#we will deploy the big guns

[thelyctorcompetitions]

Harrow is so loved 😭😭 Baby we are gonna Get You that nap

[lubrumalis]

konig headcanons! (realistic)

tw: nsfw

all of these are realistic hc! dont expect a normal konig

hes NOT a shy awkward pushover, just because he has social anxiety??? we can see through his voice lines hes a very cocky person and speaks rather agressively

“lets be honest, its better off in my hands.”

i hc that just because konig has social anxiety, he doesn’t express this through bring soft and shy, he expresses it through his bluntness

konig wanted to be a sniper but did not because he couldn’t stand still, has social anxiety, i hc he has some form of adhd

his very cocky and blunt shouting isn’t because hes mean, but he just doesnt wanna be seen as that bullied kid he once was

hes doesnt have horrible EQ, but the kind of guy to be incredibly unfiltered

also, this guy was literally assigned as a human battering ram, you think hes all soft and sweet???😅😅😅

no he won’t get angry or cry if his mask is taken off. just annoyed.

its not actually canon that konig is a colonel (correct me if im wrong, i couldnt find anything on the official wiki) but lets assume hes one anyway

even if he isnt, gets paid well. really well.

private military companies that deploy soldiers in areas of active conflict can pay up to hundreds of thousands for one soldier

considering konigs age (late 30s at least) and skills, probably 400-500k a year.

chose to join the military because he had an obsession with tanks and guns as a kid

a lot of hc’s say hes 6’10. i disagree, simply based off of chances and the fact thats wayyyy too tall for the military

but he was described as a mountain, so id say his height is around 6’5-6’8

very very intimidating. hes tall big and has the mask of an executioner in the 15th century. who wouldn’t be scared?

definitely will say some random german word in a situation where no one else there knows german. he doesn’t give a damn lol

hates americans (thinks theyre all obese, mannerless, and bad at geography)

brings up the most random topics. again i really think konig has adhd.

konig was not good at school and hated it, mainly due to the anxiety and how he couldn’t pay attention

also why he chose the path of a soldier

drinks lots of beer, high alcohol tolerance, this guys a true european.

loves austrian or german food. loves schnitzel and pies.

konigs breakfast is literally sausages, toast, eggs, and sometimes beer

BIG APPETITE. he could eat for 3 people.

a little insecure about his appearance, not confident in his looks :( also why he hid his face

but as he grew older he uses the mask for actual purposes of concealing his identity, he is a special ops soldier after all

kind of a cheapskate. he chose to hide his face with what, polyester? chose a piece of cloth over everything else.

has very conservative beliefs. not to the point where he hates abortion and votes far right, konig is just a little confused about some things certain liberals believe in

pretty political person lmao

not enough info to conclude whether or not konig was abused as a kid tbh

he was definitely miserable for a period in his life. hes in the military living a monotone life, barely any contact with others, and constantly living in fear he’d die

i dont think hes as traumatized as ghost tho🙂🙂

konig appreciates his dna and how it makes him big and tall, but sometimes gets incredibly annoyed at it

mainly because well, he got bullied for itas a kid

because he specializes in hostage rescue a lot of hostages (especially kids) are scared of him and refuse to leave the area with him

takes a lot of convincing 🥲🥲

has a lot of intrusive thoughts

cannot use social media properly

also texts like an old grandpa. uses 😂 and 🤣 unironically.

“Can we have burgers 🍔 tonight🌃?”

probably uses a blackberry or reallyyyyy old iphone

relationship hcs:

konigs voice actor (jim boeven) stated in a livestream that konigs wife would ideally be a mix between maria pedraza (actress) and rachael from blade runner (character from movie).

both are 170cm ish and brunettes

i can actually see that—konig is massive and he probably prefers someone on the tall side

first thing you did that led to your relationship with him? you tolerated him that is. listened to him ranting😃

i can see him with a civilian or someone whos in the military tbh

finds you pretty at first

enjoys bickering, he needs someone to simulate his mind

you know those stories where his s/o is 5’2, clingy, soft af, and neeeeeeeds konig? haha you won’t be getting that from me.

unlike ghost, who really takes his time to get to know someone and opens up slowly, scared to have his trust broken again

konig charges in like the human battering ram he is😁

if he has a feeling you’re trustworthy you are trustworthy.

horrible at flirting. he doesn’t know how to talk to women smoothly

needs someone equally as weird and funny

s/o needs to be someone with very firm boundaries and can stand their ground, i think konigs a really stubborn person, so for a healthy relationship to work, s/o can’t be the generic bimbo

konig wears the pants in the relationship

doesn’t let you pay. he has a enough money and believes men should always pay

(im sorry to break your delusions) konig does not strike to me as someone who likes a docile homebody. thats ghost (if you remove the word docile).

he doesn’t like extremely dominant partners either

imagine someone who is a listener, accepting yet blunt, shares his quirks, and has a very elegant feel to them

also someone very independent

also gonna get killed for this but konig would realistically not go for a girl in her early twenties. he prefers elegance and sophistication over being cute and jumpy

hates one night stands.

values relationships more than you think. he can come off as strong at first, but hes trying his best

ecstatic when you tell him you wanna learn german (hes not a good teacher)

doesn’t like play fighting, he thinks he’s gonna accidentally hurt you

admires you a lot. he knows hes not the best looking person and doesn’t understand the makeup skincare dress up thing.

isn’t paranoid, but definitely doesn’t say he has an s/o

if you ever get mad at him, konig will tighten all jars in the kitchen so you have to ask him for help :)

extremely unfiltered. he hates your cooking? he will say it. that dress looks better than the other? he will say it.

[bornofsteelblood]

Revelation: König/Kidnapped!reader

“We didn’t know she was yours!” your abductor wailed, belly writhing on the ground. König's eyes flashed with a sickening delight upon hearing those words. Yes, you were his and he was going to end this nightmare for the both of you.

Warnings: Heavy mentions of blood and gore, mentions of gunfire/weapons, mentions of knives, hostage situations, violence, angst, grief, descriptions of death, Reader insert, Protective!Konig. Big man is going through it.

Four months. You had been taken from him four months ago. Your current coordinates unknown to König. Endless nights of turmoil and guilt kept him up. He should have protected you better. He should have known this was a possibility. This was entirely his fault.   

Three weeks. A video of you trembling, beaten and bloodied, had been anonymously sent to König three weeks ago. The Kortac base comm center was decommissioned for over a month due to the havoc wreaked upon it by his blinding rage. Computer screens were smashed into an unrecognizable heap of wires. Chairs and tables were ripped apart as if made of paper. A Glock knife had been stabbed repeatedly through the large monitor that hung on the wall; the same monitor that had showcased your distress.   

Two days. The Colonel only needed two days to devise a plan to rescue you. While König was an expert at hostage negotiation, he had no intention to negotiate your release. For the first time since your disappearance, clarity had washed over him in a cold sweep as he recounted his strategy. The answer was simple and barbaric. He’d enter as the hooded executioner. Death and destruction brought upon your captors to splatter blood through their encampment. He’d hang them by their lower intestines from the rafters to admonish an event like this from happening again.       

One hour. The helicopter was going to touch down in one hour. One hour until you were safe in his embrace. The few operators König had allowed to accompany him shuffled past to stock themselves with as much ammo as possible. He had taken down entire teams of terrorist on his own, he didn't need their help. They weren’t his comrades anymore; they were witnesses. Spectators to a situation that felt like a never-ending nightmare that involved putting you in harm's way. A harrowing fact that depleted his sanity the longer you were gone.    

The parachute deployed swiftly to carry him down to where he believed you were being kept, like a large omen of death sweeping down from the sky. König landed with a heavy thud as he barked orders to the others. “No one leaves alive until I find her.” Nodding their compliance, the operators began a cacophony of gunfire that engulfed the small encampment. König drew his rifle from its holster on his back, his finger itching to pull the trigger. He wanted to be in the middle of the action instead of sniping from hundreds of meters away. Bearing witness to the carnage he was going to inflict on the men who had stolen you.    

Rounding an abandoned truck, König crouched to assess the situation. His eyes flicked between his men and the target; a small hideaway that would go unnoticed by most. Bounding up to the door, König had no trouble forcing his way inside. Blinded by rage and vindication, he mowed down anyone who stood in his way of securing your freedom. High from the violence he could effortlessly commit, his malicious laughter rang out triumphantly as the butt of his gun shattered an unknown masked man's nose. He was hoping that you would recognize it and know that he was here to save you.      

A single figure stood out amongst the sea of corpses, a familiar face. König recognized him to be the man who had dug the sharp blade of his knife across your cheek and forehead from your hostage video. “Wait..p-please! I’ll show you where she’s-” The camo-clad, smaller man begged for his life but was cut off by a vice grip on his throat. A single hand raised his feet from the floor to be at eye level with the terrifying masked man. The Colonel couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of this lesser being struggling for his life, feet kicking frantically against shin guards. His voice dropped to a dangerous growl “Beg for your life like you made her.”      

Loosening his grip, your captor fell to the ground with a sickening snap of bone. “We didn’t know she was yours!” he wailed, belly writhing on the ground. König's eyes flashed with a sickening delight upon hearing those words. Yes, you were his and he was going to end this nightmare for the both of you. Raising the rifle, he fired two rounds into the man's left thigh to prevent him from getting up. “Stell dich deinem Tod, Abschaum.” 

With a heavy kick to the shoulder, König planted his entire weight on the front of his clavicle to pin him to the ground. Your captor howled like a rabid dog and König was going to put him down like one. He aimed between the eyes and fired, a spray of blood showered against his mask. 

Profuse apologies and reassurances loudly tumbled from the Colonels’ lips, hoping you could hear him and would answer back. His shoulder battered against the door that divided the two of you. It was too silent on your end. König swallowed his panic down and swung his leg back to kick squarely above the doorknob. The wood splintered and burst open under the force. “Stay with me, ja? You’ll be alright!” His blood ran cold as he kneeled over you, realizing you weren’t moving.  

Your neck was twisted at a horrid angle and blood that had flowed from your mouth lay dry. Death had found you first. They mutilated your beauty into something unrecognizable. He couldn’t bring you out looking like that, it wasn’t right. It would draw sympathy that König couldn’t handle; their looks of empathy would break him. It would confirm that his worst fear, his endless nightmare, was now a bleak reality.       

Had you spent your last moments in agony at the thought of your lover never rescuing you? König couldn’t breathe. His throat constricted so tightly he hoped the revelation of your death would stop his heart. Did you believe that he wasn’t coming to rescue you? You died thinking you weren’t loved.

König draped his mask softly over your face, a death shroud of his own making. He couldn’t bear to look at the destruction inflicted upon you. You’re body lay limp and cold in his arms while his boots trudged through the crimson-stained dirt. The other operators quickly shifted their eyes downward. It felt intrusive to gaze upon the sulking, lumbering god as he marched past. His eyes were distant and glazed over to match his expressionless face. Your body cradled against his chest. The helicopter ride back home was silent and bleak as König refused to put you down. 

It became a whispered myth among privates, what the face of the dreadful Austrian resembled. No one from that day dared to recall what he looked like and he had outgrown any ridicule he felt towards his body. He could take the shame of a failed mission but not the emptiness it had brought with it.     

After you were laid to rest, König decommissioned his infamous t-shirt mask. He now brought far superior helmets and masks into the field. That particular mask was a relic and the final object that you two had shared. It meant everything to him. He would hold it between his hands and rest his cheek against it to seek comfort during those guilt-ridden nights. Those nights when he swore his ribs were being crushed from the ache in his chest. Those nights filled with guttural sobs that hadn’t wracked his body since he was ostracized in grade school. While the mask was no longer implemented, he used it to gently wipe the sorrow off of his life.

 

Translation: Face your death, scum. - > Stell dich deinem Tod, Abschaum.

[warnersister]

Show Me The Way Home, Honey

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Simpson!Reader

Summary: The men at top gun love a bit of sweetness, turn out a bit of helicopter honey was just the right amount.

Warnings: mentions of injury, head injury, parental death, angst, allusions to smut, fluff, parental fighting, plane crashes, it's a happy story i promise.

Flashbacks In Italics -> not my gif

All the aviators were gathering by the pool table, each wondering why their peers from years before surrounded them at the Hard Deck. Hangman had just taken a shot against Coyote before standing up, having recognised a familiar head of hair.

“Well if it ain’t Honey!” You stood at the bar, chatting with Penny while sipping on your second beer. You were famous at top gun, being Beau Simpson’s daughter after all. You were training at top gun around the same time as the rest of the pilots in the room, however flying the Air Ambulance and mountain rescue helicopters.

You turned around to the unforgettable voice, the face you were expecting stood before you, smirk adorning his tanned lips. “Hangman, you got old.” A few laughed at your remark but he just chuckled, pulling you into a hug as you embraced him tightly. “Didn’t expect to see you here, darlin’.” He hummed. “Could same the same for you, Jake.”

Your fame here in California wasn’t necessarily due to your father’s rankings, but the name you had made for yourself. It was your own decision to join the Navy, despite your fathers wishes to keep your feet safely planted on terrafirma - away from the dangers of the sky. But after almost a decade of your adamance and training, you were off, deployed on battleships or costal air bases - send to retrieve wounded or stranded fighter pilots when their missions had been unsuccessful.

God it must’ve been a decade since you’ve seen everyone, but these naval aviators couldn’t forget a face that easily - at least not yours.

You were 24, fresh from your required nursing training and now ready to earn your wings. You were accompanied by your father on your first day, getting a prologued lecture that you had yet to start paying attention too. “And watch out for those fast jet pilots. Don’t take no shit off of ‘em.” You raised a brow. “Why what’s wrong with fighter pilots?” You queries, your walk nearing to a close. “Long story short, the think with their dicks.” You scrunched your nose. “Jesus, dad couldn’t you have phrased that better?” He just shrugged and turned your shoulders to face him properly. “But I’m serious, if they try anything come tell me.” You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “Have a great day sweetie, I love you.” He kissed your forehead and gave you a big hug. “I’m starting pilot training, not kindergarten - I’ve been through two years of naval training and six of nursing.” You laughed, just still reciprocated. “I know, but your still my little girl, the only person I got.” Your mum died a while back, it still stung but you both knew you could always rely on the other. “I know, Cyclone.”

