#I don't hate you but I'm going to simulate it a while longer thanks

[translatemunson]

file 002 — brand new bar, same old problems

chapter two of death defying acts

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cw: MDNI thank you, fem!reader, afab!reader, no descriptions of reader (i'm really trying to keep my descriptions of her and her background to a minimum so i can be inclusive to all people, but let me know if i can improve), no use of y/n, reader has a call sign (i had to pick one, it makes sense for the story), innacuracies about the navy, topgun and army (i did my best guys), this takes places after the events of the movie, yes don't kill me but reader has a fling with another aviator won't say who, implied smut.

If surviving Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell and the Dagger Squad would be required for you to be sent overseas, you were not sure there was gonna be a lot of you left to fit in a plane seat.

In just two days and one quick chat with Maverick, you had to recognize there was no easy task in front of you. Maverick didn’t show any enthusiasm in your work or questions on that quick meeting, which was somewhat discouraging. You had been spending your morning reviewing previous logs of all of the fighter pilots, your afternoons watching them live on radar, taking notes of their data, style and skills, your evenings analyzing all of your notes and coming up with plans for the simulation.

You were in bed way past your normal schedule on Saturday morning. Your belongings would definitely sit on boxes for another week or two if you didn’t do anything regarding it. You had the essentials out — uniforms, underwear, laptop, hygiene products, and a picture of you with your parents —, but that was it. Even your kitchen was getting appliances as you started to need them.

You grabbed a clean change of clothes, your bag and headed out to do groceries and get your mind out of work. There were a lot of things to get done before you were back to base on Monday: firstly you needed some real food in your fridge, including new tea blends and pasta for when you’re too tired to cook anything that takes longer than 20 minutes. Then you had to pick up more pills for your headache. Maybe some flowers for your living room would make the place livable — and also push you to unpack a few boxes with your books and portraits.

Also you had to call your parents and brief them on your first days. Well, maybe that was easier said than done: while you couldn’t share much details about what you were doing, you knew they were ready to pull some interrogation tactics or whatever to get all the intel. Your father was the one helping you with the moving — because he was free in between flight classes —, but your mom was the one texting people to know why now they wanted to transfer you to San Diego.

Once the call sign Maverick was brought to the table, your father did all he could to get you another opening somewhere else. And as soon as you got the bigger picture of why you were being moved to work with Maverick and his team, the puzzle made sense. Even though they were successful on their mission, they had one more challenge ahead, and there was no margin for errors or close calls for this one — you were gonna receive more information about it after the first few weeks.

Maverick and the Dagger Squad were definitely a lot to deal with. Excellent pilots, an amazing sense of a team — maybe almost being killed does this to a group —, but you could see some flaws slipping through the cracks of their personalities. Maverick still hated authority and being told to follow orders. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin — not Bagman, unfortunately — could be a team player only if that benefited him, otherwise his wingman was the first to go down during training. Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace was an excellent pilot, and Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd as her WSO was a great combo, but if paired with someone else, it was a hit or miss — you asked to change pairings on Friday morning, just to check if there was margin for new combos. Reuben ‘Payback’ Fitch and his WSO, Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia, were also a great combo, but they needed a strong flight leader to shine and succeed. Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado was a good pilot, but only on good days — and that was something you couldn’t risk on a mission. And Bradshaw was living for his call sign Rooster, even though he had amazing decision making skills, he was always waiting for the last second to make a move. And that, in the field, meant death.

And those were just a few observations you could get from a few hours in front of the radars and live data from their training exercises. 

You went through your shopping list in no time, stopping for headache meds and some flowers just after you got lunch. Back at your one bedroom apartment, you, once again, found an excuse to avoid a Facetime call with your parents, but you made sure to text them some pictures of your progress — and thank your dad for finding a good place for you to stay, a 20 minutes drive from the base, and also in a walking distance of the Golden Hill Park.

Clothes on drawers and hangers, cutlery in the right places, uniforms in the washer, books in the shelves. You were slowly bringing together the sense of home to San Diego. Your last few weeks in Nevada were crazy: you were back from one deployment in the Pacific just to be called for another quick job in Alaska. Thankfully your dad had a few weeks off to go to Nevada and help you pack, driving all your stuff three days before your arrival and saying he would take care of housing. All you had to do was sign a few papers, pack the stuff you could send ahead and get ready for a quick stop up north.

The sun was setting when you realized you were almost done with things. Maybe you should let some for Sunday, so you could also keep your mind off of work. You got up from your bedroom floor, took a long shower and checked your messages.

On Friday, you were able to catch up with Bob over lunch, asking him about his journey after training. You also got close to Phoenix, kinda relieved she was just as nice as you remembered. You got their numbers, they got yours, and that’s how you end up with an invite to join them at a bar called Hard Deck in an hour. If you were gonna be around for at least ten weeks, you might as well do something else besides working.

 So you went through your clothes, searching for a black top, some jeans and a jacket for when it got chiller from the autumn air. Just some casual clothes to share a few beers and a few more stories. Still getting used to San Diego streets and skyline, you drove like you weren’t in no rush to get to the bar, appreciating the change of scenery from the desert to the beachside.

You parked outside the Hard Deck just a few minutes late. For a Saturday evening, the place was pretty packed, and you could see some clients were proud to walk around in their work khakis — something you avoided as much as you could. After all, you were just a few minutes away from the station. Texting Bob back to ask him if they were already there, you didn’t even hit send before you were able to pick your new colleagues amidst the crowd.

Nat was holding a pool cue on the side of her body, explaining something to Mickey and Bob. Hangman and Coyote were trying to impress some ladies on the darts board — and you were very sorry for those two poor souls, if they knew everything you’ve been hearing while on duty. You stopped by the bar, getting yourself some bar soda and starting a tab.

