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azureflight · 3 days

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"Nettles does not/may not have Valyrian blood" is a fandom misconception

I keep seeing this argument that "Nettles proves you don't need Valyrian blood to tame dragons" all over social media, including the so called book fandom. I apologize for raining on your parade, but that entire sentence, and the logic its built upon, is a complete and an utter farce. Allow me to elaborate:

First of all, this entire argument is based on a whole another misconception. This second, underlying misconception goes like this:

"People in asoiaf universe/westeros/essos, think/believe only Targaryens/Valyrians can ride dragons, and that's why no one tries to claim them."

THERE IS NO SUCH BELIEF IN THE SETTING! NONE!

I am sure, there are people in that universe, who believe that. But they do not represent a universal consensus, especially not one that is ever accepted by maesters, lords, various other mages or anyone with any ambition on any continent really. The way in universe sources talk about dragonriding is that "Valyrian were the first". First, not only, never only.

Now, no one else has yet succeeded, but they still believe it can be done. And motivated by this belief, they keep trying. Yes you have read that one right. PEOPLE CONSTANTLY TRY TO CLAIM DRAGONS.

Before Dance, during Dance, after Dance, they have never stopped. In main asoiaf era alone, we have Euron, Victarion, Warlocks of the House of the Undying, Slaver Masters of Astapor all trying to get their hands on dragons, all thinking they could control them. If certain book theories are correct, then even the Faceless Men are trying.

Before Dance, we have Elissa Farman stealing three eggs from Dragonstone. During Dance we have multiple people with no blood relation, some we know to be brazenly lying, try to claim dragons. After the Dance there are others trying to get eggs, hatch them, get living dragons etc.

People never stopped trying. And perhaps, even more importantly, there was never any claim by even house Targaryen itself, that you just had to be one of them. Never. They passed legal edicts to forbade people from claiming dragons without the king's permission/claiming ownership over all dragons and eggs in westeros but... That didn't stop people, and of course it didn't, because any other form of "theft" is already illegal and yet people still do it.

Even Jaehaerys I, with his exceptionalism politics, made no such claim that "you had to be a Targaryen". And it would be absurd of him to make such a claim, because Targaryens weren't the only dragonlord family in the first place. There were plenty more in old Valyria, up to 40 houses. It was never a "Targaryen only" thing, and everyone and their mother knew. Valyria was around for thousands of years, and their demise is not so old. Everyone still knows.

Targaryens are the only house to survive the Doom and the following Century of Blood. But even that does not mean what it first sounds like. Something Targaryens were well aware of and again, never denied.

Why? Because adultery exists, that's why. Official, properly named members of a house may die, but that doesn't mean all relatives did. And the Free Cities are full of Valyrians. Most of them are former colonies of Valyria, and their population is significantly made up of Valyrian descendants. Furthermore, Dragonlords themselves have shitton of bastards, running all over Essos and Westeros. Even before the doom, people with dragonlord ancestry were not "rare". Now in asoiaf era they are in the millions.

That brings me to our thirds, yes third, misconception. The claim that the in universe belief is "you have to be a Valyrian to ride a dragon." Again, no. But from a different angle.

Being Valyrian was never a condition. Why? Because not all Valyrians were dragonlords. In fact, among the Valyrians themselves, dragonlords were an extremely small, tiny, miniscule minority. Just around (probably less than) 40 houses, within an entire nation, an entire empire. That is a very, very select few.

"But wait, isn't that a contradiction? You just said dragonlord blood isn't rare and now you are claiming they are an exceptionally small group!"

No. What I am saying is that being a dragonlord, was never a normal, standard aspect of being a Valyrian. Dragonlords all were Valyrians, sure. But among Valyrians, those who were NOT dragonlords, far, far exceeded the number of those whole were. And being a descendant of a dragonlord, requires you to have a single dragonlords as your ancestor. It does not require non-dragonlord Valyrian ancestry. And it doesn't matter if your every other ancestor is from some other nation or ethnicity. A dragonlord's child with an Andal, with a First Men, with a Rhoynar, with a Dothraki, with a Lharazeen, with a Ghiscari, with a Summer Islander, is no less a descendant, and has no less dragonlords blood, than one with a regular Valyrian.

There is a reason, dragonlords performed such intense incest. They never wanted to risk weakening or losing the ability to ride dragons. Because you may not inherent the lucky genes from your dragonlord ancestory if there are non-dragonlord genes in the pool of possibility. Like any other hereditary trait, it can be lost. The other angle, was of course to deny spreading of the power, but that was futile and doomed to fail lmao.

There is a fourth misconception fueling all of this. Yes, there are layers to this. The fourth one being that there was some concentrated effort by Targaryens to deceive and lie about who could posses the magical power to ride dragons, in order to manipulate public and maintain their monopoly. Again, no such thing ever happened.

Targaryens never claimed you had to be a Targaryen, or a Valyrian to ride a dragon. In fact, they very openly accept the possibility of some other, as of yet unknown, sorcery to also achieve the same result. That's one of the reasons they tried to regulate who could own and try to claim dragons (unsuccessfully).

In fact, this last possibility, is raised as an accusation against Nettles. Loudly. By the maester which Fire & Blood uses as source and later by Rhaenyra herself! It is a public accusation and a hostile racist slander, not a dire truth anyone is trying to keep a secret.

Now that we have cleared the underlying misconceptions, let's return to the very first one. The one that claims Nettles isn't a Dragonlord by blood, but a completely random commoner who just got a dragon through courage and cunning.

For this one, we will once again need to go step by step. First things first, where does the idea that Nettles may not be a dragonlord even comes from?

Well, it comes from an in universe accusation. The basis of which is racist envy and rage of betrayal. The clown of a maester disparagingly calling her "skinny brown girl" never even saw her. When Rhaenyra accuses her of using some other dark magic to bind her dragon, she also accuses her of seducing Daemon with magic, because Rhaenyra is busy losing her marbles at that moment.

But, none of that means anything. We already do know, you don't have to look like an archetypal Targaryen to have Targaryen ancestry, let alone any other dragonlord. Rhaenyra's own first three sons don't look like Targaryens, yet we all know they are proper dragonlords. We have Baelor Breakspear and Duncan the Small as other examples of obvious Targaryen princes who simply look like their non-Targaryen parent. We have, and I cannot emphasize this hard enough, Jon Snow.

This is a recurring pattern in the story. People who are obviously Targaryens, get accused of, or are seen as, not real Targaryens, just because they don't have the "looks". And each and every single one of those are bullshit moronic bigotry. Nettles is no exception. It is indeed sad, to watch so many of the fandom fall into the same trap as generic westerosi rumormongers and racist dipshits, when it comes to Nettles.

To expand upon this further: Narratively speaking, Nettles' position is pretty much the same as Jon Snow. They both have the blood. Neither of them have the looks. They don't have the papers to prove their heritage neither. And yet, we know Jon Snow is Rhaegar's son and as such, has the possibility of claiming a dragon. Nettles is there to show us two things: Yes, you can claim a dragon even if you don't have the knowledge, the education or the papers to prove your ancestry, because blood is what matters. And no, even if you were to claim a dragon, that does not mean people will now automatically accept you as a true dragonlord, let alone a Targaryen. You will always be doubted, questioned, challenged, accused.

And yet, even with all these misconceptions dismissed, one can still argue the original statement may remain true. That just because underlying fandom "logic" and speculation was demonstrably false, does not mean the final point and the main claim is also false. Reaching the correct conclusion through the wrong way, still results in the correct conclusion. Right?

Not this time. Because, we have access to meta knowledge about how these things work, straight from GRRM's mouth. Something the people of asoiaf, in universe, will never reach.

What's that meta knowledge? It's the knowledge that:

Dragons are magical creatures.

Dragonriding is a magical bond.

Magic in asoiaf is innate and hereditary.

Magic in asoiaf is not procedural, it is not something you can learn and replicate by following instructions.

GRRM, throughout the years, have repeatedly talked about this. As late as his special videos for Max, for House of the Dragon tv show, and interviews he gave around the first season of HOTD.

And over and over again, he repeated the same thing. He doesn't like Dungeons & Dragons style procedural magic. He doesn't like the concept of "magic system". He wants magic to be rare, chaotic and innate. Barely under control, dangerous, unpredictable with unforeseen drawbacks. For asoiaf specifically, he talked about how this magic is all about who you are. Specifically talked about how words, recipes and rituals don't matter. The person who performs them does. He specifically talks about how Daenerys "makes it up as she goes" because magic, in this setting, is innate and instinctual.

He also specifically talked about dragonlords and their practice of incest. And explained that while these people don't know "genes" in the way we do as a modern scientific concept, they are perfectly capable of comprehending what a hereditary trait is and thus acted to preserve it.

None of these are assumptions or interpretations from books. They are straight from GRRM's mouth. Dragons, and the ability to ride them is magic. That magic is innate and hereditary.

So, the irony really is, that while people in the setting think there may be another way and keep trying, it's actually all futile. There is no other way. You have to have that dragonlord blood. You have to get that lucky magic gene. You have to get lucky with your choice of dragon so that it accepts you. Genetics and luck. Both, not either or, certainly not "ackchyually genetics don't matter at all, anyone can do it with a bit of courage and cunning!"

What's really funny is that, this isn't even the only hereditary, innate magic. Skinchanging, greensight, both are hereditary and innate. You are born with it, or you aren't. You cannot learn it from a book, acquire it through hard work and study. Power to transfer your mind into various other creatures, spy on perhaps the whole world, see through past and present, mind control humans, perhaps even time travel. All innate, all luck of birth. Yet I have never seen anyone in this fandom get their panties in a bunch about this, or constantly grasp at various tin foil straws to claim how ackchyually anyone can just skinchange into whatever animal they like/time travel at will with a bit of courage and cunning.

I will not extrapolate further as why I think that is. You all know who you are and know your own inner motivations. All I'm going to say is this:

Life is unfair, so is asoiaf. People are not all made equal in talent and innate capacity, in either world. Some people are born with peek health, a high intelligence and to loving families of means. Others with disabilities, as mediocre midwits or into piss poor abusive parents. And in this magical setting, some guys are just born with the power to own and command flying napalms, and others are born with no magic at all.

Again, sorry to rain on your parade.

Some selection of sources for GRRM's meta info:

youtube

#house of the dragon #asoiaf #nettles #game of thrones #Youtube

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lemotmo · 3 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/lemotmo/751241780793622528

I’m confused by the timing of it. Like if it was to move momentum forward you’d think it would have been after episode 4 or 5.

To announce a hey we’re going to be giving more focus on this relationship next season, it be after the finale.

But now it’s just…. it’s airing before the episode airs tonight so like…. They already have very little to talk about relationship wise, and removing episode 9 and anything that happens in it from being able to talk about gives them even less lol. And it’s also happening after Tommy hasn’t even been seen or mentioned once by anyone in the last two episodes?

I know we keep saying Tommy is a plot device but I wonder if Lou is “plot devicing” here, by which I mean it’s mostly going to be about bucks bi journey itself (which is what Tim and Oliver and hell sometimes Ryan oddly enough lol, keep focusing on) and since Tommy is currently part of it, Lou has to be there as well.

Ah Nonny! You speak my language well!

I was just thinking about this. The timing is off. Something is going on. What an odd moment to do promo for a couple that barely had 20 minutes of screentime. You would think they would do promo after the finale, assuming they would have had more scenes together and they would be more established.

I think there are two things that could be at play here:

It's good promo for more people to watch the penultimate episode. The bisexual Buck storyline has garnered some new viewers and since Tommy is part of his storyline (as a plot device to make him realise he is actually bisexual) he has to be there.