You started walking towards the hangar, but heard behind you “it’s admiral to you, lieutenant.” You shook your head, and headed for your first day - the first step into the rest of your life.

The hangar was decorated accordingly, at least ten sparkling and fresh F-18s sat, just waiting for their aviator to fly it. You continued walking, silently passing an ongoing lesson as you spotted your own adjacent to the helipad.

The clicking of boots was loud against the floor, echoing off of the metal of the hangar - the curious minds of the navy’s best fighters looking behind them to find the cause of the sound and god, they weren’t disappointed. There you walked, a stern look on your face, hair trailing gently as a slight breeze blew through the build, aviator glasses sitting atop of your head, and eyes glittering with adoration as you examined the aircraft.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was one of those watching you, a low whistle exerted his lips. “What have we here?” As he said that, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw lowered his glasses to get a better look than he was already getting. “Now she is mighty fine.” Hangman continued, but Rooster couldn’t say anything, the only thing leaving his mouth was a trail of drool - he wasn’t alone, quite a few of the trainees now distracted, rather than listening to their instructor.

There were three of you training to fly the copter. A girl called Darla and a boy named Simon were both in your shoes. Your first day you were taken for a ride by your own teacher, Hurricane.

You had heard a few of the students mention a nearby bar that was overly friendly to the top gun pilots, so you assumed it wouldn’t hurt giving it a once over that evening. “Penny?” You asked, and the bar hostess turned around at the sound of her name, eyes lighting up when she spotted you. “Oh my god I haven’t seen you since-” She trailed off when she ran over to hug you. “My mum passed, yeah… been off training I’m officially an aviator now.” She raised her brows. “Beau Simpson allowed his daughter to join the navy?” “Not really, but not got much’ve of a say in it now!” You laughed. “Make sure those fast jet pilots keep it in her pants.” She raised her brows. “Damn are they really that bad? Thought my dad was just being dramatic.”

Penny swung back around the busting bar and asked what she could get you. “Just a beer, please.” “Coming up, sweetie!”

You took your drink and headed to the juke box, opting for ‘you've lost that loving feeling’ by The Righteous Brothers. You always loved that song, your dad playing it you when he spoke about when he himself was a top gun graduate. “You lost that lovin’ feeling, sugar?” You heard from beside you. There stood a tanned man, broad shoulders and toned arms that he was definitely flexing, a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of aviators to accompany the moon beyond the windows. “Ain’t lost it just yet.” You replied, taking a drink from your glass. “Names Bradshaw, call sign Rooster.” He offered his hand. “Simpson, call sign Honey.” You took it but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. “Mhm, sweet light honey, I get the name.” You laughed at the man. “Good to meet you, Bradshaw.” “Whatcha flying?” He asked. “How’d you know I’m flying?” “Saw ya in the hangar.” “Stalking me now?” “Always been drawn to the gorgeous ones.”

You eyed him, before replying. “Helicopters. I’m a nurse, you?” “F-18s, honey.” These were the ones you were warned about, the fighter pilots. But still, you were your fathers daughter - never one for really listening to instructions. “Using my call sign now? Could've at least bought me a drink first.” “Ain’t a call sign more like an observation. PENNY! ANOTHER FOR THIS MIGHTY FINE GAL, PLEASE!”

“How ya been?” He leant his arm against the bar, trapping you slightly. “I’m good hangman, I’m very good, you?” He chuckled and hummed in agreement.

you had been a member of top gun for a few weeks now, and you were enduring a PT session, courtesy of Hurricane. "Up, down." Push ups were gruelling after a full day of strength training, you'd been training so long even some of the fighters were calling it a day. through your peripheral you noticed someone perch beside you and you could only guess who it was when they started doing push ups at double the rate that you were going. "Give it up, Hangman." you huffed, pushing yourself down again. "Come on honey, double time!" and he nudged his hip against your own, sending you off balance. "JAKE! FOR GODS SAKE!" you groaned, keeling over and hitting him.

"Stay away from my pilots, jet boy." Hurricane grunted. "You're dismissed Honey, great work today." "Thank you, captain." Hangman offered his hand once you had gotten your breath back and you took it, heaving you up. he pulled you so close that your chest smashed against his. "Woah if you wanted to kiss you, just had to say darlin' after all, you're looking mighty fine." You rolled your eyes and pushed him off - "In your dreams, Seresin." "You're certainly in my dreams." He slung an arm around your shoulder and winked at you, escorting you to the showers before he had to leave you.

"You finally shake off the leach?" A woman also in the showers asked, a sarcastic smile on her lips. "Only thing stopping him was the female sign on the door." You replied and both shared a laugh, "Phoenix, you must be the famous Honey." "That's my name," You grinned. "You gonna be down at the Hard Deck tonight?" You thought for a moment. "Sure, see you there."

"Well how-howdy little, lil lady!" A voice exclaimed from behind you and you spun around at the voice. A little boy wearing a small pair of western boots, belt wrapped around his waist about three times to hold up the flared jeans he was wearing, vest and a pink Hawaiian shirt hanging open. He tipped his cattleman hat, and lowered his aviator glasses that were about a hundred sizes too big for him, almost falling off of his nose when he moved to rest his hands sassily on his hips. You knelt in front of the boy and gasped, raising your hand and fluttering your eyelashes as you feigned flattery. "Well hello handsome, don't you look nice?" He dropped his facade and giggled, stomping his little feet. you grabbed the boy as you stood up and sat him on the bar, keeping your hands on his waist so he didn't fall.

Hangman cleared his throat. "Who's this?"

you were stood at the pool table playing against Coyote while he was actively trying to flirt with you, just humming when he was bragging about some trip himself and hangman had managed to pull off on their flight today, before you were saved by Phoenix brining you a drink over. 'Life saver' you had mouthed to her, and she just nodded with a wink, pulling you away when you had won the game, Coyote much too busy trying to swoon you to realise the eight ball had already been played. "Hey, darlin'!" You turned to see Rooster, smirk adorning his face as he approached you. "Hey Brad," he began to engage in conversation before everyone's attention was drawn to where Penny's voice directed. "Beau, didn't think I'd see you anytime soon!" He laughed and hugged her, "Still human Pen, just getting better pay." All top gun members throats went dry, their relaxed evening seemingly turning into a drill session within seconds. he looked at the group and waved you over with a smile, everyone's jaws hanging open when he pecked your forehead and started up talk. "Hey dad!"

"Holy shit." Payback groaned. "Simpson, of course." Bradley said. "Well, you know what they say - get the father to like ya, get the daughter." Hangman said as he began approaching the two of you. "No one fucking says that, Bagman." Phoenix remarked, but he was away before he could be stopped.

"Admiral!" Hangman laid a hand on your shoulder and grinned at his superior, your fathers eyebrows shooting up as he looked between the two of you. you did a small eyeroll before shrugging the hand off of your shoulder and looked on, amused as he tried to sweettalk your dad.

you were soon distracted, though by a sweet tune emitting from the bar's ancient piano. you looked to see Bradley playing the starting chords to an infamous Jerry Lee Lewis song and you ran along to join him, pushing across the bench with your hip to simultaneously sing.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

"What'd I tell you about fighter pilots? They're bad news." Your father grumbled under his breath as he drove you back to your temporary home. "They mean well." you hummed, but turned your head against the head rest to look at him. "I'm also not stupid- humouring Hangman is just funny." There was silence for a moment. "What about Rooster?" "What about him?" "I've seen those eyes he looks at you with." "What eyes, dad?" You scoffed with a laugh. "You know, those ones." You turned back to face the darkened road. "They're the only eyes he's got."

Before you could respond to Hangman, the boy groaned loudly. "Mama, I'm thirsty!" He thumped his boot against the bar slightly with a pout at those quivering lips. "Hey, what'd I tell you about stomping?" You hummed, tone gettng sterner. "Don't stomp the foot unless i want a boot in the but." He giggled at the final word. You smiled at him, glad he listened to you at his little tantrums. "You're just like your daddy." You rolled your eyes. "Now what can i get my little cowboy to drink?" "Orange juice please, mama!"

"Mama?!"

After thirty weeks of aggressive training, you had finally been out on several 'dummy' rescue missions. "So today, pilots we'll be focusing on-" The siren which had laid dormant since you arrived at top gun started bleating loudly with an iterative red beacon, accompanied by a female voice overing the neighbouring intercom. "Requested: lieutenant Simpson, Honey, lieutenant Pierce, bear, lieutenant Shirley, Temple, two F-18 fighter jets down at Toro Canyon Park, immediate medical backup required." The Captain looked at you guys. "Show time pilots, show me what you've got." And before you knew it, you were in the air and navigating your way towards the billowing smoke. You landed just off of the treeline, and managed to find the wreckages rather quickly - but it wasn't the planes you were concerned about, it was the pilots.

Two parachutes 100 feet away from one another, seemig like a collision below the allowed guidelines, you were guessing a mock dog-fight, "I've got this one." You ran towards one of the victims and your peers headed to the other, each carrying your medical bag.

you peeled to parachute away from them, and gasped when you saw a knocked out Rooster laying motionless on the grass. "Bradley!" You shook his shoulders, seeing no signs of response so moving him into the recovery position. After checking there was no obvious nor outstanding damage to his head, you removed his helmet to see a nasty gash bleeding right above where his helmet had cracked. "Brad," You kept talking, attempting to make him conscious. "Stay with me, Bradley." you began to apply pressure to where the bleed was, making a make-shift bandage covering the top of his skull until you could get him back to base.

"Hey Honey" you heard his voice rasp as he attempted to raise to his elbows but you pushed him back down. "Hi Roo, just gotta stay there for me, got a nasty gash on your head here." You explained, resting his head against the ground. "You're fuckin' gorgeous." He giggle, looking at your eyes with a dreamily-dazed expression. "Okay, Brad seems like a concussion." "No, no, you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen, wanna marry ya." He continued to blurt out. you tried to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in your gut, just shaking your head. "You don't know what you're sayin' Brad, just gotta stay still for me." You secured a neck brace. "No i know what i'm saying, i wanna take you out and propose and fuck ya so hard that you scream, then ill make love to ya so we have our own little Bradshaw-" He continued to mumble. you breath faltered and your heart skipped a beat at the thought. "There you go, Bradley. Ready to get you home." You secured him as Temple came over to help you, heaving up the other end of the stretched, and moving back to the helicopter, Bradley shutting his eyes in the meantime.

"Who was the other?" You asked. "Hangman" she replied with a scoff mixed with a laugh as you joined her. "Shocker. He injered too?" You asked and she shook her head no. "Was sat up awake when we got to him, damaged ego but nothing else - still taking him to medical to get a once over though." You nodded in response, giving the thumbs up Bear when Rooster was secured. Hangman took a sip of his complementary water, "Hey, Honey" You nodded. "Hangman" "What's up with Bradshaw?" "Concussion, head trauma, need to get back to medical to confirm anything else." he leant forward and placed a hand on the centre of your back and surveyed Rooster. "Back off, Hangman." He raised his hands with a chuckle, before moving backwards and allowing you to work.

You'd worked some overtime that day to wait with Bradley and make sure he could get discharged that evening so that's why you were sat beside him, having just replaced his glucose drip feeding into his arm. The clocked ticked over to eight but you didn't mind, you were move than happy to watch the sunset outside of the window in silence, especially beside Bradley - even if he's knocked out cold.

A sudden cough withdrew you from your thoughts as Rooster's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, sweetheart." "Don't you dare sit up." You warned with a glare, noticing the way his arms shifted below him and he relaxed again with a small smile. "Now this is a view I could wake up to everyday." He said. "Yeah, the sunset's beautiful-" "No, I mean you, I could wake up to you everyday." He spoke softly and cut you off, looking at you with a gentle stare.

"How are you feeling?" You ignored his statement. "I'm okay, seriously, just a bit tired." You smiled. "I stitched up your head, so no flying because you also suffered a concussion-" "I meant what I said." You stopped talking and gave him a questioning expression. "I'm in love with you." "Bradley-" He reached up and kissed you softly and you relaxed into it. "You been growing a moustache, Bradshaw?" "Do y' like it?" You hummed as you nodded. "Good 'cause it's stayin'."

"Yes, I'm his mom, aren't I baby?" You pinched his cheek and asked Penny for an OJ "Oh my! I didn't realise there was a big scary cowboy in my bar, here's your juice box, sir." Penny curtseyed at your son. "Much obly-obul- oby-lysed obliged, ma'am" He smiled, blowing bubbled into the carton through the small straw.

"Who's his dad-" "Nick! Buddy, what'd I tell ya about running from the truck!?" voice bellowed from the doorway, you turned to your husband, who's eyes softened at the sight of you when he removed the aviator glasses from his face. He walked over and grabbed you waist, pulling you flush against his body and leaning down you kiss you lovingly. "Oh I get it, you saw a mighty fine lady and decided she was more important than sticking with your poor old dad, I get it." He said to your son, nipping at your neck with his teeth.

Hangman gritted his teeth and forced a smile and acknowledged you husband, "Rooster."

You spent the next three months sneaking around with Bradley, hidden winks, ghost-like touches, stolen kisses, and honestly a few on-base fucks. All secret until one day your dad had decided to visit your medical station, where you were laid on the bed against Bradley's shoulder while he left kisses in your hair and drew shapes on your hips. "Hey hon-" You father walked in and the two of you immediately jumped off of one another. He froze in the doorway, "What the fuck!" He about-turned on his heels, slamming the door shut behind him before storming off. "Oh god-" You stood up, but was pulled back by Bradley. "He was gonna find out eventually," "He's gonna disown me, Brad-" You had never seen you father that mad before.

