#was it just a flight suit? but with extra patches?

[braisedhoney]

I have to ask I just have to bc I just watched Iswm and is your uniform based on the one from in space with Markiplier?? I just saw how similar the two of them are

yes it is!! in fact the uniforms my sona + crew wear are all based on the design i made for y/n the captain back when iswm first came out. originally that was bc my sona became my captainsona, so i just changed the uniform color (which was grey) and kept the adjusted design. they're also inspired by the clothes you can buy in the outer worlds video game! they're kind of a mishmash now. it'll probably change more with time.

(the similarity's not helped by how i try and keep it generic when i draw anons for asks either, so sadly there's less variety than both of the sources lol ;; the price i pay for a bad memory ig.)

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Danny was waiting when Dick came home. "Welcome home, Dick."

He runned the back of his neck nervously, slipping the window closed behind him. "Hey, Danny."

There was a long moment of silence, Dick standing in front of the closed window and Danny sitting on the couch. Danny took a sip of the tea he was holding before setting the mug down on the coffee table with a click. "So," he leveled a small glare at the vigilante, "you gonna apologise to Tim?"

"Who?" Dick blinked.

"The kid you yelled at and then left standing in your apartment as you went out as Nightwing for exactly two hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-two seconds longer than your new schedule allows."

He cringed back. "Listen, kid-"

"No, you're listening to me, so shut up and sit down." He did, dropping right to the floor. "I don't know what the hell happened between you and Batman, but you don't get to take it out on the people around you, especially not the kid that just trying to help."

"Dan-"

"What did I just say?" He sighed. "Look. I get it. You're grieving, both you and Batman are, but that doesn't excuse your behavior. It doesn't excuse Batman's behavior, either, so don't think that's what I'm saying."

Dick carefully pulled his domino mask off. "What do you want me to do?"

"Several things." Danny stood and walked into the bathroom, coming back a few seconds later with Dick's first aid kit. "First, though, you're gonna let me patch you up. Then, you're gonna use my phone and apologise to Tim. After that, you eat and go to bed; You have work in a few hours."

Knowing he wasn't going to be getting out of this, Dick started to take his suit off. He slipped his arms out of the sleeves and let Danny treat the bruises on his arms and hands. Not much damage that night. He'd only encountered a few petty crimes so it had been quiet.

Without another word shared between them, Danny left to put the first aid kit away before making a quick snack for Dick while he went to change. It'd only been about a week, but they'd fallen into an easy routine.

Dick was quick to change and eat, falling asleep nearly ten minutes after he laid down.

***

Danny made sure Dick was asleep before he left the apartment as Phantom. He'd learned, during his two weeks of not-stalking, that a some criminals hung back until Nightwing had turned in before they came out to play. Phantom was going out for an extra two hours each night to remedy this. Though, he made sure no one ever spotted him before or after he knocked people out. Invisibility was hand like that.

Sure, he didn't have all that much experience as a vigilante, but he'd been traveling for four weeks before stopping. The first lesson he learned was that he needed to learn fast. He was wasn't a genius like the rest of his family, but he picked up on things really fast. Fighting had been one of those things. Though, the lessons from his mom when he was a kid also helped a lot.

Staying invisible was easy, so was intangibility and flight. The three together made stealth easier than if he didn't have them. Though, he did make sure to practice his stealth without them, too. Being caught unawares or without his powers would be disastrous and he was going to do everything he could to mitigate the risk.

Blockbuster, Phantom had learned, was the reason Dick had stayed in Bludhaven. He was also the ringleader of the organised crime in the city. Apparently, he's the second of the Blockbuster name? The giant of a man had his hands everywhere; The Bludhaven Police, as well as the underbellies of New York, Metropolis, and Gotham. With eyes and ears everywhere, not a lot got passed him, which is likely why Nightwing was having trouble getting the crime rates down. So, Danny Phantom was going to help.

He'd heard the name Oracle from both Nightwing and Blockbuster's goons, so Phantom assumed whoever that was was on his side. Unluckily, though, they were now a target. He just needed to get a hold of them without letting them find him.

Phantom had heard the information from several goons since he'd started going out, but he didn't know if Nightwing knew or not. Though, he didn't know how to pass on the information. How could he tell Dick what he knows without letting slip that he'd been going out? Dick would call him a hypocrite and would fall back into his passively suicidal schedule. Danny's not a hypocrite! He just runs on a separate schedule. A schedule that Dick might not like, but one that works for Danny.

The intel Phantom was working with tonight was about some of Dick's coworkers. He knew the corruption in the Bludhaven and Gotham City Police Departments ran thick and deep, so he wasn't really surprised to find out that Detective Soames and Chief Redhorn ran with the less than pleasant people that made their homes and bases in Bludhaven.

Dick knew this, too, which is why he became an officer in the first place.

According to the goons Phantom had spied on, Detective Soames was involved in a drug ring that was doing deliveries tonight. It was timed to be after Nightwing had turned in for the night so that he wouldn't be able to bust it. It was a smart move on the ringleader's part, to have his goons out only after Nightwing was done for the night.

That was the next thing he was going to have to work on with Nightwing. He couldn't have a discernible pattern without someone with him to cover. Honestly, Batman should know better, too. Maybe he'll pass it on to Tim?

While on the road, Danny had learned that his powers were still developing. One of which was a kind of sixth sense. It worked somewhere between hearing and a spider's ability to feel vibrations in the air and webs. He didn't know is reach on it yet, but he was able to cover half of Bludhaven from where the ability currently sat, so he was going to work with that limit for now.

The warehouse he was staking out was where he'd heard goons talk about for nearly a week. They had been careless, assuming that there was no one out to catch them, but it worked in Phantom's favor. It was mostly empty, save for a few homeless squatters looking for some shelter, and was otherwise undisturbed.

Phantom didn't believe it for a second.

He was also going to laugh in Tim's face if the goons in Bludhaven were smarter than the goons in Gotham.

Right on time, just as the clock turned over into the Witching Hour, the homeless people sheltered in the warehouse stood up and met in the center of the building. Together, and armed, they waited for exactly five minutes. Then, the back doors to the building opened and Detective Soames walsted in.

"Gentlemen," the detective greeted with a sneer, "Lady. Do you have what I came here for?"

"Do we look like idiots?" the lady of the group scoffed, "Of course we have it."

"Well, I don't see it," Soames frowned, "Where is it?"

The dirty blond to the woman's right was the next to speak. "Hidden in the walls."

Soames' frown deepened into a scowl. "The hell is it in there for?"

The only other person of the group, a brown haired man, said, "There's rumors goin' 'round about a Spook. Comes out when Nightwing turns in."

Well, well, well. Looks like Phantom's gaining a reputation.

"You believe in ghost stories now?" Detective Soames sneered, "Get my delivery, now."

The three scuttled off the the wall just under where Phantom was hiding in the rafters. He timed ten minutes before they walked back upto Soames with two bricks of cocaine each.

"You're short."

"This is the agreed upon amount." the lady argued.

Soames' expression twisted into something cruel. "Did I forget to tell you? Tsk. Shame." In a quick and fluid movement, he whipped a pistol from his inner pocket and shot the woman and then the blond. He picked up the bricks, tucking them under his arm before taking the last two from the brunet. "I cannot build an empire without a few casualties, right?"

The man gulped, eyeing the gun. "Y-yes, sir."

Soames hummed. "The sands of Egypt were dyed red with blood. The roads of Rome are the same." He turned away from the man. "Twelve bricks in two weeks. You'll have a location shortly."

Phantom watched the detective leave with a frown. So that was the deal, huh? He didn't know too much about Bludhaven's criminals yet, but he was fairly certain that a man like Blockbuster won't like someone trying this shit under his nose.

He was quick to leave the warehouse after that, doing a quick loop of the city - focused mostly on Sin Central and The Spine - before flying back to Dick's apartment. He wrote down everything from the night, complete with drawings of everyone of note that he saw. He'd pass it to Nightwing as soon as he needed to. For now, though, it remained his cases alone.

Part 8 Part 10

[wyattjohnston]

turbulent - nico hischier

summary: a bumpy flight forces two people closer together.

word count: 2,790

note: this is for @dunnerlars as part of the summer fic exchange 2k24. i really hope you like it ash <3 thanks to @offside-the-lines for putting up with me going through the five stages of grief whilst trying to pull this together!

There was an element of strangeness to working on an NHL charter flight; most perplexing, even still, to Bonnie was the sudden way they all stripped out of their suits the second the seatbelt sign was turned off. She understood that sitting in a suit for six hours wasn’t comfortable, and also understood that the toilets were not big enough for giant men to reasonably change—she chose to spend time in the galley while they were doing it, because it was impossible not to stare inappropriately if she was walking the aisles.

“I thought you were joking,” Alice said, returning to the galley wide eyed and keeping the curtain closed with a hard fist against the cabin wall.

Bonnie hummed without turning around. “Everyone does.”

Short of holding her coworkers hostage in the galley, there wasn’t much Bonnie could do beyond warning them about what they’d see if they wandered the plane before she told them to. So, without fail, they all got caught in the aisles as some twenty odd men stood in unison and started to remove their pants.

“I know athletes have no shame in locker rooms,” Alice whispered aggressively, still with a firm grip on the curtain, “but this is a plane. There are people out there! Journalists!”

“This happens every flight,” Bonnie stressed. “Everyone is used to it. Some of the journalists might even be changing, too.”

Alice’s eyes widened, so big that Bonnie had a mild concern that they would come out of her head, and they only returned to normal when the captain’s voice came over the speaker.

“Hello everyone, sorry to interrupt your flight so early on, we have just been made aware of some unexpected weather on route to Los Angeles. We’ll do our best to make any necessary deviations to avoid patches of turbulence without adding too much extra time to the flight. For your own safety, please keep your seatbelts fastened and only move around the cabin if necessary. Thank you.”

Bonnie sighed, her chin dropping to her chest, at the thought of yet another turbulent flight. Alice groaned. It had been an uncommonly turbulent couple of weeks across both of their flights, even in completely different areas and directions—it was the first thing they’d spoken about when they met before getting on the plane.

“I can’t unsee any of that,” Alice said, finally letting go of the curtain.

“I mean, yeah, but there are worse things to have burnt into your brain.”

Alice readily agreed, even took a moment to subtly peak back into the cabin.

Bonnie still vividly remembered the first time she’d witnessed it. She would never forget the eye contact she’d made with the team’s captain before her eyes were drawn to his bare chest, the tattoo on the inside of his bicep—

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m just here to see Bonnie.”

Said chest and said tattoo blazed in Bonnie’s mind, and then she made eye contact with the team’s captain and sighed softly.

“Hi, Nico,” she greeted. “My captain said you were meant to remain seated with your seatbelt on.”

He smiled knowingly, “Good luck with that.”

Alice disappeared back into the cabin when someone pressed the call button and Nico moved out of her way with a practiced ease, even as Bonnie began to organise the food trolley for the first pass through.

“I just wanted to come check on you; you weren’t on the last few flights.”

“Just a sinus infection,” she said, as if it hadn’t written her off for a week and a half. “Didn’t want my eardrums to explode, you know?”

“You’re okay?” he asked, his hand coming to rest on her forearm. Concern radiated off him.

Bonnie covered his hand with her own, smiling softly and saying reassuringly, “I’m all better.”

Nico stayed while Bonnie finished filling the trolley. The flights were the three after the All-Star Break, so he had plenty of stories to tell to keep her occupied. The Swiss boys had headed to Mexico, of which she was jealous. It hadn’t been too cold in Jersey, but the need for sun had been growing and growing since Christmas, and the longing had only gotten more intense after being cooped up in her own apartment.

“Have you been?” Nico asked.

“No,” Bonnie said with a shake of her head. “One of my college friends had a vacation home in Fort Lauderdale so we did Spring Br—shit.”

The trolley rattled, a few trays coming half out of their places, and Bonnie watched helplessly as the last knife and fork fell off the counter.

“What the fuck is going on today?” Nico asked, causing Bonnie's eyes to snap up. He had a hand on each of the high cabinets either side of the galley.

“You should go back to your seat,” Bonnie said, picking up the lost cutlery and dropping into what would become the dirty dishes container. “I’ll be out in a second. Put your seatbelt on.”

Nico nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

Bonnie was friendly with all the players, staff and media on the flight. Most of them were familiar faces, especially halfway through the season, but anybody she didn’t know was introduced to her with a startling amount of enthusiasm from whichever player had taken it upon themselves to do so—normally it was Luke, being egged on by Nate. She always made sure they had the same energy for whoever had been assigned to work with her, whether or not they had ever met before. Alice looked delighted by the attention; Bonnie hoped it was just the energy being contagious.

If they lingered a little longer next to Nico, who politely ignored Alice’s doe eyes, and Jesper, so that they could get his round up of the All-Star Game, that was purely coincidental.

Back in the galley, Alice was poised to ask many questions. Bonnie could feel the curiosity bursting from her, it only becoming more obvious with every passing minute of silence. Every now and then Bonnie was assigned to work with someone who couldn’t quite handle it. Bonnie would never put in any complaints herself for some lowkey fangirling, but she had had a few coworkers who had been asked to never work a team’s charter flight again.

“Say whatever it is you want to say,” Bonnie said after Alice’s eagerness became too much to bear.

“Did they ask for you to be on all their flights?”

“Uh…” Bonnie hesitated, rolling the question around in her mind. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t that “I don’t think so? I think it’s just easier to have someone who knows all the ins and outs. I didn’t think they could request people.”

“The Rangers do it,” Alice said casually, as she pulled out a new tray of water bottles from the fridge, “but I think that’s because she’s sleeping with one of the players.”

Bonnie was nodding, distracted by someone pressing the call button, and responded mindlessly, “Yeah, that’s pretty norm—Wait, what? I didn’t know anything about that!”

“That’s what I heard,” Alice said, looking and sounding suspiciously like Alexis Rose. “Super juicy. They wouldn’t tell me which player which was upsetting.”

“I wouldn’t want to know anyway,” Bonnie said, largely trying to convince herself because, though she would never admit aloud, she was not immune to gossip. “I couldn’t look them in the face again.”

The plane rumbled.

“Fine, I won’t tell you when I find out, but I also won’t tell anybody you’re sleeping with Nico. Promise.”

Bonnie’s neck snapped as she turned to glare at Alice. “Yeah, you better not because I’m not sleeping with Nico.”

“Oh, really? Damn.” Alice pouted. “You so could be, though. Should be.”

The thing about that was that Bonnie knew she could be. Nico had never made it explicitly clear, but nobody else on the team spent any time in the galley with her during flights. Nobody else ever got up and sought her out when they needed something.

Nobody else touched her so effortlessly, so naturally, when in her space without at all being in the way or a burden.

Nobody else ever looked at her like she was the best thing to happen in their day.

Bonnie tried her hardest to hide the small sigh that escaped her lips. She made direct eye contact with Alice as she moved the conversation along.

“How did you even find out about the Rangers thing? This is your first flight.”

Alice, either oblivious to the redirect or just so interested in the gossip that she didn’t mind, rattled on, “They brought me in for orientation and the woman they left me with is chatty.”

Bonnie knew the exact woman being referred to—in fact, she’d been subtly blacklisted from the Devils’ flights at the beginning of that season for some very inappropriate and entirely unsubtle flirting.

Alice was still talking, even as she left the galley with her tray of water bottles and crossed through the curtain, stopping mid-word to change topics and start a conversation with the person sitting directly on the other side.

A brief jolt came over the plane and Bonnie groaned. It was followed by a considerable rattle.

She was second guessing her career choice as her stomach lurched with the plane when Nico, once again, appeared in the galley. His closed-mouth smile was genuine if not a little cautious and it set Bonnie at ease.

Until she felt more turbulence and was met with Nico’s uncertain head tilt.

“You can stay, but you have to sit there,” Bonnie told him, putting a hand on his shoulder to forcibly turn him around to look at the jump seat she was pointing at. “And put your seatbelt on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. When he sat down, he only broke eye contact to find the seatbelt. “What did you do while we were on break?”

