#if you actually bothered to read through all this then thanks.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Follow My Lead

Curly x Disabled!Reader

Can be read as platonic

AN: Purely self indulgent. I’m suffering extreme disability issues do to the change in weather and it’s very painful and exhausting. So here we are. Friendly reminder of disability’s existing and lives can still be lived. Thank you

SUM: You were returning to the Physical Therapy center for your weekly appointment. As you enter the designated gym, with its nurses, you noticed someone new. New people in the waiting room, and new people in the gym. Wonder who that new nurse is to…

Warnings: Disabilities, medical discussion, reader’s disabilities are vague but will have issues that are common in the disability community, PTSD, Trauma, Everyone lives except Jimmy, lots of medical discussion, so much trauma Jesus Christ

“Just wait for a few minutes and we can call you back.” The woman would tell you. You would give a nod and returned to your seat in the waiting room. Right next to quite the chipper fellow. With floral attire. There with a much older man. Perhaps his father?

“Hi-!” The floral guy would say, before the older man nudged him. Telling him not to bother the other people here at the gym here. You didn’t mind. People can make the atmosphere here so depressing sometimes. It’s nice to have some sunshine.

“Hello!” You returned, meeting his energy. That had him just beaming.

“You two are new here, aren’t you? First time here?” You asked, as the floral man nodded. The older just let the younger do all the talking. The floral one seemed the social butterfly anyway.

“Yeah. It’s not for us though. It’s for our friend Curly. And also Anya! She’s a nurse. Since she’s a nurse she’s helping him with the other like physical therapists here. He really needs a-lot of extra help. His arms and legs are missing, eye is missing, had so many skin graphs. He’s been through A LOT. So we’re here for moral support.” He explained to you, and you would listen.

Damn that Curly really went through alot. Sounded like he lost the limbs then actually was without them earlier in life. He’s going to have a long journey ahead of himself.

“Swansea here is also helping install stuff at Curly’s place to make it easier to move around in. Like railings, changing door knobs, stuff like that! He’s got prosthetics he’s still getting used to, but he also uses a wheelchair when they make his muscles ache too much.” He would ramble on, and you happily listened.

It was so nice to have someone be so positive. Many able bodied people just treat disabled situations with such mourning and sadness. It was refreshing to have someone have a positive outlook. To be excited to help compared to just mourning and worrying.

“You can come back when you are ready-!” A physical therapist would call for you. As you went to leave, the floral man was quick to call out.

“Oh! I’m Daisuke!”

“Well hello Daisuke. Please talking to you-!” You would wave, before heading back to the gym area with everyone else.

Typically most physical gyms would have a designated nurse for each person, that way you can be watched carefully and monitored for improvement. This gym, however, allowed that people who had progressed to a certain level can work out independently with the gear offered here. As a means to allow more independence, and for them to improve or care for their health by their own speed.

It seems like that Curly guy won’t reach that milestone for ages.

He was very easy to notice amongst the often elderly folks there. The rare younger type, but often it’s from some kind of long turn injury or recovery of surgery.

There you would see a man using the standing bars. Metal bars on each side, and a person would walk through the middle. Gave them the ability to use their arms to keep support instead of using all their weight on their legs.

Just like Daisuke said he was in pretty rough shape. His arms had prosthetics and same for his legs. A eye patch covered his missing eye, and much of his skin still was incredibly rough.

Despite it all, he’s trying. He’s shakily walking through, with his arms on the metal, and he’s taking it step by step. Still trying to adjust to having somewhat of limbs again.

Next to him was a kind looking woman. Her eyes looked like they had seen too much, but her smile said she is willing to keep on living. To spite the world she will be happy.

“There you go Curly. You are doing a good job. Just take it very slow. There’s no need to rush. You will be able to do more once you adjust. How about you finish this walk and we can sit down. Then we can try and use your arms for a while. Legs are the most exhausting.” She would say to him.

She had such a warmth in her voice. A nurse that everyone wished they had after any life threatening event. She was perfect for a physical therapist.

“Shit shit shit-!” He would start to panic, and he would end up slipping. She was quicker though. She managed to grab him by his chest, as his limbs went limp. Just dangling like a doll. He looked so humiliated.

Maybe he needed a friend.

“Hi! I heard you two are new here. That guy in the waiting room, Daisuke, told me a little about you two. Do you need help with like, oh I don’t know, anything? I’ve been coming here for a while now. If you want anyway.” You would offer, as Anya would help him stand back on his bionic feet again.

“Oh that is very kind of you. I think we are alright, for the time being. But thank you so much.” She was so gentle with her words. Clearly each word was truly kindness, and not just words to push someone away.

“I wouldn’t mind it. I….I have no idea what I’m doing.” Curly would admit, as there was still shame in his expression. As if he felt unworthy to be there. To be helped at all. That he just deserved the worse.

Very relatable.

“Oh sure! Oh oh! Maybe I can be on the other side of the bar. You can place your hands on my shoulder and your other arm on hers. We will hold you up ourselves so when you slip you don’t fall.” You offered, as you stepped into position.

Anya would do the same, and made sure there was a hand on his back and one on his chest. To help him keep himself straight, and if he slipped you both can push him back into place.

“Deep breaths Curly. You got this. You are almost to the other side.” Anya reassured, as you smiled as well. Suppose seeing you both trying so hard helped him gain the motivation to push through.

Each step was heavy, slow, and frustrated. He was trying his best, but sometimes his muscle spasms kicked in and his leg would just move the wrong way. You could relate to that. Muscle spasms were so annoying to deal with. Especially in public. People think you are on some kind of drug and question you. Annoying as hell.

It was slow, but you didn’t care. He needed a little extra help and you figured you could offer it. Make things just a little easier for him. It’s rough. You know it so well.

He finally reached the other end, and Anya couldn’t help but clap and beam. So proud of him. So damn happy he did it. Course when she let go he ended up falling into you, but you managed to help him get back up again.

“Sorry! Just you did it! Before you know it you’ll be running and jumping. You’ll be back to skiing in no time.” She would encourage, before bringing the wheelchair over. The two of you helping him sit in it. Such a relief.

“You ski?” You asked, as Anya would help take his legs off. Let him breathe for a while. While she did that, he gave a small nod.

“Before all….this….I used to really be quite the athlete. I loved winter sports. If it was in the snow I was there. Snowboarding, Skiing, ice skating, ice climbing, I used to do it all. Even was a body builder. To think I used to do so much…..” He sighed, as he looked over at his arms. Looking at what was once muscle and bone. Now just metal and specialized plastic.

“Hey….I know you’ve been told this a million times, so I’ll just say it from a person that also doesn’t have the best mobility either. You’ll have good days and bad days. Some more extreme than others. It’s gonna to fucking suck. It’s gonna hurt. It’s going to be exhausting. You’ll have days wondering why you should even stay alive. But you’ll also have days where you can accomplish simple things like making your own dinner. Taking out the trash. Fold some laundry. You’ll get there. It’s gonna suck but you’ll reach it.”

Having someone keep it blunt with him seemed to be what he needed to hear. Was like he learned a mistake about keeping things to sweet. That sometimes you need a reality check.

“Thank you….I think it was very important for me to hear that. Thank you.” He would do his best to smile at you, but the nerves in his face were rather damaged. You wouldn’t be surprised if he needed some more surgery there to.

He’s still going to go through so much, but maybe having someone who can genuinely relate to it all could help.

“Hey, I come here every Saturday. That way when I’m painfully exhausted from it I can just relax and have Sunday be a complete recover day.” You said, as you walked with him as Anya rolled him over to a spot to not bother people. She would soon sit across from him, with a small ball, and the two of them would try and play simple catch with it. Both to help with his arms and his new adjustment with a single eye.

“Think that sounds like the best plan for me right now as well…” He nodded, as that was the way you two could agree on it.

He would do his best to play catch with her, but it kept falling in his lap. His limbs just not moving quite fast enough, and his send of direction never quite there. Was so frustrating, and you understood it.

“Said a million times, I know, but take it from me. You’ll genuinely get there. But it will take a while. Not days. Not weeks. Months if you keep at it. But it’ll get there.” You reassured, as you stepped away. Off to do your own exercises for your own issues.

Was a peaceful gym day like that. Spending what spoons you had to take care of yourself. Every now and again, when taking a breather, you looked over to him. Seeing Anya help him get used to his limbs. Small things like picking up something, catching, even paddy cake. Taking it slow for him.

Once you ran out of energy you would kinda hang out with them.

