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ellecdc · 18 hours

Note

Black!reader that is “I don’t smoke” (mitski) because if their parents ‘you need to be mean be mean to her me, she I can take it and put it inside of me’

hi babes, this was my take on Black!reader who was always hurting on behalf of everyone else. this fic is very angsty compared to my usual standards, so please keep that in mind before reading, and mind the warnings. of course, as typical on ellecdc we have a happy/hopeful ending

Remus Lupin x Black!sister reader after The Prank™ [4.7k words]

CW: The Prank™, Black family trauma, the Marauders aren't speaking to each other, depressive episodes and self-loathing, siblings get quasi-violent/threats of violence? but for a good cause?, Remus' typical self-loathing, discussion of forgiveness and hatred, breaking up [not pictured] and making up [pictured]

The worst part-

Though, even the thought caused Sirius to scoff humourlessly, because what could possibly be the worst part of this? What could possibly be any ‘more worse’ than the worst thing he’d ever done?

Still, Sirius supposed, wand to his head, the worst thing about all of this would be the fact that Sirius didn’t regret it. Not really.

If anything, he only felt stronger in his conviction that Snape deserved to be mauled violently to death.

Yet…

Yet he didn’t find he felt particularly good about it all; about the way Remus woke up with new, deep, angry scars across his face courtesy of The Wolf who finally had a chance at a meal only to have that stolen before he turned on himself, about the way he looked at Sirius with an expression of pure unadulterated betrayal and fury when he realised what happened, about the three well aimed hits he took from James, nor about the way he had to listen through the door as Remus ended your relationship with you, officially giving into all of his deep-seeded self-loathing and beliefs that no one could or should possibly accept him.

And all Sirius managed to do was prove that to be true; that Remus couldn’t trust anyone. And as a result, he robbed you of the only love you had access to save what little you received from Regulus and Sirius.

So perhaps Sirius regretted that, but without access to a Time Turner, there was nothing to be done.

Nothing to be done.

James had told him that “until he made things right with Remus, he wanted nothing to do with him”, and while he didn’t blame James, Sirius knew he was officially on his own because there would be no ‘making things right’. There was nothing right, not with Sirius, at least.

There was nothing to be done.

He brought the cigarette back up to his lips, the sensitive skin at the corner of his mouth cracking painfully as he took a drag. He appreciated the sting as his teeth started to taste like iron; the pain was both a welcome reminder and a distraction of his inner turmoil as he kept his gaze on the grounds below him.

He couldn’t look at the common room; the red and gold that once felt like home were merely shades of grey. He couldn’t look in a mirror; his permanently downturned lips and angry eyes found him looking more like his father than he did himself. He couldn’t look at his hands; they were blistered and cracked from his tryst in the forest where he emptied his lungs by screaming until he was choking on air and punching uselessly at a tree.

He couldn’t look at any of his friends, because they couldn’t even look at him; they hated him.

He was hated.

Sirius had begun to wonder how many more classes he could miss before McGonagall followed through on her threats to write home when the portrait hole opened.

He couldn’t look, though. Because he was hated.

“Aren’t you meant to be in class?” He heard you call to him, listening to your measured steps as you made your way to his spot on a windowsill.

“I could ask the same of you.” He gruffed; voice cracking from disuse, from chain smoking, and from the perpetual tightness he had felt since That Night.

“What are you doing, Sirius?” You sighed; you were exhausted. Exhausted of him.

He was exhausted too.

“I’m minding my business, Y/N.” He spat back, stubbing out his smoke before lighting another one with a snap of his fingers. “You should try it sometime.”

With a wave of your hand, the smoke was gone.

“What the fuck?”

“Get up.” You ordered simply, and Sirius shook his head at you.

“Go back to the dungeons.”

“No.”

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Great, neither am I.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“And I don’t want to be here,” You agreed, voice rising at Sirius’ petulance, “but I’ve got a brother who decided to stop functioning a few weeks ago, so here I am.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“You smell.”

“Yeah well, you’re ugly.” Sirius sneered, pulling out another cigarette only for you to vanish the entire pack.

“When was the last time you showered?” You demanded, and Sirius refused to look at you.

“Hm? Or changed? Or ate? When’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”

Sirius kept his gaze pointed at the grounds outside.

“Sirius. Your hair is greasy, you smell stale, you look gaunt, and…they’re going to write home.”

“Good.” Sirius spat quickly. “As they should.”

“Is that what you want, Sirius? You want more people to be mad at you? More people to punish you?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re already doing that enough for the rest of us.” You sighed, attempting to grab him by the arm only for him to shove you away.

“Get away from me, Y/N, I mean it.”

“No, get up.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now.” You nearly growled, and Sirius turned to see you pointing your wand at him.

“What? Gonna hex me? Or are you gonna skip right to the Unforgivables, hm? Maybe an imperio? Or are you going to try some negative reinforcement? A crucio for disobedience? Salope stupide, de plus en plus comme ma mère chérie chaque jour.” (translation: stupid bitch, more and more like mother dearest every day)

Sirius flinched as you quickly raised your hand, prepared for a blow that you never landed.

He looked back to see you standing there, hand poised like it was ready to hit him as you stared at him defiantly; your cool, piercing eyes so much like his own, but the displeased pinch of your mouth was that of your mother.

“Is that what you want, Sirius? Huh? You want to be walloped a few more times on the nose so that everyone knows what a bad dog you are? You want to be punished for your misdeeds? Maybe get a few more of these?” And you punctuated your question by roughly grabbing at his jaw, fingers pressing into the painful bruises still healing courtesy of James. “That’s why you haven’t bothered healing them, yeah? So that everyone who sees will know what a right bastard you are.” He smacked your hand away with one arm and shoved you away from him with the other.

“Or,” you continued - rather unphased by Sirius’ aggression - grabbing his balled up fist and bringing it up to your own face, “is it me you want to hit, hm? You want everyone else to hurt just as badly as you are? The world has been just terrible to you Sirius, you were dealt an awful hand! You just want everyone to suffer for it; to pay for the wrongs done to you.”

“Stop it.” Sirius hissed, trying to yank his hand away from you to no avail.

“Hit me then, Sirius. Hit me. You wanna give into that Black Darkness? Want to be just as bad as they are? Just as bad as they’ve painted you to be? Go ahead.”

“Stop.”

“Then get up.”

“Y/N…” He warned.

“Get up, Sirius.”

“I hate you.” He spat, and your jaw tightened but you rolled your eyes as if you found him to be quite tiresome.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you very much right now either.”

He stood then, giving you no time to get out of his way before he was towering over you. You never faltered, though. He let you grab him by the sleeve of his shirt, he let you drag him up the stairs towards his dormitory - somewhere he hadn’t been since That Night, opting instead to sleep on the couches, a time or two in the room of requirement, and one night in the Shrieking Shack as Padfoot - and he let you bodily shove him into the boys’ bathroom.

“Get in the shower, Sirius.”

“Sunny, please.”

“I’m not asking.” You said firmly. “Get in the shower.”

“I can’t.”

You swore under your breath as you dragged him over to the shower stall, said nothing as he went no bones and sunk to the floor, and simply turned the shower on, soaking you both.

“Y/N, stop.”

“Sirius, if you’re not going to take care of yourself, I will. Those are your choices.” You said defiantly, staring down at him as your school uniform became more and more drenched and your hair started sticking to the side of your neck.

Sirius let out a sigh and rested his head against his knees, and you accepted his relenting as the acquiescence it was.

You pointed the shower head at him and began lathering soap into his hair before doing much the same with the conditioner.

Sirius let the soap burn his eyes; welcomed it, even. He did nothing to help you with your tasks, though you didn’t ask him to. He did, however, draw the line at you trying to disrobe him.

“These need to come off, Sirius.” You said, pulling at his uniform shirt like something disgusting you found in a gutter.

“And I will take them off once you’re no longer staring at me.” He growled, causing you to scoff a humourless laugh.

“Like hells I’m letting you out of my sight again.”

Sirius simply groaned.

“How are you going to wash your body, Sirius? Please don’t tell me you’re going to make me do that too.”

Sirius ripped the bar of soap out of your hands and glared at you as he shoved it beneath his clothes, washing himself the best he could under his sopping wet uniform.

Though he was more than likely still sudsy, you shut the water off and vanished what water you could from both of your beings; each of your heads and uniforms still soaked as you flung open the bathroom door and marched across the hall.

Sirius’ mouth ran dry when you knocked on their dormitory door; somewhere between you confronting him in the common room and forcing him to bathe, classes seemed to have ended.

He should’ve flung himself out of the common room window when he had the chance; he couldn’t see Remus, James, or Peter. They hated him.

He was hated.

Remus wouldn’t talk to any of them, and James and Peter weren’t talking to Sirius. Even though Remus had told them he didn’t want them “taking sides”, he didn’t seem to mind watching Sirius get iced out.

Because he hated him.

Sirius was hated.

“Oh…hi, Y/N…” James offered awkwardly as he opened the door.

You barely spared him a glance. “Potter.” You greeted simply as you dipped under his arm which had been holding the door open and marched towards Sirius’ bed.

Remus pulled his head through the hole of his jumper as he watched you start digging through Sirius’ trunk, sharing a quick glance with James and Peter before his gaze moved to Sirius all but cowering in the doorframe.

“Are you…wet?” Peter asked cautiously then, all three boys staring at you in bemusement as you packed up a duffle.

“Yeah.” You responded simply, throwing Sirius a towel that he (thankfully) caught as everyone’s eyes fell to him.

Sirius quickly ran the towel over his person as you let his trunk close with a loud thunk, hiking the bag you packed for him over your shoulder and stalked out of the dorm room without sparing any of the boys - including your ex boyfriend - a passing glance.

“Don’t you hate me?” Sirius whispered as he allowed you to lead him to the Slytherin dorms.

“No, Sirius. I hate what you did.” You sighed, never faltering in your steps but strengthening your hold on your brother's wrist. “I love you, that’s why I’m here.”

Remus had tried telling Peter and James to leave him alone; he wanted to be alone.

Yet somehow, every morning, the two of them would sit across from him in the Great Hall, say hello, and then talk amongst themselves whilst pretending he wasn’t there.

That was fine, though. Remus was sort of pretending he wasn’t there, too.

