#here comes the bogey man

[weirdlookindog]

Francisco de Goya (1746-1828) - Que Viene el Coco (Here Comes the Bogey-Man), 1799

Plate 3 from 'Los Caprichos'

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything (König x Reader)

The 1st instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I have no idea how we got here

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic description of violence || Graphic description of injury || Graphic language

“You’re a liability.”

The words rang like a church bell. You were never one for petty violence but in that moment, after he’d so calmly said the words, you thought that you just might kill him.

“A liability?” You hissed, glaring at your superior like he’d grown two heads. “I’m a sniper, Sir, not a fucking ninja.”

The captain simply shifted his weight lazily, unfazed by your temper. He’d dealt with it many times throughout the years but it hadn’t bothered him because you weren’t inherently his. You were somebody else’s spitfire, under another unit’s command; but now you were part of the 141 and you needed to learn.

“Come on, Birdy. You know I’m right.”

Birdy.

You had Soap to thank for the name. ‘Snipers and birds both shit on people from above’. It wasn’t creative and honestly you could have thought of one hundred better names to offer, but once Ghost started addressing you by Birdy, it was set in stone.

When you said nothing, he continued.

“You can’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag,” he scoffed, swallowing a snort when your eyes widened. “Sniper’s need to defend themselves too, Birdy. You learnt that the hard way, remember?”

How could you not?

The knife wound had healed but the memory of it had not. Images of the hooded man wedging a blade into your shoulder flickered across your vision. Fists bearing down onto your jaw. Fingers wrapped around your throat.

A chill skittered across your skin.

“So, what’s your suggestion?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

When the corner of Price’s mouth quirked upward, you’d already begun to regret asking.

“Simple, really.” He shrugged, “someone’s gonna train ya.”

Your stomach dropped and a cold shiver traced the length of your spine.

“Who, Sir?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Ghost’s not here. Everyone’s on leave.”

Price smirked.

“Not everyone.”

___

You felt nauseas.

Anxiety had your stomach in a death grip, and it was all you could do to not throw up. Pacing up and down the gym mats, you tried to cool your nerves.

There was only one person that had remained a complete anomaly to you and now he’d been given literal permission to beat the shit out of you.

Training.

You remembered what they loved to call ‘training’ at your old unit. You’d never been the fastest or the strongest, that was not your job. You were the one who could take make an impossible shot a kilometre away, but that’s not what ‘training’ entailed.

Your body ached at the memory.

There was a small noise by the doorway and your body stiffened. He was letting you know that he was there, his equivalent of a knock.

You both knew that he could have had you on your back whenever he pleased.

“König.” You acknowledged him as confidently as you could, turning to face the beast head on.

The giant stood in the doorway looking like the fucking bogey man himself.

“Birdy,” König inclined his head. Those dark, watchful eyes observed you from beneath his hood, taking in your visage. Heat licked the back of your neck and you began to sweat under his gaze.

He was clad in his usual getup from the waist down, the tactical cargo pants and the hefty boots being his barracks favourite. It was the hoodie that had caught you by surprise, you’d seen it a few times in passing, but up close it rendered you breathless.

“I didn’t realize you were staying with the 141,” you said, swallowing nervously as he stepped into the room, ducking his head to avoid hitting the frame above.

This was a sick, sick joke.

“My transfer was approved,” was the only explanation that he offered you.

You knew, logically, that what had happened between the both of you had been a misunderstanding. It was a communication failure on behalf of the brass that had almost gotten you killed but the idea of working with him, training with him, made your stomach drop.

König’s hands got to work removing his gloves and the memory of those fingers wrapped around your throat made you flinch.

You’d set up a sniper’s nest atop the rooftop, watching the entrance of the building the 141 was infiltrating. They were going to flush out the target and send him running right into your line of fire.

No-one had been informed of KorTac’s involvement.

You’d heard König before you’d seen him, the dismantling of your trip mine giving you enough indication to roll onto your back to investigate. By then, he was already upon you.

You’d kicked the rifle from his hands but that was where your advantage finished. He’d dragged you by your ankles from your weapon, straddling your flailing body as he got to work. The knife he’d brandished stabbed into your flesh violently, and at first, you’d thought he only punched you.

Until the searing hot pain bloomed across your body and blood sprayed across his hood.

Those emerald eyes were wild and hard as he gripped your face over your balaclava. You couldn’t think to react, dizzied by the agony of knife he twisted into your skin. His palm covered the entirety of your features, fingers tight against your temples as he pulled your head forward then smashed it back into the concrete.

You thought your skull had exploded.

Fists ploughed into your jaw but it was as though you were numb now. Finally, his fingers were drawn to your throat, squeezing tightly as he leaned in. The cloth of his hood brushed against your battered body, filling the space between you as his lips pressed against your ear.

“Your fight is finished,” he hissed heatedly. Then König pressed down into your skin.

You don’t remember what happened afterward. You knew that he’d been called off by his chain-of-command just in time to stop himself from ending your life, but that was according to Soap.

You were in a coma for two weeks.

It took you months to recover.

And only once you came back to work, fit to fight and ready to go, had you discovered that König had applied to transfer into the 141 shortly after the incident. KorTac had offered him up to fill in your position while you recovered.

Not only had the bastard nearly killed you but he’d taken your place.

Now that you were back, he would lose his place as a sniper and be back to running with the team on the ground.

König watched you carefully from where he stood.

“You’re my instructor,” you said plainly, stating the obvious. “Price made you my hand-to-hand combat trainer.

“Ironic, isn’t it,” his voice came quietly from beneath the hood, a small snort following in suit.

You would have laughed had you not been so fucking terrified. You were about to take your place back on the team, a position this giant clearly wanted and now he was given the chance to put you back into the hospital with no questions asked.

You wouldn’t be able to do anything against him. König was a mountain of a man, a force to be reckoned with, and while he tried to make himself as disarming as possible it was implausible to hide that frame.

“Did you want to get started?” König asked, leaning his hip against the table beside him. He was so casual for someone who had nearly killed you.

“No,” you said simply.

“Are you not up for this?” König ventured carefully, pushing off the bench and taking a slow step towards you. Your heart thrashed against your ribs at his approaching figure and you forced yourself to stay still. “You still have bruising-“

“That’s what happens when someone shatters your fucking face, cunt,” you snapped, casting your gaze from his. You were hoping that he wouldn’t bring it up, everyone had danced around your condition for so long. No one spoke about how fucking ugly you looked as you tried to recover.

“It was an accident,” his voice was hard, almost bewildered at your sudden aggression. “We both paid the price for someone else’s mistakes.”  

“Don’t talk to me about paying the price, you fucker,” you snapped, shoving against his chest. König yielded a step and it infuriated you even further to know that he’d allowed it. “You got the fucking job you wanted, you got the transfer you wanted, you got the training you wanted. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-“

“You wanna know what I got?” You snapped, shoving him harder this time. König’s eyes narrowed and he snatched your wrists, holding them against his ribs to stop your assault. You continued anyway, walking his body backward until his heels hit the wall. “I got put into a fucking coma.”  

König’s gaze softened, his chest heaving beneath your hands. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your fists, you could hear his breaths grow ragged.

“I know,” he murmured, his fingers tightening on your wrists. “I was assigned to watch over your bed for those two weeks."

You stared at him for a long moment, sniffling and gasping for air after your rant. König lowered his head and his grip loosened.

“What I did to you…” he trailed off, unable to meet your gaze. How ugly must you have become that he couldn’t withstand looking at his own handiwork?

You turned around, hiding the hot tears forming along your lashes. You were so fucking ashamed by the terror gripping your throat, embarrassed by how much your image affected you. You hated feeling disgusting. You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you at all times it was suffocating you, they gawked and stared and whispered about how your 'pretty face was ruined.'

You began to understand why people wear masks.

“You ruined me,” you rasped. “And I couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

König was silent from behind you, mulling over your words. You couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your outburst. He had stabbed you, shattered your skull, broken your nose and jaw and nearly snapped your neck- he deserved to listen to you yell at him at the very least.

Fingers slid over your shoulders, slowly turning you around to face him. You tugged against his hold half-heartedly, vision swimming beneath never-ending tears.

“Look at me, Birdy.” His voice was soft and pleading, his hand slowly moving to cup your bruised jaw. You froze as he manoeuvred you, forcing you to face him square on. König slowly lowered himself to rest a knee on the ground, leaving him still taller than you but closer to eye level.

With the hand that was free, he reached for his hood. You swallowed nervously as he carefully pulled it from his head, resting the cloth on his upright knee.

Dirty blonde hair lay splayed across his forehead, the length curling by his ears. Dark brows framed the emerald gaze that watched you intently, taking in your visage as you observed him. All of him.

The scars caught your attention.

Winding from his upper lip, across his eye and leaving a line through his brow, the winding length of damaged skin presented itself. There was another scar along the bridge of his nose that travelled across the width of his cheekbone and into his hair.

“Do I…” König trailed off, full lips parting as he mused over his next words. You stared in awe at the innocence of the freckles smattered across his features. “Are you afraid of me?”

You said nothing for a long moment, mesmerized by the features of a man that had haunted your thoughts for months. He’d been the centre of your existence for so long, the reason you ached and the reason you’d bled. König had plagued your every waking moment ever since the incident, and now he knelt before you. He was on his knees baring his vulnerabilities to you, knowing you could destroy him with it.

“Of course,” you whispered; your voice shaky as you met his gaze.

König’s expression became pleading, “then let me teach you how to beat me.”

His thumb lightly caressed your purple cheek, brows furrowed as he took in his handiwork. “Let me pay for what I’ve done by teaching you how to never let it happen again. And when you finally beat me, revenge will be yours and you may do as you wish.”

“Anything I want?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

A wry, sad smile pulled at the corner of König’s mouth.

“Anything, mein vöglein.”

My little bird.

____

Next Chapter

[nerdyenby]

NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND

Martyn’s betrayal isn’t just him betraying Scott, but the ideals of the entire season.

Limited Life has had the most stable alliances in the life series across the board, with everyone sticking with their ep 1 crew until the end. The theme of this season was loyalty, you guys.

The Clocker’s weren’t the only family, far from it. The entire series is like a sitcom — neighborhood drama. Everyone was related in some way, everyone cared about each other to an extent, and the bonds formed were never broken. Sure there were accidental team kills and mistrust between factions, but the teams themselves all were so individually devoted to each other.

It’s a perfect reflection of Last Life, last time the bogeyman sewed seeds of distrust and betrayal, now we see unwavering faith in spite of the curse. It’s hardly a curse anymore; as with any disease, those who have had it before have higher resistance. We have people resisting the urge to turn on their teams and instead confiding in them, working together to get them cured. The bogey doesn’t divide people, but bring them closer together because of the inherent trust in looking at someone you love, seeing the bloodlust in their eyes, and saying “I’m not leaving, we’re going to get you through this.”

The whole season feels more amicable for it, people are willing to make alliances in the final episodes with people who have hurt them before because there’s some small, remaining foundation of trust there. While Last Life was built on lies, words have weight in Limited Life. Promises are kept here. Grudges are dealt with. Fistfights are held to put past hurt behind them. People willingly offer their lives to each other, even if not on the same team. People beg their allies to kill them, just so they can have a little while longer.

So when it comes down to the final three, there’s no bad blood, they were working together earlier that very episode. They want a good, fair goodbye to their enemy, because he’s still their friend. So they redistribute time until they’re equal, they burn together to level the playing field, and they agree to do a fair 1v1v1. No weapons, no armor, may the best man win.

But that’s not what happens. Martyn has come too far to leave it to chance. He has no reason to honor this agreement so he doesn’t. He even goes after Scott first, betraying his closest ally to let Impulse know this isn’t about him. It’s not about making Impulse lose, it’s about making Martyn win.

In the season built on trust and good faith and interdependence and promises, Martyn breaks all of these in the final minute of the game.

The winners are always those who go against the grain, and Martyn is no exception.

[akiranzee]

in mge, there's a species of ogre known as Bogey. they are drawn to sadness and usually they comfort the person experience it. their embrace is soft and warm, and its known to actually help the person that needs it. (look em up its rather neat.) with this in mind... i was thinking giyuu could use comfort from reader, who is one that senses a LOT from him.

💙 • ° ` — “DEAR OLD FRIEND”

-> PAIRINGS: Giyuu x gn!Merchant!Y/n -> SUMMARY: Two people. One who seeks comfort, and one who gives comfort. -> WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ -> CONTAINS: angsty giyuu, sprinkle of fluff at the end, platonic rs, u’re js friends, bestfriends trope!!, sabito mentioned, comfort, & giyuu is 21 while reader is 20. -> A/N: honestly, i was shocked when i searched up mge bogeys.. it asked me to choose filter on or filter off😭😭.

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The wisp of air that passed along with leaves, the light of the sun that filled in the empty dark alleys, and the breeze of cold seawater in this early morning.

It were all something Giyuu liked.

It were all something that atleast gave him some reason to still live, to still continue with this living torture, to still continue breathing amidst all the crisis and losses he had dealt with. Even now, he is still fighting against the very loss he hated most, he is still battling the guilt that flowed through him every, single, second.

Giyuu decided to jump down from the tree, and reveal himself to the pure nature around him. It had relieved him and freed him from all the stress, constantly and continuously strolling around the open park in his free time.

Although, he was here many times, more so, every day, he had seen an unfamiliar face today.

One that wore a smiley, happy-go-lucky expression, one that wore a long-sleeved haori with a white shirt inside, and long baggy pants. Needless to say, they were a foreign sight to him, but they looked as if like they were long close with the townspeople.

But Giyuu realized, that they weren’t just a random stranger, they were behind a stand, perhaps the one selling things that looked exquisite and eye-catchy enough that had caught the townspeople’s attention.

When the crowd slowly died out, Giyuu decided to approach you and see what were the things you were selling, only to see that your stand was freshly cleaned.