You didn’t ask him how he ended up like that, you just let yourself breathe. Breathe as he spoke what he wanted to speak about. Same for her.

From what little pieces you could pick out from them it sounded like they were victims of a ship crash. No wonder he ended up so fucked up. That fact he’s alive at all is insane to you. Anya deserved way more credit.

There also seemed to be a shared enemy between them. When a person called over for a therapist, named Jimmy, the way they flinched and looked around like someone started unloading a gun. Whoever this Jimmy was sure made his mark on them.

Once he finally couldn’t go on any longer she would take the arms off as well. Letting what was left of his limbs breathe. He was so exhausted, but he seemed happy. Happy to have made some kind of progress, and even happier he had someone to talk to through it.

“I’ll see you next Saturday.” You smiled, and waved, as you started to leave. He gave a wave of his own, before Daisuke and Swansea returned to him. There to carry his prosthetics and be his cheerleaders.

You were happy for him. He deserved a support network.

He deserved to smile again.

You just knew he did.

[mlqueen89]

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life  

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |  

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).    

word count: 9,776 

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.  

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service. 

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥  

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.     

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”  

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.  

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”  

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.  

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.   

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.  

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.  

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake. 

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes. 

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”  

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.” 

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.  

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”  

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”    

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”  

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”  

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”  

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.  

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?  

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.  

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.  

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told. 

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.  

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work. 

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas. 

“It doesn’t.” 

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan. 

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”  

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”  

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.” 

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?” 

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.” 

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to. 

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close. 

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”  

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?” 

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”  

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?” 

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”  

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.  

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them. 

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink. 

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.” 

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?” 

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.” 

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.” 

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.” 

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.” 

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level. 

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.” 

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.” 

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.   

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”  

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”  

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—” 

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?” 

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.” 

“You’re so ridiculous.” 

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004 

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt. 

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left. 

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base. 

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.  

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.  

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him. 

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”  

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”  

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.  

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”  

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.  

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”  

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.  

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad. 

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”  

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”  

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”  

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”  

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”  

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.” 

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.   

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”  

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.  

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.” 

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.” 

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.” 

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign. 

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.  

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.  

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”  

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.  

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.  

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.  

“Need a hand?”  

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.  

Hangman. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.   

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely. 

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment. 

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.” 

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—” 

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?” 

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups? 

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.” 

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did. 

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.  

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”  

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”    

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.  

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good. 

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.” 

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact. 

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.” 

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her. 

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.” 

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door. 

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week. 

“305.” 

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing. 

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.  

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door. 

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke. 

“Hey, Rio.”  

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.  

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere. 

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick. 

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”  

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.” 

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.  

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.” 

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.” 

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”  

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?” 

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.” 

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade. 

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy. 

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.  

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between. 

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.” 

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.  

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.  

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.” 

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side. 

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.” 

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….” 

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead. 

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.” 

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they���re allocating for this?” 

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?” 

“You know me, Mav—news is news.” 

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm. 

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”   

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.” 

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”  

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type. 

And there it was: the other shoe. 

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?” 

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.” 

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.” 

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.” 

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.” 

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.” 

“Thanks.” 

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.” 

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying. 

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.” 

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden. 

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime. 

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign. 

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh. 

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best. 

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight. 

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together. 

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug. 

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions. 

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”  

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”  

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”  

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.  

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O. 

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again. 

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.  

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”  

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”  

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner. 

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter. 

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day. 

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?” 

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.” 

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,” 

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”  

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.” 

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad. 

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?” 

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?” 

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?” 

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.” 

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”  

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.” 

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm. 

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.” 

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.” 

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.” 

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

taglist if you want to be added/removed!

[halfwayhearted]

I saw your requests are open and I just read the Fermín head canon, and a few days ago I saw somewhere that Fermín often sits alone until Gavi comes over to annoy him, can you make a story or wtv it's called with like reader helping Fermín take revenge over gavi by pulling a prank on him?

<3

Understand — Fermín López.

Pairing: Fermín López x Fem!Reader

Summary: In order for Fermín to get his friend back, he comes to you and asks for your help. Who are you to say no to him?

Word Count: 465+

Disclaimer/s — Nothing!

A/N: Going through requests, hi! I sooo struggled with this if it wasn’t already evident, sorry if I didn’t do this request justice…

“Gavi did something and I need to get him back.”

That’s what your boyfriend said as soon as you arrived at his house. Your lips tugged into a frown as you slowly slid your phone into your pocket. “It’s really nice to see you, too. Wow, thank you.”

“Sorry—” Fermín grimaced, his hand sliding over your waist and gently pulling you toward him, placing a kiss on your hair. “Hi, how was work?”

You smiled almost instantly at that, a small laugh escaping your lips. “It was good! What’d he do?”

“They’re harmless pranks. He just likes to bother.”

Right, right… “Fermín, they’re harmless pranks?”

He lets out a sigh, “Yes, they are. But I never get him back. It’ll be just this once, will you help me?”

Will you help him? Was he actually being serious?

And to answer that… question, he was! The next day, there you both were at a small get-together. A lot of people were present, and so was Fermín’s item that you suggested he’d use to prank him.

A table football. Something the team loved to play during their free time, and he can guarantee that Gavi will, in fact, get mad. How so? Well, you’d be messing with it as the play went on. That’s it.

“Come on!” You heard your boyfriend exclaim. The next thing you know, there’s a group walking into the room, gathering around the table.

Things get intense quickly, then you feel Fermín’s foot subtly kick against yours. That was your cue.

Lifting your hand, you grip the other end of the rod and keep it there, messing up his play. The other side scores, and the man drops his jaw in confusion, saying, “No, again. Let’s go again.”

He narrows his eyes, “Five rounds. How ‘bout it?”

“Five,” Gavi echoed with a nod, his gaze focused.

So you kept it up, and suddenly it was five to one. It was safe to say that he was officially annoyed! Lifting accusatory fingers and glares, each time you’d spare Fermín a quick glance, wondering if he’d tell him. And with one last look, he relents and takes a step toward you, “Gavi, Gavi, hey…”

All it takes is his glance to flicker down for the man to follow his line of sight, gaze locking at the sight of your hands under the rod. Then he looks up at you and meets your nervous smile. “Everything was his idea; you played well!” You defended, “Considering the circumstances?”

Once you finish, laughter erupts. He rounds the table, grabbing Fermín by the arm and calling him every name in the book. You take that as your chance to leave. He can, well, fend for himself.

You made the bed, so… now he just has to lie in it.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[stilljuststardust]

Hello Stardust, I hope you're doing well! I've been debating over this certain thing I've read about LOA (multiple times) so I was wondering if you could help me.

I've seen all kinds of posts from LOA blogs that say that the reason you have to persist is to get your desire in the 3D and that the 3D can be difficult at times, but that you just have to return to the 4D where you already have it and remind yourself that your desire will come in the 3D.

I've also seen posts were it says that you must feel like you already have it and that there is no waiting.

Maybe I'm not understanding it well, but it seems contradicting to me.

Can I know that I have it in the 4D already and that there is no waiting there, but because I can't (and shouldn't) deny what my 3D is (which is normal and fine from what I know about LOA), can I have it in my head that it is coming in the 3D even tho I shouldn't be waiting? I feel like the only thing that I have to know is that the most important thing is the 4D and that it is the real reality and that I have it there already, but when it comes to the 3D I feel like I have no other choice than to be aware of how it is and still hope that it changes, but now, since I am persisting, with much more confidence in that hope/I know that it will change.

From what I think it means-you have to know that the 4D is the real reality and that you already have it in the 4D, but when it comes to the 3D you are aware of how it is, but you know that it will change if you keep persisting and you don't get too uspet by it because you know it is just mirroring the real reality which is the 4D and you already have it in the 4D.

So for example, I'm in school and my classmates are being annyoing, my teachers are being rude and it's like any day before this one which is exactly what I want to get away from with shifting my reality, so when I experience this-in my head I have to know that the 4D is the real reality and that I'm already in my DR and that I will soon be in my DR in the 3D and that this shouldn't bother me that much because soon I won't have to experience it anymore and I just simply have to know that I'm already in my DR (where it matters the most) and that it will come in the 3D. I could also return to my imagination and experience my DR through it (if I need fuel).

Sorry for making this so long, I just wanted to get my point across since this is the only thing left "bothering" me about LOA. I love your posts and you have helped me so much!!! Thank you 💛💛💛💛

Hello! I kinda think "3D/4D" is making it sound more complicated than it is.