But while Remus could ignore James and Peter’s existence, Sirius’ existence, and even his own if he really tried hard enough, he couldn’t ignore your existence.

He’d been more than slightly confused when you stormed into his dorm room last night completely drenched without your eyes ever cutting to him and packed up a bag for your equally drenched brother.

He’d been more than slightly hurt when you left without sparing him a glance, too. Though he figured perhaps he deserved that. This is what he wanted, right?

Scratch that, actually, what he had wanted was to be safe and loved and protected by the people who promised to do that for him.

It wasn’t until Peter and James paused in their conversation to look at Remus concernedly that he realised he had caused his tea to overflow by means of accidental magic.

Remus threw a wad of napkins at the mess as he made to stand, but his legs felt wholly incapable of holding him up when he saw you enter the Great Hall, quickly followed by a rather dispirited looking Sirius who nearly bumped into you as you paused at the entrance.

Your gaze automatically fell to the Slytherin table where Regulus was shooting you and Sirius a perturbed look.

You turned then towards the Gryffindor table when your gaze fell to Remus.

He found himself unable to break your gaze; he wondered if you could see the heartbreak pooling in his eyes, or the longing painted in the space between his brows.

He wondered if you could even see past the new, ferocious scars decorating his face.

He certainly couldn’t.

Your shoulders fell as you shook your head - so minutely that Remus wondered if he had only imagined it - before you grabbed Sirius’ sleeve and dragged him towards the Ravenclaw table where both Pandora and Benjy accepted the pair of you without issue.

He was simultaneously grateful that neither of you were sitting over here and furious that the two of you deigned to sit anywhere else. You were his; his friend, and his girlfriend, you were supposed to be here with him.

But he didn’t want either of you over here, he didn’t want…

He didn’t…

“Moony?” James asked cautiously.

“Don’t call me that.” Remus gruffed before he stood abruptly and stormed out of the Great Hall.

He never wanted any of this; sure, he wanted to go to school, but he never wanted friends. He didn’t need friends, he’d never had them before. He met some kind kids on the train who ended up being his roommates, but he was ready and willing to hold them at arm's length.

And then…

And then he found that he rather liked their company, and that they seemed to enjoy his. And then he found that he cared for them, and that they seemed to care for him. And then they found out, and they were accepting of him. And then they did the impossible and found a way to be there for him like no one else before, they showed up for him in ways no one else had ever tried, in ways he never imagined possible.

And then he fell in love, and then…

And then.

And then one of the worst people Remus could imagine to know learned of his darkest secret, his biggest shame, his lifelong curse.

And he learned that from one of his best friends. Snape learned of Remus’ darkest secret, biggest shame, and lifelong curse from one of his best friends.

And suddenly, everything everyone had ever said about lycanthropy was true; he was a monster, unloveable, a threat and hazard to everyone around him.

And as he paused in front of a window where he could see his reflection - three violent claw marks from his left eye across the bridge of his nose down over his lips - the monster stared back at him.

He was a beast. He was a monster playing dress up; cosplaying as a wizard day in and day out when in reality, deep down, he was a vicious, disgusting freak.

And now everyone knew it; Sirius knew it, you knew it, Snape knew it.

And for those who didn’t know it, they could suspect it; rumours flying around of how Remus managed to be mauled by some creature and survive to tell the tale, because the only thing scarier than a beast among men is a man that can take on a beast and live to tell the tale.

The worst part-

But the thought made Remus snort humourlessly, because really, how could there be a worst part of any of this? What could possibly be ‘more worse’ than the worst thing to ever happen to him, second only to being bitten all those years ago.

But Remus supposed, wand to his head, that the worst part of all of this was losing you.

Remus let out another humourless chuckle as he let his head fall with a thunk against the windowpane.

And the absolute fucking kicker was that losing you had been his own doing.

For the first time in perhaps five days, you were alone.

You sat in the farthest corner of the library near rows of tomes with enough layers of dust on them to promise you some solitude as you waited for Sirius’ meeting with McGonagall to end.

You’d convinced him (rather forced him) to start attending his classes again, though you were certain he wasn’t exactly a delight to have in the classroom at the moment. You only hoped it was enough for the school to refrain from writing home.

You dropped your quill and pressed your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars. Sirius was displeased with you for ordering him about. Regulus was displeased with you for babysitting Sirius and ‘cleaning up’ after him. Your parents were displeased with you seemingly because you were born with free will. Your professors were displeased with you for submitting sloppy work because you spent the majority of your time doing Sirius’ for him in order to keep him from being expelled. Your roommates were displeased with you for smuggling a dog into your room for the past week, even though he was very well behaved and slept dutifully on the end of your bed. And Remus…

And Remus.

He had looked so hollow and… dead when he told you this needed to end, that he couldn’t see you anymore. You didn’t think he was capable of occlusion, but that was the only thing that could possibly explain how he could manage to look at you like you didn’t even matter to him anymore.

Perhaps you didn’t.

You didn’t matter.

Perhaps you were too much like your brother; he couldn’t forgive him, so you were unforgivable too. Perhaps you were just too much of a Black for him; perhaps he realised the mistake in keeping your kind around.

You couldn’t blame him, you supposed.

You were a tiresome bunch. You didn’t often want to keep your kind around, either.

You shook yourself out of your pity party and returned to your notes, only to watch as Remus pulled out a chair opposite of you at your table.

“The library’s plenty large, Lupin; I’m sure if you looked harder you could find another table.” you offered, hoping for indignation but landing somewhere around disheartened.

“Is Sirius alright?” He murmured quietly, and you forced your eyes up to meet his.

He looked dead tired; his eyes were sunken and his skin was missing its warm glow. But in his eyes laid an earnestness that had you remembering just how wholly safe and full you felt whenever you found yourself pinned beneath his gaze.

You quickly looked away.

“Not really.” You replied honestly. “But I think he deserves that.”

Remus made a noncommittal sound as he continued staring at the top of your head; you couldn’t see it, mind you, but you could certainly feel it.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you alright?”

“Why?” You demanded, and Remus finally looked down into his lap.

You stared at him as he wrung his hands in his lap while you catalogued the scars across his face. You wondered if where they landed over his eyes caused him any vision issues. You wondered what the ones over the bridge of his nose would feel like as you traced your fingertip over them. You wondered what the ones on his lips might feel like under your own.

You hated them, knowing that he did too, knowing how he came to have them. But you loved them because they were his, because it was him. Because you loved him.

“Are you alright?” You decided to ask then, and he looked up at you as if he was surprised you were still there.

“No.” He responded quickly.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, though you knew not what for. You really hadn’t done anything.

“How-” Remus started, though he quickly looked back down at his hands as he searched for the words.

You waited for him.

“How…can you help him?”

You felt your eyebrows furrow, because whatever you thought Remus might’ve been about to ask, it certainly wasn’t that.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“How can you help Sirius? After all that he’s done?” He continued gently.

“I… because, Remus, someone has to.”

Remus nodded as he considered your response. “There’s a… part of me that feels as though you’re choosing him over me.”

“Remus. You chose; you made that decision for me. I didn’t choose anyone’s side.”

“So if we were still dating right now, would you have forgiven Sirius?”

“Forgiven?” You repeated incredulously. “Who said anything about forgiveness?”

Remus simply blinked at you owlishly.

“Remus, I cannot just sit here and let him whither away into nothing because I’m mad at him. He fucked up - big time - there’s no question about it. And deep down, I know he knows that too; that’s why he’s been torturing himself over it. There is no way in which I could treat him that would be worse than the way he’s treating himself right now. But I-”

You shook your head as you fought off the stinging in your sinuses; you did not want to cry in front of him.

“There is no one rooting for us, Remus. No one. You’re pissed at him - rightfully so, and completely justified - Potter and Pettigrew are pissed at him too, he’s pissed at himself and I… someone has to, Remus. Someone has to root for him, I can’t…I can’t just abandon him, not when there’s no one else.”

“I can’t… I can’t feel bad for him, Y/N.” Remus exclaimed helplessly.

“I’m not asking you to; I’m simply telling you why I do.”

“I don’t…I don’t know how to forgive him, dove, I don’t know how to not hate him for this.” He nearly sobbed, holding his hands out helplessly as if the grief and torment were tangible things he could crush in the palm of his hands if he could only catch them. “Why don’t you hate him? Please tell me? Because I genuinely want to know. I need to know - I don’t…I don’t want to hate him.”

“He’s my brother, Rem.” You said simply, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “I hate what he’s done, I hate the choice he made, I hate the outcome of that choice, I hate what he did to you, I hate what that’s done to me, but… but I don’t hate him.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while; the only sounds coming from the odd book being magically sent back to its shelf and the odd voices from students downstairs when a study group got a touch too boisterous.

“Do you hate me?” Remus whispered then; your eyes flit up to meet his which were already steady on you.

“No, Remus.” You whispered back.

He nodded as his gaze fell. “Just what I did?”

Your lip quirked in the faintest ghost of a smirk. “Yes I…I sort of hated that, I suppose.”

“I don’t want to hate him.” He repeated.

“I know.”

“Do you-” Remus paused, turning away and screwing his eyes shut as you realised he was crying. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

“Remus…”

“I was scared, and hurt, and angry, and-” he hiccuped, reaching across the table as he nearly begged for your hand. You gave it willingly. “-and I hated him but I mostly hated myself.”

“I know, Rem.”

“Please? Do you…do you think you’d be able to forgive me? For leaving, for running, for abandoning you? You’ve never once given up on the people important to you and one bad thing happens to me and…and I just throw you away, I-” He looked at you as if he was only realising all of this now; hurt, frustration, anger, and betrayal all on your behalf flickered behind his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Remus.” You insisted, but he quickly shook his head at you.

“It’s not; it’s not okay, I- … I’m not as gracious as you, clearly, but I just…I just feel like if you’re strong enough to forgive me then there’s…there’s hope for me, too. That maybe I can be strong enough to forgive Sirius.”

“You’re forgiven, Remus.”

His eyes fell shut as more tears fell, but you were sure it was more from relief than it was from pain.

Both boys - Remus and Sirius - were so good at torturing themselves over choices they’ve made that you were certain no one else would ever have to as long as they both should live.

And for different reasons, you loved them both beyond measure.

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.” Remus whispered.

