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sl-ut · 2 days ago

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all is fair

pairing: pope heyward x fem!reader, unrequited!jj maybank x fem!reader, slightly homoerotic bff!sarah cameron x reader LOLLLL

description: jj is not jealous of pope. definitely not. okay, maybe just a little.

warnings: swearing, underage drinking/drug usage, jealousy, slight angst, jj being a little butthurt, pope and jj are beefing, weird au where the plot of the show never happens lol but sarah and jb are still dating, reader has a shitty past and a bit of lore but we’ll get into it but don’t worry it doesnt rlly affect what the reader looks like or ethnic/cultural background (but i wrote it with arabic-canadian!reader in mind but thats just self indulgent lol), once again was high when starting this and writing this rn so sorry if it makes like no sense whatsoever but i think the story will be good), the grandparents are the sweetest human beings ever sorry

words: 2.7K

date posted: 08/11/25

JJ swore he wasn’t jealous. No way.

JJ, despite his unfortunate past, he had grown to be pretty damn confident in himself over the years; He was one of the best surfers in Kildare, he had a great group of friends, and he was fairly popular among the ladies in the Outer Banks. Sure, there were parts of him that he wasn’t so proud of or tried to keep hidden as much as possible, but at a time like this, he shouldn’t be feeling anything but on top of the world, but he couldn’t quite fight off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach as his eyes followed the movements of the two girls on the opposite side of the bonfire.

Sarah threw her head back, laughing joyfully as she and Y/n took turns twirling each other around to some song that was far too fast for their dancing, but neither seemed to care. They’d been at it for a few songs now, Sarah always waiting in the wings to snatch the newest member of the Pogues away to have all to herself, knowing fully well that there were at least two other members of the group who were eager to do the same. John B didn’t seem alarmed at his girlfriend’s obsession with their new friend, though it was probably too demanding to ask a teenage boy to be upset about his girlfriend rubbing up on another girl.

To be totally fair, Sarah did technically have first dibs, having been the first to meet the girl after she’d moved in with her grandparents in Figure Eight while volunteering at the local animal shelter. Her grandparents were pretty well known in Kildare, two former snowbirds who finally decided to settle in North Carolina, both having recently retired, though her grandfather did own and partially run the shelter. They were a sweet old couple, the type that you might see on a Christmas card or a cookie box, and lived quite modestly despite the fact that they were living amongst the wealthier community on the island. With their granddaughter in town and staying with them indefinitely, they were eager to introduce her to Sarah in hopes of easily transitioning her into the social scene. It was Sarah who had invited her to the kegger the following weekend, so it made sense that they had quickly become two peas in a pod, so long as JJ was next in the pecking order.

Except, he couldn’t technically claim that spot on his own. He had actually met Y/n prior to the bonfire while delivering groceries with Pope, both of them spotting her at the exact same time as she answered the door, charming each of them with a sweet smile and a generous tip, completely unaware of the lingering gaze of each boy as she bid them each a polite goodbye before closing the door. Neither of them said anything the entire walk back to the truck, both sitting quietly in the front seat for a moment before JJ finally let his thoughts take over.

“She was like, crazy hot, right?”

Pope was silent for another beat before he sighed out his response, “Yeah she was.”

Neither of them brought her up again, figuring it wasn’t really worth their time to pursue anything with a girl who would only be there for a week. However, when she showed up with Sarah to the kegger that Friday, all bets were off.

JJ was the first to actually get to talk to her, stepping in with a greeting while Sarah became occupied with her boyfriend, nearly wasting away after being apart for two hours. He offered her a drink, chuckling to himself at the cringing expression on her face at the taste of the warm beer. She shook her head, handing the red cup back to him with a slightly embarrassed look on her face. This caught Sarah’s attention, winking at JJ as she encouraged him to show Y/n the cooler of quote-on-quote “girly drinks” in the back of the twinkie.

He could read that she was nervous, especially now that she was alone with him. Normally, he would do his best to calm her nerves just enough that he could persuade her to climb into the back of the van with him, but something about this girl made him feel different, almost obliged to treat her with more respect than he did most girls. She wasn’t just another girl, he could tell simply by the way she carried herself, almost like she understood him on a deeper level before she even knew anything about him. He was drawn to her, and an unfamiliar feeling of nerves ate away at his tummy as he showed her the selection of Sarah’s cans and gave her a lopsided grin as she took the can from him.

He lost sight of her for a while, returning to manning the keg while John B and Sarah rushed down the beach hand in hand, but his eyes were in a constant motion of scanning the crowd, eagerly searching for even a glimpse of the girl who’d had his head spinning for the last hour.

Unbeknownst to him, she had found herself sitting next to Kie at the bonfire, falling easily into the conversation with her and the few others. She took note of the boy sitting across from her, making an effort to ask him questions or include him in the conversations. He seemed to be a bit socially awkward, but there was something about him that had caught her eye straight away, even from the first moment they locked eyes while he was delivering her grandparents’ groceries.

He was dorky and awkward in the most endearing way possible, unlike guys she had historically been attracted to, but she was certain that that was exactly why she liked him so much; she was in the market for a fresh start, and that couldn’t happen if she put herself in the position to treated like shit all over again.

Six weeks later and Y/n found herself becoming a regular at the Chateau, constantly being dragged there on her days off from the shelter by Sarah or being picked up by one of the others on their way home from whatever odd job they’d picked up on Figure Eight for the day. Every day out on the boat, every kegger, every bonfire on the beach, she was there.

They had all even begun hanging out at her place, all quickly becoming acquainted with her grandparents, both of whom were more than happy to host the teens, keeping them comfortable and fed all day as they used their in-ground pool or lounged in the A/C. Her grandmother thought they were all the sweetest kids who’d ever lived, having a special place in her heart for the boys, while her grandfather was just glad to have a group to cook for, gladly donning his fancy apron and manning his grill for them all and enjoyed having extra help around the house. Her grandma especially loves when Sarah comes for sleepovers because she loves joining in on your gossip sessions and joining you both to go get mani-pedis in the morning.

Their closeness to her family also meant that they were quickly discovering very personal things about Y/n’s life prior to moving to the Outer Banks. Y/n was very hyper aware of this for the first few weeks, almost vulnerable now that her past was now out in the open, but she quickly came to realise that her secrets were safe with the pogues, and that they only made them love her even more.

Initially, it hadn’t been the intent of either Y/n or Pope to begin hanging out on their own in secret. Well, they had both wanted to hang out on their own, but the secrecy stemmed from the fact that JJ had made his intentions and feelings for Y/n very clear, and that he was very hard-pressed about the “no pogue-on-pogue macking,” rule for everyone except for himself for some reason. They also liked the quietness of secrecy, neither of them worried about their friends trying to butt in on their movie nights or walks on the beach, even though they were most definitely not trying to get each other alone on purpose… Until after she kissed him for the first time, that is.

Pope had been shocked when it happened, his brain barely even registering the second-long peck after he’d walked her home from the Chateau one evening, but he was sure to put his all into the second and third ones that quickly followed. He had expected some time to figure things out before anything was made official, but he of course had chosen a girl who was prepared to take what she wanted without fear of repercussions, and so, shortly after she had been picked up at the end of her grandparent’s dock, she curled into his side and announced that they were now together. Pope was taken aback, but was somewhat relieved that he no longer had to go through with his long-winded but very sweet gesture that he had planned in order to make things official. That relief, however, disappeared very quickly as he met JJ’s heated gaze.

“What ever happened to bro code?” He’d whined once they had gotten back to the chateau after dropping her back off that evening. “I mean, seriously man, I called dibs and you just swoop in before I even get to make a move.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Kie raised a hand to cut him off before he could spout any more nonsense, “You called dibs? Are you aware that we are talking about a real human girl here?”

“Not the point,” JJ ignored her, “You knew I liked her!”

“And you knew I did too!” Pope countered, “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this beforehand but I never expected her to drop that on you guys like that.”

JJ shook his head, finishing the last of his beer and tossing the can to the side as he stormed towards the front door of the Chateau, “You just couldn’t let me have one thing now, could you Pope?”

Pope jumped to his own feet, brows furrowing as a look of disbelief crossed his face, “One thing? Do you even hear yourself? JJ, you can and have screwed around with every girl on this island; you always get first pick, and even the ones you leave for me are usually waiting for their chance to talk to you! God forbid the one girl I really like actually likes me back and isn’t just using me to get to you, but I guess that would be too hard for you to believe, huh?”

JJ frowned, opening his mouth to counter that argument when Sarah finally stepped in.

“Why are you even fighting over this?” She scoffed, “JJ, you have been here the entire time. If you were going to make a move you could have, but I really don’t think it would have made much of a difference. Like I said, you were here, you were an option, and she still chose Pope. Don’t throw your friendship with both of them away over her feelings, which none of you could have controlled even if you tried.”

JJ felt his breathing grow heavier, his emotions mixing with Sarah’s words of reason and sending him into a frenzy. He needed to be alone before he had the chance to blow up again, he needed time to think, so he stormed out of the Chateau without another word.