The shelves were rattling around her.

“Worked other flights like I normally do when you guys are at home for a while,” Bonnie answered. “I don’t just sit at home and wait for the team to go on a road trip, you know.”

“That… that makes a lot of sense,” he admitted, his cheeks turning the slightest bit red. “I don’t know why I thought you only flew with us.”

“Sometimes I fly with the Knicks, sometimes there’s some commercial flights. You boys are my favourites, though.”

Nico’s sweet smile turned just ever so slightly into a smirk. “I knew we would be.”

“You didn’t even know there were others,” Bonnie said, laughing.

“Yeah, but obviously.”

Bonnie’s eye roll was good natured, her laughter continuing as Nico’s smirk morphed back into its purest, most genuine form.

She kept looking back at him as she continued to work, sometimes to show she was listening and other times just to look. He was often looking back.

Their peacefulness was interrupted by the ding of the seatbelt sign being switched on and the plane’s captain making an announcement.

“Everybody, including cabin crew, the seatbelt sign has been turned on. Please make your way back to your seats immediately and put on your seatbelt; we don’t expect that to be the last patch and we apologise for our lack of notice on that one. If you need emergency assistance, please press the call button and someone will be with you as soon as it is safe.”

The inclusion of the cabin crew set Bonnie on edge, and she was halfway to demanding Nico return to his seat and hunting Alice down to drag her back when the plane shook even more violently than it had the entire life.

Bonnie’s feet momentarily left the floor. She could hear some shouting from the cabin. She could hear luggage bouncing in the nearest overhead lockers. She made eye contact with Nico—all colour was drained from his face.

“Where’s Alice?” Bonnie asked, holding desperately onto the galley counter behind her back. “She needs to be sitting down.”

Nico leant as far as he could, peeking down the aisle, before saying firmly, “She’s in my seat. Come here.”

Bonnie didn’t let go of the counter as she walked, her eyes never leaving the seat opposite Nico, and she was confident she was going to make it before the next bump. She looked back into the aisle when she could, instantly looking to Nico’s normal seat to see Alice expertly calming down some very nervous men, and relaxed knowing that she was safe.

Naturally, the plane started to tremble just a bit harder the very second she was feeling comfortable, and the oh shit had barely left her mouth before the plane dropped again. Her mind filled with all the things that could happen, where her head and the plane would meet, all the things that would inevitably fall on her if she was unable to get off the floor. And then—

“Gopf.”

She was hauled by the arm with an abrupt and unexpected force, all momentum she’d gained coming to a crashing halt when she collided with Nico’s chest and was held firmly in place by his arms wrapped around her.

“This is the worst flight I’ve ever been on.”

“Go on a date with me.”

Bonnie froze in Nico’s arms; no thoughts being given to the next bumpy patch and all thoughts being focused on his words and the way his arms squeezed just a little bit together.

“What?” she asked, breathless. “Nico.”

“I kind of feel like we might be about to die,” he said—it wasn’t totally clear if he was being serious or not, but he was sincere in his tone. “I don’t want that to happen without at least asking.”

She sighed wistfully, swooning closer to him in their already intimate position. Nico’s eyes dropped to Bonnie’s mouth, causing her to bite her lip and turn her head.

“I shouldn’t have asked?” Nico asked cautiously, his arms loosening around her waist. “I’m sorry.”

Bonnie shook her head, and said in a whisper, “You should have. I’m just—I’m working. I wish I wasn’t working.”

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Nico’s small, pleased expression, and revelled in the delight in his voice when he said, mostly to himself, “I’ll ask again when we’re off the plane.”

For her own sanity, and to remain professional whilst working, Bonnie took the slight break in turbulence as an opportunity to move to the empty jump seat on the other side of the galley. Nico’s hands lingered on her waist as she left, and his eyes burnt holes in the side of her head. She was determinedly looking down the aisle, carefully not looking at anybody sitting down.

The turbulence continued, the seatbelt sign remained on, but Bonnie and Alice were free to move around the cabin. Nico went back to his seat when Alice returned, the smile he sent Bonnie had Alice turning to her deviously.

“Are you sure you aren’t fucking him?”

“I would remember.”

Alice prattled on about maybe the sex being so good that it was affecting Bonnie’s memory, not letting up even as they prepared the cabin for landing—both of them steering clear of the cabin as the players stripped down to change back into their suits. It was amazing how much work she could get done whilst her mouth was moving a million miles a minute, seemingly every thought coming out in a stream of consciousness. It may have been about Bonnie, but it was still enough for Bonnie to tune out the exact words and just let it become background noise that distracted her from thinking about whether or not Nico was in fact going to find her once the plane had landed.

As always, the players were the first off of the plane, most of them thanking Bonnie and Alice, whilst others looked a bit too green to speak. Nico was the last of the players to disembark, slightly uncommon but not unheard of. Bonnie had to keep her eyes trained on his face because she knew if she even looked at Alice for a moment the endless talking would restart.

“I, uh, don’t actually know if I can miss the team bus from the airport,” he said, his eyebrows knitted tightly together and his voice solemn. “But if I could get your number, we could meet up later? For dinner?”

“Yeah,” Bonnie nodded, blushing. “I’d like that a lot.”

Nico pulled out his phone for Bonnie to enter her number, and, when she was finished, she made accidental eye contact with Alice who had, to Bonnie’s dismay, started to dance in the galley.

[vasyandii]

NAK GEAR REFERENCES (+ ADDITIONAL INFO)

🦐 Creator Note: When I designed Nak, I took into account that Activision often used actual gear for their operators, in turn I did the same :D

The Components Beforehand

PLATE CARRIER

VISM Discreet Plate Carrier by NcSTAR

This specific plate carrier is simplistic, I felt that if her gear looked too detail heavy it would be difficult to draw, plus make her design look clustered

CHEST RIG

Barska VX-400 Tactical Chest Rig

I chose this one because of the ridges on the straps! They remind me of scales so they fit with her Serpent look :D

ARM STRAPS

T3 Tactical Armband

These are put usually on the forearms! Nak uses them for her upper arms though. One arm is for maps, one arm is for Indentification like her blood type, occupation, handler info etc.

CLOTHING

Propper CWU 27/P Nomex Flight Suit

Nak wears a flight suit for comfort! Hidden pockets are also a big plus. I felt that if she wore a flight suit, it would be a good way for me to stay consistent with her design since it's very reliable!

HOLSTER

Rothco Deluxe Leg Strap Adjustable Tactical Holster

On the occasion Nak doesn’t have access to the FN SCAR (her baby) she uses a Glock 19X, being the type to prefer heavy or “luxury” weapons

GLOVES

Giro LA DND Biker Gloves

They have reinforced fingertips! So she’s able to use touchscreen items :3

KNEEPADS

Blackhawk Advanced Tactical Knee Pads V2

Because of her upbringing, Nak’s Legs are the strongest parts of her body, so she takes extra caution in making sure nothing happens to them!

FOOTWEAR

Rothco G.I. Type Sierra Sole Tactical Boots

She chose these because she thinks they’re stylish “Aren’t they cute?”

UNDER ARMOUR

in order; VISM Strike Face Ballistic Plate, DAS Leben Protective Arm Sleeves Guard Bracer, KEZZELED Welding Neck Protector

Because of her learned paranoid personality, she wears arm guards and a neck protector under her flight suit as a precaution. The ballistic plate comes with her plate carrier :)

CUSTOMIZATION

Her bandana is just a green cloth she bleached to make a snake pattern. Being in Chimera, a lot of the operators have patches of their unit! Nak usually puts hers on her holster, but it’s bound to move around on her gear. The serpent fangs markings on her plate carrier are in reference to Naga, a custom Patch that’s removable as well :3

[callsignspark]

soft-tober | 09 | Bradley Bradshaw

soft-tober is about experiencing the joys of October with loved ones. each day is a fall-related one-shot for one of the couples from my Dagger, Sword & Shield universe, plus a few extras! today is Bradley and Mary with “Is this costume too revealing?” from this prompt list.

If you’d like to be tagged for soft-tober, please send an ask!

word count: 1.2k

soft-tober masterlist | main masterlist | divider credit here

warnings: extreme fluff, this takes place in 2024, body insecurities after giving birth, this gets a little raunchy so minors go away

callsignspark disclaimer: my blog is an 18+ space; minors do not interact - you will be blocked. I do not consent to my work being copied, run through an AI generator, translated, or posted elsewhere. I do have an AO3, where I eventually will be cross-posting my works.

09. "Is this costume too revealing?"

“I just don’t like it! He’s a good kid, but I don’t like it!”

Mary hums as her husband continues complaining, talking circles around himself while she’s stuck in her thoughts. She knows that she’s worrying about the wrong thing. They just dropped the twins off at the Benjamin-Mitchell household with Amelia and her boyfriend, Josh. Trusting the two teenagers to watch the ten-month-old Bradshaw girls for a few hours while they attend a Halloween party.

“I trust him, he’s a good kid, but does he have to be there? I guess it makes sense for there to be two babysitters, one for each girl… but I still don’t like it! Maybe we shouldn’t go. No, Amelia is smart; she can handle it.”

If this were a movie, she would be worrying right alongside Bradley about whether the kids were going to throw a rager while babysitting. And in real life, if it were any other night, she’d be concerned about leaving the girls, even if it’s just a couple hours. Especially considering this is the first time they’ve left the babies with anyone who’s not a seasoned parent.

But she’s not worried about that. Because it’s Halloween and the invite had said to bring a friend and come dressed like them. So, she’s wearing a flight suit tied around her waist, with a skin-tight bodysuit, that feels like it’s digging into every bump, lump, and roll of her post-partum body. She hasn’t been this uncomfortable since giving birth.

“Is this costume too revealing?”

She knows she’s worried about the wrong thing.

“And I heard you tell her to make out with him after- what?” Wide brown eyes bounce back and forth between her and the road, a confused look washing over his face.

“Is it too… ya know, too much?”

“No.” Bradley says it with such conviction that her brain almost lets it go. Almost.

“You’re just saying that because you like how much my boobs are out.”

“I will never complain about your boobs - especially if you’ve got my call sign over my favorite one - but you just have a little bit of cleavage. It’s not revealing at all.”

Mary glances down at her chest, the patch she had gotten made with Bradley’s helmet logo stitched carefully on her left boob, and realizes that while her breasts are one of the problems, they’re not the main problem.

“I just…” She sighs, wondering if trying to explain is even worth it. Bradley has only ever been self-conscious about the scars on his neck and face, never about his figure. He’s always been in great shape, no jiggling or wiggling like her body. “I feel like I’m out all over the place.”

“It’s because you’re breastfeeding, baby doll.”

“I’m going to flash everyone!”

“Lucky them.” He murmurs, ignoring his wife’s shocked noise as he turns down Javy’s street. “Where are we going to park?”

“Bradley!”

“Hang on, lemme park first.”

She huffs, looking out the window as he parallel parks in one of the last open spaces, the van jolting slightly as they stop. I still can’t believe we’re the kind of people with a minivan, she thinks as Bradley unbuckles them. Mary can feel him leaning towards her, a big hand making its way to her thigh.

“Mary, what’s going on?”

She sighs; he won’t let it go, it’s best to just talk to him about it. Which is easier said than done.

“My body changed a lot with the pregnancy, which I knew would happen. I had twins. I just thought I would be back to normal by now, especially with the breastfeeding.” Bradley doesn’t say anything; just brushes her hair back with a big, warm hand. “I know it’s stupid, but there’s a part of my brain - that sounds a lot like my mother - that keeps telling me how many women lose weight and get smaller when they breastfeed.”

A quiet gasp escapes her. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud and heard how terrible she’s being to herself.

Bradley opens his mouth, but she cuts him off. “I know what you’re going to say.”

He chuckles, “Oh, yeah? What am I gonna say?”

“That I’m just as beautiful as the day we met, and you can’t believe I grew and gave birth to your two favorite people in the world. That you love me.”

“Not bad.” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “You forgot a few things, though.”

“What?”

“You forgot the part where I tell you how fucking sexy you are. That I love you no matter what your body looks like, and I always will. I gotta admit, though, these?” Bradley trails kisses down her neck, pulling the stretchy collar of her bodysuit down, groaning when he catches sight of red lace. “These are incredible.”

“Don’t get used to them; they’re temporary.” Mary pants as he nips at the sensitive skin of her breast, right where his call sign has been sitting for the last hour.

“Guess I’ll just have to get you pregnant again.”

She moans at the casual way he says it, his tongue brushing over her nipple through the lace of her bra. He looks up at her, through his lashes, as he takes her nipple between his teeth, his big brown eyes making sure she’s paying attention before he sucks it into his mouth.

“Bradley!” She gasps, pulling at his curls, unsure if she wants more or if she wants to push him away.

“Yeah, honey?” He pulls off, the damp fabric cooling against the stiff bud. “You want more?”

“I- not in public!”

“Why? It’s not like I haven’t done that before.”

“Yeah, yeah. King of unclogging my milk ducts, folks.” Mary teases even as she lets her eyes drag over him, taking in every detail. The way he’s panting because of her. Eyes big and glassy because of her. Hard under his costume because of her. “Get in the backseat.”

“What?”

“Backseat, Bradshaw. Now.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re the one that wants to get me pregnant again, right?” She asks as she wiggles back into the third row of the minivan, leaving her husband gaping in the front seat. “Let's try right now.”

“Jesus fuc- We’re going home.”

“What! Why?” Mary whines, so worked up the windows are going to start fogging up any second.

“We’re going home. I’m going to bend you over the couch, and then we’re coming back to the party. Just let me text Mav and Penny to ask them to take the girls overnight.”

“Oh, god, I love you! You’re so smart!”

“Stay there.”

Mary freezes where she was starting to climb back to the front. “What?”

“Stay. There.” Bradley starts the van, checking his mirrors to pull out. “You’re going to get yourself ready for me, so when we get home there’s no time wasted.”

The car’s audio system interrupts him, telling them Penny texted, agreeing to take the kids, and ordering them to have fun. The two parents giggle; it’s the first time they’ve really let go since the twins were born in January, and they’re going to make the most of it.

And make the most of it they do.

@gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @princessphilly | @hangmanssunnies | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice | @laracrofted | @yuckosworld | @mika-darling | @bradshawsbaddie | @bobblebobsbae | @ohtobeleah | @withahappyrefrain

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 323. brb x oc

a/n: happy crysler ;) (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca @callsign-magnolia

-

He checked the calendar on his phone and his deployment time was coming to an end. Sure, that with the whole thing now he might have to stay a bit longer, but he was almost home.

Fuck he missed Beatrice so much.

Maybe it was the stress of…everything,because if she was close by he could easily place his head on her lap and let her know what was bothering him in person, not on a phone. Rooster huffs, thumbing through his gallery to check every picture he had of her and the kids, he does not regret buying extra storage to keep all of these. 

In the quiet solitude of his temporary quarters, Rooster couldn't help but smile at the images of Beatrice and the kids. Their faces, frozen in laughter, joy, and the everyday moments of family life, offered a respite from the complexities of his mission.

 The distance only intensified the love and longing he felt for them.

A knock on his door interrupted his contemplation. Rooster looked up to find McAllister standing at attention. "Sir, Vice-Admiral Simpson requested your presence in the briefing room. It's about the latest findings in the investigation."

Rooster sighed, the bittersweet moment with the pictures fading as duty called. "I'll be there in a minute, McAllister."

As McAllister left, Rooster took a final glance at the pictures before locking his phone. The countdown to his return was tangible, and the prospect of being reunited with Beatrice and the kids only fueled his determination to bring the investigation to a resolution.

He wastes no time then and leaves his quarters. The briefing room was a controlled chaos of officers, maps, and data projections. Rooster took his seat at the table,placing his hands on the surface while Vice-Admiral Simpson stood at the front, ready to address the assembled officers.