"Bradshaw." The group heard from behind their lesson. "Admiral," Rooster turned to see him, and the group hollered like a group of school-kids teasing the man as he was lead away from the hangar and towards Admiral Simpson's office. They sat in silence momentarily, Cyclone staring out of the window and taking deep breaths, assumingly trying to calm himself.

"What're you playin' at, Bradshaw?" He asked after a while. "Excuse me, sir?" He turned towards Bradley - crossing his arms over his chest. "My daughter, seriously?! My only fucking daughter?" His tone of voice rose with every syllable. "With all due respect, sir-" "No, you do not get to talk. My daughter if the only thing I have in life and the only thing I can really protect her from now she joined the navy is scum like you." "Scum?" "You fast-jet pilots are all the same. Can't keep your dicks in your pants, well I'm telling you now - you stay the fuck away from her-" Bradley cut him off. "If I'm not mistaken, you were once, too a fast-jet pilot and that means you lived up to your own assumptions, and I know she's the only one you got because your wifes's gone," "Shut your mouth Rooster, and listen-" "No-" Rooster stood up, his chair being shoved abck against the wall behind him. "You listen. We may not've been together that long, but I fucking love her and I wanna marry her whether you like it or not, maybe you should look at yourself as a fahter, she's been stayin' with me, balling her eyes out for the past week 'cause the only person she's got left ignores her calls and pretty much disowns her! That's your fuckin' problem, now if you dont mind, Admiral, I'm goin' home to the love of my fuckin' life and you have absolutely no authority to stop me." Bradley spat with venom, slamming the door shut behind him and heading home to you.

Cyclone gained a lot of respect for Rooster, that day.

"Hello," Your dad walked into the hangar where you were with Bradley and the two of yours conversation end quickly as you look towards your father with a blank and unreadable expression. "Sweetheart I'm so sorry," "I don't want your apologies, dad." You grunted. "Want me to leave, hon?" Bradley asked, but your father answered him instead "no, i need you here too." "Look since your mom died your the only thing I have I'd live in rags on the street if it meant you were happy, i couldn't stop you joining the navy and i was so scared, what if something happened to you? And i knew from working here for nearly a decade what the aviator reputation was. When i saw you with Rooster i felt I'd failed the last part of you i could protect. but i know, you're not a little girl anymore and I shouldn't have reacted that way, I'm sorry."

You said nothing, but stood up and hugged him tightly, tears apparent in your eyes. "It's alright, sorry for going against your wishes." You reciprocated, "You are a Simpson after all." You both laughed, and your father held out an arm. "Come on Bradshaw, I can deal with you as a son-in-law, I guess."

"Bagman." You husband nodded, mouth pursing into a thin line. "He yours?" Bradley grinned, cockily. "He sure as hell is, aint ya, Nick?" "Yeah, dad!" The boy giggled.

"Er, I think Coyotes callin' me." And he walked away, to absolutely no one as Bradley chuckled victoriously and snaked his arms around you. "You scared him off, Brad." "Good, shouldn't even be lookin' at ya, you're all mine." He pecked your cheek, pulling yourself and your son along with you, and towards the piano, still sat in its spot in the Hard Deck.

It was graduation day, all the top gun graduated gathered to celebrate, Bradley raising his trophy above his head smugly, showing it off to his fellow pilots and the accompanying civillians.

"Bradshaw, congrats on getting top gun." Cyclone approached him. "Thank you, Admiral." He thought for a moment. "Can I have your blessing?" Cyclone looked at him, confused. "Can I marry her?" He was nervously sweating, gulping on his saliva and pulling at the collar on his neck. Your father immediately smiles and shook Bradley's hand. "Of course you can."

Your wedding day was like no other, a runway close to the ocean, a flyover from Phoenix and a few others from Top Gun, your dress was gorgeous, Bradley cried as you walked down the isle, when your father gave you away, when you said your vows, he never stopped crying. God, he was over the moon happy. "I love you, Honey." "I love you, Rooster."

even your honey moon was pure bliss, although the resort was gorgeous you hardly left the hotel room, Bradley too busy fucking you into the sheets and trying to put a baby to you just like he had promised when you had recovered him from that botched training exercise.

Now here you were, perched on the leg of your husband, your four year old son singing along to the tune as Bradley sang to him, playing the piano simultanous to circling your waist.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

and Nick had called it a night, you and Bradley said goodbyes to your friends at the bar who had also been called back to top gun, you saying goodbye to Maverick when your husband wasn't looking, you headed to the truck. "How about we get home and I fuck another baby into ya'?" Bradley asked against your lips, between desperate kisses. "Take me to bed or loose me forever, Rooster." "Show me the way home, Honey."

And the men all stood there in silence, sickened to their stomachs, their sweet Honey stolen away by no other than Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw. Damn.

[thewulf]

Commander || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Did you see that pose about swim call in the Navy? Could you do a Hangman x Reader drabble while theyre deployed or something like that? super fluffy! You're so good at fluffy hangman haha. thanks!

A/N: Love a good Hangman fluff. Hope you enjoy reading! :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3,200+

“It’s too hot. I can’t take it anymore. How much longer do we have of this?” Jake whined leaning on the railing that overlooked the Arabian Sea.

You stopped with him shrugging off your button-up uniform from your shoulders leaving you just in your tank top, “You complain a lot Lieutenant Seresin. Only a few more days. Think you can make it?” Tying the top around your waist you leaned forward mimicking him. You weren’t really supposed to be doing that with your uniform, but you really couldn’t seem to care. He was right after all. It was blisteringly hot. July in the Middle East was no joke. You knew the worst that could happen was a slap on the wrist, a small reprimand if you were to get caught.

Jake rolled his eyes only subtly hiding the smile that was dancing on his lips. Even you had to acknowledge how damn good he looked as the setting sun framed his face for golden hour flawlessly, “Just because you’re a Commander now doesn’t mean you get to bully me Y/N.”

You shrugged, “Actually, I think it does Hangman. It’s exactly what a Commander gets to do. Command.” Giggling you turned your body to him. It was always so easy to be yourself around him. You had run ins with Jake all throughout your Naval carrier. First as students in Top Gun then on missions as coworkers. The two of you always seemingly dancing the line between friends and more than but both too afraid to take that step over.

He huffed knowing you quite literally had him there. He thought he had you somewhere else though, the air, “Now that you’re a big bad Commander you’ll never see the inside of the cockpit again.” It was the only thing he had. He knew you loved flying more than anything in the world. But you were born to lead. Having an uncanny ability to predict enemy strategies and to form defenses and offensive strategies was your strong suit. Not many had that gift. The killer instinct as Admiral Kazansky always told you.

“You know that’s not true Jake. Did we not just get back from flying with Captain Mitchell?” Raising your eyebrow, you waited for his retort. It took him a second too long to respond though. You knew you’d managed to get the upper hand, for this conversation at least.

“Need I remind you where your callsign came from, Salsa?” You had to admire his ability to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted. You’d even compliment it if it didn’t annoy you too much. But this was Hangman we were talking about.

You continued to stare at him eyebrows raised, “No, Jake, I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Student Aviator Lacking Situational Awareness.” He smirked remembering the time your Captain at Top Gun unfortunately giving you the nickname. Brilliant in the air and on the books didn’t mean you were so graceful when it came to common sense. All too often you’d ask the most basic questions after solving the most complex problems. Earning you the call sign Salsa. You didn’t hate it. But you didn’t really love it either.

You laughed it off, “And who’s the Commander now Jake?”

He bowed his head chuckling right along with you, “Fair. But even you have to admit… it’s hot as hell out here.” Jake tossed you a fake pout changing the conversation yet again in the span of a few moments. You’d roll with it. That’s what’s always worked.

“You’re telling me! I’m from Ohio! I’m used to ninety-degree summers with moderate humidity, not this shit. You’re from Texas, you should be used to it!” Leaning on the railing you embraced the wind blowing off the carrier. It was hot but at least it was moving, not stagnant like it was on land.

“I haven’t really lived there in years though sweetheart.” He defended himself throwing out that damn word that made you literally weak at the knees. He had to have known what he was doing to you.

You’d always found the man handsome as hell. But his personality put you off all too often. However, the more you got to know him the more you found out the personality was all just a front. He was actually a good guy with a kind heart who had been burned far too many times. Living the life as a nomad made it hard to settle and it was his defense mechanism. Was it tiring? Beyond. Was it working? Jake thought so.

“Fair.” You mimicked him again. It wasn’t your fault he’d chosen such words to send your brain into overdrive.

You smiled taking in his features. He was truly such a handsome guy that made you feel very strong feelings. You knew it was him. It was always him. It was always going to be him, and you were quite frankly tired of pretending it wasn’t.

“That all you got to say darling?” He tapped his fingertips on the railing as he waited your response.

“Jake.” You sighed not having a clue what to do or to say. It was like you were actually short circuiting. You’d love to take a next step with him, but you were horrified of the consequences. Were you even allowed?

You’d worked so fucking hard to get promoted as fast as you did. You’d proven to countless commanders, captains, and admirals your capabilities in strategy as often as you could. You’d made fast friends with Pete Mitchell as he was one of your instructors when you went through Top Gun all those years ago. Apparently, that was his first and only year of teaching. In turn, Admiral Kazansky had taken a quick liking to you as he held Pete in such high regard. One thing led to another, and you’d been promoted through the ranks much faster than anticipated. But you earned it. Always proving you were ready for the next step. Was it worth it to risk all that hard work?

“Yes?” He continued that damn Jake Seresin smirk that he wore so well.

“I was going to tell you top secret information about what may or may not be occurring at 0100 tomorrow.” You sighed removing your arms from the guard rail pretending you were walking away, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up.”

“Woah there, Y/N! You didn’t say anything about top secret information.” He grabbed your arm lightly as if to let you know he’d drop it the second you asked him to. Of course, you never would, you loved his touch.

“I don’t think I should tell you. You’re being awfully mean to your commander.” You frowned playfully loving the game you were always playing with him. Things were only serious if they needed to be. Things were fun most of the time. Making it so damn easy to be your full and complete self around the man. You’d developed such a deep crush that bordered on love for the blonde-haired pilot.

“What would please my commander then?” He winked taking a step closer to you. Closing off any distance you’d had between the two of you. So much for the heat?

You smiled a wicked one towards Jake, “Grovel for my forgiveness.”

He couldn’t contain his laughter. The way his face lit up as he laughed, the way his eyes crinkled and the way his lips drew in. You were sure you could watch this over and over again. He was so beautiful to you. You joined in on the laughter not being able to continue whatever charade the two of you had gotten into at that moment.

“You’re awfully pretty when you laugh like that.” Jake spoke up after the shared laughter between the two of you had died down a little.

Biting your cheek, you couldn’t stop the instant reddening of your cheeks. Jake was always good for that. Making you blush like mad but then doing absolutely nothing about it, “Are you flirting with me Jake?”

He nodded his head confidently, “Always am Y/N. Always will.” Shooting you another wink he squeezed your arm once more before dropping his hand from it.

Shaking your head, you decided to finally answer his question, “The top-secret information might be that we’re having a swim call tomorrow. As long as the weather holds up.”

Grinning ear to ear he grasped your shoulders, “You’re being serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You nodded your head. You knew why he was so excited. It wasn’t that often that these came around. You had to be lucky to be given a swim call. Some sailors were luckier than others getting to have a swim call on a few deployments. Some were unlucky as they never got one.

It just so happened that Admiral Simpson was feeling particularly kind that afternoon at the senior staff was meeting. Another captain offered it up as a reward and he’d agreed. He decided on tomorrow since there were no scheduled missions or training flights. What better way to relieve stress? He knew this deployment was longer and a little more brutal with the heat. He needed to make sure everybody was still levelheaded. What better way to reward the crew?

“Oh, hell yeah! The guys are going to be so happy.” His grin stretched even further if that was possible.

“You’re sworn to secrecy.” You shook your head, “The admiral would like surprise everyone tomorrow.”

His grin turned down into a devious smirk, “And you told me Y/N?” You were really feeling the heat now. Especially when he was looking at you like that.

“Don’t let it get to your big ass head Seresin.” You smiled right on back to him. Just one of the many things he adored about you. Your ability to throw it right back at him. You never backed down from the challenge. Even when you were backed into a corner you would continue to fight. Your tenacity was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Apparently, the Navy agreed as you soared up the rankings. Jake was sure you’d be a captain within a few years. Then an admiral not long after that. You just had it. Few did. You did.

“You’d never let it get too large.” He dropped his hands from your shoulders. You were about to protest but he did something he’d never done before. Something that caught you so off guard you weren’t sure if your heard had stopped or not for second. He wrapped you up in a hug. Gently he squeezed you into his chest taking a few deep breaths before he continued.

“You know how much I like you right?” Jake whispered so close to your ear you could feel his warm breath as it fell down your neck. God, why did he have to do this to you now? It was already hard to come up with words and now? Now it felt like an impossible task. He was pulling out all of the stops to send your brain into overdrive. You’d probably forget even your own name if he asked.

“Sure.” You hadn’t a clue what he meant. Like you as a friend? Like you more than a friend? You prayed for the latter but who knew? It could be the former.

As he chuckled you could feel the vibrations as they reverberated off his body onto yours. You could surely get used to hugs like this. Where you were completely wrapped up in his embrace. Where you felt so utterly protected, “I like you, Y/N. Like like you.” He nodded while grinning after seeing your utterly shocked face.

Yeah, your heart definitely stopped as you processed his words. It’s like he read your mind. Like he knew you were too much of a chicken shit to question his words. You could stand up to admiral and politely tell him to fuck off, but this felt more than daunting to you. This was your life, and you didn’t want to fuck it up with him. You’d had so many chances, what if’s, run ins with each other over the years. Was it happening this time? Were your craziest dreams actually becoming a reality?

“Wait really?” Was all you managed to spit out as your brain went through every emotion. Every scenario to this confession.

“Yes, really. Have for years darling.” He broke apart from the embrace observing you carefully, “I’m tired of waiting on a right time. There’s never going to be a right time. Especially when you’re you. Getting promoted every other year and shit.” He grinned pulling you right back into his chest.