Take a deep breath and let go of all the conflicting information for a second. This may be long but that's only because I'm trying to address any possible misconceptions I promise the actual concept isn't convoluted.

When we are speaking practically all it means is that you understand the physical world is not final and is completely changeable by you.

I don't expect you to completely disconnect from your physical body or to somehow be completely unaware of the physical world.

"Ignoring" the 3D does not mean you are magically blind to it it just means you don't mentally contradict your manifestation when you see it.

The 4D is just your internal world (thoughts, visualizations, internal conversations, etc).

Essentially, your subconscious believes anything you're repeating to it. It doesn't know or care if what you're repeating is reflected by the physical world. Its only job is to provide you proof of whatever you're giving to it.

The reason people tell you to fulfill in imagination is because it's supposed to be a way of telling yourself subconscious that it's a fact.

"Ignoring the 3D" is actually just making the conscious choice not to repeat to your subconscious that you don't have what you want because your subconscious will provide more of that.

You don't necessarily have to "feel" anything. Emotion is hard to control, hard to define, and inherently fleeting. Scientifically speaking most positive emotions don't linger very long and negative emotions are much more likely to stick around for longer periods.

You don't need to fuel yourself because it's not about motivation or emotion or drive. It's just consistently repeating to yourself what you want to happen.

Repeat a sentence that implies what you want to happen has happened and don't repeat anything to yourself that implies the opposite.

That is all.

[bqstqnbruin]

Just Friends - Part 3

Dear GOD this was the last week before break and parent teacher conferences so it has been a long one. I have 39 conferences for who knows why between Monday and Tuesday

Read the previous part here

WC: 3774

Warnings: parental death mention, asshole coworkers, swearing

________________

Emeline’s phone was buzzing so much while she was teaching that her students ended up teasing her for violating her ‘no phones in class’ policy. She tried to argue that while the phone was buzzing, she wasn’t looking at it, but as soon as she did that, she had already lost, sending her lesson into disarray and forcing her to rethink the rest of the unit as she had planned it. Jeremy was texting in the newly formed group chat between the five of them about the girls going to see a game at the Garden. 

Emeline had to ignore the messages until she finally had a free period before lunch, silencing her phone as soon as she could, sitting down thankful that none of her students had asked if they could come in for help during what was probably going to be the only time she had to be alone for the rest of the week. She reads through what seemed like a hundred messages from the four of them, Fran and Maddy already agreeing, John letting them know that the tickets were all ready for them.

They just needed to know if Emeline was going.

She didn’t want to go.

First, it was a game in the city after what would be another long day at school and she wouldn’t have time to change or even drop her work bag anywhere before having to get to the arena. She knew the T well enough to navigate the green line, but knowing the public transit in the city, it would mean she would show up to the game at least an hour late, if not later but the time she got home and back. 

Second, she knew nothing about hockey. She didn’t really want to know about hockey, if she was being honest with herself. She already knew about lacrosse and that was enough for her considering how many other things she had to know. Emeline wanted to instill a love of learning in her students, but at a certain point, she understood when someone just got too overloaded with knowledge. Her dad was the one who taught her lacrosse, never really caring about any other sport besides basketball when she was growing up, the ‘08 Celtics team something he never stopped talking about, but she was still confused about the fact that there were ‘field goals’ in the sport. There was no field, and it was a basket, not a goal. 

Third, it meant she had to see Jeremy.

That day in the elevator was weird for both of them, neither of them acknowledging that it had happened. Emeline wasn’t even really sure what had happened between them. She hadn’t even told Fran and Maddy when they told each other everything. And that meant everything. Keelan still wasn’t pleased with the fact that her roommates had a habit of somehow using the birthmark on his lower back as ammo against him any chance they could.

Fourth, Keelan would hate it.

That last one didn’t bother her as much as it should. 

Before she could even begin to try to figure out why, Javier, one of the other chemistry teachers, pokes his head into her room. “Department meeting after school?”

“For fucks sake, what?” Emeline groans, pulling up her email to see the missed message from Anderson letting them know they were all meeting in his room after school, attendance mandatory. That meant she had to push that lacrosse workout the athletic director asked her to schedule by at least an hour, which meant she would have even less time to get to the game tonight. It actually might not be such a bad thing if it weren’t Anderson scheduling it. “God, I would have willingly taken an overload if it meant he didn’t have to share a prep with us.”

Javier laughs, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah, because you have time to teach the five classes you have as it is.” 

“He really thinks we have no lives outside of these jobs, doesn’t he?”

Javier comes in, sitting at the desk in front of her. “Well, because of him, we don’t.” 

“Any ideas what it’s about?”

“Probably him trying to scold you for your phone going off all morning,” Javier teases, leaning forward. Before she can even ask how he would know, “I’ve heard nothing in the halls besides ‘Pritch’s phone won’t stop buzzing. Do you think it’s her boyfriend? Do you think it’s her girlfriend? Do you think something’s wrong?’” he says, making his voice higher to mimic their students.

Emeline scrunches her face. “Teenagers are too invasive.”

“Is the answer ‘yes’ to any of their questions?” Emeline sighs, giving him her phone. “Free Bruins game tonight? That’s awesome, can I come, too?” 

“I’m not even going,” she scoffs.

“Why not?” Emeline gestures to everything around them as if to tell him anything in front of her could be a reason why. “Tell Anderson you’re sick and have to go home.”

“I have lacrosse after school.”

“We have lacrosse after school,” he corrects her, his not so subtle way of reminding her that she had roped him into being the assistant coach when the previous one moved to a different state for her wife’s job. “I can run the workout, no problem.” 

“You’ve never done that before,” she tells him.

Javier rolls his eyes, tapping away on her phone. “They’re teenage girls. They’ll just sit on the bikes because they refuse to do anything else, anyway. How much do we care? And Jeremy said he can pick you up by 4:30 for the game, which gives you plenty of time to start the workout if you wanted to.” 

Emeline practically lunges across the desks for her phone. “You fucking didn’t.” She reads the messages, ‘her’ telling him she wants to go but has to stay at school late. He even brought up the fact that she wouldn’t get home in time to change and drop her bag off. Fran and Maddy letting her know they would have a change of clothes waiting for her in the car, and that her work bag would be safe there. “Really bold of you to do to the person in charge of ordering the sulfuric acid.”

“You’re not gonna kill me and dissolve my bones, Emeline. The sulfuric acid they sell doesn’t have a high enough concentration for you to be successful, and you know that.” She scoffs. “If I’m not here, who are you going to sit with at these stupid department meetings.”

“Touche.”  

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, Emeline’s phone continuing to light up with messages in the group chat. She knew that Jeremy and John really didn’t have much to do besides prep for a game, but Maddy was in hour ten of her twelve hour shift at Mass Gen, and Fran was normally swamped with meetings all day, every day. Why did they suddenly have all this time to be on their phones texting the boys? And how did they have any energy left to go to a game that was going to keep them out until almost 11 pm? How was she going to stay up past 11 pm when it was a school night? She didn’t even stay up that late on the weekends half the time.

Keelan never texted her during the day. Not even to check in and ask her how it was going for her. Granted, she never texted him either because she couldn’t be on her phone in the first place, but isn’t that something a boyfriend was supposed to do? Even if it was just once in  a while?

Jeremy did.

By the time the last period of the day was over, Emeline was exhausted, and she was sure her phone was, too. Javier swung back by her room as she was packing her bag to head to the dreaded last minute department meeting. Nothing good ever happened when there was a last minute meeting at the end of the day.

“Any idea what this is about?”Javier whispers to Nick, one of the biology teachers, as he and Emeline sit down in Anderson’s classroom. Nick responds with a shrug, something surprising considering Anderson normally tells him everything. 

Anderson claps his hands together, his annoying attempt to get everyone’s attention, just like always. “Alright, let’s start.” He pauses, staring at what Emeline can only imagine are the blank and unimpressed stares of 10 men and herself. “Admin emailed me during first period asking me to remind everyone that phones are not to be used during class unless they are being used for learning purposes.”

Emeline and Javier exchange annoyed glances. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Emeline mutters. This could have been an email.

“Which is perfect timing since I heard all about Ms. Pritchard’s phone today in the halls. Care to explain, Emeline?”

