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penvisions · 7 months ago

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zest {chapter 1}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Changes are sudden, lifestyles are altered, and important questions bubble up but through it all, you have Joel by your side.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: canon typical language, c'mon reader and joel have potty mouths, age gap (joel is mid 40’s / reader is late 20’s -early 30’s, protective joel, reader is canonically midsize, pregnant reader, surprise pregnancy, reader goes through nicotine withdrawal, smoking, cigarettes, nicotine use, lots of feelings, lots of emotions, complicated family dynamic, reader has family issues, death of a loved one, mention of life-threatening cancer, reader has religious guilt, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, reader canonically has an eating disorder, mentions of therapy, references to time apart from each other, adult content, smut, piv, unprotected piv be safe y'all!), talk of marriage, adult conversations, joel and reader are down bad for each other.

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: THEY'RE BACK, BABY! ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || masterlist || ko-fi

It’s the perfect spring day: sun shining in a warm but not hot brightness, a gentle breeze rustling the trees as you zip past them, an iced coffee, and the singing figure of Ellie in the passenger seat all make the first half of the day melt away. The amber of your sunglasses allows for everything to be swathed in the honeyed hue and you smile to yourself as you recall a rather heated comment from Joel ‘that every goddamn show feels so creative ‘n artsy when they slap the same tones over Mexico’ and then a softer set of words as he had cuddled closer to you on the couch ‘it’s not really like that, I’ve been there, darlin’, trust me’.

“What’re you all gooey lookin’ for, Sabrosa?” Ellie pauses to catch her breath between songs from the newest pop punk album from a band you first enjoyed in your teenage years. Unable to resist the temptation of adding it to your already laden down basket at the bookstore last week when you and the young girl had ditched Joel to run errands. “Ew, gross, don’t think about my dad while I’m sitting right next to you.”

“Oh hush,” You stuck your tongue out at her. Getting a kick out of how casually she sounded. It hadn’t ever been awkward between you two, or her and Sarah despite the six or so years between your birthdays. But then again, Sarah had let you into the secret of the older guy she had started seeing in her graduate program the last time she had been in town visiting… “It’s nothing dirty, just one of his many rants about my choice in television.”

“Lemme guess….oh! The washed-out way they show Mexico, huh? Cause you were watching…oh fuck, what’s that show called…”

“Breaking Bad.” Was the supplied answer from your lips as you turned on the turn signal and began to slow down to turn into the parking lot for the restaurant. It wasn’t operating hours quite yet, too early yet for the dinner crowd Joel preferred to cater to. But Ellie had a shift, and you were dropping her off after classes. She wasn’t in either of the ones you teach, having completed the two semester course you had started off with. But you both had a class that ended around the same time, living so close to the university, she liked being able to walk but then catch a ride with you. Tradition, the word rang in your head. Routine, followed it and you smiled wider at the way your life had fleshed out.

“That’s the one!” She exclaimed as she unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned back in her chair. “Man, I really don’t have the energy for work today, but the old man said we have a full reservation list and then open seating at the bar.”

“Gonna be that way for a while, the article about him came out only two months ago. Everyone’s clamoring for a chance to try the ‘bursting flavors’ and ‘exciting combinations’ of the renowned Chef Joel Miller.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s hot shit right now, at least the restaurant is.” Reaching for her coffee in an imitation of you, she sipped at the whip cream, caramel whatever it is she had gotten. Coffee wasn’t her favorite, so she always got the espresso taken out, a glorified milkshake Joel had teased her once. “Proud of him, though. The restaurant was in shambles when he bought it from the previous owners, some shitty Italian place that never cleaned anything.”

“He’s done good.” You quietly agree, sipping from your own overly complicated drink. That was another tradition of yours and hers, to make your way through the menu at the coffee shops on campus, always pausing to get the special of the month. Joel claimed he didn’t understand the need for so much stuff mixed in with coffee, but you caught him stealing sips of yours if he were to come across it unattended around the house or when you were out and about with him and treated yourself.

“There’s my girls.” Joel chimes as you input your code into the gate for the employee parking and round the side of the building. His voice filtering in through the open windows as you pull into a spot and cut the engine. He’s leaned against the back of the building, cigarette in hand. “Was wondering what took you so long.”

“Accident on the main road, had to detour.” You appease as he approaches to open the door for you and pressed a greeting kiss to your cheek as you roll up the windows. He does the same for Ellie as she sidles up beside him for a side hug before trotting off to the door and disappearing through it. He let’s you pluck the lit cigarette from his fingers as you shoulder your bag and close the door. His hand goes around your waist to walk alongside you toward the building.

“As long as you two are safe, that’s all that matters. Today’s special is spaghetti all nerano, wanna do some grading here and try a plate?” He takes the smoking roll back from your offered hand and takes the last drag before tossing it into the pale beside the door. Opening it and leading you through it with a hand hovering over your lower back.

“That sounds yummy, I’m starving.” You toss him a smile over your shoulder before greeting everyone with a wave.

It’s well into the third hour of service and you never got the chance to leave once the doors opened. The bar had been struggling, Millie having taken over as manager and Mary trying to appease the picky impatient customers who all want a taste of the raved over menu and a glimpse at the alluring Chef Miller.

Picking up a shaker and twisting a bottle of vodka in your grip, you glance at the ticket that just printed and adjust the amount you free pour into it. Mary had been looked so guilty as she approached you’re the table where you do your work on a regular basis, the question of if you were willing to help out getting drinks started for those waiting on tables barely out of her mouth before you were nodding and cleaning up your stuff. It was now safely tucked away in the office and you were moving at a fast pace behind the bar to keep up with everything. Millie stepped down to let you take the reigns, knowing she would only get in your way. Ellie could be seen picking up and dropping off glasses at the well as often as Millie as she acted as barback.

The restaurant was buzzing, excited conversation and pleasant atmosphere making you remember the tingling high of getting off from a busy shift with a wad of cash tucked into your pocket. Just as you place a strainer over the shaker and begin to pour the contents over six shot glasses the door to the kitchen swings open and Joel walks through. You’re too busy, so you shift the chilled shots to the mat over the well and place the corresponding tickets beside them. Moving onto the next drink, you rinse out the shaker with the star sink in place.

His eyes catch yours through the crowd of people when you look up as Ellie comes up to take the shots and then watching as she delivers them, the sound of the shaker loud in your ear as you hold it over your head. His steps don’t falter as he approaches the table, he was delivering the plate to, but you could see something flash over his face. He’s back behind the door as you move to lodge the shaker open.

The night goes by quickly, taking orders for those lucky enough to snag a spot at the bar but hadn’t been able to make a reservation. Shoving each cash tip into a pint glass for the girls and even taking a few business cards from people interested in hosting parties in the space. You’ll be sure to pass those along to Mary, even if some of them requested you as the bartender. You didn’t mind, missing the atmosphere and good moments you had experienced in the setting. Ellie is taking back the remaining dishes from the last few tables, Millie is out back smoking after helping to clean up the bar top when Joel ambles from the kitchen once again.

He's got his chef’s coat unbuttoned and loose around the shirt underneath, the glint of his belt buckle catching the fairy lights around the bar. His steel curls are slicked back, but you could see the frizz and fluffiness where they rested over the back of his neck. He had been saying he needed a haircut, but you had made a sound in the back of your throat that made him put it off.

His eyes are trained on you as you move the trash cans full of empty bottles to line up beside the drink pick up area. You’re about to return behind the bar with a wink thrown over your shoulder when he snakes his hands around your waist and pulls you to him. He smells amazing, the perfect mix of savory spices, smoke, and Joel.

“Playin’ restaurant, huh? Thought you went home and passed out.” He leans down to kiss your jawline.

“Nah, Mary asked for my help when Millie got swamped.” You breath out, hands coming up to rest on his chest and push should he get a little too enthusiastic in you still being here.

“Not your responsibility.” His eyes hold no real heat or command, you know it’s born from a place of worry, of not wanting you to stretch yourself too thin.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind.” You cradle his cheek in one hand and play with the collar of his open coat with the other. His eyes glance down, the glitter from your lotion catching the light on your neck and chest.

“Hmm, you looked good. Dress looks good on you, shakin’ those drinks and-“

“Dad, holy crap, it was so busy tonight. Some dude tipped me like fifty percent because he was trying to impress his date!” Ellie plops down on a stool with her server’s book. She doesn’t even look up from where she begins to go over the receipts. “Wait until everyone leaves to start doing that or better yet, wait until you’re home to do that.”

“One day you’re gonna meet someone and it’s gonna be hard to keep your hands to yourself.” You only giggle at the typical parent response from Joel. Ellie wasn’t a touchy-feely person, but you were sure she would be with the right person, you’d seen her flirty interactions with girls while out with you and your friends, tagging along for the free drinks and to have safe company. She was pretty smooth if she didn’t get into her head too much, soft touches to shoulders and waists, though she steadfastly refused to dance. With anyone, no matter the setting.

“Gross,” She begins to fill out the printed shift report before organizing the receipts in order and then asks you for the stapler. Detangling yourself from the man, you do make it back behind the bar. That’s when she notices the pint glass. “Holy shit! You made all that?”

“Huh? Oh, no. The restaurant did. Here.” You hand the wad of bills over to Joel. With your own shift report and stapled receipts. He uses two nimble fingers to extract the shift report but leaves the cash in your hand. Frowning, you track the report as it’s tucked into his back pocket along with Ellie’s. Her own cash tips secure in her booklet.

“Also gonna see about getting some of the petty cash from the safe for the hours you worked.” He begins to take the full bags from the trash cans, tying the ends together tight.

“Joel.”

“You worked, you get paid.” He doesn’t look up as he reaches into the bottom for the rolls sitting inside and begins to place new ones over the lips of the plastic.

“I’m your girlfriend. Who used to work here. I was just helping out.”

“Nope, not gonna fly, darlin’. It’s yours.” He slides the empties cans back around the bar for you to put back in their designated places.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” Ellie reaches for it and you let her swipe it from your hand. Only for Joel to set her with a look. “Oooor not.” She says as she puts it down atop the clean bar top.

“Joel!”

“Can’t hear you, Sabrosa, gotta make sure the kitchen duties were done.”

“Seriously, I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” You quirk an eyebrow at the younger girl, but Millie bounces up and says everyone was going out for a bite at the taco truck parked a few blocks down. They have a spot in a lot that has picnic tables and offer late night service. Ellie takes off, ensuring you she’ll text either you or Joel when she’s back at the townhouse afterwards. She’d been staying the second bedroom there more and more, as you found yourself splitting your time pretty evenly between it and Joel’s. He would join you sometimes, but certain nights either you needed you own space or he did and that was okay.

Sighing, you lock the patron door behind her and turn the sign from open to closed.

