#Empty Hyperlink

[fred-the-dinosaur]

I like you all. I would like to keep you even if the worst comes to pass. I am pinning this post and adding to it as I build my back up ways to stay in touch.

Tumblr will probably stick around for a while. But in a worst case scenario or even just as other places to hang out, I want that you'll still be able to find me. Send me your version of this post once you have it, or add on your details here. No rush. But I want an address book.

Dreamwidth: already have one I think at fred-the-dinosaur

Email: will try and set up fredthedinosaur email

Ao3: already at FredTheDinosaur

Pillowfort: might be in the works but depends on if it's not doomed.

I take suggestions for other places. Other than discord. I have a discord. but I am an old man and group texts confuse me.

Oh I have a neocities I think. Wait. No that's with my wife. I might make a neocities site but it's less social media and more a beacon. Might use it for my TV fandom stuff.

Oh and I have a deviant art but I've mostly used it as image hosting so far

[itwaslegendary]

Since I’m not seeing many posts about what’s happening in Venezuela, I will make one myself. Please do not turn a blind eye to their ongoing crisis.

First I will put you into context, please note that all this information is taken from posts, threads and statements made by Venezuelans so I will hyperlink each one of my sources.

From 2002 to 2013, Hugo Chávez was the president of Venezuela. Not only did he ruin the country’s economy, imprison people and remove liberty of speech in the country, but he also changed the constitution, allowing unlimited reelection. His regime became a dictatorship disguised as a democracy. Here’s an entire page about this period. (And you can read more searching “chavismo”)

After his death in 2013, Nicolás Maduro took the presidency. Venezuelans started protesting and, as a response, they were repressed and killed, universities were burned down and Venezuela became massively poor, people lacked basic needs (supermarkets were empty, increasing famine and malnutrition), hospitals lacked resources and, consequently, illnesses spread and infant mortality rates increased severely.

This Sunday, July 28th, 2024, elections were held and Venezuelans voted for Edmundo González to be the next president of the country. Exit polls expected him to win the elections.

Later, the revealed results were that Maduro had won with the 51,2% votes, while Edmundo González had only 44,2%. But, as of right now, already 75% of the electoral records confirm that Edmundo González was, in fact, the chosen candidate, meaning that Maduro once again cheated on the elections. This is electoral fraud. This is not a democracy, this is a dictatorship.

Now, Venezuelans are protesting and the government are once again repressing them. Civilians are being persecuted, attacked and killed. Innocent people are being arrested. The government is cutting their communication and are planning on cutting the electricity next.

I urge you to check this thread on Twitter by @/postmortemria. Her account is full of information about Venezuela and their crisis, please check her posts and share them to spread the voice. Try to raise Venezuelans’ voices and donate to them if you can.

At the moment, there aren’t many ways to help other than speaking up, but under this tweet you can find many talented artists and commissions are their way to make some money to pay for basic human needs. If you can, think about commissioning a piece or donating to them.

In addition, here’s another tweet with information to donate to the people affected in the protests. They’re in desperate need of assistance so anything can help.

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode III

Calm After the Storm

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, heat cycle, extreme knotting, marking, scenting, territorial/possessive behaviour, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, belly bulge, actual breeding, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Happy halloween guys! I know I literally fell off the face of the earth and I will make another post to address that. But I know I haven’t participated for @pandoraslxna ‘s kinktober event (I’m so sorry bby) but if I could only participate for one of the days it would be today for sure. So I definitely wanted to get this out before midnight. It’s not purely a/b/o but honestly entails all the aspects of it. I think we can all definitely tell who’s the alpha and omega here (Ralak is alpha material hands down, ofc). I hope you guys enjoy this one, and I apologize for such a wait <3 Also I feel like I’m a bit rusty, so apologies for any typos, errors, or just plain suckish writing.

ALSO a big happy birthday to my babe @neteyamsoare <3 love you and hope it was a good one!!

Synopsis: Your heat starts to subside, but Ralak’s rut is only getting stronger. What could possibly go wrong?

<- Previous -> Next

——

Only an hour has passed before you feel your not-so-gentle giant stirring behind you, waking you from your sleep. You’d both been on your sides for too long now and everywhere seems to ache. You whine when you feel his hips shift against you, tugging at the immense pressure between your hips. The bulge protruding from your lower abdomen has barely gone down and you feel almost as full as you did when he initially emptied his load inside you.

Silken strands of his hair fall onto your prickled skin as he props himself up on his elbow from behind you, perching his chin on your throbbing shoulder. He inhales deeply – longingly. His hot breath gently blows against your neck just as you feel his arm snake under your leg and yank it back in one rough tug.

“Ralak.” His name falls from your lips through a nearly inaudible croak. “‘m so full.” You barely mumble out, rolling your head to the side. Yet, the flame within you is without a doubt reigniting with a vengeance.

And he can sense it.

Simply by the way you push back into him, making that bulge in your belly protrude a little more. His large hand resting on your stomach can indubitably feel it. And the smile that it puts on his face is almost baleful, bearing his lengthy canines that yearn to sink deep into you once more. “Sorry, tìyawn [love].”

He just can’t help it.

No matter how hard he tried. The desire—no, the need—to fuck into you and claim you as his time and time again is… irrepressible. In this moment, nothing else felt better than your little, used cunt hugging his cock so tightly that it almost hurts. He yearns to fill you over and over. Again and again until your womb is overflowing with his seed. The mere thought has his balls pulling tight to his body, firming up by the second all just to flood your womb again.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak growls into your neck, sliding his hand down to your inner thigh. “I will try to be–” He groans slowly, his pointer finger now burrowing itself between your tied pelvises, “–flrr [gentle].”

The final accented word comes out roughly, and if it weren’t for his finger slipping past his knot and into your cunt, you would’ve probably heard it clearly. You yelp out when he traces his finger around his knot, stretching your already taut skin, attempting to work a little space to allow his bulge to slip out.

It's all consuming and you’re simply too overwhelmed with his size that you fail to realise how your body is synced with his and bearing down to push him out. All whilst he’s struggling to fight the snap of hips to avoid hurting you. But the tugging is nothing like you’ve felt before adn you can finally understand why he was so insistent in the first place.

ut there was no getting out of this now, not that you even wanted to.

“It–it’s…” You brace yourself by grabbing onto his forearm, “...t-too big.”

“Ngaytxoa [sorry]” He huffs out his fourth apology, losing himself once again as his hips finally jerk back out of his control.

Pop.

His knot slips out of you with such force that the squelch it makes is as loud as your whimper. It’s so wet and slippery that his cock follows behind his knot, sliding out of you effortlessly. He’s more than half-hard yet so heavy and hung it rests close to your knee. Then you feel it. His cum dribbling down your thigh, still warm and sticky as if he just filled you up seconds ago.

It’s such a conflicting feeling — a mixture of relief and pent up frustration. Your heat is still in full bloom, despite it being so quenched until you’re almost nauseated. It’s as if you were two pieces perfectly linked together, allowing nature to run its course with no second thought. He grunts when he feels the crisp night air against his groin, his cock now springing up to its full length in just a few seconds.

He, too, feels some sort of feverish way now. Itching to be back inside your warmth, enveloped by your gummy, slimy walls. He opts to pepper wet kisses along your neck, and then up to your jaw, lingering there as he tries to distract himself from the ache to shove it back inside you.

Until it becomes too much.

“Tanhì.” He moans into your ear, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open as his tongue trails the skin on the back of your neck. “Need you.” It’s his way of begging for permission. Permission to slam his cock back inside you and hammer into you until the annoying itch deep in his core goes away again. You were the only one to make it go away. To stop the hurt. “Please.” He whines out a plea of desperation, now gritting his teeth from the way his stomach is tensing. “Now.”

But that last plea wasn’t much of a question, no. It was more of a demand. A way of saying, ‘give it to me, or I’ll take you on my own terms’.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath, sliding your free hand down your side to hook it under your leg. You pull it back and reposition your hips to give him access to your cunt. “P-Put it in, ‘Lak.”

Ralak’s hips begin to stutter — the leaking, mushroomy tip of his cock now repeatedly prodding between your puffed up folds. His breath turns raggedy as he tries to guide himself back inside you handsfree. Your slick is overflowing, making it even more difficult for him to align himself with your entrance. The frustration brewing within him bubbles over when his cockhead glides past your swollen clit instead of sinking in your cunt. So he pulls back in one swift move and —

Thrust.

Your body jolts from how quickly he slams every inch of his cock inside you, forcing you split-open. Ralak huffs a shaky sigh of relief, his breathing growing a little steadier now that he’s deep inside his mate. Meanwhile, your mouth hangs agape yet no sound falls from your lips. Your eyes well up with tears and your ears lay flat against your skull. Your body is in complete submission to the beast dominating it and there’s nothing else you can do but give in to the pleasure.

“Your scent.” He whispers open-mouthed, tips of his canines grazing the nape of your neck. “It is driving me crazy.” You release the breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. You didn’t even know what to say. Not like you could really say much right now anyways. You’re too lost in the fog of your own heat. For once, Ralak is doing most of the talking. “It makes me…” He snaps his hips back, only leaving half of his length inside you. “...lose myself completely.”

A deep roll of his hips.

A lewd moan dripping off your lips. 

“How do you do that?” He huffs, pressing his teeth against your neck. You don’t answer yet again. You just can’t find the words. Not right now. Not when he’s so deep inside you. “Hm?” A deep growl vibrates up his throat, his teeth just barely piercing the first layer of your silken skin.

“I—” You’re cut off by your own squeal when you feel the sting of his bite. Your breath catches in your throat and he immediately unlatches, lapping at the nicked skin to soothe it. “Sorry.” He whispers breathlessly, planting a quick kiss on each of your marks. “Sorry. Sorry.” A few more apologies flow from his mouth, as if he were drunk off of too much fermented fruit. Somewhat lucid but still so spaced. “I cannot —ngh— help myself.”

Thrust.

“‘M sorry.”

He knows he went a little too deep just now. But you feel so fucking good around his cock.

Chomp.

Another mark. Right on the bend of your shoulder, next to your first.

“Ngaytxoa [I’m sorry]”

A small cry from your quivering lips.

“S-Stop. No more apologies. I am yours to do what you p-please with.” You finally get out in one, weary breath.

Ralak’s languid, deep thrusts are laced with desperation. And with each stroke they become harsher and harsher. Faster and faster. Now he’s got your full permission he lets go once more, falling into the thick fog of his rut.

Within seconds his cock is pumping in and out of you, his half-deflated knot continuously prodding and poking at your entrance. The tip of his cock drags against your walls, putting an immense pressure right on your sweet spot. Yet still, sounds barely fall from your flushed lips. You’re too out of it. Too focused on the raw sensations rippling through you all at once. His overwhelming pheromones. His marking. His relentless pounding.

Rather, hot tears well over your eyes and stream down your face.

He can’t stop slamming himself inside you. He doesn’t want it to stop. It’s absolute rapture and he’s unapologetically drowning in it.

“Tanhì. Tanhì.” He groans needily. “y/n.”

He only says your name when he’s serious about something.

And hearing it drip from his tongue onto the nape of your neck has your hairs standing high and your clit throbbing.

“Eywa. Yes, ‘lak? T-Tell me what you need.” You blubber out, tightening your grip on his forearm.

“Haa — spread yourself.” He demands, prompting you to tuck your leg back as far as you can. His pace quickens, hips striking you with a sinful vengeance. But no matter how hard he fucks you, or how deep he buries himself inside you — its just not enough. He needs to be closer. To be deeper. To really be inside you. To knot you.

“More.” He grunts, slowing his thrusts into rocking, grinding himself inside your slippery, tight cunt.

You go to tug at your leg and meet nothing but resistance. “I-I’m trying.” You can feel it now. Perhaps it’s the bond or maybe it’s the way his knot is working you open but he’s growing more and more frustrated by the thrust.

“Mmmh. Wider.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You’re quick to answer, feeling nothing but pressure from the way he’s trying to shove more of himself inside you.

“Agh.” He growls in frustration, pulling out of you and grabbing you by the ankle to flip you onto your back.

Ralak situates himself between your legs without hesitation and pushes them so far back your knees graze against the tips of your ears. You can barely breathe in this position and are having a hard time seeing anything else but his raging cock at your entrance. You can feel the burn in your thighs from how far back he’s shoving your knees but that sting is masked by the pleasure of him plunging himself back into your pussy.

The moan that rips from your lips is obscene and like no other. The crown of his cock is drilling itself directly into your sweet spot, causing it to swell with unadulterated pleasure. And each time he pulls out just to sink it back inside you he winds you in the process – making you sputter out absolute nonsense. Even he knows you're close, despite being in the thick of his rut.