Two more weeks had passed, and all of them had gone back to normal. JJ was still a bit butthurt over it all, but made an effort to be his usual self. There was still a bit of tension between him and Pope, and the Heyward boy had even made an effort to plan more time away from the group with his new girlfriend, both out of respect for JJ’s feelings and out of a slight tinge of greed knowing that other eyes were looking at her in the same way he did. He had made an effort to not divulge any of what had happened to her, but he was sure that Sarah would have let at least some of it slip at some point.

The bonfire had been planned in honour of Kie’s birthday, though she had fled the party rather early, hand-in-hand with some dark-haired touron while her friends whooped and cheered. Most of the others had left by that point, leaving JJ, John B, Sarah, Pope, and Y/n alone to enjoy the slowly dying fire, the quickly dwindling alcohol supply, and the free-flowing music that played through John B’s beat up bluetooth speaker.

JJ sat on his folding chair, nursing his fourth beer of the night as he watched the girl twirl around and around with Sarah until they both stopped, alcohol-inspired giggles leaving their lips as they leaned against each other to regain their balance. They grinned at each other for a moment before Sarah leaned forward, pressing a gleeful kiss to her friend’s lips before pulling herself away.

“Heyward,” She called in a demanding voice, catching the attention of Pope, who’d already been watching his girlfriend with a lovesick stare, “Come get your lady, I need a break.”

Y/n grinned at him, eyes filling with love hearts at the sight of her boyfriend as she held out her grabby hands to him, beckoning him to join her, “Dance with me, Popey.”

Pope visibly cringed at the nickname, something she had never even once called him while sober, but still pushed himself off of his log and moved to meet her on the other side of the fire.

JJ reached a hand out, stopping him from moving any further as Pope stared down at him with a challenging look. They stared for a quick beat before JJ moved his hand up into an all-too-familiar position. A small smile appeared on Pope’s lips as he clapped his own hand into his best friend’s, dapping him up for the first time in weeks.

“I love you, man,” JJ slurred.

“Love you too, JJ.”

“Pope!” Y/n placed her hands on her hips, impatiently waiting for him as Sarah collapsed into John B’s lap.

“Go get her, tiger,” JJ let go of his hand, making sure to pat his ass sharply as he walked past with a laugh, watching as he took the girl into his arms and began to slowly sway her back and forth to the beat of the song.

Y/n leaned her head against his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck as the drinks she’d had began to transcend from energetic to sleepy in just moments. JJ watched on, a small frown appearing on his lips before it quickly switched to a soft smile.

Alright, maybe he was jealous, but he’d never seen Pope look so happy, so maybe it was all worth it.

okay why did i actually eat this up

fr tho i love this pairing and little plot i have going so im def down to make this a mini series or do like hcs for this if ppl are interested if not just go ahead and tell me to stfu already

#x reader #reader insert #imagines #outer banks #outer banks x reader #i love pope so much #pope heyward x y/n #pope heyward x you #pope heyward imagine #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward #pope obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine

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yukioos · 2 days ago

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hiii honey!! can i request a leon and ada drabble kinda like ur ashley and leon one? but this time reader takes a liking to both but leon and ada don’t like each other?

BE MY BABY

SUMMARY: on september 29, 1998, you first met leon kennedy and ada wong. six years later, you are sent to rescue the president’s daughter from a town in spain. the last people you expect to be there are leon and ada, who both seem to have an attraction to you. unfortunately, they seem to hate each other more than ever.

WARNINGS: not proofread, cussing, reader’s in the military, ada and leon literally hate each other

AUTHORS NOTE: hi guys! please send resident evil asks because i had so much fun writing this! this is kind of like my ashley and leon writing, so it’s not necessarily a full-on oneshot. it’s basically just ideas. this is 1.1k words.

being in the military is hard work. hours on the field and time-consuming training and meetings have tired you out quicker than you expected. but there is one thing you know for sure: being in the military isn’t for everyone.

september 29, 1998 was the day that changed your life. living in raccoon city was great, it had a supportive community and historical sites to visit once and a while. you’d just gotten home from a mission that took half a month to complete. you quickly became a lieutenant, and ever since then, your days have been filled with leading troops through missions.

however, you didn’t have much time at home before you had to evacuate to the police department because of the zombies. on your way to the department, you met a man who claimed his name was leon kennedy, and he was a police officer who was supposed to start his job that day. he was a sweetheart, far too kind and caring to be deserving of dealing with a traumatic outbreak.

for the hours you spent together, you learned a lot about him, and vice versa. he was a sweetheart, but you could see the sadness and pain behind his eyes. this certainly wasn’t how he expected his first day to go. unfortunately, it was as if the zombies were perpetual, almost every time you’d turn a corner, a hoard would be walking toward you.

the two of you then met a supposed fbi agent, who introduced herself as ada wong. she was mysterious, leaving randomly with no answers, leaving you feeling annoyed. there was something different about her, something wrong. you believed there was no way an fbi agent would randomly leave an officer and a lieutenant on their own to do their own thing, especially not in that situation.

you eventually parted ways with the two of them and found yourself safe for a short period.

six years later, you still remember leon and ada, secretly hoping they’re still safe or in touch. the trauma had followed you, and when you were sent by the president to find his daughter, you of course accepted. it seemed iffy that she was kidnapped by a cult, in a rural town in spain, but nonetheless, you did what you had to do.

he stated you would be accompanied by an agent, who he didn’t name. only when you saw another person standing by the police car to drive you to spain, did you realize who the man was.

leon fucking kennedy. he was actually alive.

your heart flutters as he gently says your name, “y/n?” and you softly smile, you feel exhilarating, and happiness runs through your veins.

instead of a quiet ride, like you would have preferred with anyone else, you and leon discuss what had happened the past six years. he had become an agent with the role of protecting the president’s family, and at the same time, you were moving up the ranks as fast as lightning. the president wanted the best and most talented people to save his daughter. luckily, he chose the perfect team.

you ask what happened with ada, and your heart drops once he tells you she’s a spy.

she seemed genuine, but your suspicions were proven right, she was just trying to get the g-virus and bring it back to her boss.even after hearing all that, you still feel sad for her. she went through so much, and the only two people who went through exactly what she did probably hate her.

but when exploring spain, you never would’ve expected to see her again. you persuade yourself to trust her again, because, in the end, she desires the best for the world.

leon feels the opposite about ada. he hates everything she does, every little word she oh-so confidently says, and how she’s always doing so much for you. she left the two of you, she doesn’t deserve you, as he thinks. he doesn’t want you and him to get manipulated again, and he thinks the two of you share the passion of hating ada.

leon took in all the words you said in the car ride to spain, but was mostly focusing on your plump lips. the way your lips would stretch into a smile, the sides curving upwards, would make his body feel warm. he missed you so much, more than words could describe. every day, he thought about seeing you again. he didn’t even know you were still alive until he heard the president mention your name once. as he spoke highly of you, pride bloomed in leon’s chest. he knew you before you became a very well-known military asset.

leon knew he fell in love easily. hell, he fell in love with you the first time he saw you at the police station. you were in the prettiest outfit, and once you escaped the department, he saw your necklace that had been lying on your chest, dropped on the ground. he kept that necklace for the next six years in hopes of bringing it back to you one day.

he gave it back to you in the police car, telling you straight up, and how he had hoped he would see you again someday. the gratefulness and red cheeks made him quietly chuckle. he secretly relished in the idea of you being flustered and touched because of him.

in 1998, ada felt the need to protect you and leon, she thought she felt attracted to him at one point. she then realized the idea of being with you would be much more wholesome and better for you. leon was just a rookie who didn’t know anything! there was no way you would warm up to him quicker than her

the rookie hardly knew anything, he clearly wasn’t taught to be weary of other people. he was too gullible, in ada’s opinion. there wasn’t many good things about him. his jokes weren’t funny, he didn’t have many appealing qualities, so clearly she was a much better partner for you.

seeing you in your cute, dark blue button-up blouse and black skirt makes her eye you like a dog eyeing a cat. she wants you all to herself, and will do anything to gain that. she would gently lift your chin or tease you while talking to you, asking “are you listening? seems like your mind is somewhere else.” and hook her arm around your waist to redirect you to a different path.

but she and leon knew the other won’t give up on attaining your love. i mean, who wouldn’t want you? you are the most perfect person ever, perfect qualities, perfect beauty, perfect skills, and that’s something they can both agree on. the spy and agent both want you to have the best partner, but both believe they are the one for you.

you hate how they can’t see eye to eye on what you think about the two of them. you love both of them. leon’s chuckle and jokes make you feel like you have a heart attack— in the best way possible, though! he always finds a way to brighten your mood whenever you are feeling upset and will voice his concerns about you. he was straightforward, and you love that in a person. another reason why you love him is that he’s one of the most handsome people you’ve ever seen. whenever his eyes wander into yours, your cheeks feel a little too hot beyond comfort.

ada is beautiful, and you are sure of one thing. red is her fucking color. i mean, god, you’ve spent days just thinking about who could wear red better than her, and that wasn’t even one of the main reasons why you love her! the way she does everything in a confident matter makes you adore her, she seems so sure of herself. she was so strong and far more talented than anyone you’ve known. the way she effortlessly avoids danger like the back of her hand, and protects you from it as well, makes your cheeks flush.

how were you supposed to choose between two of the best people in the world? the hours you spend with them are supposed to be calm, besides finding ashley, but instead, it’s stressful. all that time you only think about finding the president’s daughter, and the two love interests that cloud your mind for eternity.

