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lunarw0rks · 1 year

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Through The Ashes | Alternate Ending

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): canon-typical violence, mild injuries/gore, gun mention, suggestive content (18+), fluff

A/N: for those of you who desired a sunnier ending, here you go! This was requested by @redhoodsupergirl. the bold text is a passage from the original. I apologize if this is Bestie!Soap erasure h/j (I didn't know how to fit him in)

❥ y'all should comment where you think y/n went during leave, and if you think she ever came back | Word Count: 2.4k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ORIGINAL ENDING // requests | ao3 ver. | playlist

Alternate Ending

“Good to see you boys again.” The glitched voice emitting through your wire stops you dead in your tracks. You place a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, yanking him to a stop so you can hear it further.

When he does, he sprints to the other side of the large room, checking the entrance and windows for any sign of hostiles.

You look at him wide-eyed, as the line goes dead again. Graves had patched into your frequency and clogged it so you couldn’t reach your team. Whatever he was planning before, it’s here now and there’s no time to stop.

Your earpiece unexpectedly picks up the frequency again when you reach the middle of the dining hall. It gargles out a few words that you can’t understand, and then it emits a high-pitched shriek so boosted it makes you keel over and rip it out.

Ghost moves quicker than before, as your hurried steps try to catch up with him, your boots echoing with each careful stride—as if to not get your foot caught in any of the uneven patches of flooring.

The glass on the chandeliers began to rattle, as did the glassware packed away in boxes. You felt the floor vibrate, and the tarps over the exposed drywall began to whoosh. The electricity flickered as a loud whoosh of a jet passed overhead. The lights exploded into sparks, making you cover your ears for cover.

You had no time to get any closer to the door before the force of a nearby explosion knocked you to the hard ground. The world around feels like it’s been tilted on its axis, and your vision is doubled. You see Ghost already scrambled to his feet, and he’s outstretching his hand to help you up.

You reach for it and just barely brush against his fingertips. When you’re too sluggish, he clasps your upper arm and jerks you toward him, just barely getting you upright.

Another jet passes overhead, and the sound of the engine fills your ears once more. When another bomb drops, it’s closer than the last. You knock into one of the pillars, losing your balance again. A clamorous groan of the building causes him to lose his grip on you, and you’re knocked down again, fading in and out of consciousness.

Ghost comes to, and looks around at the rubble before him. The section you ended up on was completely blocked by walls and exposed cables that shot sparks every few seconds. Besides those, the night sky was his only guide, casting a blue tint on the hotel now in pieces.

“7-1, this is Ghost, how copy?” He spoke into his radio, hoping to hear yours going off in the distance.

“Frequency’s shot…” He growled under his breath, tightening his lip in concentration. Not only was he down his comms, you were on the other side of the rubble, or God forbid, already gone.

Wherever you were, he was going to find you. You weren’t going to fight this alone, no matter what ambush Graves had planned.

He raised his rifle, sweeping the remains for any signs of Graves’ men. His ears were trained on any sound of life, enemy or not.

The place was quiet—too quiet, for his liking. Either his entire team was dead, or another fiery pass was coming.

The only way to the other side of the dining hall was climbing through one of the vents he spotted by the stairs if there was one remaining after the blast. He crept through the doorway, keeping his strides near silent as he made it to the stairwell, which was missing its bottom half now, nearly disconnecting the entire upper level of the building.

He spotted the vent and hoisted himself up on it using the front desk. He felt around inside, making sure it was stable enough to let him crawl through. His rifle went in first, then his upper half.

He inched his way through the tight squeeze, grunting at the strain it was putting on his ribs. He knew that pinching pain, he’d cracked a rib when the second pass sent you both astray. There was no time to whine, he kept army crawling through the vent, finally seeing the literal light at the end of the tunnel.

He made it to the other side, finally around the large lumps of rubble. He slung his rifle back to its previous position as he crept through the dark space, dodging the broken furniture and turning to ash before his eyes.

Finally, he heard the faint gurgling of a radio in the distance, meaning you had to be nearby, or at least your radio was.

His rifle lowered when he saw an arm sticking through one of the chunks of concrete, your full frame covered by a china cabinet that luckily was being held up by one of the remaining pillars. He’d never moved faster, shoving the cabinet aside like it was nothing to him.

His sore ribs screamed as he tore through the decay, finally revealing you to him.

He let out an audible sigh, seeing that you didn’t end up in the gruesome state he was imagining you in when your hand left his. Besides being banged up, it seemed only your foot had been nailed by the wreckage.

He knelt beside you, pressing his two fingers to find a pulse. Faint, but there nonetheless.

“Ghost, what’s your status?” His radio chimed, forcing him to take his attention off you for a few moments. “Ghost, do you copy?” The voice repeated.

“This is 7-1 Ghost responding, solid copy. One injured, working towards an exit strategy now.”

He engaged back, only keeping himself composed because he knew he had a job to do. You. It was his job to get you out of here, and he’d be dead before he failed that job.

Your eyes opened only a small amount at the sound of his rough voice. You were too out of it to be of any assistance, or to figure out what the hell happened for that matter.

When you tried to move yourself out of the odd position you were in, he pinned you by the shoulders. “Don’t move your legs.” He muttered, scanning the situation around him for a way to jack the rubble up and free the foot.

You had no choice but to lay there, coming in and out of prudence. The only pain you felt besides a small headache, was a persistent compressing sensation in your right foot.

He managed to use one of the boards as a jack, hiking the block up enough to shove your foot out from under it.

You groaned at the sudden release of its pressure, which only unleashed the pain the lack of blood flow was preventing. At least you knew your foot still had some nerves left, if you were in a position to think of the silver lining.

“Lean on me, Sergeant.” He wrapped his arms around you, using all his strength to get you upright. There was no way you’d be putting weight on your leg, so he not only had to guide you out of here, but now he had to find an exit.

Your head fell forward as he practically dragged you along, unable to hold any part of yourself together.

“I got you…” He kept repeating it as if he was also comforting himself. He pulled out his sidearm, keeping it at the side with his free hand.

He squinted into the void, finding a patch of wall that had a hole big enough for the both of you. That was his best bet.

There was no guarantee this “convoy” would be out there waiting for you two, in position to neutralize the two of you the second he crawled through. That was the risk he was willing to take.

Worst case; you looked mangled enough, that if he needed to shield you while being pumped with bullets, there might be a chance of you passing for a dead body.

“7-1, approaching the South side. Is it clear?”

“All clear. No sign of hostiles since the blast.”

He threaded himself through first, scanning the hillside to be sure of its safety first just in case. He leaned through wrapping your arms around him first, then lifting you so you would have to put pressure on the leg.

When you’re both through, he slithers down the tattered village, looking for any sign of the team.

He spotted the emergency lights in the distance, finally finding the triage center Price set up. When the superior turns his head, seeing Ghost’s outline carrying your unconscious self, he runs over, helping to distribute some of your dead weight.

“Leg injury, concussion too,” Ghost spoke in a pressurized tone as you were passed along to the medics. Price watched Simon with concern, privy to his attempts at hiding his own injuries—he’d done it many a time before.

Captain Price replied sternly, making sure the entire Task Force was at his attention.

“I want us all out of here before Graves gets a hold of another bloody missile. We’re going to recover, and then come at him hard.”

—

The four hours it took for your surgery to finish, he spent pacing in his dorm, despite the nurse’s orders to stay off his feet. He did indeed have a rib fracture, and he was lucky that’s all had, according to the medics.

A soft knock at his door halted his anxious pacing, making him hastily open the door. He was greeted by Price, whose professional poker face wasn’t doing Simon’s unnerve any favors.

“Hospital called me. The surgery went just fine, but they’re keeping her for observation.”

If he wasn’t so experienced in keeping his composure, he would’ve jumped into his car and driven there that second. Price kept the announcement short, and continued on his way back to his office.

Despite whatever came of all of this, you were out. He’d gotten you out, and you were now free to get out of this hellhole before it swallowed you.

That look on your face when you asked him about the violence, and how everyone else carried on like it wasn’t making them sick to their stomach.

That look was the reason you needed out of this life. He wouldn’t deny your skills as an operator for a minute, but you weren’t broken like he was. Not yet. If you were to have second thoughts about stress leave, he’d push you out the door himself. Nearly losing you today was enough convincing.

—

Simon stared blankly out the window of the bar he’d picked out.

Every vehicle that pulled into the lot made him straighten his posture, hoping it would be you each time. Finally, a taxi pulled in, and he saw your familiar figure step out. The dim lights on the entrance didn’t do much to reveal your state to him as you passed the windows, making your way towards the entrance.

The ding of the bell above the door makes him set his bottle down and lift the scowl off his face.

“Thought you wouldn’t show.” He said as you approached the booth, a large cast on your right leg, and a few scrapes in the process of healing.

“Why not? You pulled me out of a burning building, L.T.” You carefully tucked your leg into the booth, shifting in the cushion to get comfortable. The limited movements were something you still needed to get used to, but you were glad to even have a leg.

“Simon.” He says, making you lift your eyes from the menu. “You’re not under me anymore.” The last sentence sounded like a justification as if that wasn’t his real reason for letting you use his name.

If you had told your past self, the newbie with a fresh hatred for him, that you’d be sitting in a bar having a civil conversation—you’d have thrown a fit.

The drink he ordered for you arrived; a stout, of course.

“How’s the pain?” He asked, attempting to mask his concern as he finished off his pint.

“Burns sometimes… but other than that, no nerve damage.” You responded, resting your chin on your fist.

“Shouldn’t put a damper on your vacation then, right?”

You chuckled at his attempt at humor. “Not on my watch. I’ll be relaxing with one leg up the entire time if I can help it.”

His eyes scanned you in an up-and-down fashion as you sneered—like you’d noticed him doing many times before. At least this time it wasn’t lustful or hateful, it was civility.

You both enjoyed a few drinks, keeping up the friendly banter through the entire evening. As the bartenders began wiping down tables and flipping chairs, he placed a bill on the table and walked you to the door.

You turned on your phone, checking the time. “I should get going. My flight was pushed to to tomorrow morning.”

“I can drive you, in the morning?” He proposed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

You smirked and stepped a little closer. “I think we’re past sharing car rides with one another, Simon.” You had flashbacks to the last time he drove you somewhere, which only ended in a very risky hookup.

