#yall keep fucking doing this shit and yall are so careless to how hard being falsely accused of shit

[atiny-piratequeen]

Unpopular opinion or whatever

I wanna have a conversation about accountability when it comes to shit like this. The same people who make a thousand and one posts going "believe the victim always believe the victim" to the extent that they IMMEDIATELY start spreading things that aren't properly fact checked or addressed officially, specifically the folk that pull the "if you dont 100% believe victims, you're siding with abusers" to guilt people go real fucking radio silent when it turns out our "victims" were people lying or people who weren't giving us the full story or being mistranslated.

So what happens when the person yall swore up and down was an abuser for a week ends up not being one? Yall literally made THEM a victim. Calling for them to be removed from their groups with no proper evidence, no investigation (we are strangers on the fucking internet!!! We're not detectives bruh!! This is like the third time in the past fucking 10 months yall did some inspector gadget shit framing mfs for shit they!! DIDNT do!!!)

And yall never see the same amount of people spreading the mistrans rounding back with the correct information. Yall pat yourselves on the back with the believe victims without question rhetoric and then when the "victims" were liars, yall dont keep that same energy when it comes to genuine apologies for how you treated people.

Im in no way saying any of us have the right to play detective and pick apart something an alleged victim has to say, we should never do that, especially because there are actual victims out there who finally step out and speak up.

But at the same time yall really need to learn that people can, have, and will continue to use that mentality of "believe the victim, get angry first" to LIE about shit. We do not live in a fairytale world where people are above making up lies and using the "court of public opinion" to ruin someones fucking life for no other reason than because they can and because they know people will side with them with no evidence with that mindset.

And when we find out they're lying what happens? Deadass I see some of yall shrug and go "well its good that it wasn't true" and go about your days like the person yall demonized didn't become the victim.

This shit has me fucking sick to the stomach.

I will never wrap my head around people lying about trauma people actually go through for?? Some reason??

ESPECIALLY this time, because clearly to some extent, someone was actually hurt and they should be able to speak their truth without having people twist and take their words and lie??? To hurt someone else?? How fucking vile can you be? And everyone involved with those mistranslations suddenly poof poof changing names and accs and shit.

And on GOD, i need yall to fucking wait before yall hop on the fucking pitchfork bandwagon because a good portion of yall telling people they're literally siding with abusers for going "I dont know enough yet to believe it (fully)" are the same mfs that ate up and spread mistranslations and will be hella quiet when we find out no, shit wasnt like that.

"I believe this person may be a victim" and "i need to wait to see more, accurate information" are two statements that can fucking coexist holy fucking shit.

Stop fucking lying to ruin peoples careers, stop making it hard for actual victims to come forward, and stop jumping on people with questionable sources of validity as your "evidence"

[antiwhores]

Bakugou feeling guilt for being perverted to you:

Bakugou starts to ignore you out of pure guilt and disgust in himself for his perverted thoughts about you. But you will not take anything less of a permanent friendship with Katsuki as an answer.

When he first met you, he’d had barely ever masturbated. He never really felt that urge unless to blow off some steam so he never found himself indulging in it.

Of course, that was all ruined when he started liking you. Its like he was a switch that you only had the remore to.

He hated it so much. He hated how easily he would get hard. He hated how perverted he had become. He hated how he started to notice the slight lift of your shirt or how he hyper focused on the simple touches you provided him.

He had tried to avoid you at first, cause he felt so bad about how nearly everyday he was fisting himself raw to the thought of you. You broke him though with your continuous nagging for the loss attention:

“Bakugou,” you repeated after the 20th time. He clicked his tongue, “Don’t you ever fuck off? You’re a damn nusence.” You put your hands on your hips, “Alright, tell me whats up. Your acting like a bitch.”

He scoffs, attempting to walk away but being stopped once you got in front of him. “Yeah, I am a bitch, you’ve told me many damn times. Fuck off since you can’t deal with it anymore.”

A momentary silence is caught between yall as he glares at you. Then it seems something clicks in your head. “Is this because I call you colorful names? Ifit bothers you that much I can try to stop. I mean, I can always stick to my good ole people skills-“ He slaps a hand over your mouth, “Shut up! Its not cause of that.” You tear his hand off, “Than why?”

He looks around, no one but you occupy the room you’re in. Your close proximity and gentle touch of his hands is making his face turn pink. He starts to loose his patience, looking for a way out when you start to repeatedly ask “Why? Why? Why?” over and over again to piss him off.

He finally looses his chill after you yell “WHY” right in his face. “BECAUSE IM A FUCKING CREEP WHEN IM AROUND YOU!” You stared with a blank face as he started to ramble. “You just make me into a fucking pervert! And I hate it! I’m just taking advantage of our friendship at this point! I’m doing a good thing by leaving you alone so let me! If you knew how many times I’ve jerked off to you, you would be disgusted too!”

There were a few couple a seconds of just painful silence between the two of you. Bakugou’s eyes trailed to his feet, tense as he waited for you to call him disgusting or a creep or tell him to never talk to you again. But it never came, and somehow the silence was worse than outright insults.

“Are you serious?” He clenched his fists at the comment. But a snort out of your mouth had him snapping his head back up to look at you. You looked at him in a dismissive, normal way. Not as a disgusting dirtbag. It confused him.

“You’re ignoring me cause of that? I literally couldnt careless, just keep being my friend for real.”

He just stared at you as you stared back. “Did you not just hear what I said? I’m a pervert you idiot! I fucking masturbate to you!” You roll your eyes, “Okay? And I masturbate to you.” His whole body freezes and goes blank. He never thought about that.

“I do the same thing to you as you do to me. It’s no biggy to me. Don’t get me wrong, if you were anyone else I’d be a bit more creeped out but Bakugou I do not care. Beat your shit to me all you want, just dont publish fanfiction about me or something.”

You turned around the leave and he couldnt even stop you because he was just to stunned to speak. “Oh and also,” you yelled just as you were almost out of the door. “I’m guessing this means you’re madly in love with me. But I want an actual confession so I’m gonna forget this until I get one. I wanted it to be more romantic.”

He could only utter “what the fuck” as he watched you walk away.

[savnofilter]

Kinktober Day 9

Natsuo ➷ Midoriya ➷ Kirishima ➷ Fatgum ➷ Shinso  ➷ Tamaki ➷ Todoroki ➷ Bakugo ➷ Shindo ➷ Giran ➷  Dabi ➷ Shigaraki ➷ All For One 

☠️ warning(s): ⚠️ everything between both parties is consensual. ⚠️ 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕒, con/dubcon.

☠️ genre: smut, holiday special.

☠️ words: 260+ [about one minute each].

☠️ read more: kinktober(uary)

☠️ summary: instead of the original fic idea, i swapped it out with somnophilia hcs,,, enjoy.

Natsuo (x)

giving:

wellllll since i dont know much about him i dont feel like he’s really into it. Up to your choices tbh.

feel like once on a blue moon he’ll wake up and decide he wants his dick in you like a thermometer or just finger you until you wake up.

isnt really something you guys discussed, he kinda just admired how beautiful you are.

if hes ever feeling freaky-deaky mayhaps he’ll eat you out,,,

he fucking loves it when you reciprocate his touches, it urges him to continue and tease you more. 

honestly just being able to pleasure you himself is what gets him rock hard, he doesnt even want anything in return he just wants to hear your sighs and moans.

natsuo's first just cause ion feel like it's something he does every day, more like once in a while just to tease you~

receiving:

to dooont talk about receiving --, hes a sucker for waking up with his pp in your mouth. 🤭

he likes to flex it when it's in, pushing you just a little lower just to hear you gag a bit. 

"Sorry babe, couldn't help myself~"

…. well thats aight with me-

isnt big on full-on making you choke on him but if you wake him with the glawk glawk 3000 he’ll have a brighter day. 

hes a Todoroki so just know he has the gene being a sadistic teaser. 

if you wake him up with cock warming he will literally marry you while he destroys your guts.

he likes somnophilia 11/10. 

Midoriya (x, x)

giving:

Midoriya is mostly timid, already having the consent talk between you two but hes still nervous.

oftentimes he just grinds up against you and keeps you close, but sometimes his hands do wander in other places.

when he first starts to experiment, he likes to soft kiss your neck and rubs his hips against you softly.

he might squeeze your breasts here and there to tease you, hands snaking under your shirt to feel your warm skin against his calloused and strong hands.

like headcanon before, Midoriya doesnt like to do penetration until he knows he has your full-on consent.

hes sweet but dont expect him to go full on soft with you lol. 

forbiddddddd Midoriya chooses oral because this boi will go for how long it takes his tongue to get tired. 

and thats not very easy. 

he loves to admire your body so most often he does it out of the,,, love he has. 🥴

and hes a closet perv too. 

receiving:

if you give it to him -- instant NUT. no cap. 

he'll be like "H-Honey" and then tense up and just nut.

but ofc being the good s/o you are, you still continue because youre a good s/o like that. 

bonus points if you treat him like hes a dirty perv for liking it, also gets on his subside if you really wanna degrade him too. 

some times when hes awake enough he can have the dom energy but most times her cant help but be a pillow prince for you~~

and he doesnt mind either. he enjoys it. there's something down inside him that just helps him sleep at night that you use him for your pleasure and his. 

there's just a whole lot to unwrap here. ;)

Kirishima (x)

giving:

hm.

to place Kirishima in third being hes the type to stay up like an hour after youve fallen asleep and stick his cock in you so he can feel you grind up against every few times throughout the night. 

gives you a few encouraging thrusts before he does fall asleep just to give your body a bit of a head start. 

wraps his arms around your waist to ensure you cant escape him. 😳

of course since he is like this, somnophilia has been discussed between you two so he's not on full on creep mode. 

sometimes he'll wake you up by just pounding into you at full send. 

likes to tease sensitive parts of your body just to get you to wake up,,, bites marks littered on your skin as well. 

hes careless and the only thing he is really focused on is? hes not sure. he just know he fucking loves doing it with you too. 

best part is when he records and then faps to the footage later-

but what can he do, he likes to cherish every moment you two share ~

receiving:

oh please wake him up like that. 

he has no qualms if its him in your mouth or you taking him inside you he just wants it. 

when you wake up him like that he honestly feels like maybe there is someone up there. 

is such a moaner. 

he likes it when youre a little rough too, cant help but be a masochist when he wakes up smh. 

if you ride him please let him choke on your fingers -- better yet have your ass face his direction so he can do whatever he wants with your lower parts as well. 

even when you are giving he still wants to reciprocate as well, he loves to have your pleasured whenever you two get busy.

most times when you engage in somnophilia it has to be days when he has off. why? he might just go all day. 

pleasure him, but do it wisely. 🤧

Fat gum (x)

giving:

taishiro is the type of guy to like put his dick in your mouth lol. 

not even like get you slicked up or anything, just cock in mouth. 

probably gets you semi undressed before he gropes you like a creep, getting his cock hard before opening your sleeping mouth and slipping his dick into your mouth.

makes you choke on his cock to wake you up, enjoying it when you dont have time to hide your gag reflex and watch as you try and get use to his tip pressing at the back of your throat. 

half of the time, taishiro doesnt even wake you up. he plays with you just to get you wet and stinky.

sometimes he diddles himself and cums on you just to have you confused when you wake up. 

honestly beats Midoriya at being a closet pervert, but does he really try to hide it?

receiving:

hmmmmmm

he doesnt really care to receive it. 

sure it's a very nice surprise to wake up to but he prefers it when hes the one playing with you. 

likes it better if youre taking him with one of your lower holes just because he already has enough experience with your mouth wrapped around his cock. 

if riding him manages to wake him up, teasing him wont go on for any longer. he has no choice but to take over and just ran your brains out. 

when hes done flipping the script and you both are satisfied you more out of shape than him, he'll be like,

"Welp, crepe for breakfast?"

Shinso (x)

giving:

oral central

i cant think of shinso having his ding-ding be the first thing to tease you when you wake up with fingers and oral. no and's, no but's. 

he doesnt like to rush you up on waking up, more with the smooth process and it isnt really doing it for a reaction.

he just wants to toy with you.

honestly, like fat gum he does it so youre usually in a confused state when you wake up. horny but not knowing why and knowing full-well you didnt have a wet dream either. 

its not until a few more times of him doing it is when you realize it's his doing and that in itself has you in a blushing mess. 

not expecting that from him at all but not complaining. 😳

sometimes you dress just a little provocatively just to inspire him~

receiving:

if you dont wake him up with his cock in your mouth hes gonna have a bad day. >:(

jk, he respecs wamen. 

deadass do it once and he might just marry you. 

if youre doing a little under par from what you usually do, he'll just have to nudge yah a lil, push you on, use his quirk. 

"Fuck -- just like that kitten~"

WELL DAMN IF YOU DIDNT WANT TO SUCK THE SOUL OUT OF HIM ALREADY-

he doesnt really care if you wake him up like that, much appreciated but he doesnt really care. 

i mean if you do, just get ready for an early morning of face fucking… just saying. 

Tamaki (x)

giving:

yall aint ready for this one. 

some people may say, 'aw tamaki would wake up s/o and just cuddle her to death uwu<3", while yes he will, dont underestimate him.

to think of him in somnophilia is where we break the closet pervert ends. 

hes more of like, i really like my dick and i really like you so i’ll just go on and fuck you awake.

theres on lead up or anything, he’ll full on give you brain or just fuck you as if you are awake, apologising profusely once you do wake up.

“I-I’m s-sorry to wake you like this… I couldn’t help myself…”

he’ll never fully use quirk on you while you sleep though. thats a big nope from him.

when he sexs you up he wants it to be fully him… and only him.

(i mean its his quirk from him -- but you get the point!)

CEO of going till ya numb.

his favorite his sticking his dick into you and rutting into you like a dog in a rut. 

definitely is a groper. cannot and will not convince me otherwise.

he just really loves it when you moan out for him and make cute noises~ its all he needs to start off for a good day.

receiving:

well, it definitely is a pleasant surprise.

doesnt affect him like he does when he wakes you up but he appreciates your efforts.

most times when hes conscience enough he’ll just take over as if you werent trying to surprise him before.

honestly if youre looking for an early pounding thats the best time and way to get him into action.

since he sees it as teasing he cant help but have to pay you back.

he’ll be straight up clapping dem cheeks and he’ll just be like “you feel so fucking good” with the nicest sounding moan anyone can mumble into your ear.

yeah…. I encourage doing it to him. 

gets him nice and possessive giving you both a good time while he can live out his lil dom fantasies for the day.

//win win.

Todoroki (x, x)

receiving:

hes like a blushing mess.

if you couldnt see him as a sub before, well get ready for this.

catch him off guard and guarantee youll get a completely different Shouto.

he turns into a full on pillow prince, with no shame. As long as you focus on getting him off he’ll let you do what he wants.

if you especially focus on his soft spots that dont have to do with his nipples or the third leg between his legs that when youll get him puddy under your hands.

“Y-Y/N..~”

well shit, say your name like that and he might make you revert submissive behaviour too.

you treat him like a perfect lil’ prince whenever he does, wanting to pamper him anyways.

on a rare chance could you spark him into flipping the tables but thats more on a random occurrence more than anything.

note to self: sub Sho? surprise him.. ✍️

Bakugo (x, x)

giving: 

this one is kindaaaa tricky.

now, Katsuki wont do it often. but when he does it, he does it with uhh,,,, passion. if you would like to call it that.

he mimics all the spots you loved to be touched when youre awake just to see how long it takes for your body to wake up and realize that hes playing with you.

calculated in his actions, obviously. hes not some idiot who rushes, everything he does is precise whether or not you know it.

because of this, being able to please you is easy so his clear motive? not very sure….

maybe it's to see you squirm and wake up? mayhaps to see what pure pleasure looks like written over your face. who knows, all you knew is that he always had a smug look on his face when he was able to make you cum by the end of it. 

thats if…. he let you that is.

receiving:

sort of like Todoroki, you may just get him to be the whole bottom in the term, "power bottom". 

tries to hold in moans and groans but usually fails which makes him sooooo frustrated. 

if he gets too flustered he'll make you stop and give whatever you have him by tenfold. 

brace yourself for a long and bumpy ride, you may have to do it on days he isnt going to work that day because he'll sure rock you out of this world. 

best if done on holidays as well, itll leave you walking a lil awkward for a few days. 

and of course, that isnt okay for being on the job is it?