Awkwardness, he slowly retreated back, not wanting to catch your attention or bother you. But in all unfortunates, you had heard him, even the faintest sound he could ever produce.

“Ah! Mister! Are you here to buy my products?” Cheerly, you asked the man who looked at you like he’s seen a ghost.

“...” Slowly, he nodded, but you only chuckled, “okay! Make sure you’ll be here tomorrow once the sun rises, before I run out of stocks again!” You waved him goodbye then, as you shouldered your heavy bag on your back, and walked away.

Before Giyuu could even talk, you were already out of his sight. But he was wondering why, why did he feel a rush of excitement or a rush of impatience for tomorrow to come. It was just the same after all, wasn’t it? He’d have missions to accomplish, have demons to kill, and have another day to live on whilst carrying so many burdens on his shoulders.

He walked away too, feeling the cold breeze hit his face, as he slowly closed his eyes, wanting to feel relief and relaxed amongst them. But then again, he felt like something was missing. Even the things he liked, the refreshing wind, the illuminating sunlight, and the sea breeze are all in front and around him, he still felt as if he was not complete, nor enough yet.

~~~~~

June 14, XXXX.

Once again, the refreshing winds, the illuminating sunlight, and the sea breeze is present, but he still felt the same, feeling that something was missing.

He looked around, looking at his surroundings, as people do their own whatevers, a group of elderly gossiping in the background, merchants calling customers to their stalls, couples relaxing, families enjoying, and... children running around.

Perhaps it was a mere coincidence that he had remembered something, something that gave him quite the déjà vu. But he was sure the two children running around were like him and Sabito.

The relaxing and relieving feeling he once felt has now faded, soon replaced by a pang of hurt and grief.

Sabito was more than a friend to him, he was like a brother, or a guardian angel to Giyuu. Yet, knowing that Sabito had risked his life just to save him... is just utterly bitter for him. He now has to live with that guilt, bringing it along with him even in his deathbed.

Times like this, Giyuu had always asked if he was worth saving. The answer he’d always reply? No. He does not think he is worth saving, nor worth all the risk. He does not even know where to lead his life anymore, even. All he knows is that he must continue living on for the sake of the sacrifice of his one and only bestfriend.

The soft and gentle whisper of the winds, the good morning of the beautiful, shining sun rays, and the dazzling breeze of the seawater seemed to not comfort him anymore. He wants to let it all out, those tears, emotions, feelings, that he has been keeping hidden since, he wants it all gone.

The guilt was continuously welling up within him, the agony and grief as he remembered the brave sacrifice of his best friend again and again.

But, for whatever surprise that was, someone tapped on his shoulder, that just so happens to be you.

“Mister? Oh! It's you!” Enthusiasm laced your voice, as you greeted him joyfully with a smile of yours brighter than that of the sun.

“...” Giyuu only stared at you as he saw you bringing loads and loads of sacks, perhaps the things you’re selling today.

Giyuu stepped aside as he let you go to your designated spot, yet, for some reason, he had the urge to follow you.

“What were you thinking of, mister? — If you don’t mind me asking, ehe.” Sheepishly, you chuckled and smiled, as you placed down the sacks you dragged all the way here.

“...Thoughts.” He replied nonchalantly, but his inner mind has been deep in thoughts. Of course he wouldn’t tell you about Sabito.

“Haha, of course they are thoughts! But what kind of thoughts?” Tilting your head a little as you continued setting your stand for the day.

“...What are you selling?” Obviously, he changed the topic. But you paid it no mind, and answered his question, “oh! I sell these potions, ancient and historical scrolls, and these rope-like ornaments to bring good luck to you demon slayers!” You had quite the variety to show, especially when all these were really foreign to him.

“Hmm... good luck, you say?” But amongst all those, one particular thing caught his eye, which was the rope-like ornament, specifically color white and blue.

“How much is this?” He had already kept the rope within his pockets, “that would be ¥274.24!” A change of coins happened, the clinking of it was a nice sound to your ears.

He stood there awkwardly, as he didn’t know what to say now.

“Mister... did you know those kids over there?” you pointed at the children that were running around, that made Giyuu remember of Sabito. Shaking his head no, you simply nodded, “well, let me tell you. They were actually three best of friends. But the other one died due to the incurable disease, cancer. When I saw the both of them sitting on the sides the other day, I asked them, and they told me what happened. I felt sad and pity for them, especially to the deceased child. But did you know what the other kid said? He said it was okay, because his friend was now in heaven. But of course, he couldn’t keep his tears from falling out, and ended up wetting my haori with snot. It just... never fails to amaze me how a child’s mind could think of something so positive like that, even in the midst of darkness. Hehe..” You giggled sheepishly, as you just noticed how Giyuu attentively listened, and that his quiet-nonchalant-chill-cool guy facade slowly broke little by little, as you saw his emotions right through his eyes.

Giyuu departed almost immediately, not even bidding you goodbye. But you understood well enough, that Giyuu was like that of a child, too.

He too, was like the child, keeping a facade to keep the sadness from flowing out, but they will always fail to hide their longing.

Least to say, Giyuu thought well about it. He sat on the sides, and tied the rope on the scabbard of his sword. He thought too, if Sabito was happy and well off in heaven, or if that truly exists, or if heaven was just a mere child’s imagination.

He was still well off in the grieving stage, even after all these years, he could never accept the loss he had suffered. He wished then, right at that moment, that he was still a child and never grew up, so that he could still be with Sabito, and so that he could never feel this way again.

~~~~~

Days passed, until Giyuu showed up again. It took him three days to complete the mission Oyakata-sama gave him, which was the complete reason why he couldn’t show up. But now that he’s here, and you’re here, things are back to normal.

“Hello. I’d like to purchase this.” Giyuu presented a mini, thin, book in front of you, one of your bestselling and expensive ones.

“Ah...! Mr. Tomioka, welcome back. Yes, let me just..” as an exchange of coins happened, Giyuu never failed to look at you, and none other. His eyes were placed on you as you counted the coins slowly and properly, as his eyes landed on one particular thing. The rope-like ornament that he bought a few days back; swinging by your hips. He looked at his, too, and realized that the colors of the ornaments matched. You, too, had white and blue as your color of the rope-like ornament.