Something might actually happen between them that won't be so positive at all. Their relationship might take a hit or even a fall. So, they won't be established by the finale and they won't be able to do any promo for them anymore.

Personally I think it'll be a combination of both of the above. I could be wrong of course, but the way the promo of this season has been going (mostly Buddie-related) and the way Oliver refuses to promote Buck/Tommy (which is something he has done before because he doesn't want to lead the fans on) I have a pretty good feeling about this.

If I'm wrong about this? Well, there is always next season. I'm convinced that Buddie is in the works. Everything in the episodes and the way they portray Buck/Eddie and Tommy in their scenes, to the promo, to the strange social media postings (Vertigo poster), to the way Ryan talks about Eddie pressing a refresh button and the audience will get to know an unexplored side of Eddie? Yeah, I'm sorry, but I'm firmly seated on my Buddie-train. I've got a strong feeling that we're riding the Endgame Express at this point.

Sorry, not sorry. 🤷‍♀️

PS: Oh and Buddie peeps, don't let anyone tell you that you are delusional. We've been here for 6 seasons. We've seen it all. But this is different now. Buck is canonically bisexual. This is no more delusion or clown noses/clown cars situations anymore. Buck is bi and all the possibilities are open now. So yes, Buddie is definitely a viable and valid option. This is something that can happen. No more clown make-up for us!

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #Lou and Oliver interview #we are not delusional #it's all right there in the narrative

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jedi-enthusiast · 22 hours

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Honestly I’m so confused why people are so upset that Israel was included in Eurovision, like…my dude it’s literally a music contest for a bunch of countries---that Israel has already been included in before---not an actual political statement.

It’s literally insane to me, especially with how people were treating the Israeli contestant---protesting her, forcing her to change her song, other contestants saying shit like “talking to her doesn’t mean I support Israel,” etc. etc.

And I feel like that’s a reoccurring thing with all this mainstream pro-Palestine bullshit: y’all don’t actually care about Palestine or want to help anyone, you just want “good person points” socially, but don’t actually care about your impact.

You'll post shit like "stan Hamas" and ignore the fact that they're literally a terrorist organization dedicated to killing Jews, and that they're literally hurting Palestinians too, as well as the fact that the conflict between Israel and Palestine is only ongoing because Hamas keeps breaking the ceasefire and won't give back hostages.

But you'll ignore all of the organizations that actually help Palestine because they're run by Jews/Israelis, or even just supported by Jews and Israelis.

(And how much do you want to bet that the same people who cry- "Hamas is only doing this because of Israel's actions regarding Palestine, so it's justified/reasonable/understandable, etc." -would never say that if it was a group like, say, ISIS that was kidnapping/killing/waging war on Americans because of the US's actions in the Middle East?)

You'll harass random people on college campuses just because they're Jewish, even though they clearly have no fucking say in what a country on the other side of the world does, and barricade yourselves inside a building and be shocked when you're suspended or expelled for property damage/harassment/etc.

But you won't volunteer at any organizations that are dedicated to helping Palestine, or donate money to those organizations, or donate food/clothes/etc., or actually do anything besides whine and cry because you helped destroy a campus building and your college doesn't want you there anymore.

(Hell, 99% of y'all don't even bother volunteering for your own communities, so I know you're sure as hell not volunteering to help anyone else's---again, you just want the "good person points")

Everyone that was so gung-ho about "oh yeah, let's punch Nazis!" a few years ago are now spouting Nazi rhetoric.

Everyone that preached that bigotry is never ok, even if someone from a minority does something bad, are now the same people chanting- "Jews are shit!" -and spreading blood libel.

Everyone that was calling for solidarity between minorities and oppressed groups are now the same people ostracizing Jews because they won't condemn the only country that will actually protect them- (or rather, they'll condemn the Israeli governments actions, but won't stand side-by-side with antisemites or say that Israel should be destroyed).

Everyone that said that it wasn't okay for people to be racist towards poc because some of the BLM protests were getting out of hand/violent are now the same ones going- "oh, it's fine to be antisemitic because these disgusting Jews Zionists aren't agreeing with me on everything."

Everyone that was posting shit about being aware of misinformation and doing your research before posting something are now the ones that have no idea what Zionism actually is, don't even know which river and sea their chant means, has no clue what Israel has actually done to Palestine and is just calling it a "genocide" as a buzzword despite all the evidence stating otherwise, etc.

Like...you guys are really just proving that you don't actually have morals beyond what's socially acceptable.

"Never harass random Muslim/gay/trans/black/etc. people just for a cause or because they did something you didn't like...unless they're Jewish, then you can stalk them on campus and be physically violent towards them."

"Bigotry is never okay, even if someone from a minority does something you don't agree with or something awful...unless they're Jewish, then spread blood libel and call for the "final solution" all you want."

"Not everyone from the US/Republican states/Christian churches/etc. agrees with what their government/state/religious leaders are doing, so it's not fair to blame and ostracize them for it...unless it's Jewish people or Israelis or, G-d forbid, Jewish Israelis, then you can hate them and blame them for everything!"

Like, genuinely, fuck off.

You aren't good people, you aren't "making a difference" or "on the right side of history," you don't give a shit about morality or justice or doing any good for anyone---all you care about is your fucking popularity and the social norm.

So keep your stupid, hateful, misinformed hands off of the I/P conflict---you've proven that y'all clearly can't handle having opinions on it.

#antisemitism #israel/palestine #i/p conflict

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dykeinthedark · 1 month

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venting in tags about gender n shit (long as hell) (u can comment and talk 2 me as always :3)

#okay so i got a really masc haircut about a month ago and i know it's just a haircut but holy shit has it changed EVERYTHING for me #like.... i've always leaned masc except 1) before i came out 2) when i was actively in love with someone who i knew liked femmes #and they always described me as a fem. because that's what i showed her. because i wanted to be with her.#but lowkey whenever i'm in a not-impressing-anyone raw-dogging-life-no-crush era i always resort to a very masc style #like masc being my default and i'd only lean fem to impress people whether it's for love or peer pressure in a specific setting #like ''dressing up'' has always been a form of drag to me. like something i HAD to do to fit in or impress my parents (scott favor core)#but ever since this haircut i've realized... i could just BE masc innately like i really don't have to be womanly if i don't want to #which i usually don't. again i have only ever dressed fem for other people. but it's not even being masc that attracts me on its own #it's like. being masc in a distinctly lesbian way. as in whenever i look in the mirror i don't wanna be like a Guy i wanna be a dyke.#like lesbian as a gender identity too sort of thing honestly. okay i've been waffling but basically i sort of want to call myself butch #but i don't know if i like... can?? if i'm allowed to???#everyone always says it's MORE than just wearing boy clothes and not wearing makeup and having short hair (which i already do all those)#i mean i've always id'd as genderqueer because it literally just means gender weird and i experience gender in a queer way #what's probably the most telling is that my friends (all queer) CALL me a butch lesbian #like every time they do i feel really internally validated. it's not just my clothes but my personality too ig is what people tell me #i have a higher pitched voice relatively speaking but apparently the way i talk is quote ''very clockably into women''#which?? gender euphoria asf. my best friend specifically he (gay trans guy) always uses butch to describe me very intuitively #people have also noticed that i ''transitioned'' in all aspects except hormonally. like ppl have commented and noticed my masculinzation #but at the same time i always feel rly haunted by my ex relationships because one wanted me to be more masc #(she's the one who came out as straight and would treat me like a man) which i didn't like and i didn't like playing up being fem either #bc now it feels like she (butch) won't believe me if i called myself butch too bc she remembers me being femme #idk i feel like there's her voice in my head all the time that sees everything i do through her eyes (i'm lowkey still in love)#i feel like even though this comes so naturally to me i must be putting on a performance #even though i've actually read stone butch blues and done research into the history and i truly love and id with the culture like i rly do #that im still just a sad imitation of a butch lesbian and can never really be a part of it because i used to enjoy dressing up sometimes #like it's so stupid but can i still be butch if i wore a dress to prom and i think i looked good in it??#even though i was envious of my friends who wore suits?? that i used to try goth makeup?? that i liked long dresses??#that i enjoyed stacked necklaces and rings on every finger???#and tbh ALL OF THAT CAME FROM A CONCIOUS EFFORT TO FEMINIZE MYSELF IN JUNIOR YEAR OF HIGHSCHOOL WHEN I WAS 16 #because omfg it was 2 months before junior prom and i was worried that i was too masc and wanted to get comfortable with being fem

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crintsiewintsey · 1 year

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miscellaneous drawings including my silly little au with disabled peppino where everything is exactly the same but he kicks ass and runs people over in his wheelchair that i love so very much

#pizza tower #sugary spire #my art #wanted to draw a couple of other things for this au before posting but oh well #don't know if anyone has done something like this already I've just been thinking about it for a couple of weeks now i think

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bootyful-seventeen · 7 months

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i am too mentally exhausted to even deal with this shit anymore with my mom and grandma and low key wish i'd go comatose for a few years to be left alone tbh

#had a clean up service come by to see the damage and give a quote on the estimate and my grandma wasnt having it #she got upset and started crying to them about she has only 1 daughter and is trying to help her and they're trying to tell her that keepin #all that junk isn't gonna be helping anyone especially my mom but she wasn't getting it and i said i'm not helping clean the junk that's #all around the house cuz i'm tired of it all and having to manage my emotions since i am for sure emtotionally stunted from my childhood #and have to deal with a schitzophrenic mom and an absent sister who's balls deep in denial while i'm struggling to find a job here #and my grandma always stressing me ot saying she's gonna kick me out isn't fucking helping here at all like she thinks it does #so when they left she spent all day sobbing on the phone how i'm a terrible granddaughter who wants to throw out good stuff #when i'm not gonna keep helping sell shit for my mom cuz my sister can do it as her family contribution since she did nothing since dad die #and the thing is i gave them all options on clearing shit out cuz i know this family by now and shit doesn't get tossed but it migrates #cuz i said months ago i can ask some friends if they could come down and help sort and declutter #grandma said no to that and said she'll kick me out if i do it and she didn't want to pay for my mom's shit to get moved into a storage uni #she leaves the clean up to my mom and i think the backyard got worse but she didn't call anyone to throw out the junk like she threatened t #so i call a fucking hoarders clean up service cuz that's what my family is on my mom's side at this point and the city will be called too #and she has this reaction cries all day and calls everyone to say i'm horrible and yells at me saying i'm the one killing her with stress #when she's already been doing that for months to herself when i'm just tired and possibly mildly depressed or something idk #i barely leave my room and don't go outside except to walk my dog but idk cuz my family's attittude was we don't go to doctors cuz #cuz they're for crazy people but of course it's gotta switch up for my mom and no one else and i'm just sick of it all #grandma doesn't accept free help and she won't accept help that i pay for myself with my money set aside for school so i'm done #unlike her when i say i'll do something i stick to it so i'm not doing shit anymore unless i can call a friend to help with this mess #it's gonna sound like such a horrible thing but i can't wait for my family to die so i can live in a clean home again and get help #like deep serious help cleaning and big time grief councelling cuz i barely had time to process my dad's death and being the one to find hi #and that was just this february like god i am going to need so much fucking therapy in my future it's almost rediculous #and probably say screw my mom's side and visit my dad's side a lot more since they seem to be the normal ones in this shit family tree #at least they're not stupid and leave junk everywhere where one neighbour getting sick of not being able to sit outside and enjoy their yar #without mountains of junk staring them right in the face and landing a notice from the city to clean up especially since #we have chainlink fences and at least 7 neighbours can see the backyard and everyone can see the front porch when passing by #i'm just tired of living in these suffocating households and even wanna file a report myself to kick them into gear #its horrible living like this and no one should live surrounded by junk and things they never use or even garbage