Emeline shrugs, knowing that if she tells him off like she wants to, he’ll just use it against her right away for being ‘too emotional,’ or something else stupid like that. Being the only woman in the science department and him being the sexist asshole that he was, he used every minute detail he could to try to argue that she was unfit for being a science teacher as a woman. “I had my phone on vibrate and I was getting messages from my friends during my lesson. I turned it off as soon as I got the chance.”

“Well, no phones during class. And to make sure there are no phones during class, you’re all going to be bringing them to my room at the beginning of the day.” Emeline lets out a laugh while the guys start their protests immediately as Anderson pulls out a blue plastic bin that he taped a piece of paper to with ‘PHONES’ written in his obnoxiously messy handwriting. No one particularly liked Anderson, but he knew how to kiss the administration’s ass, hence the reason he was the department head and not someone who was actually competent for the job. “You can thank Emeline for that.”

“Didn’t you say you were told this reminder this morning?” Nick brings up.

“Yes,” Anderson says, crossing his arms across his chest.

“And my phone wasn’t going off until after that,” Emeline points out.

“And didn’t you just interrupt your lesson to your freshmen yesterday because your wife was calling wanting to know what you wanted for dinner?” Javier asks.

“Yes.”

“So you’re taking our phones away because of you?”

“No phones,” Anderson tries to stand his ground.

“What if there’s an emergency? In or out of the classroom?” Emeline asks. “The phones on the walls were disconnected years ago, how are we supposed to call for help if the only working phones are in your room? Are we supposed to ask a student for theirs? That seems like a violation of privacy and a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Anderson’s face was starting to get red, the way it always did when he was losing whatever battle he decided to fight with the rest of the department. “What emergency out of the classroom could you have? You don’t have any family like the rest of us, Emeline.”

The room goes silent, Emeline sitting there stunned, trying to keep her composure. “I think we’re done. I’m not giving you my phone every day.” 

Javier tries to call after her as she leaves, Emeline barely overhearing Nick yelling at Anderson for going so low and being so out of line because of something so trivial. She didn’t need the department to see her in tears over this. She checks her phone, the group chat again blowing up to let Emeline know that they were on their way. She could just wait outside for them, or she could ditch them altogether and just go home. She didn’t want to go to the game before, and she definitely didn’t want to go to the game now. 

“Em, what’s wrong?” Fran jumps out of the car she didn’t even realize had pulled up in front of her. Jeremy and Maddy jump out before John can even stop the engine, all of them concerned about why she was standing on the sidewalk crying.

“I just,” she stammers. “Can we just get in the car?” She pushes past them and gets into the backseat, the shirt and somehow a jersey Fran and Maddy had grabbed for her sitting there waiting for her.

“Talk,” Fran demands once they all pile back in. “Was it Keelan?”

Emeline hadn’t even been thinking of Keelan. “What? No. Anderson.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“You don’t even know why, Francesca.”

“I don’t need a reason if I see Emeline crying on the sidewalk because of him, Madelyn.”

“Who’s Anderson?” John asks before the girls get into more of a bickering match, pulling away to start his drive to the arena.

“My department head,” Emeline explains, forgetting that he was the only one in the car who didn’t know..

“Her department head,” Jeremy tells him at the same time, causing Emeline’s heart to feel like it skipped a beat.

Emeline clears her throat as the rest of them wait for her to continue, trying to ignore the fact that she could see Jeremy’s small smile at her through the rearview mirror. “He threw a bitch fit about phones and said some shit. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Emeline, it’s not fine if this guy is making you cry,” Jeremy says, his voice unreasonably calming to her. “Do you want to tell us what he said?”

He was so different from Fran, who, while meaning well, would demand her to tell them every detail. Emeline takes in a deep breath, pulling her sweater up over her head to change shirts. “He called me out for not having a family anymore.”

Fran and Maddy screamed so loud in disgust that John almost rear ended the person in front of them on Storrow Drive, trying to keep his composure and not hurt them before the game while her two roommates were swearing like the words were about to be banned and it was their last chance to use them. 

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asks over Fran and Maddy, twisting around to look at Emeline in the last row of the car.

Emeline looks down at her lap, hating that this conversation had to happen whenever she met someone new. “My mom left right after I was born, so my dad and his mom raised me. My dad died when I was ten and then my grandmother died when we were freshmen.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Jeremy and John tell her in unison, Fran and Maddy still fuming.

“I don’t know any lawyers, can this be a lawsuit?”

“We can probably use some of my dad’s lawyers after I kill him. I cannot believe he would say that to you.”

“You would need someone who does criminal defense if it’s a murder case. Business law and criminal law aren’t the same thing,” John points out.

“Whatever, just drop it.”

“Emeline-”

“No. I asked you to drop it. I can handle it. Nick was yelling at him and one of the physics teachers always records the meetings so if I really need to, I can get the sound bite from him. Anderson is just a petulant asshole who hopefully will get what’s coming to him sometime soon. There’s nothing to do right now.” 

They drive in silence the rest of the way to the Garden, Emeline staring out the window. She could just text Keelan and ask him to pick her up. Except, he never would. He would bitch the entire time about having to make the drive into the city, especially when North Station was right there. Why should he pick her up when she could get home by herself?

John parks, everyone getting out. Fran and Maddy go ahead with John while Jeremy stays behind with Emeline, a small tea from Dunkin in his hand.

“Do you still want to stay for the game? I can pay for your T ride if you want to go, or I’ll get you an Uber if you want to be in something more private. I’d offer to drive you back but, not my car, would miss the game, would probably be benched for the next few games,” Jeremy rambles.

“I’m fine,” she tries to assure him, not sounding convincing to even herself. She tries to think of something else to say, finding herself just staring at Jeremy. He was dressed up in a suit and tie, something that hadn’t registered to her when they were outside her school. She loved when Keelan had an excuse to wear something nice, but this? She could feel herself short circuiting over this. 

“You have more tattoos that you didn’t show me?” Emeline looks at him confused, pushing aside whatever was going on in her mind as his face turns red. “I swear I wasn’t trying to look but you were talking and I was trying to make eye contact, and I saw some tattoos on your ribs.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Would you tell me about those?”

Emeline takes in another deep breath, something she found she was doing way more to calm herself down lately. Keelan still barely knew about those tattoos. He knew they were there, but he didn’t know the meaning behind them. He had never asked. “My grandmother and I would always say ‘I love you more,’ after the first person said I love you, so I have that on my right side in her writing. My dad would tell me that I deserve to be loved whenever I was upset about my mom when I was little. So I have that on my left side in his writing.”

“I like that. Are you better now?”

“What?”

“You said the other day that sometimes rambling helps calm a person down, right? It’s not whatever happened in the elevator,” Jeremy says, trailing off, kicking a stone back and forth that had found its way into the depths of the garage.

Emeline laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, it does, help.” 

“And you kind of do have a family, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t tell me Fran and Maddy aren’t like your family. And you’ve got me, and John, too, if you want us.”

“Yeah.”

“And Keelan.”

Emeline sighs, knowing that the person furthest from her mind shouldn’t be her boyfriend. “Yeah, and Keelan,” she says with a small voice. Emeline looks at him and smiles. Without thinking, she pulls him in for a hug, squeezing him as tight as she could. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Oh, and here,” he says, handing her the cup of tea. “I thought since you would be out later that you’d need some caffeine.”

Emeline looks at the sticker on the cup, her exact order written out on it. “Thanks,” she tells him. She had told him what she got from Dunkin maybe one time, in passing. He remembered her order. 

The two of them walk in silence to catch up with the other three ahead of them. Emeline’s phone was buzzing again, this time with messages from Keelan asking what she was up to that night.

She could ignore him. She wanted to ignore him. He had her location, he could just look and see that she was at the Garden. But why would he go out of his way to check on her when he could just have her tell him? 

Jeremy and John say their goodbyes until after the game, Jeremy giving a smile to Emeline before disappearing. 

“I’m actually excited for this. We haven’t been to any hockey game together since, what, sophomore year?” Maddy asks, once getting through security and up to the arena, pulling the girls in the direction of the nearest bar, ordering beers for her and Fran and a Coke for Emeline, probably knowing that she needed all the caffeine she could get if she was going to stay up that night.

“I think it was freshman year, actually. BC beat BU in overtime,” Emeline says.

“I got asked out that night by one of the guys on the team, too,” Fran says.

“Who asked you out?” Emeline asks, her heart starting to race for a reason she couldn’t explain.

“Uh, his name might have been Joseph? Wasn’t he one of the goalies? Remember we went on that one date where I ended up leaving because he looked at the check and handed it to me and said, ‘can you cover this?’”