You traced where his eyes landed, and chuckled; “would you like to buy again?” It took Giyuu aback, but he eagerly shook his head no. “Are they your favorite color?” Suddenly, he asked out of pure curiosity; “yes! they complement each other so well — and blue is the most mesmerizing color I have ever seen! — just like your eyes.” gently, you smiled at him that made his heart melt. No one after Sabito had ever smiled at him like that. And that made him all the more happy.

~~~~~

Days, weeks, months, and almost a year had passed as your friendship grew.

And you never fail to see how his eyes would darken, how he’d grow silent, and how he’ll try to change the topic whenever he sees children having fun, or if you talk about them.

It had made you sad about his well-being, yet, he had rejected almost all of your comforting offers, because both you and him know that the longing will not fade ‘till thousands of years to come by.

“Y/n! Y/n!” A child-like voice called out, as you saw Tomoko, one of the children that you and Giyuu both befriended, and the same child that reminded him of his bond with Sabito.

It took you aback, really. You’ve never seen Tomoko that excited and happy ever since his friend’s passing. Immediately, his arms wrapped around your hips, almost making you stumble back, “look! Look! I found Aruno’s diary!” The excitement was obvious in Tomoko’s eyes as he eagerly flipped the pages of his deceased friend’s diary.

Hastily, he pulled your hand and forced you to sit down by the gathers, as Giyuu followed along. “Y/n! Can you read this to me, please? I can’t really understand his handwriting..” He flipped a few pages forth, and tapped on the page that contained quite a lot for a diary.

June 18, 10XX I met two friends, Tomoko and Naroi! They were really kind, and I had a great time with them! We played the whole afternoon, and went home at night! My mom called me home though, so I was a little sad. That night, I really couldn’t sleep. It was the first time I had friends after a long time! I was really excited for the next day that I couldn’t wait! I ended up sneaking out and writing this diary, as I count how many stars there are in the sky. I managed to count just 78 — but I immediately lost track when I felt something behind me! But it was just my friend Patrick — our neighbor’s cat! It was soo fun playing with Patrick, but when he scratched me, I got scared and didn’t go near him. But now that he’s here, maybe I should forgive him, right? I love you too Patrick! Well then, going back, Patrick is now laying on my lap, I lost count of the stars, but whatever! There will still be tomorrow night and next times to count the stars!

October 23, 10XX It’s been a long time since I wrote here, hehe. Well, honestly, I got an illness called cancer. I didn’t know what it was, but when mom explained it to me, I was so scared. She told me not to tell Tomoko and Naroi, but I feel soo bad for hiding it from them. I mean, friends should know and share everything, right? We promised no secrets! But mom said that it was for the better and I believe her!

November 1, 10XX Today, just a while ago, I saw mom crying. I didn’t know why, but she explained it to dad, but I can’t hear her. She was mumbling this and that, but I cried too, I didn’t want my mom sad.

November 10, 10XX I’m scared and I can’t stop crying. Mom said we need to go somewhere, but this place doesn’t look fun at all... I see people laying down in beds, with bandages and blood. It’s scary, but my mom said it’d be alright after a few days...

November 30, 10XX Mom lied... it wasn’t just a few days, I’ve been here for weeks and I’ve turned bald, now. What about my friends? What if Tomoko and Naroi laugh at me? But mom said true friends will accept me for who I am! My hair also was slowly falling off, so they decided to cut it.. I’m really scared.. I don’t look like how I used to be..

December 12, 10XX I met my friends again, but Tomoko and Naroi weren’t all that excited.. are they mad at me? For not showing up many months? They look at me so scarily, like they feel sad for me.. but I don’t want that.. I’m strong, aren’t I? Mom said so..

December 18, 10XX My eyes are heavy, like I just wanna sleep forever.. I can’t really breathe right, I feel like there’s a booger stuck in my nose, a huge one.. I think I’m growing weak, I just wanna rest forever, lay in bed even if this is not as comfy as the one at home.. I hate seeing my mom cry.. and I miss Tomoko and Naroi..

“...waah..” Tomoko’s eyes spilled his tears, as his sobs were getting louder and louder.

“...waaaaaaahh!! I-I hic- I didn‘t know Aruno- wah- had to go through all- hic- t-that...!!” Tomoko tried to wipe his tears, but only served useless as it only multiplied. After all, what could be more heartbreakening if not for a child whom only wished for a simple life?

“T-Tomoko...!” Tomoko ran away, perhaps trying to hide the tears uselessly, trying to save his tough facade. But, it was already broken from the moment those words were written in that diary. And same went to the man beside you, his tough facade too, slowly fading away.

“G-Giyuu.. a-are you crying?” You asked nervously, you never planned any of this to happen.

“I wonder... if Sabito thought the same.” He didn’t even try to hide his tears, he let it all flow out, as he knew; trying to hide his tears would never take away his pain and guilt. He only stared at the now dark sky, looking up at the moon that served as the light in the dark night.

“This Sabito... was he... like Aruno?” You knew you had this coming, but you didn’t expect Giyuu would break over a child’s diary, despite him keeping up the good work of hiding his feelings away.

“No. He killed himself for me. I should’ve... been the one in his place right now, if I wasn’t so cowardly.” This time, he looked down, as he relived that day, the day that he lost his one and only bestfriend.

“Wha-! D-Don’t say that, Giyuu-kun! I’m sure he did that for the better!”

“Yet he died for the worst.”

“Did he... sacrifice himself?”

“He wanted to protect all of us, and charged on straight to the demons. I wanted to fight by his side, but it was too late. And I could... only watch.” He chuckled at the last sentence, remembering his petty choices and past patheticness.

“I’m sure he did that with no regrets, Giyuu.. I’m sure that was what he wanted, to keep all of you safe and sound.”

“Yet it was in an exchange for his life!”

“Death is inevitable!”

“He was only thirteen!” You gasped. You never thought children would be fighting demons so early. So it was... what? Few? Many? Years ago and yet he still has kept it within him?

“But... he sacrificed himself for all of you, Giyuu.. you can’t keep blaming yourself, it was his choice..”

“He had no choice! He was the only one who could fight amongst all of us! Stronger than I am!”

“Exactly! And that’s why he protected the weak!”

“Yet even the weakest can do something! I could’ve been the one to charge on straight to the demon, but no — it was him instead!” His sobs were getting out of control, as he looked at you with eyes just like Tomoko’s.

“But you couldn’t fight! If you truly wanted to switch places, then you wouldn’t be here now, you wouldn’t be-”

“Then I wish I died instead of him!” Silence filled the air as your bicker had stopped. You scooched closer to him, and pat his back, slowly.

“He did that for you to live a better life, Giyuu.. even if you hate him with all your life for doing that, it wouldn’t change the fact that he wanted nothing more but for you to succeed.”

“You can’t make me think otherwise, Y/n.” This was a version of Giyuu that you hadn’t known until today. It was as if he was not the Giyuu you once knew, it’s as if he turned into one that is so resentful, and angry.

“...So what? Are you just gonna let his sacrifice go to waste, as if it was nothing, knowing that the main purpose of it all was because he wanted you to live on to this day!? Is it so wrong for you to atleast give credit to yourself? Correct me if I’m wrong — but I know for a fact that he wanted you to live on to this day — every single day, so that you could help those in need, protect those who’re weak, and continue on his last, and final wish!”

“...” Giyuu only said nothing, nor does he even have anything to retort back. You were right, but it doesn’t make his guilt fade. It didn’t help at all, that he was only a mere bystander on Sabito’s fight, not his bestfriend.

“Sabito... would really like for you to continue on living, despite the hardships and adversities you’ve gone through... after all, wasn’t he the sole inspiration you had all this time? To reach the highest, and kill all those demons.. but you don’t have to live your life repeating those things...! There are so many wonders and beauty of this world that you have yet to discover... as a merchant, I’ve travelled from different villages, cities, districts, until I’ve reached here...! Please, don’t let Sabito’s sacrifice go in vain. I’m sure he had no second thoughts, nor regrets — because he only wanted you to live your life and experience every single thing! The guilt may not wash away — but I’m sure, once you see my point, you wouldn’t have to live with that anymore because Sabito doesn’t even blame you. He did that, and he knew his choice — because he wanted you to reach this day, and tomorrow.” A string in his heart had been pulled, he felt like he was suffocated as your hands hovered over his. “So please... don’t give up... atleast for me...”

He really didn’t know what Sabito wanted back at that moment. But if Sabito really has any regrets, then why didn’t he look back in hesitation, right before he charged on to the demon?

“Giyuu-kun, tomorrow, let’s meet here again, and let’s go to a different place, so that by the day our time has come, we will leave no regrets.”

★ • ° ` — BONUS:

The days has passed, and Giyuu had left the Demon Slayer Corps. Truth be told, he really didn’t want to leave, as half of his life and memories had been imprinted there, but he wanted to find the meaning of his life, just as you told him.

“Giyuu-kun! Over there! I see a starfish!” You pointed across the shore and ran over to the starfish, and decide to poke it. A giggle left your mouth as Giyuu picked it up and put it on top of your head.

“Oh you think you‘re so funny, huh!?” Immediately, you splashed seawater at him, and his laughter echoed the whole beach.

It was the first time he had let out a hearty laugh, and definitely not the last, because you’re there, his new bestfriend.

a/n: im ok w JUST being his bsf guys, i swear

[lovelyjj]

Treasure

jj maybank x reader

requested by @thornyrose463

Being at your house was miserable. Your mom only seemed to care about her boyfriends and not you or your wellbeing. You hated being there because she was neglectful and an alcoholic. And it’s not like your dad was around, he left when you were 2. You only came to grab a few clothing items.

“Bye mom, have fun with your loser boyfriend, not that you care where I am,” you shouted as you walked out of your house carrying your clothes.

Arriving at John Bs you were happy to get away from your mom and be reunited with your friends who were more like family.

“Hey Y/N/N, we’re going out on the boat today to explore the reck.”

John B borrowed scuba gear from his boss Ward so that he can dive and explore the ship reck.

“Sounds good.”

You, Pope, Kie, JJ, and John B all got on the HMS pogue. Then you all drove into the marsh. You all were excited to find something in the wreck.

“This is empty. You took empty tanks?” Kiara said.

“I-“

“Okay, this one’s a quarter full. It’s enough for one of us,” Kiara stated.

“Love it when a plan comes together,” Pope chimed in.

“Does anybody know how to dive?” Kiara asked.

“Anybody?”

“It’s kinda a kook sport,” JJ commented.

“No I don’t,” you spoke.

“I read about it,” Pope argued.

“Great, Pope read about it, so someone’s gonna die.” Kiara spit out.

“Look, y-you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?” JJ questioned.

“Well if you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends.” Pope explained.

“Bends like, bend over and…” JJ joked.

“The bends kill you,” Pope deadpanned.

“Right.”

“I can- I can dive.” John B volunteered.

“Yeah you can dive. I’m cool with that.” JJ confirmed.

“Since when can you dive?” Kiara asked.

“I’ll do it. It’s fine.”

“John B,” you were concerned.

“Y/N, it’s fine don’t worry i’m good.”

“Be careful,” you warned.

John B nodded and put on the gear to dive. He jumped into the water and was ready to swim down to the wreck. You were worried for your friend who was practically your brother.

While John B was down there you all above water herd a siren.

“Shit. JJ.” Pope yelled.

“Guys, that’s the police.” JJ pointed out.

“Oh my god,” you huffed.

“Oh, you got to be kidding me.”

“Yep, that’s the police.”

“Just act frickin’ normal,” Kiara instructed.

The police officers boat came up to the HMS pogue.

“Evening officers,” Pope greeted.

“Evening.”

“How you kids doing? You know the marsh is closed?” Shoupe said.

“No.”

“No. Wow.”

“I didn’t know that.” JJ lied.

“Why— why is it closed?” Pope asked.

“Well, we’re conducting a search out here. Boat went down.”

“Oh.”

“Seen anything?”

“No.”

“No boats. No.”

“Where’s your friend you always hang with? He here?” The police man asked.

“He’s working,” you answered.

“I’m gonna check your little boat out.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, hop aboard.”

“You wanna check— uh, check her out.” Pope invited.

“Thank you.”

Shoupe checked out your boat and made sure you had life jackets. He looked out into the open water for what felt like forever. Finally he said, “all right.”

“All right.”

“Beautiful day isn’t it.”

“Sure is.” JJ replied.

“Let us know if you see anything on your way out.”

“Will do,” you responded.

“We will be gone soon sir.”

“Yes you will.”

All four of you knew that John B had to of ran out of air by now. So as soon as the police were gone you leaned over the boat and looked out into the water searching for John B.

“There he is!”

“Oh god! Jesus Christ!”

John B emerged from the water and you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding.

“How’d it go down there? Did you find anything?” JJ asked.

“Did i find anything?”

John B climbed the later and hoisted the duffel bag he found onto the boat.

“Yeah, there we go! That’s my boy!”

“You okay?” You asked.

“Yeah, I ran out of air.”

“You scared the shit out of me.” You chuckled.

“Hey, guys? Guys, bogey, two o’clock.” Kiara warned.

“What?”

“Do you recognize that boat?”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“What are they doing back here the marsh is closed.” Kiara pointed out.

“I don’t know but let’s not stick around to find out,” JJ told everyone.

A boat with two men on it started coming your way. They started following you. Before you knew it they started shooting at you.

“Y/N get down!” JJ yelled.

JJ came up behind you and covered you with his body. Everyone crouched down and John B drove the boat as fast as he could from the floor of the boat.

“Oh my god we’re going to die,” Pope yelled covering his head.

Kiara got up and threw a fishing net into the water behind the HMS pogue. The net stopped the guys that were shooting at you because it got tangled in the gears. You all got away without being shot.

“Oh my god we’re alive,” you exclaimed.

“Pogue life man!” JJ yelled.

“That was insane,” Kiara added.

John B drove the boat back to the chateau. You all got out and stood on the dock. John B put the duffel bag on the floor and started opening it.

“What do you think it is?” Kiara asked.

“It’s got to be money or something right,” John B replied.

“Can we just open the bag already?” Pope said impatiently.

“Wow, Pope, that’s a rare outburst of emotion,” John B said.

“Okay. You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Just open the bag, we almost died over this,” Pope ordered.

John B pulls out a metal tube and unscrews it. Then he dumps it out into his hand. It’s a gold compass.

“Oh, wow. Yup. That’s about right. Good job, everybody. We found a compass.” Pope said sarcastically.

John B was gaping at the compass. “Dude, what? It’s not worth anything,” JJ commented.

“This was my father’s,” John B whispered.

“No way,” you said surprised.

Nine months ago John Bs dad, Big John went missing. Some believe he got lost at sea. John B was in denial. He just knew his dad was out there somewhere, or so he desperately wanted to believe.

The next day John B remembered his dads office and went to go unlock it. You and the other pogues followed him confused.

John B grabbed a poster board and put it on top of a bin. “Here, look. This is the original owner, right here.” He pointed to a picture of an older man.

John B explained how the compass was passed down to many generations but they all ended up dying soon after they received the compass.

“Look, my dad used to talk about this compartment in here. Soldiers used to hide secret notes.”

“What’s that?” you asked.

“That wasn’t there before. This is my dad’s handwriting.”

“How can you know that?” Pope voiced his opinion.

“Because he does these weird Rs with the— see it?”

“Can I see it?” JJ asked.

“Red— Rout—“ JJ tried to sound it out.

“It says Redfield.” Kiara spoke.

