#//god this took so long to type up but we did it folks

[foldingfittedsheets]

My first job was working at a dog kennel. It was a boarding facility so folks could leave their animals while they went on vacation. I always loved animals so I was stoked to apply, but I was less thrilled with the reality.

The owner operated the kennel on her personal property and was a tyrannical micromanager. For instance: she could see three of the play pens from her front porch. If you had a dog that did not in fact want to play with you, a stranger, and would prefer to sit quietly getting petted she would come out onto her front porch and yell at you.

The correct procedure in her mind was to play fetch by yourself which was just throwing a ball, going to pick it up, and throwing it again, over and over, to entice the dog. I quickly learned to never pick those pens. Even the small gravel play pen behind the building by the dumpsters was a better bet. There may not have been grassy fields but the miasma of dog waste meant less getting yelled at.

My time there colored my perception of certain dogs. To this day I disdain retrievers. They can be fine on a case by case, and ultimately my dislike isn’t their fault. But 75% of them weren’t potty trained and had never walked on a leash. They also had a brain just big enough to fixate on a tennis ball which was really annoying when trying to manage toy buckets and they’d just body check you cause they saw green.

Poodles and Dobermans were top tier, generally extremely obedient on leash and with their manners. This certainly says more about the owners inclined to get certain types of dogs than the breed itself but I remain fond. Pitbulls were similarly well mannered.

The craziest motherfuckers were Shiba Inu’s. It says a lot that these dogs rarely ended up on my schedule, despite the high proportion we had, because snappy dogs always went to the leads. It really didn’t help that we didn’t leave collars on the dogs. (I think it was a safety thing? It was weird). We slipped collars over their heads, and the shibas fucking hated it. They’d scream their little heads off and fling themselves around on the leash like a wild animal.

Hands down the worst dog I had was a beagle though. I still remember that horrible little man. He had been checked by the vet and was fine but he acted like each time he put his foot down it was landing on shards of broken glass. So each step was a tiny tentative affair, mincing and ready for the ground to suddenly rise up against being walked on. And god save you if this animal felt the slightest pressure on his collar he would shriek with ear piercing hysteria that you were trying to murder him. He walked the shortest circuit we had and it took as long to finish as the longest circuit twice over. I watched his owners pick him up once and he just trotted happily like a normal fucking dog.

My favorite animal however was this little Pomeranian with one eye. Easily the most friendly and well behaved of the dogs, big or small, he was loving life and everything in it. He didn’t yap or snap he just sat politely to be leashed and trotted along perfectly. He dashed after toys and retrieved nicely. I still think about that little dude sometimes. He was the platonic ideal of a dog.

But really the best kind of dog, the one we all wanted but never got, was one with solid bowel movements we could actually pick up instead of kennel induced stress soup, which is what we got.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #I’d give thanks every time I could actually pick up a poop #the rule was you had to at least make an attempt #if you couldn’t you kicked dirt over it #dog kennel #dogs

[knightsickness]

For the saints ask, maybe the Blacks from the Dance era. Though I feel it would be more of a folk-saint type deal where it can be very controversial. I’ve wanted to do an ASOIAF book of saints as well, so I’ve thought about it quite a bit😄! The only one I could see being a canonized saint would be Jacaerys since he’s still fondly remembered and possibly Baela or Rhaena (though we don’t know much else about them). From the same era I can definitely see Helaena being canonized since she was probably the most beloved of Alicent’s children according to Fire and Blood. While I also picture Addam Velaryon being canonized too! Another more controversial one would probably be Daemon Blackfyre. I could picture him maybe being a folk-saint since he was described as ‘…he was the Warrior himself.’ Bloodraven as well, though due to how the common people viewed him, I’d say as another folk-saint (even more so since he seems much closer to the Old Gods than the Seven). Then finally (just to cut my rant short😅) I’d say Naerys, Aemon the Dargonknight, and Baelor the Blessed for obvious reasons😄. I could also see some saints being more ‘taboo’ in some regions of Westeros than others, even if canonized. I have a lot more but I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks about possible ASOIAF saints!

i think abt asoiaf saints a lot (i have a bunch of asoiaf/hotd saint posts from a while ago) + am happy other ppl r interested in them too ! saint cults and the canonisation process r part of my degree however i do think we disagree on some of the candidates

under a cut bc this is super long

my main criteria for identifying a potential saint are a) proximity to the seven (in the same way as proximity to life of christ - mostly seven pointed star + pre conquest semi-mythical figures, so hugor and his 44 children or ser galladon) and/or performance of miracles (e.g. baelor and the snakes) b) violent death preferably for the faith in some way (or martyrdom through self-denial or holy self-harm e.g. maegelle dying from the sickness she was tending or baelor’s fasting) c) pious enough for it to be noted in canon if a guy is remembered as ‘the devout’ he’s in d) noted for embodying one of the seven a famous mother a famous maiden a famous warrior e) opponent/victim of some major enemy of the faith because -> f) someone there is a political or economic benefit (especially to oldtown or the faith) to canonising. thomas becket was not spectacularly popular or saintly in life but died violently in a church because of a king the church already didn’t like his impossibly quick three year canonisation (usually took a decade at least) was incredibly politically charged. no candidate has to fit all of these one is enough to go on my maybe list and the more they fit the better

i also have a few things i think broadly exclude from formal canonisation so a) public affiliation with one of the other faiths (old gods rhollor etc) b) affiliation with witches/use of blood magic c) enjoying/having a lot of sex (esp if a woman) and d) this ones kicky and headcanon (but this is all headcanon) but formal brother-sister marriage. the faith never liked targ incest but puts up w it mainly bc of physical dragon intimidation i think they would still be twitchy about canonising incest saints. not saying there’s no targ saints but saying the ones i see for that mainly the ones that actively don’t do the targ incest thing baelor volcel-aemon septa rhaena magaelle. naerys an exception bc it was an established point in medieval virgin saint stories that rape did not count against your virtue + she was obviously a victim of an enemy of the faith famously super pious etc she ticks boxes

imo even though team black were broadly nicer and the kids remembered more fondly if you can give team green anything it’s that they branded themselves as the godly team against the godless team black heathens down to the ground they had that locked. even the green council debates pointedly moralising through a faith lens and esp considering its the firmly greenie oldtown making these calls i think its all easily spun that actually anything bad they ever did was in the name of the seven and trying to maintain andal tradition and keeping the realm out of rhaenyra’s sinful hands etc etc its all bullshit obviously. if the faith is feeling kicky enough to canonise people from the dance its not nice and liked but not especially pious jace its alicent saint of the mother struggling against godless incestuous targ traditions or gwayne hightower with a clear vested hightower interest or criston pious warrior died violently in a religiously charged conflict

baela and rhaena to me both also nice and well remembered they are generally popular political figures they just don’t have much to do with the faith i don’t think anyone’s attributing them theological significance. jace most likely of the strong boys to be a folk saint just bc he did more + still had the violent death but he just isn’t pointedly pious he’s in no way noted for faith which is fairly important even in small local cults. you don’t start to think this guy’s blood might do miracles bc he personally has god’s ear just on a whim

daemon blackfyre superr interesting candidate i think semi-canon folk saint considering we know people were taking pilgrimages to his death site to leave flowers. the fought like the warrior thing is fun bc its often restated clearly part of the narrative + v explicit seven link but maybe not formally canonised as the hightowers backed daeron. would like f&b2 to pass clearer judgement but folk saint daemon blackfyre really good. however do not see saint bloodraven even slightly sorry .. people did not love that guy they were scared of him he was infamously fucking a witch and is arguably the most famous old gods evil wizard westeros ever had. i’d buy saint aemond before saint brynden and aemond is NOT canonised

i think ur completely right abt the faith’s canon saints being controversial and not venerated everywhere - popularity of saints fluctuated based on usefulness of their patronage but also proximity to their major shrine points (usually birthplace or death site) bc being near a pilgrimage site was huge for the local economy, but also notable most medieval saints were from the classical world and so too far in the past to be very controversial. there is certainly a divide in real life between the historical life and the saint life of thomas becket, the standout new medieval saint, and the church could v much tell selectively

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #hotd #house of the dragon

[tac-bat]

Why I hate how the elders are treated and misinterpreted in a big chunk of the fandom. Rant!

Before we start

I mention fat phobia, and talk about how certain hair types and cultural clothing is described as "food" as a response to what some of the elders are perceived by alot of the fandom. These comments are not only directed at some elders, but many folks who have gotten representation from them are also affected these comments that many thrown around freely.

I’m at my breaking point and will get heated on an array of things but I don’t care

You're entitled to your own opinion, even if i heavily disagree with it. If you don't wanna read then just scroll, because I will rip apart the interpretations I talk about under the read more tag.

If you "don't see this happening" or believe this "doesn't happen" that doesn't mean it didn't happen, Tumblr isin't the only social media I have. I've dabbled in the official Discord, on Instagram, and god forbid Pinterest too, i've seen it all.

Let’s go in order, most issues I have a bone to pick with are more prevalent in some elders more than others.

Daleth

They’re just forgotten, really. Even with knowing what Isle looked like before. Flourishing even, populated seen in the switch trailer and even making an appearance in the Auroras' concert for runaways, they’re pretty much never talked about. And if they are they're just kinda only the butt of pee-paw jokes

Ayin

Their characterization is just confusing to me. I've seen a lot of them portrayed as happy-go-lucky. I’m not saying they can’t be happy, but from what I’ve seen, that’s all they are to a lot of folks in the fandom that I’ve seen. Which really confuses me because in their cutscene they wake up in a daze, notice us, are sort of like "ah, hi," and get straight to work. And they’re gentle, tipping the pot to the butterfly they make to enter. But then there's their orbit cutscene, where they look tired and a tad grouchy after being woken up—not mean, just tired. Again, nothing wrong with it, but it’s pretty one-dimensional to me to just see them as all that.

On a more bitter note, i've seen alot of "fat jokes" or straight up fatphobia in art and comments alike about their body, "Why are they so fat?" -a comment i've actually seen in the discord regarding Ayin. it's disgusting.

Teth

I have so much shit to say about them.

They're not mean simply because they took your light.

"But they snatched it away." Motherfucker, you're looking surface level. THINK!

Imagine you're dead, stuck in limbo for god knows how long, rotting away without anything to do. And you enjoy building and creating, and you were possibly the catalyst for the production of darkstone; your temple could be a goddamn factory for it! So much so that your anvil and hammer are in your constellation; they're a part of you. It’s what you love. And now that you're dead, with no light to fuel, no life to live, forced to sit there with broken shards, it'd bore you, drain you. And then a child appears with a flame; and for the first time in thousands of years, if not more, you can create, build, make something.

And you do.

You take the light without a second thought, regaining your strength and setting to work to help this child pass through your realm to the other elder. You just put all your focus on making the diamond, and when you finish and are proud of it, you send it up to the sky. You’ve created again. And in your orbit cutscene, you're much gentler, no longer bound to that soul-sucking abyss of nothing, so you honour the children who gave you light, your gift. Taking your time and presenting it to them with grace.

That’s what Teth does; that’s what they do. Yes, they seem like a more serious person, but they’re in no way mean. Did they take your light away? Yes. But putting yourself in their shoes for just a moment can make you understand why.

Samekh

I love the twins; I’m a fan of them, and I love Sah in particular with all my being. Which is why this one I will get very passionate about.

It baffles me how those two got the impression of being idiots who share a single brain cell. I don’t mind the jokes, but some people think that’s all they are. Which is just so wrong, like? How can you be so wrong? Would a ruler who built their fucking realm, Valley Triumph of all names, in a goddamn mountains? Would the most prosperous, decorated, and successful realm be led by idiots? Let me repeat that, They built the realm Valley of Triumph, in the fucking MOUNTIANS! Do you know how hard it is to make a city that size in those conditions? MOUNTAINS ARE FUCKING BRUTAL, WITH LESS OXYGEN, EVEN LESS WITH MASK'S, AND FOR HOW UNPREDICTABLE THE WEATHER IS ITS INSANE. Yet valley thrived! They thrived in those mountains, creating impossible architecture, floating buildings, and sports ranging from sliding to flying to manta racing.

Would idiots who share a brain cell accomplish that? No! It's incredible what the twins achieve—an amazing realm and, in my opinion, the capital of the sky. Eden, on the other hand, seems more like a sacred place where you ascend. Not to mention the Citadel? Hello??? It's fucking fantastic; it's incredible how they created such a beautiful realm in the mountains. They wanted races; they got them; they wanted enrichment; they have theatre, gondolas, even the coliseum, and races too.

The twins can be silly and serious, and they are shown to have the same rivalry as all siblings do. But they are not dumb idiots, not in the least.

Tsadi

Tsadi, like Ayins, is just confusing. I’m not too well versed, but I’ve seen iterations of them where they side with "Resh," who is really just a concept art character that has definitely changed from the base game in concept art. Even then, they've never officially appeared in-game; you just have those statues in Wasteland. And in those interpretations of seeing Resh as a full-fledged character, they’re seen as "evil," which I don’t agree with at all. I mention them because most of the time, Tsadi would side with Resh in the war to mant; them seeing Resh as pro-Darkstone in the war (the diamonds Teth makes, and that we light up, basically the main power source for sky), this would imply Tsadi destroyed their realm because they followed the "king." However, their sun shield is right there; based on the memories of wounded warriors, it shows that they were on the "sun side" of their friend. If they we're pro darkstone and was on the same side as the hypothetical "king" wouldn't they have a diamond shield?

"But the spear falling in warrior's and seeds memory could be them," would you expect Tsadi to attack their own realm, where civilians are in warrior memory? Attack their own PEOPLE for the reasons I stated above?

Lamed

Like most of the elders, they're pretty much forgotten. And frankly, I haven’t seen any character interpretations that stick out, so their section is more about how they’re mistreated. Mostly on their headscarf, which is confirmed to be based off a hijab by one of the devs, Ash. Who explains why we should be respectful about it.

And god, so many POC deal with shit already because their hair or cultural clothing are described as food or even worse which many hate. It's disheartening to see almost every joke or comparison refer to Lamed being an "Egg".

More stuff that piss me off

"Bad rulers"

I despise when folks call the elders "evil" or "bad rulers," not seeming to care for their people or even being seen as lazy, which baffles me. Have you watched the vault cutscene?

ALL OF THEM ARE ASSISTING ANCESTORS, AND EVERYONE IS LEADING, GUIDING, OR CREATING THINGS FOR THE ANCESTORS IN SOME WAY.

For fuck's sake, Flight Guide is Ayin's apprentice! Would someone who doesn't care about their people bother with an apprentice? Even a flight guide shares the same pattern on their pants as Ayin, and the same pattern on the flight post's. It's ridiculous how folks can spew the most disproven zero reading comprehension ever when this shit is right here.

And they're not saints; they made mistakes, of course, but I see them wanting the best for their people and the kingdom. But in the process, they made huge mistakes that piled up and spilled over, resulting in the kingdom's downfall. But it wasn’t done out of malice; they tried and messed up big time, but they weren't evil, not one bit.

How many treat Lamed and Teth when it comes to shipping

I can’t stop who you ship; as long as it’s not weird and illegal, it’s whatever for me. Some pairs are not for me because of personal preferences/ familial head cannons, but I do dabble in ships. Yet it’s more mellowed out to me just saying "cute" when I see fanart and moving on. But it irritates me that when Teth or Lamed are shipped with most people, they appear to be more submissive in some ways. I’m not saying they can’t be happy, but to me, in so much ship art, it seems like just because they look more feminine, they’re suddenly almost always a blushing or shy mess, or (and I hate to use this term) a tsundere for Teth in some other cases. But that’s completely my biased opinion.

Fucks sake in my earlier time in the fandom, I was a Lamed/Tsadi fan, but again, it’s mellowed out to me just seeing fanart and thinking it's cute and moving on if it comes naturally. But I didn’t make one meek and the other an alpha male or some dumb shit when I used to draw them as I've seen many do. I mention this because I can see some folks calling me hypocritical for pointing this out. But the reason it irritates me is when Teth or Lamed are paired with someone (who often appears to be masc) almost always seem out of character simply because they're with said person. Which rubs me the wrong way since they are usually almost always seen as fem presenting in many folks eyes. Again, I don't have an issue with the pairs themselves; it just irks me when only their personalities seem to be changed for the sake of it, where it's just out of character.

How some elders greatly overshadow others and leave them in the dust

I'm guilty of this, fucks sake most of my content is twin stuff. And while I can feed on alot of twin content here, many folks who are fans of any other elder's barely get crumbs, even less so with Daleth, Ayin, And Lamed who are pretty much left do the dust. Which I hate because i know why.

The reason, Twins and Teth and even Tsadi are so popular when they others aren't is because they're "conventionally attractive", all are fit, all are gorgeous and can be attractive to many. Yet so can the others be appreciated, yet they aren't. Again, i know a hypocrite because of my blog being mostly twin stuff, yet even blogs like mine that don't focus on a single elder barely draw Daleth, Ayin, and Lamed. It sucks ass.

I think that’s all. I’m just sick of how the elders are treated by everyone.

#i was talking with some friends how the elders are treated by the fandom and im just so done #so i wrote this #isle elder #prairie elder #forest elder #valley elders #valley twins #wasteland elder #vault elder #sky elders #sky cotl #skyblr #sky children of the light #sky: children of the light #sky: cotl #tac rambles #fatphobia #i think thats all

[laracrofted]

baby, i'm high octane (i)

synopsis: nora rogers has made a name for herself in the documentary world, but lately, she's been running on empty. and then, with impeccable timing, her aunt charlie calls about an eight-week project in san diego: a feature on naval aviation's newest and most elite squadron. she accepts.

pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc), minor bradley bradshaw x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors dni, explicit language, existential dread, alcohol consumption, slutty (affectionate) rooster, eventual smut in later chapters. set after the movie, so spoilers!

note: i have been working on this for many, many months, and every time i went back to edit it, it gained another 500 words, so i need to put it out in the world for my own sake. hope you enjoy!

read on AO3 | series post | next chapter

tagging: @theharddeck as usual, some mutuals (@anniesocsandgeneralstore @roleycoleyland), plus some folks who were nice about the halloween fic (@peakyrogers @t-nd-rfoot @double-j) let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

[ OPENING CRAWL ]

On March 3, 1969, the UNITED STATES NAVY established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the LOST ART OF AERIAL COMBAT and to ensure that the handful of men (and now women) who graduated were the BEST FIGHTER PILOTS IN THE WORLD. They succeeded.

The Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. You might know it better as TOP GUN.

The DAGGER SQUADRON is Naval Aviation’s newest and most elite squadron, exclusively made up of patch wearers. Here are their stories…

 [ CUE MUSIC AND FADE TO BLACK ] 

Back in California for less than 24 hours, and Nora already longs for the cobblestone streets and late night espressos and dear god, the accents of the past six months.

She is used to being on the move. Living out of an expertly packed suitcase, down to a science now. Never quite settling down.

Any documentary filmmaker worth their salt learns early to stay light on their feet, ready at a moment’s notice to get the call that takes them halfway around the globe and brings them the quote, unquote next great story. 

This…was a different sort of call.

“You want me to go to San Diego? Why?” 

It was well past midnight in France, which made it more or less dinner time on the other side of the Atlantic. For Charlie Blackwood, a perfectly acceptable time to ring her favorite niece, but Nora had to take the call out on the small balcony that was attached to her hotel room. 

Documentaries weren’t the same as Hollywood films with their wider box office appeal and George Clooney-type stars. Funding was measly in comparison, so Nora bunked with one of the producers for the Paris leg. She and Jenna had worked together before a couple years back, and while Nora knew her to be sugar sweet from dawn to dusk, the 30-year-old woman did not fuck around with her skincare routine and her eight hours. 