“No, not then. You said you got asked out that night, too. What do you mean, ‘too?’”

Maddy and Fran look at each other, nervous, passing the soda to Emeline. “Oh, Jeremy asked me out before we left.” 

Emeline tries to hide her shock as she nearly chokes on the drink, the carbonation burning her throat and making her eyes water. “Oh, that’s great,” she chokes out in the most unconvincing way, trying to clear her throat. “When? Um, what are you guys going to do?”

Fran shrugs, Maddy leading the two of them to their seats. “I think we’re going on Friday? It’s the last night before they leave for the midwest on a road trip, or something. I don’t know, I haven’t been on an actual date in so long, and he’s hot, so I figured, why not?”Emeline sits down, Fran and Maddy starting to try to figure out what the actual rules of the game were so they could at least pretend they knew what was going on. They already had a game plan to cheer when everyone else did and yell at the refs when everyone else did,what more did they need to do? Emeline was barely paying attention, only overhearing that there are less players on the ice than there are on the field in lacrosse. She couldn’t focus.

Jeremy and Fran were going to go on a date on Friday night. There’s no reason why this should be bothering Emeline as much as it was, taking her already shitty day and somehow making it worse. She was happily dating Keelan. Who Fran dated shouldn’t matter unless he was an asshole and hurt her in anyway. Who Jeremy dated definitely shouldn’t bother her, point blank, period.

They were both her friends. That’s it.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 53

Alright so I’m gonna level with you. 

I REALLY wanted to do a V3 based pic for this day. However at the time I couldn’t for the life of me come up with an actual idea for it.

I think it’s because I was very tunnel visioned on specifically trying to do something with Junko Enoshima the 53rd, for very obvious reasons. This was back before I really had any opinions on Tsumugi, at that point the space she held in my brain was “Unique Antagonist that shows up semi-often in Junkan Fics.”

Which isn’t like, the best way one could view the character I can imagine. Though she had it better than Yasuke at least I didn’t even know who he was outside of occasionally appearing in these fics until like, somewhere in the first month of Project Production. I’ve never read DR0, someday though. someday. 

Anyway back to Tsumugi, mostly thanks to the local bandit, I’ve come to appreciate the character a lot more. I’m not like, an expert on the character. I'm still kind of feeling things out purely through osmosis, i’m not really an expert on nothing. However I like her a lot more than I used to, which means I have hindsight.

If I was making Day 53 right now I would probably just make some kind of art about Tsumugi being a Junkan Shipper. We’ve all given characters headcanon based on ourselves before, gender, sexuality, personal experiences, that weird clicking thing you can do with your thumb (or is that just me?), we love to impart aspects of ourselves onto these characters. 

And when the hell else am I going to headcanon such a specific fuckin’ aspect of myself such as “I ship Junkan” onto a character? It’s Tsumugi or nothing.

Honestly I’m not gonna guarantee but I might actually just make a pic based on what I’m currently thinking for a Tsumugi Themed Junkan art, and just, posted the same day as this one? If I do i’ll schedule it in advance to post like, an hour or two after this one. Enjoy the suspense of whether I actually did that or not! 

Oh, and I actually edited this image a bit. Both because I thought Junko's face just looked, bad in this. But also for reasons I'm not gonna bother getting into right now. However as a result we got this funny bit during the editing process

What if Junko was creepypasta lol . . . . . . . oh

oh god DAMMIT WAIT I LIKE THIS. Now I can't draw it until this Day gets released! DAMMIT!

[stitchkiss]

15 questions, 15 mutuals

tagged by @mmoosen and @wolfboy88 ty!!!

1. Are you named after anyone?

nah just those sparkly lil bitches in the sky. i do have a family friend named rosemary and an aunt named rose so i assume they were influences

2. When was the last time you cried?

an hour ago bc i watched s2 ep3 of our flag means death and the end scene just really got to me yknow?

3. Do you have kids?

no what for. i literally have SO many customers ask me if i have kids when i literally look like a baby and i’m like “sir/ma’am i’m 20” and they go “okay so soon right?” NO!!!!!!!! i have a dog tho he’s a real hassle to raise if i’m being honest

5. Do you use sarcasm?

it depends but i actually don’t think i do. i randomly lie tho or say the opposite of what i mean just to be contrary but people are always saying i’m predictable when i do that. “can i have a spoon” “no” but i get the spoon anyway bc i’m difficult. subverting expectations keeps people on their toes AND me bc i never know what i’m gonna say until it tumbles outta my mouth

6. what's the first thing you notice about people?

hair eyes mouth the way they speak. really tells you a lot about a person

7. What's your eye color?

hazel. brown with some green. looks cool always but Cool in certain lighting. not to flex but i’ve had people ask if i wear color contacts

8. scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings!!!! i have a weak heart and the only thing holding it together is stitches of hope

9. any talents?

i can open any twisty lid on a jar, cup, bottle etc. without a rubber thing in one or two tries. i’m so good at it. i can also drink a lot without throwing up.

10. where were you born?

i was born and raised in the same place as our dear captain jimothy kirk. my blood is ranch, my bones are pork, and my brain is corn. i don’t fear small towns here small towns fear ME. ope

11. what are your hobbies?

being cool n sick as fuck all day every day babey

12. do you have any pets?

i have 1 dog and he’s geriatric and has a biiiiiiiiiiig tumor on top of his head so my pet count will soon be down to 0 unfort but i do have this fly eating plant i made my mom buy yesterday that i got really attached to and i’ve named him ricky the 2nd. he Cannot cuddle tho so pros and cons i guess

13. How tall are you?

i couldn’t hear this question from all the way down here can u repeat ?

14. favourite subject in school?

anything english/literature. i impressed a student teacher in sophomore year for answering a “fate or free will” question with a super smart and thoughtful answer and used anecdotes like greek tragedies, oedipus and that one quote from jane eyre “your will shall decide your destiny” and the final destination franchise, then unimpressed him when we started the lord of the flies unit by saying i would rather just die than trying to survive in the wild. my essays always slapped.

15. Dream Job?

racecar driver or author or some kind of performer.

i feel like all my mutuals are already tagged but i’ll just do whatever i want bc i can: @raekensarcher @disasterpenguin @trpiaep19 @thiamsxbitch @sydney-winchester @kitjosten13 @arlyiahshay

[whentheleahvesfall]

Hero & Partner Week - Day 4 - All Prompts

Well I’m like very behind XD At least today is day 7, so that means previous prompts time! And hoo boy… there’s like a lot to go through. So I’ll try try my best at least from this year’s prompts!

Anyway, for day 4, I’m gonna do all of the four prompts. Yes, you read that correctly, I’m here writing for all four prompts because not only do I want to do so, but I wanted to put myself in the shoes of all four of my protagonists haha. Whilst I still try to get my day 3 sorted (and then my day 5 prompt done too ahahshdhsbdhsb), I at least wanted to tackle day 4, so without further ado, I hope you enjoy reading what my scuffed behind brain has to write :)

Great Canyon

Passing over ragged rocks, broken cliff-drops that fell into a fallen abyss and surviving the harsh arid temperatures that blew through the winds of change, a plodding of two comrades making their way to a prophecy-calling psychic type was afoot. Going for a few hours without much in ways of a proper break, a brazen but hyperactive Totodile collapsed in a gap between two beaming pillars of stone, gazing upon them with fears of them potentially toppling over without much realisation.

“How much further do we need to go before we manage to see this um… Xatu…? My legs are practically… hah… killing me over here Scrald…”

Staring back at the Totodile was the human-turned-Pokémon, a Torchic who would often leap into more situations than one without much in the way of thinking. Scrald was desperate to learn anything about why he had come to this world, which for whatever reason made his eagerness to jump into the deep end more annoying for his partner. Ruffling his feathers, the now fire type flung his Totodile friend into a frenzy.

“Yeesh Planker, how many more times do I need to keep pulling these claws of yours? Get moving already, we’ve got no time for a break! I really need to-“

“Yeah yeah, I know, I know. You gotta know why you came here, but am I not allowed as much of a dignified break as this? Like I said, I can’t even think straight too much because of all of this walking…”

The Torchic finally stopped and took a moment to finally sink in the words of Planker, his partner. Sighing and waning his beak ever so slightly, he stopped to sigh and finally rested on an adjacent rock to get to grips with what he wanted to talk about.

“Fine, alright. I get it too, you need to wait. But I just… I can’t get out of my head something that’s been bothering me.”