"At ease, everyone," Vice-Admiral Simpson began, his gaze sweeping across the room. "We've gathered here to discuss the latest developments in the ongoing investigation brought to our attention by Lt.Bradshaw.”

"Our investigation has revealed that Lieutenant Mark was involved in clandestine activities that go beyond the scope of his official duties," Vice-Admiral Simpson stated, his tone measured. "The modifications to his jet were not just an upgrade in communication systems. There's evidence of advanced tracking capabilities, undisclosed software patches, and deviations from assigned flight routes."

The gravity of the situation hung in the air, and Rooster exchanged glances with McAllister, both understanding the implications.

Fuck

Cyclone  continued, "These actions raise concerns about the potential compromise of mission security and the unauthorized gathering of sensitive information. Lt. Bradshaw, please provide us with a concise summary of your findings so far."

Rooster stood, projecting the key details of the investigation on the screen. He outlined Mark's deviations during missions, the modifications to the avionics suite, and the discovery of key contacts linked to Mark's activities.

"As of now, we have identified connections that suggest Lieutenant Mark was involved in off-the-books operations, possibly gathering intel or engaging in activities outside the purview of the Navy," Rooster explained, his voice steady. "The advanced tracking capabilities indicate a deliberate effort to avoid detection, which raises questions about the nature of these operations."

Vice-Admiral Simpson nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "This has the potential to impact the squadron's reputation and national security. We need to act swiftly and decisively.  I’ve already…did my own part such as speaking with the Lt.’s relative, who, tried terribly to play as if Mark did nothing wrong."

“But,as you know,the Navy takes breaches of this nature seriously, and we will cooperate fully to get to the bottom of this. Lieutenant Bradshaw, Mark is probably aware…so Lt.I’d like for you to join me when I talk to him.”

Rooster nodded in acknowledgment of the order. "Understood, sir."

Vice-Admiral Simpson dismissed the officers after the briefing, instructing Rooster to meet him later for the discussion with Lieutenant Mark. Rooster took a moment to gather his thoughts before leaving the briefing room. The weight of responsibility pressed on him, and he had to inhale to calm himself down.

As Rooster headed to his temporary quarters to prepare for the upcoming conversation, he thought about the impact this could have on the squadron and the Navy as a whole. The reputation of the squadron was at stake, and the potential compromise of mission security raised alarms at the highest levels of command.

He paused at the door of his quarters, taking a deep breath before entering. The pictures of Beatrice and the kids greeted him when he unlocked his phone, a comforting reminder of what awaited him upon his return.

The investigation had entered a critical phase, and Rooster knew he had to tread carefully. 

He was nervous.

He couldn’t lie.

His mind raced through the key points he needed to address with Lieutenant Mark. The challenge was not only in extracting information but in understanding the motives behind Mark's actions. 

Once ready, Rooster made his way to meet Vice-Admiral Simpson. The atmosphere in the naval base was charged with so much tension, it crackled. The investigation had become a focal point, and rumors circulated among the officers.

No one had ever dealt with something like that, no one from his age forward because the older officers appeared - while upset- not at all surprised. He huffs through his nose, then rolled his neck as he walks forward.

Upon reaching the vice-admiral's office, Rooster was ushered in, finding Lieutenant Mark already present. The atmosphere in the room was strained, and Mark's expression revealed nothing for now.

Brave yet stupid, if Vice-Admiral Simpson’s expression was anything to go by. "Gentlemen, we find ourselves in a situation that demands clarity. Lieutenant Mark, you are aware of the nature of this meeting. I expect your full cooperation and transparency."

Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat but nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll answer any questions you have."

He turned to Rooster. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, please sit down.”

Rooster took a seat, his gaze focused on Mark. The air in the room felt charged with tension, the impending confrontation palpable and Vice-Admiral Simpson wasted no time and delved into the heart of the matter.

"Lieutenant Mark, the evidence gathered during Lieutenant Bradshaw's investigation suggests unauthorized modifications to your jet and deviations from assigned mission routes. We need an explanation for these actions, and we need it now."

Mark hesitated, glancing between Rooster and Vice-Admiral Simpson. His eyes betrayed a mixture of unease and defiance. "Sir, I can explain. The modifications were necessary for a classified mission I was undertaking. I couldn't disclose the details due to the sensitive nature of the operation."

Vice-Admiral Simpson raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his expression. "Classified mission? Lieutenant, you are required to follow protocol and obtain proper authorization. These off-the-books modifications not only violate Navy regulations but also raise concerns about the compromise of mission security. And you already started wrong by lying to me. No mission,secret or not, goes without my say so.”

Rooster's gaze remained fixed on Mark, a quiet intensity in his eyes. He said nothing, only kept watching.

Mark swallowed, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. "Sir, I understand the protocol, but this mission was different. It involved sensitive information that couldn't be shared even within the chain of command. I had to take matters into my own hands to ensure its success."

Vice-Admiral Simpson leaned back in his chair, his expression stern. "Lieutenant Mark, the Navy does not operate on individual whims. You had a responsibility to communicate the nature of your mission to the superiors who could evaluate its necessity and provide the required clearances. By bypassing this protocol, you've compromised not only the mission but the integrity of the entire squadron." he frowns “And Lt.Bradshaw is one of your superiors in this mission, did you hear anything about it,Rooster?”

“No,sir.”

Vice-Admiral Simpson nodded, his stern expression deepening. "Lieutenant, your actions have not only jeopardized the mission but the trust and cohesion within this squadron. These are serious offenses, and you will be held accountable. Now, I want the truth. What was the actual nature of this so-called classified mission?"

Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting between Rooster and Cyclone . The weight of the situation hung heavy in the room.

"I...I well," Mark stammered. "It's a matter of uh,security.”

Cyclone’s patience wore thin,and his blue eyes narrowed. "The consequences of your actions extend beyond personal discretion." he pauses, “...whatever your reason was, lying and obscuring it was does not help your situation.’

Rooster maintained his composed silence, observing Mark's feeble attempts to navigate through the web of lies he had spun. 

Vice-Admiral Simpson leaned forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "Lieutenant Halton, the Navy values trust and transparency. Your actions not only undermine the core principles of our organization but also endanger the lives of those around you. It's time for the truth. No more evasions."

Mark swallowed hard, the beads of sweat on his forehead multiplying. His eyes flickered to Rooster, a hint of desperation in the gaze that met Rooster's unwavering stare. Rooster felt a surge of frustration,but he remained quiet.

Cyclone continued, "I won't jump to conclusions, Lieutenant, but your actions demand accountability. Now, you have a choice. You can come clean, provide an honest account of your actions, and face the consequences within the framework of military justice. Or, you can continue down this path of deception, and the repercussions will be severe."

Mark hesitated, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. The room seemed to close in around him as the weight of his transgressions pressed down.

"Sir, I... I can't..." Mark's voice wavered, the façade crumbling. "I can't disclose the details. It's classified, and I can't risk—"

Vice-Admiral Simpson cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Enough, Lieutenant. Your refusal to cooperate and your attempts at secrecy have already painted a damning picture. If you choose not to provide a full and honest account, we'll proceed with a formal inquiry, and you will be held accountable for your actions."

“You CAN’T DO THIS!” Mark shouted “Do you NOT KNOW WHO MY AUNT IS??”

Silence.

That outburst wasn’t planned and…well, it slammed the nail on the coffin easily.

The room fell into a heavy silence after Mark's outburst. The mention of his aunt added a layer to the situation, but Vice-Admiral Simpson's expression remained unmoved. Rooster, though surprised by the revelation, tried his best to remain quiet himself.

Vice-Admiral Simpson spoke with a measured tone, his gaze unwavering. "Oh I am quite aware. Your aunt already tried to pull your ass off the fire."

Mark's face turned pale as he realized that his attempt to leverage his family connection had backfired. “What does he have that I don’t?” Mark snarled “His father was a pilot too! And yet–” the mention of Goose made Rooster’s jaw clench and he almost moved up to Mark to face him down but Cyclone held his hand up, “And Maverick! Maverick is his uncle! This is unfair treatment!”

Jesus Mark was a spoiled child.

The tension in the room escalated as Mark's outburst hung in the air. Cyclone, maintaining his calm demeanor, addressed Mark's accusations. "Lieutenant Halton, personal connections and family history do not exempt anyone from the rules and principles that govern the Navy. Your attempt to use your family's influence will not change the fact that you violated protocol and jeopardized the mission."

Mark's face contorted with anger, and he shot a venomous glance at Rooster. "You think you're so special, Rooster…you think no one knows? Without Maverick you’d be nothing. He protected you so much before,right?"

"Lieutenant Halton," Cyclone warns, “That is enough.”

Mark seethed with anger “You are just…less than me.” he growls, “My aunt is a vice-admiral and yet I’m still a lieutenant! Why?! How is that fair?!”

"Lieutenant Halton, your personal grievances and accusations are not relevant to the situation at hand," Vice-Admiral Simpson stated firmly. "We are here to address the breach of protocol and the potential threat to the mission–"

Mark's face contorted with a mix of anger and frustration. "This is unjust! How did he get this far without his uncle’s help?”

The realization weighs enough for him to stop talking.

Cyclone’s eyes narrow, “...what did you say?”

The room's tension was palpable as Mark's last words hung in the air. Cyclone's piercing gaze bore into Mark, a subtle warning in his eyes. 

Mark swallowed hard, realizing the gravity of his words. “I–”

Cyclone's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Lieutenant Halton,are you saying your aunt helped you move through the ranks and your promotions are without merit?"

Mark shifted uncomfortably under Cyclone's gaze. His mind raced, searching for the right words that could possibly salvage his deteriorating situation.

"I didn't mean that," Mark stammered, attempting to backtrack. "I just meant that, well, people have connections, and it helps sometimes. I didn't mean to imply–"

Rooster turned to face him, finally speaking up  "Your aunt helped you move up." he says firmly, “That’s what you are saying.”

Rooster's words hung in the air, and Mark's attempt to backtrack faltered as the weight of the truth settled around him. He cast a furtive glance at Rooster, realizing that his own words had inadvertently exposed a well-guarded secret.

Cyclone's stern expression deepened, and the room seemed to shrink with the gravity of the revelation. The Vice-Admiral's gaze shifted between Mark and Rooster, assessing the situation before he spoke, his voice measured. "Lieutenant Halton,if your promotions were influenced by factors other than your merit and dedication, it undermines the integrity of our entire institution. Is it true?"

Mark, cornered and exposed, found himself at a crossroads. He was quiet.

Cyclone's gaze remained fixed on Mark. "Answer the question, Lieutenant."

Mark hesitated, the internal struggle evident on his face. Finally, he spoke in a subdued tone, "Yes, my aunt has helped me. She has connections, and she used them to ensure my career progressed smoothly."

The room fell into a heavy silence. Rooster's expression hardened, mouth falling open in surprise. Cyclone's face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

"I see." Cyclone mutters, “...that explains a lot.”

Cyclone's gaze remained fixed on Mark, his disappointment evident. "Lieutenant Halton, the Navy values integrity and merit. Using personal connections to advance one's career goes against the principles we stand for."

Mark, realizing the gravity of his admission, attempted to salvage the situation. "But sir, my aunt j-just believed in my potential. She wanted to ensure I had opportunities—"

Cyclone cut him off with a stern look. "Belief in potential is one thing, Lieutenant. Undermining the fair and competitive nature of our organization is another. " he sighs “And this goes beyond the breach of protocol during the mission. We now have to reassess your role within the Navy, Lieutenant Halton. There will be an inquiry into the extent of the influence exerted on your career."

Rooster took the time that Mark was quiet to speak, “...did Miranda know?”

“What?”

His eye twitched,”Did Miranda,your wife, know about this?” he grinds his teeth, “Is that why she was saying shit to my wife?”

Mark's face turned a shade of pale that matched the tension in the room. The mention of Miranda,caught him off guard, and he fumbled for words. "Miranda didn't know the specifics," he admitted hesitantly. "I-I mean, not everyth–”

Rooster's expression hardened. "So, she did know, right?"

“W-Well–”

“And she was bothering Beatrice, my Bea, because she was also jealous of her? Or was she just helping your little scheme?”

Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as Rooster's questions pierced through the already tense atmosphere. "Miranda knew that my aunt was in a high-ranking position," Mark confessed, avoiding direct eye contact with either Rooster or Cyclone. "But I swear, I never asked Miranda to harass your wife. That wasn't part of the plan."

Rooster's jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tight with frustration. "Plan? You had a plan for this? To use your family connections to climb the ranks and then drag my wife into your mess?"

Mark stammered, his attempt at salvaging the situation crumbling. "I didn't mean to drag anyone into this. Miranda took it upon herself to –"

"To what? Make Bea's life miserable?" Rooster's voice rose, anger bubbling to the surface. "You can't just wash your hands of this, Mark. You initiated this chain of events, and now you have to face the consequences." he snarls, “...none messes with my girl,Mark. No one.”

The room seemed to tighten with every passing moment. Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting around the room, searching for a way out.Rooster's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his hands clenched into fists. 

Mark's attempts at an explanation faltered as Rooster continued, his anger escalating with each word. "You used your aunt's influence, and God knows what else. But my wife? She had nothing to do with your ambitions, and yet you let your plan spill into her life. You should’ve focused on me. I don’t give a shit if Miranda thought about this on her own, she.overstepped.the.line."

Cyclone interjected, his voice firm. "Lieutenant Halton,personal relationships have been affected, and that will also be considered in the inquiry." he blinks, “Now,anything else you want to add before,” he gestures to Rooster, “Lt.Bradshaw loses his temper even more?”

Mark's face turned from pale to flushed, caught in the crossfire of Rooster's wrath and Cyclone's stern reprimand. He swallowed hard, his attempt at composure faltering as he glanced between the two officers. "I... n-no sir I-"

“Wonderful. Rooster, please wait outside my office,yes?”

Rooster shot one final stern look at Mark before standing up and nodding at Cyclone. Without uttering a word, he left the room, the heavy door closing behind him with a resounding thud. 

He rubbed his eyes, then inhaled deeply. It was finally over, he hoped.

Jesus.

[amazinglyegg]

JAY! JAY! JAY! JAY!

The most basic survivor with the most basic story! Very long ramble about him below the cut (sorry)

Physical appearance

Short, skinny, pale (malnourished vibes)

Part way through his story he loses his eyes from a grenade and gets synth eyes as prosthetics

Has scars all over his body from that incident, as well as the average amount of scars for a wastelander

Always wears long sleeves, usually a white tshirt

Jean jacket over top with some silly little patches!!!

I am terrible at clothes so idk what pants he wears. Vaguely grey probably

Other outfits you'll see him in are any random clothes he needs when going undercover in the railroad (he keeps an outfit in his bag for synths still in their old uniform!) and rarely the Brotherhood flight suit when it's laundry day

Backpack

Big ol' hiking backpack he scavenged in sanctuary, also ties his sleeping bag on the bottom

Food, water, and caps are necessary

Sketchbook and pencil to keep him busy while having to sit around and wait, loves sketching and journalling

Teddy bear! Lovingly named Mr. Cuddlesworth, keeps him tucked away so nothing bad happens to him

Fancy Lads for any synths he comes across, also (not in the picture) a blank box filled with chems for bribing his way out of problems with raiders and the like

Uses his baseball bat, especially before he got comfortable with guns, but occasionally uses Rightous Authority and a combat shotgun

Keeps an extra knife on hand as well as pepper spray and a rape whistle, both of which he kept on his body since pre-war

Stats!

Physically weak but very perceptive - not very high charisma but his perception usually helps him along

High perception means he has very sensetive ears, which can both be useful and a problem (prone to sensory overload!)

His perks aren't based on his SPECIAL at all

Medic - he was trained as a scribe in the Brotherhood of Steel, much more comfortable healing than fighting

Vans - He's practically reliant on his pipboy to keep track of all his quests! It has a detailed map and GPS that can even give directions out loud

Rooted - He's a freeze response type of guy. 100% deer in the headlight vibes

Personality

He's a big ol' scaredy cat!

