didna expect ye back til teatime.”

“Clearly,” Jamie chuckled, watching Mrs. Crook bustle about in artificial busyness, ignorant of the fact her apron was untied and askew over her ample bosom.  Murtagh’s expression was one of long suffering.

“I was jus’ getting Miss Beauchamp’s breakfast ready,” Mrs. Crook said.

“I’ll bring it up tae her,” Jamie offered.

“We really should be going, lad,” Murtagh advised.  “Ye dinna want tae be here when Henry returns.”

Jamie fixed his jaw.  “We’ll go in a bit.  I willna leave wi’out seeing Claire.”

Murtagh and Mrs. Crook shared a look of concern as the young Scot hoisted the breakfast tray and made his way up the stairs.  

Jamie hesitated on the landing, unsure which of the ornate doorways led to his lady’s bedchamber.  He was saved any further indecision when one opened and revealed a vision from his furtive imaginings.  Claire stood there in a pale dressing gown.  Her hair was unbound, billowing in endless tannin-dark ripples that called to mind the burns of his youthful roaming.  He wanted nothing more than to lose his hands in its depths, cradling her to his breast. With a start he realized he could do just that, if only he could convince his feet to move.

“Claire…” he pronounced in supplication.

“Jamie.”

It felt like a month since they’d seen each other last, and not a mere day.  Claire opened the door wider and beckoned him in.  Jamie walked forward as though caught in a trance.  Ignoring the luxurious appointments of the room, he lay the tray at the end of the bed and turned to find she’d closed the door behind him. His pulse beat violently in his throat.

“I’m so happy you came,” Claire said, her voice unusually wispy, as she clasped his chilled hand in her much smaller one.  “Your godfather drove the cart so slowly, I was worried you’d be gone before we even arrived.”

“With a beautiful lass fer company, who can blame him fer tarrying? Besides, I wouldna have left wi’out seein’ ye one more time.”

“Jamie, my aunt told me…”

Claire didn’t have a chance to finish her revelation before the sound of boots hastening up the wooden stairs was followed by the door to her room swinging open with a bang.  The two lovers startled apart at the sudden appearance of Henry Beauchamp, his usual kempt clothing messy and his eyes switching from relief at the sight of his daughter to displeasure when he noticed her company.

“My sincere gratitude, Mister Fraser, for my daughter’s safe return,” he said with barely veiled hostility.

“Twas nothing any decent man wouldna have done in my stead,” Jamie replied humbly, placing a subtle emphasis on the word decent.

“Would you join me in my study, so we can speak, man to man?”

“Aye.”

Jamie met Claire’s concerned golden gaze and attempted to assure her with a failed wink.  He followed her father back down the stairs and into a wood-paneled room with a view over Netherton’s expanse of property.

“When did you find Claire?” Henry began.

“Twa nights ago,” Jamie answered honestly, and without any further clarification.  Henry grunted as though his poorest opinion had been confirmed.

“You seem to care very much for my daughter,” he went on.

“I do.  I love her,” Jamie said plainly, unwilling to hide or be ashamed of the fact.

“Love,” the older man scoffed with a shift in tone towards open animosity.  “It’s a damn selfish kind of love.  To take a girl who’s been brought up surrounded by riches and stick her in a sod hut, to watch her grow old with hard work and childbearing.”

“I reckon that’d be Claire’s decision tae make,” Jamie’s voice rose with his temper.  “Ye arenna the only one who can make something o’ himself.  I have plans fer my own place.”

“Well, make your plans with someone else’s daughter.  I won’t hand her over to the first teuchter gold digger who arouses her fancy…”  The implications of just which fancies had been aroused were implied without being spoken.

“You bastard!” Jamie’s temper broke, unable to bear Claire’s reputation being disparaged, by her own father no less.  He took a broad step towards the shorter, slighter man, hands balling into fists.

“Steas, Seumas!”  Murtagh’s voice boomed across the room, freezing his godson in his tracks.

The Englishman stared at his one-time best friend as though he’d seen a ghost.  Murtagh, for his part, seemed unaffected by their reunion.

“Henry Beauchamp,” he intoned.  “I barely recognized ye wi’out yer musket.”

“Musket?”  Claire had descended the stairs at the sound of Jamie’s shouting.  “What does he mean, father?”

“All of you, get out of my house!” Henry shouted, his face a startling shade of red.