“Not every other year.” You shook your head hiding it away in embarrassment.

He couldn’t really believe his own eyes. You so effortlessly standing in his embrace seemingly accepting his admission. He was tired of dancing the fine line. He was ready. So more than ready to take a leap with you. He was tired of being labeled the playboy, the flirt, the no-good boyfriend. He knew he could be great for someone. For you. It was time.

“So was do you say sweetheart?”

You pulled away from him this time giving him a soft smile, “About?”

“A date. A real date when we get off this boat in a few days. How does that sound?” He grabbed a hand stroking his thumb along your fingertips softly.

Nodding your head softly, “That sounds perfect Jake.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You squeezed his hand once more before beginning your exit, “Now go shower Lieutenant. No offense… but you smell.”

Shocked he strode forward towards you, “I smell? You’re getting it now. Time for a big hug.”

You giggled running from him, “Gotta catch me first!”

Shaking his head, he could only smile as you darted off towards your dorm. Oh, how he knew he’d fall in love with you quickly. He always knew he would once he let himself.

“Did you know about it Commander?” A woman you’d seen a few times around the carrier asked as you changed into your swimsuits.

“The swim call?” You played dumb. Of course, you knew what she was asking but it was much more fun to get hyped up about the whole thing over again. Morale was at a low point as the deployment neared its end. This was always the hardest time. When everybody just wanted to be home.

“Yeah.” She nodded while pulling a strap over her shoulder.

“Maybe a little. But Admiral Simpson just decided yesterday. Captain Flagstaff actually convinced him. It was a sight to see.” You smiled reminiscing on the friendly banter.

“It’s so cool that you’re a Commander and you’re like, our age.” Another girl spoke up from around the corner.

You smiled taking notice of her, “Right time, right place I suppose.”

“Bullshit.” The first girl laughed, “Your kind of a legend. What you and Mav pulled in Iran last year was insane!

You felt lucky to be alive. You probably shouldn’t be, but you never dwelled on it. You’d been given a chance and you ran with it. Ruthless and precise, never missing a beat. You were a commander after all, you had to prove your worth.

“Take calculated risks.” You offered up some advice for the young women who looked up to you. It was flattering albeit a little odd, “Now let’s go, we only get so much time in the water!” Grabbing a towel, you led the group out. You spotted Jake further off in the distance looking handsome as ever without a shirt on.

“Look at you.” You winked at him lowering your sunglasses. You’d always been overly flirty with the man but now? Now it meant something. Years of practice came in handy even as your nerves kicked it up a notch as his eyes traced your figure.

He shook his head, “You’re joking right? Look at you.” Throwing you a wink he desperately wanted to grab your hand, but he knew better. Not in front of all the Navy guys. It was probably already scandalous that the two of you were standing there alone.

“What? In this gorgeous Navy issued one piece?” You thought everybody looked fine in them. Not horrible not good. Just fine. But it definitely wasn’t flattering per say.

He shrugged, “You look good in everything sweetheart.” He whispered as a few people walked on by, “Always looking beautiful.”

“Hush, you’re making me blush.”

He laughed beginning to walk away, “That’s my job now darling. Now let’s go jump in the sea while we have the chance.”

“Lead the way.” You followed him towards the edge of the aircraft carrier. With a few railings removed you peered over the side letting people jump beside you. It was a long way down, but you’d done it before. Done it many times in training. Didn’t mean you necessarily enjoyed it though.

“Come on Y/L/N. Scared?” Jake threw you one last wink before jumping right off the side. He’d one upped you yet again. Dammit. You waited for the all clear before jumping right after him.

Resurfacing you quickly found the guy you were looking for smiling right at you only a little distance away. He certainly wasn’t being shy about it. The two of you had yet to really talk about what the other wanted but it felt right. It felt so right being around him. Like he was the other part of your magnet pulling you right into him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked once you reached him. Splashing him lightly. God the two of you were being so fucking obvious. But lucky for you nobody seemed to notice. Everybody too caught up in their own story, their own joy.

“I already told you. You’re so fucking pretty.”

“Don’t overdo it now Mr. Seresin.” You were smiling an unusual amount. You were usually so stoic and tight lipped. You weren’t doing your best hiding the new rush of emotions that were always sitting there waiting to burst right on open. Boy did they burst right on open the second Jake admitted that he actually liked you. You didn’t think you could hide the stupid little smile that didn’t want to drop.

“What? I can’t compliment my girl?” He gave you a devilish smile, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Your heart definitely skipped a beat in the water, “Is that what I am?” Raising an eyebrow your curiously looked at him as he pulled you in a little closer. You were sure it didn’t look good. Surely it looked suspicious.

“If that’s what you want to be. My girlfriend?”

You nodded, “I’d like that.” You whispered. God how you wanted to swim right over and kiss him. Why’d this have to happen in the middle of the swim call? Why not when you were on shore and could find a secluded spot away from the rest of the crew. There was one thing you were certain of. This’d be the most memorable swim call you’d ever have.

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.” Giving your hand a squeeze, he made sure to keep an appropriate distance until you could get away on that date. It was hard but it was worth it. Anything was worth making you happy. Jake decided that then and there as he watched you smile swimming around in the sea.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Hypothetical AI election disinformation risks vs real AI harms

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT (Feb 27) in Portland at Powell's. Then, onto Phoenix (Changing Hands, Feb 29), Tucson (Mar 9-12), and more!

You can barely turn around these days without encountering a think-piece warning of the impending risk of AI disinformation in the coming elections. But a recent episode of This Machine Kills podcast reminds us that these are hypothetical risks, and there is no shortage of real AI harms:

https://soundcloud.com/thismachinekillspod/311-selling-pickaxes-for-the-ai-gold-rush

The algorithmic decision-making systems that increasingly run the back-ends to our lives are really, truly very bad at doing their jobs, and worse, these systems constitute a form of "empiricism-washing": if the computer says it's true, it must be true. There's no such thing as racist math, you SJW snowflake!

https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2019/02/aoc-algorithms-racist-bias.html

Nearly 1,000 British postmasters were wrongly convicted of fraud by Horizon, the faulty AI fraud-hunting system that Fujitsu provided to the Royal Mail. They had their lives ruined by this faulty AI, many went to prison, and at least four of the AI's victims killed themselves:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Post_Office_scandal

Tenants across America have seen their rents skyrocket thanks to Realpage's landlord price-fixing algorithm, which deployed the time-honored defense: "It's not a crime if we commit it with an app":

https://www.propublica.org/article/doj-backs-tenants-price-fixing-case-big-landlords-real-estate-tech

Housing, you'll recall, is pretty foundational in the human hierarchy of needs. Losing your home – or being forced to choose between paying rent or buying groceries or gas for your car or clothes for your kid – is a non-hypothetical, widespread, urgent problem that can be traced straight to AI.

Then there's predictive policing: cities across America and the world have bought systems that purport to tell the cops where to look for crime. Of course, these systems are trained on policing data from forces that are seeking to correct racial bias in their practices by using an algorithm to create "fairness." You feed this algorithm a data-set of where the police had detected crime in previous years, and it predicts where you'll find crime in the years to come.

But you only find crime where you look for it. If the cops only ever stop-and-frisk Black and brown kids, or pull over Black and brown drivers, then every knife, baggie or gun they find in someone's trunk or pockets will be found in a Black or brown person's trunk or pocket. A predictive policing algorithm will naively ingest this data and confidently assert that future crimes can be foiled by looking for more Black and brown people and searching them and pulling them over.

Obviously, this is bad for Black and brown people in low-income neighborhoods, whose baseline risk of an encounter with a cop turning violent or even lethal. But it's also bad for affluent people in affluent neighborhoods – because they are underpoliced as a result of these algorithmic biases. For example, domestic abuse that occurs in full detached single-family homes is systematically underrepresented in crime data, because the majority of domestic abuse calls originate with neighbors who can hear the abuse take place through a shared wall.

But the majority of algorithmic harms are inflicted on poor, racialized and/or working class people. Even if you escape a predictive policing algorithm, a facial recognition algorithm may wrongly accuse you of a crime, and even if you were far away from the site of the crime, the cops will still arrest you, because computers don't lie:

https://www.cbsnews.com/sacramento/news/texas-macys-sunglass-hut-facial-recognition-software-wrongful-arrest-sacramento-alibi/

Trying to get a low-waged service job? Be prepared for endless, nonsensical AI "personality tests" that make Scientology look like NASA:

https://futurism.com/mandatory-ai-hiring-tests

Service workers' schedules are at the mercy of shift-allocation algorithms that assign them hours that ensure that they fall just short of qualifying for health and other benefits. These algorithms push workers into "clopening" – where you close the store after midnight and then open it again the next morning before 5AM. And if you try to unionize, another algorithm – that spies on you and your fellow workers' social media activity – targets you for reprisals and your store for closure.

If you're driving an Amazon delivery van, algorithm watches your eyeballs and tells your boss that you're a bad driver if it doesn't like what it sees. If you're working in an Amazon warehouse, an algorithm decides if you've taken too many pee-breaks and automatically dings you:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

If this disgusts you and you're hoping to use your ballot to elect lawmakers who will take up your cause, an algorithm stands in your way again. "AI" tools for purging voter rolls are especially harmful to racialized people – for example, they assume that two "Juan Gomez"es with a shared birthday in two different states must be the same person and remove one or both from the voter rolls:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/eligible-voters-swept-up-conservative-activists-purge-voter-rolls/

Hoping to get a solid education, the sort that will keep you out of AI-supervised, precarious, low-waged work? Sorry, kiddo: the ed-tech system is riddled with algorithms. There's the grifty "remote invigilation" industry that watches you take tests via webcam and accuses you of cheating if your facial expressions fail its high-tech phrenology standards:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/16/unauthorized-paper/#cheating-anticheat

All of these are non-hypothetical, real risks from AI. The AI industry has proven itself incredibly adept at deflecting interest from real harms to hypothetical ones, like the "risk" that the spicy autocomplete will become conscious and take over the world in order to convert us all to paperclips:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

Whenever you hear AI bosses talking about how seriously they're taking a hypothetical risk, that's the moment when you should check in on whether they're doing anything about all these longstanding, real risks. And even as AI bosses promise to fight hypothetical election disinformation, they continue to downplay or ignore the non-hypothetical, here-and-now harms of AI.

There's something unseemly – and even perverse – about worrying so much about AI and election disinformation. It plays into the narrative that kicked off in earnest in 2016, that the reason the electorate votes for manifestly unqualified candidates who run on a platform of bald-faced lies is that they are gullible and easily led astray.

But there's another explanation: the reason people accept conspiratorial accounts of how our institutions are run is because the institutions that are supposed to be defending us are corrupt and captured by actual conspiracies:

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/09/21/republic-of-lies-the-rise-of-conspiratorial-thinking-and-the-actual-conspiracies-that-fuel-it/

The party line on conspiratorial accounts is that these institutions are good, actually. Think of the rebuttal offered to anti-vaxxers who claimed that pharma giants were run by murderous sociopath billionaires who were in league with their regulators to kill us for a buck: "no, I think you'll find pharma companies are great and superbly regulated":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

Institutions are profoundly important to a high-tech society. No one is capable of assessing all the life-or-death choices we make every day, from whether to trust the firmware in your car's anti-lock brakes, the alloys used in the structural members of your home, or the food-safety standards for the meal you're about to eat. We must rely on well-regulated experts to make these calls for us, and when the institutions fail us, we are thrown into a state of epistemological chaos. We must make decisions about whether to trust these technological systems, but we can't make informed choices because the one thing we're sure of is that our institutions aren't trustworthy.

Ironically, the long list of AI harms that we live with every day are the most important contributor to disinformation campaigns. It's these harms that provide the evidence for belief in conspiratorial accounts of the world, because each one is proof that the system can't be trusted. The election disinformation discourse focuses on the lies told – and not why those lies are credible.

That's because the subtext of election disinformation concerns is usually that the electorate is credulous, fools waiting to be suckered in. By refusing to contemplate the institutional failures that sit upstream of conspiracism, we can smugly locate the blame with the peddlers of lies and assume the mantle of paternalistic protectors of the easily gulled electorate.

But the group of people who are demonstrably being tricked by AI is the people who buy the horrifically flawed AI-based algorithmic systems and put them into use despite their manifest failures.

As I've written many times, "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, but we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job"

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

The most visible victims of AI disinformation are the people who are putting AI in charge of the life-chances of millions of the rest of us. Tackle that AI disinformation and its harms, and we'll make conspiratorial claims about our institutions being corrupt far less credible.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/27/ai-conspiracies/#epistemological-collapse

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[samheughanswife]

June 7, 2021 🇬🇧 (date shown on IG 🇦🇺time zone).

Exhausted bliss. Down the road from the preeminent London hospital of choice for private deliveries.

Interesting actions in the past ten days. All as a result of an anon with the stars being a blonde toddler and Sam early in the morning at the park.

Acting in haste and now repenting at leisure we saw Sam walking the same streets with a paid escort where the ⬆️photo was taken three years ago. A storm in this corner and on other SM followed. Thankfully an opportunity to change the negative perception and cleanse the SM slate we have the cast Shaking it all off at Tay’s concert tonight in Edinburgh.

The big guns deployed. OL Starz, with Head Mistress Maril in attendance. So organic.

To quote ABBA, money money, money in a rich company’s world.

Birthday weekend 🎉 🥳 🎂 🎈💙🦋

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 17

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy and Jake need to have a few conversations about the future | smut

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Jake wouldn’t let me leave the bed longer than it took for me to brush my teeth in the morning, guiding me to straddle his lap. 

“We’re not having sex with your parents in the house,” I pulled the comforter over my shoulders, keeping out the chill morning air. Jake settled his hands on my hips,

“Just want you close, we’ve got to talk.” I tensed, panic immediately setting in. Jake didn’t let me spiral for more than a second, pulling me in for a slow, emotional kiss that had my lungs burning for air. “We’re okay, Wildflower,” He whispered. “We’ve just got to talk about deployment stuff.” 

