#In the “I'm so glad you didn't have to go through the same shit storm than us” kind of way

[mha-vilain-au]

*after a training where he was pair up with Himiko*

Neito: I'll be the first one to admit that this did not go according to the plan.

Neito: But the plan was written with colored pencil and glitter gel.

[heirofnight]

let's go

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: reader is arranged to be wed within the next 12 hours, and azriel is determined to not let that happen.

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love on the writing i've published so far. my heart could explode. i've never allowed anyone to read anything that i've written, and as nervous as i was, i'm so glad that i made this account. this little fic was inspired by GoT lmao. i hope you like it!

you took in your reflection in the floor length mirror that was propped against the side of the wall. your chambers were dimly lit, somber even - a perfect indication of your own feelings. you'd always loved candles, loved the romantic glow that they'd cast across the walls of your large bedroom. for that reason, you had many of them - big and small - spread across the surfaces of your space. all of them were lit now, and they, along with the moonlight that spilled through your open drapes, provided mood lighting that perfectly encapsulated your own brooding thoughts.

you were getting married tomorrow. but not in a way that was exciting or filled your heart to the brim with joy. no, this was absolutely dreadful - an arranged marriage that was put in to place solely to benefit your royal father. one that you did not want, and would have never agreed to. you didn't even know the male that you were set to wed - had never even seen him.

your father was thrilled. he would not stop boasting about how immensely important this union was (for him), how this event was going to solve so many political issues amongst the court (you didn't give a shit), how happy you'd eventually grow to be (impossible). you were furious, you felt used, and you were in love with another.

azriel.

your eyes fluttered as his name tore through every single chamber of your mind. it felt like you were physically being stabbed through the heart. at this point, you'd rather it. at least you'd die his lover.

your eyes found the floor in front of you, and you took in a sobering breath. you had one more thing that needed to be done before tomorrow's ceremony.

you crossed the wooden floor of your large bedroom, floorboards creaking beneath your bare feet. you sat before your mirrored vanity, pulling a stack of parchment from the small drawer in front of it. and, you began to write. one last letter to the male that you'd loved for close to five years now. the man that held your soul within his scarred hands - hands that had the potential to inflict such harrowing damage. but those same hands had held your beating heart with such care and unrelenting love, it made your chest physically want to split in half to think of it.

my sweet love,

as i sit here on the eve of my wedding day, a day that should be joyous, a celebration for the ages, i can't help but feel as though my heart is trying to leap from my chest. if it were able to do such a thing, i know that it would somehow journey these lands to find its way to you. it is already with you, anyhow, and it always will be. i am sick to think that my walk down the aisle will not end with me standing before you, azriel. such a handsome husband you'd be. please, if you ever wed another, -

you paused your writing as a chilled gust of air hit the back of your neck, your hair whipping about with the impact. you weren't scared, you didn't even flinch - you knew what, or who caused it.

you spun around in your chair, and were met the blanched face of the male you were just writing your farewell correspondence to.

"az," you breathed out, rushing to meet his stiff frame. he was clearly distressed. angry. his breath was heaving from his chest, and his fists were clenched at his sides - wings were flared in irritation.

his wild hazel eyes met your own, and he shook his head in disbelief, shoulders dropping in defeat.

"this can't happen, y/n," he whispered, jaw clenching. he was barely maintaining his composure. you knew he wanted to level this entire manor, storm through the halls and end the lives of every one of your father's men that he came across.

you let out a shaky breath, brows cinching. it would have almost been easier to not see him, especially not tonight. this was gut wrenching.

"az, i have no choice. i'm stuck, i've tried to think of every possible way-," you rambled in a hushed tone, hands gesturing in desperation.

"there is a way," he cut you off, his tone one that could summon death. he'd calmed himself, although just marginally. he'd become still, steady, and sure. his voice took on the same quality as it did when he was focused on a mission. it was cold, full of gravel.

you looked up at him, confused and trying not to get your hopes up. surely if there was an actual way to rid yourself of this nightmare, you'd have already thought of and executed it.

"you come with me. now.", he spoke once more, leaving no room for discussion. he wasn't kidding - even though he knew the consequences of such treason.

"az...", you winced, shaking your head as your gaze hit the floor. you couldn't bare to look at him, nor turn him down, but you had to.

"no, y/n. i don't care. i don't care what happens, i don't care about your father, or his army, or what this means for velaris. you're coming with me. i will not allow this to happen," he was breathing heavily again, hands coming to grasp at your slumped shoulders.

"he will start a war, azriel. he will know exactly where to find me, find us," you whispered, not daring to meet his desperate gaze.

"then we will go somewhere else, we'll go somewhere he won't find us. and we'll figure it out. you and i," he pleaded, voice faltering. the words came out strained, like he was trying not to scream, yell, implode.

you sighed, mulling it over momentarily.

"and rhys? my father will still go to velaris first. we can't unleash my father and his men onto rhys and his people just because of this", you rationalized. the thought of velaris facing another attack at your own expense was nauseating.

"i would level all of prythian with my bare hands because of this. for you," he gritted. he took your face between his hands gently, forcing you to meet his wide eyes. he needed to make you understand. he would not survive this.

you stared at him for a long moment, your expression one of absolute dejection. azriel's heart clenched, his head was pounding. please agree, please, please agree to this, come with me, he chanted in his mind, hoping somehow he'd will you into agreement.

"rhys knows where i am. he knows what i'm doing. and he knows the potential consequences. we've been working on solutions, on strategies. we can do this," he breathed out, his full lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

he was begging you, pleading. you knew he'd get on his knees if he had to. and gods, you wanted to go so badly. you'd never been able to choose anything for yourself - nothing. you'd had no say, no meaningful opinions, and no choice on any matter regarding your own life.

but you'd chosen azriel. he was the only choice you'd ever made, and would forever be the best one. you'd chosen him then, and you'd choose him now.

"i'll pack a bag," you spoke softly, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. you couldn't help the smile that began to tug at your lips.

a pregnant pause lingered between the both of you as you determined whether or not this was a horrible idea. azriel was half-expecting you to change your mind. he held his breath for longer than was probably healthy, lungs beginning to burn. but then, finally:

"let's go," you stated firmly, true determination woven within your words.

azriel faltered for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he processed your decision. he was frozen as you untangled yourself from his arms, darting about to quickly pack a bag of your belongings.

"let's go," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

a/n: my heart !!! this one came out of nowhere and i had to write it out. sorry if it's kinda dumb. let me know what you think!

[peachsukii]

listening to fortnight got me thinking about bakugo and reader having a very brief fling, something that happened in the past during their 20s, but stuck with both of them for years.

i touched you for only a fortnight i touched you, but i touched you

fast forward to living in the same city, the two of you now in your 30s and end up becoming neighbors by happenstance. you're both married to other people since you only talked in shared friend group settings after said fling.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february

you watch his wife water her flowers in the garden out back while making coffee in the kitchen every goddamn morning. you have no clue why it irks you so much, that the sight of her stupid smile makes you wanna punch her lights out.

occasionally, you run into bakugo at your mailboxes after a long day at work. small talk is the only thing you two can muster - a comment about the weather or harmless compliments about each other's appearance.

"sure rained like hell yesterday."

"nice sweater, your wife buy it for you?"

"god, it's too fucking hot today."

"that dress looks nice on ya."

one night, both of your spouses are away when a storm comes raging through the city. your power goes out, leaving you in the dark because your stupid husband forgot to replace the generator. from your windows, you see bakugo's household has power and decide to hightail it over for some company.

he answers the door with a confused look on his face. "the fuck you doin' in the rain? get in here!"

bakugo makes you a coffee to share with him in the kitchen, bullshitting through the night like you used to do as twenty somethings. it felt natural, your heart soaring as you watched him laugh and retell jokes from the past. when the conversation died down, you blurted out something you didn't plan to vocalize to anyone.

"i think my husband's cheating. sometimes i just wanna kill the bastard."

caught off guard by your admittance, bakugo quirks an eyebrow at you in response. "little extreme, but i'm sure that could be arranged."