You could picture the reddened cheeks he had, even through the mask. His mouth said nothing in response, but his eyes had a way of uttering the words ‘Touché’ at your brazen remark.

He’d die at the chance of touching you again, but you weren’t in any position physically; emotionally, you were right about one thing—the impure mistakes you two made on your journey to this point.

You opened the taxi app you’d used previously and arranged your ride back to the hotel, exchanging glances with him as he watched you. You slid your phone into the pocket of your wallet, waiting patiently for your ride.

Like many times before, the silence between you two was more than enough conversation. Though there were thoughts racing through his head the entire time, he wasn’t sure where to start.

The crunch of the gravel under the taxi’s tires woke you both up, making you turn to one another for your farewell. A hug too innocent, a handshake too professional, and words unjust.

As you approached the car door, he cleared his throat to get your attention. He’d be damned if he didn’t get this out of his system before you leave the Task Force and possibly never see him again.

“Did you bring your files with you?” He asked, making you contort your brows in confusion. Files?

“The number listed on mine,” he began, shifting in his stance as he gathered the courage for his brave finish.

“You should call it.”

TAGLIST: @neoarchipelago @ghostlythots @gothgirl6-6-6 @cloudyyjanee @ladyelissarose @almightywdm @glitterypirateduck @brokenghostgirl1 @cheyenne-with-a-c @a-jupiter-n-mars-blog @liliumbosniacum (if you're not tagged it's not letting me)

#simon riley x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #call of duty #ghost mw2 #task force 141 #simon riley #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #task force 141 x reader

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kanmom51 · 1 year

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JK on Bruontheradio - coming soon

*Disclaimer: This post came out way longer than I initially intended it to be, and is a little bit of a brain fart. You have been warned, lol.

Josh “Bru” Brubaker

Love how even with this we have Jimin reference.

JK just cannot help himself.

He did tell us "the love of my life".

youtube

And what about the first thing that JK shows us is this:

Bad lighting he probably didn't really count on, but yes, his hand tattoos.

And I know there will be those that will say: "he's showing us ARMY", but I say it's a double for him, cause man ain't stupid, he knows fans will go crazy he's showing ARMY, and at the same time I believe he's showing the JM tattoo as well. You know, the JM that did the exact same kind of clip before him. The JM that spent 5 days WITH HIM in NY (and CT). The JM that is his "love of my life". That JM.

Same JM that @andy-wm wrote a beautiful post about just a few hours ago:

Ok, so I guess I'm going to talk about this here, even though I will probably repeat it many times to come.

Seven for JK is about love not fucking.

There. I said it.

And why do I bring this up here?

Because of the hand he so graciously showed us.

Because of JK's JM tattoo.

Because of said tattoo's placement.

Ring finger. For all to see.

How long have we known the J over the M stood for JM?

Us Jikookers?

I'd say since forever.

It's the rest of the fandom that kept trying to find excuses why it wasn't. Why it stood for everything under the sun other than the obvious. The one person that JK puts above others. The one person JK has been showing for years now that is special to him, in a way that is way beyond even the best of friendships. When you tattoo someone's name on you that is a statement. You are literally branding yourself with their name till the day you die (yes you can erase tattoos, but when you are having a tattoo done that is not what you are thinking of, in that moment in time you are painting your skin for life).

And JK did that. One sided.

He also made sure to let us know that the theories running around for years about what that J meant (you know, the army and J means all the members bullshit) were crap. Yes, he didn't tell us out loud that the J placed over the M stood for JM, but he didn't deny it either. He omitted that. Which is understandable given they are still a closeted couple and we all know that admitting to that, would be admitting to their queerness. As much as JK wants out of the closet, as much as he wants to scream blue murder that JM is his and his alone, he won't do it as long as JM isn't ready. And saying the JM is Jimin out loud, that would be outing not only himself but also the love of his life, when said love of his life is not ready for that yet. So he said the J stands for Jungkook and moved on at the speed of lightening. Without addressing the huge ass elephant in that room - why place it over the M knowing EXACTLY what it looked like? (we know the answer to that, but omitting is the name of the game - said that already).

So yeah, JK tattooed JM on his hand. For all of us to see. And he keeps touching it up. Darkening it. At times specifically those two letters.

I actually had a post in draft that is kind of redundant now, about how I noticed his JM at the airport leaving for the States.

That pinky ring, that actually isn't a pinky ring cause it's JM's ring, which he didn't wear when JM was there in NY with him, but had it back on travelling to London, JM gone back to SK, looks kinda too small even for his pinky, lol.

Now to Seven.

Like I said, JK sees Seven as a love song.

Yes, he sang the explicit version, but that's not what HE feels the song is about. And he's said it multiple times too.

This is what JK thinks about Seven:

and from the MV making:

and:

and from Stationhead radio 20th July appearance:

I think JK is being very clear here. Pity people aren't listening to him. This, for him, is a love song.

Yes, he knows it's very sexual, but it's about being with the person you love more than anything else and wanting to make that person happy. And him saying "the love of my life" that might have been on purpose (wouldn't put it past him) or even as a slip of the tongue, but it cements how he feels about the song, that might not have been written by him, but he most definitley feels an emotional connection with. I'd say kind of like Euphoria or Only then.

And now back to the hand and to JM and their place in JK's promotions for this song.

Not coincidently, JM is laced through every single part of the promotions for this song.

He's in the photo shoot concept.

He's in the MV (yes, what can you do, they had to go with a gf and hetero love story in the MV cause JK's first solo worldwide cannot be a queer love affair MV, that's just the way the cookie crumbles... not New jeans cookie - yuck - just writing that makes me feel ewe...).

He's in the choreography

There are more similarities than those I pointed out in that post. And again, it's not about JK stealing JM's moves from SMF pt. 2 (which we know the man LUVED). It's about JM inspiring him. And believe you me, that JM knew every single step of the way. The song, the MV and the choreo.

It's in the styling (not only the photo shoot).

And JM is just there, with JK all the time, on his hand, just out there for everyone to look and see.

For those saying the J is covered, nope, it ain't. The ring band is see through, cause that's just a thing JK does.

This finger pointing, not intentional in my opinion, just a little coincidence (JK holding the mic, as he does in the GMA performance as well, but in the Explicit performance with no mic in hand he covers his face just like the backup dancers do), and yet, a lovely one at that.

This is the way JK wanted it to be. Since way back in 2019 when he added that J over the M. For everyone to see all of the time!

So, where was I?

To sum this absolutely probably unnecessary post.

JK loves JM.

JK had JM tattooed on his hand.

JK chose Seven because he liked the song (and it's really a good one) and he also connected with it on an emotional level.

JK sees the song as a love song, expressing him wanting and needing to be with the person he loves, the love of his life, constantly, and showing said person how much he loves him and wanting to make them happy.

Yes, there is an explicit version to the song, yay, they replaced "loving" with "fucking". JK sings it, finds it amusing to say the word out loud, but when asked about it, it's the clean version, the love song version that he is connected to.

JK wanted to show us, in the ways that he, as a closeted queer man can, loves JM, is inspired by JM, and that JM is a part of who he is, as a man, as an artist.

Those two may not have come up with the "you are me I am you", but they most certainly took ownership of it. And JK, he's out there showing us just how true it is.

I think maybe it's about time that army:

a. Go read the lyrics to the song and understand that even the explicit version is talking about being with one person, the one you want to make feel good 7 days a week, and not about fucking someone else every day of the week. It's called reading comprehension, I think they need a lesson in that.

b. For once, even just once, listen to what JK is saying, what he's been saying ever since he started the promotion for this song.

This army was listening:

Well, at least to some of what JK has been saying.

I am guessing she's not a Jikooker, lol.

c. This one is for JKKs and PJMs. Try, for just one second, to put your feelings about the way JM's solo debut was treated BY THE COMPANY, and see with untainted glasses just how much this man loves JM. You know how much he promoted him personally and without the company's approval. He adores him, admires him, I'm willing to go so far as to worships him. JM is his catalyst. JM is the love of his life. JK would NEVER do something to disrespect or hurt JM. JK is trying to show us just how much JM is a part of who he, JK, is. He's trying to show us how much he is inspired by JM. How much he loves him. All this anger you are holding towards JK you need to let it go. JK as an artist is not the company as a promoter, they are not one and the same. On the way, I also recommend reading @beautifulpersonpeach's post:

Maybe, just maybe it will give you a little more insight or at the very least food for thought.

Ok, I think that's the end of this one. I kind of think I was all over the place here, and not so sure I got the message through, but it is what it is. Brain farts are not always pretty...

#Jungkook #JK #JK Seven #JK Seven love song #Jikook #kookmin #minkook #Jimin #JM #JM Face #JM SMF pt. 2 #JM Like crazy #Youtube

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karmic-vibes · 2 years

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The Doctor Nurse is In

one-shot inspired by this prompt, ft steve w glasses. enjoy.

cw: drug and alcohol use, vomit/general symptoms of being hungover

wc: 1.9k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

———————————————————————

Steve had dreamed of being a nurse for as long as he could remember. Growing up, he’d tell everyone who would listen about his aspirations, and people always told him to dream bigger.

“A smart, handsome man like you shouldn’t be a nurse. Try for doctor!”

“Have you considered getting a Ph.D instead?”

“Why nurse? It’s a job for chicks!”

Regardless of what he was told, he never listened. He stuck to his hopes and dreams, committed to four years of undergrad, and was now finishing up his clinicals.

During his rotations, he fell in love with emergency medicine, despite initially wanting to go into neurology.

Now, here he was. A fresh grad, finishing up clinicals before officially going for his R.N., and suffering through a rotating schedule, landing him doubles every other weekend.

In terms of Indiana hospitals, Hawkins Memorial was the best-of-the-best. People were shipped in from all over the state to be treated by their staff in all departments. It didn’t help that they were the only trauma hospital for miles, meaning all the chaos that went down in Indianapolis on the weekends got shipped up to them.

As Steve sat at the intake desk, completing some unfinished reports from the first half of the shift, dreaming of none other than his bed and pillow, he heard the 800-EMS radio go off. He slightly turned his head, paying half attention to it—another drunk was on their way in. He rolled his eyes, pushed his glasses further up on his nose, before resting his chin in his hand.