“Sure you don’t just want to kiss me again?” Jake chuckled, giving me a peck on the lips.

“No distracting me,” He squeezed my hips, “Let’s figure out how to handle deployments as a couple.” A couple. I liked the way he said that.

“Okay, how did you handle them with your other girlfriends?” Jake blushed, looking away. “You’ve never been deployed with a girlfriend, have you?” 

“I didn’t really do committed before I met you, so, this is new for both of us.” I rested my forehead against his,

“I’m scared that if I tell you something big, you’ll be distracted in the air,” Tears pricked in my eyes. “If something happened to you after I told you something? I’d never be able to forgive myself.” Jake sighed, brows furrowing in concentration as he stared at me for a long moment. “What?”

“I can’t argue with that but it’s not what I want,” Jake’s frown deepened. “I don’t want you having to carry the burden alone when big things happen.” He brushed hair behind my ear, “And I don’t want to feel blindsided when I get home.” 

I sat back, biting my bottom lip, thinking. Obviously even though Pops had been in the navy, Jake’s family weren’t the people to ask. They were biased. Penny would probably know what to do. 

“How about this, if something big happens, I’ll talk to Penny about how to handle it. Whatever she says goes, tell you or don’t tell you, we listen to Penny. I’ll run this past her, make sure she’s okay being on the hook for this, but, it’s the best idea I’ve got.” 

“If she’s okay with it, I’m okay with it,” I nodded, smiling, a weight off my shoulders now that was sorted out. I’d give Penny a call later and run her through things but for now, Jake was home and I could finally enjoy it. 

“Anything else you want to talk about?” I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his. Jake rolled us so that he was on top, deepening the kiss. I moaned softly, tugging on his hair. Jake squeezed my hips, one hand smoothing up my side, coming to palm my breast. My hips keened into his, Jake’s touch lighting a two-curling fire in my stomach.

“Do you want kids?” Jake whispered, trailing kisses across my cheek and down my neck. Did I want kids? On one hand, I wanted to see my kids playing with my nieces, running around while Harvey and I looked on. On the other hand, I was terrified that something would happen, leaving them orphans like Harvey and I had been. Jake kissed me just behind the ear, making my brain go fuzzy.

“Time out, pretty boy,” Jake pulled back, clearly worried he had done something wrong. “It’s really hard to think while you’re doing that.” Jake huffed but settled us both on our sides, pulling me into his chest. “You really do love to manhandle me don’t you?”

“You doubted my ability once,” Jake kissed my forehead, I rolled my eyes, recalling the night in his truck. “Just want to make sure you remember that I can.” 

“Like I could ever forget,” I sighed, thinking back on that night. “That was the night I realized I was falling in love with you.” Jake tensed and I kept going, sliding my hand under his shirt. “Still wasn’t one hundred percent sure you felt the same way but looking back on it, I know you did.” 

“Damn right I did, I thought I was making myself pretty clear but you were determined to write me off,” Jake kissed my hair. “Thankfully you came around though.” 

I hummed in agreement, thinking back over the past few months. Natasha had told me he was a cocky pilot they all initially hated working with and Penny had told me all about his womanizing ways in the past. Then I met him and he was a gentleman for me, always flirting, but doing everything he could to make me feel special. Always listening to me, remembering the little details like my favorite color and how  I took my coffee. 

He’d be an attentive dad, loving and over the top. I could picture it, laying in the back of his truck, stargazing, our kid snuggled between us. I bet Jake would be a total girl dad like Pops was, spoiling them and making them feel like princesses. God, the thought of Jake holding a baby was enough to make me regret the no-sex-in-his-parents-house rule and the one-year-proposal rule. 

“Might be a good story to tell our kids one day,” I kissed his chest, right over his heart. “How many do you want?”

“Two or three,” Jake kissed my hair again, “Maybe four.” 

“I’ll agree to two for now but I have a feeling you’ll be pretty convincing,” I pulled away enough to look up at him. The look on his face made me want to give into having enough kids for a soccer team. Jake pulled my leg up over his hips and kissed me hard, I couldn’t help it, hips rolling into his. Jake groaned, grinding against me.

“Can you be quiet for me?” This was a bad idea. I knew it was a bad idea but instead of standing firm, I nodded. “Good girl.” I let Jake move me around like a rag doll, laying me out on my back, taking his time to make sure I was comfortable, before shimmying the sleep pants I had put on in the morning off and my underwear.

“If we get caught, I’m going to be mortified,” I whispered. “Oh my God, is the door even locked?” 

“Good call,” Jake got up and locked the door. “Now stay quiet or I’ll have to stop.” He crawled back on top of me, snaking a hand between us, sliding a finger between my folds. I bit back a moan, “You’re already so wet for me, baby.”

“Jake,” I whispered, back arching as he slipped a finger inside of me. He kissed me, smothering the noises I had as he worked his fingers in and out, thumb grazing over my clit. 

“Remember, baby, quiet.” I nodded, pressing my lips together. Jake picked up his pace, “Cum for me, Daisy. Cum on my fingers and then we can practice making babies.” That should not have been hot but it was. I had a feeling my IUD was going to be working overtime now that Jake had kids on the brain. My orgasm crashed over me and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, trying to keep myself quiet.

Jake kissed me, sucking on my bottom lip, soothing the bite mark. I reached down, guiding him into me and we both moaned. I hoped there was nobody in the hallway that could hear us, I would never be able to look my in-laws in the eyes if I knew they had heard us having sex. 

“I love you,” Jake whispered, slowly moving in and out, stretching me, making my toes curl in pleasure. “I love you so much and I can’t wait to marry you.” 

“I love you too,” I wrapped my legs around his waist, bringing him deeper inside of me. “So much, Jake.” 

Jake took us through the motions slowly, increasing the pace until the bed squeaked and then slowing again. Somehow the chance of being caught made it all the more exciting, heightening every kiss and thrust until I was on the edge again.

“Going to cum,” I kissed his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. Jake grunted, picking up the pace slightly.

“Cum for me, Daisy, cum on my cock,” My second orgasm washed over me and Jake followed right behind me, spilling inside of me with a muffled moan, his face buried in my neck.

“I love you,” I peppered his shoulder with kisses. “And I can’t wait to marry you either.” 

X

Mama and Daisy were in the kitchen, putting the final touches on dinner while I sat with Pops in the living room. I had attempted to help but the women had kicked me out, mama bringing up my many failed attempts at cooking in the past. Daisy had given me a kiss on the cheek and pushed me towards the living room with Pops.

“She’s a good woman, Jake,” Pops patted my knee. “I knew that before she got here but after meeting her? There’s not a question in my mind.” 

“I’m going to marry her, just as soon as she lets me.” 

“Good,” Pops patted my knee again and then turned up the volume on the TV, drowning out the laughter coming from the kitchen.

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @nervousenemyduck @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @hookslove1592 @closetspngirl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @closetspngirl @shanimallina87 @owenniasstars @cevansbaby-dove @caitsymichelle13 @bigstrongblackheart

Next Chapter

[bullet-prooflove]

The choice is so plentiful, it's always hard to pick, but I think I found a good prompt for Sonny Quinn from your Thursday 'Bring the Noise' Prompt List: 24. "She's mean and she's mine" 🤭 Also the song I think fits him is "Angel loves the devil out of me" by Jace Everett. I'm curious if you agree!

Also: Thanks for sharing your writing! 🩷 I really appreciate it!

I love that song for him! I've added it to my Sonny playlist!

The first argument you and Sonny have is about the shotgun you keep loaded under the bar. He finds it when he’s trying to fix one of the taps because it’s gone a little hinky.

It’s a Winchester, one of the older models. The serial number scratched off.

There is no way this thing is legal and that presents a problem for Sonny, a big one. If it comes out that he’s around an illegal weapon then he faces a court martial and the possibility of being kicked off Bravo. You, though, you face jail time.

“You have to get rid of it.” He tells you when you come back up from the basement after taking inventory.

“No fucking way.” You tell him, gesturing towards the gun. “Sometimes that’s the only thing between me and a bad Thursday night.”

It takes him a minute to realise what that means. He forgets that when he’s away there’s nights that you’re here alone. You have a couple of veterans that you hire for the busier periods but sometimes it’s just you and you’re a dainty fucking thing.

“We need to get rid of this…” He begins again but you cut him off.

“And I said no.” You snap at him. “You don’t get to come in here and tell me…”

He sighs because he knows what you’re like when you’re in this mood. Your tired because it’s been a rough couple of days, pissed off because he’s deploying in twelve hours and it’s fucked up a trip the two of you have had planned. He decides to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. He picks up the shotgun and walks out to the sound of you cursing up a storm behind him.

You don’t speak to him after that and he doesn’t blame you. It usually takes you a good few days to calm down when he fucks up. He tends to give you a little space but he doesn’t have the luxury of that kind of time because he’s shipping out so he breaks the stalemate between you with a text from the plane.

“Don’t be mad baby.” It reads. “I’ve left you something under the bar.”

He’s almost three thousand miles away by the time you pick up that text. He sees the three little dots before the picture comes in. It’s a brand new Winchester with a red gift bow resting on the barrel. The paperwork is tucked in an envelope underneath it. You’re fully legal now, if you have to protect yourself you won’t face any recriminations for having an illegal fire arm on the premises. On top of that he’s also recommended the place to a few buddies of his, they’ve promised to make it their new watering hole while he’s away.

“I’d never leave my girl without a way of protecting herself.” He responds from his hammock. They’re all bedding down for the night so that they’ll be fresh and operational by the time the plane lands.

You send him another picture, this time something a little more risqué and he clears his throat so stifle the moan that threatens to leave his throat.

“You enjoy torturing me don’t you sweet thang? Knowing I’m on a plane full of other guys, that I can’t touch myself when you’re sending me shit like this.”

You send another picture and his jaw clenches as his hard cock rubs across the zipper of his cargo pants.

This, he thinks as he studies the image of you in nothing but a pair of black panties with the Winchester in your hands. This is the sweetest revenge.

Love Sonny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@totalstitchlover19 @switchbladeclub @kind-wolf @@mariashane @floydsglasses @firecountryqueen666 @caffeinatedwoman kmc1989 sca3a jeysbae hufflepuffgirl hgs-11 meera10 f1babe98

[p1nkshield]

Estranged Uncle AU! Part 2

"Oh nope! No you don't!" Tim said as he reinforced the computer's defenses. This was slowly moving from being a fun little challenge to being concerning. Who ever this was was really close to fully breaching the batcomputer. Good thing Tim is so good at his job; whoever it was finally got the hint. Tim took a sip of his coffee and went back to the latest case he was looking at.

Tucker took a bite of his beef jerky in triumph. "Too fine foley has done it again!"

His little strategy worked. He would come in front and center with all the fanfare and popups of a hacker with a big ego while his program would sweep dirt in from the back door. While whoever was on the other side focused on his obvious, ham-fisted hacking. Sure Tucker got a little carried away but he was having fun until he was nearly uno reversed. Tucker really didn’t feel like being fully roped into whatever weird billionaire crime "Brucie Wayne" was probably knee deep in. Speaking of Tucker should probably take a look at what he managed to skim.

Now this was weird. Weapons schematics? Info on Gotham's biggest criminals and their whereabouts? Oh no no. This is not good. He really needed to warn Danny.

Danny was blearily enjoying a stack of delicious, stationary pancakes when his phone buzzed.

'RED ALERT DUDE'

'???' Danny replied.

'Bro is a weapons dealer! To like, all the baddies in Gotham!'

Tucker then sent a bunch of screenshots of the small bit of evidence he found. There was even a machine gun flamethrower combo! That one however had a note saying 'sorry jaylad, I’m vetoing this one'.

'so many questions. Who is Jaylad Danny? If you find out tell me so I can avoid them!'

"I knew it!" Danny said loudly.

"What?!? Knew what?!? What do you know?!" Clark said suddenly, dropping his fork.

"My uh history test came back.”

“Oh.”

Poor Clark might be in too deep. To err on the side of caution Danny decided he needs to find out just how deep. Time to deploy his secret weapon.

After Clark left for work Danny immediately booked it to Jazz.

“So, I didn’t like Brucie’s vibe and had Tucker look into him.”

"Danny! Try not to project your experience with one specific rich person onto every rich person you come across!"

"You say that but both times I was right about my hunch!"

Jazz frustratedly looked through the evidence until her face was pale.

"We will unpack your fear of billionaires later, first we need to save our uncle."

Clark returned from work and was met with the gentlest interrogation he’s ever experienced.

"Would you mind if I asked why Bruce was in your house?"

Oh no. Why was she asking that? She seems smart and Clark knows he's a terrible liar. Think Clark. Think.

"He uh, was there for an interview!"

Jazz just nodded. Does that mean it worked? Was that the right thing to say?

"Does Bruce usually make house calls for his interviews?"

What kind of question is that? When in doubt double down on the Brucie Wayne cover.

"I think he finds me entertaining so he kinda just does that. He's pretty eccentric but all of my most popular articles are about him so... what are you gonna do?" Clark added a shrug for good measure.

Jazz nodded again.

"We need to get him away from Clark as soon as possible."

"I was right!"

"you were right."

Part one

[talkfastromance4]

I have had more thoughts about Sugar and Jake and I was wondering… what would Sugar do/feel like if Jake was deployed? In my mind she sleeps in his bed every night because she misses him, and that’s how he finds her when he comes home. What are your thoughts?

I love this so much I wrote a oneshot for it! Title is inspired by Leon Bridges “coming home”

Wanna hold you close—Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

word count: 3.1k

warnings: pure fluff and more than likely navy inaccuracies but this is ficland and anything goes

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

Enjoy!

It’s been a good day. You were able to get off work early and so did Jake so he came and picked you up then took you to the coffeeshop you both love. Once you got home, it was a little after three and you changed into comfy clothes then settled on the couch to watch a movie. You quickly fell asleep, head in Jake’s lap and his fingers in your hair. 