"would be cheaper than a damn divorce. that asshole would take everything from me."

he snickers, taking another sip of his coffee. "think my wife's doin' the same. comes home late and shit, never can tell me why."

"how'd we get stuck with this shit luck?" you retort, forcing a laugh from your tightened chest.

"could be worse. we're neighbors, that's fuckin' lucky for me."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"oh? i'm starting to think that's not a coincidence anymore."

bakugo sets his mug on the countertop, turning to face you while crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest.

"might'a convinced my wife to move here. thought maybe we could be friends again."

"so you bought a fucking house next to me instead of just calling to go to dinner?" you ask mockingly, a smirk on your face as you awaited his bullshit answer.

he shakes his head with a grin of his own. "sure did."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"how come you never ask or invite me over then? we're literal neighbors, kats."

"pretty sure my wife's scared of ya. plus, i want time with you, not us."

that makes your heart skip a beat.

"hell of a way to say you miss me." you pause before setting your own cup down on the counter. "i'm glad you're here."

"me too."

right as he's approaching you, the front door swings open.

"babe, i'm home!" his wife calls, handful of shopping bags. she sees you standing in the kitchen aside bakugo - you give her a soft wave.

"oh, hi. i didn't expect company tonight."

"her dumbass husband forgot to replace their generator. just helpin' her out."

she gives him a glare, tilting her chin up at him, almost condescendingly, as she assesses his answer.

"how unfortunate. stay as long as you need, i'm gonna go put this away."

and with that, she leaves for their bedroom to unload her shopping haul. once she's out of earshot, you turn to bakugo and chuckle under your breath.

"oh yeah, she hates me."

bakugo rolls his eyes. "let her be miserable, it's her strong suit. come on, let's go take'a look at that generator."

the generator works just fine, you unplugged it before coming over.

you were curious if there was a spark leftover between you two, only to find the fire was not only stoked, but never fully extinguished.

blasty tags; @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon @starieq ✨

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie the Green Eyed Munson

Okay, so Steve wasn't who he thought he was. Eddie wasn't afraid to admit he was wrong, and boy, Eddie was glad he was wrong. He was definitely going to have to rewrite the Munson Doctrine and not just for Steve but for Lucas, too. Just because a few jocks were jerks and psychopaths doesn't mean they all were. He made sure that Lucas got the apology he deserved, realizing he should have postponed Hellfire because it was just one night. It was Steve who made him question himself, and he enjoyed that about their new friendship.

He loved learning new things about Steve. While he had friends, Eddie realized that this was what it felt like to have a best friend. He never had one before, especially one who was so different and who was also the same. Eddie felt so stupidly drawn to the guy, and he wanted nothing more for him than to find someone who made him happy. Eddie had no clue why Steve was hitting and missing with the girls now. Eddie hoped it wasn't because of the scars. If it was, then they were stupid because the scars just made Steve hotter. Wait, what? Eddie made his way through the door of Family Video. He was going to find out why.

"Good afternoon, Birdie! Good afternoon, Stevie!" Eddie said cheerfully. "How are you this fine evening?"

"We're dying of boredom, Munson," Robin said. "It's too bad that no one interesting has walked in."

"Buckley, I'm going to ignore you now and focus all of my energy on Stevie here. Stevie, how are you?" Eddie asked, leaning against the counter.

"Better now that you're here," Steve said, smiling at him as he also leaned against the counter.

"Really?" Eddie asked.

"Every day with you is a really good day, Eds," Steve said.

"You say sweet things like that to all your friends, big boy?" Eddie asked, unsure of why his stomach felt all fluttery.

"Only the special ones," Steve said, giving him a crooked smile.

The bell above the door rang, signaling another customer. It was a young, pretty blonde, who was definitely Steve’s type. Eddie rolled out of the way when she approached the counter and pretended like he was looking for a movie as he watched the scene unfold. Yeah, she was definitely here for Steve. She leaned against the counter, leaning heavily against her arms so that way she was pushing her breasts up. He rolled his eyes. Eddie already hated her, especially the way she was touching him now. That was quick. Did she even fucking ask? Putting her hand on his arm like? Really? Eddie scoffed. Who does this bitch think she is? Woah. Munson. He didn't even know her. Why was he feeling so aggressive? Eddie was surprised when she suddenly looked disappointed. Was Steve rejecting her? She stormed out the door. Yeah, Steve rejected her.

"Good call," Eddie said, approaching the counter. "She didn't seem like your type, man."

"Yeah, I prefer brunettes," Steve replied.

"Plus, she seemed a little desperate. Like, ooh, look at me. . .I have tits. . .I must touch you!" Eddie growled.

"Sound less jealous, Eddie," Steve said in amusement.

"I'm not - ," Eddie said, and then he thought about it. "Oh shit! I am jealous! I don't want you to flirt with her! I want you to flirt with me!"

"I have been flirting with you, Eds," Steve said, blushing.

"You have?! Why didn't you tell me you were flirting with me?!" Eddie exclaimed.

"I thought you knew!" Steve shrieked. "You were flirting back!"

"I was?!" Eddie yelped. "Oh, fuck! I was flirting with you! Why didn't you tell me that I was flirting with you?"

"Again! I thought that you knew!" Steve yelled at him.

Robin calmly pushed Steve into the break room, whistling as she did so before doing the same with Eddie.

"Break time!" Robin exclaimed and left the room.

"I fucking like you!" Eddie exclaimed.

"I fucking like you too!" Steve yelled back, struggling not to laugh.

"Are you going fucking kiss me or am I going to have to do it myself?!" Eddie asked.

Steve closed the gap and kissed him harshly, pushing him back up against the wall. Eddie grabbed his hips and pulled him flush against him as he slipped his tongue into Steve’s mouth. The kiss was cut short as Eddie pulled away, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip.

"Turns out I'm a very jealous man," Eddie said. "If another girl puts her paws on you, I'll - I'll - well, I will think of something when I can actually think."

"Eds, you can't even kill a spider," Steve laughed.

"I'm very scary," Eddie pouted.

"Very," Steve laughed before kissing him again.

Steve had always been the one to surprise him, but this time, Eddie surprised himself. How did he not know?

[unniekiwi]

𝗝𝗶𝗺 𝗛𝗮𝘄𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝘅 𝗚𝗡! 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥.

This one-shot was not created by me, all credit to the respective author, which is AkiraDubs, so let's separate his work from what he has done... Which was terrible, but I did this work when nothing had happened yet…¿? anyway, he deleted the video from his channel.

Feel free to change the gender of Y/N. In principle, it's ideally created for women but everyone is free to read whatever they want, about whatever they want. <3

Since Treasure Planet is my favorite Disney movie and didn't get the love it deserved, I decided to write this translation, which I've really enjoyed writing, since I ✨ADORE✨ Jim.

✨let your imagination create a scene next to a real Jim.✨

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

You have just arrived on a planet where the weather was not… the best… Don't get it wrong, you love the rain, but it is very dangerous to go boating while the storm is raging, meanwhile, you and your cadet friend Jim were inside the big hull, sitting in a sailboat. Jim was very upset since he warned Captain Amelia and Silver that it would be a bad idea to come to this planet. They ignored him. And you understand their anger.

-Well, here we go again. - he pronounces annoyed for the fourth time that day.

-What did I tell you? I knew it would be a bad idea to come to this planet. And what happened? A storm. - He sighs trying to calm down. - I told them already, if only they would listen to me! - he growls angrily as he walks.

-We wouldn't be in this situation if they would just listen to me. - he sighs again. - But they won't. Because they only see me as a child, that's what I'll be to them, a child. - He says indignantly and sulkily as he sits down abruptly on the sailboat.

-Well… I don't see you as a child. You're smarter than you look. - you say with a smile as you delicately sit down in front of him.

-Thank you, I appreciate it. You're probably the only one who thinks that way about me. - he says smiling the same way you do.

-The only one? No one else? - You ask laughing as you shake your head at the second question.

-Yes. - He says looking at you while you are surprised. - I mean, my mother, don't get me wrong! I love her…but… I feel like she doesn't trust me…. - he says pausing for a moment.