He began to doze off mid-report before Dr. Nancy Wheeler ran over to him, urging him into the trauma room. Steve shot up, stumbled out of his seat, and followed her down the hall.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“You know that band that was performing at the Dome tonight?”

“I don’t necessarily know who they are, but yeah, I know there was a performance tonight. Why?”

“Well…” She slid open the door to find a half-conscious rockstar on the stretcher. “He’s out of his mind on god-knows-what and his agent was saying how he bit a bat during his performance.”

“What‽”

“Mhmm.”

“I… what?”

“Mmm…” The patient groaned, slowly stirring awake.

“We pushed twenty of narcan, so he’s slowly coming to.”

“You seem to have this covered… why do you need me?”

“Well, you’re babysitting him until he wakes up. Make sure he doesn’t choke on vomit or stop breathing or anything like that.”

“Uh… okay…”

“And I wanted to further prove your theory of only drunkards coming in on the weekends,” Dr. Wheeler smirked. “Call me if you need me. Security will be right outside the door. Let me know when he wakes up.”

“Can I at least go get my reports I need to finish?”

“I’ll have Joyce drop them off on her next set of vital rounds.”

“That’s not for another hour!” Steve whined.

“Watch him, Harrington. That’s an order.”

“Yes, doc,” Steve sighed, sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chair. He leaned over to glance at the patient’s bracelet. “Edward J. Munson. Well, Edward, we’re about to be buddy-buddy for the next seven hours,” Steve muttered to himself.

Steve sat back, watching the saline slowly drip in the chamber. He occasionally counted Eddie’s breaths by watching his chest rise and fall—god, he hated babysitting duty.

During Joyce’s next vitals round, she handed Steve his bundle of paperwork. He clicked his pen and continued where he left off. Joyce raised a brow at Steve before directing her attention to Edward.

“How’s he doing?” she asked.

“He’s fine—just drunk and probably high,” Steve mumbled, glaring at his papers. “Do you have the last set of vitals for room three?”

“Yeah, here.” She handed her notebook over to the boy.

“Thanks, Joycie, you’re my savior.”

“Hmm, I’m sure I am, Stevie,” she teased.

“How’s Will? Doing okay in school?” Steve asked, trying to make polite conversation.

“Yeah, he’s doing fine. Struggling a bit with making new friends.”

“Why? He’s such a sweet kid.”

“People keep teasing him, saying he’s gay, and ugh, it’s stupid.”

“I’m sorry, Joyce… that can’t be easy on him.”

“It’s okay. He’s a strong boy, he’ll make his way through it.” She sighed before taking Edward’s blood pressure. “Ready for his vitals?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve clicked his pen.

“Heart rate is one-twenty, blood pressure is one-ten over seventy-two, and respirations are–”

“Twelve, I know that one. Thanks, Joyce. I hope things get better with Will.”

“You and me both, sweetie. See you in two hours.”

“See ya.”

Steve poured his attention back into his mountain of paperwork for another hour or so before he heard Edward stir in his bed. He slowly blinked before muttering complete nonsense to himself.

“Morning, sunshine,” Steve said, scribbling down the time he woke up. He slid open the trauma room door and leaned against the doorframe. “Can you get Dr. Wheeler down here, please?” he asked the security guard.

“On it,” he said.

“Yer cute,” Edward chortled. He tilted his head, making it glaringly obvious he was checking out Steve’s ass in his scrubs.

“Mr. Munson–”

“Uck, so formal. Call m’Eddie,” he mumbled.

“Eddie, how’re you feeling?” Steve walked over and took his pulse.

“Better now th’I have a cute doctor to look at.”

“I’m not a doctor.”

“A nurse! Even better,” he chuckled.

“So, Eddie, do you remember what happened tonight?”

“Hehe,” he giggled to himself.

“Eddie?”

“I did some stuff.”

“What stuff?” Steve sighed in frustration.

“Drank some beer, did some drugs.”

“What kind of drugs?”

“Hmm,” he hummed.

“No judgement. What’d you take?”

“I dunno, dude,” he whined. “Will you go out with me?”

“No.”

“C’mon, cutie, go out w’me.”

“Sorry, I don’t go out with people who have rabies. It’s my best friend’s number one fear.”

“I have rabies…” Eddie‘s jaw dropped, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth. His pupils were still blown from whatever he took, and his eyes were glossed over.

“No, you don’t have rabies,” Dr. Wheeler said.

“Maybe, we’re still running some tests,” Steve added.

“You probably don’t have rabies,” she corrected. “Mr. Munson, I’m Dr. Nancy Wheeler, I’ll be your physician for the evening.”

“Why’s everyone so goddamn formal,” he scoffed. “‘m Eddie, pretty lady!”

“Yeah, you have fun with him, Stevie. Thanks for letting me know he’s awake. Let me know if anything else major happens.”

“Wait, I’m still stuck watching him‽”

“Yes, you are. Call me if anything changes.”

“Ugh,” Steve huffed, running his hands through his hair.

“You’re so mean, Steeevie,” Eddie snickered. Steve rolled his eyes before returning to his seat. “‘s okay, jokes on you, I’m very much attracted to evil.”

“I’m not evil,” Steve said.

“Whatever y’say, big boy.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y’hear me,” Eddie hiccuped. “So why won’t you go out with me?”

“I already told you.”

“But why,” Eddie whined.

“One, you’re not sober. Two, you probably have rabies. Three, you’re my patient. It’s not happening.” Eddie started laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“Y’never said that ‘m not your type.”

“I… what?”

“I’m your type,” he teased.

“Please,” Steve scoffed, pink tinting his cheeks. “You have no idea what my type even is.”

“Yeah, I do. ‘s me.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed contently.

Steve ignored Eddie laughing to himself and went back to his paperwork. Eddie was moved to a regular E.R. treatment room shortly after, still needing Steve to babysit him. Around five in the morning, Steve managed to get all caught up on his patient care reports, and Eddie was in a deep sleep. He just had to ride out the last two dreadful hours of his shift.

Right around six, Eddie started to stir awake, moaning and groaning for something to throw up into. Steve rushed to hand him the basin on his bedside table. As Eddie spewed his insides into the pale pink bucket, Steve grabbed onto his hair, pulling it back into a bun.

“Thanks,” Eddie whimpered, spitting out some bile.

“No problem,” Steve said.

Eddie went back to heaving as Steve gently rubbed his back, trying desperately to soothe him. After five never-ending minutes, Eddie flopped onto his back, heaving, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“You okay?” Steve whispered, dampening a washcloth.

“Mm, been better,” Eddie groaned.

“C’mere.”

Steve gently held his chin in his hands as he cleaned up the vomit from the rockstar’s face. Eddie faintly smiled at him as a silent token of gratitude.

“Thanks…”

“Mhmm.”

Steve picked up the basin and threw it into the biohazard bin before removing his gloves and washing his hands. He ripped a few paper towels from the machine and leaned onto the counter.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Mm, I’m sure. Wanna tell me what you took last night?”

“Lord, I dunno. Some coke, some molly, and a joint… maybe two.”

“Fun night?”

“You could say that,” Eddie smirked.

“Do you know if the weed was laced with anything?”

“I know one had traces of fent or morphine. I dunno which one.”

“That explains why the narcan worked,” Steve sighed. “And to drink?”

“Dude, I dunno, I lost count. A lot.”

“And the bat?”

“That what?” Eddie mumbled.

“People said you bit into a bat.”

“Who the fuck told you that?”

“The doctor I work under and your manager-agent person.”

“No, I didn’t bite into a fucking bat. I’m sure I said I did, but I was so high, nothing I was saying was true.”

“Gotcha…”

Steve took a deep sigh as the words rang in his ears.

Nothing I was saying was true.

Did he not think Steve was cute? Did he not want to go out with Steve? Sure, Steve shot him down each time, but for once—since high school—someone found him desirable. He felt wanted.

Eddie quickly pulled Steve out of his thoughts by snapping and waving in his face.

“Hello?” Eddie raised a brow. “Earth to Stevie?”

“Yeah, sorry, what?”

“Nothing, you just zoned. Can I get some water?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. You want ice too?”

“Ice would be nice,” he smiled.

“I’ll be right back.”

Steve finished out his shift, handed care of Eddie over to the next person doing their clinical rotation and went home to his sweet, sweet bed. Two days later, he was back in the hospital for his next set of shifts—this time, however, they were during the week and during the day.

He had never been more relieved.

No more drunkards. No more babysitting. No more Eddie.

When his shift ended that fateful Wednesday night, he made his way out to his car to find a familiar face leaning against the driver’s side door, puffing away at a cigarette.

“Hey!” He cheered, throwing his cigarette to the asphalt.

“Uh… hi? Wh-What are you doing here, Eddie?”

“I wanted to apologize and say thanks… y’know, for Sunday night.”

“Oh, it was no problem. Literally just my job.” Steve nodded and stuck his hands in his scrub pockets.

“Can I buy you a drink? Just as a thank you—i-it doesn’t need to mean anything.”

“Y’know, a drink right now sounds lovely. Lead the way, Munson.”

“My pleasure, big boy.” Steve froze in his tracks, staring blankly at Eddie. “Don’t think I forgot everything from last night, Stevie.” He winked before opening the passenger door to his jet-black corvette for Steve. “After you, cutie.”

———————————————————————

taglist: @steviesbicrisis

a/n: may make a part two. not too sure yet. anyways, hope y’all enjoyed!

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #gay #st4 #lgbtq #lgbt pride #steddie #joe kerry #joseph quinn #joyce byers #winona ryder #will byers #noah schnapp #netflix #nurse Steve Harrington #rockstar eddie munson

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chelledoggo · 5 months

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My Analysis of "Lazarus Drug" by Meg Washington, and how it pertains to Bluey's "The Sign" [MASSIVE BLUEY SPOILERS]

(This post is going to deviate from my typical "all lowercase" typing style because I kinda want it to be taken seriously lol.)

So, I was doing some dishes earlier, and I started thinking about the song "Lazarus Drug" by Meg Washington. I started mulling over the lyrics and thinking about how it was used at the ending of the Bluey special "The Sign." The wheels kinda started turning and I felt compelled to attempt to present my interpretation and the thoughts I have about it.

Now, I'm not a music theorist or a seasoned philosopher or TV critic. I'm just about as much of a layperson as one can be. I'm just kinda calling things as I see them.

Although only the final portion of the song was used in The Sign, I wanna go over the full version of the song to give a better understanding of what all the pieces mean put together.