“Of course you do.” You countered, squeezing his hand in yours and watching as some of the tension in his shoulders dissipated.

“Does Sirius?” He asked quietly, keeping his eyes pointed at where your joined hands sat on the table between you.

You’re not sure when or how you became the leading expert on conflict resolution and forgiveness; perhaps it was in refereeing Sirius and Regulus’ petty squabbles growing up, perhaps it was in shielding Regulus from your parents fury, perhaps it was in trying to tame Sirius enough to keep him out of trouble, perhaps it was in being the youngest cousin along with Regulus and watching the siblings before you find their own ways to define what was right and good, perhaps…perhaps it came from the many examples of conflict and spite that you had witnessed growing up.

“I don’t know, Rem.” You answered honestly. “I think…I think the only one who can really know that is you.”

If he was displeased by your answer, he didn’t show it.

“But,” you continued cautiously, “I don’t think you have to forgive him for what he’s done. You just have to decide whether you’re going to hate him for it or love him in spite of it.”

His lips pursed, pulling at scars both new and old in ways you’re not sure you’d ever grow tired of watching, as he nodded. “I don’t want to hate him.”

“I know, Rem.”

“I don’t want James or Peter to hate him either…I don’t know why they were willing to watch him wither away like that.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at that; the first real smile you’d had since That Night. “They don’t, and they weren’t.” You countered, only moving to explain when he looked at you in bemusement. “They were the ones who told me how bad he was getting…they wanted to make sure someone was looking after him without giving into his pity party.”

“Always taking care of everyone else, hm?” Remus murmured at you, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a delicate kiss to your knuckles.

You simply hummed noncommittally.

“Can I return the favour?”

“You can certainly try, but I’m quite high maintenance.” You teased gently.

“That’s alright.” He agreed quickly. “You’re more than worth the effort.”

You breathed out a quiet laugh through your nose. “Whatever you say, Lupin.”

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hardlyinteresting · 2 days

Text

To Have and To Hold

Jake Seresin x Reader

Jake comes home

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please), I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended) Word count: 1.8K

The floorboards creak with the weight of his footsteps still. there's a strange comfort in the sounds of this old house settling; the hum of the refrigerator downstairs, the quiet slide of his socks across wood floors. If he listens carefully, he can hear the whistle of the wind blowing past the window he meant to reseal all those months ago. The reminder of another missed task weighs heavy in his heart; a failure to provide a safe, warm home. It's the little things that matter most, his mama's voice reminds him, but it's the little things he so often misses-- always overlooked with the prayer that he won't be made a liar when he says he'll do it later.

Time plays him for a fool. At 35 he rushes to make sure he meets the milestones he set out for himself, steadfast and resilient in his resolve to do more-- to be more. He breaks records, and sets precedents. But, he struggles to relax. Breathing doesn't come easy to him when it's not through his aviator's mask. In for seven, out for five. He counts the seconds of his inhales and exhales grounding himself in the moment.

He does his best to hold tight to the moments he has here, But still, it never seems to be enough. like sand through an hourglass it all seems to slip away from him; these new found days of domestic bliss escape through his fingers like the memories of his childhood back in Texas. He wonders if one day he might be afforded the chance to pick up all the pieces and fit them together in some semblance of a “normal” life. He worries about his time away from home, what he's missed, and worse yet what he stands to miss if this life is taken from him too soon.

Tonight marks the end of a six month separation, and tomorrow morning the count down to his next inevitable departure will begin. Always running out of time. It never used to bother him, it exhilarated him even, time blasting by in a blink of an eye. Back when he was younger, back when he had nothing to lose, and no idea what he stood to gain by sticking around. Now he worries about the quality of the lock on the front door, he thinks about restaining the floor downstairs and fixing up the kitchen. Domestic life snuck up on him. Slowly but surely his house became a home. Sun-baked bricks and weather-worn siding, with a shade of green paint he's been told matches his eyes. Four walls and roof that keep the outside world at bay.

Down the hall in their bedroom, he Expects to find his wife sleeping, waiting in dreams for him to come home to her. It's the part of his job he struggles with the most now. It's so hard to leave this life they've built now that part of him is forever tethered to the earth.

“I worry sometimes that I'm holding you back,” she confessed one night, “your job is hard enough as it is…I don't want to make it harder for you”. He hadn't been able to find the words to tell her how wrong she was.How could he describe the ways she had changed him?

The need to return home to her never leaves him stunted in the sky, it fuels him. Long gone are the days where he fought just to be seen; she sees him. He's quick up there, tens of thousands of feet above the ground, he's calm and he's brilliant. His colleagues can call him cocky all they want, but his confidence is founded on his proven ability, and sometimes it's necessary to show off a little bit even if it's just so he can have another story to tell his sweetheart when he gets home. He imagines himself writing her name in the sky, carving her likeness in the clouds, a blazing trail racing home to her.

So many of his earlier years had been spent playing the field too afraid to commit, too afraid to be loved. Adaptability, while necessary for his job, had never been his strong suit. A tiny part of him deep in the back of his mind always left the hair at the back of his neck on end when faced with change.

He had struggled in school, not academically, but socially and learned to over compensate to make up for his discomfort. The navy had given him the structure he had craved, a way to make his bed and fold his clothes, instructions that weren't open to interpretation. Living on his own allowed him to follow the same schedule and practices as he did on base. In a split second, his life on the line, he never hesitates, but sustained change to his daily life left him nauseated. Welcoming another person into his life, and into his home had pushed him past the edges of where he believed his comfort laid, but forced him to confide in a support system outside of routine.

Over the course of a few weeks her belongings joined his, sprinkled through out the house like a treasures to be found. Without a word she had taken care to intermix her books with the few of his own on the shelf, sorting them by alphabetical order just as he'd been doing for years. His anxiety slowly waned as his darling girl continued to prove she understood him better than anyone else ever had.

“Do you prefer flying at dusk or dawn?” She had asked a few weeks after she moved in. curled up on their sofa, her head tucked under his chin, college football playing on the tv, she traced invisible shapes across his chest. “I don't have a preference, sweetheart. I just like flying,” his response felt half-baked, but it was the honest-to-good truth.

“But if you had to pick?” she persisted. He weighed his answer before giving it to her, “if I had to pick, it would be dusk. There’s a moment, if you're up at the right time where you can see the night sky blending into the sunset…the sky is a gray-blue and you can see the sun at the horizon and the little pinpricks of stars”.

“It sounds beautiful,” her smile was soft and genuine when she cupped his cheek to make sure he was looking at her. A habit of hers, not letting him hide away from the softer parts of himself, she seemed to so easily pull out. “It is”.

That weekend he’d spent 72 hours on base and returned home on Monday evening to the faintest smell of fresh paint. In the low evening light, it took him a moment to figure it out, standing puzzled in the middle of the living room, still dressed in his service khakis trying to identify the source of the smell. “You’re home!” she’d grinned coming down the stairs, her jeans and t-shirt splattered with gray. It’s then he noticed with his darling girl looking so proud of herself, the walls of the living room coated in a soft heather blue-grey, no longer just a coat of contractor-grade white reflecting the shade of twilight through the windows. Flicking on the light he watched her grow nervous as he felt his brow furrow processing the unexpected change. “Do you like it?” she asked.

“It’s perfect, baby,” he promised pulling her close and kissing her thoroughly, “It’s beautiful”.

A few months later he came home from work to find his shower gel and shampoo had both been replaced by a new set. Confused and with no other option, he chose to use them, deciding he liked the smell of eucalyptus and mint much more than he'd liked sport: for men anyway.

“Baby, what happened to my shower gel?”

“You were complaining about how dry your skin has been”.

“Hmm,” the consideration to change his routine to better himself hadn't occurred to him before she moved in.

More recently he'd come home from a night out with the squadron, and woken up under a Forest green duvet, a jarring difference to the burgundy plaid cover he'd owned for years. Momentary panic filled his chest. Like a sharp, sudden plunge into cold water he'd gasped his eyes scanning the room to confirm his location. The familiar scent of her perfume, the sound of the ocean breeze, assured him he was in fact in their room. In the dark when he'd come home, colour of the duvet hadn't been noticeable and he found himself mildly embarrassed by how badly it startled him. Her hand reaching out for him, stretching across the sheets to touch him lured him back to a flat position letting her snuggle herself right up against his side. It was then he noticed that the weight of the blanket was the same as before, and it was just as plush as it had always been. Her on going respect for his comfort continued to leave him floored. A memory of her texting him to ask his favourite colour (green) filled his mind and left him drifting back to sleep with a smile on his face.

Secretly, he'd begun to look forward to the tiny changes she brought into his life and into the house. The littlest reminders of their strengthening bond, their lives stitching together in more tangible and visible ways. The Navy had taught him to think literally, latteral thinking developed and honed to reach conclusions and make decisions quickly and effectively, but the metaphor of their lives blending like the presence of her belongings along side his own, and freshly painted walls is not lost on him.

Tonight the house is quiet as it often is when he returns so late. He knows if she knew what day he was set to come back home she would've done her best to stay awake for him, dozing off on the sofa with the living room curtains wide open, hoping to catch the sight of his headlights pulling into the driveway. It's thoughts of her safe and waiting for him that have pulled him through this latest deployment, so he does his best not to disturb her sleep as he makes his way to her. Like a silent sirens call an unspeakable force drags him through the house. His boots are left by the door, laces tucked in. His bag is heavy in his hand, more than just its physical weight tugging at him, and he's glad to be able to put it down by the bedroom door.

“Welcome home,” she whispers stirring from her sleep as he slips beneath the sheets, freshly showered.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun hangman

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moviestarmartini · 5 hours

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yellow flowers. — jude bellingham x gf!reader

él sabía, ella sabía y se olvidaron de sus flores amarillas.

summary: how can your relationship recover from such a serious argument the night before?

wc: 975

warnings: angst, not that much dialogue, like three words in spanish, established long-term relationship.

A/N: WHAAAAT?? GIGI POSTING TWICE IN A DAY??? its more likely than you think! thank las flores amarillas hehe.

now playing... flores amarillas from floricienta

The fight was stupid, really.

You both had to admit it was. Even then, that doesn’t take away the fact it snowballed into issues each of you held back for what seemed ages, and only ended up with Jude slamming the door on the way out of your apartment.