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writerslingo · 9 months

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My mom made this joke when I told her about Jay Johnston (Jimmy Pesto) getting arrested for being a part of the Jan. 6 insurrection. And then she proceeded to make this meme in further response, lmao

#bobs burgers #bob's burgers #linda belcher #jimmy pesto #jay johnston #I know it's old news by now and this joke has probably already been done #but I just had to share because my mom actually made a pretty good meme (she recently turned 53 too)#I like how it kind of looks like a screenshot of an actual canon scene from the show with subtitles on #makes it even better I think haha #january 6 #january 6 insurrection #and let's be honest... I don't think anyone would be surprised if Jimmy Fucking Pesto was at the insurrection #also just the mere idea of Linda suspecting Jimmy of doing something nefarious like conspiring to overthrow the government because #she saw a flyer for a republican/conservative rally taped to his restaurant window would feel like an on-brand episode lol

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rubenesque-as-fuck · 1 year

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Well damn, today did not go how I expected

#life of faye #woke up normal and actually started to get stuff done #then got distracted texting d #which turned into us having a long deep conversation about our whole situation #like probably more in depth than we've really discussed it since he left portland #or possibly ever #i definitely ended up confessing that I am kinda sorta in love with him and don't know how not to be #and that I feel like a bad friend for still wanting to fuck him but also that I feel like there's been some mixed signals in that regard #and he talked about how he's not comfortable pursuing a relationship with me or anyone else right now #and that he would be open to something fwb-related but he didn't think I would be interested/comfortable with that arrangement #especially considering my own confessed feelings and everything #but I told him I can work with that because at least I would have a chance to occasionally fuck someone I trust #and i already know he fucks like a champ #like fwb fuckfest every once in a while- even if it's only every year or two- is still preferable to ~1 shitty new stranger date per year #and maybe it's pathetic of me to stuff down my love to at least get sex #but fucking a friend that just doesn't love me back is still better than fucking a stranger to me #anyway we haven't really nailed down it all yet but the conversation has finally been started #also he asked for me to make a painting for his bday and it made me 🥹#nobody has ever specifically asked me to paint them something before #my date with sweet d

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viscerism · 10 months

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i've learned a lot of things by taking an anatomy class like how apparently your scapulae are supposed to lay flat against your ribcage and should not protrude from your back and also i've been living with a musculoskeletal condition that has been causing me severe pain and upper body weakness for as long as i can remember

#scythe speaks #scythe complains #i've known this for a little while now this isn’t anything really new #but i'm just bitter. this has been a thing ever since i was a teenager and it's been causing me problems for that long.#but better late than never i guess. but there's still not much that can be done about it even now.#i don't have the time money or energy for something like strength training or physical therapy #and surgery is off the table #but hey i've lived with it for this long #it's called scapula alata or scapular winging btw #also apparently it's slowly fucking up my back more than it already was fucked up #there are so many problems in my daily life that are caused by my fucking shoulder blades.#sorry i know this is out of the blue and i doubt anyone gives a damn but god this hurts and it's so fucking annoying #i just need somewhere to vent #vent tw

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dduane · 1 year

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Had an idea you might be able to use for something: Klingon Soap Operas.

(sigh)

Thanks for the thought. I appreciate your kindness!

But unfortunately, because you've sent me the idea and I've read it, I can now not use it, ever. No matter how much I might like to.

This isn't about you, you understand. And in its way it probably seems like a cruel paradox. You were only trying to be helpful! But if I was working on something for Trek and this concept came up even in casual discussion, I would be honor-bound (and contractually required) to inform them that the idea had come to me from a reader or fan. And then—rightly, from their point of view—they would forbid me to use it, because the idea's originator might some day, despite all their friendly intentions now, sue them over it. And the evidence that I was at fault would be easy to obtain. Sending a DM on any major platform generates an electronic "paper trail" that will confirm its target has opened and read the message in question. And that electronic record can be subpoenaed and submitted as evidence, and would stand up in court.

"Oh, come on, who'd do a thing like that, what are the odds...?" people will say. But it's not generally known that I've already been involved in a high-stakes lawsuit in which someone tried to sue Mattel over material I wrote when developing the initial form of the "Barbie: Fairytopia" universe (and the first Fairytopia film) for them. I'd never so much as met or communicated with the person suing them, had never read even a word of their work... but they still went to great trouble and expense attempting to prove that I'd had access to their material and used it without permission.

Mattel won the suit (as I'd frankly been expecting: the attorney handling their defense was one of the most expert IP lawyers in the US). But it gave me the chills... and made it clear how very wrong things could go, and the kind of damage that could be done to my career and my personal life, if I even accidentally used ideas from unauthorized sources.

Seriously, folks. I know you all mean well! But please don't make me tap the sign. DO NOT SEND ME STORY IDEAS, no matter how vague or general or unformed they may be. To do so is to absolutely guarantee that they will never, ever happen.* (And in my own universes, your innocently-meant suggestion could mean that neither you or anyone else will ever see that particular Young Wizards or Middle Kingdoms plot, no matter how much you'd like to... because I take this stuff seriously.)

...Thanks, all.

*This is also why I don't read fanfic set in my universes. Which you also shouldn't send me: please and thank you.

ETA: I would really, really appreciate it if y'all would refrain from giving @eldritchcatpossumamalgam grief in the tags. They made an honest, well-intentioned mistake, that's all, and they don't deserve to be personally raked over the coals for it. (And any of you who think I would derive any kind of satisfaction from that happening plainly don't know me very well.) So thanks in advance for your cooperation.

#fanfic #story ideas #Don't.#Just...#you know...#DON'T.#(thanking you)

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luna-has-some-thoughts · 6 days

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Amity parkers are feral and insane

-Gothamites.

Somehow, someway, Casper high finds their selves in Gotham.

It could be a field trip or a ghost shoved them in a portal, doesn't matter, they're in Gotham.

As they arrive in Gotham, the Casper teachers decide to turn this into something educational and hire a tour guide from Gotham Academy (or was it Gotham university? I forgot) GA agrees and also Sends some of their students to partner up with the amity parkers as a sort "buddy" and to hopefully teacher em the ways of surviving in Gotham.

To the gothamites, the amity parkers look like children who have never been exposed to crime in their life, never been mugged, never been been kidnapped.

But the truth is, compared to the BS amity is used to, Gothams issues are like kindergarten.

First thing the tour guide hears when she greets Casper high Mr lancer telling them to, "Please don't walk into danger, please don't try and provoke the joker, I know he's a bitch but still. If you find yourself in a tricky situation, do not hesitate to punch yourself to freedom, but ABSOLUTELY NO CRITICAL HITs these are NORMAL people they're not like us or the ghosts, they will not survive. Please do not give phantom problems, He's already failing in class he doesn't need more problems"

Its important to keep in mind that:

amity parkers and ghosts are buddies now.

The Ambient ectoplasm gave them a form of super strength, also making it so that they are able to touch ghost.

They join the ghost brawls everyone in a while and has some wins.

Most, if not all are liminal in a way.

Everyone knows that Danny is phantom but have signed an NDA that says they aren't allowed to tell anyone who isn't a native amity parker who he is.

Things is, The gothamites don't know about this and take it as if Mr lancer and the students are underestimating Gotham. So as a from of pettiness, all the Gotham students decided to bring their amity partner to the most dangerous places they can think of.

Niky has lead sam into a park that poison ivy frequents. Of course, poison ivy is there but instead of running away in fear like niky expected, Sam runs up to ivy, complements her and joins the path of eco terrorism.

Tucker and his partner Vic finds himself in the middle of a riddler attack, locked in a room with no way out, a countdown timer with 20 secs remaining and a riddle in a computer.

Vic is panicking as he tries to figure it out, he looked to tucker for help. Tucker just shrugged and hacked the computer, not even bothering to solve the riddle. It worked and Vic is baffled and the riddler is frustrated.

Danny find himself in the hands of the joker, (his partner ran the moment joker was seen) hanging upside down on top of a large pool of acid, because, it's classic for joker. He is also being live streamed.

The teachers in GA are panicking, the bats are panicking.

Casper high teacher took one look at the stream and shrugged. "Eh, he'll be fine." They also called the number that joker has displayed on the screen, just to say, "Daniel Fenton, make sure your back before in GA 6 pm or else were leaving you to find the hotel on your own."

The time is 5:30 pm.

It takes 25 minutes to walk from Joker to GA.

Danny sighs, might as well start walking.

He uses intangibility to free himself and fall into the vat of acid.

The Gothamites are shocked and screaming, the bats are shocked. Amity parkes went "oh" and continued placing bets on how fast Danny will get back.

Danny then proceeds to swim out of the acid pool, punch the joker in the face, knocking him out in a single hit and then proceeds to casually squeeze out the acid from his Casper high "I am a proud amitian" shirt as if it's regular water.

All of this was done in 5 minutes.

All of this was caught on stream.

The Gothamites are passed out, the bats are questioning everything. Batman is searching up everything he can about acid side effects and about Danny but ends up with nothing.

The amity parkers just raised their bets even further.

Danny somehow makes it back 10 minutes late and Wes wins the bet.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #amity park #casper high #gotham #batman #amity parkers be like #humans are nothing compared to ghost #danny will be fine #hes phantom #batman is stressed #danny fenton

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dymagamwedd · 1 year

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psa. ok. i think i am gonna start using icons. i do feel weird having a non-actor's face attached to anything remotely nsfw (and frankly i feel weird about using 80s molly ringwald attached to anything nsfw) so i'll leave those threads iconless. if anyone is uncomfortable with me using damiano as ferry's fc, i'll drop the icons for those threads as well.

#( * psa. )#i'm trying to tiptoe around doing anything problematic #but i already use a silent film fc for chauvelin and since silent films are from the 1920s john barrymore is most assuredly dead #and i know some people think using any deceased fc is problematic full stop #so i'm?? already doing something that people find fault with and i'm probably doing a dozen other things here that people find problematic #i'm trying really hard not to do things wrong or to offend anyone but i think no matter what i do i can't please everyone #so. i'm not aware of damiano objecting to use as an actor. i'm not aware of anything problematic or hurtful he's done.#if he's said or done something i'm not aware of that makes this a problematic choice then i apologise and i'll change #but for now this is a lowkey blog for writing with friends and i want to use the fc that fits the character #sorry for the tag rant but yeah i'm dead serious here i've been sent cruel anons for so much shit in the past when i didn't mean any harm #i'm desperately trying my best not to step on toes or do things wrong or hurt anyone but it feels like i always do #everyone in the rpc has a different idea of what's problematic (beyond stuff we all agree on like inc*st and p*dophilia fuck that shit)#and it's difficult to please everyone? i guess? is what i'm saying?#just. please don't assume i'm a horrible person for a fc choice when i don't know if i'm doing anything wrong or horrible

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soaps-mohawk · 29 days

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Summary: Things have gone wrong in your pack's absence. Can they make it back in time before irreparable damage is done? Can they fix the damage that's already been dealt?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,232...oops

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, panic attacks, very descriptive scenes of panic and anxiety, very heavy emotionally in the beginning, major invasions of privacy, hurt/sort of comfort, very brief mention of violence and death, and most importantly: fluff

A/N: Yeah, so this one kind of got away from me. It's definitely one of my favorite chapters now, and it's definitely the longest so far. It's pretty heavy, so plan something fun afterwards because it will hurt. I tried to catch all the possible triggers, but of course, if I miss one let me know. I promise things will begin to take a turn for the happier after this, at least for a bit. Picks up pretty much right where chapter 17 left off.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re shaking. Your breaths are coming in gasps as you stare at your open door. There’s no scent in the air, nothing that would give you a hint of who invaded your space, or if they’re still in there. You should leave, barricade yourself somewhere and call Dr. Keller, or even Kate.

