#also I do think bob has to be white. I think it’s important that he is. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wangxianficrecs · 4 months

Text

Rewind 2023 - Part II

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2023

Here is part two of our favourite stories published in 2023! Reminder that if you also want to give a shout-out to a story, submit an ask and we will share it in an upcoming post featuring Follower Recs and Proud Author Spotlights.

Part I

~*~

the dream of the fisherman's husband

by luckymarrow (@luckymarrow)

E, 5k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Really? Are you fucking with me? Once for yes, twice for no.” Two taps. Wei Ying scrambles from his desk and over to the tank, presses his face right against the glass. “Was Wen Ning right?” he whispers. His breath fogs the glass. “Are you our new cephalopod overlords?” Once again, the little blue and white octopus taps twice against the glass. Wei Ying goggles. Then it taps a sequence against the glass. But Wei Ying has worked on enough expedition ships to know Morse code, or at least the most important code of all—SOS. This little octopus needs help.

~*~

New Perspective

by mrcformoso (@mrcformoso)

T, Series, 34k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary Part One: “Lan Zhan, let me go.” The last memory Lan Zhan has of Wei Ying was the soft, serene smile on his face as he fell to his death. It was, perhaps, what haunted him the most. When it came to the matters regarding Wei Ying, Lan Zhan was always too late. A character study looking into Lan Zhan’s character development between Wei Ying’s death and resurrection, and his struggles of changing in the wake of his newfound fatherhood.

~*~

The Art of Communication

by mrcformoso (@mrcformoso)

G, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Zhan can only say so much before the words get caught in his throat. He has long learned how to use his words sparingly, how to build enough of a reputation to minimize the use of words, has learned to hide behind little grunts and pointed looks. In contrast, Wei Ying never seemed to run out of words, speaking often and quickly, whatever was on his mind, mumbling equations and theories and his own thoughts as if he had a word quota to meet and exceed on a daily basis. So the Gusu University students found it rightfully strange that the two were dating. Chapter 1: Outsiders POV Chapter 2: Lan Zhan POV Chapter 3: Wei Ying POV

~*~

❤️ Across the street to another life

by danegen (@danegen)

M, 99k, Wangxian | Kay's & Mojo's Rec

Summary: Wangji stays on the piano bench as they’re closing up. Wei Ying chews his lip, knowing what he’s going to do but horrified at himself. But what’s the alternative: kick the guy out and find him sleeping beside the dumpster in the morning? And that’s if the cops don’t take him in for vagrancy. “Wangji?” Wangji looks up. Please don’t be a serial killer. “So, we’re closing up for the night, but A-Yuan and I live upstairs. Do you want to join us for dinner?” Wangji blinks. His head bobs in what’s probably a yes. “Great!” Fuck. Or a ragged monosyllabic man wearing a collar shows up at Wei Ying's music store. Wei Ying and A-Yuan ask, is anyone going to adopt this guy? And then they don't wait for an answer.

~*~

💙 Concord

by Deastar (@youhideastar)

T, 41k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji hopes, somewhat frivolously, that his betrothed might find him an acceptable companion. Neither he nor Wei Wuxian are able to bear children, so there will be no need to share a marital bed; that should make it easier for the two of them to reach a natural, comfortable equilibrium. Two strings played in harmony: this is Lan Wangji’s quiet hope, as he arranges the Jingshi to accommodate a second inhabitant. Perhaps, he thinks, they might even become friends.

~*~

silk linked together

by theLoyalRoyalGuard

G, 6k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji runs a sanctuary for rescued bunnies. His life is quiet and routine. Until Mo Xuanyu needs a place to stay out of trouble. He doesn’t expect to end up rescuing him, too.

~*~

Making Mouths at Dragons

by athena_crikey

E, 10, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Ying takes a slow breath, then another. “Then you’d want… that? A baby? A kid?” Lan Zhan’s low rumble has a hint of dragon in it, a lick of thunder. For a moment Wei Ying can almost hear the rush of the tide in his ears, storms and seafoam. His mind is full of the glint of moonlight on scales, silver and rippling like silk. “With you? Yes.”

~*~

Behind the Scenes

by QueenXIV

E, 5k, NMJ/LWJ | Kay's Rec

Summary: Nie Mingjue felt dirty. Horrible. He had paid to see his best friend's didi fuck himself with a dildo. He had jerked off to it. He had liked it. He was fucked.

~*~

Playing Possum

by DizziDreams (@dizzi-dreams)

T, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji is woken in the night by the sound of animals fighting, and there is more to the opossum he rescues than there seems.

~*~

Once-body

by ByCandlelight

M, 10k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Years after he was disowned by the Jiangs, Wei Ying lives a quiet life working at a funeral home. Then he reencounters his former high school classmate Lan Zhan, who is planning his father’s cremation. Wei Ying won’t pass up the chance to get closer to his former crush, but first he has to hide all the brains in his freezer.

~*~

Lessons in Belonging

by Nyatci (@nyatci)

M, 12, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Zhan looks back at various moments during the years and thinks about the emotional wounds caused by Wei Ying’s adoptive family. Or alternatively: 5 times Lan Zhan worried about Wei Ying and 1 time he realized he didn’t have to worry anymore.

~*~

Jin Ling and Demonic Cultivation

by ImNobody122 (@colorsunlikeanythingseen)

Not rated, 8k, Jin Ling | Kay's Rec

Summary: Mo Xuanyu was not the first demonic cultivator Jin Ling had to rescue from his uncle's hands.

~*~

mother of mothers

by SpeedingCheetah

T, 11k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary:There was a girl in Gusu, who played the flute and sung songs to the fish in the rivers as townspeople let her sit on their boats; stirring away and humming. There was a girl who smiled, who had a blood red ribbon and blood red eyes. The girl was a boy who was not alive. A ghost who stayed in the city because his mother made him promise. He seemed happy enough anyway, coming to the docks, coming to the paths. He bought apples, he spoke Gusu’s dialect in a rustic tongue that was many, many years out of date—ancient, prosperous. Only a few elders understood the clicking accent the way Wuxian spoke it. He was Lan Wangji’s sole companion. He was also the being who had been cursed many years ago to never wake up, and never live. Lan Wangji wished to help fix that. (or: cangse sanren’s child is a ghost of nature, and cursed to sleep forever. a boy still makes friends with the ghost anyway.)

~*~

exit, pursued by fierce corpse

by hauntedotamatone (@hauntotamatone)

Not rated, 4k, WWX & WN | Kay's Rec

Summary: “The Jin clan of Lanling is rich beyond rich,” The second boy whispers, or rather, attempts to whisper. “If we bring them the head of the Yiling Laozu, they’ll have no choice but to reward us!” It’s quite a stupid endeavor, especially for three, unarmed, young masters whose knowledge of combat and heroism likely comes from playhouses alone. - “Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning whispers, barely louder than the sound of a person breathing and all the more striking when it comes from one who does not. His face is still, the undisturbed waters of a pond, but there is something in his eyes that reminds him of brightness, the shine of a dragonfly skimming the water. - alternatively; wen qionglin, the method actor.