-You know, I can't do anything without her worrying, and yeah. That's what a mother would do, isn't it? I mean…I'm her only child but…I just…I want to explore the world and stuff. I know how fast and gigantic the universe is… I just want to see every part of it. - looks up at you to let out a sigh. There was a slightly awkward silence for a few moments, but Jim continued the conversation.

-I never thought I'd be on an adventure like this. - he says, trying to defuse the situation.

-I probably didn't think I'd be on this adventure either. - you look amused, laughing a little.

-You too? - he says answering surprised, laughing softly.

-That makes two of us. I'm glad we can relate to each other in some way. - he says, laughing with you. But now he brings up another topic of conversation.

-So. What are we going to do now that this storm is happening? - He asks you to answer honestly.

-Whatever shit Silver's got on his mind- you end up saying, scratching your head.

-Yeah… Silver has no good idea. - replies to the comment about the old cyborg.

-What do you think he's going to do? I mean I'd love to know your opinion. - you ask with a mischievous grin.

-My guess? - he says looking at you with his arms behind his head, as you nod your head. - He's probably going to try to make us wait until he's finished. I don't think this is going to clear up for the next few days. - he replies leaning back with his eyes closed.

-What do you mean? - you ask in a confused and frightened tone, nothing good is going through that old cyborg's head. He opens his eyes slowly and stands upright again.

-What, what am I trying to say? Oh, that we're stuck here, tch. If the storm doesn't clear up…. - he thinks and proceeds to close his eyes, he was really tired. - I don't think it will clear up for a while at least, so we could just relax, and make ourselves comfortable, with nothing else to do. - He replies.

-Sounds good to me. - You smile since Silver has been blowing you guys up since day one, a little rest is appreciated. But you change your mind to ask him something that has been on your mind since this morning, he's not usually so loose, something's wrong with him? It seems as if he is thinking about something. So you worry about him and ask him.

-Jim? - he opens only one eye and looks at you.

-How have you been feeling lately? - you ask, looking at him seriously but with affection and understanding.

-How have I been feeling? I don't know, some days I feel good… and other days I feel trapped… - he says as he looks down at his hands.

-I feel like even if I wanted to take over the ship… I wouldn't even know where to go. - He looks into your eyes with confidence but it reflects how broken he is inside.

-I want to do the right thing and I want to make the right decision. I mean, I don't want to hurt anyone… I don't want to disappoint anyone either, I just feel like I've been a big disappointment. - He says sadly looking away, you nod understanding his feelings and how he feels.

-I can't make him happy. I can't make her happy. I can't make anyone happy. I can't even make myself happy. - already as he finishes he looks at you sadly. You felt horrible for knowing how he feels, but you really appreciate that he's confident enough to tell you what he's going through. - So… here I am… Just here. - To break your heart even more, he puts on a sad smile as he plays with his fingers to calm the anxiety.

-You know… - he looks you in the eyes and you walk over to the side he's sitting on. - You really do. You make me very happy. - you sit down next to him and now smiling next to him.

-Do I make you happy? - he says now with a little lift in his spirits. - Oh come on, you don't have to say that. - he laughs a little, looking away to hide the rosy color on his cheeks.

You just nod your head, you really weren't lying, you've learned so much and had so much fun with him that how could you not be fond of him?

-Really? - he asks you again to make sure. And you nod again.

-Yes? - He asks again, to which you say YES again. -Okay. Well… You make me happy too. - he confesses looking at you with his blue orbs and smiling with a blush on his cheeks.

- Really? - you ask surprised, excited, smiling, and blushing. You are thrilled that the feeling is mutual.

-Yes, you do. - he says laughing a little at your reaction. - I mean. - He takes a breath and calms down. - Sometimes you can be a little bossy …and… you always want to be right. - he finishes intuiting what you were going to say annoyed.

-That's a lie. - you jump at him while crossing your arms.

- Yes! You always want to be right. - he says again, stinging you and being sincere.

- That's not true. - Indignant, you look at him angrily.

- Yeah. Right. Whatever helps you sleep at night - He says resignedly with his shoulders. Now you could only hear the sound of loud lightning and rain, the atmosphere was quite nice, if you can describe it that way. Jim stares at you for a few moments and while smiling, opens his left arm in welcoming mode.

-Come here. - He welcomes you warmly in his arms and you settle your head on his shoulder, he imitates you and rests his head on yours. You felt a feeling that you missed… Feeling at home. His embrace gave so many appreciative vibes to your being, you just smiled along with him. His vanilla and coconut smell was comforting like eating something warm on a cold day, that made you relax enough to settle more into him.

-Thank you. - he says smiling while stroking your hair. - I needed to hear that. It's just… sometimes I get stuck in my mind and I don't know who I am. -

- It's normal to feel that way. I understand. - You comfort him as you nod and he continues talking, running his hand through your hair.

- But, what I do know is that… as long as you're here, maybe one day… everything will make sense, you know…? - he sighs looking at your e/c eyes and you smile at him.

-Of course it will Jimbo. -

-Yeah, someday. -

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

[definitionsfading]

we finally got power back around 3pm today (Tuesday) after losing it in totality this past Wednesday night (October 9th) when Hurricane Milton hit Florida, so I finally feel like I can start to return to normalcy in life again, thank god

there's so much to kinda like, Process, and I sound like a nutjob because it obviously wasn't even *that* bad compared to what the people in asheville are still going through. actually weathering the storm is only like 20% of the trauma though, it's the aftermath that really strung me out lol

my personal home didn't get damaged or flooded, thank god, but many of the homes around me took tree fall damage and some of my local haunts and roadways are still partially underwater. shit was no fucking joke! cleanup is going to take months, if not years. it's the nature of taking a hit from a storm of this magnitude but it never feels easy when it happens. the loss of electricity, flushing your toilet with a bucket of water from the bathtub, sleeping in total dark and silence other than a candle flickering, walking around a pitch black house with a flashlight, eating meals out of cans, feeling exposed to the world around you. it's kinda primal in a way?

for me the main issue was the fact that we live in hot-ass Florida, and with the power knocked out my mother insisted on us sleeping with the house WIDE the fuck open at night for air circulation. windows, sliding glass doors, everything. our fenced in back yard did take some wind damage, so part of the fence blew over flat and anybody passing on the roadway beyond the water behind us could shine their headlights directly onto our house. it was just incredibly eerie feeling so exposed like that, especially knowing that criminals take advantage of the power outages because they know they won't be caught on camera. I would keep waking up in the night at the slightest sounds. anybody who wanted to walk into our house fully could have done it. I'm just glad we weren't singled out as a target for theft.

there was also a big issue with the cats being outdoors in the storm aftermath. I was supremely stressed out with the fence being down, because any wild animal, dog, or person could waltz into our back yard and hurt the cats. there was one night where I got up to pee around 1:00 in the morning and I heard a cat screaming outside, and I literally flew out the back door in my goddamn Birkenstocks, ran through the hole in our fence, and bolted AROUND the water behind the fence without falling or tripping to try and find the cat that I thought for sure was being eaten by something. it turned out it was two stray cats fighting near the fence line of the adjoining subdivision lmfao 🙃 and my cats were all safe at my house and patio area. but I didn't know that! you're living in a pitch black world, there are no street lights, no house lights, nothing. no stars because of the cloud cover. it was just me, adrenaline, and a fucking flashlight.

anyway, it's mostly over for me now, and I know I'm lucky we weren't caught up in the freshwater flooding. I just had to vent a little bit and stress how paranoid and anxious a weather event like this can make people. I know many of you have likely never been through a major hurricane in the same way I have never been through something like a blizzard or a tornado, but for empathy's sake. here is my casual testimony lol. fuck global warming dude

[stars-n-spice]

Thoughts on S3 Ep09!

Went to Universal last week on Wednesday so I missed watching it this week, couldn't watch it until today and oh my god,,,

Ignorance really is bliss <3

It's slowly getting harder and harder to bring myself to watch the new episodes ahaha

Anyways, spoilers and my incoherent screaming under the cut!!!