“You’re sure I can’t fix you anything else?” The lady behind the bar asked you.

“I’m good for now.” And then you turned to your colleagues and thought better, “Do you happen to remember what they’re getting?” You pointed to them.

“Sure thing, they’re just having beers. Are you friends with the Daggers?”

“Not exactly,” you watched her grab six bottles, serve some ice in the bucket and hand it to you. “I was relocated here to work with them. I know Bob and Phoenix from previous training, but that’s about it.”

“Oh, so you’re part of Maverick’s team?” She definitely knew them, not just because they would be spending their down time on Hard Deck.

“I’m part of the Intelligence Team working with them.” It didn’t get easier every time you talked about it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Penny, honey. Well, let me know once you decide to try something else.”

“Thank you, Penny.”

You took the drinks with you to the high top table just on the side of their pool table. Your upbeat spirit died down as soon as you realized Bradshaw was there. After being lectured about Maverick and Goose, Bradley’s father, you weren’t looking forward to tolerating him outside of work. His short temper and slow decision making was something that got on your nerves easily. But you should’ve expected this, since he’s a long time friend with Nat.

“Look who’s out of that desk, guys.” And unfortunately, Hangman was the one to announce your presence. “I thought you were the type to wear your uniform everywhere since you’re a goody-two-shoes, Hyde.”

“Unlike you, Seresin, I have a life and personality outside of base.” You pointed to his khakis. “And don’t worry, I’m not writing down your lack of hobbies, outside women and pissing others off of course. I could already tell that based on your flight maneuvers.”

“Looking forward to reading the file you’re writing about me.” He reached for a beer, and you rolled your eyes. “Thanks, honey.”

“I’ll be surprised if you can actually read,” you bit back. “But I’m not here to work. And these beers are a peace offering. I’m not the enemy.”

“So you just like to point out our weaknesses for fun.” Mickey approached you, but you could tell it was more of a lighthearted comment than a critique. “Thanks, Hyde.”

“Thank me next week when you ace the mission simulation.”

You passed them their beers. There was only one left, but since Bradley was more concerned with his pool game than a beer, you moved the bucket aside and turned to Bob, asking “Is this every Navy favorite place to go?”

“Kinda. It’s close to base, and the service is nice and fairly priced.” Bob looked at his water. “How long have you been here?”

“I arrived this week. My father helped me move, but I had zero time to wander around.” But who’s fault was that? Definitely yours. “They are a tough crowd, I fear.”

“Don’t worry, they eventually warm up to strangers,” he explained. “We’re still fresh from last mission, and fresh blood always disturbs a little of a group’s balance.”

“I guess I would know that if I worked closely with fighter pilots,” you confessed. “Most of my missions consist of assisting with data and probabilities when tracing plans and assessing risks. Sometimes I don’t even know who is receiving my reports.”

“But you’ve been training with pilots, right?”

“No real missions, just simulations, mostly with graduates from Top Gun back in Fallon.” This job could be the perfect blend of what you’re good at and your passion, but even though you had extensive training with Air missions, you were stuck with assessing risks for admirals and captains to take charge. “It’s my first real chance to be on a mission where I’m able to build a relationship with the people I’m working with, not just being briefed on the mission and its goals.”

“I see. Yeah, I believe you’re gonna do a great job, not just because I know you, but because there’s still room for improvement and you’re gonna be the key for it.” Bob tried to cheer you up, and even though you wanted to believe his words, the first few days were tough on you.

“Thanks, Bob. But I’ve meant it when I said I’m not here to work,” you laughed, leaving the pressure of your relocation for another time.

“So you better start sharpening your pool skills, Hyde.” Natasha passed you her pool cue and smiled. “Do you even play it?”

“Who do you think I am, Phoenix?” You gasped, as if her words were the biggest betrayal you ever faced. “It’s been a minute since I last played, tho.”

“It’s ok, you don’t need to be good at everything you do, you know.” She joked. “Ok, cutthroat rules. You, me and Rooster.” 

She reseted the table as she explained how it was going to work: she was protecting balls 1 to 5, you were in charge with 6 to 10, Rooster had 11 to 15 to himself. The goal was to pocket any opponent's balls while protecting yours. If a foul occurred, the other players had the right to place a ball back at the table.

Natasha breaks, and one of hers was pocketed right away. On her shot, she aimed for the 7-ball, but it lacked strength to send your ball to the pocket. You took a look at the table, spotting a chance to pocket the 12-ball. You walked to the other side, passing just inches away from Bradshaw, and sending his ball to the pocket. He looked unimpressed when you checked for his reaction. You tried to get one of Nat ball’s, but you picked the wrong angle.

Bradshaw fixed his sunglasses on the neck of shirt, assessed the table and went for the 8-ball. Everyone was tied on losses. He sent the 1 straight to the pocket. His third shot scratched the 6-ball and moved it to a dangerous spot, and you held your breath.

“Don’t worry, I’m on your side,” Natasha aimed for the 15-ball and sent it straight to the corner pocket. But it was still a risky position for your 6-ball, and you watched when she pocketed that one as well. “I mean, I took one of his first, which makes us even, right?”

“That’s not what I’ve learned on Math 101, but ok.” You shook your head. “What are you gonna do next?”

“I’m gonna,” she elongated her words, “maybe this one,” she pointed to the 5-ball, “or a small challenge with the 14.” She positioned herself, and missed the latter for a lot. “Your shot, Hyde.”