Shindo (x)

giving: 

ddjhvbjhvb

hes this high on the list for a reason.

ongggggggg he’ll tease the ever living shit out of you until he gets bored or decides youve earned it.

damn snarky wont even prep your body or anything, just straight out the cut uses his quirk just to get your senses all riled up. 

does everything on the scale of full on senses to just barely touching you. 

his teasing always wakes you up into a confused state that is wanting to more, shamelessly begging for him to continue.

he carries great pride in taking responsibility in getting you like this. but dont be mistakened! he will not go easier on you just because you woke up. 

you had only just felt the pre-course to the real action~

buckle up, kitten. 

receiving:

nope. if youre going to take advantage of him, he wants to fully aware. 

… for sadistic reasons more than consensual. 

Giran (x)

giving:

this old fucking man. 

likes to sneak in and just feel you up good. 

of course he doesnt want through his back out so yknow- im just kidding. 

giran will go to town if he has to. 

but most times, the old fart just loves to, "make love" to his darling. 

calls you sweet petnames in your ear as you sleep, just so you can dream about you too. 

he knows how to tease and play with you. he can finish the job without even so much as stirring you awake. 

hes studied you long enough and has played with you enough to make you finish as well. 

it's magic honestly, and his best part is leaving you with the mess between your legs and nothing but confusion written all over your face. 

how could he know that's your reaction although he leaves before you can wake up? 

simple. hes always has his ways~

receiving:

the few rare times he let's you into his humble abode is when you decide to treat him. 

really adament of sucking him off to wake him up just to see his early morning smile. 

him rewarding you with giving you the same treatment or dirty praise is all you need before you leave and act as if you werent sleeping around with a villain recruiter and his #1 sugar baby for that matter. 

when you surprise him in his study is the real kicker. 

youve been under his desk many times to be familiar with the spot and assume the position. 

you usually bring up breakfast or dinner (whichever time you arrive) and wake him up in the good way that motivates him to continue on with his stressful job.

surely, he can never thank you enough. if it wasnt for your efforts, he wouldnt know how to deal with himself~

Dabi (x, x)

giving:

✨ rise n shine, dabi's fat cock is here to wake you up. ✨

this asshole -- this asshole. 

has no shame at all. he knows full well what hes doing. 

likes to feel you up and just feel at you sometimes. hes so touch starved that he cant even help it. 

he ranges from teasing you till you wake up to full-on fucking your brains out. 

of course he enjoys it when youre confused but wanting more, your body more than ready to receive his hands. 

at some point, you just like to tease him for it too. usually he catches onto your game and plays accordingly. 

he cant help but feel blessed that someone he loves so very much could enjoy the same interests he does as well. 

just let him know you like it when he feels you up and he'll give it to you anytime you ask~

receiving:

would not recommend unless you want early-morning-face fucking.

like you wouldnt catch someone wake up from something like that faster than Dabi. 

you may wonder why, it's just his touch starved nature. im telling you, it responds to anything. 

no matter what position, how you do it you will get a positive reaction from him. 

tell me you cant imagine him moaning, "that's it, doll~ swallow my cock like the slut you are~"

IN A SLEEPY RASPY VOICE??? HELLO 🤧

this man is just a walking breathing example of what the word simp feels like. 

youre supposed to turn away because hes not the type of guy to fall in love with but most times like this is when you cant help it..

Shigaraki (x, x)

giving:

master diddler, yes he is. 

hes the type to not even stick his cock in, just like hump at you like a needy animal and just mark up your neck as if he hasnt had sex in years. 

is the type to use other parts of your body to get off just to avoid pleasuring you as he gets off.

youll wake up to his cum in various spots. between your legs, on your chest and even your armpits. if it has a place where his cock can fit its going there.

he doesnt give a shit if you fuss about it later, “why didn’t you cum inside” headass.

youll have to earn him using you like cocksleeve the proper way.

youre either a heavy sleeper or light because you can wake up as soon as he starts or wake up after hes done.

Either way, as long as he can see the pureness on your expression is all he needs to help his perverse needs.

Shigaraki isnt the person to use you during your sleep without having at least talked it with you.

yeah hes a creep but hes not that weird.

likes to whisper degrading stuff into your ear when you sleep just so you can dream about what hes doing to you, his hands not stopping a moment as he gets off to feeling you up.

just dont expect anything less then degenerate from him 

receiving:

you have to be a special type of breed to even think about touching him without him being in control.

the thought of you possibly being able to one-up him is a no-no.

he wont allow it.

if he even senses you thinking about it he’ll stir awake and glare at you as if there is no tomorrow.

but say you do manage to catch him off guard, this may be the only times you can really edge a moan out of him of.

so use your time wisely.

All for one (x)

giving:

ive said it once, i'll say it again. 

you just have no rights bro. im sorry. 

he wakes him sometimes and just goes, "this bitch deserves a rude awakening today". 

like okay mr fuckface. 

is the one that is always on x games mode, no softness for him at all.  

probably has you wear those kitten/mitten collar things like*cough cough* kakegurui *cough cough* even when youre carrying out errands for him. 

the point is honestly to keep you in place, and you cant help but like it anyways. 

some may dislike being viewed as a pet or anything less but you love it hence why you stay. 

plus, if you could runaway, would you be able to?

nevermind that, you didnt want someone else to replace you so youll stay his obedient bitch for now.. 😌

receiving:

you wouldnt. you just wouldnt.

[lesbobiwan]

bounty (boba fett x reader)

rating: explicit

pairing: boba fett x female reader

summary: you come to boba to make one of your fantasies a reality. he has a few conditions first.

warnings: predator/prey kink, pretending to be a bounty, probably unsafe sex bc yall fuck in a forest but we dont need to talk about it, light choking, name calling, everything is safe sane and consensual, breeding kink

You’re breathing too loud in the quiet of the forest. You know that your pants echo through the woods and that you’re being too careless as you run, but you couldn’t care less. 

The only thought going through your mind is to run. You know there’s a small village up ahead. If you can just break through the edge of the forest, you can find somewhere to lay low. Maybe a shopping center? 

A twig snaps behind you.

You curse, still too loud for the peace and quiet of the forest. He’s toying with you now.

The great Boba Fett would never be stupid as to step on a twig. He’s close, and he wants you to know it. Was he ever far, or was he just letting you tire yourself out in a futile attempt to get away from him?

And tire yourself out you have. Your thighs ache and your lungs burn. You’ve never ran this much before in your life. Adrenaline pumps through your body, but you’ve always been a realist at heart. 

You can’t last much longer.

Another snapping of foliage. 

You can hear his footsteps now. Fear, despite your best efforts, shoots down your spine. 

Stars, why are you doing this? All you wanted was to get fucked, maybe put into binders and act like he had a puck on you.

Oh, right.

“If you want to get fucked like a bounty,” Boba had told you just before he sent you running, “You’re going to run like a bounty. Now go.”

“You done running, girl?” His voice booms through the trees, sounding entirely unaffected as though he wasn’t running through the forest after you. “Or am I going to have to mess up your pretty face to bring you in?”

Arousal simmers low in your gut. Stars, he’s really getting into this thing, isn’t he?

“Fuck you!” You spit over your shoulder, picking up the pace in hopes to drag out the chase a little longer.

You’re not ashamed to admit that the idea of being hunted has you soaking through your panties.

Boba chuckles, sounding much too close for comfort, “Don’t give me any ideas.”

Shit. 

A gloved hand closes around your bicep and jerks your body to a stop.

A yelp escapes you before you can stop it. 

A second hand clasps over your mouth.

“Don’t scream,” he whispers in your ear, voice distorted through the helmet, “If I let you go, will you cooperate?”

“Fuck you!” Your voice is muffled from the meat of his palm. “Let me go!”

His amused demeanor vanishes. Boba wedges foot behind the backs of your knees and sends you sprawling to the ground with a shove.

It’s not rough, but it’s definitely enough to have you dazed. You barely have time to blink before he’s on you again. 

He flips you onto your stomach with a show of strength that has you fighting back a moan and straddles the backs of your thighs to keep you in place.

“What the fuck are you —”

“Quiet,” Boba hisses, strong hands grabbing you by the wrists to pull them together at the small of your back. The binders that snap around your wrists are cold, but not the reason for the goosebumps that spread across your skin.

You hope he doesn’t realize the way you rub your thighs together.

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” Boba pants into your ear. His cock is hard against your ass. “’S that what got you in this situation, huh?” 

You almost scoff. He knows that its your mouth that got you in this situation.

“You mouth off to the wrong person and get a bounty put on you?” He continues, subtly grinding his erection into your ass. 

You can’t help it. A moan escapes you and you push back against him.

“Oh,” Boba sounds amused, damn him, “Is that what you do? Fuck the sorry son of a bitch that tries to take you in?” He presses his hips harder against you.

“Please!” You gasp, trying to cant your hips back to feel more of him, “I’ll do anything!”

He laughs cruelly and pulls you to your feet quick enough to have your vision swimming. “Anything?” He mocks, pulling your back tight against his chest as his free hand creeps up to wrap around your neck.

Another moan rips from your throat. “Yes! Anything!” You roll your hips back against the cock pressing into the small of your back, “Anything! Please, just let me go,”

Boba hums. His thumb strokes across your carotid artery as he contemplates your offer.

It’s quiet in the forest besides your ragged breathing. You’d almost think he’s forgotten about you if it wasn’t for the subtle grind of his hips against you.

It’s stifling. It’s degrading and objectifying but so fucking hot.

“Boba,” You try again, but he cuts you off with a quick jerk of your body.

He hauls you over a fallen tree like you way nothing. You’re completely folded over the tree, your ass being propped up in the air while your chest and shoulders dangle.

Your moan is so loud that the nearest birds fly away.

A heavy hand smacks against your right asscheek. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, your hips jerking — whether to escape the spank or to search for a new one, you don’t know.

“Is that how you’ve lasted this long?” He demands, landing another spank on your left cheek. “You promise to fuck whoever it is that catches you in exchange for your freedom?”

He presses his weight against you and all hopes of escaping, if you even wanted to anymore, vanish without a trace.

“You gonna take my cock, girl?” His hands drift to the waistband of your pants before he yanks them and your panties down hard enough to pop some of the seams. “You gonna be my good little whore?”

“Yes!” You sob, writhing against the tree that props your hips up. Your feet can’t find purchase against the soil, slipping and sliding no matter how you try to shift your position. “I will!”

“You will what?” Boba presses, tracing his leather covered fingers over your cunt. “Stars, you’re soaking, girl,” he murmurs, spreading your juices across his fingertips. 

“I’ll be your good whore,” You repeat, cheeks flushing a red to match the accents on his armor. 

His pleased hum sends another flood of wetness to your core. One of his hands reach around to pinch your clit between two finger while the other goes to unbuckle his pants. 

You gasp and jerk against his fingers. “Please!” You gasp, trying your best to push into his hand. 

The bark of the tree rubs uncomfortable against the exposed skin of your hips, but the pain fizzles into pleasure with each passing second. Your head begins to pound with the blood that rushes to it. The rough texture is a grounding presence that fights against the way Boba’s very existence threatens to send you flying high into atmosphere. 

“Please, what?” Boba asks, smacking his freed cock against your cunt with a wet pop, “Please fuck you so you can go free? So you can vanish and I lose out on a paycheck?”

Stars, you think you might combust. Every fiber of your being is alight. If he doesn’t fuck you, you think you’re gonna wither up and die.

“No! No, I won’t! I’ll stay!” You can’t even register the words leaving your mouth. Nothing matters except getting his cock in you. “I’ll stay. I’ll — I’ll be yours!”

The tip of his cock, thick and heavy, presses against your hole. “You’ll be mine?” He repeats, slowly inching his cock into you.

No matter how many times he presses into you, you’re always worried he won’t fit. He’s just so thick. The stretch is devastating and enough to force a high whine from your lips. 

He forces his cock into your cunt fully with a harsh thrust that forces the breath from your lungs. 

Immediately, he sets a punishing pace, one hand holding the binders that keep your wrists together at the small of your back while the other gathers your hair up to force your head up. 

“You’ll be mine?” Boba repeats, letting go of your binders to land three quick slaps against your ass. “Answer me!”

“Yes!” You cry out, tears gathering in your eyes against the onslaught on your cunt. “Yes, I’ll be yours!” 

His leather gloves rub quick circles around your clit, “Mine? Mine to keep tied up and ready for my cock at all times?” He pounds into you even harder than before, if that’s even possible. “Mine to fuck and fill full of my cum?”

Oh fuck.

You clench around him at his words.

His modulated groan echoes through the forest. “You like that, girl? You like the idea of me keeping you filled the brim with my cum, huh? You want to be fucked and bred?” He punctuates his words with hard and shattering thrusts.

You can’t bring yourself to answer, too caught up in the way that he stretches you to say anything. Fuck, you’re so close. 

“Are you gonna cum?” He whispers, bending to press his chest into your back. 

The angle forces your upper body down even more, and all you can do it take it.

“Yes! Yes! Please let me come,” The tears are falling down your face in earnest now. 

Boba’s hand, the one not rubbing devastating circles on your clit, wraps around your throat and squeezes just enough to make you see stars, “Cum.”

Your orgasm wracks your body like a bomb. Your thighs tremble with the force of how hard you cum, and every one of his thrusts is accompanied but a wet sound that would embarrass you if you were able to think in that moment.

Boba groans as you tighten around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” He slows the pace of his thrusts down, now grinding into your cunt and pressing his cock into that spot that makes you a drooling mess. “You want my cum? You want me to fill you up?” 

His gravelly voice, still modulated by the helmet — and, fuck, it should not turn you on as much as it does to know that he kept on that helmet to fuck you —, sends more shivers down your spine. 

“Yes! Please, fill me up! Fill me up, keep me, I’myoursI’myours,” You’re babbling now. The words spill from your lips like the slick that spills down your thighs.

“Fuck,” Boba hisses, grinding his hips once, twice, three more times before he stills and his cum floods your cunt.

You gasp and moan as your walls flutter around him, milking his cock for all it’s worth. 

Your world is reduced down to feeling of Boba’s weight, a grounding presence against the aftershocks of pleasure that threaten to overwhelm you, and his hands that stroke down your back.

“Good girl,” He whispers, voice no longer filtered by the helmet. When did he take that off? “You did so good, little one,” 

The binders fall off your wrists with a soft click. 

Boba eases your bottoms back up around your hips and pulls your body off the tree. 

“C’mon, lets get back to the ship so we can clean you up,” He presses a soft kiss, a drastic juxtaposition from the harsh way he treated you just minutes before, to your temple and resigns himself to supporting half of your weight when it’s evident that your legs are too weak to walk.

You press your body closer to him, relishing in the slight ache that comes from between your legs. “Y’know, you could always try acting if being a crime lord on Tatooine doesn’t work out,” You murmur against his shoulder.

Boba huffs. “You’re not funny.”

“Yes, I am,” You deny, hiding your smile in his pauldron.

You walk in silence, save for the way he’ll occasionally whisper a soft praise in your ear, until you finally remember something.

“Hey,” You slap a hand against his chest plate, “I know this was my idea, but I didn’t expect you to make me run.”