But frankly, he doesn't care.

All he’s concerned about is satisfying his own urges.

“Not enough.” He grits through his teeth as his eyes shift to an even deeper shade of mauve. “‘ts not enough.” He pants, voice laced with something of worry. Panic that this feeling won’t go away. It makes you panic too, wondering if you’re doing enough for him. If he’s going to take even more from you. If you can manage it.

“You’re okay. Do what you need.” You try to reassure him, grasping your feet and holding them back–opening yourself up even more. But fuck, that only made things worst for you.

And by worst, you mean better. It feels like you’ll burst any second now, especially with how much pressure is on your bladder. “Fu-ck me. God, fuck–ahaa-fuck me.”

His brows bunch together as he peers down at you, beads of sweat rolling off his face to drip onto your chest. His jaw is so tense it looks as if it may fracture. He’s grunting with every push and huffing with every pull.

“Right there! Fuck. I’m close. I’m so fucking close. I-I need you to cum i-inside me. Oh—please ‘lak. Please!” Your cries are choked and muffled, breaths short and raggedy. The heat pooling in your core is unbearable. It needs out. Now.

Ralak swallows. Hard. Through his own haze he can see that you’re in need too. He shuffles closer to you, tucking his feet under him to assume a squatting position. Now he’s all but on top of you, folding you into a merciless mating press. This one shift in position has you coming undone on his cock, coating it in your thick slick as you sob from the white hot pleasure. The force of your climax has you pushing him out and only has him drilling himself further inside you. If it’s not for the way your pussy walls tighten around him surely his knot would have popped inside you by now.

He’s still fucking into you, right through your orgasm and towards his.

“Say what you need.” He panics through a tightened jaw, grinding himself inside you – pushing his knot against the resistance.

You know what he’s actually asking from you. To say something. Anything to tip him over the edge. To rid him of this maddening itch.

“Breed me.” You whisper, locking eyes with him. You watch as his pupils blow into thin rings and then constrict into nothing but dots. You try to swallow what spit you could, attempting to clear your throat. “Breed me. Please.”

“Then take it.” He lets loose a sinister growl, putting all his weight into his final push. For the first time, you feel his knot pop inside you, veiny and as thick as can be. You let out a high-pitched whimper, and feel your teeth begin to chatter. That doesn’t make him ease up, though. He continues to grind himself inside you until you feel the familiar, warm sensation of his sticky seed spraying inside you – filling your womb to the brim. His cock throbs wildly, in perfect synchrony with his own heartbeat, and soon yours too as the bond equilibrates your souls once more.

Strangely, you thought you’d be sore and overstimulated by now, but your body has never felt better. You’re full and content and more than satiated. Ralak heaves a sigh — one of pure relief. It’s glued to his face. All panic washes away and he’s feeling more at peace the longer he remains inside you. He’s rigid, firmly holding his position on top of you — ensuring he empties every single drop inside you. Yet, his heavy lidded eyes begin to close.

“I can’t breathe.” You mumble, snapping him out of his tranquil trance. His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth pulls into a little smirk. He exhales a breathy chuckle and carefully manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position. He settles himself on his back and supports your body whilst positioning you on top of him.

“Better?” Ralak husks, drawing circles into your back with the tip of his finger.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs to full capacity and then slowly release it. “Much.”

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]” His accented words slur together as he dozes off.

“Nga yawne lu oer, Ralak [I love you].”

——

Ralak woke repeatedly throughout the night for his fill. If it wasn’t him, it was you. Waking up in a clammy state, shaking and nuzzling into his chest from your heat. You honestly thought that the more time passed — the more rounds you went — the more he would calm down.

But, you thought wrong.

He’d start by leaving tender kisses wherever he could, whispering he’d do his best to be as gentle as he can be. Then, he’d slip a finger inside you, stretching you out in attempts to pull his knot out without hurting you. But it would always sting, even just a little bit. After that he’d beg. Pleading with you to let him back in, and apologize right after plunging inside you regardless of your answer—which was always yes.

At this point your own foggy haze would take over. Perhaps it was your body’s way of coping with the overstimulation, but you pined for every single second of it. Sometimes it would last for a few minutes. Where he’d be quick to fold you in two and growl in the shell of your ear, ‘you’re mine, haah — fuck, take me’. 

Sometimes it was closer to an hour. Where you’d both be so tired you’d take breaks, lazily taking turns fucking each other, telling him to ‘put it back in’ whenever he’d slip out. But one thing remained the same every time. You’d sob when you’d cum and then beg him to breed you. And he would, without a doubt, breed you.

Mercilessly.

And with each breeding, he’d lose himself a little deeper. Knotting you over and over. Marking you repeatedly until your body’s littered with bites. Until you were so fucked out you’d lost the feeling in your legs. Until your throat was so dry you could barely speak. Until you needed a break.

——

“Wait.” You crawl towards the bedside table with wobbly knees. “Just need some water, Lak.”

Ralak pounces on you, knocking you onto your stomach and pressing himself against you. You extend an arm out, fingers splayed out and shaking from you trying to reach the cup of water Ka’ani left there more than a day ago. Ralak grabs your hips and hoists you up onto your knees and elbows, and mounts you from behind.

“Water. Water, Lak.” You beg with a hoarse cry, only for him to line the crown of his cock up with your sopping cunt. He growls next to your ear as he stretches over you and reaches for the cup of water, filling his cheeks and putting it back down within a couple seconds. With a quick grip of your jaw, he turns your head and meets his lips with yours.

Before you can process what’s going on you’re gulping down water as fast as you can. And when he pulls away, you’re yet again met with the hazy eyes of his rut. That’s when it dawns on you that whilst your heat is coming to an end, his rut is only getting stronger.

Rather than looking away, he locks his gaze onto you, just so he can watch your face screw as he slams his cock inside of you in one, hard thrust. It works a sudden, breathy moan from your mouth, eyebrows pinching together from the stretch. He holds his position, basking in the warmth and tightness of your cunt as his breath goes shaky.

“Wait.” You mumble weakly, shoving a hand behind you to push against his lower stomach. “Please.”

For the first time, you were telling him to stop.

His jawbone flutters as his eyes search yours. Restraint plasters to his face, and the only audible thing is his heavy breathing. He nods. Just once. A firm and intentional nod. He swallows the residual water left in his mouth and tenderly pulls out of you. You hear the thud of his footsteps quiet down as he nears the marui door, and then the splash of the water when he dives into the rough sea.

It’s pouring outside.

Storming, actually. Thundering and lightning. Yet he feels this is the only way he’d be able to resist the urge to storm back in and fuck you. But the instinct to protect his mate, even if it’s from himself, is more than enough to give him the willpower to walk away.

You take this moment to just breathe, turning your head to face the plush bed beneath you as you gather your thoughts. Did he just show that much restraint? Enough to walk away from a female na’vi during her heat cycle… all whilst in the height of his own rut cycle?

“Lekye’ung [insane]” You mutter, using your trembling hand to grab and bring the cup to your lips. They, too, are sore and chapped. Having gone so many hours without any food or water, you knock it back, shaking the cup to get out every drop. Finished already? You think to yourself, looking inside the cup with hazed vision, confirming it’s indeed empty.

After setting it back down onto the table, you slump back into the bedhead, relaxing your body. You’re sore. Actually, sore is an understatement. Every single muscle and fiber in your body burns—and that isn’t entirely due to your heat either now that it’s finally subsiding. Perhaps you should be taking this time to have a look at your… condition, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

So you give in, sinking further and further into the bed as you doze off.

—

A few hours go by and Ralak returns with a net of fish thrown over his shoulder and a bucket of fresh water perched on his hip. He carefully sets down the bucket and rests the net next to the fire pit. He’s cautious not to wake you, nor come too close to you. Ralak ignites the fire and fans the flame. As quietly as possible, he prepares and cooks the fish, setting them aside to wrap in the leaves of a spartan tree.

Since coming to Awa’atltu, one of your biggest adjustments—despite the obvious—has been your change in diet. Fish weren’t uncommon back home, but they certainly weren’t the main source of food. You prefer the other foods here, your favourite being what you call ‘inland boar’, which is an animal that resembles what your father calls a ‘pig’ from his star.

But not even that, (boar) could smell better than this (fish).

The aroma alone rouses you from your sleep.

Your eyes open to a dark room and a glowing fire pit. The fire is out but the wood remains hot, shifting among different shades of orange and red. Ralak sits beside it, with his back leaning against the support beam of the pod. His arms are crossed over his chest and his knees are slightly bent. It’s hard to see more than just his silhouette with the lack of moonlight.

“That smells good.” You rasp. Ralak’s eyes fly open to reveal a familiar shade of deep blue. Like the sea. They glow and flicker before you, examining you now that you’re sitting up out of bed.

Crack.

A bolt of lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the room. For a moment, you were able to see every single bike mark, scratch and bruise you’ve given him. It also reveals that he’s shaking. Trembling from being wet and cold, or possibly from the strain he was putting himself through from just being in the same room as you.

Ralak moves quickly, shuffling to his feet and going right for the leaf that holds a few sloppily rolled fish. He brings it to you, setting it slowly on your lap, being overly cautious not to touch you. Grabbing your cup on the table, he dunks it in the bucket and sets it beside you.

“Eat.” He whispers, backing away to sit next to the pit. You watch as he slides down the beam and into a sitting position, and then glance down at your food. Saliva pools in your mouth from the aroma wafting up your nose.

You’re hungry.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, hastily stuffing an entire roll into your mouth.

You moan as you chew, nodding your head from how good it tastes. It’s hard to swallow, given that you bit off more than you could chew—literally—but when it finally goesdown you feel your stomach grumble for more. Ralak watches you intently. A wince screwing his face with every swallow he witnesses. And when you finish, you chug down your water and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Another crack of lightning strikes, and then a low, lengthy rumble of thunder follows.

“That was… one of the best you’ve made, lak.” You say with a wobbly smile, slowly getting on your feet to wash your hands. The bucket is nearby your mate, who is still fixed in position. Although he remains unmoving, his eyes follow your every move. You shake your hands to dry them and shuffle over to Ralak and sit next to him.

“so… how do you feel?” You ask quietly, raising your hand to check if he’s feverish. He turns his head before your hand can make contact with his skin and his gaze locks onto the charred wood in the fire pit. 

“Fine.” Ralak mutters.

Eyebrows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try and look him in the eye. Your brows relax when you come to the realisation that he’s already taken care of himself. And only Eywa knows how many times.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I would have—”

“Ma’ muntxate [my wife]”He croaks, swiftly turning his head to look directly into your eyes. “Oeru txoa livu [please forgive me].”

“Txoa? [forgive?] What for, ma’ muntxatan? [husband]”

“I have… neglected you.” He’s struggling to speak. You can hear it in the strain of his voice.

Regardless, none of his words are really making any sense to you right now. How has he been neglectful? Despite the circumstances, it’s obvious he’s been trying his hardest to be good to you. Somehow, even conjuring up the strength to pull out of you and walk away.

“Ralak. You have not. Please, I—”

“Look at yourself.” He snaps, taking a quick glance at your body before dropping his head in his hands.

Crack.

Conveniently, another strike of lightning and boom of thunder, revealing exactly what he’s talking about. For a few seconds, you’re met with the sight of your battered body—scabbed and bruised. You lift your head, staring at his shameful demeanour. But the more you stare, the more you see your own reflection.

“And have you looked at yourself?” Your words bounce as you shuffle closer to him. “I bet you can’t even feel all that damage I’ve done to you.” You coo, using your thumb to gently graze past an easy six-inch scratch mark on his bicep. “I haven’t been so gentle with you either.”

Ralak shakes his head, allowing it to sink further into his hands. “You were starved.” He mumbles into the palms of his hands.

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin in the dip between them. Your eyes wander over to the fire pit, catching sight of the outline of a few fish rolls.

Has he really punished himself by not eating?

“Have you eaten?” You ask, resting a gentle hand on his back.

“No need.”

“You should, you know. Don’t want you starving on me, lak.” You say lightheartedly, allowing your hand to slide up his spine and to the base of his skull.

He lets loose a quiet groan, fighting the twitch of his ears. Your fingers smooth over the base of his kuru, playing with the braid encasing that covers it. “If you do that—”

“Do what?” You whisper coyly, quickly running your hand down the length of his kuru.

His spine immediately straightens, his head lifting from his hands. The tips of your fingers gently make their way to his tendrils, carefully teasing them as they try to wrap around your digits. He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, allowing a shiver to run through him. It feels like your fingers were inside his skull, tickling his brain in the best way possible. 