As you’re double checking everything is shut down properly, you open the washer to let the last load of glasses air dry, the steam billowing out. Turning when you hear the swing of the kitchen door again, Joel has his chef’s coat tossed over his shoulder and his backpack over the other. His eyes zone in on the cash and then a smirk takes over his face. You turn your attention back to the washer and ensure it’s off before you round the bar top and makes sure it was swept underneath the stools. You’re about to ask him which car you were gonna take home when you spot a crumpled napkin you must’ve missed.

As you bend down to pick it up, you feel thick fingers sneak beneath the skirt of your dress. You don’t think anything of it until you feel Joel tuck a bill from the stack into the band of your panties. Knuckles grazing against your slit as he moves to the other hip and does the same. You shoot up, the napkin forgotten as you try to turn around.

“Nu-uh,” His palms come to rest on your lower back and shoulders, bending you over one of the stools as the heat of his body looms close. He whispers something about having to scrub the video cameras set up around the dining room before you hear the clink of his belt being undone and feel him move your panties to the side. You throb at the feel of the cooler air circulating around the room, a gasp leaving your lips as he gently runs the head of his cock over your folds, arousal from you both making it such a smooth motion.

As he reaches over your back for something, he fills you up, the stretch of his girth feeling like a reward for the hectic shift completed. But you know the night would’ve ended like this either way.

A moan rips from your chest as he grabs a hold of whatever he had been trying to get, hips flush with yours. He chuckles, pleased with himself before his hands sneak around to cup your breasts as they threaten to spill out from your dress at the prone position. His fingers tuck more bills into your underwear, beneath the straps over your shoulders, into the already full cups to peak out over the swell of your chest. He even tucks one into the mess of your hair thrown up into a clip at the back of your head before his hands secure around your waist and he begins to thrust.

That’s the last memory you have of both smoking and drinking, only a few days before you had anxiously waited for a piece of plastic to tell you your fate. It was now a month since finding out, Joel making sure to go with you to get confirming bloodwork and a full physical. The headaches from missing both finally having abated. Joel on the other hand, he was sneaking cigarettes, you could smell the lingering smoke on him when would come home and you were still up. It didn’t really bother you, knowing he indulged for far longer than you had in the bad habit. But you missed the social aspect of the act, of seeking out the designated spots around campus and chatting, of sitting out on the back patio with Tommy as he enjoyed one on the evenings he stopped by with his own little family for dinner.

But it was all worth it, you mused as you poured yourself a cup of steaming water into what was once your coffee mug. Tea was something you indulged in now, the cupboard filled with the different types you were trying to work your way through to see what would help with the onslaught of nausea and also appealed to your tastebuds. You preferred the fruity ones, just like you did with your cocktails, hence the nickname Ellie had graced you with that stuck.

Jingling keys and heavy footsteps signaled you to Joel’s return, the sun still shining on the calm afternoon. He had been gone when you showed up at his house, a cookout planned for the day. Tommy and Maria had been here an hour, the grill just about ready for the first of many things to be cooked and the pool was sparkling as it awaited the arrival of Sarah and Ellie. You had spent the morning cleaning it of debris and adding a few treatment drops. The whole family getting together. It was good, it was a good feeling being surrounded by them all. You and Maria hitting it off even more over the news of what was to come. Her own child now nearing two, she had given birth while you and Joel were split. But you had sent a care package and visited her in the hospital with her favorite takeout.

It was so domestic, so full a life…it made you wonder why you hadn’t been able to experience it as a child yourself.

“Missed ya, darlin’.” Joel steps up behind you and embraces you. Kissing your temple, you feel the frown mar his lips as you don’t respond. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, turning in his hold and wrapping your arms around his chest. He smells like cinnamon and the grill brick he used while closing up the restaurant after a brunch shift and you breathe him in as you press your face into his broad chest.

“Gotta shower, wanna join me?’

“The girls will be here soon.” You hold him tighter, missing your own family even if it had never been the same as his own. Dinner once a month with your own father, no visits offered or initiated, grandparents raising you since you were young. A mother who had passed early due to complications from cancer she hadn’t known she had until she was pregnant with you herself. “Wanna make sure everything is ready for them.”

He peppers kisses into your hair before pulling away and disappearing upstairs.

The afternoon continues, the smell of grilling meat and roasting vegetables lilting into the air alongside ruckus laughter and bad jokes. Everyone is comfortable around the patio and the in the pool, food served and consumed. Just a few bites left of everything, Joel ensuring you that he would heed your cravings and what you felt like you could stomach, not worried about leftovers lately.

“So when do we get to meet the rest of the Sabrosa clan?” Tommy askes around the lip of his beer bottle. He’s across from you at the table, Joel off by the grill as he messes with something he hadn’t let you sneak a peak at.

“Oh, um…you don’t?” Caught off guard, the bite of food falls from your plastic fork frozen halfway to your mouth.

“No siblings or nothin?”

“Um, well-“ Clearing your throat you take the bite and chew it contemplatively. Honesty or the thinly veiled truth? Your mind is working hard, something Maria must hear in her seat beside you at the patio table. She shoots Tommy a look you catch out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep calm so the child in dozing in her arms doesn’t stir. “I’ve got two half-siblings, but we don’t keep in contact much.”

“They gonna be at the wedding?”

“What wedding?” “Oh my god, dad! You proposed and didn’t tell us!” Ellie and Sarah holler from where they’re in the pool, one of them resting on a floating device and the other is practicing her laps to get more comfortable in the water. Joel turns from where he was ensuring the grill was off and brings over the s’mores dip he had just let melt to perfection. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the gooey swirl of marshmallow and dark chocolate, of the rye biscuits he must’ve whipped up at work steaming beside it in a single use tin. Set up with a divider in the middle.

“Haven’t proposed to ‘er yet, quit it.” He sits it down atop a trivet, but no one makes a move to reach for it until he gives the go ahead. But he doesn’t until he’s got one of the dark biscuits covered in the dip and set in front of you. Then it was fair game as the girls begin to swim across the length of the pool, or well Sarah tries to glide her floaty across while Ellie does. Tommy readies one for Maria before making his own, quirking an eyebrow at you as he watches the pull of the dip.

“But your dad is gonna walk you down the aisle, right?” Tommy presses on, not catching onto the awkward way you were shifting in your seat or how you had placed your fork down to rest on the edge of your paper plate. The dessert untouched. But you don’t get to think of an answer before one is flying from your emotionless face.

“Can’t, he’s dead.”

Silence falls over the once happy and jovial backyard, the splash of Sarah slipping from her floating longue echoing.

“Tommy.” Joel’s voice is firm as he pins his brother with a mild glare. Maria is equally unpleased with her husband’s penchant for talking without thinking, not reading the room. He yelps as she kicks his shin underneath the table.

“It’s okay, wasn’t much of a father when he was alive anyway.” You reach for the mocktail you had made a pitcher of for you and the girls to enjoy. No one says anything as you pour yourself another and take a sip from it. Not liking the tension that had crept into the atmosphere, you gather up your nearly empty plate and stack it atop Maria’s to take inside, making more room for the messy dessert. Slinking away, you feel Maria reach out a hand to trail down your arm, comforting you before you’re gone back into the house.

“You dumbfuck.” Ellie mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Joel over his shoulder for her language. But he doesn’t disagree. You do, but it wasn’t his fault. How was Tommy supposed to know he had picked the one subject you had nothing good to say about?

“Shit, I- holy shit.” Tommy’s voice follows you before he yelps a second time as Joel brandishes the still warm tongs from serving biscuits.

“Way to shove your foot in your mouth, we were havin’ a good time.”

“I didn’t know! I thought she was just quiet about her family not that she didn’t have any.”

“Tommy, you’re the father of my child and my husband but you are seriously so stupid sometimes.”

“Dad, she-she doesn’t have any family?” Sarah is tearing up, affected by the sudden realization of why you never brought anyone around except for a friend every once in a while. She could understand not having a mother, as her own was so distant, only showing up when she needed something or felt lonely in the life she created for herself. But to not have a dad? That was all she knew and she couldn’t fathom how her life would have been without him in it;.

“She’s got us, baby girl.” Joel goes to run a hand over her shoulder and press a kiss to the fluff of her kinky curls as she stands beside the pool set into the ground outside the patio. He wraps the towel she brought out around her and rubs it across her shoulders before lifting his hands. “We’re her family, pretty good deal, huh?”

“Dad….”

“She’ll be okay, I promise.”

The laid back vibe from the afternoon returns once everyone piles into the living room to watch the season finale of an admittedly awful reality tv show. But everyone was hooked and harmless bets were made on who would cause the most drama and how things would end. You’re a little subdued, but you make comments along with everyone else and laugh at the absurdity of what happens on the screen.

Stepping out of the bath you had decided to soak in, you startle when you see Joel sat on the small bench in the master bathroom across from the vanity as you pull back the shower curtain. He’s already changed into his sleep pants, his freckled and bronzed chest on display through the steam.

“Darlin’, why didn’t you tell me your dad was passed?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” You stand in front of him, taking in the way he watches you through the mirror as you press a bead of toothpaste onto your toothbrush and wet it before popping it into your mouth. A heavy silence fills the room, tangling with the rose scented steam from the bubble bar you had used. The pink water swirling down the sink a near silent hum.

“It-uh, kinda does. Makes me feel…like a whole wedding would be…”

“You don’t have to ask me. We don’t have to get married if it’s going to be a problem.” Shoving down the worries and residual guilt of being raised in a certain religious culture at the thought of having a child out of wedlock, having a child as a single woman you catch the man’s gaze through the mirror. The burn of embarrassment simmers beneath your skin, shame for feeling such embarrassment sparkling behind it, creating a swirl of emotions you hadn’t wanted to feel this close to bed with an early class. You want to marry him, to experience that with him, to live life together as husband and wife, but it feels perfunctory when you didn’t even believe in the reasoning behind why you felt that way. He’s frowning, his brows knit close together, something off in the depths of his brown eyes.

“It’s not a problem…right?” You see the worry flickering through him, in the way his eyes shift and the way he clenches his fists in his lap. “I just…you know you’re a part of the Millers. Have been since the moment you caught my attention, but baby…I don’t want you to feel lonely if it’s my family and your friends.”

“Are you insinuating because I don’t have a family of my own, I’m somehow missing something?” Anger flared hot and sticky in you, washing out the embarrassment. The heat from your bath making it so much worse and you cross the room to pull the door open. Back at the vanity, you ignore his gaze and rinse out your mouth before moving on to clean and moisturize your face. He’s quiet behind you, knowing he phrased his sentiment wrong and this…this communication was new for you both. Still hard sometimes as you both realize how deep some things run and how different you could be.

“You know I’m not.” The gaze he has trained on you reminds you of the way he would watch you through the kitchen, tensions high as you both couldn’t seem to get your heads out of the dirt and just be honest with each other. A time that had passed, allowing for the present to bloom.