Boba’s laugh echoes through the forest and makes your body shake. “Exercise never hurt anyone, mesh’la,”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure. You look at the bruises on my hips in the morning and tell me that exercise doesn’t hurt.” You’re just complaining now, just finding ways to poke fun at him now that you’ve begun to climb down from the high peak of pleasure.

Boba’s hand around your waist drifts to dig into the raw skin on your hipbone, “I didn’t hear you complaining any,” He whispers into your ear, voice low and daring. 

Goosebumps break out across your body.

Maybe your body will be ready for round two when you get back to the ship.

[retroellie]

Joel Miller as a dad

Summary: Having Joel Miller as a dad 

A/N: i got sad there towards the end so sorry about that. I also wrote in that you were dating ellie so enjoy<3 

Warnings: TLOU2 spoilers, talk about death other than that its cute 

Word count: 1.3K

-He tries really hard to be a good dad

-He’s been different ever since Sarah, it’s been hard but you try to be patient with him

-When Joel found out that he was gonna be having another kid he flipped out

-He couldn’t stop thinking you were gonna end up like Sarah and he couldn’t go through that again

-but when  he saw you for the first time he knew  would do anything just to keep you safe

-In Boston he’s not the most loving dad, he’s not mean he just doesn’t show you how much he loves you

-It’s tough love I guess

-He always tells you that you can do better and that your being too careless

-you don’t take it personally though, you don’t know much about Sarah but you know when she died it broke Joel

-Speaking of Sarah, it’s forbidden to talk about her. The only reason you know about her is from tommy

-When you guys settled in Jackson he became more loving in a way

-He would always come up and tell you goodnight, when you were asleep he would kiss your forehead and whisper “goodnight baby girl”

-He calls you baby girl

-Jackson is when he opened up about Sarah a little more, telling you that you are very much like her or she would like you

-“You know Sarah always wanted a little sister. I reckon you two would’ve done just fine together”

-You had bad nightmares sometimes so if you woke up screaming out for Joel or you decided to walk into his room to wake him up, he would always let you cuddle up next to him

-You guys would always poke fun at each other, it was just father/daughter fun

-“Dad, I can't jump up that high”

-“well stop being so short, shorty”

-“Well stop being so old and maybe you could pull me up.”

-Joel was a pro when it came to periods, he knows it’s natural and he’s been around a few women in his life so he knows about it

-when you come crying to him about it he knows exactly what to do

-You are always trying to set him up with women, you even tried to get him to go on a date with the daycare teacher

-“Come on dad. Why not?? She’s so sweet, I wouldn’t mind her as a step mom.”

-“Because a hormonal teenager with a bad sense of humor is enough, I don’t think I can handle another woman right now.”

-You obviously know how to play guitar, I mean your Joel miller’s kid

-you guys always play together on the front porch, sipping on coffee as you watch the sunset

-you guys had movies nights, father/daughter dinners, he would even take you places outside of Jackson sometimes

-He just likes spending time with you, mostly because he feels bad that he wasn’t such a great dad in Boston. He regrets Boston in many aspects but that one he regrets the most

-also he fears something bad will happen to either you or him so he wants to get in as much time as he possibly can with you

-Okay but like having tommy as an uncle would be so fun

-And since Joel looks at Ellie as a daughter, you’re best friends with her, maybe eventually even dating her??

(this is kinda a whole other headcanon lol)

-Joel is super supportive of you and Ellie’s relationship, he trusts ellie a lot and he trusts that you know what’s good for you 

-When you came out to him it was tough for you and even tougher for him to understand it 

-”Dad.... I’m Gay/bi(or whatever your preference is<3)” 

-It took him a bit to take in what you just said 

-He didn’t really understand it, it was different back in his time 

-But he knew he loved you and wanted you to be happy 

-”I kinda had a feeling.. but it’s okay. You’ll always be my baby girl.” 

-You just bawled your eyes, it was honestly the first time you came to terms with yourself 

-He knew how much of a relief this was for you, he knows how much it hurts to hide yourself for so long 

-He just pulled you into a hug, rubbing circles on your back while you bawled your eyes out 

-”At least i know you won’t be getting pregnant any time soon.” 

-You couldn’t help but laugh at his stupid jokes 

-If anyone dared to say some shit about it, he would be ready to beat the fuck out of someone 

-You, ellie and him would have dinners together, you and ellie would hold hands and share small glances at each other 

-He would see that and he would try to hide his huge grin, HE HAS A EYE FOR LOVE AND MAMA YALL ARE SO IN LOVE HE CAN’T 

(anyways i’m getting off track back to daddy joel) 

-Joel’s not much of a dancer but he taught you how to slow dance 

-You two would be in the living room with some old country song and he would be teaching you the steps 

-”You never know when this will come in handy, what if you date a person who likes to dance huh? you can tell them your daddy taught you the basics.” 

-At the dances you would just stand at the bar with him, not having any interests with any of the people there 

-Eventually he would pull you onto the dance floor just to show off your dance moves . You two could look like idiots together 

- He taught you a lot, he taught you how to wood carve, how to shoot a gun and even how to pick a lock 

-You two shared a love for music so yall would have long talks about old music 

-You were really close with him, i mean your mom died so he was all you had. He was a single parent raising a teenage girl so he was really protective of you 

-He wrote a whole song for you, future days?? yeah that was for you (for the headcanon lets just say he wrote it shush)

-There was a time were you felt down, about life and about yourself 

-You were questioning everything, you weren't the same and his fatherly instinct could tell something was up 

-So over a nice cup of coffee you opened up to him, telling him how you don’t get the point of this sad life. How you feel nothing mattered 

-He was taken back, it wasn’t like you too be like this. He saw you go through tough times but it was never like it. you weren’t yourself 

-”You know, i’ve struggled to survive for so long even before the outbreak. but you have to keep finding something to fight for, look at the bigger picture. You are here, with me. You're alive with a roof over your head, obviously there is a plan for you. You are smart and kind, I know it because I raised you that way. You will find your purpose eventually and i know that doesn’t help the feeling go away but i hope it will bring you some kind of peace.” 

-It did bring you peace, it felt nice to hear it especially from him 

-When he died, your world fell apart. 

-There was no more singing, no more dancing, and no more kisses good night... it was just nothing 

-You slept in his bed for months straight, you wore his clothes, you even drank out of his coffee cup 

-It seemed like you were never going to recover, your world had stopped. 

-”You have to keep finding something to fight for.” 

-You never did recover from it, but you slowly but surely picked yourself up 

-You always brought new flowers to his grave, all his favorite kind too 

-You settled down in a farmhouse with ellie, you littered it with things to honor and remind you of your dad 

-He raised you well, he raised you to be tough and smart but he always taught you how to be loving and kind to people 

-He was so proud of you for growing up to be a lovely woman and where he was now, he would always love you 

-

-

-

!Credit to Gif owner!

[savedbybangtan]

Let Me Love You

Summary: She lucked out one too many times. Luckily, Jimin was there to ‘save’ her.

2,916 words

Warning tags: smut, dubcon, stalking, possessive, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall), slight yandere?

                                         Let Me Love You

Food.

Water.

 Death.

 Three things immediately popped out in your mind that you begged for, that you needed.

These days, the pain in your body didn’t even allow you the few seconds to fantasize that you were in your parent’s home on a weekend morning where you did not have any work today. The pain was too great for you to ignore so that, as soon as you woke up, you were reminded of your grim premise.

You open your eyes, too tired and weak to be disgusted by the scent of yourself, vomit, and reliefs that were soaked into the naked mattress in the floor. There were two small windows on one wall, short and almost reaching the ceiling indicating that you were in a basement, but sunlight never shined through them. They were being blocked from the outside.

Footsteps could be heard on through the thin ceiling. It sounded as if he were entertaining guests with given the thumps of the music and feet.

If you called out right now, you may be able to alert one of the guests to help you out this situation.

You knew it wouldn’t make any sense. He would find you. Besides, your throat was too weak to make any sound above a hoarse whisper and the music was too loud.

Someone opens the door (the only entrance to the basement) that sat on top of a long staircase. Dim lights filtered in and you squinted at it, sensitive to the light.

The door is closed but you made out the silhouette before you were engulfed in darkness again.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m entertaining upstairs – so I can’t stay for long – but I really missed you and wanted to see you,” you heard the angelic voice apologise to you.

“…min…Ji-min…” you managed to hoarse out.

“What is it, baby?”

“Thirsty.”

“Already? I just gave you water and food two days ago,” he chuckled. I couldn’t see him, but I could tell he had that wicked glimmer in his eye that did not go with those rose powdered cheeks he sported by now.

He walked to a corner of the room, far from where your chain would allowed you to reach, if you were even able to walk. The light from the fridge illuminated his outfit. He wore a black turtleneck, black jeans and of course, black boots. When you had first met him at that bar, he wore the same colour palette. If you only knew.

He came back with a bottle of water that he poured slowly into your mouth as you drank in large gulps.

“What do you want to eat,” he asked sweetly – the same tone he used when he asked what you were drinking that night.

You hesitate to answer.

“I can promise you I will probably have anything you ask of me. I know all of your favourite foods and bought them.”

                                                            🌃

The blue and lime green lights darted manically about the bar. It was loud and filled with cigar, weed, cigarette, and hookah smoke. The scent, four gin and juices, and bottle of wine (that was finished before you even entered the club) had you feeling free. You didn’t want to think of your dumb boyfriend who broke up with you because of a few male friends you kept.

You didn’t want to think about your so called “friends” who had taken his side.

You definitely didn’t want to think about how you were fired, yet again, for rejecting the advances of yet another coworker. They tell you to report the matter to HR, but you believed in an eye for an eye. Someone who smacks someone’s ass should get smacked across their face – not relocated to another desk.

You danced crudely to the music, obviously drunk.

It wasn’t safe for a girl, wearing such a revealing and tight lavender dress to go out by herself. Especially not in this crowd.

Still, you needed to get lost in a crowd of people and let loose. You were sick of your parents breathing down your neck about moving out now that you finished college and secured another job. There was no way you were telling them how you were fired again. You needed to get out of the house.

The upbeat tune of Raising Hell by Ke$ha was exchanged for the smooth beat of BMO by Ari Lennox. You were too drunk for this song. You started to slowly grind your hips into the air, trying to mimic the moves of an exotic dancer.

A pair of soft hands grabbed you by the waist and danced against you, obviously having trouble trying to keep your nonexistent rhythm.

It was hot.

His hands were all over you. You glanced back and saw juicy lips that you suddenly wanted to kiss, but you were already short of breath. As if the final ounces of alcohol had finally ran through your bloodstream, the room swayed and it got dark.

“Shit,” you heard someone say. You couldn’t tell if it came from you or him.

You felt yourself being dragged away, too weak and too inebriated to care.

Before you could even reach an exit, you passed out.

You woke up and could tell you were in a moving vehicle. You saw the same stranger driving, but that “new car” scent put you back to sleep.

You woke up to the sound of keys jingling about, you noticed that this was not your house and that the man carrying you was that same stranger from the club. “Hey! Where are you taking me!” You slurred, fighting the urge to pass out once more.

You shouldn’t have estimated the power of that wine you drank in one sitting.

He flashes you a perfect smile that oozed excitement. “I’m taking you home, y/n.”

“This isn’t my…home.” You let the darkness engulf you as it was getting too hard to fight.

You were too drunk to question how he knew your name.

Minutes, hours, or days passed before you woke up in a crisp, white bedroom.

You spat some of your hair out of your mouth.

With a stretch, you take in your surroundings.

What happened last night? The last thing you truly remembered was chatting up the handsome bartender.

You scratched your head and that’s when you realise you were in nothing but a large tank top, obviously male.

Fuck!

Not again, you thought. You can’t believe you were in this situation again.

You spotted a bathroom through the open door and ran into it. There were no love marks on your skin. Your make up was removed pretty well and the clothes you wore last night were folded neatly on top of the counter, including your panties which you found a little embarrassing, imagining someone folding them.

You slowly brought your hand to your entrance, feeling for any kind of tenderness or fluids that would indicate anything out of the ordinary.

If something did happen, at least they weren’t rough.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything to you. I didn’t want our first time to be like that.”

You removed your hand and spun to look at the owner of the voice.

Who the hell was this? You eyed him wearily.

Ignoring your glare, he spoke again, “I washed your clothes for you! They might be uncomfortable, so you can wear my shirt instead if you like.”

“Um, do you mind telling me who you are?” I couldn’t sense any danger from the angelically handsome silver haired man who spoke to you so innocently.

“Oh, I’m Jimin. Park Jimin. I’m 25 and I work as a police officer.”

“I meant, why am I here?”

“You fell out in the middle of the dance floor last night.”

“Why?”

He laughed again, turning his eyes into little upwards crescents. “I think that’s enough questions before we eat. I cooked breakfast. Its downstairs. Come down once you’re done in here.”

With that, he left.

Oh, he’s a police. That explained why he would bring me home. He felt the need to serve and protect. You were lucky this time, but this will have to be the last time you go out drinking alone. You quickly chucked off his tank top and got dressed in the same clothes as last night. You were indifferent to the walk of shame by now. Walking outside in club attire in broad daylight was bound to catch a few stares, but you didn’t care what people think.

You searched for your shoes and realized he probably had them downstairs.

By the time you gotten down and found the kitchen, he was just about to sit down.

“Look, I really want to thank you for saving me. Something really bad could have happened last night. I tend to have this self-destructive streak about me that I can’t quite shake off, but I promised myself this would be the last time I pass out from drinking.”

He smiled at your words. “That’s great. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you are never that careless again. Please, have breakfast.”

“Oh no, you’re too kind. I’ve already bothered you enough.”

“Come on, now, Y/n. I’ve already cooked it. I don’t want to waste it.”

You shrug and sat. “Fine, if you insist.” You start to dig in immediately. It was amazing and settled your stomach. You could already feel the hangover nausea kicking in.

You horsebacked the rest of the hot tea and stood abruptly. “Thank you so much! That was really delicious. I hope one day I can repay your kindness.”

All of the joy in his eyes dissipated as you moved to leave, but you didn’t notice.

“Can you tell me where my shoes are?”

“How about you stay for a while longer?”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

“Are your parents waiting back for you?”

“No, I tend to not even come home most weekends and- wait,” you stopped, eyeing him suspiciously thinking it was weird that he assumed you lived with your parents although you were obviously an adult. “I’m a grown woman, you know. I may act like a teen, getting drunk like that, but I’m 21. I can do what I want.”

“And you were fired recently, meaning you don’t have anything better to do, right? Please, stay with me.”

Revelation.

Before you thought to wit your way out of danger, you stammer.

“How did you know I was fired from my job?” You started to slowly back away.

If you were not in the current predicament, you might have noticed how beautiful and genuine his smile was. “Oops, looks like I blew my cover! I guess I can drop the façade. I love you, y/n. I had for a while now, but I couldn’t talk to you because I know someone boring like me wouldn’t stand a chance.” His eyes furrowed in mock sorrow, but those plump, tempting lips pulled into smile. “If you’re good, I’ll let you stay in the house…I really do not intend to hurt you.”

He reached and arm out for you slowly, but you evaded his touch as if he was fire. “Let me out of here! You stalker!” You dashed to what you assumed to be the front door with the crooked cop trailing behind you slowly.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n!”

You looked back for a moment as you grab frenetically for the door handle. He waltzed toward you with his hands in his pockets. He had on his uniform, the only thing missing was the hat and shirt.

Clammy hands finally got the door open and you charged through it without taking your eyes off the monster behind you. Even when you fell down the stairs, you did not turn your neck to see that the door you took so long to open was your personal gateway to hell.

Instead of seeing the bright lights of morning, you are greeted with darkness. When your eyes adjusted, you realised that it’s a basement.

