#lmao stop doing this to me there's only so much salt i can take

[kyber-crystal]

i will follow you into the dark || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO

a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)

I. meet me in the middle

“Mav!”

You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”

“The pretty one,” Rooster stated. 

“Be more specific.”

“I am being specific, Captain.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I need your daughter.”

“You always need her for something.”

“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”

“Actually, I’m hungry.”

“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”

“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”

“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait. 

It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.

“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out. 

“And?”

“You can sit over there.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Alright, then.” 

You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)

Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you. 

There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas. 

The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair.  Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.

But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch. 

But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”

“Thanks…” 

He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat. 

“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”

This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”

II. waiting on you

As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality. 

“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough. 

Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be. 

“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

“No.”

“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”

You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours. 

Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”

“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“So, we need to do something about it.”

“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”

“You’re so right, man.”

III. rose-tinted glasses

“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.

“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight. 

“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.

“Where?”

“I’m looking right at her.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”

“No, you’re even better.”

You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light. 

“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”

Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat. 

“Wow…it sure is.”

He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before. 

Everything seems to fall into place. 

IV. for you, i’d cross the line 

“Y/N, hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”

You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance. 

You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life. 

The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing. 

“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”

“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”

“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness. 

It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine. 

You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.

Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours. 

V. saving grace

You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”

“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”

“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”

“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”

“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)

He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”

That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you. 

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.” 

You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together. 

You’re never letting go, and neither is he. 

epilogue—soul ties 

“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”

His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear. 

He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady. 

“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we��re all going to kill you.”

“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else. 

“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”

Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness. 

—

10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you. 

“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered. 

You shake your head. 

“Come on. It’s been all day.”

“No.”

“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”

“No,” you muttered bitterly. 

“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.” 

“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.” 

“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”

“What,” you exhaled.

"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."

Your heart stops.

Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall. 

You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips. 

This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.

“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”

You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”

You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open. 

“Sweetheart…”

“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I waited ten hours.”

“You should’ve gone home and slept.”

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”

He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”

Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.

As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest. 

When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done. 

And you were most certainly right about that now. 

“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”

Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”

Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other. 

“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”

He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.

He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again. 

I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself. 

And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate. 

tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi

(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)

[the-catboy-minyan]

•._~°• WELCOME •°~_.•

Shalom, come in, enjoy your stay, and please kiss the Meow-zuzah on your way in~

✨ Quick Introduction: ✨

you can call me Noam, I'm a queer Mizrahi/Ashkenazi Jew who was born and raised in Israel🇮🇱.

my pronouns are whatever the fuck you want to use for me ✨

my agab is a mystery oooo~ (stop assuming I'm afab lmao, you think you're hurting me by assuming I have tits? I love tits)

I'm not a historian and I have no obligation to educate you. I'm a guy with a blog, that's it. I don't make "educational" posts, only reblog posts I agree with and am confident enough in their validity. I'm not uneducated, but I'm not good at teaching. go harass someone else's inbox.

I'm a (former) activist for Palestinian rights in real life, I stopped being an activist for Pikuach Nefesh reasons, but my beliefs haven't changed. I still believe in Palestinian rights and a two state solution.

btw blogging is not activism lmao.

✡️ Am Yisrael Chai ✡️

🟦 Stop Jewish Hate 🟦

🎗️ Bring Them Home Now 🎗️

השמאלני המסריח שהזהירו אתכם ממנו

דיזינגוף מחזיקים את המשכורת שלי בשבי 🥺

זין על ביבי, זין על חמאס, זין על צהל, סמוטריץ' ובן גביר תזדיינו (ביחד (love wins))

❗Regarding Zionism:❗

I talked about my interpretations and beliefs of Zionism multiple times and they're very complicated, but tldr I'm a non-zionist, I agree with some points of liberal(?) zionism and I'm very much anti Netanyahu and anti Likud.

DNI lists are literally useless but like DNI if your first instinct when seeing a potentially zionist Jew is to send death threats, or if your first response to seeing a potentially pro palestinian Jew is to send death threats, please and thank you :)

disclaimer for the millionth time: this is an anonymous vent blog. it's not a news source and it's not activism. if I make a claim without an attached source it's based on personal experience or my memory, so take it with a grain of salt. don't come to me for a history lesson. please correct me if I'm wrong, but do so politely.

[ghosts-bandwagon]

yay its open again! so i really love snacking and i hoard and hide them all around the house. we all know military live and rely on mre’s and probably go hungry until they are free from their missions/tasks so pls pls pls, i would love to see a reader with the habit of just producing snacks like magic and just feeding them. they can also be a good cook once they have the chance to do it and just surprise and awe the boys but only if you want to add this. thank you for this!! you’re awesome and i worship you. 💋

Just like me fr fr I’ve always got some kind of snack or treat stashed away somewhere lmao

They love you so god damn much for that reason, you always manage to sneak in some snacks and it’s witchcraft

They kind of make a joke out of it, Soap and Gaz will act like it’s a drug deal, going so far as to come up with code words or phrases or secret hand signals or facial cues

They’re so fucking giddy when you pull out their favorite snacks, like little kids on Christmas

Eventually Ghost catches on and you think he might put a stop to it but he loves it, “throw in some crisps and I’ll keep it between us”

But then Price found out and he was more offended that you didn’t offer him anything, but he’s cracking up when you produce a pack of maltesers from thin air

You’ve just been promoted to the mom friend of the group

And then you offer to cook for them back at your place after your mission was over and they’re booking it, it’s finished in record time, fuck going to the pub afterwards, they’ll buy drinks on the way to your place

Your apartment has never felt more homely and more alive than when your boys are all there, Price and Gaz are sitting on the stools at the counter chatting over a beer and some whiskey, Soap is being nosy and looking at all your pictures, Ghost is lingering by you and watching you cook

You’re tuning in and out of the various conversations, focused on the task in front of you

Bonus points if you’re making something from your culture/childhood, they love that shit

And when you’re putting their plates down in front of them, they’re thrilled, compliments a plenty, you thought you were warm from being in the kitchen? Nah love, it’s all the compliments, they won’t shut up lol

“Alright I get it, it’ll get cold if you leave it there, idiots.” You tease, taking a forkful, relieved that you didn’t over salt anything

You thought they wouldn’t shut up before, you ain’t seen nothin yet. Especially Johnny, he’s begging you to show him how to make it next time, Simon is nodding in agreement, sighing blissfully at every bite, Price is begging you for the recipe, Kyle is begging you to move in with him and make it forever

[genericpuff]

Have you seen the Webtoon "Working with an Editor" Video? I feel like this explains a lot of how the platform's Originals end up in the states that they do. Based on that vid, it seems their editors are less the developmental or copy types, and more acquisitions and managerial focused. Which explains how some series have "an editor" for editorial oversight, while not being what readers would consider "edited".

oh there are... definitely things about the editors I can tell you based on what I've read and even been told directly by some Originals creators (obviously their names are going to remain anonymous here lol) Before I go into it, every editor and every contract is different, I have no way of actually knowing what goes on behind the scenes due to not being an Originals creator myself, so please take what I'm about to say with mountains of salt as much of it was either learned secondhand through creator AMA's and at best, firsthand through anonymous Originals creators who I've communicated directly with. Ultimately you should be getting your facts from the creators who actually speak up on this matter, not me.

1.) WT has a VERY small pool of editors who are currently being stretched incredibly thin. Bre Boswell, as an example, currently oversees 20+ comics, including Lore Olympus (though not anymore haha), Nevermore, The Kiss Bet, Down to Earth, and Castle Swimmer. She is not the only one with this big of a workload. Obviously with one person having to oversee this many series at once, it's virtually impossible for them to do the actual "editing" part of their jobs, even if they genuinely want to.

2.) The role of WT editor isn't the same as a traditional editor - many of them are simply liasons between creators and Webtoons, meaning any questions creators have about their schedules, salaries, etc. are directed to their editors who then contact WT on their behalf and relay the response back to the creators. The bare minimum requirement for their job seems to be just making sure that creators are following terms of services. The traditional role of editing - proofreading, offering advice and storytelling tweaks, etc. - seems to be entirely optional and dependent on how much time the editor can devote to the series (see #1) + how much creative input the creator is willing to accept.

3.) With how low WT's standards are and how overworked a lot of editors have become, many editors actually stop reading their respective comics after the first few episodes once they're confident that the creator can handle the series on their own without needing check-ups that they're following ToS. So in that respect they truly do just become messenger owls between the creators and WT (and IIRC creators send their episodes to their editors to upload, they don't do it manually themselves). This is also why there are webtoons that share the same editor but differ greatly in quality of writing and art - how well a webtoon is written and drawn is often entirely dependent on the creators making it (it's why Nevermore manages to be so consistently good despite having the same editor as Lore Olympus which is consistently awful lmao).

As an added little thing, I will not say who, but there is a specific editor who... often gets a looot of special treatment from WT, from what I've been told and heard. A lot of their series get away with way more than what others do and get a lot more advertising privileges.

(and no, it's actually not Bre LOL from what I've been told Bre is actually a very sweet person who's very chill to work with haha)

[askuemki]

So I have no idea if I’ll keep this post up, but…

A little rant abt re8?? (And cod.. kinda) maybe venting (just a mess :,)

Disclaimer, take my opinions with a grain of salt I just wanna ramble lmao

Also spoilers, maybe (update, definitely)

So I’ve been having fun dipping my toes into Donna Beneviento (god her last name is hard to spell) content. After watching the gameplays and to at least have a basic understanding for the game, I find myself really drawn to her, maybe more than Alcina tbh

By no means i’m a diehard fan or anything, recently it’s been hard to find a new fandom to get attached towards. As much as I adore cod, there isnt really much to get attached too… like sure, task 141 is a fun group and the there is some GREAT art about the ships- but I only got attached because of Valeria, I won’t deny it at all. I’m a diehard lesbian, but there isn’t really much cannon content of her?? It’s really damn disappointing sometimes, man… same with Laswell. I appreciate all of the fanartists out there though, I adore all of the content here, fanfics or fan art. With Farah, she’s a diffrent story.. personally I never really got attached to her, but as a character she’s pretty neat. Her story sort of brings to light the horrors happening today which is a bit of a benefit…?? But ever since I found out things about both Valeria’s and Farah’s actors I’ve been a little off about things here and there. I don’t think I’ll stop posting Valeria content at all, it just might be a little less offen to indulge in different things.

Some personal things have been happening to make me feel really disconnected from like.. fucking everything for some reason?? Like I’m drifting away from fandoms, I’m drifting away from people and I’m like alone again.. I’m lost in a damn dumpster fire. AI art doesn’t help with this at all.. like why do I draw?? I’ve been drawing since I was in kindergarten like I never really thought of the specifics of perusing art, more or so just that I want to. Like hey, I wanna make a game or movie series, and something in me doesn’t realize I need to put in the effort to learn shit with just ends up in me doing nothing but self pitting on something I can change and ugh.. wish I can slap myself to get out of it.

So I think I’ve been kind of finding myself relating to Donna. Not in her extreme way, more or so just her aspect of being isolated, and just being known primarily for one thing. Like.. our side of art? Damn. Shit. I think I’m worth nothing.. and with Donna we don’t really know much about her besides her being a cursed Dollmaker, and the bare bones of her past. And we both barely fucking speak man… both hide our faces too !! maybe I kin this woman or something I don’t know

But as I was looking through her tumblr tag, I saw a rant about how headcannons and stuff has been stripping away the interesting stuff about the re8 villains… and with the things I’ve seen so far?? I can kinda agree, honestly.

Don’t get me wrong, if it’s not too.. insane? (I know those boundaries are hard to define at times, but maybe REALLY immoral shit for our “normal” world) and people aren’t forcing these headcannons into other people? I don’t mind headcannons. You do you, boo!

But the fan content I’ve seen, people reduce Donna and Alcina (I’m surprised it was pronounced as AlCHIna and not AlSIna, but side tangent over) from the potential they really have. Yeah it’s definitely nice to see Donna more, especially in those intimate moments.. but sometimes I feel like people just depict her as some shy, easily gullible, girl, and not really the mentally deprived woman she is. Like I’d love to see ideas of the different dolls Donna could create, or unique imagery of her mental state outside of having porcelain skin. What about the kinds of plants she takes care of? Or the dolls she makes? I’d love to see more of it, whether she has favorites, or if it’s a situation where she has doll replicas of her deceased family. Man, I really wanna see Donna do more creepy shit, basically.

With Alcina however? She’s kind of reduced to that (I’m going to cringe at these words so terribly, god help me) “hot vampire mommy”.. I’ll take fault for not looking into her content as much, I’m sure there’s great content out there !! (I’m not sure if anyone would do this but.. feel free to send me any fic recommendations or art) With what I want to see for her? I’ve heard from the rant post as a man-hating woman she had primarily female statues in her castle, it would be fun to see what else she has cause of this worldview, as well as more whitty remarks from her; I really enjoy her throwback with Heisenberg. Just in general.. her being a comical villain.

Okay so, the reason why I made this post in the first place before all of this shit threw up from my brain. Belladonna. At first, this ship really interested me, I like the character dynamics, the art was neat. But then something came up in my mind.. (as well as another rant post on the ship..) isn’t the Dimitrescu bloodline related with Donna? Both are failed experiments from Mother Miranda, and technically adopted by her. Though from what I know, Donna is the only one officially adopted. So would that be family..? I’ve seen a few places where Alcina called Donna her sister, and it makes me feel really off.

