#kts grief

[poeticblogname]

i think something we should talk about more is how OCD can sort of traumatize yourself? like my religious trauma is from my religious OCD, no doubt. no one was telling me demons were following me, watching me sleep, in the shower, chasing me or waiting behind closed doors, my OCD did, but that was traumatizing. i mean i couldn’t even say demon for years because i was convinced it would summon one, i couldn’t even think it. to be constantly on edge for years because of demons was traumatic for me, but that was no one’s fault but my own in a way.

i don’t know of this is even a thing? has anyone else experienced this?

[zabiume]

wait why did this make me burst into a sob

[lclthlcved]

Something I will say which is more of a critique of just forgotten realms in general since it's p old and kinda basic is how I wish Shar wasn't just portrayed as some she's always evil all the time she's just a horrible goddess.

It's so weird to me goddesses like Shar and selune are like portrayed as always good or always bad when looking at the greater scope.

Cuz that's what I personally think feels was missed with shadowheart in that she represented a balance between it. And it's also why on my personal blog I think personally letting her parents die is the "best" outcome because she learns to accept loss in a healthy way. And learns how to cope with it and remember. There's hope for the future but loss will always follow you and it's not an inherently evil thing. Her parents dying isn't inherently evil because they kinda wanted to and deserve their time to rest. Loss isn't an evil thing we all lose parts of ourselves

It's only in ways we handle the loss and how it's inflicted does it become like. Problematic. But loss always will be part of life and portraying shar as some. Evil horrible goddess we're supposed to hate cuz the sisters are fighting and selune is great and wonderful good while Shar is evil. I feel they just don't flesh out how there's still like good and bad in each. The gods are always evil or always good and it makes me :??? When the characters in bg3 are so grey

[datastate]

okay yeah that should be it i can now sleep at peace

[rebelwithoutabroom]

.

[viviennevermillion]

ᴀ ʀᴏꜱᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴇʀʀʏᴍᴀɴ

✧ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: it is said that some people see the other side when they die even for just a brief moment. those near-death experiences often change them for good... blade wonders when the moment will come that he'll finally get to see you again.

✧ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ: blade x aeon!reader, gn!reader, fluff to angst, blade has a near-death experience; falls in love with you and then dan feng makes him immortal, ambiguous ending

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: 1000 years — kt tunstall

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: major character death, separated lovers, themes of death, angst

And thus, his chest was pierced by the same weapon he had forged with such care and effort. He felt an almost unbearable pain along with the notion of betrayal, hatred, anger and grief that seemed to cloud his entire senses. The sharp pain stretched from his heart all the way to his limbs and he could feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness. This is the end, he thought and part of him feared what would come next. This was the day that Yingxing died. The clouds over the Xianzhou were dark today and he knew that it was going to rain soon but he doubted he'd make it to feel the raindrops on his skin one last time.

The storm in his heart, seeming to seep out of the large wound and permeating his entire aura, raged on violently and seemed to devour him; toss him around like a lily caught in a tornado. He had never felt such pain before, both physically and emotionally.

And then the pain was gone.

Surprisingly, in that final moment, the one he had known as Dan Feng seized to exist for him. They say that everybody dies alone and he supposed in that moment he found that statement to be true. For a moment, the events that had led to the destruction of Yingxing stopped to matter. After all, he couldn't carry them along to wherever he was headed.

Perhaps that was a good thing.

He closed his eyes and yet he found himself to be able to see. He saw the stars above him, the sky suddenly clearer than he had ever seen it. It seemed to go on forever; like he could see galaxies far away from the Xianzhou just like that.

At first that void was frightening. It was too much, more than he ever had to feel in his life. There was a pressure and impending doom coming from the stars, as if he was laying on the ground and the sky was getting closer and closer until it would crush him under its weight. But the impact never came. Rather, the pain of his physical shell seemed to fade in the blink of an eye as he merged with the place from which he once came before inhabiting this mortal vessel and he noticed he couldn't even remember what it felt like to have a body.

He didn't know if "Yingxing" had stopped existing when his consciousness joined the great beyond once more or whether who he believed he was had never mattered in the first place. Like he had been caught up in a grand play and it was time for the curtain call. He had loved and hated the role that had been given to him to play but perhaps, most important of all, he had grown. As he let the universe wash over him, he felt, for a brief moment, as though everything he had went through had meaning after all.

He found himself on a distant shore, the stars sweeping over his feet like waves in an ocean. He sat himself up, finding his "body" without traces of the battle that had just occured. He let a strand of his long hair run through his fingers; now finding it to be a dark blue as it had been once in the old days.

Everything seemed so much more vivid than anything he had ever experienced. He could hear the sound of the waves with a clarity a mortal soul could only dream to experience. He could see for miles and everything seemed to burst into the most vibrant colors his eyes ever fell on. Every pebble under his right hand was one he registered individually. He didn't know where exactly he was but the place felt soothing. Like home.

The Aeon of Death had been something that was only ever speculated to exist. There were no records that confirmed their existence and no forces of their making that seemed to interfere with the material world other than the fact that every life sooner or later had to meet its end. This Aeon's existence was always regarded as more of a myth or metaphor than something people actually believed in, yet all depictions of them seemed to paint them as a harbinger of tragedy and suffering. Blade had seen drawings of them in books, dressed in flowing black fabrics and their face often obscured or distorted.

Yet when he saw you before him now, he found that the stories had it all wrong. Rather, your appearance was gentle and peaceful. He looked out to the sea and there you were, waiting patiently in a small boat for him to join you. The waves crashed into the bow and your boat swayed lightly to their motions. His hand reached for the waters and brushed through it, finding that rather than water; the sea seemed like the universe itself, his fingers casting ripples through the stars but never reaching the world he had just left.

You smiled at him from afar. In that moment he appeared to you like a child discovering something fascinating they had never seen before, playing with his surroundings to familiarize himself with it. You didn't mind waiting. You had time.

When he finally got up and carefully made his way to the boat, you got a better look at the man. He looked handsome but you could see on his face that whatever he had seen in this unreachable realm had taken a toll on him. He climbed into the wooden boat, sitting down in front of you, taking in your face for a little longer before he finally spoke.

"Why?", he simply asked, hurt evident in his voice as his words settled in the vast space around him, the silence that followed right after seeming to soothe his aches a little, "what was it all for?"

"You're the only one who will be able to answer that question eventually", you spoke quietly, making sure not to startle him, "I have never seen the world you come from. I can't reach it. I simply wait here for all who cross over. You chose to live this life, only you can find the reason."

He thought about your words for a moment, then letting out a bitter laugh. "Why would I choose something like that?"

You shook your head. "I can't tell you. And believe me I get that question a lot", you reached for a box behind you, placing it onto the small table that stood behind the two of you, "it seems our past choices can seem as unreasonable here as anywhere else." He mused that he probably shouldn't bother you with this type of stuff. However, he found himself to have a habit of ruining everything, so he supposed it was not that surprising for him to have chosen this painful life long ago.

His eyes fell onto the small ebony casket that had been placed before him.

"What's in the box?"

You gave him a mischievous smile. "In here lies the answer to any question you ever had", you spoke slowly, igniting an anticipation in him but also hesitation and fear, "however I must warn you. Opening it comes at a cost that is worth paying only for a select few." His eyes widened as he ran his fingers over the smooth material. He wondered, what could he have to give to you when he had just left everything behind upon entering this realm? Was he to sacrifice his chance at an afterlife and embrace eternal non-existence for the brief shot to make sense of it all?

"What's the price?"