“FUCK!!!” You screamed in agony clutching your broken leg.

Park Jimin tutted and cooed toward you. “See what you did to yourself? I told you that I don’t want to hurt you. Let me see…” He reached out for your leg but you pull away from him quickly, the action eliciting a groan from you. “Hey, I’m trying to help.”

“Then take me to a fucking hospital!”

“You probably don’t even need one. The fall wasn’t that high. It was about seven steps. I took a course in first aid.” His voice was something lethal. How was he so calm with you shouting at him? You gave him your leg.

Gently, in his crouched position, he rotated your leg, massaging it to assess where it had broken. “Shh, shhh, shhh, its okay,” he cooed at you mindlessly. With a deep gulp and wide eyes, he warned, “Suck in your breath…” You did as he said, in too much pain to argue. “It’ll take a sec…” He snapped your leg again with a grueling sound similar to a branch breaking from a tree during a hurricane.

You screamed.

And screamed,

And screamed,

And blacked out from pain.

[dolphin-enthusiast]

So I broke my fucking arm falling off a tree, And I had to drive myself to the hospital one handed. Can I have some hcs of Jotaro and Kakyoin seeing their s/o falling a tree and just hearing a snap come from their arm.

B R U H THIS IS SUPER LATE BUT LIKE...YALL BRAVER THAN ANY US MARINES 4 DOIN THAT...GET WELL S O O N😔👊

Jotaro:

- FUCKING P A N I C A T T A C K. The second he hears you slip off that cursed branch he's already going berserk then when a loud C R A C K resonates he almost screams.

- Literally yeets you into his big arms and runs at lighting speed towards the car while scolding you for being so careless. He drives so fast yall arrive at the hospital in less than 10 fucking minutes and he throws a fit with the nurses just so he can stay with you overnight.

- The following days he excuses himself from work and literally doesn't let you do shit. He does all of your chores, cooks for you and basically goes all mom on you. It may come off as intense, but he really just is worried about you and loves you too much. He'd make that clear too as he'd wrap a loving arm around you and kiss your forehead without another word.

Kakyoin:

- He too panicks like ALOT when he sees you fall off that tree like that. However he's sent into total panic mode the moment he hears that crack as you collide with the hard ground.

- He keeps telling you that you're going to be fine as he rushes you to the hospital. Poor boi keeps pacing around the halls anxiously as he waits for the doctors to come and tell him about your state. The second he's allowed to see you he's immediately rushing by your side as he grabs your hand in his.

- He tries spending all of his time with you and always lightens up the mood since he knows how hard this is for you. Besides cooking for you and helping you with stuff he also offers to play video games with you or have a movie marathon while both of you are huddled up together on the couch. He also always reminds you that he'll always be by your side as he gives you a light kiss and cuddles you plenty.

[shiroslefttesticle]

All of these kids deserve so much appreciation, I was happy to do this one

Shiro:

It was like you were living in Satan’s ball sack

You were considering peeling off your skin

Shiro was laying next to you, equally as miserable

Yall weren’t actually cuddling though

It was beyond too hot for that

You just cuddled in spirit

Apparently, the a/c was broken

Part of you felt sympathy for poor Hunk and Pidge who were working hard to get it working again

The other part of you was growing irritable that it was taking so long

You grumbled another complaint and Shiro finally sat up

“I’m going to get some water, do you want some?”

You nodded numbly, wondering if you’d die from a heat stroke while he was gone

“A couple cubes of ice please,” you mumbled

He nodded and walked out of the room

After a couple minutes, he returned

You sat up and greedily accepted your glass of water

As you drank, you could hear Shiro giggle

Pausing, you peeked over your glass, staring at Shiro as he laughed into his hand

“Shiro?” you started, growing suspicious, “Did you do something?”

Shiro bit his lip but you could still hear him giggling

Finally, he was able to speak

“You asked for a couple ice cubes,” he interrupted himself with another giggle, “but I only gave you one.”

You glance down at your glass, seeing the one floating ice cube and a small grin forms on your face

Shiro is laughing so hard at this point

And you join in

What kind of fucking dork is your boyfriend?

And did he really just pull a prank from SpongeBob on you?

Soon you’re laughing so hard at just what a complete nerd Shiro is that you don’t even notice the a/c finally come back on

When you finally stop laughing, you have to wipe tears from your eyes and could hardly breathe

Shiro is grinning from ear to ear and you feel yourself melt a little

“I’m so lucky to have you”

Really, who else could make you laugh this hard when just a few minutes ago you felt like death?

Shiro smiles softly, his cheek a light pink and he returns your comment

He kisses you sweetly and you two spend the rest of the day finally cooling down while telling various stories and joke

#LetShiroBeADork2018

Inspired by this

Keith:

When Keith stepped out of his pod, you nearly tackled him to the floor

He had been gone for a month on a blade mission and you had missed him

He kind of chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you and stood you two back up

You two heard the doors open behind you as the rest of the team walked in to greet Keith

Reluctantly, you separated from each other

Keith was always a little reserved with pda, mostly because Lance and Pidge, and occasionally Hunk, would give him a hard time about it

Still, he kept his hand intertwined with yours, rubbing his thumb across it and lightly squeezing from time to time

Finally, you two were able to break away from everyone

You walked to your room, glad to have your boyfriend back

You two sit in your bed for a while

You catch Keith up on all that he’s missed while he was gone

And he fills you in on the details of his mission and all that happened

Soon you two fall quiet, just soaking in each other’s presence

The silence only breaks when you suddenly tell Keith how much you missed him

He kisses your cheek, saying that he missed you too

“I thought of you constantly,” he admits

Then, to prove his statement, he gets out of bed and walks to his bag that he left by the door

He rummages around for a second before finally finding what he was looking for

Hiding his hands behind his back, he smiles at you, a small blush on his cheeks

“You have to close your eyes.”

Your curiosity is almost overwhelming, but you comply, holding both your hands out

Keith places something down in them

It’s small, solid, and has rough, somewhat sharp, edges

Slowly, you open your eyes

In your hand is a rock, a little smaller than a 50 cent coin

At first, you think it’s just a shiny, black rock

Which is pretty and all, but a little underwhelming

But then you turn it over in your hands and it shimmers

It stuns you and you audibly gasp

Holy shit it’s gorgeous

Finally you look at Keith, who is now sitting next to you, still blushing

Without you even having to question him, he shrugs, a little embarrassed by his own sweet gesture

“I don’t know, I just saw it and thought of you and how you would probably like it.”

You feel yourself grin

Sure it was “just a rock” but it felt like more than that

It meant that Keith really did think of you while he was gone

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you smile

Keith grows even more red, quietly mumbling that he feels lucky to have you too

For the rest of the day, he keeps replaying your words, blushing every time and sometimes stuttering

Lance:

You hadn’t been feeling too great recently

All the stress from recent events was getting to you

Lance was quick to pick up on this

Before you could even say anything, he practically demanded that you partake in one of his self-care days

This was actually something you two did together quite often

But this time Lance was determined to make it all about you

So here you were, sitting in a pile of stolen pillows on Lance’s floor

You were trying desperately not to kick your boyfriend out of reflex as he tried to give you a foot massage

Tried being the keyword because you were squirming so much

It tickles, ok??

As you bit your lip to muffle your laughter, Lance was relaying the hottest gossip the space mice shared with him

You thought the mice only talked with Allura about that, however, they seemed to like Lance

Their gossip was actually quite interesting, and you eventually abandoned your efforts to keep quiet

Bursting out into laughter, you threw Lance a look of disbelief

“Keith sings what in his lion??”

Lance shrugged, laughing with you as he finally let go of your feet

Next you two were doing facemasks

Lance always had a bunch of special ones that he had made himself

And they were all so good

You picked this green looking one for today, and Lance slathered it on your face liberally

As you and Lance sat next to each other, still laughing about random shit, you couldn’t help but really think about how nice this moment was

Apparently, you had fallen silent while daydreaming a bit

“Babe, you ok?” Lance asked, waving a hand in front of your face

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you answered, smiling

Lance was probably blushing under his face mask

He fell quiet for maybe two seconds before a huge grin spread on his face

It created funny looking cracks in his facemask, but you didn’t even get the chance to point it out

Lance practically lunged towards you, peppering your messy green face in small kisses

If a green face mask won’t stop Lance from kissing you, nothing will

When he finally releases you, it’s only so he can watch you laugh at his antics

His eyes are filled with complete adoration

I’m dying just thinking about it

He’s a bit quieter for the rest of the day

But his dorky grin doesn’t go away for about a week

Hunk:

You and Hunk were cooking together

He had some wild new recipe he wanted to try

You were skeptical, poking at what looked like a purple rotting avocado

It was supposed to look like that too

Space stuff is weird

Despite your reservations, Hunk insisted it would be ok

So you just went with it

I mean really, Hunk had yet to prepare a dish you didn’t like

Aside from the scaultrite cookies, of course

“Here, cut this for me” Hunk passed you something that might be a carrot

Trying your best to show off to your boyfriend, you began to cut the carrot(?) as quickly as you could

Too bad you’re not an expert chef

You yelp and clutch your hands to your chest, glaring at the knife as though it had sliced you on purpose, rather than you just being careless

Hunk immediately stops what he’s doing and practically flies over to your side

He looks at your finger

Thankfully it wasn’t a bad cut, but there was a surprising amount of blood

You’re basically ordered to wash the cut before applying pressure with a washcloth while Hunk goes rummaging for a first aid kit

When he finally comes back, you’re seated on one of the counters, internally exaggerating your injury and pain

You know like how when you get a paper cut and it feels like someone sliced off your hand?

Or when you accidentally stub your toe and you wonder what your life will be like with only one foot?

That’s basically what you’re doing

Hunk applies some of that alcohol stuff that stings like fucking hell and you hiss

He then puts a band-aid over it, a power rangers themed one

Pidge is lowkey one of the clumsiest ones on the ship due to all the shit in her room that she trips over so you bought them from that weird Earth store just for her, as a joke

Hunk glances up at you as you’re pouting at your failure

You’re about to hop off the counter but Hunk stops you, raising your hand to his face as he quickly kisses the top of your band-aid

“To make it feel better,” he quickly explains, smiling

You feel your cheeks heat up, he was just so fucking cute oh my god

“I’m so lucky to have you!”

You kind of just blurt it out on accident, taking both of you by surprise

Now Hunk is blushing with you, but he’s got this big dopey grin on his face

He kind of stutters as he returns your comment, but you know he’s sincere

He insists that you stay seated on the counter while he finishes cooking, despite your objections

He keeps getting distracted by you though, even when you’re not doing anything, he just keeps looking at you and blushing.

How to effectively fluster your boyfriend 101

Pidge:

Pidge had asked if you would help her with some upgrades

You were both sitting around her computer, various trinkets and gadgets surrounding you

Hours had passed since you first agreed to help and you were growing exhausted

At this point you were hardly helping, just fidgeting with various tools and sometimes mumbling answers to Pidge’s questions

You don’t know how Pidge can have so much energy

Sure she’s hyper-focused and all but still

Eventually your eyelids droop and you’re out like a light

You somehow manage to get into some awkwardly sprawled out position, all of the tools scattered around you

Pidge briefly thinks of carrying you to bed or at least somewhere more comfortable

However, she knows that’s probably a bad idea

Sure she’s stronger now that she trains for her paladin duties, but she still doesn’t feel confident trying to carry you all the way to your room

Plus, even if she could keep her grip on you, she’d probably accidentally smack your head into a door or wall

That was her thought process anyway

Quietly, knowing she should take a break to stretch and such anyway, she stands up and leaves the room

Half the crew has started scolding her for bad habits like not stretching and forgetting to eat when she’s busy

She finds a spare blanket and grabs her pillow, heading back to where she left you

You’re still out cold

For a second Pidge got paranoid that you died or something

She probably held a mirror up to your face just to make sure you were breathing

Once she confirms you’re alive, she throws the blanket on top of you and somehow manages to readjust you so your head is on the pillow

When you finally wake up, quite a while later, Pidge is just about finished with her upgrades

You notice the blanket you cocooned yourself in and the pillow that kept your neck from cramping.

There were some other things as well, like a thermos full of soup since you had accidentally slept through the last meal

Sitting up, you drop your head over Pidge’s shoulder, getting a lazy hum in acknowledgment

You press a chaste kiss to her cheek, seeing her lips twitch up in a smile despite her growing blush

“I’m so lucky to have you”

Pidge’s head immediately snaps around to look at you and her face is tomato red

She stutters for a few seconds, completely taken off guard by your sincerity

Congrats, you broke her

She’s got a blush on her face for the rest of the day

Allura:

You growl as the training bot manages to knock you down again

You’ve been at this for what feels like an eternity

Allura was on the side of the room, shouting out tips

However, you still can’t seem to clear the level

The next time you get knocked down, you just stay laying on the floor

You were tired and sore and probably bruised

Allura shouted for the simulation to turn off and she knelt next to you

She’s checking you over for any visible harm

Aside from your bruises of course

“I’m dying,” you state blankly

Allura rolls her eyes at your melodramatics and stands up

She expects you to get up with her, but instead, you just make grabby hands towards her

You’re too tired to walk

Rolling her eyes yet again, though this time she only half meant it, she bent over picked you up

Bridal style :)

On her face is a small smile as she carries you to your room

Internally you’re swooning at how strong she is

Listen, loving Allura’s muscles is a kink

And you’ve got it bad

She drops you on your bed and you make an ‘oof’ noise

You try to sit up, but Allura just pushes you back down

Then she begins massaging your legs

You didn’t even know you needed a massage until she started

But now you’re like putty in her hands

While she works on you, she talks about your training

It is endless compliments the entire time

But not like she’s lying about your abilities or forcing herself to compliment you

She truly, genuinely means everything she says

You’re almost overwhelmed by her attention

When she’s done, you feel revitalized

You sit up, and flop yourself onto her, not caring that you’re a little sweaty still

Your voice is muffled from your face pressing into her neck, but she can still clearly hear you

“I’m so lucky to have you”

She has a pulse point on her neck

You can feel her heart rate pick up a little bit after what you said

But other than that she has no visible reaction of being flustered

She just smiles and kisses your forehead and says she’s lucky to have you too

She’s got a small smile on her face for the rest of the day

[orsfri]

shutter hues (12/?)

11k, yall

Djadja - uncle Tjotja - aunt

*Both are not necessarily biological; for instance, it can refer to the kindly storekeeper down the street that always gives the kids extra candy that everyone affectionately calls uncle.

Read all here

-

There is a stiff lump on the slope of his shoulders, the part that Ivan vaguely recalls is called the trapezius muscle. It's sore and it hurts when Ivan rolls his shoulders, and Gilbert grimaces when he pokes it.

"Not that I don't like hard muscles," he comments, kneading it, "but what have you been doing for your muscles to get this tight?"

"Slouch, probably," Ivan manages, wincing as Gilbert struggles to work out the knot.

"Really? Because I think it's 'cause you're too stressed," Gilbert chides. He switches tactics and digs his elbow in instead; Ivan resists the urge to whimper. "You're lucky that I know how to do massages, or you're going to end up with back problems when you're older."

"Forgot older: I already have back problems now," Ivan grumbles, then hisses at a particularly rough kneading. 

There's also the headache that he doesn't tell Gilbert: his head pounding to the beat of his heart. It'll be nice if Gilbert can knead it away too, but such pains can only be alleviated, not eradicated; Ivan's learnt as much. He's already learnt to ignore such inevitablities as much as is possible. 

"How do you manage to destroy your body this much," Gilbert grouses, "what the heck have you been doing?"