So I was like a puddle on the floor the entire episode

Ventress spoke and I melted,,

I love her so much I'm so glad she's back and I hope she comes back PRETTY PLEASE

SO M COUNT WAS MIDICHLORIANS!!! I mean,, that much was obvious but we're one step closer to having answers!

Wrecker and Crosshair helping out the Pabu civilians :(

Also noticed how fucking,, big Wrecker looks compared to Crosshair,, aahhhhhaaaaa big,, big man, big guy,,

Crosshair being like, "We aren't going to hand her over" AAAAA he really is worse than Hunter,, fucking love him

Ventress just,, being able to find them so easily and get onto Pabu without anyone noticing makes me,, so nervous,, oh my god

WRECKER FOLDING HIS ARMS ACROSS HIS CHEST AFTER SEEING HUNTER AND CROSSHAIR HOLDING THE SAME POSE?!?!

WRECKER STEPPING UP AND PUTTING HIS HANDS ON OMEGA'S SHOULDERS WHEN VENTRESS MENTIONS FORCE WEILDING?!?

Wrecker just,, fucking doing ANYTHING?? I love him

Ventress is actually really tall-

tall,, tall woman

AND HER GAY ASS HAIRCUT OH MY GOD

"Clearly none of you are normal" LMAOOO

I was like,, "hey why don't they recognize her?? they were fighting in the same war???" and then Crosshair was like "I went through Tech's files" or whatever and :(((

Tech mention :((( I miss him more and more everyday

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT FIGHT SCENE?!?!?!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!

want that fight scene injected into my blood

SHE SLAPPED WRECKER?!?!

she kicked their asses oh my god

fuck I loved that

Meanwhile Omega's on a scavenger hunt

I felt like I was watching Karate Kid

Omega not knowing who/what she is :(( and wanting to figure it out and have answers :( MAN.

WRECKER CHEERING ON OMEGA WHILE SHE WAS TRAINING!! it was so sweet but also hilarious because it made me think of how Chopper and Zeb would MAKE FUN of Ezra while he was training (I love my space families)

Omega trying to convince them to trust Asajj,, fucking,, "I never gave up on you, didn't I?" SHUT THE FUCK UP :(((((

With every episode I love Crosshair more and more and it's fucking DAMNING as all hell because I will not be able to handle anything remotely bad happening to him at this point

fuckin,, something,,, about,,, Hunter,, on his back,,, legs spread with the,, lightsaber in his face,,, fuck,, fuck fuck

I'M TELLING YOU MAN I WAS A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR THE ENTIRE EPISODE

WE MAYBE DIDN'T GET WET HAIR HUNTER BUT WE GOT WET HAIR ASAJJ AND I THINK THAT'S OBJECTIVELY BETTER!!!

Omega is just collecting like,, mentors/parents like Ezra,, I fucking love it,, she comes across adults who are like,, "fuck it. I'm adopting this kid" and Hunter's like "NO!"

Omega is just a teenager I love her so much - "Ventress is bad." - "Okay, but-"

WHY IS THERE ALWAYS A BIG MONSTER?!?!?!

RAAAAAAAH SO SHE IS FORCE SENSITIVE?!

look,, I feel like,, that training wasn't nearly enough to determine the right levels and honestly I'm still confused

ASAJJ YOU BETTER COME BACK

I was like begging for her to stay because I know shit is going to go down on Pabu and they could use her help :(

but also I'm selfish and want to see her more

"But I've got a few lives left" - RAAAAAAAHHH

Also Crosshair helping Omega and Asajj up onto the Maurader :((

I love Crosshair :((

The last two episodes have been relatively,,, calm? Like the calm before the storm and that makes me fucking TERRIFIED for this week's episode oh my god

[magixfairyix]

Trust and Hope

An Iarcy (Darcy x Iorda, OC) one-shot that's way past the events of Snow, Shadow, and Storm. Not the same timeline or universe as A Heart of Two.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The night of Karaoke in Magix City continued to go on, and soon everyone walked out of the building. Darcy stayed behind for a short moment, glancing up at the sky before Riven walked up to her.

"So, you like Iorda?" Riven questioned, his tone holding no judgment.

"Wait, what?" Darcy paused, eyes widening before they chuckled slightly. "What... what made you think that?"

"Well, you were blushing earlier. And you chose a song for Iorda that was practically a love song," Riven said, slightly teasingly before his expression became more concerned. "Does... she know?"

Darcy sighed, rubbing their temples. "No, she does not. And I don't want her to. You heard about the recent breakup she had, right?"

"With Ame? Yeah."

"She's been through a lot, and I'm not the..." Darcy paused, shrugging. "The best person for her to be in a relationship with."

"Bullshit," Riven said plainly, and Darcy raised a brow. "She clearly likes you. And hasn't everyone been calling you two partners jokingly for like, four months?"

"Stormy said the same thing, but nothing can be said to change my mind. I don't want to hurt her" Darcy said as she and Riven started to walk far behind the rest of the group.

Riven scoffed slightly under his breath, smirking. "You should be more worried about yourself considering she almost broke someone's hand."

Darcy chuckled under their breath. "Yeah..."

Then Flora, Stella, Brandon, and Iorda walked over to where Darcy and Riven were. The duo walked away from the wall and joined the rest of the group. Flora, Stella, Brandon, and Riven started walking back towards the bus to Alfea, though Iorda and Darcy walked further behind the group.

"You doing okay?" Iorda asked reassuringly.

"Yeah," Darcy answered calmly. "Just tired..." They pause, remembering the fact that both of them could feel each other's emotions. "And stressed."

Iorda paused as the two of them kept walking, glancing at her side. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Darcy's heart warmed at how well Iorda knew them, but they buried it. They breathed in slowly, composing themselves. "Today was just... one of those days where I feel... like a bad person. It's nothing new."

Iorda's eyes widened—she knew Darcy had a problem with that, and anytime that happened Iorda was fully to give all the reassurance possible—as she met Darcy's gaze. "Darcy, you are a good person."

Darcy stayed silent, clearly disagreeing.

"You are one of the people I trust the most," Iorda said calmly. "I'm always going to be there for you, because over the years... You've been there for me. No matter what I'm going to be right next to you, and I swear on Omega that I'll always trust you and value our... friendship."

Thankfully Darcy didn't seem to have noticed the pause during the word 'friendship,' and they couldn't hide the small smile that appeared. "Isn't it immoral of a Guardian to swear on the planet they're supposed to protect?"

Iorda shrugged, chuckling under her breath. "No longer a legal Guardian, but that doesn't mean the Council can't stop me if I decide to go down there once in a while."

Darcy smirked teasingly. "So rebellious."

Iorda smirked back. "Says you, dep'la."

Darcy had to bury their panic at the comment—a week ago the Squad had a movie night and Iorda was dared to say that, and apparently now decided to say that again—and wished they had a pillow to hit Iorda with. Iorda on the other hand was regretting saying it and was trying to bury her gay brain.

"Glad I'm corrupting you so well," Darcy teased and decided to retaliate because them and Iorda banter on the daily. This wasn't any different, right? "Sweetheart."

Iorda coughed on air because one thing she hadn't learned from Darcy was how to have an excellent poker face. She wasn't expecting that comment, and holy shit her brain wasn't functioning she was too gay for this. If she had a pillow she would scream in it.

"Shut up," Iorda said, laughing under her breath and trying to calm herself down. Darcy cackled, throwing thier head back, and Iorda looked back at the group awhile in front of her. "MUSA I'M GETTING VERBALLY ATTACKED!"

Barely Iorda could see Musa look back at them. "GOOD! YOU PROBABLY ENJOY IT!"

Darcy laughed even more, and Iorda tried her stop herself from doing so as well. "I mean, you did start it."

"I know I know," Iorda said, calming down and smiling. "So, are you feeling a bit better?"