What could they do, though? Your pack won’t be home until tomorrow at the earliest.

No one can help you.

You slowly push your door open, ready to run in case someone is hiding inside. You stand in the doorway, scanning the small space, but there’s no sign of anyone. There’s still no scent either, just your own mingled with the slight chemical burn of scent blockers. Your eyes scan the room, looking for anything that might be new, anything that might be missing, anything that might be slightly out of place.

The clothes on the floor are slightly rumpled, but you’re not sure if you did that in your haste to pull on shoes before you left, or if they’ve been that way since the knock sounded on your door. You lift your gaze to the ceiling, scanning it and that’s when you notice it. The cover over the vent is slightly out of place. You likely wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention, if you hadn’t looked.

The thought sends a chill running down your spine.

You keep your eyes on the vent as you grab your desk chair, kicking clothes out of the way as you move it under the vent. You stand on the chair, reaching for the vent, but it’s not quite enough. You shove the chair to the side, taking everything off your desk before you pull it under the vent. You climb up on shaky legs, your heart thudding in your chest as you remove the vent cover.

Nausea twists at your stomach as your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. There, strategically placed between two of the gaps in the vent cover, is a camera. It’s small, and would have been invisible just staring at the vent from below. You feel like you might be sick as you pull it free from the vent cover, staring down into the tiny lens.

How long has it been up there?

You drop the camera onto your desk, your fingers shaking and trembling as you feel along the edges of the vent, checking for anything else that might be hiding up there. You replace the cover after you find nothing, a sense of dread filling you.

Had the guys put it up so they could watch you, make sure that you’re safe? Had they put it up there before you arrived? You think about all the times you’ve changed in your room, your heat.

You climb down from the desk, tugging it further towards the center of the room before you climb back up, unscrewing the cover off the light. You check the bulb, looking for any cameras or recording devices. You screw the cover of the light back on after finding none, a quiet sob leaving your lips as you look around your room.

You close the door and lock it before you begin your search, checking every corner and piece of furniture for cameras or recording devices. You empty the dresser and closet, checking every drawer and corner for anything suspicious.

You pull recording devices from under your desk and the back of your nightstand, the adhesive still fresh enough they pop right off. A cold sweat has overtaken you as you find another recording device and another camera, adding them to the growing pile on your desk.

A quiet sob of fear leaves your lips as you check the bathroom, tearing your room apart to check every inch. You search up a tutorial on YouTube, using your phone to check for more possible cameras that you might have missed.

You stare down at the pile of cameras and recording devices on your desk. Someone entered your room and planted them while you were with General Shepherd. It had all been deliberate. Get you away from your room and distracted so they could enter and set up the devices. You wonder if it’s all part of some sick plan, some way to ensure things are going well with your pack. General Shepherd had been very interested in your mark, invading your space without a moment of hesitation to see it firsthand. You would have shown him, had he asked to see it. Instead he’d just done it himself, as if it was nothing.

Your hands are shaking as you find a ziploc bag in the mess you’ve made of your room, putting the cameras and recording devices into it. You drop it onto the floor before stepping on it, listening to the crack of metal and plastic and glass under your shoe. Tears slip down your cheeks as you pick up the bag of broken pieces, taking it to the bathroom. You hide it far in the back of the cupboard beneath the sink, piling things around it and on top of it to keep it hidden.

You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, your skin crawling as you stare at the mess. You don’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own space. The thought of someone breaching the sacred space, entering your room without a second thought to put up cameras makes your stomach churn.

Where will you go? You can’t just leave, find somewhere else to feel safe. What if they did the same to the guys’ rooms? There could have been an entire team of people that came in and put cameras up all over the barracks. A sob leaves your lips as you rush to the door, double checking it’s locked before you shove the dresser against it. You flip your desk up to cover the window as much as it can, just in case anyone tries to climb in.

You sink to the floor in the middle of the disaster that has become your room, sobbing quietly. You want your pack home, you want to feel safe again. You glance at your phone where it’s sitting on a pile of shirts, afraid to even touch it. That woman could have done anything to it while you were with General Shepherd. What if they’re trying to call you and they can’t reach you?

You should try to reach Dr. Keller, tell her what happened, get her to check if there’s anyone lurking around the barracks that shouldn’t be. What if they try to attack her, though? Can she defend herself? You don’t know if she can fight or not. What if she gets hurt because of you? She could ask someone else on base to look, but what if they were involved in it? What if it was someone already on base that had done it? The thought nearly makes you sick.

You’re scared to leave again. What if they’ve noticed you found the cameras and come back while you’re gone? What if they come back while you’re here?

The tears flow freely as you sob, too afraid to even move. You can feel it, the panic starting to bubble up again, the fear welling inside you. Your muscles begin to tense, shoulders pulling up near your ears as you try to defend yourself from this invisible threat. It’s an easy slope from fear to distress, and there’s no one to help you if you start distressing. You press your palms into your eyes, holding your breath to try and shock your body into something other than panic.

You bite back a startled scream as a knock sounds at the door, your heart rate spiking again.

“It’s just me,” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door. “Ready for dinner?”

You take a deep breath, staring at the dresser blocking your door. You’ll have to move it to get out, which she’ll likely notice. You could lie, you could lie easily, but you’re not sure you could keep it up right now. She’ll notice the tears, the obvious signs of panic and distress. She’ll want to know, and you can’t trust yourself not to spill everything.

You should tell her about what had happened, but you know she’ll be disappointed. She’ll think you were stupid for leaving, for not even sending her a text. She’ll tell John when he returns, too. He should know about it, but there’s no way a high ranking General could arrive on base without them knowing, especially one that’s their commander. Maybe it had all been a test. Maybe they do know about General Shepherd and just forgot to tell you this was going to happen.

Maybe Dr. Keller even knew about it, and didn’t say anything because she thought you knew too.

“I-I’m not hungry.” You say, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

There’s a pause outside the door for a moment, a beat of silence that’s too loud.

“Is everything alright?” She finally asks.

“Y-Yeah.” You say, clearing your throat. “Just...not really hungry right now.”

It’s silent again for a beat, making you hold your breath anxiously.

“Are you sure? I can come back later, or bring you dinner.” She says.

“I’m sure.” You swallow the tears welling in your eyes again. “I’ll grab a snack if I get hungry later.”

“Okay...” She says, and you can almost see the frown on her face. “Text or call if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, your voice cracking a bit.

You regret it almost instantly, the urge to shove the dresser out of the way and fling the door open strong as you hear her receding steps down the hallway. You don’t want to be alone, but Dr. Keller can’t give you what you need. The tears start falling again, sliding down your cheeks as you flop onto your back, ignoring the way the edge of a book digs into your spine.

You just want your pack back. You want John to scoop you up into his arms and wrap you in his warmth and soothing scent. You want Kyle and Johnny to squish you between them, sandwich you so tightly you’re scared you might burst. You want Ghost to wrap himself around you and offer you a blanket of protection against anyone who would even dare cast a glance in your direction.

You just want to feel at home again.

You want to be safe again.

***

The emotional and physical exhaustion pushes you into the state between consciousness and sleep. You’ve moved to your bed, tucked under the covers and stuck between the wall and your giant bear, as if it could offer you some form of protection as you float between awareness and somewhere in the realm of sleep for a few hours.

You’re not sure what time it is, when the disruption comes. It takes you a moment to register why you’re awake. Some deep part of your brain is prickling, sending out warning signals to your body. Something’s happening, something’s wrong, something’s posing a threat.

You hold your breath in the silence of the barracks, listening to the slow, quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. For a moment you think you might be imagining them, that you’re still asleep and dreaming. Your fingers pinch at your skin, nails digging in to confirm that you are, in fact, awake. This is really happening.

Your heartbeat picks up, the bitter stench of fear that’s coated your room intensifying as the footsteps pause outside your door. You let out a quiet, shaky breath as you lay there, thinking up every time you checked the door in the last few hours to ensure it was locked and the dresser was still pushed in front of it.

You cover your mouth as the door handle wiggles, catching on the lock. The whimper of fear threatening to rise catches in your throat as you hold your breath, your body trembling under your blankets. You should reach for your phone, send a text to Kate, call Dr. Keller, do something. Yet, you’re frozen in fear as the handle continues to wiggle before stopping.

You don’t release a breath until the footsteps fade, a quiet whimper slipping from your lips. Someone just tried to get into your room.

You’re panicking, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you burrow under your covers, barricading yourself between the wall and your bear, hoping you’ll be invisible in case they come back, in case they force their way in. You can’t fight, not after the day you’ve had. The best you can hope for is that your scent is rank enough in the room it’ll deter whoever is trying to get in.

You need tomorrow to come, and fast.

***

Daylight doesn't bring any sense of comfort.

All it does is shed more light on the disaster your room has become, the physical representation of your internal thoughts and feelings. Your face feels puffy from crying, and there’s a bad taste in your mouth. You haven’t brushed your teeth since yesterday, nor have you showered, too scared to put yourself in such a vulnerable position.

You glance at your phone, checking for missed calls, but there’s none. Dr. Keller will be by soon to get you for breakfast, but you’re not sure you can stand going to the mess. The idea of leaving your room, leaving it empty so anyone could just walk in and bug it or touch your things or hide out so they can take revenge on you for finding and destroying their cameras and recording devices has you paralyzed.

That must have been what whoever entered the barracks last night had come to do. Maybe they thought you’d spend the night in one of the other rooms and they’d come to replace them. Or, maybe they wanted you to be in your room. Maybe that was the plan all along.

The thought sends a chill running down your spine.

You burrow back under your blankets, curling up against your giant teddy bear. You wish it was Price, that his arm would wrap around you and hold you close, keep you safe and protected in his arms. You’d take any of them right now, even Ghost. At least you know he’d protect you, especially if someone tried to enter the barracks without permission.

You’re still lying there when Dr. Keller arrives. You stare at the dresser still pushed against the door, keeping you from opening it. Not that you really want to. You can’t stop the anxiety from taking over, bringing forward the image of Dr. Keller held at gunpoint on the other side of the door, trying to trick you into opening it so whoever tried to get in last night can finally do what they came to do.

You know it’s a ridiculous thought. No one would be that stupid in broad daylight, and you doubt Dr. Keller would let something like that happen to her. She’d put up a fight, or at least you hope so.

You can’t move the dresser without her knowing you’d pushed it against the door, which will only prompt questions. Questions you don’t want to answer.

She calls your name through the door, concern lacing her voice. “Everything alright?”

No. You want to scream it, tears gathering in your eyes again. You want to push the dresser out of the way, throw open the door and confess everything that’s happened in the last few hours to her. You want to bring her into your space, keep her there until your pack returns so you can feel even just an ounce of safety.

But what if she gets mad?

Leaving yesterday was stupid. Going off with some unknown beta without telling anyone was the dumbest thing you’ve done since your arrival on base. She’ll be disappointed and she’ll tell your pack and they’ll be disappointed that you didn’t say anything to her about it. Even if they knew it happened, they’d still be disappointed that you didn’t think to even question it, that you didn’t think to let Dr. Keller know what was going on.

You made a stupid decision, and you won’t be able to take their disappointment and anger. Not after everything.

“Yeah.” You call out, your voice shaking. “I-I’m alright.”