Frankly? Nothing much, just that a few high-ranking officers decide to take a trip down over because apparently interest in Berlin's strategic importance is renewed again and Ivan has to work with Pap to coordinate with the personal bodyguards and the German security personnel, how fucking fun. He doesn't tell Gilbert as much, because that's just asking for trouble. "Guarding duties," he says instead, which is technically not a lie. "Many guarding duties."

"Is that why you come over right after your shift is over without even bothering to head home to take a nap?" Ivan protests that he is still too wired up to sleep. "I can tell; you need to relax. Your job is stressful and boring."

"It is," Ivan confirms, "there's not even a single assassination attempt." But the amount of bureaucratic coordination has assassinated his will to live. "I'm tired. I want a reassignment."

Gilbert laughs. "Then what will you do?"

"I'll be a superspy - I'll be fucking Stierlitz." He hopes whichever Stasi officer listening to this knows enough Russian pop culture to get a laugh out of this. 

Gilbert evidently does not. "Who's Sterlitz?"

"Never mind, I-" He's cut off as Gilbert finally works the knot out of his shoulder, a pained yelp before slumping over onto Gilbert's bed. "Ow."

"If you fall asleep like that, you'll wake up with a sore neck."

"I'm not sleeping," Ivan complains lazily, "who's sleeping? The sun is nice and bright today, I'm not wasting the day sleeping."

"You Russians and your sunshine," Gilbert mocks, "it's not a Siberian winter, you know."

"One: it's the British and their sunshine, and secondly," Ivan retorts, "what about you Germans and your nudity."

"Oh. You want to go to a nudist beach?"

"No."

"Prudes," Gilbert snorts, flopping down beside him. "You sure you don't want to nap? You can have the bed: I'm heading out."

Ivan immediately pushes himself up on his elbow. "Head out? Where?" 

"Down to the Weisser See."

"That lake?" Ivan wrinkles his nose. "What's there to do?"

Gilbert waves flippantly. "Parks," he begins, holding up a finger, "history and heritage, nature, people - tada!"

"Oh, you want to do landscape photos."

"That too," Gilbert agrees. "Have I ever told you? I want to document every single part of East Berlin. Can't believe it took me this long to get to this one."

That's a curious one. Gilbert has said many things about his love for photography, and this variation is the first of its kind. "Why?"

"I want to preserve a memory of all these before they are gone." He shrugs, dismissive, but there's longingness in his eyes - a strange melancholy uncharacteristic on a man as boisterous as Gilbert. "You know how it is: places develop and transform over time, and the old have to make way for the new. It's just... I thought of Mutti telling me about Dresden once being the Florence of the North, and I thought: I want my grandkids to see the beauty of the world that I'm looking at."

"That's poignant," Ivan replies, "write that down for the press release of your next exhibition."

"Don't mock me." Gilbert yanks the blanket sharply from under Ivan; Ivan stumbles off the bed and rolls to a crouch on the floor.

"I'm not mocking you - I'm serious. That was beautifully put. Write it down."

Gilbert snorts. "If it means so little to me that I would forget if I didn't write it down, then that's not the essence of the exhibition at all."

There is something in Gilbert's tone - something grim and too serious, that makes Ivan focus and watch Gilbert closely. Gilbert tenses his shoulders. "What?" he snaps.

"Nothing," says Ivan, "just - this project means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

"It means something," Gilbert answers, flippant, before making his way to the cupboard to fish out his equipment. Ivan gets up, and although what he wants to do is to draw Gilbert into a hug, to wrap his arms around Gilbert's waist and tucks Gilbert's back against his own chest, Ivan knows better. Instead, he helps Gilbert make the bed like a housewife with a propensity for orderliness, then kneads the pain at his own temples with his knuckles that quickly transforms into big sweeps at his fringe when Gilbert turns back around.

"So you're coming along?" Gilbert asks, adjusting his straps, his satchel filled and camera looped around his neck. 

Ivan shrugs. "As you said: I need a break," he answers, and that's that, then.

-

The park has only smatterings of visitors, and the skies are blue and bright and accompanied with a calm breeze, the gentleness of wind that ruffles their hair and kisses their cheeks. There are even birds chirping. 

The scene is so comfortable, so mundane, so, so edenic. Ivan hates it.

"Nice weather today," Ivan comments, watching Gilbert trots ahead.

"Bullshit: it's awesome weather," Gilbert corrects, "holy shit, did you see that?"

"See what?"

"That man walking five dogs," Gilbert replies, awed. "He's living the dream." He takes a hurried snap. "Wait, let me go talk to him."

Ivan walks down the trail of the most deserted side of the lake, toeing the edges of the coastline without getting his boots wet. There is a pier at the end; Ivan sits down on it, legs dangling above the water.

He rubs between his eyes before leaning back on his palms. It is a good day, the kind that spurs content in people's hearts and has them waxing poetics about nature's glory. It won't look out of place for some retired old man to bring his grandson fishing here, right at this very spot; he remembers Djadja Nikolai and their fishing trips down by the stream. It was boring, at first, just holding the rod straight; then Djadja switches tactic and takes off his shirt, smoothly netting up a herring.

(Of course, even in that triumphant afternoon, Djadja can't quite keep the grief from his sad eyes. Djadja has always been a sad man: too different to seek comfort in family, but too stubborn to roll over and die. Djadja lives melancholy like it is his ambrosia, lives life like it's a slow suicide, and in the end, when Djadja is found in a dingy motel room with a gun in his hand and blood splattered across the walls, Ivan only felt relief.)

But the point is not Djadja's tragic murmur of a life; the point is that memories of fishing are always accompanied with a rosy sheen for Ivan that speaks of youthful vivacity that matches Gilbert much more than it is ever associated with Djadja, fortunately.

But Weisser See has too many people swimming in it for it to be an ideal fishing location. The fish are probably scrawny. Maybe Ivan can suggest a trip back to Russia; Gilbert is always talking about wanting to travel.

He is broken from his reverie with the sound of a familiar click; look up, and it's Gilbert, grinning down over his camera.

"I thought you stopped doing that?"

"Me?" Gilbert places a hand mockingly on his chest. "Stop taking pictures of you?" His grin widens. "Never."

"That's not fair: I have never taken any pictures of you."

Gilbert laughs. "That's because you're not the photographer." He settles down, letting his feet swing over the water surface, and knocks their ankles together. The quiet that settles is nice and comfortable, and it is all very new for Ivan, a quiet this gentle.

Then Gilbert clears his throat. "Do you want to?" Gilbert dangles his camera. "You can play photographer for a day."

There is really nothing to lose here. Ivan shrugs. "Why not?" Gilbert grins, immediately clamouring to his feet. Ivan follows suit, taking Gilbert's hand to pull himself up. "Thanks."

Gilbert drops his satchel on the pier before looping the camera's strap over Ivan's neck. He briefly explains the basic controls, telling Ivan to aim at some trees and that fountain in the distance before deeming him capable enough of not accidentally destroying the camera with careless fiddling. Gilbert hangs back, now, the horizon of the lake stretching from his ribs a perfect parallel to his outstretched arms. "There you go," he announces, "amateur photographer at work."

Ivan holds the camera up, squinting into the viewfinder. It's a good picture: fair composition, big grin, the light is just right, and yet his fingers hesitate above the shutter. Gilbert starts to frown. "What's wrong-"

Ivan darts forward and shoves Gilbert into the water.

Gilbert squawks when he breaks the water with an embarrassingly huge splash. Ivan hurriedly snaps a few photographs. When Gilbert resurfaces, he's spluttering and his face is red as he shrieks, "Oh the hell with you!"

Ivan continues snapping.

"Hey, stop that!" Gilbert waddles towards the pier. This close to the shore, the water is only waist-high. "Come on, stop-" Ivan shoves Gilbert back into the water when Gilbert tries to get up, snorting when Gilbert slips at the third attempt to claw his way up. "Ivan, fucking stop. You're wasting my film!"

"I'll buy more for you," Ivan promises, still snapping away. 

"Stop snapping, asshole." Gilbert makes to lurch, but Ivan only leans away. And because he can be a little shit, Ivan tuts.

"Make me," Ivan retorts, not quite keeping the smug smile away from his face. "You can't drag me into the water with you because I am holding your camera."

"I can still get your pant legs wet," Gilbert retorts, splashing warningly. Ivan takes another step back. "No, I actually can't," Gilbert admits. "You little shit. Help me up."

Ivan stretches out a hand. Just as Gilbert is about to grab it, Ivan snatches his hand back, leaving Gilbert flailing as he tumbles down again with an even bigger splash. 

Ivan roars.

"Oh fuck you, Ivan!" Gilbert wipes his face furiously on his equally drenched sleeve. "No, stop - stop laughing, you-"

"I'm sorry," says Ivan, wiping at his eyes, "you make it so easy." Another picture.

"I helped you up, and this is how you treat me? Rude." Gilbert huffs, kicking the water disgruntedly.

"You know you love me regardless," Ivan teases. Gilbert rolls his eyes. "Please let me keep some pictures of this."

"And give you embarrassing materials to blackmail me with?" Gilbert retorts. When Ivan can't stop smiling at him, his glare softens. "Yeah sure, sure; it's your first work as a photographer after all - even if it is at my expense." He splashes water onto the pier. "I am really going to try to get your boots wet."

"I love how you constantly lower your standards for me," Ivan teases, ignoring Gilbert's scowl as he unloops the camera from his neck. Then, turning the camera towards himself and stretching out his arm as far as he can, he crouches at the edge of the pier. "Come on, Gilbert, smile into the camera."

"You bet," Gilbert mutters, waddling over. "I'm going to out-smile you."

"Sure you are." The click of the shutter once. Twice, thrice - and it's done. "In case you blinked."

"You are so full of shit." Ivan ignores him and lowers the camera gingerly onto the satchel. "Hey, don't worry, I never let any of my films get damaged," Gilbert says. There is a gentle tilt at the corners of his mouth that Ivan hesitates to call fondness. "But since you took three, you can pop by my office someday and I'll develop an extra copy of your favourite for you."

"That'll be nice," Ivan agrees. The sun refracts off the drops hanging off Gilbert's hair like dew, small glowing globs of white light condensed. "Come on, let's get you out of the water."

"You will not retract your hand at the last moment," Gilbert threatens, but takes Ivan's hand without hesitation. Gilbert's palms are wet and slimy and Ivan ends up having to grab Gilbert's elbow to pull him out, painfully aware of the water dripping all over. "Look at what you've done."

"I have performed a work of art," Ivan answers solemnly. "A hilarious work of art. It is a commentary on trust issues."

"Hardy ha ha, shut up, Ivan." Gilbert grunts as he wrings the water out of his shirt. It doesn't seem to help much. When he releases it, the shirt slaps wetly back against skin. 

"I'm sorry," says Ivan, earnest. "No wait, I'm not that sorry." 

"You-"

"Sir!" Ivan turns instinctively, and yup, it's for him. There is an unknown guard waving at them before turning around to yell something at... Roman. Huh.

Roman is flushed and flustered as he runs towards them. "Thank god you're here," he manages breathlessly. "I just got a call, and you need to come back to the office right now. There's-" He cuts himself off abruptly when he finally notices Gilbert. "Oh. Hi?"   

Gilbert waves vaguely.

"Give me a moment," Ivan instructs, "and for fuck's sake, someone get him a jacket."

The unknown guard salutes before running off. Roman takes a few steps back, angling his body away in the universal body language of 'don't mind me, just fading into the background right here'. Ivan faces Gilbert. "I'm sorry," he begins awkwardly, "but something urgent's cropped up and I need to-"

"You gotta go." Gilbert nods grimly. "Yeah, I get it."

"I am truly sorry."

"I said I know, Ivan," Gilbert snaps. "Just get to it."

The unnamed guard returns with a thick jacket, probably plucked off some bench somewhere while the owner is off for a swim. Ivan gives an apologetic nod, smiling weakly; he hasn't noticed it earlier, but now there's a forlorn lonesomeness about Gilbert, standing soaked and alone and confused as he stares after them. It's almost pathetic, watching the slight chills of Gilbert's body as water drips off him.

"I'll make it up to you," promises Ivan, and without a second glance backwards, hurries off.  

-

"How did Feliks escape?!" he shouts. Sasha winces and angles away. "How did he escape on our watch? On my watch!"

"I'm sorry, sir," says one of the uniformed guards that Ivan has never bothered learning the name of, "but the prison break was a highly-skilled job. When we-"

"Ivan Mikhailovich?" The officers that interrupt them with their approach are foreign and authoritative in a way that has Ivan squaring his shoulders. "Please follow us this way."

"Sasha, deal with this," Ivan commands before following the officers down the corridor, feeling an inmate on the death row marching his final steps. 

He is lucky to have an interrogation; most failures don't, and their own continued existence is the only proof of the brass's decision to tolerate mistakes. 

Even then, most interrogations go the same way: high-ranking men with their back to the window and the light haloing them, four looming shadows behind an oval table cataloguing your every answer.

Pap is among them. It doesn't seem to matter. Ivan swallows the pulsating heartbeats at the dip of his jugular, and salutes. "Sir."

His captaincy is mentioned (Dryly, "What impressive valour you must have exhibited to be captain at this age.") and his loyalties questioned, a push and forth that has Ivan dully reciting political opinions he can't remember where he heard them from. Pap, probably; Pap taught him most of his world the way Mama's ruthlessness can't. It's the same push and pull that Ivan is drilled to handle - always the same push and pull, and Ivan leaves the room with a final chance and a red cross painted over his heart.

He does not realise he's holding his breath until the door closes behind him. 

-

It takes him too long to notice Sasha waiting for him outside his office.

(Here's a thing that Ivan said that he doesn't remember:

Pap said it first, told this to him, to all of them, once upon a time. Told it to both him and Ira and Natasha, all of them young and huddled around Pap's feet after Pap just read them a story, Mama a shadow in the background watching over them through the corner of her eyes that are sharp as a hawk and sad like Djadja's.

"It is easier to sympathise with the enemy when you haven't seen their cruelty," he has said, Ivan will say in that little room with the oval table, and it will earn that crinkle at the corners of the eyes of the Polkovnik that hints of an ally.

And Ivan, then, a child - Ivan has blinked, wide-eyed and impressionable. "And that is bad?" he asks.

"It makes us complacent," Pap answers, "and we lower our guards too much."

"But what if it is this - this peace that takes away our enemy's cruelty?" Ira presses. She's always been precocious and more sensitive than everyone else. "Maybe we don't see their cruelty because there is no cause to be cruel. Won't that be better for everyone?"

In that dim orange light by the fire, Ivan remembers that Pap's eyes are strangely luminous, light dancing with shadows on Pap's pupils. "Darling," he says, "but peace doesn't last.")"I got us a warrant to rummage through Stasi archives," Ivan reveals, unlocking the door. "I also got myself voluntary work down at the public welfare sector, so it's time to steel myself against angry, hysterical civilians that I have to slough through ineffectual paperwork for."

Sasha grimaces. "And in the meantime," he replies, "I'll dig around and see what they'll try to hide before you waltz in and turn the place over."

"I'm jealous," Ivan retorts dryly. "Really. Your paperwork is so much more important than mine. Speaking of which, I just dug up some files on Feliks that you may want to look over. There can't be a paper trail so you'll have to memorise-"

"Just pass them to me; I'll filter out the details I need." Sasha halts Ivan by clutching on both his shoulders. "But you, sir, need to rest. You look like you hadn't slept in three days."

That's because Ivan hasn't. He's only managed a light doze between his shifts and bureaucratic management, and before that, there was the whole gruelling planning process to get to: sleep hasn't been on the top of Ivan's priorities in quite some while.

"I'll be fine," says Ivan, "back to the topic-"

Sasha grunts threateningly.

"Sasha, I can still mark you down for insubordination."