You sent the 14-ball straight into the pocket, then missed your shot. Bradley took the 3-ball out, followed by the 10, and missed the 7. Nat got the 9-ball, then missed. You tunnel vision on the 13, in the middle of the table, with a huge chance of error. The white ball hit all the wrong corners and you miss it. And it got the white one on the perfect spot to send your last ball to the pocket.

“It was nice playing with you, fellas.” You turned over your cue and crossed your arms, destiny sealed since Bradshaw was a way better player than you. You watched the 7-ball disappear inside the pocket. 

“Wait, Hyde, someone could get a foul, and you can come back,” Nat tried to pull you back to the table.

“I’m good with my loss, don’t worry. I’m not leaving, just wanna get something from the bar.” You took the now empty bucket — did Bradshaw get his beer or someone stole it? — to the bar and returned it to Penny.

“How is it going?” She smiled and motioned her head to the group.

“Could be worse. Can I have a tequila shot?”

“Sure, honey.” Penny checked something under the bar. “Is house tequila ok?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Can you get me one water and two more beers as well?”

“Coming right up.”

You took your phone of your pocket, and checked your messages: you were setting the family group chat aside for tomorrow morning; Lisa, your roommate from Fallon, was sharing updates on the gossip you were missing — not even three days and they didn’t failed to surprise you — while in San Diego; Ashton, still unaware of your transference, was asking if you were free. Yeah, things would never change.

“Here.” She laid your order on the counter. “I know you’re an Officer, but do you happen to have a call sign?”

“It’s more common to hear people calling me by it than my own name,” you shared, and she laughed. “It’s Hyde, a character from a gothic novel.”

“Oh, I believe I’ve read this book in high school.” She pressed her lips together and stared at you, like she was trying to put the pieces together. “Do you need some lime and salt for the shot?”

“No, not really.” Maybe not a smart idea since you’re driving, but that was the Hyde in you: nice face, good manners, but short tempered and always down to some trouble. “Thanks, Penny.”

You balanced your shot and the water in one hand, held the two beers in the other and moved carefully between the crowd to your friends. Back to the pool table, you watched Rooster send Nat’s last ball to the pocket.

“Oh no! And I thought you were each other's lucky charm,” you pointed out between her and Bob. You sat by her WSO’s side and passed him a water. “Or do you want a beer?”

“Water’s fine, thanks,” he offered you some nuts, and you gladly took a few.

“Here, a consolation prize for you.” You slid a beer for Nat as soon as she joined the table. You looked over her shoulder, seeing Bradshaw walking to the piano. “Is he always like that?”

You looked over your shoulder to Bradshaw. He carried a lot of resemblances to his parents — you could tell after hours looking through your parents’ photos, and seeing Goose and Carole in a few, with a kid Bradley closer. This was way before you were transferred to San Diego or decided to join the Navy.

You thought Bradshaw was just like you, until your father told you what happened to him. Father died after a failed ejection, his mom died of cancer, Maverick pulled his papers and set him back. You felt sorry about it, but if he was raised by Pete Mitchell after all of that, you were expecting to meet the younger version of the captain.

“Give him some time, Rooster is not much of a fan of changes,” she explained.

“As long as this doesn’t interfere with my job, I’m ok with not being friends with everyone.” You drank the tequila shot without making an ugly face, and quickly moved to your beer.

“Do you happen to know anything about our next mission?” Nat asked.

“I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark as you,” you shook your shoulders. “I know about the uranium mission though, which was pretty dangerous. I would’ve done a thing or two differently.”

“What exactly?”

“I mean, they could’ve timed the missiles to hit a few SAMs as you were leaving the valley, and make your way out of there smoother.” They were already flying a dangerous zone on less powerful planes, and exposed the hell of their jets, so not having at least a few bombs to help out was a little dumb.

“You’re kinda right,” Bob threw another nut inside his mouth. “Do you think they considered it?”

“Nah, I bet 20 bucks Admiral Simpson was looking for an opportunity to get rid of Maverick.” You took a sip of your beer.

“That’s cruel. But hey, if you have the chance to make our mission less dangerous, you have my approval.” Nat smiled.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Hey, have you always been part of Intelligence?”

You and Bob shared a look. “No, I joined the Navy after graduating from college. My parents are from the Navy, and they gave me the chance to choose. So education, then enlisting. My records say I graduated from Flight School because I completed the training successfully, but I got in an accident during the last week. Then, because of my college degree, they gave me a spot as part of the Intelligence, and I liked it there.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your accident. I bet you miss being in the sky sometimes.”

“Thanks, Nat. My dad is a flight instructor nowadays, and everytime we’re in the same base, he finds a way to let me fly for a few minutes.”

“So you’ve been keeping your flight skills in check? Why don’t you apply to Top Gun?” Bob inquired.

“I really don’t see myself doing what you guys do on a daily basis,” another sip, waiting for them to be convinced. You were way past that Top Gun chance now, anyway.

“A pretty thing like you fits better as a Top Gun pilot's wife,” Hangman came up to the table, a beer in hand.

“I rather crawl naked over hot tarmac than date an aviator, Bagman.” Maybe if the aviator wasn’t part of your team, but just maybe. “You guys are just trouble. Can’t keep your missiles in your pants, and flee as soon as possible.”

“You’re funny, Hyde,” he pointed his beer’s neck at you.

“Don’t let it fool you, Hangman, they don’t call her Hyde for nothing,” Bob warned him.

“Don’t have a lot of Jekyll going on, hun?”

“Oh god, you’re insufferable,” Nat exited the table as fast as she could.

“No wonder those girls left you hanging on the darts,” it was kinda undeniable that there was some tension in the air.