“The fact that you jump into danger without so much as a precursor of thinking properly?”

“What?! I’m just an outgoing person, okay?! I hate seeing other Pokémon in trouble, and this is no different-!”

“Scrald, will you shut up for a moment and think for a second?”

Planker frowned at his friend, not gnashing his jaw to scare him but covered his scarf over his face in a form of worry. The green fabric providing some form of comfort much like his straw-bed that he would sleep in nearby to Scrald’s own house, he fidgeted his claws before opening his mouth after taking a deep breath.

“Look, I… I’m sorry. But I’m just as worried about what Xatu might say about you just as much as you may be worried about what it means to be human. You’re worried that…”

“I’m causing the natural disasters?”

“Uh yes, that. You… said that more openly than I expected you to.”

Scrald shivered but slowly nodded. “I-I know. I get that you’re able to also predict what I say so easily as it feels like I’m much more of an open book than I thought. But… but yeah, I’m scared. To know what it means to carry an unknown burden that the reason the natural disasters are occurring and my appearance is…”

The water type widened his eyes and shook his head vehemently, immediately gripping one of the side-feathers of the Torchic before wrapping one arm around his torso.

“No. No no no don’t even go there Scrald. Before we even see Xatu, and even if you feel there may be a bad thing he might say to you… you’re not the reason these disasters are happening. I just… I can’t in my mind, I just can’t… picture you of all of the Pokémon I met be the one who’s responsible for all of this. It’s just not possible.”

“But how would you even know that? One day I suddenly wake up in the middle of a forest, I formed the Blazing Water rescue team with you, and now I… now I need to do why I’m even here. And if that means I have to find out the hard way, I… I guess I should’ve known that maybe my role here was much bigger than I expected.”

Forming a mixture of contemplation and seriousness, Planker looked at Scrald straight into his black-toned eyes.

“My gut feeling tells me you’re innocent in all of this. Not anybody else, or some all-seeing prophecy… just my faith in you.”

“A gut… feeling? That’s not… that’s not anything, is it? How would you know that I’d be a person who wasn’t responsible for the earthquakes, the forest fires, the many, many other things we keep seeing from the Pelliper news-“

“Scrald, please. Just… just stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you and focus on me. Me - your… your friend. I trust you. And forget about Gengar, forget about Team A.C.T., forget about the disasters and your own pre-conceived concerns, and put faith in yourself as a person. I… I wouldn’t have gotten this far if it wasn’t for you. And even if we’re not perfect, that’s okay. Because… if we’re here together, then we can find out why it’s all happening. Xatu’s a psychic type right?”

Scald slowly began to nod in an attempt to agree, but whether he knew for certain was something he couldn’t foresee. How could he know for certain he wasn’t responsible and still needed to place his faith in someone he hadn’t even met before?

Perhaps the psychic type with the ability to see what he couldn’t could give him the reassurance he thought he desperately needed?

“Then he’d know more about it than anyone. Look, I… I can get why you have a bad feeling about this Scrald. And I know you’re in a hurry and are scared… but I believe in you. So please, even if it’s just for the remainder of this dungeon… believe in me as much as I do for you. Even if it’s just one step at a time. I can take the small steps, just not up this darn canyon…”

The Torchic human would sigh but give the ever-so-slightest hints of a smile across his beak.

Maybe if he continued, he would get his answers. Maybe if he believed in himself, he would be able to prove his own doubts wrong. For whatever reason it was, whether it was deep inside of him or not, one thing was for certain in his brain. He would have to keep going, no matter what.

“O-okay. I’ll do it. A-and I’ll try, with you.”

A smile from his partner after he pulled his scarf down was all he needed to move forward together to get the answers he seemed. He would make sure that the both of them would know exactly what was the cause of everything that could be occurring.

And he would do it with his friend… together.

Hidden Land

It had been several hours passing over the Sea of Time that Harmony had finally managed to close his eyes to sense the aura around him, feeling scared about the imminent collapse of time if they didn’t hurry to climb Temporal Tower and save the world for permanent, pending paralysis.

It was the future he came from that he went back in time for so he could fix the mistakes his former self had made, and with it, his own amnesia meant he could only try and thaw in the blanks of what it meant to still live in the past he was in right now.

“…Harmony? Hey. Are you okay?”

A shake and tussle from a concerned female Eevee shook him from his partial concentration, her eyes filled with concern as she sat down next to the Riolu to share some insight as to his sudden actions.

“I-I’m fine. Just… just thinking about stuff.”

“Like what? Did you want to talk about it?”

“Flurr, I… I can’t. Not whilst the world’s own future is at stake. We need to keep moving, or otherwise we’ll run out of time.”

He grimaced and flexed his right forepaw, fidgeting at his side before slowly slumping below. Harmony couldn’t bring himself to talk to her about all of the troubled emotions he had hidden underneath his mind.

Dusknoir’s betrayal and the kidnapping of the both of them so they could fight through the future just so they could return to the past and hope to even have a chance of collecting the Time Gears.

Realising that not only did he have the partner by his side, he also was none other than the same human Grovyle trusted with his life before his amnesia overcame him. Not even being aware of both of their true identities, they both fought when encountering him at one of the three Time Gears’ lakes, before the pain of realisation meant they could all be manipulated by pure coincidence.

Right now, Grovyle too was in front of them scouting the area to ensure they knew where they were headed before moving forward.

Standing in an old set of ruins beset by murals of ancient depictions of legendary Pokémon battles and the events of a previous falling asteroid, the Riolu did not want any part of becoming legend. He was scared and terrified. Not just of losing his own life if he failed, but by harming the two partner Pokémon he relied on so much that he couldn’t bring himself to tell them.

In his mind at least, that’s what he thought. That there was no way that they could ever understand the feelings he encompassed after forgetting his previous life for the one he lived now, and the consequences he had to deal with in tow just to get a basic understanding of everything.

As he sat, he shivered. Inside his mind, or at least the very depths of it, there was a tinge of regret that something may happen. What might happen to him when he prevented the future of darkness from ever occurring? Would it mean… would it mean that he himself would become a time paradox? That he would never exist?

Harmony couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought, before he felt a comforting hug come from his Eevee partner. She could only look on in an attempt to get through to his mind.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking Harmony, but this isn’t just a burden you have to think is just only on your shoulders. It’s on our shoulders together, is it not?”

The Riolu human stared back incredulously, unsure of what she was trying to say.

“How is it not Flurr? I’m… I’m trying my best to deal with the consequences of every second we lose. Your relic fragment may have guided us here but it’s not guiding my lost heart right now. I can’t… I can’t deal with losing you too. I just can’t. You mean too much to me.”

“That’s… thank you, but I… I know you’re not the only one who’s thinking about this all deep inside.”

Flurr flickered a small smile at him, which made his already overwhelmed brain suddenly contemplate a whole slither of conundrums. What was she even talking about? Did he do something to upset her? Did he go and screw up again, like everything he touched triggered his Dimensional Screams? Did he waste the time of other Pokémon again? Did he-

“I’m thinking about it too, even now.”

…

“Y-you are? But why?”

“Because I know that underneath it all, I’m scared, I-I’m afraid, but… I know if I don’t move forward, we won’t be able to save anyone. Me and Grovyle… we’re just as nervous about what might happen if we move forward as much as anyone else is. Including you. So please, even if it is the hardest thing in the world for you… please, just try. For me. For us. We’re Team Harmonia after all, and it was named after you. So… even if I get my strength from you too, I just… please?”

“That’s… that’s impossible.”

The female Eevee pulled her partner into a sudden hug.

“It may feel that way… but if you have someone to confide your worries in, doesn’t that mean you can at least try? We’ll save this world Harmony, I’m sure of it.”

Harmony looked at her, before eventually realising he couldn’t keep it in anymore. A few sniffles came, before a tear fell, then another and then another. He couldn’t keep it up.

He had to cry.

And as the Eevee cuddled him… she knew that with him, her strength and at least her worries can help make him feel better. Even if it was just in this moment. As the both of them didn’t know what to expect, they knew they needed to try. Just try.

They would go and place the Time Gears so they could save the world together.

If the both of them could just try… they could do it together.

Glacier Palace

The air was becoming hard to breathe for everyone around him. Soon without realising, his allies would begin collapsing from exhaustion one after another.

First came the collapse of his friend Dunsparce, followed by Virizion, then Umbreon and Espeon. They all fell from the protruding force of an unknown assailant, making the air thin as ice… much like the place they had become trapped from traversing via the Entercards.