At this time of night on a non-weekend, Paris didn’t have much street noise, but Nora was still certain Charlie’s connection must’ve cut out somewhere in the middle of her sentence. Or maybe Nora had heard her wrong. 

International calls could be so fickle sometimes. Right?

“Let me get this straight. You’re asking if I want to leave Paris to go to San Diego…” Nora repeated slowly, leaving ample breathing room between each word, plenty of time for Charlie to cut in and correct her, “and meet with your ex-boyfriend about some Naval feature? We don’t even like him.” 

“You can call him Maverick,” Charlie replied evenly, “Everybody else does.” 

Nora pulled a face. “I’ll call him Pete. How’s that?” 

“He’ll definitely ask you to call him Maverick.” 

“And I’ll still call him Pete.” 

Charlie’s answering sigh was loud in her ear, even through the static, and Nora smiled down at her shoes. She took a careful step around the bite-sized table, stacked precariously full with her laptop, camera, and notepad, and planted her elbows on the railing. Metal creaked gently under her weight.

“Pete… will be fine,” Charlie relented, “and really, Pete is fine in my book. We’re just… two old acquaintances who wanted different things and were never going to work out in the long term. Besides, from what I hear, Penny Benjamin is his new sweetheart now. Well, new old sweetheart.”

She didn’t know who Penny Benjamin was. Must be a real saint to put up with him.

“Good. He won’t be knocking on your door the next time the Navy sends him to Washington to accept some medal then, right?” 

Nora was seventeen the last time Pete Mitchell came knocking on Charlie Blackwood’s door; around eighteen months after Nora’s mom died, making Charlie her legal guardian. He happened to be in town for some medal or some ceremony or some medal at some ceremony.

He left in the dead of night, out the window, and Charlie spent the next two weeks muttering curses about hotshot pilots and their charismatic bullshit.

“That was almost twelve years ago, Nora,” Charlie chided, much less fun Aunt Charlie and much more diplomatic Charlotte Blackwood, employed by the Pentagon in that moment. Nora rolled her eyes. 

“And anyway,” Charlie continued, not letting her get another word in, “Maverick isn’t the main contact. You’d only meet with him because All Hands…” A Naval magazine, print and digital, funding the project, as Charlie had explained in her initial one long sentence explanation before Nora had been distracted by the who and the where. “…wants to focus on his team. Everything is already approved. All you, my love, would need to do is get the golden seal from Cyclone to head it up. He’s the Air Boss over there.” 

“Now Cyclone is a name that I don’t know,” Nora said, then swiped out of the call to look up the definition of Air Boss. “Doesn’t sound like a name made up by a 13-year-old boy who plays too much Call of Duty. He a Captain too?”

“Vice Admiral. You can meet him on your first day,” and Nora’s lips parted in protest, to say that was a little presumptuous, given she hadn’t agreed to anything and was still half a world away working on something else. Charlie cut her off, right at the knees: “Don’t start with me. Your Paris job wraps in what… four, five days?

Three, but Nora didn’t correct her. 

“Normally, by now, I would be getting half a dozen calls every week from you, gushing about what you’ve got going on next; whatever place you’ll be jetting off to this time. This is the first time I’ve talked to you in at least two weeks,” Guilt pinged at her chest, along with a large helping of existential dread. “Have you even signed on to anything new?”

No. And Nora was doing jack shit to change that. 

Her producer was already signed on for a film that would start pre-production ten weeks from now. It was a big one, lots of people to bring on board, and Jenna – literal angel in human form Jenna offered to pass Nora’s name along for consideration. 

Nora still hadn’t given an answer. 

She worried the edge of her lip but said nothing, and Charlie must’ve taken that as encouragement enough to continue on. “It’ll be a short project. Gives you enough time to find something new that excites you. Just… go to North Island and talk to Cyclone. You need a break.” 

Late May breezed across her cheeks, smelling of the sweet pink and white cherry blossoms in bloom at a nearby park. She’d passed it nearly every day, afraid that the end of May would come and Nora wouldn’t ever see them in full bloom before having to leave. They bloomed two weeks ago, almost overnight, and Nora knew that June loomed and with it, the end of another project. 

All that remained was uncertainty. 

She did need a break, though Nora wasn’t sure that anyone other than her aunt and herself would consider working on another documentary to be a break. She couldn’t remember the last time Charlie had even taken a sick day. They were born and bred workaholics the both of them, and usually, Nora thrived on that.

But lately, Nora was so tired. 

Another project could be good for me, Nora thought. Fewer eyes and expectations, without the pressure of acclaim and awards and future grants and questions of what are you doing next tightening like a noose around her neck. It’d be a one and done. She could do that.

“Alright,” Nora said, feeling a little lighter from letting the words loose. That was reassuring, at least. “Start from the beginning. How’d you find out about it? Who are the subjects? What’s the goal?” 

Smile audible in her voice, Charlie started again, “Here is what I know…” 

They wrapped mid-week with the usual fanfare, and the next day, Nora was packed and on a plane back home to Southern California. 

Nora could already tell the Vice Admiral was ready to have the screening process over and done with. He barely asked her any questions before shaking her hand and foisting her onto Admiral Bates who ran her through the rules and regulations for getting onto the base and her accommodations. 

Since Nora was freelancing for a Naval magazine, the United States government would be putting her up for the duration of the project. God bless America. She did not want to find a last minute hotel room in San Diego in June. 

After obtaining a temporary ID card and a neat stack of manilla folders, probably filled with generously redacted background and service records, Nora is promptly deposited in the beachside parking lot of a steel-blue apartment building, faded from sun and brine, with a whole night ahead. 

Showering off the plane eats up a few minutes, as does replying to the check-in email that the magazine contact sent over this afternoon. They would talk more over the weekend and into next week. It was difficult to connect with the time difference, so Charlie had guided the initial communication. 

Calling Charlie drains another half hour, while Nora hums in all the right places and fights to keep her eyes open, chiming in with the occasional observation about North Island and tidbit about the conversation with Cyclone and Warlock. 

“What’d you think of Cyclone?”

She stares at the blank wall across from the bed – all that wide open space and not an art print in sight – and thinks back. 

Cyclone leveled an impassive stare at her over the folder that held her portfolio – apparently faxed over by Charlie before Nora had even agreed to come – and said, “This is an unusual circumstance. Most of the nepotism hires that come across my desk are aiming higher than an eight week contractor.” 

She’d bitten her cheek to hold back a laugh, and Admiral Bates let out a suspiciously timed cough, hiding his mouth behind a balled fist. 

“He was kind of hot,” Nora admits, then has to hold the phone away from her ear to not be deafened by Charlie’s laughter. “What? Just because I lack a father figure, I’m not allowed to appreciate an older man every now and then?” 

“Sure, but I think I’ll draw the line at Maverick.” 

Nora does her best projectile vomit noise, and Charlie laughs so hard that Mr. Charlotte Blackwood – as Nora affectionately likes to call Charlie’s husband John, who always accepted it with a congenial smile that only made her like him more – shouts from another room, wanting to know what exactly is so hilarious. 

She won’t see Pete Mitchell until Monday, and after promising to tell him that Charlie says hello and sends her best to him and this Penny Benjamin woman, Nora hangs up the phone. 

It’s barely 8 PM, and Nora wants nothing more than to crawl under the covers and leech the travel from her bones, but the San Diego sun is stubborn and high on the horizon. She knows her own body well enough to know that an 8 PM bedtime makes for a 3 AM bout of insomnia. 

Boredom finds Nora perched on a cushioned barstool, a fresh t-shirt on her torso and a new coat of red lipstick on her lips, in the crowded Hard Deck bar. Sipping on an Old Fashioned, chatting with none other than Penny Benjamin. 

“Charlie Blackwood,” Penny Benjamin repeats, a surprised but amiable smile on her face. A brown leather jacket sits over her slender shoulders, the same warm shade as her hair, and Nora spots a United States Navy patch on the sleeve. “God, I haven’t seen Charlie in… 30 years now. She may have told you, but I met her once or twice at Top Gun, back before my old man, the great Admiral Benjamin, retired. How’s she doing?” 

“She’s good,” Nora offers, adding as an afterthought, just in case Penny Benjamin was the jealous type. “Married now.” 

Penny sends her a sidelong look, narrow-eyed, that must make the fresh-faced Top Gun hopefuls cower in their regulation boots. Behind the glass, Nora’s lips curve into an amused smirk. 

Things must be going well. Good for them.

Nora swirls the amber liquid, fishing out an extra cherry from the bottom and popping it into her mouth. “She sends her well wishes. She’d probably want me to give you a hug or something, but I think I’d fall on my ass trying to lean over the counter. Consider yourself lucky.” 

“You can give my hug to Pete, but only if I’m there to witness.” 

 “Distinguished Captain Mitchell isn’t much of a hugger? I’m shocked.” 

“Are you kidding?” Penny fills another pint glass for a patron a few barstools down, sliding it down the counter and looking back at Nora with an amused twinkle. “He’ll turn into a robot. He won’t know how to react. Make sure to ask one of the boys to record it for you so I can blackmail him with it forever.”  

Imagining it, Nora is still smiling when Penny’s name calls her to the other side of the counter. Leaving her alone to people-watch and observe the establishment with a filmmaker’s eye. 

Miniature planes hang from the ceiling, swaying in the breeze that cuts in with the opening and closing of the door. A wood island separates one side of the bar from the other, stacked high with an assortment of colorful glass bottles that gleam in the fading sunlight. 

A golden wash spills through the back windows, and the Hard Deck is filling up fast with civilians, veterans, and servicemen alike. They’re the easiest to spot, wearing  their service khakis and all. 

Music swells through the bar, and Nora spies a jukebox in the corner, drawing a line five deep, all waiting for their turn to select the next 1980s classic. She recognizes the current song from her white dad music playlist. 

‘Take It Easy’ by Eagles. Track four, baby. 

Over her shoulder, a tight-knit crowd surrounds the pool table. They throw jeers and jokes at each other with familiarity, and Nora watches them for a moment too long, dragging her tired eyes away when one of them starts to turn in her direction. 

She checks her phone, under the bar, not on top, of course, unless Nora wants to buy the whole room a round. A little after 8:30 now. She just needs a kill another hour or so, and then, that’ll feel like an acceptable time to crawl into bed and sleep for the next ten hours. 

Fingers dancing through her tote, Nora fishes out her favorite journal, setting it down flat on the least sticky surface she can find. Leather-bound, stuffed to the brim with colorful sticky notes and touch-creased photographs. Further searches reveal that Nora left her pens back at the apartment, somewhere in one of those suitcases that had gotten packed and unpacked in an attempt to burn time. 

“Do you have a spare pen?” 

A blue pen rolls over to her waiting hands as Penny passes with a wink and dashes down the counter to fill a round of drinks. She has that endless energy that Nora needs a few coffees to achieve. 

Thinking it makes Nora’s lids feel even heavier. 

Tracks switch again on the jukebox, and Nora hums along to the new song, another winning installment on her white dad music playlist. Has the United States Navy hacked her Spotify account or something? She cuts through the pages like a surfboard through an ocean wave to find a fresh page, and Nora spins the pen between manicured fingers, mouthing the lyrics to ‘Dancing in the Dark’ under her breath. 

Her brain is a firework show, thoughts shooting off high and fast, bursting into a million different directions. Loud and colorful. She can be like this on her best day, but a severe lack of sleep – or in this case, horrible jet lag – makes it a million times worse. 

A long blank stare at the page later, Nora manages to piece a few words together into what might resemble a coherent thought, with emphasis on the word might here.

And right as Nora clicks the pen and presses it down on the page, denting the lined paper beneath the blue ink, an empty pint glass is set down on the counter, a few inches from her left hand. A whiff of cologne fills her nostrils, a little overbearing but still pleasant. 

Fingers drum against the wood, in time with the music, and determined, despite the distraction, to pin down the semi-coherent thoughts that are now fleeing like scattered mice, Nora reaches for her drink and finds it empty save for half-melted ice and an orange rind. 

“Buy you another one, sweetheart?” 

She looks up, in spite of herself, and damn. 

He is handsome as hell, heart-aching levels of handsome, a little like looking into the sun. Like a goddamn movie star, all broad shoulders and perfect, slicked back blonde hair, and easy confidence that fits him like a well-worn shirt. 

He plucks the rocks glass easily from her stunned grip, holding it between two fingers, a loose, almost careless hold, and damn her to hell, Nora swallows against her suddenly dry mouth. 

She really needs to go to bed. Among other things. 

Green eyes study the contents of the glass, then flick back over to her, and Nora is hit with the full force of a mega-watt smile. 

Dimples out. Ready to film a tooth-whitener commercial. 

“Bourbon girl? I’m impressed.” 

“Why?” Nora drawls, and hell, the word comes out of her mouth a little rough. Get it together. Put away the bedroom voice. She clears the cobwebs from her throat. “Because I look like I’d order a cosmopolitan in a dive bar and act surprised when I’m given a vodka cran?” 

He seems to take look as an invitation, dragging his eyes over the soft t-shirt, a little damp over the shoulders from her shower, and the faded blue jeans that hang loosely from her legs, an old pair with a rip in the knee big enough that Nora might soon need to give them a second life as shorts. 

His appraisal stalls out on her blood-red lips, tracing the shape of them, getting the lay of the land. And then, slowly rises back to meet her gaze. All the while, smiling like a pageant contestant. 

“Name’s Hangman.”

Record scratch. He’s a pilot.

Goddamn pilots. 

“That doesn’t sound like a name,” Nora drawls back, matching his conceited-ass smile with her freshly chilled ice-cold bitch smirk. “And I can buy my own drinks.” 

Rudeness isn’t her drug of choice, but Nora clocks him as a tough one. A swift one-two ego punch should do the trick, rejecting his advance and mocking his precious call sign in one fell swoop. Aviators toss those around more than their actual names.

He’ll leave now.

She stares him down, and Mr. Pilot stares right back, eyes amused and sparkling in the twinkling lights dancing right above the bar, tucked between the steins. 

Any minute now.

He doesn’t move an inch, and if possible, the Barbie and Ken smile grows even wider on his perfect face. He’s so hot, Nora kinda wants to break his nose just to make something on his face crooked. 

“It’s my call sign.” 

She is so tired. It trips off her tongue, almost out of habit: “Well, I’m not calling you Hangman. What’s your actual name?” 

Why…. Why would those words come out of her mouth, instead of the ‘Get lost, Malibu Barbie’ that was locked and loaded in the back of her mind? Damn damn damn. 

She doesn’t fool around with pilots, not after Charlie’s history with Pete Mitchell and her own Air Force sperm donor who couldn’t be bothered to call more than once a year. And especially not, when Nora will be working on the base for the next two months. What if Nora ran into him?

The edge of Hangman’s mouth twitches into a slow, dangerous smile, and Nora catches a flash of his canines, ultra-white like the rest of his teeth. 

She fiddles with the pen cap, rolling and bending it between her pointer finger and thumb. Waits impatiently for him to give her an answer that gives her the opening needed to send him packing, back to the pool table to make better use of his bulging arm muscles over there. 

Some co-ed girls push behind him, stumbling and giggling to each other, and in stepping out of their way, Hangman inches forward into her space. Breath warm at her nape, stirring the pale strands loose at her cheekbones, too short to remain tucked behind her ears without a fight.

Clever fingers capture one and brush it back into place, softly brushing against the side of her neck. His words are a low, hot rumble against the shell of her ear: “It’s Jake. Lieutenant Jake Seresin.” 

Oh, Nora thinks, warm all over in a way that has nothing to do with the sticky heat of the night. Oh shit. 

She has the borrowed pen in a chokehold, gripping it hard enough to redden her fingertips, and Hangman – now Jake notices. His grin widens, and Nora forces herself to loosen the hold, to let the blood flow back into her hands, to regain some of her composure.

“Let me buy you a drink.” 

Not a question this time, so Nora doesn’t need to give him a yes or no. 

He’s offered a loophole, one around her own better judgment, without even realizing it. She can just drop her shoulders with casual indifference, as if to say if you insist, and turn back to her journal. Pretend not to feel his intent, most definitely intrigued gaze on the side of her face. 

It’s a free drink, and Nora’s hardly encouraging him. What is the harm, really?

A smug smile crosses his face when Penny comes over, an unreadable expression on her face, and Nora doesn’t stop him from ordering another Old Fashioned. He’s close enough now to feel the evening heat radiating from his tan skin, exposed where the sleeves of his t-shirt cut across his biceps. 

Nora is not enabling anything. Not at all. 

Rooster is on the last swallow of his beer when Phoenix looks over his shoulder and groans, a dramatic and drawn-out sound that would’ve made her an excellent soap opera star in a different life. He barely has time to snort before Bob appears at her side, a look of sudden concern on his clean-shaven face.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re never getting our next round.” Phoenix rigidly jerks her head in the direction that Hangman disappeared a few minutes ago. Too long ago, now that Rooster thinks about it. “Bagman got distracted.” 

This is enough to bring the rest of the Daggers to attention. They round the pool table one by one, incited by the suggestion that Hangman might get out of buying them drinks. 

“Distracted,” Payback lets out a sardonic snort. He leans on the pool cue like a walking stick, towering over the rest of them with Rooster seated. “He probably forgot to order the round. Idiot.” 

“I don’t blame him,” Fanboy drawls, looking to the center of the room, waggling his brows. “I think I’d let her distract me anytime, anywhere. Is that not the hottest woman you’ve ever seen step foot in this bar?” His eyes go wide, almost panicked, darting to the only woman in their ranks. “No offense, Phoenix.” 

Phoenix shows no sign of hearing him, and Rooster and Payback share a disbelieving look over the WSO’s head, snickering underneath their amazing mustaches. Lucky son of a bitch. 

“Poor girl,” Phoenix muses with a slow shake of her head, sending her loose curls cascading over her shoulders. “Someone needs to launch a rescue mission. He’s practically drooling into her glass. And…” Something changes in her expression. “Did I hit my head in the cockpit this afternoon and not remember it? Does that girl look familiar to anyone else?” 

“Never seen her before in my life,” Payback says, slapping his WSO on the shoulder, which seems to give Fanboy the confidence to add in, “I’d love to get further acquainted though. Think I can swoop in and steal her from Hangman?”

Phoenix has already pulled out her phone, paying no attention to the round of low chuckles and smirks that are shared between the men. Her fingers skate across the screen, faster than an F-18 on descent, and Rooster looks over his shoulder to get in on the joke. 

It takes him all of two seconds to find them, mostly because Hangman has just flashed that thousand-watt smile that could probably blind an enemy dogfighter. 

He leans against the counter, the cocky bastard, with a pint glass in his hand – one that should be in all of their hands right now. Not an empty glass filled with an inch of foam. Looking down at the barstool next to him, or more specifically, at the woman perched there.

Slender, blonde, dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, and most definitely a civilian. He can’t accurately weigh in on Fanboy’s assessment, at least until Rooster can catch a glimpse of her face. 

“I knew it!” 

All of them startle when Phoenix makes the announcement and looks up from her phone with the victorious expression of someone who’d just shot down Maverick in a dogfight. She waves her phone in front of their faces, too fast for him to make out more than a blur of words and pictures. 

“I fucking knew it. I follow her on Instagram.” And the wide smile on Phoenix’s face be described as nothing short of gleeful gloating. She cackles to herself, leaning over to show the screen to Bob again. “And you little shits made fun of me for loving documentaries so much. Who’s laughing now?”

Documentaries…. 

Recognition tugs at the edge of his drunken memory.

“Her name is – ” 

She turns, and Rooster sees her face. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Rooster calls out, and Phoenix and Bob startle at the sudden change in volume, brown and blue eyes shooting up from the phone like Rooster blared an airhorn between their heads. He ignores them. “Am I seeing things, or Nora fucking Rogers, is that you?” 

Everyone in a 10-foot radius looks at him, exchanging looks and eye rolls, dismissing him as belligerent but harmless, but Rooster ignores them, keeping his eyes locked on one woman. 