After hours of crying, your own exhaustion from the ordeal lulled you to sleep. When you rose up in the morning, neither your mind nor your body prepared for the fact it was a Saturday.

Nor the fact everyone and their mothers were receiving yellow flowers, something you’d always craved but were always just another bystander.

If you listened to that song again you might just rip your hair off.

You had a whole day planned with Jude after the game, he wanted to do something special, but the fact you couldn’t hold back your jealousy the night before was more than enough to dampen the idea, whatever it was.

For a second, you tried to put things on the positive side. A self-care day. In theory it was wonderful, but the second you sat alone in the bubbly bathtub, you broke down in tears.

You’d been together for years. You changed your whole life around him, learning German to go to school in the same country and planning your masters in Spanish. Maybe that was part of the reason he called you spineless; you adapted to other’s needs and perspectives easier. His words bounced around your head, each reminder taunting you more.

To top it all off, Spotify seemed to have a vendetta against you, your daylist was insanely depressing.

“Is this because he plays for Real Madrid?!” You spoke out into the world, growing frustrated with your situation.

That did spark an idea in your brain; or more of a reminder.

Jude had a game today. And you weren’t going to be there to watch him. That just made you jump out of the bath, get changed into decent clothes and leave the house for once to watch him at your best friend’s house upon her request, miserably so even when the team got their footing back up— knowing you should be in the stands cheering him on. But alas, you weren’t.

And you wondered if you would ever be again.

The moment he fell clutching his shoulder, your heart stopped. Tears welled in your eyes but you avoided letting them escape, remembering the long hours of work and recovery, the utter joy you felt when he informed both you and the team he was comfortable playing without the big chunky brace again. All that, and it crumbled down right before your eyes, like your relationship.

Still, you didn’t hesitate on reaching for your phone, not finding any elation on the team’s victory.

[ I know you don’t want to see or hear from me ]

[ But how’s your shoulder? I’m seriously concerned ]

You knew he wasn’t going to reply right away, and when your companion found out who you’d texted, she ripped the phone out of your hands and put it away for the reminder of your evening laced with white wine and take out sushi.

“Thank you for releasing me, master.” You joked by the time she gave you the mobile back, swallowing hard upon seeing Jude hadn’t replied.

He hadn’t even read it.

Now you were actually panicking, swallowing down the tears in the Uber and wishing the small elevator could go fast enough that you didn’t break down somewhere that wasn’t in the comfort of your home.

You were overwhelmed enough that you didn’t even take into account your door was unlocked when you clearly left it locked, nor the warm light coming from the tiny space under the doorframe.

“I’m sorry.”

Were the first words you registered before your eyes caught the indoor prairie your boyfriend had installed in your living room in the shape of yellow daisies.

Your eyes trailed the hundreds of petals before your eyes finally fell on him, scanning from his toes up to the apologetic expression he was carrying. Now it all made sense; your friend insisted on getting you out of the house for this. He didn’t reply because of this.

Though your heart was running at a whopping speed of thirty miles per second, your feet took you painfully slow— cautiously— towards him. You were still marveled, carefully watching where your sneakers landed to avoid stepping on the beautiful work he’d planned for you.

“Perdón,” Jude repeated, as if the words in Spanish meant so much more than the English language. He opened his mouth for what seemed to be a rant, but the way you squeezed the life out of him with a desperate hug left him speechless, followed by your hugs.

“I thought you— you were going to dump me and I would have to move back home and— and I can’t imagine that because I love you so much and that’s why I was scared!” You babbled between hiccups, trying to calm yourself down before his gentle hands cupping your face did the job spectacularly.

“I would be such a fuckin’ idiot to do that.” He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, not at you nor your claims, but at how ridiculous he had been.

“Te perdono,” You sniffled, your bottom lip still puckered up ever so slightly.

��But what’s all this?” You turned to look at the scene, something straight out of a Van Gogh painting.

“You thought I forgot with the thousand TikToks you sent me on this day?” He leaned in to kiss your forehead before pulling you into another warm hug.

“I also watch Gilmore Girls whenever you do. Whoops.”

Your laugh echoed as you snuggled closer to him in your upright position, being extremely thankful the last sentence of the song wasn’t your reality.

A/N: if y'all seriously thought it wasn't going to have a happy ending you clearly don't know me well enough rip

#𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham angst #football x reader #football blurb #football fic

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sanflawoah · 2 days

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Black Myth: Wukong

More brainrot commentary because I'M NOWHERE NEAR DONE WITH GOING INSANE OVER THIS MONKE GAME.

Cursed texts and massive spoilers bellow. Lots of random bits and wee woo wee woo.

First of all, YEEESSS to everything well written big budget media with heavy cultural elements that isn't western centric. Love it 👏, a thousand more like this please.

HONESTLY can't get enough of the character designs. Watching the old tv show in my childhood got me imagining the JTTW characters as these cute human with animal ears. But since the game took a more serious and darker tone they took the character design to 1000. So many memorable characters with distinct style, drip, and combat.

Ok so whose idea was it to make some of the plants sentient and will beat your ass for daring to pick them up. I now have trust issues with ginseng and mushrooms

The toad bosses reminds me of Gamabunta. For a moment they also gave me a war flashback of Jedi Survivor's Oggdo-Bogdo, I want those things vaporised from earth 🔫🔫

Kang-Jin darkening the environment during her second stage, I legit thought it was a problem with my screen, until I found out other players had it too lmao. Also looove her design, silver loong with holographic glow, prettiest loong in the game

Boss musics are so LIT, I've been looping them for weeks

The Scorpionlord. First I saw him I was like HANZO HASASHI :DD??? But instead of hellfire, this time he uses venom. And the fact that the environments have autumn palette, connects me to MK 11 Shirai Ryu fire garden arena lol

an NPC called Starved Abomination. The name really sends me because ngl it's a relatable concept, I too became an abomination whenever I'm starving.

To punish Wukong for his lifetime worth of trash-talking, the game now choose The Destined One as shy and doesn't talk much except for when he screams during fights. All my grievances of expecting him to be chatty and noisy actually works out the more I understand the story. And turns out it was all part of his journey, you are meant to complete him by collecting Wukong's scattered senses. Lil introverted fur-ball of scream I love you so much. Since the NG+++ Wukong stance actually gave him voicelines, I'm guessing the Destined One is going to complete his development in actually becoming Wukong in the DLC.

Everyone and I mean EVERYONE had a beef with Wukong and now we gotta pick up after his mess. My poor Destined One walked into an area completely clueless and suddenly everyone is jumping on him because "REMEMBER THE THING YOU DID TO ME A FEW HUNDRED YEARS AGO??? WELL FUK YOU, NOW DIE."

🐱Yin Tiger🐱. First time I met him I was like ohhh who are you, you look so cool and kinda cute tho, look at those big boba eyes, pspspsps.

He's all busy with his hammer and zabuza sword, thinks you're so annoying for bothering his work. Then there's this "challenge" option and suddenly he rose and casually tossed his hammer to the ground, I was like wait I was just joking aYO I WAS JUST JOKING-, then proceeds to delete my HP in 30 seconds. Anyway I love how he appears big and heavy and yet moves so swiftly. Of ALL the tiger bosses in this game, imo he's the coolest and THE SANEST. I still can''t get over the Tiger Vanguard and Mad Tiger trauma, those orange cats are on a whole new level of insanity.

🕷️Fourth Spider Sister🕷️. I'm actually so INVESTED in her mystery, like why are you helping me? Why do you look so sad? Are those tear stains on your cheeks?? Why did the Immortal Crane said that I'm giving you "false hopes"? What were we in the previous life?

"Think about her, won't you? Should you feel like stirring trouble in your next life." WHAT DOES THIS MEAN, TELL ME. SHE SEEMS SO NICE THO, she's just a sad goth girl what did she do?? What did WE do?? And her journal entry is so interesting.

🐉Yellow Loong🐉. LISTEN.... I literally had to pause for a moment when I saw him. Cutscene plays and I was like Oohh it's going to be that type of charismatic character reciting monologue, and then I saw his name and it's THE YELLOW LOONG??? This suave horned man is The Yellow Loong??

Well damn I have to say that's one handsome loong. He's one of those elegant style fighters, my favourite genre, up there with Whiteclad Noble and Erlang Shen.

👁️Erlang Shen⚡. The way I turned up the volume when I heard Andrew Koji's Erlang voice.....It's just so.......pleasant to hear. Something about the way he did his voice, the smug taunts, the gentle almost-whispers, and the gROWLS???

I can't even with the entirety of Erlang's character design in this game, because dAMN BOI what a BEAUTY. I thought the game was going to make his appearance more mature looking, or even scarier, because that's just how it is with game character design formula, especially in games like this. But NOOOOO..... they made him ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL. His face, his voice, HIS MOVESS, the way they designed his martial arts so elegantly. When you perfect dodge everything with him, it really feels like a dance. I have to note that when sometimes you tried heavy attack on him aND HE SIMPLY JUST-.... took one step to the side.... THE ABSOLUTE SLAYYY DISRESPECT💅💅. Welcome back Isshin from Sekiro.

Also I just found out that depending on what transformation you're using, he's going to react differently on each. Particularly interesting one was when you use Azure Dust. Most of the time, when you transform, he's going to transform too and chances are he's going to one-shot you out of the transformation. He doesn't do that with Azure Dust for some reason, instead he got amused because Lmao returning back to your origin?. And this line, "Walking his path is no easy feat, it will test you relentlessly". SOMETHING SOMETHING ABOUT ERLANG HAVING THIS HIDDEN BURDEN THROUGHOUT THE PLOT IS DRIVING ME INSANE, I NEED THE DLC TO EXPLORE HIS CHARACTER MORE I'M BEGGING YOU GAME SCIENCE. You can't leave me hanging with his journal entry please I want him to have some peace and closure.

Powerful quiet character with hidden struggle, the bane of my existence, my beloved.

☂️🐉The Four Heavenly Kings🎸🗡️. MAN I love these guys, their fight feels so rewarding somehow, because after all those struggles with Erlang, they feel more like a reward battle for visual entertainment.

Aside from being relatively easy, they're just so fun to watch. I keep wanting to stall the fight just to see what move sets they could perform because their coordinated attacks are just SO COOL.