“Then a wedding wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s kind of moot, you haven’t proposed.” You don’t anticipate the slight edge to the words as they leave your lips, but they slice through the air. You feel shame overtake the waning anger, making your face hot underneath your massaging hands. The burn of tears threaten to ruin the routine you just completed and you hiccup as your hands flatten atop the vanity, head hanging between your shoulders. You do not like this, but you have no idea where it’s coming from. It really doesn’t bother you that he hasn’t asked. You know he has the intention to, the agreement of a visit to town hall and then a small party to celebrate. Nothing fancy, nothing crazy, simple.

“Hey,” He whispers as he comes up behind you, hands resting over the quick beating of your heart, his naked chest pressed to your back, the damp towel the only thing separating you. But you can feel his own heart between your shoulder blades, strong and sturdy. Grounding you in the way you had explained you preferred when overwhelmed. “I promise I wasn’t trying to upset you, just want you to be comfortable, to have everything you deserve.”

You let him help you to dry off the rest of your body, lotion lovingly applied to your body by his hands before you slip into a nightgown and slip between the sheets beside him. You kiss an apology to his lips, needing him to know that it was just initial panic and not the real way you thought or felt. He accepts it and offers one of his own, lips pressed to your chest, right over your heart before sleep takes ahold of you both.

“I said don’t.” You warned, no humor in your voice. You had tried and failed to put on every one of your pairs of pants, jeans, leggings, and none of them were comfortable. None of them zipped, buttoned, or stretched enough underneath the slight bump that had seemingly blossomed overnight. Joel was sprawled on the bed, working his way to getting up at the late hour. He had been at the restaurant late, later than usual as they had a party stay well after service hours. He had let the staff go on time, ensuring they would get the tip out but not wanting them to have to stay once all the cleaning and side work was done. One of the many things you adored about the man, his willingness to heed situations like that in favor of his staff even if he was gruff and to the point most of the day.

“Didn’t say nothin’, darlin’.” He rumbled from beneath the sheets, tan skin looking deliciously golden paired with the pale pink set you had insisted changing from the white that had previously been curled around the mattress. You had woken up with bad cramps last month, terrified something had happened as you pulled back the covers to find blood spotting the pristine fabric. A quick trip the emergency room as he shared in your panic, albeit in a more controlled way, assured you that spotting was normal during the early months of pregnancy.

“Dress...” You muttered to yourself, hand cradling around the small bump. Joel only hummed, stretching out to alleviate his sore body, thick legs appeared from beneath the fabric. Your eyes traced the long lines of his body through the mirror atop the dresser, drinking in the sight of him and your body began to thrum with arousal. When your eyes roved up the expanse of his broad chest dusted with dark hair to his face, he was smirking at you with an eyebrow arched in a silent question of how long you would ignore his deliberate departure from the bed.

You had all but jumped him when he got home last night, papers you were grading scattered all around you on the couch and coffee table, a Josh Gates show on the television for moral encouragement. He had teased you once about your affinity for the man but you had clapped back with his borderline obsession with Anthony Bourdain, to which he simply said ‘can’t help it darlin’, the man knew his shit’.

The dinner he had brought home had been tossed to the entry way table, as you knelt down to help remove him from his shoes and pants. Mouthing at the line of him through his boxer briefs before he could even get his keys hooked on the mirror over the table. He had been prepared to find you fast asleep, a different kind of tired taking hold of you more and more, almost demanding naps during the day when you got home from campus and right before dinner if you hadn’t worked. But you had sprung up from your spot and welcomed him home, the food forgotten in favor of getting your fill of the man that had been consuming your thoughts. The thought makes his cock fill, twitching underneath the sheets as he recalls your enthusiasm.

He sees the way your eyes dilate at the movement, the hush of his hand skimming down to grip himself.

Suddenly, you’re no longer debating over the clothing flowing from the draws inside the closet or those of the dresser. You peeled the pants you had been fruitlessly trying to zip up and nearly threw yourself at him. He greedily accepts your frantic kisses, starting from his shins and all the way up neck to finally connect with his own. He groans at the taste of coffee you had allowed yourself this morning, his own cup still steaming on the bedside table. His glasses beside it, his cellphone lighting up only to be ignored.

“Does mama need some attention?” He breathes into your open mouth, large palms caressing the exposed skin of your hips. His hands graze your middle, and you shy away from him, self-conscious of the extra jiggle, the stretchmarks from rapid weight fluctuation of your years now accommodating the swell of the beginning signs of the life you two had created together. “Hey, no, c’mere.”

You’re sure he sees the flicker of emotions across your face before you school it into a cool arch of your brow, the playful smirk of your lips. Falling back on bravado that wanes far too quickly these days as your hormones ping pong all over the place. You were just as apt to burst into silent tears as you were to jump him, confusing for you and devasting for him as he tries to read your moods as well as he can. He was hoping to dislodge the habit of you seeking refuge in the townhouse you had gifted Ellie, her own budding relationship prompting her to ask for her own space just as the new stage of your life became known to them. Equal parts of respect for the more tender and tense moments sure to happen and yearning for her own space again.

“Mama needs some new clothes, wanna spoil me?” Your voice is a confident hush, hands reaching forward to urge him to shift closer, both of you on your sides and facing each other.

“Do anythin’ for you, darlin’, you know that.” His teeth sunk into the curve of your neck, tugging you back to him. That seemed to get you to forget your insecurities as he felt you pull him closer, your smaller hands so soft on his chest as they caressed his skin.

“I think I wanna go to that fancy mall, maybe get some pretty underwear that won’t make me feel like a total loser.”

“I’ll take ya anywhere you want, maybe even that big shopping center in Dallas? It’ll be just like the trip we took to Arizona. Could get a hotel, see the sights and just relax. Hear they have a mac and cheese restaurant in the arts district.” He rolls to pin you down, and you move to allow him space between your legs instinctually. Body hovering over yours as he kisses down your neck, your chest, he lets his words sink in. The bralette you had put on doing nothing to hide the perk of your nipples. He laps at them through the thin fabric, delighting in the way it makes you arch up into him. You were so sensitive to his touch lately, your body on high alert as your hormones fluctuate erratically.

“That’s a lot, Joel. Shouldn’t we-“ Your hesitant words are cut off by a searing kiss, the press of his skin against yours making it hard to keep your train of thought.

“We should do what we want, darlin’. Wanna get everything sorted to go this weekend?”

Tears are suddenly pitter pattering over the sheets, darkening the fabric where they land after rolling down the sides of your face. He pushes his weight from where it pressed you to the bed, back on your sides and you let him, unable to stem the tears.

“Oh hey, hey it’s okay,” Joel crowds close, the thin fabric separating your bodies as you bury your face in his neck and curl your legs up, knees pressing into his stomach. Hiccups startle you both as you find it suddenly hard to breath through the onslaught of emotions spiking. “Hey now, darlin’, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” You mumble into his skin, embarrassment flaring up hot in your cheeks and chest. You feel so silly, pulled in too many directions in so quick a succession. “I just…you’re so hot and I’m all bloated and my skin feels all tight and I really want some ice cream.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re happily spooning a sundae into your mouth with a red plastic spoon in the passenger seat of his truck. All the tears and frustration gone from you as you held tight to the treat in your hands with far too many flimsy napkins. He’s got a cigarette dangling from the hand he rests on the inside of the door, trying to keep as much smoke from wafting back into the cab as possible. Errands, today was an errand day and you smiled over at him. Pairs of sunglasses meeting, eyes hidden beneath them. He just leans over to press a kiss to your temple, not wanting to disrupt your enjoyment of the ice cream you literally cried over.

next chapter

taglist: @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute @sarap-77 @koshkaj-blog @corazondebeskar-reads @ozarkthedog @littlemisspascal @endlessthxxghts @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @sawymredfox @cumberpegg @grandanchorkitten @noisynightmarepoetry

@regalwhovianbrowncoat774

@pazizz

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imfromthemiddlekingdom · 8 months ago

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When I engage with the Silmarilion fandom it’s always very educational and enlightening no matter what side they’re on regarding Finwe and his sons. But whenever I interact with the HoTD fandom it’s always “you’re condoning XYZ and therefore you’re a horrible person!!!” Or doing mental gymnastics to try to justify whichever atrocities their side committed.

Thematically both stories are quite similar. We can find parallels with Rhaenyra and Feanor but even at his worst (Pulling a sword on Fingolfin, First kinslaying, burning of the ships etc.) Feanor had never put a bounty on a toddler (Rhaenyra stating that Maelor should be bought to her dead or alive causing him to be ripped apart. Like hello??!??? How is that ever a justifiable thing to do???). I can find parallels between Feanor and Rhaenyra, sure. But if I’m honest the parallels stop with them being the only child of a kings first wife who’s father then went on to face four more kids with another women. Finwe is ten times the father Viserys was. And literally none of the kids (Feanor included) would ever take their anger out on their siblings child like we see the so called Maegor come again do.

But I digress, I was talking of the fandom. I may get heated talking about whether Feanor was right in his anger at Indis or whether Fingolfin should’ve absolutely demanded more reparations from the sons of Feanor when he crossed the ice. But I’ve never seen anyone in the Silm fandom saying that someone should die because they had an opinion.

But I’ve seen many instances of HoTD fans threatening rape and death on people who think Alicent is not the monster they portray her as, or that Rhaenyra isn’t as ‘girl boss queen slay!!!’ As people say she is. Maybe it’s because HoTD is a TV show and many of the fans haven’t read the books and therefore don’t understand nuance since the TV show focuses so much on Rhaenyra’s manifest destiny arc that team green gets painted as the ‘ultimate’ villain for our girl boss queen Rhaenyra to ascend to the throne since it’s her ‘birth right’.

Not to mention how the whole made up show canon prophecy to justify colonialism means that team black stans are really showing their true colors on what they think is right. Because guess what? The Silm also has what could be said to be as a colonizing story line with the Noldor coming to Beleriand and settling but most fans agree that the cutting up of Beleriand was very much a colonizing behavior no matter what they think of Thingol.

Point is, most HoTD fans can’t hold and intellectually simulating debate over their characters without feeling like said debater is personally attacking them since their entire personality is so deeply entwined with their fav that a critique on them would automatically equate to a critique on themselves. Therefore making it entirely impossible to have a decent conversation on the thematically very important foils that Rhaenyra and Alicent pose to each other (since they still think a good story must have a black and white view of the protagonist and the antagonist lmao).

Media illiteracy in these fandoms truly is a cancer that spreads to even the most level headed and literate individuals. Pick up a book! Understand themes and how foils are supposed to be written without internalizing criticism of your fav as a criticism of yourself! I don’t get mad when people criticize Feanor, nor do I get mad when people say I’m wrong when it comes to my own interpretation of the statue of Finwe and Miriel. It’s called having a discussion and you can only do that when you’re not on the front lines dying for a fictional character who wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire in front of them!!!