Cornflower blue eyes survey the crowded room, sifting through the noise to place the voice, and finally, land on him. Surprise softens her features. And as the jukebox switches tracks, another crooning 1980s love song pouring through the speakers, Nora Rogers smiles at him for the first time in half a decade.

“Bradley Bradshaw, from beyond the grave.” 

It really is him. This… six-foot-something hallucination with tree-trunk arms and a ridiculous porn star mustache and a familiar gleam in his eyes that spelled trouble. Did Charlie know Bradley would be here? She might’ve mentioned that. Nora looks up at him… and up again, because goddamn, were all Naval aviators so fucking tall?

An awkward beat passes where Bradley and Nora seem to grapple for the right greeting for a person you hadn’t seen in years and hadn’t seen all that often in the first place and mutually, come up empty-handed. 

They’d met all of four or five times over the years, courtesy of the long-distance friendship that blossomed between Aunt Charlie and his mother Carole after Pete had left his Top Gun instructor post and shipped out again. She could use the extra friend without her husband, Charlie had said. 

And then, Nora got older and became Charlie’s backup plus one to some Naval Aviation functions, usually thrown by Top Gun graduates who passed through when Charlie was a civilian instructor. She’d see him there every once in a while, all grown up and pursuing his dreams of becoming a pilot. 

And then, Nora thinks absently, there was that one time…

She should’ve remembered that Bradley Bradshaw is a hugger. 

Making up his mind for them both, Bradley reaches out and tugs her against his chest. And for one moment, Nora can feel the muscled strength of his arms banded around her torso, the firmness of his chest underneath the open Hawaiian shirt and incredibly thin white tank; can practically make out the ridges of his abs through the fabric. 

It is barely longer than a brief squeeze, but as Nora pulls back, an unnatural but not entirely unexpected lightness buzzes in her chest. She is quick to blame it on the lack of sleep and dark liquor coursing through her veins.

She is feeling all kinds of strange tonight. 

Like earlier, when Jake Seresin handed over the Old Fashioned, an unshakable curl to his lips, and as Nora took a delicate sip, watched the movement with half-lidded eyes; the muscles that worked in her throat. Like Jake wanted nothing more than to follow the path with his mouth, and Nora could picture him sprawled across her bed, clear as a snapshot: chests heaving, sweat dripping, tongue dragging across her pulse point, his large hand a collar around her throat. 

Right then. Silly little thoughts like that. 

Nora clears her throat, tugging at the neckline of her tee, and almost unbidden, like a magnetic pull, her gaze wanders back to him, standing in nearly the exact same spot at the bar, collecting a round of drinks. He apparently owed the group for the last pool game or something.

She can’t help but notice a new tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a few minutes ago. She can tell, having been slightly too preoccupied with the strong line of his shoulders over at the bar for her own liking. He’d seemed so casual at the bar, so relaxed. 

Is Jake mad? At Bradley, for interrupting them? At Nora, for coming over here?

These seem to be his friends. He was playing pool with them after all, up until Jake approached her at the bar. And Nora was hardly even talking to him at the bar, scribbling in her notebook and entertaining the occasional question as Jake seemed content to stand at her shoulder and watch. 

“What’s your name?” 

“What’re you doing in Fightertown?” 

“What do you do for work?” 

“A filmmaker? Like Quentin Tarantino?” 

And Nora had been incised enough to set her pen down and stare him down. “I make documentaries, and if I did make movies, I’d at least like to be compared to someone decent. Not some piece-of-shit asshole director.”

His brows rose, but Jake looked unperturbed. “Like who?” 

“Like… I don’t know, Nora Ephron or Greta Gerwig. You probably don’t even know who Nora Ephron is, do you? Do you also think Fight Club is a love letter to toxic masculinity?” 

He exhaled a laugh, brows still halfway to his hairline, and opened his mouth to reply when Bradley called her name, and Nora was gone before Jake could get another word in.

Still. Seeing him look so… Tense? Dejected? Annoyed?

It makes her feel off-kilter. 

Maybe Jake just wanted to chat her up at the bar and go back to his friends, not to be bothered for the rest of the night. She’s ruined that plan by coming over here, invited or not. It shouldn’t matter. She can’t stop herself from wondering anyway. God. Why do you even care?

She doesn’t know him, and after tonight, she’ll likely never see him again. 

He starts to turn, and Nora slingshots her gaze back to Bradley, refusing to be caught watching him, who is looking down – and down – with a rose-colored hue to his face. A pair of aviator sunglasses sit crookedly over his eyes, showing her reflection. 

She takes a half-step back to not have to crane her neck so much to meet his eyes. Raises her voice to be heard over the music, much closer to the jukebox now. “What are you doing here? I might be out of the loop, but didn’t you already graduate from Top Gun? Like many, many years ago?” 

“She’s calling you old, Rooster,” Jake cuts in, reappearing and passing out the few bottles and glasses around the circle. Seven total, including another Old Fashioned that Nora probably doesn’t need but still accepts. He shoots her a wink over the glass. “You gonna take that, man?” 

“I was not, you jackass,” Nora shoots back, the second Old Fashioned blurring the lines between her brain and her mouth.

Jake settles against the pool table in a casual stance, arms crossed across his chest, biceps bulging. She must’ve imagined the earlier tension. He seems fine now, watching her with a smirk.

“I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew here. Answer the question, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley’s laugh is a little loud, a little unsteady. One look at the nearest hightop table, littered with empty beer bottles and pint glasses, tells her everything she needs to know. 

Bradley Bradshaw is tipsy. Color shines high in his cheeks.

“‘What am I doing here?’ You’re on a Naval base, darling, which makes me,” Bradley pushes the glasses up the bridge of his nose and with the hand holding the new beer bottle, gestures to his own chest. Covered in that shirt that is… not hiding much, “the law around these parts. I ask the questions around here.” A dark-haired woman rolls her eyes behind his back. “What the hell are you doing here, civilian? You following me around now?” 

Oh wow. He’s so drunk. 

“In your dreams.”

She doesn’t like the look on his face; doesn’t trust what drunk Bradley might spit out next in a public setting, so Nora brings them back to more even ground, summarizing everything with a short and sweet, “I’m doing Charlie a favor” that is more or less true. Gives him the barest rundown of her past 48 hours, all too aware of the four Naval aviators standing within earshot, shooting her curious glances and waiting for an introduction. 

“It’s your turn now.” 

“We were here on a special detachment. Eight months ago. Top secret shit,” Bradley offers in an oh so serious tone. All of his concentration seems to go towards hiding a smile. It’s given away by the obvious twitch of his mustache, dampening the effect slightly. “I can’t talk about it, or Cyclone will shoot me out of an airlock.” 

“We’re on the ground, Rooster.” 

“Semantics, Payback. He will take me up into the atmosphere in an F-18 just to shoot me into space. And then, probably like, come down here and have one black coffee in victory. Happy now?” 

Nora offers, “I actually have some security clearance.”

Some was probably an exaggeration. Charlie set her up with a director who needed an assistant, back when Nora really needed another project under her belt to build her portfolio. Lightly sensitive, all for internal use, of course.

“No shit. Aren’t you special?” 

Drenched in sarcasm, but Bradshaw is looking at her over the edge of his pint glass with a hint of something else in his brown eyes.

Nope. No. Not going there tonight. 

“Now, Bradshaw.” She delivers a light slap to his chest, and Bradley looks down, amused. It’s a little more familiar than Nora was going for. She probably didn’t need another drink. “When are you going to stop being rude and introduce me?” 

His arm settles over her shoulders, swiveling her like a Hard Deck barstool to face the rest of the group. They go down the line, one by one. Call signs, then their first and last names, upon request because Nora refuses to call a bunch of grown men things like Rooster and Fanboy. Phoenix is actually a damn cool name. 

Phoenix, Fanboy, Payback, and Bob.

Natasha, Mickey, Reuben, and Bob again.

“And Hangman,” Jake finishes, a pronounced twang in his voice that Nora didn’t notice before. She was missing the accents earlier, wasn’t she? “We met at a little spot not far from here. I was the devastatingly handsome man buying you a drink.” 

“Sorry,” Nora shoots back, all calm and collected. “I don’t think I know a Hangman. Doesn’t sound like a real name to me.” 

A muscle twitches in his cheek. “Jake.” 

“It’s all coming back now.” And Nora doesn’t mean for it to come out so quiet, so intimate. “Hi Jake.” 

He flashes her a dimpled grin, all soft edges. “Hi Nora.” 

It’s so damn charming that Nora has to bite back an unbidden smile, but with the high-speed attention of an F-18 pilot, Jake catches it, the smug son of a bitch. He lifts his beer to his mouth and shoots her a heated look that curls her toes inside her boots. 

“So,” Phoenix interjects, glancing between them with an all too knowing look that makes Nora flush. “Who is up for another round of pool?” 

She should’ve stuck to her original plan, which would have seen her leave over an hour ago. Already curled up under the sheets for a long, much-needed sleep by now. 

But Nora is having too much fun, sitting on a barstool near the pool table, watching the game and listening to them trade insults and stories (just the non-classified ones, of course) back and forth. All of them seem to know each other well, and Nora learns early on that Captain Mitchell recruited them for this special top-secret detachment a few months back. 

“We’re still here under Maverick as an actual squadron now. We’re… I’m sorry, I’m not exactly sure what I can and can’t tell you,” Bob explains, cutting himself off with a sheepish expression. He is damn cute, clean-shaven and baby-faced. Easygoing. He reminds her a little of a duckling, jabs rolling off his back like water. “You can ask Maverick on Monday. Are you just following him around with a camera or…?”  

She gives him the quick run-down, well aware that the Daggers are all within earshot now, not even pretending not to eavesdrop on the conversation. “It will probably be a good bit of interviews and additional footage. It’s not just about Captain Mitchell. I’ll be focusing on the whole team.” 

“We’ll probably be seeing a lot of you then.” 

It is a perfectly nonchalant observation, but Nora’s heart does a stuttered thump-thump in her chest, the exact same realization piercing through her intoxicated brain way too late. If Maverick is their CO, then Bob is on the team that Nora will be profiling in the feature. All of them are. Which means...

She will be seeing them. Probably every single day.  

Nora manages to get out an even, “I guess so.” 

She remembers the cardboard box of files, sitting unopened next to her overturned suitcase, and wants to bang her head against a wall. Instead, Nora washes down the overwhelming sense of uh oh with a too-quick gulp of her drink. Green eyes burn against the side of her face, stinging like the bourbon in her nostrils. 

Natasha drops onto the next barstool over, providing the perfect distraction from her thoughts. She’s just landed an impressive sequence of shots against Mickey and Reuben, who now stand staring down at the table, hands on hips in identical stances of contemplation.

“I follow you on Instagram,” Natasha admits, snagging her beer bottle from a nearby table and waving off the popcorn that Bob offers her. “And I have to tell you. I have invited these idiots over to watch documentaries with me more times than I can even remember. Tried different topics too. Bob is the only one who ever comes over. Don’t let them convince you otherwise.” 

“Oh, I won’t. I can smell a fraud a mile away,” Nora reassures, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes to match the other woman, “but I, for one, would love an invitation to watch a documentary with you. Make it a weekly thing while I’m here.” 

And Natasha grins wide enough to inspire warm and fuzzy feelings in her chest. Is this what budding friendship felt like? She has been on the move so much lately. She’d almost forgotten. 

“Nora is my friend, Phoenix,” Bradley cuts in, sunglasses sliding further and further down his nose. His large hand comes up to deliver a playful push to the other woman’s shoulder. “Stop trying to steal her away from me. Get your own friend.” 

“We’re friends now, are we, Bradshaw?” Nora can’t help her laugh, slightly mocking, light enough not to be mistaken as rejection. “I haven’t seen you in like… five years. You probably don’t even know my birthday.” 

He pouts. “Phoenix doesn’t know your birthday either.” 

“It’s in August. She posted about it on her Instagram.” 

“Go away, Phoenix,” Bradley reaches across her again to push at Natasha harder. He loses his balance a little bit and nearly topples into Nora’s lap, only caught by Phoenix shoving against his shoulder. “Don’t let her do this, Rogers. You’re breaking my heart here.” 

“You’re drunk,” Nora giggles, an honest to god giggle, only reserved for drunk Nora. Sober Nora laughs. Drunk Nora giggles. It’s usually a sign to call it a night. “You’re drunk, and I think… I think I might be drunk.” 

“You’re definitely drunk.” 

Nice. Real professional. Getting drunk on the night before her first day and with none other than the only team of pilots on North Island that she is guaranteed to see after tonight. 

“Oh no….” Nora whispers through another giggle, and with a hand that feels disconnected from her arm, reaches up and pushes Bradley’s sunglasses back up his nose. His grin turns wolfish and… “I think I need to go home.” 

“Or…” 

“I can take you. Where’re you staying?”  

Jake pulls his keys out of his pocket and dangles them from a finger, while Bradley straightens, with sudden coordination, to his full height. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha has paused mid-sip, watching with unadulterated interest, like Rooster and Hangman were the most interesting thing on television. Bob offers her the popcorn again, and Natasha takes a handful. 

“You’ve been drinking.”

“I stopped an hour ago, and I only had two.” 

“She doesn’t know you.” 

“Did you not just say you haven’t seen her in five years?”

“She’s not going home with you.” 

“Jesus Christ…” Jake scrubs a hand over his face, his growing irritation plain. “It’s a ride home, not an invitation to bed. You’d rather put her in a cab with a stranger than have me drive her home? What’s your problem?” 

“My problem is – ” 

Well. This is… rapidly descending into a testosterone fest.

She can feel a dull ache developing in her temple, a heaviness to her lids that is becoming harder to ignore. She needs a strong painkiller, about three and a half glasses of water, and a bed. Preferably tonight. 

“Alright, I’m calling an Uber.” 

 She reaches for her phone, and Jake raises a placating hand.

“Don’t waste money on an Uber. I’ll take you home,” Jake repeats, looking pained, and then, Bradley Bradshaw opens his mouth and takes a big breath, gearing up to restart this idiotic argument. 

“Bradshaw, I swear…” Nora presses her fingers to her forehead and closes her eyes. “In about five minutes, I might sleep on that pool table, so please, I will take what I can get. I’m staying at…” Did Warlock ever give her the address? Goddammit. “It’s… It’s like a blue apartment building next to the beach. It’s not far from here. Know what I’m talking about please.” 

Exhaustion makes her blunt, but Jake looks amused again.. More amused than Nora would give herself credit for inspiring with her drunken rambles.

“I know it. We all live there.” 

Oh. Oh no. 

“Oh. Great.”  

She really will see them every day, even on her days off.  

Something flashes across Bradley’s face, too quick for her to clock it, but Nora is focused on putting hands on her phone, wallet, and keys. Hoisting her bag onto her arm. 

“Well, I’ll come with you.” 

“Rooster. Seriously?” 

“No, I should probably call it a night too, and I caught a ride with Phoenix here anyway. I’ll come back with you guys.” 

Jake and Bradley share a long stare-down that Nora is too tired to even process. It is some sort of telepathic conversation that must be exclusive to Top Gun graduates, or a silent dick-measuring contest. One of the two. 

“Oh,” Phoenix observes, tossing another piece of popcorn in her mouth. “This’ll be interesting.” 

Yeah, Nora thinks. It’ll be something alright. 

It is a short ride back to the apartments. Bradley hums the words to ‘Great Balls of Fire’ under his breath the whole time, over and over in an unending loop, while Nora presses her forehead to the window, breath fogging the glass with the late night temperatures, and closes her eyes. 

It does little to alleviate the weight of Jake’s gaze, dashing off the rearview mirror at every red light. He casts a sideways glance at Bradley, then opens his mouth to say something, but then Nora’s eyelids flutter closed and Jake remains silent, reaching for the radio knob to turn the volume down.

His truck finally rounds the last bend in the road and pulls into the lot, and Nora is damn near crawling out of her skin. She drank two full glasses of water at the bar before leaving. She isn’t buzzed enough at this point to blame the heady warmth on the alcohol. It’s him.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” Jake expertly steers the truck, one-handed, into a spot along the front row of apartments. She can see her door from here, spotlighted under a second-floor flood light like a safe haven. “Please keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle until I’ve come to a full and complete…” 

He’s barely tapped the brakes when Nora mumbles a good night and makes a run for the staircase. 

“Alright then,” Jake calls after her through his open window, accent thick from drowsiness. “Good night to you too, sweetheart.”

She shuts her door on his raspy chuckle. 

It echoes in her ears all the same, even after splashing freezing cold water on her neck, stripping off her clothes, and climbing into the bed with the slightly scratchy sheets. Lingers, like the brush of his fingertips down the side of her neck. 

Nora heaves a sigh in the blue dark. “Goddammit.” 

end note: likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. and if you have thoughts and feelings, please shout in my asks or my messages. i'd love to hear from you!

read the next chapter!

#am sweating posting this #so please tell me what you think #fic: baby i'm high octane #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x nora rogers #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fic #top gun: maverick fic #laracrofted writes

[thenerdykneazle]

Kindred Spirits - Chapter 5

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4.

Read on AO3.

Chapter summary: MC and Sebastian finally agree to hash it out, but reconciliation isn't going to be easy with so much history between them.

A/N: We go out with a bang in this chapter, folks.

Auror Sebastian Sallow x Auror F!MC

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, aged-up characters, both characters have sex with other people during the story, anger/revenge, toxic relationship, I do not speak Finnish or really know anything about Finland

Word count: 9846

Chapter 5: Undying Devotion

MC woke up on Wednesday even earlier than normal and immediately headed to the training room for a workout. If nothing else, this trip will have helped her become stronger than she’d ever been. Mikko joined half an hour later – at his usual time.

“Couldn’t sleep?” the large man asked.

“Hm?” MC replied, having been absorbed in her own thoughts.

“You never beat me here before,” Mikko said. “Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“Oh,” she said, still a bit slow from her morning fatigue. “No, I just…wanted to get out.”

He nodded in understanding. He went and warmed up before joining her at the weights.

“So, are you and Sepe still fighting?” he asked tentatively, hovering near the bench MC was lying on.

MC grunted as she pressed the dumbbells off her chest and into the air. “Yeah, you could definitely say that.” She took a deep breath as she did another rep.

“Well, if you need somewhere else to sleep, you could probably use Sofia’s accommodations,” he said. “She mostly stays with me, anyway.”

MC’s arms felt like jelly as she lowered the weights to the floor on either side of her. She panted as she sat up. “Are you and Sofia…?”

She gestured vaguely.

Mikko smiled. “We’ve been dating for over a year,” he said. “We got together shortly after she transferred from here to Jyväskylä.”

MC’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” she said in shock. She felt a fresh flood of embarrassment. “Gods, about the other day, Mikko, I–”

He waved her off. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “She likes to keep her personal and professional lives separate. You had no reason to know.”

“Still. I’m sorry,” MC said earnestly.

Mikko shrugged. “Well, you weren’t exactly in control of your words,” he said. “And I can’t fault you for your taste.”

He flexed at himself in the mirror, and MC couldn’t help but laugh.

Mikko patted her arm reassuringly. “Let’s just forget it happened,” he suggested.

“Gladly!” MC replied.

She felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest – no pun intended. When Sofia arrived, MC cleared the air with her, as well. Fortunately, she wasn’t the jealous type. She even made a similar comment to what Mikko had said about MC having good taste. It was adorable, in the way that happy couples often were, where it made MC hate them just a little bit.

She was grateful to them, though, when Sofia and Mikko automatically played interference for her with Sebastian. He had clearly been intent on trying to talk to her, but Mikko kept him occupied during any spare moments while Sofia steered MC to another part of the room.