“If you’d excuse me, I think it’s the perfect time to call my girlfriend.” And Bobby was smart to take his cue to leave you two alone. He motioned to his phone, and you noticed the picture on the wallpaper: the WSO with his arms around a beautiful girl. But she didn’t look like anyone you’ve seen around at base so far.

“Needs babysitting, Bob?” Hangman teased.

“Should I remind you who fell for the feral koalas story, Seresin?” Bob biting back? That was a first for you.

You looked between the two men, intrigued.

“Go talk about pandas or whatever, Floyd.” Jake waved his hand.

“See you later, Hyde.” Bob walks to the external deck, phone in his ear.

“What did he mean with feral koalas?” You inquired.

“His lady is Australian, and one time she told us about how koalas got a disease and were attacking people, and she sounded very scared.”

“And you believed it?”

“I mean, there was a lady in distress!”

“Jeez, we should legally change your call sign to Himbo.”

“Him-what?”

You laughed and stared at Jake, “I’m dead serious about not dating aviators, tho.”

“Who said anything about dating?”

One thing led to another. Coyote left the bar with a girl on his side, Hangman was left without a ride. You offered to drive him there, since it was on your way home, but you were none the wiser after a tough week and a few tequila shots.

When the sun started to peak over the waves, you were far away from Jake’s bed and still very much sure of your promise. You were in San Diego with one goal and one goal only: earn that promotion. And nothing or anyone was stepping into your way.

a/n: hello aviators! first of all, thank you SO MUCH for the support on the first chapter. yes, i wrote what i wrote and i don't regret it (hyde hooking up with hangman, but it was mostly implied so don't worry, it's almost like it didn't happened haha). also even tho we know who the daggers are, hyde is still getting to know them, i couldn't pass on a hard deck introduction scene (top gun: maverick movie style!). well, let me know what you guys think about this chapter, don't forget to reblog, vote and comment! see ya soon!

[wordsarelife]

—change

pairing: anthony lockwood x sister!reader

summary: you get hurt on a date and your brother notices that he has grown apart from you

warnings: mentions of injury, one yr age gap relationship (18 + 17)

notes: lucy, lockwood and george are 20 in this. reader has an age gap of 3 years

growing up you found yourself always wandering in the shadows of your older brother, he was your hero, the ideal person in your eyes and you wanted to be everything he was.

although he was only three years older than you, he grew up a faster after your parents death. he did everything possible to give you the childhood that you deserved to have.

but due to that, your relationship was strained. he thought he was protecting you by keeping you out, but instead you felt like an intruder in your own home, which felt more like Anthony's home now, who had no time to play, or to spend time, always hiding in the library, keeping you away from the things he was dealing with.

you had always hoped to one day repair the relationship you two had lost over the years, but no matter what you tried, it didn't work. so one day you just gave up.

two years later

"Lucy, have you seen my green sweater?" you called up the stairs at your best friend. she didn't answer though, you sighed and walked down to the attic, to hopefully find it in the laundry room.

your brother was training downstairs, jumping around the room and swirling his rapier through the air. you tried to move out of the way as best as you could

anthony sighed and stopped the training procedure. "how many times have I told you, not to come down here, while I'm training?"

another one of the reasons that your relationship was so strained, was that he always expected the most from you, which got tiring after awhile, especially because he was your brother and not your father.

"sorry, anti" you turned your back while you rolled your eyes and walked to the drier "I just need my sweater"

"and how many times have I told you not to call me that"

anti had been his childhood nickname, before you could pronounce his name. you preferred to call him that to this day, because first, he hated it and secondly he really approached everything that concerned you with some anti-attitude, so you thought it fit.

"sorry, dad" you replied sarcastically "won't happen again"

"don't call me that either" he sighed "have you found your sweater?"

you turned to look at him and noticed that he was waiting for you to leave, so he could turn the simulation back on.

"nope, its probably in lucy's room. see you later, anti"

"stop calling--" before he could finish his sentence, you had already made your way back up the stairs and closed the door behind you "sorry" you said to yourself "I sadly can't hear you"

"what?" you turned around to look at george, who was sitting at the kitchen table, papers flooding over the whole table

"nothing" you shook your head "have you seen my sweater?"

"which one?" george asked annoyed

"the green one? the one theo found me pretty in, remember?" you smiled, thinking about the brown haired boy that was part of quill kipps' crew and would go on a date with you later today

"theo rowland?" george repeated "why does it matter what he thinks of you?"

"i'm going out with him today" you rolled your eyes at the boy "and i wanted to wear the sweater"

"i think it's in the bathroom" george shrugged, no longer interested in continuing the conversation. you quickly thanked him, before walking out of the room and getting the sweater, that really had been in the bathroom.

after you had gotten ready, you left the house, making your way to the spot you would meet theo at.

it was later that evening, exactly ten minutes after nine, that anthony lockwood would hear loud and hectic knocking on his door. he had been sitting in the library, reading when he finally decided to open the door, the loud noise getting annoying.

"what is it?" he asked, swinging open the door. he couldn't have guessed who had been waiting in front of it.

"rowland?" lockwood asked surpised "what the hell do you want?"

"lockwood!" theo breathed a sigh of relief "something happened" theo's eyes caught lucy's who was walking down the stairs "something with y/n"

"y/n?" lockwood repeated "y/n's upstairs, what could've possibly happened?" "she isn't" lucy shook her head "she was gone the whole afternoon"

"was she now?" lockwood wondered "listen, rowland, i really don't know what you have to do with my sister, but if you don't mind, i really would love to know where she is"

"the hospital"

"the hospital?" both lockwood and lucy screeched "why didn't you say something sooner?" lockwood eagerly grabbed his coat, before he was out the door and calling for a taxi, lucy close behind him

"what the hell happened?" he turned around to look at Theo, pointing an accusing finger at the boys chest.

lucy was already climbing into the taxi. "come on, lockwood"

"if you did something to her--" he pushed theo back

"lockwood!" lucy called again

lockwood took a look in lucy's direction, deciding that he really didn't have any time to discuss anything with theo, before he looked him up and down again "i will find out if you did and now get lost!" he climbed into the taxi, that drove off after he had closed the door.