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eclipse-has-come · 3 days ago

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- Every step you take, I'll be watching you

part 1

A/N: Hello, I’m back with another part! Once again, i have no beta reader and i’m not a native english speaker so there might be some weird mistakes 😭 This chapter is mostly John’s past and his feelings about reader! I thought it was important to see things from his perspective, i hope you enjoy! Warnings: There are desriptions of murder, guns and war in this chapter (but that kinda comes with the territory). John might come off as a bit creepy but he's just a lonely guy :(( also parasocial relationship vibes

When John Price first died, he didn’t even realise what had happened until he heard his footman’s yell. Poor Kyle, seeing his captain with a bullet between his eyes must’ve been quite the traumatic experience.

Price wasn’t expecting the general to go this far but- well, he was playing with fire wasn’t he? Three years ago, in 1857, when the rebellion started, the queen sent out her best soldiers. John was included in the bunch. Loyal to the crown as he was, he rushed to battle, defending his country.

During his service, he got acquainted with three other men who were unfortunate enough (they wouldn’t agree with that statement) to be placed under his command. Simon Riley (a man so mysterious that one could even call him a ghost), John Mactavish (a Scottish warrior with a loud disposition) and Kyle Garrick (a young man looking to prove himself). The four of them bonded, ‘brothers in arms’ - that’s what Mactavish called them anyway.

Half a year into their service, a skirmish changed the trajectory of their lives forever. General Shepherd’s poor decision led to Johnny (“Aye, with the two of us, one of you’s bound to make a mistake callin’ us nae? Call me Johnny!”) getting heavily injured. ‘Two days’ the medics said, that’s how much the poor man had to live.

In the end, he spent two months in the nurse’s care.

By some miracle the bullet just grazed his skull. Captain John Price didn’t consider himself particularly hotheaded, better to be patient and make calculated choices than to end up with regrets or a bullet through his heart. He was raised to be obedient so even as a child John had great respect for and would never dare to deliberately disobey his superiors. This, however, was a step too far - even for him.

For the first time in his life, Price cut his strings and made his own choice.

When Johnny was cleared by the nurses, they did not join Shepherd back on the battlefield. Instead, John took his men and sailed back to Britain. All of them received a less-than-happy letter from the General but it was easy to ignore (at first) with how peaceful their life got.

Simon took on the role of the cook, his previous experience of being a butcher making him quite an extraordinary fit for the role. His dishes would make anyone salivate, they were always perfectly seasoned and prepared, Kyle would say that Simon makes meals fit for the queen.

Johnny became the Head Gardener, as the injury caused him too much trouble to do anything physically taxing. Everything man made was either too loud or too bright, so the peacefulness of nature was a great reprieve. So with the help of the Scot, the desolate and grey garden soon took on a new look, filled with lush greenery and colourful flowers.

With his need to please and earn praise, Kyle made a wonderful footman. He knew John’s schedule down to the smallest details, such as only taking his tea at 7:06 sharp or refusing to eat anything other than an English breakfast as his first meal of the day. He would accompany his lord on any outings, his handsome looks and open nature made it easy for him to strike up new connections or better deals.

Price would never admit it but he had grown quite fond of his men. He had accepted that he would never have a family back when he first joined the army (what woman would wish to live in constant uncertainty?) so when the boys came along, he felt as if he suddenly gained three sons he never would have expected to have. The once too-quiet-and-empty halls took on a life of their own and everywhere you went you’d hear Scottish yells or quiet grunts.

That happiness- it made him soft. Too soft, so much so that he failed to realise just how fucked he truly was. Turns out Shepherd wasn’t too happy with just sending them a few scolding words. No, the general was much too cruel to let them off easy.

The fog was heavy the morning It happened. When John lit his cigar by the window, he couldn’t see anything but grey for miles; Kyle knocked on his door and informed him that breakfast was served. The routine went as usual, thus it made the next thing that happened even more shocking.

When Price sat down at his desk ready to read the newspaper in peace, he was greeted by a gun at the back of his head.

“John.”

He recognised the voice immediately.

“General” Putting down the paper gently, he folded his hands on his lap. He heard the perpetrator behind him grip the gin tighter.

“You couldn’t have truly expected to get away with it- right?” Shepherd paused, as if contemplating what’s left to say. “You were better than this John.”

Price merely hummed, not willing to entertain the other man. “We both were”

“If you want to beg for your life, go ahead, I’ll gladly wait.”

Price let out an amused huff.

“Wouldn’t do me any good.”

The general stayed quiet and raised his gun higher; John heard a loud shot and then-

Silence.

His funeral was beautiful, his boys made sure of it. The only ones present were them but still, that was more than enough. The coffin was surrounded by flowers, John laughed about the fact that it was probably the first time he ever received any.

His first week as a ghost consisted of him following his men, making sure the estate was in good hands. They took their duties seriously, sometimes they even spoke to him as if he were there with them. He always replied but- well, no one ever heard him.

When the boys started getting older, he would try to make their lives easier. Move the cane closer to Johnny’s bed while he sleeps, rattling the cupboard to make sure Simon remembers to take his pills or even picking up items since Kyle can barely bend down with his bad back.

He knew they couldn’t see him but they still thanked him out loud every time. It’s as if they could feel his presence, as if they knew he was there, watching over them. His heart was happy and when their time came, he waited with bated breath for them to join him but-

They never did.

Price was left alone. His men moved on but he couldn’t seem to do the same; and with them gone, his purpose was lost too. He spent years occupying the empty home, thinking of a solution.

No one bought his home after the late soldiers departed from this world, he wondered whether that was because of who it belonged to or just because of the sorry state it was in after the boys died.

Years of lone walks and no one to talk with made John realise that being a ghost was plain lonely. He felt miserable wandering the empty halls and knowing that he might never see his close friends again made it even more difficult.

Losing track of time proved easy in such a desolate building. His only companions were bugs crawling on the walls and his own thoughts, he had no way of keeping up with the world. Not that he really wanted to, his time had been over for a long, long time.

Finally, after an unknown number of years, a man and his family joined him in his residence. He overheard that it was now 1939 and a second World War started (there was a first one?). John’s first instinct was to pack up and fight but- he wouldn’t be much help in his state. He could already imagine bullets passing straight through him and hitting some poor sod behind him.

John watched as the head of the family left for war, wishing it was him instead as the wife and son cried after him. The scene broke his heart and he knew that if he had gotten married and started a family, this is what it would have looked like. He knew he made the right choice to not start one back then, as he could never imagine himself leaving his hypothetical wife and child behind.

In the end, the man never came back. John was the sole man to witness the son grow up, start his own family and continue the legacy.

Time passed and before Price knew, he had witnessed generations live and die in his home. He didn’t know how much he missed the hustle and bustle in his home until it came back. The chains around his heart lightened their load when he heard the giggles of children and conversation in the kitchen.

Over the years, he tried to subtly signal his presence to the different residents of his home but all of them were met with fear or disbelief and so, he stopped. He would rather have the families be comfortable and unaware of him than be left alone again, his heart couldn’t take it.

The years passed, the world was slowly growing too unrecognisable for John. New inventions seemed to appear every day but he could still barely comprehend the existence of phones (and they were invented back in his time!).

The latest owner of his building was the lone descendant of the poor lad who never came back from war, a grumpy old man (who rivalled even John with his impressive moustache) that was convinced the house was haunted. He wasn’t wrong of course but John didn’t purposely make his presence known so it was curious that the elderly gentleman was sure of his existence.

He rarely visited because of that fact, causing the place to slowly grow into poor condition. Mold-covered walls and broken floorboards was an everyday sight now, which saddened Price greatly. Although the residence hadn’t been truly his for a long time, he was still the one that built it; and he would much rather see it fall into capable hands than to grow into disarray.

His silent fuming seemed to have been answered when a lone woman entered through the front door one day. Still young but too old to be the old man's grandchild, so who was she? Price was both curious and cautious, as the owner hadn’t visited for a while before her arrival.

The beginning of their relationship (if you could even call it that) was rocky, to say the least.

At first, John was convinced she was a squatter and was determined to run her out, scaring her by creaking the stairs and pushing objects off of tables and desks (he did however feel a smidge of guilt when something shattered in one of the boxes he nudged; he was taught to never disrespect women's belongings after all).

It was only after she bought the paint and tools, that he realized what was really happening. The poor girl had bought his home and was intending to renovate it back to its original state. Instantly his guilt skyrocketed to insane heights, never before had he felt this embarrassed for misjudging a person.