This probably won't be a play-by-play of every lyric (because I'm not that smart lol), but I'll do my best to get the point across.

Let's begin!

[MASSIVE BLUEY SPOILERS BEGIN BELOW THE CUT]

I am asleep, I am a slug I am a thief, I am a thug

The first lines of the song give the impression that the singer perceives herself as an impure person. She seems to bring attention to her vices of focusing too much on the self to the point where it could potentially hurt others.

You are grace, you are belief You are a Lazarus drug

This is where the song title comes in, and this section in particular is clearly very heavy on Biblical imagery.

Lazarus was a figure in the Bible, specifically the Gospel of John (John 11:1-45). He died of illness and had been in the tomb for four days. Jesus loved Lazarus so much, that he had wept upon the confirmation of his death. He then went to the tomb where Lazarus lie and resurrected him.

Note how the singer refers to the subject as a "Lazarus drug." When you think of a drug, you think either of something meant to treat an illness, or something meant to give someone a high. However, in this case, I think it's both.

Meg Washington said the following in an interview with ABC's (Australia) Double J radio station:

"'Lazarus Drug' is a song about love and euphoria and revival. It's really just an ode to whatever it is in your life – or my life – that makes you feel like rising up and floating in the middle of the air and splitting into light beams of happiness. "Writing this song was really special for me, because every time I sing it I feel the same way that I felt when I wrote it. I really wanted to make something that sounded like how we can make each other feel if we try very hard to share love."

The subject of the song is a loving, caring figure. You could even argue that they are a Christlike figure. The love and compassion that they extend to the singer not only heals their pain, but makes them feel high, as illustrated in these lyrics a few lines later.

And when you make A perfect circle in the sky I get so high I get so high I'm like a planet And I can't come down Oh, I can't come down

The next verse begins like this:

You are an angel And when you weep, the heavens rain I am a mermaid, eating at the sushi train

The "mermaid at the sushi train" metaphor is kind of up in the air, but I believe it might once again be highlighting the singer's selfishness.

Like, why would a mermaid be eating sushi? Why would she be eating her little fishy friends? Like imagine if Ariel was advertising frozen fishsticks... Oh wait...

It seems like a metaphor for thinking more about your own hunger rather than the needs of those you're meant to care for.

We sort of see this in both Bandit and Rad's subplots in "The Sign."

Bandit gets this high-paying new job in another city. He's going to have to uproot his family's life and take them away from the people they love and care about in Brisbane. However, Bandit doesn't really seem to consider too much how this might emotionally affect Bluey and Bingo. The way he sees it, he's doing the right thing. He believes he's guaranteeing a bright and comfy future for the Heeler family. He means well, of course. But in this case he's being so short-sighted that he doesn't seem to really take his family's feelings into account.

Likewise, Rad plans to move himself and Frisky out west after their wedding... Except that he didn't bother bringing this up to Frisky herself. His motives were arguably even more self-centered and short-sighted. He didn't bother asking Frisky how uprooting her own life would affect her. He just... assumed he could just smooth it over after the wedding. (I love you Rad, but... dick move, man. Dick move.)

But when you look in me With language in your eyes I get so high I get so high I'm like a planet And I can't come down

When the singer stops and looks at the subject, gazing into her eyes without needing to say a word, that "Lazarus drug high" comes back. She realizes that she's not in it alone. That there's people around her that love her and care for her, and they matter just as much as she does.

When Rad finally catches up to Frisky at the Lookout, they have this moment:

Now at surface level "I know you like it here" could just be referring to the Lookout, since it's one of Frisky's favorite places. But on a deeper level, I think we can tell what this really means. It's referring to Brisbane. You can even see the city in the background here.

Rad finally wakes up and realizes how much Frisky's home means to her. Neither one of them has to say a word about Brisbane for us to know that Rad's had a change of heart about moving. The way they look at each other during this scene speaks volumes.

Likewise, there's... the moment.

Moving day.

I feel it in the morning I feel how low it lies And then I hear you calling And then I start to rise I feel it in the morning I feel how low it lies And then I hear you call my name And then I start to rise

The Heeler house is all packed up in boxes, and the family is getting into the car to leave their driveway for the final time.

But just as Bandit's about to get in the driver's seat, he stops to answer a call from Bucky, letting him know that the Sheepdogs decided at the last minute not to buy the Heeler house.

After the call ends, Bandit walks over to peel the "SOLD" sticker off the "For Sale" sign.

He then gazes back at his family waiting in the car. No words are exchanged. He just takes a moment to look into their eyes. He's reflecting on what this move will mean for them. He remembers all the sorrow Bluey and Bingo endured over the revelation.

And suddenly his eyes are opened to what really matters...

And when I hear you calling Like you were always there I rise until I'm hanging In the middle of the air

He grabs hold of the sign, pulling it with the strength of two Bandits.

And when I hear you calling I split like I'm a snake With golden light like fingers And then I start to break Into a billion pieces

And...

...YEET.

Oh, I shatter into constellations Like I've never been more here Like I completely disappear

The ego shatters. Bandit foregoes the self and realizes his oneness with his family. That they all matter. That what they have in Brisbane is beautiful.

Sure, he could assure himself a cushy high-paying job and ensure a "comfy" life for his family.

But his family was already comfortable. More than comfortable, even.

His preconceived notions of what a "good life" could be disappear, because he knows they already have a good life.

I'm nothingness, but shining And everywhere at once I'm everything and everyone who is or ever was

Now this line is particularly interesting to me.

In eastern spirituality, especially Buddhism, there's a concept of "emptiness." Basically nothing and no one exists purely in and of itself. "Everything and everyone who is or ever was" exists because of interconnections through other factors. There's no inherent "thing" or "self." We're all one.

The words "emptiness" and "nothingness" in our western mindset seems to denote a feeling of despair and sadness. I think this is why Meg chose to word it as "nothingness, but shining." In the eastern mindset, "nothingness" is something that is shining and beautiful. It's not a sense of loneliness, rather a sense that you are not alone.

Bluey isn't a stranger to incorporating eastern spiritual thought into its episodes. Probably the most famous example is the episode "Bumpy and the Wise Old Wolfhound," which is loosely based off the Buddhist story of Kisa Gotami. The episode "Hide and Seek" alludes to the practice of mindfulness meditation, which is a practice rooted in eastern traditions. You could even argue that the episode "Slide" has themes of Ahimsa, the eastern principle of nonviolence and not causing harm to other living things.

Even "The Sign" incorporates the Taoist parable of the Farmer, which teaches about accepting the unexpected of life, and not labelling anything as "fortunate" or "unfortunate."

I also personally see themes of the aforementioned principle of interconnectedness. The whole episode is basically a literal "butterfly effect." Every little thing, from Frisky leaving the wedding and the Heelers going to look for her, to Flappy (who originally appeared in "Slide." Oh wow, this goes deep!) flying into the Heelers' car, to Bluey finding a lucky coin, only for it to get stuck in the binoculars that the Sheepdogs later use to spot their new dream house... it all leads up to the ending.

The ending in and of itself can't really be labelled as a perfect happy ending, either. Bandit can no longer accept his new job, and will probably need to find new work in Brisbane. How will it go?

"We'll see."

And You're nothingness, but shining And everywhere at once You're everything, we're everyone who is or ever was, forever

The final lines are just a pronoun switch of the ones before them. This could be interpreted in multiple ways. The singer could be addressing the subject of the song, but she could also be addressing the listener.

The song ends on a reminder that we're all connected. We're affected by the circumstances we face, including the love we're shown by others. Likewise, the love we show others affects them and those around them.

Isn't that kind of one of the overarching messages of Bluey as a whole? How we treat others - our friends, our families, our children - goes a long, long way.

...

WHOO. That ended up being more of a ramble than I thought.

Anyway, I'm just calling this as I personally see it from my silly overthinking layperson perspective. You shouldn't by any means take what I say as gospel, but I do hope I've at least given you something to think about.

And, of course, feel free to share your own interpretations!

If you've made it to the end of this massive skyscraper of text, thank you so, so much. I love you. 💖

#bluey #the sign #bluey the sign #meg washington #lazarus drug #long post #shut up chelle

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innervoiceart · 2 years

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#Jeff Buckley #live music loves #music loves #retro music loves #the Phoenician club #Sydney #1995 #double j radio #Double J #Australia

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sgiandubh · 1 year

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Jottings: Season 7, Episode 4. Well then, best not die

As Tom Christie would say, "the Lord does answer prayer, you know": this week has been indeed bigger, better, brighter and more. Tissues might or might not be needed - it's up to you to decide (fun fact, I almost did), but ice cream is a must (steamy moments ahead, ahem).

Back at Lallybroch the pixies broke the alarm clock-cum-radio, while someone is wiping his nauseous mouth with the Declaration of Independence in Wilmington. And there can be no greater contrast when it comes to casting, than the one between SS and Vandervaart. She is trying, bless her heart she does, and it shows a lot. Yet no matter how hard she does it, she will never overcome, I am afraid, that stilted delivery and that genuine uneasiness that make you feel alternatively dismissive and sorry for her. In the economy of Outlander, SS is more than a waste: she is a casualty, because she managed to unwillingly kill Bree, a character with a difficult, often unsympathetic design to start with.

For his first substantial on-screen appearance, Vandervaart passed my scrutiny with flying colors. Now I might be biased, because I am a documented victim of this particular Boston Brahmin charm, that screams old money and boat shoes and Ivy League and effortless sophistication. But it's more than this, of course, and I suspect solid brains and a great deal of preparatory work. This kid has managed to impress me, with his subtle nods to the mannerisms of JAMMF and LJG. The scene with Young Ian and Rollo is flawless. The diction is perfect. He cares for William enough to become William and this is something to behold and applaud.

Both Hunters are quintessential. There is a sort of steel butterfly quality to Rachel and Denzell Hunter's kindness could melt my B&J's Chocolatey Love A-Fair bucket on the spot. Their likeability index will probably increase with time, and not only in this fandom, but also in the silent majority of casuals.

Which brings me to Tom Christie brilliantly showing us that, as my beloved Wilde once said with perfect clarity, "every saint has a past and every sinner has a future". This is the moment when I almost reached for the tissues, because I once was Tom Christie, and I know how damn hard is to keep your dignity in a hope against hope situation. And I could have done without that burlesque kiss altogether: but that is just me.