~*~

If I had to keep being separated from you like this (I'd rather die)

by katje

E, 30k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “So, you’re here to become my blood thrall, are you?” Mr. Wei finally turned, and Lan Wangji had to fight to swallow the gasp that tried to escape his throat. He was beautiful. His long, pitch-black hair was pulled into a ponytail that flowed in smooth waves over his shoulder, and he was clad in a red dress shirt that was buttoned only halfway up his chest, exposing his sharp collar bones and a hint of the smooth skin of his torso. He was pale - too pale. And he had the most striking grey eyes Lan Wangji had ever seen. Eyes that immediately betrayed him as a nonhuman. As a cold, powerful, immortal vampire that Lan Wangji was about to sell himself to. OR Lan Wangji enters into a contract to become Wei Wuxian's blood thrall to save his uncle, and finds more than a heartless vampire at the end of the deal.

~*~

fracture fix

by phosphorous

G, 5k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: What he did not say: I don’t want to be anywhere in this world where you aren’t. I want to know you inside out. I want to know you forever. I want you to know me inside out and I want you to know me forever too. I am a burden. But I am yours. I want to be yours, for as long as you will have me. “I love you, Lan Zhan,” he had said instead. It had ebbed and flowed in the space over their heads like tides in a river. Eventually, it had settled. Eventually, it had stayed.

~*~

What Dreams May Come

by Admiranda (@ladypfenix)

G, 5k, Ouyang Zichen | Kay's Rec

Summary: Qiu Shiyu is a pragmatic young woman, she knows that the marriage her father wants to arrange will be more for his benefit than hers. But even so, she cannot help hoping that her prospective husband to be just might be someone who can match her romantic side too.

~*~

Mask

by BurningTea (@humanformdragon)

M, 30k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: The cultivation world knows that Wei Wuxian is dead. It knows that the Yiling Patriarch has appeared, dangerous and powerful enough for Wen Ruohan to offer an alliance. And a prize. The Wen Sect is happy to agree when the Yiling Patriarch demands one of their hostages, Lan Wangji.

~*~

Letters along a River

by Ilona22

M, 19k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: They met at the stairs leading to the Cloud Recesses and when days spent together lead to a tentative friendship, letters lead to more. Meanwhile, trouble grows, quietly creeping along in the realms of politics and the supernatural.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

#wangxian fic rec #wangxianficrecs #rewind 2023 #mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #fandom event #long post #Kay's Rec #Mojo's Rec #Kay's Favorite #Mojo's Favorite #The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #MDZS #Mo Dao Zu Shi

194 notes · View notes

xyvyl · 1 year

Text

𝒯𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝒹𝑜 𝓊𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉

Pairing: Alastor x fem! Reader

Summary: What if Alastor rejected Angel, because he is still loyal to his partner from when he was alive?

A/N:

Word count: 800

Warnings: cursing, Angel being Angel, no use of Y/N

Pronouns used: she/her

Type: one-shot

MasterLink

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can suck ya dick.” Alastor stood there dumbfounded, how dare he?

Alastor raised his eyebrows before laughing and declining the offer.

After a few hours, Alastor retreated to his assigned room, with a stomach full of jambalaya.

The first thing he saw when he sat on the bed, was a picture frame. In the black and white picture was a man and a woman,

The woman wore a beautiful gown, he remembered it being a shade of coral pink. Her hair was tied up in a wavy bob, with some strands of hair pinned back.

The man wore a white button up with a vest, which he KNOWS was reddish brown. The man also has glasses on the bridge of his nose, quite similar to the monocle he has now.

Alastor was pulled out of his thoughts when someone knocked on the door, he sighed and called out "Come in!".

The door opened and there stood Angel, "Hey Smiles, Toots told me to apologize to ya."

Angel stopped talking when he noticed the picture frame.

"Ya good Smiles? Ya look a little tense." Angel stepped forward into Alastor's room.

"Perfectly fine, my dear. I was just thinking." Alastor didn't turn around, he just stared at the floor. "Who's tha'?" Angel pointed at the picture frame, the same picture frame that Alastor was just staring at.

"Just someone who was important to me." Alastor whispered, the radio static barely there.

Angel looked at him, "Ya wanna talk about it?" Alastor didn't answer, he just sighed and patted the space next to him.

When Angel sat down next to him, Alastor started speaking, "This is the only thing I have left of her." Angel let out a small chuckle, "She looks like an angel." "She was. The only reason why she would end up here is overbaking a birthday cake" The two men chuckled.

"So tell me about her, what was she like?" Angel questioned Al, who smiled wider than he usually does.

"She was an angel. We didn't have any kids, but she treated every kid she met like they were her own." Alastor's smiled faltered slightly. "This picture was us on our honeymoon, she was so happy the whole time, literally nothing could take that smile off of her face."

A knock came from the door.

Alastor sighed, "It's open!" The door opened to Charlie.

"Al? A woman is downstairs asking for you, she says it's urgent" You could clearly see Vaggie behind Charlie, but it didn't seem like she was gonna say anything.

"A woman? Thought ya were married Smiles!" Angel grinned

Alastor didn't react to Angel's comment and just walked out of the room.

When Alastor exited the room, was when Angel knew why he rushed out so fast. "Oh..!"

When Alastor got downstairs he didn't immediately see the woman, but when he did he literally ran towards her.

"My dear! I missed you so much! What are you doing here?" Alastor's Trans Atlantic accent was no where to be found.

The woman stood up from the bar stool and met Al halfway, "I believe I am here because I helped you hide multiple bodies, Alastor."

The pair hugged and Alastor even twirled her around in the air.

"Smiles! Ya wanna introduce us?" Angel yelled at them from across the room. The woman looked up at him, "Who's this young fella?"

Alastor sighed, "My dear, this is AngelDust, an acquaintance," Al hissed the word 'acquaintance' at Angel. "This young lady here is Vagatha, Charlie's girlfriend. Speaking of! This here is Charlie Morningstar, the princess of hell. I believe you have already met Husker and Niffty!" When Al finished introducing everyone there, he turned to everyone. "And everyone here, this is my lovely wife! I didn't expect her to be here." The woman bowed down her head.

Charlie came up to her and started asking her questions. "My sweet Charlie, I think it might be the best of idea's that we don't overwhelm her." Al grabbed the woman's arm, "I shall show you to my room, My Dear."

When they arrived at Alastor's room, he immediately opened the door for his lady. A faint sound could be made out as 'sweethearts holiday' by Tom Clines. The woman smiles, remembering all the memories she had with that song.

Al led his wife inside and closed the door behind him. The woman took a hold of his hand and pulled him towards her.

The woman started to slightly sway her hips and upper body. "Do you remember all the things we did to this song?" Alastor laughed, "Ha! How could I forget, Dear? This song was playing when you first burned your cake."

The pair smiles and rested their heads on each other and together they danced the night away.

#Alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x fem! reader #alastor x reader #alastor x wife reader #alastor x wife! reader #Charlie Morningstar #vaggie #angeldust #hazbin hotel husk

999 notes · View notes

versegm · 1 year

Text

Goredolf insists on meeting every new servant summoned to Chaldea.