Reaching for your kuru with your free hand, you bring it up and over your shoulder. You lean into Ralak, your lips only inches away from his. You pull away your fingers to grip and pull his queue forth. The loss of contact has him sitting up straight, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I will not let you suffer alone.” You whisper, lessening the distance between the two of you, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly. He stills himself, even limiting his own breath so as not to make any sudden moves. “Okay?”

You wait for just a moment. For him to say something. To move away. But he remains stock-still, waiting for you to initiate this. You smile, your top teeth briefly rubbing against this lower lip, and lock your lips with his. He exhales through his nose, coming to life from your kiss and returning it full force. You take this as a good sign. A sign that you’ve broken through that wall once again, and bring your kurus together — making tsaheylu [the bond].

Both your eyes fly open, blown pupils staring into one another as your spirits unify. You both pull back, shoulders and chests heaving from your quick, unsteady breaths. You feel all that he feels – the frustration, the panic, the tension. It’s all fading, now finally nearing the end. He feels your subsiding heat, your soreness, your overpowering urge to care for him.

Before another second could pass, your lips crash into each other again—tongues intertwining as they explore one another’s mouth. Using his hand to support your upper back, he slowly lowers you onto the woven floor, parting your legs with his free hand. He situates himself between them, pressing his crotch firmly against yours. He’s warm, just like the toasty fire pit next to you.

I will try to be gentle. Ralak thinks to you, just like he’s been promising to be night after night.

I know you will. You smile, moving your kisses down his jawline as he slides his hands between your sticky pelvises.

——

It hasn’t even been two full weeks since the synchronous heat that had you and your mate locked away in your marui pod for a little over two days. Your back and thighs–and honestly everywhere else– still ache but outside of that, you feel like a brand new person. You weren’t able to confidently say that Ralak feels the same way, however.

Of course, he was adamant on limiting intimacy until you were ‘healed and recovered’. But, he had a bounce in his step. As if he were physically lighter. As if the weight of six years of pent up sexual frustration and self neglect melted off his back when you satiated the ‘insatiable’.

The constant aftercare was almost sickening. Even after most of your marks had faded he remained adamant on treating them with your own omaticayan herbs from back home. He praised them at every use, thanking your people for making such exceptional ’umtsa [medicine].

But as you entered the second week, after tons of reassurance, things dissipated and went back to normal. Ralak went back to his usual routine—fishing, hunting, responding to a few calls to Tonowari and your father. Ralak, without a doubt, made a vow to you and himself not to initiate anything until you were more than healed. But nonetheless clung to you in the nights.

He even, in fact, added a new step into your usual nighttime regimen. As usual, it began with the snuggles and tucking you under his arm just right, providing you with enough warmth to endure the cool night air. Then, he would release the perfect amount of pheromones to get you drowsy enough for bed.

But recently, he’s spent the past seven nights delaying the nightly routine until he’s had his fill of your scent. He’d lay himself down on your chest, nuzzling his face into your bosom and just breathe. You allowed it, thinking it was his own newfound way to wind down for bed.

Yet, the real reason was much different.

——

Right on the two week mark, Tsireya had roped you in with helping her with some of her Tsakrem duties. You were always happy to help her though, as it meant getting away from the marui pod for a little even if it meant being poked and prodded at.

And it certainly didn’t take long for that to happen.

Tsireya lets out a frustrated sigh and plops the medicinal pouch she’s weaving in her lap.  “I can no longer ignore it, y/n. You smell different.”

You lift your head, tearing your focus from your task of weaving and look at her with a puzzled expression on your face. You bring the end of your tail to your nose and sniff, but smell… nothing. “Like what?” Her brows lower and her eyes glisten with concern. She purses her lips and unsheathes the lengthy pin from its casing and grabs your hand. “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate the sting.

Prick.

“Sss—ah! You need to be careful with how deep you go with that, you know. You could really—” The tsahik in training puts the wooden stick to her tongue and stares at you wide eyed, mouth agape. It’s as if she wants to speak but the words are lodged in her throat. “What? What is it?”

“You—perhaps I am wrong.” She stutters, quickly sheathing the tool back into its casing. “You should see my mother, y/n.”

“What? Why? Just tell me.” The words come out in a haste, and your voice is laced with panic. Do you have some sort of disease of the sea? Is there a cure? 

“You — you are with child.” Her lips tremble as she says the words in an uncertain tone of voice.

“What?” You stare at her dumbfounded, a little caught off guard by her choice of words.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant. But I am likely mistaken. I am only in training. Which is why I said you should see my moth—”

“Oh. No. You’re… you’re probably right, Tsireya.” You swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks, avoiding eye contact.

“H-How? I mean. I know how. But how? Surely Ralak knows not to do such a thing during your heat. He can control himself. R-Right?”

“Right. If I were the only one… in heat.” You say the last few words under your breath, fixing your shawl before picking back up your task.

“What do you mean?” Tsireya leans in with a tilted head, looking a little closer at your covered shoulder. “Did you help him with his rut?” Tsireya asks bluntly. “He’s been unmated for six years, y/n. Did you reall—”

“I am his mate. Of course I did.” You nearly snap, baffled by the tone she’s having with you.

“H-How did that even work?” Tsireya shakes her head, slowly raising her hand towards you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally lift your head to shoot her a puzzled, yet offended stare. “It worked like it would for any other Na’vi.”

“Y/n…” Tsireya quickly grabs your shawl, pulling it off your shoulder to reveal a large, deep and scabbed up bite mark. It looks almost infected because of the strange omaticayan herbal concoction smeared over it. “You should have just let him ease you into it. Look at you, you’re all bruised and—”

“Tsireya.” You interject, “thank you for the concern, but—” you aggressively pull up your shawl, “I feel just fine. Besides, being in heat was the best way to ‘ease me into it’…He was as gentle as he could be.” You mutter, twiddling with the twine as you think back to the way he tried to handle you with care.

“By the looks of it, he was anything but gentle with you.” Tsireya seethes, angry that the man she grew up looking at like a brother would do something like this to you.

You wince at her words. They’re like a knife to the heart.

A long, awkward silence fills the space between you and Tsireya. She reflects on everything she’s said, realising that perhaps she was a little more harsh than needed. She softens her gaze, “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“I get it. I know you’re just looking out for me. It’s alright, ‘reya.”

You exchange lighthearted smiles.

“You are definitely pregnant then. After six years, he must have really filled you—”

“Tsireya!” You laugh, giving her shoulder a light shove.

Tsireya’s grin morphs into a more serious expression. “See mother to make sure. Okay?”

Your smile also fades into something softer as you nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

[cora626]

King of Suds Laundromat & Elsewhere Realty Co.

Let me know if you guys want the empty shell for upload. I will not share CC from other creators on my lots, but I can create a list with their hyperlinks.

Lot can be found here

[kay-elle-cee]

Happy Holidays and Happy Rec-mas to you all! In keeping with the last two years, I've compiled 24 fics I really enjoyed this year! I'd love to see your year-end lists, too!

(Usual disclaimer goes here that you can check out the lists from 2022 and 2023 here and here, respectively, you can check out my 2024 hprecfest recs here, I will not rec fics I've previously rec'd, and this is in no way a comprehensive list of my favorite fics of the year).

*deep breath in* okay, now that the housekeeping is out of the way...

ONESHOTS thrice defied by @abihastastybeans Fixed Luck by @annabtg calliope calling by @apalapucian when it counted by @cascader back to the old house by @clare-with-no-i under the influence of loss by @gigglesandfreckles-hp the falcon and the squid by @jfleamont i'll marry you after this by @myuntoldstory Hell is Empty (And All The Devils Are Here) by @nodirectionhome-ao3 The Librarian of Hogsmeade Village by @ohmygodshesinsane Hogwarts 1979 by @sunshinemarauder Never Far Behind (Those Livid Knuckles) by @uncertainwallflower Force Majeure by @yallthemwitches

MULTICHAPTER The Clean Up Crew* by @alittlebitofeverything23 Spitting Image by @charmsandtealeaves no place like home* by @emeralddoeadeer The Couch Chronicles by @jamesunderwater earth after rain by @juniperpyre guilty as sin by ohevans Quest for Camelot by @petals2fish Murder on the Dancefloor by @possessingtheproperspirit The James Potter Affair* by @sophie-hatter-jenkins flower & thorn* by @thequibblah

SERIES Slytherin!Sirius Black AU* by @arliedraws

*denotes a WIP

BONUS! Shout-out to these previous recs that wrapped up in 2024! theogony by clare-with-no-i The Last Enemy: Dark Marks (TLE2) by @chdarling The Shout Out To My Ex series by @wearingaberetinparis And an additional shout-out to Potter Exposed by @formerlympp, which provided wonderful distraction from my wisdom teeth surgery, and is no longer available (it still deserves love!) Edit 3/14/25: Potter Exposed is back online so I've hyperlinked above!

This year I read 201 fics by 85 authors, so I did a bit less reading than last year (I suppose working on 2 multichap fics will do that to you). But I'm sticking to 24 fics for the ~vibes~. Feel free to drop a 📖 in my inbox and I'll rec another fic that doesn't appear here!

Please tag me if you share your year-end fic rec lists! I'd love to see them!

[samm1e13]

L.O.V.E

🎮 tomura shigaraki x fem!reader smau

a strangers/online friends to lovers university au

masterlist / a day with tomu / touya’s staring problem

main menu;

level three; a day with tomu

cw; possibly inaccurate gaming lore and language, inaccurate discussions of graphic design and game coding, quiet tomu, written portion beneath the pictures

you and tomura decided to meet up at the campus library and utilize the quiet atmosphere to work on the first design of the website. last time you had been able to get a solid idea for what you wanted to do, a website for a new gaming company that primarily targeted teenagers and young adults with a preference for horror games.

you’ve been at the library for three hours now and have made a lot of progress with the coding and website specs. the outline had been easy to make and now, as you sit at a desk in the near empty library, you realize these first renderings are even easier to make. tomura designs the schematics for the background and different pages on his laptop while you find pictures that fit the theme of the website and input the hyperlinks to specific areas.

neither of you have spoken much since before you sat down to work, just the occasional check in to see how something looks and how much progress the other has made. it’s nearing 12:30pm, you met up around 9:15am and have been working since then. your neck aches from the position you’ve been in and your eyes are losing focus, you should’ve remembered to bring your bluelight glasses.

with a sigh, you lean back away from your laptop and stretch, tomura’s eyes land on your form before looking back to his own screen. his brows crease as he eyes the clock in the bottom right corner displaying the time.

“i think we can call it here for now.” you watch as his gaze meets yours after the words spill past your lips, he only nods before saving his progress and stretching himself. your own gaze wanders down as a sliver of skin peaks from underneath his hoodie, damn.

“yeah here’s good.” he finally speaks up and you snap your eyes back to meet his own while you smile.

“we could get food and then continue at my place if you want? my brother will be gone for the day. he’s working a double at the bar and won’t be back until later tonight.” you suggest, waiting while he ponders the idea.

“yeah that sounds good, what were you thinking?” he asks and begins to pack up his supplies, you follow his lead, saving your progress before shutting down your laptop and packing it in your school bag along with your notebooks and other items.

“i was thinking we could get noodles, if that’s okay?” he nods and you make your way to the library doors.

“i know a good place we can go.” he turns left as you exit the building and you follow him.

while at the noodle shop, tomura said that he had enough of working on the project for the day but wasn’t wanting to go home just yet. you suggested that he still come back to yours and you guys could game together, surprisingly he agreed.

and now sits at your desk again while you sit cross legged in the middle of your bed, it’s silent as usual while you wait for him to be comfortable to speak. you’re about to tell him he can boot up your pc and play anything he wants when his phone rings.

he looks at you apologetically before stepping out of your room to answer the call. you lay back on your bed and let your mind drift. tomu is nice, quiet and a bit antisocial but really nice. and he’s nice to look at too, he definitely has a sleepers build underneath the baggy hoodies he wears, and not to mention his hands.

his fingers are adorned in silver rings and his nails are painted a light blue shade that compliments his white hair. his neutral tone often makes you wonder if he’s uncomfortable in your presence. that is until you bring up video games, his tone becomes lighter and he visibly relaxes and drops his guard.

your head turns as you hear tomu enter the room, there’s a frown on his face and he looks a bit worried. you sit back up as he grabs his bag on the floor by your desk and you ask him if everything is okay.

“i’m sorry i can’t stay, there’s an emergency at my apartment and i need to go.” his frown deepens and it causes you to frown as well.