#media literacy #hotd #the silmarillion #feanor #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #anti team black stans #anti team black #pro team green #please I’m begging for people in this god forsaken fandom to stop defending a fictional character with your life #cw rape #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti Rhaenyra Targaryen fans #rhaenyra targaryen #as you can see I despair at the lack of reading comprehension skills and media literacy skills most team black stans have #literally head empty only girl boss slay queen omg she’s such a boss bitch!!!!#if you can’t recognize the flaws in your fav character maybe don’t debate their actions online?#like #a character having irredeemable flaws is like half the reason you like them

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the-ace-with-spades · 8 months ago

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Trying to make myself write like a monkey pilot and so random bits from worldbuilding of this fic that are only mention or not even included (this is trans Bradley fic, for people who have not read it, but some bits are universal - I'm sorry for the rambling)

Merlin has a flight school in Nevada - this is where Bradley gets his commercial pilot licence, not long after he starts medical transition. Merlin runs it with his second wife, Nandini, who was the original owner and main flight instructor. They met through Slider, who got his commercial through her school, and they got two kids and their daughter had a crush on Bradley everyone in their family holds against her any time they meet for family gatherings.

Slider, by the way, retired from the Navy the same year as Mav started on the path to become a test pilot, and got a commercial and then airline pilot licence. Mav makes fun of it constantly.

Jake and Bradley (then pre-transition) talked extensively about their future life together and in Jake's mind, it was a given they would get married and have kids eventually, they'd just wait for the right timing or until they were at certain ranks/positions. Bradley did want all of it, he just never thought/imagined how it'd actually look with him as wife/mother, only vaguely with Jake as a dad and his own image completely avoided (kinda hard to explain but it's like a very blurry picture where his own figure would be even blurrier).

Bradley still wants to get married and have kids. Once the whole wife/mom bit became husband/dad thing, he's no longer uncomfortable about the topic. He knows being pregnant would be difficult because society sucks but he's pretty sure he's at the stage of confidence when he can pull it off.

Jake's mom is the nightmare mother-in-law people joke about. For real. She is terrible to all of her kids' partners, but she is especially terrible to Bradley (pre and after transition) because Jake is her little miracle baby.

Coyote joined Jake's squadron just as Bradley left the Navy, which means he met Jake in the middle of a heartbreak and well, that's basically why he's not the biggest fan of Bradley (even if sometimes it shows in ugly ways).

Bradley and Jake also had very different mindsets about their relationship during the break-up period of six years. Bradley had been a bit in denial and tried to force himself to move quickly, thinking that ever being with Jake was impossible (or you know, a fantasy only possible in his head...). Jake up until he sees Bradley, now after transition, at the Hard Deck, thought they were like magically destinated to be together and they'd meet again at some point. He dated some girls, mostly on Coyote's insistence, but he never hit it off with any woman, liked to say he was 'ruined for life' for Bradley and never stopped believing they'd find each other again despite the years apart piling on.

Mav and Ice renewed their vows and had a second wedding after Ice went into remission. Bradley was the officiant, mostly because Ice and Mav had a massive fight about whose witness he should be.

This is implied ?? but Ice's cancer went in remission because I imagine Bradley being there and Mav being there more often because of Bradley meant Ice'd go to the doctor earlier than in canon and had better chances given it was at an earlier stage when it was found. You know, a butterfly effect and all that.

Bradley and Ice spent weeks after Bradley's top surgery playing DCS, most often in the F-14 sim with Bradley in the RIO seat, sometimes with Slider providing commentary. As stated in the fic, Slider is the one to pop the idea and install the whole thing. Ice and Mav often play while goes through his oncology treatment and Ice often uses his puppy eyes to make Mav play as the RIO (rather than have two planes and Jester AIs)

Jake has a strange view on gender, which isn't necessarily bad, but it can be disheartening to Bradley, especially at the beginning. It's almost as if he doesn't see people's gender but who the people are (kinda like similar to not seeing skin colours??) which can be great when you don't want to be perceived/treated by just gender (like Bradley pre-transition) but can be ignorant if you do (like Bradley after transition). He is also terrible with labels and doesn't really believe or use them.

(A bit nsfw/tmi ??) Bradley chose his preferred type of top surgery based on the desire to keep the sensation of his nipples (buttonhole has a higher probability of keeping the feeling), mostly because it was a really sensitive part of his body, but ended up not keeping the full sensation on one side, which is always a possible outcome with any top surgeries, and after a few more months on T realized that his chest isn't really that sensitive anymore anyway. It's probably one of the very few things he misses.

I'm absolutely ecstatic because readers picked up on it, but Jake's been so jealous of Mav the whole time the fic's been going on and it'll continue until he realizes who Mav is to Bradley actually. You can only imagine how horrified he is when he realizes how terrible of a first impression he made on Mav.

While Mav is not a fan of Jake, Ice is trying to be very neutral. Objectively, he's not the biggest fan of Jake either, mostly because he's never going to be a fan of any of his baby boy's partners, but he thinks Bradley is an adult and should be able to make his own decisions. He also knows that a lot of people would have told him Mav is no good for him and it's not true at all so he's trying to trust Bradley's judgment.

someone please make me write, i just stare at the open document and change words in already written dialogues

#(sif) lamp tag #tgm #hangster #trans bradley rooster bradshaw #idk what to tag here its a hangster fic with a side of icemav parenting (or vice versa)

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thisisarcanereverie · 2 years ago

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When the World Went to Shit (Chapter 2)

Joel Miller x FEM! Reader

A/N: this is a SPOILER WARNING, this contains spoliers from the second episode (and more to come). Also I did NOT bother editing, so if there are a few mistakes my bad.

WARNINGS: Canon level of violence, swears, reader is ready to fight a goddamn child, Joel is sad, talks of grief, PTSD, brief mentions of gore, Eventual Smut, pining (on both ends), grumpy idiots in love, reader is in her late 30's to early to mid 40's. DISCLAIMER NO CHARACTERS/GIFS/PICS USED ARE MINE.

Summary: 20 years later after the world went to shit you, Joel, and Tess have to take 14 year old Ellie to the Firefly base outside of Boston QZ. What was supposed to be a simple plan turned into something much more complicated.

Prev. Chapter

Shit

You take a deep breath in as you, as you and Joel watch the girl with bated breath as Tess sleeps next to you two. Joel tried to get you to sleep as well, but you refused. All the adrenaline from the running and the commotion from before still lingered in you, keeping you awake. Time seemed to go on forever, just watching her, waiting for something to happen. It was like your own brand of hell, maybe one you deserved. You always did hate to see people become infected, so fresh and recent that you’re reminded that they were human once. Even the terrifying creatures that barely looked human at all once were, had families and a past, it’s just that their luck ran out. What’s even worse, is that the fungus itself wasn’t to blame for all of this either, it just evolved to survive, like all things did. It’s just one big evolutionary mess. Before you could delve deeper about it you noticed Joel’s hand trembling. His knuckles still bloody from before, your thoughts suddenly turn to what happened before. How Joel had beaten a man to death, his PTSD took over didn’t hold back. Something you don’t blame him for, he was going to kill a little girl for stabbing him in the leg. But still, it looked like it hurt.

“Hey,” you said silently, careful not to wake Tess and Ellie, “Joel.” The man turned to you, his brown eyes glancing over at you before returning to the small figure snoring.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, careful not to wake them too.

“Let me see it,” You said nodding toward the bloodied hand that rested over the gun, you unzipped your bag before he could say no.

“I’m fi-”

“Joel,” you called his name sternly, “stop trying to be macho and let me see your goddamn hand.” he mumbled something under his breath before he shifted the gun to his other hand and let you examine the damage. You scooted closer to him, turning his hand a few different ways, gentle as to not displace something.

“Can’t be anything more than a hairline,” you said, hairline fractures were common punching injuries to the hand, usually you would treat this with ice or something cold, give him a few pain pills and tell him to lay off it for a while. But you weren’t in the QZ and couldn’t afford to lay off his hand for a while, so you did what you could do. You grab a sterilizing liquid from your bag and rip off a piece of your own shirt as a makeshift bandage.

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes I do,” You said as you continued to heal him with what you had.

“You could let me get my sentence out first before you answer.” He gruffed, you looked at him a moment before a small smile graced itself on your lips. His hair might be peppered with gray and his eyes may be hardened by time, but when he made that face you could still see who he used to be. Tommy’s cool older brother who used to smoke outside of the arcade and would always roll his eyes when you told him that smoking caused cancer. You were too wrapped up in that memory to see his gaze drift over to you, watching as you diligently worked. His hand still felt like shit, the burn of the sterilizing liquid still lingered. If you had looked at him you would’ve seen it, the conflict and desire that he had buried deep within himself ever since you came back into his life.

If only

But instead he turned his head back to the teen when you were finally done.

“What were you smiling about?” He asked, curious to know what had been on your mind at that moment.

“Nothing,” you told him as you put your stuff away. Making sure to close the lid tightly before settling it back into your backpack. “How’s the hand feeling now?”

“Like shit,” He replied, “but thanks for the help Doc.” You both sat in silence for a little longer, the crickets made a nice lullaby in the middle of all the hell going on outside.

“You should get some rest,” He said, “in a few hours we’re going to have to decide on what to do with her.” The adrenaline was wearing off a bit and you were starting to feel the energy leaving you, but you were bound and determined to stay up with him.

“Not tired,” you defied as you fought keeping your eyelids open, but pretty soon sleep overcame you as you finally fell into its embrace.

*************************************************

When you opened your eyes it was daylight, and Joel and Tess were up staring at Ellie who was starting to wake up as well. You went to sit next to Joel when he stopped you, his eyes looking up at you.

“Stay behind me.” He said, and you complied. Your physical skill left much to be desired, but you were skilled enough to take on a clicker or two if it came down to it.

Daylight streaked through the hole in the ceiling, where you could see the brunette girl start to stir on her bed of moss. Until she sat up and looked around, eyes settling on you three.

“Morning,” she greeted, standing up from where she laid. The sudden movement causes Joel to raise his weapon higher, causing Ellie to pause before sitting on the moss again, her eyes carefully eyeing him.

“Do I look like I’m infected?”

“Show us your arm.” Joel commanded, and without hesitation you saw her pull back the pink sleeve of her jacket to reveal the scar that had formed. You stepped forward, wanting a closer look. Joel went to stop you but you brushed him off, carefully you held the girl's arm in your hand. A finger delicately tracing the healed bite marks.

Healed bite marks.

Something dangerous began to bubble in you, call it hope or relief, but you stifled it down and you had too little information to start celebrating.

“How long ago were you bitten?” You asked, tearing your eyes away from the scar and into her eyes.