And I’ve seen in a few fanarts, Donna technically older than the Dimitrescu sisters posed next to them like another sibling??

I would like to endorse the ship, but just the morality of everything is off centered for me. I rather not support weird incest…

So please if people could maybe clarify for me whether it would technically be okay for support this ship.. I’d appreciate it. If it isn’t okay, I have plans on making a fan character anyways, or I can take current characters and make a resident evil au or something, and ship them when Donna. (I have a character that honestly looks like a mix of Alcina and Bela, but by no means she’s relates to the franchise, lmao)

By no means I’m experienced in resident evil lore or the fandom, this is just coming from a newer fan of the series, and what I’ve seen so far.

If you read all of this.. thank you?? I apologize if I sound ridiculous here, this is like the only place I can rant abt things without being brushed off for other shit

Good night now!!! I need to stop pushing my sleep boundaries ugh

[peachysunrize]

I had tried to take the leaks with a grain of salt, but now I can say that this really really sucks. I'm reading comments calling Aemond disgusting and cheering on Alicent and Helena for "putting him in his place". They gave Daemon a redemption arc just because they want the general audience to root for him at the Gods Eye. Well, jokes on them, I’ll stan Aemond even more. They glossed over b&c as much as possible and no one gives a shit about baby Jaehaerys. Alicent's character is destroyed beyond repair. Team Green is destroyed. The writers are so biased in favor of TB and girboss Rhae Rhae that season 3 is going to be unwatchable. I had such high hopes and now I'm just tired. The actors were great, it's not their fault. Ewan had the bare minimum of screen time and managed to make me empathize with his character, often without even having a line. But if the script is shit the actors can't do anything about it and you can't expect much from writers who write lines like the one about Aegon's cock and the goatfuckers slur. Ultimately, the thing I liked the most about this season, aside from a bunch of scenes, was the press tour, especially all the Tom and Ewan’s interviews. And the fanfics of course. 💚

Since you mentioned everything, I’ll go ahead and give my two cents on the episode (if you want later the whole season in another one) in this post

There are many things that bugged me this episode.

First things first I’m gonna start with Aegon cause I’ve seen so little of him on my dash today.

Aegon is an underdog. He didn’t want to become king, yet here he is! The cost of it was nearly his life by the hands of his brother. He has to feel betrayed and tossed aside, which he is in fact, but what did we get from him? His dick is like a sausage on a spot. Right. Because there aren’t ANY other factors to talk about, the writers decided to give us yet anotherrrrr disgusting hypersexualizing moment that Aegon talks about his DICK while Larys is saying important things.

About Helaena

I get that they’ve made her into this autistic sweet girl and I’ll stand by her side, but… doesn’t she have a motherly instinct AT ALL? I mean yeah Alicent is the only mother she has seen in her life, but like your son was beheaded in front of you, why don’t you want to idk even SCREAM? The cause your brother is fighting for, THE CAUSE YOUR SON WAS BEHEADED FOR, needs your help…

Aemond

I’ve talked about his scene with Helaena on the balcony, but I’ll say it again; Aemond showing weakness means he is DEEPLY disturbed and troubled. He is desperate to grasp at any chance he can to bring someone on his side because he has no one, absolutely no fucking person, and he has to fight for his and his family’s life ALONE! The same family who ran away and left the war THEY caused for him to deal with. I would have been so angry Dragonstone would melt without me even setting it on fire. HE. IS. ALONE. Even if he didn’t burn Aegon do you think he would have taken Aemond’s side??? He would keep humiliating him, but they are siblings, AND NOW HIS MOTHER AND SIBLINGS HAVE LEFT HIM TO DEAL WITH THIS MESS ALL BY HIMSELF!! The only person he’ll have is Daeron but they probably wouldn’t meet.

Alicent

I don’t even know where to start lmao… The fact that in season one she was ready to MURDER Rhaenyra for Aemond, but now she hates him so much she has to flee from him to RHAENYRA and spoil his plans and OPENING THE GATES FOR HER— not to mention how she fucking nodded at “a son for a son” as if Jaehaerys’ death is totally forgotten (probably has). SHE GAVE RHAENYRA — THE FRIEND WHO ONCE HELD LOVE FOR ME (the fact that she doesn’t even know if she still has affection for her is soooo funny like girl stop wilding and sit and think) — HER ELDEST CHILD!!!!!!!!!! THE CHILD SHE HAD TO GIVE BIRTH TO AT 15!!!! THE SAME CHILD SHE WAS RAPED FOR AND ANOTHER WOMAN WAS CUT OPEN FOR— I CANT begin how furious she made me. Nothing can make me like her again, not when she chose Rhaenyra whose friendship with ended the moment Luke took Aemond’s eye over her children.

[respectthepetty]

Because I think it would be really interesting and funny - can you rank the Pit Babe characters on your Alan&Pete scale? I'm curious to see where you're at with some of them lmao. Least to Favorite (though I know who your fave already is, lol).

Only if you want to tho, lol.

@slayerkitty, honestly, this list could just be these two lying bitches:

Big Red is not on this list since he is the big bad, but since I have no idea what the plot actually is, take all of this with a grain of salt. I wrote that I think all of them have superpowers since Big Red was collecting them like X-Men's William Stryker for his super mutant army, so I think Charlie's superpower is mind control, and I think Way's is controlling people's emotions.

WHICH PISSES ME OFF!

Babe was the prized super kid, so I think Big Red is pulling out all the stops to get his trophy racer back including sending all the other super kids to manipulate Babe with their superpowers, so let me rank them from dead-to-me to love-of-my-life:

The One I'm Ready to Box - Charles

Charles keeps moving Barbie's head and body to face him. He never lets Barbie turn away from him. Then, when Barbie is clearly upset, Charles continues to kiss him, which is why I think he his mind controlling Barbie. When his arm was in the sling, Babe could push him away before Charles could start his mind control bullshit. Sometimes, it's noticeable when Babe's face softens, which should come off as sweet like "ah, look how he drops his defenses around Charlie" BUT LOOK AT THE WAY HE DROPS HIS DEFENSES AROUND CHARLIE! Charles doesn't even know how to drive, yet Babe gave him a car. Charlie's dick game may be strong, but mind control is stronger.

10/10 Petes - It's on sight.

The One I'm Disappointed In - Waymond

Waymond had me the first two episodes. I was in his second-lead-syndrome corner, then he flipped the script in the third episode, and now I can't unsee the red flags. In episode four, I noticed twice how he touched Barbie, which prompted a shift in Barbie's demeanor. Much like Charles, I would love to believe that Waymond brings happiness to Babe's life, which is the reason Babe looks less sad when Waymond touches him, but HE LOOKS LESS SAD WHEN WAYMOND TOUCHES HIM! I think Waymond is controlling Babe's emotions, yet Babe still doesn't love him. It's the only saving grace for Waymond. Charles is using his powers to make Barbie love him, but Waymond isn't.

9/10 Alans - I'm gonna yell at him, then punch him.

The One Who Is Obvious - Jeffery

Jeffery is going to be with Alan, so I can't fully hate him since I love Alan. His superpower is apparently seeing the future, which makes sense why he was opposed to touch in the second episode, and that makes him useful in my touch=superpower theory for Charles and Waymond, so I hate him a little less. BUT if he had anything to do with Barbie's car going up in flames, so he could ensure Charles got a racing spot, -murder-

8/10 Petes - One wrong move and I'll end him where he stands.

The One Who Just Sucks - Winifred

Winifred is just a little bitch, but God is he annoying. I don't wanna know what he is saying because I'm sure it's as annoying as his face whining all the time. Only five episodes in, and the man still ain't tired of getting his ass handed to him by Barbie and Kimberly. Whatever he is plotting is dumb. Whatever he is complaining about is stupid. Whatever he is doing is already a failure.

7/10 Alans - I'm gonna push him into a real Christmas Tree, so he'll get scratched up and cry about it.

The One Who Is Gonna Suck - Decanus

Dean has yet to do anything solid, which means he is just waiting to fuck us over. I haven't seen him race or work on a car, so I'm thinking he'll be pissed that Charles is doing all the things he wanted to do, and screw over the entire team regardless of the race's outcome. Jealously makes people do crazy things, but he is going to be with Winner, so homie is going to go full crazy.

6/10 Petes - Anyone who fucks Whiny Winifred deserves to be slapped.

The Ones Who Ain't Loyal - North & Sonic

I simply don't trust them. They are too colorful in a show that's whole visual plot hinges on red versus blue. They need to pick a color. NOW.

5/10 Alans - I'll threaten them on work time, so they'll know I'm not afraid to lose my job if it means I can fight them.

The One Who Is Gonna Kill His Shitty Boss! - Kenta

Why is he still fucking with Big Red?! He would be much higher on this list but when Babe was fighting Big Red (both times), Kenta looked sad. If the flashback wouldn't have just showed Babe as a kid with his dad, I'd think Kenta was his actual brother. The way Babe yelled at him in the parking lot makes me think they have a long history, so I'm hoping once Kenta teams up with Kimberly, he'll be the good guy I know he can be.

4/10 Petes - If he kills his boss, he'll be number one in my heart forever.

The Pretty One - Peter

Pete is like a Lord of the Rings' elf. He is pretty. He is an archer. He is kinda sus. And he is the perfect ally. Much like those beautiful elves, I don't think he joined up with the blue team because he is a kind dude. This is for his own personal gain, which means he must have beef with Big Red; therefore, he has a superpower too. I think he heard Kenta or smelled Kenta's cigarette because Peter didn't turn around until Kenta turned around. He knew Kenta was there. And he sensed Waymond's emotion-changing powers too, so I'm okay with them being together (as long as he punches Waymond too).

3/10 Alans - Watching his every move . . . because I think he is pretty. Not because I think is he bad.

The One Who Will Solve It - Kimberly

Kim is a real one. He presents as red. He works for the reds. He is a red, and isn't ashamed of it. He hasn't faked his color, and in a perfect world, he'd be with Babe. I don't think he has a superpower, but if he did, it would be the power of common sense. He hates his coworker, Winifred, as any sane person would, so he gets the passenger seat in my car. He also got a handshake from Babe, so he already made friends with Babe. They would make a perfect pair. Barbie x Kimberly Ghost Ship is being captained by me.

2/10 Petes - We're frenemies!

The Main One - Barbie

Babe is the title character, and he is being manipulated and controlled by everyone around him, but . . . the boy is un pendejo. The first two episodes, he was a little too macho, and in episode three and four, he was un pendejo. He argued with Kenta when Kenta could have just kidnapped him, then he punched everyone on his way to Big Red's office, which makes no sense to walk directly up to the man who is going all out to get you back. He is in need of a good hug that does NOT lead to sex, and for someone to tell him he is more than his superpower (which is . . . being awesome at everything?).

1/10 Kanghans - I'm upset at him and for him all at once.

The One I Love - Alan

My man has committed no wrongs. He is amazing. He is fantastic. He is beauty. He is grace. He should slap all these fucking liars in the face.

But he won't because he is too pure for this world.

No Petes. No Alans. No Kanghan. Just love.

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

frank castle x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content minors dni! (car sex lmaooo, mxf nothing you haven’t seen before, its pretty sweet <3) swearing, canon typical violence, mention of scars, injuries, blood, literally packed everything into this chapter its a big one

a/n: wow. this was so rough oh my god. the entire first draft deleted itself and i had to re write the whole thing from memory, so i lost my planned chapter. i really hope i got everything in here, and im sorry for the wait AND how long it is lmao but i just. can’t believe i really finished it. ill rant at the end, but if you only read this part, i love you. thank you for letting me share the absolute vomit that is my brain. you are the best.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How was the drive?” Franks voice sends a shiver down your spine, even hundreds of miles away through a crappy phone line.

“Boring.” You sigh, pacing around the tiny motel room.

“You were meant to call an hour ago. Got me waitin’ up for you.” He sounds tired, and it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s stupid, but the image makes you a little giddy. Waiting up for you. 

“There was… traffic.”

“You get lost?”

“Fuck you.” You bite automatically and he groans.

“So yeah?” 

“Yes, Frank. I got lost.” He laughs, the sound managing to take your mind off the dark room you’d managed to secure for the night, the bedside light doing nothing to brighten the small space.

“I gave you a map. It’s a straight shot from where you started.” Rolling your eyes, you look at the map you’d now bundled into a ball and thrown into the trash.

“Who uses a printed map? Seriously, how fucking old are you?” It’s playful and familiar, and all the frustration of driving for 10 hours melts into the bed.

Being a key witness in a now ongoing case apparently didn’t come with any frequent flyer miles, because both Matt and Frank had said you couldn’t risk going through airport security and being flagged in a system, so it meant you had to drive nearly 18 hours to Florida. You thought you didn’t mind road trips, but after today you think it’s only road trips with Frank you don’t mind.

“Maps don’t change, baby. Besides, you’d drive yourself into a god damn tree the second that voice in the car told you you’d missed a turn.” You hate that he’s right— even the thought of that monotone voice droning in your ear for ten hours makes you cringe.