You let out a laugh. "I jest", you responded and surprisingly, he felt a sense of relief wash over him, "there's no magic box that can explain the meaning of the universe to you." You lifted the lid to show him what was inside, placing a few cards and tokens on the table. Poker, he recognized the game and picked up a few of the pieces to inspect them; still trying to find something off about them. But they seemed to be just regular tokens. You smiled at the curiosity and suspicion in his eyes. Cute, you thought, surprised at your own reaction to your newest client. The craftsman raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"You'd be surprised how many people come here looking to bet and bargain."

He nodded. He could see why many humans would do this. "And you indulge them?", he questioned. You shook your head and winked at him. "Between us, I can win if I want to", you set up the game, "but you don't want to go back, so there's no need for me to intervene. We can play a friendly round if you'd like to."

He nodded once more, finding himself smiling at the absurdity of the situation. But it was a welcome change. Your presence seemed to soothe his aching soul with every minute he spent here, although he had no idea how much time had already passed. As you played, you gave him the chance to ask you more questions. Most of them were ones you had already had to answer over and over again. But there was something about this man that made them feel like a new experience; something that stimulated and amused you.

"So, is this the afterlife?", he asked dryly. "You can think of it as more of a.... hotel lobby. Your time here decides what room you'll end up in, so to speak", you tried to explain, "there's a world beyond what you've known so far that I can't possibly explain to you. You'll just have to see for yourself. But first we have to find out where your place lies." He pondered your words.

"And you're the receptionist?", he asked, feeling a little lost.

"Something like that", you chuckled as your eyes inspected his calloused hands, "I'll be your guide for as long as you stay here." Perhaps it was your own wishful thinking but you could almost see a hint of disappointment on his face. "And after that?", he asked, "will I ever see you again?"

He found himself surprised at his question but simultaneously he had gotten so used to that feeling of painlessness and peace he felt around you already, that he was afraid of losing it again in that place he was destined to go next. "It's only been a moment and you'd already miss me?", you teased, your fingers lightly brushing against his, "well I'm flattered." He didn't pull his hand away. He should pull away, he reasoned. He had been hurt so much, love and friendship had scarred him and made him wonder whether anything about it was worth the pain. But something about your touch felt so right, that he couldn't help but wish you'd just take his whole hand into yours and held it. Or just flip the table, forget all about the game and kiss him breathless.

He was shocked at his thoughts. His cheeks were heating up. What is wrong with me?, he internally cursed himself for being this weak for you. Just moments ago he had been in a brutal fight with his once closest companion; he had felt like his anger was going to be all that remained of him. And yet now the skies had shifted and the world he left behind felt so small along with the person he once was. What was so wrong about being happy?, he asked himself, clutching his fist, maybe it was time to be selfish for once and just forget all about what used to be and focus on the here and now.

Focus on you.

You who eased his sorrows even though they were still seeping into his mind every now and then. "There seems to be a lot on your mind", you sighed as you defeated him in the game, "may I ask for your name?" He didn't comment on his loss.

"I'm not sure", he shrugged, thinking back the the middle-aged man who died at the hands of the High Elder of the Vidyadhara. "Yingxing" didn't really feel right anymore. He felt as though he had taken a step into a larger world now. Reached a point of no return. You nodded, as though you could understand or had seen many like him pass through this place.

"You pick one", he shrugged, his eyes looking into the distance and you could tell he was still lost in thought. This was a lot to take in for him after all. Your eyes fell onto the sword he had brought along, undoubtedly one of his own making.

"How about 'Blade'?", you suggested, putting a finger to your chin. He thought about it for a moment, then felt himself nodding and smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time.

"Blade."

As time went on, he learnt that you had never been to the mortal realm. That you experienced it through the memories of those you guided to the other side. You promised that you would visit him at any time he wished to see you once he had crossed over. That time wasn't linear in this realm and that a second could feel like months here. He took his time to learn about you; to find out what interested you about the material world and what things you had seen in your line of work. What the universe was like, experienced by a being such as yourself. He had apologized for asking so many questions that you probably heard over and over again. You had simply shaken your head.

"All in a day's work."

You reassured him that you were enjoying your time with him. Basic questions about the realm Blade now found himself in turned into long conversations he thought he'd never have again. His soul was already laid bare before you, he didn't feel urged to hide his feelings and past from you. You were so attentive and understanding. He wished you had been there for his time on the Xianzhou. Maybe that would have made him feel a little less lost.

Fleeting touches turned into finally holding his hand in yours and him resting against your chest with a content smile on his face. He had never told you he loved you but he felt like deep inside you knew. The first time you kissed him, he felt a spark ignite inside him that he thought had long since been snuffed out. Your lips tasted sweet, like the salvation he had so desperately longed for, yet never could have imagined to be like this. He kissed back hungrily, your fingertips wiping away the tears of relief he couldn't stop from running down his cheeks. Every peck you left on his skin, whether you scattered them on his hands, his shoulders or placed them at the corner of his mouth; he felt he could never get enough of them.

He'd hold you tightly in his arms, leaving kisses on your neck before pulling you into a loving kiss again, his tongue clashing with yours as he poured all the words he couldn't say and the passion he couldn't put into words into his kiss. He eventually leaned his forehead against yours with a happy smile. You guided souls to the other side day in and day out. You never expected yourself to fall in love with one. But Blade had captured your heart by storm. He was the one you had been waiting for all this time. He was your forever. Both of you were finally happy.

You both knew he was ready to move on and spend the rest of eternity by your side. That was his place in the great beyond. And it seems it was meant to be yours too. He nodded as the two of you were ready to embark on your next great journey together, leaving the sea of doubts behind you, ready to step into the sun. Blade gave you one last kiss to your lips. He looked at you with a peaceful smile on his face, his eyes promising you forever.

And then that moment ended.

He could only hear you desperately call out to him as he was pulled away from you, his hand trying to clutch yours as he was fading from view and his fingers slipped out of yours. He was panicking. It couldn't end like this. He remembered how happy you were just a moment ago. How worried you must be now.

The peace and tranquility was quickly replaced by emptiness and grief and anger again as his soul violently slammed back into his once mortal body. If he thought the pain from exiting it was bad, the one from entering it again was even worse. He groaned in pain, clutching the large wound on his chest and feeling it close below his fingers, much to his surprise.

Suddenly the Xianzhou seemed to matter again and your soothing touch felt out of his reach. He thought he was simply healed. That this was temporary and if he wanted to, he could just go back to you. But he realized quickly that this was not the case.

His eyes widened in shock and he stared in disbelief at his shaking, scarred hands as he realized what had become of him. What someone made of him. His breath hitched in his throat as he bit back the sobs that escaped him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he looked up to the man who did this with horror in his eyes. Dan Feng seemed unresponsive, as if caught in a trance.

Blade bit his lips. He didn't want to cry in front of this man. Not like this. Not here. But he couldn't help the despaired sobs coming from his mouth. His voice broke when he spoke.

"What have you done?"

Years had passed since that day. He often wondered what you would think if you could see him now. How bitter and hateful he had become; all the destruction he had caused on his path to reunite with you and kill the man who bestowed this cursed immortality onto him.

On some days it felt like the mara was driving him to the brink of insanity. Would he still be the same person you never got the chance to say goodbye to when death would finally come for him? Or would he have become something that you could never possibly love? The thought kept him awake at night. It scared him more than the pain he knew might plague him for many years to come.

He had never told anyone about you. You still felt like his happy ending that was ripped from his grasp and as much as the Stellaron Hunters helped him in his goal, he didn't want them or Dan Feng or anyone meddling in it.

He may have been the only one to have captured your heart, but there were many others who had almost crossed over and met you. Those who came back would sometimes seek him out and deliver messages from you to him. This was how, despite all, he at least had the reassurance that you were still out there waiting for him to return. The messages you had delivered to him were different each time but you never failed to tell him that you loved him so much.

Blade could hear the quiet beeping of the life support machine from outside the hospital room door. The nurse who had accompanied him here lightly knocked on the door and Blade could hear coughing from the other side. "Mr. Petrov? You have a visitor", she opened the door and Blade stepped into the room behind her.