First of all, he is literally the director; he wants people to at least have a vague idea of who he is and why he’s important here. Second of all, he almost had a heart attack the first time he walked into the cafeteria and ran into three different people wearing Koyanskaya’s face, so he wants the head’s up in case someone like Limbo or Rasputin gets summoned one day.

Unfortunately, that also means that sometimes, he gets in situations like this one.

“Hello!” The new servant makes a little wave of the hand. “I was told to come meet you after my summoning. Happy to meet you!”

They’re wearing white, loose clothes, with black streaks here and there. He is pretty sure it’s a mystic code of sorts. They have black gloves and thick boots, the kind one brings for mountain climbing.

What they do not have, however, is a head.

It’s not even a Hessian situation. There is no black hole, no void, no fog to hide the deed. The servant has legs, a stomach, a chest, a neck, and then suddenly it gets cut off part a certain point. Goredolf can see the bare flesh on the cut, the blood pumping beneath, and even a bit of spinal cord. Needless to say, it’s quite disturbing.

“My eyes are up there, director.” The servant says with a laugh, pointing at the empty space above the that definitely does not have eyes. “You shouldn’t be staring too much. It’ll make you sick.”

Goredolf coughs into his fist. “Apologies. I did not mean to be rude. It is merely a surprising sight, as you can imagine.” Still, he can’t help sneaking another glance at that neck. “Did you die of beheading?”

“Bit of a personal question, don’t you think?” Goredolf hears a laugh at the end of their sentence, though, so they’re probably? Not offended? Where is their voice even coming from? Goredolf genuinely can’t tell. “Mostly though, I forgot what I looked like. Don’t worry too much about it. I’m sure I’ll remember eventually.”

This is either a very obvious lie, or an incredibly sad fact, so Goredolf decides not to push it. “Anyways. I am Goredolf Musik, the director of Chaldea. As they probably already told you.” He adds hastily, remembering how the servant referred to him by title earlier.

The servant’s neck bobs forward. It takes Goredolf a second to realize this is meant to be a nod. “And I am Caster of Antartica.”

Ooh. It’s one of those. Circumstances being as they are, Goredolf often finds himself forgetting that knowing a servant’s true name is kind of A Big Deal. Rare are those who stick to anonymity- and even then, Goredolf is certain they’ve already disclosed their name to the Master specifically.

Goredolf’s gaze rakes the servant up and down once more. Caster of Antartica… Someone from an expedition to the poles, perhaps? A survivor of The Terror?

He’ll have to do some research later. For now, he extends a hand to them. “Glad to have you on board.”

“Likewise.” The servant says cheerfully. They grab Goredolf’s offered palm, shake it, and-

Their hand.

Their hand

Trembling.

The clothes can be changed. The face can be hidden. The voice can be tweaked. But the hands. The hands. The hands. Trembling hands, scarred hands, damaged hands. Goredolf would recognize them anywhere. No glove on this earth, no matter how thick, would be enough to hide this tremble.

Goredolf pales. “You are-”

The servant suddenly pulls on his arm, and Goredolf tumbles right into their embrace, cut mid-sentence. They wrap both arms around him into a hug, rubbing circles against his back.

“My, Director. Don’t you know it’s rude to use the wrong name when someone introduce themself as something else?”

Their voice is friendly. Their hands are warm. Goredolf feels so, so deathly cold. “But- you-”

“Am merely a heroic spirit who heard a call for help, and decided to lend a hand. That is all there is to it.” They part from him with a tap on his shoulder. If they had a face, Goredolf just know they would be smiling, with that annoying fucking smile they always use when they are profoundly sad. “Now I believe my presence is upsetting you, so I will take my leave. Hopefully our paths will never cross again.”

They turn to leave, but Goredolf grabs onto the hem of their shirt. (He doesn’t recognize this uniform. Is this what they wore, prior to the lostbelts? Is it what they will wear, in the future?) “Wait! Does… does the Master know?”

The servant pauses, and Goredolf realizes how stupid of a question that was. Of course they do. The Master is many thing- lacking in common sense, way too friendly, garbage at magecraft- but if there’s one thing they have figured out, it’s servants. Of course they would know. Of course.

“… Don’t tell them.” The servant says eventually. “To say it out loud would be to speak it into existence. So long as no one says it, we can pretend. You can grant us that small mercy, can't you? Let us pretend?”

#my writing #fate #fate grand order #fgo #guda #ritsuka fujimaru #goredolf musik

232 notes · View notes

laracrofted · 1 year

Note

happy birthdayyyyy may I please I request “if you keep looking at me like that, i’m not responsible for what happens next.” for my love Bob? (love me a good man going feral)

i also love a good man going feral, and since i know my audience (aka you, dear), i had to throw in a little whiny bob 🫡

warnings: minors dni, explicit sexual content (oral, sex), swearing, bob floyd in powder blue (deserves a warning), alcohol, not proofread. bob x fem!reader.

Pete Mitchell and Penny Benjamin get married on a warm Saturday evening at the end of April.

It is a beautiful service — all whites and creams and pastel blues – and very well-attended.

Every important Naval Admiral is here, even Admiral Simpson, who supposedly doesn’t even like Captain Mitchell. He lurks near the champagne all night, making eyes at the woman who came with him, a pretty young thing in a backless periwinkle dress.

And not a dry eye in the house when Maverick mentions Goose and Carole Bradshaw in the speech at the reception.

Goose would’ve owed Carole $100 tonight. He never thought I’d settle down, but Carole always had a sixth sense about me. She always knew. And I know Goose is looking down on us and thinking, damn, Pete, Penny Benjamin?

It is a moving speech about friendship and fate and the love that comes back you for a second, even third time against all odds.

You barely hear a word.

You should probably be more ashamed than you are.

But Robbie is in a beautiful powder blue suit that brings out the deep shade in his eyes, crinkled with laughter from a joke that Maverick cracked. He looks so damn handsome in the golden glow of the pink and orange sunset.

You’re so in love with him. You can hardly breathe.

Damn damn damn.

Out of the corner of his eye, Robbie catches you watching him. A dimple carves out in his cheek as Robbie bites down on an adorable smile.

He finds your hand under the table. Leans over to brush his lips against the shell of your ear, breath warm with champagne.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that, and I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

Champagne fizzes in your bloodstream, making you bold. You reach across him for another canapé and accidentally brush your whole chest against his arm.

“And what happens next, Robbie?”

He swallows hard, eyelids fluttering closed.

Luckily, Pete Mitchell and Penny Benjamin wanted a destination wedding and wanted the reception to be in the ball room on the second level of the hotel.

You probably couldn’t have last a whole drive back home. You barely make it back to the room.

“You look so beautiful. This dress…”

Robbie guides the zipper down, leaving a kiss along your spine with every pull, and helps you step out of the dress. He drapes the fabric over his arm and carefully puts it on a hanger in the closet to prevent any wrinkles. Sweet man.

His gaze sweeps over the pale blue lingerie and the matching heels, and Robbie drinks you in, gripping your chin with gentle fingers and pulling you in for a kiss that leaves you wanting more, so much more.