"Ivan," Sasha interrupts with an impression that can at best be described as disgruntled. "Sir. I'm saying this as a fellow human being, not as a concerned friend. You need to look in a mirror and then go to sleep."

Ivan winces. "That bad?"

"Worse," Sasha says. He clears his throat, all gruff and squared shoulders. "Trust me to look after the squad for you, sir."

"Don't say that - I may suspect a mutiny."

Sasha snorts. "I got my lone wolf reputation to uphold," he retorts, "can't go all mutinous and become a leader if I still want to allegedly hate everyone."

"My noble vassal, my gallant knight in shiny armour," Ivan teases, "guarding distant lands under my flag."

"Very funny," Sasha replies dryly. Then, sardonically, "My Liege."

Ivan laughs.

-

Ivan is not expecting Mama to look as though on the verge of collapse when he reaches home.

It seems Ivan is not getting his sleep after all.

"What happened?" He hurries to her, lets her clutch onto his arms. "Mama, mama, what's going on?"

"Natshechka is gone!" she wails. "She's run off!" Her eyes widen. "Do you think-"

"No, Mama," he answers too quickly. Both Pap and he have made sure that their work never follows them home, but now with Ira... he's not so sure anymore.

Mama seems to sense his distress, her nails digging deeper. Then, struggling to regain composure, she pulls herself up and flicks away the traces of hysteria off the edges of shining eyes. "Vanya, please find her."

"I will, Mama, I-" He helps her to a seat. "Have you called Pap?"

"Shortly, just before you arrived."

"Ok," says Ivan. "Ok, I'll need to go look for her now, Mama. I'll need to leave."

"Don't go," Mama beseeches helplessly. She's clawing onto his sleeves. "Stay with me."

"I need to leave to find her. I'll get-" Dima, but he's not here anymore, "-Tjotja Masha from next door to stay with you, alright? I think Pap will send some guards over too."

Mama's hands tighten before slowing folding onto her own lap. Ivan pours her a glass of water, first, before leaving the apartment, their own door left wide open, to knock on the neighbour's door. "Tjotja," he greets when Masha opens her door, and Masha is adequately shocked that Mama has been freaking out for the past hour without seeking help from the neighbours.

There is no way to explain trauma to a woman who has never suffered unadulterated desperation, but Masha is a sympathetic soul with a kindness never tested. "I will stay with her for however long she needs," Masha promises.

"Thank you, tjotja," says Ivan with more feeling than he thought himself capable.

He has contacts on the streets, petty delinquents and dangerous gangsters that owed Ivan favours for all the leeway he allowed them. ("You still owe me 37 favours, Kolyan," Ivan points out, earning him a scowl.)

He calls some of the off-duty guards that he can spare on the way to keep an eye out, and by the time he's gotten to the office, Roman has turned up in uniform. "Sir," he greets, a looseness in him that speaks of getting up too early too fast, "what do you need me to do?"

Find Natasha. "Is Sasha here?" 

Roman falters. "I can go get him."

"No, no: let him handle official business." Ivan pinches between his eyes. "Can you get the timetable and rearrange the shifts? Cover for me."

"Yeah, sir, of course." Roman chews on his lip, as though holding back words. When Ivan raises his eyebrows, Roman swallows. "I know now is not the time, sir," he says, "but this whole fiasco is making some of our newer members nervous." He wets his lips. "Especially Karl and Petto. They -" 

"You're right, now is not the time," Ivan interjects. "They'll be fine. See to the shifts."

He twists the key in before Roman can protest, and then the lock clicks and the mind swiftly processes and Ivan -

Ivan stops.

"My office is not locked," Ivan says, a strange calm settling over him. "Someone's been in. Who came to my office while I'm gone?"

"No one, sir," answers Roman, doubts colouring his voice, "maybe Sasha?"

"I really don't have time for this," Ivan murmurs, inching the door open carefully. When nothing happens, he pushes it further apart. "Wait here," he instructs Roman, and swiftly pulls out gloves from his pocket.

On his desk is a thick manila envelope.

Ivan holds his breath.

"Do you think it's a bomb," Ivan finally says, "or a message from Natasha?"

"What if it's from Feliks, sir?" Roman whispers.

Ivan stares at the envelope, then scans the room. He breathes deeply for one, two, ten seconds; then he goes to examine his drawers and cupboards. He's been searched, but the most important documents are still locked away. "Call for the forensics to take a look at it," he commands, mind forcibly blank, and Roman obeys.

-

"Goga," Ivan says, straightening up, and Goga with a Y enters the room with the missives.

"Sir," he salutes. 

(And here is the scene that no one sees: Ivan, slumped over his desk, just a while ago. He feels wrecked. He feels like shit, if said shit has been churned and pounded and then processed into fertiliser and sucked up by the greediest neediest plant to ever exist. 

Even if everything that matters is still kept under lock - even then, he knows that the brass now knows that there are some documents Ivan needs to turn up, secrets that Ivan has to account for. 

It could be worse: Ivan could have left personal pictures lying around, instead of only state-endorsed certificates and recognised achievements. That, then, is future leverage - damning, to let them know that he holds family so dear to his heart: Pap and sir being conflated. Ira actually meaning something to him.

His team and him being that close - especially the old fellows, those that plough through sludge and gritted through the hazing and backed Ivan through his brutal rise.

Gilbert, who's not just a friend, seen through every slight tilt of the head, the comfortable lean into each other's spaces, the unlying eyes that whisper subconsciously to one's instincts that it is something more.

Ivan's hands tremble, just a little. He clenches it.)

"Just leave these here," Ivan instructs. "I'll take a look at them later." After he finds Natasha. "I have a task for you, Goga: guard this office without letting anyone realise that you're watching. Can you do that?"

"Yessir," Goga Y answers stiffly.

There is something about Goga Y's tone that has Ivan looking twice. Ivan gives him a hard look; Goga Y barely reacts. Ivan is strangely reminded of a petulant child. "Goga," he begins, "take a seat."

Natasha will have to wait, Ivan decides anxiously, because above all he is also the leader, and a leader looks after his followers and takes note of jealousy within the ranks. "Goga," Ivan tries, "you've been with me for a long time: do you think Roman is ready for his promotion?"

"I don't see why not."

"Won't you think he needs more experience first?"

"Sir," Goga Y replies, testy, "if you are concerned about my feelings, then don't: I fully accept Roman's promotion."

And that's the opening Ivan needs. "You may accept it," says Ivan, "but that doesn't mean you're happy about it."

"I'm fine," Goga Y grits, "sir."

"No resentment?" Ivan baits. "No questions?"

"What will change if I say that I am upset, sir?" Goga Y snaps. "Will that get me a promotion?"

"No," Ivan answers slowly, "but it can get you an explanation."

"I don't need it. I know why you chose him. He's got the demeanour for it. I don't. I'm not, not charismatic enough." He pauses, suppressing a shudder, and Ivan waits. "You need someone to replace Dima, and Dima's best at people. I'm not someone like that - Roman is."

"I'm sorry," Ivan says, sincerely, "you're a very loyal man, Goga." The oldest friend that Ivan has, now that Dima is gone. Even Sasha, with his steadfast solidness, is someone he found in the latter half of national service, not the brother-in-arms that Dima have pulled into their circle from day one."But I have to think for the team, not just for myself."

"I know, and I don't fault you for it." Goga Y slaps both palms onto his knees. "If that is all, I'll be -"

"There is something else still bothering you," Ivan cuts in. "You're not leaving until you confess everything."

"There's nothing else, sir -"

"Goga."

"It's just -" Goga Y visibly swallows. "I just hate that everyone forgets I'm in the squad, first. Having two Gogas? Yeah, that's funny at first, because Dima makes everything funny, but he's gone now and I'm Goga Y. Fuck, what a mouthful." He makes to spit, until he recalls that he's in Ivan's office. 

Ivan hasn't thought about it like that, and he says so. "I didn't know," he admits. "I'm sorry that I hadn't notice. Hadn't notice it bothering you."

"I," Goga Y bites out uncomfortably, face flushed with humiliation, "I'm Goga first. I don't want to compromise. Egor -" Goga E, "- can pick another short name."

Ivan doesn't know what to say. "I'll talk to him."

"Yeah. Yeah, that'll be nice." Goga Y stands, clearing his throat. "Thank you, sir."

"It's the least I can do," says Ivan, and that's true, too, for a man like Goga Y.

-

The night is disgustingly chilly, and Ivan is even more disgustingly sweaty from all his running about. 

It is only the dramatic tendencies of fate, then, that Ivan will chance upon a glaring Natasha squatting at the doorsteps of a church while he is soaked in sweat, the church bells chiming the arrival of midnight, and Tolys staring up at Ivan with opaque eyes from beside Natasha.

"Fuck off," says Natasha.

"No will do," says Ivan, "you gave Mama a fright."

"Maybe she'll finally make an expression other than intense calm now," Natasha grumbles. Tolys frowns disapprovingly at her. "Well I'm sorry if I offend your virtuous sensibilities on filial piety."

"Natasha," says Ivan, tiredly, "is this about Ira?"

"Of course this is about Ira!" Natasha cries. "And how none of you fucking cares that she's gone."

"Don't be stupid - of course we do."

"It doesn't look like it!" Natasha yells. "The way you say it makes it sound like you're talking about the weather rather than my sister."

"Natasha-"

"No. I don't want to hear it."

"Natasha," Tolys soothes, "there is no point agitating yourself. Go inside and sit on the pews. I'll talk to him."

"And then you'll tell him to leave."

"I will," says Tolys, "now go inside."

Natasha stomping away will probably appear more effective if she hasn't done so with the grace of a ballerina; downsides of the sky-high heels she wears, Ivan thinks. With her gone, it is like the fall of the curtains - the scene has ended, the suspend-disbelief gone, and a strange chill settles over both of them.

"Tolys," Ivan greets.

Tolys ignores it. "Your own cousin," he accuses, eyes burning in the moonlight, shiny like the rosary he does not believe in that hangs around his neck.

Irony, Tolys is. Ivan never knows what to do with him.

"She broke the law," says Ivan simply, "and she got caught."

“But she's family, and yet you don't even appear the least upset." Tolys shakes his head. "I hate everything you stand for, do you know that?"

"You've said that before." 

"And I mean it each and every time," Tolys replies icily. "Is it any surprise that Natasha ran off?"

"No," Ivan admits, "but running off to a fake layman? That is a first." He runs his eyes up and down Tolys's attire. "So, is the church harbouring traitors now, or is this an infiltration?" He tilts his head in consideration. "Although I supposed this is an infiltration either way: a revolutionary into state-controlled institutions, and a pagan onto Christian grounds."

"What do you want?"

"I'm simply curious,"  says Ivan. "You weren't supposed to ever appear in front of me again. What are you trying to pull, befriending Natasha?"

"I'm not pulling anything; I just thought she needs a friend who isn't one of your crazy family."

"Ohh. So you like her." 

Tolys ignores that, too, the same way he ignores semantics in pursuit of his goals. It's a strength, Ivan thinks, a stubborn adaptability that makes Tolys so dangerous and Ivan so fond of him. "German churches are less susceptible to Soviet control," Tolys answers, almost a non-sequitur until Ivan remembers his earlier question. "I'm secure here. Will you take that away from me too?"

Ivan smiles. "You'll know soon enough." Then, quietly, "Will you let me pass?"

Because Ivan knows Tolys and Tolys knows Ivan, much as Ivan loathes to admit, he knows Tolys will relent. Family is family, for both of them, and Natasha's angry lashing out is not a solution to all the creaks in the system that Ivan stands for and Tolys seeks to tear down. Tolys will rather Natasha ignorant but safe, too, the same way Ivan shields her from the consequences of the world he knows.

"We both know Natasha needs to learn to move on," Ivan adds. Mutters, like an afterthought. "Ira never stood a chance the moment she's arrested, you know?"

There is a pregnant pause, something flickering in Tolys's eyes that Ivan doesn't want to examine. "Maybe," says Tolys, body language still stiff, but he's already moving aside. 

It's a truce, of sorts. "Thank you," Ivan whispers as he passes.

He's not sure, but he thinks he hears Tolys bites out, "I don't want your thanks."

Ivan ignores it; he's not sure anyway.

In the dim night, the moon glowing through the window, there is a curious solemnity about the night that makes even the lightest conversation more intimate and grave. The world slows to the milliseconds: quiet, precious.

Natasha sits facing the cross, visage turned towards the ceiling and eyes close, a pearly statue of a saint in repose. She shifts when Ivan approaches.

"I knew I shouldn't trust Tolys," Natasha grumbles. Ivan takes a seat on the pew right behind her, and Natasha shuffles so that her body is facing him, even though her eyes are cast determinedly away.

"You shouldn't," Ivan concurs cheerfully. "He's a revolutionary."

"What?"

"Don't worry, I won't arrest him," Ivan continues, "I let him live once, I can let him live again. But he owes me a life."

Natasha blinks. "Does Pap know?"

"Nope."

"He shouldn't know," she agrees, crossing both legs. The moment stews in quiet sanctitude, and then Natasha hugs both knees to her chest, ankles crossed. "Do you think he knows Ira?"

"Pretty sure they fight for different organisations."

"Oh." Natasha sounds almost disappointed. Ivan can't tell; she's getting so good at masking her emotions. She's becoming more and more like Mama. "But they have the same goals, don't they? They want the same ending."

"They want the system to fall," Ivan confirms, and Natasha flinches. "It's bold, isn't it? The system may have its fault, but it's better than the chaos during the wars. They are chancing anarchy in hopes of change."

"Is the present really that bad?" Natasha asks. "It's not ideal, but I thought Ira is content."

"Peace doesn't last," explains Ivan, and that's an answer, too.

"That's what Ira said." Natasha rests her forehead on her knees. "Do you ever think of Ira? Sometimes, it feels like you never do."

Ivan looks up, and the single cross hanging above the pulpit bears down on him as though it has a million eyes watching. This is why Ivan hates religion, he knows. It's the boogeyman that can't be quantified, surveillance taken to a transcendental level, unavoidable even with all his knowledge and tricks.

Is this why Tolys fight? Why Ira fight? Do they fear the boogeyman staring over their shoulders too? The thought is somewhat humbling, Ivan thinks, to have fear stem from something so childishly instinctive. "How do I not think of her," Ivan whispers. "She was like my sister."

"And yet you didn't save her."

"I couldn't," says Ivan.

"You didn't try," says Natasha. "In the end, she's just another sacrifice. I know you, Vanya. I know how you became captain - they tell me the stories." More quietly, with a tinge of shame, "Dima told me."

Of course he did. He's never good at lying to family, born or found. "It's not the same."

"How's it not?" Natasha counters. "How can the same man who rose three ranks within two years fail to do something?"

"I didn't say I didn't do anything, Natasha." Ivan rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "But no matter what I did, Ira's still gone."

The implications of the words hang in the air and laugh like sirens after a feast; Natasha's pupils dilate. "Vanya," she says, "what did you do?"

"Whatever is necessary," he answers. Natasha throws her head and lets out a bark that is half hysteria and half relief. "There are many ways to make someone disappear."

"You will kill us all," she says, her voice trembling frightfully close to a sob. Natasha's face flushes with alarmed shame; Ivan pulls her close, arms around her head, and kisses her hair. "Oof."

"I won't forget her," Ivan whispers. "Trust me.

"Come home now."

-

(An interlude:

"I feel like I'm losing you, you know," Gilbert once muttered, during those long, quiet nights when the world doesn't exist and Ira looks at Ivan like she's just realised she's looking at a stranger, and words spoken dissipates into the cold the moment they are spoken, chasing those wispy tendrils of Gilbert's smoking. "You've been avoiding me. I thought you're second-guessing whatever this is again."