South king throwing the sword at us, joined by the West king throwing punches, and then the West king passing the sword back to South king. That brief moment of them passing weapons, they need to do more of that, so sick.

The North king combo with every other kings. The West jumping up using the North's umbrella, summoned the dragon, the South yeeting the sword, and the East buffing up the umbrella thrust attack with his Pipa magic. I'd hate to be a normal human citizen under them during that scene GODDAMN. I'd say the West is the game's favourite king because he's the one with the most screentime. He's the one with distinct glowing eyes and he was the most visible behind Erlang during the opening. The North being the coolest because WTF WAS THAT TYPHOON UMBRELLA WITH THE WEST'S DRAGON ROLLING WITH IT, AND THE MUSIC QUE, ABSOLUT CINEMA. The East probably being the chillest of them all because my man was just serenading the fight yo, I like how his fingers actually moves accurately playing the BGM. I know they're on the heaven's side, but for some reason I want them to be on our side if it's possible in the DLC. If we could get Erlang, then surely we can get them? They're too epic not to have.

🐒THE GREAT SAGE'S BROKEN SHELL🐒

THE MONKEY, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND. SUN. WU. KONG. THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT WHEN THIS MF SHOWED UP ON SCREEN. TEARFUL CHEER AND AND UNIMAGINABLE TERROR. AND WITH THAT BITS OF THE OG TV SHOW THEME MOTIF PLAYING WHEN HE SUMMONED JINGU BANG.

Who would've thought that we're going to fight our former self as a literal your greatest enemy is yourself concept. Like yO IT'S THE G HIMSELF WUKONG but now FUK I HAVE TO FIGHT HIM?? Look, sir, Mr. Great Sage, I know I've been playing around as you and I don't even know what I'm doing, I'M SORRY.

So now we're fighting zombie Wukong. He's literally soulless inside and his voice sounds demonic. YET STILL he radiates that lively asshole energy. You try pillar stance to get away from him, he does the same but his pillar is TALLER than yours. You try to walk off calmly, he does the same but then taunts you for it, eats a peach and then flicks the seed to your head. Kicks you to the sky and transforms his jingu bang into a pillar and plants it to the ground with you under it. He cheats by summoning kintoun and body slammed you. He summoned his clones to kick you in all directions only for the original Wukong to wait on the side yawning, then he kicks your jingu bang back at you like "pick it up bitch", and taunts you with his hand gesture to come at him. Ok now you're raging and you tried to pillar stance heavy attack at him, he's like "shut yo bitch-" and GRABBED YOUR JINGU BANG WITH YOU STILL HOLDING ON TO IT AND STARTS USING YOU AS A FLY SWATTER. Just as you think that these suffering couldn't get any worse, you tried to heal and he IMMOBILISED YOU, SNATCHED YOUR GOURD AND TOOK A SIP, decided that it tastes like shit and threw it back at you. Now THIS is the little shit that I know and love.

The whole time you tried to do a move against him, he returned the favour but better. You think your staff extension is long? Ok he'll extend his staff to a kilometer, and that's STILL him holding back. You can do ring of fire? His is bigger in diameter and burns brighter. The game had to nerf out his lore accurate skills because it's just so atrociously OP.

Ok so you finally defeated him? Just as he got dusted away he still managed to croak a last laugh.

Que good ending animated cutscene with the JTTW plot in reverse serenaded with Celestial Symphony. Happy onions, happy onions tearing up the eyes. Crank the volume up, it's all coming together. That's Ba Jie, that's Sanzang, that's Wujing, that's horse.

MMMMMMM MONKE.

#black myth wukong #journey to the west #jttw #sun wukong #destined one #yin tiger #the fourth sister #yellow loong #erlang shen #yang jian #the four heavenly kings #spoketh #god tier insanity of a game

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meraki-yao · 3 days

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RWRB Book Thoughts: Ellen and Oscar

Re-reading RWRB and thinking about Oscar and Ellen. The thing is book Ellen and Oscar's relationship scares me because it's like the worst-case scenario of my own parents (they're a lot better now but covid was hell) So I understand it.

Ellen and Oscar are soulmates. As in they are both intelligent, stubborn and headstrong. They are very similar people. Unfortunately this is a case where it's like forcefully pushing two North ends of a magnet together: Ellen in particular wants and needs a complimentary relationship instead of collaborative relationship, which is why Leo works for her: Leo is meek compared to Oscar. He really just listens and generally agrees with Ellen. His appearances are limited in the book but when he does show up he doesn't really have his own opinion. Ellen wants/needs someone who won't speak up against her.

Honestly? I, kinda feel sad for Oscar. He said it himself, "We're both too fucking proud. But God, that woman. Your mother is, without question, the love of my life. I'll never love anyone else like that." It's sad to know that he never stopped loving Ellen while vice versa isn't true, and to know that she's it for Oscar.

When it comes to parenting I honestly think Oscar is the better parent. It was really shitty of him to leave without telling Alex and June and that evidently really hurt Alex til this day, but when it comes to the other parent things? I was re-reading/listening to Chapter Four today when he goes to DC for Christmas, and both Alex and June are so much more comfortable with him. Part of that is probably because he doesn't carry the inherent pressure of being the fucking president, but part of it is that he really cares about his kids as they are. Ellen downplays June's passion for journalism and pressures her into a political job that she didn't want at all, while Oscar "raved about June's latest blog post for The Atlantic". Ellen immediately started piling up all the political consequences of firstprince literally minutes after Alex plucked up the courage to come out to her while Oscar gave him relationship advice. This isn't to say Ellen isn't a good mother, she is flawed, as Oscar is, as all parents are. But if we're looking at non-crisis moments, Oscar's actions are more comfortable for his children.

There's a reason June initially wanted to go to California and be close to her dad. Yesterday I talked a little about how I hated how Ellen and Alex treated June at the earlier chapters of the book. Well in the rest of the book it's implied that she has a much closer relationship with Oscar, jumping into his arms when he arrives at the White House, him picking her up and spinning her when they arrive at the lakehouse.

Either way, Ellen and Oscar clash becasue they're too alike, and my opinion is that Ellen tends to fan the flames more, see Christmas dinner where Oscar suggests campaigning with them to help and she immediately shoots it down with "you can't be serious". Anyways, the children suffer the most. And uh, speaking from experience here, that shit never goes away. My parents are still together and are a lot better compared to the past, but I flinch at any sound of argument/angry yelling because of all of their fighting.

And there's this one paragraph in the book: "Even before Alex's parents split, they both had a habit of calling him by the other's last name when he exhibited a particular trait. They still do. When he runs his mouth off to the press, his mom called him into her office and says ' get your shit together Diaz.' When his hard-headedness gets him stuck, his dad texts him, 'Let it go, Claremont'" and God that's so shitty? To know, to be reminded that one parent hates the part of you that is from the other parent. Even if that's not what Ellen and Oscar's intention is, that's what it feels like, and it's really, fucking, shitty.

I wonder how would book Alex feel if he know that there was an alternative universe out there where his family was functional. I wonder how would he feel if he knew that movie Alex doesn't have his loving sister, but has loving, gentle parents who have a healthy, functional relationship.

My guess, is that he would say that he'd choose his life and his sister no matter what, and he means it because he does love June, but deep down a part of him would be jealous of movie Alex for having a smaller but healthier and happier family.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #alex claremont diaz #june claremont diaz #ellen claremont #oscar diaz #rwrb book #rwrb analysis #rwrb thoughts #meraki essay #parenting :)#absolutely the hardest job in the world #by the way is Leo white?#we dont have new movie content so I'm annotating my book nad i have thoughts #also thought about writing a post on what would happen if movie firstprince and book firstprince meet #need to brainstorm more about that #but yeah

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thefirst3chapters · 16 hours

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Thinking about the car accident aftermath in "Teach Me Tonight" again:

Luke is understandably all over the place in the episode where Jess is sent to town. He's simultaneously buying Frosted Flakes and explaining to a skeptical Lorelai that all Jess needs is someone to "give him a little space" and "treat him like a man." Luke resists Lorelai's overreactive but not entirely unreasonable questions and advice until he responds to Jess's defiance and declaration of not wanting help by pushing him off the bridge. Then, he goes right to Lorelai as he panics about not being cut out to raise a kid (he's made a big mentality shift here!) because of having "no patience for jam hands." She reminds him that Jess isn't a toddler, but this situation is going to take work.

Fast forward to "Teach Me Tonight." The first two things Rory tells Lorelai over the phone in reference to the accident are "I need you to be calm" and "I'm alright." Rory has already buried her own reaction and is trying to put Lorelai at ease as much as she can; for not the first or the last time, she has to be the more mature person in their relationship. Lorelai demands that Rory have extra tests that the doctor didn't recommend, and then she leaves Rory at the hospital to hunt Jess down. It isn't Lorelai's intent to make Rory carry both their emotions by herself, but that's what ends up happening even though Lorelai is extensively focused Rory's physical injury. It says a lot about how Lorelai and Rory function as each other's peers and as each other's parents. The only person who will offer advice that matches the injury Rory actually has, listen to how she feels about the accident, and validate her perspective is Luke.

When Luke finds Jess hunched over on the bridge, Jess doesn't say anything about his own safety or ask Luke to stay calm. He just says, "I made sure she was okay." This is of course reflective of how much Jess cares about Rory and how devastated he is about her getting hurt, but it also strongly suggests that it doesn't even occur to Jess that his own well-being would matter to Luke. One could understand why Jess might've thought that way; Luke is openly, sometimes extremely, protective of Rory and continues to be when Rory is years older than Jess is here. He confronts both Dean and Logan unprompted on Rory's behalf. He wants to intervene when Rory decides to leave Yale and maintains a warm relationship with her even though he avoided addressing Jess's school/work situation directly until he kicked him out and later yelled at him for returning for his car. We know what's in Luke's heart here, though, because he just explained it to Lorelai at the cost of their relationship. He won't rest until he knows both kids are okay.

Luke could've in this moment screamed at Jess for being reckless with Rory, damaging property, smoking, and throwing a wrench in his friendship with Lorelai. He could've demanded that Jess be a man and stick around to repair the damage and face the wrath they both know is impending. He doesn't do any of those things, though. He sees how anguished Jess is and realizes now that he shouldn't have to be a man quite yet. Luke offers the precious comfort of immediately believing that Jess took care of Rory with "I know you did," and that's that. Of all the choices Luke could've made here, he chooses a quiet sort of mercy, so there they are in calming silence with their matching postures and green jackets and emotional repression in the same place where Luke shoved Jess into the water months earlier. Yes, there's an argument to be made that Jess going back wasn't the right way to handle this, but at the same time that choice has incredible compassion behind it.