You can tell she doesn’t believe you, even though you can’t see her. She probably has that look on her face she gets when she knows you’re not telling the whole truth. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. You’re afraid it might give out after the stress of the last few days.

“Are you ready for breakfast?” She finally asks, likely giving up on trying to get any more details from you.

You’re not hungry, and you know going to the mess will not end well. The risk of distressing is high, and the thought that any one in the mess might have been the intruder last night nearly sends you over the edge. One wrong glance in your direction might cause you to do something reckless. “I’m not hungry.” You finally say, pulling the blankets tighter around you.

“Are you sure?” She asks. “Did you eat something last night?”

“Yeah.” You lie, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “I had some snacks.”

Her feet shuffle outside the door for a moment, and you can almost hear her sigh. “If you’re sure?”

“I-I’m sure.” You reply.

There’s a moment of silence before you get a response, your breath catching in your throat from the nerves. “Alright.” She finally says. “I got word that your pack will be landing in a couple of hours and we have permission to go out to the airfield and greet them. I’ll come back to get you when it’s time. If you need anything, call me.”

You listen to her footsteps recede down the hallway, tears burning your eyes. You hate lying. You feel bad for keeping the truth from her, but the shame of revealing what you did is too strong.

You hastily wipe your eyes, staring at the mess on your floor. You need to get your room back to at least its somewhat normal state, and you need to put yourself back to your normal state as well. If anyone gets any hint that something is wrong, you might crack, and you’re not sure you could handle the repercussions.

You start with the desk, flipping it back the way it’s supposed to be and positioning it as close to where it was as you can get. You collect the books and other little things that go on it, trying to arrange it as close to how it normally is. You know they’ll notice if any little thing is out of place, if anything looks suspicious. You can blame some of it on cleaning, if they ask. You did some deep cleaning while they were away. That’s one way of putting it.

You push the dresser back into place next, putting the drawers back in before starting on the clothes, putting everything back where it belongs. You make your bed last, the urge to nest gone completely. You’re shaking with exhaustion by the time you finish, tempted to crawl back into bed, but you know you can’t. Your pack is coming back, and you need everything to look like it’s fine still.

They’ll notice. They’ll see it, and they’ll ask, and you’ll have to spill everything and face the shame and anger from being so stupid.

Tears burn your eyes as you slip your desk chair under the door handle, making sure it’s secure before heading to the shower to get ready for your pack’s imminent return. You shower with the door open, getting done quickly to avoid being vulnerable for long. You try to make yourself look as decent as possible, ignoring the fact that there’s broken cameras and recording devices hidden under the sink. Eventually you’ll forget. Eventually it’ll fade from your mind and become nothing more than a forgotten nightmare.

One of many.

You toss your pajamas on the floor haphazardly, just to make things look more normal. You know if it’s too clean, that might raise some suspicions as well. You don’t want to give away that something happened, you don’t want to raise any suspicions. You just want things to go back to normal. You want your pack back, and you want to feel safe again.

At least, until they have to leave again.

You sink to the floor, leaning up against your bed as you wait for Dr. Keller to take you to greet your pack when they return.

***

Every minute seems to drag on infinitely as you stare across the tarmac. They’ll be landing any minute. Any minute now the nightmare will be over and you’ll get to see your pack again after days of being apart. Finally, maybe, you can begin to feel safe again.

You watch the plane as it comes in to land, your hands already trembling in anticipation. There’s a twisting in your stomach, you’re not sure if it’s worry or fear or excitement. They’re so close, so close you can almost smell them. Your omega is scratching at the back of your brain, your muscles twitching as the ramp begins to lower on the plane. You need to see them, you need to smell them, you need to ensure they’re alright.

You can’t stop yourself. As soon as their boots hit the tarmac, you’re running. You don’t care if you’re breaking rules, you don’t care if the other soldiers get worried, or see you as a possible threat, you need to be in your alpha’s arms again.

John grunts from the force of you hitting him, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You throw your arms around him, clinging to him as tight as you can. You’re whimpering, the quiet sounds dragging from your lips but you don’t care. You press your face into his chest, breathing him in. He smells like sweat and musk, the sharp metallic tang of gunpowder burning your nose. Yet, underneath it all, you can make out the earthy scent, the petrichor going straight to your brain.

His arms wrap tight around you, squishing you up against his chest. His vest digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You can’t feel much of anything but relief. His breath fans your forehead as he leans down, his hand cupping the back of your head. He shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Tears fill your eyes as you cling to him, fingers gripping his shirt tightly like you’re afraid he might disappear again. If it wasn’t for the pain in your chest, you might have thought this was all a dream, that they might disappear suddenly and you’ll wake up alone again.

“Easy.” John rumbles, gently stroking the back of your head.

You cling to him tighter as his hand gets close to your neck, the thought of General Shepherd’s hand being so close to your neck where he could scruff you so easily making your insides squirm.

He’s gone. He’s gone and your pack is here.

“You’re alright.” John tries to reassure you, squeezing his arms around your trembling form. “I’ve got you.”

You keep your face pressed against his chest, breathing him in, trying to get his scent to calm the raging storm within you. Your omega is still scratching at the back of your mind, a deep need to claw your way under John’s skin and into his body pushing at the front of your mind. You won’t be safe until you’ve been utterly consumed by him, until you’re safely tucked where no one can hurt you without going through him first.

“Alpha,” You whine quietly, nuzzling your face against his chest. His clothes are in the way, a barrier against what you need. To feel him, to smell him fully again.

“Easy.” He says, grabbing your hands as they shift towards the velcro straps of his tactical vest. “Let’s get back to the barracks first before we start that, sweetheart.”

You don’t want to go back to the barracks. It’s not safe anymore. What if there’s someone waiting there for you to return? What if they get hurt because you don’t tell them what happened? What if you get hurt and cause them pain?

“You’re alright.” John says, stroking the back of your head as he begins to ease your grip on him. “There’s a couple of muppets here who I think would like to greet you too.”

Right. You’re so caught up in your alpha, you forgot the rest of your pack. You slowly allow yourself to be peeled away from John, Kyle right there to let you cling to him.

And so you do.

Your grip around him is just as tight, ignoring the uncomfortable ridges of his own vest. He holds you just as tightly, projecting his scent just a bit to try and calm you. Someone presses against your back, arms wrapping around both you and Kyle. The scent of citrus lined with beta invades your nose, Johnny squishing you into a sandwich between them. Your eyes squeeze shut as citrus and salty sea air blend together, the beta’s scents reaching deep into your brain to try and ease some of the tension in your body.

They’re back. They’re safe. You’re safe.

Now you just have to convince yourself of that fact.

***

“How was she?” John asks as he approaches Dr. Keller.

“Held it together longer than I thought she would.” She says. “Things took a turn yesterday afternoon. Shut herself in her room and wouldn’t come out. I don’t think she’s eaten anything since lunch yesterday either.”

“We’ll get some food in her.” John says. “Thank you, for looking after her for us.”

“Well, it is partly my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Always happy to do it.”

“Things will get easier, won’t they?” He asks.

“Eventually. She’ll learn what coping mechanisms help and she’ll adapt.”

“Hopefully at least one of us will be able to stay moving forward. I don’t like leaving her here alone.” He grimaces.

“Separation is hard no matter what, especially with limited contact, on all parties involved.” She gives him a look. “I think the best thing you can do right now is just be together as a pack. Let those bonds heal and let her do what she needs.”

“Thank you, doctor.” John says, shaking her hand.

“Call me, if you need anything, as usual.” Dr. Keller says, watching his retreating back before getting into her car to make the short drive back to the medical center.

John gets into the car waiting to take them back to the barracks, sitting next to Kyle who’s holding you straddling his lap, your face pressed into his neck. “That looks safe.” He remarks, even though they wouldn’t be going very fast, or very far.

“Couldn’t get her to let go.” Kyle says, tightening his hold around you as the car begins moving.

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” John says, rubbing your back gently.

You turn your face to look at him, your eyes red from the numerous tears you’ve already shed, and the ones still trailing down your face. The guilt nearly makes him sick as he stares at you, feeling the slight tremble still from where his hand rests against your back.

He’d never say it out loud, but he hates the fact they had to leave you, all four of them at once too. He’d fought, argued. He and Simon could have handled it on their own, even him and the two Sergeants would have been sufficient. Anything not to leave you by yourself during their first deployment.

Despite his attempts, General Shepherd had been insistent that all four of them were necessary for this particular task.

So, he had been forced to leave you behind on your own. It’s gone about as well as he expected, from the looks of it. He knew the separation would get to you eventually. The stress would grow to be too much. Every day he anticipated the news to come from Kate that you had distressed and your omega had taken over because he wasn’t there to help you.

Every day he waited for the news that they’d lost you because the brass that put this initiative into place couldn’t understand why taking them all at once was a bad idea.

Or maybe that was their plan all along.

He couldn’t stop the conspiratorial thoughts running through his head as their mission dragged on. What if they were doing this on purpose? It wouldn’t be that strange to push the boundaries of what could be tolerated for the purpose of testing just how effective the initiative really could be. But pushing it like that so soon? Sure, he could rationalize it was possible. War could break out at any moment, which would require most military members to leave, to be separated from their packs for months or even years. His own team could be called out at any time for months working to eliminate a target and stop war from breaking out.

Yet, he can’t help but feel there was something more, something deeper going on. What if they had called away for more nefarious reasons? What if getting you alone had been the reason behind General Shepherd’s insistence that all four of them were necessary for this particular task? He had refused to entertain those dark thoughts for too long, the fear of leaving you alone already itching in the back of his mind from the moment they boarded the plane to leave.

He hadn’t been able to hide his relief at hearing your voice on the phone. Though you had sounded upset, and rightfully so, his worries had been lessened in knowing you were alright. You would tell them if something had happened. He knows you wouldn’t keep something that serious a secret. If someone had hurt you, or had tried to hurt you, you would tell one of them.

Even though he trusts you, he does plan to speak to Dr. Keller more in depth later to ensure everything went as fine as she seemed to imply it did. Obviously their absence has been hard on you, but he needs to make sure you really will be alright, that you will be able to come back from the obvious distress this has caused you.

***

You finally release your constricting hold on Kyle as the car pulls up outside the barracks. Even with them back, it still doesn't feel like home anymore, not after such sacred space was invaded so easily, so nonchalantly. Kyle climbs out of the car, setting you on your feet on the ground. You look between him and John, realizing Ghost and Johnny are still in the car. Your stomach falls as you realize what they're about to say, tears gathering in your eyes again.

“We still have some things we need to do.” John says, reaching towards you.

You have the momentary urge to flinch from his touch, but you let his hand cup your cheek. “You're leaving me again.” You say, your voice breaking.

John almost looks guilty. He almost looks upset by your visible turmoil. His hand drops from your cheek to your back, turning you towards the barracks. Your stomach twists as he guides you inside, the fear of someone being inside spiking. You know you're safe with John, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but you'd have to play dumb if they did catch someone inside. You’d have to act like you didn’t know someone had entered before, like you had been unaware of anything going on. That might almost be worse than telling them the truth.

You inhale as he stops in front of your door, still closed from when you'd left with Dr. Keller. There's no chemical burn of scent blockers, just your scent in the air, and John's scent coming off him as he stands next to you.

“We won't be long. Maybe an hour at most, and we'll only be across base. We'll come back and we can get lunch before our afternoon meeting. Then we'll just have reports to do, and you can sit in my office while I work on those, okay?” He says.