“of course, it’s no problem. go home, take care of your business. we can schedule a time to meet up again later, it was nice hanging out with you.” standing you make your way out of the room with him and down the hall to your front door.

“yeah, you too. i’ll uh, text you later.” he’s scratching at his neck again, red marks already appearing at the aggressive way his nails knick the soft skin and you feel an urge to take his hands in yours and help calm him down.

“no, you don’t have to. seriously, just make sure everything is okay at home. you can text me once everything is fine, i don’t mind waiting.” shaking your head, your hand reaches out to him before pausing midair and dropping back to your side.

you open the door for him, to which he promptly exits before stopping at the threshold and turning to look at you.

“you know, you remind me of somebody.” he says and you tilt your head.

“you’re really nice and understanding like she is.” his words make you smile and you laugh lightly.

“thanks tomu, you remind me of somebody too. he’s quiet, like you but he talks non stop when we’re gaming together.” you tell him and watch the way his fingers pause at his neck.

“that’s cool.” his hand drops fully to his side and he nods, “thanks y/n.”

“no problem tomu, get home safe. i hope everything is okay.” you offer him a wave to which he nods before disappearing down the hall.

your phone pings in your pocket as you close the door, pulling it out, you see a single discord notification. It’s from shigs, all it reads;

can i call you tonight? please?

your heart skips a beat as your face flushes. you reply;

yeah shigs of course you can.

level three; a day with tomu completed!

two achievements unlocked; first hangout! first compliment!

tag list; [open]

@nkox, @dumbassbrigade, @va-3, @kodditty, @personally4runa

mutual tags; @shigarakislaughter, @chaoslibra, @sexylexy12

samm1e13 tumblr 2025 ©️ don’t use, copy, steal or translate my works for any reason.

[psilliguykai]

Boy why you [all] so white

Anyways! Uhhhh yeah William’s Wanton Weary Wiles designs. Or Something. I debated giving them each their own post but none of them deserve it. I couldn’t figure out how to make it Not A Total Mess lol soooo here we are! Individuals with some more info under the cut.

Ooohhh they gross me out so bad. Both in the /aff way but also in the “oooohh I really don’t like how this turned out” way lmao- but! I finished the lineart before I started disliking it and promised myself I wouldn’t keep waffling on the sketch so they’re. They’re DONE alright they’re DONE [<- still trying to convince himself]

All the colors [especially the skin tones because oof I really. Don’t know how to handle that apparently. I mean like they’re meant to be white but I’m not sure if they should be That white lol ANYWAYS] aren’t too strict and I’ll probably fuck around w them depending on the mood of the post, etc. just a loose guide ig :]

If their designs ever get updated, this post will be updated as well ^^ i was gonna hyperlink the master doc but tumblr is kinda hating me rn and Not Letting Me Do That so uhhh . Look up wwww au in my blog and scroll to the bottom for background I guess [I’m so sorry] 😭😭😭

Ok ok here they are

Jimmy

- you can tell I take this very seriously /silly

- The shortest/smallest, but arguably the strongest of the trio [just by a little].

- Patterns and striped parts are based on the EIAL cover + the tapeworm.

Al

- what it says in the ref tbh. Just kinda a normal guy [in appearance anyways] who dresses way too formally and doesn’t get enough sunlight or sleep. :]

- I feel like he’s kind of very fucking ugly but I’ve given up on trying to fix it 😭

- Tallest by a little and best posture by a lot.

- essentially just the outfit from the TNA cover if it was blue lol

- sorryyy no automaton freak :((( big fan of robot Mind designs, but Al is just. Different to me

Mr. Capgras

- He gets scissors in place of a trident because I thought that could be neat :] when he pulls them out of the halo they get noteably larger and sharper. Tbh it mostly just uses them for normal scissor stuff + violent threats sometimes.

- Patterns depicted here are based on the body paint from the Self-ish album cover. In this ref they’re the hmsw colors, but could technically kinda be anything. They’re super inconsistent, both in canon and also because. Trying to keep up the same patterns every time I draw him would be torture :’]

- Most intimidating/strongest-looking. Middle in height, and worst in posture. Sleep deprived, somewhat empty and bitter but still hopeful and surprisingly optimistic.

- I’d like to think if his socks are ever shown, they’d have the same patterns as his gloves n stuff :3

- This isn’t a design thing at all but I’ll probably be referring to him more as Cotard as I feel it fits best. However, he’s formally known as Mr. Capgras since it would make the official acronym for these three “JAM”, which I think is a neat and completely accidental reference to Jamface :)) completely arbitrary yeahhh but it’s my AU and I’ll include all the obscure references I want in it >:3

- dw about the oversized Cotard’s Solution doodle it’s just there as another ref for how the scissors work lol

Fanart is super duper appreciated but absolutely not needed !! Asks either directly to [<- in this case I’d respond in character{s} depending on the ask] or about these characters/this AU are also always very welcome ^^

William Racheal McSprout Himself will be getting his own post when he’s completed :]

[aether-heart]

masterlist

thank you for visiting the deepspace anthology masterlist. here, you can find quick links to your favorite cosmic encounters.

key

☁️ fluff | 💧 angst | 🔥 smut

📚 ft. reader | 💕 ft. mc

xavier ⭐️

view xavier’s full masterlist here

zayne 🍐

view zayne’s full masterlist here

rafayel 🐟

view rafayel’s full masterlist here

sylus 🐦‍⬛

view sylus’s full masterlist here

caleb 🍎

view caleb’s full masterlist here

other echoes 🪐

feat. characters such as jeremiah, greyson, thomas, luke/kieran, etc. or anyone upon request

view their full masterlist here

⚠️ this post is a work in progress as i continue to add hyperlinks and get this blog set up. if the empty masterlist troubles you, feel free to send in a request for something!

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part three

authors note: hi! its me again. i had some free time and most of this chapter was completed, sans gaps and editing, so i figured why not?

thank you everyone for all of the kind words, like im still so floored just how many people like the random shit that comes from my head!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angsttttt, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 4.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

You were sixteen years old the first time you drank alcohol. Truly, a result of peer pressure. Alcohol never seemed as amazing as your friends tried to preach it to be, not with the amount of hair you’d held back while your friends retched their entire days consumption in toilet bowls. 

Just didn’t seem all that appealing.

And then it was homecoming, and your school won the game, qualifying them for state. The whole town was in celebration, but no one was as lit as the football team. And, of course, dating the quarterback at the time and as cheer captain, your presence was damn near a requirement. High school politics and all.

So, you, Amir, and your closest friends spent the night house hopping, partying at one place for a little while before moving on to the next. And at some point, at some stop, you’d been convinced to try a beer. Honestly, it was disgusting as fuck, but a small part of you didn’t want to be the one prude of your group, so you downed it. And then another. Followed by another. Which preceded one more. 

And by the end of the night, you truly were white girl wasted.

You thank God that you had good friends at the time who made sure you made it home safely, because you absolutely did black out. Amir did too, hence him not being the one responsible for your care.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was dart to the bathroom where you emptied your guts. The second? Panic. You were terrified of your mother finding out that not only had you engaged in underage drinking, literally violating the damn law, but you’d gotten so wasted that you blacked out. It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous. Your chest tightened and stomach coiled at how she would react if and when she realized what you’d done.

That was the most scared and nervous you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Well, up until now.

Because all you can focus, think, and obsess about is the fact that Joe will be in your state, in your town, in your damn apartment in a matter of hours. He’d text you in the middle of the night a screenshot of his flight information indicating an arrival time much earlier than you were hoping for. 

Dread swept over as you sent him a message asking if he would stay at the same hotel he usually used when visiting, not that it got much use. He typically stayed with you during his visits. But, you offered to meet him there instead, feeling more comfortable if you were out of this setting, not in your apartment that had some type of reminder of Callie in damn near every room.

It took longer than you liked for him to respond, and his answer only served to increase your anxiety and trigger some anger.

No. I’m coming to you.

That was it, no explanation to your follow up texts which you know he read cause bastard had his read receipts on. Just radio silence.

That pissed you off even more, because why the hell was he ignoring you? Wasn’t he about to come talk to you about something anyway?

Oh.

Your stomach tightens. Not knowing what the hell he wants is driving you insane. You know why you reached out to him, but why did he seem so keen on speaking to you? It’d been nearly five years, what could have happened to trigger this sudden desire to reconnect?

And why the hell did he respond so quickly to your initial message? Truthfully, you expected no response whatever, convinced that he’d probably changed numbers after his massive increase in fame. Or, for him to at least hit you with the ‘who is this’? But, he didn’t, he called you and immediately knew who you were.

A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. That must have meant he still had your number saved, the same way you still have his in your contact list.

You….you don’t know what to make of that, don’t know what to make of it at all.

“Mommy, why am I spending the night with Aunt Mariah?”

Callie’s soft voice temporarily eases you from your panic, granted it also makes you aware of how she’s clearly unhappy about this. You know why too. Sundays are always your ‘special days,’ where you spend the entire day together doing the most random of things from baking, to playing game, to random dance parties that sometimes result in neighbors politely asking you to keep the noise down. It’s a tradition, and this is the first time since starting said tradition that it won’t be happening. 

Closing up her drawer where you were just digging for some pajamas for her, you move to sit next to her on her bed. Her head is down as she plays with the stuffed animal in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this is our day, but mommy just has some business she has to take care of.”

She keeps her head down, voice low. “Can’t you do it tomorrow?

Fuck. You hate disappointing her. “I wish, baby, but it can’t wait.” More like he won’t wait. You’re not sure what you would have proposed regarding a time to discuss, well, Callie, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the next damn day. “Hey, how about this? Why don’t you and I stay home tomorrow and have a special special day on Monday?”

At that, her head lifts, eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. “Really?”

“Yup. Mommy can take some time off, and you can miss a day of school. It won’t kill us.” You rarely ever take time off as it is, mostly because a teacher’s salary isn’t anything to write home about. You have to work your ass off to keep a roof over your and Callie’s head. But also….you’re not even sure what frame of mind you’re going to be in following this meeting with Joe, so better safe than sorry. “But only if we can watch The Lion King first.”

Clearly pleased with this compromise, she offers you her pink finger. “Deal!”

You two seal the deal with a pinky swear as you hold her into your side and sigh heavily. You wish that you two could stay like this forever. “I love you, Callie. Okay? Always remember that.”

________

“He’s what?”

You anxiously chew on the nasty ass protein bar Mariah offered you after you realized you’d barely had anything to eat today. It was a part of the latest dietary plan she was following, probably something she found from one of those weird ass dieting groups she was a member of on Facebook.

You loved Mariah, dearly, but as you two grew older, especially after having her baby boy, Micah, she’d become increasingly insecure about her body. Always the smaller, thinner, more athletic of the two, you knew that she struggled with how much weight she’d put on over the years, especially when her plan to drop the baby weight didn’t pan out. You're not sure she’s lost any of it, to be honest. 

It wasn’t even a massive weight gain, and truthfully, you thought curves suited her well. But, it didn’t matter what you thought. What mattered was how she felt, which wasn’t the best, despite your best efforts to build up her confidence.

“He’s coming into town,” you finally answer, debating if you should offer her the rest of this grass in bar form. Why the hell is it so damn grainy?

“Today? He’s coming into town today?” You nod. “I’m sorry, I must have missed a couple chapters.”

“More like volumes,” you murmurs, sourly. It’s a great opportunity for you to set aside the dirt bar and explain to her everything she’d missed, from Callie’s initial inquiry to your calling him, to him sending you an itinerary for a flight arriving in roughly three hours at this point.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, careful of her volume despite Micah and Callie being occupied in the living room watching Bluey. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say to him? This is….this is bad, girl.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You lay your head against her kitchen island and force yourself to take three, big, deep breaths. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

You hear her exhale. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious, Mo. I—” You lift your head and try your best not to cry. Tears won’t do anything to help the situation. “I don’t know what he wants, but it’s obvious he’s angry with me already, and I can’t imagine when I tell him about Callie that he’s gonna feel any better.”

“You think he’ll be upset?”

“Of course, he will.”

“No, not that. I mean, yeah definitely, about that. But, I mean, you know….that you kept her.” It takes a minute for you to process what she’s asking, and it’s a question you hadn’t thought about in some time.

You’d been so consumed about how upset he would probably be that you kept Callie hidden from him that you hadn’t considered the alternative. What if he was more upset she even existed in the first place?

The thought alone takes you to a dark place. Feelings of rejection and abandonment that you yourself experienced and probably haven’t fully processed. Feelings you swore with your life you’d always protect Callie from. 

And always will.