The variety of parent/child relationships on this show is just so fascinating; it's a snapshot of families living in the same time and in the same place, and no two dynamics or perspectives on how a child should be raised are the same. These relationships are all deeply flawed and are sources of immense harm at times, but they're grounded in so much love.

#gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #luke danes #jess mariano #diner guys

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scribbles97 · 12 hours

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The Nightmare Come True - Part 3

TW: POW, Torture Scott's POV 1 | Part 1 | Scott's POV 2 | Part 2 | Scott's POV 3 Thanks @loopstagirl for the support and inspiration!

Scott had thanked him.

Scott had thanked him and it had made the Dog Tags in Jeff’s pocket feel all the heavier.

“You found me.”

It had sounded like the kid had never doubted him, and Jeff’s gut had started to refute the statement before he had consciously thought about it.

Scott, I …

Wouldn’t have stopped until I did.

I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.

Or, perhaps the most truthful of all,

I didn’t.

Because Colonel Jeff Tracy had not found Captain Scott Tracy. Instead, his son had been presented to him as a pawn in the game between one country and the rest of the world. It had been Hugh and Kyrano that had worked their magic and found exactly where Scott had been held.

Hell, it had even been Kyrano that had found him in the cells when Jeff hadn’t heard his own son’s cries for help.

The nightmare that had woken Scott in a panic and sent all manner of alarms blaring, were proof most of all.

Jeff hadn’t saved his son.

He had spent six months trying, and failing, to find him. He had stood by as others had taken action and done all the heavy lifting for him. He had done nothing whilst all that time Scott had been fighting.

“What’s that look for?”

Jeff looked up from where he had perched on the arm of the chair Scott had fallen asleep in, Val’s whisper breaking into his thoughts.

“He thinks I saved him, Val.” He murmured back, his hand absently brushing over Scott’s still too short hair, “He thanked me.”

Val eyed him for a long moment before hopping up onto the empty bed, her eyes assessing both he and Scott in a way Jeff had long since come used to. She’d speak when she’d decided what needed to be said, once she’d gotten a full picture of what was happening and the mindset of those involved. It was a skill she used to her full advantage and had seen her rise through the ranks of the Air Force right on Jeff’s tail.

“The nurses won’t be impressed when they find him out of bed.” She watched him, leaning forward like it was a secret Jeff hadn’t already known the moment Scott had forced himself upright.

“He needed to move,” He fired back, ready to defend as he had done when the same nurses had tried to force an oxygen mask over Scott’s face, “to not feel trapped.”

He’d known even before he had asked that he wouldn’t have stopped Scott, even if he had wanted to. His son had always wanted to move, had hated confinement of any sort even when he had been tiny. Lucy had always laughed, insisted that he had gotten it from Jeff himself, and had known that he would inevitably follow his father to the sky where the only limit was the horizon.

Being bound to a bed, barely able to stay awake, had always felt like …

“You helped him?” Val asked, raising an eyebrow that held no real heat.

Jeff straightened, prickling at the insinuation he couldn’t quite see, “I was hardly gonna leave him to struggle on his own.”

Because he had done that once, and even to that day he was seeing the reminders of that very mistake.

Scott hadn’t wanted help, had been determined to push through and manage on his own even when he was exhausted and hurting. Jeff had partly fallen back on his Colonel Voice to get the Captain to listen, and it had twisted something deep in his gut that it had come to that.

He knew the way Scott had leaned into him after he had thrown up had been subconscious, and definitely something he wouldn’t have done had he been more awake. It was for the same reason that Scott hadn’t actively called out for Jeff, except for in his nightmares.

A much younger Scott had needed his father, and he hadn’t been there, so at some point the kid had stopped asking for him.

Jeff had come back to his son’s though, and had sworn every day that he would be there for them. He would pick them up when they fell, guide them when they were lost, hold them together when they fell apart.

Alan had just been young enough to still ask for him.

Gordon had his moments, but had followed an example set by his older brothers.

Virgil had always been his mother’s son, and whilst he would ask for Jeff, he knew his mother had always been the parent he had called for first.

John wasn’t like the others, had always needed someone to see when he needed help rather than simply ask for it.

Scott had once been like Virgil, except the oldest had been his father’s son where Virgil had been his mother’s. When Jeff had fallen into his grief, Scott had fallen to not wanting to ask for help. Ever since had had come to his senses, Jeff had been watching and doing his best to give his son what he needed.

“You’re protecting him.” Val stated softly, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips.

Jeff looked down again, Scott’s face slack in dreamless sleep, peaceful.

He’d do anything to keep his son feeling that at peace, but he knew he couldn’t stop the nightmares that would come eventually.

“I didn’t protect him from them, nobody protected him.” He whispered, “He saved his crew, and he saved himself, I just turned up to pull him outta there.”

“Maybe.” Val nodded slowly, “or maybe you turned up right when he needed you to.”

Jeff frowned across to her, “What do you mean?”

Her look was soft as she sighed, “They train us hard for what happens in prison, tell us what to do, what to say. There’s no training for this though, is there? For what comes after.”

He knew she was right, there was no guidebook or protocol for what Scott was going through. There was no command that his son could follow to make it better.

Unless…

He felt sick at the thought, not confident that Scott was really ready for it.

Command was something he could do though, something Jeff had seen him demonstrate a handful of times since he had woken up. He had found his voice again, rooted deep and found the stubbornness that ran strong in his genes to get himself from the bed to the chair. There was still something more needed though, something to get him to see exactly how strong he had been through everything.

“Tomorrow,” He swallowed, “I’ll talk to him about a debrief.”

If Val was surprised by his statement, she hid it well.

“I can’t get you in on it.” She stated with a heavy sigh, “But if he agrees, I’ll find a way for you to listen in.”

Jeff wasn’t sure he was ready for that, to hear exactly what Scott had gone through without being at his side to support him through the memories. He trusted Val though, knew she had stood up for the rest of the squadron, and knew that she would do the same if not more for the man sleeping at Jeff’s side.

Slipping off the bed, she crossed the room to squeeze his shoulder with a silent nod before leaving them as quietly as she had come.

***

The nurses hadn’t passed comment when they had come to check on Scott, and Jeff said nothing in return as he scratched gently at his son’s scalp and thought about how stiff he would be when he did eventually wake. He deserved peace, the chance to rest undisturbed for as long as his mind would allow him.

Jeff’s phone buzzing in his pocket startled him as he hurried to answer it before it woke Scott.

“Virgil.” He hissed, glancing down to Scott, grateful to see him undisturbed despite the blue-tinged hologram lighting up the room.

His middle son looked firstly shocked and then guilty across the miles, “Sorry Dad, I just-- is that… Scott?”

Jeff realized too late that Scott would have been in the frame and immediately shifted the field to hide the eldest away from his younger brother’s eyes.

“He’s sleeping.” He murmured, “He’s still recovering.”

Virgil nodded quickly, eyes still clearly shocked at whatever he had picked up on of his eldest brother’s state.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have-- I just--”

Jeff straightened, already heightened senses picking up on the tone and immediately knowing the root of why his son had called. He glanced to the clock on the wall, a digital thing that showed the date in big bold numbers beneath the time. A quick mental calculation reminded him that Virgil had a recital that day, a solo he had been practicing since before Scott had been gone.

They had both voiced hope that he would be home to see it.

“What is it, son?” He asked softly, “Can your Grandmother still make it today?”

Virgil nodded quickly, glancing away from the phone before looking back again, “Yeah, Grandma’s still coming.”

His voice didn’t hold its usual enthusiasm in anticipation of playing for his family.

“I know you hoped he’d be home for this.” Jeff murmured, his free hand scratching over Scott’s scalp again, “We all did.”

Virgil looked away again, someone out of field calling him, “I… it’s my turn for final rehearsal.”

Jeff smiled softly, understanding without the words needing to be asked, “I’m sure we could stay on the line whilst you play.”

Virgil’s face lit up, his eyes losing most of the worry that had settled there at the sight of his big brother, “You can? Ms Graham said it was fine but Grandma sid the doctors might--”

Jeff waved him off, quickly assuring him that the doctors could say all they wished. Scott had always encouraged Virgil to play, he was certain to appreciate the soft melodies even in his sleep.

Or not, if the hand that reached to Jeff’s leg was of any indication.

He glanced down as Virgil placed the phone on the corner of the piano, noting how Scott’s eyes were still rested closed even as he yawned. Reaching down, he rested his free hand over his son’s, unsurprised when Scott moved his hand to grip the best he could in response.

Awake, listening, but not ready to face his brother was the summary Jeff came to as Virgil began to play.

He wasn’t sure when Scott’s body had tensed against him, but as the music floated through the speaker of his phone, Jeff noticed as slowly each part of Scott fully relaxed. Muscles that he was certain must have been tense for months, softened and lengthened as the melody flowed over them. The splinted fingers that had tried to curl around Jeff’s hand loosened until they were no longer holding on but resting lightly against Jeff’s palm. His eyes were open but distant, focussed somewhere in the middle of the floor but not really seeing the room they were in as the notes wrapped them in something soothing and calm.

They perhaps could have sat like that forever, at peace with the music that had once been Lucy’s. Every song had it’s end though, and all too soon Virgil was looking back to the hologram with a smile much softer than the one he had given earlier.

“Night Scott, night Dad.” He murmured softly before hanging up without another word.

Jeff smiled to himself as he repocketed his phone, glancing down to Scott with a raised eyebrow, “How about we get you into bed? You’ll feel it tomorrow if you sleep here all night.”

Scott grunted as he shifted upright, clearly already feeling it after the few hours he had been sat in the chair. His eyes darted across the room to the bed, his jaw tensing as he gauged the distance he had to move.

For a brief moment, Jeff thought he would need to convince his son to accept help once more, but right as he was about to step in front of him, Scott turned and held out his arms.

“Easy does it, right?” Jeff had asked through his surprise, stepping up and supporting Scott’s weight just as he had done so earlier.