Mr. Petrov had spent his whole life on a planet that Blade had never visited before. The old man opened his tired eyes to look at the stranger standing in the doorframe to his hospital room. He couldn't recall ever having met this person, but it was possible that he had simply forgotten about him. Meanwhile Blade knew for sure that the sickly man on the life support machine was a complete stranger.

Blade sat down beside his bedside, placing a small wooden box on the man's nightstand. He had left his phone on the starskiff; there was no need for Silver Wolf and Kafka to learn of this meeting.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I recognize you, son", the old man coughed once more and gave him an apologetic look. Blade shook his head. "We've never met." The old man had no idea of the atrocities that Blade had committed. He didn't need to know this, Blade thought.

"Then what brings you here today?", the patient seemed surprised. "I need to ask you a favor", Blade simply responded. The old man let out an amused laugh, sending him into another coughing fit. "I'm not sure if they told you, my friend, but I only have a few days left to live", Mr. Petrov reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, "my respiratory system is shutting down. I'm not sure what favor I could possibly do for you. I'm 94."

"I'm aware", Blade sighed and for the first time since he woke up in this cursed body again he took up the courage to talk about you. He described to the man what you looked like. "If you meet this person- ...on the other side I mean", Blade stared off into space, "could you deliver a message to them? Tell them to wait for me. Tell them I'll find them again one day."

The dying man raised an eyebrow at the seemingly young Stellaron Hunter. "Well, I don't know what's waiting for me on 'the other side', kid, but I'd imagine the afterlife is pretty vast. There's no guarantee I'd meet this person you're talking about."

"You will", Blade insisted and opened the wooden box, revealing a game of poker inside, "up for a game or two?" Mr. Petrov scratched his beard. "Why?"

"Practice."

The old man laughed. "They play poker in the afterlife?", he seemed amused but helped Blade set up the game, "well, I suppose there are going to be a lot of people ready to bet and bargain." Blade felt himself smile slightly as he remembered the first time you met. He was hardly used to smiling anymore so it caught him off-guard.

Mr. Petrov inspected Blade's face. The man seemed lost in thought again, as if he was yearning for something. As if he had been waiting for a long time. Anyone else would have found this encounter with the young stranger in his hospital room absurd but the sick man just accepted the situation as it was. Impending death was weird like that.

"So...", he started, an expression of understanding on his face, "anything else you want me to tell his person?"

Blade hesitated for a moment. Images flashed through his mind of your smile and the way you had kissed him. The ideas you exchanged and the future you had promised each other. How, despite all, despite the frustration and hatred, Blade now had no doubt where he was meant to be. With new-found courage and sincerity Blade finally allowed himself to say what he hadn't dared verbalize for all this time.

"Tell them... tell them I love them. I love them so much, I have no idea what to do with myself. And I miss them... I miss them every goddamn day."

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

Broke: KT is soo annoying for talking about “great-grandpa” this! “great grand-pa!” that! It doesn’t even make sense, because she never met him and didn’t even know he existed until she got to England!!!

Woke: KT was an orphan raised by her aunt and her grandfather, the latter of whom died very recently. He was likely the only male figure she had growing up, and the fact that his dying plea was that she uprooted her entire life in her final year of school to go to England and stop a terrible thing from happening in her grandfather’s stead was probably very troubling. Then, she finds out that she does have more family out there, a man who is supposedly a genius and most likely has answers… as well as being a link to her beloved, dead grandfather. No wonder she’s a bit obsessed!

Bespoke: Her protectiveness of her “great-grandpa” is a response to her deep, unresolved grief… and yet it’s still kinda annoying 💀

[rulerzreachf4n7]

I really hate how Huntlow has been watered down into a Girlboss x Malewife,

And boy do I have something to say...

I guess this all took place after TTT or KT, not really sure cause I don't remember which time it took place, Huntlow has been technically reduced to a Girlboss x Malewife, which is annoying and I hate that type of character dynamic/ship dynamic SO MUCH, the reason why people started thinking Huntlow of that type of dynamic is because...Hunter started showing more emotions after TTT or KT, yet again, I'm not really sure which episode, I feel like they're both equally a power couple! Hunter isnt weak or soft for showing emotions, may I remind you he's a trained soldier from at least the the moment he could even start speaking or walking, and practically all his life he's never to show any strong emotions like sadness or grief, and when flapjack dies the dude relapsed into some type off GG mode, and I hate how people keep on like, making fun of him in ftf or just saying he looks cute when he's angry even though he just lost the most important person...bird?? It sounds weird phrases bird lol, in his life, which basically leaves him to revert back into his golden guard mode, it's not funny considering flapjack died by his own two hands and suffered a loss that he's probably not even over yet even after the timeskip, and not to mention the trauma from Hollow mind and his various scars all over his body, especially the one on his cheek and his chipped ear, the ones from Belos' possession, and the literal sigil that nearly killed him on KT, and all over that we don't know how much abuse and trauma he faced in the coven, so to call him soft and emotional after experiencing extreme trauma isn't being soft, he legitimately needs fucking therapy (bouta pull up Steve's therapists number)

And for willow to be the girlboss is both accurate and not at the same time, sure, shes hella powerful! But she has been hiding emotions, bottling them up in ftf and eventually letting them come out on a meltdown where she can't control her magic, from her trauma and bullying from Boscha, Amity, and their entire friend group, and the emotional trauma she had gotten after Amity and her stopped being friends, even if its all in the past it still has impact on her future, and I'm not sure if you notice but trauma can affect you, she can't be all, girl boss and slay she's so powerful all the time pookie

In my opinion they're both a power couple, not just some strong gf x soft bf, Hunters a trained soldier and Willows got badass and powerful vines! Don't know why so much people hate them!!

[ghostlyravven]

i've seen so many different takes on what he xuans reason to become a ghost/stay in the world even after revenge is and to me kt will always be not hate and revenge but grief and longing for what you couldve had. To HX the revenge is the first and easiet route to deal with grief but its not really it, it doesntt help him and he doesnt feel fulfilled by it

[penguin--person]

ok how would’ve swap ended

heres my outline for the chapters ill never write, and here you can find a bit of chapter 11! fun! in my own words, under the cut.

we left off with sanyas place being bloodied and filled with a few corpses, dmitry nowhere to be found. chapter 10 ends. chapter 11 starts with yura, with some reflection on what happened and on his feelings, where its revealed dmitry has been taken by the facility. sanya told him this. sergei told her that.

yura and sergei meet up.

basically that. sergei says he and sanya cant stay at their place now, so theyre staying at some hotel for the nearby future, until their flat gets cleaned of all the blood and gore and dead bodies. hes more upset than in canon, because, he could have died! yura should have known better! says math tutoring with sanya is overrr and asks if he still wants to go to the zone. yura says hehe yeah then we get some more reflection. thinks about katya. and. man. ok. tarts cleave made me put some yurima in this, like, internalized homophobia. so this is a sort of yurima fic, the way that yuras like ohh what is this fucking feeling!!! and dima hates yuras guts, but tolerates him bc hes his only source of food and resources.

then the chapter would switch to anya pov. school is ending, her classrooms packing up, when she hears some of her classmates talking about this gorey event. apparently, some runaway mutant killed some people!! this classmate lives in the same complex as the kazarins maybe idk who knows. anyas like woahhh what the hell!!! and when she comes home talks to kt about it. anya exegaterates the gore a lot. katyas uncomfortable. she knows this mutant could be, and is most likely, dmitry. she doesnt reveal her own mutation. anya is in the dark. chapter 11 ends!