Trauma from the vault has left him absolutely terrified of enclosed spaces, the dark, and radroaches. Also dislikes loud sounds, the cold, alcohol, and chems

He likes touch and always gives out hugs and handshakes! He also likes the sun (and light), nature, sweets, sleeping, being non-violent, and brahmin

He's a crybaby and will cry at every little thing. Just give him 15 minutes and he'll be fine

He's very naive and trusting, especially starting out. He just blindly goes along with what anyone says, and that becomes an extreme as he tries to cope with how much the world changed

Everything's in ruins now? Okay. There's cows with two heads? Okay. You're going to rob me and steal all my money? Okay... wait.

Always tries to see the best in people and things, and will much rather get shot than risk shooting someone who may not be a danger to him (hey, maybe they're only aiming a gun at him because they misunderstand! We can talk things out!)

Very rarely gets angry or loses his cool - tends to just cry instead. Not too great in the wasteland!

He doesn't like kids (and didn't like Shaun, which he feels guilty about...) despite being so childish and friendly. He gets along with them great! He just... doesn't like them...

Story

Jay has two storylines of sorts, one of my first playthrough and one of my second playthrough that diverges a bit

My first playthrough is a Railroad playthrough

Jay is Shaun's older brother. Their father was a veteran and Sanctuary was a small neighborhood specifically advertised as PTSD/veteran friendly (AKA HOA had a field day with banning fireworks and loud parties, and didn't bother with much else...) - Codsworth was also part of a pack for veterans!

Jay gets some basic survival skills from Preston and the group (after becoming severely ill due to a 200yr old immune system, but whatever) and leaves with Codsworth to Diamond City

He meets Nick and joins the Railroad quickly after! However Codsworth gets pretty beaten up in Vault 114 and after staying with Arturo for a while Jay convinces him to go to Sanctuary where it's safe

At some point Jay runs off on his own to try and collect the last few of Winter's holotapes, which is where he gets cornered by gunners in Quincy and throws a grenade which bounces off the wall and back near his own feet

He was mostly blind and severely injured, and staggers his way back to Railroad HQ (thanks to his high perception + VANS to guide him) where he gets taken to Doctor Amari and gets his synth eyes

He infiltrates the Institute and befriends X6, and also finds out he's a synth after reading a terminal he was told very sternly not to look into

In the same way Shaun is sort of a test for child synths, Jay is a test for teenage synths, as well as to study personality and emotions, and how a synth would grow if they believed to be human

Barely anyone knows this, save for Father and maybe a few other scientists, so Jay keeps it a secret until the Railroad is attacking the place, where he tells Father on his deathbed that he knows the truth

Father tells him that they're not real brothers and he feels nothing for him, and Jay responds by telling Father that he loves him and that their parents would be proud of him before mercy shooting him in the head

He adopts synth Shaun and gets adopted by Nick, making a family of entirely robots (including Codsworth!)

Far Harbor comes after this and stuff happens idk this is getting very long, but DiMA is his uncle!!

The second playthrough, which is forever unfinished, is a Brotherhood playthrough, follows all the main plotpoints above with a few changed details

Instead of immediately leaving to Diamond City after Call to Arms, he and Codsworth stay with Danse and his group with the promise of food, shelter, and in-depth survival and weapon training (he's still relying on his baseball bat at this point despite his horrible strength stat)

Codsworth eventually goes back to Sanctuary (all this fighting stresses him out) and Jay does still find the Railroad and go along with them, but he spends a majority of his time on the Prydwen learning everything he needs to know

Jay's still supportive of synths but is less active in the Railroad, and he finds out he's a synth around a week or two before the events of Blind Betrayal

After Blind Betrayal Jay leaves the Brotherhood and goes for a Minutemen and Railroad ending, where the two factions sort of combine, and a lot of settlers are either rescued synths or helping the Railroad in some way

Danse is also in the Minutemen! Although he's mostly unaware of how involved in the Railroad they are - Jay is trying to ease him into it slowly but it's taking a WHILE to unlearn all that Brotherhood propaganda!

Jay isn't as active in the Railroad in this playthrough, and he's more critical of their ways of doing things. He's a bit more distant with Nick (as Danse sort of takes the roll of surrogate father) but generally the vibes are the same

These two stories somehow both exist equally in my head, so I guess they're both "canon"!

Fun facts!

Jay is a genre of person. Whenever there's an RPG and I can't tell if I should make an OC or pretend to be myself, I make Jay! He also exists in Stardew Valley!

Jay is my middle name, but not on purpose. While getting my name changed my mom offered to include Jay as a middle name (unrelated to my OCs) and I went along with it. Jay had already existed for a while before this!

Jay's original design included a hard hat. I decided it wasn't for him.

Jay disliked Codsworth and Shaun before the war. He was going through an angsty phase and was a bit jealous of not being the only child anymore. He feels very guilty about it now

He can't bring himself to go back to Sanctuary anymore so most of the Minutemen's work is done at the Castle

During The Lost Patrol he finds himself alone at the Revere Satellite Array and trades a bunch of food, water, and caps with the Super Mutants in exchange for Scribe Faris' holotags (and his life). Danse is not happy about this

Despite the fact I never travelled with Curie or Strong in my playthroughs, he's friends with them! He thinks they're pretty chill

The first person he tells about being a Synth is X6, and he asks whether he knew. X6 had no idea.

He doesn't tell Nick for a looong time because of his reaction when DiMA asks if he's a synth. He asks DiMA for advice after the events of Far Harbor before he tells Nick.

[TRIGGER WARNING beyond this point for claustrophobia, suffocation, roaches, PTSD, and suicide] He spent several hours stuck inside the vault, barely able to move or breathe due to having to dethaw in an already cold room. His cryopod couldn't open from the inside and he was slowly suffocating as the seals were air-tight. He had to claw his way through the cushioning to get to some wires that, when broken, finally released the doors.

He was still too weak and pained to move, and the radroaches started swarming him once they sensed fresh meat. They didn't do much damage to him but it was still very traumatizing

The first thing he did as soon as he got out of that room was try and shoot himself with the 10mm. The safety was on and he didn't know how to switch it off, so he gave up

Attempted suicide again a few days later after the power armor from the Museum of Freedom reminded him of the cryo pod and triggered a nasty flashback (plus the general stress of everything), but gets stopped by Codsworth. After retelling this to Captain Cade he finds out that it's not a "normal panic attack" and that he does in fact have PTSD, and that he's not allowed in power armor until he gets his symptoms under control.

[bugmomwrites]

Strangeness and Charm

(A Leorio x Fem!Autistic!Reader College AU)

Leorio is thrilled to be returning to college in the fall after a trip with his friends to York New, and pleasantly surprised to meet a new pretty face in his classes. Unfortunately for him, you also exist.

Or, it's a wonderful day on the campus, and you are a horrible student.

A/N: This is how I'm coping with chemistry class guys. A neat little story by an autistic girlie for the autistic girlies. It's pretty bare bones and it started as a joke with @bwabys-scenarios. Worth noting I was zooted out of my mind when I began composing the earliest draft, so if you were hoping for the next Odyessy, look elsewhere because I'm writing solely for my own enjoyment and nothing is sacred. If you want to be added to the tag list please let me know, it will give me an extra dopamine molecule to survive the day.

That said, enjoy the ride.

Chapter I: Water & Oil

‘401, 402, 403- Here it is. Why am I just finding out this morning they moved the class to the fourth floor?’

Leorio sighed, glancing at his schedule one last time to confirm that he was, in fact, in the correct place before carefully pushing the door open and marching into his Advanced Chemistry class. It was bad enough showing up about ten minutes late after having missed syllabus week due to a trip, but now it was going to be even more difficult to find a seat. He groaned internally at this, realizing that with the new fall semester the place would be fuller than usual, especially with fresh high school graduates.

‘Of course the place is crawling with freshmen’, he thought to himself. Giving a polite wave to the professor who nodded stiffly before returning to introductions, he turned his attention back to the lecture hall seating, his eyes desperately roving over the sea of people on the risers. There were a few empty ones in front, but when he went to set his books down he was met with a few stinkeyes and a passive aggressive “pack it up Buddy the elf!” Putting his hands up in surrender, Leorio picked up his briefcase again and resumed his search. 

Trying to make one’s way up a flight of bleachers at a game is hard enough, but add in being well over six feet tall, noisy, horrendously awkward, and the last one to show up, of course hundreds of eyes would be burning into you. Leorio wasn’t a stranger to attracting attention when he went out, but damn it can’t a guy just exist in peace?!

Not wanting to be any more disruptive than he already had been, Leorio made his way up, gingerly stepping over limbs and muttering apologies as he found two seats close to the back, opting for the one with more legroom. Finally able to sit after nearly missing his bus, arriving at the wrong building, and sprinting over here only to cause a scene, he felt his blood pressure drop back to normal. Sure, he could feel sweat on his back, but his suit jacket was dark enough to hide what could have been an embarrassing patch.

He must not have been as composed as he tried to convince himself he was, because he was still in a daze when one of the many freshman dug into her bag and held up a metal water bottle as big as his head. He had always heard that eye contact was good when meeting a new person, but was it possible for a person to maintain too much of it? Baggy eyes with thick lashes and circles to match stared into him, as if studying him under a microscope, and he felt himself shrinking into himself despite towering over her. Another moment of loaded silence fell over them before she shook the bottle, the subdued clattering of ice inside bringing him back to earth. He hesitantly thanks her, carefully lifting the heavy object with both hands before unscrewing the top to take a grateful swig.

‘Maybe they’re not all bad. Sure, they’re a little arrogant, but they haven’t been adults for very long either. Besides, I’m only 19, it’s not like I’m much b-’

His eyes shot wide open when he finally registered the familiar burn of a stiff drink on his tongue. And not just some flimsy cocktail either- this was some prohibition-level strength in that bottle! 

Trying frantically to spit it back into the strawless mouth of the lid, he coughed up as much as he possibly could. The girl looked up from the chicken scratch on her binder when he set the bottle back down on the table between them with a dull thud. She had the audacity to raise an eyebrow at him, seemingly indifferent to his plight before shrugging and chugging an alarming amount of booze and backwash at 9am.

Leorio looked on, horrified and making a mental note to avoid her like the plague this coming semester. He had already made enough of a scene today, so he sat uncomfortably in her proximity as the professor droned on about the syllabus, covering the last page of information that was missed on Friday due to time constraints. Nothing seemed to change from last year except for the location, and a few other topics that he had already grown familiar with in the standard level class last semester. As the talking faded into white noise he found himself thinking of how to give this girl a piece of his mind as soon as the bell rung.

“And I hope you’re all comfortable where you are now, because the people at your table will be your lab partner for this week’s assignment! Now that everyone knows what’s to be expected in this class, let’s take some time now to get to know our seatmates better.”

His head swivled around like a deer in the headlights, eyes darting to the professor, to Moonshine Girl, to just behind Moonshine Girl where another woman sat eating some fruit from a tupperware bowl. She appeared to be a little bit older, taller, and much more composed than her slovenly counterpart. Manicured nails pushed a lock of platinum blonde hair out of her face as she gave Leorio a blinding smile, and everything about her screamed perfection. To her left, in between the two of them, Moonshine Girl was currently squeezing a ziploc baggie of soggy fruity pebbles out of a snipped corner and into her gaping maw.

“Sooo my name is Emily, I’m looking forward to working with y”-

“What the hell did you just give me?! I know it wasn’t water in that bottle! You have a lot of explaining to do missy. I don’t know what possessed you to think bringing that was o”-

“Hey, HEY dude calm down. It was an honest mistake.” Moonshine Girl sat up in her chair after leaning back on the legs a little. She shamefully took the bottle out, unscrewing the entire lid and showing them the contents. It was moonshine, all right- and there were little plastic stars filled with water. Reusable ice cubes.

“It was a Labor Day weekend project, I have a few of these giant bottles. I probably should have labeled them better instead of just throwing everything on my countertop.” Well, if Leorio was angry before, he was furious now. He opened his mouth, about to go on a tirade when Emily quietly asked to hold it. Moonshine Girl obliged, passing the container over. Hoping Emily would take it and dump it on the way out of class, Leorio leaned back into his seat when Emily took a sip herself, setting it down with a thumbs up.

“Oh yeah, no that’s definitely not water. It’s not too bad though, maybe you can show me how to make it at some point?”

Leorio watches the exchange, flabbergasted. Moonshine Girl nods excitedly, twisting the lid back on and tucking it back in her bag. “That sounds fun! Oh, right, my name is (name).”

Leorio files the information in his brain away for later, deciding to play nice until the end of class when he could quietly report the incident.

---

“Alright, if we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other this semester, maybe we should exchange contact info?”, (name) suggested, opening up the contacts app on her phone. Emily's face lit up, popping her phone number in, and then asked (name) to follow up with a quick text to make sure it worked. Sure enough, her phone pinged and Emily sent a little message back.

‘Hey! It’s Emily from chem <3’

Satisfied with the result, Emily goes to put her phone away when Leorio stops her. “Hey wait a minute why can’t I get a pretty girl’s number?!” 

Emily’s smile fades a little, cringing at the blatant flirting attempt before reluctantly punching in her digits. “Don’t forget (name)”, she reminds him, and he sighs. A few taps later, he hits the create contact button and slides the phone across the table when (name) pipes up.

“Wait hang on, I need to test it.” Fuck.

(Name) composes a little message, and almost immediately is greeted with an automated text message reading ‘Thank you for signing up for dinosaur facts! To hear our fact of the day, send YES. To unsubscribe, send STOP.’

Emily looks up at the man, disappointed. It was a good thing (name) made a habit of testing numbers before labeling the contacts, or she might not have caught it. “Come on man, really?” (Name) grimaced a little awkwardly, trying to lighten things up.

“Hey, it’s not so bad, I happen to like dinosaurs thank you very much.”

“That’s not the point- oh my god. Leorio, give her your real number. (name), I have it if he gives you another fake.” And with that, Emily pulls the contact screen up, the numbers mocking Leorio. He can’t lie his way out of it either- not with the blurry peace sign selfie he set as his photo ID. He grumbles, popping it in and sending a text from there before pulling out his own phone with a new message notification on the home screen.

“There you go. Happy? And quit daydrinking, college is no place for people who aren’t serious about their education.”

He walks out, (name) fuming a little as he picks up his jacket off the chair- the heat from running must have gotten too unbearable- and swinging it over his shoulder with one hand, briefcase in the other. The sweat stain that he thought disappeared was very much still there as he padded towards the door unceremoniously. Emily snapped a quick pic, and texted it to (name).

“There's a fitting contact photo”, (name) glanced at the screen hearing Emily’s words, and chuckled. The massive dark patch on his white shirt was blurry, but still visible to the naked eye. Typing into the first name section of her contacts and adding the photo, she flipped the screen around to show Emily her handiwork.

‘PANGEA’

“Ha! Yeah it does kind of look like the supercontinent.” Emily chuckled to herself, smiling as the two of them left the class. “And he looks to be as old as it too.” While (name) was thrilled to have finally made a friend in college, she prayed to every deity that there was more to this Leorio guy beneath the surface, otherwise, it would be a very long year.

---

Taglist:

@bwabys-scenarios

[drstonetrivia]

Chapter 232 Trivia (Part 1)

This is it… The final chapter.

The Perseus and American planes get one final appearance, in color!

They must have landed a ways away from shore since Senku caught a fish, but the new Perseus isn't an aircraft carrier so how far did the plane fly?

I wonder if Charlotte is piloting it…

The choice of a land vs water return has historically depended on the geography of the country sending the rocket up: Russia has a lot of land, so the Soyuz capsules are made for land, and the US is surrounded by water so they've traditionally used that instead.

Since Treasure Island is an island, they opted for a water landing. Both types of landing have advantages and disadvantages, it just depends on which risks you'd rather take.

The Soyuz capsules Byakuya's team came down on are designed for both water and land, but because they don't have the same flotation devices that the Apollo ones have, they can't right themselves after landing. The capsules naturally float anyways.