Your brows pinch as you try to hold in your tears. You want to tell him, you want to reveal what happened, beg him not to leave you alone here again, but you can't. You can't face that shame, the disappointment you know he'll show on his face at the knowledge that you let that happen. You willingly left with a stranger without telling anyone. You let someone invade your pack's space so easily. They were gone for a week and you screwed everything up.

“Tomorrow we'll spend the day together. All of us. I promise.” He says wiping the tear that slides down your cheek.

Even though they're back, you still don't have them.

You inhale shakily before nodding. “Yeah. Fine.”

John's thumb brushes your cheek for a moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You watch his back retreat as he leaves the barracks, leaving you alone again. You think back to when they’d left you, watching his back as he boarded the plane to be taken from you. You stare at the door as the cars drive off, a cold chill running down your spine. What if General Shepherd is still here? What if they're going to meet with him? What if he tells them he met with you while they were gone and they had no idea?

Maybe you should have been honest with them from the start.

You stare at your closed door, your hands shaking. What if there's someone inside? What if someone is waiting to take their revenge for you destroying the cameras. What if they put new ones up?

You should have opened the door while Price was here so you could have at least screamed when someone would hear you. You back away from your door slowly, deciding to wait in the rec room. At least there you might have a chance. You could break a window and run, or at least have a higher chance of making it to a door.

Would anyone help you? Would anyone come if you screamed? What if they’re all in on it?

You're shaking as you sink onto the couch, sitting so you can see into the hallway. You want to see them coming so you can prepare yourself, or at least give yourself a chance to make an escape before it’s too late.

You run through all the things Ghost has taught you in your head as you sit and wait, the minutes dragging by painfully slow. You can feel every second, though that may just be the anxiety and fear pulsing within you. You wish you could sleep, you wish you could relax, you wish you could do anything to make the time go by faster, but yet you remain hypervigilant, staring so hard you flinch at every little shadow your brain convinces you is moving.

You’re not sure how long you sit there, tense and coiled, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. It can’t be more than an hour as John promised, yet it feels like a lifetime before you hear movement.

You hold your breath as the barracks door opens, boots thudding with every footstep coming down the hall. You nearly whimper when a figure rounds the corner, before you let out a sigh of relief.

“Ready for lunch, kitten?” Johnny asks, standing in the doorway of the rec room.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your hands still clenched into fists. You're breathing hard, your entire body tense. You know you're reaching dangerous territory. Any more panic, you may start distressing. What a welcome home for them, coming back to a distressed omega. They're probably exhausted, and here you are making a scene.

Hands close around yours. Warm, calloused hands apply gentle pressure, slowly uncurling your fingers. Your hands are shaking, trembling just slightly.

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, kneeling in front of you. When he moved, you're not sure.

“I-I'm not...” You start, your voice shaking.

“Ye need tae eat.” He counters, as if he had read your mind, expected the answer.

He's right. You're beginning to feel it gnawing in your stomach, something deeper than the anxiety. With all the stressing you've been doing, you know you need to eat something. Being hungry is not helping that any, either.

“I don't want to go to the mess.” You say quickly, the words almost mushing together incoherently. “Too much.”

Johnny sits back, staring at you for a moment before nodding in understanding. “Alright. That's fair. I'll let the lads know.”

He stands up, leaving you alone in the rec room again. You listen to his footsteps fade, the door opening and closing for a moment. You hold your breath, practically on the edge of your seat. There's no reason they would make you go to the mess. You've eaten in the barracks many times before.

You blame your worry on your hunger. You know omegas don't do well when hungry. Omegas don't do well being uncomfortable in general.

Saying these last few days have been uncomfortable for you is a bit of an oversimplification.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, a familiar hulking figure approaching the rec room. You never thought there would come a time when you would feel relief upon seeing Ghost. Yet here you are, the tension easing from your shoulders as he steps into the rec room.

“They're grabbing us food.” He says, moving to sit in his usual spot in the chair facing the door. He sighs as he sinks into the cushions, and you can only imagine how tired he must be.

And here you are making things worse.

“You're stressed.” He says, staring at you. His eyes are still painted black beneath his mask, adding to the eerie vibe coming off of him. You're beginning to understand why they call him Ghost. “Stinking up the barracks.” He says, pulling out his phone.

“Oh.” You say quietly, sinking in on yourself as you sit there. “Sorry.”

You pick nervously at your sweatshirt as you wait for the others to return, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as they enter the rec room, food in hand.

Johnny sits you on his lap as you eat, making sure you get your fill, likely aware that you haven't eaten yet today thanks to Dr. Keller telling on you. It's quiet in the room as everyone eats, even the TV off. They all look tired and tense, and you can only imagine what happened during their time away. The things they did, the things they saw. You wonder how much blood is on their hands now, hands that have touched you, hands that are holding you.

They can just go off and kill people and come back and act like nothing has happened.

You could almost laugh at how psychotic it all sounds.

This is your life now. This is your new normal.

“We have a quick meeting. Shouldn't take too long.” John says as they stand, Johnny placing you gently on your feet.

You tug at your sweatshirt, avoiding his gaze. They're leaving you again. They won't be far this time, but still. You just want to curl up in bed with them and lay there until you feel safe again.

Tomorrow, John had said. Tomorrow they will be yours.

It might have been easier if you hadn't been told they were coming home until tomorrow.

***

You tense under the blanket as the door closes, quiet footsteps approaching your position on the couch. There's a quiet sigh as a figure drops to a knee in front of you, their figure visible as a shadow beneath the blanket.

“Can you breathe under there?”

You slowly lower the blanket just enough to peek over the top of it. John is kneeling next to the couch, his brows furrowed in a frown. You're in his office, having shut yourself in there while they went into the meeting. John had made you swear not to go snooping as he’d let you inside. You had promised, as you still feel no desire to dig through the likely classified files that were locked in the cabinets and on his computer. Instead you had parked yourself on his couch, burrowing under a blanket that smelled faintly of petrichor and tobacco smoke.

“There she is.” He says as you peek above the blanket, gently running a hand over the top of your head. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”

“You left me.” You say quietly, trying not to burst into tears and confess everything.

“I know.” He says, wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. “But we came back, just like we promised.”

He is right in that regard, yet you can’t help the tears as they slide down your cheeks. The ache in your chest that had started to build over the last few days is still present despite their return. Everything is wrong. They feel too far away, too distant. Nothing is safe anymore, nothing is sacred, and they’re just acting like everything is back to normal.

“Would you like to kneel for me?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek.

You’re tempted to say no. For the first time you feel wary of your alpha. What kinds of things would you admit in your dazed state? If he questioned you, would you give him enough to put together that something had happened and you’ve been trying to hide it from him? Maybe it would help, though. It would at least ease some of the tension that’s built up. Maybe it could pull you back from the edge of distress you’ve been dangling over for almost two days. Maybe he’ll accidentally scruff you and you can forget the whole thing happened.

The dark thought sends a chill down your spine.

“Okay.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit.

John offers you a hand, helping you up off the couch. You don't want to let go of his hand, you don't want to be parted from him. The omega in the back of your mind is screaming at you to get close to him and stay there for the rest of time. If he leaves you again...you're not sure you can handle it.

He settles in his desk chair, getting everything he needs ready. He'll work on his reports while you kneel, a familiar position, a familiar situation. You've done this before several times. You're not sure why you're suddenly nervous.

You set the pillow down, dropping to your knees beside him. The chair creaks as he shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. You fight the urge to flinch, to move away as he gently strokes his hand over your hair. You've done this before, he's done this before. You're not sure why your heart is thudding in your chest.

His hand slowly moves lower, slipping closer and closer to your neck. You can't help it as your shoulders come up, preventing him from gripping the back of your neck. He moves his hand away as you get defensive, his chair turning slightly as he leans down.

“It's alright, sweetheart. It's just me.” He soothes you, his hand returning to the top of your head. “I know it's been a while, but I promise I remember what to do.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp out, trying to relax. “I don't...I don't know...”

You do know. Your brain keeps flashing back to General Shepherd, his hand tugging down your collar, so close to your neck. How easily he could have scruffed you, if he'd wanted to. You would have known if he had, but he could have done anything to you during the time he had control.

“You're stressed, all worked up.” John says, still stroking the top of your head, trying to soothe you. “It's been a long week for all of us. It was a risk, sending all four of us at once. A stupid risk that shouldn't have been taken.”

You're pulled from your emotional state at the slight hint of anger in his voice. It hadn't taken you long to figure out they likely were all sent in order to get you alone. It would have been impossible to get you out of the barracks and put cameras up with even one of them here. Did he know about Shepherd's visit? Had he put two and two together and figured out they sent all four of them on purpose? You figured he'd be angrier if he knew about what you did, about what they did to you. He would be blazing a path straight to General Shepherd if your alpha knew he got so close to you, put you in that kind of situation.

At least, you hope he would. There’s still that fear in the back of your mind, that worry that it was all a test and you’ve failed. Would they send you back to the institute? Would they break the bonds and send you to a different pack? Would they send you out on your own, leaving you to fend for yourself until some other alpha crossed your path and decided you were worth it? Does he know you’re lying to him, hiding the truth of what happened while he was away? Is he waiting for you to confess, biding his time to see how long you try to hide it?

You want to tell him. You really do, but you can't bring yourself to get the words out. You can't bring yourself to confess here on your knees before your alpha. You feel guilty, like a sinner, yet the shame keeps the words trapped inside.

He continues to soothe you, sliding his hand further down until he reaches your neck. You force yourself to relax, knowing you need this. You need your alpha to take control. You need him to ease the heavy weight on your shoulders, even if he doesn't know what he's lifting.

You close your eyes as his fingers press into your neck, your brain quieting to a hum as you begin to slip into the back of your mind. You feel the rush of endorphins as your brain begins to calm itself, quieting the storm that's been raging for almost a week. You begin to go numb, relaxing into John's hold as he eases you into a quiet, meditative state. He begins to work on his reports as he holds you, your mind floating off somewhere else, somewhere safer where no one can break in and hurt you, somewhere where the barracks are still secure and safe and your pack never left.

Somewhere where there's no initiative, and your pack picked you because they wanted you, because you were a good omega who did as she was told and didn't make stupid mistakes that put everyone in danger.

The last of the tension leaves your body, your mind distant from the present moment. You're safe with your alpha. He'd never let anything happen to you. None of your pack would let anything happen to you.

The thought continues to repeat in your head like a mantra as you relax, held up by the strong pillar that is your alpha.

***

“Report's done, Captain.” Kyle says, placing the stack of papers on John's desk.

“Thanks.” John sighs, grabbing them.

Kyle turns to look at you, fast asleep on the couch. “You want me to take her?” He asks, the formality easing between them as they settle into being a pack and not a task force on duty anymore.

John stares at you, curled up on his lumpy old couch. It’s getting late, or at least it feels that way. You’ve been out, sleeping peacefully on his couch since he eased you out of your kneeling position. You’d clung to him tightly, and for a moment he’d considered holding you, letting you sit with him as you dozed, but he knows he can’t risk you seeing something you shouldn’t. So he’d eased you onto the couch, having to peel your hands away from his shirt. He’d nearly given up and let you keep hold of his shirt before you finally relaxed and released him.

“Would probably be more comfortable.” He rubs his eyes, feeling the call of sleep himself. He wonders how much you managed to sleep while they were gone. You look tired, though you’ve been looking tired since your heat ended. He needs to rest himself, but he wants to get these reports done so he can keep his promise for tomorrow. “I'll be in there soon.”

“Don't work too hard.” Kyle says, moving to lift you off the couch.

“No promises.”