“Whatever. Tell me about something. You said you were going to speak to Madani today?” He’s the one sighing now, and clearly the talk was about as fun as your drive.

“She’s all over the place. Some mishandled evidence fucked their entire case, and Bobby’s lawyers were too well paid to let it go. Murdock said they’ll be able to find more— the appeal’s already been approved cause of how high profile it is, but he’s got no new evidence. He said he doesn’t know if they can get him.”

“That’s… what I expected, I guess.” Frank agrees, and your sudden silence only serves to bring the real issue to hand. “You know where he is?”

“Yeah. I got it covered.” The line goes quiet, and you don’t really know what to say.

On one hand, you want Bobby dead. You know can’t do it- it wasn’t smart, and the last thing you were going to do is drag everything Matt and Madani had worked for through the mud for someone like him, let alone put Sam in danger. Some fucked up part of you is a little mad that it won’t be you, but Frank has every reason to hate him as much as you. You know Frank wants this, and that telling him to stop is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Your hesitation would only spur him to do it faster, be more impulsive. You don’t want to say anything to put him off.

On the other, you just want him with you. You worry like some love sick child, scared he’s walked out the door and isn’t coming back. You worry he’ll get caught, and end up in the exact spot he was trying to get you out of. You’re scared he’ll get hurt, or worse. Every time you close your eyes you can see him bleeding out, dark red staining your hands until you can scream yourself awake. There’s so many things that could go wrong, and ten hours staring over the hood of your car gives you way too much time to think about hypotheticals.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Frank says softly, and you flop yourself back on the single bed.

“Are you?” He huffs like the question is irrelevant.

“Madani asked about your dad today.” He ignores the question, and you’re too interested to poke him on it.

“Oh?”

“Asked what he knew about your time there. If he ever worked with the Gnucci’s.” A lump forms in your throat.

“You think she knows about the weird... blood stuff?”

“Don’t see why she would. Either way, it’s not gonna matter once he’s dead.” The bluntness of it almost makes you laugh. “He’ll be gone, and no one will come for it. Or you.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, Frank.”

“I’m not.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Alright, I am, but not just that. The shit he said to me in there— the things he said about you. The way he looked at you in there… I watched that shit, and there’s no way in hell that asshole does what he did and lives.”

“What if he was found guilty? Would you of left it alone?” Maybe if you’d been more helpful to Matt and Madani, it would of gone better, and Frank would be here.

“You want me to answer that?” A part of you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. That wasn’t who he was. It shouldn’t make you feel the way it does to know that Frank would kill for you— just to make you safe. It does anyway, and heat flushes over your face.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He agrees, a low sound rumbling from his end of the phone. “I spent most of the day wishing you were with me, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out I fucking hate driving.” He laughs again, and if you could listen to the sound all night you think you’d sleep peacefully.

“You remember how mad you were that first time I didn’t let you drive?” Shaking your head, you flick off the lights slide under the covers.

“I was mad because you had a concussion and tried to fucking kill us.”

“Least I was gonna go the right way.”

“You tried switching drivers on the freeway, Castle.”

“Alright, I was a a bit out of it.” He says plainly and you smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “Wished you were here, too.”

“I bet you did.” He groans, and you hear him shift on the bed. Your bed.

“Too much space in here. Didn’t even know we had this much blanket.” He makes a real noisy show of it, tossing around the blankets you usually roll yourself up in. It’s meant to be a light hearted thing, but for some reason the idea of Frank spread out on your shared bed, one that you’ve both used extensively— it makes your heart race.

“Dickhead.” He groans again, shuffling around some more. “This one’s too small. Probably have to sleep on top of each other if you were here.”

“M’alright with that.”

“Not a lot of room to move, though.” You look around at the room, hardly enough space to stand in the corner.

“We’d figure something out.” You let your eyes flutter closed, humming high pitched at the idea. “What are you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“You.” You admit, and he seems to like it.

“Me too. Haven’t gone a night in this apartment without fuckin’ you in this bed. Drivin’ me crazy.” You hum again, pressing your thighs together to try and dissipate the heat that’s suddenly overtaken your whole body. “You thinkin’ about it now too, aren’t you baby?”

“Yeah, Frank.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He growls, and you bite your lip to hide your laugh.

“Why not, Frank?” You practically purr the word, drawing it out and saying it all breathy like you do when he’s teasing you.

“Cause you’re gonna make me drive ten hours just to fuck you in whatever dirty motel you pulled off into.” You’re still smiling, but you think if you keep messing with him, he’d do it. He’d drive ten hours, a hundred of them if it meant teaching you a lesson. Or just being with you. “I’ll see you soon. Real soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, knowing if you keep talking to him your entire plan will crumble in front of you, because you’re half considering driving home just to sleep next to him. “Soon. Be safe, okay?”

The words tumble out, and you try to hide the guilt you feel when you say them. He was only not safe because of you— because you couldn’t finish the job yourself. You’re glad he can’t see your face, because you hear him mumble on the other end and your eyes close listening to him.

“Always. Tell the kid I said hi.” With that, Frank hangs up the phone, and you slide it onto the table right next to the pistol you keep loaded and ready to fire.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank pulls the saturated beanie over his head, and it’s probably doing more harm than good at this point, but he doesn’t have a second to really give a shit. His eye-line is perfect— directed straight into the penthouse apartment Bobby Gnucci was driven to three hours ago. He’s been tucked away in the corner of the rooftop for just as long, watching the man pace and yell on the phone.

It had taken him a few goes to get the right frequency to listen in on the calls he was making, but once he had he took as much information done as he could. He’d had enough of watching, and now he was satisfied with the phones calls he’d listened to that the man was alone for the night; not counting his extensive security team layered through the apartment block. Frank felt the familiar hum in his veins, shoving his loaded pistol in his jeans and swinging the strap of a rifle over his shoulder, he headed down the stairs, across the street and slipped into the back of the building.

There’d be witnesses if he didn’t take the right route, and to make this work he needed every chance at an alibi he could get. He was so used to not caring— every time he’d gone into something like this, he didn’t have something to get back to. He had no preservation, no concern for what came after. Hell, if he was honest, he didn’t care if he went out doing something like this. He would of preferred it, maybe even hoped he’d die somewhere in the cross fire.

Even just talking to you on the phone had him itching to get back to you now. He wanted to be careful— something he never really thought of before. A heavy ache in his stomach that twisted something violent when he thought about not getting home, not making good on his promise from a few hours ago, it made him sick. He planned as much as he could, as much as he was capable of, and hoped to God it was enough.

Frank hid his body behind the corner of the wall. He hid his face, too, even though he’d already had Micro’s help shutting out the cameras. He knew it would set off alarms for the security team, but he planned for that. They’d spread out, follow orders that he’d listened to over the radio, three men on all the entries and exits, and then ten through the penthouse. If he timed it right, he could clear the first few levels before the guards arrived.

He didn’t care about making noise now— slamming his way up the fire access while Gnucci’s men no doubt got into position. He’d just past a number 6, and Bobby was on the top floor. 23. He kept going, not hearing any doors open. When he passed 9, the door on the level below him cracked open and he jammed through the next exit he reached, getting into position.

He could hear voices coming from his right, and steadied himself as he turned the safety off his gun. He had a small army of men to get through, but he knew if he could make it, landing the hit on Bobby would be easy.

He wasn’t nervous. Pure adrenaline flooded him, like it always did, and he didn’t think twice before standing out of cover and pulling the trigger.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How have you grown so much?!” You nearly shout, hugging Sam tighter as he all but latches onto your leg. “God, you’re gonna be my height soon.”

“I missed you!” He says, words muffled in your jacket. You don’t even have to bend really, he’s that tall. It is even possible for him to grow that much in just a month? “Come! I want to show you my stuff. Me and Niko share a room, and it’s the coolest thing…”

You let him drag you around the house, showing you the bunk beds that are set up for him and Nikolai. He shows you books he’s brought home from school, and it makes you smile how chaotic his room is. There’s piles of books and papers everywhere, stuffed under the bed and nearly toppling on the tables. It looks like it’s lived in… like a home, and your heart warms and breaks all at once.

When he finally finishes his impromptu tour, he pulls you outside where the rest of the family has set themselves up, and runs out into the giant back yard to chase after Nikolai. You hardly had a chance to say hello to them, but if you were honest you hadn’t thought of anything but Sam since you saw him.

“Did he show you the bunk beds?” The doctor— Zaed, you remind yourself, comes up behind you on the deck. “He hasn’t stopped talking about showing you.”

“I thought he was gonna explode.” Zaed laughs, and you turn to look at him. He’s still sporting a scar across his forehead, and it somehow makes his older features look slightly hardened. His face was still soft, something about him gesturing kindness, an observation you never made in the months you were locked away. “He told me you made them.”

“It took me weeks. I am not very… handy.” Smiling, you turn back to watch Sam and Nikolai screaming and laughing as they chase each other with Nerf guns. “I am sorry for what happened with the case.”

“So am I. If he’d gone away, you wouldn’t have to stay in Witness Protection.” He nods, turning away for a second only to return and offer you a can of something. “What is it?”

“It’s Russian. You’ll like it— it’s strong.” You crack it open and take a long drink, hoping to drown the rising anxiety that kneads the back of your mind at the thought of what Frank was doing right now. “We don’t mind it so much here.”

“Florida?” He nods.

“We want to stay. Corinne thinks the children— with what they’ve been through, shouldn’t move too much. They seem happy here.” You hum in agreement, listening  to the light squeals of the youngest girl, who’s name you haven’t learnt yet, who’s got the biggest Nerf gun of all and is shooting the shit out of both boys. “It was my idea. To offer to take him in. If you are upset, please lay the blame with me—“

“Upset? God, why would I ever be upset?” He blinks in surprise, looking to you.

“You are here with him, and yet you still seem far away. I figured the suggestion was weighing on you. We only offer because… well, we have all grown quite fond of him, and for you— to you we owe our lives. I thought if we could make any of this easier…” You shake your head, finishing the bitter liquid in the can.

“You looking after Sam is about one of two good things I have going right now.” Zaed seems to relax, leaning forward onto the railing as you both stare out to watch the kids. “I think he’s happy here.”

“He is. He misses you, but he is happy.”

“And safe.”

“Of course. I pity anyone who would try to get past Corinne now.” You laugh at the tinge of genuine anxiety in his voice, as if he imagines it, but his eyes are full of admiration.

“I want to talk to him about it… make sure he’s okay, but if he wants to, I think him staying here would be the best thing for him.” Zaed doesn’t answer right away, just lets the echoed laughter of the kids fill both of your ears before he nods simply.

“He will be safe. And I am sure you will learn to love Florida, too, with how much you will visit?”

“What?” Again, a look of surprise crosses his face.

“Sam did not show you the spare room? We have cleared a space for you— whenever you need it. You… it is the least I could do. You saved my life—“

“Hardly.”

“I owe you it. My families life. My own. Whatever you should need here, the door would be open to you.” You have to look away, because it’s too much, and you don’t know when you became so soft that shit like this made you tear up.

“You don’t owe me anything. You keeping Sam safe is everything I ever wanted. I think we’re even now.” You laugh, your throat suddenly feeling a little tight.

“I couldn’t help but notice you arrived alone.” He questions, and you hide your face, unsure if the way you chew on your bottom lip gives too much away.

“Yeah.” No amount of alcohol could drown out the thought of Frank. You hadn’t heard from him in a day. Zaed looks at you, his eyes crinkling as he assess you.

“I thought he was going to drown with you that night. When he saw you go into the water… I recognise that look in a man’s eyes.” It seems so long ago now, and your hand instinctively goes to your stomach, where Frank sewed you up the first time. “He is coming soon, I assume? I doubt he would let you get too far from him right now.”

“Yeah, he’s…” You trust Zaed— but there’s only one person who takes precedent over the people taking care of your brother. “He’s just finishing up some stuff with the case in New York. He should be on his way now.”

“Ah.” He says, his eyes lingering on you in question. You say nothing, just sink a little more of the can. “Well, when he kills the ублюдок, I hope he makes it last.”

Before you can recover and wipe the shock off your face long enough to ask him how the hell he guessed what Frank is doing, Sam and Nikolai are in front of you, and Zaed disappears back into the house.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank grunts, a loud nearly animalistic sound vibrating off the walls as he clears the 23rd floor. Every time he breathes out, blood sprays out of his mouth. He can’t tell if it’s his own or he’s just covered in so much that it’s dripping off him. Either way he can’t help it, chest burning for oxygen after he laid the lower floors to absolute waste.

He’d ditched the assault rifle somewhere between the 18th and 19th floors, not even bothering to pull out his pistol. No— he’d fought every single one of them with his bare hands, and anything he could find scattered between dead bodies.

His right hand was fucked, and he’s pretty sure he got shot. Somewhere on the right side of his body, there’s a shooting pain between his thigh and his ribs, but it’s not enough to slow him down. He shoves his body weight into the penthouse door, throwing himself into guards he knows are ready and waiting for him. He reaches for his pistol, shooting three guys in the head before his eyes adjust to the dimmer lights in the room.

He hears them shouting orders, and he kills three more as he crosses the living room. One of them he puts through the TV screen, glass shattering under his hand as he crushes the man’s skull between the hard surface. The other two he shoots, and then moves towards the last four. All of them shield the door to the bedroom— putting their lives on the line for a man who doesn’t deserve the air he’s wasting.