John had a new mission now: to help the wonderful lady as much as he can; starting with trying to assist her with her projects. What John didn't expect is the he seemed to fumble like a school boy with a crush. The woman was beautiful, with her lively eyes and quiet remarks. He particularly enjoyed her habit of talking to herself, it made him feel as if he was a part of this, as if he was real, at least to her.

His crush admiration caused him to become soft for her, evident in his inability to focus. When he tried to move the heavy paint can closer to the wall, he got his foot stuck in the handle and proceeded to fling the whole thing on the wall while trying to get it out- not his proudest moment, he admits. He was even more embarrassed when the lady seemed discouraged after seeing the mess.

After a few more tries which ended in disaster (lodging a stray pebble into the front window- plus a few others he'd rather not name), he decided that his attempts to help her were only making her life harder. He ceased his unhelpful ministrations and decided to observe her progress, silently encouraging her.

She made quick work of the place and before he knew it, the first floor turned into a cozy antique (well, modern to Price) store. John walked through the aisles of beautiful trinkets, they reminded him so much of his previous life and how it used to be.

He didn't realise it until now but he missed his past more than he thought; years of loneliness made him numb to just how good he had it and what he lost.

This quiet epiphany gave him food for thought, about how he didn't wish to be alone once more. Sure, the families filled the home but they didn’t truly care (or even know) about him. He wanted someone to acknowledge his presence, to treat him like a person and not a silent observer.

He wanted it to be her.

The woman who stumbled her way into the empty house and made it her own, she didn’t know it but it meant so much to him. Over the months of her getting used to the new environmet, he had grown fond of her quirky nature. He didn’t even know her name and yet, he knew exactly how she took her tea or how much time she spends on laundry since she doesn’t enjoy doing it.

He felt a bit guilty that she was unaware of his silent observation but his happiness outweighed that. Besides, he would apologise to her soon enough.

He won't- no, he can't take another hundred years of loneliness. He promised himself he wouldn't interfere with her affairs anymore but the urge is too strong. She wormed her way into his head and heart with her endearing determination and kind eyes. He knows she’d make a good friend.

He made his move a week later. The poor lady was tired after seven days of hard work ('That should be your husband's job Darlin’.’ he thought to himself) and decided to enjoy a nice hot shower. Now, John is nothing but a gentleman; sure, he might be entering a woman's bathroom but it's for a good cause! He’ll make it up to her anyway.

He had been selfless his whole life: serving his queen and putting his men's safety above his. His afterlife was the same, consisting of helping his home's tennants and being a quiet observer. He was done pretending to live in the past, living in the moment is all that matters to him now. His whole life he wanted to have a domestic life but his sense of responsibility wouldn’t let him commit to anything other than war.

John is tired; tired of being a leader, tired of being a mere trick of the eye and most importantly, tired of being alone.

He just hopes the kind woman will see it that way too, he thinks to himself as he writes on the fogged up mirror.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #callofduty #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #cod #cod john price #john price x reader #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #john price imagine #john price

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h50europe · 13 hours ago

Text

8.06 post mortem - Buck/Tommy - General - 9-1-1 Zombified

Many of us wondered why a cut emergency case from episode 7.04 was used. A novelty and if you look closely, you'll notice that the characters appeared very different from how they did in the rest of season 8, and the scenes felt erratic. This inconsistency is reminiscent of the writing from Andrew Meyers, who also wrote episode 7.04. However, in that episode, he had a co-writer who was clearly more talented. Episode 8.06 was poorly written compared to 7.04. Alone the scene in the beginning. Buck could have pointed out that this chick was interrupting the date he had with his boyfriend. Tommy then mentioned the Kinsey scale

Our walking encyclopedia had no idea what his boyfriend was talking about. Seriously? Also, Buck doesn't want to buy a present for their 6-month anniversary, and Tommy gives him 2 Lakers baseball cards and awkwardly mentions that Buck could go with Eddie? Is this dinner supposed to be romantic? Well, they could have gone to McDonalds. Meyers should have consulted his co-writer at this point; we're heading straight for disaster. Then Tim had this wonderful idea with Abby and thought it was hilarious. The guy's humour isn't just weird, it's kind of crude. Abby never mentioned that she went out with another guy from the 118. Isn't that weird? No one ever knew about it? Not Hen, not Chim? For two years? Did Tommy keep her locked in his basement? This plot is so poorly constructed that it's cringe-worthy at best. And that's when Himbo's jaw hit the floor… along with the audience.

The only good scene was Josh's GLEE speech. And I may be reading between the lines, but I felt that the way Josh talked about post and past GLEE and how Buck can't blame Tommy for his actions because times were different was a wink and a nod to the haters. I really had the impression that this was a cunning move to address why Tommy was who he was back then and why he has changed now.

But seconds later I nearly choked on my drink, and I can tell you it's orgasmic when a sip of Pepsi comes out of your nose, when Maddie said, "She wondered how many men Abby had turned gay." Because I was chatting to a friend before I watched the episode and I almost said the same thing. I live in Europe, so I watched it the next day, knowing what was coming, but nothing about that particular scene. Which, frankly, was terrible.

Forgive me for ignoring the emergencies in this episode. They were repetitive, to say the least, just with different protagonists.

So far we have a recycled episode, a recycled ex, a recycled emergency and a recycled scenario, Maddy is pregnant (hooray). It begins to reek of decay.

Brownie points to those who aren't already traumatised or bored to death. Now for the highlight: Tommy shows up at Buck's apartment in a great mood. He is looking forward to a date with his friend and hot sex as the icing on the cake (that's what I had in mind). Tommy gets suspicious when Buck asks him to sit down. It doesn't take long before he pulls out his phone and shows his friend photos of Abby and a younger Buck. This is followed by an awkward explanation of why he didn't share the news in the restaurant, and Tommy's reaction is a little awkward too. But this is only the overture to the worst retconning I have seen on television in a long time. The coincidence is swept under the carpet in the blink of an eye, and now it gets creepy.

Compare the scene in the coffee shop with this one. It has the same structure, bit by bit. Buck invites Tommy to the wedding in the coffee shop, and Tommy says, "What?" Here it is: "I want you to move in with me." We have a mashup of the first kiss and the coffee shop scene, and Oliver plays it similarly. The worst part is when Tommy turns into his zombie version. Excellently played by Lou. No doubt about it. He gave it his all. He maimed that shitty script, which felt like Meyers had raided AO3, picked the worst written fics and went for the most cringe-worthy insult he could find for a bisexual. "I was your first, but I won't be your last." Hello? This topic only comes to Tommy's mind after he is asked to move in together? I was expecting "I can't move in with you because I wouldn't know where to put my car lift and Muay Thai studio". No, it's because all the trust and love Tommy put in Buck is wiped out by the retconning of Tommy's personality. He succumbs to total chaos. This is not the Tommy we met in S7 and certainly not the one we met in 8.05. Fuck me! It didn't make sense. We would have needed a lot more background information ON SCREEN to make it believable. A scene from Tommy's past. Who hurt him so badly? It wasn't Abby. She only managed to traumatise Buck. Was it after he met Abby? Was it another guy?

Hello writers, are you still in your right mind? We have no clues. Neither the loyal fans and certainly not the new ones. You're reducing a character to a sad laughing stock. You rob him of all his merits, which you had Buck recite like a poem in school. And then you expect us to believe it? You steamroll over everything that's been painstakingly built up to this episode? It's actually convenient, I let the whole relationship run off screen. We don't see any flying lessons together, no training together, no cosy get-togethers in front of the TV, no exchange of affection, nothing. It's all headcanon. Guys, I've seen shows and movies where a sequence like this lasted five minutes and you knew where the couple stood. Maybe a flashback or two into Tommy's past would have helped. But no, instead the audience had to put up with the same old nonsense. A ridiculous story about an urn, a guy who sneezes and his intestines fall out, a kid who doesn't fall down a drain but slips down a pipe. They give us nothing, but we're supposed to believe everything, retconning is so great. If any of us wrote fanfiction like that, we'd be banned from AO3. And as if that wasn't enough, Tommy stands up and says, "Believe me, I didn't see this coming either. Tell me, were you on drugs when you were writing? There are a thousand ways to respond sensibly to "Let's move in together" without turning it into such a dumpster fire. The crowning glory of all this madness is when Tommy says "I'll see you around Buck" instead of Evan (the same words he said to Evan when he left him standing outside the restaurant on their first date). Where did that come from? It's as if Tommy had lost all respect for his lover, or as if he wanted to punch him in the face while he was already on the ground. We, the viewers, also had this feeling. And Tommy's behaviour was completely disturbed. I wonder if he checked himself into a mental facility right after that.

I won't say anything about the rest of the episode because I'm a polite person.

Conclusion: Please take the pen away from this lunatic and never let him write anything again or give him a co-writer like in 7.04. The guy is totally unhinged.

Extra brownies, you made it!

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc #oliver stark #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #kinkley #911 season 8

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mariacallous · 10 hours ago

Text

Cantor Jennifer Bern-Vogel was used to hearing her mother tell the story.