chapter 12 is sanya pov, shes very angry at sergei. focus on her grief, sorta. she feels dumb for letting dima get caught. he trusted her, and whatd she do? trust the wrong person. boom. angst ten thousand. of course she doesnt tell sergei that she knew dimas a mutant. hes pissed too, but not at her rlly, hes very detached from the emotional business. the chapter would end like false disposition does.

chapter 13 is the mill. not much changes. nikita still dies, yura still kills.

chapter 14 is strike 3. olya still took the blame. basically goes the same as canon. sanyas probably even more fucked up now, because she not only lost dima, but also nikita, and olya to jail. chapter 13 would have probs been very long, so strike 3 would be shorter.

chapter 15 is! yura talks to sanya. shes like hey what the fuck dude youve been avoiding me ever since nikita died. thats not cool. he ignores her and instead tells her about katya (they already met in the written part, only for a brief moment, but yura remembers). this is sanya pov so we wouldnt get much yura 'objective feelings', but hed be very insistent about blackmailing katya into helping them get dima back. sanya calls him dumb. its dangerous. yura ignores her, says hell do this with or without her. sanya agrees. basically this part of convergence

(ignore titulky,thats just subtitles) sanya is also like. invested in getting dima back. righting her wrong, you know? feels very responsible for his capture.

then, katya pov! shes scared, a bit. what if olya reports her? what if she already has? sure, shes nice, but like. she knows. she said its fine, and katya would like to believe it, but with dima getting captured. shes anxious. so she asks anya to run away with her. anya is hesistant, but kt calls her a chicken, rubs in how much anya complains about it. so she agrees. theyll leave tomorrow.

chapter 16. sanya, for the first time since dimas capture, goes to dimas hiding place. overindulgence in grief is only immature and stuff, but also, maybe she thinks she can find some stuff of his or smth. she umm. well. we get a flashback from dimas pov. its chapter 10. sanya just left him alone with sergei. sergei goes to another room. hes talking to someone. dima is so out of it. then, police busts in - with kt, there was too much, a whole swat team. with dima, there was too little, just your regular cops checking out a disturbance. they manage to shoot dima a time or two, but ultimately, he kills them and runs away. he runs all the way to his hideout. hes so scared. so angry. so upset. its just like comfort zone all over again.

somehow, he makes it to his hideout. theres not many people outside at the time, and those who are arent too keen on confronting an obvious mutant. blue sparks around him. dima thinks Im safe here im okay im safe. his thoughts are so jumbled and incoherent. he doesnt want to die. he either bleeds out or has a stroke and dies.

cut back to sanyas pov. its been at least two weeks since his 'capture'. she smells his rotting corpse before she sees it. she feels terrible. so bad. she cant even burry him. what will she tell yura? why didnt sergei tell her the truth, that he escaped? did he think shed go out looking for him? she would have. could she have saved him? why did it take her so long to go here? why did she let him die? so so much angst and grief. shes had enough.

chapter 17 is convergence. katya and anya are packing up. yura comes there, says anya wasnt responding to his messages and he got worried. this is either katya or anya pov or both. probs katya. he starts talking about dima, and the girls recognize the story. hes talking about how dima was his friend and hed like to get him out of the facility. takes out the cube, asks katya to help him get out. switch to yura pov. katya refuses. wowww what a brat. anyas so so upset with him. he doesnt listen to her, ignores her as much as possible. he talks about olya. mentions shes in custody or smth rn. that he killed a man. if katya doesnt help him, hell report her and olya will be in trouble. he takes out his phone. he doesnt show them the screen. he tried calling sanya, but she just woudlnt pick up. so, he just tells them hes on a call with her, and if they hurt him, shell report them in his place. and olya will be in trouble. he understands that hes being stupid. understands katya is just a kid. understands anya cares for her. understands her mutation could be dangerous. but so whatttt dude.. why are you against this.. you homophonbic?!?!?? you dont want to see yurima 60fps kiss?!?!?!

switch to anya pov. shes so fucking mad and upset and betrayed. hears katya counting to ten repeatedly under her breath. yelling at yura. yura fights with her a bit. he sets his hand on katyas shoulder. she pushes them both away. and just like that she turns into a monster! will somebody show up to save the day?

(drew this earlier this year, like, february/march or smth - i could redraw it better but i dont wanna lol)

chapter 18. yura calls sanya again. she picks up. he tells her its all gone to shit, asks her why she didnt pick up. anya is yelling at him, screaming for him to get out, katyas meat exploded all over olyas plcae, anyas in shambles, trying to get through to katya. shes unsuccesfull. yura basically begs sanya to come over, that its went wrong. sanya is.. well, she seems faraway. like she just saw some shit. no time to think about that tho. sanya, pissed off, because yura now made this girl cry for nothing, comse over and Oh she didnt just cry! awesome! she gets super pissed at yura. shes done. yura asks her to help, what to do. he didnt know this would happen. sanya rlly shouts at him so bad. mentions dimas dead. that she found his body. that it was all for nothing. anya would be yelling t her to get out too, but shes too exhausted. shes just hanging out with katya now. begging her to turn back. she doesnt care that shes a mutant. they can run away right now, just please, turn back, itll be okay, olya will be fine, you just have to turn back, istill love you, please turn back, please dont leave me. yura is. man. he feels like shit. dima is Dead? so he doomed this girl for nothing? doomed his relationship with his sister for nothing? wow. sanyas so pissed off and done with everything she just leaves. yura tries to call sergei. it goes straight to voicemail. what the fuck are they going to do

chapter 19. katya pov. its all fucked up. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 yura touches her shoulder and she explodes.. it fucking hurtssss. anyas so louid it hurts. someone new comes over. it hurts. someone leaves. yura calls someone again. nobody comes. it hurts. anyas crying. it hurts. yura calls somebody else and anyas screaming again. yura tries to drag anya away. shes screaming. it hurts. yura leaves. more people show up after some time. anya screams at them. they take anya away from the flat. they take katya away, too.

chapter 20. epilogue 1. yura and anya life after the incident - like a month maybe. olyas gone. shes stuck at home. sergeis so fucking done with him. anya didnt tell the containment services about yuras outburst, because, he has the recording. maybe if they dont know that olya let katya stay, they'll let her go.. but, they dont. shes in jail. yura hasnt even thanked her. yura is.. hes dealing with the death of dima, nikita, anyas grief too, and sanya. yura and sanya. sanyas pissed at him. he did to his sister what sergei did to her and dima. but hes her rfiend. shes lost so much. she cant lose him too. it sucks. theyre not happy together. yura hasnt said sorry. they dont talk about dima. they try to forget about it all. sanya and sergei. ermmm. not cool.

chapter 21. epilogue 2. sanya and anya. they talk. they hug. the end.

[thebisexualmandalorian]

Inviting controversy by asking a controversial question which you may feel free to ignore but. Thoughts on Karen Traviss' Star Wars books, from the old EU? I assume you've got Opinions

BOY DO I

I'll probably forget to include everything, but I've gone on an hour long Rant before and I'll do it again lmao

Okay, so the good. There is good in these books and I'll drag it out with teeth and claws if I have to.

I love Kal Skirata. You can crucify me for that if you want to, but as a daddy issues having bitch, I want him to be my dad. He's a wonderfully flawed character, and he owns up to those flaws. He's made mistakes and he's grown and he knows he isn't perfect but by god, he'll try for his boys. He fights tooth and nail to protect them from what he can, and what he can't, he'll go through hell with them (literally, I can't remember the exact wording, but it's said in Hard Contact I believe, that any training he puts his men through, he does it himself first). He's overprotective because there's so much he can't protect them from, and it's clear that he loves them with all his heart.

The clone and GAR and Mando culture building. This is a grayer area for me because there is a lot of internalized bullshit KT is dealing with that I'll talk about later, but! We wouldn't have nearly the background we do for these cultures without her books. I love most of what she did with it, from the military worldbuilding to the Mandalorian culture and the different facets of it we see through the eyes of different characters. And the language! Mando'a isn't a heavily developed conlang, but the tools are there, and it makes sense within the world. And we have music! We have songs.