Kyle shakes his head before scooping you up off the couch, blanket and all. You’re still sound asleep as he carries you, pausing in the hallway for a moment. He had just been instinctually going to his room, but would you be more comfortable in your own room? You probably have spent the last week shut inside your space. It might be nice to spend some time somewhere else.

He takes you into his room, laying you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. He needs to shower and throw his clothes in the wash, but he doesn’t want to leave you and risk you waking up without someone there. You’re sleeping deeply, though, not even stirring as he tucks the blanket up higher around you. He doesn't want to crawl into bed smelling like gunpowder and sweat. That might throw you off too.

He takes the risk, knowing he can do both tasks quickly. No more than twenty minutes to get himself clean and his dirty clothes in the wash, as he prays you stay asleep and won't start panicking if you wake in a strange place. He had sensed how close you had been to distress, how tense you had been when he held you in the car. It’s been a hard week for you, even harder than it had been for them.

He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as he finds you still asleep when he returns to his room. You haven't moved at all, still tucked under the blanket from John's office. He gets himself changed and moisturized, rubbing some cream on the bruises that dot his skin. He's going to be sore tomorrow, they all will be, but he knows they won't be doing much. John had already told them tomorrow will be dedicated to spending time with you and helping you recover from the stress of them being gone. He’s silently glad for the break, knowing it could only be a few days before they get called out again.

John had also told him he’d be pushing harder for one of them to stay whenever he can. He’s not taking this risk again, not if it can be avoided.

Kyle’s pulling on his sweatpants when you inhale sharply. You're sitting up straight on his bed, eyes wide as you look around in fear. They’re hazy, confusion settling into your mind after going from John’s office to Kyle’s room after kneeling.

“Hey, hey. It's alright.” Kyle says, moving over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge so he’s in your line of sight. “You're just in my room.”

“Kyle?” You whisper, clarity returning to your gaze as you stare at him.

“I'm here.” He says. “Just went to take a shower and clean up.”

“Where's John?” You ask, tears gathering in your eyes.

“Still working on things.” He says, cupping your face. “He'll be in eventually.”

The tears fall from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. They wet his thumbs as he strokes your skin, your body trembling slightly as you sniffle.

Something’s wrong. He's known it since you latched onto him on the tarmac. The way you'd held onto him like he might disappear, how you looked almost angry when John told you they still had things to do, the way your scent had filled the barracks, bitter with fear and stress.

Something’s up, something you're not letting them in on. But, to be fair, they had just left you for a week, up and abandoned you to go play heroes. He wouldn't blame you for not telling them anything. The bonds have weakened. He can feel it, beyond just his natural beta senses.

“What can I do?” He asks quietly, trying to project his scent a bit to help calm you. He doesn't want you distressing, not after holding it together for so long.

“I...I need...” You inhale shakily, still trembling in his hold. “I don't know.” You whine, the tears falling faster now.

He pulls you against his chest, holding you as you cry. He feels the tugging in his chest, sympathy for you and what you must be feeling, along with the guilt of knowing they caused this. They did this just with their absence.

An idea begins to form in his mind as he holds you, something his family used to do when he was younger.

He pulls away from you, standing up. “Come on. I have an idea.”

He strips the blankets from his bed before pulling the mattress off the frame. He drags it to the door and out into the hallway before heading down to John's room. You follow behind him, watching him as he opens the door to John’s room, dragging the mattress in and dropping it on the floor.

“Stay here.” He tells you, heading back out into the hallway.

“What're ye doin’?” Johnny asks, sticking his head out of his door.

“Grab your mattress and Simon and meet me in Price's room.” Kyle says as he heads down the hallway, ignoring Johnny's further questioning as he makes for John’s office.

He doesn't bother knocking, walking right in. John blinks at him from behind the desk, and for a moment Kyle wonders if he'd fallen asleep sitting up. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Come on.” Kyle says, moving to stand in front of his desk. “Finish those tomorrow.”

“They're important, I have to get them done asap.” John counters.

“Yeah, well I have something more important.” He leans forward at John's questioning stare. “Your omega needs you.”

John stares at his beta for a moment, and Kyle can see the gears turning in his head, the debate happening, the conflict in his mind. He so rarely sees his alpha, his captain so indecisive for so long. He's usually so quick to act, analyzing a situation and making a decision in mere seconds.

If only you knew the things you've done by simply existing in their lives.

John closes the file on his desk, slipping it into the drawer before locking it. Kyle fights the triumphant grin threatening to form on his face as John stands from his chair after shutting his computer off. Kyle makes his way back down the hallway, John following behind after locking his office door. Kyle stops at his room, grabbing his comforter before heading for John’s room.

Johnny had obviously gotten the idea of what Kyle had in mind, his mattress and John's laid out side by side so the three make one giant bed for them on the floor. He’s already laid out his own comforter and Simon’s, as well as John’s on the mattresses. They probably wouldn’t need blankets for long with their body heat, but the blend of scents will hopefully begin to ease the tempest raging in your mind.

You’ve parked yourself in the corner, watching it all happen. You seem so small, so lost, so out of place. It's not all that different from when you'd arrived in their lives. Has being gone for a week really reverted things so drastically for you? Has your stress broken the bonds so much that you feel like a stranger amongst them again?

Kyle steps over the mattresses, approaching you slowly. You look up from where you had been staring off into space, blinking up at him. Your eyes are still red and watery from crying, your arms clutching one of your stuffed bears against your chest. It’s the one John had scented for you, back when they were trying to get you to nest. He wonders if you’ve nested since they left, if that urge is still there, or if that too has faded.

Kyle doesn’t often feel angry at his job. Not anymore. He doesn’t often question it. It’s what he signed up for, and he does it because someone has to. He chose this life, so he does his best to be a good soldier, to follow orders. Yet, as he stares down at you, he can’t help but feel anger bristling in the back of his mind. He tries to blame it on his instincts, on the fact that a member of his pack is so upset, so distressed at something that’s happened, and he doesn't know what to do to help.

Yet he knows they were the cause of it, even if it wasn’t their choice directly. Something happened because of them. He tries to rationalize it. This is an experiment, a test to see how well packs will do with omegas, if it has any effect on how well they can do their jobs, if it makes them stronger, or if it weakens them. Those in charge had obviously put little regard in for how it would affect the omegas. They couldn’t have known how you would react, how badly all of them leaving would affect you. Or maybe they did know, and they simply didn’t care.. Perhaps you weren’t the focus of their study, but you were still a variable, you were still an important piece of this puzzle.

How can they be more effective if their omega is struggling because of their absence? How can they be expected to function like a team now knowing leaving behind their omega will only cause distress for all of them?

Kyle takes a deep breath, pushing back the anger and the emotions whirling in his own mind. He needs to focus on you right now, focus on helping you relax, helping you get back to where you were before they left you. He’s doing the best he can do right now for you, giving you what you need, even if you don’t realize it’s what you need yet.

He holds out his hand to you, staying still as you stare at it. It takes you a moment before you slowly begin to move, slipping one of your hands into his. He guides you to the mattress in the middle, Johnny’s mattress, easing you down to sit on it. You glance around as Johnny and John toss pillows onto the mattresses haphazardly, making sure everything is perfect. It’s not a pretty nest, he’d hardly call it a nest at all, but he knows nesting is not necessarily all about looks. It’s about feeling, and right now, he knows you need to feel safe and secure.

John quickly changes into more comfortable clothes as Kyle stretches out on the mattress, opening his arms to you. You curl up against his side, resting your cheek against his chest. You press your face into his skin, inhaling for a moment before you settle, slowly beginning to relax in his hold.

Simon enters the room as John settles on Kyle’s other side, closing the door behind him and locking it, securing the five of you inside. Johnny settles on the other side of you, pressing up close against your back. He pulls one of the comforters up around the three of you before he tosses an arm around you, resting his hand on Kyle’s stomach, sandwiching you between the two betas again.

Simon stands over the makeshift nest, staring down at the four of you. He’s obviously the most uncomfortable with the situation, and still a bit miffed from your lack of greeting on the tarmac. It was his own fault for being so closed off with you for so long. You had instinctively sought out the members of the pack you felt the most connected to, the most comfortable with in your time of such great stress.

“Aw come on, ye big bastard, get in the bed.” Soap says, snapping Simon out of his reverie.

Simon shuts the light off, bathing them in near darkness. You tense for a moment as the lights go off before you slowly relax again. Kyle listens to your breaths even out as Simon gets comfortable on the mattress behind Johnny, the four of them settling in around you.

It's already warm in the room but none of them would even think of complaining. They’re too focused on surrounding you with their scent and their protection, the very thing you need the most.

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #poly task force 141 #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #x reader #alpha/beta/omega #a/b/o #omegaverse

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fangirl-dot-com · 20 days

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🧡❤️Dating Your Enemy's Sibling

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: How to get under your enemy/rival's skin? Charles answer was to start dating his younger sister. But now, he's glad he found love along the way. He only had to tell Max about the relationship when you won a race. That's won't be any time soon though . . . right?

*in honor of Lando's first win - here's this next installment of Reverse Tropes! I know that Max and Charles really aren't enemies. Maybe I should have done like a Pierre and Esteban thing, but I don't write for them. So here we go and please enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen.

Predestined rivals, written in the stars, invisible string, yada-yada-yada.

Putting it simply, Charles had an apt for pissing Max off and vice-versa. The world thought they would kill each other in karting, especially after the 2012 incident. The population sighed in relief when Max was taken from F3 and put in a Formula 1 car, while Charles took a bit longer.

And then Charles made it to Formula 1 in 2018. However, he was put in a HAAS, a car that was not really made to play with the other cars in the front of the pack. The earth was saved yet another year.

Well, until 2019 when Charles suddenly became the “It Boy” for the Prancing Horse. Meaning, that he could finally go back to terrorizing the grid and Max. But with terrorizing the grid came loads of trouble and hatred.

And more pissing off your rival.

Charles seethed on the podium as he listened to the Dutch national anthem and watched Max point to the stupid “H” on his race suit. He held in a scoff. At least the Ferrari logo was much better looking than that.

It wasn’t fair. He had the racing line and Max pushed him off. If his mind wandered, it would go back to a certain kart race back in 2012 where he pulled the same move. But that didn’t count because the race has already finished. Charles would have rather been disqualified instead of having to go through the torture of being up on the podium in second.

First loser as they call it.

The Monegasque driver held no happiness in his body as Max started spraying his winner’s champagne. Charles just picked up his bottle and drank it.

Still wasn’t as sweet as victory champagne would be.

He deliberately separated himself from Max as they stood for a picture. The visible gap made it much more hilarious for everyone around them.

When the festivities finished, he hightailed it out of there, just wanting to avoid the Dutchman presence. Charles sighed loudly as he walked back to the garage, definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone.

“Charlie!

The Monegasque stopped in his tracks, annoyance almost wracking his entire being. Can people just let him wallow in defeat? He straightened his shoulders and turned around, PR smile plastered on his face. However, the very fake smile turned into a real one when he noticed that you were almost jogging to catch up with him.

Y/n Verstappen.

You had always been a part of his childhood. Where Max was, you were one step behind him, following him in your small racing overalls. He remembered how little you always seemed compared to your brother. But size didn’t matter on the karting course.

Most of the time, the two boys found themselves trying to shake you off and others were behind your kart, picking up the dirt that you sent their way. And that’s why Charles put your name down as recommendations for his Prema seat after he won the championship in 2017. Because of him, you were able to graduate to Formula 2 and were on the track to make a debut in Formula 1 in the coming years.

“Hey Y/n,” Charles said softly, still not in the mood to really talk to anyone. But for you, he’d always make an exception. And he was supposed to fly back with you and Max, something he was still dreading.