We've been waiting for this one since the trailer was released or even since I Am Not Alone. At last some bedroom maneuvers that are not: a) scampered; b) implied; c) muted and faded to cheesiness. I didn't even ask for much, did I?

Spoiler: "The thing about Tom is he wants you. Badly." That golden light. That serene grace. That perfect dialogue of bodies and souls. That cheeky raspiness. Not about Tom and not exactly JAMMF. I almost shivered, it was just like the good old times. And then, BAM!

A PLAGUE ON YOUR HOUSE, INTIMACY COORDINATOR VANESSA WOMAN, WHOSE NAME I DO NOT EVEN BOTHER TO GOOGLE AT 03:55 AM LOCAL TIME.

YOU SET OUR HOPES HIGH, PUSHED US TO THE EDGE AND THEN HAD THEM FADE TO THAT TOTALLY CLICHE MIRROR TRANSITION. HELLO? YOU FEEL OK WHEN YOU LOOK AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR, WHILE YOU BRUSH YOUR TEETH?

Enough said. And the next lost soul who darts out of Mordor with rumors of body doubles can go directly to jail, not pass GO (heh), not collect $200.

Is next week the Singapore (Sling) one? Lucky I am still in town, then. That is a mystery in the waiting. Onwards.

(Gif taken from @divineandmajesticinone, credits given accordingly - great work!)

#jottings

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justinspoliticalcorner · 2 months

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Walter Einenkel at Daily Kos:

Donald Trump is doubling down on his bizarre attack that Kamala Harris “doesn’t like Jewish people”—despite her being married to noted Jewish person Doug Emhoff.

During an appearance on New York’s WABC radio, Trump targeted Harris for supposedly being anti-Jewish and anti-Israel. “She dislikes Jewish people and Israel even more than Biden did,” the former president said. It was the second time in less than a week that Trump used this line in an apparent effort to gain support from Jewish voters. “[Harris] is totally against the Jewish people,” he said during a campaign rally in Charlotte, North Carolina, last week. On Tuesday, Trump also used the radio appearance to take issue with Harris’ meeting with Benjamin Netanyahu during the Israeli prime minister’s visit last week. "When she stood up with him, she wanted to get out of there so fast you could see the disdain,” Trump said. “No. 1, she doesn't like Israel. No. 2, she doesn't like Jewish people. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it, and nobody wants to say it.” “They have let Jewish people down since Obama at levels that nobody could believe possible,” Trump said.

Appearing on WABC’s Sid and Friends In The Morning radio show Tuesday, serial antisemite Donald Trump pushed the dangerous lie that VP Kamala Harris “doesn’t like Jewish people” despite the fact that her husband Douglas Emhoff is a Jew.

See Also:

MMFA: On WABC's Sid and Friends In The Morning, Donald Trump agreed with host who called Doug Emhoff “a crappy Jew” and “a horrible Jew”

From the 07.30.2024 edition of WABC's Sid and Friends In The Morning:

#Donald Trump #Douglas Emhoff #Kamala Harris #Harris Derangement Syndrome #Antisemitism #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections #Sid and Friends In The Morning #WABC #Radio #Sid Rosenberg

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forflightlessbirds · 2 months

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liveblogging tmagp 22 except it's really incoherent

INTRO BABY I MISSED TOU

grrrrr alex j newall ily

mixed signals ooohhh

29 minute episode oouhh

IT STATETRD

GWEN BACK. GWEB BWEGGN BACK.

"watching figure you mentioned" NO. STOP STOP SHRJEIF SYOP NDOKS

"i know what you're doing." 2hat

LENA THREATENING. OH LORD. i don't liek womrn but for her

that thing was an EXTERNAL???

DEMOTION?????????? WHATSTT.

don't quit bbg

she didn't!!!!

yeaaah gwen stop being unstable GWEN

stop theyre so. ugh i hate them all

CASEMENT STARETD

it's a lteer???

AUGUSTUS I MISSED YOUUUUUUU

experimentation??

oh no. experiments on thibgs

alarmign results???

EXPERIEMNYS ON PEOPLE??????? STOP THIS.

i must say i don't like this

charts??! brain charts????

using silver for conductivity... ooooyh

you did what with the wires

erratic results??

okay the double coil makes sensw

PHOTO

the work of whom.

REPUTATION???

no no not intensive

he had a RIGHT to be hesitant.

CONSTANTINE

I'M WHAY NOW HE DID WHAT

oh no i don't like this

2 seperate animals in one bofy.. where gave i heard that before.

i can see where this is going oh no oh lord

QUESTIONS OF THE SELF.

as you sjoild

data reviewing.. yaaay

me too bae

OCEAN. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO

RADIO SIGNALS AND OCWANS OG FUCKS SAKES

these two things would never meet

okay fun science

deconstructed them all and did what with then.

WHAT WAS THE DEISGB

oh no no no plumbing

questions of the self part 2: electric boogaloo

TICKING.

"imagine yourself." i don't inow

i kind of love tmagp's more intimate feeling to it. it feels less detached than tma an d i love it

UNCHARACTERISTIC WHIMSY

oh no he's sending

imagine yourself

dead. oh no

yaaaayy activity

TIDAL WAVE IF SIGNAL

i loeeeveee

oh no wait actually this seems Dangerous

FUCK. NO. THERE WILL BE A REPLY????

SMOKE

what on EARTH happened

ursula are you oajy

ursula. what is happening

is he okay?? is she okay???? what's happening

hear WHAT.

be patient with your wife fuckass

OH NO THE PATIENT

oh my lord????

good lord. arteries.

SCREAMING

tetanus comparison

rictus.

his tongue.

crescendo.

cracking.

background music i love it

WHAT.

they severed the sense of self.

shiiiiiit.

IT'S ON THE FLOOR

oh he's dead

"you could not hear it?" what.

"just another case of unfortunate frontier science" die

what did you find. this better have been worth it

a pattern you say

OH SHIT WHAT DID HE REALISW

there's no misfile.

FINGERPRINTS PROVE IT

what did you understand??

"she was always a better communicator than i" yeah makes sense babe

what had she HEARD.

oh my god

oh holy shit

holy shit

we are.

i am here.

here alone

we are i alone

all alone

so alone together

together alone

i think we get the message

he's alone

help

help we us

alone

help out

OUT????

WAIT.

i'm connecting threads.

i don't know what they are but i'm connecting them

violence is discovery of life or something idk man

yeah you delay those findings babygirl

robot voice again

WAIT. I KNOW THAT NAME

casement ends.

ALICE AND SAM

OH SHIT HE KNOWS

i hate her and him and UGH

he knowszs

alice you're really in it now

okay sam you're being a bit mean

but alice is also being a little obsessive

alice is losing all her friends around her.

she's just like me fr

"i just thought that you'd be different. that you might actually listen to me" sobbing

why is she still here. good point.

it's easy money??

oh lord she's me

"we could-" alice honey we all know you're not over him

ohhhh theyr3 so complex ily

OOH WHAT'S HAPPENING NOW

sam and celia oooh

i can't hear a word they're saying actually

SHE CAN EITHER GET OVER IT OR GET LOST??? OUCH.

celia stop encouraging ot. this isn't healthy celia

names??

JON AND MARIOGIB

JMART.

J. MART. MENTION. WHAT. THE.

OH MY GOD

OH MY GOF OGG MY GOFK THEYRU BACK TEHEY RYHD WHAT TTAHT WEHAT DOES YHDI MEAN

EPISOODE ENFS

FUCK

#tmagp 22 #tmagp 22 spoilers #tmagp vague #tmagp liveblog #tmagp spoilers

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psalm22-6 · 5 months

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On the double casting of Fredrick March as Valjean and Champmathieu:

My dear Fredric March: The other night I was busily engaged with a juicy steak in a Hollywood restaurant, with one ear cocked on your fifteen minute radio interview (the proprietor had humbly asked if I'd mind!) It was a nice interview, but I was fifty percent absorbed in the steak until you mentioned your playing of a dual rôle in Les Miserables. Immediately I forgot the steak, the shoe string potatoes that went with it, and the strawberry pie that came after. Because -- Recently I came away from Les Miserables in transports over a superb piece of acting. Not your Jean Valjean, nor Laughton's Javert. I just took those for granted. It was the forlorn half wit, mistakenly arrested and brought to trial as Valjean -- the bewildered vagrant trying to prove the innocence he feels in his befuddled soul and brain. But I had got in too late to read the cast and could not even guess what magnificent actor, new to Hollywood, was making his début back of those whiskers! What a characterization! The futile gestures, the goofy glint in the eyes, the foolish pleasure at being the center of attention, the helpless awareness of injustice, the inarticulate baffled rage! The whole tragedy of a life, right there before the eyes! J. G. Anderson, Long Beach, Calif.

[Source]

#les miserables #lm 1935 #champmathieu #okay then

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alias-sam · 10 months

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Pierced by a Golden Soul JJBA x reader fic Masterlist

Finally decided to crosspost a fic on here, we'll see how it goes!

The full fic is already finished and posted to Wattpad

Summary: Fate is a bizarre concept with countless more bizarre implications. In life sometimes such extraordinary events happen that the only reasoning left must be fate. The tragedies that constantly befall the Joestar bloodline for example may be the unluckiest series of cards drawn in human history, or perhaps the work of a greater power. There is no way to tell for sure. Had Dio Brando or Jonathan Joestar moved slightly on a divergent path the world itself would be left very different. The fate or luck of the noble Joestar bloodline has led to destruction of evil likes of the Pillar Men and DIO. This story is of a similar caliber to that of the other Joestars (as I am sure you are familiar with them). This is a story of lost souls, compassion, hope, and above all fate.