On the evening of Nov. 9, 1938, her mother, then Marianne Katzenstein, who was 16 at the time, was in her family’s synagogue in Bielefeld, Germany, practicing the organ. She finished up, used a key to lock the building and returned home. Later that night, the synagogue was burned to the ground by the Nazis in the Kristallnacht pogrom.

Only two items survived the fire: a Torah scroll and Katzenstein’s key.

“I just remember her talking about it, her voice would change and she was just kind of slower and softer and very nostalgic when she talked about the whole story,” Bern-Vogel, 67, said in an interview. “Whenever she told the story and then held up the key, people always — and I experienced it myself — there was always this kind of gasp.”

Bern-Vogel, who has been the cantor at Congregation Emanu El in Redlands, Calif., since 2009, said the story of the key was “legendary” in her family.

And on Saturday, 86 years after Kristallnacht, the key returned home.

Bern-Vogel spent the past week in Germany, where she had lived for more than a decade when she was younger, reconnecting with friends, family and the Jewish community of Bielefeld, where the synagogue was reestablished shortly after the Holocaust. It was her first trip to Bielefeld with her husband and daughter, and her brother and niece, as well as a cousin from Denmark, also flew in for the occasion.

On Friday night, Bern-Vogel and the cantor of the Bielefeld synagogue led Shabbat services together. Bern-Vogel sang a song that was adapted from a poem written by her grandfather, with music composed by a longtime friend from Germany.

And following Havdalah on Saturday, the town held a ceremony that began at the site of the destroyed synagogue before moving to City Hall, where the official hand-off was made. The key was added to the collection of the town’s history museum and will be on display at the current synagogue building.

According to Irith Michelsohn, the president of the town’s Jewish community and of Germany’s Progressive Jewish movement, Bielefeld’s Jewish community has 450 members. The synagogue the community uses now was renovated from an old Protestant church and was inaugurated in 2008.

Prior to the Holocaust, Bielefeld was home to almost 1,000 Jews, Michelsohn said. The community has been revitalized since Michelsohn took the helm on Jan. 1, 2000, at which point she said there were only 35 members.

Michelsohn said the key’s return is immensely meaningful to the community.

“I was so excited, because we only have one Torah scroll, and now the key, that’s all we have from our old synagogue,” Michelsohn said. “And now the key is back. That’s so great, you can’t imagine.”

Michelsohn said the key is especially important as a vehicle to educate the current community about its past. She explained that like many German Jewish communities, Bielefeld’s Jews are almost all originally from the former Soviet Union.

“You don’t have many people who are originally from Germany,” she said. “Some of them converted to Judaism, some immigrated from Israel or other countries or are working in Bielefeld with a university, but most of the members in all of our 120 Jewish communities in Germany are from the former Soviet Union.”

The key, Michelsohn said, represents an opportunity to “teach them something about history, about the past, what we lost.”

It also returns a physical reminder of the old synagogue building, which had been built in 1905 and was commissioned by the Katzenstein family. Bern-Vogel’s maternal grandfather had been the head of the Jewish community, and helped hundreds of families escape Germany.

“It symbolizes a connection to the old and very, very nice building which we had,” Michelsohn said, adding that the destroyed synagogue was “such a marvelous building.”

Like the key she kept, the remarkable story of Bern-Vogel’s mother did not end in 1938. The following year, she and her younger sister escaped to England on the Kindertransport. Years later, she was at a Shabbat dinner in Israel when she met Julian Bernstein (later shortened to Bern), Bern-Vogel’s father, who also survived the Holocaust.

Julian was one of six children from a Lithuanian family, but only he and one brother survived the Holocaust. That brother, Leon Bernstein, and Bern-Vogel’s mother were both working for the World Jewish Congress; Leon hosted the Shabbat dinner where Julian and Marianne met.

The two were engaged within a week, and eventually settled in Iowa, where Bern-Vogel and her brother were raised.

In the later years of her mother’s life, Bern-Vogel said there had been efforts to bring the key to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. But a contact her mother had at the museum passed away, and in 2017, so did she, at 94 years old.

“It just held a very deep connection,” Bern-Vogel said, referring to the key, a copy of which she still has. “I don’t think I thought about, when we were growing up, that the key would be anywhere else but with us. It kind of belonged to us.”

But as her mother aged, Bern-Vogel said her family wanted to determine where the key should go to be best taken care of and hold the most meaning. After a couple recent trips to Germany, Bern-Vogel said the answer crystallized.

“It just became clearer over the last couple of years, and especially after I went there last summer to meet with them at the synagogue and the museum, that it would really mean the most for everyone and future generations for it to be there,” she said.

Bern-Vogel said that even though her mother had a fraught relationship with Germany because of how her family’s time there ended, Bielefeld will always be their home. And she knows her mother would appreciate knowing that the key has made it back.

“I think that she would be incredibly moved by the reception that the key is going to have, and the people that are involved in the city,” Bern-Vogel said. “I think she would be very honored and happy, and I think grateful.”

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tinfoil-jones · 14 hours ago

Text

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 10

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: This is a long chapter

First - Prev - Next

Ch.10

“Do you remember how you came to Gravity Falls in the first place?”

“I was just passing by.”

“Yes, but this town is isolated, and you have no means of transportation.”

“Trainhopping, I was hiding on a train for two days I think, maybe three? Decided to jump off here.”

“Do you know why you decided to do that here, and not anywhere else?”

“...”

“Stan?”

“It’s funny, specs - a couple months back, I’d already been with my pal Rick for a while, right? Just one heist, escapade, or criminal venture after another, for seven months straight. And it was great while it lasted, but then he asked me if I wanted to stay with him in another dim- someplace far away. And I wanted to, ya know? There’s always been this itch in the back of my mind that I wanted to go around the world on some grand adventure, and he was offering that to me on a silver platter. But I told him no.”

“And why was that, Stan?”

“...It’s stupid.”

“I wouldn’t call any of your reasoning stupid, I’m not here to judge you.”

“...I always wanted to go on an adventure- but something was missing. It’s like- I dunno if it’s intuition or some spiritual mumbo jumbo, it’s like I’m looking for something. But I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Do you have an idea what it could be?”

“A part of… me? I’m missing something. Not just my memories- but something else. I think I might have made a promise, I just… don’t remember what it was, or who I promised to. I guess I’ve been drifting around trying to find it.”

“And you felt it was in Gravity Falls?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. There’s something weird here… I just wanted to check this place out, is all.”

“I see. What did you say your relationship with this Rick was like?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, F. We were just friends. Okay, maybe we were kind of an item for a week at most, but that guy isn’t just self-destructive; he’s like a train that wrecks onto a freeway, he can never just destroy himself, he has to wreck the people around him too and create an absolute shit show. Even I have a limit with that shit.”

“You really need to stop putting yourself down like that, Stan. You only ever seem to say negative things about yourself, it ain’t good for you.”

“There isn’t anything good to say, stretch.”

“Don’t sell yourself one egg short of a basket, now. Y’know, your-. Uh, Stanford was telling me that you’re quite clever. He used a trick to get you down here in the first place, but he also said that he wouldn’t be able to trick you again.”

“I should have seen his fake-out coming… I’ll give it to him, it was a good one. But I’m not going to underestimate him, because crazy like his should never be underestimated. What’s he up to anyways? He went to that room that’s always locked.”

“That’s his private study. I believe he goes there when he wants to be alone.”

“...Didn’t he live by himself? Why did he already have that?”

“Can’t say, maybe it’s a quiet and calm space for him.”

(...)

“HE HAS RISEN BABY GIRL.”

“Bill, please stop calling me that. It’s unprofessional.”

“Come on Sixer, at least let the Goo Goo Dolls soundtrack play.”

“The what?”

“Ooop! My bad, it’s not 1998 or 2024 yet. How can I help you today, Fordsy? You haven’t called me in a few weeks.”

“There’s a mindscape I need to access.”

“Oh boy, it’s not usually you who wants to poke around other humans' brains, always prattling on about ethics and consent. What’s the occasion?”

“...You know everything I know when we’re in the mindscape, you already know the answer.”

“Yes, but I still want you to say it out loud. Clearly and concisely, so your dialogue can be read on screen.”

“... I need to get into the mind of my brother, Stanley. He has amnesia, and our leading theory is that it’s due to psychological trauma. But he has been through so much trauma we’re having trouble isolating the definitive event that would have started this.”

“And why wouldn’t he just share that with his beloved twin brother?”

“He does not remember me.”

“Oooh, then he is just like you! Isn't it just precious when twins are twinning?”

“I never forgot about him.”

“Oh Sixer… You might as well have.”

“Just take me to his mind, Cipher… Please.”

“Anything for you, baby boy!”

SNAP

(...)

“So your memories are only clear to a certain point?”

“Yeah. Rick found me wandering around the woods in a ‘catatonic state’, and snapped me out of it. Everything before that… I can remember being on the street, I can remember all the stuff I did, maybe out to a decade? But there’s a lot of holes, lotsa different names I used. And before the streets? Nothing.”

“And when did Rick find you in the woods?”

“What month is it?”