When you woke up just as the credits were rolling, Jake suggested going to The Lark, the restaurant he invited you to when the arrangement was first brought up. The two of you changed again, you put on a pretty pink dress and Jake wore an olive green ensemble that really brought out his eyes. 

It was a wonderful way to end the day but once dessert arrived, Jake’s brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong? Is your dessert not good?” you ask peering over at his plate. He had ordered a lemon meringue bar drizzled with raspberry and blueberry sauce. Upon your inspection, he hadn’t even taken a bite.

“No,” he shakes his head, twirling his fork in his fingers. “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” you feel a weight in your stomach. The spoonful of creme brulee is shaking slightly in the spoon. “Tell me.”

You start thinking he wants to end things, that you aren’t really what he wants and that this whole thing is a big mistake. His eyes are still downcast, a frown on his face as he stares at the prongs of his fork rotate over the red and blue drizzle. 

“I got called for a mission,” he says slowly. 

“Oh…” you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Well, it’s only a few days right?” you pop the sweet custard into your mouth.

“No, Sugar,” he sighs, setting his fork on his plate. His green eyes finally meet yours, they’re still sad. “It’s longer.”

“How much longer?”

“Forty-five days.”

The weight in your stomach plummets. The longest he’s ever been gone is a week, and you were fine then because you weren’t living with him yet and you were so busy with work and Betty. But now, now that you’ve gotten closer and comfortable and more familiar with each other…now his job really sets in. 

You knew he would be deployed eventually, while he’s a Top Gun instructor, he’s still an active duty pilot. Your throat turns dry and your mind starts to race of any and all possibilities. As if knowing what your mind is doing, Jake’s hand covers yours that’s holding the spoon and works your fingers open. The spoon clatters to the table.

You were gripping the spoon so tight your nails were digging into your palm and Jake peeled your fingers apart so he could trace over the four crescent shapes indented into your palm.

“Sugar, look at me,” he says softly but you can’t find the will to do so. 

“Can we go?”

***

You remain silent in your thoughts on the drive home, Jake’s hand placed in its usual spot on your knee, his thumb stroking circles on your thigh. Once you’re home, you’re the first to get out and Jake follows you all the way to the wine room that’s just off the kitchen. His hands are in his pockets watching you go to the corner that holds your favorite wine.

In the kitchen, you’re struggling with the wine opener but Jake takes it easily from you and opens the wine for you. You lift it up and walk towards the back door, Jake following after he grabs two glasses. You flicked the string of lights on and fell onto the couch, taking a deep drink of the wine. 

“Okay, no glasses,” Jake sighs and sits next to you, watching you. “Okay that’s enough for now, y/n.”

Some wine dribbles down your chin, but Jake is quick to swipe it away with his thumb. 

“Are you mad?” Jake asks, suddenly feeling helpless. He’s never seen you act this way before. 

“No,” you tumble your fingers with his so you’re holding his hand. You trace the circumference of his Navy ring. “When do you leave?”

“Two days.”

Your head snaps up.

“So soon?”

“That’s the Navy, Sugar,” he nods, scooting closer to you on the couch. He cups your cheek.

“What are you…what do you have to do?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why is it so long?”

“Can’t tell you that either,” he smiles sadly and you sigh. 

“Is it dangerous?”

“That’s always a possibility,” he licks his lips as he nods. 

“You’ll come home, right?”

“Trust me, leaving you is the hardest thing ever. I’m already counting down the days and I haven’t even left yet.”

Those words make your eyes sting and you quickly press into him, Jake’s arm wrapping around your back. You have to remind yourself that he’s not leaving you for someone else. He’s leaving for his job and it has nothing to do with you. 

For the next two days, you ask him all the questions you have and he answers as best he can. He reminds you that you can use the credit card he gave you for anything you need and that payments are already set up for Betty. Texting and calling won’t be easy but emails will work best and he promises he’ll respond when he can. 

Jake has no problem saying yes to you except when you ask if you can be there when he leaves and he says no. 

“You don’t want me there?”

“If you’re there, Sugar, I won’t get on the damned plane,” he pulls you into his chest. He kisses the top of your head. “I’d be kicked out for insubordination of not listening to my Commander.”

You’re giggling then but you know he’s telling the truth. You lift your head so your chin is resting on his chest as you gaze up at him. 

“I wouldn’t let you go either,” you admit and he bends down to give you a sweet kiss. 

***

The first day you felt his vacancy immediately, even though you woke up as he came into your room to say goodbye. He was in his service khakis and had a large duffel bag over his shoulder. He whispered your name softly then whispered sweet words and reminders before kissing you so sweetly you had no clue how he was able to pull away. 

“I’ll be coming home to you, Sugar, I promise,” he whispered. 

You held onto his hand as long as you could, watching him back out of your room. He told you to get some more sleep, blew you a kiss, stared at you for ten more seconds before leaving. It wasn’t until you heard the front door shut that you started to cry. 

You researched about Navy Fighter Pilots but only found articles or blogs from retired members that recounted the good ole’ days of their time in the service. They were great reads but not what you needed. You found a blog of wives, girlfriends, and other partners but theirs were mainly about how their children missed the one who was gone and what stores had the best deals.

By day nine you kept glancing at his open doorway in his room. You’ve only been in there once, when he gave you the tour of the house. You were aching to go in there but wanted to respect his privacy. 

You emailed him each day but still had no response back. Some of the articles said no news is good news but you were feeling the opposite. If something happened to him you wouldn’t know because you’re not family. You contemplated reaching out to his sisters, Annie and Nora but you haven’t met them so you thought that’d be weird. 

By day twelve you’re getting antsy from not hearing from Jake and you’re tossing and turning in your bed as wind howls against your windows. You haven’t been sleeping all that well since Jake left and you grab your phone to use the flashlight and you head towards his room. 

You flick on his lights just as lightning flashes beneath the blinds of his windows. His bed is clean and pristine and you see a piece of paper on the nightstand nearest the door. You recognize Jake’s handwriting immediately and begin to read:

In case you get cold and want a fire, the remote for the fireplace is on the coffee table by the couch. Feel free to use it as much as you’d like. See you soon, Sugar. Thinking of your smile as I fly through the skies. X Jake

That makes you smile and you shuffle over to the couch finding the remote exactly where the note indicated. It’s easy enough to figure out. When the fire ignites, you turn it to the medium setting, warmth emitting from it immediately. You grab the large knitted blanket from the couch and plop down, the cushions are comfy as a bed. You watch the flames flicker and dance and then you’re fast asleep.

By day twenty-two you’ve been sleeping on Jake’s couch every night and that’s when you finally get an e-mail from him. He apologizes for taking so long. The internet is pretty spotty on the carrier and it’s hot as hell, he says he’s never not sweating. He said he’s bunking with Rooster and it reminds him of their first years during flight school, Rooster always talks to him at night. 

He doesn’t mind so much now because Rooster asks questions about you and Jake is all too willing to talk about you. He ends the e-mail by reminding you the forty-five days are halfway up and he can’t wait to come home and see you. He also includes a photo of him and the squad on the carrier. It’s a little blurry but he’s in his real flight suit with his aviators on, his hair blowing in the wind. 

You printed it out and placed it against the stack of aviation books on the coffee table so it was the first thing you’d see.

Day thirty-seven had you rethinking your sleeping arrangement. During a very real dream, you rolled onto the floor and smacked your head on the coffee table. You saw several stars before you sat up and decided to move to the bed. You’re not sure which side he slept on so you chose the left side. His cologne and aftershave washed over you, his pillow plush and smelling more like him as you laid down. 

You made sure to put Jake’s picture against the lamp so you could see him.

It was the best sleep you’ve had since he left so you decided to sleep there until he got home. You’d make sure to wash the sheets so he’d be none the wiser. Sometimes, to help you fall asleep, you’d play The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face and you’d dream of him.

Reynolds assured you that Jake is very good at what he does and that he will come home without a hair out of place. You appreciated his assurance but you missed talking with Jake and eating with him in the kitchen or finding him in the pool when you’d come home from work. 

Day forty-five came and went and you were a worried mess. 

What could that mean? Was he hurt? Did they get stuck in bad weather? Do Navy Pilots get layovers?

All the thinking and worrying gave you a migraine so you called in sick and slept  with the fire on. The sheets were cool on your neck and head, the bump from the coffee table pulsated in pain every time you moved. 

***

As soon as the debriefing was done at the hangar, Jake bolted out of there so fast to his truck. His windshield wipers were on the highest setting as he raced home to you. He was irritated he had to stay for an extra three days because that was an extra three days away from you. 

Because he was still on duty, he couldn’t call or text or e-mail you until they were back at the main hangar. He’d thought of you everyday and kept a photo of you tucked away in his pocket and cockpit when he was flying. He took it while you were out for brunch and you found a small patch of flowers. You knelt down to pick them and Jake took his phone out so he could capture the moment.

He called your name and when you looked up, he snapped a photo. Embarrassed, you held up your hand laughing as he tried to get a clear shot of your face. It was his favorite photo. He gazed at it when he woke up, tuning out Rooster’s monotone snores.

When he was flying and things got dicey in the sky, he’d look at your smiling face and find it within him to persevere and give the enemy pilots hell. You filled him with adrenaline and a purpose so when three extra days went by he was antsy. 

He wanted to call you and let you know that he’s on his way home–on his way to you–but the numbers on his truck’s screen reminded him it was too late. You’re probably sleeping and he didn’t want to wake you in a panic, even though he was sure you’ve been panicking the last seventy-two hours. 

When he finally pulled into the garage and ran inside without his duffel bag. He took the stairs two at a time then noticed your door was open. Usually you sleep with it closed so that concerns him. He was even more concerned when he didn’t find you in your bed. 

Panicking, he ran downstairs but didn’t find you in the living room so he ran back upstairs. His door was opened wider than he usually keeps it so he went to investigate. Seeing you curled up in his sheets and comforter hit him with such want and a deep rooted care for you that he had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. 

The fire was on and old re-runs of Friends was on his tv. He approaches you quietly, kneeling on his side of the bed (you were hugging his pillow tightly) when he notices the picture he sent you leaning against the lamp. That filled him with more glee. 

“Sugar,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers on your forehead and into your hair. “Hey…Sugar.”

You groan and shift, mumbling his name. 

“Sugar, I’m home,” he says a little louder, fingers still in your hair. 

“Am I dreamin’?” you mumble again into his pillow. 

“No, baby, I’m right here. Open your eyes,” he chuckles and your eyes flash open. 

“Jake!” you launch yourself at him and he has to brace himself so he doesn’t fall back on his knees. You breathe in his hair, his shampoo is different but you smell his aftershave, a little bit of sweat and his cologne and you feel comforted.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Sugar,” he kisses your shoulder. “Had a little difficulty getting home.”

“I was so worried, I didn’t know if I should contact someone or who I would even–”

“I made sure you’d be notified, but you don’t have to worry about that now. I’m home.”

“You’re home,” you repeat weakly. You fall back into his bed, pulling Jake with you. He hovers over you, one arm squashed beneath your back and the other caressing your face.

“And you’re in my bed,” he smiles.

“I–I couldn’t sleep. I found your note and I was sleeping on your couch with the fire on but then I fell and hit my head on the table so I tried your bed and it smells like you and is so comfy but you’re home now so I’ll leave–”

He silences you with a kiss that turns from sweet to passionate in seconds. You move further back to the center of the bed, yanking Jake with you. You hear his shoes fall to the floor, lips still connected as he lays over you. 

“Don’t want you to leave,” he mumbles on your lips. “Stay here with me.”

“Okay,” you whisper tugging his comforter over him. His body heat fills your space quickly, the weight of him on top of you feels so nice. He gives you another deep kiss, the arm moving from beneath your back to your waist. 

“Is this my Navy shirt?” he asks staring down at the shirt you’re wearing. 

“Um..yeah. I saw it folded on your bathroom sink when I used the bathroom one night and I like when you wear it so I…borrowed it. Is that okay?”

“Seeing you in my bed and in my shirt…it’s more than okay, Sugar,” he grins. “Better than I’d dreamed it would be. How long have you been sleeping in here?”

“Since you e-mailed me the first time…” you admit sheepishly. You’re tracing your finger over the chain of his dog tags that spilled out of his shirt when he clambered onto his bed. “If that’s weird–”

He’s kissing you again, this time rolling over so you’re laying on his chest. His hands are gripping your waist as you adjust yourself over him, his fingers tickling you in the process and you’re giggling. 

“What?” he asks, adjusting his head on his pillow.

“You’re interrupting me a lot,” you laugh. 

“I’d apologize but I wouldn’t mean it. I missed you so much, Sugar. Finding  you in my bed and my shirt is the best homecoming I’ve ever had.”

You bite your lip, his sweet words heat up your cheeks. Being in this position gives you the opportunity to touch his face, he has a bit of a beard on his cheeks. A little sunburn on his nose and forehead. 

“Do you want to watch a movie or have a midnight snack?”

“No, just wanna hold you close.”

You’re half draped over him, his arm holding you against him and your hands joined on his stomach. You’re playing with each other’s fingers, staring at each other in the dim glow of his fireplace. When your eyes start to get heavy you blink them open quickly to stay awake. 

“Go to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises with a kiss to your head. 

“Welcome home, Jake,” you whisper then close your eyes. 

You’re safe and warm tucked against him, the sound of his heart lulling you to sleep, his thumb rubbing your hand and the soft hum of him singing your song sends you off into dreamland.

[valveorangebox]

Typing it out here. But the blues and reds deserved some sort of characteristics that set them apart from the others. Some character reimagining under the read more. This is what I’d do with em.

EDIT: changing jeans to be more less weird.