Frank doesn’t have a moral compass when it comes to revenge. Not when it has to do with the people he loves. It’s why he clears the round of bullets in his gun on all four of them in less than thirty seconds, watching the lifeless bodies pile up in the doorway, there isn’t a single moment that he hesitates.

“Bobby!” Frank shouts, his voice horse and so loud he’s got no doubt the dead hear it.

He hears shuffling, and drops the pistol before stomping his way through into the bedroom. He sees Bobby, crawling across the floor in an attempt to reach for a gun dropped by one of the guards, but just as he goes to reach for it, Frank slams a bloody boot down on top of his hand, feeling the crush of bone under his weight.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and Frank smiles sickly, blood dripping from his teeth. “Get the fuck off me, you animal!”

Frank kicks him in the face, two of his teeth flying out and scattering across the carpet. As he rolls over, Frank grabs him by the collar and sits him up, watching his head lull to the side.

“Wake up.” Frank slams his fist into his skull. There was no way he was passing out this fast. Not after what he’s done. “Wake the fuck up.”

His hands shake with how hard he’s holding Bobby upright. So hard he feels the bone of his collar begin to give, and Frank chases the idea. Bobby thrashes, screaming as his eyes shoot open, the sound kicking Frank back into gear. He lets go of his shoulder long enough to pull back, only to drive his fist and crack the rest of his shoulder.

“Help m—“ Bobby tries to shout, but Frank shuts him off with another well placed shove of his weight into Bobby’s stomach, winding him. He wheezes, the pathetic sound something like music to Franks ears.

He punches him again— over and over. Not enough to kill him, though. No, Frank wasn’t done, he was just feeding the thrill. He’d been waiting too fucking long for this, and there was something satisfying about seeing this man— this weak excuse for a man being blinded by his own blood as he cries for someone to help him.

“Ain’t no one comin’ for you.” He growls, and grabs Bobby’s face so it hangs straight. His jaw is slack, but his eyes go wide when he feels the blade at his ribs. “You know that? That there ain’t a single person out there comin’ for you. No one gives a shit about you. You’re alone in here— your life in my hands.”

“Haaa—“ Bobby tries but whatever it is fades out into a scream when Frank slides the blade between his third and fourth rib. Slowly— real fucking slow. “They… they’ll come. Th-They’ll come f-for me.”

“No one’s comin’. Dead. All of ‘em. You’re alone.” He slides it a little deeper, watching the realisation wash over his face.

In truth, Frank wasn’t doing this for him. Sure, it felt fucking good, and Frank was enjoying the sight of the life draining out of his eyes, but he wants him to know why. Why he’s here, why he took out every last man in this building so he knew there was no hope. No one for him to go to.

He knew that’s what it was like for you. Frank couldn’t give you back those years, and he couldn’t take that much time with this— he’d thought about it, but he wanted this to end here and now. He could do this here, for you. Could make him know just how it feels to have all that power beat out of you, and know that there’s no one out there coming to save you.

“Stop…stop!” He wails, and Frank hits him harder. Every crack of his fist sends Bobby further into unconsciousness, and when he manages to stop himself, he shakes him awake again.

He gurgles on his own blood, dark red pools choking out of his mouth. His face is unrecognisable, already starting to blow up as he strangles in a few short breaths.

“I can… I have money. I can p—“ The effort of the words sprays another load of blood out of his mouth, and even though he’s exhausted, Frank laughs.

“You think I want money?” He leans down, yanking the knife out of his ribs and shoving it in again.

“Fuck! What do you—what do you want?!” Bobby wails again. Frank smiles.

“I want you to know that she’s the reason you’re dead. The last thing you’ll know is me— my face, and you’ll know it’s because you ended up just like you made her. Except she got out, and you never will.” Frank loses sense of time, his injuries starting to catch up with him as he yanks the knife out one more time, before slamming it home into Bobby’s skull.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m watching!” You shout as Sam lines up again, taking a few steps back before rushing forward and kicking the ball towards their make shift goal in the yard. You have to admit, for only been playing a few weeks, he’s got a hell of a kick on him.

“See! I’m getting better— my coach says next year I can try out for the first grade team if I keep training!” He’s smiling so big, and then he’s gone again, picking up the ball to take another shot at Nikolai who’s got goalkeeper gloves on, ready to catch it.

You’d be happy to watch this all day, but then Corinne calls out to you, telling you your phone is ringing, and you all but leap over the railing of the deck. When you race inside, you expect to see Franks name, and your heart sinks when you don’t. You knew he wouldn’t be able to call until it was over, but it’s been nearly two days since you’d heard anything. Then, you see it’s an unknown number calling, and your hands are shaking when you disappear into what is meant to be ‘your’ room to answer.

“Hello?” You recognise the voice instantly when she says your name. “Fucking hell, Karen. You scared me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but are you?!” She nearly shouts, and you are still coming back to your mind with relief it wasn’t someone telling you Frank was dead. “I don’t even know how you did it, but I don’t want to. The way they found him… Jesus.”

“Wait. What? Karen, I’m in Florida.”

“What?”

“I’m with my brother in Florida. I came up here two days ago after the trial.” She goes quiet, and you can hear the commotion in the background. Remembering it’s a Tuesday, and that she must be at work, it only furthers your suspicions. “Who’s dead?”

“Bobby is. They found him. They found his body— but…”

“Karen, tell me.” All you need to hear is Frank wasn’t found. That he got out of there before anyone saw him. It would be your fault— all of it would be your fault if he was found. You needed to get back, you needed—

“Sorry. Sorry, I just thought… with everything that happened before, I thought it might of been you. Bobby’s dead, but… there’s nearly 50 men in the building with him. They’re all dead. And Bobby; he was hardly recognisable. It took them nearly 24 hours to identify him.”

“24 hours?” Frank needed to get out of New York as soon as he killed Bobby. If the police had been crawling around there for nearly a day… “Karen, I gotta go. Thank you for calling.”

You cut it off before she responds, and call the only number saved in your phone. It only rings twice before he answers, and you could nearly cry when you hear his voice.

“Stop fuckin’ ringin’ me, Murdock. I don’t know shit and I’m busy.” He grumbles through the phone, and you choke out something between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, fuck. Sorry— hey, sweetheart. Was just about to call you.”

“It’s… did the— job go okay?” You try to calm your voice as best you can, knowing that if anyone traces the call he’s done for.

“It took me longer than I thought. Had to get stitched up, then Curtis drove me halfway— passed out for most of it.” Before you can ask, he answers. “I’m fine, don’t do that.”

“You’re okay?” Relief floods your body, phone nearly slipping out of your hand with how hard you were gripping it. “Everything’s… everything’s okay?”

“Come see for yourself. I’m pulling up.” Like a kid on Christmas, you toss the phone and basically sprint to the front door, hearing an unfamiliar truck rumble down the isolated street.

He’s driving, clearly having ditched Curtis, but when he gets out he’s got a limp, and his hand is bandaged. You don’t run, instead you stand in the driveway and soak up the image— Frank; leaning against the door of the truck, sunglasses covering up what you have no doubt are black eyes. Alive. Favouring his left side and still with dried blood on his head, but fucking here.  

“You’re hurt.” You say it when you finally reach him, but it sounds pathetic, closer to the tone you’d whimper his name in.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says huskily and reaches out, yanking you forward and slamming his mouth to yours.

The soft touch of his bandaged hand is opposite to the greedy grasp of his free one, the one wrapping around your back and fisting the material of your shirt, pressing so you were flush against him. Both of your hands cup his face, feeling the rough surface of his skin. You lose yourself in the taste of him as your fingers trace the patterns of scars peppering around his head— a constellation you’ve memorised a million times over, and yet it still feels as illuminating as the first.

He groans your name, sliding his hand up to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip. You lean back slightly, staying at close to him as possible. His eyes look you up and down, and there’s a glint in his eye; a hunger that never seems to be satiated when he looks at you. He’s still feverish for it, and it makes your toes curl in your shoes.

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your lips, and it makes you smile against his.

“I can tell.” His other hand forgets it’s injury as he searches your body, gripping your hips and pressing you closer.

“Get Sam. Let’s go home.” He tucks his head lower, mouth kissing under your jaw, and as much as you do want to get the fuck out of here with him, you pull away.

“He’s… he’s staying here.” Frank pushes the sunglasses off his face, looking at you through what is actually only one bruised eye.

“Staying?” You nod. “You sure?”

“I talked to him about it. He fucking loves it here, Frank. He didn’t want me to go again, but you should of seen him with them. They treat him like their own, and he adores them. It’s so much better than anything I could of thought.” Frank wraps his arms around your back and hugs you right, and your eyes flutter closed. “And you can’t just leave. They’re expecting you to come in and say hi.”

“Why?” The way he says it makes you laugh, as if you’d just asked him to drink gasoline.

“Come on.” You tug him by the wrists, and even though he groans and leans on you up the driveway, you both stagger inside and follow the sounds of Sam’s laughter, leaving everything else behind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“They were being nice.” You haven’t wiped the smile off your face since you slid into the passenger seat this morning. “Well, I slept great. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Mhmm.” Frank grumbles, clearing having a much worse sleep than you did.

It was sweet, and truely, you wanted to take them up on it. When Frank dragged himself through the front door of  where Sam had been staying, everyone had nearly jumped on him. Sam couldn’t contain himself, clearly trying to play it cool but simultaneously thinking Frank was the coolest person he’d ever met. It was sweet, the way Frank was with the kids, the sight making you both smile and want to cry.

Either way, when Corinne and Zaed had offered for you both to stay the night, Frank agreed and all but dragged you down the hallway after dinner. The spare room was nice— set up clearly for two people, and you were only human.

It would have been perfect— had the room not been sharing a wall with your brother and his new best friend. A very fucking thin wall. One that was nearly vibrating with how loud they screamed every five minutes playing some game on the TV. The louder they were, the more it became apparent that neither of you would be getting a lot of sleep, and not in the good way.

Having Frank that close all night but not being able to do anything about it reminded you of the start of this whole thing. How you shared a bed with him but had to force yourself to keep your hands to yourself. It was borderline painful, but eventually you managed to drift off to sleep, not missing how hard Franks hands were gripping your hips like he had to physically cement himself to stop from fucking you through the bed.

When you woke up, Frank had all your shit shoved in the car, and was outside cooking pancakes with Sam. You took your time saying goodbye— making sure to thank both Corinne and Zaed properly, and then promising you’ll be back. Soon. ‘So soon you won’t even have time to miss me’ you’d promised Sam, and he grinned and hugged you before disappearing to get ready for school.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Frank looked to you before shifting in his seat, one of his hands resting on your thigh and squeezing.

“Got a stop to make before getting back to New York.”  You’d been driving for a while now— about half way between New York and where you’d left Sam. You turned in your seat, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be cryptic.” You try to sound assertive, but you can’t seem to hold any resentment when you could feel the warmth of him palm on your thigh.

“It’s close, alright? Promise.” The words eased something in your chest, the same way his smile did when he looked at you.

A small silence drifted between you as a Billy Joel song hummed softly on the radio, and your head dropped, eyes tracing over the bruises left on his knuckles. Your fingers dance around them, careful to keep your touches light. You follow the lines of black and blue up over his wrist, watching them disappear under the arm of his jumper. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and when you push up the sleeve just slightly, you swear loudly.

“Fucking hell! Is this broken?” You pull the sleeve up higher, and you tighten your grip on his wrist when he goes to pull away. If you hadn’t watched him so closely, you would of missed the way he winced, and you let go immediately. “Sorry. Sorry— fuck, Frank. Is this all from—“

“I’m fine. Just a couple scratches.” He says, keeping his blackened eyes trained on the road. It would of been easy to miss— not seeing him without clothes since he’d come back. Bile rises in your throat at the thought he was hurt because of you— because he was doing this for you. Suffering for you. Like he has the entire time.

“Are you lying?” He shakes his head, and you lightly poke him in the side. He hissed loudly, flinching away from you and swerving the car. “Pull over.”

“I’m not pulling over.” Frank groans.

“You’ve been driving for hours, just—“

“It’s fine. We only got a few more miles till—“

“Please.” There must have been something in your voice, some kind of soft vulnerability that even he isn’t used to hearing, and then the car is pulling off the side of an empty highway, dusk rolling over the hood of the truck.

You reach out, pulling the sunglasses off his face to reveal him slowly. This part you’ve seen, but it still knocks the wind out of you. The cut along his cheekbone, not deep enough to need stitches but you know it will scar over. His right eye is a deep purple, the left nearly green. You go to draw your fingers over his face, but hesitate, worried you’ll hurt him. He sees you pulling back and catches your wrist, placing your palm between his cheek and his own hand.

“Don’t do that.” You choke out a laugh, smoothing your hand over and back into his slightly longer hair, pulling him closer over the console of the car.

“I’m not doing anything.” You say softly, something guilty in your voice. When he hears it, he shakes his head at you.

“Can read you like a book. You got nothin’ to do with this, alright?”

“I have nothing to do with it?” You want to laugh. “I’m the reason you were there. The reason all this happened.”