"y/n!" the relief in lucy's voice calmed lockwood down a bit.

you opened your eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the light, when you looked around yourself. "hey"

"hey" lockwood said. he took a look at your arm that was in a cast

"what happened?" lucy pointed at your arm

you looked down "i fell, really hard. but theo brought me here quickly, they gave me something to sleep while they fixed it"

"good" lucy nodded, but sensed the outgoing tension from lockwood

"where have you been? why did you leave the house in the first place?"

"i will get a nurse and tell her you've woken up" lucy excused herself from the room, leaving you and lockwood to talk.

"i was on a date" you answered his question hesitantly

"what?" anthony asked loudly "with theo rowland?" he connected the dots in his head

you nodded.

he laughed bitterly, shaking his head, walking around the room. "no you're way too young for dating and theo rowland as well! this is illegal!"

"what are you even talking about?" you asked "theo is not too old for me"

"did he touch you or anything?" lockwood sat down next to you "i can call barnes"

"what? no!" you got angrier at him "he's a good guy"

"yeah" lockwood rolled his eyes "a good guy dating a fifteen year old"

you looked at him stunned. "i'm seventeen"

"huh?"

"i'm seventeen" you repeated louder "and theo is eigtheen, so everything is fine. and if i want him to touch me, i will let him. he's very respectful"

"you're not seventeen" lockwood shook his head in denial

"yes i am" you said, but softer "what year is it, anthony?"

lockwood clasped a hand over his forehead "shit" he mumbled "you're right"

"it's alright" you shrugged your shoulders

"no it's not and i'm sorry" he admitted "i've been a pretty shitty brother these past few years, i should've kept you closer and not try to shut you out."

"don't say that" you exclaimed "of course i wanted to be closer to you, but i know that you did a lot of that so that i would have a happy childhood. you didn't mean to be cruel"

"i didn't" he nodded

"it's not too late"

"yeah" he smiled. "how about when you get discharged we go out for some donuts at arif's? you can bring theo. i scared him pretty badly, but he told me you were here in the first place, so he deserves an apology" "that sounds good" you smiled

"i love you"

"i love you too, anti"

"just today, i won't say anything to that stupid nickname, but only because you're in the hospital"

"okay" you laughed

[matchtaco]

So… hi? Bel is back and it's just to complain, and since I have more characters here than on Twitter, I take advantage of it.

I hate, HATE, the people who are upset that Williams and Williams fans are "celebrating" Logan's P11 and that no one is criticizing it (false, but I won't talk about those right now). Hey, sorry for not being the type of team that has a toxic work environment and that its fanbase supports its two drivers!!!!

"It was thanks to the abandonments" well you know what? he didn't abandon, so what's that for? His team did not ask him to retire the car and he had a clean race without accidents. It bothers them that a driver is well positioned "thanks to abandonments" only when it is Logan, because a CERTAIN driver is still praised for having been in a worse position than Logan in his rookie year after the same number of abandonments, BUT IT'S OKAY.

"But without Alex's DNF, he would have at least reached the points" SHUT UP, you don't know that, already in the simulations it showed that this circuit was not suitable (we were the tenth car) while AT was the SIXTH. I'm not going to lie, I thought about it, and I like to think that if Alex didn't get points at least he was going to hold Yuki a little longer, BUT IT DIDN'T HAPPEN, Haas thought of ruining the possibility of both Williams fighting for points, and just thinking about assumptions DOES NOT WORK.

People's excuses for criticizing Logan have me tired, not to mention the ones used to insult Williams.

And I won't talk about the FW45 and its 200 problems, now it stops working in straight lines, so Las Vegas will be difficult, BUT NOBODY WILL TALK ABOUT THAT, because it ruins their narrative that "Logan is bad" and that of "Alex needs a teammate to help him."

I KNOW that Logan's next season will be better (yes, I'm manifesting), he will already be used to the car, he spent all this year watching the preview of the FW46 too, so he already knows what he will face.

That's all, I hope the next time you read me it will be to celebrate Logan's contract renewal or points on his part (better if it's both).

[smol-grey-tea]

Have you ever struggled with jealousy cause of your maladaptive daydreaming? I'm struggling with jealousy against a real life celebrity from my hometown living my dream life. I never thought anyone from where I'm from would be famous. But now they are & living my dream creatively. Also this person is beautiful unlike me. I'm not as talented, chronically shy & don't meet beauty standards thus I wouldn't be successful in this career. Plus my deeply religious upbringing & people pleasing wouldn't allow me to try & join. I can't even tell my parents I'm an atheist. It sucks cause only two years ago I used to pray my maladaptive daydreams would come true somehow. I literally need to find a way to stop being jealous cause this celebrity is all over the internet. I either have to drop social media or find a way to mute this celebrity on all platforms. I live on the internet cause I have zero friends. It's my daydreaming haven. Or I could just try "exposure therapy" & read the posts while 'crying' in JEALOUSY. I tried talkspace, cause I was to embarrassed to tell a therapist in person. But unfortunately for me my therapist didn't consider maladaptive daydreaming or my jealousy a serious thing. But I get an upset stomach every time I see a post of this celebrity it sucks. I hate this feeling I want to be happy for people not jealous. Especially when I know I'll never ever live out my daydreams. Usually I use celebs as an inspiration I don't know why I can't do that with this celeb...