“Get on the bed.”

You do.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. You sigh.

He has great forearms.

You reach down to unbuckle the heels, but Robbie stills your palm. He lifts your hand and kisses along your knuckles, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“I like them. Leave them on.”

Fully clothed, Robbie kneels down in those nice slacks and pulls you to the edge of the mattress, lifting your legs over his shoulders and sighing against you.

His next kiss is pressed to the damp spot in the lace, now a dark blue under his attention. His tongue dips underneath the side of the fabric and licks at the seam of you, and Robbie moans.

"God... Taste so good."

You come three times on his eager tongue before Robbie turns you loose, mouth shining with you.

You sink down on him in one move, soaking wet now, and Robbie whines, unconsciously canting his hips into you, pushing even deeper. You'll never forget that beautiful sound.

He comes with a broken whine too.

#birthday 🤠 drabbles #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fic #bob floyd smut #robert floyd x you #robert floyd smut #robert floyd x reader #laracrofted writes #fic: bob floyd

315 notes · View notes

sweetlittlegingy · 1 year

Text

The Monster You Created

“You corrupted her soul, what else did you expect”

🍒 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Callsign Cherry Masterlist

🍒 Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Y/N 'Cherry' Bishop, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Y/n 'Cherry' Bishop

🍒 Word Count: 4.3 k

🍒 Warnings: Parental death, sexism, asshole Jake and Bradley, jokes about them being together, swearing, breach of trust, talk of virginity loss, loss of friendship (and love...), angst, AS (asshole pilot), protective Bob, mourning

🍒 A/n: Here we go, let me know what you guys think. Bobby has made become an unexpected important appearance and he's staying.

🍒 Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

Your nails drum against the steering wheel as you drive, and the saltwater breeze fills the air surrounding you. You had just recently taken the top off your jeep and the warm summer weather did wonders for your skin. The sunglasses that rest on the bridge of your nose dim the blinding light of the sunset, though as you pull into the Hard Deck you lower them to take in the beachside bar.

Receiving the call back to Top Gun came as somewhat of a surprise, though you had heard through the chain line that there was a new mission brewing. It was the luck that came with having good connections in the Navy, not just because of your late father, but because you had also made quite a name for yourself in the past ten years.

You slip from the cherry red jeep that matches your nails and the short red and white polka-dotted dress swings against your thighs, barely covering your backside. You reach up to run your hands through your hair, effectively releasing the knots from the drive. Your keys swing on your finger as you make your way into the bar, and your eyes catch sight of an all too familiar bronco sitting in the lot.

You slip through the doors and the momentary blast of cool air is quickly ridden from you and exchanged for the overly stuffy heat in the overpacked bar. You catch a few eyes, service men that think you’re going to be their willing prey for the night. A small teasing smile rests on your lips and you may or may not innocently bat your eyes at them. Though you don’t stay in one place long enough for them to make a move towards you.

The simple, yet intimidating stride you take toward the bar has patrons moving out of your way and the click of your heels seems to gain the attention of the entire bar. You can feel the different sets of eyes watching you and though you used to mind all of the attention and shy away from it. Now you reveled in it, it came with the persona and built a sturdy barrier that no one was able to cross.

Your eye’s find Penny as she gives you a small smile, while you lean up against the bar top and give her a genuine smile. Penny had been in your life long before Top Gun when your parents were still alive, and she had essentially become the aunt you never had.

“God, Italy did you good.” Her eyes move up and down your form before she motions you to do a small turn, with her finger.

“Could have been the weather, culture, maybe the food.” Your hands rest on the bar, and you lean into her. “But it’s probably because of the men.”

She gives you a full laugh, with her head thrown back, before giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“We missed you.” The words are muttered quietly and you give her a squeeze back in answer before she is pulling away and getting you a drink. The words make your gut twist and causes your heel to tap away. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss Penny and Amelia, it was just too hard being back. Driving down the street you once walked and seeing things that reminded you of everything you lost.

You can feel the stare as it burns a hole in the back of your head, and while you had only seen Rooster’s bronco, you were sure Hangman had gotten the call back as well. Your focus is taken from Penny as a figure slides up to the bar top next to you, their hand just barely ghosting against your waist, but enough to get you to turn around in question.

“You’re even prettier up close.”

Your eyes nearly see the back of your head as they roll, but you notice the khaki uniform and decide to play. Your hand falls to his that’s resting on the bar and a small giggle emits from your chest, as you give him a teasing smile.

He tells you his callsign and then explains that he’s a pilot, all while you maintain innocence and act completely oblivious to the military world. A glass slides into your hand, the amber liquid sloshing and you give Penny a quiet thank you, before winking.

“Put it on my tab, honey.”

Penny looks between the two of you, before giving the guy a smirk and a nod. You hid behind your glass, eyes peeking over the rim as you smile, then take a small sip of the whiskey. You would laugh at the poor guy and how he was completely oblivious to who you were, but the free drink was incentive enough to not spoil his night quite yet.

“So, you’re a fighter pilot,” Your voice is breathy, and the smile he gives you doesn’t hide the thoughts that are already racing through his mind. “Have you ever had to shoot anyone down?”

The question seems innocent enough and the gentle tilt of your head in wonder has the guy’s hand coming to rest at your hip.

“I’ve had many close calls, honey.” His hand slightly grabs at the material of your dress. “But there are only two active pilots with air-to-air kills.”

You hum in acknowledgment, which has him continuing as you take another drink. You tune out for a moment when you catch movement to the right of you, but you don’t risk the turn around to see who is making their way toward you. The use of your callsign has your attention on the pilot, and the look you give him has him repeating for you.

“Hangman and Cherry, only pilots that have air-to-air kills. Hangman’s got one under his belt, he’s actually a good friend of mine.” You almost laugh at the desperation seeping off him, you know damn well that he doesn’t know Jake and it’s only a last-stitched effort to get in your pants. “What about, Cherry?”

“She’s got two, lucky kills though.” The words make you glare slightly at the man, but he’s too consumed in himself to even notice. “She’s also the resident bitch of the Navy.”

You knew what people that didn’t know you, said about you. The name was no surprise, but that didn’t make you any less pissy at the term. Though before you can say something, the movement from your right comes into view and the smell of sandalwood consumes your senses.

A hand slips around your waist and effectively pushes the pilot’s hand from your hip. You breathe in the scent and your beating heart calms at the new presence. The familiarity has you leaning farther into the body, now encasing you to the bar. Your eye’s leave the pilot's face, who is already glaring to the side of you, and find a pair of deep blue eyes watching you.

“Hi, Bobby.”

You give him a delicate smile, one that very few people ever saw, before lifting your hand to adjust the frames that rest on the bridge of his nose. A gentle kiss is placed on your temple before Bob pulls away and looks at the pilot then back to you.

“What are you doing, Cher?”

“Just playing.”

The words are easy as they slip off your lips and have Bob laughing, while the other pilot stares at you in silence. He had witnessed you “play” with cocky pilots on more than one occasion and while it was all a game to you, he didn’t trust any pilot whose ego you bruised.