“Right.”

“Okay well what’s Redfield?” You thought out loud.

“Beside the most common name in the county.” Pope deadpanned.

“Maybe it’s a clue. Maybe it’s a clue to where he’s hiding,” John B thought.

The same guys that chased you through the marsh showed up at the château. They took John Bs dads research.

After having a run in with the police twice John B was fed up. He took the family tree poster along with his other crap and set it on fire. After a moment he changed his mind and fished it out with a metal rod. Then he saw the name Olivia and he got an idea.

John B rounded up the gang and took you to the graveyard.

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song and can’t remember who sings it?” John B started.

“Yeah,” Kiara replied.

“So, Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place, right? But it’s not a place. It’s a person.”

“Voi-effing-là.” JJ hummed.

“See, my great-great-grandmother Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.”

The guys all tried to open the door but it wouldn’t budge.

“I can get through,” you stated.

“Y/N, no don’t do it,” JJ voiced his concern.

JJ was very protective of you. You and JJ have been dating for a long while now. JJ wouldn’t know what to do without you. He loved you like hell. He’d be lost without you. So if he lost you he would break. That’s why he did want you to do anything dangerous.

“Look this is about your dad, you deserve to know the truth. I’ll do it.” You expressed.

“Y/N.”

“JJ, i’ll be careful i promise.”

“Fine. I’m gonna boost you.”

“Remind me what we’re looking for,” You asked.

“You’ll know when you see it,” John B told you.

You stepped in JJ’s hands and he boosted you up and through the hole. You looked around and then you saw something. You picked up what looked like an envelope that said “For Bird.” You handed it to John B.

When you all got back to the château, John B opened the big envelope. Inside there was a map to the Royal Merchant, along with a tape recorder. John B played it.

“If somethin’ happens to me, finish what I started.” Big Johns voice rang through your ears.

John B was sobbing at the end of the recording so you did your best to comfort him. You squeezed him in a hug and told him you were sorry.

After looking up the coordinates on the map JJ had the idea of stealing a drone that can drop 1,000 feet from the salvage yard. You and the other pogues were successful in stealing the drone.

Once it was the right weather you all went out on Popes dads boat. You dropped the drone into the water as Kiara marked the feet as it was going down. When the drone reached the merchant reck there was no gold. Everyone was devastated.

——————

John B was running from DCS when he fell off his bike and tripped over a chain. Sarah Cameron found him and saw his scrap on his stomach. Sarah took him to her house at tannyhill.

As she’s is cleaning his wound, he asks, “Who, uh… who’s the dude on the wall?”

“Oh, it’s Denmark Tanny, founder of Tannyhill.” Sarah says.

“Founder?”

“Mm-hm.”

“So, how did a slave found a cotton plantation?”

“He was a free man. He’s kind of a mystery. He showed up out of nowhere and paid for all of the land around here in gold.” Sarah explained.

“In gold?”

“Mm-hm.”

John B stood up. “Hey, wh— i’m not finished, Sancho.” Sarah scolded.

“Denmark Tanny. I— I recognize that name. He—he was on the Royal Merchant. But there was no survivors. Hey what else do you know about this guy?”

“Uh when we first moved in, we found a diary, an almanac, a bunch of papers. Ward donated all of it to the state archives at Chapel Hill.”

“Can I go see that?”

“See what?” Sarah questioned.

“The— the archives. I need— I need to see them.”

“I mean, I can get you in if you want. He’s got a trustee pass.” Sarah told John B.

“Yeah yeah yeah. I need that.”

“To Chapel Hill?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“Why now?”

“I… I can’t tell you that.” John B hid the truth.

“More fugitive stuff?”

“Uh… fugitive adjacent, sort of. It’s, um… it’s a matter of national security.”

“I’ve just waited my entire life for someone to say that to me,” Sarah smiled.

“Look— God. I know this sounds crazy, but I really need to borrow that pass. The less you know, the better. Okay? You’ve just— you’ve gotta trust me.”

“No. I don’t trust anyone. Especially not with a trustee pass.”

“I need to go now.”

“Okay, then I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“Yes. One last mission, and then I’m out of this dirty, dirty game. Come on. Let’s go.”

Sarah and John B arrived at the archives after they changed first. They ended up finding a letter written in Gullah. Denmark Tannys last correspondence. They couldn’t translate it.

John B remembered his history lesson and figured his teacher could translate it.

“Harvest the wheat near the water in parcel nine forthwith.”

The was a little symbol at the bottom of the letter and John B realized that wheat meant gold.

John B got a map from Sarah that somewhat showed where parcel nine was. You were looking for a stone wall. Parcel nine ended up to be the old Crain house.

“I heard that Mrs. Crain buried her husband’s head on the property.” JJ told everyone.

“JJ!” you scolded.

“Look, you guys know whose house this is, right?” Kiara asked.

“Oh, yeah. No, I do.” JJ responded.

“Honestly, I don’t really believe the stories of this place.” John B spoke.

“Which stories did you hear?” JJ asked Kiara.

“The one where she killed her husband with an axe, and that she’s been holed up ever since. On certain nights, when the moon is full… you can see her in the window.”

“No, it’s not funny, ‘cause it’s all true.” JJ said seriously.

“I swear to God, guys, this is all real. I knew Hollis.”

“Wait, you knew Hollis Crain?” Pope questioned.

“Yeah, dude.”

“Dude, how do you know Hollis Crain?”

“I remember you told me this, she was your babysitter” you spoke to JJ.

“Yeah she was,” JJ confirmed.

“She told me all about it. Told me the truth… about her mother and what happened in this house.” JJ continued.

“So as a kid, she heard all the stories that her mother killed her father, and… she was a murderer and all. Hollis didn’t believe it. Until that night.”

“What night?” John B asked.

“It all came back to her. When Hollis was six years old, she heard her parents arguing downstairs. So she goes downstairs to see her mom washing her hands in a sink… full of blood. Her mother just says that she cut her finger.”

“The next morning, she says her father and her split up. But then, Hollis noticed something. Her mother going into the parlor constantly, in and out and in and out with plastic bags. Weeks pass, and Hollis decides to use the outhouse.”

“And as she’s using it, she looks down, and there, in the outhouse, is her father’s head, looking straight back at her.”

“God, you are so full of shit” John B insulted

“Dude, I swear to god, man.”

“Did she call the police?” Pope asked.

“She didn’t have time.

John B started walking towards the house.

“Wait! Dude!” JJ yelled.

“What?”

“You sure you wanna do this? She’s an axe murderer. You got a cast on.” JJ warned.

“I don’t give a shit if she’s an axe murderer, okay?”

“John B,” you cried.

“What Y/N?”

“I got nothin’ to lose, right? You comin’ or what?”

“Come on,” Kie said.

“So here’s the plan. We need to look for the wheat near the water like it said in Denmark’s letter.” John B told the group.

“Okay, like, what kind of water? Like, pond water?” Pope asked.

“Bong water?” JJ laughed.

“No. It— it just said look for water, okay?” John B said.

“That’s the shittiest secret message ever.” Kiara spoke.

“Come on guys we can do this,” you encouraged.

“You wanna complain a little more, Kie? Nobody said it was gonna be easy.”

John B went through a wooden small door and called everyone to come look with him. It was the basement. There was a bunch of mosquitoes and Pope knew there must be water near. You all found a well with water under the floor boards.

A couple days later you all went back at night time. This time with Sarah.

“Let’s go get rich, guys.” JJ insisted.

“Yeah, hell yeah.” Kiara replied.

“Let’s go,” you said excitedly.

“Wait wait wait.”

“I wanna say thank you, guys. Seriously. It means a lot to me that you’re here tonight.” John B expressed.

“Always,” Kiara replied.

“Of course, man.” Pope responded.

“I will always be there for you John B,” you shared.

“All right, we done with this circle jerk? Can we go do this?” JJ asked.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get that wheat in the water,” Pope muttered.

“Weed? I’m up for weed.” JJ got excited.

“Wheat. I said wheat.”

The six of you hopped the fence. You started walking towards the house and then the overhead lights turned on.

“Shit shit.”

“Flashlights.”

“Shhhh.”

“Okay, so she has motion sensor lights,” Pope observed.

“We could, uh… move really slowly, maybe?” JJ thought out loud.

“That’s not a good idea JJ,” you confessed.

“That’s not how it works,” Pope responded.

“Oh, shit. let’s throw a rock at it,” John B shared.

“What?”

“That’s a really good idea. Let the axe murderer know that we’re here.” Kiara said sarcastically.

“Throw a rock at it?” Pope repeated.

“You have a better idea?”

“Literally anything but that.” Kiara stated.

“What about the breaker? In the circuit box on the porch. We used to play hide-and-seek here as kids. And if we were brave enough, we’d go all the way up to the porch. I’ve seen it,” Sarah shared.

“No, no. You’re not going in the house alone,” John B said concerned.

“Watch me.”

“I’ll go with her,” you jumped in.

“Okay, come on.”

“Crain chops people into pieces,” JJ added.

“JJ!” you yelled.

“If you believe that, but she’s like what, 85?” Sarah whispered.

“Yeah, something like that.” JJ responded.

“She’s probably barely still kicking.”

“I’ll go with you too,” Kiara spoke.

“Yeah.”

“We will wait for your signal.” Pope began.

“Okay, cool.”

“Hey! Be safe.” John B told Sarah.

“Y/N, be careful!” JJ told you.

“We will.”

The three of you walked up to the porch.

“She must have a generator plugged into the main power supply,” you hissed in a whisper.

You got closer to the door.

“Shhhh.”

You found the box and Kiara opened it.

“Where are the breakers?” Sarah asked.

“What is this?” Kie asked.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Shit.”

“It goes inside.”

Carefully the three of you went inside. There you found the breaker box and flipped the switches which turned off the motion censor lights.

“They did it. Go time.” John B whispered.

“So, let’s do it.” Pope responded.

The boys went to the basement and started lowering John B down the well. JJ and Pope accidentally dropped John B while trying to situate the rope.

John B yelled, “I told you not to drop me,” which woke up the crazy axe murderer.

John B was scrambling to get out because he saw part of a skull when he stumbled on a secret tunnel. The tunnel was full of gold bars. John B was shocked.

You, Kie, and Sarah came down to the basement and explained that Mrs. Crain is trying to kill you. Everyone needed to pull up John B.

Mrs. Crain chased everyone out with a shot gun. John B got some gold bars and climbed out of the well. Everyone got to the car really fast. John B showed everyone the gold and everyone got really excited and started screaming “full look!”

——————-

JJ was your rock. He was your everything. After a few months of dating you both lost your virginity to each other. He was your first and you were his. The love you shared for each other was bone deep.

What nobody knew was that Ward killed the two bad guys who were also looking for the Royal Merchant. Ward has been hunting for the Royal Merchant for years. He was the one who betrayed and killed Big John Routledge.

Ward saw John B and Sarah talking outside his window. He opened the window to hear what they were saying.

“Four hundred million dollars. It’s all there,” John B exclaimed.

“Hey, that’s crazy,” Sarah replied.

“We did it. Now we just have to get it out of there.”

“Right. So how are we going to do that?”

Ward finally realized where the gold is and he takes it. He takes all of it and puts it on his private plane going to the Bahamas.

John B drives his van and parks it in front of the plane, so Ward had no choice but to stop the plane. John B reunites with Sarah and then Sheriff Peterkin pulls up.

“Oh, thank God you’re here. Susan, I told you he lost his goddamn mind,” Ward says.

“Put your hands on your head,” Sheriff Peterkin speaks.

“I’d do what she said kid,” Ward instructs.

“She’s talkin’ to you, Ward,” John B fires back.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Big John Routledge.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Put your hands on your head.”

“Are you kidding me, Sue?”

“Put your hands on your head!”

Ward finally listens and puts his hands on his head.

“Turn around.”

“Drop to your knees!”

“I don’t like being used. I waited a long time for this.”

Ward starts to resist so she holds out her gun. Next thing you know Rafe shot the sheriff.

“Rafe. What did you do?” Ward asks.

“I saved you, Dad. I saved you,” Rafe responds.

Ward makes Rafe take Sarah home. Then he waits for the sheriff to bleed out. Since the only other people at the air strip was John B, Sarah, Rafe and Ward, Ward says that John B was the one who killed her when Shoupe eventually gets there.

Everyone on the island is looking for John B because there is a reward. With your help you and JJ manage to get his dads boat the phantom for John B to use to leave the OBX. So Sarah and John B take off and you and the other pogues say your goodbyes.

John B and Sarah head into the storm. Ward calls them on a radio.

“John B. John B, I know you are there, son. I know you can hear me, and if you love my daughter like I think you love my daughter, then you will turn that boat around and come back. You are going into a storm that you cannot survive. John B, please, I will make it right. I promise you. Come back. John B, I am begging you. Think of her and turn around.” Wards voice boomed through the speaker.

“Ward Cameron, do you hear me?” John B yelled.

“Yes. Yes, son, I’m right here. I’m right here. Please bring her back, okay? We’ll work it out when you get home.”

“You killed my father, and you framed me for a murder I didn’t commit. You took everything from me! You took everything from me! But i’m still here. And I swear to God, Ward, I will come back one day and take what’s mine.”

“So, you listen to me, all right? I’m comin’ for you. I’m coming for you.”

John B and Sarah wipe out in the storm. They wake up and see a boat passing by. John B uses the gold to flag it down. The captain of the ship says they’re going to Nassau.

You and your friends are told the police lost John B and Sarah in the storm. So you believe they are dead. You’ve never felt this kind of pain before. You felt like you couldn’t go on. But at least you had JJ and your friends.

[blueraineshadows]

Stay ❤️

Garreth Weasley x F!MC ❤️🌶 🔞 NSFW

Happy Weasley Wednesday 🦁❤️

The rain pattered consistently from a leaden sky that was darkening into night. MC shivered and held her sodden cloak even closer around her shoulders. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, coating it in blood mixed with rain water. The cut on her eyebrow was still dribbling, blending with the rain to give the illusion of bloody tear streaks on her cheek.

Coming across the troll had been an accident. Her refusal to back down from a fight was entirely her own fault. Still, she was alive, and the troll was not. It was a win.

MC sighed. Maybe she was getting too old for this shit. Mid-twenties and still thinking she was a scampering teen. She ached and was hungry, cold and alone. The last one was the kicker. She was always alone. Again, something she only had herself to blame for. She had the unfortunate habit of pushing away people who cared for her.

Physical wounds healed. Emotional ones were terrifying, and they were harder to soothe.

Her boots splashed through puddles as she scurried along in the rain, her destination one that was a surprise given the later hour. Liar. Merlin, she couldn't even admit the truth to herself.

She opened the little wooden gate to the stone cottage and slowed as she reached the wooden porch. The green front door loomed before her, picture perfect against the backdrop of stone walls and lead paned windows, warm inviting light glowing from within.

Of course she was here. Isn't this where she always ended up when the lonely part of her ached so fiercely that her feet just brought her right to this door, and the man who lived behind it.

She knocked. Rain dripped from the hood of her cloak and the end of her nose. She brushed sopping tendrils of hair back from her face, although any attempt to look pretty was useless against the blood and rain.

The door swung open and there he was, Garreth Weasley, dressed in dark trousers and a maroon woollen jumper, his hair a chaotic tumble of red curls about his handsome face. Some of the tension was already slipping from her taut frame at the warmth and safety he exuded. She ached for it.

He peered out in to the gloom at her, his eyes widening in alarm as he took in her drenched, beat up state. "Merlin, MC," he said. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, fingers gently gripping her soaked cloak. "You're soaked! Get in here...come in and get warm."