At lunch, they both sat between you and Sebastian. Mikko asked Sebastian all about his running routine, if he used pre-workout or protein powders, and what brand of shoes he wore. Sofia kept MC engaged in conversation as she told her about the most recent Ilkka Remes release. After going through the entire plot of the thriller novel, she talked about her family.

Sebastian only escaped Mikko when he needed a trip to the loo. But on his way back, he took the long way around the table past MC.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” he asked, making MC immediately tense up.

Mikko appeared over Sebastian’s shoulder almost instantly. “I wanted to ask you something else about your intervals,” he said good-naturedly.

“Can it wait?” Sebastian asked irritably.

“I just didn’t want to forget,” Mikko said innocently. “How often are you doing time intervals vs distance, because I feel like it’s hard to push myself for the timed ones. But when it’s distance, the faster I run, the faster it’s over, you know?”

“Then just do them by distance!” Sebastian snapped.

The whole table stared at him.

Sebastian sighed. “Look, mate, we can discuss it later,” he said, clapping Mikko on the shoulder. “All right?”

“I’d really rather talk now,” Mikko replied flatly.

Sebastian’s jaw tensed as he realised what was happening. He glanced at MC before looking back at Mikko. “Actually, I’m gonna go get settled in the conference room,” he said.

Sebastian stalked off, and Mikko retook his seat next to Sofia.

The afternoon went peacefully with no further attempts by Sebastian to interact with MC. She was relieved for it. She felt for the first time like she might finally get to ignore him for the rest of her time in Helsinki.

MC stopped by Sebastian’s flat after training to pack an overnight bag. She also grabbed two letters that had arrived there for her. She and Sofia went to dinner before Sofia took her to see the Suomenlinna Fortress. During their brief visit, they walked around the snowy island, saw a fraction of its historic cannons, met a few residents of the magical community there, and popped into a few shops. Sofia insisted she needed to visit during the summer months to see it in its fully glory.

Sofia showed MC to her hotel room before departing to stay with Mikko. MC sat at the desk and pulled out her letters. The first was a note from Natty apologising for not writing sooner. She said things had been busy at the DMLE, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle – MC was not to worry. MC wrote out a letter back to her before opening her second one.

Dear MC,

I hope Sebastian isn’t giving you too much trouble. I still can’t believe he’s there. Well, assuming you haven’t killed him yet. I’d understand, of course, though I advise against it. It would be a shame to have you head off for a promotion only to return and be sent to Azkaban. I assure you he’s not worth it. I suppose I am glad to see he’s chosen to fight dark wizards rather than become one, though.

The snakelets are double the size from when I last wrote. I’ve included plenty of pictures. I’d have written sooner, but they’ve been quite the handful. Their heads are starting to fight over food already. Poppy stayed over the weekend to give me a hand with them while Martin was off. She’s quite good with them. They’re anxious to see their Auntie MC, though, don’t worry. I’ve kept them up-to-date on your trip. Poppy, too. I hope you don’t mind. She thinks Sebastian’s a slimy prat if it helps.

Miss you,

Ominis & the babies

And Poppy!

Poppy had added a little heart next to her name, which made MC smile. There were even more photos than the last time. Poppy had clearly taken some over the weekend. Some were Martin’s handiwork. The snakelets were indeed more than doubled in size. MC lingered on a photo of Ominis and Poppy cuddling a few of them. At the very end of the loop, Poppy looked over to Ominis with stars in her eyes.

MC had never seen her friend look so dotingly on another person. She had to watch it three times to assure herself Poppy wasn’t actually looking at the runespoor Ominis held. She had to admit that they would be a good match, though she had no idea if Ominis was ready to start something new. She made a mental note to gently pry about it when she got home.

After writing a response to Ominis, MC went down to the lobby to send the letters. When she returned to her room, she changed into her pyjamas. She’d had quite a full day, and she was thoroughly knackered.

MC’s early bedtime meant she also woke up quite early the next day. After being disgusted with herself for having seemingly become a morning person, she straitened the room before heading out to Aurori Headquarters.

She had expected the training room to be unoccupied, but she quickly realised that was not the case as she entered. “Hello,” MC said, surprised to see Sebastian sitting on one of the benches by the dumbbells.

Sebastian shot to his feet. “That’s all you have to say? Bleeding ‘hello’?” Sebastian yelled as he marched over to her. “Where were you? I was up all night trying to find you!”

“Sofia let me stay at hers,” she replied simply, taking several steps back as Sebastian invaded her space.

Sebastian breathed out a bitter laugh. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” he demanded.

“I told you I don’t need a babysitter,” she growled, crossing her arms defensively.

Sebastian tugged his hair in frustration. “You are literally the biggest pain in the arse I’ve ever met!”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to deal with me anymore,” MC replied, turning to walk away.

Sebastian was taken aback. His arms went slack at his sides. “What?” he asked. “You’re not coming home tonight?”

“I don’t get to go home until tomorrow,” MC stated, walking back toward the conference room. “But, no, I’m not staying at your flat tonight if that’s what you meant.”

Sebastian jogged after her. “Look, I know I crossed some boundaries the other night,” he started.

MC just scoffed.

“I shouldn’t’ve…propositioned you like that,” he continued. “I just…Look, I know I’m never going to get to see you again after tomorrow. I just want one honest conversation before that.”

MC laughed. “You make it sound like you’re so torn up over this,” she said. “Doesn’t really fit with how you’ve been acting, though. So, what is your real goal here, Sebastian?”

He sighed. “I know I’ve been a git for…forever, essentially. I really do just want closure. I’ll answer all your questions, too. I haven’t been the most rational the last two weeks, but…I’ll try to explain,” he said. “Tonight, yeah? After I finish cleaning this place.”

MC chewed her lip while she decided whether to accept. “Fine,” she gritted out. “But leave me alone until then.”

Sebastian’s face broke into a smile. “Okay. Yeah,” he agreed eagerly. “I’m not even here.”

He moved as if to hug her, but he thought better of it almost instantly and just gave a nod of his head. He jogged ahead to the conference room, leaving MC to her morning workout.

Jari put them through the testing they had done at the beginning of training. He wanted to dedicate the next morning to duelling so he could see the conclusion of the battle between Mikko and Patrik. The rankings didn’t shift much from the beginning – other than Sebastian winning out in accuracy – but they had all made great strides during their short training. The rest of the morning was spent doing defensive drills. As Jari liked to delicately put it, “The worst aurori is a dead one.”

As promised, Sebastian made no attempt to talk to MC during their lunch. He chatted with Niko while she talked to Kaarina about some of her self-made defensive spells. It was great – until it wasn’t. On their walk back to the conference room, she overheard something she wished she hadn’t.

“Wait, she’s the chick you banged back in school?” Niko hissed to Sebastian quietly – but not quiet enough that MC didn’t hear. “Bro, you didn’t tell me she had special magic! You focused on the wrong talents – I mean, not that her tongue didn’t sound magical, too, but…damn.”

MC’s head whipped back so fast that she was genuinely worried she had pulled something. As their eyes met, Sebastian looked as pale as the ghosts back at Hogwarts. MC was too angry to speak. She really didn’t know how many times she needed to learn the lesson that Sebastian Sallow should not be given second chances. She thought darkly about how much simpler her life would’ve been if she’d just let him rot in Azkaban after fifth year.

Sofia, who was in front of her, shot her a questioning look. “Are you all right?” she asked.

MC took a steadying breath before nodding. She glanced back at Sebastian and Niko again. The former looked utterly horrified, while the latter looked stunned at being overheard.

Sebastian didn’t get a chance to talk to her before the afternoon session started, and he looked ready to fall to pieces with stress through the whole thing. Before Jari had even finished dismissing them, Sebastian jumped to his feet and was next to her.

“Can we please talk about this tonight?” he asked with an imploring gaze. “Or now, even! Niko twisted what I–”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” MC said, cutting him off. She was still seething.

“I’m really sorry. I swear it’s not as bad as it sounds,” he said, looking as stressed as he had all meeting.

MC scoffed as she tried to push past him. He followed after her.

“Can we still talk tonight?” Sebastian asked urgently as she rushed down the corridor.

“Sure,” she replied sharply before he’d even finished the question. “But don’t send a bloody search party if I decide it’s not worth my time.”

“I’ll be back at my flat within the hour,” he promised before she pushed the exit open.

She left without replying.

Sebastian’s final mistake – in a long line of them – had been giving her a countdown. MC might’ve actually waited at his flat if he hadn’t told her the amount of time she had to escape. She wavered on what to do for the first ten minutes, because she knew she had the time. She decided that Sebastian had been given entirely too many chances and none of them had ever proven worth it. MC was not going to waste her final night in Helsinki letting him plead his case. She was going to get trollied and find someone who would fuck her until she couldn’t remember her own name let alone Sebastian’s.

She did herself up in record time, sporting the transfigured lingerie under her short black dress as an added “up yours.” Before she left, MC packed up her things and shrunk them down to fit in her cloak pocket. She had no intention of returning.

MC found a suitable candidate without much fuss. Antti or Artturi or something. She couldn’t remember. But he was well fitand looked sturdy enough. She chatted him up for almost an hour to make sure he wasn’t some psycho murderer before transitioning to the endgame.

“Do you want to get out of here?” MC asked as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

She wasn’t properly pissed as she hadn’t wanted to scare Antti/Artturi/whoever off by pounding back vodka like she’d intended to do when she arrived at the pub. Still, she had a nice enough buzz going and, with any luck, he’d offer her a drink when they got to his.

“Yeah. Shall we head to yours, then?” he replied.

MC had to force herself not to frown. “Is there a reason we can’t go to your place?” she asked.

“Well, I’m sharing a suite with my coworker,” he said.

Why was everyone in Helsinki there for a bleeding conference? MC didn’t want to take him back to Sofia’s room after she’d graciously given her sanctuary. She also didn’t want to waste the hour she’d invested in vetting the guy. She decided she might just have to shift her goals. Maybe he couldn’t fuck Sebastian out of her head, but she might be able to use him to piss him off. She might even still get off in the process.

“I could book us a separate room for the night,” Antti/Artturi/etc. offered, but MC was already picturing Sebastian’s enraged expression.

“No, we can go to mine,” she replied. “My flatmate’s a bit of a tight arse about noise, but she’s out of town.”

Not being able to go to a guy’s place was usually a red flag for MC. It often meant a guy still lived with his parents or, worse, his girlfriend. But MC had heard his coworkers chatting about their dull conference talks, and she wasn’t overly concerned about red flags with the guy she was just using for the night.

She apparated them to Sebastian’s flat and was relieved he hadn’t been waiting in the living room for her. She wanted to have at least a little fun before it all went tits-up. MC ditched her cloak and heels and pushed…she was going to go with "Antti"…back onto the couch before climbing into his lap and snogging him senseless.

She worked his dress shirt open as she pushed her tongue down his throat. Antti slid his hands up the backs of her thighs to her bum and groped it thoroughly.

“Gods, I’ve wanted to grab this arse all night,” he groaned as he gave her another firm squeeze.

Antti seemed to be a fan of all parts of a feminine figure as he soon dove face-first into MC’s tits. She spread her legs wider to grind against the erection tenting the lad’s trousers. He seemed to have a good amount to work with – not as much as Erik had, but then, who did? It worked in her favour anyway, as MC fully planned on using her lovely assistant to give Sebastian a demonstration of the new tricks she’d learned with her “magical tongue.”

MC had been waiting for the crack of apparation. What she didn’t hear over the sound of her own moans was Sebastian’s door clicking open and him padding down the hallway.

She jumped when she saw his reflection in the window she was facing. His eyes locked on her reflection, and he just arched an eyebrow at her.

MC quickly looked away. Antti, fortunately, hadn’t noticed they had an audience since his face was still enveloped in her cleavage. He’d pulled the already low-cut top of her dress out of the way so the only barrier between him and her breasts was the emerald green lace bra.

MC wanted to slide out of his lap down to the floor and suck him off out of spite for her voyeur flatmate, but Antti would immediately see Sebastian if she wasn’t blocking his view. She looked up at her ex’s reflection, and he was leaning nonchalantly against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and one ankle casually over the other. His eyes were no longer on her reflection.

MC glanced back to confirm that he was staring at her arse. Her dress had ridden up when she straddled Antti, leaving most of her backside exposed as the G-string hid nothing. Sebastian’s eyes met hers briefly, and he winked at her. She nearly growled in frustration.

MC took a fistful of Antti’s hair and pulled him into a heated kiss as she ground more fervently against him. She was getting quite wet from all the stimulation – it really was a shame it was likely to go to waste. As MC wondered if she could vanish his trousers before they got interrupted, Antti returned his focus to her tits. Her head fell back as he sucked her nipple through the thin lace of her bra.

“Oh, fuck,” MC groaned, rutting against him in earnest.

As her eyes fluttered back open, she caught sight of Sebastian palming himself as he watched her. He bit his lip as their eyes locked through the window.

Antti’s hands slid up MC’s back, likely going for the clasp on her bra, dragging her dress up with them. Sebastian’s gaze dropped down to her arse again, and his hand suddenly froze.

Before MC could wonder too deeply about the reason, Sebastian cleared his throat loudly, making her and Antti both jump.

“Could you not? That’s my favourite place to masturbate, and you’re defiling it,” he said wryly.

Antti peered over MC’s shoulder. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

Sebastian gave him a tight smile. “Name’s Sebastian. This is my flat,” he replied. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Anton,” he said a bit uneasily.

“Gods, I was so close!” MC said, earning strange looks from both men. She might’ve still been a bit tipsy. She also might’ve just been a right numpty, as she didn’t feel particularly inebriated.

“I think you should go, Anton,” Sebastian said firmly.

Anton seemed to agree, as he quickly scurried out from under MC and apparated away. It was oddly routine at that point to have one of their lovers fleeing the flat.

MC righted her dress as she situated herself on the couch.

“Nice lingerie,” Sebastian said sarcastically.

“Isn’t it?” MC replied brightly. “I mean, Anton certainly seemed to think so.”

Sebastian glared at her. “Seeing as you’re free now, how about we have that chat?” he said tetchily.

MC scrunched her nose. “Ooh, it’s a bit late,” she said, standing up. “I’d best turn in. We’ve got the duels in the morning. Wouldn’t want someone getting hurt.”

“Sit. Down,” Sebastian growled forcefully.

For some inexplicable reason, MC complied immediately.

“We’re going to ignore that–” Sebastian gestured to the couch “–whole situation that just happened and have a civilised chat.”

MC crossed her arms, pouting like a child. “Fine.”

She refused to look at him.

“About what Niko said earlier,” Sebastian started, and MC rolled her eyes. “I told him about our relationship a long time ago. Way before I thought I’d ever see you again. He was ribbing me about how ‘whipped’ I seemed, and I made an offhand comment about it being your mouth that I missed. I wasn’t bragging about details. I was deflecting from emotions that I didn’t want to deal with. But I know it was stupid, I just…I’m sorry it hurt you.”

MC shifted on the couch. She could admit that it didn’t sound that bad. Not that she would admit it to Sebastian, of course, but…to herself, at least. “You said you’d explain your behaviour over the last two weeks,” she pointed out.

“I…” Sebastian sighed. “It’s…complicated.”

MC scoffed, feeling like she should have known he would make excuses. She got up from the couch again, and Sebastian moved to block her path in the corridor.

“I’ll do my best,” he insisted. “But it…it would be easier if I knew why you paraded around in that lingerie on Sunday.”

MC’s brows drew together. She felt her plan had been rather obvious. “I figured if I could get you worked up enough without you being able to do anything about it, you would either change my clothes back or beg me to fix the temperature so you could get hard and have a wank. Either way, I’d get you to give me back my wardrobe.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding a bit surprised. “What was with the reaction to my hair?”

MC’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I thought you were supposed to be explaining your actions.”

“Right. Well…” Sebastian took another deep breath. “After what you said about me not being worth anything, I guess I just went looking for something that would make me feel like I was. With you calling me the worst mistake of your life, it…” He rolled his jaw. “It was similar.”

She raised an eyebrow as she finally looked at him. “Did it work?”

Sebastian let out a bitter laugh. “No.”

He was the one avoiding looking at her now.

MC could relate. Her partners hadn’t exactly done all she’d hoped for her state of mind, either. “For what it’s worth, I shouldn’t’ve said either of those things.”

“I shouldn’t have called you a bitch,” he admitted.

“Or interrupted my tryst tonight,” she replied, only half-joking.

Sebastian scoffed. “You expect me to believe you were enjoying that?”

MC rolled her eyes. “Just because you've never been with a woman who wasn't faking it doesn't mean they can't be pleased.”

His eyes immediately hardened. He stepped into her, forcing her back against the wall. “Don't lie to me, MC,” he growled, his face hovering inches above hers. “I know you better than you think.”

She laughed arrogantly. “You certainly seem to think so.”

“You want to know why we worked so well together? Because, at the end of the day, after you've been running around saving everyone - solving all their problems, making constant life or death decisions - you want someone else to carry the burden for you. You want them to make the decisions. And, for me, being with you was the only time I was ever truly in control. We're a perfect match, you and I.”

“Then it’s a shame you ruined it,” MC replied coldly, pushing his chest to force him to back away from her.

He let out a frustrated noise as he pulled his hair. “I’m trying to fix it!” he said.

“You picked dark magic over me!” she said. “And then you left us all behind like we were nothing! You don’t get to just pretend none of that happened! You can’t undo that! You can’t fix it!”

“I was trying to save Anne!” he argued. “I left to find something, anything that might help her!”

“Well, that worked out splendidly, didn’t it?” MC said cruelly.

Sebastian shook with rage. The air around them crackled with his magic as it fought to burst free. “YOU DON’T THINK I REALISE IT WAS A MISTAKE?” he screamed.

MC fell silent, shocked by his outburst. They had fought loads of times, but he had never raised his voice like that.

Sebastian was still shaking, but it was from the sobs that were wracking through him.  He fell back against the wall before sliding down it into a heap on the floor. “I lost my last months with my sister,” he said, his voice cracking. Tears streamed down his face. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“Sebastian,” she said softly, taking a step toward him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said between choked sobs. “I know I should’ve come back, I just…” He took a gasping breath as he fought to get the words out. “It was easier to start over. Pretend that version of me had never existed.”

MC reached down and ran her hand through his hair in a gesture she’d done hundreds of times to sooth him in a past life. He looked up at her with red, puffy eyes. “I missed you,” she said. “That you. This you. A new one. It doesn’t matter to me. I just…miss you.”

He started weeping again. He got to his knees and buried his face in her hip as he clung to the backs of her legs. “I’ve missed you somuch!”

MC kept stroking his hair. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye to Anne,” she said earnestly.

Sebastian shook his head, his forehead still pressed against her. “It was my own fault.”

“I’m still sorry,” she said as she combed his hair out of his face with her fingers.

He clung to her even more tightly. “She died thinking I’d abandoned her.”

“If you read the letter she left you, you know that isn’t true,” MC replied.

“I still should’ve been there for her,” Sebastian argued. “I would’ve. I swear, I would’ve come back. I just…I thought I had more time.”

“I know, Seb,” she said. She held his shoulders and gave him the best hug she could with him kneeling on the floor. “We all did.”

He shifted to grab her waist and pulled himself slowly to his feet.

MC raised a hand to his cheek automatically. Sebastian covered it with his own as he leaned into the warmth of it. “I don’t want to lose you again,” he said, his voice rough from crying.

MC stared up at him. She didn’t want to lose him, either, but she was scared that opening her heart back up to him would only end in him breaking it again. She’d given him a second chance the day of Anne’s funeral. She couldn’t go through that pain a third time. She’d rather be crucio’d.

But MC couldn’t take the sadness in Sebastian’s big, brown eyes. Not when she could make it better. So, when she felt his hands on either side of her face, MC let herself give in. Sebastian’s lips met hers with a deep hunger, and she returned his kiss in equal force.