A Normal Day in a Normal Life

2. A Less than Normal Day in the Life of a Stand User

3. High School Never Ends

4. Know Your Enemy Part 1

5. Know Your Enemy Part 2

6. Close Call

7. Getting Patched Up

8. Familiar Figure

9. Punching Can't Solve Every Problem

10. Elecrifying

11. Fiesta Time...?

12. Picture This

13. Video Killed the Radio Star

14. J-Jesus?

15. Jigsaw

16. Blueberry Blast

17. Alfred Hitchcock Can Bite Me

18. Sleepless Nights and Suspicious Minds

19. Bug Boy

20. Cum On

21. Feel the Noize

22. Quiet Riot Part 1

23. Quiet Riot Part 2

24. The Crushing Weight of Guilt

25. Under the Radar

26. Late Night People

27. Unexpected Accomplice

28. Close Encounter

29. Welcome to the Jungle

30. An Enemy's Offer

31. Cutthroat Company

32. Wide Awake

33. Pompous Pricks and Portals

34. Eavesdropping

35. Enemy Encounter

36. Mother Knows Best

37. Dodgeball is a Cruel and Unusual Punishment

38. Spot

39. (Don't Fear) the Reaper Part 1

40. (Don't Fear) the Reaper Part 2

41. (Don't Fear) the Reaper Part 3

42. Sleepover

43. Little High, Little Low

44. Stand Users Assemble

45. Blueberry Blast Strikes Again

46. Coming Through, Coming Through, Coming Through Now

47. Sethan

48. Coral Pink

49. Foggy

50. Bubblegum Bitch Part 1

51. Bubblegum Bitch Part 2

52. Bubblegum Bitch Part 3

53. Bubblegum Bitch Part 4

54. SPW Snooping

55. Enemy Ally

56. Child of Divorce

57. Mannesh Vita

58. Loli ho~ Part 1

59. Loli ho~ Part 2

60. Loli ho~ Part 3

61. Brioche

62. By No Means an Artist

63. Early Morning Excursion

64. Bite the Bullet

65. Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You)

66. Whipping Post

67. Julius Rossi is a Protective Brother

68. The First Cut is the Deepest

69. Put Out the Lights

70. Mourning

71. All Apologies

72. The Noiz Returns

73. Punching Can Solve Certain Problems

74. House of Memories

75. The Last Place Anybody Would Look

76. We Didn't Start the Fire

77. Seeing Double

78. Oblivion

79. Who Lives Who Dies

80. Justice

81. A Normal Day in the Life of a Stand User

<- To Be Continued

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angst-king · 4 months

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I Promised pt 1

(this is a lil side fic for my adoption AU) (CW description of OD, suicide, vomit) It was a late night, about 2:30 in the morning when Shota was patrolling his route. This night, like every other night was cold and quiet. The breeze swayed through his mess of hair, and the crickets chirped and screeked. Just as he managed to find a place to sit down and enjoy his snack for the night his radio went off.

“Eraserhead come in Eraserhead, do you hear me?” With a huff, he grabbed his walkie-talkie.

“I hear ya, go on” He replied while taking a bite of his sandwich.

“We’ve gotten word of a man robbing a convenience store close by to where you live. The shop owner says they didn’t truly harm anyone just threatened harm if interfered. Do you mind checking it out?” “I’ll be there as soon as possible” Shota answered getting back on his feet, it didn’t sound urgent so he could eat on the way there. Can’t fight on an empty stomach, and Hizashi would kill him if he intentionally starved himself again. So he started on his way to the location, thankfully the walk there wasn’t too far, just a few turns and he’d be there.

When he arrived the store seemed to be rather calm, nothing was broken into. He walked up to the convenience store’s front desk and asked what was the matter. The clerk told him to head back to the pharmacy section and talk to the person there. Pharmacy? Did this person steal medication? Going to the pharmacy section the pharmacist looked relieved to see him although a little panicked.

“Can you tell me what happened?” “Y-yes well, I was just checking the stocks when this man with blackish-white hair and weird-looking skin came in and told me to give him any sort of sedative we had and as much as possible, as well as some antidepressants.” This had Shota concerned, this seemed like maybe a suicide attempt!

“Alright, I will go and see if I can find him.” Leaving the place, Shota had a bad feeling that he may be right about this being a suicide attempt, he couldn’t think of anything else as to why a person would take those specifically! There weren’t many places he had to check, not many places to try and kill yourself quietly either. He started hustling down the street. He wasn’t sure whether he should radio for help just yet or not, he didn’t want an entire group en route. That would potentially make things worse.

“Damn, where could this guy be!” He grumbled to himself as he looked down the third alleyway, he started to pass by the steps to the bridge underpass when he had a feeling to go down there. He decided not to shake this feeling and to follow it, walking down the steps with his flashlight he didn’t have much hope of finding the guy.

Then the sound of coughing came, coughing and gasping echoed through the underpass. Pattering down the stairs the closer he got the louder it sounded.

Getting to the bottom of the stairs, there was a figure dressed in tattered clothes, hunched over still coughing.

“Hey you alright there?” Shota called out, this alerted the person who turned around and started to back away, his quirk igniting. A blue fire sparked and blazed around him as he weakly yelled.

“Go away! I’m fine, j-just let me go!” Shota activated his own quirk, seizing the fire as he cautiously approached. He adjusted the light to get a better look and was a little surprised to see it was ‘Dabi’. He had seen him causing casualties and chaos before, though nothing egregious still arson was nothing small. Seeing him doubled over, with what parts of his normal skin being pale, as he clutched his body. Shota stepped closer and saw the bags and containers of pills and immediately dropped into action.

“Dabi, I’m not leaving you like this!” The young villain tried to push the man away while shaking his head at him.

“Please man, j-just let me go. I-I failed…I failed and I can’t keep doing this anymore! I need for the pain to stop, just please!” He pleaded with tears in his eyes, Shota kept a handle on his quirk as he listened.

“What do you mean you failed? What a mission or something?” Again Dabi shook his head

“You wouldn’t care, I’m not gonna bother, so just act like you didn’t see me and let. Me. go!” Shota got down to the other’s level refusing to let go, though he knew even if he did Dabi most likely wouldn’t be moving much.

“Just tell me, kid! I wont call the police or turn you in. Just tell me.” Dabi bit at his lip while swallowing back the urge to gag.

“Fine since you wont leave me alone…no its not a mission….its my siblings…I failed them. I’ve lost my only family and I can’t find them. I promised that I would find them again. Hell I’d burn down all of japan just to see them again!” This had Shouta confused, siblings? Obviously, he’d never gotten up close and personal with the villain but this sounded familiar to when Shouto mentioned he was waiting for his siblings.

“Dabi…I have to ask…do you have a little brother by the name of Shouto?” Dabi hesitantly nodded and a small smile curled at Shota’s lips, he may have a way to get Dabi to cooperate.

“If I told you that your little brother was safe and sound and that I could bring you to him. Would you let me?” Dabi’s expression turned doubtful and who could blame him?

“Why should i trust you? Why would i believe that you have him and you’re not just trying to bring me to the police?” Shota could understand his lack of trust, if he knew Shoto had been through hell for him to run away, then Dabi and his other siblings must’ve been just as bad! Shota told him not to move, he grabbed his phone scrolled through his camera, and showed him a picture of Shoto playing with the other little kids in the background.

“I found your brother along with a bunch of other children held up in a shitty foster home about a year ago. Present mic, Midnight and I took them in.” He explained, Dabi looked surprised to see he was telling the truth but then asked.

“Wh-what is it that you want in re-return? And what are you gonna do with me?” Shota huffed and reached for a discreet place to check his pulse, he furrowed his brows.

“Shit your pulse is slow, well first, I wanna get whatever the hell you swallowed out of your system. I’m gonna call for some help then I’ll get you home.” Shota went through his emergency bag and handed Dabi a large bottle of water.

“Drink that, you need to dilute what you took, I don’t know how much you took but it’ll weaken it to some extent.” While Dabi drank the water he was given, Shota called Hizashi.

“Hey, look sorry I know you were sleeping but can either you or Nemuri come down to the start of my patrol route? Bring a blanket, and a bunch of water with you too, no it's not for a cat. It’s for a kid, I’ll explain when you get here.” By the time Eraser had hung up Dabi was still downing the water.

“Alright, I gotta get you outta here, so we can get to them. Can you walk?” Dabi nodded and shakily rose to his feet, grunting and wincing. Now seeing him at full height Shota could see many injuries he had. He didn’t know how old Dabi was, most likely an older teen, though he could pass for a full adult just based on his gruff looks alone when he wasn’t curled up. He slipped an arm around him to hold him up.

“I’m gonna hold you up, let's go.” At first, Dabi tried to protest but his fried vocal cords wouldn’t let him. So he let the pro hero half carry him out from under the bridge and up the stairs to the main road. The more they walked the worse Dabi got, he was struggling to move either of his legs as his heart slowed, it was getting harder to keep his eyes open and his temperature began to drop. Shota could hear his breathing become ragged which worried him badly. Seeing the car made him feel a bit better, he knocked on the door to signal to Hizashi that he had found them. The blond unlocked the car so Shota could load Dabi in the back seat. He then climbed into the passenger seat while telling Dabi to use the blanket and to drink the rest of the water.

Dabi listened to him wrapping himself up in the blanket and continuing to drink the water. Shota began to explain what he could to Hizashi.

“So you remember how Shouto said he was waiting for his siblings and that they were looking for him? Well, Dabi is one of his siblings, I never paid much to Enji when he talked about his family but I remember him mentioning only really two of them. A kid named Toya and Shouto, i’m going to guess Dabi is a different name he goes by, probably made it so no one would recognize him when he ran away with his siblings. Anyway, I got a call saying someone stole a bunch of sedatives and antidepressants and found Dabi under a bridge dealing with an overdose.” Hizashi nodded along to this as he drove.

“I take it hospital is out of the question since they could possibly try to arrest him?” “Yeah, and I don’t wanna have to explain to Shouto that one of his brothers was taken to prison.” “I understand, luckily we know how to deal with OD’s, and we’ll keep him on the couch.” With this plan, Hizashi took them home while Shota kept watch of Dabi from the passenger seat.

Getting home, Shota hopped out of the car to check on Dabi who was shaking like a leaf in his sleep. He reached underneath him, slid him out of the car keeping him wrapped up, and carried him into the house. Shota laid him on the couch and placed an extra blanket on him. He checked his pulse again, it was still slow. He had managed to snag the bag Dabi had on him that contained the pills. He checked what he had taken and how much. He sighed in relief.

“This won't kill him thankfully” Shouta muttered to himself, he prepared himself to spend the night in the living room with him. The night was peaceful, it was quiet. It made Shouta wonder what could have gone so wrong for Dabi to go into villainy. Sure running away he could understand but enacting chaos on people?