You look at the Monegasque with sympathy. Charles wasn’t able to find any type of pity in your blue eyes (that matched Max’s).

Your brows furrowed as to talked to him. “What Max did wasn’t the right way to race. But Formula 1 is getting more and more competitive.”

The man, er boy, wanted to huff. He did not need this conversation from you. He almost turned around, but the next few sentences stopped him from making any motions.

“Charlie, you’ve always found ways to beat him. If he wants to play like this, then you just have to give him a taste of his medicine, get under his skin. Do what you always do and somehow get around him.”

He cocked his head, before his eyes lit up.

Get under his skin.

You watched as Charles’s eyes filled up with some light, making the green in them really shine. You could almost see ideas concocting in his head.

Charles went to say something, but was interrupted by his team principle. He swerved to respond before he turned back to you. There was a glint in his eyes that you really couldn’t put a finger on.

His took a deep breath before asking, “Do you want to maybe get dinner with me?”

Your eyes widened. Sure, the Monegasque was very attractive, but those were not the words that you were expecting to come out of his mouth.

Oh.

Now you got it.

Your facial expressions melted a bit, eyes pointed toward the ground as you kicked at it. Your arms crossed as you huffed.

“Using me for gain over my brother wasn’t what I was meaning Charles. I was thinking more like unfollow him on social media while we’re on the plane or something.”

The harsh “Ch” that began his name had him wincing. Like your brother, you had a small lisp which normally softened the two consonants to the point where his name sounded like it was supposed to be. And what was “Charles?” You rarely ever called him that, choosing to pick the more boyish nickname.

Although, your idea about Instagram wasn’t a bad one.

Charles looked a bit guilty as he scratched the back of his head. He honestly was endeared by you and your determination to never give up. He found you, well, cute. You were still 19, younger than him by a bit more than three years.

But if you were cute back in 2012 hanging on to Max’s wet overalls after the puddle, and you were cute now trying to console him instead of celebrating your brother’s victory, you would still be cute in the following years.

He sighed, knowing that he had to leave soon or he was going to get an earful from Sebastian for being late to yet another meeting. The Ferrari driver stepped forward a bit, getting closer to you. He looked down at his helmet before looking back to your eyes.

“When I win and when I beat your brother, then can I take you out to dinner?”

You mulled over the question in your head.

If he beat Max before you went out with him, then that meant that he was actually genuine and wasn’t using it to his gain. You also smirked, knowing that indeed it would piss Max off whenever he found out. Your position as an annoying younger sister would still be intact and possibly stronger.

You held out your hand, which Charles took in an instant.

“Deal Leclerc.”

“Deal Verstappen.”

When Charles took the top step in Spa, pride filled his chest when he noticed Max’s glare at him. He had beaten the Dutchman at his home race. Albeit, it was a DNF for Max, but a win either way. He swayed back and forth as his national anthem played and then sang quietly along with the Italian anthem. Deep in his heart, he knew the true weight of the win.

For Anthoine.

He knew somewhere he made his French friend proud. Just like Jules. And Just like Papa.

Charles watched down below as you looked like you could hardly keep a smirk off your face. And it was bad too as you stood next to Max, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there below Charles.

The Monegasque raised his eyebrows when you locked eyes. You just hoped that Max wouldn’t catch on that he was staring right at you. Thankfully, you were right next to a Ferrari manager, so Max could guess that Charles was looking at him.

When the winner finally got ready, you were waiting outside his garage.

“Hi,” you whispered, putting your phone away. Charles didn’t verbally respond, but he wrapped his arms around you. You melted in his arms, still smelling a bit of the champagne in his hair.

He looked down at you.

“Are you ready for dinner?”

Your eyes held a playful glint. “I hope you chose a good restaurant Leclerc.”

He scoffed, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you turned to leave. “Only the best Verstappen.”

The dinner went really well, but you weren’t expecting it to be a continual thing.

And then Charles won in Monza the next week, and he once again asked you to dinner. And once again, the Monegasque set expectations higher than you every imagined. You were saddened when Charles wasn’t able to win any more races while your brother seemed to get better and better each race.

You could only giggle while you watched them still avoid each other in Singapore.

But, the dinners turned into texting, and texting turned to other dates, and dates turned into dating, and dating turned into a relationship, and the relationship turned into an almost five year commitment that you or Charles weren’t planning to end soon.

The relationship saw your brother become a world champion in 2021, Charles becoming a world champion in 2022, and you joining the grid as a rookie for McLaren after a disastrous attempt for an Alpine seat.

Charles had been furious and Max had almost found out about the relationship. The two of you were still scared that Max might hold some coldness for the past. But when he called Charles “Charlie,” the special nickname that you had for him, you thought that it might be a good idea to tell him.

“But mon ange, he will run me off the track if he finds out,” Charles whined into your stomach as you played with his hair before the Miami Grand Prix.

You rolled your eyes and tugged at the strands. “No he won’t. You have to worry about your teammate doing that to you instead.”

Another whine left Charles making you giggle.

“At least you’re starting on the front row. I have to start P5! Oscar has been making fun of me all weekend.”

The Aussie had been such a God send for you during your rookie season. The elder by a few months had taken you under his wing. The two of you had been so close to a win last year, and with the upgrades this weekend, you were sure that you or him would start on the front row.

And then you had to be hit during the sprint, which didn’t help the mechanics in the hours before the race quali. That in turn made your car feel weird and P5 was the best you could do. Maybe Charles was secretly transferring his unluckiness into you.

The Monegasque turned his head to look you in the eyes. You smiled as you leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

“We’ll tell him when I win a race. How about that?”

Charles knew that you were just unlucky as he was when it came to winning a race. Last year, you had been close in Spa, but a rouge rainstorm saw you spinning out on the second to last lap. Austin you had pole, but Max fought you on into turn one, making you go wide. You never saw your brother after the first lap as you fell down the grid. Charles held you each night as you cried.

The red-clad-driver sat up and held your head in his hands. “You’ll win soon enough. Maybe not this weekend because I don’t have any time to prepare.”

You laughed and just brought him in to a kiss. There was literally no way you could win this weekend. Beating Max Verstappen with pole from P5 on a track that he had a 100% win rate at?

Impossible.

Charles thought he was going to cry as he crossed the line in P3. From you winning or having to tell your bother that he defiled his baby sister, he didn’t know.

What he did know was that he was going to get out of his car and congratulate you immediately. What were the odds that you won on the anniversary of the stupid inchident, the first time that Charles had ever seen you with Max.

(And yes, he did remember the anniversary but didn’t want to bring it up.)

You, however, were frozen in your car. You took some deep breaths as you took the steering wheel off, stood up a bit, bent to put it back on, and straightened, holding your pointer finger up. Your fists clenched as you raised them, automatically hearing the crowds roar when you waved.

A tug on your sleeve brought you down into Max’s arms. You were a bit disappointed that it wasn’t Charles, but that would be too obvious.

“YOU DID IT!” Max yelled in your ear, well, your helmet as you hadn’t taken the neon thing off yet.

You really didn’t want people to see the tear stains on your face. But right now, you’d just stay in the protection of your brother’s arms. When he let go of you, he lifted your visor, twin eyes meeting yours.

“You did such an amaz-”

“I’m dating Charles.”

Blink.

You took the moment of a frozen Max to turn to your team. You looked over your shoulder to see that the Dutchman was still stuck in his place as you got farther and farther away. You grimaced, knowing what was to come if Max and Charles met at any time when you weren’t there.

An arm around your shoulders brought you out of your head. The light blue caught your eyes, signaling that it was Charles. He patted your shoulders, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. You did feel a bit of pressure move your helmet, so he must have quickly smushed his face into the black swirls. A helmet kiss if you would guess.

You wanted to turn around to warn him of the imminent danger that was waiting for him in the form of Max Verstappen, but you were led away before you could.

Your fears immediately went away though when your eyes finally landed on your team. Helmet thrown to the ground, you made the decision to throw yourself at them as well. Your laughs could be heard as your mechanics lifted you higher as everyone seemed to want to congratulate you for their first win since Monza 2021, which you weren’t even on the team then.

When Charles stepped into the cooldown room, he could feel the awkwardness. It also didn’t help that Max was glaring at him from the corner. Charles was a bit worried. He thought that Max was fine with him now after they had both sort of mended their weird friendship during 2023.

He turned to you as you walked in, all sweaty.

Charles still thought you looked very pretty.

“Eyes off Leclerc.”

Charles froze in his place and looked between the siblings. He looked at you, then Max, then you, and then Max again. You winced, not looking him in the eyes. Realization flooded his body and he thought for a moment he was going to pass out.

“Mon Dieu.”

“We will be talking after this,” Max pointed, drinking from his water bottle, not taking his eyes off Charles.

When you were called to the little Jeeps, you quickly got into the bright pink Barbie-esque looking one, still buzzing from your win. Even if the two men behind you had put a damper on it.

Charles’s eyes only fixed on one of the cars, not even seeing the third one behind the second. He climbed right in, eyes closed as he sat down. However, his eyes shot open when the car tilted and a thigh was touching his. He gulped rather loudly, refusing to look to his right.

This was Vegas all over again.

Max kept his voice low. “When did it start?”

“2019. After Austria.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to get to know her more.”

“What was the reason Charles?”

The Monegasque sighed as he ran his hand over his face. “I was angry at you and wanted to get back at you somehow.”

He knew he was about to be punched on live television, but he continued hoping for redemption.

“But, I knew that was wrong. We didn’t even go out until Spa. And then again in Monza. And then it just happened.”

He turned to look directly at Max, knowing that he only had a few more moments before they had to go out onto the podium.

“Max I love your sister. I have the ring and everything. We’ve been happy for 5 years and have made it work. Please, she’s really all the good I have left. I would throw everything away for her. And-”

Max’s laughs stopped him from continuing. The Dutchman slapped a hand on Charles’s thigh, making him wince a bit.

The Red Bull driver’s eyes were crinkled with a smile as they pulled up to the parking spot.

“Just keep her happy, or I will run you off the track.”

“Y/n! I told you he’d threaten me!”

“Max!”

“Oh come on I did not!”

y/nverstappen4 has posted

y/nverstappen4 WE DID IT! P1 BABAYYYYYYY 🏆

nothing beats a podium with me on the top step surrounded by my boys 💙🧡❤️

liked by mclaren, team_quadrant, charles_leclerc, and 2,903,940 others

queeny/n LETS ACTUALLY GOOOOOOOOO

mclaren that's our girl 🧡 well deserved

lecstappenshipper this is basically a hard launch

y/nhaswins such a beautiful race y/n!!!!

charles_leclerc so so proud of you mon ange 🧡❤️ *liked by y/nverstappen4*

charles_leclerc celebrations tonight? 😈

y/nverstappen4 but of course

maxverstappen1 I know where you sleep leclerc 🙂

y/nverstappen4 DRINKS ON MAX TONIGHT

oscarpiastri YEAAHHHHHHH 🍾

maxverstappen1 what?

charles_leclerc thank you max ☺️

maxverstappen1 I NEVER AGREED TO THIS

oscarpiastri mega job mate 👊

y/nverstappen4 ossieeeeeee 👊 don't worry, you'll be up there soon! just gotta wrap your car in bubble wrap to protect it from evil ferrari 😠😤

charles_leclerc ☹️

y/nverstappen4 NOT YOU CHARLIE - THE OTHER ONE (LEWIS HURRY UP)

lewishamilton you don't think I'm trying 🤨

mcy/n she's so funny what the heck?? 😂

chefy/n we said - LET HER COOK

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