I love the characters. There are gray areas, no one is perfect, and they all get down and dirty when things call for it. They love each other deeply and make good and bad decisions, they're realistic. The relationships are tender and gentle, and I love the interactions between everyone, the loyalty and the devotion, and the overarching feeling of grief because we know how this ends.

The clones! I love them! They are wonderful and well developed, and I love hearing their thoughts on everything, and their bond with one another and those around them. I'm not coherent about this one because I think about them for five seconds and start making high pitched noises like an overexcited dog.

The descriptions are so deliciously visceral, and I love reading them.

The bad:

Another unpopular opinion: I loathe Vau. Hate him utterly. He's a good character but a deeply horrible man, and this might be my trauma talking but it's my opinion and I'll die on this goddamn hill. He's verbally and physically abusive, and sees absolutely no consequences (or even reproach) for it in the narrative, aside from Kal breaking his nose, and he deserved so much worse than that.

The misogyny. Oh, Karen honey. That internalized misogyny got you good, huh? The blatant way she treats Etain and Besany through the mouths of other characters is... oof. There's a little bit of reversal, but it's still pretty bad. Even though they're "not like other girls," it's pretty obvious that Karen has a lot of issues with womanhood. It was the 2000s, so I'll let some of it be with the caveat that the 2000s were pretty damn misogynistic in general, but goddamn. Also, on that note, she seems to be fighting herself on whether Mandos have a gender neutral society or not? Like, she'll say on one page that there's no difference between men and women, and then go on to say that men go out and fight but women stay to guard the home and raise the kids. I am putting my head in my hands.

On a related note, Karen is the Jedi who hurt you in the room with us right now? Why do you hate the Jedi so damn much? It doesn't make any sense in the story and it doesn't make sense on a metatextual level. Bro, are you good?

Anyway! Yes! I have many opinions about this book series and I'm sure I forgot to cover everything! Please feel free to ask more questions!

[poeticblogname]

being an optimist is a choice

being kind is a choice

being loving is a choice

loving life is a choice!

loving others is a choice!!

spreading love and positivity is a choice!!!

loving yourself is a choice!!!!!

healing is a choice!!!!!!

it’s all a choice! you can decide for yourself! it’s okay to wait another day! it’s okay to fail to make the choice! just because it’s a choice doesn’t mean it’s easy!!

[lollytea]

What do you think Hunter and Willows relationship will be like now? She’s the type to give space when needed, but also comfort her friends too. Titan know Hunter needs a friend right now, do you think he’ll push them away? Push her away? Will there even BE huntlow?

Idek if I can say anything for certain because God knows I'm wrong about predicting all the time. However I feel like that final scene of Hunter establishing exactly what it is he wants reads like he fully intends to keep Willow (and all his other friends) in his life. Underneath all of that quiet fury and grief in Hunter's final scene, there was a good bit of wisdom and maturity too. I think losing Flapjack has taught him that his friends and family mean everything right now and he can't let them go. I think Hunter is done with the self sacrificial bullshit. I don't think he's gonna reject a helping hand from his friends. Not anymore. At this point he's learned how to depend on people. So no I wouldn't say he's going to push Willow away.

People expected a lot more huntlow from the first special than they ended up getting. It's honestly possible that every special is gonna be similar. Just a few silent subtle huntlow scenes per episode. Possibly.

Willow's a rock yknow. I don't think she's gonna push him to talk if he doesn't want to but she'll always be near. She'll always be around for him to lean on. Just like COTH-KT. Willow is Hunter's safe space and I think her presence alone is all the comfort he needs. It's a quiet unspoken kind of thing.

OR the huntlow could turn the fuck up in the next special, who knows.

Obviously there's the unresolved matter of the grimwalker thing and I know they're gonna need to talk when it comes to that. Willow has definitely been tipped off that SOMETHING is going on (while Gus is implied to already know.) So I'm thinking this is gonna be the big huntlow conversation. The big moment that all these quiet subtle moments all have all been building up to.

I think there could possibly be a conflict in Hunter trying to keep Willow out of the crossfire. He could be paranoid about losing anyone else after Flapjack. However if this happens I don't think it would be a long drawn out thing. A very quickly resolved tension because I know Willow Park would not tolerate that bullshit at all.

In conclusion I have no idea. Its gonna be a fun surprise I guess

[rainstormcolors]

For the meme:

YGO + 2, 12, 15

Tristan + 8, 9, 10

Hello! Thank you for the ask!

Yu-Gi-Oh!

2) …my three favorite characters and why I love them so much.

Seto Kaiba has been my favorite from the start. All the versions of him have their value and I enjoy them all, but my personal favorite version of the batch is the manga’s version of the character. The loneliness, his internal struggle that seems viscerally painful, the maladaptive behaviors and the search for understanding, and how it’s apparent he does want to connect with other people but he can’t understand this about himself or accept it. He’s so layered and yet the ambiguity is also relatable --- the way emotions cloud and blur, how we don’t have the words for things. And he’s fascinating and morally grey and allows an outlet for the heightened emotions we sometimes need to see, to connect with to understand this feeling is shared, even as he seems achingly alone, even as he achingly reaches out to others. The theme of grief is also very intense within this character while having a kind of subtly, the way these emotions fold into and hide in other emotions.

Mokuba Kaiba is next. Again I enjoy all the versions of this character but the manga’s version is my personal favorite. I feel he’s a very complex character in the manga’s canon with layers of emotion and a history which he carries and it’s only overshadowed due to him not being a duelist character. He’s so headstrong and loyal and he harbors anger, resentment, loneliness, love and devotion, and he’s incredibly proactive. Something that feels a little overlooked about him in canon is that Mokuba *also* explodes at Seto at Death-T, which is not to remotely excuse what happens later on at all, but rather it shows how the strain of everything had worn both of them down and left neither of them able to handle this.

Noa Kaiba is my third favorite character. A dark isolated attention-seeking and self-destructive doomed character who doesn’t really know what love is and is shocked to discover his capacity to love, that he can love and does love. There’s a certain desperation within Noa’s initial plan, abruptly kidnapping everyone with this hopeless idea that maybe he can just walk back into life as the Kaiba heir when that was never going to be possible, and really he just needed needed needed to interact with people from the outside even as all this hatred burned inside him.

12) …what attracted me into checking it out.

I’ve been a fan for a long time, since the show first aired Duelist Kingdom in the United States, although I can’t recall what exact episode I started with but I know it wasn’t the very start. I also read the manga as it was translated and published by VIZ.

15) …which character I would choose for the chopping block if I knew the writers wanted to kill someone.

If I’m entirely honest, even if there are issues in the writing, I kind of get the impression death was an important theme to Kazuki Takahashi, something he wanted to explore in some form, and he quite literally said this in an interview as well. Which is to say that despite the problems, I feel Yugi saying farewell to Atem as Atem left the world was something meaningful to KT in some form even if I feel I shouldn’t make guesses beyond that. I do think it’s very fair to dislike this ending or to discuss and point out the issues, but previous discussions could also be guilty of neglecting the personal angle this storybeat may have carried and how people do indeed have to say goodbye sometimes or watch someone they love die. Which is to say, I don’t want to change what may have been meaningful.

Tristan Taylor / Hiroto Honda

8) …a headcanon I have about this character.

I think he was kind of the family baby while his sister had “eldest daughter syndrome” in some form. I think he helped keep Jonouchi stable before the beginning of canon.

9) …which of their relationships I would have cultivated more if it were up to me (both romantic and platonic).