She smiled gratefully and stepped across the threshold, his scent wafting tantalisingly under her nose as she passed him. His hands were already helping to remove the cloak, rain water dripping from her to soak his neatly swept floor.

"Your rug," she protested, glancing down. A violent shiver racked her and she folded her arms tightly about herself.

"No matter," he said, eyeing her. "Let's get your wet things off. Come on, I will find you something dry to put on. And then you can fill me in on why you're out in the rain adorned with cuts and bruises."

Relief washed over her. He didn't push for answers, just fussed over her, bringing her a towel and soft dressing robe. Tea was brewing in the pot and he had her sit near the fire, rubbing her frozen hands between his large warm ones.

She watched him through her lashes and lingering glances as he took care of her, admiring the line of his jaw, harder and even more handsome than their school days. There was some scruff growth there as though he hadn't shaved for a couple of days. She quite liked it and wondered how it would feel under her fingers.

Green eyes lifted to meet hers, and she tried to make it look like she wasn't staring, noting the way the corner of his mouth lifted into an amused smirk. "See something you like?" He winked. "Or, do I have something on my face? Oh gods, I havent got a troll sized bogey hanging off my nose have I?"

She huffed a small laugh, her gaze returning to his. His smile was warm, teasing, and her tummy did a somersault. Her hand moved without a second thought and scratched curious finger tips against his jaw along the scruff. "This is new," she said. "Are you growing a beard?"

Oh gods, the scratch of hair under her fingers sent spirals of flame up her arm. She felt her cheeks warming and withdrew her hand, squeezing it into a little fist in her lap. Her eyes however, they were trapped in a stare with his, and she found it difficult to swallow at the way he was looking at her. It was a stretched out few seconds as her heart flexed under the idea that he shared this shockingly fierce fire she felt.

Every time she was near him, this fire seemed to grow and consume her. It drew her back here again and again, any excuse to be in his company, and each time she would get overwhelmed by this need for him.

Inevitably, her fear would talk her out of trying to claim any of it, to reach out and risk the burn, and then she would leave. It was always a wrench to be parted from him, and yet she always left.

She kept coming back, though. Deep inside she feared the day that she would come and there would be another witch here, someone who had been brave enough to embrace his warmth for her own. When that day came, she feared she might shrivel to nothing, cold and empty.

She lowered her gaze from his and looked to the flickering dance of fire in his grate instead. Coward.

"Let me get something for that cut on your eyebrow," he said.

She let him touch her face as he cleaned up her wound, his fingers gentle, her gaze drawn to him despite turning away from him just now. Up close like this, she could almost count the smattering of freckles over his nose, she watched the way his throat moved as he swallowed or spoke. And, helplessly, she stared at his mouth, wondering if those lips were as soft as they looked.

"I wish you wouldn't look at me like that," he murmured.

Her eyes flew to his, surprised. "What...look at you like what?"

He gave her a look suggesting she knew perfectly well what sort of way she had been staring, and heat flooded her cheeks. She squirmed a little in her chair.

"It's very distracting," he said. "Now, keep still. I'm almost done patching you up."

She felt the need to change the subject, lighten the mood. "You should see the other guy," she smirked. "Not much left to patch up."

His look was one of worry rather than humour. "I can well imagine," he said. His hand stilled before moving lower to her cheek. His thumb grazed along her cheekbone, the barest touch, and her pulse flickered and sped up. His gaze was intent, and she could hardly breathe.

"It scares me you know, the way you get into these scrapes. I'm worried that one day, you won't come knocking on my door anymore, and I will never see you again. Every time I patch you up, I'm scared it will be the last."

Well, fuck! So much for trying to lighten the mood. She stared at him, her feelings a blistering whirlwind in her chest. Her hand gently touched the back of his, fingers moving to grasp his wrist.

Kiss him you idiot! He is literally right there, and if that wasn't a confession of caring about you, then what else was it?

But what then? They kiss? He carries her into the bedroom? Gods, the very thought of it makes her thighs clench something fierce. She is so starved for it that she leans forward, just a fraction. She can almost taste the sweetness of that first kiss...

But then her stupid, stupid brain starts flinging doubts at her. What if its a mistake? What if it ruins this special friendship they have? Losing that would cripple her, its the brightest thing in her life, the loss would be intolerable to bear.

And, he had said himself. He worries for her, doesn't like how she jumps into danger without a second thought. But, that's who she is. Give her a fight to face down any day of the week, and she is right there, wand in hand, ready to kick some ass.

But putting her soft, stupid heart out there with the potential for it to shatter. Nope. Up slam the walls.

"Don't worry about me, Garreth," she said, attempting a lighthearted smile. She moved his hand away from her face, stroking the back of it to ease the rejection of his touch. "I'm tougher than I look. And, I am getting better at trying to avoid trouble. It just seems to find me sometimes, that's all. I'll be okay."

His smile was not very successful at hiding the disappointment clouding his eyes. She felt it like a club to the chest. Why was she so good at shoving people away?

He still made her some food though, and the conversation turned to lighter chatter as they ate. Her hair was drying out, his dressing robe cosy and warm against her bare flesh. Colour returned to her cheeks and she stifled a yawn.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your evening," she said. "Maybe I should get out from under your feet."

He looked at her. "Stay," he said. He nodded towards the stairs. "You can take the bed. Stay and get a decent night's sleep somewhere safe. I can take the settee for the night."

"You've already done so much..." She began to protest.

He held his hands up. "And you can let me do more," he said, firmly. "You look tired, and you're thinner than the last time I saw you. Let me take care of you, please. At least for tonight. Sleep, rest and you can be on your way after a proper Weasley breakfast in the morning. Deal?"

His gaze was firm. She opened her mouth to protest again and he pointed a finger at her. "Don't make me use my wand, MC," he warned. Mischief glittered in those green eyes. "Don't think I won't. I'm not above making you stay here. Who knows? Maybe I've already slipped a few drops of sleeping draught in your tea."

She eyed her mug suspiciously and he chuckled. "I haven't, but don't tempt me."

A smile tugged at her lips. Playful Garreth was much easier than intense Garreth. "Next you'll have me tied to the bed post with no escape."

Immediately she flushed. The image of it a lot more sinful in her head than she intended the joke to sound. She watched his own cheeks redden, his eyes widened, but he recovered quickly.

"You need only ask," he said. His cheeky wink nearly tipped her over an edge she had been deliberately avoiding.

He got up, collecting their plates to take to the sink. "I'll get you something to sleep in once I've cleared up," he said.

"Let me help," she said. Her voice sounded strained and she needed a distraction from the throbbing need that was starting to consume her.

Part of her fancied testing him. If she tried to make a run for it, would he drag her back and tie her up, or would she really have to ask? Fucking hell, would she ask? Did she want that?

They washed the dishes and he went upstairs, her trailing behind him. He opened a chest and rummaged around, digging out a Gryffindor Quidditch shirt with a cheeky grin. "Fancy sleeping in this?"

She smiled and took the soft cotton shirt from him. "I remember you wearing this," she said. She pressed it to her cheek without thinking. "Wow, this takes me back."

"Makes you wish you could go back, doesn't it?" He said, wistfully. He tugged gently on a lock of her now dry hair. "At least I knew where you were every night back then."

Her breath caught in her throat. Did that mean he thought about her at night back then? Her heart sped up and she clutched the shirt in her hands. An overwhelming urge to feel him swept over her and she pulled him close for a hug.

"I don't deserve you Garreth Weasley," she said. "You've been an amazing friend to me. I wish I could say the same about myself, but I'm afraid I'm rather rubbish at it, aren't I? You're too good for me."

His arms held her about the waist and it felt safe. Warm. It felt like she belonged there if she was being brutally honest. Her head nestled against his chest and she sighed. "I will try to be better," she promised. "I owe you for everything you've ever done for me."

"You owe me nothing," he said into her hair. "I do it because I want to."

Her heart thudded against her ribs, thudded against him. If only she was brave enough to give it to him.

She slipped from his embrace, her eyes skipping shyly from his. "Thank you."

He nodded, looking down. "If you need anything else, just give me a shout. I'll just be downstairs," he said. He moved for the staircase, paused and looked back. "Goodnight, MC."

"Goodnight," she whispered.

....*....

Sleep was a distant dream far out of reach. MC lay under the blankets in Garreth's bed listening to the rain tapping against the glass of the window. Overwhelmed by the scent of him on the sheets, wrapped in his blankets, wearing his Quidditch top, and the man himself at the bottom of the staircase - it was slowly driving her towards the edge of her restraint.

Her body was coiled like a spring, desire was a wicked temptress tugging in all the right places, and she rolled over for about the millionth time. She eyed the top of the stairs. It was dimly lit below by the last dying embers of his fire. She wondered if Garreth was asleep, and tried to picture his tall frame sprawled along his settee. There was no way that was comfortable, and she felt bad for kicking him out of his own bed.

Yeah, thats the reason she was considering getting up for, and telling him to come up here.

MC sat up, pushing her hair back from her face and sighed. No, she couldn't. He might reject her. She lay back down. She smoothed a hand across a pillow. His pillow. She buried her face into it. Hugged it to herself.

Oh, fuck!

Blankets thrown back, her bare feet hit the floorboards and she padded quietly to the stairs. Wearing nothing but his Quiddtich shirt, she descended the steps into the room below.

He was indeed sprawled along the sofa, and it definitely didn't look comfortable. She paused at the bottom of the steps, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt that barely grazed the tops of her thighs. It was utterly scandalous and very arousing.

He twisted his head up, eyes blinking sleepily. "MC...everything okay? Can I get you anything?"

Her lips twitched upwards. He was always taking care of her. She moved away from the stairs and into his line of vision. He sat up, pushing his hair back from his face. In the dim glow of the dying fire, his eyes glittered. She could see the way his gaze travelled slowly down over her as he swung his legs around to sit up properly. He slowed to a stop, his lips parting a little at the sight of her bare legs.

"Um...you erm..." He fluffed his hair again and blew air through his lips. "Blimey, MC. That's quite a sight."

She tilted her head, fingers brushing nervously against her thigh. "Good sight or not so good?" She teased.

"Good, definitely good," he said, nodding. He was staring, his hands fidgeting.

MC stepped closer towards him and he visibly swallowed. He looked nervous and it was quite arousing. It made her feel a bit bolder. She took hold of one of his hands and put it on the outside of her thigh. "Gods," he whispered.

She was breathing a little faster, desire pooling thick and fast at the feel of his hand there. His touch was feather light, gentle, as he swept the pad of his thumb against her leg. She nudged his hand, sliding it a little higher until it was right at the hem of the shirt. Having his hand so close to where she ached for him was excruciating.

He watched her do it, a shaky sigh leaving his mouth and then he looked up at her. She met his gaze and smiled, wanting him to know that she was okay with this. It was what she wanted. He slid his hand up higher, his warm palm gliding up to her hip, their gazes locked on each other until he gasped. "What the...bloody hell, MC! You're...you're naked under there!"

She chuckled and flashed the hem of the shirt upwards quickly. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Oh, fuck," he hissed.

Pressing him back into the sofa, she climbed onto his lap, knees straddling his hips. He immediately took her hips into his grasp, his breaths ragged as she settled. She braced her hands on his shoulders and sought his lips, hungry to taste him.

He uttered a low moan at her kiss, his grip on her hips tightening. Her name fell from his lips in a cherished whisper as she pressed soft kisses across them. Soft, perfectly soft, and very, very kissable lips.

"Do you want me?" She asked, softly.

He groaned. "Yes, yes, I do," he said. He pulled her against his lap, urging her to feel just how much. She rolled her hips, grinding against him and his head tilted back, his eyes squeezing shut. "Oh, gods. Yes, I want you."

Deep kisses, the kind that made your toes curl, tongues sliding and swirling, drawing moans and gasping breaths from each other. MC savoured the feel of his hair between her fingers, tugging it so that his head was tilted back for the perfect kissing angle.

His hands slid up to her waist, taking the shirt with him. He broke the kiss to look down, biting his lower lip. "You look so fucking sexy in this shirt," he groaned. He gripped the fabric tightly. "I'm almost tempted to make you keep it on."

She grinned. "I could do that."

"Hmm, well then I won't be able to get a good look at these," he said. He slid his hands up under the shirt to cup her breasts, palming them eagerly, his thumb and forefinger pinching playfully at her nipples. He groaned and shoved the front of the shirt up. "Gods, gimme a bite."

Delighted laughter fell from her lips as he took a peak into his mouth, sucking firmly, his tongue teasing before he bit gently into the tender flesh. Her hand gripped at his hair, her breath hissing through her teeth. He moaned appreciatively, his hands moulding both breasts again. "Delicious," he said, licking his lips.

Desperate to feel more of his skin, MC tugged impatiently at his shirt, so busy concentrating on his buttons that when he slid his fingers playfully through her slick folds she cried out, her hips flexing instinctively.

He chuckled. "Liked that did you? Do you like this?" He swirled his fingers up and around, spreading her slick over her clit. She forgot about his buttons for a moment, her forehead leaning against his as his fingers worked up a tight little rhythm. She moaned, rocking against his precise touch. "Tell me," he whispered. "Tell me it feels good."

"Y...yes," she whispered. She was lost in the sensation of his fingers, and when he slid one inside, shifting his hand to rub and fuck, she gripped at his chest. "Fuck, yes!"

"Yes, that's it, moan for me. I want to hear you," he said. The low, demanding tone of his voice was sending white hot flares of heat along the edge of her control. He added a second finger, curling them so perfectly that she was gritting her teeth. She rutted shamelessly against his hand, losing herself in his touch.

"Garreth," she gasped. Fisting her hands in his half undone shirt she moaned desperately, shuddering and grinding until she was clenching tightly around his fingers, all the pent up ache releasing in a wave of fire.

He groaned and looked at his hand, his fingers. "Fucking hell, that was hot," he murmured. He then put his fingers in his mouth and sucked. Her mouth fell open in shock.

Something extremely feral exploded inside her. Her hands were greedy and grabby as she yanked at his shirt. He yelped in surprise as buttons pinged loose and clattered onto the floor.

"Whoa..." He cried. She was tugging his trousers open and shoving them off his hips.

"Help me out here, Garreth," she panted. "I wanna fuck you senseless."

The sound he made was like a delighted, shocked laugh, and then he was pushing his trousers and underwear down, she knelt up to get out of his way. And then he was burying his face into her stomach, his head disappearing under the shirt to run his tongue along her heated skin.