“Or ye’ll what?” Murtagh goaded him.  “Blow off the o’er one?”

“Murtagh, really,” Aunt Rosemary chided, having also come to the study when she heard raised voices.

“I only shot to warn you off,” Henry muttered.

Murtagh chuckled and patted the loose leg of his pants.  “I’d hate tae see what ye’re capable of when yer intentions are serious.”

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Claire pleaded.

“Go to your room!” her father begged to no avail.

“Oh, come along, Beauchamp.  Let’s be done with this secrecy once and for all!”  Rosemary said, turning towards her niece.

“Murtagh wanted to give your mother a wedding gift, a strand of Scotch pearls.  Your father came upon them and assumed the worst.  He flew into a rage, and Murtagh was shot.  Julia was furious.  She vowed she’d never forgive her husband and wanted a divorce…”

“Enough!” Henry cried, rushing from the room, unable to bear another word.

“In a way, she did leave him,” Rosemary continued philosophically. “When you were born.”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Claire rushed to embrace Murtagh. After freezing a moment in shock, he held her gently in his arms and whispered something softly to her in Gaelic.

“There now, lass.   Dinna weep. Tis no’ the end o’ the story, tis only the beginning.   Ye an’ the lad can right the wrongs o’ yer elders.”

Rosemary cleared her throat.  “You two really should be going, before Henry comes back.”

Murtagh and Rosemary discretely left the young pair alone to say their goodbyes.

“Stay close tae yer aunt,” Jamie advised once Claire was in his arms.  “And dinna antagonize yer father o’ermuch.”

Claire leaned back in his embrace, fixing him with her golden gaze.

“Come back to me, James Fraser,” she leaned her forehead against his own.

“Aye,” he vowed.  “As soon as I can.”

[gazs-blue-hat]

Waves and Warfare (Small Town UA) Price x Reader (Skip)

An: Part of my small town UA. Introducing the last S.O. This time we meet Waves! The Captain of this second taskforce and someone who knows Price possibly better than he knows himself.

TW: wound mention, mentions of drowning, reference to torture, missing limbs, alcohol consumption, cannon typical language, weaponry, canon typical violence (LMK if I missed any)

Word Count: 2,907 (These just keep getting longer and longer)

Summary: Things that John had said to you are drudged up and you meet, Captain to Captain

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO ANYBODY HERE OR ON ANOTHER SITE TO REPOST, COPY, TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AN A.I OF ANY KIND.

John Price wasn't the type of man to complain about things being given to him with no strings attached. Never for a second did he complain about Lamb's hospitality or the farm work she had them doing. At first, the work had been refreshing. The hens in the coop were hostile in the beginning (they hated his hat) but they were soon coming around.

Once he got used to staying with Lamb, he was able to start thinking about where he knew her from. Her face was one he had seen before, he was sure of it. But where he had seen it still was a mystery to him. He had asked his boys if they had seen her before but none of them ever had.

He had thought the mystery would go unsolved until that bloody medic showed up. Tens was a face he had seen many times, and a face he never thought he would see again. That day when Tens had come out to the farm, how he knew Lamb hit him like a truck.

The W.S.M. He could have kicked himself for not remembering sooner. Tens had smiled at him like it hadn't been seven years since they had seen one another. She mentioned her Captain with an air of joviality that didn't match the woman she was speaking of.

(Y/N) "Skip" (L/N) had always been a force to behold. In her early days, it was said that she skipped through battlefields like they were fields of flowers. That she hopped over landmines and grenades like they were rocks in a pond.

But something had changed in her. By the time John had met this woman, she was a hardened Captain in the US Navy. She was a S.E.A.L. through and through. Every op she led was executed with perfection as she would settle for no less.

Seven years ago had been their last joint op. When John had to make a choice that severed their connection. They had been friendly towards one another, even going on a few dates. But that day…that one decision had removed Skip from his life as effectively as her team worked.

John was coming in from harvesting some eggs when he saw Tens speaking to Lamb in the kitchen.

"I dunno Tens…I don't think she will want to see him. You know how that day went.." Lamb said softly, wincing slightly as Tens leaned over in her seat, fiddling with something under the table.

"It doesn't matter if she wants to. How they left things just doesn't sit right with me." Tens said. She sat back up and wiped her hands on a cloth that she quickly replaced in her bag.