In Senku's case, the top flotation devices weren't needed, but it's odd that the buoyancy ring was already inflated upon touchdown— wouldn't the impact make them burst, or flip the capsule upside down? It's also unusual that they'd exit before the recovery vehicle reached them.

Maybe they were worried about Ryusui-the-stowaway using up all the air inside so they decided to open it early?

We can't be sure of where they touched down since there's not enough landmass shown to identify anything, but given the celebration was held in Japan and the Perseus came to pick them up, it's a fair assumption that they landed in a similar area to the original Soyuz Six.

I'm sure most people have noticed how Kohaku has fallen asleep on the stage and Stanley is going through a nicotine withdrawal/acting as if it was a proper military medal ceremony, but I doubt most people noticed that Ryusui is actually meant to be 7 cm taller than Stanley…

Everyone's asking who this girl is, but I genuinely think she's just a random extra person, unless Boichi decided to recolor Kohaku with brown hair just to throw us off one last time. Another guess is that she's the girl with glasses from the 1st light novel, but without glasses.

It appears the villager criteria has expanded even further past simply allowing outsiders— outer space is now fair game! Their new friend is officially a member of Ishigami Village!

The bar in the middle of the E is also missing in E=mc², which I guess is a pretty E-Z mistake to make haha!

(Since it's now c=mc² does that mean we can simplify to m=1/c? 🤔 )

The area reminds me of the DARPA expo in the national park rather than Corn City, so it may be a new town based around where the Americans had originally revived. It has a defensive wall which is unusual, so it may be a military research base or to protect against wolf attacks.

I'm also a little disappointed they opted for cars and roads rather than trains, especially leaving the town, since America is very well suited for a rail network.

This plane is unlikely to be the piston-type propeller plane that we saw earlier, but rather a turboprop: a propeller in front of a jet engine, Xeno's specialty. These types of engines are better for short flights (<480 km) because they're more efficient over short distances.

Because of the slower travel, they can handle shorter runways better, but I'm not sure that's much of a problem when landing on the ocean.

Traditional jets are better for long distances like, say, the 8,500 km journey Gen took to get from America to Japan.

Did Francois and Gen leave Suika at the airport!?

Gen could be talking about the old outfit design, or, because the leather didn't fully deteriorate in the 7.5 year time skip (we can see this from some of the other outfits), it could literally be the same outfit from the Stone Wars, but patched up a little.

I assume this was because Francois is a more important character, but they could have gotten Carlos, the driver by trade, to bring Gen to the wedding.

Though he probably didn't want to leave miss Luna alone…

Hair grows ~6in/15cm per year, and the average women's head size is 8.6in/21cm, so assuming Yuzuriha didn't cut too much off, her hair grew around 10.9 in/27.7cm, therefore 2 years have passed.

This isn't perfect because Mirai's hair didn't grow as long, but it's an estimate!

These people are Yuzuriha's parents (despite the father's striking resemblance to Taiju), since Taiju's parents are long dead.

Another shooting stance comparison! Stanley is obviously cool and using only one hand, but Yo is using two hands. The number of hands doesn't affect accuracy, but cops are generally trained to use two hands since it's more stable when firing consecutive bullets.

(Next part)

[dykeredhood]

I technically have the option to redo my X-wing flight suit: buy a jumpsuit a size larger than what I currently have and then dye it a slightly richer orange color and sew on thigh pockets and patches

And I might just do that and then I’ll have 2 of them, I think I have enough spare orange fabric to make thigh pockets and some extras to add to the upper arms 🤔🤔🤔

[tngrace]

Trick or Treat

For: @angstchaos for the @topguntrickortreat fic exchange. This was such fun & I hope you enjoy it. A03 link; TG/M Masterlist

The first year after Nick was hard for all holidays, but Mav made sure to put extra effort into them for Bradley since he was at home teaching at TOPGUN. He knew the kid might not remember them since he was still so young, but still he tried. Two years after Nick though, it came easier. Bradley was so excited any time he got to see his Uncle Mav, but he especially loved the holidays and all the effort Mav put into them.

Halloween had to be his favorite though. Uncle Mav would help him with his costume, and Bradley was even able to convince Uncle Mav to dress up with him. His mom always tried to get Mav out of it, but when Bradley turned those big puppy dog eyes on him, Mav was a goner. He could never tell the kid no, and Bradley knew it.

This year, though, it was supposed to rain on Halloween which was rare. They were saying it could even storm. Carole was trying hard not to ruin Bradley's enthusiasm over Halloween, but trick or treating or any Halloween activity for that matter appeared as if it wasn't going to happen. She knew she'd have one upset little boy at that. Mav was due back into town the week before Halloween, and she knew once he arrived and saw the weather, he'd be just as disappointed as her son.

"Mama is Uncle Mav here yet?" Bradley asked her for the hundredth time, even though he'd only been home from school a short time, on Monday before Halloween.

"Is he standing here?" she teases.

Bradley shakes his head with a pout. "Don't worry little bird. He'll be here. Uncle Mav never breaks promises."

"I know," Bradley sighed before he went back to the window to wait and watch. He already had his costume idea ready to present to Uncle Mav, and he just knew his uncle was going to love it. It was another hour before the roar of a motorcycle could be heard rolling into the driveway. Bradley raced from his room to the front door, barely stopping before crashing through it. Carole just shook her head with a laugh.

Bradley jumped at Mav as soon as he started opening the door. "Woah!" Mav laughed dropping his bag as he caught his godson. "Someone has grown a foot since I saw him last!"

"You haven't grown any," Bradley teases.

Mav pretends to be offended before he starts a tickle attack on the six year old. Bradley shrieks and giggles in between trying to beg Mav to stop. "Take it back," Mav threatens with more tickles until Bradley relents. Mav pulls him back up right and Bradley hugs him tight. "I missed you too kiddo," Mav whispers. He finally makes it all the way into the house to greet Carole, Bradley staying in his arms.

Once Mav gets settled, Bradley brings up Halloween. "I already know what my costume is going to be."

"Tell me," Mav smiles.

"I gonna be an ava'tor like you Uncle Mav."

Mav sees Carole freeze, and he knows he'll have to come back to that later, but he gives Bradley a full smile. "Oh yea? We'll have to go find you a mini flight suit."

"And jacket!"

"Jacket?"

"Yea. Like the one you wear. I want one with all the patches too!"

Mav chuckles as he ruffles Bradley's hair. "Ok Baby Goose. We'll see what we can do."

"Bradley you know we've talked about the weather. You know you might not get to go," Carole warns from her spot on the couch.

Bradley turns his eyes to Mav. "We can still go if it's raining, right Uncle Mav?"

"We'll just have to see Baby Goose." Mav ruffles his hair and tries not to let Bradley's pout go to his heart. "But!" Bradley perks up at that, making Mav smile once more. "I promise it'll still be a really fun Halloween."

"Promise?"

"Always!"

Bradley's smile returns once more and he tells Mav all the things he's planned out for them to do while Mav is in town for the week, not realizing Mav's keeping a surprise from him.

Leading up to Halloween is sunny and hot, so the boys stay out a lot. They get supplies for his costume, managing to find a flight suit and a leather jacket, much to Bradley's delight. Mav gets some extra patches from base and Viper, who is more than happy to see Bradley when Mav takes him to visit. Once they have his costume together, they find corn mazes and fall activities to keep them busy during the afternoon after school, and at night before bed they watch Halloween movies until Bradley falls asleep.

"Mav, you know if it's raining you can't take him out. Houses won't be passing out candy or anything," Carole reminds two nights before Halloween.

"I know. Don't worry Carole. I've got a plan," Mav reassures.

She just gives him a skeptical look and shakes her head. "We should talk about his costume too."

"What about it?" Mav asks puzzled.

"Pete," she sighs putting down the blanket she'd been knitting. "Bradley cannot become an aviator. I don't want him in the Navy. Ever."

"Carole he's just a kid. He doesn't know what he's talking about. Besides it's Halloween. It's just a costume."

"I mean it Pete. Don't ever forget it either. Bradley is not going to be in the Navy. He looks up to you so much, and he wants to be just like you. You can't let that happen."

Mav concedes to keep the peace, but he's worried about her.

The next day, is cloudy and dreary and they spend all day in the house. Mav and Bradley spread decorations from one end of the house to the other. It honestly looks like Halloween threw up in there, but Carole doesn't have the heart to ruin their fun. Mav helps Bradley make Halloween themed cookies later that night after supper and before bed he lets him in on a little secret.

"I've got a surprise for you tomorrow buddy."

"A surprise?" Mav chuckles at how much Bradley perks up, even as Mav tucks him into bed.

"Yep. A surprise. Should be here when you wake up in the morning ok?"

"I'm going to sleep right now Uncle Mav I promise." He slams his eyes shut and Mav chuckles once more.

"Sweet dreams Baby Goose," Mav whispers as he places a soft kiss on Bradley's forehead. He tucks the covers around him and switches on his nightlight before he heads out.

Carole is in the kitchen cleaning up and Mav joins her. "I have a surprise Care."

"What have you done now, Trouble?"

"Nothing bad I promise," he laughs. "The Flyboys get in tonight. Don't worry they've got rooms booked. But they're excited to see you and Bradley and spend Halloween with us."

"Oh wow! Pete! How did you manage this?!"

"Ice did it," he shrugs. "Said they'd love to spend the holidays with us this year."

"Bradley's going to love it." They finish cleaning up for the night and tuck into bed, knowing tomorrow will be wild.

Bradley is up at five am, jumping on Mav's bed. Mav pulls him down beside him, chuckling as Bradley whines at being held down. "Is too early Baby Goose."

"Na uh! You promised a surprise when I woke up!"

Mav tucks Bradley in beside him and brushes the hair off his forehead. "You were supposed to wake up at a normal hour kiddo. Not early. Your surprise will be here soon."

Bradley pouts but concedes to lay there with Mav for a little longer. They get up around six and go to make Halloween pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Just as they're finishing the breakfast there is a knock at the door. Bradley turns big eyes to Mav, knowing it's way to early for anyone to be coming to visit his mom.

"Is that my surprise?"

"Let's go find out," Mav laughs, as Bradley races to the door. He at least remembers all the safety talks Carole had given him and waits for Mav to open it.

"I hear there's a little goose around here needing a squad for trick or treating," Ice says when Mav swings the door open. Bradley squeals in delight and throws himself at Ice.

"Uncle Mav you got everybody here?!"

Ice carries Bradley in and the rest of the flyboys follow. "Nope kiddo. That would all be your Uncle Ice."

Bradley hugs Ice tight offering a very quiet thank you in his ear before he gets passed around to the others for hugs. "I thought I heard chaos," Carole smiles as she joins them.

"That's all we ever bring," Wood smiles before Carole gets her own round of hugs.

Once Bradley has made it all the way around the room for attention he reminds Mav he's hungry. Mav chuckles as he makes up plates for everyone, Bradley helping him and dutifully passing them out to all his uncles.

After breakfast, Bradley models his costume, including his mini replica jacket, and the Flyboys all ooohh and ahhh over it, making Bradley beam.

"Are you sure you need that jacket too Baby Goose?" Slider teases.

"Yes! It's just like Uncle Mav's!"

"He's just teasing you kiddo," Mav laughs as he ruffles Bradley's hair.

The rain started mid-morning and by lunch Bradley was pouting. Carole was insisting they couldn't take him trick or treating in the rain because he would get sick, but none of the uncles could stand the pout. "What if we just took him to base?" Mav poses.

"Most of the offices do have candy," Ice agrees.

"I'm sure we could swing by Viper and Jester's as well," Wood throws in.

Between all of them they come up with a solid plan, and Carole just lets them. She's learned there's really no point in trying to dissuade them once they set their minds to something. Plus, they'd do anything to make Bradley happy no matter what anyone says.

Mid-afternoon, they load Bradley into Wolfe's truck and head to base. It's a tight fit but with Carole wanting to stay home out of the rain, they make it work. Once on base, they hit up all the offices they know will have candy for Bradley, and all the officers praise Bradley's replica flight suit. Once they've made their rounds there, they head to Jester's house first.

"Just make sure you don't act like your Uncle Mav," Jester teases Bradley when he sees the kid dressed just like his uncle.

"Promise!" Bradley smiles.

He gets more candy and treats and spoiling at Viper's house. Mike and his wife both doting on the kid, and insisting on a picture of all of them since Bradley had convinced them to wear their flight suits too. Mike had told them of some houses in his neighborhood that were still passing out candy, so after leaving his house, they made a few more stops before Bradley was almost passed out. Slider was currently carrying the kid and he was nodding off.

"Think he had fun anyways?" Mav asked Ice as they were heading back to the truck.

"I think the kid has a blast any time he gets to spend with you Mav. We were just extra bonuses."

"Yea. I hope so."

"What's really going on?"

Mav sighs as he turns to Ice. "You read me too well."

"Job hazard." Mav knows it's more than that, but he doesn't call him on it. Ice raises his eyebrow at Mav to quit stalling.

"I think something's going on with Carole. She hasn't acted like normal this time. And..." He chews on his lip as he remembers their conversation about the costume. "She wasn't happy with B's costume this year. Made sure I knew he would never be in the Navy."

"Sounds like maybe you need to talk to her. We could take Bradley out tomorrow?"

"Yea. I'll run it by her when we get back." With a plan in place, and Bradley passed out on Slider they headed back to the house. The next day Bradley declared it the best Halloween ever because he had all of his favorite people in one place at one time. Mav never was able to work anything out with Carole over her fears of Bradley being in the Navy. They all tried at some point, but her mind was made up. 

Bradley never did know that every year he dressed up like his Uncle Mav, Carole became more and more concerned about him following in his uncles' footsteps. It wasn't until the big fight, the years of silence, and the reunion and explanation did he ever understand why Halloween was never Carole's favorite holiday. It was always a reminder of what she'd never be able to stop.

Looking back, Bradley realizes that the Halloween it rained was probably his best Halloween ever, and he hoped one day his uncles would help him make Halloween the best for his kids as well. 

[edupunkn00b]

Decoherence, Ch. 9: True Faith and Allegiance

Creative Commons 1.0, Public Domain

Prev - True Faith and Allegiance - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

“I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same…” -United States Congressional Oath of Office

WC: 2112 - Rated: T - CW: swearing -

2035, April 9 - The White House, Washington, D.C., US

“Lo!” Remus shot up in bed, hand scrabbling at the cold, empty expanse next to him. “Lo?” he called again, louder, but the ensuite was dark, empty. He rushed to his closet, the lights automatically flicking on with his movement. His suits and dress shirts lined one rack, more casual clothes tucked neatly into their little cubbies along the other wall. 

“Lo?” he said one more time, quieter. Was it all a dream?

There was a sharp knock on the hidden door just before it opened and a Secret Service agent—Craig? No, Keith—stepped inside. “Mr. President? Are you alright? We heard shouting.”

“I’m fine, Keith, thank you,” Remus nodded, swallowing hard against the growing lump in his throat. It had felt so real. “Just a dream,” he smiled. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Very good, sir. Sorry to intrude,” he said and stepped back into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Both hands tracing the chain around his neck, Remus gently pulled it from under his pajama top and kissed the rings. They were warm to the touch, clinking quietly together in his shaking hands, and they shone under the bright closet lights. 

These rings were real. 

Lo was real. He had to be.

Lo’s voice echoed in his mind. “Find me, Meus… Find me…” Gold had glinted on his hand as he’d poured the wine. Their matching rings had clacked together when they’d held hands. It was real… real-ish, at least. The rings were real. 

He stood in front of the mirror, curls frizzed and sticking out from every which way on his head, eyes wild and he clung to the rings from his dream. 

His vision layered and he saw himself tucking two gold rings under his shirt. Under a bright green tank top, a worn and patched blue denim button down layered with a heavy leather apron. An open nehru collar, golden flowers stitched on green silk. A shirt and tie underneath a white lab coat emblazoned with CERN on the breast pocket.