Together they had shuffled back to the bed, Scott’s weight shifting more and more on to Jeff the further they got. Not that he minded, hell, Jeff would carry his son across that room a thousand times if it made things better.

“Dad?” Scott slurred as he sunk back into the pillows.

“Yes, kiddo?”

“Tell Aunt Val you can lis’en.”

By the time Jeff had interpreted just what Scott meant, the kid was asleep.

***

Val had brought the Generals with her the next afternoon after a more lucid Scott had agreed to the debrief. She had stood at the door as the pair had introduced themselves and then asked Jeff to leave the room.

He would never forgive the United States Air Force for what had followed when Scott had gripped onto his sleeve and stated in no uncertain terms that he wished for his father to stay. For a brief moment, Jeff had been assured that Scott would be fine as a flicker of the self-confident son shone through in the face of his superiors.

Those superiors had instantly extinguished the flame.

There had been no gentle reminders, or soft explanations, no understanding or care for what the airman in the bed had been through whilst they had sat in their ivory towers. Without hesitation, one had barked a sharp reminder across the room,

“You’ll do well to remember who’s in charge here, Captain.”

Scott had instantly cowered, turning away from the authority figures and looking to Jeff with the same fear that he had found him with back in the cells. The hand that Jeff had taken in his own had been clammy and had shook as he held on to it tight.

“Son, you listen to me,” He had told him, ignoring the pair at his back, “I’ll be right down the hall. You tell them everything that happened, and as soon as you’re done I’ll be right back here.”

It had taken a long moment before Scott had nodded and released Jeff’s arm enough for him to leave.

As soon as he was out the door, he had shoved in the earbud Val had slipped to him and hurried to the office down the hall she had cleared for him.

There he had listened, barely breathing, as Scott had recounted every detail of the six months he had been gone.

From departing for the mission, to being shot down.

From being helped by the villagers they were meant to be saving, to being captured.

From being thrown in a cell with the rest of his squad, to fighting to protect them when their captors had come to interrogate them.

It had all been almost robotic, Jeff could tell his son had slipped and fallen back to the Air Man he had been six months ago. There was no emotion there, the Generals didn’t have an interest in how their people felt, just one simple fact after another.

“Your squadron told us--”

“You debriefed my people without me?” Scott cut in, “Sir, protocol dictates that any debrief should be--”

“You were unavailable, Captain.” Val told him gently, “Protocol was followed given the circumstance.”

“Your squadron described to us how you protected them.” One General continued, as if there hadn’t been an interruption, “Did you not trust them, Captain?”

Scott’s voice held the same flicker it had earlier as he responded, “I trust them all with my life, Sir.”

“So why take the beatings in their place?”

Anger curdled in Jeff’s own stomach, it had not been as simple as beatings, even he knew that much. The animals had tortured Scott and his squad, first for information and then, he imagined, just because they could.

“It was torture, Sir.” Scott’s voice held an edge to it, sharp and dangerous, “I wasn’t going to let my people suffer more than they needed to, not if I could help it.”

“Your squad say you bartered with your captors, is that correct?”

“I bartered to protect them.”

“Yet it wasn’t enough, was it, Captain? You still lost half your team.”

There was a long pause, a quiet shuffling and a soft murmur of assurance from Val before Scott responded.

“I failed my people, Sir.”

Jeff bowed his head, screwing his eyes shut to force his own tears away. Scott had failed nobody, he had done his best to protect his people in any way he had been able. He had stayed strong and fought, Jeff had seen how fiercely Scott protected his own, had been called to the principal's office over fights caused by bullies too many times to count.

“Why did they separate you?”

“Sir?”

“Your squad told us that just before their rescue, your captors split you from a group cell to individual cells. Why was this?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“So, in all your bartering, they never gave you anything?”

“They stayed away from my people.” Scott answered, his voice wavering, “They hurt me instead of them.”

“But they didn’t, did they Captain? They still hurt your comrades, didn’t they?”

Jeff felt his heart drop, the insinuation hitting him square in the chest.

“Not as badly as they could have, Sir.”

“What are you insinuating, General?” Val’s voice held as much ire as Jeff felt.

“We find it awfully convenient that the Captain is reported to have bartered with the guards and was then hidden away when the extraction team arrived.”

Jeff slammed his fist on the desk, sending pens scattering across the floor as he half stood from the seat he had taken. How dare they imply that Scott had betrayed his country! They hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen the scars or the nightmares, hadn’t heard their son scream their name like they couldn’t hear him.

“You want to know where I was when they came?”

Scott’s anger had always burned hot and fast, explosive against anyone that stood against him. It was something he had gotten from Jeff himself, a trait he had tried and failed to move him away from.

Up the hallway, in a hospital bed, unable to stand for himself, Scott’s anger burned equally as hot but in a far more dangerous way. There hadn’t been any quiver in his question, each word had come as clear as the one before, his tone low and blunt. Anyone that had known the boy’s mother would have heard her as Jeff did in that question, and they would have known that whatever came next was far more dangerous than an explosion.

“Please, enlighten us, Captain.”

Scott’s breaths turned ragged for a moment, anger and panic mixing briefly before a long breath was drawn in.

“They put me in Solitary. To the right of the room where I was found, there was a concealed entrance, a room five by five.”

Jeff felt sick as he remembered the screams for help he had heard over the phone, and he knew.

“They took me there three times, General, and they left me there for weeks. Did my team tell you that? Did they tell you how they all thought I was dead the first time because I was gone for so long? Did they tell you how I couldn’t stand for a fortnight after they let me out? Did they tell you how I came back covered in my own filth because the guards thought it would remind me what sort of pig I was?”

Jeff was torn between pride and anger, between needing to listen and needing to stop. He’d had ideas, had made assumptions about everything his son must have been through, but he wasn’t sure any of them had quite matched the reality he was hearing as Scott ranted.

“I was in there when they were saved! And I came out thinking they were dead and that I’d failed them all. That was when I gave up. That was when they could have killed me and I wouldn’t have cared.”

Jeff found himself gripping the desk to keep himself seated, his stomach churning enough that he thought about reaching for the waste bin. Scott had given up, had been ready to let them win. If Kyrano hadn’t have found him when he did…

“I think your people should be checking for that hidden room, General.” Val’s voice was the cool balm Jeff needed to hear, “That and the Squadron’s statements should be confirmation enough of Captain Tracy’s loyalty to the Force.”

Jeff didn’t wait for her text to confirm it was clear for him to return. He didn’t acknowledge the Generals as he passed them in the hallway. He didn’t stop for anything or anyone until his arms were wrapped around his son.

Scott clung to him in return, a raw sob breaking free the moment that Val left them alone.

“I’ve got you kiddo.” He murmured into his hair, “You’ve been so strong, I’m so proud. You didn’t fail, you saved Jen and Gary and Sienna, you did good Scott. You’re so brave.”

His son’s tears weren’t like the ones that came before, they lacked the shaking grip that had come with fear and memories of terror that had been haunting him since he had woken up.

His sobs were raw, his grip solid and sure against Jeff’s back, like he had finally realized that his father wasn’t going anywhere without him. He wasn’t sure if it was relief, anger, or something else that fueled them, but it was something.

He held on and kept repeating the soothing mantra until the sobs subsided into long aching breaths and Scott pulled back, clearly spent.

“Dad?” He murmured, eyes drifting as Jeff repositioned himself to take hold of his hand.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

HIs eyes flickered to him, brow furrowing as he spoke, “I lied to them.”

Jeff leant closer, holding on to Scott’s hand with both of his, “To who?”

“The Generals. Told ‘em I didn’t care. I did though, I wanted to come home, wanted to see the boys, and wanted to see you. Then you found me.”

He pulled Scott back to his chest, hugging him tightly as his own tears broke free and ran down into his son’s hair.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #thunderbirds 2015 #jeff tracy #scribbles writes #thunderbirds #TW: POW #tw: torture #loopstagirl #thunderbirds fanfiction

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n0tamused · 3 days

Text

"Deeds, not words"

A/n: Finally finished this and tbh I am very proud of how it came out even if I see that I could have done better in certain areas. I prefer the first one better, but tbh I love them both. I have scrambled together a little story to go along with this, although I do have to warn that the details of Jien and Proxy's story, how it really unfolds, is still subject to change. This drabble here is just me exploring ideas of how Proxy can start seeping more and more poison into Jien's life, but we'll see. To anyone that does read it, thank you <3 Mwah.

Contents: Syaoran, a technician of the team of Armed Archeologists, is accompanying Jien to Scalegorge Waterscape at the invite of a High Elder. What waits for them there is no warm welcome.

There is an odd tension in the air, so ill it made him sick. Scalegorge Waterscape had towering walls of water all around, and it felt as if they were ready to swallow him at any moment, the sky above being the only solace. The air was still with the smell of salt, and there was a quiet sound. Like the one a dog made before it growled.

Miss YueXia didn’t budge, and Syaoran judged it was because she was from these parts. Perhaps she felt at home even, but whether that was good or bad didn’t have space in their conversation with the Elder before them. And now he could sense that feeling of anger from Jien, he only wished he could see her face from where he stood, a step behind her. Did she look angry? Or was it that cold expression she once served the team after that messed up expedition?

“We have welcomed you into our fold and treated you as our own. Yet our eyes have reported your face sneaking about in the night around the Luofu, sowing suspicions and spreading gossip. Is this your way to show gratitude, YueXia?”

The Elder looked at Jien with cold suspicious eyes.

“High Elder, while I appreciate your invitation to meet me I fail to see how or why I would do such things, especially since I have not been on the Luofu in almost a year” she replied, cold and even tone, yet there was an unmistakable tinge of some need below it all - a need to make things right. A flicker of a flame.

“Moreover, I have never wished you or the people of Luofu any ill will and I have always advocated for the safety of the civilians as much as a Cloud Knight. Did you bring me here to confront me for something another has done?”

“Another?” the Elder bristled, arrogance rolling off of him like a cloak. “I have seen it myself, this ‘another’ was you. I saw your face in the darkness. And you dare lie to my face? The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus have been on the prowl and you with them. I knew the IPC wishes to get their clutches on the Vidyadhara, but I refused to believe you would aid in such a goal”

That is not true, Syaoran wanted to say, feeling his face twist in displeasure. Jien was against the Abundance, against the Disciples, the whole team knew, but even if she wasn’t - her team was. Syaoran knew Kaiya had a burning hatred for the Abundance and his wife was from the Xianzhou Yaoqing. He’d be the first to jump against any idea of Jien bringing any harm to Xianzhou Luofu, but everyone knew she’d sooner go mad than think of such schemes.