She felt the silky hardness of his arousal against her thigh and reached for it, he groaned, looking down to watch as she fisted her hand and worked on him. "Oh, fuck yes," he groaned.

She lined him up, pressing kisses to his face, and sighing in relief as she slid down onto him. She lifted and rolled her hips a little, adjusting to the deeply satisfying size of him. "Garreth, that feels...oh gods...you feel amazing," she said.

She had him as deep as she could get him, her legs widening further, greedy for it all. He held her tightly against him, his head leaning against her, looking down at where they were joined.

"Give me a minute," he said, tightly.

She slid her hands through his hair. "Are you alright?"

"Brilliant," he said. "I just want to savour this for a moment before I lose my fucking mind."

She giggled, the movement making her walls flex around him and he groaned, his hands tightened on her waist. "Oh, shit, don't laugh," he said.

She smirked and clenched her walls around him, teasing him.

"You little minx," he moaned.

She tilted his head back, and she kissed him, tasting his mouth slow and sensual. She whispered against his lips. "What, no teasing jokes, Weasley? Isn't that your specialty?"

She gave a gentle roll of her hips and savoured the look of pleasure on his face, the low moan he gave her. She wanted to make him feel good, she wanted all of it. His hands slid round to cup her backside, squeezing her gently.

"You want jokes?" He said. He screwed up his brow, trying to think as she rolled her hips again and he swore under his breath. "How about this then...oh gods...how about I teach you a new spell?"

She bit down on his lower lip, riding him slow and teasingly. "A new spell?"

He smirked. "Mm, yeah, the one where you make my cum disappear."

MC stilled, processing what he just said. She looked down at him. He had the most ridiculous grin on his face. He was too much. A snort of laughter left her lips, more laughter bubbling up her throat, the force of it making his arousal slip from her. He groaned at the sensation as his own laughter tumbled from him.

She clung to him, giggling, a burst of warmth and happiness wrapping around her like a glow. He was an unbelievable goof, utterly adorable and the light of her life. "Bloody hell, Weasley," she giggled. "I fucking love you."

They both froze, their laughter slipping away. She almost gulped and looked down at him. "Um...I..." She stuttered, a blush flooding her face.

"Please tell me you meant that," he whispered. His eyes were wide, strained.

Her heart thundered in her chest. She smoothed his hair back from his face and swallowed back the sudden burn of tears that were gathering. She nodded. She really loved him. "I meant it," she said. A tear escaped and slid down her cheek. "You have my heart."

She gasped as he crushed her against him, his breaths quick and hot. "I love you, too," he said, fiercely.

....*....

The rain had stopped and weak morning sunlight was creeping up and in through the bedroom window. MC stirred, the reassuring weight of a freckled arm about her waist. She smoothed her hand along it, snuggling back even closer against his nakedness.

She loved Garreth Weasley. The truth of it overwhelming but so right now that it was out in the open.

She smiled sleepily as she felt warm kisses on the back of her neck. He shifted to press more to her shoulder, his hand sneaking up to give her breast a playful squeeze. "Mmm, hello," he mumbled against her neck. "Gods, I love these."

She giggled and twisted around to look up at him. He kissed her. "Good morning," he whispered.

She traced his mouth with her finger. "I believe you promised me a Weasley breakfast this morning," she said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Hungry are you?" He nipped at her finger.

She slid a hand down, teasing her fingers over his hip and down his thigh and nodded. "I am, but I quite like the idea of a different kind of Weasley breakfast...if you get me."

"Oh, I get you," he said. He pulled her hips in nice and close. "Trust me, you will not be moving far from this bed for the foreseeable."

She smiled and kissed his nose. "You won't even have to tie me up to keep me here...not unless you want to, of course."

The look in his eyes stole her breath. "That could most certainly be arranged."

She forgot about her hunger, and the promise of breakfast. Who cared about food when he was kissing her like this?

[adiduck]

Since it's one of my favorite scenes in TGM, maybe the '86 boys finding the most beautiful plane ever built (i.e. the F-14 for those who don't know what I mean) and figuring out who gets to pilot and who has to backseat? Or '86 Ice and Mav after seeing the Admiral in his hospital bed? Or Ice having a chat with Rooster?

Gonna go with the first one, because I'm actually really pleased with the banter LOL

-

“Ice,” Mav says, hunched over as he looks through the binoculars. He’s gone very, very still.

“If it isn’t good news, don’t tell me,” Ice says.

“It’s… well, it’s news,” Mav says, and hands him the binoculars. “Last spot on the right.

Ice takes the binoculars and looks through them.

He stares.

“Well,” he says finally. “She may not fly.”

“That’s true,” Mav agrees.

“And we won’t outrun any of the bogeys in the air.”

“Also true.”

Ice falls silent again, staring. “...Rock-paper-scissors for the pilot seat?”

“You’re on,” Mav says.

-

“I can’t believe you cheated,” Mav hisses, as they slide down the last of the bank.

“I did not,” Ice lies. “How would someone cheat at rock-paper-scissors?”

“You hesitated!”

“You want a redo? I’m sure we could stop someone to referee,” Ice says. They start out into the open, looking around at all the people milling about like so many chickens with their heads cut off. “But if not, I think we should run.”

“Argh!” Mav says eloquently.

They run.

In front of them, an F-14 Tomcat looms large, big and beautiful and just for them.

By some miracle, nobody stops them as they dash across the runway towards her.

-

“Do you often cheat at rock-paper-scissors,” Mav asks, as Ice walks up to the generator, hoping against hope has he activates the machine--

It lights up.

“Fuck, yes,” Ice says.

“Glad you’re willing to admit it,” Mav says, because he’s a jackass. Ice rolls his eyes.

“No time to preflight,” he says, and rounds to march towards the ladder. “Unhook us will you?”

“No, I’m going to just stand here and wait for us to be caught,” Mav mutters.

Ice ignores him, jumping into the cockpit and hauling his helmet back on, taking in the familiar, if aged-looking, dashboard.

“Hi there, baby,” he says, and feels the warm weight of familiarity settle into his bones. He runs his fingers over the dashboard for a moment. “We’re gonna treat you right. You up for a last flight?” He flips the Master on, fingers flying through the start engine sequence. “Come on, sweetheart, you show these pretenders how it’s done--”

There’s a thrum, and the first engine turns over.

Down on the ground, Mav whoops.

Ice doesn’t bother to suppress his grin, cheeks hurting with it. “That’s what I’m fucking talking about,” he says, and lets reflex kick in, coaxing the second engine to life as Mav climbs in behind him.

“Fuck, it’s been a bit since I sat in this seat,” Mav complains through the radio, as Ice secures the canopy.

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to be much help,” Ice assures him, and throttles forward and out of the hangar bay.

“Fuck you, too.”

Ice’s grin widens. “Don’t proposition me in front of our date, Mav, it’s bad form.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby, you know you’re the only girl for us,” Mav says, instantly, sounding genuinely apologetic.

Ice shakes his head, taxiing them out and taking in the taxiway in front of them, the completely cratered runway. He feels the smile fall off his face slightly. “Hm.”

“...Taxiway it is, I guess,” Mav muses.

“Short runway takeoff,” Ice agrees. “You a praying man, Mav?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither,” Ice says, and starts the takeoff sequence. “Let’s go.”

-

[siremasterlawrence]

The Strip and Shift Part 2

Tom Alec Barnes is a bartender at my club yes I said my club since I enslaved the CEO and owner of this establishment Christopher brings financial windfall since he started to dance.

After the first night he submitted to me in all ways possible stripping in front of the crowd in a magical wonder and spread himself on stage and he became the mighty and best bois.

Tom Alex Barnes has been mixing so many drinks for various people throughout the five years he has worked here today he is on a mission for me and unknowingly I give him a few new specifications.

I watch him do his magic as a mixologist in a state behind the bar cutting up fruits, mixing in liquids and shaking it up with such sexy and hot precision he throws it over his arms catching it with his back hand.

He stops unscrewing the top he pours it in to the glass then goes to clean up then I pick it up taking a sip and telling him to taste it for me.

He stares at me oddly then places his lips on the glass it starts to emit this bright color almost a aura on him and he vibrates in and out of my face till he return staring at me in a strange fashion.

“Tom you are so happy right now feeling your mind come to mind blowing stop as your holt all your mind is encapsulated to me for the rest of existence you no longer exist.”

“You can sense it…can’t you? Your mind is seeping away oozing in an airy manner it is blowing form your ears and disappearing like vapors in the air and soon you won’t have much to blow hard about.”

“You will no longer be a man but in fact right now you are and will never be because you can’t remember. You can no longer think, feel, need, want or desire simply put you are a puppet.”

“What do you expect me to say Tommy boi?You are my property now that is if you can even be able of understand a single word that I am saying and you will be compelled to do as I say.”

“Tom kneel to the floor, wrap your arms over my waist, staring in to my eyes without any old questions, he commencing like a rocket descending or hit his target and love fills to the brim.”

“Yes Master Lawrence! How did you know I needed to submit? How did you know I am yours? That I was your from day one I am at your mercy because I am completely ready to do everything for you.”

“Are you prepped to obey?”

“Yes Master!”

“Everything and anything you say “

“Rise up and stand “

“Walk from behind the bar “

“Don’t move a feet”

“Rip off the sleeves “

“Rip off your pants”

“Go to the mirror “

“Fix your face “

“Big smile “

“Ripple those muscles “

“Straighten your clothes”

“Clean up”

“Hope on stage “

“Hey Chris join him!”

“Striptease”

“Continue moving those hips”

“Dance and dance all night “

“Shake those butts”

“Rip it off “

“Squeeze and pump”

“Hump you too “

“Entertain the crowd “

“Smooth”

“Effortlessly “

“God! I love it “

“Lights shine”

“Commence “

“Burn bright “

“Backflips “

“Spins “

“Jump “

“Let’s bogey “

“Party it off “

“Leap down flicker through the crowd “

“Strobe lights “

“Show off”

“Pause it”

“Bend over “

“Everyone grope them”

“Harder and harder “

“Door shut “

“Dance off”

“Be groovy”

“Big smiles “

“Push ups “

“Pulls ups”

“Show me some teeth”

“Sexy ass”

“Guys drop them”

“Bad mad and dancing your ass off”

“Guys come to me”

“Rub on me”

The end

[girls-in-bikiniiss]

D o t

Alastor x OC

You hummed along to the easy listening station you had playing on the radio while you wrote in your journal as the evening wound down.

You loved the static sounds that accompanied the music as it swelled through the bell of your gramophone.

You had died fairly young, but you had been raised by your grandparents (may they rest in peace) who had live through the Great Depression. You were certain your grandparents ended in Heaven, the two graciously welcoming you in when your parents abandoned you. You were certain you'd come across your parents here in Hell, but that day hadn't come yet. Nonetheless, you had acquired you grandparent's antique taste.

"And that was Henry Hall and His Orchestra - Hush Hush Hush Here Comes the Bogey Man"

You heard the Radio Demon was back after a seven year disappearance, and bought the gramophone soon after he began his broadcast. You found yourself listening more and more. Something that first became sentimental quickly became an everyday habit. You respected him, especially after his broadcasting battle against Vox. You were never a fan of the Vee's in Pride Ring, but it was hard not to come across them. Their turf had expanded tenfold due to the last extermination. You lived in a border area, but it bordered the Vee's District and has started to be swallowed into the new territory.

"This next song has a similar sound, this is Flanagan & Allen's Run, Rabbit, Run!'"

You let your mind wander as the pen glided across the paper. You began to wonder what he was like, the Radio Demon. He was an Overlord, and yet, you felt like you knew him just by how often you heard his voice on the air.

"And now, a word from the Sponsors, 'Hazbin Hotel, a haven for has-beens like yourselves. Stop here to save a sinner!' 'Looking for something to eat? Stop by Rosie's Emporium, the food is To Die For.' Now, back to our regular schedule."

Who said he didn't have a sense of humor? You mused as you recognized the next song, Jambalaya by Fats Domino.

***

Sitting behind his sound board, the antlered demon checked his ratings, an old sonar looking machine that showed dots on the areas of active listeners. He noticed one dot that's been on the monitor for days now,

'An avid listener!'

His Cheshire smile grew.

He grew a habit, of checking that one spot on the monitor. It beamed, unwavering, even throughout the night.

The radio demon grew fond of this dot. How funny, he mused. You stuck with him through days of happiness, and days of strife. Your dot became his favorite to see. Consistent. Familiar.

Until it was gone.

Alastor felt his smile dull a bit, recognizing a sense of saddness when he first became aware of the absence. At first the thought it was a glitch. After he tapped the monitor, he came to accept his most reliable dot had vanished. He wondered what happened to the listener behind the dot.

'Maybe they got bored listening. Maybe they died. Maybe their radio busted from all of their listening and they're getting it replaced.'

He never stopped looking for the dot.

Until one day he noticed a new dot.

'Could it be?'

The new dot he noticed was just like the last, and unlike the others. While there was nothing visibly different than the other dots, this one stayed on the monitor like his dot. The one located in the Vee's District. But it wasn't in the Vee's district. it was closer.

'Did they move? Is my listener alive out there?' He hoped as he played more lively songs. The more he saw the dot move closer, the more happy he became. So much so it had become visibly noticed by his comrades at the Hotel.

"Hey, You's ever see Red smile like that?"

"What do you mean? he's always smiling."

"Nah, nah, theres sumthin diff'rent 'bout'm. He's genuinely happier."

***

You moved closer and closer to the hotel as you could. This could be your shot at seeing your grandparents again. You couldn't pass it up. Each time you managed to grab a room at a cheap motel, you listened to your radio.

You noticed the Radio Demon's music taste had jumped from easy listening to more bouncy and lively music. Currently, Feeling Happy by Big Joe Turner was playing, next you had heard his song "Hide and seek".

It felt like the closer you got the hotel, the more exciting the music was getting.

'No, that's just you. You're making yourself excited by thinking of seeing your grandparents.'

After a few months trekking to the Hotel, you made it. You were greeted by the Princess herself. The other staff seemed either too bored to introduce themselves, or too excited, like Nifty.

"Well, here's your room! I'll let you get set up!"

"Thanks, Charlie. I really appreciate it. I can't wait to get started."

You happily set up your radio, turning it on while you situated the rest of your belongings.

On the other side of the hotel, high in his tower, The Radio Demon noticed a new dot, coming right from the hotel. He took shadow form to teleport to the lobby.

"Charlie, did we get a new resident?"

The demon didnt even give her a chance to speak, her eyes gleamed as her answer.

Static came from his radioed smile, an electric buzz of excitement.

As he searched the hotel in his shadow form, he neared the room with the radio playing music from the record he left on. He could hear a voice humming along to the music. He fixed himself to look presentable, smile widening (You're never fully dressed without a smile, some may say), and knocked on the door.

With the sound of shuffling, the door swung open and a short figure met his chest. He looked down, finally seeing the face of his avid listener. He felt the satisfaction one does when the hunter finally finds his prey.

"Hello, Dot."

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

|•♡•♡{Welcome pick your man!}♡•♡•|

|•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡{Number 16}♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•|