"Can't tell her he's coming. She'll have our heads if she finds out we were behind this." Lamb mumbled. Tens nodded and sat back, cracking her back with the chair. It was this action that led her to see John. 

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear." She said with a wide smile. John made his way over to the two women and placed his basket of eggs on the counter. He pulled out a chair and spun it, straddling the seat and resting his arms on the back.

"Couldn't help but listen in. Skip is here?" he asked. He had to take this in small steps. The way he had left Skip was…less than pleasant to say the least. He wouldn't lie and say that he didn't still feel a spark of affection for the woman. Unfortunately, she had doused any sparks she had for him long ago.

Lamb nodded and bridged her fingers, resting her chin on the top.

"Yeah, She's here. She knows you're here too. Well, at least she knows the 141 is here. That's a big reason she hasn't stopped by actually." Lamb explained. Across from her, Tens nodded and took a sip of…something from the thermos that hung from her pack.

"Yeah, we all usually come over to Lambs on weekends to spend time together." Tens said with a frown. It was obvious she had been missing the time her team spent together.

"We can all head into town one night if you-" he was cut off by Lamb shaking her head.

"I don't like to go into the town proper often. The truck is only for deliveries and I can't walk that far after being on my feet all day." She said while pointing at the prosthetic that rested against the table next to her. When had she taken that off?

John nodded and thought for a moment. Tens slapped her hand down on the table and a wicked grin split across her face.

"We send the boys to town to help Keys catalog her library. Heaven knows she would never get it done herself. Knowing her, she would find some book or something she had forgotten about and spend the rest of the day reading it." Tens said. Lamb nodded, listening intently.

As John listened to Tens speak, he couldn't help but be reminded of Simon and Johnny. Tens was like Johnny, excitable and wore her heart on her sleeve. She never hid what she was thinking and was always determined to make her people feel appreciated and welcome, even if she had only known them for a few minutes. Lamb was a lot like Simon in her silent acts of service. She seemed gruff on the outside but she had a soft spot for those she loved and fought fiercely for what she believed in. Lamb worked hard like she had something to prove.

"And then what? What do we say to Skip to get her over here?" Lamb asked, snapping John out of his reflection.

"Tell her the tractor is busted or something." Tens said with a shrug. Lamb frowned.

"Don't like lying to her…she can smell them a mile away." Lamb rebutted. Tens nodded and furrowed her eyebrows. A sly smirk spread on her face and Lamb frowned even deeper.

"I don't like that look Tens…" She said. Tens snickered and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms.

"Tell her you need advice." Tens shrugged. John nodded. Skip always loved giving people advice. She was always the person people went to for a second opinion on things. She thought things through and never judged someone for their situation.

Lamb scoffed, shifting in her seat. John could see that she had a cool compress wrapped around the stump of her leg. Her amputation looks like it occurred just above the knee, and the actual injury must have been horrific. The skin around the amputated site was marked and stretched like it had been severely burned. Her hand clutched the top of her leg and massaged the mottled flesh there. Her hands were shaking.

"What on earth do I need her advice for?" Lamb asked shaking her head. Tens wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"That Scot…you seem to like him more than most." Tens teased. Lamb's face could have been carved in stone.

"You better watch it Tens. I'm not above kicking you in the head." She said while gesturing to the prosthetic on the floor. Tens raised her hands in mock surrender.

"Just a thought! You could also say you need advice on what to do with Moosie. That's not a lie now is it?" Tens said seriously. Lamb bit her lip and nodded.

"You're right. I'll go give her a call. Once the boys are done with picking the apples, you send them on over to Keys. Don't tell her they're coming, she will just panic." Lamb said while moving to stand up. Tens shook her head and pushed Lamb back into her chair.

"Sit down before I tie you down." The medic said harshly, going to the wall-mounted phone. Lamb sighed and massaged her temples. John stood up to gather his things but Lamb called his name.

"Not you, you're staying here." She said while gesturing for him to sit again. She sighed and looked at one of the cabinets in the kitchen. "Do me a favor and grab the ibuprofen out of the med kit up there." She said softly. John nodded and did as asked, grabbing the specific bottle. Lamb silently thanked him and opened it, tossing two pills into her mouth and then chasing them down with some water.

"Stupid barometric pressure." She mumbled as she continued to massage what remained of her leg. John knew better than to ask what had happened to it. She would tell him if she felt like it.