One hand slid down to her neck as he pressed her back against the wall, smothering her body with his own. Sebastian’s thumb swiped gently over the pulse in her throat as his lips devoured hers. His tongue skimmed across her swollen bottom lip after his teeth nipped it raw.

MC’s knees nearly buckled as his thigh pressed between her legs. She moaned into his mouth.

“I love you, MC,” he panted, before ravaging her lips again. “I never stopped loving you.”

MC’s fingernails bit into his shoulders as she fought to stay upright. Sebastian scooped her up onto his waist and carried her to his room while she scraped her teeth down the side of his neck. Her heart was racing. With anticipation. With fear. She wondered somewhere in the back of her mind if she would regret this, but she was too far gone to stop now. She felt so good being back in Sebastian’s arms. She would deal with the consequences of it later.

Sebastian threw MC across the bed before leaning over her to kiss her again. She squealed when he pulled her by the hips to the edge of his mattress. He licked his lips as he knelt down in front of her. His hands trailed up her thighs, setting her skin on fire. He pushed up her dress to expose the emerald green knickers, damp with her arousal, and his teeth sunk into his lip as he took in the sight of them.

His eyes flicked back up to hers. They had a fiery glint as he smirked at her. MC could see his intent in his face, plain as if it were written out on parchment – he was going to ruin her. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers, he pulled them off of her slowly, keeping his gaze firmly on her own.

He held the eye contact as he leaned in to taste her, but then his eyes rolled back as a groan ripped from his throat. “Fuck, I missed you.” His hot breath fanned over her core as he spoke.

MC was already panting with need, and he’d barely touched her. She tangled one hand into that perfect sodding hair, because she desperately needed something to hold onto as Sebastian’s tongue ran up her folds again. He alternated, tracing up one lip, then the other, and pausing to press delicate kisses against her clit in between. His hands pinned her hips against the mattress, holding her open for him and keeping her from squirming as he teased her cunt.

She gasped as Sebastian’s tongue pierced into her. He moaned as she clenched around him, and the vibrations made her hips jolt.

He chuckled darkly. “Patience,” he said. “I’m not nearly done with you.”

MC whimpered as he pressed another kiss at her apex, using the slightest bit of suction on her clit. He smirked at her reaction, watching as her brow furrowed and her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth.

“I’m going to make you come until you can’t see straight,” Sebastian vowed. He kissed her again. “Fuck you like you deserve. Like no one else can.”

He licked firmly up the centre of her cunt before finally focusing on the sensitive bud at the top. MC’s lungs failed her as Sebastian’s tongue flicked over it again and again. She let out a keening cry when he sucked it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Sebastian!” she moaned. She wanted to buck her hips and ride his face, but he had her firmly pinned down. She was so wound up that her hand in his hair threatened to make him bald again with how tight her grip was. “Oh, gods! Please!”

She chanted the plea repeatedly as her body filled with pleasure, building her up toward release. Sebastian didn’t let up his efforts, consuming her as he held her in place with a bruising grip. He had once had a penchant for denying her orgasm until she begged for it thoroughly, and MC had expected him to pull away from her suddenly. He must have been satisfied, though, because he didn’t stop as a string of swears fell from her lips, or as her orgasm crashed through her, or even long after the ripples had faded. He kept on licking and sucking at her like a man starved, and she soon felt herself coiling again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she said urgently when she neared that point of no return. She was sensitive and it was too much, but she also never wanted it to stop. It took longer, but the bliss broke over her as a second orgasm was practically ripped out of her body. It was stronger than the first had been, and she felt wrecked as the pulses subsided.

Sebastian had slowed to licking long, languid stripes up her as she came down from her high. But he picked his pace back up again as he slipped two fingers into her, clearly intent on bringing her to a third orgasm. She whimpered at the thought of it. She almost asked him to just give her a break, but it was such sweet torture – and Sebastian looked indescribable when he was coated in her arousal and smirking with pride.

MC was panting and soaked in sweat by the time she crested again. Her head had fallen back in exhaustion as she fought to catch her breath. She had released her iron grip on Sebastian’s hair, and the muscles in her hand were aching.

She lifted her leaden head to look at the man between her legs.

He was looking up at her like she was everything. As his hands stroked lovingly up and down her thighs, she could’ve wept.

Sebastian pulled himself up and let his weight press into her as he covered her body with his. He brushed back the hair clinging to MC’s sweaty forehead. “You’re perfect. So perfect,” he whispered reverently against her lips before capturing them in his own.

MC pulled him closer as she licked the taste of herself off his lips. He was back. She had him back, and she never wanted to be apart from him again. “I love you,” she said.

Sebastian pulled back, looking down at her in shock. As he searched her eyes intently, she thought he might shatter into pieces. Instead, he crashed his mouth back into hers.

“Please,” she begged when they broke apart for air. She ran her fingers down the buttons on the front of his shirt. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” Sebastian groaned. “I’m here, darling. You have me.”

He shucked his clothes as MC flipped over onto her stomach, feet on the ground and arse in the air. He groaned again when he saw her position.

He smoothed his palm over her backside. “Gods, I’ve been thinking about fucking you like this nonstop since Sunday,” he said as he trailed his fingers up her spine, sliding her dress up higher as he went.

MC smirked. “I know,” she replied. Because she knew him better than he thought, too.

Sebastian bent down to nip the sensitive skin, earning a moan from her. He stood back up and dragged his cock through her slick centre, muttering “bloody perfect” as he did. He lined himself up and sank into her slowly, savouring it as she took every inch of him. He practically growled as her body swallowed him. He folded himself over her and she arched back to kiss him, pouring herself into him.

As he righted himself, his hands immediately kneaded into her arse. He really could be quite obsessive about it. He grabbed onto both of her hips as he set a rhythm inside her. MC’s hands clawed into the sheets beneath her as he rocked her forward with each thrust. She let out a low, needy noise as he hit a spot deep within her that seemed to light up her nerves. Sebastian groaned as she clenched around him, and he pounded into that spot over and over. She pushed her hips back, meeting each quick snap of his as he fucked her senseless.

MC’s legs began to shake, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take when Sebastian wrapped an arm underneath her and began to rub her clit. She cried out as she shattered once more, her whole body shaking as she fell apart. Sebastian groaned as he stilled inside her. She felt like it took ages to come back to earth.

Sebastian had one hand on the mattress to steady himself as he panted to catch his breath. He was still buried inside her, and she was certain he had come until he pulled and out flipped her back over. He pulled her dress over her head, nearly ripped off her bra, and positioned her properly in the middle of the bed.

“I’m gonna pump you so full that you taste me on your tongue,” he vowed as he crawled on top of her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss as he slid back into her. Her head slumped back against the pillow, and she turned her head to breathe in its scent – his scent.

He managed to get a hand between them, massaging one breast before shifting his weight so he could dip his head to suck on the other. MC’s back arched and her head pressed back into the pillow as Sebastian keyed her body up again.

“Fuck, I love you, MC,” he said as he moved to press his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” she echoed, though it may have been directed as much to the part of him buried inside her as it was to him in general.

When Sebastian started moving again, MC did her best to meet his thrusts, but she was completely spent. She clawed at his back, holding on for dear life as he sped up. She made a slew of senseless noises as he fucked her into his mattress.

“Tell me…tell me there’s no one else,” he demanded breathlessly. “No one who fucks you like this.”

“Gods, no! No one,” she swore before a moan erupted from her as he pounded into her. “Fuck, Sebastian.”

He groaned as he fucked her harder. “This…cunt…is mine!” he growled. “No one else gets to have you!”

“Just you,” MC vowed. “Gods, I missed you. Please, Sebastian. Please!”

He bit into the curve of her neck as his hips sped up even more. She keened for him, and he moaned out as she felt him release inside of her. Her eyes rolled back as she felt him fill her. Sebastian recaptured her lips, and he was desperate and sloppy as their mouths melded together.

MC buried her hands in his hair as she kissed him until her lungs screamed for oxygen. Then, she kissed him a bit longer before pulling back and gasping for air. Sebastian smiled down at her as he panted wildly.

He placed a chaste kiss on MC’s lips before he slid off to lie beside her. He gathered her against his chest, wrapping her up in his arms and pressing a kiss into her hair.

“Fuck,” MC breathed out, still reeling from the whirlwind that had just occurred.

“Yeah,” Sebastian replied, still beaming at her.

“I forgot how horrendously persistent you are,” she said.

He laughed. “I was going to make you ride my face before I took you, but then you displayed your arse so perfectly for me. I could hardly resist.”

MC rolled her eyes. “Fucking course you were,” she groused.

Sebastian kissed her, not hesitating to slide his tongue into her mouth. “You love it.”

She glared at him. He was right, of course, but she would hardly admit it.

He laughed again. “You’re so bleeding stubborn,” he chided light-heartedly.

“And you’re a bloody menace,” she replied.

“But I’m your menace,” he retorted, looking quite pleased about the situation.

MC forced herself to return his smile, but the assertion set her heart at an erratic pace, like it was pumping as much blood to her muscles as possible so she could make a quick escape.

“All right. Time for some sleep, love,” Sebastian said. “We’ve got a big rematch in the morning. I mean the duel, of course, although…”

“No,” MC said firmly. “Knowing you, we’d end up missing the whole morning of training.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” he replied with a chuckle.

He summoned his wand and then conjured some blankets over them so they didn’t have to move. With another swish of his wand, the lights turned out.

“Good night, MC,” he said as he settled back in.

“Good night,” she replied.

MC awoke the next morning filled with anxiety. She wished it were about the impending duel, but it was really about the man wrapped around her.

Fuck.

She’d let her guard down. She’d given in to her baser urges and left the consequences to a future version of herself. Well, the consequences had arrived. She was a little sore and a lot tired, and she was wholly, utterly terrified. She’d shattered the walls that had been protecting her heart like they had been part of target practice.

MC desperately tried to rebuild them. She could not make the same mistake again.

Sebastian’s arms tightened around her as he woke up. He buried his face in her neck. “Morning, love,” he mumbled into her skin.

“Morning,” MC replied stiltedly.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to start anything,” he promised. “I’m just happy to see you.”

MC forced a laugh as she turned in his arms. “Good,” she said. “I’m going to need weeks to recover from last night.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I give it two days,” he replied with a cocky grin.

That damned smirk. It was dangerous.

“Unfortunately for you, I’ll be back in England by then,” MC teased. But it was also a reality check for herself.

“About that,” Sebastian said nervously as he traced small circles on her arm. “I was going to ask if you’d stay for the weekend. I mean, I know you have to go back to work on Monday, but I thought maybe you could stay until Sunday.”

“Oh,” MC said, surprised. “Well, my portkey is scheduled for this evening…”

“You could put in a request for a time change. I could fill out the form for you,” he offered, his warm eyes melting her unprotected heart. “But you don’t have to decide right now. The transport office is right next to Aurori Headquarters. I could pop by at lunch.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” she said.

Sebastian smiled sweetly. “Good. And I could come visit you over the long weekend next week. We can figure it out from there,” he said.

The “long weekend” was Christmas. Sebastian wanted to come spend Christmas with her. Every alarm bell was ringing in MC’s head and her body was telling her to flee, but she kept her pasted smile as she said, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

MC pretended she wasn’t freaking out as she got dressed and had breakfast with Sebastian. She left a little after 7 to “warm up” before training. Really, she just needed space to breathe. Sebastian arrived just before 8 o’clock. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, and she pretended that didn’t freak her out, either.

She continued pretending all morning. She pretended everything was fine as she watched the other duels with Sebastian beside her. She pretended she wasn’t distracted as she fought against him, and he disarmed her in minutes. She lied when he asked if she’d made up her mind about the portkey, telling him she’d submitted the form on her way in that morning. And she pretended to be excited as he rambled all through lunch about all the things they could do over the weekend.

MC felt sick the whole day. Every excited smile Sebastian gave her twisted the knife lodged in her gut. She felt awful for lying to him, but she knew telling the truth would give him the opportunity to change her mind. And she was terrified that he would. He would convince her to give him another chance, and he would break her heart again. Maybe not that weekend or at Christmas or for years. But he would eventually.

After Jari gave a touching speech about how proud he was of all of them and how he wished them the best, the group went for a celebratory round of drinks a few blocks down the street. The whole time, Sebastian rested his arm across the back of her chair and whispered in her ear.

“Do you want to go out to dinner tonight, or shall I order takeaway?” he asked.

“I…Um…” MC started.

The obvious choice was takeaway – he wouldn’t need a reservation, and even if he ordered the food before he realised she was gone, he could just keep the leftovers for another time. She only had a few minutes before her portkey took her home. She would say “takeaway” and then “I need to use the loo,” and it would all be done with.

“I can’t do this,” she blurted out.

“What?” Sebastian asked, taken aback as she pushed out her chair.

“I need to go,” MC said as she stood.

“Okay. I’ll take you back,” Sebastian said, getting to his feet, as well.

“No! I…I’m going home. I can’t do this–” She gestured between them. “–with you. Not again.”

She pulled on her cloak as she ran out of the pub, and Sebastian stood dumbstruck for a moment before chasing after her. MC stood out in the falling snow as she fished through her pockets for the stubby pencil.

Sebastian burst out of the pub door as she found it. She watched as he looked down at her hand. The frigid air was already turning his cheeks red as he stood cloakless in the winter night. “It doesn’t leave until Sunday,” he said, but she could tell he suspected the truth.

“I never changed it,” she admitted.

He didn’t look angry like she had expected. MC only saw confusion and sadness. “Why?” he asked, his breath fogging in the air as he begged her to make sense of the last 24-hours.

She looked at him remorsefully. “I’m sorry. I…I just–”

MC was dragged forward as the portkey triggered. She caught herself on the padded walls as she landed in the booth at the English international transit hub. She immediately vomited onto the floor – and her own shoes. It vanished almost as quickly.

“Looks like you had a rough trip home, friend,” Natty observed. She untangled her arm from Garreth’s as she went to her partner’s side.

“Just caught me a bit off guard,” MC said as she gained her bearings.

Natty pulled MC into a tight hug. “It’s good to have you home,” she said.

“It’s good to be home,” MC replied, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. She reminded herself it only would’ve been worse if she’d let things go on. This was better. She would wall off the broken pieces of her heart and let the memories fade into the distance along with the pain of them.

“We thought you might want to go for a pint,” Garreth said brightly as the left the hub.

It was startling to see the lack of snow. MC hadn’t seen grass for weeks.

“Actually, I’m quite knackered from the training. I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” MC said, giving him an apologetic smile. “Another time, though.

Garreth nodded. “Just tell me when. You know I’m always up for a night out.”

“Do you want me to apparate you home?” Natty asked.

MC waved her off. “Nah, I’m all right. I’ll see you at the flat later,” she said.

As MC drew her wand to apparate home, Garreth took Natty’s hand as they headed for the pub. Ugh, did everyone couple up while I was away?

MC had a proper lie-in the next morning, not getting out of bed until half noon when a bird refused to stop pecking her window. She opened it to shoo the thing off, but it flew inside, instead, landing on the owl perch.

“Hello, Pixie,” MC said as recognition finally hit her. She undid the little scroll on her leg and gave her a treat.

Are you coming over today? I may have promised the brood their favourite auntie was coming for a visit. Also, Poppy wants to see you. And I suppose I do, as well.

MC chuckled as she rolled the scroll back up. She penned a quick be there shortly and sent it back with Pixie. She ate a scone, took a quick shower, and got dressed before taking the floo to Feldcroft. She hadn’t even unpacked her trunk, but the snakelets were a perfect distraction from the viper MC was trying to forget.

MC entered the cottage just before Pixie flew in through the window. “Knew I should’ve sent a patronus,” she said.

Ominis gave her a confused sort of smile, but he caught up once he read the note Pixie brought him.

“Where’s Poppy?” MC asked as she shed her cloak.

“Actually, I’m going to go to hers,” Ominis said.

“Oh,” MC said. “Shall I come with you, then?”

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” a tired voice behind her said.

MC looked over her shoulder to find Sebastian standing over a cup of tea in the kitchen. She looked back to Ominis with a murderous gaze she hoped he could feel. “You lying bastard!” she said.

“He came to me and asked for help getting you to talk to him. I think you should hear him out,” Ominis said.

MC scoffed. “I already heard him out. It didn’t lead anywhere good,” she replied.

Ominis sighed. “Look, I know you’re scared, MC. I know better than most the reasons you have not to give him another chance. But I also know better than most how much you two loved each other – and how hard it is for love like that to fade. I can’t have the love of my life back, but I won’t let you regret giving up on yours without weighing it fully.”

MC wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. “I can’t believe you’re playing the dead wife card on me,” she sniffed.

“Only because I love you,” Ominis said earnestly. He grabbed his cloak. “I’ll be back in two hours. Either waythis goes, I trust you two not to destroy my home.”

MC rolled her eyes as Ominis left. She looked back at Sebastian, who was watching her with wary eyes like she might pop away again. It was a tempting option. But, for Ominis’s sake, she would stay.

She waited for Sebastian to speak. To give his justifications for his actions. Or yell at her. Ask her why she ran off. How she could fuck him and then disappear – she hoped for that one for the irony of it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. He set his tea on the counter and walked over to her. He stopped when she stepped back. “This isn’t how I wanted things to be between us.”

MC just blinked at him. She hadn’t anticipated him saying that.

“I should’ve been honest with you from the start instead of playing games and trying to manipulate you. I was too much of a coward to just admit from the jump that I never stopped being in love with you,” he said. “I spent years trying to become someone you could be proud of. Someone who could love you like you deserve. I thought that meant giving up dark magic and doing something good with my life. But I clearly have a lot to learn about how to treat you. And I know this probably doesn’t seem like a step in the right direction, but I genuinely didn’t know Ominis was going to lie to get you here.”

MC steeled herself after she felt a treacherous pang in her chest. “You really gave up dark magic?” she asked, eyeing him sceptically.

“I haven’t touched it since Anne died, and I’m never going to again,” he assured her.

MC rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

“Really?” he shot back. “And are you referring to when you told Ominis I was done without consulting me in the catacombs? Or perhaps when I told Ominis I understood him wanting us to avoid it? I never lied about stopping.”

MC was silent, unable to refute him but unwilling to admit that he was right.

“And I’m telling you now that I’m done playing games. I’m done running. Or hiding. Or whatever I’ve been doing the last two-and-a-half years,” he said. “I’m not Sepe. He was a mask. A way to avoid owning up to my mistakes. But I can’t keep being him. I want to come home.”

“I’m not stopping you,” MC replied. “I’m sure Ominis would even let you stay with him.”

Sebastian stepped forward again, grabbing her hands and looking pleadingly into her eyes. “My home isn’t Feldcroft. It’s you. It’s always been you – since the day you spared me from Azkaban.” He stepped even closer, moving a hand up to her cheek. “No one else has seen me and looked at what I’ve done and loved me anyway. Even Anne took a year to forgive me. And I know I broke your trust, and it’s okay if it takes years to earn it back. I just…I’m asking for a chance to prove that I’ve changed. I’m still not perfect, and I know I don’t deserve it, but I’ll spend every day earning it, and I just…I have to ask. I have to try to come home.”

Tears streamed down MC’s cheeks, and Sebastian tried futilely to wipe them away until she stepped out of his grasp. She felt split in two. Half of her wanted to run and hide where Sebastian could never find her. The other half – maybe more than half – wanted to fall into his arms and let him hold her and promise it would all be okay.

“I can’t let you break my heart again, Sebastian. I love you. I do. But I just can’t,” she sobbed. She wrapped her arms around her middle – to soothe herself, or to protect herself, or maybe both.

“I know, love,” he said calmly. “I swear to you I won’t. I wish every day that I could redo that night. Stay with you. I was a coward and afraid that you still wouldn’t want me, and I ran. And it was the worst mistake of my life.” He took a shuddering breath as tears began to well in his eyes. “I’m so sorry that I can’t fix it. Especially now that I know how you must’ve felt when I was just…just gone. I would give anything to fix it if I could. But I promise it will never happen again. I’m not leaving. Not ever.”