“3 weeks,” she replied, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat before you let go of her and made your way back to Joel and Tess, who sat there with tense shoulders. You were silent for a moment, trying to search for the right words so you wouldn’t sound crazy. But you guess crazy went out the window when half fungus half human zombies started emerging.

“It’s healed,” you said, “scar tissue has formed and she shows no signs of infection.”

“How is that possible?” Tess asked in disbelief, “that infection scanner glowed red.”

“It could’ve been a false positive,” you suggested, “I don’t know the finer details of it. But if she’s had this for weeks and hasn’t turned, I’d say there’s a good chance she’s immune somehow.”

Immune.

It was such a scary word to say out loud, immunity gave people hope for a vaccine or a cure. You tried to avoid that as much as you could, hope was hell. You all looked at each other a moment before Ellie could be heard in the background.

“If we’re out in the open city why aren’t we swarmed?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Joel dismissed.

“Well I’m gonna.” Ellie replied. You guessed she’s never been outside the FEDRA walls before, you heard some of the teenagers telling ghost stories. Like how some infected can spread spores, or that the entire city is full of infected ready to swarm you as soon as you take a step outside the gate.

“What was Marlene doing with an infected kid?” Tess asked as Joel gently put himself in front of you, still not trusting that Ellie wouldn’t suddenly turn.

“I’m not infected,” Ellie defended, “She found me after I was bitten.

“And she didn’t shoot you?”

“Clearly not”

What was Marlene playing at?

“She locked me up and had her guys test me everyday to see if I was getting sick.”

“How?” You asked, “how did they test you?”

“I’ve got to pee.”

“Answer her.” Tess said, her eyes focused on Ellie, who stared at her with the most deadpan expression you’ve ever seen on a 14 year old.

“They’d made me count to ten and hold out my hand and keep it steady.” She explained, “but you know what I think really impressed them was the fact that I didn’t turn into a fucking monster.” And with that she stood up finally, “Now can I please?” Joel stood up with her, careful to keep you behind him. You see her studying him a bit, something flashed across her eyes before it disappeared. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. Much like you he denies any sort of hope, but unlike you he was very good at being pessimistic about things like vaccines and a cure.

“Fine,” Tess breaks the silence, tossing her an old magazine, “back there you can find a spot.” She points to an open door a few feet away. The brunette walks towards the door, stepping over old shards of glass.

“There’s nothing going to be bad in here?” Ellie asked.

“Just you.”

“Oh, funny.” Ellie replied to Joel before stepping behind the door out of view. All three of you let out a sigh you didn’t know you were keeping in, Joel sat back down and turned to you.

“What happened to staying behind me?”

“She’s not infected,” you reasoned, “I had to make sure that she was telling the truth.”

“What if she wasn’t?” Joel’s ash colored eyes narrowing on your figure, “you could’ve been hurt.”

“I wasn’t,” you assured, “and neither was Tess. But someone had to take a closer look and it might as

well have been me.”

“Why do you think it might as well have bee-”

“Enough,” Tess interrupted, shutting you both up. Looking at Joel she spoke, “she’s a big girl and can make her own decisions and she has a point. Among the three of us, she’s the only one with medical knowledge, so it was better if she examined it in the first place.” You were about to send a triumphant smirk Joel's way when you felt her gaze shift to you. “And while you may have had a point Joel did too. You can’t be so reckless.” A moment of silence happens before she speaks again, eyes trained back on Joel who was looking towards the door like he was waiting. “She made it through the fucking night, Joel.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He dismissed her. “It’s going to happen sooner or later.” he looks at her before turning his gaze to the ground, “Alright? We’re still close to the wall, we sneak her back into the QZ and we find a different way of getting the battery.”

“This,” Tess emphasized, “is our best shot.” Joel sighs as Tess makes him look at her again, “Someone’s going to notice her arm. They’re going to scan her…and then they’ll kill her.”

“Well better them, than us,” Joel snapped, “You need to stop talking about this kid like she’s got some kinda life in front of her.” You sigh and rub the bridge of your nose, this was messy and complicated. How in the hell did you manage to find your way in this situation in the first place.

Oh yeah.

Cause Joel Miller said he fucking needed you.

Just as you were about to add your own two cents in footsteps could be heard approaching. You all went silent as you watched Ellie emerge from behind the door and toss the magazine at Tess’s feet before sitting down on her bed of moss.

“Are you hungry?” Tess asked as she opened up the small bag of ration jerky, “you can share some of ours.”

“Thanks, Marlene sent me with my own,” Ellie thanked as she pulled out something from her bag. The three of you shared the jerky and eyeing the sandwich she had pulled out. You watched as she takes a bite, you were almost certain that it was chicken.

“Is that chicken?” Tess asked.

“Yeah,” the brunette confirmed, “Marlene said they got it from smugglers.” An awkward pause fills the air as her dark eyes dart between the three of you, “I’m guessing not you guys.” Suddenly Tess stands up and walks over to Ellie, Joel was quick to stand as well.

“Why are you so important to Marlene?” Tess asked as she stuffed her hands into her pockets, “and don’t lie or we’ll take you back.”

“You don’t take me back, you don’t get your battery.”

“You heard that,” Tess scoffs, “then you must’ve heard that he wants to shoot you.” Ellie’s eyes darted to Joel who kept her gaze as Tess kneels in front of her. “I’m gonna talk to you like an adult, ok?” Tess says gently bringing Ellie’s attention back to her, “Joel, Doc and I aren’t good people. We’re doing this for us, because apparently you’re worth something. But we don’t know what you’re worth, if we don’t know what we have.” You see Tess’s eyes narrow on the 14 year old, “So answer my question,” a moment of tense silence happens before you could see the brunette sigh and cover her face, mumbling something before replying.

“There’s a Firefly base camp somewhere out west with doctors,” she starts, “they’re working on a cure.”

“Mm-hm” Joel interrupts, “I’ve heard this before.” Your eyes narrowed on him as he interrupted her, he was starting to really irritate you.

“And whatever happened to me,” Ellie continued, her eyes also narrowing on Joel, “is the key to finding the vaccine.” Joel said at the same time. His eyes narrowed on her in a cynical way, his guard was up.

“That’s what this is?” he asked, “We’ve heard this a million times, vaccines and miracle cures. None of it works…ever.”

“Fuck you man I didn’t ask for this.” Ellie snapped, standing up.

“You and me both.” Joel retorted, turning away from her, Tess got up from her kneeling position to get in between the two.

“Joel, you need to calm down.” You finally spoke, looking him in the eyes, trying to keep your voice even and not tell him to shut the fuck up instead.

“This isn’t going to end well Doc.” He warned, grabbing your wrist with his good hand, “we need to go back.” His eyes intensely focused on you, almost begging you to just listen to him for once in your life. But you took a step back.

“And do what exactly?” you questioned, “You killed a FEDRA soldier last night, or almost did, all of us are outside of the QZ without permission, and if they hadn’t raided our units by now they will soon and guess what they’ll find Joel? They’ll find evidence of smuggling and illegal weapons.” You step closer to him now, hands resting on your hips, “we go back and we will all face the gallows, it doesn’t matter who we are.”

You were right, and he knew it. His shoulders drop as he pinches the bridge between his eyebrows.

“Let’s just finish it” Tess says, “it doesn’t matter if she is or isn’t what the Firefly’s say, if they believe that’s what she is…then…we get what we want.” You could see his gaze soften as he looked at Tess, giving a begrudging nod to her before looking at Ellie. Sunlight gave her a deceiving halo, before he shook his head as he looked between you and Tess.

“If she so much as twitches-”

You turned to Ellie to see her give a half hearted impression of an infected. All of you gave her a deadpan face.

“Don’t.” Tess said as she and Joel went to move the piece of debris locking you in here. Ellie stops and

gives an awkward scratch to the back of her neck in embarrassment. Both you and Ellie grab your backpacks, you grab Joel’s as well and hand it to him.

You squint as daylight invades your eyes, blinding you a moment from the ruins of Boston. The crickets were long gone, only a few screams could be heard from the far distances. Alright, You thought, Here we fucking go.

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astralix · 2 months ago

Text

Act 002 Countdown

Pretty Guardian ✶ Sailor Moon

Characters: Original Characters, Canon Characters-mentioned Rating: Teen, Older Teen Genre: Angst, Action, Fantasy/Magical Girl Song: “Safe and Sound” Taylor Swift feat. The Civil Wars Originally from The Hunger Games

Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon or any of Naoko Takeuchi’s incarnations of Sailor Moon.

✦✶✦

Don’t you dare look out your window Darling, everything’s on fire The war outside our door keeps raging on Hold on to this lullaby Even when (the) music’s gone Gone

✦✶✦

She was told not to look.

She was told to run.

Never to look back.

She had to live no matter what.

Tears welled down her cheeks as she panted. Heeled boots thumping into the ground as she did what she was told. No matter what she heard. No matter what she saw. She had to keep running. The scent of smoke from the aftermath of a fire burned her lungs. The debris that flew through the air threatened to knock her unconscious. Still, she ducked and ran.

She heard laughter and desperate shouting. Still, she kept on running and found a house that would fall any moment. She could sense the powerful flames overcoming two of her fellow Senshi. She just needed to be sure who was being burned in there. Maybe she could help. Maybe she could join them. Just so she was not alone.

Sailor Phoenix stopped.

Go. Two voices called out to her. She could feel the warmth of Sailor Leo’s fire. She could see the chaotic, but determined energy of Sailor Sagittarius’ lightning.

Tears pricked her eyes as she kept on running. Twelve were still alive.

She hurried, ducking under the burning underbrush and darted for the rocky landscape. One moment she could feel the strength of Sailor Taurus’ energy raging through boulder after boulder. However, it eventually ceased. More tears welled up in her eyes as she caught a whiff of Sailor Capricorn’s energy disappearing underneath large boulders. She stopped and covered to let out a grief-stricken sob.

Don’t. Two voices called out to her. Ten were still remaining. She stayed quiet.

Why? She wanted to cry out, but she knew why. She could see a flash dart forward and she rolled to the side. She got up and continued to run. Her legs, feet and ankles screamed in agony as she continued her path. Was it out of cowardice if the others pleaded with her to survive?

“Over here!” she heard Sailor Virgo’s voice. Sailor Phoenix’s eyes widened. No, not her!

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and saw Sailor Aries shaking her head. She felt the coldness, the absence of her friend’s hand and Sailor Aries began forward. She led the Sun Empress towards another clearing, where they could hear the war cries and lasers from the enemy shooting. It sounded worse than a bunch of fireworks being fired at once. And soon she heard nothing.

Go. She heard a gentle, but firm voice. It was Sailor Virgo. Eight remained. Just how many would die before she did something productive?! Sailor Phoenix could feel more tears blur her vision as she continued speeding forward. She felt Sailor Aries pull her by the wrist as they ran.