You grasp the glass of whiskey from the counter, noticing that Penny topped you off, before shooting it like a shot. Your eyes remain on the pilot, as a small dribble of the liquor falls from your lips. Bob moves without thinking, as his thumb swipes across your bottom lip to catch it. Though before he can pull away, your lips wrap around his thumb and suck the amber liquid right off.

The action makes Bob roll his eyes, over the seven-year friendship he had become used to your antics and knew you better than almost everyone. When you first meet the pair of you had become instant friends, about 4 months into the friendship on a drunken night, the pair of you had decided to see just how compatible you were. Neither of you could keep a straight face and the night of “debauchery,” turned into a night of horror moves cuddling after the ultimate failure of making out.

The pilot watches you in silent shock, as you pat his shoulder once and give him a smirk. Your form pushes off the bar, clutching Bobby’s hand and tugging him with you. Though before you can get far you turn back around, looking past Bobby’s smirking face to see the man not only stunned but mad. Just like those old cartoons, waiting for the steam to release from his ears.

“Oh, by the way, I’m Cherry. The resident bitch of the United States Navy.”

...

Bob pulls you forward and tugs you toward the bathroom hallway, before stopping in a corner. Your body settles against the wall, though Bob’s arms are quick to wrap around you and pull you into a tight hug. You clutch onto the back of his shirt and relax knowing that you wouldn’t be facing anything alone. Not tonight or during the next 6 weeks.

“When did you get back?”

The words are muffled against your neck, but you hear them clear as day.

“About 40 hours ago.” Your voice is teasing, though the small hitch at the end tells Bob just how tired you are.

“If you would have told me you were coming, we could have driven down together Cher.”

“I know.” You nod gently before your head falls back to rest against the wall. “I just needed the time. They say it gets easier with time, but every time I come back it feels like I’m still that little girl. Losing the only life I knew and getting shipped off to Texas. It wasn’t just my parents who died, the person I was, my life, died too.” A shuttered breath courses through your body, and your hand tightens around Bob's. The tightening in your throat only grows and has you pushing out a forced laugh, anything to change the current topic of interest. “Plus, Adams told me a little bit about the detachment and said that they might be here, which was correct according to the bronco sitting in the lot.”

“Yeah, I just had the pleasure of meeting them. Rooster doesn’t seem horrible and well Hangman, he’s just like you described.” Your eyes roll and any form of smile falls from your face. “Come on, Cher. It’s been ten years.”

Your hand reaches up to spin the pendant on your necklace, a nervous habit that you had picked up. Though your fingers are stilled, as Bob reaches up and grasps onto your hand bring it down to relax by your side.

“Ten years, that I’ve spent making sure that I am better than them in every way, Bobby.”

Your eyes move from Bob and settle on the wall opposite of you, at the flash of disappointment in his eyes. A deep sigh emits from his chest, and your head tips back to lean against the wall behind you, staring that the wood-beamed ceiling.

You hate disappointing Bob, he was like your big brother, but he also knew the full story and couldn’t blame you for the hate you still carried for the pair. The story of your callsign followed you around, it wasn’t like it died after leaving the academy. No, everywhere you went at least one guy brought your virginity.

“I’ll play nice, but the minute either of them say something,” a heavy sigh leaves your lips, and Bob's hand gently squeezes your hand in reassurance. Your head dips back down and your eyes sweep to his, to find only love and support. You give him a small squeeze back and a tiny smile, that was only for his comfort. Before vacantly muttering the words, “I will burn them to the fucking ground, Robert.”

A deep sigh leaves his chest, though before he can say anything you’re turning. You had enough of him playing the disappointed older brother and just wanted to have fun. You hadn’t seen him for 8 months and knew that the both of you had lots to catch up on.

A squeeze and a smirk are all you give him before you’re heading back down the hall and out into the bar. You can feel him trailing behind you, though you don’t slow. Your back straightens and the pace in your step quickens slightly, as you round the corner and catch sight of the all too familiar dirty blonde hair.

You make a bee-line for the pool tables, knowing that ripping off the band-aid would be far easier. Then standing around anxiously all night, waiting for one of them to show up. You side-stepping the guy from the bar, who had somehow magically found a home for the night at a table opposite of the pool tables. His hand reaches out again trying to grab at your sundress, and the small tug on it has you halting.

You pause momentarily still looking towards the pool tables and before you can turn around, your eyes find a pair of green ones. You both hold each other’s gaze and for a moment you think that you see a flash of pain and longing, but as quick as it appeared it disappears. You break the stare before anyone can notice and turn to be met with the smiling fool.

“Now sweetheart, it wasn’t very nice of you to run off like you did. Especially, since I bought you that drink.”

You glance down and find his hand at the hem of your dress, just barely grazing your thighs.

“Get your hands off of me, before I make you.”

The threat may appear minuscule, given the fact that you are all dolled up and in heels. Though the tone of your voice is anything but, and before Bob can move to remove the hand for you, you hold up one finger stopping him. The asshole only laughs at you, before standing and taking a step closer to you.

“Your callsign’s Cherry, right?”

A silent hum emits from your chest, and any patience you had are wearing extremely thin. Before you know it, a harsh hand smacks your ass. The sound echoes through the bar and you’re sure that you could have heard a dime drop. There’s movement behind you but you don’t pay them or Bob any mind, as said hand grasps onto your backside under your dress.

“Why don’t you refresh my memory of how you got your callsign.”

The words are barely past his lips before you lean back to throw a fist. It lands smack dab, in the middle of the asshole's face and the loud crack can only be presumed as his nose breaking. Bob is quick to step up between the group of friends as they make a move toward you, and distantly you can hear the ringing of a bell. Though your only focus is the asshole in front of you, who is now bent over clutching his nose as blood drips onto the hardwood floors.

Your dress sways as you move and you're positive that whoever is behind could easily see the thong under your dress if they really wanted. Your hair falls around your face as you lean into the man, getting as close as you can without actually touching him.

“You touch me again, and you’ll learn exactly how I got those two kills.”

You right your form and brush your dress down the side, before smiling back at Bob and holding out a single hand for him to grab.

“Come on Bobby, I feel like kicking your ass at pool tonight.”

A single shake of the head, followed by a deep sigh has Bob grabbing your hand as you pull him around the bloody mess. You easily spin around, to be met with a wall of khaki uniforms. You recognize three of the six faces, though the only ones you give a smile are the three unknown pilots and Javy. You can feel the way that their eyes burn into the side of your head, but you simply ignore them. Bobby asked you to play nice and you would until you couldn’t that is.

Your gaze settles on Javy, the only known pilot you were willing to make eye contact with. He gives you a small smile, which you return before you make your way to him.

“Coyote”

“Cherry”

Short, to the point, exactly what you needed right now. Your free hand raises to gently pat at his chest before you nod behind him. He side-steps for you, neither of you needing to tell the other where you wanted.

Pool was one of the many things that you and Jake shared a love for. Most of your childhood and teen years were spent in the Serein house playing pool and like Jake, Javy knew that pool was your go-to stress relief. It also helped that you were excellent at it and didn’t mind showing off.