Honda’s kind of left in the background of the story but he’s also a constant presence through the story. He’s given personal relationships with Jonouchi and Otogi. I very much like the quiet loyalty he felt towards Mokuba. I wouldn’t mind more Honda and Mokuba content in that way, the way people can come to care about each other quietly. Also – Blankey! Imagine more Blankey scenes!

10) …if I liked them immediately or if took a while before I warmed up to their character. Alternatively, if I disliked them immediately or if they lost my trust as their story progressed.

I was neutral towards him for quite a while. I could appreciate him as a loyal friend but it wasn’t as if I personally gravitated towards trying to understand him particularly. I think fandom discussions have been very good for me engaging more with the text, the characters inside the text, what they mean, and how we relate to them, how other real people relate to them, and in turn I’ve been able to understand others as well.

Thank you again for the ask, and I wish you a nice day.

[cgogs]

if briar is drinking til hes sick then what is dream doing in ocean escape?

Hes picked up surfing and is a total natural. hes also picked up a tan because of it, and he loves his board very much. Hes also hooking up a lot (before getting a gf) and eating at seafood buffets (crab is his new favorite food) and trying very hard to heal

Heres something i dont think i disclosed. A year or two after dream leaves sam, briar goes back to the house to get the stuff they left behind (keepsakes, baby books, photo albums, etc) honestly not expecting sam to still be there. Sam has been writing letters to dream to deal with the grief at the advice of his therapist. Sam, in his and his sons last interaction, asks Briar to take them with him for Dream to read. He also tells briar to tell dream that he deserves to be happy and the whole scene made me bawl my eyes out its so bad kt hurts so bad

So yeah dream has been reading through those. It's very hard

[oftincturedwords]

title : dash-two chapters : 1/4 fandom : top gun ( 1986 ) rating : t+ chapter warning(s) : descriptions of food , mentions of eating , etc. characters : tom ‘iceman’ kazansky , pete ‘maverick’ mitchell , ron 'slider' kerner , sam 'merlin' wells , rick 'hollywood' neven , leonard 'wolfman' wolfe , mentioned nick ‘goose’ bradshaw , mentioned carole bradshaw pairing(s) : gen. m/m. eventual iceman / maverick additional tags : hurt / comfort , angst , nightmares , period - typical homophobia , anxiety attacks , panic attacks , explicit language , slow burn , eventual romance , brotherhood , sickfic , storms , flying , banter , brotherhood , grief / mourning , emotional hurt / comfort , developing friendships , male friendships , etc. word count : 4253 timeline : set post top gun ( 1986 ) , a day or so post MiG dogfight summary : iceman has been feeling off since the MiG dogfight, and as the hours tick by, it only grows worse, to the point slider isn't the only one to notice something's amiss with the pilot. maverick does too. a/n : no beta thus all mistakes are mine. disclaimer : i do not own any right to top gun ( 1986 ) neither am i associated with the production companies , nor any of the actors who portray these characters. i make no money off any of my stories , this is purely for entertainment purposes. read on : ao3 | read undercut

At the assigned push time twenty-two, Iceman ensured he was holding fix at two hundred-fifty knots and ready to commence approach. Allowing the mere seconds it took to confirm before he broke from the marshall holding stack stationed twenty-five nautical miles behind the carrier and held at ten angels, to begin to guide his aircraft to approach the carrier whilst radioing Mother, “Voodoo one-zero-four, commencing, 6.4, 30.01.”

The reply back was immediate, “Mustang to Voodoo one-zero-four, radar contact twenty-five miles. Final bearing three-three-one.”

“One-zero-four.” Iceman acknowledged smoothly, eyes trained upon the instruments before him.

“One-zero-four, switch approach, button seventeen.” Came Marshall on the mike, passing the duty of relaying recovery directions control over to Approach.

“One-zero-four, switching button seventeen.” Was what he transmitted back as per protocol, glancing through the canopy on impulse to spy the lights of the carrier on his nose before returning to the lowly lit gauges of the panel.

Descending at a rate of four thousand feet per minute until he reached five thousand feet altitude, steady handed and attentive, Ice checked in the moment he reached platform on the indicated channel.

“Approach, one-zero-four, platform, eighteen miles, 6.2.” He relayed that he’d reached five thousand feet altitude and his distance from the carrier, as well as his fuel level.

“Voodoo one-zero-four, roger.” The response crackled back over the radio, the officer over the radio's tone was certain and crisp, “Final bearing three-three-one.

“One-zero-four.” Ice acknowledged, dropping his descent rate to two-thousand feet per minute until he reached until twelve hundred feet altitude.

At ten nautical miles Ice reduced his speed down to one hundred twenty-one KTS, still remaining level at twelve hundred AGL. Upon reaching eight miles Iceman began to configure for landing without need for Approach to transmit dirty-up, he was already extending landing gear, tailhook, and full flaps, then slowing down to ON-SPEED angle of attack.

“Mustang to Voodoo one-zero-four, lock-on six miles, say needles.” Approach came over the radio again once Ice hit six miles.

Easily evaluating the colours of The Long Range Laser Lineup System, seeing his position was low and to the left, Iceman replies with, “Fly up and right.”

“One-zero-four, concur, fly mode 2.” Approach directed concisely.

“One-zero-four.” Ice said back whilst adjusting the position of the plane at the agreement from Approach, watching the slow flashing red light switch over to a steady amber one.

At four miles from the carrier, Approach again came over the radio, “Mustang to Voodoo one-zero-four, approaching glidepath, begin descent.”

“One-zero-four.” Ice replied back, bringing his descent down to seven hundred feet per minute to remain on glideslope.

“One-zero-four, you're paddles contact,” Came the Landing Signal Officer over the comms just as Ice was approaching ¾ mile point, “Approaching centreline… You're on centreline, three quarter mile, call the ball.”

“One-zero-four, Tomcat, Ball, 6.0.” Ice called the ball, relaying exactly as procedure dicatated.

“Roger Ball, twenty-five knots, starboard.” The LSO answered back, the voice clearly heard despite the subtle crackles and soft hisses throughout the transmission, with the report of wind speed over deck and its direction.

Inside half a mile, Ice received more direct instruction from the LSO, “You’re high, bring it down…”

Adjusting accordingly and with practised ease, or so much ease that came with landing on the carrier well after nightfall, not that there was too much that needed correcting from the LSO, Ice still followed every instruction to the letter. No further directions came from the LSO after the correction was made thus he continued forwards.

Bringing the plane in for the landing, the moment he made touchdown aiming to hook the third wire, Ice pushed to full throttle and retracted the speed brakes in anticipation of a bolter. Never be assured of an arrested landing was what they were taught, in case the tailhook missed getting caught in the spaghetti and had to take off again it was better to be at speed in order to ensure they didn't end up in drink rather than back in the air.

Moving with the jolt that shot him forwards and had him straining against his straps when the tailhook caught the arresting wire, he maintained power. When he felt the aircraft come to a complete stop and caught the signal from the yellow jacket on the deck armed with an AMBER wand, only then did Ice cut the power back to idle thrust and allow the plane to be pulled back by the wire until it was released. Following the further instructions by the flight deck crew and watching them communicate with each other so they could allow him to taxi to a parking location.

Once the aircraft was chained down to the deck near the bow of the carrier and Ice received the tie downs in place signal, he and Slider opened the canopy and unstrapped. A blue light was immediately shined by the plane captain on the ladder that had been unfolded by one of the flight deck crew so they could descend and see where to place their feet when they did so.

A fall from that height was significant and could cause injury which held the potential for it to be serious enough to ground a pilot or radio-intercept officer who misstepped and fell. From an intense jarring to possible fractures and breaks if one managed to land on their feet, worse if one fell on their backs or sides from that height. Which was why the light was provided with the swift accuracy the flight deck personnel always operated under.