It was all real.

The computer screen next to the closet door dinged and droned out the day’s agenda. Moving by rote, he let his hands ready himself for his jog, mind wandering through possibilities as he dressed. He needed more information and startling the Secret Service with out of the ordinary behavior was not the way to get it.

~

“Gladys,” he buzzed the intercom. “Can you gather my appointment books for the last six months, please?”

“Of course, Mr. President,” she chirped back, hesitancy in her voice. “Your calendar on your computer should be up to date, sir, if you wish to query it.”

“I… I know.” He’d already scoured the calendar for any mention of Lo. There’d been nothing. ‘Dr. Sanders’ floated through his mind, but he couldn’t find any Sanders or Lo named in any of his appointments. “The sign-in book sometimes has extra details. Assistants’ names, that sort of thing.”

“Understood,” she replied, clearly not understanding. But that was alright. It certainly wasn’t the first odd request he’d ever had, and likely wouldn’t be the last.

While he waited for her to gather the books from Archives, he paced the office, reciting his speech for the new Climate Accord ratification ceremony. He was due to tour the new flood plain outside San Francisco this afternoon, with Airforce One due to take off in three hours. He’d review as much as he could before the flight and, with any luck, might begin to unravel whatever the hell was going on.

2036, September 15 - London, England

Saturday dawned muggy and quiet.

Remus woke early, a swirl of thoughts pulling him in different directions from the moment he opened his eyes. He had the distinct sense of jet lag, but he’d finally drifted off at a reasonable hour the night before.

Shaking his head, he pulled himself out of bed and straightened the quilt before padding across the room to shower. The familiar space gradually cleared his mind and he moved automatically, stripping off his sleep shorts and quickly washing and conditioning his hair. He reached without looking for his face soap, wishing he could just as easily scrub away errant thoughts.

He stepped out of the shower and brushed his teeth, staring at himself in the mirrored cabinet. There were two doors. The right side had held his toothbrush, aftershave, and mustache wax. His hand shook as he opened the other side of the cabinet.

His toothbrush clattered to the basin.

The shelves were lined with familiar products. Another toothbrush. That vanilla spice pomade. A bottle of aftershave. An eyeglass repair kit.

Remus rinsed his mouth then pulled out the aftershave and uncapped it, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood and vanilla. It was him. It was Lo’s. He was real, he’d been here. Carefully, reverently, he replaced the cap and moved to the wardrobe. It wasn’t until he’d caught sight of himself in the mirror that he realized he’d lost his gold chain.

Hand slapping his chest, his own gold ring sparkled. Remus stared down at his hand and touched the smooth gold band. If he was wearing his ring, where had Lo’s gone? 

One hand reached up and clawed at his neck where the chain had once been—had he worn it last night? He must’ve… He could feel it under his flannel pajama top. Without really thinking, he checked the hamper. But he hadn’t worn pajamas, just shorts. Too hot for that in their little flat with only a ceiling fan to keep it cool. 

Remus hurried back to the bed. He ripped off the quilt, feeling along the seams of the mattress, the pillow cases, the joints along the bed frame. He checked the floor and under the bed, retracing his steps between the closet and the main room.

Lo’s ring was gone.

He’d had two rings, hadn’t he?

He stared down at his hand. It looked right. A vague recollection of making a ‘practice’ ring for his brother and his partners flitted across his mind and he shook his head. 

Coffee. Everything would make more sense with a little coffee. He started toward the bedroom door and realized he hadn’t dressed, so he took a moment to straighten the quilt and pillows on the bed, the mundane action meditative, then opened the wardrobe.

His own clothes were there, familiar and worn.

But, impossibly, so were Lo’s. They weren’t labeled, of course, but… These were Lo’s. A rotating tie rack held a rainbow of colors, hanger after hanger of neatly pressed button down shirts and soft sweater vests. He stepped into the closet and pressed one to his face. It smelled like him.

Lo was real. So where the fuck was he?

Remus dressed quickly and hit the streets. Shoving his keys in his jacket pocket, his fingers brushed his phone screen. He yanked it out. Two missed calls.

Stabbing at the screen, he sighed, disappointment and guilt mixing when he saw it was his brother, and he checked his voicemail. Just Ro announcing they’d made it to the train station for their trip, then again just before they hit the trail to the cabin and lost cell service. Remus scrolled through his call history and found Lo’s contact. 

He was real. He was in his phone. Remus’ thumb shook as he tapped call, but the number went right to a generic voicemail greeting announcing the mailbox was full.

Sighing, Remus pocketed the phone and let his feet guide him down the quiet pavement.

~

Remus walked for hours, finally looking up when his grumbling stomach reminded him he’d skipped breakfast. He turned on the spot, working out just where he’d ended up. He’d passed a café down the street and the rich scents of freshly baked bread and syrupy coffee drinks grew stronger as he approached, likely the trigger of his sudden hunger.

He got a table outside and, after drinking half his coffee in one gulp, nursed the rest as he waited for his order. Foot traffic had picked up during his walk, and the quiet street had transformed around him into its typically bustling state.

Families filled the pavement, likely taking in a bit of fresh air before the late afternoon sun left the streets too balmy to breathe. A doting couple stopped in front of the hat shop—a haberdashery, Lo’s voice filled in—across the street, one turning to the other to straighten a skewed collar.

It hurt to watch, and Remus looked away, fuzzily scanning the opposite side of the street. His eyes snagged on a man at the far end, distinctive blue and grey Aldi’s vest tucked under one arm, eyeglasses barely visible, head down as he maneuvered through the busy walkway. But his raven hair was unmistakable.

Heedless of traffic, Remus stood and ran across the street, only vaguely registering a blaring car horn. He waved it away and stopped a dozen paces from the man.

“Lo—” he began but the man wore no recognition in his eyes and the splash of grey at his temples and lines around his mouth and forehead weren’t Lo's. Remus started to turn away, but then remembered. “Wait—you’re the guy at the store.”

The man—his name badge said ‘Luke’—looked him up and down and shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know you,” he said, side stepping him and continuing on his way.

“Please, wait!” Remus called after him, stopping short when a large group of young tweens poured out of the Daiso shop next to him, chattering about their purchases. “Wait, Luke, please, do you know—”

He wormed his way through the gaggle of laughing children but by the time he’d cleared the throng, Luke was nowhere to be seen. Moving more carefully this time, he crossed back to the café and reclaimed his seat. Dreams clashed with reality but Remus was now more certain than ever Lo really was out there.

He just had to find him.

1838, August 21 - Wyoming, United States

“Knock, knock, knock,” Ro called from the other side of the heavy bottom half of Remus’ barn-turned-workshop door. He unlatched the little hook and pushed it open, hinges creaking. With a peal of laughter, Virge dashed into the room ahead of him, a flash of denim and grasses clutched in his hand. 

“Uncka Re! Wook wha’ I made!” Virge announced proudly, tugging his sleeve and drawing him closer to the big workbench in the center of the barn.

Remus pulled off his smoke-lensed visor and lifted his newly four-year-old nephew up onto a stool. “Well, look at that,” he murmured, tilting his head at the hay-stuffed doll Virgil walked across the worn wooden surface. “May I?” he asked, hefting the toy in his palm.

“Poppy he’ped me put sand in his tummy and feet and hands so he’d sit,” he grinned, clapping briefly when Remus sat him up against a roll of spectrometry paper. The doll sported big eyes, dark blue dots with wide circles drawn around them in the shaky hand of a four-year-old still learning to write.

“He’s wonderful, Virge,” Remus ruffled his hair with a smile. “What’s his name?”

Virgil laughed up at him, his tiny face scrunched adorably. “Unka Woe!” He pointed at the circles around the doll’s eyes. “See? Those are his g’asses!”

“What?” Remus’ wrench hit the floor, narrowly missing his toe and taking a big bite out of the packed dirt floor. “What’d y’say?” 

“Hey, Vee,” Ro crouched down and met Virgil’s eyes. “What’s this little guy’s name?”

The little boy’s smile wavered as he looked between his uncle and his dad. “He’s my friend,” he finally said, plucking up the doll and hugging it close before curling into Ro’s arms. He tucked his chin over Ro’s shoulder and watched Remus’ expression.

“Oh, you’re all tuckered out from running your foals, aren’t you?” Ro cooed. “How about we get a little supper into you and then call it a night, yeah?”

He nodded against his dad’s shoulder, nervous eyes following Remus’. “Y’can ho’d him,” he whispered and pushed the doll into Remus’ hands. Virge smiled and wiggled the doll in his hands. “He says ‘It’s supper time.’” 

“Come, now, Meus…” Lo’s laughter fills my mind. “The dynamo needs to charge. You worked through the midday… It's supper time.”

“Oh, really?” I pull off the smoked visor and tiptoe closer, swooping in at the last moment to scoop Lo up into my arms. He’s warm and solid and melts into my hold like he was meant to be there. “Only if you come along with me!”

“I reckon he does,” Remus nodded, ruffling Virge’s hair. “Lead the way!”

[sparrowsingsstories]

What does your OC carry?

Tagged by @bokatan <3 Thank you!!

I chose to do all three of my favs. I should include Levi - but honestly, that boy doesn't travel if he can help it. Which means he has a closet. A whole closet. hah

Mercy 

Clothing, accessories, etc: Mercy wears a mix of gear, recently from the Railroad thanks to Tinker Tom. Tinker Tom had some specialty stuff made for her since she’s so little (well, not in relation to Frankie and Mercy but she’s still 5’2”) from ballistic weave. It’s usually leggings and tunic or pants and top with a beanie (also ballistic weave) with boots. She also has her gun harness, backpack, belt, pouches, camping supplies...ya know...the usual. 

Weapons: One sniper rifle with long-range scope, one laser pistol (BOS issued but stripped down and adjusted for her hands...given to her by Danse but she told him not to), and one combat knife with minor tooth marks from a deathclaw. 

Miscellaneous supplies: soap, towel, acorn oil for hair, comb and brush, change of clothes, rope, medical supplies, toothpaste, and pipboy. (Note – no food, she has Deacon or Mac carry that) 

Random odds and ends: crackers, dried fruit, a nail file found under some rubble, a small sewing kit, a random book, one comic, some kind of chem given to her by Hancock in the case of needing to take Deacon someplace tall, three rocks, a vial of something given to her by Tinker Tom in case of synths, a Gen 1 eye, a Gen 2 finger – used to poke Nick, pencil, pad of paper. 

Frankie 

Clothing, accessories, etc: Well...she usually travels with the band. So it’s a couple chests of dresses, stockings, heels, fancy panties, pasties with tassels, pasties without tassels, crotch shields in case she takes off the thongs during a burlesque show, rumba panties with matching bras, petticoats for the dresses, feathers for her hair, hair oil, hair gel, shampoo, conditioner, make up, perfume, lotion, fine soaps, a few necklaces, two sets of boxer shorts for sleeping, two extra large shirts stolen from her brother for sleeping, three indecent nightgowns (sure...nightgown...sure...). When traveling with Beau – whatever she can shove in one saddlebag...which makes her sad. 

Weapons: A very large stick – gotten from a cactus in Texas. 

Miscellaneous supplies: What is this...Miscellaneous Supplies...it’s all necessary supplies, Beau. All of it. Everybody needs more than 2 pairs of holey boxers, Beau. For the love of God, get new underwear. 

Random odds and ends: See Miscellaneous Supplies also two bobble head dolls, one shell from California, an empty tequila bottle – just in case 

Sparrow 

Clothing, accessories, etc: Before Canary: One pair of pants held up by a rope and cut short enough for her, a thin old pair of panties, too-big shirt also wrapped with a rope, scarf and hat, leggings cut short and held up by a rope, old dress, two socks only slightly tattered, old sneakers. Old backpack. After Canary: one Sparrow-sized Lancer leather jacket with the BOS patches ripped off and replaced with random patches found plus one Minuteman Patch, one Sparrow-sized Lancer flight suit denuded of BOS patches and now sporting random ones, a dark gray fitted pants and shirt topped with leather (sized for her), gas mask with goggles, tactical beanie. Eventually a Sparrow-sized set of courser gear with long coat, mask with blue tactical lighting. Tactical belt. Backpack. 

Weapons: two blackened knives – sharp and designed for slicing and stabbing. Sparrow thinks guns are icky. 

Miscellaneous supplies: Pocket snacks (dried meat, dried fruit, nuts – usually packed by her papa), a second set of knives, rope, pouch of caps, little compass, stealth boys 

Random odds and ends: chalk, bits of bark, a few random rocks, a pouch of dried herbs, tea, every BOS patch pulled from her armor, a piece of paper with the words “chirp chirp,” three leaves (they blew into her bag), her old backpack shoved into her new backpack 

[jadeastroprisma]

Cycle 2 | Sector 7, Medusa Station

I undid my straps when I saw the habitation rings rotating around the station.

A beam scanned my ship as I approached. Before I could even react, a landing clearance code was issued by a robotic voice over comms. The sequence identified the station as Medusa Sector. It even patched me through to hangar maintenance to schedule repairs.

I asked Hangar Maintenance if they thought any Medusa Agents would want to look over Everest; seemed like someone should look into why this guy went rampant.

"No, and we're limited on our waste facilities. Just space him before you get too close. I don’t want to deal with a fried cyborg."

Alright Everest, into the airlock. I ripped off the name tag from his flight suit before I sealed the door. One day you're a spacefarer crossing the system, the next day you're a rampaging cyborg trying to crush a ship that just came out of jump, and after that you get unceremoniously flushed out of an airlock.

-----

The Tradehub was busy here, and of course I got stuck behind the guy who wanted to haggle with the Weapons Broker. It was no wonder why the broker introduced themselves as Ink; covered with tattoos of plants and animals from some sylvanian planet I've never heard of; Orcus. They were cute though, maybe I'd take the extra time to try haggling too.

I wanted to sell off the counter guard I found on Everest. Ink wanted to trade me for a carbon dagger to defend myself with, commenting that it looked like I could use one. I tried to explain that in my hands, hacks are deadlier than any weapon. I don’t know if they believed me but they did give me directions to the wiredoc while the serum transfer was pending.

I quickly spent the serum I'd just gotten on some extra replacement parts for my ship. I figure if I take care of my ship, my ship will take care of me. Damn, I need a name for that old smuggler rig, every other ship out here has a cool name.

-----

The wiredoc was a young guy named Lirio. I totally unloaded about being attacked straight out of jump and then having someone teleport onto my ship, trying to kill me. He listened as he rebandaged some of my cuts and scanned for any internal damage. He even seemed to care about what I was letting out.

"Do you meditate, Jade? You should try it. We all ended up in this galactic dark age because the humans before us expanded too far, too fast, and lost their balance among the stars. They eventually tore themselves apart just trying to survive! The cyborg…"

"Everest"

"Yes, Everest. He lost his balance between man and machine. Not that cybernetics are evil, but the way you described it, I don’t think it was Everest in there trying to kill you. You need to find balance in here, or you're going to get sent spinning across the stars by everything you bump into out there."

He had tapped a gloved finger against my temple as he finished sharing his wisdom.

Maybe Lirio is wise for a young guy, but he also claimed that he was born an old man and gets younger every day.