Viceroy Buckingham- A Sniper. Nervous. Seems cool but in reality that image of himself is only persevered by the fact he’s wearing a helmet. He is having a panic attack underneath it. Fought during the war and was reassigned after aliens wiped his base. Is very hesitant around covenant tech. Especially Tuckers sword. He wasn’t close with Jean at first but after Biff died and the teams combined, he and Jean really hit it off. They’re rarely seen separated from each other nowadays. Buckingham wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jean Clark- An mechanic, a mathematician and very passionate about table top rpgs (only the weird obscure ones though. She isn’t going to be caught dead playing the popular shit). Only works well under pressure. Horrific ADHD and chews on wires. Her right side is robotic from a quote “Pizza oven accident.” No one inquires further about it. When Biff died she felt lost. Her first friend in this army was gone. But Temple has a solution. She hopes that when this is all said and done, they can settle down. Maybe open a game story. She still needs to teach Buckingham how to play magic.

Gabriel L. “Loco” Motif - You know him. We all love him. Blue teams resident genius. Very good at finding unconventional solutions for unconventional problems. He, Jean and Buckingham are close. The only person he’s closer to is Temple. When he’s not collecting parts for his newest inventions, he takes great care to tend to his “pets”. 18 tamagotchis wired to create one large one. He has a base wide timer to remind him to feed them. (The L stands for Lee)

Harry. S. Cronut - Two Words. Gym Nut. When he’s not helping the other Blues and Reds you can find him on his drawing tablet or in the gym. He’s helping fund most of these schemes and is quite proud of his work. He says he’s been thinking about getting into baking as of late. Arguably he’s the most normal person out of everyone here. If anyone needs a big bear wolf hug you can get it from him!

Surge- Surge loves her guns, her armor and her men. She’s a soldier and has been her entire life and she’s not about to stop. A skilled electrician and an even more skilled marksman. But her weapon isn’t the sniper. Nah that’s what cowards use. When she was deployed. They gave them pistols and tire irons and dropped them from orbit. And they liked it! Being a sim troopers easy. Was almost too easy. But she’s grown to love her family. Biff was a rascal. But he was her rascal.

[blake-wyatt]

Few questions I have left after finishing Iron Flame - SPOILERS ahead!

Brennan's death and Naolin:

He mentioned multiple times that his mother sent him to die and didn't care (this man's mummy issues put Xaden's to shame) - his level of rage and betrayal seems to suggest he died fighting venin he was unprepared for due to his mother's lies (it's likely he believes she knew he was going to face venin where he was deployed and still chose to protect the institutional lie. Knowing what we know about her I doubt it but only therapy can save Brennan now).

So. Was he drained by a venin and did Naolin siphon power back in him and drained himself in the process, dying? Did Brennan take power from the earth to maybe mend his dragon and did Naolin use his signet to save Brennan from veninism (channeling the power Brennan took back to earth) thus burning out? Or, did Naolin turn venin to save Brennan? Did he also turn for love and almost killed Tairn in the process?

(If Tairn/Sgaeyl had a nickel for every bonded rider who turned venin to save a Sorrengail they'd only have two nickels but its weird it happened twice)

Why was Nolon trying to mend Jack?

He clearly knew Jack was venin and his mission was to "mend the soul". It also looks like General Sorrengail asked him to (he writes TO HER to confirm it doesn't look like there's any way to reverse the process once you've turned).

Why was the General interested in curing venin? Especially if its a long process that takes incredible resources and almost killed their one mender. Seems like a bad military strategy.

Also!!! Why did they allow Jack to go back to class?! Was it part of a controlled experiment? Was Varrish a venin too (therefore: still alive) and influenced that? Did Nolon believe he had in fact cured Jack? Did they lie to Lilith Sorrengail?

Where is Xaden's mother?

Guys. If this isn't the biggest Chekhov's gun I have ever seen.

So allegedly good old Fen Riorson (honourable leader of a righteous revolution, beloved by his son and hundreds of Tyrrish people) entered a political marriage, which makes sense for nobility, and his wife hated him and Aretia so much she ABANDONED HER SON. Waited until the legal end of her contract, packed up and left. Never to be seen or heard of again. Even after her husband died, Aretia burned, and her only son was left alone and scarred.

Let's say this is a Zuko's mum case - so she's valid for leaving an oppressive situation she was forced into; and valid for abandoning a son she never wanted to begin with; valid for not making contact after the rebellion failed for fear she'd be killed; valid for not checking in with Aretia once it was rebuilt. But. WHERE IS SHE.

She's Poromish nobility. (Hopefully Xaden and Cat aren't related 👀) The fact we know nothing about her makes me think she's going to be a big player going forward.

Why did the Venin want Xaden?

We now know Violet was just experiencing Xaden's nightmare. And the Sage was working on their generals behalf to turn Xaden and use Violet against him (if Varrish is venin and alive, it makes sense - he knew Xaden's weakness, and the whole point of Violets torture was to trap Xaden and force his hand). But. Why?

Violet has two dragons, the only known signet that destroys venin and the key to protect Navarre against them. It made sense for them to want her. But...Xaden?

He's powerful but less than either Lilith or Violet. He has key knowledge but less than Brennan or Melgren or any head scribe. Undoubtedly, his second signet will be weaponised and it's useful in an information war but IF they knew what it was then they don't need mind workers.

Guys I know y'all think Violet's "twin" is at the head of the venin army but I fear...it might be Xaden's mother. And if he finds out, this is the only thing that would tempt him towards the dark side. Man thinks he failed every woman in his life and that's why they stopped loving him and left. It would only take a little maternal manipulation to convince him to stay venin, join his mother and somehow use it to "protect" the people he loves. ESPECIALLY since venin works like Borg and he'll be influenced by the whole psychic network.

Now that these are off my chest I can rest. See you in January unless I manage to sell my soul to Malek and get a proof before then.

[dreamofbecoming]

part two, this one is still mostly stobin and pre-steddie. the first part does provide some context, although i imagine you could figure most of it out yourself, but i'd recommend reading it first anyway!

ao3

part 1

platonic stobin, mentions of steddie

rating: t

wc: 3k

---

The conversation dies down and Steve goes back to filling bottles to hand off to Robin, eyes on Dustin where he's still goofing off with Munson. Good, he should get to have as much fun as he can. This is what he should be doing. What they should all be doing. Steve hates that these kids have to be fucking…soldiers so much of the time. He hates that he can't do anything to shield them from it. Not that they'd let him if he could.

Maybe Robbie has a point, about regular teenage life stuff being pointless right now, but god, what the fuck? Why should it have to be? He's 19! He can't even buy a drink yet! Robin is still in high school!

Fuck it. They should get to be kids and think about stupid pointless stuff, too.

"So I know you said you didn't want to talk about your love life, which is fair, but if I keep thinking about dying I'm gonna lose my shit, so you wanna talk about mine?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, are we talking about how fucking weird shit has been between you and Nancy?"

Ah, fuck, that backfired almost immediately.

"What? No. Definitely not. Ok, it's been weird, but it's not a thing, ok?" She looks even more skeptical than before. "It's not! I mean, ok, maybe it is," she snorts at him, which. Rude. "But it's just like. Regular weirdness, ok?"

"What the fuck is regular weirdness?"

"You know, like, exes who haven't talked in a while in a high-pressure situation weirdness. The kind of weirdness anyone would be having in our shoes. Normal weirdness!" He throws his hands in the air, agitated.

Munson looks over at the sound of his raised voice, lifting an eyebrow and smirking. What is it with everyone raising their eyebrows at him today? He's being normal! Normal and regular! It's not his fault everything around them is weird and that makes his normal look weird by comparison. He's not doing anything wrong, so get off his nuts already! Geez!

Steve isn't sure how much of that very normal and regular monologue shows on his face, but it must be some because he can see Munson laughing at him as he goes back to playing keepaway with Dustin's hat. Bastard.

"Ugh! No, I don't want to talk about Nance. Like I really super don't. There's nothing there, it's done, it's over, there's nothing to say."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to talk about that debacle in the bus either. Six kids, Steve? Really?" Oh Jesus. He was really hoping no one had heard that.

"Bobbie, please, why are you torturing me?" He rarely deploys the Sad Eyes on Robin, mostly because they don't work especially well on her, which is insane, because they work like an atom bomb on literally everyone else. He may have left King Steve behind him, but he has plenty of skills left over from those days, not to mention he looks as good as he always has. He knows what he's working with, ok?

Anyways, this is a moment to pull out the big guns, which means Sad Eyes are a go.

As usual, they aren't as effective on Robbie as they are on other people, but she does know him well enough to realize that if he's pulling them out, it's out of desperation, so she takes pity on him anyway. Whatever. He'll take the win.

She sighs, and rolls her eyes indulgently, but she's smiling just a little. He can tell. God, he loves her. He'd burn the world down for her, is maybe going to have to. He doesn't know what he'd do without her.

"Alright, bubba, I'll bite. You want to talk about your love life, but you don't want to talk about Nancy. Whatcha got for me?"

And, oh. Shit. This is the part where he's going to have to say it out loud. He hadn't planned this far, mostly was just anxious to get the swirling feeling in his chest out into Robbie's hands because he knows she can keep it safe, mostly just trying to wipe that awful, scared, defeated look off her face, but now he has to actually do the thing. He has to say it out loud, on purpose, the way he hasn't since that day in her bedroom when his whole world shifted a little to the left, and she was the only thing holding him steady.

Fuck. Ok. He can do this. It's just Rob. No one else is close enough to hear them, and Robin will always keep him safe. She'll never let him be alone.

"So, uh. You know the, uh, the thing? That we talked about that one time?"

"Yeah, we talk every day, I'm gonna need a bit more than that, bubs."

"The, uh. The thing we decided we didn't have to talk about right away? Because it wasn't important? Or, no, it was important, but it wasn't, um. What did you say? Relevant. It wasn't relevant to my everyday life?"

"Relevant to your…oh! Oh shit! The thing! The thing we talked about! That thing!" Her eyes are wide and so so blue and her hands are flailing a little, like she wants to pat him down for injury even though that's not remotely helpful. He carefully takes the bottle out of her hand and stuffs the rag into it himself, setting it on the ground where she can't dump gasoline on herself. She smiles a little sheepishly.

"So what about the, uh, the thing?" She lowers her voice like she's in a goddamn spy movie, leaning close and waggling her eyebrows. She's so ridiculous. He loves her so much.

He gives her a pointed look. She shakes her head in response, looking confused. Jesus fuck, she's gonna make him say it.

He tries one more time, bobbing his head at her to try and make his facial expression more forceful. He doesn't miss his old crowd, really, he doesn't. He does, however, occasionally miss being around people who were constantly alert for even the smallest social shifts, who he could have a whole conversation with using nothing but subtle changes to the shape of his mouth or the width of his eyes. He loves Robin and Dustin more than life, would kill or die for them, has proven it several times over, but Christ on a cracker they wouldn't know a social cue if it whacked them in the head with a hammer.

She's still furrowing her brow at him, so he sighs, and gives in. "I think it's maybe become…relevant. I promised to tell you right away, remember?"

Her eyes go even wider than before, and she thwaps him in the chest with the back of her hand. Hard. Ow.

"Dingus!" She's whisper-shouting, but he still doesn't think anyone is close enough to hear. "What the hell!"

"Ow, Robbie, Jesus, watch the open wounds!"

She flutters her hands around his middle, like she can fix his bandages through his jacket. She does look apologetic, so that's something.

"Sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry! Are you ok? Sorry. Just, what the hell! What? Who? When?!"

He smirks at her. "What, no why or how?"

"I'm going to set you on fire with one of these cocktails if you don't start talking, Dingus, I swear to god!"

He's laughing, she's so much fun to rile up. God, he hopes he doesn't have to miss this. He hopes he gets to keep this much, at least, when they're done. He'll probably go crazy otherwise.

"Ok, ok, I won't tease, I'm sorry. So I guess, to answer your questions, uh…I found a boy to crush on, who the hell do you think, and I promised to tell you right away, didn't I?" He counts them down on his fingers while he answers them, because if he can't act like a little shit to her then honestly, what is even the point?

"Right away…holy shit. Holy shit! Steve!" She looks frantically out at the field, where Munson has now knocked Henderson over and is sitting on him, wearing his hat and crowing victory, while Dustin flails wildly on the ground. Thank fuck neither of them are looking this way, because holy hell she isn't subtle.

"Robbie, don't look, what the hell! Do you want him to know we're talking about him?"

"Oh, so we are talking about him? Eddie "The Freak" Munson?"

He cringes a little at the reminder of his earlier dismissal. "Alright, ok, so I maybe didn't give him much of a chance at first, but the Upside Down changes things, you know that! It did for us, right?"

She looks thoughtful. "I guess, yeah. So go on, loverboy, what do you like about him?" She's grinning and waggling her eyebrows again. Ugh, this may have been a mistake. She does owe him for the Tammy Thompson thing. Still, there's no one alive he'd rather talk about this with, and he has to talk to someone, or he's going to explode, and they have a…wizard…demon…thing…guy to kill. Whatever. They have killing to do, so he needs to get this off his chest so it's not clogging up his brain.

"He has…really nice eyes. And really nice hands." Robin lets out a soft "Oh, ew," before he glares at her and she motions for him to go on. "He's funny, and weird but in like, a charming way? Kind of like you, but different. The way Dustin is weird and charming like you, but different, you know?"

"You have a thing for nerds, Dingus."

"Ugh, maybe, yeah." His mind drifts back to Eddi- Munson. Gotta keep calling him Munson, at least until they get out of this. Can't afford to be distracted. "He's scared out of his mind, but he's coming along anyway, which is the kind of brave and stupid this whole group kind of runs on. He thinks he's a coward but he's not. Going back to school instead of dropping out is brave. Trusting us is brave. Acting like he does even when everyone hates him for it is brave. I wish I had been brave enough to do that, you know? Maybe I would have dropped the King shit earlier. And he's good with the kids, which you know I'm weak for. I don't know, Robs, I just…I want him to like me, you know? I want him to be impressed by me. Is that stupid?"

When he looks up, Robin's eyes are wide and shiny. She looks surprised, and a little scared. That's not good, probably, but he can't take back anything he said. He meant all of it.

"It's not stupid, bubba, it's not stupid at all. I guess I was thinking…I don't know. That it was like an adrenaline thing? Like a 'you're hot, we're in danger, I'd rather think about making out with you than dying' kind of thing? Like what Nancy was clearly doing with you earlier, you know?"