“Then he’ll continue to not be a part of her life.” Your voice is sound and resolute. Mariah also recognizes that all too familiar look of determination that fills your face. 

“But what will you tell her then?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” A motto, a mantra, an oath. You’ve hit hard times before and always pulled through. This will be no different. Whatever's needed to keep your daughter from the trauma you experienced, you’ll do. No matter what.

Mariah knows better than to try to reason with you right now, not that there’s a ton of that needed. As a mother herself, she fully understands the intrinsic desire and borderline need to protect your child. She just also knows that you can be stubborn, and when you put your mind to something, nothing and no one can change it.

She just wonders how that’s going to bode over with whatever is about to go down.

You finish off the conversation with thanking her again for her last minute availability. You know you could have asked your mom as well, but she would have had questions, questions you don’t have the answers for nor the desire to explain just what’s happening.

Hell, you don’t even fully know what’s happening. 

As the time gets closer, you realize you need to get home and straighten up. Maybe vacuum or some shit. 

“Will you call me before I go to bed?”

“Of course, I will, mama.” You push back some of her hair, hating to see her sad again. She’s wearing that pout that you just realized is similar to Joe when he scowls. Shoving that from your head, you add, “and don’t forget about our big day tomorrow.”

That seems to win you a small smile, enough to make you feel less shitty about ditching her, even if it’s completely beyond your control. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“You bet your butt it is, kiddo!” You bring her in for another hug, holding her close and tight. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

“I love you too, mama.” 

Callie expressing her love for you is the soundtrack in your head as you drive home and even as you move around your apartment, dusting and vacuuming. You even clean the baseboard, something you’re sure you haven’t done since you first moved in when you were 22. 

You even make the controversial decision to leave up the photos of Callie or both you and Callie together in the living room and don’t really do much to move aside the indicators that a child lives here. Like her toy bucket near the TV or pink kiddy cups lined up near the kitchen sink. 

It doesn’t make much sense to you to hide these things when the sole reason you even reached out is to make him aware of why those things are there and who they belong to. You’ve stopped letting yourself try to figure out why he wants to speak to you or why he’s upset, realizing it was only making your anxiety ten times worse to the point where you felt like you were going to vomit.

Recognizing you have some time before he arrives, you decide to take a shower that’s much longer than necessary and will probably have you upset at yourself when you get your next water bill. 

But, it’s a nice distraction. Being fresh, clean, and moisturized is always a nice pick me up. Granted, you find it almost silly as you struggle to figure out what to wear. It’s Joe. Not Beyonce. Also, your outfit should be the last thing on your mind, as you eventually settle on a graphic shirt and some shorts. 

And realizing you have nothing else to do, you plop down on the sofa and wait. Wait for whatever the hell is about to happen once you open that door. Strangely enough, your anxiety seems to be settling. Granted, you wonder if that’s being replaced with denial, because you’re also starting to tell yourself that it won’t be that bad.

It may not be, but that’s not a good hill to die on. Preferred but not reliable. 

Needing another distraction, you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, liking a few posts of friends, family, and former classmates from both high school and college. It’s interesting seeing how everyone ventured down different paths, some homemakers, some business execs, and of course the aspiring musicians aka unemployed. 

And then there was you, the small town teacher raising her secret love child of a WWE superstar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. 

Your stomach twisting and turning tells you the anxiety is returning, but it doesn’t have as much time to heighten because the doorbell rings.

He’s here.

There’s this irritating yet quiet ringing in your ears and anchor on your chest, both of which make it harder to untangle your limbs and move off the sofa. It’s like watching yourself slowly make your way to the door, the tremble in your hand noticeable as you undo the lock and start to turn the knob. 

I love you too, mama.

Callie’s sweet, reassuring voice floods into your head providing the sweet relief needed to return from dissociation and snap back to reality. Eyes shutting, you take another deep breath and carefully swing the door open.

Truth be told, you weren’t quite sure what you expected to feel upon seeing Joe again, not sure what you should feel. This was a reunion, but only in name. Nothing about him being at your doorstep was warm and inviting. That much is obvious by his stoic, unreadable facial expression, which isn’t entirely out of character. Contrary and both similar to his current heel portrayal, Joe has always been more on the quiet side, not as easy to read. More open and warm once you get to know him.

You’d found that out firsthand.

Taking in his countenance, you can’t avoid observing the rest of him. He’s somehow even bigger than the last time you saw him in person, almost taking up your doorway, rippling muscles on full display in the plain, black fitted shirt he wears. His hair is pulled back as usual, clean line up, and beard fuller than you remembered him liking it. He’s aged, obviously, but well. Very well.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you step to the side, allowing him inside. You hate how you close your eyes as you inhale his scent.

He always did smell so damn good.

The physical distractions dissipate when he’s inside, the door locked, and it’s just the two of you. 

You notice almost immediately how he seems to be intent on keeping his back toward you, playing it off by taking in your apartment. Not that much, if anything, has changed. He can’t be that damn interested. 

It was painfully clear that Joe was already frustrated with you just by his texts, but his anger is even more palpable in person, borderline suffocating. 

Just what the hell did you do to upset him so much?

Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over, you decide that someone needs to say something because this silent shit is not working for you.

But then Joe angles his body, still not looking toward you but something else. And that’s when your anxiety starts up all over again.

You watch him, intently, as he walks over to the side table near the sofa, the one that has pictures on it. 

Pictures of Callie. 

He picks one up, and you’ve never been so still in your life. It’s torture, not seeing how he’s looking, unable to read his facials, clueless to what he must be thinking. He’s quiet for too long, so you decide to bite the bullet and say something. 

“I—”

“Is she mine?”

Waves. Heavy, plunging waves of emotions splash at you with a ferocity that nearly floors you. His question, so simple, isn’t what you expected to leave his mouth. It’s posed so quietly, lowly, emotion evident but not enough for you to know which one. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

It stumps you, and for a second, you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t mean what you deep down know what he means. 

“What–what are you talking about?”

He curses quietly, and you hear him say your name before he asks again in a dangerously calm voice, “is she mine?”

You recognize this tone, the tone he takes when he’s trying his best to tame his temper, but there’s no guarantee that he can. And that in and of itself is not a good sign, Joe rarely ever gets mad. He’s irritatingly adept at maintaining his composure in all situations. 

Except this one.

You just want to take a nap, take a break from all of this. Everything seems to be happening so fast, too fast. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Callie first asked about her father, and now the man is standing in front of you asking you to confirm she is his daughter. You’re so confused about everything. How could he tell so easily? You always said and thought she favored him, but did she favor him enough for him to take one look at her and know she’s his daughter?

That doesn’t even seem possible nor plausible. 

You have so many questions, but there’s no need in delaying the inevitable.

Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Yes.” 

It’s at that moment he finally decides to turn around, and you can see the moment it happens, the moment the floodgate of emotions rush through him like a tsunami. He’s shocked. He’s confused. He’s angry.

“How did you find out?” Putting the pieces together is a slow progress, but one that’s progressing nonetheless. He clearly came here with that question prepared and ready to launch. He knew about Callie, knew when you texted him, knew when he decided to call. Knew before he even walked in and saw a picture of her.

He just needed you to confirm as such. 

That seems to be the wrong question, because anger is suddenly more prominent, both vocally and physically. “You’re seriously asking me how the fuck I found out I have a daughter?” Any attempt to control his anger is out the door, replaced with visceral emotions. “No, the real question is why the fuck you didn’t tell me I have a child?”

You’re not sure what it is, the emotionality of it all, the fact that you’re face to face with the man you’ve worked so hard over the years to get over, or even just the fact that he’s speaking to you this way. Maybe all of it. Regardless, you’re not about to just take it lying down. “First of all, watch your tone. You’re not going to talk to me any kind of way. Second of all, you are married, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Send you and your wife copies of the sonogram?”

“Don't put this on that,” he dismisses, swiftly and curtly. “Jadah has nothing to do with you telling me I'm a father. Don't you think I had a fucking right to know?”

“Of course you had a right.” He did. He does. You won’t deny him that, but it’s also not as cut and dry as he’s making it out to be. “But—”

“There’s no but, Y/N!” He cuts you off, and you have to take another deep breath. This time though, it’s not to lessen anxiety. It’s to calm your own anger that’s rising. Who the hell does he think he is to speak to you this way? Like you’re some damn child. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you going to actually listen to me, or are you just going to keep yelling? Cause I don’t respond to disrespect, Joe. You know this.”

He actually smiles, smiles at your words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m disrespecting you? You keep my child from me, and I’m disrespecting you?” He scoffs and looks up at the ceiling, probably to settle himself. “Did you know when you ended things between us?"

The surprising questions just keep on rolling. “What?”

“I swear to God.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you told me to leave? Is that why you did it? So I wouldn’t find out?”

This time, you’re the one scoffing, trying to rationalize how he could even think to ask you this. “Seriously, Joe? I told you why I ended things.”

“Yeah, well, you’re clearly not the most honest fucking person, so I don’t even know what to believe anymore.” 

You hate the fact that his words don’t further anger you but instead sadden you. You see how he’s looking at you, with a level of disdain and disgust. It’s such an unfamiliar experience, an unwanted one. “So, I’m a liar now?” It should have come out much stronger, firmer, showing him that you’re not putting up with his bullshit. Instead, it’s a damn near whisper.

He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, like he doesn’t get what you’re not getting about this. “What do you call what you did?”

Your head is starting to hurt. This is going exactly how you feared it would go. 

Bad.

It’s all becoming too much, your voice weighed down with the emotions of it all. You feel like you’re on the verge of tears, and you hate that. You won’t let him see you cry. “We’re not….we’re not getting anywhere here, Joe. I think—”

“You should get a lawyer.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

He runs both hands over his face, the heaviness of this conversation clearly weighing on him as well. “We need to figure out some type of custody arrangement, and I don’t think us handling it with each other is a good idea—”

“Custody?” The room is starting to blur again, items moving wayward and sideways. The ringing in your ears is also returning. “What—you—you want to take her from me?” You need to sit down, your legs feeling like they’re ready to give out at any moment. Take her. He wants to take her from you. Unable to control yourself, you snap, “she doesn’t even know you!”

He matches your tone and volume precisely, clearly unwilling to back down. “Exactly, I’m her father, and she doesn’t know me because of you!”

You can barely believe the words coming out his mouth, incapable of processing that he’s actually standing here threatening to take your child from you. This has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. “So, you think taking her away from me is the way to get to know her?”

His volume levels down a bit, and you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of sympathy. “I don’t want to take her away from you, Y/N. I just can’t trust you to not keep her away from me.”

This is disastrous. You never could you have envisioned this conversation playing out the way it is. Desperate, you move over to him, needing him to see you, to hear you, really hear you. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough?” 

His answer surprises you with its austerity. He’s so angry. “No, because it took almost five fucking years for you to call me in the first damn place.”

He moves away from you, obviously headed for the door. He has nothing else to say. Your head is throbbing, vision still murky, but you manage to rush past him, obstructing his leave. “Joe….wait.”

You’ve never felt so small, so desperate, so helpless in your life. It’s reminiscent of the last conversation you had with him five years prior, that same boulder on your chest, bigger now. Much bigger. 

“Please.” You’re not even trying to hold in the tears anymore. That’s not even important. Not in the slightest. This is your child.  “Please don’t take her away from me. She’s my baby, Joe. She—she’s never even been without me before.”

He looks at you, and you can see it now. Finally see it. Finally see past all of the hurtful threats, the dismissiveness, the refusal to hear you out. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. “And she’s never been with me.” He moves past you, but not before one last statement. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel.”

________

just curious, ya'll think joe trippin? personally, i'm team callie cause both reader and joe are wrong in one way or another but im also biased so ignore me.

[galacticgraffiti]

A Borrowing of Bones

This work is a collaboration with my most beloved artist and friend of all time Blumi. All text was written by me, all illustrations were designed and painted by them. I cannot thank Blumi enough for all the work and love they have poured into this! ♡

Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish Rating: Mature (for heavy themes) Chapter Wordcount: 1.7k

Fic Warnings: MCD, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, not canon-compliant (MWII and MW3), death, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unreliable narrator, gore and blood, unfulfilled love, passive suicidal ideation and self harm, doomed love, no happy ending. Chapter Warnings: nightmares

A/N: The Chapter titles are taken from different poems. The poems will be hyperlinked for those interested! Blumi's artworks will be added to the end of each chapter.

Read on AO3 ✧ Taglist Signup for this fic ✧ Fic Masterlist

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One: Heart Like Bitter Rain

Ghost has been dreaming about Soap for a long time. Longer than he would ever admit, even to himself. He has been dreaming about him since long before it all happened, since aeons before the world caved in.