[summerbummin]

Hawks’ Bird Traits Headcanons

Physical Traits

-The wings ofc

-Actually his wings were originally a light brown when he was a kid but once he hit puberty (or started T if u subscribe to the trans Hawks agenda like I do) then they started turning red, from light brown to copper to scarlet. The reason they changed to a brighter color was bc male birds wings are actually more colorful to attract mates and get sum fuck

-Tail feathers, they act as an airplane’s rudder would and help him with steering and balance, but the hpsc doesn’t like the tail feathers because it disrupts the angelic image they’re trying to sell, so they have Hawks pluck them or hide them in his pants (which is why they’re so baggy)

-Talons on his fingers and toes, he clips them regularly in case he has to take his gloves off so people will just think he’s wearing black nail polish, the hpsc has him hide them because they want him to look angelic, not predatory

-As well as the talons, he also has patches of scales on his feet like an actual birds, (don’t ask him why they’re not on his hands he couldn’t tell you, birds aren’t supposed to have hands in the first place but here he is) he keeps ankle high boots and socks on whenever he’s not alone to hide this

-He has extremely good eyesight, he can see 8-10 times better than the average person, he could see a mouse scurrying on the ground from 100 feet away

-The black markings around his eyes isn’t eyeliner, it acts like eye black on baseball players and helps him see against the glare of the sun

-He three eyelids, which means he can go for an unnervingly long time without blinking

-His third eyelid is a special one and is what’s known as the “nictitating membrane��� its translucent and goes over his whole eyelid and protects it, it allows hawks to keep his eyes open when he’s flying at fast speeds on the occasion he loses his visor, and luckily since he’s so high up people won’t be able to see how milky his eyes have gone, it only really comes out on ground level when he’s either relaxed, half asleep, or wasted

-He has sharp canines/teeth as a way to make up for his lack of a beak so he can easily eat the tougher meats his inner raptor craves, but the HPSC does not like this because it makes him look predatory, so they did dental surgery on them

-High pitched noises drive his bird brain crazy, like metal on metal or nails on chalkboard, and those type of sounds are way worse for him than the average person, he’ll either want to fly away or stop the source of that sound

-He has oil/preen glands on his lower back (like right where back dimples would be) and he can use it to clean his feathers, waterproof them, and keep them in tip top condition! He has designated “preening” time but with how busy he is... a lot of the time he skips it rip

-He molts twice a year, because even though he’s constantly using up feathers doing hero work, he has little baby ones closest to his back which don’t detach and always stay on, he molts those along with the feathers he hasn’t used up and he Hates when he molts because his back gets so fucking itchy, and also because he can’t do hero work when he’s molting

-He has a very fast bird metabolism, which is why he’s always stuffing his face with food, flying takes a lot of energy so he constantly has to “refuel”

-He has hollow bones and despite common misconception, that doesn’t make them lighter, they’re actually hollow so they can hold extra air/oxygen to help with flying which takes up A Lot of breath

-He gets cold easily because the rest of his body isn’t covered in feathers like an actual bird would be, that’s why he wears a fluffy coat and an insulated flight suit under that to trap the heat in, also it gets very chilly high in the sky

-He will actually grow a “winter plumage” during that time of year, and his feathers with get very fluffy and poofy to try and insulate his body. When he’s cold he’ll turn into a little puff ball and people tease him mercilessly for this

Behavioral Traits

-Stress grip, if he gets stressed/highly stimulated, and if something moves within his line of sight, he’ll grab it. But the problem is he physically cannot let go until he’s calmed down. The hpsc tried to train this out of him but when realizing that wouldn’t work, no matter how hard they tried or how hard they pushed Hawks, they instead trained him to grab himself or inanimate objects instead, but absolutely do Not grab people. And Hawks has gotten pretty good about redirecting his raptor grip, but in the few situations when he doesn’t manage to... it’s a Yikes

-He really likes shiny things. When he first met Dabi he had to resist staring at the way his staples glimmered, Dabi thought Hawks was staring at him because he was analyzing him or smth but nope, it was bc bird brain go brrr

-Because of his love for shiny things, Hawks has a “cool rocks” hoard, and if he gives you one of those rocks that means you have unlocked the “hawks will now die for you” level of friendship

-Hawks Loves head pats or having people card their hands through his hair. Birds can’t reach the top of their head so other birds do it for them (allopreening) and it’s considered a social activity and one of acceptance, so Hawks will unconsciously pat or ruffle the hair of people he’s fond of, like Tokoyami for example

-He’s very carnivorous and because of that he will Tear into meat, especially the raw kind, but he never eats raw meat in public because that’s seen as “gross”

-But he can also eat other foods, and some he even has different reactions to, like with peppers. Peppers don’t taste hot or spicy to him because birds don’t have receptors for it, they taste sweet and he loves the way the juices taste. He also finds it amusing when people look at him in horror when he chomps down on a carolina reaper like it’s nothing

-To impress people he’ll do crazy dives. It stems from bird courtship rituals, but Hawks never really had anyone that special to him for most of his life, so he uses it as a trick to wow people instead and it comes in handy for heroism

-Hawks will cock his head to the side when he’s perplexed or thinking especially hard, little head tilts ;-;

-He’ll also bob his head along to music he’s enjoying, his coworkers find this hilarious and they’ll rate music on whether or not it gets Hawks to “bob” and they call it a bob instead of a bop lol

-Perches, he’ll perch on the arm of the sofa instead of sitting on the actual cushions like a normal person and he always likes to have the high ground so he’ll sit on top of tables or counter tops, he’s even gone so far as to perch himself on a lamppost once or twice, like a gargoyle

-Blindfolds calm him down because to his bird brain, being unable to see makes him think he’s safe. Or at least they used to, the hpsc used blindfolds on him when he started training as a kid, and while they might calm him down after a training session, using that technique during one would freak him out because he’s being asked To Do Something when he can’t see and birds rely heavily on their sight to function. They used that “technique” on him so much that now if someone put a blindfold on him he’d panic because of that childhood trauma tm

-He isn’t scared of the dark though, he actually has a habit of sitting in dark rooms for a bit because when he overuses his quirk, he gets migraines bc of that telepathy stuff (I know this isn’t a bird hc but I had to include this)

-He makes bird noises, like coos and chirps when he’s happy, which isn’t a lot (can we get an F in the chat), squawks when he’s startled, and raptor screeches when he’s trying to act scary. The hpsc put him in speech therapy to keep him from making bird noises, and because when he was younger he had trouble speaking and also Trauma from it because his parents treated him like a disturbance, so he’d always try to make as little noise/take up as little space, as possible. Now he’s a great talker, to the point where he won’t shut the fuck up, but when he’s extremely distressed he sometimes can have trouble speaking “actual words”

-Hawks’ feathers often react to his emotions, he can puff up/raise his feathers to make himself look bigger when he feels threatened, or they’ll bristle like pinecones when he’s annoyed, or get all soft and fluffy when he’s around someone he likes/feels safe with

-Because of his adverse reaction to the cold, Hawks loves warm things like heating pads, hot water bottles, Dabi. He loves to sun his wings too and sunbathing is his favorite way to relax (on the rare occasion he has the time to)

-He also really likes blankets, but not just because of the warmth, he has nesting instinct. He will pile a bunch of blankets and pillow and all other kinds of bedding and soft things on top of his bed. Also if there is a certain person he’s missing, articles of their clothing get added to the pile. But this “instinct” only really happens when he’s feeling lonely aka without a home

-Also if he ever had a kid his nesting instinct would go insane trying to make his house/nest “suitable” since that’s the whole purpose of nesting, making a safe place to have babies and raise them

-He is very monogamous because of the whole “raptors mate for life” thing, and because of this he’s very picky and will only actually consider a person as a life partner if he trusts them and loves them unquestionably

-However, the whole “mating for life” thing also means he can be a bit territorial of his partner, wanting to leave marks on the to show that they’re His. Like once someone put a lingering hand on his partner’s arm and he had the unreasonable urge to claw their face off

-But it’s not all bad, as a courting ritual he’ll give gifts (mainly food) to show he is able to provide, which is unfortunate because in my mind, Hawks is a terrible cook. On the plus side, he has lots of cash money that he can spend on expensive restaurants and bakeries

-Basically he’s a bird sugar daddy

Thanks for reading!!

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [One]

Night Changes Series Masterlist

Summary: It may have been years since Poe and the reader have seen one another, but that doesn’t make the emotional upheaval any easier to navigate for either of them.

Warnings: Fuck ton of angst, language, a lot of feelings, mentions of death and loss, grief. WC-5,780 (Jesus buckle up I guess!)

Poe was dreaming.

Nothing particularly special, but it was a dream nonetheless, a break from the usual nightmares that tended to invade his sleeping mind night after night when all he wanted was to succumb to the darkness for a few hours. The dream was more of a memory, a replaying of a night back on Yavin-4 so many years ago before he and Charlie had gone to flight school.

A night like every other, yet the humid evenings on Yavin 4 always did seem to hold a little mystery, like a warm blanket that wrapped one in a false sense of security; he could do anything. And on that evening, he had snuck some of his father’s good whiskey, the stuff from a planet far, far away, and gone to knock on Charlie’s window in the cover of darkness. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, though the whiskey was a new addition.

Charlie had answered immediately, a big grin stretching across his face even before he saw what Poe had brought, the relief in that grin piquing his curiosity-why did he seem grateful that Poe was there? When he climbed through the window, he found you were already there, sat on the floor across the small bedroom with your back against the end of Charlie’s bed, your face wet with tears and he understood your brothers reaction.

Before Poe could ask what was wrong, Charlie noticed the bottle in Poe’s hands and tapped it excitedly, “Just what we needed! How do you do it, brother?” His voice was always so loud, but in the Horn household it wasn’t an issue. Your mother was asleep on the other side of the house and even if she did wake, she wouldn’t come in and begrudge a little teen rebellion. Poe really liked her for that, for trusting them, for never making him feel unwelcome.

“Didn’t realize it would come in so handy. What's going on, sweetheart?” The affectionate nickname had been around for years, so long now that he hardly noticed himself using it. He liked the way it tugged the corners of your lips up, even when you were sad. But he didn’t like that you were sad right now, his concern only growing when you pulled your knees to your chest and dropped your head to them, hiding your face and, no doubt, a fresh wave of tears.

You had always hated crying in front of them, for some reason. Charlie never cried, but Poe had no issues with sobbing outright in front of you both. He didn’t understand why you felt you had to hide it from him.

Without speaking, Charlie and Poe sat down on either side of you, your brother taking the whiskey and opening it, taking a small swig and huffing through the smoky burn.“Kid, you tell him.” He used that extra soft voice reserved only for you, his free hand reaching over to pat your foot on the ground next to him.

Poe had his shoulder pressed against yours. He knew you enjoyed how warm he always was, that you thought of him as your personal furnace, cuddling him even on warm days like this because you seemed to forever run a little chilly, or maybe you were just a touchy person and you were that comfortable with Poe.

After a few moments of quiet sniffling, you finally raised your head, setting your chin on your knees and staring straight ahead. “Gus ended things earlier.” You whispered into the moonlit room, your voice wavering somewhat with emotion, though Poe could sense it was more of embarrassment and disappointment of being dumped than that of actual heartbreak.

Poe felt an odd mixture of both anger and relief sweep through him, the latter of which he resolutely shoved away, into the far reaches of his mind to be stubbornly ignored. “That kriffing asshole! Who does he think he is, dumping our girl?” And truly, what the fuck audacity did that guy have? Did he not have eyes? Did he not spend just five minutes with you and feel like he was sitting in the company of a Sun, so bright and warm as you were?

You gave a watery laugh at his words, and Poe felt warmth pool in his chest; he was always good at making you laugh. He saw Charlie’s shoulders sag somewhat with relief upon hearing you, always so protective and yet he had difficulty reigning in some of your big emotions, often looking to Poe for his help.

“He said it was because I’m a prude. Because I wouldn’t, you know,” You broke off, and Poe glanced down at you to see you bite your lip briefly, eyes still forward, “He said there was no point going on dates if I wouldn’t even give him the chance to, and I quote, ‘appreciate your tits properly, at the least.’”

Poe turned to face you fully now, his eyes meeting Charlies over your head. His friend looked just as annoyed as Poe felt, hearing what that skinny piece of shit had dared to say to you. A silent agreement crossed between them then, Gus would be meeting their fists come morning. For now, though, Poe focused on you, tossing an arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your hair, “He’s a prize fucking idiot, sweetheart, doesn’t know what he’s losing. Right, Charlie?”

“Exactly. Remember kid, no guy is ever going to deserve you because you are perfect. You don’t need to cry over someone who can’t see how lucky he is you even let him breathe the same air as you,” Charlie added his arm to your shoulders, curving under Poe’s, “Flyboy and I will take care of you, always.” He promised, and you nodded before reaching both hands up to grab each of theirs on your shoulders.

“Thank you.”

And Poe stayed the night, each of you taking turns to sip the whiskey until eventually sleep won out and Charlie crashed on his bed. You and Poe curled up on some pillows on the floor together, your head resting on his chest and even though he knew you were sad, which made him sad too, he couldn’t help but feel truly whole in those moments before sleep took over.

It was a good memory, one which he would have been content to remain in until the abrupt and incessant whirring and beeping of his droid woke him, Poe shooting up in his bed with a shout of surprise. “What? Are we being attacked?”

BB8 came to a stop near the edge of his bed, his noises growing quieter now that he’d woken Poe up.

“Buddy, it’s my day off. You better have a good reason for scaring the living hell out of me-“

The droid beeped again, clarifying his reason for interrupting his rest day. Interest piqued, Poe ran a hand over his face before planting his feet on the floor and leaning towards the droid.

“The new replacement is here? Guess that means the General wants me to come and meet them?”

BB8 confirmed, and now his alarming wake-up made more sense. The droid was as excited as Poe to meet his new second in command. He’d just lost his long-time friend, Jess Pava, to a new unit on an outpost for the Resistance. He’d recommended her for it, at her bequest, because he knew she’d be damn good for the role. But it didn’t make the loss any less disruptive; she’d been gone a few weeks now and he’d had to take on extra duties to compensate.

General Organa had profusely apologized to him a few times now, only explaining that the replacement was due back from a classified mission ‘soon’, and once they were they would be coming straight to D’Qar to join his squadron. He didn’t mind the work, but he was a little miffed that the day the new Major arrived was his only day off.

Poe quickly got himself ready for the day, taking a speedy shower in his fresher before pulling on his khaki’s and button up. Once pleased with his appearance, he stepped out of the fresher and walked toward his small desk area, above which he had a corkboard with a few mementos pinned up, including his favourite picture.

You were standing in the middle, sandwiched between him and Charlie, a big, goofy grin on your face. Charlie was laughing in the photo, and Poe was looking down at you with a fond smile. You all wore flight suits, as it was taking when you had first joined Gold Squadron. Charlie had his arm flung over your shoulders while Poe’s was snaked around your waist. You had your arms wrapped around each of their waists, though Poe remembers how your hand had brushed up his back before the picture was taken, fingers unknowingly leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He looked at this photo every morning, tapped it once and then carried on with his day. It was the only time he allowed his conscious mind to think of Charlie, of you, and the life he lost in the blink of an eye.

When the door to his quarters opened, Poe saw a few service droids unloading a couple of crates into the room directly across from his. The room where the new member of his team would live. He could see within the unit as the door was open for the droids to carry items in, a few cases already inside the otherwise bare space.

Being careful to step around the droids and avoid falling over his own, who was wheeling excitedly along next to Poe, he made his way to command, hoping the introductions wouldn’t take too long. He had woken up with a big appetite.

And he really needed his morning caf.

“Ready to meet them, buddy?” He asked of his droid, and BB8 gave a happy little ‘weeee’ as he zoomed along beside Poe. He laughed loudly and BB8 pulled ahead, the doors of the command room opening at their approach.

Poe could see into the room now, activity within quiet enough that General Organa and the new arrival both heard his laughter and turned as he walked into the room. For a few beats, Poe kept walking, his mind not processing what he was seeing because it simply could not be. And then he froze, mid-stride.

It was you.

And from the patch on your uniform, it was now Major Horn.

And just like that, every emotion, every feeling of guilt and self-hatred and heartbreak came roaring to the surface, breaking through the walls he’d so carefully built up around what he’d done when he lost Charlie, when he’d lost you, walls he spent the last few years reinforcing as best he could.

Leia knew of the history, though she didn’t know any details of why neither of you had spoken since that terrible fucking night. She simply knew you’d all grown up together, which was probably why she hadn’t felt the need to warn Poe that it was you coming to take over as his second in command. Maybe she thought you had kept in touch and were expecting her.