Is this a date, or just hanging out, or does Ivan want an out? Is this something or anything or nothing that matters after all? It's a relationship in flux, a small boat in a storm out at sea, always on the verge of capsizing. "I want this to last."

"It doesn't fucking look like it," Gilbert snarls. He takes another drag. "I never know where I stand with you."

"You are standing right beside," Ivan answers, and Gilbert's head snaps towards him. "I mean it." He clears his throat. "It's always a date."

Gilbert drops his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. "It better be," he says.)

-

"Sir," Roman calls out, nervously hurrying along. "The results are back. They cleared the parcel: here." 

Ivan grabs the manila envelope. It's lost its ominous aura now that Natasha's back home and Ira's secret is out. "I'll look at it later," he assures, hurrying down. "Thanks Roma."

Roman blinks in confusion. "I'm German. I don't use short names."

"Sorry," Ivan replies without much thought and slips behind the corner.

He finds Pap's office and knocks on it with three sharp raps. "Sir," Ivan announces, and at Pap's assent, enters the room. 

Ivan grins. "Morning, Pap."

"Don't smile just yet," Pap says, and flicks a document across the table.

Ivan steps forward to pick it up, scanning through the pages. "Pap," he begins slowly, "are we having our budgets cut?"

Pap thins his lips. He is grim as he says, "We are preparing for other expenses."

"Won't I like to know." Ivan pushes the document back. "Should I start preparing a will and cherish every second I have left?"

"You'll know soon enough." Pap tucks the document away. "Viktor took a shine to you. He won't let you die."

"The Polkovnik?"

"Of course it's him. The other two - one is irrelevant, and the other is a snake." Pap frowns at him. "I'll invite Viktor over for dinner; don't waste the opportunity."

"Yessir."

"Now, about the heart of the matter." Pap pauses. "After Feliks and Natasha-" The phone rings. "Sorry, give me a moment."

Pap picks at the receiver. He nods, "Yes, certainly," and nods again. "I understand." Then, "Glory to the motherland, comrade," and he puts down the phone. "Your own personal surveillance is here,"  he informs gravely.

"What?" says Ivan, just as the door opens.

Pap stands up.

Ivan wisely turns and salutes, before stepping aside.

"Major Fyodor Pavlovich," Pap greets. Ivan's eye twitches. 

"Major Mikhail Sergeyevich," Fyodor Pavlovich returns. He looks at Ivan, and his scowl deepens with a certain ferocity that contradicts his literary namesake. "Is this the captain in-charge of the squad with the traitor?"

"Yes."

"Ivan Mikhailovich." The way Fyodor Pavlovich circles him makes Ivan think of a vulture. "How is progress? Have you checked with the Stasi?"

"Soon, sir." Ivan clears his throat. "It's currently under review -"

"What!" Fyodor Pavlovich's sneer of disgust can probably thicken permafrost. "What do you mean, it's not done yet?" 

"Um-"

"Sloppy. Don't think just because you keep your secrets out of sight, they'll be out of mind - I am here now." This is as explicit a threat without outright aggression. Ivan does not flinch. Ivan is also acutely aware that this is the same man who searched his office; another warning, a prelude. But now, that's not important. What's important is that Ivan's got to figure out who entered after him.

"Yes, I understand, sir."

"See to it as soon as possible," Fyodor Pavlovich commands. "You're dismissed, Ivan."

Fyodor Pavlovich says Ivan's name with a singular focus that confirms Ivan's suspicion; Ivan is doomed. He stoically salutes before exiting, and keeps his steps measured until he closes the door behind him.

He turns back forward only to come face-to-face with a passing Karl.

Karl startles.

Ivan smiles placidly.

"Sir," Karl says, eyes darting between the door and Ivan, "what's going on?"

"It is none of your concern," Ivan replies with a cheerfulness he does not feel, "get back to work."

Karl looks ready to bolt, but hesitates at the last moment. "Will," he begins haltingly, "will everything be alright, sir?"

(Roman, eager to step-up to his new role and yet still so green, so unsure, saying, "This is making our new members nervous, sir," says it with the kindness and sensitivity that Ivan always lacks when it comes to people.)

"It will be," Ivan promises. Karl blinks. "Don't worry. Now get to work."

Karl scurries off. Ivan turns back towards the door and makes a few faces at it, because Ivan is apparently not mature enough to skip the grimaces. That is, until he realises that this will be a perfect moment for Fyodor Pavlovich to stick his head out of that door and smugly accuse Ivan of misconduct.

He heads back to his office, dropping the unknown envelope beside some portfolios of new recruits and that one copy of Dostoyevsky. He'll have to keep that book off his desk; pity, it's one of his favourite books too. 

The tick of the clock is tediously loud. Ivan wonders if he can smash it and blame it on rusty nails. Maybe then he'll get one of those new digital prototypes. The world has changed: new technology and a new era, and even this decades-old system is changing to include new recruits for tech surveillance that Ivan can pick from.

He has narrowed it down to two - an Estonian and a Macedonian. It's weird, Ivan thinks, glancing at the two profiles staring mutely back at him. Everything's weird and everything's different: change, just the way that the party claims they like but in practice abhors. New, like Macedonia the nation, made from central planning and Soviet strategic decisions, a culture created from fragments and legalised with an outside hand. 

("It's not new new," Gilbert once said, about Germany. "The idea was already there centuries ago. The culture. The, the nationalism. You've heard of it."

"The 19th Century German Question?"

"Yeah, yeah that." Gilbert scratches his head. "I'm glad you know that; most don't bother. Germany as a united nation has existed for aeons: as the Fatherland, the German dualism between the Prussians and Austrians, as the Holy Roman Empire, or as the Germanies. But it's all fragmented until someone came along and gave everyone a shared cause through war.

“It's powerful, you know, having a common enemy. War is powerful. It makes those different groups think that they belong to the same side, 'handing-over of all power' to the small leading class as 'the condition of survival', and shit." Ivan side-eyes him, but lets it pass. "So that's unity enough for a nation. The rest of the identity-building part will work itself out. Tada, nations are made.")

Everything's new and everything's changed, and yet Ivan is here, in an old run-down office with a job that never changes, day after day after day, repetition at first comforting and now frustrating. 

Sure, he's captain, but then again, he is a man who's made captain within two years of being Lieutenant. Unheard of, ridiculously shady, and secretly, in the darkest of nights when Ivan can finally admit to himself, a mark of extreme restlessness. 

I hate my job, Ivan realises with a viciousness that startles himself. Fuck, I hate my job. And he's going to do this for the rest of his life, a trail of promotions and paperwork already laid out at his feet. He'll manage people, and he'll guard more important people, with all their bureaucracy and politicking that Ivan can debate about in his sleep - all the skills he's perfected. 

All the boring, tedious work he's perfected, for the rest of his life, where he will wait and wait and wait and stop things from happening. Fuck.

He needs to stop thinking, Ivan decides, because if he's going to do a career change, he won't be cleared for it now, so there's no point thinking. He makes an aborted motion for the files, hesitation making him grab the manila envelope instead. Tears it open carefully, in case he ever needs to reseal it.

Out tumbles certain classified documents and a single book.

Well, Ivan thinks, and perhaps this gift is a tip-off after all. 

The documents are a mix of folders that Ivan know are officially passed on by Feliks, and folders that he wasn't aware were lost. Both of these he put aside, mind rapidly rationalising implications. The book - a Zhukovsky verse translation of a novella titled Undine. This is interesting, if simply because it's a Romantic fairy tale, and that can only possibly imply an allegory, which means-

Three raps at the door. "Sir?" It's Sasha.

"Take a seat." Ivan pushes the book beside the folders. Sasha locks the door behind him. "Ah. So you found something from the Germans."

Sasha unfolds the papers tucked under his armpit. "A lot of things," he says, "look."

"So Feliks has notable activities with the Polish underground resistance," Ivan concludes slowly. "That's nothing new."

"No: it's this part." Sasha pulls the document back to circle out certain documents. "You remember Tolys?"

"No."

"Bullshit - of course you do. You used him to get that promotion," Sasha snaps. He moves on, tapping the paper. "Feliks is photographed together with someone who greatly resembles Tolys. That's case number one." That's also a new suspect to add to Ivan's list, but he doesn't voice it. Sasha shuffles the paper and lay out another. "Case two: before Feliks was caught, there were some worrying patterns with his routine - places he frequents. At first, I thought the street names were coded, but if you look at the big picture-"

"The streets connect to form a circle," Ivan finishes. "It's a zone."

"Yes. So I ran up the coordinates and try to figure out who's been following the same patterns. That was inconclusive. I also scouted out the center, but I only found a bus-stop. I checked the nearby buildings and bushes and the trash, but nothing. So I took down the bus numbers."

"That's good," Ivan allows, "go on."

"I relooked through my data again, and then decided to connect the locations in chronological order. And I found -" At this, Sasha pulls out a marked map. "Feliks has been repeatedly tracing the shape of a hexagram."

"Judaism?"

"...Maybe," Sasha decides, "but I'm thinking more of Balkan Orthodox churches."

"Fair point."

"So upon identifying it as a hexagram, things get more fun. Mathematically and algebraically, a few spots are signalled out." Sasha pauses, staring up at Ivan with a solemnity he does not expect. "Your little cousin is a regular at some of these spots, Ivan."

Ivan refuses to react. "What are you talking about?"

"This place, here." He taps on one of the blue crosses. "This is a café with a strong intelligentsia following. Natalya is a regular patron here too. Reports have her being 'sympathetic to their cause'." He points to another. "This place. A church - we all know German churches are problematic. And then this one. A sweets shop. She's said to be regularly buying chocolates for 'a friend', but based on what I do know about your family, you wouldn't be seeing six bags of chocolate and candies every week on your dining table."

"Look, Sasha." Ivan wets his lips. Sasha waits. "I know Natasha. No matter her personal feelings, she wouldn't dare do something like this. She's not a traitor."

"Even after Irina?"

"Especially after Ira."

"I won't normally take your word for it, but fortunately for her, she always had good conduct, and her school reports support it," Sasha assures, "so this is either a coincidence, or she's making some very poor friendship decisions, and you need to stop her."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

"It's nothing." Sasha thins his lips then, as though bracing himself. "Look, I know you would think I'm being paranoid-"

"Out with it, Sasha."

"There's another person I singled out." Sasha exhales, already looking tired. "It's Gilbert."

Ivan raises both eyebrows. "Are you sure it is not your own bias?"

Sasha's face hardens. "You chose me for this job for my professionalism," he snaps, "so you should know better." He continues without waiting for Ivan's response, "In southern Germany, the hexagram is also called the Bierstern or Brauerstern as a symbol of beer-tapping or the brewer's guild, and is commonly found as part of tavern anchors. Guess what is here -" A green mark this time, at the outermost range of the hexagram, "and who regularly visits it?"

"It can be another coincidence."

"You would think," Sasha replies, "but Gilbert apparently also regularly take all the bus numbers that branch out of the center. Always to the last stop, and always at least one bus route every week."

Ivan rubs at his own eyes. "He's a photographer and a journalist, Sasha. He's bound to frequent dubious places."

"Stop rationalising things away-"

"I am not-"

"You are being an apologist right now, your judgement is clouded, you -"

"Sasha, will you shut up!"

The yell is a surprise to even Ivan; the hush that follows seems too loud when the air is still reverberating. Somewhere outside, someone must be gossiping. Ivan inhales sharply. "We are talking about Feliks, aren't we?" Ivan reaches for the documents from the unnamed envelope, all the confidential information that is likely leaked. "I received what was possibly a tip-off two days ago. Inside was these documents and that book over there. I believe these are the information leaked, and-"

"A book? Is it that one? Do you think they hid a code in it or -" Sasha grabs it, frowning down at the cover. "Undine." He stares accusingly up at Ivan. "That dubious envelope contains Undine."

"I know what it looks like-"

"You call the envelope a tip-off yourself, Ivan," Sasha hisses, waving the novella. "And Undine? A book translated from German about a water sprite that transformed into a human? For fucking love? If this is not screaming the truth in your face, I don't know what else will."

"You're projecting."

"Projecting what?!" Sasha shouts. "Stop being stubborn, Ivan!"

"And you should stop overstepping your authority," Ivan replies coldly. "Undine is a very popular fairytale. Many people owned a copy of it."

"But this specific edition? I bet that if you search Gilbert's apartment," Sasha challenges, "you would find the exact same copy."

"He doesn't read Russian that well."

"Please, Ivan," Sasha says, "listen to yourself. Russian is a compulsory subject in schools, and Gilbert is good enough to go to university. Zhukovsky's translation?" He slams Undine down onto the table. "It won't be a problem for him." He straightens up. Salutes. "If that is all, I'll be dismissed."

Sasha slams the door after him. Ivan should really write him up for disrespect - he really should, at this point, but his head hurts and he's tired and his mind is bursting with so much thought that the only thing Ivan can do is to close his eyes and tilt his head back, and breathe in and out and in and out.

-

In the end, Ivan is not adamant without cause. He's not being unreasonable - he is not wilfully blind to Sasha's logic. He knows what it looks like, but Ivan, Ivan's captain. Ivan needs to consider beyond facts, sees the context, and what Ivan sees is a beautiful set-up.

It's obvious: only Sasha and he knows that Gilbert is codenamed Rusalka. Only two men - not any tip-off, not any other informant watching the Germans, much less one that knows that Sasha and Ivan know German files.

It's too easy; there has to be a troublemaker involved.

Who sent Undine? Who placed the parcel in his office, is the question - a man who is able to slip past security and into his office unnoticed. (But is it that hard? Ivan had slipped Gilbert among his guards before. Fyodor Petrovich has waltzed in and none of his guards paid attention, because everyone's so tired, everyone's so busy, it's so easy-) It must have been a series of fortunate coincidences, for the culprit to strike the same day that the brass searched Ivan's office during one of the busiest period of the year.

"Roman," Ivan begins when Roman is called over, "have you reviewed the surveillance footage?"

"Yessir. There was no one that stood out." There is a hesitation, then, a lapse that feels vaguely like shame at their negligence. "But there is this period of time when the footage's tampered."

Doubtlessly when Fyodor Petrovich decides to conduct his search. "Show them to me later." Ivan leans back in his chair. "What about tracing Feliks?"

"No sightings, sir. Whoever does it either slipped Feliks out already on the first night, or Feliks is in hiding somewhere."

Hopefully the latter, but Ivan will still review the security footage at the checkpoints later, just in case. "Thank you, Roman," Ivan dismisses. The clock strikes tik, tik, tik, almost accusing in their apathy, and Ivan catches himself. "Wait. Roman, can you cover for me again, today? I want the rest of the day off."

Roman looks like he painfully wants to groan. "Sir?"

"Do it yourself, or, or find someone who can do overtime today. I'll clear the tab of whoever takes over." Roman's face visibly lights up - oh money, the key to people’s heart. "Remember to assign someone to watch my office when I'm not around. And don't let Major Fyodor Petrovich pry."

Roman, predictably, snorts.

Ivan can't quite keep his lips from quirking. "Unfortunately, he's not a wastrel like his namesake, and will get me shipped off for re-education if he can help it, so make sure you do your job well." Ivan stands up. "Now then."

Roman salutes eagerly. "Trust me, sir," he says, "I won't betray your confidence in me."

Ivan smirks. "We'll see," he says, and is startled that he laughs when Roman puffs up his chest proudly like a frog.

-

There is a disconcerting moment of dysphoria as Ivan stands in Gilbert's room, the pervasive surveillance looped or tampered or awaiting future theft by (probably) Sasha from the archives, and Gilbert's lock brazenly picked without fear of curious eyes, now that Mdm Gras has moved away.

Maybe it's that it is the first time that he's alone here; maybe it's because it is the first time he visits uninvited and unwanted. Or maybe, it is that he is betraying Gilbert's trust just standing here, behaving like the party-state's favourite watchdog. 