When the sun was up the next day Dabi woke up to his stomach flipping and flopping, his insides sloshing around. Even with his mind numbed and foggy from the drugs and just waking up he at least had the sense to find a bathroom. He dashed down the hall and threw open the bathroom door, just barely making it fast enough to not get sick on himself or the floor. He didn’t know how much noise he was making, the sound of his mind becoming static while he vomited drowning everything else out. He didn’t know how long the first round took him but for the time being he was leaning against the wall panting and using the toilet paper to clean himself up. He also didn’t know that he wasn’t alone until he heard a small voice call his name.

“T-toya?” His head whipped around at the sound and his eyes blew open wide! There in front of him was his little brother, Shouto.

“Sh-shouto?” Shouto nodded while clutching his stuffed polar bear. It took a second for Toya to realize this was real, he was really looking at his baby brother. He quickly pulled Shouto into a hug, it was firm but not enough to hurt him, he just needed to hold him. Shouto didn’t flinch or pull away and just leaned into him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, I’ve been trying to find you.” “How did you find me?”Shouto asked, of course, Toya couldn’t tell him the whole truth, he didn’t need to know about his issues.

“Well shouta found me while I was looking for you, and he told me he could bring me to you.” Shouto smiled and hugged his brother back. Though their sweet moment was cut short Toya’s stomach decided now was a good time to evict the pills he swallowed. He quickly pushed Shouto away before his face was back in the toilet again. The small child watched worriedly, not knowing what else to do he placed a gentle hand on Toya’s back rubbing in circles.

“It’s gonna be okay, Toya” The kid repeated over and over reminding him that he was here. Another flash of minutes went by, and Toya had thrown up probably everything his body had.

“Are you gonna be okay Toya?” Shouto asked, Toya nodded doing his best to give a reassuring smile to him.

“I’ll be alright lil bro, don’t worry about me. Stomach’s just acting a little funny. I’ll probably just go and lay down.” When Toya tried to go back to the couch, he felt something grab onto his hand, he looked behind himself to see Shouto with a pout on his face.

“Can I lay down with you?” Toya sighed and nodded at him, this made the boy smile a bit. Going back to the couch, Toya had let the younger one lay on top of him. Even though Shouto was small he was very warm and since Toya was still running cold holding him was like having a furnace keeping him warm. Just as he had settled himself down to sleep Shouto asked him.

“Where’s Natsuo and Fuyumi?” Toya dreaded that question, he knew it was coming.

#king's fanfic #King's mha fic #mha adoption au #todoroki family angst #shouto todoroki #Dabi is a todoroki #dadzawa #dad mic #erasermic #mha angst #mha fanfic blog #my hero academia #adopted class 1 a

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theharddeck · 2 years

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out of the blue, clear sky (chapter four) // Jake Seresin x Reader

Pairing: hangman x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: what's a bit of state rivalry between pilots? You and Hangman see each other in a new light after a late night at a dive bar

Warnings: 18+, minors please DNI -- this is a 5 chapter deal and this one is clinging to PG, but it'll ratchet up to E in the last chapter. In the interim, there's swearing, but yeah mostly flagging this because something smutty this way comes

Length: 3.6k

taglist: @peakyrogers @winterrebel04 @blue-aconite @bioodforbiood @kilojulietsierra @dempy @olliepig @double-j @blazinglioness @laracrofted @javihoney @amnmich @smoothdogsgirl @loveforaugust @desert-fern @fuckyeahhangman

A/N: Fun fact, i don’t have a callsign in mind for Kentucky. Like that’s what Jake calls her, but I don’t see it as her callsign? Anyways i think it’s sweet that that’s what we call her too, but just want to be clear that it’s not her callsign… idk why it matters. Also, yes Kaley’s name was originally Callie, then I realized we already have a Callie in canon so I changed it so i’m sorry/hope that wasn’t too confusing!

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five

You were proud of yourself for the fun you managed to have for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t even like there was anything to be morose over– a couple lingering looks, a few more-than-platonic touches? Nothing to get worked up over.

So you shelled out money for a couple more tickets and took a ride on the Ferris wheel with Phoenix and Bob and Payback. You crammed yourself into one of those swirling swing rides to convince Rooster it was safe, and played photographer so Harvard and Fritz could have content for their instagrams. You rolled your eyes when Coyote and Fanboy sauntered back to the group with phone numbers written on their forearms in lipstick, and told the group of you they’d meet you back on base. The evening lengthened in a swirl of old Katy Perry songs over loudspeakers and raucous screams from rides that weren’t even that scary, and finally the group of you decided it was time to call it a night.

It wasn’t until everyone split off in the parking lot that you remembered who’d driven you, and who wasn’t going to be with you on the drive back.

You and Jake were silent on the walk to the truck, and you snuck a glance at him in the moonlight. He didn’t seem withdrawn, per se, and had come back to the group right after you had. Maybe pensive was a good word, or maybe Hangman just always defaulted to vaguely intense, and you hadn’t caught him this late at night yet.

You didn’t realize he had come along to the passenger side until he was holding the door open for you, at which point it was too late for you to tell him not to worry about it. It seemed instinctual for him, like he didn’t recognize what he was doing until it was too late, either. His nose wrinkled slightly as he sniffed, looking over the roof of the car before back at you.

“Force of habit,” he said quietly, but he still held out a hand to help you up into the cab.

“Figured,” you said, as you took it, climbing up.

It was a perfectly chaste touch, and that felt worse than sparks. Sparks would mean something special, something extraordinary, but Jake’s hand felt like normal, like it could be familiar. You hugged the koala against your chest, trying to push away the sensation against the soft fur, as Jake walked around the front of the truck.

It was a quiet drive, and you appreciated that Jake rolled down the windows for some noise. It wasn’t as obvious as turning on the radio, but it did mean the silence wasn’t quite so loud.

The wind was cold, but you welcomed it. It’d keep you awake after the day, and you could focus on something other than the tense energy in the truck. The lights on the freeway blurred together, cars speeding by you, you speeding by cars, and as you got closer to base, Hangman flicked on the turn signal early. You didn’t look over, figuring there was a reason, and sure enough, he pulled the truck off the freeway and into a gas station some 20¢ cheaper than the other stations you’d been passing by.

“It’ll just be a sec,” Jake said, the moment the car was parked, and then he was out of it, checking the pump number before walking quickly towards the convenience store to prepay.

You pulled out your phone and flipped through pictures you’d taken over the course of the night.

Phoenix, Coyote, you, and Rooster, all in an exaggerated sorority squat, your callsigns painted along your cheekbones.

Bob pouting with a demolished cotton candy cone.

Halo and Harvard high-fiving on the backs of horses on a merry-go-round.

You were startled out of your browsing by the vibrating sound of a phone ringing. You frowned at your phone, still silent, and then looked across the bench seat, to where Hangman’s phone was ringing.

You planned to turn it off, just to stop the leather from vibrating, but the name on the screen made you pause for a moment – Kaley Seresin.

Shoot.

You leaned across the seat to see if Jake was on his way back, but he was in line, with one more person between him and the register. You considered running it in to him, but it’d probably time out by the time you made it in, in which case, you’d just hand him a quiet phone, the same way you’d tell him he missed a call when he got back to the truck.

It rang out.

Only to start ringing again. You figured maybe you should run it in, but when you looked back at the store, Jake was at the register, chatting easily with the person behind the counter. The phone rang, then rang out and you held your breath for a moment, before it started ringing again.

Damn it.

“I’m so sorry; Jake’s not here right now,” you said into the receiver. “He’s getting gas and he left his phone in the car; he’ll be right back, and I’ll hand it over to him, I just felt bad that it was going to keep ringing.”

The line was quiet.

A long moment passed, and you pulled the phone away from you ear to see if you’d missed it a third time and it’d gone on to voicemail, but the line was still connected.

“Hello?” you asked again, putting it back to your ear.

“So, what,” a voice said, much younger than you expected, “are you his girlfriend or something?”

You winced, closing your eyes. “Tyler?” you guessed.

Another beat.

“How do you know my name?” the boy asked, voice wavering between suspicious and pleased.

“Your Uncle won’t shut up about you,” you said, figuring the kid would respond better to that than outright flattery. He hummed, considering.

“Well, his life’s pretty boring,” he said. “Just work and stuff.”

You smiled, in spite of yourself, amused by a teenager who thought hurtling million-dollar aircraft through the troposphere as just work.

“Between you and me,” you said drily, trusting that more than whatever conspiratorial airs people tended to put on around children, “he could use a life.”

The kid snorted, then he seemed to think of something. “Are you a pilot too, then?”

“I am, yeah,” you said. “But I promise, I’m much cooler.”

The door to the convenience store swung open and you waved for Jake to come over as soon as he stepped outside. He frowned at you, slightly, looking over his shoulder before waving back at you uncertainly.

You bit back a curse for the sake of underage listeners, and rolled your eyes giving up.

“Where are you from?” Tyler asked. “You talk funny.”

That was fair.

“A little place called Bardstown,” you said.

“Bardstown?” he repeated dutifully.

“It’s the second oldest city in Kentucky,” you told him, like that was even remotely interesting. “We have 11 distilleries within 16 miles of the court square.”

You tapped on the glass as Jake walked by, but he held up a placating hand, like he was going as fast as he could. He walked around to the back of the truck and flipped open the gas cap, starting to fill up the tank.

You sighed, settling back into the seat. “Your uncle’s ignoring me,” you informed Tyler. “I want the record to show that I tried to be a good operator and hand over the call as soon as I could.”

“S’okay,” he said, and you could practically see him shrugging. “What kind of distilleries?”

“Bourbon,” you said, wondering if you were the peer pressure parents warned their kids about. “Uh, but there’s an African American heritage museum in town, too. And a train museum and a couple old churches, so, like, edifying stuff.”

“You probably should’ve led with that, huh?” he asked, and you went back to petting the koala.

“Yeah probably. Hey, Tyler, any good names for a koala?”

“A real one?”

“What?” you scoffed. “Buddy, I just told you I’m a pilot.”

“Eh, I guess,” Tyler said, sounding disappointed. “Can you even have a koala here? Is that, like, legal?”

“Pretty sure it’s illegal everywhere,” you told him.

“That sucks. So why do you have a not-real koala?”

“That’s a great question,” you muttered, before shaking your head. “Regardless, it’s like two feet tall and very soft, and it needs a name.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Wilson,” he decided.

