#stars words

[actuallyitsstar]

bradley rooster bradshaw & 22, 12, 21? <3

✨ send me a number and a character! ✨

HENLO USER MARCHRAINDROPS!!!! ily and im so sorry for how long this took aaaaaaaaaaa but pls take my humble offering, and i hope that u enjoy my attempt at doing this ask justice lol <3 <3

(p.s. i did answer one of these for bradley here already, so click for another and more lighthearted headcanon lol)

22. something you like and dislike in reading for this character?

something that rly matters to me when it comes to bradley is, i guess for lack of a better word, his attitude. bradley has had, admittedly, his share of traumatizing experiences in life, and he was raised on eggshells and rose-petals, walking under the shadow of a grief too heavy for him to bear alone, watching the adults he knew and trusted be crushed slowly beneath it instead. he was a bright and happy child whose innocence was slowly stolen, piece by piece, building a sardonic and cynical adult. bradley was soft, and he still absolutely c an be, in the right setting and with the right people. but he's still a grown man, at least thirty-four-ish, who's been hardened by loss after loss after betrayal, who has gone through war and come home again. he can be sarcastic and self centered, closed-minded and demanding, vindictive and rageful. he's brash and quick to speak, fierce in spirit but measured, too; aware of the pitfalls behind life's every corner and terrified of stepping on another; this time, completely alone. he hesitates and he meets the consequences of his indecision, and he takes that blame out on others.

i guess i like to see bradley's roughest edges acknowledged. he has been hurt, and he will hurt other people. he's not exactly a white knight of most situations (except for when he is- sacrificing himself for phoenix in training comes to mind; it is all about nuance isn't it?). i think it's easy to paint those kinds of flaws out of the picture, and i can understand why we might want to- because after all, no one wants to think about their favorite character being the "bad guy" in a situation. but everyone is, sometimes.

i guess what i don't like is seeing bradley treated with kidd gloves. realistically, bradley was spoiled as a kid, and why wouldn't he have been? the hope of a family grieving the loss of its pillar (goose), and that's a lot of weight for a little kid to carry. they'd doted on him, and put all their efforts into giving him the happiest childhood they could muster in the face of that loss, and maybe they were quick to give in to demands- maybe they were quick to take the situations upsetting young bradley away from him instead of teaching him how to cope with them. i'm not sure if, for all of their love and devotion, the adults in bradley's life would have known how to teach him to cope with a situation healthfully, anyway.

12. what's a headcanon you have for this character?

bradley has goose's old cross necklace, and it's one of his most prized possessions.

when bradley was little, he was 100% a mama's boy. after all, for all that mav was there, which was always as much as he could be but no more than the tight grip of the navy on his collar would allow- it was just bradley and carole against the world, together, for most of it. he talked to his mom about everything, trusted her with everything, and he took her illness so incredibly hard. obviously- that's his mom, after all- but even more than he showed, at the time. he'd tried to be strong, for his mom and for mav and because he's not sure he remembers anymore, but he thinks it's what his dad would have wanted, too; for him to take care of mom. he tries, but doesn't end up remembering how to take care of himself at the same time.

the wedge that separates bradley from the world and everything good in it is the same one that splits carole off from her family and leaves them alone without her. as her illness worsens, bradley becomes more and more sullen and withdrawn and angry, with the world and the lot handed to him. he savors each moment he has left with her but grows to dread hospital visiting hours, too, because it gets harder and harder to remember her as she was with each hour he spends watching her waste away. the breaking point is when he's thirteen years old, and they know carole has a few months more, at best. bradley isn't supposed to know yet- but he isn't stupid. he can overhear parts of a hushed phone call, and see the worry lines around uncle mav's eyes when he tries to offer reassurances that bradley doesn't believe in anymore.

she calls him in for visiting hours alone, telling uncle ice to take uncle mav home and make him take a shower and go to bed. mav protests profusely, but a look of understanding passes between ice and carole over the heads of everyone else in the room, and everyone but bradley is subsequently herded out. bradley settles himself on the edge of her bed, feeling awkward with the presence of the dreaded ticking time between them. despite her gauntness and exhaustion, though, she offers him her brightest smile. i have something to give you, baby, she tells him, and then it's dangling from her fingers before he has time to realize it fully- a silver cross necklace. his dad's necklace.

i've was meanin' to give this to you, when you're all grown up, she says quietly, and bradley swallows hard, drawing in a shaky inhale. but i just couldn't wait any longer. your daddy would be so proud of you, honey. and bradley knows it means she loves him and that daddy does too, but he also knows it means that his mom is saying goodbye. when uncle mav sees him wearing it later that evening, his small hand tightened around the metal so firmly that it digs into his skin, his uncle's face blanches, but mav doesn't say a word about it. bradley doesn't either. when everything falls apart between them much later, bradley tries to assign meaning that isn't there, telling himself that maybe mav had wanted that necklace to keep selfishly to himself, or that maybe mav hadn't thought he'd deserved it. it's not until much, much later that he manages to reason out the much simpler truth of the moment; of the guilt and the exhaustion and the realization that his all-but-sister knew she didn't have much longer if she'd finally passed the necklace down.

during the long years of his twenties and early thirties, bradley clings to the necklace, convinced it holds the parts of his past that he's missing, the feeling of belonging he's craved and cannot seem to find. the weight of it against his breastbone, beneath his uniforms, is half-comfort and half-terror. he doesn't explain it to anyone, not even to phoenix. i didn't know you were spiritual, she tells him upon catching a glimpse of it in the gym. bradley is hasty to shove it back inside his shirt collar. i'm not, he growls back, and that's that. she doesn't ask again. he doesn't volunteer. just like the look mav had worn upon seeing the necklace, it isn't until much, much later that bradley figures out what he'd been missing, after the mission and after the reconciling and after everything- til he figures out that maybe the necklace means something to him because it had meant something to mom and to dad and to mav, and that maybe he doesn't have to drag the ghosts and spirit of all three of those people into the cockpit with him each time he goes up into the air. maybe knowing they had loved him all along is enough. he tells himself that this is what the cool metal against his skin reminds him of, now, and for the most part, he finds that he can learn to believe it.