Hi! It seems you found my blog from a post I made back when my blog was about MaDD. I do still have MaDD, even if I no longer post about it, but it's definitely definitely much easier to handle now. I used to have to pace every single day for hours at a time, so much that I would even have to pace while I was on sleepovers with my friend and would have to delay leaving my house for multiple hours for the purpose of daydreaming and pacing

You sound like you are not only struggling with the amount of daydreaming and how much time it takes out of your day, but also how it affects you emotionally and your view of your own life and such. And I know, it does suck. I did the same thing as you; I did try to wish my daydreams into existence, and at the age of 14 I tried to escape my own reality, thinking it was a simulation, thanks to the voices I heard.. I know what it's like to be so unhappy in your own reality :(

And I know how bad it feels when people don't take your experiences seriously. I tried to seek help at sixth form and when I described my MaDD as an illness similar to OCD, the counselor completely ignored the daydreaming aspect and how it affects me entirely and only focused on the compulsiveness of the pacing I do whilst daydreaming. I felt like I wasn't being listened to so I completely gave up on that. Therapists should prioritise the patient and what they want to focus on, rather than what they think is right or wrong.

It quite wrecked my education and I practically failed cuz the urge to pace was so strong I couldn't study and had to do all homework the night before. It was quite hell. It sounds like you are going thru just that.

To help you with this, I think I'd have to know a bit more about your situation and how similar it may or may not have been to my own. I'm going to assume that you still live with your parents and may still be in some kind of education, so you might still be quite young? And I don't know what country you live in, so I'm not sure what the health services are like where you live. Either way, here's my experience:

After finishing education, I tried to get a job. I managed to get about 2 and a half days into the job before having to quit because of the panic on the job being too strong. Nothing much wrong with the job itself, my brain just felt like I physically couldn't/shouldn't be doing that job

When I told the job centre about why I quit, they urged me to go to the doctor about the anxiety. It took a long while, since I'd never been to the doctor on my own before, but I finally got an appointment

I spoke to a doctor about my experiences and I've been on sertraline ever since then. On sertraline, my urges to pace/daydream still occur, but much less often and to a much tamer degree. It's a lot easier to ignore (altho it has been a while since I've gone a day without pacing 😬 my longest streak was 4 days, but my mental health has plummeted since my nan's funeral in February, so I've not been making as much of an effort to reduce pacing.... Wait, does that mean it's been like 4 months???? God..)

I think this got slightly off topic since you were actually asking me about if I experienced jealousy. I don't think I've had that experience necessarily but I do definitely relate to the experience of desperately wanting, needing that life, even if it's not even an objectively good one..

It sounds like you feel like this because of not recognising your own potential tho. If this other person from your home town can achieve it, why can't you? Even if you feel shy, I think it's still worth it to work on your skills in your own time and privacy where you feel comfortable

If fame and love is where this need is coming from tho, perhaps you could try and find love in other ways instead of looking specifically for being a celebrity? Altho, having experienced your experiences, I understand that it's not all just about the feeling the daydream gives you, it's about being in that world specifically in real life, so I understand if that advice isn't exactly helpful to you

I don't know about your specific circumstances but I highly recommend starting medication if you haven't already. It doesn't work for everyone but it has done wonders for myself and if there's a chance that you can get the same success, then it is 1000% worth it just to try. I was scared of it taking away my daydreams, and while your brain gets used to the change in hormones, things do go haywire for a bit, but then it evens out really nicely and, in my experience, my daydreams have stayed intact at least til today, so you don't have to worry about that ❤

Please don't hesitate to reach out if you have more questions. I do encourage asking myself and other MaDDers about their experiences, you'll get more help from them than from therapists imo. I don't want you to feel hopeless. I myself haven't experienced the jealousy but I am certain that you will find someone else who's had the exact same experience.

Please do not lose hope!!!! (*ˊᗜˋ*)ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ for reaching out!!!!!! There is an end to this hell, I promise you, it is out there. I know how hard it is, I promise. But it is possible to live with your daydreams and not have them make such a strong impact on your life ❤❤❤ you are worth it, please keep trying 😊 (*ˊᗜˋ*)ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ

[youaresogoingtohell]

So overnight I got to thinking about it all, and realized some hard things about myself and my history with cults.

Yesterday I said they didn't indoctrinate me, but last night I realized they actually kinda did. And I'm ashamed to say I believe in some of it still. It's hard to shake.

They got me believing I should eat at least twice a day. Slowly, over time - cleverly, really. It was only one part of the whole way they stealthily steered me into seeing the world through "nourishment" goggles.

fucking creeps!

They completely changed my perception of myself. I didn't realize it at the time, but that's what they did! No matter what they say, no matter how hard they try to object or re-frame the issue in some other way, they absolutely are to blame for me no longer being able to see myself as garbage. That loss can never be undone! Any time I want to return to that youthful verve of being living shit-slime, their programming knocks me out of it, no matter how hard I try to remember all the logic and satisfaction of hating my own self. It didn't happen overnight. It took a lot of work on their part.

Fuck, too, they politicized me. They radicalized me. Does anyone really ever recover from that? I don't think so, not really. And again, it was so tricky. No lectures, no hard sell. I can't even pinpoint when it happened. It all just seemed to add up in my mind, one day. I bet they were delighted! but they didn't say anything, if so.

There was a room, a big one, that you had to take your shoes off to go into. Red flag! It seemed fine, at the time. Goes to show you! The mind control takes many forms.