“Woo!” Came an excited yet subdued hollar came from Slider, this late in the night wasn't the time for shouting, as he stood in the back and threw one leg over the side to begin stepping down, “There's a different sort of rush to night hops. Nice job, Ice.”

“It's not my first instruments-only landing.” Iceman said, trying to distract from the fact he had yet to follow his RIO’s example in deplaning, even though the other was halfway descended down.

“I know.” Slider replied, his feet thumping down on the deck and he stepped away to allow room for his pilot to drop down next to him.

Seeing he would be waiting a moment as Ice wasn't right behind him as he thought, he called up when he saw Ice’s leg just swing over the side of the plane to step down, “But that was the smoothest one yet, so nice job, pilot.”

Ice couldn't help the smile that drew up the sides of lips, hearing the genuine expression of praise through Slider’s own smile despite the irony of his RIO calling an arrested landing ‘smooth’, yet he didn't make a comment back.

Focussing instead on keeping his shaking legs as steady as he could and his feet firmly on the rungs, feeling the muscles of his legs bouncing involuntarily along his thighs and calves to the point he was cautiously ensuring he kept three points of contact at all times on the ladder. Descending down at a more sedate pace than the other man had, which had Slider’s brow furrowing touch at the odd slowness to his pilot’s self-assured pace.

Yet case three landings were always a more arduous task upon any pilot, this Slider knew. Those sort of recoveries were more mentally taxing, as they required a greater degree of focus, accuracy, and precision with only the guidance of their instruments and the directions of the LSO to bring the jets down safely. With very little to zero visibility about their surroundings depending upon the fullness of the moon and the amount of cloud cover. During normal landings, it was like attempting to land on a moving postage stamp in the middle of the ocean whilst flying in at 172 miles an hour, now factor in darkness to it which added another degree of difficulty.

It was terrifying as it was exhilarating to be able to execute, and it took a damn good pilot to be able to accomplish it.

Thus it hadn't surprised Slider in the least when it’d been them assigned to the night patrols for the next three nights whilst the other driver and RIO pairs would be alternating night hops with day ones. His pilot was just that good.

Although it didn't mean his driver was immune to the effects of the strenuous landings. Despite tonight's hop having been uneventful and the trap having been one of the levelest ones yet, it was still stressful to accomplish and it’d only been a little over twenty-four hours since that dogfight with the MiGs.

There was a strain upon all the aviators due to the recent engagement and the tensions the hostile dogfight had caused throughout the fleet. Although the SS LAYTON had been recovered and rescue went off with hardly a hitch due to the MiGs being distracted by the USS ENTERPRISE's Tomcats, there hadn’t been any true respite after the initial celebration.

Wondering if the recent action would ignite anything further, for wars and skirmishes never began with predictability. It felt as if everyone was awaiting the other foot to drop, whether that would be further trouble or things continuing to run smoothly, if not routinely, Slider wasn't certain. Just as most of the carrier’s occupants were.

They’d just have to weather the best they could whilst doing as ordered and completing their duties. Didn't mean they had to necessarily do it alone however, for what we're friends for if not embracing the sucky situations together?

Thus if Ice was a bit shaky after this hop, then so be it, Slider not only understood, but would leave his long time friend to stick it out by himself.

Feeling his RIO clap him on the shoulder as Ice dropped down onto the deck, he wavered only slightly with one hand still on the ladder. Ice noted the grip was bit too firm for it to have been a mere congratulatory slap, and he internally chided himself for thinking Slider wouldn't have noticed a deviation in his behaviour. Especially when night hops usually had him relishing in the challenge and eager to further prove his skills in handling an aircraft, leaving him feeling invigorated and proud.

He hadn't felt this exhausted nor shaky since the completion of his very first night trap on a carrier. But Slider didn't give voice to any questions of his well-being, only offering a nod when Ice had glanced at his RIO’s face to which he returned the gesture and he felt Slider’s hand fall away from his shoulder.

They walked off the flight deck into the internals of the ship in silence, companionable albeit sedated. Iceman wasn't the only one feeling the late hour and the stress of the mission hardly twenty-four prior, despite his outward appearance. He would be glad to shower off and return to his rack to sleep until breakfast. Which seemed to be what his pilot longed for as well, not that Ice was too talkative after a hop anyway. Even without the added strain from yesterday.

Slider had come to learn that his pilot preferred to analyse and categorise elements from the flight, whether it was a routine hop to a planned mission to an impromptu alert. Those minutes allotted between deplaning to debrief, Iceman preferred to spend in silence, or as much as he was able to, to ensure he combed over the details himself before having to give a report and be given instruction and grade in the debrief. Thus Slider kept his chatter minimal to none post-flights.

A pattern they had long developed and fallen into when they became pilot RIO team. Spending near countless hours around one another at the academy into flight training and further onto deployments tended to give insight into each other's quirks, habits, idiosyncrasies, and preferences. It was hard not to pick up on them, and find workarounds or accommodations for one another.

Just as Slider knew Iceman needed quiet after a flight until they debriefed and tried to ensure they could so his pilot could organise his thoughts. Iceman knew Slider needed energetic release of any pent up energy, yet hated to do so alone, thus Ice accompanied him to bars or on runs when stationed on base, or to the gym or wardroom at odd hours during deployment.

The sound of running water from where the showers could be heard by the time Slider and Ice arrived at the lockers to shed and stow their gear. Seems their wingman and his RIO didn't waste any time dressing down and jumping into the shower, likely of a similar mindset of wanting to hurry to debrief so they could catch a few hours sleep before breakfast. Or perhaps even to see if there was anything from midrats worth pilfering from the mess.

“Think the wardroom has anymore of those cinnamon rolls left?” Slider asked, oddly mirroring a thread of Ice’s thoughts, unclasping the straps on his helmet to remove it and running a hand through his hair to liven it up again after it spent the last hour and half squished within the confines of his helmet.

“We’ll have to wait until after the briefing to check.” Ice replied, his helmet already off and seated on the bench beside them, as he went about unbuckling his harness at the upper chest then middle, loosening it until it came undone before unzipping down the front and working to pull it down so he could step out of it.

Slider was doing the same beside him by the time he asked, “Feeling hungry too?”

“No.” Ice was now bent over pulling at the zips on the legs of his g-suit when he answered, his harness off and resting on a hook to his left, “But it's on the way back to our quarters so I don't mind coming with you.”

“C’mon, it's not like they have them everyday.” Slider turned to hang up his own harness, talking whilst he bent at the waist to begin removing his g-suit, “Or even every month. We should enjoy them while they last.”

“I don't really like sweets.” Ice countered, which drew a sharp snort from Slider and had Ice angling a confused glare at his RIO.

“I know that’s bullshit.” Slider retorted, turning his head to shoot his pilot a look of sharp disbelief, “Like you don't try to lift as many chocolate chip cookies you can from the mess whenever they serve them.”

The pilot raised his head enough to look his RIO in the eye, “Chocolate is different.”

Rolling with eyes, Slider scoffed to cover a laugh at the tone of the statement rather than the actual words themselves, but had to concede Ice’s point, “Fine. Chocolate is different, but that doesn't erase the fact you didn't eat much before we went up.”

A half-hearted shrug preceded Ice’s words, nonchalant and matter-of-fact, as he returned to unzipping his g-suit from round his lower legs and thighs, “I wasn't all that hungry.”

“And you're still not?” Slider asked, a tad incredulous, which was laced through his tone as it was hinted at across his face, “The last time you ate was around seventeen hundred yesterday with Maverick, Merlin, and I.”

It's been the usual fair for dinner, nothing special or really noteworthy. Neither was it exactly fresh for just because this was their new posting ( for now that was ) , the carrier was still several days out from a resupply. Powdered and reconstituted, or thawed then cooked, with fruit that was beginning to brown and bruise. Thus it had been normal, but Slider hadn't seen Ice eat with any reluctance then. None of them had. Especially when they needed the energy and he and Ice had been expected in the ready room within the hour.