Simon has been dreaming of Johnny for nearly as long. It’s different but the same – the breath on Simon’s tongue when he cries out in his sleep, the need to be held in warm arms he never had. Simon tells himself it’s a natural reaction to working so closely together. Simon tells himself that of course he would dream of Johnny when all Ghost dreams about is Soap.

Ghost dreams of Soap’s bloodied hands, of his dangerous smile and the way his fingers squeeze a trigger. Simon dreams of Johnny’s soft eyes, of the way his laughter seems to bear light within, and of the sun-speckled flush of his cheeks.

He tells himself it’s not the same thing: Because Soap calling out “Ghost” has never been the same thing as Johnny breathing “Simon”.

But now Soap is dead, and the world has crashed and burned so bright that there is no difference anymore. The line between Ghost and Simon has been eaten away by grief and rage. Soap died, and so, Johnny is dead. Ghost survived, but when that bullet tore through Johnny’s brain, Simon died right there with him. Again. Simon Riley has long since been dead, but pieces of him bubbled to the surface every time Johnny smiled at him. Now, Ghost is all that remains.

Ghost has never liked looking at himself much, but now, he avoids it like a pest. He knows all he will see when he looks in the mirror is the unbearable sadness of his eyes he just can’t seem to shake, no matter how hard he tells himself that he has nothing left in himself to feel with. No heart to beat, no lungs to breathe. Ghost is all that is left, an empty shell in the wake of Johnny’s death.

Ghost looks through people now, instead of at them. He functions. Barely. He works – Price wanted to send him home after Johnny’s death, made him ‘consider’ a leave of absence. Just for a few weeks, he’d said. Just until you feel… better. More yourself.

Nothing will ever make Ghost feel anything, least of all better. But he doesn’t say that to Price. The Captain would just be worried, even more so than he is now. And he is worried. Ghost can tell by the grey in his temples and the wrinkles on his nose, and by the fact that Price smokes twice as much as he used to. Natural stress reaction. So, Ghost nods off everything Price tells him to do. He goes to Manchester. Home, Price had said.

My home is buried six feet deep, Ghost wants to say. Nothing was ever home like Johnny was. His lingering smell in my room was the only reason I could sleep at night. His smile was the reason I felt like a person again.

But Ghost does not say that – Ghost doesn’t say anything. Ghost takes his leave of absence, and he stays the fuck away from base for one whole week before he can’t bear it anymore. He smokes an absurd amount of cigarettes and lets the smoke fill his lungs until he can tell himself that tar and nicotine are the reason he cannot breathe anymore. 

When he comes back, Price furrows his brow in disapproval, and Gaz’s hand lingers on his shoulder when it really shouldn’t. But they accept him back and don’t ask too many questions. They know better than to try.

Ghost wouldn’t know what to do with himself if not for the military. If not for the sharp glint of his knives, and the rough call of orders and the rigid routines and the stupidity of new recruits. And since Ghost is all that remains, all that remains is working.

Simon finds it too hard to breathe. He chokes on the blood flowing from the hole in Johnny’s head in his dreams each night, drowns in it and sinks to the bottom of a deep red sea of pain. Lets himself be buried by it, in a watery grave right next to Johnny. But Ghost… Ghost knows how to cope: With violence.

______________________________

Weeks have passed since the funeral before a thought comes knocking at Ghost’s mind. Could be months. The days tend to melt into one another now. Now that Johnny’s sleepy smile in the mess isn’t there anymore to differentiate between them, to make Ghost remember how Johnny looked especially tired yesterday, or how his eyes shone the other day because for fucking once the sun was out. Doesn’t matter anymore. Time somehow passes, and Ghost does the work that is required because it’s the only thing he knows how to do. He tries not to think too much. Tries not to think at all, if he can help it, because he is drowning in memories.

Ironically, it’s a dream that pries this particular thought loose, makes it tumble to the ground and shatter until its ashes spread everywhere, like fungi taking root. The thought invades Ghost’s brain, takes over until it’s all he can think about.

The dream is of Johnny: Of course it is. Ghost dreams of nothing else. Of no one else. Hasn’t since the first time he laid eyes on Johnny. In his dreams, Johnny smiles at him, just at him, his sunshine smile with cheeks flushed from adrenaline. In Ghost’s nightmares, Soap dies, over and over and over again. It was like that before Makarov. After Makarov, even Ghost’s dreams have become nightmares, because Johnny is never there when he wakes up. Will never be there again.

This time, the dream is of Johnny’s rotting, decaying corpse. He is military – was military. Of course he wasn’t cremated. Of course they put his dead body on show, with a proud flag of Scotland and a fanfare to congratulate him on dying, the hole in his head covered up by skillful hands until it’s barely visible.

Almost like he’s sleeping, Gaz had said at the funeral.

No, Ghost had thought bitterly. I know what Johnny looks like when he is sleeping, and it’s not like that. I know what he looks like. Not like this.

He hadn’t commented on Gaz’s words. In fact, Ghost could not remember the last time he had commented on anything. Silence had always been easiest. Except when it was Johnny asking. Now, silence is all that remains.

They had lowered the coffin into the ground, and Ghost had stood and watched, his black mask hiding the tears. And then, Johnny was gone. Not cremated. Buried. This is what Ghost dreams about, for the first time:

Johnny is buried.

Johnny is rotting.

The thought haunts Ghost. He knows the process, knows what it looks like, smells like, feels like under his fingertips. Sometimes he wakes up and swears he can taste the decay on his tongue.

It goes on like this for months: Ghost dreams of Johnny. It never used to be like that. When they were still together, still alive, Ghost never dreamed of anyone but Soap while they were on missions. Never Johnny. He wouldn’t let himself. Dreaming of Johnny was a privilege only Simon held. But now that the world has imploded, Ghost cannot bring himself to care anymore. Not when Johnny is in his dreams, sweeter than life itself, with his sunshine smile and his too-large hands, and his rosy cheeks and his freckled nose. Not even when the Johnny in his dreams is mottled with coffin flies, rotting, falling apart, decaying right before Ghost’s eyes. Not even then. Ghost would rather have nightmares about Johnny than dream of a paradise without him. 

Unspoken words hang in the air when Price asks him how he is coping.

You loved him.

Price doesn't need to ask, never needs to say it out loud. They both know it. Simon loved Johnny just like Ghost loved Soap. Maybe more. Now that he is dead, Ghost loves all of him, and that love is like a festering wound. It bites its way deep into Ghost’s heart and makes him rot from the inside out.

You loved him, Price doesn't say. 

And so, the thought takes hold, spreads and infests every corner, nook and cranny of Ghost’s mind: What does Johnny look like right now? Are there larvae eating at him? Has the earth absorbed him yet? Is the hole in his head visible still, through the rotting flesh that falls from bone?

When Ghost is not working, he thinks about Johnny. Sometimes – fatally – he thinks about Johnny even while he’s working. Of the way his eye sockets must be sunken in by now, the way his pretty lips must be gone to expose his sharp canines and his perfectly straight front teeth. How cold he must be down there, all by himself.

And a plan begins to form in Ghost’s mind.

He can’t grasp it at first – can’t put it into a shape that makes sense to his brain. Can’t comprehend how fucked up his own mind is, can’t bear for it to be true. Ghost has done a lot of awful things in his life. Objectively, much worse than what he is thinking about now. But it’s Johnny, and so, Ghost pushes the thought away, back into the rotting bog of his own mind. He smokes three packs of fags a day and tries to forget about it.

He doesn’t notice in the beginning that the thought does not die after he shoves it away. Doesn’t notice it taking root, nor how it festers and kills everything else, sneakily creeping forwards, slow and steady. He doesn’t notice until it is far too late.

He pretends that he doesn't feel incomplete, even with his mask on, even covered up with the hard shell of a skull that once made him feel safe and whole. Ghost pretends that the only thought that rings in his brain when he catches a glimpse of his own reflection is not of a different skull. Of a skull he misses more than anything else in the world. A skull he loved when it was still covered by flesh, and a skull that he still loves now that it’s rotting in the ground.

Johnny.

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───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── → Next Chapter ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Ghost totally kept it tactical, right? Taggies taggies for the beloveds.

@gibsalotdoodles @purgetrooperfox @ulchabhangorm @patchmates @kimiheartblade @staygoldnimoy @pinkiemme

[littleadaline]

Mister Romantic [J.K23]

Warning(s): none that i can think of!

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: other than it was written in 3 hours, i am insanely sleep deprived, and it may contain some sleep deprivation induced mistakes ;) anywho, it’s nearly 6 AM, i have 3 finals to study for and 1 race to watch. Bonne fucking nuit les copains!

A/N 2: I added a hyperlink or whatever you call it for [redacted but SFW] for my visual readers out there. It will be underlined in the text!!

—————————————————

The football season had come and gone. You were finally relaxing after travelling on and off with the team, handling the media communications, scheduling the press conferences. You sighed as you rolled out of bed, the sun tickling your face across the blinds. You swiped your hand to your left, patting down the spot next to yours. Empty…That’s odd. You quietly rolled out of bed, comfortably stretching your aching body. The blinds were promptly opened, light flooding the room as you embraced the new day. Your stomach grumbled, your nose dancing at the smell of something sweet coming from the kitchen. You grabbed your phone, before wrapping yourself in a light blanket and walking out of the room. Strutting into the kitchen, you were greeted by a breathtaking sight. Standing with his back to you, there he was shirtless, his hips slowly dancing to older R&B tunes. Sensing a shift in the air, accompanied by the faint scent of your body mist, he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, greeting you with a smile.

“Bonjour mon cœur.” He rushed to place a kiss to your temple, his hands snaking around your collarbone to pull you in closer. “How did you sleep? I did not mean to wake you up this early.”

You looked down at the watch on your wrist; 8:25 AM.

“It’s okay,” You sighted lightly leaning into his embrace. Jules kept a hand around your collarbone while the other stirred around whatever was in the pan. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” You teased the French player.

His chest rose up and down from his laughter, the vibrations creating a fuzzy feeling that spread across your body.

“I’m trying to make pancakes.” His face contorted with confusion. “I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.” He sheepishly confessed. “I even bought fresh oranges to make hand pressed juice, no pulp. Just how you like it.” He tried to give you a peck on the lips, only for you to pull away.

“Morning breath.” You excused yourself to the bathroom to freshen up.

Your mind kept wandering as you washed up.

I know why he is doing this today of all days, you thought to yourself as you spit the toothpaste out. I wonder what else he has planned for today, you thought, raking a hand through your hair. You had heard of people whose experience had gone totally wrong and you prayed it wouldn’t be the case for you guys, you worriedly though to yourself.

When you finally exited the bathroom, Jules was sitting at the kitchen island, waiting for you. Seeing your shadow appear from the hallway, he hurriedly put his phone away, but not before you could get a quick glance at his panicked expression. Weird… You thought to yourself once again.

“Can I kiss you now?” He teased you. You nodded at him before he leaned it to press a quick but delicate peck to your lips.

“What has chef Koundé prepared to accompany today’s breakfast?” You asked, unable to tear your eyes away from the plate.

“We have fluffy vanilla pancakes, doused with the perfect amount of maple syrup, and finally, topped with fruit slices. No cantaloupe or grapes for ma’am.” He gestured at your plate before comparing it to his.

“Thank you, my love.” You rested your head on his shoulder before digging in.

The breakfast went by almost quietly, the sound of clattering cutlery accompanied by your satisfied hums. You and Jules often did that, eat in silence. It was an opportunity to recharge your personal batteries before unwinding for the night. Ever since the beginning of your relationship, neither of you felt the need to bring work home, opting to make your house a work-free zone. After all, you worked alongside one another almost every day. After both plates were cleared, you cleaned up the island, opting to set the plates down in the sink. Jules jumped on the dishes, shooing you out of the kitchen.

“Why don’t you go relax a bit? I’ll come join you after I finish the dishes.” He shouted across the kitchen.

You walked back to your bedroom where the scent of sleep welcomed you back in. The bed was messy; the decorative pillows sprawled across the floor in a symphony of fabrics. You sat down on the bed, trying to find the energy to start cleaning the room. You lived in Jules’ house, having decided to move in together almost 2 years ago. Yet, your heart was keen on keeping the house you were living in prior to your relationship, to your move. Having both struggled with your finances when growing up, you collectively decided to keep one house in your name, and one in Jules’. You had promised to buy your forever home once married, viewing the joint purchase of a new house as the best way to start your new chapter together, a place for you to make into a home.

Consumed by your thoughts, you barely heard the door of the bedroom creak open, Jules’ body dropping next to you with a heavy ‘plop’.