Stars, Poe hadn’t seen you in person since the funeral. The night he ruined the best thing he had in his life because he couldn’t deal with his grief and took it all out on you, of all people. Poe thought of Charlie then because your brother and you looked a bit alike, but it was your eyes; you each had the exact same eyes. Though yours were lined with thick, long lashes that would sometimes tickle Poe’s cheeks when you would lean in and press a chaste kiss to them.

It had only been a few years, but so much about you had changed. Gone was the goofy girl with braids falling past her shoulders, her big smile that stretched from ear to ear. No, now Poe was looking at you and you were all grown up, wearing your uniform, hair pulled back into a low bun that was woven with intricate braids, a few wisps framing your face. You had leaned out slightly, though you still had your curves, the ones that had boy after boy falling for you back in the day-no doubt now it was man after man. He found his eyes flicking from your face to your hands, but he saw no ring. Not that he should even be thinking of whether you were single or not.

But somehow, it felt like he should know if you were with someone. Because Charlie would have expected Poe to always keep an eye on you, be there for you. The only person he let down more than Charlie was you. He knew his best friend would murder him if he knew the things Poe had said to you that night. He had never known a greater regret, a regret that he carried with him since the moment he spoke and watched your face contort in pain, as though he’d hit you with a physical blow.

He had wanted to apologize, to take it all back that very moment. He couldn’t believe himself, but you’d pull away to be sick and he was so shocked at how much he’d managed to hurt you that he couldn’t do anything other than listen to you when you ordered him to get away from you.

The irony of that wasn’t lost on him, either.

He’d walked straight to the hangar where his x-wing was parked and took it out, finding a secluded spot a few hours away to camp for two days, just to clear his head. He cried and grieved and then he realized just how badly he’d fucked up and he panicked. He started to plan how he would apologize, what he would do to earn your forgiveness and then tell you how he truly felt. But he failed you, hurt you, and he knew he had a lot of work ahead to repair what he’d broken.

Only, when he came back to base and sought you out, he instead found Jess and Tommy waiting for him by your room, their faces so grim his heart had stopped in his chest, and he’s not sure it ever restarted once he found out you’d left. Without a word or a note, you had just...deserted him.

And he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Nor did finding out that you’d been clever enough to have your new assignment sealed, eliminating any chance he could have had of going after you.

And he would have. He’d have flown across the galaxy to find you.

Instead, Poe was alone and never, ever forgave himself for being the reason you had fled in the first place.

Eventually, Poe grew enough in rank that he was able to access your private files. He only did so now and again, just to check-in and make sure you were still alive and on active duty. The last time he’d checked had been about five months ago, and it had stated you were on a classified mission that even he couldn’t access the details of. But he knew you were alive and doing well enough that you were getting assigned seriously high-class missions. Charlie would have been so proud of you.

It was a few awkward moments before Poe was able to function, quickly shaking off his shock and continuing forward, his eyes tearing away from your too-blank expression to meet the warm gaze of General Organa. “Commander Dameron, I believe you know Major Horn here. Thank you for coming to greet her with me this morning.” Leia smiled between him and you, and Poe had to swallow before returning it, breaking out his usual grin.

When he looked back at you, he found your blank expression had now morphed into one of utter contempt. An insane part of him wanted to laugh, because how could (y/n) Horn, his best friend since he was a boy, the girl who had owned his heart, ever look at him like that?

Instead, Poe forced a friendly smile, nodding to you politely, “Welcome, Major. It’s...it’s good to see you. And congratulations on your promotion. I’m happy to have you join our team.” He stuck his hand out and hoped you would grasp it.

Your eyes, so much more intense than he ever remembered, searched his face for a second before you took his proffered hand and shook, a small smile appearing on your lips.

“It’s an honour to be here, Commander.” You replied, and Poe had to blink, pulling his hand way almost too quickly. Stars, you even sounded more grown-up. Your voice had always been a little breathy, which Poe had always found alluring. But now it had matured, the breathless way you spoke now demure, feminine.  

“I was just telling Major Horn that after you two had met the day was open,” Leia said, seemingly unaware of the tension between her two best pilots, “I know you earned this day off, Commander, so enjoy it!”

Poe couldn’t help but give her a wide grin, “Thank you, General.”  

“Yes, thank you for taking the time to...reunite us, General.” You said, excusing yourself before abruptly walking past Poe and out of command.

He rushed after you, BB8 still at his side, now beeping in confusion at what the hell was going on. Poe ignored the droid, catching up to you just down the hall. “Wait...(y/n)...”

He trailed off, unsure of what he could even say to you, questioning why he’d stopped your departure. You ceased walking and turned to look at Poe, your expression now openly hostile, which he knew he deserved yet it still stung. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he stood before you, a huge part of him wishing you’d start yelling at him. Or hitting him.

Instead, you gazed up at Poe and after a moment your face fell, a storm of emotions rolling across your pretty features. You took a careful, measured step back from him, as if afraid he might try and reach out to you. “I didn’t know I was coming here to be on your team,” You didn’t meet his eyes when you spoke, instead focusing on the droid at his feet, “But this is a big opportunity for me, so we’ll make it work.”

You sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself rather than Poe, but he nodded all the same. “Of course. And you deserve it.”

You scoffed, “Thanks so much, Commander.”

“I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t know what possessed him to say that. It was just that one moment you were biting your lip, and then the next you were giving him a familiar look of incredulity that he remembered receiving more than once growing up and he suddenly needed you to hear that he did miss you. Missed you more than you could ever really know.

Poe saw a flash in your eyes before you spun on your heels and marched away, not looking back. He didn’t try to follow you again. He knew there wasn’t a whole lot he could say, not right now when you were both still reeling from the shock of seeing one another again.

And what could he even say to you? Sorry for taking our friendship and smashing it to pieces at the worst possible time? For never speaking to you again because I was too cowardly to try and find you, especially once I realized how deeply I felt for you? And how could he explain how those feelings seemed to develop over such a long time that he didn’t recognize them for what they truly were until you were gone?

Charlie would have hated what had happened between you both. He would have killed Poe, easily, but he’d had also been disappointed in you. Charlie had protected you both that day because you and Poe were his family, and if he found out that his family never spoke again after the funeral? He’d have been livid.

Guilt and regret now at the forefront of his mind, Poe had lost his appetite. Instead, he found the nearest caf machine before hurrying to the flight deck and climbing in his x-wing eager to get off the ground and clear his head for a few hours.

He spent the rest of the morning thinking about Charlie, his heart tight in his chest.

✨

“I’ve missed you.”

You could hit him, you really could. No one was around, either, you might get away with it. But that would be too easy and not nearly as satisfying as you might hope, you knew.

The audacity of Poe fucking Dameron saying he missed you was so infuriating, you briefly considered violence. But you had grown up with him, knew the way he worked even if it had been a few years. You could hate him and still understand him, which meant that he wanted you to give him a strong reaction that he could confront head-on. Scream and punch and cry and he would instantly work to comfort, to apologize, but it was really just a way to make himself feel better.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

You spun away-not before seeing the pained expression cross his face-and hurried off. You figured if you still had such a decent read on him, the same went for Poe. He’d always been able to read you, your body language, expressions, hell Charlie usually went to Poe for help when he couldn’t figure out how to support you, comfort you.

You needed some time alone, time to process and figure out the best way to make this work.

When you were invited by the General herself to come to D’Qar, to work under her ‘top pilot and most trusted Commander’, you hadn't blinked before saying yes. And you’d known that it would mean, inevitably, seeing Poe again-you knew he still worked here. But you’d had no idea until he walked into command that morning that it was his team you were joining.

When you’d been standing with General Organa in the control room, chatting amicably about the weather, the very last thing you’d expected to hear was his booming, rich laugh. And then the doors had opened, a small droid whizzing in, and his laughter continued as he stepped into the room. You had thought you might pass out, throw up, or start screaming.  

With no idea what he was doing there, you had simply stared at him, watched as he reacted to seeing you. Actively working to keep your expression blank, you stared at your once best friend for the first time in years, going numb inside.

In some ways it had been almost comical; he’d frozen mid-step and gaped at you stupidly for a few beats before coming to his senses and continuing forward. And it was at that moment you had realized he was the superior you were meeting. He was the Commander you’d be working under. When he stood directly in front of you, your mind betrayed you by immediately zoning in on one specific thought.

But stars, he’d aged well.

When he finally was able to collect himself enough to wipe the surprise off of his face, it had settled into that easy smile you remembered so well. The one you tried to never think of because of the pain that would build in your chest, the memories and feelings that you had refused to look back on for a very long time now at risk of bursting through your mental walls if you weren’t careful.

Now, that smile revealed a slight crinkling around his eyes, though he hadn’t changed much beyond that. He was just as broad and lean as you remembered, just as handsome and you thought he might be a little more built up, a new layer of muscle moving under his button-up. Charlie would have loved to tease him over the grey flecks you could barely discern in his raven locks, and you suddenly wondered if your brother would have had any grey hair himself.

Those thoughts were fleeting at that moment before fury and sadness and longing were suddenly overtaking you and it was all you could do to remain composed in front of the General when, for the first time in years, you wanted to crumble to the ground. That fucking grin of his, it was always maddening, always so attractive and disarming.

When you were kids, he’d do it to get away with something and even though your parents knew he’d done it, it would work and he’d barely get a slap on the wrist. As teenagers, the strongest memory you had of that grin was one time when he’d climbed into Charlie’s room late at night and your brother wasn’t there-he’d fallen asleep on the couch-so Poe wandered to your room.

You had just gotten out of the fresher, having taken a quick rinse off to cool down, and hadn’t shut the door. Your bedroom door was closed and it was the middle of the night; you hadn’t expected any company. And then Poe just sauntered in, his eyes on your bed where he doubtless thought he’d find you. You had barely had time to freeze, completely naked and mid-stride as you sought a clean nightgown when he seemed to sense you. His head had jerked in your direction in surprise.

That memory forever burned into your mind. The way his eyes had fallen, then snapped up to your face and instead of seeing amusement or a pervy smirk, Poe had slapped his hands over his eyes, cursed, apologized vehemently in a loud whisper, and then he grinned. That grin, just as powerful even though his eyes were covered. It spread across his face and you couldn’t help but laugh despite your embarrassment, quickly throwing on a nightgown before walking over and punching him in the sides a few times, hissing didn’t he know how to knock?

And though you worried it might affect things between you and your best friend, it never did seem to. For you, it did in some ways because you couldn’t seem to get the look on his face (the one that slipped out just before he could properly react and compose himself) out of your head and you wondered what it meant-if anything. He still stayed the night, climbing into your bed, his arms casually behind his head as he laid next to you and told you about his day while never once teasing you.

At one point, when sleep was close, eyes drooping and your cheek resting against his arm, Poe’s soft voice had pulled you from unconsciousness. Barely a whisper, he said, “I really am sorry I came in without knocking, sweetheart. Please forgive me.”

And he’d sounded so concerned, so genuinely stressed that you would be mad at him, you had snuggled closer into his side and murmured your reassurances until eventually, you fell asleep.

Today, however, it was only memories of what that smile used to mean to you and anger for what it was now. That he got to keep that easy fucking grin all these years, it only pissed you off. The logical part of you knew he had been just as surprised to see you and was no doubt struggling himself now, but you didn’t have room to care.

He had been the one to break you, to take your friendship and pulverize it by saying the worst possible things to you.

He had broken you.

That fight hadn’t just been the loss of what you had thought was the greatest friendship in the galaxy. It had been the final moment that took your life from carefree and fun to what it was now, what it had been since. Joyless, lacking, lonely-so fucking lonely.

That had been the night you had to grow up, realizing that not only was Charlie gone, but the life you’d had was too. Gone were the days of adventure, of going on test flights and racing one another, of Poe getting you drinks at the cantina and Charlie sitting with his arm slung casually over your shoulders, until any of you spotted someone who caught your interest. Someone who would only be around for the night but would bring a little pleasure and escape. Charlie was more often the one to go home with such a person, happy to play the field and often making new friends you’d see again, even though he never exclusively dated them.

And the little flare of excitement you’d get each time it was just you and Poe? That had been carefree too because whatever it meant didn’t need to be examined, it just was. Casual touches that lingered and sent heat up your spine, easy and flowing conversation, long hugs even when you’d see each other the next day. All of that had been such a prominent fixture in your life, the slow escalation between you and Poe was something that, to this day, you never tried to understand.

But then Charlie died; everything changed, and you left and never looked back. All the while, Poe Dameron kept grinning like that. Fuck, fuck!

You almost walked straight past your new room, so lost in your thoughts and memories, but thankfully a passing droid greeting you politely pulled to the moment, and you only had to retrace a few steps back. Immense relief washed over you the moment you saw that all of your items had been delivered and unpacked, only a box of mementos and photos left on your desk for you to find new homes for.

Even the bed had been made already. And as much as you wanted to just climb under the covers and shut the world away, you instead set yourself to the task of putting the final touches on your space.

The room was silent save for your occasional gasps and hiccups as you let your emotions run free in the privacy. You proudly displayed the plaque you had been given from the Resistance following Charlie’s funeral; a handsome photo of him in uniform set in the middle, his name inscribed along with his rank, years of life and final resting place on Yavin-4. His flight suit patch was attached to the plaque above the photo, the final touch to a beautiful little tribute to Charlie that you could take with you wherever in the galaxy you went.

The final item you pulled out was a small protective album for photos you displayed in your room. You pulled out the photos, ones of you and Charlie as kids, of your parents, of the whole family plus Poe during one hilariously disastrous little vacation that resulted in all of you returning home and ignoring one another for three days, even Poe. A few from your teen years, early and late, Poe and Charlie usually taking up the most space in the photos between their sizes and huge smiles, and the final photo you had was your absolute favourite.

Smushed between Charlie and Poe, you had a smile on your face that hadn’t been seen in years. It was silly, girlish and youthful and not the person you were anymore. You were looking at the camera, Charlie with his big arm over the top of your shoulders, laughing as he looked toward the camera as well. Poe was looking at you. Giving you a warm smile that you always suspected he only shared with you, one that melted his eyes to pools of warm honey and made your insides wriggle. You remember how his hand burned where he gripped your waist, and you had instinctively traced your hand up his spine in the moment, though you never understood why.  

That photo both broke your heart and made you smile every time you looked at it. The last photo of the three of you together, the three of you happy. A photo that not only showed your love for one another but also hinted at that feeling you never did examine. A photo that revealed that feeling might not have been one-sided, not at all.

When you finished your tidying, you took a seat at your desk and used your data pad to pull up your schedule, curious what the days ahead would look like. Right away you could see no missions in the queue, though that could change in an instant. And as eager as you were to get flying, you knew it would probably be best to spend the next couple of days trying to establish yourself on base, meet the rest of your team, and figure out how you were going to keep a cool head spending so much time working with Poe.

With a heavy sigh, you glanced at the clock and decided a late lunch was in order, hopeful that the weird hour would leave the caf quiet. Although you knew you’d be recognized you did hope to push that off for as long as possible.  

You needed to swallow back your feelings and face the fact that you weren’t just working directly for General Leia. You were back on D’Qar; a planet that Charlie had spent enough time on, even before you joined Gold Squadron, to make lasting friendships and leave an incredible reputation behind after he’d died. You hadn’t been back since the funeral, so it was inevitable that others would be bringing him up, asking after you, where you had disappeared to, why you’d left without saying goodbye to pretty much everyone.

You needed to suck it up because you had a job to do and your work for the Resistance was the only thing anymore that made your life worthwhile. No family, no close friends, no partners, just fighting the fight and being the best damn pilot you could be.

You wondered if Charlie would be proud of you. Of how far you’d come, of the fact that you were now the same rank as he had been before his death. But after seeing Poe today you knew that wouldn’t have entirely been the case, not with how things all ended up.

So, you reasoned with yourself, that meant that you had to work extra hard here on D’Qar to push aside the history between you and your Commander. And actually, indifference and coldness were probably going to be your best assets going forward.

At least you had a game plan.

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