Eventually, before he even realised, a lone Tepig stood still near the fallen and near unconscious body of his partner, an Axew whom he had grown to care about since he first woke up in this world from falling down from the sky.

“Huck! Huck, buddy, wake up-!”

“Ungh… Cormos… I…”

“Please, I can’t be the only one left up here, stay with me, even if it’s just…!”

The Axew’s tenacity was waning away, fading into background obscurity as he felt his consciousness slowly slipping into the depths of unawakened darkness. Cormos refused to have this happen. He… he couldn’t let this happen. Why? Why were his friends - and his precious best friend - all starting to find it difficult to even breathe?

With a sudden deep breath and a flurry of panic wash over him, sweat began to cover the fire type-human’s face. He was the only one left still standing.

How? How was this even happening? Why was it even happening for him?

He didn’t know. He just didn’t know.

“…Cormos…” Huck coughed, feeling his strength all but surely break away.

“Huck, I’m scared, what do I-? What do I do?”

“Just… stay by my side. Your presence… it’s… it’s the thing that… cough… provides me with the ability to even talk to you… gah… right now.”

“That’s…”

“I’m still here Cormos… even if I’m…”

Silence fell by the end of his partner’s date statement, and in a frantic effort to try and wake him up, the Tepig rushed to his side, shaking him like a ragdoll in a desperate attempt to wake him.

“Huck! Huck! C’mon, don’t… don’t leave me now.”

“WHO DARES TRESPASS ON MY DOMAIN?!”

A sudden, ice-pierced cry echoed throughout the chamber as a looming silhouette appeared over the human. There staring back at him was an expression lost with no soul, empty and desolate. With two ice-fractured wings flung from the back of its body, whatever this creature was instantly made the flame in Cormos’ body flicker further in a reflex arc.

“I-I… I come in peace. P-please… my buddy… please what’s happening to him?”

“You. You who can somehow survive the thick air up here. Just who are you?”

“…Cormos. Now tell me, how do I save my friend?!”

“Silence!”

The ice dragon roared and shook the confines of the Glacier Palace with the ferocity of what felt like an avalanche.

“I asked a question, I would like an answer. How could you possibly still breathe when…?”

Upon closer inspection, the towering giant loomed over the fire type with piqued interest. Moving down, they stared back at Cormos before making a slow growl.

“Your smell… it’s foreign. One that I feel accustomed to from the many times I’ve seen your kind. But you… I see you only pay heed to your allies and the Pokémon beside you. Why are you here… Cormos?”

“I… I came here because our team wanted to perform an investigation of the Glacier Palace. We didn’t mean to i-intrude or steal anything from you Mr…”

“Your kind can call me Kyurem. I’m content with your so-called investigation, but any moves further past this point is forbidden. Should you even dare try to defy me… a swift death would be nothing more short than certain.”

“I-I have no intention of doing that Kyurem.” The Tepig fearfully curled up into a ball, scared of what the towering ice dragon would inflict upon him if he tested his patience.

Luckily for him though, whatever the beast was approached Huck slowly before roaring and clearing some of the air temporarily so that he could breathe.

Before he realised it, the Axew slowly began to wake up again and turned to see the intensively worried face of his Tepig partner.

“Cormos… thank you.”

“I suggest to the both of you that whatever business you have further in this place is wrapped up now. I do not want to warn you a second time.”

“W-we will. We’re extremely sorry to trespass.”

“But I will say this. This Axew can keep the Frism he wanted to obtain. It is a special… object that can help with transferring messages if provided with the warmth of key. This will be your way of remembering your time here.”

Huck’s face immediately lit up with a gleaming smile, before finding his arms straight around the neck of the Tepig.

“Cormos… you were incredibly brave… thank you, thank you, thank you…”

The only thing on the former human’s mind though was the fact that his partner was safe. They would be okay. Team Whirlsprint would be alright.

And him and the rest of his friends… could go home together.

Revelation Mountain

Through the continuous rocky path to the peak of the mountain, a lone and angst-filled water type darted his eyes around in several different directions. Somewhere deep inside of him, he couldn’t help but feel worried.

The true culprit responsible for turning the world’s Pokémon to stone… he would slowly but surely meet them face-to-face.

With this knowledge, he knew he’d have to fight whatever it was that was standing in his way. Whether he knew for certain or not how it would turn out was anyone’s guess, at least to him.

All he know though was he wanted to find comfort in himself. No matter how far he’d go just to know what he could do at the core of the dilemma.

“We’ve got to not be far from the peak now you two. Stay sharp.”

Archen - one of the water type Pokémon’s allies from the Expedition Society - looked back at the both of the main team members of the Kipsaurs with a face filled with protection and confidence.

Sprout - a hyperactive Bulbasaur - nodded in tow. Cormac - the Mudkip with a lot to contemplate even if his former foster parent was also with them - was snapped back out of his thoughts. His terrified, over-encompassed worries and concerns.

As both Archen and Nuzleaf - the grass-type who took the human in where he had no where else to go - both wandered ahead not too far from where they would ascend to take down Krookodile, eventually the Bulbasaur looked and widened his eyes at the weakness of his friend. Walking alongside Cormac, he turned to look at him straight in the eyes.

“Hey, is… is everything alright? You look like the Mareep got stacked all over you.”

“Ah… I… it’s nothing Sprout, you don’t need to concern yourself over me. We have to stop Krookodile from hurting whatever is at the top of this mountain. I’m sure your Pops would say the same thing.”

“My Pops huh…? Well… I-I know most of all he’d be especially worried about me. Considering we haven’t seen each other in so long, he’d come back and scoop me up and give me the longest hug ever. But… but that’s not who I’m worried about right now. It’s you. You look so shuttered Cormac. W-why?”

With a heavy sigh, the former but amnesiac human stopped and began to shiver. His fin stood on end and his thoughts throttling any form of concentration, he shook himself into a shrunken corner.

Something… something felt horribly, horribly wrong in his mind. Why? Why could he not bring himself to move? How could he not have any strength left in him to continue moving forward? How was it that it was always him…? Right here, right now, why was he so worthless-?

“Cormac! Cormac! Cormac! Listen to me Cormac, I’m here! Please, please come back!”

A voice blotted out the echoed darkness that ploughed from the recesses of his mind to the forefront of reality, and through fuzzied eyes he stared at the concerned partner that shone into his line of sight.

Sprout looking no more worried than any other time he had seen him with his own self-doubts, he stared at Cormac with a look of lingering confusion and fear he would lose his friend to whatever he may have been going through.

“Cormac… come back to me.”

…

A breath of air from his lungs… and out again. Breathing in… and breathing out. Rinse and repeat until… until he would feel better.

“S-Sprout… I’m sorry.”

“I’m here Cormac, please… just tell me what’s worrying you.”

Silence filled the air as the Mudkip managed to regain his footing, before he slumped onto one of Sprout’s back vines for support as he used them to help him feel comfortable.

“I’m… just worried. About… about confronting the person who could be causing all these problems we’re having at the Expedition Society. I’m worried we could be turned to stone… or something might happen to you or Archen or my… own Pappy, but I… I’m worried most of all of seeing you get hurt. I can’t… no I won’t let that happen. I just can’t.”

With a flickered tear rolling down his cheek and dampening the cloth of the harmony scarf he wore, Sprout raised a leg to wipe it away and slowly but surely gave him a hug.

Maybe it wouldn’t last forever… but in this moment Cormac felt he needed it the most, especially when feeling at his most vulnerable right now.

“I-I know how it feels. Cormac, I’m scared of a lot of things. Losing my Pops, losing my place in the society, but now… hearing you say that, and how much you care about me… it makes me scared of losing you too. More than anything than you may know. But… but we have each other. I’m not going to let anything happen to you Cormac, no matter what.”

Sprout looked at his best friend with all the care he had for him up until this point in their journey, clinging onto him so he could feel at ease. He wouldn’t let go… not until he knew for certain that the Mudkip human would know how to ease his panic away from his mind.

Breathing slowly but surely, Cormac nodded and reciprocated the hug. He hugged him tightly, and began to sniffle more.

“I-I can’t… no I won’t… I refuse to let Krookodile, or whoever else I fear may touch you lay their hands on you Sprout… I never, ever want to have you harmed.”

“…I’m glad, so so glad to hear that Cormac. C’mon, let’s go… Archen and Mr Nuzleaf are up ahead.”

“…Right.”