Darcy smiled to themselves, looking up at the dark sky and wondering why fate was so cruel to make her have feelings for the one person she'd never trust herself to be with. "Yeah, I am."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

[momointhetardis]

so my partner's work is still fucking making him go in today even though we're fucking under tornado watch which is exceptionally bad here bc there's no way to get out of the way of one here or even see it coming very well. and of course the higher ups that ordered it are all staying home like wtf. so basically I'm going to be sitting here worrying all day and there's nothing I can do about it so this is great. even better bc my partner works like 20 mins from the area that's having fucking mandatory evacuations.

btw this is actually what ppl mean when they say locals become complicit about how dangerous these storms are. his boss has lived here her whole life so she's basically doing the 'oh it's fine I already know' like bitch no you don't! my family said the same shit when we got stuck here for three hurricanes back to back, but you know, my cousin just knew it was fine so obviously it was worth getting stuck w no power for like a month. I really hate idiots who act like hurricanes are no big deal, and this is coming from someone who has been swimming during a Cat 2. It bugs me bc ppl don't understand why it's important to get the fuck out of the way. It's not just about the safety of your employees, although that is important, it's also about the fact that you're hindering those who need to be out during it and that also really pisses me off bc that shit costs soooo many lives during these storms. when we stayed for those three hurricanes my cousin's husband went out with his friends during it to party, turns out they caused a huge delay on the roads and an ambulance and some other vehicles had to wait to get through.

Like, with my partner's work they're going to heading towards the direction that mandatory evacuees are going to be heading and will be right on the edge of it when the storm hits. this is literally the most dangerous area to be bc you're actively blocking necessary vehicles at that point, like for sure, or at least slowing them down. A lot of why businesses and stuff close during hurricanes is bc even if you feel safe you can be in the way majorly of someone else either trying to evacuate or someone trying to respond to something.

Desantis can go fuck himself too bc a lot of this is directly his fault. Other govs before him would normally at least order people to clear the way for responders bc you never know where they're going and time is important. but thanks to him it's iffy if you can even keep your job during mandatory evacuations now. plus he didn't give enough time for mandatory evacuations so this is probably going to cause so much shit bc there's still definitely going to be people stuck in the path and now they can't get out and responders can't get in bc they're going to be fighting fucking work commuters jfc.

luckily my partner used to be a storm chaser for a bit so I'm at least glad he knows what he's doing but I'm still going to be worried about him and I shouldn't have to be

[professorspork]

Any chance you'd actually want to do a breakdown of the writing and literary techniques you used in Newsbees? Any excerpt of your choice honestly, I'm always curious about how other writers think about their own work

A) I just want to say that what truly delights me is that this hit my inbox last night, a full 12 hours before the epilogue was posted (and contained within it a request for asks just like this). Way to read my mind! It made me happy!

B) Oh gosh this is so broad WHAT SHOULD I TALK ABOUT

okay after much dithering, using an online dice-rolling tool to pick a chapter to talk about and then being like 'this tool didn't pick the right chapter' I am going to talk about chapter 12, aka the romance novel bed-sharing one right before everything goes to shit.

Before we begin, you'll note that I still insist on calling a wolf at your door chapter 12 even though on AO3 it's chapter 13. I get why for coding reasons AO3 probably can't support calling a prologue "chapter zero" because something like 0/21+ is not a helpful chapter count in the same way 1/23 is but still the discrepancy chafes and I'm glad people have mostly indulged me on this point.

ANYWAY

Firstly, I'll point out that the chapter bears all of the usual hallmarks of what I know defines my prose and which I lean into with some degree of purpose. To pick a portion from the section on Blake's panic attack as an example:

She sinks shakily to the tile and curls into a ball to cry. After hours of gripping onto what remained of her sense with white-knuckled desperation, forcing herself to at least dissociate long enough to find a place to get out of the storm, she can’t fight it any more. Every single emotion she’s been barely keeping at bay—the powerlessness, the fear, the self-hatred, the sorrow—crashes through her all at once, bulldozing the fragile internal structures she’d relied upon to stay upright until there’s nothing inside her but splinters and wreckage.

It’s over. It’s over.

Gods, why won’t she fucking stop crying?

She bites down on her fist—anything to quiet the violent, hiccuping sobs that are wracking her lungs and depriving her of much-needed air—but it’s no use. You’ll wake everyone up, shut up, shut up, you stupid, sloppy bitch shut up.

Inane. Infantile.

Pathetic.

She has no idea how long she stays there, blubbering on the shower floor like a toddler. Time stretches like taffy, malleable and meaningless. She weeps until she’s empty; until even the derogatory, incisive shame is gone and only her hollow husk is left. And then…

…ever so slowly…

…cognizance creeps back in.

Apparently, she’s shivering.

The air in Yang’s apartment, which had felt near-stifling upon Blake’s arrival, is now crisp and biting against her clammy skin.

Gee, can you tell I like alliteration? In just this singular 226-word excerpt, there are eight uses of it (sinks/shakily; stupid/sloppy; inane/infantile; time/taffy; malleable/meaningless; hollow/husk; cognizance/creeps; crisp/clammy)-- and that number goes up, even, if you count incidental usage like 'with white-knuckled' or 'been barely.'

As I've matured as a writer I've shied away from prose that's florid just for prettiness' sake, but I do still indulge in this sort of... lyrical, tone-poem narration, especially in moments of great introspection or emotional import, as Blake's breakdown certainly is. All my writing-- not just dialogue-- is something I both hear and listen for, and the cadence and rhythm of the sentences is something I will tweak over and over and over again throughout the editing process until I'm satisfied with its flows and eddies. This is why I'll often use entirely unnecessary em-dashes to indicate breaths and pauses; to me, that sort of mouthfeel of the phrasing is just as important as the vocabulary is. Alliteration is a great way to get at that sort of smooth, elevated and heightened affect without being too conspicuous; my hope is that no one actually noticed "jesus christ there are eight alliterative pairs in this one half-page's worth of writing" until I pointed it out. It's... a flavor, a seasoning, that provides a bit of lift.

This excerpt also provides a few examples of another favorite thing of mine, which is pairing TWO adjectives for specificity's sake (and that sort of breathing meter). Blake's sobs could have been violent or hiccuping instead of both, but using both gives their brutality and physical embodiment emphasis; time being both malleable and meaningless shows two different facets of the sort of warping she's experiencing; her shame being both derogatory and incisive gets at how it hits both emotionally/verbally and internally/physically. (That's twice there I've said how I want the words to feel physical, to put you in Blake's shoes, and that's also very much a hallmark of my writing and this work specifically. There's a reason Blake throws up or nearly throws up so many times in this story, including in this chapter. I wanted her anxiety to feel LIVED IN, this toxic thing that her body literally has to reject and expel any way it can.)

The last thing this excerpt has that I want to remark upon is an incredibly considered simile-- how Blake's panic attack "crashes through her all at once, bulldozing the fragile internal structures she’d relied upon to stay upright until there’s nothing inside her but splinters and wreckage." I think it's always a worthwhile project to come up with metaphors that haven't been used a thousand times, because readers deserve novelty and forethought, but I really considered how I wanted to portray her feelings here. In other chapters, I compare Blake's panic/trauma to a treacherous ocean filled with dangerous creatures, or to a runaway train; Yang, of course, gets her big moment where she feels like a volcano. All of these things are scary and unpleasant, but they are so in radically different ways. Whereas the ocean metaphor is sort of all about depth and playing the long game, getting dragged under and the process of erosion, I wanted this one to be sudden and impactful. The first thing I came up with was a tornado, but that a) felt a little tired to me and b) still came from the natural world, which didn't feel quite right. The sort of manmade, architectural language I ended up going with reinforced far better the point I was making: that Blake built and constructed her sense of calm purposefully, and it was now being torn down by someone else's violent efforts.

PHEW okay I think that's enough talking about that one small section.