“What’s on my smart, beautiful lady’s mind?” He scooted closer, his hands resting below your jaw, thumb faintly caressing your cheeks. “Mh?”

You looked at him through your eyelashes. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. You were mesmerized by the way his eyes flickered with glee and love every time you were the subject of his attention.

“How I love being in your arms.” You giggled, leaning into his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around your body, pulling you as close as possible. Unable to resist, you closed your eyes, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep for the second time today.

———————

Hours went by before you woke up again, this time with Jules sleeping soundly next to you. His left arm was slung around your waist, fingers softly digging into your skin. You heard the covers shuffle before a deep voice filled the silence in the room.

“I guess we both needed that nap.” He confessed, stifling a yawn. “You’re such a loud snorer.” He faked his outrage, dramatically put his hand to his forehead.

“I’m not!” You lightly tapped him on the shoulder, embarrassingly burying your head in his chest and under the covers.

“You had the foundations of the house shaking, I thought I was finally experiencing my first earthquake. Had we been in California, I swear I would have thought it was the ‘Big One’.” He lightheartedly teased you.

“Stoooop.” You jokingly begged him, your cheeks sore from laughing so much.

“I hope our kids don’t inherit your snoring habits.” He innocently said, unaware of the vicious attack awaiting him.

Faking offence, you retaliated.

“I hope our kids don’t inherit their dad’s humongous feet. That shoe size of yours is absolute madness. Every time I want to buy you shoes, it feels like going on a wild goose chase. You need feet reduction surgery.” You exploded in a fit of laughter at Jules’ expression.

“You know what they say about men with big feet, right? Big di-”

“Jules!” You squealed in disbelief, grabbing your pillow from behind you and lightly smacking him.

You both took a moment to calm down, your breaths finally going back to normal. You were still facing one another, unable to look elsewhere. Jules’ lips were curled up in a genuine, love-struck smile.

“So… You want to have my kids?” He teased you, knowing damn well you would give him 100 kids if possible.

“Nah, you got those giant feet. Your genes are gonna have my kids stomping on the floor at the age of 1.”

“What are you on? Our kids will be advantaged because of my feet genetics. They will be super fast on the field, gonna carry the Koundé name across the best European clubs.”

“What if they don’t want to follow your footsteps?”

“I’m sure the firehouse across the neighborhood will be happy to take them in.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You broke into a fit of laughter, tears rolling down the corners of your eyes.

“No but in all seriousness, I would love to have a family with you.” You confessed. “I dream of the whole ‘getting married, having kids, a dog, and the house with a fence’ thing.”

A silence hung between the two of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable but rather, familiar. You did not need a verbal response to know that you were both on the same page.

“But, as much as I would love to have a family with you, I don’t feel ready to cross this line yet. I long for the day where two smaller heads of hair will come rushing to the door to welcome me after a long day of work, but I wish to savour our relationship, us, a bit longer.” You confessed.

Jules listened carefully, your need for a bit more time as a couple resonating perfectly with how he felt. He didn’t mind having kids later in life, as long as it got to be with you. Contrary to what he had seen or heard from his friends and colleagues, Jules knew your paths were destined to be intertwined beyond the terms of boyfriend and girlfriend long before you two ever spoke to one another. To say Jules loved you was a lie. He worshipped every move you made, every word to have ever left your lips. He worshipped your intelligence, and the goodness that surrounded you.

His hand rested on your lower back. Jules’ mind was racing at the thought of disrupting the routine you had kept as a couple for the past few years.

“I know you’re a woman whose goals are always set in stone. And I wish to highlight how much I respect that, how beautiful I find it to see you, so goal driven. But I see something wrong with what you’re asking of me, of us, and I cannot ignore that.”

He pulled away, blindly rummaging through his bedside table, nervously pulling a neatly wrapped box. He sat up as your eyes scanned his face for any hint of sarcasm.

“I had originally planned to do this over dinner, or a walk on the beach… Something more romantic than…this.” He gestured with his free hand. “But I quickly realized that it wasn’t authentic to who we are as people and as a couple. I like how easy it is to love and to feel loved with you. I like how… how we can take anything and turn it into a discussion filled with jokes that will bring us to tears.”

You looked up at him, his glossy eyes meeting your surprised ones.

“You know, when it was announced that you were taking over the media position, my heart fluttered. Before I had even seen your face or even introduced myself to you, my soul knew that my life would not ever be the same again. You are the best partner I could have ever, ever, ever, asked for.” You were at a loss for words. The more Jules rambled, the dizzier you felt.

“I knew since the moment I saw your smile across the room that I wanted to give you the wedding of your dreams, the kids, the dog, and the house with a fence.” Your eyes danced between his teary eyes and the box he was holding so tightly against his chest, you were afraid it was going to break. He fiddled with the box, his hands shaking as he struggled to open it. Your hands laid gently on his, your body slowly leaning onto his.

“It’s okay. Take your time, my love.” You whispered against his lips, stealing a shy kiss from him.

He cleared his throat.

“You are my God-given solace. My refuge, my biggest ally, loving you is my greatest and truest achievement. If I were to die tomorrow and must start all over again, I would look for you in every life, and in every universe. Will you marry me?” He broke in a nervous fit of laugher as he presented you with the carefully selected ring, his last sentence hanging heavy in the air. “And subsequently have my giant-footed babies?” He whispered in an attempt to alleviate the thickness of the tension.

You wish you were able to control the flow of tears streaming down your face as you realized what had just happened. The brightness of the diamond bringing you back to reality. Jules’ face was broken with the anxiety upon waiting for your answer.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you and have your giant-footed babies.” You let down a sob as Jules’ exhaled a sigh of relief, carefully sliding down the Emerald-cut ring down your finger. He brought his lips to your knuckles, peppering your hand with light, feathered kisses.

“I had the ring engraved.” He pulled it off your finger to show you. In an almost invisible calligraphy, the words ‘To my God-given solace’ were permanently etched into the metal of the band. Jules slid the ring back on your finger, his eyes unable to peel away from yours.

“I love you, ma fiancée d’amour. Happy anniversary.” His arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“I love you, mon fiancé d’amour.” You giggled in disbelief as you pressed a sensual kiss to his lips.

[silverstormsxx]

Deltarune Multiplayer:

Noelle’s Player being Connected through Chara is very funny working under the theory that Chara is the one that disrupted the Vessels creation

Chara plagiarizing Gasters work

Hmmmmmm…

Given Chara's general dislike of Humanity, I wonder if they would have given the Player they summoned some Monster body parts to make a Vessel with (that is, if they weren’t already planning on sending their Player to Noelle)

If they weren’t intended to go to Noelle, it would be very funny if the Vessel that Noelle’s Player has looks eerily similar to Noelle

Deltarune: Multiplayer x The Perfect Timeline (that one post where the Vessels creations isn’t interrupted and the Player becomes a member of the Dreemurr family but Kris knows something is up with them)

Either Noelle has a new sibling, or… her Player is Dess (either Dess is getting Kris’d or Dess is their Vessel, I prefer the second idea here since that fits more with Perfect Timeline)

Human!Player and Dess!Player, looking at each other: Same hat!

ougggghhhhh you have ZERO clue how much i adore all of these ideas <<<<<<<<33333

with the dess!player one.. what if we combine that with eldritch!player for funsies???

picture this:

your name is noelle holiday. your sister has been missing for a very long time. you have spent sleepless hours at night sitting in your room, the only light coming from your computer, perpetually reloading the same pages over and over: "december holiday", "dess holiday," "lost girl hometown", hoping to see a blue hyperlink instead of a purple one each time.

then one day, you wake up and.. she's back.

but she came back.. wrong.

her eyes didn't look so empty and bottomless. she didn't move so stiffly and awkwardly - like a puppet on strings. her voice wasn't like that. her voice was sweet and teasing and carefree and light. nothing like.. nothing like that.

and the worst part? nobody questions it. 24 hours ago, nobody had even dared speak her name in what felt like forever, but now? they act like she never went missing. like she was always right there, like she had never left. like that thing.. was her.

and you slowly, very slowly, feel your memories begin to align with those of others. you remember when dess had first announced the fact that she was accepted to college, how overjoyed and excited mom and dad had been, how she had come with you to visit dad whenever you didn't want to see mom, how she had comforted you when you had cried about how everything was falling apart-

but those aren't real memories. you know they aren't.

so why do they feel more real with each passing day..?

(and that's not even getting into human!player and how she would feel about suddenly gaining childhood memories about being best friends with this absolute stranger.. maybe she and kris team up?)

[wrestlezon]

Best Friends & Orange Cassidy vs Miro & Kip Sabian and Penelope Ford Feud (Oct 2020 - Mar 2021)

Hey, I finally finished putting this together! (its just tv stuff, i missed any twitter tweets)

I've supplied (brief) summaries, hyperlinks, and timestamps for each show, mostly to fite/triller where you can directly watch them if you have an AEW+ sub. If you don't, I tried to include some youtube/twitter alternative links where applicable. I've also left the bilibili video ids from before I got fite/triller, they're in blue.

(My advice: feel free to skip straight to Jan 06 2021.)

It's a looooong post, so its under this readmore. You can also find it as a separate page on my tumblr here. if i end up hosting it anywhere else i'll edit the original post and put a link here as well maybe

by zon :)

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

OCT 14 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dynamite-anniversary-show-live-results-four-title-matches-322571

The feud begins. The first match of the show is Best Friends vs FTR. Kip and Penelope are… playing… on an arcade cabinet in the arena. Trent accidentally destroys the cabinet while fighting FTR. Kip and Penelope to run off. After the match ends, they return with Miro who beats up Chuck and Trent. After a commercial break, Miro/Kip have a tag match (squash) against Lee Johnson/Sean Maluta and then do a promo about the broken arcade cabinet.

0:16:21 arcade break | 0:20:00 Miro Appears | 0:26:00 Miro/Kip/Penelope postmatch promo

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-42-20/2p88b/ BV1Rp4y1r7y9

(later on in this show, Orange has a match against Cody for his TNT Championship.)

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

OCT 28 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dynamite-live-results-world-title-eliminator-semifinals-323741

Returning from supporting Orange Cassidy in his lumberjack match, Best Friends bump into Miro, Kip, and Penelope (MKP, if you will) in the halls. MKP are pretty chill about the whole broken arcade thing and offer them some presents and halloween treats. Chuck and Trent are unamused. MKP then reveal that it was merely a halloween trick™ and beats them up.

1:17:00 best friends + MKP backstage promo

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-44-20/2p8ac/ BV1j5411L7GM

Also, Orange has a rematch against Cody for that TNT championship since their last match ended due to the time limit. This time its a lumberjack match. Best Friends are present and also take part in the chaos.

54:28 Orange’s match entrance | 57:50 Cody’s entrance (and the rest of the match)

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

NOV 2 2020

Excalibur interviews Trent and Miro ahead of their upcoming match on Wednesday over webcam. It’s 6 minutes long, and mostly Excalibur bearing witness to Trent and Miro arguing. Gonna give a shout out to their distinct webcam setups, lol (Trent is using workout earbuds and sitting in what has to be a large dim empty room, Excalibur is in his bedroom, and Miro is in his gamer office with a headset)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3N1SZTP8ywc

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

NOV 4 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dynamite-live-results-full-gear-go-home-show-324296

Trent vs Miro. During the entrances they show a clip from the interview from Nov 2nd. Orange and Chuck are hanging out ringside, as well as Kip and Penelope. Eventually Chuck runs off stage while fighting Kip. Dark Order appear to beat up Orange since hes fighting John Silver at the upcoming Full Gear. Miro scares them off and then defeats Trent with his submission hold. After the match, Miro puts Trent back into his Game Over submission and Chuck runs in to save him. Kip was following close behind. Chuck and Trent get both of their asses kicked. Orange attacks MKP and the two sides split off.

0:23:25 Trent vs Miro | 0:28:00 Chuck leaves | 0:31:00 Dark Order appears | 0:37:23 Match Ends | 39:40 Postmatch ends

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-45-20/2p8cy/ BV1wV41117E7

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

NOV 6 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dark-results-daniels-vs-sydal-taylor-vs-johnson-324511

Chuck Taylor fights Lee Johnson on AEW Dark. Nothing MKP-related happens, but at the start Excalibur briefly brings up the ongoing feud Best Friends are having with Miro/Kip/Penelope. Plus its a fun match for AEW Dark.