MC’s face crumpled as she sobbed harder. “I’m sorry. I wish I could believe you,” she choked out.

She sat back on the couch before her legs gave out. Sebastian knelt down on one knee in front of her.

“Hey,” he said softly, resting one hand on her leg as the other wiped more tears from her face. “It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything. I–” His voice choked, and he forced an unconvincing smile onto his face. “I’ll be okay.”

MC shook her head, tucking her legs up protectively in front of herself. Sebastian’s hands fell to the couch on either side of her. “I want to trust you,” she said. “I want to give you another chance, but…I mean, you live in Finland. You’re an aurori. You–”

“No, I’m not,” he interjected.

“What?” she asked.

“I told Teräväinen I quit. Effective immediately. Needless to say he wasn’t happy, but…” Sebastian said. “I’m not going back to Finland. I told you: I’m not leaving you again.”

MC started crying again. Sebastian moved to sit beside her and tentatively pulled her into a hug, waiting for her to tense or push him away. She didn’t. Instead, she let her head tilt to rest on his chest.

“You’re…you’re really staying?” she asked once she calmed again.

“I am, love,” he confirmed. “Probably right here for a while until I can find my own place – and a job.”

He laughed slightly.

MC laughed, as well. And then sniffed as she wiped her drippy nose. “I happen to have an in with the aurors at the DMLE,” she said.

“Do you now?” he joked. “Well, I do have some relevant experience.”

“On both sides of the job,” she quipped.

“Oi!” he said, poking her side lightly and making her jump. “Too soon, darling.”

“Sorry,” she said earnestly.

He pressed a kiss to her head as he held her tighter to his chest. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “I’ve missed your teasing.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “I’ve missed teasing you,” she said, giving him a cheeky grin. “In all sorts of ways.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Funny enough, I noticed that,” he replied. “For the record, I much prefer you walking around in lingerie to riding some ponce on my couch.”

“You seemed to be pretty into it,” she argued.

“I was fucking livid. I just didn’t want you to know it bothered me,” he said. “But I lost it when I saw you were wearing my lingerie.”

“You’re welcome to model it anytime,” she teased before letting her feet fall back to the floor and shifting to face him.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant,” he groused, making her laugh. His expression grew serious. “Where does all this leave us?”

“I think it’s worth giving us another shot,” she said. “I mean, you did abandon your whole life for me. I suppose that shows a certain level of commitment.”

His face lit up. “Yeah?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” she said. “But we should take it slow.”

“I can do slow,” he said quickly with an adorable level of earnestness. “How about dinner tonight in London? I’ll make us a reservation somewhere.”

“That sounds perfect,” she replied.

“Brilliant!” he said, beaming at her. He leaned in before catching himself. “Does slow still involve kissing?”

“Slow definitely still involves kissing,” MC replied before connecting their mouths herself.

Apparently, slow also involved Sebatian lying on top of MC as they snogged on the couch. And both of them taking their clothes off. And a very upset Ominis when he returned in the middle of them rather forcefully “taking it slow.”

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow x reader #enemies to lovers #roommates

[breakerwhiskey]

006 - SIX

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut.

[click on] Ugh…

[click]

Jesus Christ. I–

[click]

The last time I had a hangover, I believe I was twenty-eight years old. I’m not twenty-eight anymore. 

Not that I’m old–least, I don’t feel it. Sure, maybe in a usual circumstance I’d be well into suburban adult life or something. Maybe. Probably not. I was never the get hitched and have kids type. Folks in my line of work usually don’t–

[click]

Ughhh god, I don’t even know if I can drive today. My head is pounding. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to spend a day just…resting. I’ve been driving most of the day for the past week after years of barely driving at all. 

It’s been harder on my body than I thought it’d be. Though I guess that might be the after effects of bourbon talking.

[click]

I guess I’m not used to sitting down for so much of the day. Those first few years after everything happened, it took a lot to find a spot we’d be safe in and then to set that place up. By the time we got everything running smoothly, I’d forgotten what it was like to sit still. 

Not that I did much of that before. My life has always been taken up moving around, fixing things, breaking things.

I had to learn how to garden these past six years. 

[click]

Who am I kidding. Harry did most of that stuff. I figured out how to butcher chickens I guess. Chop wood. Fix the roof. Rewire the house. 

It’s not like I had a purpose really. Other than keeping myself alive and trying not to strangle Harry every time she wasted a ton of flour trying to reengineer a goddamned croquembouche she had in Paris in 1962 from memory. That no-good pretentious—

[click]

I can’t figure out if I have less of a purpose now or more of one. I’m still trying to keep myself alive, though I’ve gotten pretty good at that. And there’s not as much…hazard, on the road, as I expected. I’ve got enough food to last me…months, probably. Water’s a toss up sometimes but boiling works in a pinch. As long as I can find gas, I’m good to drive around indefinitely. 

Which, you know…

[click]

Is that a life? Has any of this been? I wasn’t expecting to get past our driveway and find that the whole world had gone back to a normal, civilized society–I’m not even sure I would’ve wanted that. The fear of it is half the reason we never tried to contact anyone–

[click]

But there’s gotta be something–someone–out here somewhere. There’s no way in hell that Harry and I are the only two people who survived…whatever it was. 

So, once again, I’m begging–if you can hear this. Come and find me. I’m at a little house with a red door off Route 33, take left at the bridge and then the third right you come to. I’ll stay a few days, take a beat, and wait. 

[click]

And just to be clear, if you come here and try something I don’t like, well…as I said, I have a lot of experience in breaking things.

Alright, Whiskey out.

[click, static]

#breaker whiskey #audio drama #episode #transcript #Spotify

[mystery-moose]

Tav questions 2, 9, 10, if you please?

2.) What relationship did your Tav have with their family/guardian(s) growing up? Has that changed with age?

Oh, he was extremely rebellious. His parents were relatively rich and well-off, mingling with higher society types. Pretty far from like, Wyll's circle, but far removed from the average person, right? And they were social climbers, concerned with things like "propriety" and "etiquette" and "politics" and by god he just hated it. Hated the dishonesty of it, the way it made him feel penned in and restricted, and so he took every opportunity to push back against it.

I think sending him away to seminary school was a last-ditch effort, I truly don't think they wanted him gone, but they sure didn't want him as he was. And... I really don't think he ever went back! I think he sends them letters, because it feels right to do that, but I don't think he stays in one place long enough to get many replies, and I don't think he misses them as much as they miss him.

That'll probably come back to bite him! If one of them gets sick or something happens, he's gonna go back and feel awful about it the whole way. And there'll probably be some kind of reconciliation, as much as that relationship even needs reconciling. But for now? That's where he's at.

9.) What was your Tav doing when they were taken by the mind flayers?

Okay, so that happened in or around Baldur's Gate proper, right? Canonically that's where we got taken. So... hm. I imagine he was probably finishing his first major sojourn out of the seminary, having gone up and down the mountains or the Chionthar or the Sword Coast or what have you, done some good, slayed some beasties. He was probably in the middle of considering going back home to see his folks, or just picking up some supplies and getting back on the road. One or the other. And before he could decide, bam, teleported by mind flayers!

...I'm basically realizing now that because the whole game is about getting to Baldur's Gate, that of course he has to reckon with this family stuff sometime during act three. Maybe he keeps putting it off because the world is about to end and only deals with it after the game is over? Or else Karlach convinces him otherwise, because she's like "live like you're dyin', rocky mountain climbin'" and so on.

I'll be real, I hadn't fully considered the answers to a lot of these before people asked? I'm discovering a lot about this character through these asks!

10.) What would your Tav consider to be their greatest skill? Is this accurate?

Oh, that's a good question... judgement of character, I think! He's a friendly guy, personable, approachable for a dragonborn, y'know? But he gets a read on people pretty quick and decides if he wants to invest a lot of himself into them. Hence why he collects the party of weirdos he does -- he could tell even when he met Astarion he wasn't ALL bad! And it's also why Minthara didn't survive -- he got nothing but bad vibes from her. If dealing with Astarion's horseshit and wrangling him into something approaching a good person took as long as it did, he could clock immediately that dealing with Minthara would be a Sispyhean task. (If Sisyphus existed.)

#baldurs gate 3 #ask meme #thanks for ask! #sevistur is SUCH a stubborn ass i think #he still has this resentment for his parents for sending him away #for what he views as purely selfish reasons #and so he holds on to that and just... doesn't want to confront them #because he might have to reckon with the idea that he might actually have been a little shit and they might have had a point

[wavernot4love]

time 4 yet another wavernot4love gig recap, gloomtown rochester edition (aka my seventh time seeing idkhow, fourth in rochester, & third at the montage music hall, the latter two a feat i cannot say for many bands) (note this was typed primarily at three am last night so once again there is probably incoherent rambling):

- gonna start this off with this clip of sunnyside since 1. i think that is becoming my favorite song off gloom division and 2. the ending gives me a chuckle

- boring live finally came back 2 me after four long years!!!!

- (dallon neurodivergency mention when talking about the themes of gloom division) (crowd erupts in cheers)

- return of the mormon tabernacle choir comparison arrived post- a letter, with dallon saying the next song (what love) wasn't something they tell you about in church, in typical cheeky fashion

- somewhat related, bro was wearing a gold sparkly grandma cardigan and randomly ripped it off and threw it CLEAN through the doorway of the like, green room at montage mid- what love. speaking of he said people at the vip earlier apparently planned his outfit

- dallon straight up grabbed a kid by the hand mid song and yanked them out of the crowd & onstage so they could do a lil jig together? good for them!!!

- going to leave the dallon quote "this isn't a frat house!" here w/o context

- someone handed him a giant american flag with a picture of him printed on it. god bless america

- ALL OF THE BRACELETS/KEYCHAINS WENT? after the show maybe 40 of us camped outside in case dallon came out and at one point someone who had reached out about them came over & so did a BUNCH of other folks who realized there were, in fact, bracelets. my cousin referred to it as the "meet & greet" since there were barricades set up along the sidewalk which gave me a bit of a laugh. guess i'm making more for buffalo yippee!!!! possibly may make stickers too later if i have time. i'll probably post em, but otherwise look for the person w curly hair & a baggy black thought reform hoodie w bracelets on a carabiner!

- so while we were waiting my cousin and i were sat RIGHT next to the main entrance of montage, right? basically the start of a sort of line of people sat down going down the sidewalk.

anyways, at one point only maybe 45 minutes after the show, out of said main entrance strolls dallon. collective whiplash moment as bro took one look, stopped dead in his tracks, we all collectively looked at each other like

and dallon (who i think was truly surprised so many of us were out waiting in the cold) goes, lightheartedly but genuinely, "what are you guys doing all out here? it's freezing outside!"

and then proceeds to kinda frolick around for a couple minutes laughing w people or whatever. we didn't really approach him since i think he was a bit overwhelmed but it was still just a funny moment and we'll see what happens in buffalo! maybe less people will hang after so it'll be less intimidating for him.

- i do feel the need to mention i heard this one kid we were talking to bring up video games to him & dallon said he's not a huge video games person he just plays the last of us & spiderman really which is funny to me but fitting

- i did bring my point & shoot so once i edit those maybe i'll post some!

anyways, stoked on tomorrow's show yay!!!

#idkhow #gloomtown tour #dallon weekes #i dont know how but they found me #oh i am so excited for the idkhow biennual tour de upstate ny to continue 2morrow #i went from last weekend thinking “how am i going to adjust to idkhow tour THIS soon after 2ourdust?” #and not knowing any of gloomtown yet really besides a couple singles somewhat #to memorizing that entire record nearly and entirely living back in idkhow world #i knew this would happen like i've said before i am just impulsive and need to do it at the last minute RIGHT before a show #also i must say the only uhhh Thing about idkhow shows is i am convinced idkhowies do not know how to move during a show #only show i go to where everyone straight up just kinda stands there bobbing their heads #i saw a /hj post on reddit a while back about this where people brought up the idea of moshing to spkothdvl #and while that was being a bit facetious of course #people did bring up the point that uhh... some more jumping & such would be nice #buffalo i believe in you let's bring some energy to this thing #but regardless gr8 show it is always a good time at the idkhow show #first time i saw idkhow was in fact in rochester in 2018 #dallon & i sure did yodel directly at each other for the entirety of that bit of visitation #hence why the entirety of that bit is fully cemented into my memory #wavernot4love gets 2 the gig #idkhowposting

[1800duckhotline]

dont expect this to be a well-put together analysis/interpretation/etc because im extremely bad at putting my thoughts together but i HAVE to write this down before i completely forget.

sister amalie brainworms ahead. skip over if youre not a #pentimenthead (or dont idk up to you)

so while i dread talking to my parents abt religion theyre regrettably more knowledgeable about a lot of its aspects than i am (never did cathechism and never did communion as a child and idgaf about doing it now aged 23) but i asked them a bit about Why does sister amalie have Purple in her habit. Because purple is a color that REALLY stands out not only against her basic vestments which are white, but also because literally nobody except maybe priests during certain festivities/periods of the year for mass/ceremonies wears colors that vibrant as a like, religious uniform.

from basic history i'd gathered that purple is a regal color. this was completely unrelated from Why amalie has purple in her habit. (lol) But anyways from what i understood long story short is that purple in religion represents grief, penance and wait (for the coming of Christ iirc). This is like, the baseline for what purple represents in ALL usage of it in paraments.

We know Amalie is a mystic and an anchoress; specifically an ascetic who lives a mostly reclused lifestyle and has possibly been a regular nun before turning to this specific kind of lifestyle (which is surprisingly free of rules, anchorites aren't constricted by vows such as chastity for example, nor do they have obligations to the public or the church: their life is reserved exclusively to study and prayer) - I'm referring to times before she was at her old convent with Father thomas (according to the game, 10 years prior the story).

Mystics can either recount of their visions, reserve themselves to prayer or even become exorcists. We know pentiment isn't fully founded in like 200% realism but we know well Amalie is a mix of the first two; her 'visions' are even well explained by her probable chronic pains which, for the time, weren't treatable much if at all - pain that strong (arthritis and scoliosis are no joke) is assured to give you Visions and this is still very true to this day. It does seem however that she decides to give in to this pain, as part of her asceticism, as part of her prayer and devotion. More or less it is a deliberate choice, and being the times they were a lot of these folk had a belief that the pain was a trial given to them by God for them to endure so to speak. It wouldn't be silly to claim Amalie falls under this specific type of asceticism.

If you remember what I mentioned about purple representing penance, among other things, pentiment (ha) for one's sin and past faults, it correlates also perfectly with the concept of Contrition which is central to christianity in particular and later is more or less heavier or lighter depending on the different doctrine. Contrition is essentially 'to feel crushed by guilt for a previous sin committed'. Amalie's habit is more and more decorated by purple as years go by; I can't say if this is a deliberate choice on the devs' part, though I think it'd be cool if it was both a like, literal and 'symbolic' choice. Both because more purple in habit = more years spent in 'waiting', a milestone mark of sorts - and because more purple in habit = more years spent in guilt, consciously or not, for the part she played in the terrible murders that took place in tassing (Lorenz deserved it though, fuck that guy).

Idk it was puzzling me for a WHILE because purple is SUCH a strong color to use for a design. And this makes so so sooo much sense to me. If you're still reading this I'm sorry i'm so mentally unwell about this woman

also talking to a friend apparently it was part of the anchorite rule, specifically for anchoresses, to shave their hair or otherwise keep it short (according to an old english book which, well, y'know, doesn't probably apply to all places universally, but we can nitpick information for fun here). so basically sister Amalie should be shaven. she is to ME. she is BALD AND BEAUTIFUL

#rambles #idk how to fucking tag this... #well IF YOU DONT CARE ABT PENTIMENT FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS im a hashtag amalielover

[hearteyesandviolence]

The Wilds Season 2 Thoughts: Episodes 3 and 4

SPOILERS

-Tree scene. So, one of my favorite romance tropes is “You could have died” type of worry. So Shelby's   wide eyed worry and glomp onto Toni, I just ate that shit up. I kind of wish it had been a touch more dramatic....like a moment where she thought Toni had been hit...wow, now that I type that, I'm hearing how it's not the healthiest thing to romanticize. Ah, well. Here we are.

-God, Fatin with her hair down is so beautiful. I mean, she's always beautiful....but in this episode she is just on another level.

-My patience with the boys definitely thinned with this batch. I don't think they're on the girls level as characters or as actors. I still don't hate them (Not most of them), but this still feels like a show I'm being asked to watch to get to the show I wanna watch.

-I'm charmed by the awkward way Shelby and Toni are walking arm and arm in the forest. They look like extras in an old musical.

-Yes, yes, dirty nails....I can't pretend that love scene wasn't so beautiful otherwise....

-Well, I can see why the post took so long....the CGI on that jungle cat must have taken months. (eye roll)

-Oh, I do so love happy Rachel.

-The whole dance sequence really just encapsulates why I love the girls so much. Leah and Rachel coming out of their respective funks. Martha dancing. Fatin and Dot lovingly snarking. Toni and Shelby being so hopelessly in love.

-I feel personally attacked that Seth took improv classes at Second City.

-I did love the return of Pilot Shelby in the party planning scene.

-Toni being turned on by bossy Shelby is gonna inspire sooo many smuts.

-Yesterday I talked about how I hate Gretchen, and not in the way I think I'm supposed to. Farber, I think I hate exactly how I'm supposed to. He's a much better done villain, in my opinion, in part I think because it's supposed to be clear he's not quite as smart as he thinks he is, or at least he's not as far ahead of the girls as he thinks he is.

-Reign Edwards is just killing it this season. All the girls are great, but she has such a tricky run of feelings to pull off and is doing it so beautifully.

-That last scene with Josh and Seth....god....did we really need that? I'll reserve full judgement till I've finished, but I really don't like going in that territory just for pure drama's sake.

-I will say, I do like that Seth is a well done portrait of a predator. This layer of charm that is so clearly put on to conceal the truth once you know it.

-This is total hearsay, but I feel like some of the cast was not on board for this plot line. Noticeably, Erana and Sarah's only social activity on the date of the premiere was to warn folks about the subject matter. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.

-All in all, i feel like i got half of two great girls episodes, and half of two middling/upsetting boys episodes. I remain baffled by why they thought this change would work.

#the wilds #the wilds season 2 #the wilds season 2 spoilers #toni x shelby #shoni #goodfoe #shelby goodkind #toni shalifoe #rachel reid #Martha Blackburn #dot campbell #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #the wilds spoilers #tw: assault

[stoptellinglieslois]

Principal of pleasure part 35

Lois shows up at farm house Clark and Dick discussion starts to truly begin.

Superman x Nightwing pairing

Clark

Lois walks in purse in hand and enters the living where me and Dick waited.

Arms still cross. "Ok all of you need to tell me what's going on between the two of you I want to know everything. If I ask a question I want you all to be honest with me no matter what." Lois sits down on a smaller sofa legs cross.

Dick is still standing I could tell he didn't know what to do so I took his hand and directed him where I was sitting and pulled him to sit beside me. Lois narrows her eyes at our hands laced together.

It was then I think she realised something that she couldn't explain yet.

I knew she was keeping whatever it is in her thoughts for the moment.

"How did this all happen I want to know how you two got together first." I don't know if this would make her feel better to hear about us but it was a way to come clean for me.

But her eyes never left my hand still wrapped with Dick.

"Lois...I." God this was hard but I pushed on. "It started when I first knew I was attracted to Dick, He was in my heart for the longest time I never had feelings like this for anyone else before." I said admitting it out loud felt odd but in a freeing way even if it's in front of Lois.