Overall, the chapter also contains a lot of the sorts of tricks and modes I relied on throughout the fic-- playing around with time, explicitly referencing callbacks to earlier in the story, the Adam that lives in Blake's head. This chapter is also, of course, the debut of The Font, which was really fun for me. Blake falling asleep instantly in Yang's bed after two dozen chapters of how bad her insomnia is was a payoff that had been in the outline from the earliest stages. The Hug is both important in its own right but also a reference to yet another musical, Waitress ("I hope someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight..."). Seeing as this is a Newsies adaptation, I wanted it to feel in many ways LIKE A MUSICAL-- to have those big, bold feelings-- but the one thing Newsies isn't is a romance, and I found myself thinking often of love songs from other shows to sort of fill in those gaps. That could honestly be its own post so I won't get into it more now, lol.

OKAY MY GOODNESS THIS IS GETTING LONG I'M GONNA CUT IT OFF THERE. But I hope that was interesting for folks, and if so PLEASE ASK ME MORE QUESTIONS I LOVE QUESTIONS.

[crinkled-emotions]

Can you please do a Top Gun rooster one for “Let me take care of you. Please.” and “I know you hate being sick, but you need to let me care for you.”

Please work please work please work-

Hey anon! I was about to be like “I wrote this I think?” and then I went back and looked at it and I was like lmao I think I wrote the prompts separately for Rooster, but I don’t have anything on at the moment so I guess I can go again?

If you’re wondering where I’ve been lately- my askbox thinks it’s funny to either delete asks, or it just doesn’t post them no matter what I try! I’ve been working on this in the background and I have a couple other things on my mind.

This gif- I’m glad Jay is laughing lmao, because I’m like- Miles, dude. Are you good? The difference in their reactions pfft. I don’t wanna know. I am here to write sickfics not smut.

Maverick paused mid-lecture and his brows immediately furrowed when he watched Rooster grimace. Connecting the dots, Maverick sighed.

“Bradley, were you cleared by medical yesterday?”

The team had planned to get into the air and do some practice when Rooster had pulled out at the last minute, claiming he was feeling really intense pressure in his sinuses. Of course he hadn’t gone to see the doctor. Little shit.

When Rooster stared at the floor, silent, Maverick had his answer. He straightened his shoulders, trying to channel Ice’s Admiral Stance (tm). 

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, until you have been cleared by medical, you are excused from lectures and air drills.”

“Don’t pass go and don’t collect two hundred bucks,” Hangman muttered. From his spot across the aisle from Rooster, he watched his shoulders tense and his back straighten, moustache twitching ever so slightly when he glared at Maverick. Despite Rooster being bigger than him, Maverick seemed unbothered by the way Rooster’s hackles were up.

It made sense; Maverick had a hand in raising the man in front of him since he was four, of course he wasn’t intimidated.

“Go.”

Maverick was firm. Finally, Rooster got up and stormed down the aisle, letting the door slam behind him as he left the room. If it had been Admiral Simpson or Admiral Bates, it would have been a completely different story. Maverick rolled his eyes at his godson and an awkward silence fell over the crowd.

“I saw this tik tok the other day-”

“- what the fuck is a tik tok?” Maverick asked and Phoenix’s brows shot up. Bob was already scrambling for his phone and the awkwardness quickly dissipated.

-

Maverick gave Rooster the afternoon to settle whatever bitchy attitude he was having due to being sent out of class like a moody teenager, then decided he should probably go and check on him. Knowing Bradley Bradshaw and his fear of doctors, he'd mostly likely be wallowing in self-pity back at his place.

Sure enough, the Bronco was in the driveway and Maverick could see he'd opened one of the front windows to allow a gentle breeze through the house. A part of him wondered if Bradley cleaned the house with the same products Carole had when she'd lived at this same address twenty years ago.

God, had it really been that long since she'd passed? There was no way-

"What do you want, Maverick?"

Maverick jumped, realising Rooster had opened his front door and was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed. He'd changed from his uniform to jeans and a t-shirt, and other than a heavier flush to his cheeks than normal, he didn't appear all that sick. For a moment, Maverick wondered if he'd done the right thing grounding him.

"Well?"

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, kid."

"Great."

Rooster turned on his heel, about to close the door, but Maverick called out to him.

"Bradley, wait. Wait, B. Look, about earlier-"

"What about it? Thanks for that, by the way. Did you pass that on to Cyclone?"

Maverick raised an eyebrow. He hadn't seen his kid this bitchy since- since- since... since.

"Hey. What's going on with you?"

"You kicked me out of a TOPGUN lecture, Mav! I'm a little ticked!"

"Because you said you were going to the doctor yet you showed up to class and you were worse yet there was no mention of a doctor. Did you even fucking go, Bradley?"

Silence.

"Bradley. Did you go to the doctor yesterday?"

"No, okay? I didn't go."

"What did you expect me to do if you didn't go to the doctor, kid?"

"Look, can you just go? I'm fine, I'm gonna go once the base settles."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Maverick asked. Rooster stared at him for a moment, before he went into the house and the door closed. Maverick was not going to take his chances and follow for the time being.

-

Maverick went home and settled into his evening of dinner, a beer or two, then he caught up on some Australian off-road adventuring shows before he realised it was 11pm and he was at risk of falling asleep in his recliner like an old man.

If Bradley had seen that-

Bradley!

Maverick patted his pockets, trying to figure out where his phone was. When he located it on the kitchen island he checked his messages and found nothing. Not a peep from anyone, but especially not Bradley. Sighing, he pocketed the device and began switching everything off downstairs. Once the door was locked he searched for his glasses (another thing Bradley didn't need to know, alongside the reason for his papers being pulled-) before finding them under a book he probably wasn't going to read anytime soon. It just wasn't holding his attention.

Finally, he brushed his teeth and curled up in bed, sighing in relief at the crisp, cool sheets. For San Diego it was surprisingly still, no cool breeze coming in through the window, and Maverick had a feeling he was going to be kicking the covers off that night.

-

The night was toasty indeed, but Maverick managed to sleep through the whole thing without a nightmare or a fear of overheating in the warm air. He dreamt of him and Bradley having a beer together at the Hard Deck, sorting their shit out. He dreamt of Goose and Carole, and how much he loved them. How much he missed them, too. What they would do in this situation-

They never would have been in this situation. Carole dealt with teenage Bradley firmly but with a loving tone even when she knew her time was coming. Goose had missed most of Bradley's terrible two's but everything he had witnessed he'd managed with kindness.

He managed to drag himself out of bed, the ache in his back from the Darkstar ejection still irritating him a little. The doctor said there wasn't a lot they could do- it was stiff in the morning and when it got cold but most of the time he was okay so the Navy couldn't kick him out on a medical discharge just yet.

A glance at his phone told him Bradley had tried to call once last night, around 2am, and Maverick's heart rate picked up as he listened to the voicemail.

"Mav, uhm. Hey, I'm... I'm sorry about what I said, I- uh... look, the therapist says I have to be more honest, so I guess I was triggered by you kicking me out of class. It, uh, I... I think I was reminded of how I felt when you... when you y'know. Pulled my- when you... yeah. I- I''m okay, so don't freak out. I'll call you later but I had to say this now while I know you're asleep. I... I love you, Mav. I'm sorry."

He frowned, reaching for his uniform and jacket sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. While he dressed he tried to call Bradley back, check on how he was going, but it went straight to voicemail. Maverick decided that was a later problem considering how bitchy he'd been the day before. Coming down the stairs he tried again, only for it to go to voicemail again. He paused in the living area, staring at the lump on his couch.

"Bradley?!"

-

"Mav..."

"Hey, kid. When did you get here?"

"Uh, probably... 2am I think?"

Rooster sat up, letting the blanket fall to the floor as he scrubbed at his eyes. He was pale, hands shaking a little as he tried to stand but Maverick rushed over, putting his hands on Rooster's shoulders.

"Stay sitting kid, it's okay. You're okay."

"No, I'm- I'm sorry, I didn't- I don't know why-"

"I know you hate being sick, but you need to let me help you."

Rooster struggled against him for a moment but Maverick rubbed his back, frowning at the mild fever.

"Hey, hey. Let me take care of you. Please."

It was the gentle tone of Maverick's voice that made Rooster blink, and his shoulders slumped as he leaned back into the couch. Maverick sighed.

"Yeah, okay. Tell me what hurts and I'll call the infirmary."