She met the violet gaze of the redhead. Sailor Aries hated this just as much as she did, but they had to make sure Sailor Phoenix was safe and could secure success against the enemy. It killed Sailor Phoenix to have to listen and sense the deaths of her peers.

Eight had led the enemy to a body of water. She could not see Sailor Pisces, but she could sense her grieving phantom sister. Seven and Six were Sailors Aquarius and Scorpio. The two were joined at the hip, so it was only natural they would follow one another into the unknown. Still Sailor Phoenix mourned for them while she kept running. She had to make sure her comrades’ sacrifices were not in vain! Sailor Libra was next in line, so five were still alive.

Sailors Aries and Phoenix ran past an ice sculpture of Sailor Cancer on their way towards Sailor Phoenix’s point of counter attack. Four left.

Sailors Gemini and Didymoi had sapped all their life force energy in order to sap an enemy’s. Two were left.

As they closed in, Sailor Phoenix had a horrified realization that Sailor Ophiuchus was the first to leave her entourage. She stopped just moments before the point and Sailor Aries smiled sadly. Phoenix’s eyes widened and clasped a hand over her mouth. Tears threatened to fall as Aries handed the Caduceus staff to Sailor Phoenix to wield on Sailor Ophiuchus’ name.

“You’ve done well this far, Phoenix,” Aries says. “I’m … glad to have been your commander.”

“What do you mean?” Phoenix’s eyes widened. “No, Aries! Don’t go!”

Aries smiled. “I have to! It’s my duty!” She placed her hand on her chest. “I believe in you!” She turned and left Sailor Phoenix standing.

One more left.

Sailor Phoenix clutched the Caduceus to her chest. “For everyone!” She called as she raised the Caduceus in the air. The rose quartz glowed. “For Sailor Ophiuchus especially!” She pulled every bit of her power into the Caduceus and fired it off at the enemy in a red-orange light.

“PHOENIX CRYSTAL POWER, MAKE UP!”

And then there were none.

#angstober 2024 #angstober #angstober prompt countdown #〖story〗☉☀ 『writ with ashes』#〖tenmei nakano〗☉☀ 『phoenix solar star ruby power make up』#death cw

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persephonesportal · 2 years ago

Text

Fighter Town Calls

A/N: Guess who has a laptop again! Yes I know it's been a while and I am so sorry. Please enjoy this new chapter of Family Line.

Taglist: @khaylin27 - @renajimaa - @dempy - @peakascum - @luckyladycreator2 - @starkleila - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @havlindzk

Warnings: Fluff, talk of canon character death, a little angst

Characters: Reader / Y/N Seresin nee Bradshaw, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Nicholas ‘baby goose’ Seresin, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, Sarah Kazansky, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw (mentioned), Dagger Squad (Present but not involved)

Summary: Upon your return to Fighter Town, you decide to take baby Goose to see your godfather while Jake and Javy head on over to the Hard Deck. While you play catch up with Uncle Ice, 2 figures from your past can’t help but show up, causing Jake to butt heads with one and embarrass himself in front of the other.

Part 1. Previous Part Next Part

Returning to Fighter Town was both a joyous occasion but also a heart wrenching moment. This was the very town that you grew up in for some time and it was the same town the training accident where your father died in occurred. But since you and Jake were both in the navy, you knew you couldn’t disobey the orders to return.

You arrived a day earlier so you could get used to the house that the navy provided off base for you three and get Nick used to the new change in his life. You managed to unpack majority of your boxes but you figured you could leave the rest for another time.

“Y/N!” suddenly rings out from the lounge room.

“Yes Jake?” You reply, sticking your head out of the kitchen.

“Javy and I are going to head to the Hard Deck to suss out who else is here” Jake informs you, heading in your direction.

“Oh that’s fine, I think I’m going to take Nick to see Uncle Ice” thinking of your godfather.

And with that, Jake kisses you a gentle goodbye before he heads off to meet Javy at the bar. You head up to Nick’s room to wake your napping baby and change him for the trip. While Nick slowly comes out of his sleeping daze, you text Uncle Ice to see if it’s alright for you to come over.

Uncle Ice: Come for dinner, Sarah would love to see you both

Grabbing your keys, you place Nick in his car seat and head on over to the Kazansky residence, a place of your most fond childhood memories. Thinking about how Jake and Javy are going, but with in that split moment Bradley also passes your mind. Shaking your head, it’s never a good thing to bring up the past.

Arriving at Uncle Ice’s, you spot Aunt Sarah at the front door steps as you unbuckle Nick and get him out of the car.

“Oh it is so good to see you dear, and hello little man” Aunt Sarah greets you with a kiss on the cheek and takes Nick out of your arms.

“It’s good to be home Aunt Sarah” you respond back, giving Aunt Sarah a side hug as you both head inside the house.

Looking around, you remember all the times you spent holidays here before the fight with Bradley.

“He’s up in his office if you wanna go see him first” comes from Aunt Sarah, snapping you out of your memories.

Thanking Aunt Sarah, you head on up and knock twice on Uncle Ice’s door. Hearing a rasped “Come in”, you quietly open the door to step through before closing it behind you.

“Hi Uncle Ice” You greet, heading over to give your godfather a kiss on the cheek before sitting on the opposite side of the desk. It hurts your heart to see Uncle Ice suffering from battling throat cancer and the effects on him, but you knew he was a fighter and always has been.

You and Ice spend a few minutes catching up before heading downstairs for him to see mini Goose and have dinner. You talk about what has been happening and if he can give you any details about the upcoming mission, to no surprise he keeps tight lipped about. Continuing eating dinner and spending time with them, you wonder what chaos Jake is up to.

At the Hard Deck

Jake manages to land another bullseye on the dart board causing Javy to groan in annoyance at his friend winning again. While this is happening, there’s a patron sitting at the bar, observing the 2 men. Jake lets out a chuckle before taking a sip of his beer before finishing the game. They both head over to a free pool table where Javy proceeds to rack the balls. While Javy sets up, Jake heads over to the bar to get more drinks courtesy of the patron who caused the free drink bell to ring.

“Penny m’dear,” Jake drawls out leaning on the bartop, “2 beers on the old timer” sending a wink.

Once receiving his order, Jake turns around and heads back for Javy, a slight chuckle leaving his lips at the thought of the man being Maverick, your supposed uncle who caused you heart break one too many times.

Javy and Jake play a few rounds of pool, before the evening rush comes in and things start to pick. Looking up as three people make their way across the bar floor, Jake chuckles.

“What do we have here?” Jake calls out, “Well if it ain’t Phoenix”

“And here I thought we were special Coyote, turns out the invite went to anyone” Jake says with a smirk on his face, waiting for Phoenix’s so loved nickname for him to come.

“Fellas, this here’s Bag man” and there it is, Jake thinks to himself.

It is 10 minutes later while Phoenix is playing a round against her new WSO, BOB,when the bane of Jake Seresin’s entire life strolls through the door without a care in the world.

Now Jake didn’t always have an issue with Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, sure he thought he was a bit of a flight risk, taking too long to make decisions in the air. But as soon as he met and married you, the love of his life, Bradshaw became a lot worse in his books especially because he cut you out of his life and hurt you beyond belief.

Jake clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before he nearly made a comment, or punch the fellow pilot.

“Bradshaw as I live and breath” Hangman strolls around the pool table taking the poolstick off of Bob.

“Hangman” Bradley greets.

Rooster and Hangman exchange a bit of rivalry banter, before Jake decides to move on.

While the juke box cuts out, Maverick's card declines causing Penny to ring the bell once more leading to customers to yell out "Overboard" repeatedly.

Jake and one of the other boys head on over, hooking their arms under Pete's armpits leading him out and tossing him onto the sand.

"thanks for the beers! Come back anytime" Jake salutes the older man, with a cheeky grin on his face.

During Bradley’s ‘famous’ piano piece, Jake decides to head on home hoping to get home and spend some time with you and Nick before tomorrow. Nodding his head to Coyote, he drives out of the car park.

By time Jake gets home, Nick is washed and put into bed asleep while you lay in your bed waiting for Jake to get home. On the drive over, Jake decides not to tell you about Rooster’s appearance in Fighter Town, wanting to spare you the old heartbreak.

You spend some time together in bed, knowing Jake has a very long day the next morning. Only you don’t know what is lying around the corner.

#jake seresin x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw

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tewwor · 21 days ago

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Name / Alias : goose or ro or..... goosero ?

Are you over 18? : Yes / No

– 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 –

Are you selective about who you write with? : No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people) / Private (mutuals only).

Are you selective about who you follow? : No (anyone) / Semi (most people) / Yes (some people) / Highly (few people).

If your muse is canon, how much do you adhere to canon? : Not at all / A little / Some / Mostly / Strictly / Not Applicable.

What post lengths do you write? : One-Liners / Single-Para / Multi-Para / Novella/ All of the aforementioned

Do you use icons and/or GIFS? : No/ Gifs / Icons / Yes / Sometimes.

Do you write on other platforms? : No / Yes ( discord! )

What level of plots do you write? : Unplotted / Open-Ended Plots / Semi-Plotted / Fully Plotted Epics / All of the aforementioned

How quickly do you usually respond to threads? : Very Slow (more than a month) / Slow (3-4 weeks) / Average (1-2 weeks) / Fast (less than one week) / Very Fast (less than three days) * a secret goose option — any.. and all of the above. highly dependent on muse and/or dynamics. could take a month or i could answer immediately

What types of themes do you like? : Adventure / Romance / Fluff / Angst / Violence / Tragedy / Domestic / Family / All of the aforementioned

What genres do you like? : ( Feel free to add! ) High Fantasy / Supernatural / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror / Comedy / Romantic / Drama / Action / Smut / Adventure / Espionage / Dark / Emotional / All of the aforementioned

Are there any themes you’re uncomfortable writing on your blog? : (Not triggers) No / Yes / Sometimes * goose examples — tend to stay away from themes such as cheating, pregnancy, in depth mentions of cancer

Do you have any triggers? How do you request it tagged? : nope!

– 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 –

What types of relationships are you open to? : Romantic / Platonic / Familial / All of the aforementioned

What types of pre-established relationships are you open to? : Romantic / Platonic / Familial / All of the aforementioned

Do you have OTPs? : No / Chemistry Only / Yes

Do you have NOTPS? : No / Yes

What is your muse’s sexual orientation? : Heterosexual / Heteroflexible / Bisexual / Pansexual / Homoflexible / Homosexual / Demisexual / Sapiosexual / Asexual / Still trying to figure it out / Depends on the muse you’re asking

What is your muse’s romantic orientation? : Heteroromantic / Heteroflexible / Biromantic / Homoflexible / Homoromantic / Panromantic / Demiromantic / Sapioromantic / Aromantic / Still trying to figure it out / Depends on the muse you’re asking

Are you comfortable writing smut? : No / Selectively / Yes * goose excuse — slooooowly getting back into the swing of things after ( insert petrified trauma here ) & will only be with close mutuals or wicked chemistry between muses

How early in a relationship do you ship romantically? : Autoship / During plotting / After a couple IC interactions / Several IC interactions / Slow burn / Plot dependent / Never * goose goose — really depends on the writer & characters! the more we yap ooc, the better chance i'm able to just... swang whoever over as a ship. on the flip side, sometimes characters just click yknow?