“Do you know how many you’ve hurt with your doings? And you wish to say my eyes are deceiving me as well?”

Jien’s eyes fell dark and darker still, her jaw stiff as she ground her teeth together, listening to the Elder talk without interrupting him.

“I meant no insult when I previously said you were mistaken in your assertion, but now you are accusing me and my team of inexcusable crimes and I will not tolerate such” Her tail brushed against the cold stone, pale and gnawed away by sea and time. “High Elder, I can assure you I had no chance to do such things, even if I had the plan to ever harm you and the people, which I remind you again - I never did and never will do. I was half a cosmos away. Do you propose I have, perhaps, cloned myself? I pray you don't jest, High Elder, and listen to what I have to say. Who you saw was not me, I swear on my life..” Jien put her hand over her heart to show her sincerity as the seams of her silence began to tighten and break.

The Elder Syaoran couldn’t remember the name of frowned deeply at her words, distrust swimming in his eyes, body taut as a bow string. “And you propose I believe you over the reports of countless others?”

“I cannot force you to put those reports aside and trust my word alone, but I hope the eyewitnesses of my team, as well as camera surveillance and date records of my passage through the cosmos can be proof enough to you and so many others that are holding the belief that I or any of my team have committed these crimes. I am more than willing to bring them all over here, to you, as soon as morning comes if that would let your mind let go of these beliefs” Jien sighed and shook her head a moment later. “Although, I do fail to see - if these crimes are so severe, I would have expected someone else to come and question me about them..” there was a mild insult interlaced between her words and tone, so skillfully that not even the Elder before her could point it out without sounding mad.

He only exhales a long breath through his nose. “You will be questioned by the Ten-lords Commission” he said, tone resolute. Syaoran could see Jien move her hands behind her back, her fingers forming into a fist. Somthing told Syaoran that the High Elder came to this decision on the spot.. “The evidence is overwhelming and not in your favor. But I will give you until morning to bring your evidence to us, and we’ll take it from there”

#honkai star rail #digital art #my art #original character #-tapestries #hsr #hsr oc #honkai star rail oc #fake screenshot #xianzhou luofu #vidyadhara #hsr x oc #honkai star rail x oc #oc #artist of tumblr #writers on tumblr

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 15 hours

Note

hiya absolutely love you writing. could I please request masc!reader x Regina George or maybe poly plastics. R presents themselves as a dom but in reality Regina is almost always on top. Maybe this gets revealed in a game of truth or dare after r is acting bratty and pretending to be a top. If your comfortable maybe when they go back home Regina punishes r.

Dare to Top

|| Regina George x nonbinary!masc!reader

|| Warnings; takes place after everything so everyone's in the same friend group, make out scene, implications of sex, drunk reader and regina, underage drinking, short drabble

|| Summary; reader definitely likes having people think they're the top. during a game of truth or dare when they're asked which is the top and they say them, regina takes matters into her own hands and proves them wrong.

Requests open!

Started; September 19th

Finished; September 21st

~~~

You, Regina, Gretchen, Karen, Cady, Aaron, Janis and Damian all sat around in a circle at a party. Playing a game of truth or drink.

"Okay, I think it's Janis' turn to ask a question." Cady said, trying to recall who hasn't gone yet.

Janis looked directly at you with a grin and you immediately had a bad feeling about whatever it was she was about to do.

"Y/N, Truth or Drink?" She asked.

"Drink." You were about to take a drink when you felt Regina's hand stop you, she leaned her chest against your back as she smirked. Whispering into your ear but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You've picked that the last three times, baby. Switch it up." Regina told you, you gave her a side eye but the gaze in her eyes got you to listen.

"Truth." You muttered, bracing yourself for whatever Janis was going to ask.

Her grin widened.

That worried you.

"Who's the top between you and Regina?" Janis asked, knowing full well what the answer probably was but she wanted the chance to mess with you.

You blushed deeply and very confidently answered," me. I top."

The others gave you some side glances as if saying 'yeah sure, Y/N'. While Cady and Karen both just looked confused.

"Wait do you have a bunk bed , Y/N?" Karen asked.

Regina and Janis burst out laughing at that.

"Karen, baby, no." Gretchen rested her hand on Karen's while she tried not to laugh too, leaving Karen more confused as she looked at her.

"Top what then? Top shelf?" Karen continued, Gretchen just shook her head and sighed.

"Girl, stay innocent." Damian said with a laugh.

Once Regina settled down, she leaned over and whispered in your ear," you know that isn't true, baby."

You shivered at the feeling of her lips just barely brushing against your skin, causing her to smirk as her hand snaked around the back of your neck. Her nails lightly scratching against the skin there.

You tried your best to focus on the game and not show any visible reaction to what Regina was doing to you. Since that would absolutely give away to the fact that you had lied. So you tried your hardest to play it cool.

When the party was over, Regina took you back to her place. The both of you stumbling over each other with drunken giggles as you made it to her room.

Regina pulled you towards her bed and pinned you down with her signature smirk," still certain you're the top, baby?" She murmured against your neck, lips just barely touching before she kissed you there.

"I-" You tried to protest but her lips moved from your neck to your lips, shutting up whatever you were going to say almost immediately.

You melted into the kiss, meeting her lips with an intense desire.

When she pulled away, you were left panting for air. Staring into her eyes.

"I think you need a reminder, hm?" Regina teased, her eyes trailing down your body before coming back to look at your lips.

"I..." You tried speaking again, but she shushed you with a hand over your mouth.

"No talking, baby." Regina whispered as she worked to get you out of your clothes.

Safe to say she definitely reminded you who was the top that night.

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #mean girls x reader #mean girls #regina george #nonbinary reader #regina george x masc reader #regina george x nonbinary reader #light smut #truth or drink #fic #fiction #short fic

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euryvices · 19 hours

Text

weird things about my town that lowkey remind me of tma

god, this is going to be a long post.

okay so. i grew up in a town in the middle east (about 200 people), with my bestfriend Whom I Will Not Shut The Fuck Up about apparently, and it was a strikingly different experience to most people who've grown up in the middle east, or in america. it was yk, a rich people town, populated and run mostly by generational wealth owners. as a result, our town was very hush-hush, despite it being in the Crackass Of Nowhere.

i started listening to tmagp about two months back, under the instructions (*cough cough coercion cough cough*) of my lovely moots (im looking at you @forflightlessbirds and @need-a-name-101) i've noticed a few things which may be...off.

the first thing i need to clarify are the rules. we had five of them, that nobody really stuck to, but we all knew of. the rules in and of themselves are normal things any parent tells their child, but weirdly specific. there weren't really any repercussions if we didn't stick to the rules - but most of the time, we didn't like breaking them. they were, as follows :

don't tell strangers your real name, and if you do, run and tell the head of the community center.

if people approach you about 'coming to god' (i.e, christian/muslim/jewish missionaries) tell them god has moved.

do Not enter the junkyard at night. (we broke this one)

always carry a knife. most of us were given jade knives, but my bestfriend got a gold one. ive teased him about it most of our lives, even after we shifted.

take a buddy with you everywhere, and if you can't find one, don't go out.

me and my brother have broken all these rules about once at least, except for the knife one and the junkyard. me and my bestfriend broke the junkyard one though. we shifted together when we were barely teens. first, we lived in the uk, then in the states. we headed back home and barely spoke for a year before he died, at the ripe old age of 17. i miss him, but thats not the point.

it was only after we moved, that we realized how truly Fucked Up our town was. we were living in the middle of war ravaged county, and we had swimming pools, and ipads, and sunset cocktails? obviously i didn't realise it as a kid, as a pre-teen even - but looking at it from the outside feels like a gut punch.

now here's where im going to yap about the similarities between tma and my shitstorm of a childhood and hopefully Will Not Piss Anyone Off. if you're from my town - you'll know exactly what im talking about, and i seriously hope you reach out and/or message me.

the things everyone knows the things. they're just. there. kinda like the bogeyman your mom scares you with when you don't eat lunch except most of us have just accepted that they're real

old man hanna if you've lived here, you know him. he's weird, he's kooky, and he's got a million books and tape recorders and vinyls. he's maybe the only person in that place that doesn't come from money. he hates electronics, says they can't capture things the way old school stuff does

the graves now, our town is mainly christian. uber arab christian. we've got graves, we've got cemeteries. but outside it, on the outskirts, lie a long line of unmarked graves. are they from the arab-israeli war? the gulf war? lord knows

the 2015 blackout this was the creepiest thing that happened here. the blackout, and then the radio stations playing that reading of the bible? my parents shut everything off and rushed me and bulos to the master bedroom

the skydiving institute i have no idea if the government approved this godforsaken place, but it was there. it led to the disappearance of nahren, who was deathly afraid of heights but she said she was ready to face her fears

the church when i shifted to the uk, i saw the proceedings of the greek orthodox church there. and let me tell you - it's so different to our church. for starters, our church doesn't even seem to have any affiliation to the goc, even though it should?? the entire thing is so different

the pond now this is rather controversial. our town's pond was created in the early 70's, but no one knows How or Why. realistically, there shouldn't have been any water supply that far inland. and the water should not be that salty. we don't acknowledge it, and no one drinks from it, even if its really hot. there's a sign outside that asks parents to hold their children tightly when passing by the pond

the soldiers they're mainly american (at least the one i met was), but they rarely enter our town. and when they do, they can only stay in one specific motel - we're not allowed to talk to them. once i did, though. im still...fucked up from it

there's a lot more, but i don't think y'all wanna know about my fucked up town anymore. just writing this is giving me the heebie-jeebies.

we usually aren't allowed to leave our town once we're in it. but my dad got special permission for us to leave, before the divorce. so we did. and then my parents got divorced. which made our family Not Happy, so we weren't exactly welcomed back.

that being said, i don't think there's anything really wrong with my town. it's just a bit...different. and i love it. even if it doesn't seem to love me right now.

god, i think i need to go lay down. i hate remembering all this.

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