With two cautious steps, the both of them walked forward to catch up to the other two in their searching party. Archen noticed Cormac’s worried eyes and gave him a reassuring nod.

And his surrogate father he left behind… whether it was his face or not, the human couldn’t tell.

But he swear… he saw the pained tear and worry his own face move forward.

“C’mon young’uns… yer gonna be fine. And Cormac… I’ll make sure you’ll be raising yer spirits like-a freshly brewed Oran Berry soufflé.”

The grass-type guardian gave his child a hug as well as a form of consolation for him, as the four of them had managed to get through to a clearing at the top.

The Expedition Society’s members all were there to support him, he realised. Even his own guardian.

But whatever this feeling that was inside him that he couldn’t shake away for something being wrong… he knew one thing he could do.

He would confront it with his allies together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading all four prompts I had to write. Whilst I know my other submissions are waaaayyy overdue (I’m sorry DX), thank you for a great hero/partner week! I’ve loved seeing all of you guys’ submissions and it proves that not only are all of you talented, but you’re all amazing in your own right as we all move forward to the future. We can all be here… as we each move forward… together.

@heropartnerweek

[serendipitous-mage]

why do fire alarm batteries

ONLY

ever need replacing when you are dead fucking asleep

did i enrage god? does she hate me now as i too hate this creation of ours? when will she replace MY batteries

[dawntheduckrb]

I'll stop posting wips eventually but it's been five days since I've said anything and I don't want anyone to think I'm dead/dying/stuck in a ditch and withering away, so here's 10% of the reason I disappeared (the duck is stuck in rendering hell) (and my little baby laptop is screaming at me every time I open up this file)

I might still be mostly lurking for a little bit so please be patient with me in the meantime 🙏🙏

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

saw One tiktok and now all i can think of is jensen and bryce cry laughing over barry sitting on jensen and making little biscuits into his stomach

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met in his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and his cock into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[hiraethwrote]

Imagine trying to escape an annoying ex who just will not leave you alone. And one day, around lunchtime, you’re so unlucky as to run into them in a cafe. They start badgering you about grabbing a bite together when you just blurt out “I’m actually here on a date!”

They instantly start grimacing and asking all sorts of questions about who this might be, causing you to panic. “Aah, there he is!” You desperately grab the arm of the next person to enter the cafe, hoping they’re able to read the situation and then have the decency to play along.

That random individual is no other than Satoru, who looks absolutely baffled by the abrupt encounter. His eyes darts between your ex and you, pleading with your eyes to help you out.

It takes him less than a second to make up his mind, slinging his arm over your shoulders and flashing your ex a smug grin — and then he commits wholeheartedly to the bit. He starts lying through his teeth about how much he enjoyed your last date, that he just picked up that book you recommended and he thought you might want to go to a botanical garden for your next meeting.

Eventually, your ex has had enough of the sight and leaves the cafe — you exhale deeply and relief washes over you. And once you begin to thank the stranger, he notices just how pretty you are. Kind eyes, a warm little smile that lingered after having laughed along to his performance, and a frame that simply seems to fit next to him.

The little unexpected interaction has caused you to run late. Rushing out a million little thank you’s, before pulling out your wallet. You pay for what you came for, then hand him some cash, “I’d love to pay for your lunch but I have to run. So just, take this, thank you again!” You chuckle lightly before quickly backing out of the cafe.

In your hurried haze, Satoru barely gets a word in. What really bothers him, is how he never managed to get your name before you’re out of there, and from that moment you’re stuck on his mind.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[starboundsingularities]

good lird they did not make a gimmick blog about a real life murder

#someone fucking DIED but whatever who gives a shit it's funny i guess

7 notes

🥚 eggvidenced Follow

honestly with how suspicious and confusing everything on the dl-6 case was i wouldn't be surprised if it came out that it was that prosecutor guy tbh

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

date posted: june 23, 2010

1,834,853 notes

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

ok hear me out. what abt winston payne though

🧊 just--ice Follow

okay now they're just making lawyers up

#also didn't mvk die or something?

28,932 notes

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

why the fuck are you people still posting about the gavinners as if theyre not copaganda. didn't the guitarist get convicted of murder

🎸 guiltiest-lovers837 Follow

so fucking tired of this "um um didn't daryan get convicted of murder" YEAH AND HE'S LITERALLY NOT IN THE FUCKING BAND ANYMORE. dipshit

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

are you gonna address the copaganda thing or

1,092 notes

🌻 attorneybout Follow

he's so. 😳

📂 trialanderror Follow

why is he defending

📂 trialanderror Follow

OP WHY IS HE DEFENDING???

24,374 notes

🦈 giantlakemonsters Follow

i just wanna hear about another gourdy sighting thats all

🥜 liberdeez Follow

op. i'm so sorry op. gourdy isn't real you have to let her go. they had a whole trial about it.

🔐 wrightorwrong Follow

hi!! so this isn't actually the case as while gourdy was briefly mentioned in a trial, said trial had nothing to do with whether or not gourdy was "real" per se as much as. well. murder, actually. while gourdy WAS found out to be an inflatable steel samurai this was not brought up in the case at all as the veracity of gourdy wasn't really as relevant as the fact that the witness was looking for gourdy rather than at the murder she claimed to have seen. plus this was also a relatively small part of a MUCH larger trial which for those interested not only solved the dl-6 case but ALSO marked the end of prosecutor von karma's ~40 year long record and the court records are really a fascinating read through!!

🦀 mad_libz_87 Follow

net 0 information post

#thanks again lawblr

94,834 notes

🍒 cherriescoola Follow

btw i was at the park the other day and klavier gavin (of gavinners fame) was there and obv there was a huge crowd but this guy was there with him and at some point he (the other guy) waved to the crowd and someone still screamed like it was klavier??? who was that guy ive never seen him before in my life

2,284 notes

🩸 has-dl6-been-solved-yet Follow

December 28, 2016

YES!!!

702,947 notes

🪙 tellerlikeitis Follow

guys help i'm a bank teller and this guy just introduced himself as robin banks what do i do

🔪 violencekilling Follow

you gotta let him rob you that's the law

302,948 notes

👻 ghostesswiththemostest Follow

look if i ever get convicted of murder im just hiring the lawyer with the coolest sounding name

💼 courtofwaw Follow

bestie if you already got convicted it is Too Late

62,193 notes

📋 lawandwhoreder Follow

guys i know it's real fun to think people just can predict whatever but if you look at the earliest reblogs of that post that "guessed" the true killer in the dl-6 case it was actually a post about how they didn't want to go to the store. clearly edited

#stg nobody bothers to factcheck anything anymore

7,293 notes

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

i am NOT homophobic or whatever the fuck you guys are saying now i just think its weird to write fanfiction about realass people?? go touch grass ffs

🌈 lawsbian Follow

the fun police (this guy) putting me in yaoi court but the lawyers (phoenix witrght and miles edgeworth) just keep trying to make out (real court is like this too btw)

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

YOU HAVE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU.

#look idc what your enemies to lovers fic bullshit says #they're straight. and more importantly REAL PEOPLE. #there's TENSION because they are in COURT and there are LIVES on the LINE. #not because they wanna fuck. god.

12,293 notes

🔮 inhighspirits Follow

why dont they just ask the spirit mediums to ask the victims who killed them this law shit is easy

837,495 notes

💞 lawveyourself Follow

seriously i cant believe they gave this guy a law degree

💞 lawveyourself Follow

what do you mean evidence fraud

503,893 notes

🎧 instrumentalillness Follow

fuck you *unguilties your love*

384,568 notes

🎀 copiicat Follow

perjury isnt illegal btw in fact if youre one of tge witnesses youre legally required to lie on the stand. thats why everyone does it. trust me

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[thingsimscaredtosayonmain]

hi, I saw a post on my dash like five minutes ago that was talking about nudity in a nonsexual context and etc. And it was one of those posts that really reminded me why I love the internet. I get to see and hear from so many different people!

like, for context, I grew up in a very conservative, very religious setting, and have been abused. So because of all of those things combined whenever anyone even remotely mentions sex or nudity my brain immediately goes "dangerdangerdanger" It's not a mindset I want to have, but it's one that's been forged out of trauma and toxic upbringings. The point is that because of the wonders of the internet I got to see a post that goes against a harmful mindset I have and reminded me not only to check it, but to be more aware of it in the future. It forced me to realize that my morals (is that the correct word?) of "children shouldn't be hurt" and "being a puritan about everything is not good and Actively Dangerous" are not ideas that need to compete but rather coexist.