Are you open to toxic ships? : No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure * goose honk — i will not lie! toxic ships aren't my fav! but some of the dumpster goblins i write do, unfortunately, fall into this category.. regardless, it'll take some plotting

Are you open to problematic ships? : No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure

Are you open to polyamory shipping? : No / Selectively / Yes / I am not sure * goose on the loose — certain characters are polyamorous, yes! always down to have them clown, but again plots are the way to start!

Are you an exclusive shipper? : Never / Sometimes / Yes * goose's last words .... 99% no, 1% .. yes. there's only a handful of muses ( literally like 1 or 2 ) that i deem as exclusive simply because they Refuse to latch onto anyone else romantically

Does crack shipping ever happen? : Nope / Yes / depends!

tagged by: stolt tagging: YOU!!!!!! tag me though :3c

#* & make way for rapid clown honking — ooc .

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the-ravenclaw-werewolf · 1 year ago

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I would love see that! Tho I imagine some of the more dangerous ones are more far away. Tho like is villain organization also a part of this? Because I think it be interesting to see how some of them will reaction to how the other run. For example Shigaraki actually give the League of Villains more freedom and does treat them with respect. But someone like Muzan who is a control freak over Twelve Kizuki and willing to kill them off.

It would be interesting to see different teams of antagonists interact with each other. From arguing over their ideologies to trying to defend themselves (if they do at all) with their motives/backstory(s). Not the mentions the fights, like the Twelve Kizuki vs the League of Villains. (i.e. Toga vs Daiki or Dabi vs Doma)

Disclaimer:

However I, at first, tried to bring more than one villain from the same show since not all of these here are real antagonists, but then it would make watching these other shows pointless. And there will end up being more characters to keep track of. So I, and Entity, apologize in advance to all the normal people in this list.

(But whoever picks this up, it's up to them to do just 40 antagonists or pick just a few or more.)

(And remember, ALL of this is also subject to change since this just a bunch of ideas FUNINTHEEYEOFMADNESS and I came up together on the spot.)

🚨 THIS IS ALSO ANYONE'S MINOR SPOILER WARNING JUST IN CASE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! 🚨

Title:

The Antagonist’s Role (Some Conventional)

or something else (In the title I’m trying to convey that these people are the antagonist to the protagonist, but some only fill in that role because of convention).

Synopsis:

Spin-off fic, (non-canon), where the Entity is feeling vindictive against the antagonists of the 40's stories, so it makes another dimension kidnaps the antagonists of the 40. It doesn’t want to take those who are innocent, but there will be an imbalance to the universes if it tries to take more than one from the same dimension, (excluding the 40).

Just like MCS (WE), it will be a reaction fic to their respective stories. However, since Entity wants to rub salt into the wound, the antagonist will also be reacting to what is happening with the 40 cast, showing that they are growing, healing, and all around just doing better than they are.

Characters:

Now some characters are obvious, but others are just antagonists by convention:

Cowboy Bebop: Vicious

Avatar: The Last Airbender: Ozai

Legend of Korra: Amon OR Unalaq OR Zaheer OR Kuvira

Ouran Highschool Host Club: Benio "Benibara" Amakusa (Everything about this woman wants to make me pull out my own hair!)

Death Note: Light Yagami

Black Butler: The Undertaker

Hetalia: Belarus (Listen… if RUSSIA is scared of her, then you need to run for the hills!)

Fullmetal Alchemist: Father

Blue Exorcist: Satan

Hunter x Hunter: Hisoka Morrow OR Chrollo Lucilfer OR Meruem

Kuroko’s Basketball: Daiki Aomine OR Seijūrō Akashi OR Makoto Hanamiya

Attack on Titan: Zeke Yeager

Danganronpa: Junko Enoshima

Free!: Rin Matsuoka (I know I shouldn’t do this to him, but he was an antagonist during the beginning.) OR Hiyori Tono (I still hate him for what he said to Haru!)

Kill la Kill: Ragyō Kiryūin

Haikyuu: Oikawa Tooru (I am not dissing him, I love his character! But he was the antagonist to beat.)

Assassination Classroom: The Reaper

Food Wars!: Azami Nakiri

One Punch Man: Garou

Erased: Gaku Yashiro

My Hero Academia: All for One OR Shigaraki

Mob Psycho 100: Toichiro Suzuki

Yuri on Ice: Jean-Jacques Leroy (I don’t hate him, but like some of the others, he is pretty much antagonistic to the cast of YOI.)

Kiss Him, Not Me: Takeru Mitsuboshi

The Disastrous Life of Saiki K: Kusuke Saiki

Miss Kobayashi Dragon Maid: Jida/Jii

The Royal Tutor: Ernst Rosenberg

Kakegurui: Kirari Momobami

Cells at Work: Cancer Cell

The Promised Neverland: Isabella OR Peter Ratri

Love is War: Oko Shinomiya

Fruits Basket: Akito Sohma

Demon Slayer: Muzan

Dr. Stone: The Whyman

Given: Ayano Kasai (I know she is not an antagonist, but she was a little antagonistic.)

Beastars: Melon

Welcome to Demon School Iruma Kun: Ami Kirio OR Baal

Toilet Bound Hanako-kun: Yugi Tsukasa

Jujutsu Kaisen: Sukuna OR Geto

SK8 the Infinity: Ainosuke Shindo/ADAM

Setting:

Instead of a mansion, the Entity makes a prison for them to stay in. There are three levels of the prison:

Level 1: Misplaced

These are characters where they go up against one of the 40/interact with them, but it doesn’t mean they are evil or mean, they just happened to be the antagonists of one of the 40’s stories. They are given actual rooms, their own bathrooms, good meals plus desserts, good clothes, and misc. items to entertain themselves. (Plus their own kitchen, gym, craft room, etc.)

(This will house:

Oikawa Tooru

Jean-Jacques Leroy

Ayano Kasai)

Level 2: Disciplined

It’s almost the same as Level 1 except they are the bad guys of their stories but they actually have shot at redemption. They will have their own room, but only with the bare necessities. They are still served food, but any desserts, misc. items, or any kind of reward will only be given if they actually work to redeem themselves.

(This will house:

Benio "Benibara" Amakusa

Belarus

Daiki Aomine OR Seijūrō Akashi OR Makoto Hanamiya

Rin Matsuoka OR Hiyori Tono

Garou

Takeru Mitsuboshi

Kusuke Saiki

Ernst Rosenberg

Kirari Momobami

Cancer Cell

Isabella (If you choose her)

Oko Shinomiya

The Whyman)

Level 3: DETAIN

There are the worst of the worse, monsters, villains, you name it. They will basically be treated like prisoners for their stay. All of them wear collars that not only block their powers but will shock them if they attempt to do anything remotely evil, violent, etc.

(This will house:

Vicious

Ozai

Amon OR Unalaq OR Zaheer OR Kuvira

Light Yagami

The Undertaker

Father

Satan

Hisoka Morrow OR Chrollo Lucilfer OR Meruem

Zeke Yeager

Junko Enoshima

Ragyō Kiryūin

The Reaper

Azami Nakiri

Gaku Yashiro

All for One OR Shigaraki

Toichiro Suzuki

Jida/Jii

Peter Ratri (If you choose him)

Akito Sohma

Muzan

Melon

Ami Kirio OR Baal

Yugi Tsukasa

Sukuna OR Geto

Ainosuke Shindo/ADAM)

All levels are separated by another floor, with Level 3 in the basement to Level 1 at the top. There is around the clock monitoring thanks to Indigo and they are allowed outside, but Level 3 are the only ones who are scheduled with times and such.

The ground level is where they’ll be viewing what is going on with the 40. And the Entity is much more involved. FUNINTHEEYEOFMADNESS came up with the idea that to the people in Level 1 it would talk to the occupants like an empathic therapist. Level 2 is a no nonsense tough love overseer with the same empathy. And Level 3 is where the Entity will be the jail guard/jester/tormenter, pointing out their flaws, the pyrrhic victories and just rubbing it in. And, for the more arrogant of the prisoners, it will showcase their reality warping abilities to prove a point.

To quote FUNINTHEEYEOFMADNESS, "I would also imagine that for level's 2 and three the entity would make the prisoners do prison chores, but only to prove a point and make them build character. As any real chore can be solved by their reality warping effects."

The prison island would even be surrounded by an Eldritch Abomination to replace the ocean and act as a deterrent to kept them from trying to escape, (not that they could).

Something like this:

The Eldritch surrounding the island is obviously alive, but it reacts differently to the people coming outside. For Level 1, it will act similar to a puppy and all round just be playful and helpful to them. With Level 2 it will act indifferent, not choosing to intervene but will do so if necessary. But if someone from Level 3 steps outside without permission, it will go into berserk mode.

Ending:

Since this non-canon, it's kind of opened ended, but this what FUNINTHEEYEOFMADNESS and I came up with:

They will all have their memories erased OR only Level 3 will have their memories erased, (to which they will get back when they 💀) while Level 1 and those who redeemed themselves from Level 2 will keep their memories.

As to their connection to the 40, there are two scenarios:

1. Those who kept their memories while contact them when they get the chance and apologizes/helps the MCS (WE) cast with their adventures.

2. Somehow, someway, the 40 finds out what the Cloaked Figure is doing, those who have the unredeemable villains would see this a fitting punishment while those who have antagonists who are still redeemable or who are just antagonists by convention would ask if the Entity is insane. (And might even ask Entity to allow those of Level 1 to come back with them to the mansion and Level 2 once they’ve redeemed themselves.)

Reaction/Interaction Excerpts:

And of course, how can a can this be a reaction fic with some reactions?

To their stories/the 40:

To quote FUNINTHEEYEOFMADNESS again, "I would imagine they would either be downtrodden, guilty or seething in jealously. Another good point, since the 40 story is about hurt and comfort, the characters learning from each other and making themselves feel better, the villainous 40 would be judged by their peers and criticized. This can range from insults, being appalled by each other's actions or just rubbing it in each other in a sense of hypocritical moral superiority."

To each other:

Level 3 would have those arguing who had the better plan, motive, who had the harder protagonist to deal with etc. Basically an ego measuring contest. And the other levels would want to stay far away from them.

Level 2 would have them defending their case on why they did such actions, even though most of them won’t buy it, and some would actually engage in nice conversations. Level 3 would just call them pathetic while Level 1 would attempt to be friendly, as long as Level 2 cooperates.