You tilted your head at the koala; that’d do.

“I like it,” you told him. “Like from Cast Away?”

“What?” he sighed. “No, like Captain America.”

“Is that my phone?”

You jumped when you realized Jake had opened the truck door, leaning in from where he was still pumping gas.

“Is that my Uncle?” Tyler asked.

“Yep,” you said to Tyler, realizing it answered both of their questions. Into the phone you said, “Now that we’ve finally got his attention, I’m gonna hand you over now, but it was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said. “I won’t tell him about the bourbon thing.”

“You’re a gentleman and a scholar,” you told him, then held out the phone to Jake.

“Did you answer my phone?” he whispered, and you held out the phone emphatically, telling him to take it. His mouth twitched and he hit mute on it, raising his eyebrows and waiting for an answer.

“It rang like 17 times,” you whispered back, even though the line was technically muted. “I planned to just send it to voicemail then I saw Kaley’s name and then it’s Tyler so I didn’t want to just be like ‘yeah he’ll call you back’, so I–”

Jake put the phone up to his ear. “Hey, ace,” he said and it was your turn to raise your eyebrows at the way he pitched his voice, sounding almost friendly.

He made a face at you, leaning out the door and shutting it while he finished pumping the gas.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know,” he said, his voice getting louder as he turned back to look at you, and you calmly fluffed Wilson’s hair in one direction, “I think it’s a weird saying from some great American novel or something.”

“Catcher in the Rye,” you muttered, not that he was listening. “Salinger’s grandad was a rabbi in Kentucky, by the way.”

“No, she’s not my—” There was a bang, and Jake shut the cap cover. “Well, she’s not. Look, was there a reason you called?”

You elected to ignore the first part of his response, instead enjoying the duality of Jake’s interaction with his nephew. His voice was callous, but there was an undercurrent of deep care, that you were sure the kid could feel across the line.

Jake fed the gas nozzle back into the stand, wiping his hands on his jeans before he got back into the truck.

“Okay, fair, I’ll text your mom back,” he said, holding the phone against his shoulder and rubbing his hands together, cold from the pump. You were wondering if you should get out of the truck to give him a minute, when Jake reached down to start the engine.

“No, no, I appreciate it,” he said. “What do I always tell you?”

The truck was quiet for a moment, as Jake waited for a response.

“Damn straight,” he said, after a beat. “Even if it’s midnight out there, okay? You call me, I’ll answer.”

The moment was sweet, suspended, and when you looked over at Jake, you saw something simple on his face. When he felt the weight of your eyes, he sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat.

“And if I’m not around,” he said calmly, “I’ll get my secretary to pick up for me again.”

You swung Wilson without preamble, and Jake lifted an arm to protect his face, laughing to himself.

“Yeah, don’t worry, she heard and she’s mad,” he chuckled into the phone. “Okay, tell your mom I’ll text her your grandma’s address as soon as I’m back at the base. Speaking of which, I’ve got to drive us there, so I’m gonna hang up.”

He paused, waiting for the kid to say something, and he looked over at you.

“He wants to know if you actually like the name Wilson,” he said, and you nodded honestly before Jake lifted his hands in exasperation, making a face that couldn’t be seen through the phone. “Well, how was I supposed to know that?? You said to ask her, and you expected me to just telepathically know, when you said—Okay, I’m hanging up now. Yep, okay. Okay. Okay. Yeah, love you too, ace. Bye.”

Jake hung up the phone and tossed it into the cup holder, pushing the truck into gear and easing her out of the gas station. As the fluorescent lights faded, you glanced over at him. The coming and going streetlights lit him like roving spotlights on intervals, and he squinted through them like he was on an Old Hollywood red carpet.

“What?” he asked.

You pressed your lips together, caught. “Ace is a cute nickname,” you said.

Jake smiled, an easy, fond thing. “He’s the tops,” he said, with honesty in his voice, and you felt your heart flip at the quaint expression.

He looked over at you, and you looked away quickly.

You weren’t far from the base, but this silence was lighter than it’d been most of the night. Jake guided the truck into the lot, parking it with a row of other trucks near the back, where they’d have more room to back in or out of spots.

You pulled Wilson back into your lap when the engine shut off. Jake shifted in the seat, and you felt him look over at you before getting out of the car, jogging around the front of it to get your door.

Now why’d he have to do something like that, when you were determined to bury this clearly fruitless crush?

But you smiled your thanks when he opened it, ducking under his arm and hauling Wilson with you. You waited for him to close the door behind you and moved to step around him, but were stopped by a hand on your side.

You looked down, surprised, and Jake’s hand dropped a moment later. He turned slowly, deliberately, so his back was to his truck and you could walk by if you wanted. You weren’t caged in, you could leave, walk up to the barracks and not look back.

But you couldn’t.

When you looked up at him, he was leaning back, his back against the truck now, like he needed the clear air above his head, and he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck before he looked back at you.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, quiet.

Your pulse jumped, but you ordered it to be steady, drawing in a calm breath and lifting your chin to meet his eyes.

“What part?” you asked.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked at you, and a hand came up to push at the rim of your baseball cap, just slightly so it tilted up. His finger trailed from the cap down the side of your face and you tried not to shiver at the lightness of his touch. Or maybe it wasn’t the touch, is was the emerald intensity in his eyes as they followed his hand down your face, curving under your jaw before he pushed himself away from the truck.

He was moving slowly, so slowly, and you knew he was giving you time to move, but you didn’t want time, and when his finger crooked your chin up just a little more, you surged up on your toes, pressing your lips against his.

In an instant, his hand slid from your chin to the side of your face, holding your jaw to pull you towards him. His mouth was soft, gentler than you’d expected, and as he brushed his lips over yours, he tasted like cotton candy. Your lifted a hand, your fingers settling around the wrist of the hand that framed your face, and you could feel his pulse pounding inside his wrist. You felt him pull in a slow breath against your cheek, and he pulled back a bit.

Because of your hat, he couldn’t rest his forehead against yours, but he didn’t let go of your face, his thumb stroking across your cheek.

“Not that part,” he said, his voice low, and you felt your ears heat. His eyes flicked over your face as you blushed, harder to see in the low light and over the tan of your skin, but he saw it all the same, and his hand fell from your face as he pulled you into his arms.

You tucked your head into his chest, Wilson squished between the two of you, but Jake didn’t seem to mind. He shifted slightly, and you felt him press a kiss on the side of your hat, before his chin settled on top of it.

Your nose wrinkled at the silliness of the gesture, but it didn’t stop the warm feeling spreading through your chest. His arms felt steady around you, in the shadows of the parking lot, and you felt him draw in a deep breath.

“That George Strait song, at karaoke,” he said, words hesitant but carefully chosen, like your kiss had given him enough certainty to push through whatever he had to say, “I didn’t realize it until it was too late, when I was walking over to you, and I couldn’t stop…I thought singing it like a joke would be almost as good as telling you.”

For a moment, you wondered if maybe you’d gotten whiplash on one of the rides you’d gone on tonight; there was no way Jake was saying what you were thinking he was saying.

“I get carried away by the look, by the light in your eyes. Before I even realize the ride I'm on, baby, I'm long gone. I get carried away; nothing matters but being with you and, like a feather flying high up in the sky on a windy day, I get carried away.”

You pulled back slightly, to look up at him, and he loosened his arms to let you go. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me?” you asked, no reprimand in your voice, just wanting to know.

“What, are you kidding?” he asked back, his voice just as quiet, then he shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips, but his brow furrowing. “You’re like cartoonishly good.”

You frowned. “What happened to “I’m very good,” energy?”

“That’s different,” Jake said, like it was obvious.

“You’re saying I’m a bad pilot?” you teased, not wanting to go down the path of comparison in another sense.

“That’s not what I said,” Jake said hastily, then he sighed. “I just mean you’re like Bob-levels of Nice Person.”

“I notice you don’t compare me to another pilot,” you muttered, not actually upset about it, but clinging to that vein of conversation.

Apparently Jake wouldn’t be deterred either.

“You wake up early to make coffee for the whole squad,” he said. “You always sit on the left, so that Fritz has desk space for that left-handed notebook of his.”

You blinked; you weren’t sure how he noticed that.

“That’s efficiency,” you said. “I’m up anyways and nobody wins if people’s notes are crowded off the table.”

“You got us all organized to send that card and flowers to Mav after the anniversary of Ice’s passing.”

“It was Rooster’s idea, and you know it,” you said, and Jake looked like he was going to keep going, which you weren’t going to just stand here and accept.

“Literally just today,” you said, “you sent Fanboy in to get me on the pretense of needing a sweater so Halo wouldn’t feel like anyone forgot the excursion she’s been waiting on for weeks.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, well–”

“You leave the lights on in the hallway for when Coyote and Harvard come in late.”

“They’re too noisy if I don’t,” he mumbled, like that could convince you he wasn’t waiting up to check that his friends made it in safe, as if Coyote hadn’t told you months ago.

“You made yourself a sure thing for your nephew,” you continued. “This kid across the country who knows he can call you, any time of the day, and you’ll be there for him.”

Jake shook his head. “That’s not the same.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “But it’s caring, Jake; it looks different on everybody. We do the best we can, we hope it’s enough, and maybe, if we’re lucky, someone notices.”

You were both silent for a moment, stubborn and determined, eyes searching each others’ in the parking lot. Jake looked away first, clearing his throat.

“Do you feel lucky?” he asked, in a voice uncertain enough that you could cry.

You wouldn’t, but you could, could break down in tears over the man who seemed determined to convince everyone he was callous and soulless, but was really so terrified of hurting someone.

“I do,” you said, simply. “I do, yeah.”

You thought Jake might kiss you again, but instead he just pulled you back into his arms, tighter than before. You went easily, the arm that wasn’t holding Wilson snaked around his waist to hug him back.

You could feel Jake’s cheek resting on top of your hat, and his hands were clutched on your back—not caressing or soothing, just holding, needing this more than both of you had expected. So you smoothed your hand up his back and nestled your face into his chest. One of Wilson’s paws was digging into your stomach, and you would bet that Jake would have stitch-marks from the rim of your hat on his cheek, when you both let go. And there were still questions to be answered, explanations to be had, but you stayed there, in the cold, a little more certain than the last time you’d stood in this lot.

It’d been a long time of waiting.

You could wait a little longer.

next chapter

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