“I would of been in the same place with or without you. This part?” He gestures to himself, his torso that you know all too well is littered with scars. “This isn’t a part you blame yourself for.”

“But it is. My fault.” He opens his mouth but you talk first. “All of this… watching those kids today, watching Sam— all I ever did was put him in danger. And you. It’s better for him to be there, away from all this. Away from me. Maybe now all this is over, it would be better…safer, if you—“

“Stop. I don’t wanna hear that shit. You know how selfish you sound?” You blink a few times, eyes meeting his. At some point he’s leaned even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body thawing you out. “You’re right— I wouldn’t of gone back to New York the past two days if it wasn’t for you. You know why?”

“Listen—“

���No. I wouldn’t of gone back because I would of killed that asshole six months ago and been home in time for dinner. I’ve been doin’ this a long time, and there’s nothin’ you could of done that would of changed how this ended.” He holds your face up to his, rough hands holding you as gently as they could, and his thumb traces the scar just above your eyebrow. “Sam is safe with them, but don’t think for one fuckin’ second he’s better off without you. God knows I’m not. You’ve done nothin’ but good for that kid, and I’d… fucking hell. I’d be dead without you, you know that?”

“No you wouldn’t.” Your voice was so soft it hardly broke the silence, but he leaned in, his forehead pressing to yours. “You could probably jump out of a building and walk it off.”

“Maybe. But now I gotta be careful nd’ come home to you, don’t I?” He smiles, and then kisses you and you forget where you are. Words die on your tongue and are replaced by the taste of him, mind freezing over when he touches you. He does it every time. Every time he manages to take your breath away with one whisper of your name, one swipe of his thumb over your mouth. It’s intoxicating and dependant, something you never thought you’d want, but it feels so good with him. His hands drop to your waist, their pull demanding and needy as he yanks you up and over the centre console and onto his lap.

“I’d do it again. All of it. Kill every single—“ You kiss him again, squeezing your eyes shut, and he groans as you shift on his lap. “Fuck, baby we should wait till…”

“Till when?” You say breathlessly, and despite his words his hands are already sneaking underneath your shirt, his cool hands meeting your feverish skin. You can hardly keep your eyes open, and your hips roll forward again, seeking him out. “I want you now, Frank.”

“Fuck it. Doesn’t matter.” He says and then crashes into you, your back nearly pressing against the dash with how quick he moves. Your gasp of surprise is lost in his mouth, and you can feel the sparks he makes in your chest crackling their way through you, toes curling in your shoes.

Your half bent backwards, legs in either side of his as he keeps your chest pressed to him, both arms wrapping around you to hold you steady. You tug at his shirt helplessly, getting it stuck around his arm and he smiles against your mouth, leaning back to look at you before whipping it over his head.

In the dark of the room last night you wouldn’t of seen it, but now the lights streaming in from the car window, and Franks torso is nearly a rainbow in it— blue, purple and green bruises all up his side, with a short but deep cut on the low right side of his abdomen. He’s taken the bandage off it too early, the stitches still healing, but you can tell it’s expert work. Much better than the botched job you did a month or so back, something he still bares the reminders for.

“Just… just a couple scratches, huh?” He grunts something illegible and hauls you back to him.

“Shut up.” He keeps you pressed close, not giving you a chance to say something back, but then his hands dip lower and you’re a goner.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeah. Fuck waiting.

He’s got you here— now, on top of him, and he can’t even fucking think of anything else. Your hands are being so gentle and cautious when he really couldn’t care less about the pain, but you do. You always do.

He wasn’t gonna waste another second, and seeing your eyes close the second he got your pants off and dipped his hands between your legs… it’s pretty much as close to heaven as he was going to get.

You fall forward, Frank catching you with one arm and pulling you close while the other continues slow, teasing circles just how he knows gets you all worked up. Your head tucks away into his neck, and he lets you hide for now, but when he’s got you home— real home, then he’ll be able to look at you as much as he god damn wants.

Your hips move against him, chasing his slow rhythm, and he feels your teeth scrape agains this neck, wordlessly rushing him along. 

“You need me that bad?” He says lowly, and watches in awe the way his words wash over you and yank you closer to the edge. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t of left you so needy—“

“Fuckkk… right there—please.” Your voice was so high it cracks a little, and it fucking sets him on fire.

“Get my belt for me, baby.” He whispers, feigning a bit of self control as he watches you quickly fumble with the buckle. The slight brush of your hands could finish him then and there, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to try and remember why he wanted to wait. He had just one more card to play— one that you’d seen him play a few times before, but he doesn’t think you expect it this time, and he needed some semblance of composure to remember it.

A real house, white picket fence and all, smack bang on halfway between New York and Florida. He couldn’t leave New York, not ever, but he had a new anchor now, one that deserved to have it all.

Frank planned to take you straight home. Make a ten hour drive and keep his hands to himself, but how the fuck could he when you were like this? Looking like you do, touching him so fucking sweet and soft and saying how much you missed every part of him— it was a dream come to life, and one of the few moments he’d let himself go in.

You shuffle as close as the seat allows, your now naked chest pressing against his. He dips his head, kissing your jaw, and he’s suddenly surrounded by you. Arms around his neck, warm and soft as your fingers thread in his hair, both of you moan at the feeling of him sliding into you. It’s white hot and nearly painful, how even with the way you’re dripping down your thighs, it still takes you a second to take him all the way. You wriggle your hips, trying to settle yourself and Frank nips at your neck, slowing your pace just slightly. He can hear you sigh, but you listen. You always fucking do.

“Shit— so fucking good. You can take it.” He hums and runs his hands over your skin. You lean into the touch, and when you sigh again he sinks your hips lower, a short punch of your name bursting from his chest when you slam yourself down. “Fuck. There you go.”

He’s a wreck underneath you, and your hands slither away from his hair to his face when you pull him up to kiss you. As much as he loves the feeling of your hips grinding down ever so slightly right now, it’s this part he loves the most. The slow intimacy of it— how he knows he can stay right here for the rest of the day and nothing will change. He can feel how much you love it, how much care you handle him with, and it cracks something old and hard in his gut.

You shudder as he lifts his hips, keeping your mouths together and kissing hungrily. He’d think you’d both been starved for a year the way you two act, but he’d admit it to anyone that asked that he was gone for you. He knows it well and true, in his chest and in the way you bounce in his lap, moaning into his mouth like he’s breathing air into your burning lungs.

“Fuck— fuck, I love you. I fucking… Jesus Christ, you’re so good. I love you.” He can’t shut himself up, and your breath gets faster. He knows you love it when he talks. “C’mon, baby. Let me see you— wanna feel you. I know you want to.”

“Slow… Frank, you’re gonna hurt yourself—“ You suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His hands stay tight on your hips, and he feels the pleasure buzz under his palms, your skin nearly alight with it on top of him. “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He wraps his forearm around you and fucks you harder, any pain and injury burnt out by how tight you are around him, and how perfect you fit him. He’s close, so close that he’s hardly able to kiss you now. You both collide in a mess of tongues and sighs, and when he hears you croak out his name into his mouth, he knows you’re cumming for him.

He can’t hold himself back, chasing you into that high with blinding abandon. It hits him like a freight train, bowing him over you like he’s taken a hit, but it feels so good he can’t register that he isn’t breathing like this. He keeps kissing you until he’s sure he’s going to pass out, and only stops when you pull away, eyes darting to the highway where headlights slowly flicker on the horizon.

“Shit.” You say breathless, and you laugh. He can feel it, the sound shuddering through him from where he was still deep inside you, and your giggles soon turned to something less innocent when you heard Frank groan into your chest. “C’mon. Someone’ll see us.”

“Don’t move yet.” He puts his hands on your waist, fanning them out to reach as much of you as possible.

“Mhmm.” It’s like your body gives out at his request, slumping forward and moulding into him like you were made to fit this way. This was what he was talking about. The way you fit together— something that should be out of the question for him fits so right. “I love you, too.”

“Mhmm.” He copies and feels you smile against his skin. His hands trail up your spine, tracing the line of bones lightly to leave goosebumps in his wake. “What time is it?”

“Who gives a fuck?” You mumble, the words half muffled into his neck.

“I want you to see the house in the light, but you wanna go at it blind, be my guest.” It takes you a second, a scoff coming out of you before you sit up abruptly, making him groan again.

“House? What house? Another safe house.” Frank couldn’t keep a secret to save his life when it came to you.

“It’s a house. Twenty minute drive from here.”

“But New Yorks not—“

“I know. Good thing we got cars, yeah?” Your eyebrows are crossed together, and Franks thumb slips over the small scar he left on your face. The movement shifts your gaze to something softer, and he feels the brush of your eyelashes on his finger as you blink up at him.

“You did it on purpose. It’s right in the middle.” You say softly. “Jesus, Frank. You didn’t have to… I mean you—“

“Take a breath. I didn’t buy it. Was a gift from the US Goverment. One thing those guys are good for is their money. I just picked the spot.” He could nearly hear the rave of your heart, and you crushed yourself into him, words hushed and mumbled into his ear, but they melt him to the core all the same.

He’ll never get over hearing you say things like this to him. That you’re grateful for him, that he’s doing a good thing. It’s like nothing he did before you was ever good enough. There was always the next job, always the next group to track, but nothing would be enough. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him. But here you were, telling him that he was the reason you were gonna be alright, and if he squints he can see it. The flicker of something hopeful, and if he holds onto you as tight as he can, he might just live to see it light him on fire.

“Did you say… you said twenty minutes from here. Why didn’t we just wait until—“

“Would’ve ruined the surprise.” You laugh again, and the feeling has him gripping you tighter. He leans closer to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “And I wanted to fuck you here and now. Don’t want there to be a single fuckin’ surface where I ain’t had you.”

“Better get driving then, Castle. Sounds like you got a job to do.” The glint in your eye nearly makes him drag you outside and bend you over the hood, but the kiss you give him after is sickeningly sweet, so much so that he lets you slide off him and back into the passenger seat without so much as a nip of his teeth. “Tha–”

“Wait. Wait til you see it.” Frank said, and something about the way he looked at you had you nodding simply, and watching the trees race by as he sped you home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were asleep on the balcony again, and Frank moved as slow as he could to let you stay that way.

In the two weeks you’d been here, he could count on one hand how many times you’d actually slept in the bed. There were no neighbours for miles, nothing interrupting the stretch of sky all the way to the hills. Even Frank had to admit it was a killer view.

He came inside, pouring himself a drink, and a strange pit in his stomach settled after the burning liquid soothed his throat. He can’t seem to kick that feeling when you’re asleep. When you were awake, next to him, there wasn’t anything else he could think about. But alone, walking around a house he owned, a life he might try and live staring him in the face, he felt guilty. There were parts of him he wouldn’t ever get back, but this wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have. Peace and quiet, time to himself. A woman he loved within eyesight, buried under blankets cause she was too stubborn to come inside when it got freezing. He couldn’t figure out why now, of all times, was the time to be thinking of Maria. The weight of the ring around his neck was like an anchor. He knew it was stuck on the bottom of the ocean, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He would sit there, hand cut up and bleeding, holding on for dear fucking life if no one moved him, waiting until he drowned.

Your footsteps were soft, in a way that he knows you can’t help. You tread through the open double doors, and Frank would roll his eyes at the way he could hear your teeth chattering if he wasn’t so distracted.

“You should of woke me.” You say, voice muffled from the mess your head was buried under. He took a step toward you, pushing it back so he could see your eyes.

“It’s late.”

“Couldn’t tell.” He can hear the smirk in your voice.

“You finally frozen to death, smart-ass?” You grumble something in reply, and he catches a few curse words before you look at him again. It’s nearly scary, the way you can read him with one sweep of your eyes. You clock his tone, the way he isn’t leaning into you with his full weight, and squint your eyes.

“What is it?” Frank sucks in a long breath, and kisses you.

He’s a complete idiot. That’s what it is. He can feel the buzzing pulse you wake in him, every movement of your lips on his rooting you deeper in his soul, chipping off ice until theres only warmth. How’s he supposed to tell you, after you’ve just kissed him like that, that he was thinking about his–

“You can talk to me about her, Frank.” You say with your head against his. Not it, her. Before he can ask, you smile a little. Even just a hint of that smile and he’s forgetting how to breathe. “You play with the ring when you’re nervous. It’s actually a bit of a tell.”

“Yeah?” He manages, hands trying to search their way through the blankets for you.

“Yeah. You have a lot of tells. For someone in your line of work, it’s actually a bit worrying.”

“You got me all figured out.” He says and means it, but you just roll your eyes.

“And you lean to the left when you think you can’t make a shot. You think it helps your angle.”

“Who woulda thought you were so observant.”

“You know, I actually did watch you when you were teaching me how to shoot.” Frank smiles, your skin finally under his palms. His hands splay on your back, and you lean closer.

“You were trying to fuck me the whole time. Don’t blame me for being surprised.” You try to whack him but your arms are pinned under the layers. Your laughter carries through him, skittering into his chest until he can’t help but laugh too.

“You came onto me.” He laughs harder. “It was very unprofessional. I was there to learn.”

“Damn fucking right I did.” His voice is low, and you shuffle around under his hold until your hands snake up behind his neck. His hair is too long, but he hasn’t cut it just yet. He tells himself that he hasn’t had time, but truthfully he likes the way it feels when you sift your fingers through the ends of it. Like now.