The way he steps, if you could even call it a step, makes it so you have to squeeze past Jake and the cheeky grin that Coyote gives you tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You look back behind you to see Bob talking with the three other pilots you didn’t know, two guys and one girl. The three seemed decent enough, like people that you might eventually trust. You gently tug the hand resting in yours to gain his attention, and you give the three pilots another smile before you move for the pool tables.

The hole between Javy and Jake seems to have grown smaller in the last minute, and you catch slightly as you go to push passed them. Your eyes rest towards the floor and all you can see are a pair of fucking boots with a pool stick settled in between them. Your jaw clicks and you realize just how much Jake wants to push you. Your eyes slowly rise, moving passed the well-fitted uniform and ignoring just how much he hadn’t changed. Including that arrogant smirk, that your eyes stop on momentarily before finding his.

You can’t bring yourself to break eye contact, sure you had seen Jake from a distance in the last ten years. But now, seeing him up close, seeing the emerald eye’s that once held your heart, a deep thrumming ache settles in your chest. Either of you makes an effort to move your line of sight and you wonder, for a moment, if Jake was feeling the same feelings you were. If he missed his best friend, or if you truly were nothing more than something to play with when he was bored.

Bob’s hand gives yours a small squeeze and has you looking back at him breaking you from the trance between the pair of you. Jake hasn’t moved an inch, though neither has Javy.

A sigh falls from you, and you know that neither of them plan to move. Javy might have been your friend, but he was Jake’s best friend, and he would always choose Jake. Without a second thought, you slip between the pair of them, sliding sideway between the space and causing your chest to barely brush against Jake’s. Neither of your eyes leaves the other as you stare up at him, and the casual stance he takes makes your blood boil. He sinks back into his heels and watches you before his eyes trace up and down your form.

The low whistle he lets out fills you with disgust and your glare hardens in defense. His smirk widens slightly, one you knew wasn’t real or at least wasn’t real for your Jake, but your Jake had died in the locker room, and in his place stood, an empty, arrogant, jackass pilot.

The pool stick rests between the two of you, and Jake’s hand resting on it isn’t really holding on to it. Your own hand finds it as you move through the gap and rip it from Jake’s easily, a taunting smirk now making its way onto your lips.

Other than that, you don’t acknowledge him. Not a single word was muttered or an ounce of emotion shown. You knew that it would piss him off, you knew every single button to push to make Jacob Seresin mad. Just like he knew every one of your buttons, unfortunately.

...

You can hear Bob muttering curses at you as you bend over the pool table. The only thing standing between you and winning was the 8 ball and you were lined up perfectly. You call top left corner, lifting your eyes to watch Bob as you make the shot. The crack of the ball sinking in the pocket has you laughing and holding your hand out for the 20 he owned you.

“You know, you don’t have to be such a showoff all the time.” The comment is teasing as he slaps a 20 into your open palm and has you laughing.

“I seem to remember teaching you that little move, Cherry baby. As well as a few other things.”

The voice rings out and has you laugh halting, before turning around to glare at the blonde. Your eyes glance back at Bob and find him quietly standing by, just waiting. Neither of them had said anything to you all night. Not when you were officially introduced to the squad. Not as you, Phoenix, and Halo talked about being the only women called back. Not when you were left alone at the bar to get the next round of drinks.

It had been radio silence the whole time, each of them too busy in their own conversations. Though it seemed like your luck had officially run out. Your eyes shift from Bob to look at Hangman and the wink he gives you only furthers your annoyance. Your hip rests on the pool table and while the group had been preoccupied, the comment followed by Rooster laughing gained their attention.

The pair of them move closer to you, pushing you back till your nearly sitting on the pool table. Your unassumed gaze doesn’t change though and as you shove the 20 into your bra, you make a move to leave the pair. Though your actions are futile as Rooster catches your arm and pulls you back.

The action has Phoenix and Coyote moving for you, though it’s Bob that holds up a hand. Quietly telling them that the sooner this happened the better, the three of you were the only ones that could fix the current predicament. It wasn’t like Bob was leaving you to the wolves though. No, Bob knew just how much you could take and if you really needed the help, he would be the first one stepping in.

“Vague innuendos, how original of you Bagman.” Your eyes pass between the pair, before settling on Rooster. “I’m assuming you’re the bottom in the relationship, Chicken? Given the fact that you’ve only been able to glare at me and grab me.” Your hand rises to pry fingers from your forearm and a small chuckle leaves your chest. “Little weak there, honey. Might wanna start doing something to fix that or are you too busy being his bitch.”

Your head tilts in question as a mocking look of wonder graces your face. The glare Rooster gives you has you laughing lightly, overjoyed at how easily you can rile him up.

“I forgot how much of an annoying bitch you were, y/n.” The words drip with acid and at one point in time would have hurt you. The girl they knew, would have been devastated, but that wasn’t you anymore. Jake wasn’t the only one that died in that locker room ten years ago.

“Oh, thank you.” A small smile rises on your lips before your hand gently reaches out to rest on Rooster’s chest. You push up from your position on the pool table and step even closer to the pair. “I hope you sincerely mean that because then I know I’m successfully making your life a living hell.”

You go to push through the pair again, hoping to see if Bob wants to go home. You had more than enough socializing and needed to be ready for tomorrow. From tomorrow on, the mission would hold the most importance in your life. You would be flying this mission, you had to.

You don’t get far from the pair, just barely passed them when Jake’s voice rings out. “You need to get over it, Cherry. One of us is going to be mission leader,” his hand gestures between Rooster and himself. “and you’ll fall in line willingly or well...” a shrug of his shoulder says it all and you can’t stop yourself.

Your feet are moving you back to the pair before you can think it through and you see Bob move for you, but you're already right back where the pair want you. You shouldn’t let them rile you up, that was your game, but the sublet threat didn’t sit well with you.

“Understand this,” Your voice had yet to be harsh, till now. “If anyone is going to be mission leader, it’s me. You’re both welcome to challenge me, but you will lose and I will fucking enjoy watching you burn in.”

You leave before anyone can say anything, no longer caring if Bob was coming with you or not. You needed to get out of the damn bar and as far away from them as possible. Tears threaten to break as you get outside and only when you are safely in your jeep do you allow your tears to fall.

#callsign cherry 🍒#jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin x reader #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #tgm imagine #tgm fic #tgm #gingy writes

174 notes · View notes

brf-rumortrackinganon · 2 months

Note

Scobie's chapter on race in Endgame made me see that he does genuinely care about the firm needing to look like the people it serves and he isn't only doing it for the headlines or because he's in Meghan's pocket - and if that makes me a sucker, so be it.

I too see the world across the spectrum - black and white thinking is a monstrous problem in our world right now. I do think OS has a piece of humanity in him. However, I don't think he is driven by any kind of humanity or conviction. I think he is just as much a narcissist as his partners are. I don't think they are friends. I don't think any of them know how to be or to have a friend. I think they each help the other fulfill their narcissistic fantasies. I don't think OS really gives a ff about racism. Look what he's done to himself. He just wants to be important. He wants to take down W because W saw right through him and wouldn't give him the time of day. He wants to be Valentine Low (or whoever the journalists are who really do have the inside story).