"Ugh, Robbie, I so don't want to talk about Nancy right now, please," he groans.

"Yeah yeah, I know, whatever. I just mean, it doesn't really sound like that's what's going on with you, for Eddie, right now. It kinda sounds like you, you know, like like him."

"Like like him? What are we, 12?"

"You know what I mean, Dingus, it just sounds like there are actual feelings here, not just sexy thoughts."

He shifts a little on his stool, feeling kind of exposed, but it's ok. It's just Robin. "I mean, yeah, I guess I kinda do? Have feelings. Or maybe I will? I'm kind of trying to hold them off, I guess, until we get out of here, you know? I barely know the guy, honestly, but also every time this happens I end up bonded for life to someone new, so why not him this time? I mean, the first time with the demogorgon even got me and Nancy back together, and we were like, donezo, for real, after that thing Tommy did to The Hawk. This shit is better than superglue, you know?"

Robin barks out a laugh. She squares her shoulders and puts on her best announcer voice. "Do you have trouble making friends? Looking to join a new crowd, but can't find a way in? Try Hell Beasts! Our near-death experience package will create lasting trauma that will bind you together forever! There's no escape now!"

The two of them collapse into giggles, drawing the eyes of several their friends scattered around the field.

When she composes herself, Robin gives him a soft smile. It's one of his favorites. Almost no one ever sees it but him, and not very often. "Well, I guess we had better all make it out of this in one piece, then, huh? So we can do all our sad gay pining together."

"I dunno, I think maybe I have a shot," he says thoughtfully, eyeing Edd- no, stop it, Munson, where he's flopped on the grass next to Dustin, chatting happily.

Robin boggles at him. "What the fuck do you mean, a shot? Are you- oh god, are you just gonna tell him? Steve!"

"Wh- Not right away or anything! And not for sure! I have to figure out if he's flagging on purpose first!"

"If he's whatting on what?"

"Oh come on, you remember that one zine that talked about the, uh. The whats it. The code! The hanky code, that was it!" He snaps his fingers in victory, triumphant.

She's still looking at him like he's grown a second head though, so maybe not.

"I don't know, maybe you skipped that one? From what I could tell it was more about men anyway. I think they mentioned that ladies use, uh, caribou. The clip things, you know?"

"Caribeeners? Dingus what the hell are you talking about?"

"It's this thing, right? That like, gay people, gay men, I guess, use to like, signal each other, kind of. It's basically like, you wear a hanky in your pocket, and what color it is and what pattern is printed on it and which pocket you wear it in tells people what kind of sex you like."

Robin looks even more shocked, if that's possible. "What does that even mean, what kind of sex you like?"

Oh, right. Lesbian virgin. Fair enough. "Like, do you like to uh. Give, if you know what I mean. Or receive. Do you like blowjobs, or handjobs, or like. I dunno, weird stuff. Like spit or whatever."

She's waving her hands frantically, her face screwed up. "Ahhhh lalalala that's enough! That's plenty of information, thank you!" He holds up his hands in surrender. She asked.

"Anyway, what does all of...that...have to do with you having a shot with," she switches back to her not-at-all-subtle stage whisper, "Eddie?"

"Haven't you noticed he's had that bandana in his pocket the whole time?" She whips her head around so fast he's surprised he doesn't hear her neck crack. Jesus, Robin.

"Would you chill out? You're going to make him look over here and then I'll have to let Vecna eat me because there's no way I'll survive the humiliation if he hears us, Robin!"

She glares at him. "Don't even joke about that, Dingus. You're making it out alive or I'll kill you myself."

He knows he's smiling adoringly at her, and if Henderson is looking he's never, ever beating those "in love with Robin" allegations, but whatever. "Noted, Buckley."

"So, what, you think he might be...like us? 'Cause of the bandana?"

"I mean, maybe, yeah? I might be crazy, but I also feel like he was definitely flirting with me earlier. Like in the Upside Down, and also at the trailer, you know?"

"Now that I think about it, that "Big Boy" thing was super weird. I figured it was just Eddie being Eddie, they call him The Freak for a reason, right? But I guess that could have been called flirting."

"Right? That's what I thought! And when we were down there, he was like, all up in my space, and he gave me his vest, and he seemed annoyed when I talked to Nance, even though he was trying to push me back to her. Which was insane, I didn't tell you this part Robs, oh my god. I was fully staring at his lips, just laser focused, like I would be on a girl I want to kiss, right? And he won't stop telling me how Nancy is definitely still in love with me and I should get her back! What the hell! Who does that? So I don't know," he sighs, feeling a little lost. "Maybe he isn't into me after all. But I have to at least check, right?"

"I mean, I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that, bubba, but if it goes sideways, I'll burn his house down if you want." She wiggles a molotov cocktail at him, grinning.

"Jesus, Bobbin, alright. Let's, uh. Let's call that Plan B, yeah?"

"Roger that, captain!" She gives him a stupid little salute, and for a moment he's back at Scoops, before everything went shit-shaped, but she's still his Robin, and they're safe and alive and nothing hurts.

And then he blinks again and he's sitting on an overturned bucket in front of a stolen RV, making molotov cocktails with his soulmate, watching his baby brother and the guy he might maybe sort of have a crush on tussle in the grass, hoping against hope they all live to see morning.

He picks up another bottle.

part 3

[callsigndragon]

Home is where you are | Javy Machado

Summary: Javy misses you and Jake plans him a big surprise.

Pairing: Javy Machado x fem!reader

Requested: Yes!

A/N: This has been sitting on my inbox for MONTHS and I'm so sorry. It's not as long as I wanted it to be, but it's freaking cute and i love it.

warnings: all the fluffs

Homesickness is something that Javy hasn’t experienced before. With his personality, he can fit everywhere and touch everyone's hearts, earning himself a place in every single group he encounters. He is the kind of guy you want to have near, always lighting up the room with his genuine smile. It was impossible for him to feel homesick when he was surrounded by a lot of people. Sure, he missed his home and his family, but he never had a feeling of longing. Not until he met you. 

Falling for you was the easiest thing Javy Machado has ever done. How was he supposed not to? You were, and still are, the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. You were even more beautiful on the inside. Always make him feel happy and giddy all over. It was like you two were a match made in heaven—two souls waiting for years to meet each other. 

And that was what made him feel homesick. 

You weren’t a Naval aviator. You had a normal job and a normal life outside the military world. He was deployed several times during the year, and communicating with you during those times was complicated due to the lack of a proper signal and the time zones. But you two made it work because, as complicated as it was, it was also worth it.

Javy was absolutely worth it. 

He had been deployed for a few weeks before he was called back to Top Gun for a special detachment, and it was an honor to be part of an elite squad, sure, but he was supposed to come back to you once his previous deployment was over. And now he can’t. 

“Jake, is everything okay?” You ask when you answer Jake’s phone. You’ve been friends with him since you started dating Javy, both of them are inseparable. 

“Yeah, yeah, sweets, don’t worry. I’m actually calling you to tell you about our special mission.” 

“You guys are on a special mission, isn’t that supposed to be a secret?”

Jake chuckles, and you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at you. “You and me, Y/n.” 

“Oh, right. What mission?” 

“Javy misses his fiancee, which happens to be you, and I was thinking that maybe we can give him a surprise.” 

You sigh, remembering that neither you nor Javy know when he’s going to be back from Top Gun. “That surprise involves seeing him?” 

“Oh, Mrs. Machado. It involves much more.” 

“Guys, can you tell me what the fuck is happening? Well, can you tell me why Natasha is wearing a suit?” Javy begs for the hundredth time. 

Jake pulled him out of his house this morning, not explaining why he was dragging him out of bed so early, and took him to a dozen different places before going to Mav and Penny’s house, where a brand new tuxedo is hanging in the closet door. The jacket is white, with dark navy blue pants that match the bowtie and pocket square in the same color. 

“Oh my god, what’s this?” Javy walks closer to the tuxedo, his fingertips caressing the material. It’s exactly the same tuxedo he had in his closet back home, waiting for his wedding day. 

“Doesn’t it ring a bell?” Mickey teases grabbing a glass of champagne from a table. 

Well, it looks like the one I have back home.” Javy responds, his eyes never leaving the white attire. 

“Wrong. It’s that one,” mutters Natasha while grabbing the hanger and leaving the clothes on the bed. “Get changed, Coyote. Your special mission starts in twenty minutes!” 

She’s the first one to leave the room, with Rooster, Bob, Payback, and Mickey following right behind. Jake is about to leave when Javy calls him. “Is she here?” 

Jake turns, a smirk on his face. “There’s only one way of finding out, buddy.” 

It takes Javy exactly twenty minutes to get changed, make sure he looks presentable, and walk out of the building, watching how the backyard decoration has been changed to make room for all the chairs and decorations that form the aisle. 

And right at the end of the aisle, waiting for him at the altar, it’s you. 

“Shouldn’t I be waiting for her?” Javy whispers, afraid that speaking a bit louder might wake him up from this dream that he must be having. 

Because there’s no way in hell that he is marrying such an angel as you in real life. This must be a dream. 

“Well, we’ve decided to change the tradition a bit.” Payback explains, placing a hand on his shoulder. “After all, the groom waiting for the bride at the altar is a tradition that doesn’t have any romantic meaning. It was only to make sure that the poor guy didn’t run away.” 

Javy’s eyes wander all over your figure, and he knows that there’s no other place he’d rather be right now. Well, right next to you, holding your hand and kissing you. 

“Ready, buddy?” Jake asks Javy, although he knows the answer already. 

“I’ve never been more ready.” 

Hours later, when the party has calmed down a bit and Javy can take his wife away from the rest of the world for a few minutes, you two walk down the stairs that lead to the beach. Javy carries your heels in his hand, while your free hand, the one that isn’t holding Javy’s, grabs the tail of the dress to make it easier for you to walk on the sand.

“Did you like your surprise?” You say, your thumb caressing the wedding band that you bought without him knowing. 

“It’s the best surprise ever, baby. I still can’t believe we’re married.” He says, the smile never leaves his face. He’s extremely happy.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t marry at home with all your friends and family. I could only get your parents to come,” you explain, your smile faltering because of the lack of guests. 

Javy grabs your face between his hands, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his forehead against yours. “Babe, my parents were here, and the daggers were too. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” 

“Yeah, that’s true. I guess I’ll have to start packing our things back home and sending them here. I’m now Mrs. Machado.” You joke, but there’s something real behind your words: you have to move all your things to Javy’s house at the base. It’s now your home. 

“Will you be okay moving here?” He questions, afraid that this big change might upset you. He has friends, but he knows that for you, it’s going to be a bit difficult. He can introduce you to Bob and Natasha’s partner, he knows they’re absolute sweethearts and that you’ll get along with them. 

“Yeah, of course. I’m a tough cookie. I can handle a change. But… what about you? Won’t you miss our home?”

“Honey, home is where you are. You are my home. And you make me feel like I’m at home every time. It doesn’t matter if we’re here or in a supermarket. You will always make it feel like home.” 

His words make you tear up a bit, making him chuckle and kiss your tears away. “My, my, Mrs. Machado. I never thought you were a crier.” 

“Shut up, you idiot! I’m emotional.” You whine, slapping his chest, which only makes him laugh more. 

“It’s a very emotional day, baby. Want to go back, steal a bottle of champagne, and make out in Jake’s car?” 

You raise an eyebrow after hearing his offer. “Jake is gonna kill us.” 

“He fucked a random girl in my car back in the academy days. He owes me one.” 

“He’s gonna sanitize the entire car after tonight.” You laugh, turning back to the path that takes you back to the house. 

“That’s Jake’s problem, not mine.” 

@purplevortexx

@novastories

@pono-pura-vida

@xoxabs88xox

[kinardsheart]

the swat tommy ex bfs au :3

“Buck! We’re done here, pack it up! We leave in 15!”

With a relieved yawn, an empty hose was tossed into it’s desired compartment and Buck finally stretched his limbs out, ignoring the spasm of pain that ran through his exhausted limbs after 3 hours of gruelling labor. He sat down on the floor, trying to catch his breath for a minute.

It was a big call with 2 houses combined efforts. A hotel had been lit on fire, arson, with 208 people still inside. To make it worse, the arsonists were armed. The 118 had been sent out first, then the 217. Efforts were at first directed clearly on getting as many civilians out and containing the fire, before SWAT was deployed to take down the shooters. After the whole ordeal, it had just been snuffing out the last of the flames.

An ice pack and a bottle of water being offered to him interrupted his zoning out, looking up to meet familiar crystal blue eyes laced with worry.

“Sargeant Kinard! For me?” Buck grinned teasingly, reaching out to take the water. Big warm hands pressed the icepack to a bruise on his cheek as he eagerly gulped down the liquid, trying to ignore the flush that threatened to rise at the contact.

“You took a big fall. You sure you’re okay?”

His head throbbing in time to the music played by the 217 was probably a sure indicator he wasn’t, but alas. He had a job to do.

The fall the SWAT sargeant was referring to was the dive he took out of a 2nd story window, shooter in his arms right infront of Tommy. The shooter, a 19ish year old kid with manic eyes and shaking hands holding a pistol far too big for him, had pointed the gun at an innocent woman with the clear intention to shoot. Buck really had no other choice than to tackle him out the window, much to the surprise of the older man beside him when it happened.

“I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I do, Evan. I always do.”

The tension thickened as he twisted the cap back onto the bottle, pushing it back into his ex boyfriend’s hands with a force that wasn’t needed.

“Too bad, sargeant. You gave up that right.”

Tommy’s eyes softened, eyebrows furrowing in concern as the firefighter attempted to get up with a stumble to his step. Even in his SWAT getup, he somehow looked so small.

He sighed sadly, wrapping his muscled arm around Buck’s waist to steady him while his flew up onto the other’s shoulders to secure himself. Tommy had been working out. Maybe with Eddie. He felt sick, hand tightening it’s grip on broad shoulders.

“I know, love. Let me take you to the hospital.”