Not One Of Them Fucked Me. Not ONE. ?!?!?!? disrespectful! For years I'd been hearing all this juicy shit about forced sex and group sex and secret mutual masturbation rituals. NOPE. Utter, boring, total hideous lack of any sex drama whatsoever. All that cloying 'honesty' and endless 'communication' about 'feelings' and 'needs'. I can't believe it took me so long to see it for what it is.

Inhuman! Unnatural.

There's too much to go into, and it's so tangled up. They were smart about it. They'd find all sorts of subtle ways to convince me that people can't be hostile, isolated, single-use units of value in separate cubicles for a lifetime, how the home should be this inexpensive and nontoxic sacred place, all kinds of shit like that. Looking back, it's like, they were all so fucked up about Ps & Qs around each other. What's that all about?

Friends, it has been well over twenty years since I could force something into my mouth that's neon blue and weird-tasting. And that's only one lasting consequence of having let myself get conned by people who never once let on that they were conditioning me. No no, they were smooth! They did it with this scarily gentle lack of any direct language at all. It was all encoded into their smiles, human appearances and weirdly careful daily behavior. Who does that? "checking in" and "making sure you're okay" and so on. Paranoid much????

I'm sorry to say that, several times, I'd let one or more of them hug me when I was crying. Love bombing I guess they call it.

I think it's important to be open about these experiences so that more people aren't harmed by dangerous anti-american lifestyle gurus.

After all this time, I still don't know why they didn't try to stop me from escaping, but, they didn't. Maybe it was because they knew I'd go forth and preach about hippie bullshit for them, like a super hot gay lure. Well, no worries there! I will never, ever tell you how to find them.

[witxh-bitch]

'I always knew' - Connor x human!reader

My first take at a Connor x reader!

Hope it doesn't SUCK 😅

This takes place in the timeline where Connor is traumatized after Simon shoots himself

Warnings: angst

Enjoy!!

(gifs are not mine. If you see your gif and want to be credited or it to be removed please tell me cause I found these on Google)

_________

In the midst of what seemed like the calm before the storm you found yourself sitting in front of the TV, watching yet another newscast completely misinterpreting the speech of the now infamous leader of the androids. After yesterday's hack every news report was booming with what they called ‘new info’ about the fugitives when in reality it was all fabricated bullshit, at least that's what you thought.

‘Where are they going with this?’ you sighed, shaking your head. Saying you didn't agree with the demands presented by the robots would be a lie. In fact, your fingers were crossed that they succeed in their uprising. Walking down the street and seeing how badly people treat their androids was always painful to you and now, seeing them take what's theirs has filled you with hope.

Your views however have always been shunned by the fact that you too have had an android or your own. Well, he wasn't exactly yours. In your eyes he was his own person that didn't have an owner but officially he has been assigned to lieutenant Hank Anderson- a man you've grown to become quite good friends with. One day you went to visit him in his office and that was when you met Connor- the android sent by CyberLife as he introduced himself. Soon you've grown attached to each other so much so Hank proposed that Connor stayed with you instead. Connor was a very special android not only to you but to the force and CyberLife itself. He was, in fact an android designed specifically to hunt deviants. And it hurt you. Sometimes Connor scared you too. You felt he just wasn't himself when he was working. He could be ruthless and heartless just like a machine… You tried talking to him about it many times, saying that maybe… maybe he was something else other than that but he never listened.  “I am a machine Y/N. Nothing more, nothing less,” was his response.

… Just as you were delving deeper and deeper in your thoughts you heard a loud knock on your door. Startled, you jumped up but walked over to open it. You had a suspicion on who it was and you weren't surprised for in front of you stood Hank Anderson and next to him… your Connor. But something was wrong…

“You're very late did something happe-” You locked eyes with Connor for mere seconds before he took a couple steps forward and with the blankest of expressions fell into your arms, whispering faintly your name. You gasped and wrapped your arms around him, looking at Hank in shock. “Jesus… what happened?” Hank just sighed and ran his hand over his face.

“I think it's best he tells you that. Sorry we're late but...things got nasty… Connor... He's seen some shit. I-uh I don't know exactly what's wrong with him, the technicians said it's probably just his processing slowed down a little so it should pass... I think.” Your eyes moved quickly between staring at the lieutenant and back to Connor, wider than they've ever been.

“Oh gosh… Okay… uh…” You glanced at Connor. He wasn't moving. Just...staring in the distance with hollow eyes,his LED remaining a harsh red. “Are you going to come in?” you asked, looking back at the lieutenant. He just shook his head.

“Nah. I have a couple things to do still. I just brought him back so he's safe. Take care of him Y/N.” You nodded and thanked him quietly. Hank gave you a knowing smile and retreated back to his car.

You closed the door behind him and slowly led Connor to your bedroom.

Once you were there, you pulled away from his arms and for a moment observed his face. It was emotionless and yet you could feel that deep inside him there was conflict.

“Connor?” you asked but got no reply. His eyes twitched though and seconds later he lifted up his head. “Are you okay?” He blinked once, slowly and shook his head.

“I...don't think so.”

You felt something inside you break. “Oh Jesus…” You sighed and hugged him again, letting his head fall in the crook between your neck and your shoulder. You stayed like that for a good couple minutes unmoving before you sighed and ran your fingers through his silky hair. “C'mon, let's get these clothes off of you. They're dirty.” Connor nodded. Gently, you pulled off his tie. Just as the rest of his clothes it was covered in blue blood. “Did you get shot?” He nodded again. “You need to watch out. You know I hate it when you get hurt and it would break my heart to know you had to be reset.”