"I'm staying here?" John asked, scooting forward in the seat. Lamb nodded.

"You're gonna talk to Skip, hash things out if you have to. I'm tired of hearing her grumble about how nobody in this town gets her. You were the one who understood her most." Lamb stated. John felt his stomach flip with nerves (that never happens).

"Are you…sure that's a wise decision? Last I heard, she hated me." John said while crossing his arms over his chest. Lamb shrugged.

"If she breaks anything in my house, she pays for it." She said with a smirk.

Tens eventually came back to the table, a grin on her face.

"Told Skip you needed some sensitive advice regarding one of your animals. She said she will be here in 15 minutes. As for the boys, I sent them to Keys. I hope you don't mind if they borrowed the truck." Tens said while squatting to allow Lamb to wrap her arm over her shoulders.

"Nah, we're heading to your place anyway. I'll just hold onto you real tight." Lamb joked. Tens snickered and stood up, helping Lamb balance on her one leg.

"Alright, John. Skip will probably head to my office first. Just sit in the main room and let her walk in. You're gonna want to keep her away from the front door." Lamb instructed. John nodded and watched the two women leave.

He decided he would sit at the kitchen table, sipping at a glass of scotch.

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

You hadn't expected to receive a call from Tens this late at night. She usually was at home watching her documentaries at this time. She had told you that Lamb was facing a serious decision that she needed help reaching.

You had grumbled and sighed while putting on your shoes but you didn't mean anything by it. You would always be there for your girls. You hopped in your car and made your way to Lamb's farm. While it may have been 20 miles away, you could get there quickly if you broke a few speeding laws. Nobody checked speeds here anyway.

Your car rumbled over the cattle guard and you parked by the garage. her truck wasn't there but that wasn't too odd. Sometimes she had it on other parts of the farm. The porch light was on and so were the kitchen lights.

You locked the car with the fob and walked up the wooden steps of Lamb's house. You knocked on the door and swung it open, knowing she would have left it unlocked. Lamb liked to have serious conversations in the office of her house so you knew she would be there.

You took a step into the house, closing the door behind you. You kick your shoes off, noticing a distinct lack of other shoes.

'141 boys must be out. That's good.' You thought to yourself. You looked around the main room and sighed softly at the various things that were out of place. Someone had been sleeping in the large recliner and on the couch.

"Lamb? You alright?" You called as you pocketed your keys and started to head to the office. You heard no sound as you crossed the wood floor and turned the corner to see…no light on in the office.

"Lamb? You here?" You called, eyebrows furrowed. You reached to your hip, drawing your pistol and flicking off the safety. You heard a soft grunt behind you and you swung the pistol in that direction. it was too deep to have been Lamb.

"Out of the shadows, I hear you breathing." You say, voice firm and commanding. You moved your finger to the trigger, ready to fire if needed. A form stepped out of the shadows, his arms outstretched to show he had no weapons on him.

"Easy love…just an old friend." The voice rumbled out.

The language that came out of your mouth would have surprised anybody if they didn't know you were a sailor. You didn't put your pistol back, keeping it aimed at the Brit before you.

"You lost the right to call me that seven years ago." You hiss as you look for other ways of escape. John was blocking the front door now and Lamb would tear you a new one if you broke one of her windows again.

"Which one? 'Love' or 'old friend' " Price asked. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"Both. Now move Price. I have work to do." You grumble as you hold your pistol, turning the safety back on and trying to push past Price. He placed his hands on your shoulders and gently pushed you backward.

"Get, the FUCK, out of my way." You growl. He sighs and releases your shoulders but he doesn't move from the door.

"We need to talk, (Y/N)." He said softly. Your blood begins to boil under your skin and your hands clench into fists at your side.

He doesn't see your punch coming but he certainly feels it. He doubles over a bit, clutching his chest and trying to catch his breath again.

"You do NOT get to call me that. My name to you is CAPTAIN or SKIP." You shout, trying to push past him. He stands firm though, pressing himself against the door.

"We need to talk about what happened that day…" He grumbles, catching his breath again. You glower and raise your hand to throw another punch. He sees this one though and catches your fist before it can hit him again.

"I have absolutely nothing to say to you about that day. You know and I know what happened." You say through clenched teeth. John shakes his head and looks into your eyes.