Level 1 are just confused about why they are there and want to go home. Reactions to each other may vary, but they would be nice and comfort each other while allowing themselves to relax slightly since they are living much more luxuriously then they had been before. Level 3 and the stubborn half of Level 2 would be glaring at them while the redeemable half of Level 2 would be glad that they are in good living conditions.

How they would interact:

Level 3:

Ozai, Satan, Ragyō Kiryūin, Azami Nakiri, Toichiro Suzuki, and Akito Sohma would all be complaining to each other of how their bloodline/family members are such failures and how they would want to exact their revenge for going against them. They still don't get along, but they bond over that.

Light Yagami would keep trying to argue that he is not a villain, that he is a god, and all that nonsense, and it's usually Sukuna OR Geto, who yells at him to shut up and threatens to strangle him, shock collars be damn.

Yugi Tsukasa and Junko, somehow, bond over how much joy it bring them to see others in despair.

ADAM and Hisoka (if you chose him) would share in how they are looking for the most skilled/strongest, but when ADAM learn that Hisoka is a... ADAM would request a restraining order against him.

Amon OR Unalaq OR Zaheer OR Kuvira and Zeke Yeager would indulge in their own ideas of equality and freedom along with their radical methods of how to achieve such goals, (Light wouldn't be in this since he sees them as criminals and not himself, talk about hypocrite.)

With every interaction and banter Undertaker would just be shaking and crying with laughter as he finds all of this to be hilarious.

Level 2:

Benibara, Seijūrō Akashi (if you chose him), Kusuke Saiki, Kirari Momobami, and Oko Shinomiya would all be fighting for the leadership role in the group, and some of them are willing to draw blood to get it. (But it's Isabella, again if you chose her, who assumes the leadership role.)

Kusuke would actually try to study Cancer Cell while Garou would also be demanding to fight him to determine who is the strongest. This resulted in the two being threaten by Cancer Cell on a weekly, to daily, basis to stop.

The Whyman would just watch the humans being stupid.

Level 1:

All three of them get along, even though both Oikawa and JJ has egos the size of a house, (though these two would share in their woes of how they are the best and yet always fall short to someone else), and the three would comfort each other if need be. And JJ, who is the oldest in the group, would unconsciously take up the parental role.

Conclusion:

It the same premise as MCS (WE) except that this centered around the antagonists of the stories and most of them are either getting treated like the scumbags they are or are getting redeemed.

I'm not sure if FUNINTHEEYEOFMADNESS or if anyone else is going to actually write this, but if anyone does, or if they just what to keep bouncing around ideas, I'll happily lend a hand and or ear!

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go-to-the-mirror · 1 year ago

Note

cabin fever for jonmartin?

Hope I did the prompt alright? I had an Idea, yknow.

[ID: A Bad Things Happen bingo card. From left to right, top to bottom, the squares are: Never Got to Say Goodbye, Cabin Fever, Thrown Down the Stairs, Fingore, Victim Blaming, Caught in a Storm, Secret Caretaking, Isolation, Painful Wound-Cleaning, Tourniquet, Precarious Ledge, Blackmail, Suffocation, Raspy Breathing, Neglect/Abandonment, Knocked Out, Toxic Gas, Tricked/Scammed, Verbal Abuse, Missing and Presumed Dead, Locked in a Cage, Trapped in a Burning Building, Falling Through the Ice, Blindfolded, Kneecapping. "Cabin Fever" and "Neglect/Abandonment" are crossed out. /End ID]

Check pinned post to see the masterlist :D

@badthingshappenbingo

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Relationship: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Additional Tags: Title from a The Forgetmenauts Song, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Lack of Communication, Arguments, Canon-Typical The Beholding Content (The Magnus Archives), Smoking, Statement Addiction (The Magnus Archives), Addiction, POV Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Bad Things Happen Bingo

Language: English

Words: 1,378

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Martin’s hard to ask about much of anything. He talks, sure, about the cows on their daily walks to stave away the depression from sitting inside and gettin no sun, about how nice it is to be out of the city – and when Jon asks him if he’s lived in a small town before, Martin goes back to shrugs and nods and “mhm hm”s, and it’s all Jon can do not to yell at him and ask him if he really wanted to come out of the lonely if all he’s going to do is take it with him. It changes over a pack of cigarettes.

Warnings: Addiction, arguments, communication issues, emotional self-harm, invasion of privacy, smoking.

Mentions of cancer, self-sacrifice, stalking, suicidal ideation (implied).

Scotland is beautiful, especially the highlands. It’s all endless greenery and quaint cottages. Jon’s lived in cities all his life – Bournemouth, Oxford, London – finally getting to live in such a rural place as Dunnet is good, even under the circumstances.

It’s not fair. It’s hypocritical, even, god knows Jon’s not great at sharing his feelings, but he wants to try, at least, for Martin. But Jon’s never been good at sharing, and Martin’s guarding his feelings closely, so they continue in this awful dance around each other, asking what they want to eat, and should they pop back into town rather than actual real questions.

It changes over a pack of cigarettes.

They’re unpacking groceries. Jon came with Martin to the town, talked about the old crofting houses, and the church, and even the gunshop — “furthest north in Scotland,” he’d told Martin instead of actually talking to him. Jon goes into the shop, picks up cans of soup and asks for a packet of cigarettes. Then he walked out, with Martin waiting outside, anxious about letting Jon out of his site — and Jon wants to tell himself it’s Martin’s fear of the Lonely coming back, he really does — but more anxious about having to interact with the shopkeeper.

Jon emerges with bags full of groceries, Martin takes one, and they walk back together. Martin points out the scenery. Jon empties his endless vat of non-supernatural knowledge, surprising himself and Martin with how much he knows.

“It was probably one of my procrastination research rabbit holes in university,” he explains to Martin, then remembers Martin hasn’t gone to university, nor even finished high school and is torn between apologising or saying nothing, and instead lapses into awkward, uncomfortable silence.

It’s so easy to be alone with someone you love, when you can’t love them how you want to, and instead you’re stuck with silence and small talk.

So, they’ve returned, they’re unpacking the groceries, and Martin takes out a pack of cigarettes, and Jon — so used to buying groceries with Georgie in their time together in university — takes it from Martin’s hand without a second thought. He smokes and Georgie doesn’t. He smokes and Martin doesn’t. He’ll smoke outside, bring one of the quilts out, look up at the stars framed by the curling wisps coming from his mouth and cigarette.

“You bought the cigarettes?” Martin asks.

“Uh, yes, I mean, unless you’re a smoker too.”

Martin shrugs. “I’m not,” he says, in that flat tone that shows that he wants the conversation to be over.

“Alright.” Jon pockets the cigarettes. “I’ll smoke outside, and I won’t litter.” Jon tries for a joke. “Leave only footprints, you know.”

“I don’t like you smoking,” Martin says.

Jon looks back at him. “Alright,” he says. “Sorry?”

“You should stop,” he continues. “It’ll kill you one day.”

Jon scoffs. “Yes, Martin, I know. It legally has to say it on the box.”

“So, you know, but you’re just going to put your life in danger?”

Jon looks up at the ceiling, takes a deep breath. “Martin, can we not talk about the smoking—”

“What, should we talk about the coffin then?” Martin snaps, suddenly fierce. “God, Jon, you just love an opportunity to put yourself in harms way, and ignore everyone who tries to stop you—”

“I know the risks of smoking,” Jon interrupts. Christ, he’s had this conversation too many times. “And I knew the risks of the coffin.”

“Yeah, well obviously you just don’t pay attention. Or care about your own life” Martin’s seeming more like himself, getting worked up over something that shouldn’t even be his business. Thank God for small mercies.

“You can talk,” Jon says, voice brittle and cold.

Martin tenses. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, I’m not the only one here who’s— who’s done something stupid.”

Martin glares at him. “No, you’re not. But at least mine was to save the world—”

“I wanted to save Daisy—”

“And yours was just some convoluted way of punishing yourself for being a monster.”

Jon can’t help it. He flinches. Martin softens. “Jon, I—”

“No,” he interrupts. “Say it. Say I’m a monster.” It feels almost good to finally get it out into the open, to say the word. Monster, monster.

“I’m not—”

“Say it!” He can feel it on his tongue, the Ceaseless Watcher’s influence, make him say that I’m a monster.

“When Jess Tirrell told me someone — something — took her statement, left her in that state, I knew it was you.” The words are forced from Martin’s lips, he can’t do anything to stop them from coming out. It feels good to have it out in the open. “And when she told me what you did, I... I hated it, but I could reconcile it with you. I could reconcile it with the person who was an absolute bastard to me for the first year I knew him; could reconcile it with the person who stalked me and Tim; could reconcile it with the thing Elias described in your statement, the thing that didn’t even care about the human life it was ruining. What do you mean you don’t feel pity?”

Martin’s breathing hard. Jon’s almost elated and he doesn’t know if it’s the Ceaseless Watcher through him or his own relief at not having to dance around it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Martin says.

“It’s fair,” Jon responds.

“You forced me to say it.” Martin’s got that laugh in his voice, Jon knows it well.

“Next time say it of your own will, then,” Jon says teresely, then softens. “Look, I know it was wrong, but I’m tired of dancing around this. I’m tired of having a conversation that’s just nothing, I’m tired of being with you and it still feeling like you can’t see me, and I can’t see you.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to compel you. I just want you to talk to me.”

There’s a pause.

“Fine,” Martin says. “I think you’re stupidly self-sacrificial and have a flagrant disregard for your own safety. I think you think it doesn’t matter to other people, but it does. And I think you think that what I said was the full truth, and it’s not, because you and I both know that thing in your head doesn’t show you all it sees.”

“Fine,” Jon challenges. “What did you think when you found out what I did to — what I did to my victims?” There’s no hint of a compulsion on his tongue, but Jon wants there to be.

“I couldn’t reconcile it with the person who almost died to avenge Sasha. Who died trying to save the world. Who sacrificed bits of himself to save people he didn’t even like. I can’t reconcile it with my view of you.”

Jon is quiet for a long while. Then, finally, he speaks. “I can’t either.” Martin doesn’t respond, so Jon continues. “I know I did it, I know I wanted to do it, I know I want to do it, but at the same time, I find it abhorrent, at the same time, I am wishing and begging for myself to stop. Does that explain anything?”

“Not really,” Martin answers. “But... thanks.”

They both pause, take stock of their surroundings. “We should probably pack away the groceries.”

“Yeah,” Martin agrees. “Still don’t want you smoking.”

Jon sighs. “Martin, if I live long enough to get lung cancer, I’m considering it a win.”

It doesn’t solve anything. They fight often, they don’t talk even more so, but as they unpack the groceries and curl up in bed, they at least feel lighter.

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