“June.”

“Last May - so about 13 months?”

(...)

“Okay Fordsy he hasn’t made a deal with me so we can’t go too deep, or his mental defenses are just gonna shove us out.”

“Bill, I already know that, why are you explaining it to me?”

“You know; doesn’t mean they know. Unless this is a re-read. In which case; welcome back. Glad you loved or hated it the first time.”

“You are… Beyond comprehension, Bill Cipher.”

“That’s what you love about me though.”

“You have my begrudging, professional respect.”

“From your aspec ass, that’s practically love.”

“Aspe-”

“Oooh! Lookie here, a memory door opened up. He must be opening up to someone right now. Let's barge in haphazardly.”

(...)

“Okay Stan, this might be difficult. But if you ever feel distressed, let me know and we can try grounding techniques okay?’

“You got it, F.”

“Now close your eyes, think back to when you and Rick parted ways.”

(...)

“Sanchez?! How does Stan know-.”

“You know this hilarious crossover character? I already know the answer, but for no particular reason I need you to tell me out loud how you know him.”

“His wife Diane was part one of my PhD programs. She was always so bright and pleasant, but her husband was a nightmare when she brought him around. He was always saying that school wasn’t for smart people, and rubbed his inventions and intelligence in our face.”

“And how is she these days?”

“She passed away from a garage fire a few years ago, her and her little girl. I almost sent him a condolences, but he was such an unpleasant asshole I could not make myself do so.”

“Come on Stan- think about it! You, me, Bird Person, Squanchy- sci-fi adventures, drugs, bitches. Whattaya say? Let’s ditch this dimension, there isn’t anything for us here anymore.”

“Dimension-?”

“Shh, Fordsy, just let it play out.”

“I… I can’t Rick.”

“Why not?”

“There’s… something here.”

“Did you remember something?”

“I don’t remember who, but I think I’m looking for someone.”

“Stanny-Boy, we’ve been through this before. No one knows you, everywhere we’ve been, ‘cept for the fake names. You should just cut your losses.”

“Wherever we go, we go together.”

“What was that-?”

“Just the distorted voice of his subconscious. It’s probably not important.”

“I’m sorry. But there’s a piece of me missing, and I think it’s still here in this dimension somewhere.”

“You know your credits don’t have monetary value here.”

“I know.”

“And I can’t leave you a space cruiser. You’ll have to walk or steal a car.”

“Either is fine. I’ve done it before.”

“Stan… Are you sure?”

“Here. Take all my credits, you’ll get more out of it than me.”

“You want your dusters back?”

“Trade me.”

“Wait, you don’t want your transdimensional watch anymore?”

“If the pigs catch me, I don’t need them asking too many questions.”

“You know that doesn’t just give you dimensional coordinates and time zones, right? There’s a pulse wave in it that can shatter force fields.”

“Pft, what are the chances I’d ever need that?”

“Ooof, he really fumbled the bag there.”

“My muse, please.”

*Rick takes the watch and gives Stan a pair of brass knuckles*

“Thanks Rick… Hey, it was nice while it lasted.”

“Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I hope you find that bastard, Prime. Give him the hell he deserves.”

“...Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll miss you too, pal.”

(...)

“Alright, how are you feeling Stan?”

“So far so good.”

“Okay, now let’s go further back. You said your first clear memory is when you met him, let’s go back to that.”

“I was in the back of his shi- iiitty car, I felt like I’d just smoked an entire carton of cigarettes, but in a bad way..”

(...)

“It just- stopped?”

“He’s remembering something else. Just look for another door.”

“Here we go.”

“Wha- where…?”

“Oh hey you’re awake.”

“-’re, you?”

“You’re one tough son of a bitch, y’know? Most of the people I tase end up dead, but you just passed out.”

“You… tased me? Are you a cop?”

“Hell no. I tased you because you attacked me in the woods. Damn near ripped my head off.”

“The woods..?”

“You were wandering around in a catatonic state, can’t tell you how long.”

“A what state?”

“This isn’t going anywhere. Can you tell me your name?”

“It’s…? I... Malone. Wait. It’s- Stan.”

“Stan Malone huh? My name’s Rick Sanchez.”

(...)

“Stan keep your eyes closed. I want you to try to remember what happened before this.”

“Alright…”

“What’s something you can remember? Something you saw, felt, heard?”

“My chest felt really tight…”

(...)

“What is this?”

“Ahh. A pit memory. This is something his brain wants to forget, but can’t permanently delete.”

“So it is a repressed memory?”

“Yes. He’s trying to think about it… but unconsciously, he really doesn’t want to.”

“What happens if we jump in?”

“Sixer, where's your sense of adventure? If it gets too dangerous I’ll just pull us out.”

“Do you swear?”

“Just gimme the word.”

“Which word?”

“Let’s go with ‘defenestrate’ this time.”

‘W̷̷H̷̷Y̷ ̷I̷̷S̷̷N̷'̷T̷ ̷I̷̷T̷ ̷W̷̷O̷̷R̷̷K̷̷I̷̷N̷̷G̷?! ̷W̷̷H̷̷Y̷-?’

S̷̷C̷̷R̷̷E̷̷E̷̷C̷̷H̷

‘̷C̷̷a̷̷n̷’̷t̷-’

‘̷t̷̷r̷̷a̷̷p̷̷p̷̷e̷̷d̷’

‘̷c̷̷a̷̷n̷’̷t̷ ̷b̷̷r̷̷e̷̷a̷̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷-’

*brief flash of a pile of burnt paper ash in Stan’s hands, which are shaking*

“We can’t stay here Fordsy, he’s closing up again.”

“Just one more second-!”

“Might as well, it’s [--- ---- ------ - ---].”

“[--- ---] going to die here. Stan[--- -------- -----], if you don’t [---- - ---- ---- --] in the next minute you will die.”

“That voice-?”

“We’re leaving now, Sixer! DEFENESTRATE!”

SNAP

(...)

“Stan? Stan calm down-! It’s okay! Remember where you are.”

“C-Can’t breathe-”

“Yes you can, just breathe with me. In- out. In- out. Just like that. There we go.”

“I’m sorry specs, I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t.”

To be continued…

#for your own good #early amnesia au #mystery trio #fords evil basement sub-lab #ford isnt a mad scientist hes a sad scientist #gravity falls #cross posted on ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #stanley pines #stan pines #stanford pines #ford pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #bill cipher #rick sanchez #diane sanchez #past stanchez

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bcolfanfic · 1 day ago

Note

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” “It’s ok. We’ll figure it out - together.”

i lowkey wanna request this w one of the uncles and the yv kids 🥹 torn between sawyer and gale anddddd meadow and john so u pick!

surprise i split the prompt and did both!

uncle buck and sawyer blakely <3

"Sawyer, hey what’s wrong?" Gale asked gently, the twelve-year-old swiping at his nose with his sleeve as he sniffled. He'd slipped his shoes off since the last time Gale had looked over at him as he was helping Blakely get their stuff packed into the car, knees drawn up to his chest.

"Don’t wanna go home," He said, voice wobbly. "I don’t- don’t have friends at school, and I like it when we’re all here because then I do have friends," Sawyer continued, picking at a thread on his jeans.

Gale's heart twisted in his chest. He'd believed Blakely and Helen when they said this past week in Wyoming was the least wound up they'd seen Sawyer in a while. He wasn't as rambunctious as the others had figured out they had the space to be running around the Bucks property causing trouble. But he was content to play Animal Crossing in the basement with Micah, and was chattier at dinner with anyone than Gale remembered him being when he'd seen him a little over a year ago.

"You’re still gonna see most of ‘em at home bud, the only ones that don’t live there are our crew." Gale said as he sat down next to him. "And we’re gonna be in New York to visit in a couple months,"

Sawyer only huffed, resting his chin on his knees.

"’s not the same." He said into the material of his jeans, punctuated by a hiccup. "Don’t know what’s wrong with me, I try to talk to people- but nobody wants to talk to me, they just don’t like me,"

Sawyer's breath hitched and Gale felt his throat tighten, ducking his head down for a second to compose himself. It wasn't new information- he'd heard bits and pieces of it from Blakely. But it wasn't issue he'd had with Josie or Micah- and he found himself wishing he had a better sense of how to navigate it.

Wringing his hands, Sawyer looked at Gale expectantly.

"There's nothing wrong with you bud," He said after a moment, reaching a hand for the back of his shoulder, feeling the tremble in it still under the press of his palm. "You're a great kid- gonna find your people who see that- just gotta give it time,"

Sawyer took a shaky inhale and a few more tears escaped on the exhale, chin wobbling as he budged closer into Gale, hiccupping until he was positioned to let out a little sob into his neck.

"I know, you're okay," Gale murmured, trying to fish his phone out of his pocket without jostling the boy too much.

To: John ❤️

Can u tell Helen to come back in the house? Sawyer is a little upset about leaving.

uncle bucky and meadow biddick <3

Every second since Micah had come flying down the stairs a few hours ago screeching that Meadow was pregnant- that JJ had gotten her pregnant, had felt like some sort of fever dream. A fever dream John was only halfway jostled out of when his phone rang just as he was about to brush his teeth, the twenty-two-year old's caller ID flashing across the screen.