You used to love his eyes. You told him how much they reminded you of the ocean during a storm, how you wanted to chart those oceans of his soul. Now you could only smell the salt of the cold water of the Artic Ocean filling your lungs as you were shot off that boat. All you could see was the red that frothed in the waves as you slowly bled out in the water. All you could feel was the pit in your stomach that had formed when you watched him order the team to leave you behind.

"I didn't…know, Skip." He said softly.

"You didn't bother to check." You snap in reply. You see him flinch at your words.

Good.

"You left me, left me shot, bleeding out in the Artic ocean." You said calmly. Your voice as sharp as an obsidian blade.

"I watched you order the boat to turn around. I was swimming back to you and you ORDERED THEM to LEAVE ME!" You shout. John didn't make any move to defend himself from the verbal onslaught.

"I thought I was LUCKY when those orcas showed up. I thought they were gonna put me out of my misery." You chuckle. You've moved to pacing now, treading along the hallway from the door to the main room.

"But no, they brought me to the RUSSIANS! I was there for a YEAR John. A FUCKING YEAR!" You shout as you toss a shoe at him. Who's shoe it was, you didn't know. He dodged the shoe easily and watched as you raised your hands to your hair and started to grab at it. Something you always had done when you were worked up.

"They tortured me, beat me for months for information. It was a miracle that Keys found data on where I was being kept. Even more of a miracle that the girls were able to get me out." You whispered. Your mind was drifting back to that place, the hell you had clawed out of.

"I was half mad you know. I almost killed them, not knowing who they were. Tens worked furiously to get me back on my feet." You continue. Your eyes were burning with unshed tears. Your hands, balled into fists as they were, were cutting crescent-shaped wounds in your palms.

"Even after all of that, I still could have forgiven you. But you got one of my girls killed, and for that, I can never forgive you." You whisper, allowing the tears you had been holding back to slip down your face.

It was now that Price move forward, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as you cried. He said nothing as he held you, feeling your tears soaking into his shirt. You couldn't help but cling to him like you clung to your sanity in that prison camp. Your nails dug into his shirt and skin, leaving marks.

"I hate you. I hate you John Price." You blubber, listening to the beating of his heart.

"I know love…I know." He replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Taglist: @plumteaa-remus

[blocky-tides]

!! Hello Hello!! Might I suggest number 42 with either qTubbo or Ren and Martyn from 3rd Life? I'm about to absolutely demolish (/pos) all your works so far, I am excited for fics based off of songs >:3

42 - spit in my face! by thxsomuch

a static drone fills tubbo's ears.

why does this always happen to him? why does it always fucking happen to him! fuck! fighting the urge to slam his hands down, hard, on his workstation.

his hands shake as they struggle to piece the fragile parts together, accidentally dropping a gear down the cracks. god fucking damnit. why can't he do one thing right. 

tubbo picks up the machine he was working on, small enough to roll around in his hands. it was a piece of art, a gift for fred before he left, died, got kidnapped.

screaming out in frustration tubbo threw the music box to the wall as hard as he could. wincing at the sudden sound as the music box crumpled into itself, the last few notes of an all too familiar song screeched in the air. the one he shared with fred.

letting another scream rip free, tubbo questioned himself. what kind of person was he? burying his face in his hands, smearing grease all of it, curling into himself as if to get away from everything and anyone.

if he couldn't even protect those he loved. he has an egg now. a daughter to consider. how any of his actions could backfire on fire on sunny.

he stayed in that hunched out position on the floor well, fighting back tears, until the weak morning sunlight shined into the factory filling it with warm light, glinting off the glass fixtures. hearing the distance conversation of fit and pac as they approached the factory, like they always do each morning.

he didn't want to pick himself up, like he always had to do. he wanted to stay on the ground forever, not facing his troubles.

all of his problems would be solved if the federation didn't exist. no one to threaten fred into compliance. sunny could have unlimited lives, not restrained by the two. they could be free.

blinking to himself, that was a great idea. why didn't he think of that sooner? carefully ignoring all attempts of rebellion that he had seen so far.

scrambling up from the floor to chase after pac, who wandered further away from the entrance to his factory. pac would most definitely help him get rid of the federation. a little blood never hurts anyone.

{spotify wrapped drabbles - send me a number between 0-100 with a character or ship and i will write a drabble}