“You can tell me.” You say again, softer. He’s softer too– more malleable now you were here.

“I can’t help it.” He looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where the sun is now just starting to rise. “She woulda… woulda liked it here. The kids, too.”

“You think so?” He nods, still staring into the orange sky.

“Probably would of had a lot to say about the inside, though.” You wrap around him tighter, head on his chest. “She was so good with those things. She loved when we painted our house. She had all these colors painted next to each other on the wall. All these different kinds of green. Everyone kept sayin’ it all looked the same but she... she could tell the difference. I could see what she meant when she put the couch next to it and shit, you know? She was real good with that stuff.”

“We could use her help around here. This place is sort of… ugly, on the inside.” He laughed again, his throat feeling tighter as he looked around. There was those same colour swatches, but none of them were coordinated like he was remembering. Pinks, blues, oranges and grays were all mixed together in big, sweeping strikes along the wall, stopping right above where your arm would be able to reach. “What would she have gone with?”

He looks down at you, your face washed in the light of the sunrise.

“The light orange. It looks good with the brown.” He nods over to the couch, an old leather one you’d made him pick up off the side of the road.

“We’ll do that one, then.” You tuck yourself under his chin, sighing.

“I think about ‘em everyday. What the kids would have looked like now. What they’d be doing. How Maria and I would of… raised ‘em. I was away all the time, but I just-”

“I think you would have been just fine.” You say into his chest, and Frank takes a shuddering breath.

“Why’s that?“

“Cause she was in love with you.” His chest tightens, and the grip he’s got on your waist gets a little tighter. “I’m… I’ll never be able to fix…that. It’ll always be with you, and nothing will change what happened, but I want you to know that they will always have a place here. You don’t have to apologize for talking about them– the kids, or Maria. I will never, ever not listen, and it will never be something I don’t want to hear. If they’re always with you, they’ll be with me, too.”

Frank takes two steps forward, and your feet pick up just in time to catch yourself before he throws you back on the couch. He’s never been good with words for things like this. He doesn’t think he should try to shove it all in a sentence, either. Not when theres so much he wants to say, but even more he wants to do.

You lay back, and he moves slowly. He wants you to know every move, every brush of his hand and his mouth is by design. He wants to know every square inch of you inside and out like you know him. He wants his hands to pull the strings, letting you hear all the things his mouth could never possibly form.

“Perfect.” Frank sighs against your mouth, over and over again. It was. You were. Are. The pit in his stomach disappears, pushed out and engulfed by the flames in his chest. There was no room for anything, not a single other feeling or word could possibly fit the way you two fit together. Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he takes it over his head. Your hands run and smooth gentle lines over his chest, over the healing wound on his side. It's jagged and wonky, and it nearly spelt your name. Frank thinks it’s the first time he’s looked down at himself and not hated to see the scars.

He unravels you like a gift to himself, savouring every moment even when you try to shrug off the blanket. You hadn’t dressed since last night, and Frank liked it even more this way. You sighed his name, and Frank shuddered, sealing his mouth over yours again. When his eyes opened for a split second, he could see your face, washed in orange light, and your hair swept to the side. He shut his eyes and kissed you again, the image seared into his mind forever.

Frank had faced a lot of bad things in his life. He had been shot, stabbed, pulled apart and put back together more times than he could remember. He thought he’d seen it all, felt it all before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing made him as weak as your fingers in his hair, and nothing made him as strong as the way you moaned his name. Nothing felt as good as sliding inside you, and nothing felt as empty as when you were gone. It made him lightheaded and brought him to the brink of consciousness, but he knew that this was right.

It could of been minutes or hours that had passed when he let himself go, but no amount of time with you under him would stop him from wanting more. The sun was up now, and Frank had you tucked to his side on the small space of the couch, legs tangled together in the blankets and each other. He felt you shiver against him, and the blankets wrapped around you had come loose. He bent to fix them, and when he moved you did it again.

He looked down, seeing the cold line of metal pressed against your bare back. The ring at the end was hanging over your ribs, and when Frank touched it, it was freezing. Holding it in his palm, it didn’t feel as heavy as it used to, and when he read the engraving on the back, he still felt cold.

Looking down at you, how you rolled over and sought him out even with your eyes closed, he leaned down to kiss the scar on your forehead. Then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he slipped the necklace off over his head, and placed it in a neat circle on the coffee table next to his head.

They would always have a place here. But it wasn’t them who gave him warmth anymore.

When he tucked himself back under the covers, he knew it was you. It was always you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tag list

@stress--relief​

@hellskitchens-whore​

@blkwayne

@itwasthereaminuteago​

@margoo0​

@daisykins

@paryl

@urlocalgeek

@hello-lisa1026​

@castlesnchurches​

@superbreadsoul​

@lemon-world1​

@officalpetergriffin

@batcreep

@quackson03​

@violetsandroses8​

@turningtoclown​

@yourfriendhenrywinter​

@peaky-shelby​

@hollandorks​

@23victoria​

@fluffysteampunkd​

@andiforgetaboutyoulongenough

@avaluna

@alexa4040​

@dripoftheseus​

@lanagirly​

@woowwwee​

@chvoswxtch​

@allthingsavenger-y

okay theres going to be an epilogue at some point, but it will probably be small and have very little plot, so this is the end of the main story. so, heres a little rant for you. if you read it, thank you, and if you dont, thank you anyways. knowing anyone is reading my words is a gift enough.

i think i have been writing this series for like 5/6 months ish?? thats fucking wild. i dont have an exact word count, but all i know is its fucking long. i cannot believe i wrote this much about a fictional character, but damn. that is a lot.

basically all i want to say here is thank you. to anyone who has read, interacted, or will read in the future, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it might be a lil dramatic but having people read stuff i write, let alone actually enjoy it makes me so incredibly happy. starting to write on here, and for frank especially, is probably one of the best decisions ive ever made. this series was a struggle to finish for so many reasons, mainly my incredible lack of planning and overall dumb writing schedule, but i have met so many incredible people along the way, and i am just so grateful to have a lil space to share my work.

frank castle will probably always own a giant spot in my heart, so thank you for letting me share my version of him. and letting me add as much smut as i want to this with no complaints bc i fuckin needed it okay!!!!!! i love you all. rant over. series over. damn!

p.s. i am never not going to write frank. dont worry. i already have an idea for my next series lmao!!!!!!!! luv ya!

[theatlasenigma]

based on this denholm brothers/pirates smp god au (go check it out before you read this, otherwise my writing will make no sense whatsoever lmao) by @sweetsmalldog, which has had me in an absolute chokehold for the last day or so since i discovered it. so here, have this quick writing dump because i needed to get it out of my system.

imagine the detached and vengeful sun god in the aftermath of the mortal denholm brothers’ deaths. the sun god, furious at the injustice and cruelty, stepping forth to unleash all hell on these vile mortals who so callously slaughtered their children in the hopes of becoming famous themselves. except he falters, because the pair of too-still bodies before him are so agonisingly small, so painfully young, so devoid of life. in a split second decision, he imbues them with a fragment of his own divinity. and so ruby red becomes gold, and so the the sickly sweetness of ichor mixes with the salt of iron in the heavy air.

imagine the regal and proud sun god falling to his knees before the now godly twins, pulling them into an embrace that smells of the warm sea breeze, the hot wood of a ship’s deck under the sun, the sweetness of ripe fruits in the height of summer. whispered i’m sorries, you didn’t deserve this, if i had known i would have saved you, would have stopped the people who did this to you. the stifled hiccupping sobs of two brothers who, even after death and then ascension, are still afraid of what this adult will do if they show too much of their emotions. tears and snot stain his shirt but he finds he does not care. he has a thousand shirts but only this one moment and these two children.

imagine the harsh and distant sun god teaching the brothers the ways of godhood. how to stretch their wings and soar, how to bless without burning themselves up in exchange, how to give and delight and laugh. some day he will have to teach them how to take and how to punish but for now they are two brothers amongst the stars and they play and fly and run and they have never been so free.

imagine the indifferent and brutal sun god learning how to care for these godlings he took under his not-so-metaphorical wings. he finds that gentle words and reassuring warmth do not come so easily to him, a creature of pure blinding light and raw blazing heat, and so as the brothers learn to stretch and grow he learns to listen and love. and on those nights when acho wakes up screaming, or those days where scott can barely stomach leaving the safety of his room, the sun god is there to hold them close and whisper sweet nothings to them until their tears dry up and fear-frozen bodies relax. 

imagine the divine and powerful sun god, watching over the antics of the children he saved. though if what he did really can be considered ‘saving’ is a question he will lie awake for hours racking his brain for the answer to. he and the brothers will be joined by more, a clever daemon with skin like blood and claws of pitch that feigns indifference, a cunning explorer with a silver tongue and eyes like sunsets who strains for freedom, a war-like but steadfast woman who shouts and laughs almost as loudly as the twins. when the orange-eyed adventurer makes a jibe about the star-spattered lines across their necks and the sun god sees both stiffen in discomfort, he sends a flick of fire in the unruly god’s direction to discipline him. when the soot-stained war goddess shouts loudly enough to make acho or scott flinch, the sun god is there to provide reassurance and remind the woman to heed the boys’ fear. when the pitch-robed god of monsters play-fights too roughly and ichor is spilled, the sun god bandages the injuries and gives the daemon a stern warning to take care. 

they may have their occasional clashes, but they are freed from the shackles of mortality now and spread their wings in a palace amongst the stars. and if legend tells of a pair of boys who haunt the town where they were slaughtered like sacrificial lambs, well, they might occasionally pay a visit to remind the residents of those stories and their worth. tell tales of childlike laughter carried on the breeze, a flash of red hair, a flutter of wings and too-sharp teeth, lest you be lost to the depths like the parents of those starshine children so long ago.

[laugtherhyena]

I don't know what LINUJ was thinking when he chose to make Yoruko's upperclassman and Minako two separate characters but personally I don't really mind it? Mostly cause when I see background characters that don't officially appear beyond a few mentions, I go, "A character that barely has a skeleton of a personality that I can mold to my whims?! WOOO!!" and then proceed to squeeze them like a stress ball. I don't think about Amane (the upperclassman) a lot, especially in comparison to Kojiro, but I think it'd be fun to explore her character as I do have a project idea with her as part of the cast but it's kinda on the backburner of my brain cause I'm trying not to make too many projects at once cause I'm already struggling to juggle a bunch of other stuff at the same time. That being said, on the topic of Amane's pink hair, I actually think it's dyed?? Not sure cause I only just got passed the second bad end with my friend in Chapter 6 so we haven't seen the context of Yoruko's CG where she's in her fantasy, so take this with a grain of salt, but for some reason the wiki labels the CG as Yoruko talking to Minako??? And the woman shown has her hair having faded pink tips, revealing that her roots are actually brown. Ngl, the idea that Minako (still) dyes her hair to the color she has today is really funny but I think that's just the wiki editors messing up on whos who. Sometimes wikis aren't the most reliable source of information when you want to quickly review something without replaying the game and stuff, and I think it makes more sense that in Yoruko's fantasy, she'd be reunited with who she believes is her upperclassman, even if she cares about Minako. And if we take her appearance in the fantasy as truth from what little we can see of her, that means that both Amane and Yoruko dyed their hair for their hostess job (although Yoruko did it to mimic Amane specifically), lmao.

But yeah, I think the sequel cast having connections to the characters of the previous game is a really neat tie-in, even if it's not very strong and it's interesting to explore their connections with each other in fanon. My headcanon with Setsuka and Teruya being sibling figures to each other could be interesting since they actually reunite through their work, and probably spent a lot of time catching up and getting to know each other again. Which makes it hurt even more when Setsuka goes missing. Like, Teruya probably freaked out when he realized he hasn't heard from Setsuka in a long time and tried to push for an investigation to search for her which Kinjo put a stop to due to his own plans with Syobai. Poor guy was probably torn between disobeying orders to find Setsuka since he didn't want to lose another important person in his life or falling in line to Kinjo due to his loyalty to him. But if Kinjo were to suggest that she might've been kidnapped for the killing game, possibly to "fill in space," Teruya probably chose to fall in line since stopping Mikado's killing game would probably be the closest way to save Setsuka, even if he wanted to do more. And we all know how that worked out...

On a much lighter note, in a Non-Despair AU where Setsuka and Kojiro cross paths again after many years, I like to think that they reignite their friendship since I see Kojiro being more upset over Setsuka ghosting him (and Teruya) for years without an explanation than the fact that she cheated and got herself banned in billiards, which probably caused some controversy with his sponsorship for her. Hell, he probably thought she was dead or something with how long he didn't hear from her. That's kinda what happens when you go into hiding instead of confronting the consequences of your actions, Setsuka. But once they get pass the initial awkwardness, Setsuka and Kojiro becomes best buds again. They also become drinking buddies with Teruya (as an adult) chaperoning them, much to his (affectionate) annoyance.

It's crazy to me how he just made this random ass character instead of making Minako herself be the upperclassmen, like that would have led to a much stronger connection between Yoruko and the first killing game's class than Minako just so happening to be the boss at the bar her and Amane worked at.