The problem with anything OS writes or does is that he puts himself out there as a true, serious, Columbia-educated journalist who goes to war zones to get the true story. He hides behind that facade. So he is dangerous. Nothing he writes, even if it is true, can be taken seriously.

As for Charles, I've been watching him since he was a young man. He has ALWAYS been arrogant, sad, spoiled, neglected by his parents, weasly, self-involved to the extreme, soft, petulant, entitled, and spineless. Nothing he does surprises me in the least. Well, if he actually did something other than promote himself and his wife/mistress, I'd be shocked. Because he never has in the 50 years I've been watching him.

You also make good points about Scobie.

I disagree slightly with thinking he doesn't give a single f about racism. I think he does care, even if it's only in the context of being something he can needle the royal family with for attention. It may be disengenuous but in order to even care to needle the royal family over it, he has to care about himself, personally, in even the tiniest way.

And you're absolutely right. Scobie presents himself like an Anderson Cooper / Bob Woodruff in-the-trenches kind of a reporter. I was always bothered by how seriously he took himself but now that you've named it, that's exactly what it is.

I didn't actually know a whole lot about Charles before I read Sally's book. (And to be honest, I only picked up Sally's book in the first place because she was speaking in a lecture series near me about the book and you needed to have read the book to go to the lecture.) I knew the Diana version of Charles and what Sally's book opened my eyes to was how difficult it was for him to be "stuck" behind a lot of people even though he was #1 in the lineup. So I have some sympathy for that but it's offset by how spoiled he was by being #1 and his expectation that the world should revolve around him. Likewise, I have sympathy for him being bullied at school and having a hard time at Gordonstoun, but that's offset by my disgust that he tolerated a toxic workplace by giving Michael Fawcett (who was a bully) a pass.

#ask #brf

18 notes · View notes

symbioticsimplicity · 1 year

Text

I don’t need to be up this early but this idea won’t leave me.

So, Steddie Battle of the Bands AU featuring punk!Steve.

Corroded Coffin join a battle of the bands competition run out of a little bar just outside Indianapolis, expecting fully to make it all the way. There’s not a lot of musicians in their area and out of all of them, CC have the most milage and the most unique sound. Sure, it’s metal, but in the bigger city that’s not the death sentence it would be back in Hawkins.

For the most part, they’re right. There’s a little pop trio that do okay, a Bob Dylan type with an acoustic and the flattest, most nasal tone Eddie has ever heard, a rock outfit with a drummer who’s clearly on speed and fixing to pull a Spinal Tap, and one very old dude who’s there more for the fun than to actually compete. They’re a shoe-in.

Except there’s a punk band that were running a little late, and manage to take stage literally just as they’re being called. The Demogorgons, they’re called.

Eddie is pissed the instant he sees them, firstly because he’s been on sight with punks since ‘84 when a flock of the little shits dissed Dio to his fucking face. Second because out of all the things they could have been called, they picked a DND creature??! In Eddie’s house??? Who the fuck did they think they were?!

The longer Eddie watches them play (he can’t leave until they announce who’s moving on from this round, he’s literally a captive audience), the more pissed off he gets because they’re good.

The lead guitarist is a girl with dark, short hair mostly hiding her face, but she’s absolutely slaying their cover of White Wedding, adding more than was originally in the song seemingly on the fly. It’s beautiful, as a guitarist himself he can at least begrudgingly respect her talent.

The bassist is also a girl with short hair who seems like she’s in her own world, totally lost in the music and jamming so hard Eddie can’t really look at her for too long without getting sucked in with her.

The drummer looks like an absolute madman, big buff blonde guy who looks like he’d bite if anyone got too close to him. He’s bare chested, showing off a few tattoos and a couple piercings that make him far more interesting than Eddie cares to admit.

But the singer/ rhythm guitarist, is what is really tripping Eddie up.

He’s prettier than he has any goddamn need to be, and he’s weirdly smiley for a punk. Like being on stage is his happy place, which Eddie can relate to, even if he hates admitting any commonalities between them at all. His voice too, is lovely. It’s not the typical scratchy punk sound, it’s high and airy and from a technical standpoint (only that, Eddie swears) it’s really good. And he seems like he’s not having any trouble playing and singing at the same time, which is shitty as hell because Eddie still does sometimes.

Before their set ends, Eddie has decided he hates them. He hates them, so much.

So much in fact, he goes over to heckle them once they finish.

It goes south almost immediately.

He was right, the drummer is definitely a maniac. It’s like he was waiting for an excuse to fight someone. And given how fast the singer snatches him up after he decks Eddie, this is a frequent thing. The singer and the drummer posture at each other and for a second Eddie thinks they’re about to fight.

But evidently the drummer thinks better of it and stalks off to start helping put their gear up.

The singer apologizes for his bandmate, even though Eddie started the fight, and introduces himself as Steve, the drummer being named Billy. He’s a good kid, Steve tells him, just angry and still learning where to put that anger. He offers to buy Eddie a drink for his trouble, and he’s so floored he ends up accepting.

To Eddie’s surprise, they end up talking, and they end up talking a lot. Steve is easy to talk to, and he listens like what Eddie has to say is important. When he talks, it’s with this sardonic edge to it that reminds Eddie of sour candy. Before he knows it, it’s been like three hours, and it’s time to announce who’s advancing to the next round.

To Eddie’s complete lack of surprise, Corroded Coffin make it through, but so do The Demogorgons. Steve congratulates him, sincerely, and Eddie stutters out the same.

They part ways for the night, but the pretty punk with the prettier smile won’t leave Eddie’s thoughts.

Cue CC telling Eddie to get his head in the game, trying to head off the crush they can spot forming. They know him well enough to know the signs, and they don’t need him pulling a Romeo and Juliet with some punk he met for one night.

Little do they know, The Demogorgons are having a similar chat with their own lead. They’ve worked too hard to have Steve get distracted, or worse, go soft, over some greasy metalhead he’s only talked to like, once. Steve of course promises that he won’t. After all, it’s not like he’s really going to see him much, and Steve isn’t easy, he has to get to know someone to fall for them.

Cut to a week later when one Steve Harrington is dropping Dustin off at his DND thingy, only to see none other than Eddie Munson perched at the head of the table. He’s explaining what their quest is for the night, or something, and he’s so animated, so into it, he doesn’t notice Steve frozen in the doorway.

Steve makes it out before Eddie sees him, but from that moment on it’s like he’s every where Steve goes. They bump into each other constantly, Hawkins is a small town, it’s easy to do. It gets to be such a regular thing that Eddie makes a joke about following Steve, and Steve sings that Rockwell song about being followed and they find themselves laughing together again.

It’s easy, really. Too easy. And before they know it, whenever they bump into each other, they end up talking for a while. It’s just a few minutes, they both reason to themselves, a few minutes is fine.