(He remembers Ira, the fire burning in her eyes the way flames dance in Pap's.)

Ivan searches.

The Stasi has searched Gilbert before - Sasha has checked - and for them to not find anything means that anything conclusive must be hidden where they either dare not pry open or have not thought of searching.

Under the floorboards? Between the mattresses? In the walls? Tucked under the window sill? In all those locked drawers and cupboards that Ivan has never looked through? Where else is a good hiding spot in an apartment this bare, Ivan wonders, stepping warily across the floorboards, rolling his feet from heels to balls to toes. There is the sort of things that Gilbert may hide too to consider - this Ivan knows is true, that Gilbert must be hiding something. If not contraband, then banned books at least; he never watches his slips anymore after the first few times Ivan lets it slide.

Then Ivan catches sight of Gilbert's unlocked wardrobe, and he thinks, of course it's here, of course it's where it's hiding in plain sight. Opens it up, empties all of Gilbert's belongings onto the bed. Remove the board at the back to find another board. This, while dubious enough, is where the Stasi will stop - if they even go so far, but Ivan knows this trick. He digs his nails into the corners of the board - digs until the paper starts to peel - and Ivan tears the whole wallpaper down and off the board.

Carefully taped on the board, edges smoothed out, are documents and papers and photographs and letters - a whole wall of them. 

Ivan inhales deeply and removes all of them.

There will be more, Ivan thinks. Where are the books? There must be more than a single hiding spot, because Undine is innocuous but Orwell will get Gilbert arrested, yet Ivan sees none of them. At his office? Maybe? Ivan looks back across the room. There has to be more. 

He pushes the bed off the wall; pushes the bedstead away too. Tears the wallpaper down. Tears down the other one, and almost tried dragging the radiator off the walls by its nails before common sense got the better of him. He finds a cranny in the wall, a long crack in which Gilbert stuffs more letters and several books, one of which is Zhukovsky's Undine - specifically the 1912 A.F. Devriena edition - that seems newly shoved in. 

Ivan digs out a toolbox from one of Gilbert's drawers and finally removes the radiator from the wall. Hidden in the walls, behind the nails and amidst the wires, are Pasternak and Zamyatin and Grossman, with careful correspondence stuck between them. No Orwell nor Bulgakov, although what Ivan has already found is damning enough.

Ivan slumps onto the bed, staring at all the papers staring back at him, and begins to read.

-

Don’t ask, don’t think, don’t speak - keep the peace. That's the way of his parents, the lessons that Ivan learns to tuck into his heart for as long as he knows to speak; the values that his grandparents taught his parents, and his parents to him, so that they could become each other - they could be a family.

But now? Now Ivan does not know if he can turn back the time, keep mum about all these knowledge he doesn't know to ignore.

He can tidy up the room - he is tidying up the room, nailing back the radiator and sticking the papers back up, even if he hadn't been able to salvage the wallpaper, but - but the evidence is there, Sasha is right, the informant is right, the sun is setting and the streetlights glow like the stars above and don't they know that it's the end of the world?

La da dee da, la da dee da. Ivan closes his eyes and remembers to breathe. 

-

Gilbert startles when he sees Ivan sitting cross-legged on his bed, his wallpapers torn and his books (not all; Ivan replaced the books and their letters behind the radiator) scattered across the duvet.

"You searched me?!" Gilbert yells. His knuckles are white. 

Ivan puts down the letter he's reading. (R will be making a crossing on Thursday, one of the letters signed by L - no points for guessing who - says. Meet him at 3, at high noon.) "Do you want to tell me what are these?"

"Why are you asking the questions? You broke into my apartment and searched me."

Ivan ignores that. He places it down and holds out another document. It's an application to cross the border, half-filled. Gilbert tentatively takes it, face grim and pale as he scans through the paper. Is it fear? Panic? Rage? Ivan can't tell. "What else are you hiding?"

It's only a flicker, one that Gilbert catches, but Ivan sees the split-second glance at the lamp. Huh. An investigation for another day. "Nothing," Gilbert retorts. "What are you doing, searching me like a common fucking criminal?"

"Trying to prove myself wrong," Ivan answers. "You've been meeting illegals."

"It's part of my job," Gilbert defends. "We all need some contacts."

"Your contacts include meeting known traffickers?" 

"They're not traffickers!" Gilbert yells. When he realises what this implies, he takes a step back. "Is it wrong that I want to talk to my family without someone reading our correspondence or listening in to our conversation?"

"That depends." Ivan gets to his feet. Gilbert stands his ground, this time. "Does it include smuggling contraband to be spread in underground circles?" 

"I don't do that."

"Ah," Ivan guesses, "so it's only for personal use?"

"Ivan."

"Is that what it is?" Ivan says. He clears his throat. "You've been trying to emigrate all along?"

"No! I -" Gilbert wets his lips. He looks at Ivan like Ivan's holding a gun to his head. "I - no."

"Then what?" Ivan holds up another stack of papers. "Because none of these is suggesting anything good. Give me one good reason why I should still trust you after this."

"I did not use you-"

"It doesn't fucking look like it -"

"I took up the job, you idiot!" Gilbert tosses the paper back at him. He takes big strides across the room, until he's toe-to-toe with Ivan. He's heaving. "Fuck you, Ivan, you told me to stay. So I took up the offer. The permanent listing with the press." He inhales sharply. "I took it up."

"I thought you -"

"I thought so too," Gilbert confirms quietly. He deflates, all of a sudden, a gasp of air like a resigned soldier ready for the last hurrah. "But I promised you that I'll stay. So since I'm stuck here, I gotta think for myself too." He looks at Ivan. "I took up the job for you, asshole, so don't go throwing the blame on me. What else do you want from me?"

It is like the frantic weight of the last few days finally caught up with Ivan; the world spins, his lungs is suffocatingly compressed, and Ivan suddenly feels immeasurably tired. "A peace of mind," Ivan admits. "I don't know what you did, but what I have here, whether it's a meet between old friends or a courier between you and your family across the wall, or, or something more - these are too much, Gilbert," he continues quietly. "All I want to know is if I can trust you."  

Something too fast flashes across Gilbert's eyes. "I'm not using you, Ivan," he promises. "I'm not using us for anything."

Ivan rubs his temples. He walks away, around the room, and then back to the bed. "Ok," he says, sitting down, closing his eyes. "Ok. Just, give me a moment."

"I'm -" Gilbert swallows. "Fuck this. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." In and out, in and out, a dance a sequence a repetition, up and down of tides, the swell of pain, a drip of time, the thrum of his heart in his ears, past and future, in and out - "For searching you. Like this. Like a criminal."

"Hey." Gilbert awkwardly sits beside him, his satchel lowered gingerly at their feet. "You've got cause to be paranoid. And you're not wrong, although you're not right anyway. I just -" He nudges his shoulders against Ivan's. "Sorry." Ivan continues breathing. "Wait - shit, here. Let me -"

The satchel is tugged up again, the sound of rummaging, a quiet aha before Gilbert is elbowing him. "Here."

Ivan opens his eyes. It's a photograph of both of them; he barely remembers this one. "What's this," he says, and means, why now?

Gilbert seems to take it literally. "The picture of us at the Sanssouci, remember?" He scoots closer, flicking at the corners. "I made a copy but always forgot to pass one to you. So here." He traces Ivan's image then, a surprisingly tender motion that would have Ivan blushing if he isn't on the verge of throwing up. "You have sad eyes." Then, meeting Ivan's eyes so firmly that Ivan can't breathe, Ivan is choking, his whole life boiling down to Gilbert because this is the one good thing Ivan did, the one thing that Ivan hasn't torn apart like an entitled hatchling in selfish disregard for its shell, and yet Ivan just -

"Ivan," Gilbert mutters. "Are you ok?"

What a great question. Is Ivan ok? With his head killing him, pressure from the top, pressure from family, pressure from every other occurrence that threatens to sweep him off his feet and off a cliff - is Ivan ok? Beautiful question.

"Yes," he lies, "I'm ok, yes." Then, he realises Gilbert is waiting for his questions - playground etiquette, taking turns and all, and oh look, Ivan is maniacal. "You - are we ok?" 

"Yeah, I guess we are." Gilbert curls Ivan's fingers around the photograph. "As ok as we'll ever be." 

"That's good enough for me," says Ivan. 

-

Fyodor Petrovich's shadow looms over everyone when Ivan heads back to the office. 

"Dreary," Ivan comments, and Roman looks at him with a pained frown.

"I told him there was an emergency with your underground contacts," Roman whispers. "I'm not sure if he buys it." 

"Who knows." Ivan makes Roman stare him in the eye. "Do I look tired enough to you?" 

"Worse, sir: you look haunted."

"Then he'll buy it," Ivan decides. Beside them, Petto fidgets and pretends not to hear the conversation.

"Do you think everything's going to be fine, sir?" he asks. 

Anxiety is a modest but potent poison, and Ivan sees it, the fear tinting Petto's face green and his fingers cold, and Ivan says, "Don't concern yourself about it," and he says with confidence he doesn't feel, "I'll handle it," and then, just for a hint of normalcy, jokes, "Unless you have a guilty conscience?"

Petto's eyes widen comically. "No!"

"Then there is nothing to worry about," Ivan assures firmly. "Nothing will happen. Go do your assigned work."

"Sir," says Roman when Petto trots away. "Do you really think everything will be fine?"

"A little optimism never hurts anyone." Ivan turns away in clear dismissal. He takes a step. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Sir?"

"Is there anyone you can spare?" Ivan asks. Roman blinks. "Send them off to run some errands for me. I need to mail some films."

"Films?"

"Yes. Buy some new rolls, wrap them up, and mail them over - I'll write you the address in a while."

"Why - oh," Roman trails off, voice softened, and Ivan knows that he must be smiling.

"I made a promise," Ivan answers.

-

1) basically, ivan's reaction throughout this entire chapter was like holt from b99, except replace it with the word "GONE????!?!?!?!" 2) why goga y says that his name is a mouthful is because everyone is speaking in a mix of primarily german with a smattering of russian, and y in german is pronounced ypsilon. for more information, go here and here 3) i never want to write ever again. this chpt is unedited and will never be edited because i will probs rehaul like half of this and also i refuse to work through these 11k words again

[uglysuburbia]

s.a.d.

Seasonal affective depression will be the death of me The literal death I got to move from here So there's more of a reason that my friends don't talk to me Like hey you moved , people lose touch, that's life, sorry Instead of them just not giving a shit I'm sorry That y'all think it's my manic episode But y'all are perfect right? Not really Noooooooo lmao Are you kidding And again , I don't want to make everything about money But how the FUCK is it That you guys have never taken me anywhere without asking for gas money How I can count on two hands Since we were 16 That you guys paid for one of my meals or for my drinks What is this And then me always tucking $5 in between your car so you'll have gas money And how I've listened to my flaws Aka talking too much And needing too much attention And I quickly realized all cant handle them So I make productive decisions to grow To stall my flaws But I'm bipolar LAUGHING MY FUCKING ASS OFF But you guys are so perfect Mad at the world together Moping in yalls beds together Judging the world together "We are so much hotter than everybody else" together Kat you're doing just as shitty as us So don't give us lectures Kat you just need to lose weight So we can all be pale and skinny and cry into our beers every other fucking night Listen.. I watched my mom get slammed against the fucking wall with a refrigerator and held in a chokehold and beat repeatedly with a pan I act like I laugh about it I was 9 years old I watched her drunk AT FUCKING DISNEY WORLD scare the fuck out of my grandma Have you ever seen one of those snuff videos of an old woman getting beat up? It's the same thing. I was 11 I cried and wanted to come home but I guess my dad didn't want to waste money on a plane ticket bc fuck no I did not want to be at Disney world where they just carted off my mom to prison Oh yeah sure I laugh about it She wrote to me in prison saying she needed me and my sister to stay alive She gets out Back to the same old shit Meth heroin pills lol kind of boring now bc it's all we hear about in the news I spend the summer with her and have to experience her withdrawals Didn't know what they were She just scared me And then how selfish I was going on with my life freshman year And then I can't get hold of her at all And I didn't care Because I didn't know And then she fucking dies Y'all have heard this story and still think I'm just the luckiest girl in the world bc my dad loves me and helps out After my mom dies I get back with the worst human in the world The boy I lost my virginity to a year prior This boy cheated on me a few weeks after my mom died Gets me pregnant Cheats on me more Like I'm 14 And all I'm thinking now is Wow the girls getting their clitorises burned off in the Muslim region of Africa would kill for this life And why am I acting so entitled Nothing is fair Rest assured this shit goes through my mind when I'm whining about my shitty white first world life But back to my story The rest of high school is fine after we stop dating and he moves I mean getting bullied sucked But lmao you said I was the Bitch in high school Honestly I'm sorry to everyone I ever hurt And anyone I continue to hurt With my careless choice of words I can't tell if I believe in karma I want so hard to be edgy and say I'm atheist And that's how I was for so long Atheist Agnostic is such a pussy word Some *philosopher* you know, the kid you work with that knows so much about life, he told me that, essentially, everybody is agnostic Okay loser There I go again being rude Anyways I don't know if I believe in karma, but I used to believe in "pre-karma" but lmao Na Shit just happens And if you put yourself in a RISKY SITUATION That is your own fucking fault Get over it Like I let my ex drive my car after I cheated on him Lmao duh Doesn't excuse what I did But duh Yeah he stole it and pawned 2 laptops, 2 phones, 1 tablet I still bailed him out of jail I still did a lot And tbh HE DID NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME CHEATING ON HIM HE WAS USING ME THE WHOLE TIME lmao you two love to bring that up Oh yeah kat everyone saw it but you That wasn't even a real relationship Lol thank you guys So much I'm going to start writing down the toxic shit y'all say to me tbh I mean BUT IM BIPOLAR RIGHT NOTHING I SAY MATTERS ILL GET OVER IT ps YALL ARE PERFECT drug addict + alcoholic forever and ever I'm only like this cause of my dad right I love stream of thought It was cute when bukowski did it and he could write everything lowercase bc no spell checkers bukowskiiiii only famous because he was alive before the internet because now we have memes that make you feel uninteresting everybody does their own thing but really it's each other's thing there are no original concepts left in this world Anyways back to my privileged complaining I'm trying to think where I went wrong If I was in the wrong I really do try to look from an outside perspective Like What I did with my mom It's not like I did much I was 14 I was so weird about life and Mac was the worst person and idk for some reason I was more concerned with him And then idk It was Fucking high school I don't blame myself I just know I was selfish And I keep asking myself If everyone else is selfish? Towards me? Does that excuse my behavior ? Do I need to fix my moral code? Like there she was Running off with stupid fucking jimmy and I'm just like why why why????? Because he didn't love her Just like that horrible human being that got me pregnant never loved me And for real Whenever I found out Just a few months ago Everything he did Do you realize how mad I am? my mom is gone because she wasted her time with that fucking piece of shit And he's still alive After beating the shit out of her He's not in prison Who the fuck even I'm so tired I can talk about other things Like interviewers who attempt to explain to you in the interview why they probably won't hire you keeping you there for 30 minutes To talk and waste your time but I'm a nice person really so I don't say anything But idk that's literally why I'm upset right now maybe maybe that's the root of it all or maybe my friends just all want to hang out without me and it's totally fine I have to get past those first months of loneliness but I'm definitely doing my own thing Or who's own thing my eyes hurt from this blue light but I want to keep talking Maybe people follow me on here Haven't checked in a while But anyways I'm blocking everyone Because why are certain people this certain way have fun good riddance Cause when everyone says For good or for bad What happened to kat ?? Considering I'm blocking all of you You guys won't know Ever Stream of thought End of whatever this was Anger and sadness and insecurities in text