Slight tangent here but, seriously, Amane Kaira? Two letters away from Akane Taira? I know Linuj has a track record of having characters with similar names in the another series, but this ridiculous. How were we seriously meant to believe this was a real person? Because for the longest time i just assumed that "Amane Kaira" was the fake ID Minako used when she worked at the bar with Yoruko since she mentioned both of them had it because they were minors back then.

As for the wiki, i believe it really is just flat out wrong when it says that's Yoruko talking to Minako (which generated this whole misconception) because those CGs were first uploaded there just a little after Ch6 came out so we didn't had everything properly translated back then and it just never got fixed + just from the little we see of this girl you can tell she's not meant to be Minako

In addition, the hair color of the girl in the Cg is a soft pink whereas Minako's is a pink closer to a purple-ish (violet-ish, whatever you wanna call it) tone + from both of her sprite galleries Minako's hair really doesn't seem to be dyed when you compare it to characters we know have dyed hair in the series (Emma has visible brown streaks in her blonde hair and Hajime's is really really light at the top for some reason)

And if this isn't enough, Linuj straight up adresses her as her own person in Yoruko's character sheet (translation by ToastCat333)

So yeah, Amane, the totally real person who is not Minako Tomori! As much as this stuff annoys me, I can't say I'm not a fan of picking minor characters and making up ocs out of them, I'm curious to see what you'll make up of this character.

[cookinguptales]

time to shill for Big Salt!!!

Okay, so like I said in my last post, I recently became a ~Vitassium Ambassador~, which is a fancy way of saying that I shilled for this company for free for so long that now they're paying me to do it.

In salt. Much like a deer.

Anyway.

Vitassium is SaltStick's line of products specifically for POTS, EDS, Cystic Fibrosis, Vasovagal Syncope, and other forms of autonomic dysfunction. Essentially speaking, SaltStick has been making electrolyte products for years, and when they realized that a lot of their patients buying them were doing it for medical reasons, they started doing research into creating products specifically for that purpose. And that's how the Vitassium line was born.

Vitassium generally has more salt and less magnesium/calcium/potassium than SaltStick's other electrolyte products, which is good if you need a lot of salt and you don't want to take too high a dose of the rest. Personally, I tend to use a mixture of both of their lines so I can get a little calcium/magnesium boost sometimes but more salt other times. (The amount of potassium is fairly similar in both lines, with a little more in the SaltStick line.)

Either way, it has a lot less sugar than Liquid IV, which I get sick off of due to sugar sensitivities. Like... *googles* 11g of sugar in Liquid IV vs. 2g of sugar in Vitassium, with the same amount of salt in each serving. I have to be pretty careful about my sugar intake, and I suppose I can't speak for everyone, but my stomach handles Vitassium a lot better than most of the other alternatives on the market.

So I've been using it for several years now and I'm really happy with their products! Like -- I may now officially be a shill for Big Salt, but I don't plan on lying or exaggerating anything here. I use their products every day, and sometimes that's the only way I can manage to take a shower.

(My fellow POTS/EDS-sufferers know, the shower struggle is real. lmao)

Anyway, they just sent me one of everything in their Vitassium line. They didn't actually ask me to show it off, but I'm doing it anyway because this is my blog and I cannot be stopped.

From left to right, we have a bottle of their electrolyte capsules (these are sugar-free extended-release salt pills with a bit of potassium added), both flavors of their electrolyte fastchews (chewable electrolyte candies that provide quick relief... think salty sweettarts), a cute bottle full of packets of their electrolyte drink mix, sample packs of the fastchews, and some stickers.

Personally, I mostly use the fastchews. I've tried salt capsules in the past and had some stomach upset, but now that they sent these to me for free, I guess I'll try them out again. The fastchews are basically sour candy full of salt lmao. (They also have about 2g of sugar per serving, just like the drink mix.) They really are effective, though, so I tend to take them as needed throughout the day.

I usually just keep a bottle of them in my purse, but the sample size bags are resealable and fit well in pockets, bags, etc. I'm happy that they sent me some little sample bags because now I can refill them, haha.

I used to just buy the normal SaltStick fastchews, and my go-to flavors in that line are orange, wild berry, and lemon-lime! I haven't tried the mango because I'm allergic, the peach is okay if very sour, the coconut pineapple is a nice piña colada taste but a little sweet for me, and I really hate the watermelon ones!

(Look, I promised to be honest with you. lmao)

The Vitassium fastchews are newer, and they only come in two flavors so far. I always buy the fruit punch because I despise artificial grape flavor. They just gave me a bunch of grape ones, so I tried them. Good for what they are, but I still hate grape.

(Do any of my chronically ill followers want these? lmk)

The drink mix is the newest Vitassium product! I like it quite a bit; the relief is quicker when you drink it vs. eat it, and speaking as someone who generally hates drink mixes, the flavor is pretty good.

I've tried both the fruit punch and the pink lemonade, and I think I prefer the pink lemonade. The flavor suits the salt a little better, imo, and I think weirdly it mixes a little better?

I usually buy the drink mix in the canisters because it's cheaper that way and produces less waste (the canister pictured there is one I already had) but the packets are very handy to keep in your bag. They're easy to tear open and even when you tear off the whole top, the opening is small enough that it pours smoothly into small-necked bottles. I like to put some ice in mine and shake it up.

(Side note: Vitassium has specifically designed all their packaging to be as easy to open and use as possible because they know that so many of their customers have arthritis, EDS, and other connective tissue disorders. Which, as someone with EDS, I truly appreciate.)

Finally, one thing I genuinely like about Vitassium is that they try to make their products as accessible as possible for their customers who use them for medical reasons. They have something called the Vitassium Club, which allows registered users who have a medical condition to get 25% off all their electrolyte products. You don't have to get a doctor's note or anything like that, just send in a quick online form and wait for them to change the status of your account.

That brings the cost of the product down considerably for the people who need it most, which is good because honestly? Electrolyte boosters add up fast when you need to consume that much salt every day.

Uhhhh, I think that's everything for now! If you have any questions, lmk! I'm fairly passionate about this kind of thing because when I was first diagnosed with POTS/EDS like... god, 15 years ago now, they didn't have anything like this. I remember struggling to develop a diet that worked for me with no one to teach me and honestly? That fucking sucked. I don't want anyone to be in that position.

So now here in 2023, I'm happy to pass on any chronic illness-related tips I have. Like drink Vitassium! And add salt while you're cooking, not at the end! The flavor will be less strong that way! And a packet of sugar-free hot cocoa mix will often have as much sodium in it as a bag of chips!

Stay salty, friends. 🧂💜😎

[vapolis]

honestly w/ how orla and jax sort of keep the merc at arms length........it makes me even MORE excited for their poly route. what happens when you catch feelings for the dog you trained to guard you? guard you house? what happens when you watch them conflate trained loyalty with love and you can't help but hope that the love stays? what happens when they start to care about you? so much so that it stops you doing the job youre MEANT to do for them? what happens when a guard dog turns into someone you love? and to top it all off, putting them in a city where its eat or be eaten, and how their seats at the top could be snatched from under them at any second, especially if they have someone they care about that much, so they cant protect the merc anymore? oh that dynamic is gonna be GOOD. Wanting to stay at arms length but falling face first into the merc. They are gonna be putting on that clown wig at the end of it all and I will CACKLE like a fucking WITCH when they do cause not only is it a tragedy but its FUNNY!!! and honestly? they did that 2 themselves by taking in the very hot sexy murderer and making them work for orla! karma got its kiss 4 yall in the most painful way possible, even if u come outta it w/ a lover who would kill 4 u without the promise of payment LORD i got rambley, my bad lmao! this is all just inferring about things uve said n shit so i could be DEAD wrong so take my shit w/ a pile of salt lol u know who I dont see anyone talking about? Echo. oh my g-d ECHO!!! UR TELLING ME MERC HAS THIS HOT SEXY WEAPONSMITH THEY GO TOO ALL THE TIME AND THE MERC FUMBLES THE BAG WITH A GRENADE??? merc.....honey.....ur rizz.......its only there when ur pathetic or unhinged bb girl.....but like entirely not the point, I love Echo! they seem so interesting, I hope the merc can do more jobs for them past the ones we already did/will do! merc kinda needs more work outside of orla if they plan 2 be even more messy than usual and get all up in ppls business lmao! Id luv some fun facts about Echo! Especially about what kinda weapons they like 2 make

reading all that... u GET me !!!! 🫂🫂

and this part especially: what happens when a guard dog turns into someone you love? and to top it all off, putting them in a city where its eat or be eaten, and how their seats at the top could be snatched from under them at any second, especially if they have someone they care about that much, so they cant protect the merc anymore?

LET ME !!! LOOK INTO YOUR HEAD!!!

as for echo... yeah frankly I'm disturbed that it's CRICKETS on that front from everyone 😔 they called you sweetheart!! and merc has 0 game!!

you will however see them around some more, since they're the only person merc can trust w some things to do w the jobs and the entire sword business.

as for some facts... they have cats, 3 of them, and they treat them like royalty. they ride a motorcycle, and they don't really respect jax and orla for... reasons.

their fave weapons to make are swords/katanas, but they're also a big fan of turning random objects like pens or shoes or even a lipstick into weapons. it's very fun to pull those out in a fight

[hurtcomfortficstilltheend]

Sometimes it's just better (not to know).

Chapter two: Killed by uncertainty

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader

Summary: Is this supposed to be the calm before the storm?

Warnings: not much, maybe a nap that lasts too long lmao

Word Count: 950

Your boots are too tight. You don’t like them one bit, but you had made the decision to buy new ones for cold winter nights -with equally cold Visitors-, and now you have to live with rock solid shoes, at least until they soften a little with use.

Your rapier is in place in your belt, and so are your salt bombs and greek flares. You had -against Anthony’s wishes for the team to take a week-long break- decided to take back your verdict on the Geralds case.

You had just gotten out of the library, a while after the reading that ruined your morning (and maybe your life too), all puffy eyes and incoming migraine, when you bumped into George. 

-

“Have you already called the client?” 

There was a frown forming on his face, “I was just about to do that.” He held up the folder where you assume he must have had the contact number. He seemed impatient and irritated, you didn’t blame him.

“Don’t bother, we are going tonight, as scheduled.”

His grimace was replaced by a look of surprise, but he covered it quickly and turned around to head to the basement.

You went right up the stairs and flopped on your bed. You didn’t notice Lucy in the corner of the room until you heard her speak (for a second there you thought she would actually be feeding Skull biscuits, just out of spite). “What was all that about?”

Startled, you turned around and held your body up in your elbows.

“Nothing. I was wrong. We’ll do the Geralds’ case tonight, as planned, so we better start preparing in a little bit.” 

“You sound like you’ve been crying.” She stated, simply.

“Allergies, you know how much dust there is in the library. I was just talking to Lockwood about a new brand of salt bombs that seems to be more effective in dissipating ectoplasm.”

“Love, we make our own salt bombs.” She caught up on your bullshit too fast.

“Did I say salt bombs? I ment flares- greek fires. Remember the other day and how that cold maiden didn’t react to our usual ones?” 

Lucy walked closer to the bed, she kneeled beside it to be the same height as your face. Her calloused fingers found their way to your cheeks. “You know you can talk to me. About anything.” 

You leaned into the touch, closed your eyes, and tried to enjoy the moment. “I know. I’m gonna take a 30 minute nap, and then help you with the chains.” You took her hands in yours, pulled her a little bit. “Wanna join me?”

She rolled her eyes but laid down with you until you fell asleep.

-

“Should I go wake them? There is only a few hours till sundown.” 

“No, let them rest. I’ll get their chores, what was it? Snack packing?”

“Chain oiling.” The pair headed to the office to get the duffel bags prepared. “What happened today? They were so out of themselves, I’ve never seen them like this.”

“It was just a rough night. Believe me, this happens more than you’d think. A beauty nap is all it takes for them to get back to normal.” Even as Lockwood said this, he didn’t seem convinced. “That is assuming we don’t get their post-nap grumpy mood. I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.” He chuckled lightly.

Lucy’s lips twitched, right about to form a smile, but she noticed her friend was avoiding answering the question. She knew how closed off you Lockwoods’ could be; after all, it took a year for Anthony to show her the room on the landing, and two years and a half for you to admit your feelings for her, but she wished it wasn’t so difficult to get some actual information. The team was founded on trust, and survival depended on how well you communicated with each other goddammit.

-

What was supposed to be a half hour nap turned into an I-have-only-forty-minutes-left-to-prepare-for-the-case-’cause-I-slept-six-hours-non-stop nap, which was quite inconvenient. Still, you managed to get ready, apologize for the lack of help on the iron chain department, and chug up half a liter of water on one go, before getting into the waiting night cab.

This is fine, and your boots don’t bother you, and neither does the little tag on the neck of your shirt that you forgot to cut out (again), or the judgy stares you are receiving from George, or the worried ones from your cousin, or the feeling that very soon everything will end. You are perfectly fine, and this is just another day on the job.

From the moment you get to the house, to the moment you emerge from it, everything goes smoothly. The source is easy enough to find, and the Visitor turns out to be a weak type one, not the type two you were expecting. The client paid full price anyway, and the team got back safe and sound.