43:56 Chuck Taylor vs Lee Johnson

https://youtu.be/S_ShrIJ4hVQ?t=2636

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

NOV 7 2020

www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-full-gear-live-results-five-title-matches-omega-vs-page-324571

Full Gear! Orange has a match against John Silver. Later on, he gets interviewed by Dasha alongside Best Friends. MKP interrupt the interview– Kip’s mad that Orange’s beef with the Dark Order caused them to show up at the Trent vs Miro match, and that they could’ve hurt Penelope. He asks for an apology from Orange and then immediately slaps him anyway. Best Friends get mad on his behalf but Orange casually says everythings cool and walks with the two of them offscreen. Everyone is confused at how chill he is.

3:09:53 Backstage Interview

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-full-gear-2020/2p83a/ BV18K4y1E7uE

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

NOV 11 2020

They play the segment from Full Gear on this Dynamite and announce Kip vs Orange for next week.

1:36:45

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-46-20/2p8ef/

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

NOV 18 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dynamite-live-results-pac-returns-world-title-contract-signing-325391

Kip Sabian vs Orange Cassidy. Best Friends accompany Orange for his entrance, but return to the back. Miro’s on commentary calling Trent his Young Boy. JR brings up Kip and Penelope’s upcoming marriage. After Orange wins the match, Miro sprints from the commentary table to punch out Orange. Best Friends show up immediately after and MKP run off.

0:26:53 Match Start | 39:50 Match End

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-47-20/2p8ft/ BV1jK4y1j79q

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

NOV 24 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dark-results-dark-order-vs-janelakiss-vs-chaos-project-325946

Trent vs Michael Nakazawa Chuck and Orange are hanging around ringside. Not necessarily MKP-related, but Excalibur mentions their feud. The Wrestling Observer article says that Nakazawa sabotaged Trent during his match against Miro way back when, but I’m not sure where that’s specifically mentioned. It’s really just in service of facilitating this goofy comedy match.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=pf1mr41FoLQ&t=1123s

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

NOV 25 2020

Miro & Kip’s game livestream is interrupted by OC. Its a trap by the Best Friends!

twitter.com/AEW/status/1331783338214961153

or:

1:11:03

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-48-20/2p8h6/

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

DEC 1 2020

Best Friends have an AEW Dark match against Sean Maluta & Adam Priest. Unrelated to the feud, it seems? https://youtu.be/oLW9pywcIYI?t=2722

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

DEC 2 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dynamite-winter-coming-live-results-moxley-vs-omega-326461

The show starts off with the Dynamite Diamond Battle Royale, and it has Orange Cassidy in it. It comes down to him, Wardlow, and MJF, and Orange eliminates Wardlow to end the match and qualify for the dynamite diamond ring match next week. Best Friends come out to pick him up congratulate him. Orange flops to the ground like a sack of potatoes. MKP come out to antagonize them and are held back by every referee.

13:45 Match End | 15:03 Postmatch End

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-49-20/2p8i3/ BV1KK41137KR

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

DEC 9 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dynamite-live-results-sting-interview-omega-title-win-fallout-327116

The dynamite diamond ring match! Best Friends accompany Orange and hang around ringside along with a group of others to even out the odds as MJF has the entire Inner Circle backing him up. This is a pretty fun match. At the end, Miro comes out to knock Orange out while the ref is preoccupied by ringside chaos, and then MJF takes advantage of this to pin Orange for the win. Best Friends fight with Miro & Kip, but the refs get them away. Miro proceeds to kick the shit out of every security guard.

1:43:36 Orange’s entrance + match start | 1:57:35 Ringside Chaos + Miro Appears

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-50-20/2p8jf/ BV1QK41137mb

unrelated, but MJF has a short promo against Orange at 14:40

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

DEC 15 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dark-results-best-friends-vs-chaos-project-shida-vs-king-327711

Best Friends vs Chaos Project fight on this episode of AEW DARK. Miro comes out at the end to yell at them, but the refs keep him away.

1:42:00 Match intro | 1:53:00 Miro Appears

https://youtu.be/7_xHd64xeeQ?t=6171

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

DEC 16 2020

https://www.f4wonline.com/news/aew/results/aew-dynamite-live-results-omega-vs-janela-no-dq-match-327716

(trent had a fight against jericho earlier, and had a staredown with ortiz/santana…)

Best Friends do a promo– They’re unhappy about Miro sabotaging Orange Cassidy, and hear that Kip and Penelope’s wedding date is being announced next week, and warn that they’ll also be at that show.

1:41:20 Promo

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-51-20/2p8ka/ BV1bt4y1k7SC

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

DEC 23 2020

Wedding date reveal segment. Best Friends’ intro starts, but its just a prank. They then show Trent being loaded into ambulance.

1:11:00-1:14:55

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-52-20/2p8l5/ BV115411H7PA

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

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

JAN 06 2021

Chuck and Orange give an update on the status of Trent’s injury, Miro and the gang show up. Miro tells Chuck that he needs to stand up for himself instead of hiding behind his friends, or better yet be Miro’s friend and do all his chores. Chuck challenges Miro to a match next week, and Miro accepts with the stipulation that if Chuck loses he’ll have to be his young boy/rookie. Chuck agrees just to get this stupid beef over with faster.

0:24:27-0:26:18

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-01-21/2p8ne/ BV1c54y1s71A

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

JAN 13 2021

chuck vs miro. we know who wins– obviously. how would there be a butler segment otherwise?

0:15:20 chuck entrance | 23:02 match ends

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-02-21/2p8oj/ BV1xh411y7XX

You can also just watch the last 3 mins of the match on youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vRsizDs838

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

JAN 21 2021

We get the Charles Taylor butler reveal during Leyla Hirsch vs Penelope Ford. Orange is in the crowd, rather unhappy. After the match, Miro commands Chuck to enter the the ring and bosses him around. He then forces Chuck to look at Orange in the crowd and say into the mic that Miro is his best friend now.

1:25:22 Penelope Ford Entrance | 1:34:55-1:37:33 Postmatch Promo

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-03-21/2p8pk/ BV14v4y1f7tr

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

FEB 03 2021

Miro and Kip have a short backstage promo about being excited for the wedding. Chuck is standing next to them, miserable. Vickie Guerrero then fetches them for the big wedding.

Miro gets Chuck to bring the champagne, then drinks Chuck’s glass cuz he is working. Miro gets mad at the person sized present hanging round the ring. Chuck says its a wedding gift from him. Miro is on to him, and trashes the gift. Chuck cuffs Miro's leg while he isnt looking, then Chuck turns on them. Orange also appears :)

1:00:12 Wedding Stage Setup | 1:00:56 Backstage Promo + Wedding | 1:12:08 Wedding… Ruined | 1:16:23 (segment end)

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-05-21/2p8sj/ BV1vU4y1x7E8

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

FEB 10 2021

Recap of last week’s events.

47:35-49:24 MKP's promo, then Orange and Chuck

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-06-21/2p8tp/ BV1ur4y1N7Fd

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

FEB 17 2021

Orange Cassidy vs Luther on dynamite. Chuck and Serpentico are ringside. Neither Miro nor Kip Sabian make an appearance.

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

FEB 24 2021

Tony Schiavone has an interview with MKP. They’re very very mad about the wedding. Miro wants to beat up Orange. He says he likes Chuck Taylor and wants him to come back and be a butler for him again. Someone gives tony a note. Its one of those little “will u wrestle us at revolution? y/n/maybe :)” asking-someone-out-in-highschool kind of notes. Miro gets mad and says its childish and that Orange Cassidy is such a bad influence on him. But if Chuck comes home he’ll teach him how to be a man. Miro then crumples up the note and eats it, and then spits it back out at Tony.

37:13-39:35 Promo Segment

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-08-21/2p8w5/ BV1cp4y1H7Qv (0:37:25 ?)

alternatively: https://twitter.com/AEW/status/1364752741889900545

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

MAR 03 2021

Revolution 2021 Miro + Kip vs Chuck + Orange match announcement, plus a short backstage promo from Miro.

1:43:26 Miro Promo

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-09-21/2p8xm/ BV1MK4y1D737

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

MAR 08 2021

The Match At Revolution. feat. a lightly bloodied chuck

1:21:54 Marvez backstage interview w/ Chuck and Orange (that leads into the rest of the match) | 1:33:26 Match End

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-revolution-2021/2p8rn/ BV1Pf4y1t7GL

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

MAR 10 2021

Chuck and Orange requests a rematch. Arcade Anarchy!

31:30 Promo Start

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-10-21/2p8zg/ BV1rN411Q7c2

alternatively: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0SGY6GgdLJU

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

MAR 17 2021

Marvez interviews Miro about how Chuck and Orange challenged them to a rematch. Miro’s not interested, says he is over it. Kip interrupts and says he super isn’t over it, and is mad that Miro doesnt care and also hurt his wife! Kip accepts the rematch.

1:33:27-1:35:01 Backstage Promo

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-11-21/2p90p/ BV1Cf4y1s7uv

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

MAR 24 2021

Video package about the upcoming Arcade Anarchy match: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwRMbFy4SU8

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

MAR 29 2021

AEW DARK miro shows up at the end of orange/chuck’s match. :O https://youtu.be/d2hjXKRuHVY?t=94

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

MAR 31 2021

The Arcade Anarchy match! By pinfall or submission only.

1:39:29 Match Intro / Miro + Kip Entrance | (commercial break) | 1:43:34 Orange + Chuck Entrance

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-13-21/2p93m/ BV1yf4y1x7Kq 1:26:40 (?)

supplemental material for the arcade match lol: https://twitter.com/callmekrisstat/status/1377705137792290821

ah damn wtf hold on the tweet’s deleted. here: https://web.archive.org/web/20210914041200/https://twitter.com/callmekrisstat/status/1377705137792290821

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

what happens later?

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

APR 07 2021

Best Friends interrupt Death Triangle's in-ring promo and start shit up with them (again):

15:18

https://www.trillertv.com/watch/aew-dynamite-episode-14-21/2p94w/ BV16K411w7Ug 0:16:00 (?)

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

APR 14 2021

Kip Sabian is nowhere to be found, which Miro finds pretty annoying! He just wants to talk, cmon. Well, since he can’t find him, he’s moving on to challenging anyone in the company holding gold. https://twitter.com/AEW/status/1382498000484851713

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

APR 21 2021

miro promo again: https://twitter.com/AEW/status/1385035045799448585

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

APR 26 2021

Kris Statlander started feuding with Penelope Ford, too. Here’s a Road to Dynamite where Chuck, Trent, and Orange support Kris through a promo video package. It’s one of my favorites.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYScNUG1ego

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

APR 28 2021

Kip goes to see whats up with Miro :) https://twitter.com/AEW/status/1387583461939101698

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

Over the course of 2022 you’ll occasionally see a guy in the crowd with a cardboard box on his head. That’s Kip Sabian, out of kayfabe he was dealing with recovering from a shoulder injury? It lasted a while and when he recovered he came back as a my chemical romance lookin’ dude who may or may not have thought the cardboard box was controlling him? The gimmick didn’t get over so it got dropped pretty fast. He also had a short feud again against Orange Cassidy in 2023 when Orange had the All-Atlantic Championship– he got under Orange’s skin so bad! Anyway thats neither here nor there. Thanks for reading!

[mmuffncakes]

the shadow of the mountain: chapter 13 - epilogue

after a year and a half of writing this, i have finally finished the shadow of the mountain. it's wild to think that it's finally done, but it is. i don't know how to feel. pride? empty? relieved? im still working through all the emotions.

thank you all for being here with me as i finish this story.

i am eternally grateful for all those that have been here since the start <3

edit: i dont know why the fucking link shit is broken

edit again: i did a hyperlink since this link shit still broken <3

[tartaeya]

i drive up to your house and park in front of your front door. i roll down the driver's seat window and i lean out the front. i hand you a hyperlink, don't worry about the logistics of a hyperlink irl, it's not important. i put on my most skibidi rizz voice

"You should read my fanfic," i say. "It's good."

i do a figure eight on your lawn and drive off down the road. you call the police. the police can't catch me, but they issue a warrant for me. you decide to take matters into your own hand with six bullets in a revolver.

you decide to drive out to the outskirts of town. you see smoke in the distance, coming from my cabin. you march through the thicket in the dark, coming to empty your gun into my chest. You hear me singing a merry tune as I sharpen an axe outside.

"YOU SHOULD READ MY FANFIC," I say in a singsong tone, "IT'S REALLY GOOD"

you fire at me. one bullet glances by my head as i duck and throw the axe. you narrowly dodge, charging me and breaking down the door in the process.

you point your gun in my face.

I grin.

"It's got Chaeya in it," I say, "And it's funny, at least I think so. You should read it."

You fire.