I continued. "He was truly only seventeen at the time I didn't get why I was having these feelings for him, I couldn't explain anything to anyone I didn't even know about my own sexuality at that time." I never even talked about my sexuality out loud either this was the first time.

"What is your preference."

"I like both men and women I think they are both in my eyes beautiful, I truly don't have a preference." I never said this out loud before Lois is sitting there with no expression I couldn't explain really. she just continued to stare at us so I continued.

"I saw Dick grow more and more into this beautiful young man. I never expressed how I felt about him before I had no attention before to show I had interest in him. I fell in love with him long ago." Lois closed her eyes and held back tears her shoulders slumped over and her head hung low for a moment, She lifted her head up again with no tears that I could see on her face and I went on.

"I carried on like I always did I would see him and he would go on and never understand how much in love I am with him. I ignored some signals in the earlier stages of my feelings for him." I looked over at Dick who was looking away but he still held my hand.

And then my attention went back to Lois. Her eyes never missed a trick whatever she saw she was holding for later on.

"I decided that if this was my life I would just live this type of existence and let these types of emotions fester hoping it would go away every time I would see him it would never release me it would only get more and more stronger." I recollected the many times I would see him in the past and my love for him would mount me.

"So why marry me Clark if you had all of this why pursue me at all I gotta say, Clark I thought we were a team you and I." She said analysing my confession.

"I thought being with you was everything I needed in life because..... I knew very well my parents wouldn't approve of my choice which means if I went for Dick they would never approve. Yes my folks accepted me in all capacity I'm an alien but they are people who aren't really all that open yes I'm an eye opener to them but that's as far as it goes for them." I told her flat I was not going to sugar code it for anyone any longer I knew what they were.

"Fine continue." She demanded of me so I obliged.

"I knew if I went for him I was already married to you and you were already pregnant with Jon.... so my chances to ever explore anything with Dick would not even be a good idea." I told her even now admitting all of this didn't matter I was still hurting everyone.

"But you went for it any ways."

"Yes I felt more and more distant from you and I felt more compelled to be drawn closer to Dick. I would have still stayed in the dark if he did not show he was interested in me at all." It was true if he truly show he didn't want me I would stay in my place.

"But he did show you interest."

"Yes he did."

"He is still married to Gordon did you want to ruin that too so you could have a chance." Lois said fixing her cooper hair to the right side.

"I didn't know they were engaged at the time so when I found out I was shocked but I went after him anyway." Lois took a deep breath at that and smoothed out her skirt that had no wrinkles.

"Dos he talk." She pointed at Dick who was staring at the ground he was ashamed I didn't want him to feel that way.

I didn't say anything I wanted him to answer her if we were put on trial right now I didn't want to be the only one to defend us.

The living room grew silent for a long time.

I still didn't say anything Dick turned his head towards Lois he looked at her, Something in his blue eyes I never knew was there. it was fire and wild it was like he waited for me and her and then he would have his turn.

"He does talk but could I say something to you. Knowing he messed with Ollie you knew he was doing things behind your back and now here you are asking for information that is clearly eating you alive, Clark had no intentions of hurting you and I cried and felt shame.." Lois cut him off.

"You should feel ashamed."

"Then you will feel worse if I start talking this won't get better from here it will get worse you really wanna hear how long I dreamt of having him for god sake Lois I took on the name Nightwing I stayed with you guys for six months and I knew there was something there for me Clark may not have seen it but he isn't good at hiding his feelings." Dick said he was all on her I didn't think he was going there but he did.

"Yes it would get worse Grayson hearing you talk about your feelings would be utmost.... it would destroy me but at this point you had no intention of ever telling it because I caught you didn't I Dick." She said looking straight at me.

"I actually want to tell Barbara like I told you."

"Will you tell everyone cause the two of you will always be on everyone's radar." I think I know where this is going.

"You two ruined my life." She got up and we didn't carry too much liquor at the house, She went towards the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of sambuca opened it and poured her a glass and closed the cabinet and with the bottle Lois sat back down on the sofa.

"You will call them I am giving the both of you a chance to call either Barbara or Bruce and tell them what the two of you are doing." Dick shot up from the sofa.

"No Lois you don't get that kind of power over us. No way." Dick mad was not having it.

End of part 35 next is part 36

Thank you for reading

#nightwing x superman parings #superman #nightwing #dick grayson #clark x dick #clark kent #fandom #fanfic stuff #fanfic smut #fanfiction #slash fandom #fandom things #fandom thoughts #slash fic #slasher

[snow--blanket]

laissez-faire

fandom: bustafellows

characters: mozu nile shepherd, teuta bridges (featuring the rest of the gang)

words: 2081

i just think they r neat.... also this is for bustafezine on twt and its FREE go read it if u haven't yet. okay love u bye!!!!

***

The sun was beating down on New Sieg, and Teuta Bridges was in between a rock and a hard place. Or, more accurately, between Mozu and a very stubborn man in shorts and a floral-print shirt, looking as if he had just finished his side gig of being an on-screen dying extra of a Jaws movie. Clearly, someone bought the wrong plane tickets. 

“Like I said!” The man yelled, instead of ‘saying’, “I don’t know where Kingfisher Park is! All I’m asking is for some help!”

“You have a considerable volume for what you think constitutes asking. And as we’ve told you, we’re in a hurry. I’ve shown you directions and typed in the search on your phone’s map, so all you need to do is follow it.” Mozu then paused thoughtfully. “Unless you’re incapable?”

The glare of the sun further emphasized the sheen of sweat on the man’s face, and his expression looked like he was a raging bull about to charge. Teuta didn’t need to guess that Mozu was his giant, waving, red flag. Except he probably didn’t notice that the flag he was waving was red, and that his opponent was more bull than man. 

“Mozu!” She tugged on his arm, “I’m a little thirsty. Can we get a drink on the way to Joneses'?” She tried to become the pure, ultimate embodiment of charm and endearing, words Mozu once used when discussing the history of cat domestication and its impact on nomadic lifestyle. She couldn’t catch a rat if she tried—but she had green eyes, and Luka always told her they were pretty. That had to count, right?

“Sure, in a moment.” Mozu turned his attention back to the man.

Pretty like weed and just as easy to ignore, I guess.

Unexpectedly, he slipped his hand in hers, and his tone took on a finality that she had only heard when telling off Crow and Shu on wasting takeout food. A smile sneaked its way onto her face. Go get ‘im, Mozu!

“We’ve done all we can to help. If you really insist on having us guide you, you can follow us to our destination and we’ll stop by the police department. One of the officers can assist.”

“Ha! Forget it. You New Sieg folk are all the same. I’ll find my way to the police department myself, and when I do, I’ll complain about how unfriendly this place is to tourists.” He sneered condescendingly, and leaned to look Mozu in the eyes with a stare she didn’t appreciate. “Give me a name to pin this down to.”

“Crow Miller,” said Mozu with no hesitation.

Teuta wanted to laugh so hard she thought she was going to throw up. 

“Weak-ass name for a weak-ass guy. Figures. You’ll see what’s coming to you soon!”

Oh my GOD—

“Okay,” Mozu said easily as the man sauntered off, and if she could, she would make ice cubes with his breezy tone for a hot summer day. Or, right now. They were out of the house by 1 P.M., and it was 1:45 P.M.! And here they were still, ice cream-less. Mozu gave her hand a squeeze and turned her way. His voice gentled, taking a far more ‘considerable volume for what constitutes asking’. “Are you alright? I’m sorry we got stuck here for so long.”

“It’s fine, it was funny to watch. I was just hoping he wouldn’t punch you.”

“Punch me?” 

“Yeah. When you asked him if he couldn’t even follow directions, I was sure he was gonna start swinging.” She flashed him a toothy grin. “Don’t worry though! Shu started giving me tips on self defense. I know what to do if he tries something!” For good measure, she even made a show of some moves with her fists.

“What did he teach you?”

“Go for the eyes, then balls.”

“So why the fist?”

“Uh… finisher move, I guess?”

“But it’s self defense. Isn’t that what you said?”

“It’s just for bonus points. Like that game Crow always plays!”

“I see,” he nodded solemnly, and she wasn’t sure what he did see. But damn if that didn’t make him all the more lovable to her! “So that’s how he took it. I was just asking if he couldn’t follow directions because I get lost sometimes too. The lines on the map and colors make it hard to see if I’m cycling the right way.”

“Makes sense,” Teuta hummed, leading the way to Trader Joneses’. I hope there’s still some left. “But with the way you say it, Mozu, an innocent question sounds like a comeback. It’s kinda funny.”

He frowned slightly, deep in thought. “...I see.”

***

“By the way,” Limbo mumbled through a mouthful of ham sandwich, “Don’t think it needs to be said since you guys probably know better, but be careful going out. There’s been this ongoing schtick where some guys ask for directions and then mug you at the spot.” After swallowing, he said: “Not that this would affect Crow in any way. For people with jobs, it’s important.”

“Hey! I do have a job! Anima, tell ‘em!”

Schedule: Clear, rang Anima’s voice throughout the house, with much more clarity Crow probably wanted. Teuta couldn’t stifle a snort. 

Ignoring Crow, Helvetica chimed in: “I’ll be fine, but Mozu, didn’t you say you had overtime recently? Will you be alright?” Her arm shot up in the air quicker than her mouth had words to formulate for it. “It’s cool! I’ll be around.” Honestly, it was pretty hard getting alone time with Mozu recently. They could have a bite before going home and catch up, and the timing was opportune…! Well, not for the ones that got mugged, that is. Her condolences, and all that, but she wanted to talk to her boyfriend!

“Honestly, if one of you gets mugged, you’d deserve it.” Shu said after beating Crow in a game, patting his back with a there there. “You all live with criminals and you don’t know how to tell if something’s up? Embarrassing.” 

“I think we actually had someone pull that over us while we were on our way to get ice cream. Right, Mozu?”

“Mm, yeah.” Mozu took a pair of tongs and served the finished spaghetti into a large bowl. “He threatened to complain about us to the police if we didn’t comply.”

“What?!” The ever-easily-shocked-despite-being-legally-dead Crow turned from the TV with his eyes wide like saucers. “Isn’t that like, bad? Did anything else happen?”

“No. And it wasn’t a threat to us anyways. We used your name, Crow.” Mozu laid down the plates in one stack and put down forks on the counter. “Come eat, everyone. Before it gets cold.”

“Why’d you use my name, out of all things? This should go into the Respect Jar!” “Mozu never insulted you though, dude.” Shu slithered into a chair, and Teuta still cringed at his posture to this day. He’d be a great Hunchback of Notre Dame if they ever needed someone who was tall. “And ‘sides, what’s it called. The bad boy effect, or whatever? Having a record might get you a girlfriend.”

Helvetica sat at the opposite end of the counter, elegantly twisting his spaghetti onto his plate. “Not that it matters. He’d have to get out of the house for anyone to know he has a criminal record.”

“Rather than Crow, you shoulda seen Mozu talking! He pretty much dunked the guy like a biscuit.” Yeah, so what if she was bragging! Her boyfriend was as cool as a cucumber, and everyone deserved to know.

“Tsk tsk tsk, Mozu. I thought you were the civilized one. I’m the one supposed to be dunking people with words.” Despite finishing his sandwich, Limbo shamelessly found himself around the big plate of spaghetti. I guess it’s for his growth? But he’s twenty seven…

“...It was nothing. Just a misunderstanding.” Mozu nudged a plate of spaghetti her way, voice quieter than before. “Eat up.”

***

“This biodegradable straw is too effective,” Mozu frowned, looking at his now disintegrating straw that he used only seconds ago. “I don’t see the point.”

“Want me to get the ones they use for coffee? Those ones are plastic, but they’re a bit smaller.”

“It’s fine.” With a stare that could passably be called judgemental, he looked at the plate of cake in front of her. Two plates of cake, in fact. “Are you sure you’ll be able to finish that?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! I was hungry.” She spooned a luxurious and sweet-salty bite of caramel cake into her mouth. “Plus, they’re two different flavors. They taste different, so if I ever get sick, I just need to switch plates.”

Even though Mozu did work overtime, he was sometimes too taxed to do anything but rest at home after work. Today happened to be a lucky day, and so Teuta proposed a bite at Harry and Keith’s for a recharge. Mozu for his energy, and her for her Mozu-battery. No matter how many cakes it would take, she would order as much cake as she needed to extend the date as long as she could. Her stomach would just have to suck it up.

Although silences with Mozu were often the comforting kind, Teuta felt like something was amiss. After swallowing another hearty spoonful of now cookies-and-cream cake, she spoke: “Mozu, do you have something on your mind?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to say it,” he said, and let out a rare, small sigh. “Teuta, do you ever feel like I’m putting you in danger?”

She bit back a No, never, from barely rolling off her tongue. Mozu looks… “Not at all. It’s the opposite. You’re the one that’s helped me out of danger so many times, Mozu.”

They would occasionally meet up with Ivy now and then and catch up—as friends, but also as adults. She’d been around the Fixers (and was one of them, now) for some time, and although she never got direct contact with anything close to a dead body, there were still memories of past events that crept up in nightmares when sleep was elusive. How worse would it have been for a teenager?

“I know I’m different from other people, but I’ve never considered that a bad thing. I don’t dislike who I am, and I’ve never done or said anything I didn’t want to. I think that’s important. But I realized that it could be dangerous for you if I continue doing things the way I’m used to.” As if he’d tasted something bitter, his expression tightened slightly. “Just like with that guy that tried to mug us, and… Troy. What if I say the wrong thing unintentionally and put you in harms’ way?”

“Mozu, you’re smart.” She didn’t even need to think before saying that. “You know when we’re in a dangerous situation and when we’re not. I trust you.” Pausing, she put her hands on her hips as a triumphant show of don’t worry! “And if I think otherwise, I’ll let you know—two heads are better than one, after all!” 

“Still, if I had been more careful with my words…”

Teuta clanged her dessert spoon on her plate, bringing his attention directly to her. “Savoir faire. Do you know what it means?”

“No.”

“It means, uhh…” She scrambled for her phone in her bag, opening her notes app for her column ideas. “Ahem. It means ‘the instinctive knowledge of the right course of action in any circumstance, knowing just what to do and how to do it’. Mozu, do you think that’s a good thing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he blinked, and she grinned. 

“Nope! I actually think the opposite. To know just what to do, how to do it, for any problem, doesn’t that mean you need to know everything and have expertise for every subject? Do you think it’s reasonable for one person to know everything and always be the one to make the correct decisions?”

Although she knew he didn’t like to make assumptions about where she was leading him, there was a hint of a smile showing on his face. 

“You don’t need to be good at everything, or make all the hard decisions yourself. I’ll be here. And, if we fight about something…” She laughed fondly, “Well, don’t we have Ana for that?”

The bud of a smile on his lips bloomed into a flower, and she felt her heart soar. “You’re right.”

#bustafellows #bustafe #bustafellows teuta #teuta bridges #bustafellows mozu #mozu shepherd #mozu nile shepherd #gotta put some respect to his full name #anyways i think its neat when two characters are just so (clenches fists) accepting of one another that their acceptance leads to #natural growth and uplifting each other bc their lives .... are made better w the other in it #AUGHHHHHHHH #i do like me some mentally ill lil guys to shake like a snowglobe. but i would like to personally put mozu into my front pocket #and keep him safe and secure #i love writing mozu cus he has some struggles that i share and its fun to see how he tackles them #as well as how he solves his problems cus he's rlly logical + straightforward #OUGHHHH MY BELOVED #i esp loved his ummm 'speaking for myself is tiring enough but speaking for others? no thanks.' #SOOOOO TRUE KING. ITS THE ND URGE TO NOT WANT TO MISREPRESENT PPL UR SPEAKING FOR CUS #SO MANY THINGS CAN AFFECT YOUR MSG LIKE BODY LANGUAGE TONE WORD CHOICE GESTURES ETC #so true. but i loved how teuta responded to it too AUGJHHHH THEY R SO GOOD TOGETHER #my king and queen ... i love u both #okay thats it i think bye

[firstcurse-moved]

Good morning, I'm never not out of my mind so I wanted to post some thoughts. When my internet is back, I plan to rewatch season four for the AU and I'm thinking of making a server for folks to come in and chat and plot but anyway, not the point of the post, the point of this post was me thinking about the Mindflayer and Henry as usual and a whole bunch of random crap I wanna share with you all, in particular I want to talk about the UD and what I personally think it is and have been portraying it as because the Duffer brothers made this character specifically for me so now you all have to deal with it. So if you paid attention, which most this fandom didn't so I have to do everything myself, there is a heavy suggestion that the entity we know as the Mindflayer or "The Shadow" was present in Henry's childhood, having some type of specific link to the Creel House which I've mentioned a million times before. I'm insanely confident on my take on this because it lines up near perfectly with all the media the Duffer's took inspiration from. Particularly from Derry/IT/The deadlights which is also obvious inspo in the show. The Creel house is a direct homage to the Neibolt house, and idk how people miss that, BUT MOREOVER, I've also mentioned before that another point of inspo for Vecna's creation and obviously for the Mindflayer is Swamp Thing which the Duffer's did confirm. In particular the concept of "The Green" and "The Rot/Black" simultaneously apply, imo.

( Quick recap if you don't know what none of that shit is and you don't wanna read my other long ass info dumps, the Swamp Thing universe deals with the concept of omnipresent cosmic god-like forces who have some type of dominion over an element, these forces are sentient, highly intelligent and they're described as a "hive mind". Moreover, they tend to choose a "human" avatar to represent them and carry out their will which essentially makes said human a demigod. This is what Swamp Thing is, he's an avatar of "The Green", which is essentially life, particularly taking the form of nature and plants. But as I said the "The Green" has an opposite force called "The Black" or "The Rot", and this is basically the force of death, represented by things that rot, such as plants and even humans / animals, which again kind of links it very closely to The Green as kind of... The dark reflection of it. )

There is repeated imagery in the Creel's house of flowers / plants, most obviously the symbolic front door is the stained glass rose, but we also see floral and rose patterns on other things like cushions and such, and we've already had the Mindflayer and its bizarre physical manifestations ( The vines, the spores, the weird bulbs, etc ) related to plants and "flowers" on more than one occasion. What do I think this means ? Well, I can't say for certain but basically I'll just cut right to it: I think the entire upside down is some kind of living thing and thats what I've been going with.

AND I KNOW THIS SOUNDS CRAZY. But the other thing that is very noticeable about The Upside Down to me is that it has disturbing digestive properties ( Again talked about this in another big info dump before ) and another major source of inspiration for the thing that the Duffer brothers have made sure to reference in just about every fucking season in some way with multiple homages and even having characters talk about it directly is The Thing. ( Not to mention all the obvious HP. Lovecraft inspiration )

If you're not a massive horror fan or big nerd like me you might not know exactly how that's relevant or might just think yeah haha alien monster BUT NO the significance here is "the thing" is a fragment of a cosmic entity who A) Started out life looking like a spider, and spiders / spider webs are another massively symbol ic thing here, B) is suggested to be part of a larger organism and C) assimilates other organisms into itself creating a type of "hivemind", its body is literally a digestive system that disturbingly doubles as a womb which is how its able to 'replicate' its victims.

So we have that.

Now put that with how the UD "rots" whatever it comes in contact with. Almost like its digesting it. Further put that with how much imagery in the Upside Down calls reference to a living organism. ( The capillary-like growths, which can also appears web-like, the weird saliva like slime, the production of spores, etc ) and how often the UD and the mindflayer have been related to things like infection and bacteria more than once. And how a lot of this relates to things like mould. In fact, just about everything in the UD can resemble some type of mould. It also appears to have sporocarp properties would actually explain the ""eggs"" from season one, which could literally be "fruit" from the fruiting body.