It was all perfect. And that was alright. More than alright, actually, it was marvelous, but something felt wrong. You knew there was something about to happen. You wouldn’t admit it, but you wish it had been a rawbones or an impromptu cluster, the Geralds’ case that is. It would have been a pain in the ass, that’s for sure, but you had already gotten out alive from situations like that, and such a vile set of apparitions would have fulfilled the readings’ prophecy. Maybe. 

The anticipation that had started in your chest was unbearable. You wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, but still, you felt it wasn’t going to be that easy. It never was.

Taglist: @myownpainintheass @superpositvecloudshipper @carpinchodetecta

A/N: I would love to hear (read) what you think! Hope you enjoyed :)

This story is lowkey stuck, but just because I finished The Creeping Shadow like a month ago, and I haven't started The Empty Grave cause I'm in denial, I don't want to finish the series T-T

[genericpuff]

How do you feel about LO fans reading Rekindled? I mean, I know Rekindled wasn't created only for the critical side of the fandom to read, but have you ever had LO fans that read Rekindled coming at you because of your anti lo posts?

Honestly, I find I don't get that much harassment for it here, which has been great. One of the most common criticisms I get are accusations that I'm "riding off Rachel's coattails", but considering I'm making this comic entirely from the ground up, for free, in a way that fuses my style with Rachel's (which means it's still fairly distinguishable from LO) technically I'm harming Rachel's bottom line far less than the legitimate fans who draw Rachel's style 1:1 and sell adoptables and commissions LMAO (and that's not to be accusatory, I think it's neat that there are artists who can replicate it that well, but idk why people get mad at me for doing literally the same thing and I'm not even profiting off it lol it's literally just because I'm a critic and not a diehard fan). And if I didn't genuinely enjoy working on this project beyond getting fake internet points, then I would have dropped it from the starting gun, I'm not good at committing myself to new projects (yaaay ADHD).

I think it helps that I (intentionally) don't use the general LO hashtags, I try to stay away from using any fan-focused hashtags because ultimately the work I do isn't necessarily going to be meant for them and I don't want it getting recommended to them if that's not the kind of thing they wanna see. Of course, that won't stop fans from finding it, but if they're getting recommended stuff from the anti community, then chances are it's because they've already been lurking in it. If a fan of LO finds my work, they're more than free to read it and if they enjoy it, great! I was a fan once too, the comic itself isn't so much for the anti's and "haters" as much as it is for people like me who used to adore this comic and wanted more than what we got.

Considering LO is going to be ending by mid next year, Rekindled will very likely be going on long after it, so who knows, it might even become a new favorite for fans who want more LO-style H x P content. Of course, it'll come with all the layers of salt that come loaded with my content, but that's what we have the Dillyhub mirror for now ;)

I find I tend to get more pushback on Instagram and I can only assume it's because IG's recommendation algorithms work a little differently. I thiiink IG might be suggesting accounts that are followed by other accounts (so through mutuals) so if a fan is following the same people I am (ex. editolympus is one I can think of off the top of my head), regardless of whether or not those accounts use the same hashtags I do, I get recommended to them. I imagine it's a pain for people who don't want to be seeing my content but they can take their own advice for once - don't like it, don't read it (￣y▽,￣)╭

[mahoushoujotechsupport]

ok weeks later i am finally continuing my gwitch rewatch lolz. time for episode 12.... someone PLEASE tell tumblr to stop erasing my posts just as im about to hit post and not being able to undo it because i had the longest write up and now here i am.... rewriting again and trying to remember what i'd written. i'm gonna scream lmao

this part feels so awful now that the series is over and thinking back on ep 24. miorine just comes to, all to see the doors closed and hear suletta's screams and sophie's gunshots on the other side. no doubt in my mind this girl probably dealt with awful nightmares about suletta dying after quiet zero

i know prospera did use this as another XP level up for aerial, but jeez, imagine how much confidence she has in suletta and eri to be able to say something like this. like not just that suletta will go to aerial, but that together they can take on the attackers who at the time prospera didn't know shit about

lmao i dont think ive ever felt so confidently about something that id bet my whole life ln it

ad stella universe is crazy because i can only think the big liberatarian ancap society is some silicon valley fascist's wet dream because how else do you explain the business management girl knowing 1337 hacker skills

stupid asshole

sophie and norea are such tragic characters to me goddamn. like how often were they practicing their piloting to be able to be good enough to join on a mission like this? were they upping their permet score during practice too?

and why exactly is it them who pilot the lfriths instead of someone else from DoF? we never really get a clear answer on why it has to be the teenage girls when later on we see there's a ton of grown men around. i think given what else we know of ad stella, though, it doesn't matter much when we have asticassia as a school for the elite that basically serves for furthering earthian oppression be it by force (ie. see guel's original plans for joining dominicus) or just continuing to further the spoils of space capitalism

when you think of it that way, i don't see DoF any different than say palestinians fighting back against oppression from IDF forces. unless you're a racist fuck, you can't blame palestinian kids for throwing rocks at IDF soldiers, so i can't really blame norea and sophie for joining the fight

to quote fanon:

National liberation, national renaissance, the restoration of nationhood to the people, commonwealth: whatever may be the headings used or the new formulas introduced, decolonization is always a violent phenomenon.

- Frantz Fanon, "Concerning Violence," The Wretched of the Earth

i really do wish they hadn't just sidelined DoF entirely lol if you subscribe even a smidgen to anti-colonialism, its hard not to sympathize with them and shaddiq/grassley girls. and here theyre actually fighting for a just cause and are deserving of sympathy unlike 0079’s fakeout with zeon.

flipping the UC spacenoid/earth dichotomy so that earthians are the exploited class is just good shit when you consider what fuckers like musk want to do lol and its not as set in stone as exploitation only happens on earth either. mercury sounds like an abandoned appalachian mining town at this point with people lured out by jobs and then left to fend for themselves once permet was found elsewhere and their utility to the spacian capitalist class has run dry. and though i take this one with a grain of salt because we never get hard confirmation or denial, the elans were supposedly spacians (norea calls him a spacian even after finding out el5n’s not the real elan and he doesnt say one way or the other).

enough marxist ramblings, here's a cool shot of lfrith ur

whoever added this, i love them

as much as i don't trust bandai with sulemio unless they reverse the mess they've made for themselves.... i just want to fucking know more about notrette so bad!!!!!!!!!!!!

badass shot of lfrith thorn to go with the ur one earlier

snitch boy starts his snitch arc

the whole way guel killing vim plays out felt like it was gonna lead to something cool at the time... it makes me even more mad now knowing that it very likely is all an homage to zeta and kamille stealing the mk-ii and then later watching his mom die lol (ffs we even have the guel episode later on stealing its title from a zeta episode). guel's entire character just leaves such a bad taste in my mouth with everything thats happened recently

to think that 15 mins later she'd just be all ditzy over pancakeing a man after basically peeing her pants here

prospera shooting a gun at quiet zero >>> prospera shooting a gun at plant quetta

this show and this fucking pose, man lmao

AERIAL REBUILD is going to be stuck in my head all night because of this episode.... but look at how fucking cool she looks!!!

okouchi if this is a line you wrote, you, sir, are a troll... her face now is literally just :<

if you have the rebuild aerial and you don't have her posed like this, then what are you even doing?

i still feel like secelia and rouji for sure had no idea how powerful aerial's gund-bit gun was in episode 17. like norea is scared shitless here and tells sophie and olcott to get the fuck away. we have olcott telling us that even though it has school regulations on, it's strong as fuck

that said, i don't think guel was in mortal danger given that the school restrictions don't let them aim at cockpits or whatever, but it sure would've fucked up the darilbalde

oh this line hurts lol

i don't think i ever paused on this frame before lol i really hope peil hags master plan here wasn't just to have el5n get all rapey like he does later on. i mean, probably not and that was moreso el5n's desparate attempts to stay alive given he barely gets a chance to do anything before school shootings 1 and 2 bring everything to shit

comparing this frame versus suletta inside calibarn in ep 24 and suletta is still just a baby at this point in the show lmao she looks like a little teddy bear vs kakkoii ikemen suletta

paused on this frame and it honestly looks cool as hell lmao

and we made it to THE scene

you know, as i said in prior rewatch posts, i had been watching via GJM's fansubs at this point and was gonna wait for them to release their version of episode 12... however, that same suletta sunday i logged on to twitter and immediately got spoiled on this scene lmao so i needed to find out what the fuck happened and stopped waiting on fansubs (i did rewatch later on)

it really is such an amazingly well done scene though like goddamn lol

now that the show's over, i do kind of wonder if there could have been something other than this to become the spark of tension between suletta and miorine. with the exception of sophie (which arguably was more eri's victim than suletta's), suletta never kills anyone again in the show. her final fight ends up being against the gund nodes being commanded by eri lol so she just fights unmanned drones. it's an interesting decision considering the gundam franchise as a whole

i know it's meant to contrast against shaddiq's by any means necessary approach and prospera's willingness to do the same if someone tries to hinder her plans to help eri... but i really just can't get behind the whole violence is always bad no exceptions message behind the show. i do appreciate that shaddiq's plan basically still came to fruition and that it ends up being an in-world analogue to nationalization of industry. and it's really a cherry on top to have sabina call out whether that was for the best - not just that they nationalized industry but that nothing else was done to stop those who don't agree with what miorine did. history has given us countless examples of countries that nationalize various industries just for the united states military to come in and make some shit up and stage a coup and hand over said industry to whatever shithead capitalists were being piss babies about it at the time

lmao i know we're all mad about a lot of the yuri being left on the table because of bandai execs, but i wonder how much of the anti-capitalist message got left on there too. they really had a chance to make guel a real hero and he's just... not lol. episode 15 makes me mad not because it's a guel episode but because nothing ever actually came from DoF existing. like what was the point?

if they just wanted to humanize DoF a bit and introduce the kid that guel and kenanji run into later on, that could have taken half an episode given the insane pacing they chose to go by during the 2nd cour

regardless, i'll still savor little bits here and there

ok lmao i feel like my original post was way better than this and it took me double the time now to make this post but whatever. gonna try to get through some more eps this weekend

[mollish-art]

HOW DO YOU WRITE SO AMAZINGLY WOULD YOU HAVE ANY TIPS I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF UNPERSONS IT'S SO GOOD

eeeEEEEE thank you so much!!! That's really sweet of you to say - I'm so happy that you're enjoying the story so far!!

This is honestly the first I'm I've even attempted to write anything of this length before, so I'm amazed it's been received so positively.

I am by no means a professional writer, nor have I taken any creative writing classes or been to any workshops, but I'll just let you know what I tried to keep in mind, as that seemed to work for me! Take this with a grain of salt, though :)

When I was in the midst of writing, I was absolutely hyperfixated. The story was literally all I thought about. I only listened to the playlists I curated for it on repeat, even when not writing or drawing concept art for it. It was honestly a little unhealthy lmao but it gave me the stamina and inspiration I needed to sit for long hours and just write.

First things first: I wrote a really rough plan of how I wanted all of the scenes to play out, color-coding the headings by perspective. I even gave each segment heading names that were eventually removed from the final draft of each chapter. For example, here are the perspective titles for chapters 2 and 3:

And here is a random screenshot of some of the plot outline from Chapter 3:

I'd put random keywords in there along with media references and links to concept art etc to jog my brain as well.

This helped me to keep overarching goals in mind when I actually began to write the chapters themselves. I also wrote everything in order - I never skipped over writing certain scenes. That might work for some people, but not me hehe

What's very important to note though is that as I was in the middle of writing each chapter, I simply wrote what felt right. If something seemed to just work better, even if it went against my initial outline, I would write that instead.

Additionally, I constantly assessed my strengths and weaknesses. I feel far more comfortable describing physical and emotional reactions than I do writing dialogue, so I would always pay particuarly close attention to the dialogue I wrote when editing. I would often read whole segments out loud so as to avoid as many cases of "he-would-NOT-fucking-say-that"-syndrome as possible.

Also, I would take frequent breaks. If a scene I was writing just was not coming together, I'd stop writing for a while rather than burning myself out.

I tried to take into account some advice I heard from somewhere else as much as I could, namely to balance descriptions of the environment with dialogue, both internal and external. I tried to catch myself whenever I noticed I was dedicating a huge, uniterrupted chunk of text to only dialogue or only environomental description.

Another thing: I like using figurative language. A lot. Probably a little too much. But I like being dramatic and artsy (a bit like my characterization of Hetch, I suppose), so I would include a lot of metaphors and similes within my writing. I feel like it helps to paint more of an abstract picture and let the reader fill in the gaps themselves with their mind rather than to give too many minute details, as that can get boring pretty quickly.

Lastly, I revised my drafts many times before I sent them to my beta readers, checking mostly for continuity errors, flow, and any grammatical/spelling errors. I'd often do my revisions aloud to myself, as I tend to catch more awkward sentences that way as opposed to just reading it silently to myself!

Hopefully some of that is helpful :) Honestly, the biggest piece of advice I can give is to just get out there and write. I didn't know I was capable of pulling this off until I sat down and did it. And, most of alll, I was writing more for myself than anyone else. In other words, I just had fun with it! I didn't really care if people would resonate with it, all that I knew is that I enjoyed writing it myself. Thankfully, that seemed to come across! I'm still blown away by how Unperson has been received so far. I'm really looking forward to getting the chance to get back to writing it again!