Sir mix a lot

{♡} personal

- let's be real that is literally him if he was a music artist

So no one could tell us apart

{♡} personal

- silly tiktok trend

Incorrect Quotes:

Test me one more time

OH OH OH OH OH

Giddy up cowboy

{♡} requested

- *Puts on Seth's cowboy hat* SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY!!

Book of Bill

{♡} ask

- But that's just a theory a gamer theory.

Neat freak

{♡} requested

- Charlie w a neat freak Casper?

Work sucks, luckily you have a rat at home

{♡} requested

- That's him Sir my emotional support rat.

Let's flip roles, shall we?

{♡} requested

- Sadly Casper can't help but be in control NSFW

Incorrect Quotes:

something just happeend...

What, you liked that?

{♡} requested

- Oh? Finn liked being called good boy for the first time?

Incorrect Quotes:

nose is growing

Incorrect Quotes:

bogey

didn't ask

alternative accounts

Here kitty kitty!

{♡} requested

- Auron turned into a cat?! (NOT CLICKBAIT?!)

A deal with the Devil

{♡} requested

- Pt3 of God AU I used from a reblog from a moot

Stoned Rook

{♡} personal

- Chat we're so back (super stoned)

Collar and leash

{♡} personal

- THIS SHIT IS FINALLY DONE FUCK U

Wattpad account, it's a canon event I fear

{♡} personal

- The way i confessed some death bed shit of having a account on Wattpad

They both reach for the gun (reworked)

{♡} personal

- So Auron's the gun actually-

Incorrect Quotes:

one is helpless

Incorrect Quotes:

fuck people get a dog

WHO POSTED THEM??

Ice, ice baby

{♡} requested

- Jack with a naturally cold reader?

Jack with an asthmatic reader HC's

{♡} requested

- Jack is trying

Jack NSFW HC's

{♡} requested

- Ladies, gentlemen and others we got him.

Incorrect Quotes:

I'll be back

SLAM HIM SLAM HIM!

{♡} requested

- AND HERE HE COMES WITH A METAL CHAIR-

I don't want to be a rapper, I want to be a sniper

{♡} requested

- Yo where tf did you get that gun at-

Memories that can't seem to stay

{♡} requested

- Who am I?

Oh, your on cloud 9 baby

{♡} requested

- Bittersweet boys ge thigh for the first time

The sweet weird younger brother

{♡} requested

- PT2 of a ask in my last masterlist

Trichotillomania Reader HC's

{♡} requested

- How would Charlie, Finn and Auron with a reader who has Trichotillomania? (urge to pull out body hair)

Boo, please sleep

{♡} requested

- Bittersweet boys with a listener with a wack ass sleep schedule

What's Hastu Miku doing in our kitchen?

{♡} requested

- Bittersweet boys with a cosplaying listener!

Boy's with a Chronically ill reader

{♡} requested

- This is HC's with Charlie, Auron and Finn

Your accent is so cool can I copy it?

{♡} requested

- ADHD Listener sleeply copying Alphonse, Seth, and Charlie's accent

Listeners singing

{♡} ask

- once upon a time I meet the perfect guy-

Me freaking out about Auron and Thomas

{♡} personal

- I WANT YOOUUUU

Yapper x Listener trend

{♡} personal

- WABADABAWABADABAWABADABAWA

Stargarden idea

{♡} personal

- Finn x Faust I dea bc I saw the Twilight x Mordecai meme

Heather's

{♡} personal

- Back in my musical phase yall

New OC?

{♡} personal art

- And I finally post my digital art I got back in to

Me going through the stages of art PT1 PT2

Yuurivoice Twitter PT38 PT39 PT40 PT41 PT42 PT43 PT44 PT45

Incorrect Quotes:

Thank you

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Chapter Update - Into The Hinnyverse

A collection of Hinny-centric drabbles, microfics and one-shots written for the Ginny Lovers Discord server 5-Year Ginnversary Bingo game.

Chapter 6 - The Takeaway

Harry’s too tired to cook, but Ginny’s mind is elsewhere.

Rating - Gen

Read on AO3 from the beginning or continue below the cut for the latest chapter (1125 words)

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Harry asked Hermione, as the two of them headed across the Atrium towards the Apparition point.

“Not at all!” Hermione reassured him. “You look exhausted. Tough day?”

Harry let his mind wander back through his shift. It began with a messy arrest in a particularly bleak Muggle industrial estate on the outskirts of Manchester, during which Harry not only sustained two cracked ribs and a broken thumb, but also got kicked in the nuts. Once he’d been cleared by the Auror office’s duty Healer, he’d then had to endure a three hour interrogation with the entirely uncooperative suspect, a mountain of dull-but-necessary paperwork that had to be completed in triplicate and finally, the frustratingly slow prisoner transfer process at the custody suite in the DMLE holding cells. All in all, it was the kind of painful (literally and figuratively) day that made him question his life choices.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he sighed. 

Hermione shot him a sympathetic look. “Well, if half of what I heard from Gawain is true, I’m not surprised you don’t fancy cooking. We could cancel entirely if you’d rather just collapse on the sofa?”

“No, I don’t want to do that,” said Harry, firmly. “It feels like ages since we’ve been able to have a proper catch up - there are always so many people at the Burrow, aren’t there? And besides, if we order a takeaway, I still get to collapse on the sofa. What do you fancy?”

“I usually find it’s easiest just to let Ron choose. Less whinging that way.”

“Funnily enough, I have the same policy with Ginny,” laughed Harry. “Anyone would think they were related or something.” 

Just a few minutes later, Harry pushed open the door of the flat he shared with his fiancee. 

“Ginny!” he called. “Ginny? I’m home! And I’ve got Hermione with me.”

She didn’t reply, so he followed the sound of voices down the hall and into the living room. Ron seemed to be fiddling with the wireless, while Ginny was sitting on the sofa, looking irritated. Her hair, freshly washed after a day at training, hung loose down her back, shining burnished copper in the artificial light, and her nose was wrinkled in annoyance in a way that Harry found particularly adorable - not that he’d ever told her that; generally speaking, Harry preferred to keep his bogeys bat-free

“Hi, Gin,” he greeted her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Change of plans, we’re just going to get takeaway. What do you fancy?” When she still didn’t respond, he gently nudged her. “Ginny?”

“Hmm? Oh, hi, love,” she murmured, absently. “I don’t mind, whatever you want is fine with me. No, Ron! Turn it left! No, the other left! And twist the aerial!”��

“Okay, okay!” snapped Ron. “I still don’t get why I’m doing this. It’s your house, I’m the guest here, you know.”

Ginny’s eyes flashed. “Because you said you’d find the channel quicker than me. Merlin knows why I believed you. Come on! We’re going to miss it!”

“Is there a Quidditch match tonight?” asked Harry, casting an apologetic look at Hermione, knowing that a night listening to a Cannons match probably wasn’t what she’d had in mind. 

“No, Harry,” chided Ginny, before uttering the words he had never thought he would hear her say. “This is far more important than Quidditch!”

“There’s a new episode of The Magical and the Magnificent on tonight!” agreed Ron. “The last one ended on a massive cliffhanger.”

Ginny nodded enthusiastically. “Katarina Volynka was about to get married, but then she found out that the man she was about to marry already has a wife and three kids!

“Wait, is this the woman who was horribly injured in the freak accident at the Gobstones tournament?” asked Hermione. “With the kelpie stampede?”

“No, that’s Mirabelle Cornemuse,” corrected Ginny. “But it wasn’t kelpies, it was kappas. She only survived because Bernardo Gaita, the dashing and mysterious Italian healer, managed to reattach her face using only syrup of asphodel and a fish slice!”

“Yeah,” added Ron, earnestly. “Katerina Volynka is the heiress to a cutlery empire. That’s why Roderick Dudelsack wanted to marry her. I reckon he was planning to bump her off on the honeymoon.”

“But at the end of the last episode, the wife and kids turned up at the church!” chipped in Ginny. “So it’s clearly all going to kick off, and I do not want to miss it.”

Harry looked between the three of them, absolutely mystified. None of the words made any sense at all. It was as though they were speaking an entirely different language. “So, uh - we’ll just order pizza then?” he asked, weakly.

Ginny completely ignored him. “Shhh! It’s starting!”  

Harry and Hermione retreated to the kitchen. “What the hell was that all about?” he asked. Through the open door to the living room, he could see the Weasley siblings sitting side by side on the sofa, staring at the wireless in rapt attention. More important than Quidditch? Too vital to care about food? It was unfathomable.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “The Magical and the Magnificent. It’s a wizarding soap opera that’s been running forever. The plot lines are quite frankly ridiculous, but Molly’s been listening to it religiously for years. The whole bunch of them have been indoctrinated practically since birth. I bet the entire family is tuned in.”

Harry snorted, as he dug around in the kitchen drawer for a pizza menu. “Even Percy?”

Hermione smirked. “Especially Percy! He’s the biggest fan of the lot of them. He went to a convention in Hogsmeade last year and got photos taken with all the cast. Ron spent weeks trying to pretend he wasn’t jealous.” She gave Harry a curious look. “I’m honestly not sure how you’re only just finding out about this.”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t have a clue.”

“Well, now that you know, are you absolutely sure you want to marry into this lunacy?” joked Hermione. She brandished her wedding ring at him. “I mean, it’s too late for me, but you could still save yourself.”

Harry gaze flicked towards his fiancee, perched on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward towards the wireless. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed. Suddenly, something she heard made her gasp, clapping her hands across her mouth., and he smiled softly as he watched her. It amazed him that, after all this time, there was still more to learn about her, and every new thing that he learned just made her more fascinating, more beautiful. He hoped he’d never, ever stop learning more about her. 

He turned back to Hermione, still smiling. “Is pepperoni okay? It’s Ginny’s favourite.”

[missathlete31]

Dead On Your Feet- Chapter 10

Link to my Masterlist for previous chapters Here

Chapter Summary: Bradley's POV in the plane as he tugs the ejection cord aka 3,000+ words of straight Rooster angst

Warning: Angst, injury and a plane being shot out of the sky.

The second Bradley tugs the ejection cord in the F-14, he regrets it. He never wanted to pull it from the beginning; willing to continue taking his chances in the cockpit with Hangman in control (he makes sure to remind himself to never tell the already arrogant pilot that fact), but something about Seresin literally begging for him to yank it, makes Rooster succumb to the peer pressure.

And he hates himself for it.

Luckily, or rather unluckily, (he's not quite sure how to describe it), in some sort of Divine Intervention Death Wish, the tug does nothing as the ejection mechanism is jammed. Rooster doesn't give it another go, not wanting to risk it actually working the next time. Instead the brunette looks back up to his wingman who is groaning as he takes them completely vertical. "It's stuck" Bradley yells out and he sees the shudder from the man in front of him at his words, "Jake-"

"Try again" Hangman sounds fraught and broken in his demand, and on a day of so many firsts, here is another one. Bradley is not sure how to feel anymore about his work rival at this point. Yesterday he would have said Jake Seresin was the biggest asshole in the whole Navy; he was cocky, conceited, and dangerous. After today, and all the times that Hangman didn't leave him hanging but hung with him: carrying Bradley, and saving his life multiple times, he stood in front of a wolf for him for Christ's sake; Bradley finds that he doesn't hate the man like he thought he did. Hell, he’s grown rather fond of the guy after everything they’ve been through together. He doesn’t want to leave him, he can’t at this point, and if that leads Rooster to an early grave, so be it.

He pretends to tug again, not that Seresin can even tell with his focus solely on trying to not let them get shot out of the sky, but Bradley plays up the part regardless. Clearing his throat he tries to summon the sounds of disappointment, but in reality Bradshaw's voice is the calmest it's been since he was chosen for the mission."It's no use, it's stuck" he hollers up and again the seat in front of him shakes with desperation. There is a long exhale of air, a whiff of the normal Hangman exasperation that sounds whenever the universe dares to deny the brash Texan his wishes, and the blonde slams a hand harshly against the dashboard of their jet. "God damn it" he gripes in frustration.

Something in Rooster's stomach settles as he notices Jake beginning to level off their plane, no need for altitude anymore. Bradley is self-aware enough to recognize that it is not the reaction he should be having, their fate all but sealed now that they can't eject. Yet there is also a weird peace that falls in around the two Americans now. No matter what happens, at least they will face it together.

"Where is he?" Hangman's voice is low and angry, and it snaps Bradshaw back to his task as RIO. He turns around and sees the 5th Gen lining back up and wonders if the enemy pilot is confused about their lack of ditching. "He's shifting into position" Rooster relays obediently, literally staring down the barrel of the bogey's guns, "weapons hot" he adds, not that either of them expected different.

“Rooster” Jake begins, gaining back the older man’s attention, “I don’t-“ but a cough interrupts him. It’s loud, and wet, and painful; and not for the first time since they got in the air Bradley can hear the liquid that comes with it. He knows its blood, knows that his pilot is speeding towards death whether they are being pursued by a 5th Gen or not, but he doesn't know how to stop it, his role in this adventure reduced to basically a spectator at this point. Hangman is still trying though, obstinate until the end, "I don't know if I can out run him" the man shares surprisingly openly, another worrying sign from the usual God-like projection that is Hangman, "he's got the speed."

"I know" he answers back because Bradley does know. They are sitting in a plane that is older than both of them, a plane that probably should have been decommissioned 20 years ago. The jet that tails them is a sleek and modern machine, fully stocked with a payload that can blast them from the sky about 30 times over. It's not the plane, it's the pilot, yet sometimes even the best the US Navy has to offer isn't good enough.

But what they lack for speed they make up in stubbornness and this F-14 isn't going down so easily.

The bullets commence flying and Hangman immediately begins to weave them around, sticking to no pattern, trying to make their enemy earn his kill. Their evading is successful at first, buying time, but for what neither can be sure. It's unlikely they can make it back to the carrier, they still have miles to go and this 5th Gen isn't giving up. There's also the question of whether they want to bring such a dangerous plane to the vicinity of their friends and teammates. Bradley has faith in all his fellow pilots’ abilities of course, but he would never forgive himself if that 5th Gen got a shot off on someone else.

They end up not having to worry about that as their enemy switches back to missiles and launches one right at them.

There's nothing Hangman can do, no counter measures to deploy and nowhere he can take them to escape the inevitable as suddenly their left engine is erupting into a burst of flames. Jake swears loudly, their whole plane rolling, and Bradley knows enough from experience and his own teaching that the blonde pilot is trying to stall the engine enough to cut oxygen and extinguish the flames.

It's useless though, they're going down.

Bradley is not afraid of dying; it’s hard to be when you’ve already lost so many people so young. Yet now, as he stands on the precipice of death’s doorway, he feels a bit of terror at the finality of it all. He can’t help thinking of those he's leaving behind. He thinks first of Phoenix, his best friend, one of the few people in this world who looked upon all his brokenness and emotional issues and wasn't scared. She stuck by him, through everything, when he deserved it and most importantly when he didn't, and now he was leaving her. Rooster had heard her screams over the radio when he went back for Seresin, had known his best friend well enough to hear the guilt in her heart in the absolutely gutted way she relayed he was hit before he punched out. Natasha was always so in-control of her emotions, had to be when you're a woman in an industry surrounded by men looking to diminish you, but she had let it all go in that moment, had shown her true feelings for once, and Bradley was simultaneously proud and guilty for being the reason behind it. He wishes he could see her, could talk to her one last time and tell her how amazing she really is; not because she needs the validation but because she deserves it.