"That Meadow?" Gale said when he saw how John was looking at his phone from the doorway, John giving a little nod as he picked up the call, walking out of the bathroom to sink down into bed.

"Hey Mead," He started, soft. He could hear her breathing- and sniffling, on the other end.

"Have you talked to my dad?" She asked when she found her words.

"No, kiddo," he answered softly, absently rubbing the edge of his phone case with this thumb. "But Micah kind of told me what’s going on."

The line was quiet for a moment, Meadow's voice cracking a little when she spoke up.

"I don’t think he loves me anymore," She said, John's chest and his grip on his phone tightening.

He knew that wasn't true- would never be true no matter what she did. But from the bits and pieces he'd heard from Josie and Micah about how things had gone at the Crosbys, he almost couldn't blame her for being so wound up.

"No, hey- no, that’s not true at all," John said, tone a little firmer. "I haven’t talked to him yet, but I don’t need to to tell you that much."

"But he’s so mad," She said as her voice shook. "You weren’t there- I thought he was gonna kick me out till Jeanie said I could spend the night with them and he got all mad at her too."

John dropped his head back against the headboard, holding back a dry laugh when he saw the concerned look Gale threw him from where he was getting undressed.

"I'm gonna wring Curt's neck." He mouthed across the room at him before he went back to trying to think of something to say to Meadow that might actually be helpful.

"I’ve seen your dad mad a lotta’ times in my life,” He tried. “And he's got a cooler head in there somewhere, just takes some time for it to prevail."

"How much time?" she cut in before he'd fully finished his sentence. "He won’t even listen to daddy- I heard them arguing ‘cause he told him to calm down- he hates me."

John heard her breath hitch on the end and felt a lump forming in his throat as he listened to her resolve crumble. She tried to catch her breath to little avail, a sob escaping between sniffles.

"It’s okay, Mead," John said, gentle- and wishing Wyoming was a closer hop and skip from New York. "Don’t gotta cry, you're breakin’ my heart sweetie. I promise he doesn’t hate you- swear it on my life."

Meadow’s shaky inhale was enough to tell him she didn’t believe a word of that. But she managed to get herself calmed down at least- he imagined somewhat due to her sister coming in, Bry's voice entering faintly into the background.

"We’re gonna figure this out together- but you should try to get some sleep first, 'kay?' he said when he heard Bry pause, tapping his fingers against the back of his phone case.

"'Kay, Uncle Bucky."

Her voice was still wobbly, but she wasn't hyperventilating anymore and that was enough for him to feel okay about passing things over to her sister. He let out a sigh when he hung up, his phone buzzing a few seconds later.

curt biddick

Was Meadow on the phone with you just now?

John rubbed a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with an exhale before he went to respond.

john egan

Go tell your kid you still love her. Was breaking my heart listening to her cry like that.

Read 11:57pm

The blue bubble indicating Curt was typing blinked for a second before it disappeared and didn't return. John chewed on the inside of his cheek, annoyed at the stubbornness he in most ways felt he'd grown more acclimated to than anyone.

He gave it five minutes before shooting off another text.

john egan

I get it man, I do. But if you’re not gonna let her stay with the Crosbys you need to make her staying with her dads feel like a good thing. Flipping out isn't helping unless you want her running off to JJ once you're asleep.

The bubble blinked again- and a response followed it this time.

curt biddick

Got it. Thx.

#young vets au #gale cleven #john egan #sawyer blakely #meadow biddick #mota

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folliesandfolderols · 10 months ago

Text

Writing Prompts Day 1

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven't written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. Anyway I've finished the first draft (it topped out at 88k words) and will be unlocking each post as I edit.

***

"So how do you want me to fuck you?"

***

Tim was crawling under the bed in his old room in the Manor, looking for an external hard drive he'd misplaced ages ago, when the door slammed open and then slammed shut again with just as much vigor. He nearly hit his head on the bedframe, but managed to keep that much dignity before slowly rising to his feet.

"Damian?" It had been a long time since they were at each others' throats as a matter of course, but the instinct to view Damian with caution remained. Admittedly, that was due to other reasons now rather than out of fear for his life.

Damian nodded at him in acknowledgement, eyebrows furrowed. "Drake."

Tim stepped closer as he realized that what he'd first interpreted as anger (teeth gritted, muscle jumping at the hinge of Damian’s jaw, redness crawling up his neck and into his cheeks) looked like a different emotion altogether. He hadn't recognized it at first because Damian so rarely allowed himself to appear embarrassed. "What's wrong?"

"I—I require something of you." Tim gave him a dubious look in automatic offense, and Damian hastily changed tactics. "I request something of you. I have a burden which must be shed and I believe you are an tolerable associate to help me do so."

Tim moved closer still, enough to reach out and touch Damian, except that the other's clear wariness kept him from making any sort of gesture. "Sure, you know I'm happy to assist.” A lie, but a useful one until the truth needed to be spoken. “What's the problem?"

Damian squared his shoulders and fixed his gaze somewhere over Tim's left shoulder. "I have yet to engage in sexual relations with anyone. I am asking you to take care of the problem."

Tim froze. He didn't kid himself that he'd heard wrong, because his brain couldn't have come up with a more inconceivable combination of words no matter what the circumstances. His initial, inconsequential response was to think, Well, that's several suspicions I had confirmed, in one fell swoop.

This might explain some stuff. Damian had been acting weird for a few weeks now.

First came the drone. Or rather, Damian dropping the drone in front of Tim’s face onto the desk where Tim was working in the Cave.

“May I help you?” Tim had drawled, not that he actually wanted to.

“I would like to request your expertise.”

Tim had whipped his head around to stare at Damian in shock. “You. You what?”

Damian must have known how bizarre it was for him to ask for any help whatsoever from one of his least favorite people, but he met Tim’s gaze with nothing but defiance on his face. “I would appreciate your help in repairing the broken traces on a circuit board in this drone. I could do it, of course, but I have other demands on my time.”

Tim, stunned into wordless compliance, had pulled the drone closer and given him a nod. Damian nodded back in acknowledgement, turned on his heel, and left without further ado.

So that had been strange.

But then came the weapons smuggling case.

It was unusual for Jason to ask for assistance from any of them with his cases. Damian seemed an odd choice for helper as well, although the two shared a great deal of experiences, if at disparate times. Still, Tim hadn't thought about it much until Damian sent him a folder of crime scene photos from a recent weapons deal gone wrong, along with notes on the leads he'd found.

The accompanying message had read, Your help in examining the scene for further clues would be useful.

Intrigue didn't prevent Tim from texting Jason to be sure the request had actually come from Damian. It was weird enough to be suspect. But when he got confirmation, the case had instantly sucked him in. It was a multi-pronged operation with both northern and southern arteries, its heart in Gotham, and exactly the sort of conundrum guaranteed to get Tim’s full attention.

This current situation was definitely a step up on the Damian Weirdness Scale.

Tim’s heart seemed to have split itself into multiple pieces and was now pulsing madly in his throat, his ears, his palms. His dick, too, because God forbid he make anything easy on himself.

Damian must have interpreted his shock as a desire to be persuaded, because he continued at a rate of speed that suggested the words were being forcibly shoved through his teeth. "It's rapidly becoming a liability. I don't want to go pick someone up anonymously when Father will almost certainly find out, because he manages to find out everything humiliating. Anyone else whom I might consider is currently partnered in a monogamous relationship. You are unattached at the moment—unless you have been keeping the truth a secret even my detective skills are unable to uncover, which is of course impossible. And judging by some indiscreet things your former partners have said in the past, you are at least moderately competent in these matters. You are a logical choice for my sexual denouement." He darted a sideways glance at Tim's face, and just as quickly redirected his gaze out the window as his cheeks blazed a darker shade of crimson. "I would consider it a satisfactory training exercise if you were my sparring partner."

"What kind of sex are you picturing exactly where I'm your sparring partner?!" Tim demanded before he could think better of it, then shook the resulting images away from his brain and started over. It would be irresponsible to ignore all the signs that Damian was highly uncomfortable, the red flags ranging from defensive anger to having foregone contractions. "Damian, I'm flattered, but—you're only twenty. What do you mean, a liability? It's not that big of a deal. It's not like you're being sent on honeypot missions, right? Please say no." Damian wordlessly shook his head. "Okay, so . . . what's the rush?"

At that, Damian met his gaze with sheer fury. "The rush is that I want to. Now are you going to help me, or not?"

Tim glared back, an answering surge of rage coming to his sanity’s rescue. Of all the people to actually consider fucking, Damian had to be one of the worst prospects. He'd probably stab Tim if he felt like his technique wasn't up to par. “Absolutely the fuck not. Now get out of my way.”

And he stalked out, hoping that Bruce hadn't replaced the bugs in the hallway lately.