"Thanks, Mav..."

[godraet]

i want to talk about the BOAR and how the LoZ team didn't actually just pull shit out of their asses with this one. for starters, i give you this:

"a symbol of the god of victory [...] of strength, courage, bravery, and victorious force" .... ok

so, you may ask "my guy, whats bahram" well :)

Verethragna or Bahram (Avestan: 𐬬𐬆𐬭𐬆𐬚𐬭𐬀𐬖𐬥𐬀‎ vərəθraγna) is an Indo-Iranian deity.[3][4]

The neuter noun verethragna is related to Avestan verethra, 'obstacle' and verethragnan, 'victorious'.[5] Representing this concept is the divinity Verethragna, who is the hypostasis of "victory", and "as a giver of victory Verethragna plainly enjoyed the greatest popularity of old."[6] In Zoroastrian Middle Persian, Verethragna became 𐭥𐭫𐭧𐭫𐭠𐭭 Warahrām, from which Vahram, Vehram, Bahram, Behram and other variants derive.

you also may be asking "why do we care about some indo-iranian deity" and i mean if it hasn't been made rather clear, this blog is full of that mythology (and i wrote a post about demise as a hades-angra mainy blend, and angra mainyu is the evil god of zoroastrianism)! so i PROMISE this is ... relevant.

Yasht 14, the hymn of praise to Verethragna, "though ill-preserved, contains what seem very archaic elements".[6] There, Verethragna is described as "the most highly armed" (Yasht 14.1), the "best equipped with might" (14.13), with "effervescent glory" (14.3), has "conquering superiority" (14.64), and is in constant battle with men and daemons (14.4, 14.62).

so what we have is a god of victory and strength- and notably, this god can also take the form of a boar! guess who else takes the form of a boar? that's right, it's ganon. but there's more than just a deity of victory who can turn into a boar that i want to mention here.

The word has a cognate in Vedic Sanskrit. The Vedic god Indra may correspond to the Verethragna of the Zoroastrian Avesta; In Vedic Sanskrit vr̥tragʰná- is predominantly an epithet of Indra, which corresponds to the noun verethragna- of Avestan.

"who is indra" OH well i'm glad you asked!

Indra (/ˈɪndrə/; Sanskrit: इन्द्र) is the king of the gods,[4]devas (god-like deities) and Svarga (heaven) in Hinduism. He is associated with the sky, lightning, weather, thunder, storms, rains, river flows, and war [...]

Indra is the most referred deity in the Rigveda.[11] He is celebrated for his powers based on his status as a god of order,[4] and as the one who killed the great evil (a malevolent type of asura) named Vritra, who obstructed human prosperity and happiness. Indra destroys Vritra and his "deceiving forces", and thereby brings rains and sunshine as the saviour of mankind

this may seem peculiar, because ganon is noted to be a destroyer of worlds, which would make this parallel rather moot, but i promise there's a reason i have mentioned this, too.

by principle of reincarnation, each of ganondorf's lives is still unique. while some things are the same, due to his basis as demise, as is natural of any living being, the circumstances of that being's existence also shape who they become. demise may have been a mess, and ganon is a calamity, but this doesn't necessarily speak for every incarnation of GANONDORF prior to the manifestation of ganon.

if i had brainpower, i would go through some specific details on ganondorf's past lives and how the things they have in common are "grow in to the name 'ganondorf dragmire', are a reincarnation of demise, want hyrule and more power, and have the potential to become ganon" but aside from that, they are all separate people. not all have been born male, not all have identified as male! they have different bonds outside of the other wielders of the triforce, they just carry memories from past lives which makes things dicey- but it's unfair to say they're all just repetitions of the SAME ENTITY without change. that's a disservice to the very nature of living in the first place.

so, we move to ganondorf as he is (or was, before being sealed for 10,000 years)- the one seen in the memories. an ambitious warrior born with the divine right of kings as per prophecy, he is charismatic, intelligent, and worthy to be called a hero of his people. when he finally agrees to a meeting with rauru, he is 35 and has reigned officially as padishah, shahenshah, bānbishnān bānbishn, since he was 18. he was born in a time where tensions between the gerudo and the kingdom of hyrule were ... bad. the wars existed before his current birth, so he grew up fast. it's what feeds into his grief and pain and anger- in essence, he had to be a child at war. that sort of thing certainly shapes someone!

this time, he is also sun and lion, not only the powerful boar, which adds another facet! since his maiden battle, he has been trying to defend his people while also furthering his own goals. he lives in a magnificent kingdom that still flourishes, he doesn't have that stressor that other ganondorf incarnations may have, where the gerudo are struggling to make their way compared to the other kingdoms. so basically, yes, to his people they would see him bahram, or maybe as a figure like indra. with memories of his past lives, he is also proud of the life he lives this time- which is also what leads him to overconfidence. because this time, he has many things going for him, which then feeds even more into the whole ... destroy everything when things still go to shit,

anyway what im saying is the LoZ didn't actually miss the mark when they assigned ganon "boar", and actually the boar has been seen as a symbol of power in many myths and the likes, thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[sneakytoons]

Sometimes I'm scared I was the bad guy though, or now what people see me as. I know I'm loving and caring but I also know as bad I was before, I'm better now with a few cracks in the cement. Years of abuse didn't really pave over too well. People want to know things about me and I'm too open I feel. I'm not looking for sympathy because as weird as it is I'm glad I went through it. Not because of that basic "it made me who I am" but rather it made me think things differently, or sympathize with others. The hate I saw, what I was surrounded by, I never wanted to see others in it or let it push me down. Or..Maybe for a few years in my teens it did until I left that environment because when youre constantly told by your mum you're a bad dog, you've gotta be a bad dog. You don't deserve what you have suddenly. That person you love? Who you wanted a future with? "You dont deserve her"

Real thing she said by the way. Our fights were bad, I once got a blanket from my best friend, and usually friends don't get me gifts so I was so happy about it. My mum, in her shitty mood that day, stormed in my room and demanded to know where I got it. I happily told her my friend got it. She told me it was hers and I stole it or some shit and I had to fight her and say "no, she bought it for me." She storms out cursing, saying nobody buys her anything or something close to that.

A little while after I never see the blanket again. Always kept it on my bed, one day I came home and it was gone.

Or I used to have this best friend. She was...everything to me. Like my old one was? Same with her. I just have this habit of loving so hard I guess. Especially when I really do like them. Anyway, this person was a high-school friend. One day, my mum does something not too shitty, pretty sure she just took smth from me cos I did something bad but when I told said bestfriend (in her privileged ways) said that was abusive. (She wasn't wrong to call my mother abusive, but wrong to describe the scenario as abusive cos it wasn't that bad honestly) but my mum raised me in a way that I went home and told her. My mum gets riled up about it, obviously but she lets it go. Now this is the important part: I never realized this was the moment she held a grudge against my teenage best friend. My mum also raised me in a way that when my friends heard stories from me and made a face and called it bad, I just blew them off and said "They're teenagers. They don't know what parenting is." Wasn't entirely wrong, wasn't entirely right looking back on it now. Anyway one day my mum and I get in a bad spat where I say something a bit stupid and cruel without realizing it and she presses me up against our stone counter while I did dishes and put her hands around my neck. She claims to this day it was my shoulder blades, it wasnt. Just below my chin, sides of my neck, both hands. She stops after a moment, barely any pressure then walks away cursing at me. I tell my best friend and she tells me to report it. Another small note: this was a bad time in my mums life. This incident, the one I made a distasteful comment of, was where her life fell apart and she became what she is today. My friend wasn't wrong in her nature. She became very toxic and abusive. It just got worse over time. Anyway I do report it, and I didnt even know that CPS would be called. Lucky me however my mum adopted a kid for a few months so CPS barely looks into it. I wasn't home at the time, came home from school and saw the case worker and she left as soon as I walked in. I didn't get asked anything. But at the time I was scared because I didn't mean for them to call CPS I just wanted to talk about it with a therapist. My mum is obviously enraged, grounds me, and I have to tell her it wasn't my intention and that my best friend told me to talk about it. Bad move on my part, she bans me from talking to her ever again. But that's not how friendship works, and I continue to talk and see her at school anyway. Awhile later im texting on my phone, now ungrounded and my mum unprompted takes it, reads the messages, sees it's my best friend and we fight. She smashes my phone against the ground over and over and hands it back and word for word I can't forget it says "Try talking to her now" and walks away. I yell and cry and say it's stupid to beef or even fight with a teenage girl I was hardly even listening to. And because of this, I have to tell my best friend we cant be friends. I don't know what happened or what she thought after that. But it ruined our friendship forever. We tried again but another best friend of mine told me they spoke and he wasn't supposed to tell me but she said "it won't be the same again"

I was shattered. We haven't spoke since but I still have things she bought me from Coney Island. Sorry I didn't keep your drawings though. Seen her on her old Facebook page, she's doing well still.