Rooster also thinks of Maverick, a man who like Hangman, he was convinced he hated up until today. Now, he's not so sure. He had made a stand about the papers debacle, and sure it had set him back four years but Bradley became a pilot anyway. He became one of the Navy's best despite it. So no, Rooster didn’t hate Mav because he pulled his application from the academy, he hated Maverick for so long because the older man gave up on him. Pete Mitchell stayed at Bradley's side through his whole childhood, being the father he needed, the father he wanted, and then, regardless of all the death and despair Bradley had gone through, all the setbacks and pain, right as Rooster was on the cusp of living his dreams, it had been Maverick of all people that slammed the door in his face. It was Pete, his father in everything but blood, who had thought he wasn't good enough and didn’t even give Bradley the courtesy of talking to him about it. He just had Ice pull his application and hoped Rooster would move on, find a new dream and not ask questions. As if piloting was just a fluke of a profession choice and not in Rooster’s DNA. That serving in the Navy, following in his father’s, and Maverick’s, and all his ‘Uncles’’ footsteps wasn’t in Bradley’s aspirations since the moment he first laid eyes on a plane. That was what broke Rooster; that was what fractured his heart so badly that he pushed the man away for good. It feels stupid now at the brink of the end of his life, childish even as he thinks of all the years wasted on his anger; of the lonely holidays and the resentment each time he was being honored and had no one in the stands for him. Bradley wanted to make up with Maverick on the tarmac this morning, had hoped to say something nice and meaningful in case the worst happened like it was happening right now, but he clammed up and took Mav’s out, walking away to his jet without telling the man who raised him that he was sorry; that he loved him; and that he missed him. What he wouldn’t give to have that moment back now.

Bradley’s mind finally turns to Admiral Kazansky. His Uncle, Uncle Ice, always there just like Maverick, but lost in the collateral damage of their fight all those years ago. Rooster hadn't even known he was sick again, hadn't bothered to check in with his Aunt Sarah beyond reading the annual Christmas card she always dutifully sent. He knows that Ice had watched over him throughout his whole career, had nudged things to go a certain way in Rooster's favor in perhaps a little example of nepotism. But this mission, that was Ice's final play. He wanted to mend things for them, knowing both Bradley and Pete could be stubborn and unwavering in their own ways. Bradley wishes he could have thanked Ice for everything over the years but most importantly for this. Even if it leads to his eventual death, this mission was perhaps the most significant endeavor of his life. It's changed Bradley for the better, let him see beyond his hurt and get out of his own head and out of his own way. If he could make home, if he could see Pete Mitchell again, Bradley would forgive it all, forget it all, to have the man back at his side.

There is a flash of something behind them, and vaguely, as though he has no other pressing matters to worry about, Bradshaw wonders what it could be. He wonders if the 5th Gen has left them yet, or if like a spoil of war, the pilot is staying to watch their plane ignite and the two Americans' lives extinguish. Their F-14 begins to circle, and Rooster recognizes the maneuver enough to realize that Jake is trying to slow their descent, no doubt to try to land them in the water instead of crashing. It seems insane, an impractical feat to even consider, let alone accomplish but the world has yet to learn that you can't say 'impossible' to Lieutenant Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, the word doesn't exist to him.

Bradley risks a glance downward, seeing the darkness below and he shivers. He's always had a small fear of the water, partly due to his father's accident but also because of the sheer power of Mother Nature and her fury that the ocean displays. The thought of crashing into those unforgiving waves seems crueler than dying in a fireball, though they might not result in the same thing. They could survive the crash if they slow enough, if Hangman gets the angle right and brings them down the perfect way. A million things would need to go right, a million miracles, but if anyone can do it, it's the pilot in front of him. Some divine help wouldn't hurt though so Bradley closes his eyes and prays.

He clearly used up all his favors as Rooster's eyes rip open not ten seconds later from a gasp by his partner. The flames from their engine have spread, inching closer to the two men and adding another issue to their growing list. If Jake continues to try to slow them they won't have to worry about the impact on the water, they will be burned alive first. It's a horrible juxtaposition to be stuck in; the bitter bite of the Pacific Ocean below, the scorching licks of flames around them.

It's the second time Rooster's been shot down this day alone but this time is much more terrifying. Perhaps, because he is not at control this time around, not sitting in the pilot seat trying to grapple with enough strength to gain back some kind of control over their downed F-14. Or maybe it's the way night has finally fallen, casting a dark and ominous shroud around them that contrasts with the bright orange fire in their left peripheral.

Or maybe this time is more terrifying because Hangman is crying.

"Rooster-" the man babbles wetly, sniffling like a toddler and sounding so un-Hangman-like that Bradley can do nothing but sit in his burning jet in shocked silence, "I'm sorry" Jake cries, "I'm sorry I couldn't get you home." He lets out a gut-wrenching sob, "I'm sorry you came back for me, you should have went home- you deserved to go home."

It kills a part of Rooster's heart that that is why Jake is crying. It's not his own demise he worries about, but Bradley's. Jake 'Hangman' Seresin fears nothing but letting down a teammate, God, if that wasn't irony at its best. Rooster brings up his hand and reaches towards the pilot seat, offering the only thing he can at the moment; the reminder that at least they aren't alone. He clears his throat, swallowing past the smoke that still billows, the loss of altitude also stealing his breath. "I'm not" he manages, gripping the blonde's shoulder tightly, "I'm not sorry I went back for you" Rooster explains, the tears coming to his own eyes, "I'll never regret it."

Bradley has dreamed of the day he would see his father again since he was four years old. He has gone through every major life accomplishment wishing the man was at his side, his mother as well after her passing. Every decision, every judgment, every mission, Bradley has wondered what his parents would think, what they would say, what were their opinions about their son. He knew they would be disappointed in his fight with Maverick, but now Bradley fears he might have failed them even more. That he has somehow let them down. He knows he was far from perfect, in most aspects of life, but he lived with a sense of honor, or at least tried to. He hopes his parents saw that.

He hopes that in the last day of his life, his last moments on Earth, he has made them proud.

Rooster notices the nose of their jet declining, not by lack of control but by his pilot's hands. Anger spurs from the back-seater, the implication of Seresin's actions coming to Bradley with crystal clear clarity. "What are you doing" he yells incredulously as he rips his hand from Hangman's shoulder so fast the other man flinches. His natural instinct is to reach for the controls, to pull up the plane and stop this suicide plot that Jake seems hell-bent to initiate, but there are not controls for a RIO, or none that will help at the moment and Rooster is at the mercy of his pilot's whims.

And his fool of a pilot is sacrificing himself once more for Bradley.

"I'm dying Bradshaw" and the wet coughs that accompanies Seresin's statement is proof enough yet the blonde continues, "but you don't have to. Got to get you the best shot-"

Bradley bristles as the angle of their F-14 becomes more pronounced. He shakes his head even though he knows the blonde can’t see it, "just take her down normal” he all but orders, “we slowed down enough.”

“We both know this is the only way to guarantee you survive” Jake sounds resolute in his argument, the cockiness of Hangman rising once more, “That’s all that matters-“

“No it doesn’t, Hangman…” Bradley notices his panic rising, his desperation cresting as it spills from his mouth, like the waves they fall closer and closer too. He knows Seresin’s mind is made up but Rooster still fights, refuses to let this man dismiss his own life so easily for Bradley of all people, “tilt it back up Jake” he begs, “give yourself a chance too.”

The other man lets out another sob, painful this time with the constant pulling on his ribs, "tell Coyote I'm sorry" he murmurs, the sight of the dark water now speeding towards them both stunning and petrifying at the same moment, "tell him he was the best brother I could ever ask for. Better than I ever deserved."

"Jake please" Bradley moans, crying fully now himself as he chokes on smoke. A latch sounds and their canopy is flying off, giving fresh air to the two but at the cost of feeding the fire around them. Bradley feels the left sleeve of his flight suit catching on the flames, Jake's tattered one not offering even the barest protection for him up front. 'This is it' Bradley's brain supplies, despite everything they accomplished together today, Rooster and Hangman still came up short.

It is as tragic as it is unjust.

Bradley reaches forward again, his glove finding Jake, his fingers digging into the strong muscles of the blonde's bicep. "You're a better man than you think you are" he shouts out, not knowing if Jake can even hear him now that the canopy is off but needing to say it anyway if only for his own peace of mind, "And you were the best team leader we could have had. You did everything you could; you gave us the best chance to get home.”

"It wasn’t good enough” the pilot calls back, simplifying things like Hangman always does, never willing to concede the moral victory, “I wasn’t good enough-“

“No Jake” Bradley cuts in, as their seconds run out and the impact with the water is imminent, “you were too good to be true.”

Somehow there is a moment of introspective silence in their cockpit. Despite the absolute chaos of the world around them: fire burning them both, wind whipping their injured bodies and gravity pushing them towards the frigid waters below, Jake actually laughs at what could possibly be Rooster’s last words on Earth. “You cliché bastard” the younger man snaps cheekily, “that’s my line” Hangman complains good-naturally albeit still a little loaded with the emotions from before. Bradley opens his mouth to respond but all he hears is one more fond chuckle before the plane is hitting what feels like a brick wall and the world turns to black.

[skeletonspiced]

I really want to animate again. I got 3 ideas in my head rn. One of them would be a halloween batim animation using the song "hush, hush, hush here comes the bogey man" in the rubberhose style of the bendy cartoons. I don't think I could ever get it finished in time though lol. Maybe I'll try and just share what I get done

[thecreaturecodex]

Lamia, Quettamum

“Unknowable” © David Palumbo, accessed at ComicArtFans here

[The World Tour comes to Asia, and like with the previous stops in Europe and North America, it’s not as if the Creature Codex hasn’t already done a lot of Asian monsters. So I am going to be mixing it up between familiar mythoi (yokai, Filipino mythology, The Guideways Through Mountains and Seas) with some less familiar ones. Like the lore of Balochistan, one of the provinces of Pakistan. The Mum of Quetta is a local bogeyman with roots in the late 19th century, when Quetta became a site of British imperial attention. A statue of a sphinx erected in a graveyard became the focal point for stories of a man eating monster. Thanks to @abominationimperatrix​ for sharing this awesome story with me!]

Lamia, Quettamum CR 9 CE Magical Beast This great leonine creature has the head of a human woman, although her teeth are still quite sharp.

A quettamum is a particularly bestial offshoot of lamias. They are sometimes mistaken for sphinxes, which they closely resemble. Indeed, some sages believe that quettamums are hybrids of sphinxes and lamiae, although the quettamums deny this violently. Quettamums are cruel hunters, lurking around the margins of settlements in order to catch and eat children, their favorite food. A quettamum can use its senses through any statue with a face over surprising distances, and they use this to spy on their neighbors and look for victims. They are notorious bogeys in any area where they are known, and a town where all the statues have covered faces or are defaced may be in a quettamum’s territory.

A quettamum prefers to attack from ambush. If stalking prey, this may be a conventional surprise attack, but at their lairs, quettamums spend much of their time surveying their surroundings in statue form. They usually decorate their territory with other sphinx-like statues, making it confusing to determine which is the monster and which is just a statue. They typically cloak themselves in magical silence before pouncing, the better to conceal the screams of their victims. Quettamums dislike fair fights, and will typically try to run if they are not in a position of strength within a few rounds.

Other lamiae tend to have a mixed relationship with quettamums. The quettamum cannot change its shape or disguise itself magically as a humanoid, so they are rarely suitable for missions of corruption. But they are intelligent and magically gifted all the same, and make excellent spies. Some, especially lamia matriarchs, view quettamums with a sense of condescension, treating them as poor relations. Quettamums tend to get along well with cultists of Areshkagal, and fiendish and half-fiend quettamums can be found in the Abyssal layer of the Blood Clefts. 

Quettamum               CR 9 XP 6,400 CE Large magical beast Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +13 Defense AC 23, touch 15, flat-footed 17 (-1 size, +5 Dex, +1 dodge, +8 natural) hp 114 (12d10+48) Fort +14, Ref +13, Will +10 Immune confusion and insanity effects; SR 20 Offense Speed 60 ft. Melee bite +17 (1d4+6 plus Wisdom drain), 2 claws +17 (1d6+6/19-20 plus grab) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. Special Attacks pounce, rake (2 claws +17, 1d6+6/19-20) Spell-like Abilities CL 12th, concentration +14 At will—stone shape 3/day—mirror image, quickened silence (DC 14), stone call 1/day—statue, stone tell, transmute rock to mud Statistics Str 22, Dex 20, Con 18, Int 15, Wis 19, Cha 15 Base Atk +12; CMB +19 (+23 grapple); CMD 35 (39 vs. trip) Feats Dodge, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (claw), Iron Will, Mobility, Quicken SLA (silence) Skills Acrobatics +14 (+26 when jumping), Bluff +12, Climb +15, Craft (sculpture) +8, Intimidate +8, Perception +13, Stealth +14, Survival +13; Racial Modifiers +4 Bluff, +4 Stealth Languages Abyssal, Common, Sphinx SQ statue sight Ecology Environment temperate hills Organization solitary or pride (2-6) Treasure standard Special Abilities Statue Sight (Su) By concentrating, a quettamum can use its senses through any statue within 600 feet. This functions as an enter image spell (CL 12th), except that the quettamum can make Perception checks through any statue with a face, not just images of itself. A quettamum cannot animate an image or speak through it. Wisdom Drain (Su) A creature bitten by a quettamum takes 1d4 points of Wisdom drain (no save).

[the73rdpostscript]

THE RULES: Tag 10 (Ten) people you want to get to know better

I was tagged by @architeuthisducks-blog (hello! <3)

Relationship Status: Single

Favorite Colors: right now it's green but I also spent the summer obsessed with orange and yellow and brown

Three Favorite Foods: i don't know if i have favorite foods so much as things i end up eating a lot during specific times in my life. Right now I'm basically always craving poke, Thai food, and this mushroom dish at my favorite local restaurant. But Ive also eaten a LOT of garlic bread this year. And hummus. And cucumbers.

Song Stuck in My Head: This Woman's Work

Last Song I Listened To: Hush Hush Hush Here Comes the Bogey Man by Henry Hall & His Orchestra

Last Thing I Googled: there there gif

Time: brunch is technically over for the day :(

Dream Trip: Italy

Anything I Really Want Right Now: I would actually really love to have garlic bread magically appear in my home right now without me having to deal with delivery. But I also really want to figure out what my plans for the evening are now that I've had to get a literal rain check for my previous plans.

Tagging: @beepbeepsan @lazaefair @non-un-topo

If I didn't tag you but you wanna do this, go for it!