Typically, mould is a living thing, its fungi and for a long time fungi was classified as a type of plant due to its behaviors and characteristics. I don't know where the Duffers are going to go with this exactly BUT PERSONALLY this makes the most sense to me and is where I'm going with it, leaning very heavily into the eldritch horror aesthetic. The Shadow, or the mindflayer, is its nucleus, in a bizarre, metaphysical type of way. Now for the demo-creatures ? They could go two ways here. One being they're the natural defense system of the UD, kind of like a freaky immune system, or the other being they were invading 'pests' that were 'tamed' to be used as a defense system. The reason for the second interpretation is that they seem to be hostile toward Vecna in the VR game but this isn't shown in canon so far and we don't know if the VR game is gonna be considered actual canon. That being said, they could have simply perceived Vecna as a threat in the beginning as a "foreign entity" until they realized he was... "Meant" to be there, so to speak. And this does kind of play a part in my canon because it not only explains how the UD came to mirror Hawkins but it also explains why Vecna himself wasn't present for the first 2-3 seasons. We've already had it explained to us that psychics like Eleven and Henry are like batteries and they can exhaust themselves. The VR game seems to show Vecna "shaping" the UD as Hawkins. If Vecna reshaped an entire dimension, which yeah, I'm sorry but no one else could do that and fandom's Will theory is stupid because do I love Will ? Yes ! But do I believe he has powers anywhere near that caliber ? No ! Further, its pretty obvious Will's powers are his perception of the hivemind, moreover, the UD looked like Hawkins when Will got there after Henry yet it didn't look like Hawkins when Henry got there before Will. Like come on, its obvious who influenced the appearance of the UD. But yeah, anyway, after that Vecna probably needed a rest.

Which would also explain why Vecna literally tells Eleven that basically the reason he's around and could open his own gates is because of her power being absorbed by the mindflayer proxy in season 3, which was apparently transferred to Vecna, restrengthening him or awakening him or whatever you want to say. And this also calls back to Will explaining that mindflayer only "activates" its "victims" when it "needs" them.

PUTTING ALL THAT SLIGHTLY ASIDE THOUGH, I also have something I think about a lot and this is going back to the heavy suggestion the mindflayer entity was always present somehow in the Creel house and somehow connected with Henry. My thoughts are... Was Henry ever actually "flayed" ? In the same way characters like Will and Billy were or is Henry's link merely a subconscious / psychic one ? I've been going with the latter personally, at least until Henry becomes Vecna but its VERY INTERESTING because of the fact that "the source" Eleven encounters in season 3 is identical to Vecna's mindscape.

So lemme explain real quick: In season 3 Eleven goes inside of Billy's mind and finds the fragment of the mindflayer that is "controlling" him. Its represented as a raging storm that encompasses all of Billy's worst / most traumatic memories, seemingly feeding off them. Eleven wanders inside of the storm and comes to its eye, which again, this is an identical place to Vecna's mindscape. Eleven refers to this as "the source", the significance of this "place's" visual appearance seemingly being the place where the victim was first "contacted", so to speak, by the mindflayer. With Billy this is the Brimborn steelworks. With Vecna, again, his mindscape is identical but obviously rather than being the Brimborn steelworks its the inside of the Creel house. The only difference being the Vecna's mindscape is covered with the mindflayer's vines and is also floating around in pieces. For me this is kind of a manifestation of Vecna's unlife, the fact he's been "living with" the mindflayer for longer than anyone else; eg its kind of a representation of the corrosion of time / longer 'corruption' + obviously his 'fractured' mental state. SO THIS LEAVES ME TO WONDER.... Was Henry ever actually flayed ? Like as a child, like Will was, or again is the Creel house just showing up as Vecna's mindscape because its kind of symbolic to when Henry was first "discovered" by the mindflyer. I guess when I think about this Henry's "flaying" was probably different to Will and Billy's just based on the fact he did seemingly already possess some type of psychic ability, which meant the MF had a different avenue into Henry's mind / soul without actually physically possessing or assaulting him to forcefully insert that part of its presence within him as the case was with Will and Billy was. In my canon, child Henry has dreams / nightmares about it frequently, but nothing ever happens in the physical world. But this could change bc Idk if canon is planning in season 5, I just know the Duffers have said we're gonna be seeing a lot more of Henry / Vecna and the lore surrounding him.

Anyways, yeah, thats all the thoughts for today, more surely to come eventually.

#⊰ ° ‧: 🕸️ * ● 𝐈 ° ━◞ Out Of Character ⊱ #⊰ ° ‧: 🕸️ * ● 𝐈 ° ━◞ Headcanons ⊱ #headcanons #if this format is fucked i apologize i did my best LOL

[buzzdixonwriter]

Better It Befall Q*bert Than Optimus Prime

In 1983 Joe Ruby assigned Gary Greenfield and me the task of developing Q*bert as an animated series.

We retreated to Gary’s office wondering how in the hell we were going to do it.

If you’re not old enough to recall, Q*Bert was a popular video game of the era with a unique feature: Based on an optical illusion, the background could suddenly shift orientation, so what was once “up” as now at a 90° angle to either side, and if a character didn’t shift along with it they would fall off the screen.

It finally dawned on us that the video game -- in which the eponymous Q*bert is pursued by hopping coiled snakes -- was basically the same situation as Road Runner vs. Coyote.  Once we cracked that, the rest came easy.  The series would be silent, set in an ever shifting 4-D environment.  We did a four page presentation including plenty of plot ideas and sight gag suggestions so anybody coming after us to work on the show would have a plethora of examples to spark ideas.

We typed it up and walked in to present it to Joe.

Joe took it from our hands and literally tossed it in his trash can unread, saying, “I wanna do Q*bert as Happy Days.”

It may be a good thing Joe never took the Transformers when they were offered to him.

I’ve told that story before: Basically Hasbro walked into the Ruby-Spears offices with a suitcase filled with transforming robot toys, wanting to make a TV series based on them.

I was the giant robot advocate back in those days and it was all I could do to keep myself contained.  As soon as the Hasbro team left, I told Joe, “We have got to do this show!  It’s going to be huge!”

“Nah,” said Joe, “I’ve got a better idea:  We’re gonna do a show about a teenage boy who turns into a car.”

…and thus Turbo Teen was born.

Not long after that I left Ruby-Spears and wound up with many other R-S alumni at Sunbow Productions, working on Transformers and G.I. Joe and many, many others.

Ruby-Spears began a slow spiral into the ground (and to be totally fair, the whole animation industry took a decade long spiral as the syndication market collapsed and a new business model needed to be found).

What would have happened if Joe had produced Transformers?

Good question.

Before going further, let me say everybody who worked for Joe and Ken Spears loved them.  Ruby-Spears was a wonderful place to work and where I made many lifelong friends.  Both Joe and Ken were decent, patient men who were very supportive of their team.

No complaints on that score.

But the company was marked by Joe’s own particular / peculiar creative sensibilities, and the thing was that without Ken in the room to counterbalance him, Joe could get some PrEtTy FnCkInG wEiRd IdEaS.

(And folks, if Buzz Dixon says you have PrEtTy FnCkInG wEiRd IdEaS, you have PrEtTy FnCkInG wEiRd IdEaS!)

The way Joe & Ken worked as a writing team was that Joe would spout off one idea after another and Ken would jot them down, occasionally throwing in suggestions of his own.  When Joe was done, Ken would type up their notes in a coherent form, polishing and editing them so they didn’t so totally random.

And hey -- it worked!  Joe & Ken are the guys who co-created Scooby-doo, which simultaneously doomed them at Hanna-Barbera (because no way was Bill Hanna going to tolerate a couple of potential rivals on his staff) and groomed them to run their own studio.  They had the chops to do the job.

But the thing was, they worked best as a creative team.

When they got Ruby-Spears Productions up and running, one of them had to be the business guy, keeping an eye on production schedules and budgets while the other handled the creative end.

If Ken had been the creative producer, he would have done a fine job.  Ken was ever sharp, always insightful, great at breaking creative log jams with remarkable clarity.

But that would have meant putting Joe in charge of the business end and ye gods, if they had done that there would be a still smoking crater where Ruby-Spears once stood.

This is not to say Ken had no input in the creative end, but once where he’d been an effective governor on Joe’s ever racing imagination, now he was reduced to occasionally holding up a “CAUTION” sign and hoping his partner noticed.

The two most popular series Ruby-Spears produced were Thundarr The Barbarian and The Puppy’s Further Adventures.

They were also the two shows where Joe allowed his creative staff the most direct input.

Joe was a bottomless fount of oddball ideas.  Rickety Rocket was a sci-fi comedy that was less Fat Albert and more Amos ‘n’ Andy in space, Mighty Man & Yukk featured a canine so ugly he needed to wear a doghouse on his head lest he cause horrific disaster, while Dingbat & The Creeps featured a trio of monsters based on the 3 Stooges with the Curly-character a fat skeleton!

And don’t get me started on Goldie Gold & Action Jack…

After I left Ruby-Spears, Joe & Ken got involved with some toy based syndicated shows but never enjoyed the same success there they’d found when the company was doing Thundarr and Puppy.

I can’t and won’t pass judgment on those individual series because I never watched most of them and of those I did, only a few episodes, not enough to make a valid observation on the overall quality.

But I have to wonder how much influence Joe tried to have on concepts brought to him by toy companies, and whether Ken was able to steer Joe in the direction the companies wanted to go.

Hasbro, frustrated that most animation studios turned down Transformers (all except Hanna-Barbera, who flat out ripped them off with GoBots), started Sunbow, their own animation company.

We on the Sunbow creative staff knew we weren’t getting any filtered or contradictory instructions from on high:  If our bosses said it, we did it.

And Hasbro, realizing they were now operating in an area where they had no emotional stake in the creative process but had hired (if I say so myself) some of the best talents then available, essentially said as long as the episodes presented the toys in a positive manner, we could do pretty much whatever we wanted.

Holy shamolley -- was that ever liberating!

Could an alliance with Ruby-Spears have worked if Joe insisted on putting his mark on Transformers?

Great question, and I have no hard and fast answer.

I strongly suspect Joe would have pushed for more stories based on the supporting human cast rather than the Autobot heroes.  From prior experience, the shows would be filled with more random bits of business and non sequitors.

That can work with pure comedy, not so much with action / adventure (which is not to say Thundarr lacked random weirdness, but on that show it was easier to blend in).

Would Joe have been able to work smoothly enough with Hasbro for them to do several seasons, or would they have found someone else after season one -- or even the first mini-series?

We’ll never know.

If Joe let his creators have as much input as he did on Thundarr and Puppy there might have been a chance.

…but if not, well, look at Turbo Teen.

Joe and Ken, I love you guys and miss you terribly, but this is one project I’m glad we didn’t end up doing together…

    © Buzz Dixon

#Transformers #Turbo Teen #Q*bert #Thundarr The Barbarian #Ruby-Spears #Joe Ruby #Ken Spears #Gary Greenfield

[kyemeruth]

Too little, too late?

It has been some months since I last posted here. A lot of things happened. Went back home to teach after studying for a year, organized a month-long training, volunteered for campaigns until the final days before our elections yesterday.

Last night I cannot sleep. I'm trying to sing Rosas in my mind, praying for a miracle. I've always prayed for a victory against the son of the dictator, even with the littlest of margins. However, we may be confirming what surveys have been telling us all along. My heart is pounding while I try to sleep. I've been fidgeting, feeling hungry and woozy at the same time. I tried reading but Marie Lu's Legend also deals with a plague and a torturous Republic. So I closed my eyes but here I am wide awake, typing words that seeks refuge and meaning.

I outlined the lessons I'd be recording and teaching for the next few weeks. Hoping I'd find yet another resolve to speak and resist; but also knowing that our state universities as bastions of academic freedom and expression are on the verge of losing it to a possible resurgence of the dictator's son. It is scary.

I wanted to cry, to let the tears flow; but even then, it won't. I'm holding onto the hope that our people's movement would translate into resistance, even at the slimmest numbers. I have not checked Twitter and closed messaging apps with my friends since 11pm last night. There remains a quiet hum in the streets, telling us that the days would continue.

Have our efforts been too little, too late? We did our best, to my mind. But maybe, the very disinformation I am studying has found fertile ground among many Pinoys. They remained disenfranchised and unheard, and so maybe, that message of unity have resonated, that promise of gold or even the aspiration of living a bit better took hold.

Time and again, we cannot blame such fervor. There's never that "bobo" vote. Our choices reflect our values and aspirations. The majority vote may be different from ours, but still this is the beauty and damnation of democracy: that we speak from the overflow of our hearts. Indeed, we cannot discount the fact that fraudulent activities and further disenfranchisement of voter rights have occurred. We must make every effort to demand accountability from these kinds of actions.

May be rambling here. Sleep evades me still. Later on, we must carry on; with greater resistance and charge even with fear beckoning us from behind. We must continue to teach in the face of historical revisionism; to deliberate and demand for critical debates instead of relying on propaganda speeches and evasive statements.

There are many stories that I've held onto amid these trying times. Frodo was ready to give up towards the end of The Two Towers, but Sam beckon us towards hope:

"I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness, and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something... That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo...and it's worth fighting for."

More recently, in my daily devotions, the Word of God asks us to hold on. The people of Israel found an honest and virtuous judge with Deborah. And last night, I found some grounding from Jesus' unfailing promise: that He delivers. Fear can be overwhelming, even the mighty David trembled; but God tells us to trust his power and deliverance. In the same thread, we must always thank God for leaders who deliver. He has overcome the world for His, and I trust His sovereignty in all these trying times.

#elections 2022 #philippines

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hello! I only recently found your blog and after much back and forth with myself decided to send this ask.

Trigger Warning for CSA and ED.

I suppose I'm looking for advice, a third party's thoughts? Also to get it off my chest.

I apologize in advance if this it too much for anyone reading, I know i still struggle to make heads or tails with it.

i had this epiphany a few years back, just before covid hit and as I had just moved into my own place for the first time. Ever since I was a little girl I've always had these unexplainable to my older self weird thoughts about sex.

During this epiphany I realized that my entire life, as long as I can remember-since approximately 5 to 6 years old - I have had rape fantasies. With myself as the victim. Very explicit, very violent just.. all around bad.

It had always troubled me but it had never been registered as something that needed more thought. It was more of a "Huh, you sure were quirky growing up!".

So during this epiphany it clicked to me: how could a child, from a good family, not suffocated, neither sheltered but raised by good folk, even KNOW not only what sex is, but also what rape is? Those thoughts dont come about naturally while watching Pokémon or Catdog.

So I started looking back. I really tried to make myself think.

I made myself picture little be getting abused. At first i suspected the men in my family. Uncle, grandad, even my dad.

It didn't click. Except when i thought about my grandad. At noons we used to sleep together. He'd read to me and it'd be our down time.

But it wasn't HIM who was triggering me ( God knows I'd die for that man i love him so much). It was his bedroom and his bed.

I realized suddenly that it wasn't a man that made me feel so.. uncomfortable? Like.. vomiting? Like.. these thoughts gave me this profound sense of doom and melancholy? I can't explain it.

But the person who came up was my cousin. She was only a few years older than me and she'd also live with our grandparents (their houses were in the same building).

I realized that when i was around 5 she would make me watch porn. The first time i ever watched it it was a traumatizing thing i realize. Not only did my body not know how to respond at this young age (it did get a reaction out of me which makes me feel fifty different types of sick) but I was shocked by the image of this man's penis. That night when i slept with my mum I couldn't sleep because i feared I'd see his thing in my dream and that my mum would know I'd done something bad! I'd blurt it out while dreaming! It was horrible.

A few days next mum took us shopping. While alone in the dressing room I had a sort of... Idk.. attack? Meltdown? She had given me to try on this faux leather skirt and I just got so enraged by it! I started angry crying and iirc hitting myself (?) Only now do i realise it was because the woman in the video was wearing a leather skirt.

My cousin also had this "massage wand" which for the life of me idk if it was a legit vibrator of my aunt or indeed a massage tool. But i remember her laying on her bed with her legs open (still dressed) and the thing between her legs. (When i told my bestie about this she tried to make me understand that she was indeed masturbating but God even writing this now it feels fake. It feels like an overreaction!)

My cousin would also make us play Husband and Wife. She'd be the husband first. She'd get on top of me and just stroke my arms, or act like she was kissing me. Sometimes she'd make me put a pillow on top of me and hug it like it was my husband.

But the worst was when she'd make ME be the husband. Id have to..idk how to describe it. I'd have to be active? I'd have to move my hips and talk and just be on top. We were clothed we weren't doing anything. But by God I just feel it in my bones This is why I have body dysmorphia. This is why my disordered eating started. This is why now I have trouble feeling feminine and just the thought of a single masculine characteristic on me sends me spiraling. I hate the idea of having anything masculine on me or being described as such! It makes me feel like back then.

Even now typing all this out.. I can't believe it. What if I'm misremembering? What if I'm the one creating false memories? What if I'm doing it for attention? Whose attention you'll ask since only now did i find the courage to tell SOLELY my best friend. Well, I'll say... I don't know.

I cannot connect the image of my childhood, happy as it was, because it was! I was loved and still am by my parents. My entire extended family are learned, progressive, loving people. I always felt like i got the lottery with my folks. I cannot make this make sense while adding my realizations into the mix.

I like my cousin! I even love her! We are close (considering we have our own thing happening in life). She is my family, my blood! She feels the same.

I dont know what to feel.

And I've also heard that children who are perpetrators of CSA (not only when they're so young do they Not mean any harm bc they're kids too) but also they had to learn all that from somewhere, from someone!

So.. did she also suffer? Do I need to start having suspicions about others hurting her?

Does she need help? Does she even remember?

I cannot tell anyone. It would ruin our family and my parents would be devastated. My mum she.... She'd legit lose her mind to learn that someone had hurt me this way!

Do you guys have any thoughts? Am i crazy? Am i making it up? Am i creating the memories? God knows it affects me in all aspects of life so.. there has to be Something there, right?!

Feel free to post this as a post for your followers to answer too. Im okay with it.

Just typing it out was cathartic.

I'm sorry to anyone burdened with reading something so light-hearted. And thank you for taking the time to read and answer.

I hope whoever it is on the other side reading has a good day. And Thank You.

-Bess

p.s.

Because I get very illogically anxious very often, if by any chance my eyes are deceiving me, or tumblr crashes or whatever and by accident this post doesn't get submitted Anonymously (as I intend it to) could you please refrain from posting it? I would really thank you for that!

Okay bye now! And Thank You again for the help 💙

Hi Bess,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through. Please know that you're not alone.

It's incredibly difficult to navigate some potential early childhood trauma. It sounds like you probably aren't making this up because you seem to be able to identify what doesn't click or make sense. Often, trauma tends to have strong emotional or visceral responses, like you described, nausea and discomfort. These feelings suggest that the memories could be authentic.

it's hard to accept that you've been through trauma because of its implications, and that's understandable, but it's also important for your healing to work through the process of grief at your own pace. Also please know that just because you may have otherwise had a good childhood with a strong support network around you, doesn't mean that you couldn't have been traumatized or that your trauma isn't valid.

You are right that COCSA perpetrators tend to be CSA survivors themselves, because their behavior is, in some way, learned from elsewhere. But please remember that this does not excuse perpetuating that abusive behavior. Regardless of what may have happened to your perpetrator, it doesn't change the fact that they hurt you.

It's your story so it's up to you who to tell or not tell, but just know that other peoples emotions are not your responsibility, so if someone is devastated to hear what happened, that is not your fault. Additionally, it's worth considering that you are not to blame for telling your truth, rather your cousin is to blame for their actions that you are merely conveying.

Ultimately, it's important to make sure that you can get any help you need during this time, in terms of exploring trauma and maintaining your mental health. If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist can help you process your traumas, the feelings and questions surrounding them, and develop ways to cope and move forward with these memories.

Please remember that you are not crazy, and know that we believe you. If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #bess #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw sa #tw csa #tw cocsa #tw incest