21: something you like and dislike in writing for this character?

i think it's sort of rare to be in a fandom where you have this primary character and you know so much about the things that built that character. i mean, not the most rare- obviously there's a lot of stories and franchises out there that focus on lineage and talk about long-spanning over-arcing stories. but to get to know carole and to get to know goose and to get to know mav and the other flyboys too; depending on your opinion of the closeness of the group after the first movie (i guess we all know MY found-family-obsessed-ass's opinion on that lol <3) is a gift that builds a picture of bradley, and unpacking it and piecing it together is one of my favorite privileges in writing him! feeling like i know the people who shaped bradley means i feel like i know bradley so much more, too. there's so much focus, especially in tgm, on history and mirroring and repetition and the weight of years and the passage of time, and of course there needs to be, for a sequel made so long after the original- because it is all built on the power of nostalgia- but it also says something about the construction of a character like bradley, doesn't it?

that being said, i do spend a lot of time trying to strike the balance, because i think there can be too much mirroring and a little too much drawing from influence. the double edged sword is allowing bradley to be a separate and independent person who is shaped by and not defined by those things. i think it's very easy (or at least for my sentimental ass it is lol) to get a little TOO wrapped up in the ~nostalgia~ and the trying to weave a 30+ year narrative into one character's image, and i do have to remind myself to avoid letting that walk all over the actual characters i am actually presently writing.

@marchraindrops AHHHHHHHHHH again i am so so sorry this took so long but i thank u so so much for thinking of me and sending the lovely ask, i had a lot of fun answering ;) and i am always thrilled to type my silly little answers lol. i promise to always answer even if it takes like.... more than a hot minute lol <3 TY AND ILY!!!! <3<3<3

[feral-ballad]

Taylor Byas, from I Done Clicked My Heels Three Times: Poems; “To the city I wish to get to know”

[Text ID: “tell me, / which constellation / looks like me? Which star / should I follow home?”]

[flowerytale]

Louise Glück, from “Stars”, Poems: 1962–2020

[goreroll]

Timestuck AU, again 🐌

lazy art

———

Inspired by the "In Sets of Two" fic by StrawberryLemonz (Ao3) (tumblr too??? I dunno)

[secretly-a-trekkie]

they deserved a beach episode

[kimeoshi]

Corrupted Ratio for Twitter! Reached 2k followers and he won in a prompt game

Timelapse:

[gaybuckybarnesss]

MANNY JACINTO The Acolyte 1.06 "Teach / Corrupt"

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[lucidloving]

D. Alan Holmes, Enlightenment // Signet Amenti // @cryptonature // Alan Wilsom Watts // Evan M. Cohen, "Oceans" // Nikita Gill // @pauladoodles // Julian Gough, "Minecraft End Poem" // Sleeping At Last—Saturn

[metamorphicrocky]

doctor who coming back in the year of 2023 when terfism and biological essentialism and transphobia are on the rise and making one of THE most hyped up episodes by bringing back fan favorites david tennant and catherine tate. all about being trans

showing rose being bullied and her grandma struggling to get it right but still being supportive. and shaun and donna being the greatest parents by being ready to burn the world down to protect their daughter. the doctor asking for the meep's pronouns AND IT'S NORMAL???

and all of that is brilliant to see rose as a trans character and it is important to the narrative. BUT THEN. ROSE BEING TRANS SAVES DONNA'S LIFE BY TAKING HALF OF THE METACRISIS. BECAUSE THE DOCTOR IS MALE AND FEMALE AND NEITHER AND MORE. AND THAT IS INTEGRAL TO DOCTOR WHO AS A WHOLE. and it saved donna's life

to see doctor who be so BLATANTLY trans and nonbinary at the core of the series. the multiple references to the fact that before fourteen, thirteen was a woman. so to see this? trans people stay winning. thank you doctor who for doubling down on the importance of the doctor being trans because oh my god I am so emotional about this

[wemecera]

fragment of full

[actuallyitsstar]

For Fanfiction Work-In-Progress Guessing Game 😁

The word is "purpose".

✨ send me a word & find it in my wip! ✨

It had gotten them through the mission, with its ups-and-downs and its life-or-death. Through sickbay, with all their wariness and worry, and had led them to the desert, with a fractured sensation of family and a feeling of purpose and longing in at last gluing it back together.

thank u so much for the ask lovely!!! and omg i'm so sorry to have taken so long to answer aaaaaaa. welcome to more of my top gun found family mavdad and brad brad reconciliation bullshit tho. what can i say. it has in fact become *my* purpose i think akdhdjfhfjf

[timetravelsong]

𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write

[miametropolis]

underestimating the power of friendship is the single biggest mistake you can make as a villain in Star Trek. like “your friends will not come for you” bro you are cooked. wrap it up, babe.

[frogayyyy]

the way young kirk starts to run to spock to try and save him but is stopped by wrath of khan kirk. who's been there. he knows what it's like to not be able to save spock. he says "no. not you." and looks behind him to post-death kirk. spock doesn't need to be saved, he needs someone to go with him.

[opikiquu]