My point here is my story isn't easy. I lived a life I never saw as abusive and I still struggle to see as abusive time to time. My mum currently is a fucking bastard piece of shit though and I say that with my heart. She's fucked me over in countless ways and held me off from college and admitted it to me. So. She's also taken my child support and it forced my bio dad to go to court. She manipulates me to get information from me and goes behind my back to tell on me when I give it. And currently, after 2 months of not talking, wants me to come home because she broke up with her girlfriend and doesn't want to be "alone" for christmas and "misses" me. So when I say all I want is to hear someone talk, to know what they think, I'm in shambles. Im shaking behind the screen and crying because yet again, after years of facing not being able to hear a truth or only being fed lies I'm fighting so many trust issues. But they're there and they're the worst thing ever. They're not as bad as I thought they would be, but they're there nevertheless.

And all of that sounds like it's manipulative when I'm just trying to portray a story, say why these issues are things I need to hear, because sometimes those bad intentions or thoughts come back and this whole story is why. It's one piece of a billion pieces. It's small compared to everything else. But those stories are why I struggle mentally. I'm never going to blame my mum for my faults, that's why I'm working so hard now with people to fix it because in the end I do love my friends. Like I said I love hard, they're the one thing I can't stand to lose and I'd throw myself to the wind for some of them. But one commonality?

They're all broken. Because being raised around a broken person? You tend to resent them, or you're stuck with loving them. For me, I resent mine, but I'll be damned if I let another person kill themselves slowly with bad thoughts because in the end all they need is love others won't give them because they know who they are. But I don't think they do, and underneath all of that is a scared person. I've seen it over and over. All it takes is a little love. I'll die by that motto.

I've just got to learn that sometimes your love isn't what will save them. Sometimes, you're not the right person. That's the only thing that hurts the worst when it comes to this. Sometimes you've gotta let them fall off the cliff if they keep stabbing your hand.

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS - Chapter 55 - Part 1

BOOK ONE: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Noah Wright

I'll save you the bleak and emotional details of the funeral.

It wasn't fun, that's all you need to know.

After dreadfully watching my dad go six feet underground, Molly, his sister, had the 'brilliant idea' of having people over at my house.

So I spent the past couple days before the funeral cleaning my home and getting everything ready for people I didn't want to be near.

Nathan and Maggie had stayed to help me and Sam.

Sam didn't leave my side.

If he had, I think I would've broken more shit.

So, people 'who I didn't know' were gathered around in my living room and kitchen and from what I remember, it looks like only my dad's sister showed up, not my dad's brother.

I was with Nathan and Maggie in the kitchen when a man I didn't recognize walked up to us.

He placed his hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry for your loss. I worked with your father. He was always the one to get people laughing. It's a real shame he had to go in such a horrible way."

Nathan scoffed.

"Are you fucking joking? Mark was a piece of shit excuse for a father. I'm just glad he ran into a tree and not a person," he said bitterly, taking the man aback.

"Nathan," Maggie said incredulously.

"Whatever, I don't fucking care," my brother muttered then walked out.

"Sorry," Maggie apologized, giving me a sympathetic look before going after my brother.

I sighed then rubbed my eyes.

I glanced around the room and suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

Half these people barely knew my dad.

Why are they here?

It's funny how you get no fucking support in your life until you're dead.

That's the real joke.

Not wanting to see these people anymore, I went to my bedroom and sat on my bed.

I took a deep breath and for the first time that day, I cried.

I covered my face with my hands and couldn't stop the tears pouring down my face.

I cried, not just for my dad but for everything in general.

Grief was only the cherry on top of all the overwhelming emotions that was storming through me.

It was dejecting.

I was exhausted with life.

I wanted to die and be in the ground next to my dad.

I looked up from my hands when I heard two knocks on the door.

The door opened slowly until Jason, Sam, Carter, Haven, Emily and Kaitlyn appeared.

"Hey," Jason said softly.

"We were looking for you."

Emily sat down next to me and looped her arm around my left arm then held my hand.

She laid her head down on my shoulder in comfort.

Sam sat down on the other side of me and the rest gathered around me.

Haven and Carter leaning against my bed on the floor and Kaitlyn and Jason sitting behind me on my bed.

"Thanks for being here guys," I said to them.

"Of course," Kaitlyn said as she wrapped her arms around me from behind, hugging me.

The others chimed in with a 'we're here for you' or 'always'.

"Is it terrible that I feel relieved and sad at the same time? I mean, he was a shit dad. He was verbally and physically abusive to me. He's a fucking alcoholic... was. He was an alcoholic and yet, I'm crying over him being... gone."

I laughed humorlessly while tears continued to slip down my cheeks.

"How fucked up is that?"

"That's not fucked up," Carter said.

"You have a valid reason for feeling that way. I mean, he definitely never qualified for 'father of the year' but he was still your dad, Noah."

"Yeah," I agreed.

After a couple minutes of the comforting silence of my friends, I said...

"I love you all for being here but..."

"You want to be alone?" Emily questioned.

I nodded.

"I just can't stand having all of those people I don't even know, down stairs."

I felt drained but also felt like I was obliged to be downstairs with those shithole people.

Jason got up.

"We're on it. We'll get them to go," he told me, with determination.

"Thanks," I murmured as the rest stood up.

The girls hugged me along with Jason.

Carter put his hand on my shoulder in a comforting way.

The only one who stayed behind was Sam.

[agoobersretreat]

47 what are 4 things you like about yourself?

"Mmmm, those are tough, but I'll see what comes to mind right now?"

"Here goes...?

1. I like how fluffy and soft my hair gets when I remember to take care of it, mostly because others love to run their fingers through it and I am so touch-starved.

2. As cliché as this sounds, I love the type of blue my eyes are. They are dynamic and change color noticeably through the seasons. I used to hate them, wondering why I couldn't have brown/gold eyes like my sister, but came to love them again as I grew up.

3. I love that my friendliness was never actually off-putting, just that it was unrefined growing up. I went 100% or not at all. I've gotten better at it and can read the room better than I used to. It also didn't help that I was bullied all my life for being so different from others, despite all my friendliness, but I'm glad to find out my fellow students were just jerks. The people who actually care about me love this about me, so I now love this about myself again too~.

4. I love... myself! I used to hate myself. Hate how I wasn't normal like everyone else, hate how I was always bullied, no matter where I went. Hate how it was because of me that made my family move after 5th grade. Hate how moving and starting over a clean slate got me still bullied, if not more. Hated myself enough to want to end it all and save my family the trouble of raising a gifted child who became a burden child.

And then something changed.

I got out of high school and the bullying stopped immediately. Everyone was too focused on college to bully me and people of all ages in all classes made it more diverse and understanding. I had professors actually willing to sit down and work with me one-on-one for the special attention I needed. I met @someheartlesslady that same year. I suddenly didn't feel like shit and had a reason to live, no longer so dreary. I could finally see the sun again, instead of the endless storms in my head.

So yeah, now I love myself, after slooooowly chipping away at years of working on myself and getting better about setting boundaries. I'm proud of myself for that and especially when I realized I didn't have to worry about this alone anymore.

There ya go, I think. Yeah. Yeeeeaaah...~."