***

After making his demands, Damian retreated into ignoring Tim when at all possible and speaking like Mr. Darcy but with a bigger stick up his ass when it wasn’t. It made things kind of weird with the single case they shared, but Tim decided it was a relief to have everything else back to normal.

The problem was, now he was noticing Damian.

He seemed to have settled into his adult height, having outstripped Tim a good five inches ago. (No, Tim wasn’t bitter. At all.) His newly broad frame boasted muscles nearly as thick as Jason's but lithe and flexible as Dick’s. And those eyes. It would’ve been hard for anyone attracted to men not to notice, but somehow Tim had managed until Damian forcibly brought the matter to his attention.

He was trying not to stare at Damian changing the tires on his motorcycle one night after patrol when his desk chair spun in place with a sudden well-placed kick from Stephanie. He put his feet down in time to face her scowl.

“Oh my God, Tim, are you listening to a single word I’m saying?” she demanded.

“No,” he replied without thinking, then ran the past several minutes back and amended, “Sort of. When did Babs want to have us over for movie night?”

Appeased, Stephanie started to reiterate the plan. Behind her, Damian’s face relaxed into an almost-smile as Alfred the cat hopped on his lap and yowled plaintively.

“How did you get down here?” he asked, soft-voiced, caressing Alfred’s head. The cat started purring loudly enough for Tim to hear from his seat. “And don’t bother complaining to me. You’ve got plenty of food, where it’s supposed to be.”

Tim swallowed, watching Damian’s hand move down Alfred’s spine, gentle as always when it came to his pets.

“Seriously.” He jerked his gaze back to Stephanie to see her rolling her eyes. “You’re obviously exhausted. Please go home and get some sleep so we can have a conversation.”

“Uh-huh.” She started toward the showers, and he called, “Sorry!” after her because that had been an asshole move, even though he hadn’t meant to do it.

Involuntarily, Tim looked at Damian again, only this time Damian looked straight back. Bruce was gone on Justice League business, so it was just the two of them now.

They stared at each other in silence for a minute, then Tim found his words. “Come here.”

To his surprise, Damian actually rose to his feet and approached, though he stopped a good three feet away. His face was blank, but his fingers tightened into fists against his thighs.

Tim gulped against a sudden dryness in his mouth because it had been a while and the baby had grown up really fucking hot. He idly wondered what it would be like to grab those wide shoulders and pull him close. Fortunately his voice came out unruffled, even though it sounded far away. “I’ve been thinking. Since the last time we talked. Do you still want me to . . . to do what you said?” “Yes,” Damian said, almost before he finished speaking. His back had straightened to military attention.

“Okay.” Tim stood up and rubbed suddenly damp palms down his thighs, ignoring the fact that his costume was designed to repel wetness so it wasn't really an effective gesture. At least it spread the sweat out a little. “Why don’t you give me a head start and then come over to the Nest tonight? Unless you’re too tired.”

Damian gave him a jerky nod, a single bounce on his toes giving away his nerves. “That would be fine.”

“Great.” Tim had to resist the urge to wave or something equally dorky. “Uh. Yeah. See you there.” He turned on his heel and retreated as fast as he could without breaking into a run.

True to his word, Damian gave Tim plenty of time to shower, head home, and eat before he knocked at his front door like a civilized human being. When he swung the door open, Tim spotted telltale wetness around the edges of his hair that meant Damian had showered before coming over, too.

"Come in," he invited, then shut the door and re-armed the security system while Damian kicked off his shoes. "You hungry? Thirsty?"

Damian scoffed. "I see no reason to delay the main event with meaningless niceties."

Tim rolled his eyes as he started to lead the way to his bedroom. "Don't be a brat. I prefer to at least display a modicum of social skills with my partners. Courtesy begins outside the bedroom, and should extend into it too."

"Spare me the lecture. I'm here for a physical act, not instruction in other types of human relations."

Tim spun to face him at the bedroom door, extending his arm to block it when Damian would have continued past him. He narrowed his eyes and jabbed Damian in the chest with his other hand, ignoring his look of outrage. "Excuse me. This is part of the physical act for me. I'm sure lots of people are different, but I can't enjoy getting naked unless I know I'm with someone who bothers showing me the bare minimum of respect when we're both fully dressed. Is that gonna be you, or am I kicking you out now so I can get some of the sleep I need way more than I need sex?"

Damian hesitated, and Tim tried to look bored with the delay. Finally, Damian swallowed, hard enough for his Adam's apple to bob visibly, and dropped his gaze. "I apologize. I recognize that you're doing me a favor. I’m uncertain of my skill set in this arena."

Tim allowed his surprise to show on his face. "Thanks. For being honest with me, I mean." That much wasn't easy for anyone in the family. Damian really had been growing up, in more ways than one.

Damian nodded in acknowledgement. Tim let his arm drop, and Damian walked past him into the bedroom, sitting at the foot of the unmade bed with his legs close together, hands folded. Tim closed and locked the bedroom door, then checked the windows too, just in case anyone got the bright idea to drop in uninvited. Turning back, he saw Damian hadn't moved an inch, but was watching Tim with singleminded focus.

Something needy and grasping lurched in the pit of his stomach. He shoved it away, and immediately felt guilty he had to do so when Damian's hands tightened on each other till the knuckles went pale.

"Hey." He knelt at Damian's feet, put his hands over where Damian's were knotted together. "You wanna stop now? If you're having second thoughts—"

Damian flipped his hands, quick as thought, and held Tim's in a loose grip. "I am not. I simply do not know what to do. In my minimal previous experience, we engaged in the precursors to this sort of activity without any previous discussion or planning, so this type of interaction is outside the scope of my experience."

Tim folded his lips in tight, considering. It was hard not to overthink this, to ask all the questions whirling in his head that he just couldn't help having, but none of the answers were things he was entitled to know. Damian had asked for a favor, and no matter what standards Tim had for courtesy, he was no stranger to casual hook-ups. This was a transaction between acquaintances. Coworkers? Sort-of friends.

"Okay. Let's start with this, then. What are you already comfortable with? What have you done before that you liked?" He shrugged. "How do you want me to fuck you? That's figurative 'fuck,' by the way, penetration isn't necessary for sex to happen."

"I know that." Damian gave him a withering glare, but his heart clearly wasn't in it. "I enjoyed kissing. Both on the mouth and elsewhere. I enjoyed being touched anywhere that isn't ticklish, like the bottoms of my feet. I enjoyed frottage. I haven't done much more besides."

Tim tried not to sound as incredibly turned on as he was at the moment and likely failed miserably. "Anything you didn't like?" God, the mental image of Damian grinding against someone—probably Jon but who knew—until he came was enough to make him lightheaded.

"I am not comfortable . . . being penetrated." The color in his face was bright enough to glow in the dark at this, but he pressed on. "Either by myself or anyone else. Anything else, for that matter." His lashes lowered as he stared at Tim's hands, still laid quiescent under his own. "If you change your mind, knowing that, I will understand."

Tim freed his hands so he could rub Damian's thighs, watching closely for any reaction. The pulse point in his neck beat a little faster, and his pupils dilated a bit, but those both seemed positive. "Not at all. There's a lot left on the menu if that's the only no you have. Of course, you'll probably find out you have other limits as you try more stuff, but we'll keep it basic tonight. Are you okay with doing the penetrating? Or trying it out?"

Damian nodded, fast and eager. "I would be willing to try."

Tim suppressed his smile, in case Damian thought he was laughing at him. Honestly, that was pretty cute. Not a term he was used to applying to Damian, but this night was already full of surprises so why not one more? "We can try, then. How's your stamina?"

One big shoulder jerked up. "Typical for one of my experience and age."

So probably about five minutes, max. "No worries. That just means your recovery time is great, too." Tim slid his hands up again, and this time skimmed one higher so he was palming Damian's obvious erection. It felt like he'd grown up proportionate everywhere, which was nice. “What about condoms? It’s been more than six months for me and we both have Bruce’s health screenings to deal with so . . . is it okay if we go without?”

Damian shrugged with obviously faked casualness. “I don’t believe anything could get past Father’s tests. It’s all right with me.”

“Great.” Tim fiddled with his pants button. "Why don't I blow you so we can make you come right away, and then we can work our way up to the rest?"

Damian's voice came out breathy. "That would be acceptable."

Tim couldn't keep himself from giving him a Robin grin, sharp edged and cocky, as he opened Damian’s pants and pulled them and his underwear out of the way. Damian's eyes widened with shock as Tim closed his fingers around his dick. Uncut and thick and fucking gorgeous, already dark with arousal. Tim's mouth was watering at the thought of sucking it. "Let's see if we can get this whole thing a little bit past acceptable."

day two here

#me: I haven't written anything since 2019 I don't think this new year's goal of writing every day is gonna be realized #also me: *writes nearly 2k words in 2 hours*#me to me: oh.#anyway #damitim #tim and damian and 150 prompts #also yeah I know there's a houseboat #y'all those things are great for Finding Oneself #they are not great for living in past a year or two #I have unilaterally decided that Tim keeps the houseboat as a backup #but he moved out after his breakup with Bernard #like i know what you want #folliefic #nsft

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