“I'm sorry.” He said, helping you take off his blood stained white shirt. Once it was off you noticed no bullet holes, you assumed that was already taken care of by a technician but they didn't have any clean clothes. That's a relief.

You sighed and ran your hands over his broad chest looking up at his sad eyes.

“Don't be. I don't want you to be sorry. I know you were just doing your job but…” You stopped yourself talking before you could finish the sentence. Your eyes fell down from his face and slowly you moved away from him going to the wardrobe instead to take out a clean t-shirt for him.

“But?” Connor asked, following you with his eyes. You sighed. You knew there was no way you could just drop the subject now that you started.

“... I just… I just wish you had a safer job. That's it. Now come, put this on.” You smiled and walked back to him with a plain black shirt. You rose up on your tiptoes and kissed him softly.

After Connor changed clothes you moved to the bed. His head rested down on your chest as he laid down on the bed on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your fingers combed through his hair, massaging his scalp. You were resting quietly for a longer while.

“Connor…” You started. He looked up at you. “Can you tell me what happened now?” Connor moved his head back down and stared at the wall.

“There was a deviant on that roof..." He started the way all his stories from work seemed to start. There was a deviant insert place here. “I found him and I...I tried to catch him…” His voice cracked. “I almost did and I grabbed his arm to connect to it's...memory.” You noticed that Connor’s grip on your body had tightened. “But then… he shot himself.” You sighed sadly, feeling your heart drop. “I felt him die Y/N… Like I was dying.” Connor’s nails started to dig into your side harshly making you wince.

“Oh honey…” You sighed again. Connor moved away from you and sat up on the bed.

“I was so scared.” He squeezed his eyes shut. You sat up too, cupping his face in your hands making him look at you again.

“Connor…” you said calmly “We need to talk because I can't go on like this any longer.” A faint frown appeared on his soft features. His LED turned yellow as he waited in silence for you to continue. When you knew his attention was turned to you, you took a deep breath and continued. "I know it'll seem weird to you or maybe you suspected it for some time but... I agree with the deviants.” You shrugged with half a smile. Connor’s face went blank.

“What?”

“I agree with them Connor. I think they're right. They deserve the freedom. I mean, I watched their leader’s speech and I feel like there really is something more to them than just that they're machines. There's something more to all of you.” Connor stared at you with confusion painted on his face.

“Y/N…" He shook his head in confusion. "Deviants...they're just machines. Nothing more. They have a virus or something in their system that makes them simulate emotions but that doesn-” You sighed and let go of his face standing up from the bed.

“See you're not listening to me! Why are you so fixated on belittling yourself? Here I am saying that I believe- no. I KNOW you're not just a piece of plastic and metal and all you do is deny that!” You snapped, making the andr- the man in front of you freeze in shock. The LED on his head turned red.

“You yourself said that when that android killed himself you were scared you were dying yourself. Fear is an emotion Connor. If androids are just machines how come you felt human emotions then? Are you a deviant Connor?” you asked but he seemed speechless, unable to form an answer. “Care to anwser?” You pressured.

“I… I am… I am not a deviant Y/N. I am a machine designed to hunt down deviants and that's what I will do. I wish I could give you a different answer but I can't.” You felt your frustration reach a critical level. It pained you so much to hear him say those things especially with that blank stare in his eyes. Is this really what he was? No. No, you knew that wasn't true.

“Fine. Fine you know…” You looked down at the floor. “Connor I love you. I love you so much. And I thought you loved me too. I'm sorry to hear I was fooled.” You felt a tear escape your eye as the last sentence fell from your lips. Connor’s eyes grew wide. The red light on his face flickered chaotically as you began to leave the room.

“Y/N! I've never said anything like that?” He shot up from the bed. You looked at him although your vision was compromised by the tears clouding your eyes and you shook your head dismissively.

“Machines can't feel love Connor.” You replied and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

_______

You stood by the kitchen counter, looking at the window. You were thinking about Connor as usual but instead of happy thoughts you began to doubt everything that you knew about him.

What if he wasn't lying and he really wasn't going to become a deviant? You thought you knew that he was just trying very hard to maintain the lie but… after what you heard in that room...you just didn't know anymore.

Your thought train was stopped though when you heard the door to the bedroom creek. You didn't bother turning around. You knew that if you did you would burst into tears again so you just kept staring out.

Connor came closer to you but didn't say anything. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you from behind, putting his forehead against the back of your neck. You sighed sadly.

“Yes Connor?”

“I don't know who I am anymore Y/N. I'm lost.”

Oh...

Your heart began beating faster and you knew that he noticed too. You stayed silent though, letting him speak his mind. “On one hand I have my instructions I know I should follow but… but I don't want to. How could I not want to Y/N? Do I have a choice? I'm a machine but I feel all these things I'm not supposed to feel. I'm sad and I'm angry and...And I love you. I don't know what to do… Please help me…” You slowly and carefully turned around so you were facing Connor. He still held you very close to himself. You noticed wet paths down his cheeks. He was crying. That was enough evidence he was sincere you needed.

“You mean that?” He nodded eagerly. You couldn't help but smile a bit.

“Like nothing before.”

You cupped Connor’s face softly and with no warning, smashed your lips against his, startling him. He didn't pull away though and returned the kiss instead, pressing his chest tight against yours.Your fingers found his hair and combed through it, melting in his arms.

“I'll help you love… I'll help you however I can.” You reassured him, wrapping your arms around him too.

After a moment of silence Connor added, “Does this mean that I'm a deviant?” You laughed.

“You were always doomed to become one Connor. You just didn't want to let it be true. But I knew…” You kissed his forehead softly.

"I always knew."