Then Slider and Ice had bid the other Pilot / RIO team good night to go to the preflight briefing and then had been occupied with the briefing schematics, tactics, and checklists right up until Ice signalled to the yellow jacket they were ready for take off with a thumbs up and a salute. Then they were catapulted off the carrier, going from stationary to 150 mi/h in hardly two seconds and into the air. Their minds then occupied with solely completing their flight.

Ice sighed, closing the temporary locker after putting his helmet inside, leaning against it a fraction, he turned to look at Slider, “I’ll eat at breakfast, but right now I just want to do the debrief then sleep.”

Slider paused with his g-suit in his hands after unbuckling the last clasp from around his abdomen to stare at his pilot, taking a moment's consideration of the other man before he nodded, “All right. Fine. I’ll lay off.”

Another sigh, this one softer than the last, came from Ice, “I didn't mean…”

“No, I get it.” Slider intercepted the other's explanation, his tone less clipped than it had been a moment prior, because he did understand, even if he didn't like the idea of it, sometimes sleep was needed before one could eat, “I really do, Ice. It's fine.”

“Thanks.” Ice said after a pause, accepting the validity of Slider’s words, with a grateful upturn of his lips to which his RIO returned and they both turned back to dressing down from their flight gear.

Their lockers clinked shut a few minutes later in near tandem with one another, and they both headed towards the ready room for the debrief.

... 

Returning to their shared room, Iceman and Slider tried to keep quiet as they readied for bed. Stowing their toiletries bags and unlacing their boots before dressing down from their flight suits to pyjamas. Or rather the symbolance of them since Slider forwent any form of shirt and simply slipped on a pair of grey sweats whilst Ice threw a blue ‘NAVY’ embossed t-shirt over his head after shedding his usual shirt he wore underneath his flight suit and a pair of black sweats.

Mindful of their slumbering bunk mates, each moved about quietly but with an easy swiftness that bespoke to the many times they have done such a routine. Despite this carrier not being their prior nor permanent posting, this portion of naval life was routine even when the rest was varied.

Yet none were infallible, no matter how well a routine is known or number of times done, so when Slider went to slip off his socks and accidently kicked his foot into his locker’s door, causing it to clatter then slam closed in accompany you his bit off curse this shattering the relative quiet of their room. A pair of grumbles came from the two other racks, unfavourable epithets falling from sleep laden voices as the noise managed to rouse both Maverick and Merlin.

“Trying to sleep through your fucking landing isn't enough, you have to wake us in here too?” Maverick grumbled, his face half smashed into his pillow when he rolled over in an vain attempt to escape the disturbance.

“Oh you mean you didn't ask for the 0330 wake up call?” Slider quipped back, although his voice was pitched low to combat his earlier clamour.

“Fuck you.” Maverick lifted his face from his pillow a fraction so he could snap back, yet the heat he placed behind the words was dulled by the sleep-rough quality of his voice.

The retort only caused Slider to laugh softly, which in turn spurred another mumbled ‘fuck you’ from the others’ racks, but this time it was indistinguishable as to which had repeated the sentiment since it sounded muffled by a pillow or blanket, or perhaps the other pilot and RIO had said it in stereo. Slider wasn't certain, but it had him laughing all the more as he made to jump up onto his rack above Ice’s before anything could be thrown at him for his laughter.

Ice was already in his rack, laid down on his side with his blanket pulled up over his shoulders. He faced away from the room, Slider noted as he stepped up, mindful of where his pilot’s limbs were, to heft himself one-handedly up onto his own rack. Settling on the standard issued mattress and underneath his own blanket, turning to face away from the room just as Ice had.

Quiet, or as quiet as it could become in the belly of an aircraft carrier, once again descended upon their quarters, the shuffling dying down as everyone found a position that was comfortable. The only noise was the subtle rushing of the pipes and mechanical operations of the carrier amidst the occasional background clatter of the night crew.

“Do I smell cinnamon?” Maverick suddenly asked, audibly sniffing and breathing deep.

“No. Go back to sleep.” Slider said, his words a slight garbled and muffled.

“You're eating something.” Came the accusation from Maverick, who was sitting up as much as his rack space would allow, which meant he was leant back on one elbow with his head dipped down a touch.

“So what if I am?” Slider snipped back, clearly having swallowed whatever he’d been eating as his voice came through without any distortion.

“Don't want to share with the rest of us, Slider?” Although it was structured as a question, Maverick’s tone suggested it should be a given, “That's cruel to bring dessert in here without sharing, especially since you woke us up.”

“I second that.” Merlin sleepily chimed in, awake enough to wonder what sweets had been prepared in the galley and to partake of any that may be shared, if Slider were so generous.

Slider scoffed, “You guys are horrible, I saved something from midrats to have after flying and you both are after it.”

“Just tell us what it is.” Mav quipped, not necessarily irritated as he was excited over finding out what it was.

“It’s a cinnamon roll. The cooks made some early for midrats.” Ice's tiredly pitched voice came from where he was laying on side facing away from them on his rack, purposefully omitting the detail that Slider hadn't saved it from his midnight rations but that he had gone back to snag a second one after their hop, “Can we all go to sleep now?”

“Traitor.” Slider tossed down at the rack below his, but it held no real heat behind it, before he addressed the other two occupants in the room, “See? You’ll get yours in the morning so lay off mine.”

“Cinnamon rolls?” Maverick’s voice audibly brightened before deepening down into a grumble, “But wait, that means you get two, one now and in the morning with breakfast.”

“I’m not sharing.” Slider said at the same time as Iceman groused something inaudible into his pillow that sounded vaguely threatening despite no words being intelligible.

“Fine.” Mav conceded with a look over the edge of his rack down at Ice’s before turning over to face the bulkhead whilst Merlin made a huffing noise from below that sounded like a cross between a muffled laugh and a scoff of indigence.

A beat of silence followed by a brief shuffling from Slider’s rack before something wrapped in plastic hit Maverick square in the back. Grunting, Mav flipped around, an expression of ire blossoming across his features aimed directly across the way at Slider until his hands felt the item that had been thrown at him. It was an unopened package of jelly beans.

“Share those with Merlin and leave me and my cinnamon roll alone.” Slider said in a way of explanation, then he as well turned over onto his other side to face away from the room and create the basis of a barrier between it and his half finished dessert.

The wording of that sentence had Maverick snorting, unable to conjure any words against the imbalance of the substitute. Jelly beans didn't hold a candle to a cinnamon roll, but sugar was sugar, and technically Maverick didn't have any leg to stand on when it came to demanding Slider to share. Especially not when he and Merlin had split a Mars bar he’d won off of another pilot when Slider and Ice had gone to preflight.

Not that Slider needed to know that.

Tearing open the small packet, Maverick shook out a few into his hand before closing it and shifting on his rack until he was able to lean over the side. Extending his arm down towards where Merlin lay in his own rack under his, he gave the packet a small shake whilst making a ‘psst’ hiss to ensure he caught the RIO’s attention.

“Thanks.” Merlin’s voice trailed up, pitched low, likely in diffidence to Iceman who was still turned away and probably already asleep, and Maverick heard the plastic wrapping crinkle as Merlin grabbed it.

Maverick released his own hold of the pouch to let Merlin have it, only then he shifted away from the edge to lay back himself. Rising his hand to his lips to pop a few of the candies into his mouth, uncaring if the flavours mixed together in odd combinations across his tongue. And they wouldn't keep until morning without anything to store them in so he might as well finish them now.

Thus fell asleep with the artificial flavours of cherry, cotton candy, and a conglomerate of sugary tartness that were less potent than the former ones thus left indescribable.

TBC.