But a few minutes turns into an hour, turns into a couple hours, turns into a smoke sesh at Eddie’s, turns into a jam sesh at Steve’s, and before they know it, they’re missing each other when the other isn’t around.

Of course it isn’t long before Gareth notices his best friend’s preoccupation, and Robin could clock Steve’s daydreamy look three miles away. They each come clean to their respective long-suffering bestie.

Neither are happy, but they both care more about their friend than some stupid band competition. They know the rest of their bands won’t be happy, and that could be a pain, so rather than being even slightly reasonable, they hatch a plan.

Eddie and Steve are determined to be the punk-metal version of Romeo and Juliet, but that doesn’t mean their story has to be a tragedy. This is a musical, afterall. What better to do than bridge the gap with the power of music.

So the next time Eddie and Steve hang out, they both spend probably fifteen minutes uncomfortably dancing around trying to ask the other to write a song with them.

Steve cracks first, because seeing Eddie uncomfortable is so fucking bizarre it trumps his own nerves and he has to ask what’s going on. Eddie decides to be brave and takes the leap, asks Steve what he’s got to ask, and to his surprise Steve tells him he was going to ask the same thing.

They haven’t really talked about it, the tension between them, but it boils over when Steve tries to explain why he wants to write a song with Eddie. Eddie can’t watch him flounder for a second more, when he knows he could just be kissing him instead.

He takes Steve by the jaw and kisses the soul out of him. If they weren’t sold they were doing the right thing before, the kiss seals the deal.

They spend the night trading kisses and lyrics in equal measure, alternating between strumming strings and heartstrings until they’re both so caught up in creation, in each other, they’re harmonic.

After that, they hit crunch time. The battle of the bands is next week, and learning a whole new song is a pain in the ass for both bands. It’ll be worth it, but Jeff doesn’t know that and Billy doesn’t care.

The boys make time to see each other, but of course, they get caught.

Band practice gets postponed on both sides of the fence. They know they shouldn’t, it’s stupid, but Eddie spent the day getting harassed by a flock of “Concerned Christian Mothers” who were not shy about telling him exactly what they thought about him, and would not get the hell out of his face about it. Steve is a caretaker down to his bones, and doesn’t think twice about going to care for his metalhead.

Nancy however isn’t stupid, and Grant knows damn well Eddie would only postpone practice if something was genuinely wrong. So Nancy follows Steve to see what the hell could be so important to him that he’d call off practice, and Grant goes to bring Eddie a care package.

Nancy isn’t happy about finding the two spooning on Eddie’s couch, but she doesn’t make as much of a fuss about it as Grant does. Grant goes off about sleeping with the enemy and treachery and the metalhead code of honor (which he made up right there on the spot), but the real bucket of cold water is Nancy telling Steve how disappointed she is that he pulled them all into this, made them care about it, only to waste his time chasing after someone instead of putting his heart into the music the way they all had been. She asks him to get serious, then leaves.

Steve excuses himself, ignoring Eddie’s pleas to wait a second, come back, please, let’s talk about this.

They don’t see each other again until the night of the show.

The competition threw them a curveball, however. None of them know until they get there, see the layout of the big warehouse like space, but instead of playing one after the other, the competition is amp versus amp. CC are freaking out a little bit because they’ve never played that way before, and Eddie is picking up an acoustic, why the hell did he even bring an acoustic, what’s going on?? The Demogorgons are equally nervous, this being a first for them too, and Steve is quiet, so quiet, he’s never like this before shows, what’s going on??

Despite everyone’s nerves and fears, the two bands take their places on the two stages, on opposite ends of the room from one another.

Eddie introduces Corroded Coffin with the same flare he usually does, but tells the audience that tonight’s performance is going to be a little different than their usual. He finishes with “This one’s for you, Juliet.”

He starts strumming the acoustic, the song he and Steve had written together filling the space, warm and full and a wild departure from their usual sound. He’d gone over it with the guys, added some polish to it, made it more metal, but he’d asked them to hold off on that until he cued them.

“And hey darling, I hope you’re good tonight. And I know you don’t feel right when I’m leaving-”

The rest of Corroded Coffin have never heard Eddie sing like this, didn’t even know he could. Usually he was all growls and grit and demon noises he’d figured out how to imitate. They had no idea he was even capable of making a song sound so beautiful.

Eddie continues singing his heart out, strumming his guitar, praying that Steve picks up on what he’s doing, joins him at the drop, doesn’t leave him again. He’s nearly convinced himself he’s going to end up singing the whole thing alone, and God how stupid would that be, that when he reaches the switching point, he nearly drops his guitar when Steve’s voice rises up to meet him. A spotlight flicks on, illuminating him as he sings into the microphone, playing his own part of the accompanyment.

“And hey, sweetie, well I need you here to night. And I know you don’t wanna be leaving me here tonight-”

Steve’s voice is the perfect counterbalance to Eddie’s. It’s light where his is heavy, soft where his is gritty. It showcases their duality, while highlighting how good they are together and Eddie would cry if he weren’t on stage.

He takes the next verse as planned, but Steve’s voice stays with him, harmonizing along side him so perfectly it’s as if they’ve been singing together for years rather than about a week.

“You know you can’t give me what I need, and even though you mean so much to me, I can’t wait through everything.”

That’s different, not the line they wrote together. It lands like a gut punch when Eddie looks up and sees Steve’s expression. He’s not smiling. He always smiles on stage.

“Is this really happening?” Eddie sings back without missing a beat, knowing the next verse is his, meaning it might be his only chance. He prays to every muse he’s ever had to lend him the improv skills to land this.

To his suprise, he hears Jeff’s heavy guitar start to build, Grant’s bass swooping in beside it to flank him. When he turns his head to check, they both give him the nod, the one that’s always meant they’re beside him, for better or worse. It gives him to courage to put his soul into the words he’s about to spit.

“I swear I’ll never be happy again, and don’t you dare say we can just be friends, I’m not some boy that you can sway.”

There’s a half a second pause in the music, just long enough to wreck Eddie’s heartrate. He can see Steve’s face from here, not clearly enough to make out every emotion that flashes across it, but enough to see when it lands on determination.

“We knew it’d happen eventually.” He and Steve sing, or in his case shout, in tandem.

Corroded Coffin fall back in with them, and to Eddie’s utter surprise, The Demogorgons join them. The sound of two bands playing the climax of the song he and Steve had written together hits Eddie so hard he can barely sing past the balloon of emotion swelling in his chest.

The crowd reminds him they’re there, joining in on the chorus of ‘La la las’ going around the room, their voices loud enough to shake the walls. It’s everything Eddie has ever wanted from a crowd, and it’s way too much along with everything else going on right now. Eddie can’t focus on it, not when Steve is staring him down from across the room.

“If you can wait ‘till I get home, then I swear we can make this last.” Eddie belts, Steve’s higher register wrapping around the notes the same way his hands wrap around his mic.

Both bands let the song taper out, leaving just the crowd echoing back the words to them, just Steve and Eddie singing to each other.

Eddie reaches out his hand, as if he could take Steve’s in his despite the distance. Steve once again meets him halfway, extending his own hand as if to bridge the distance.

The lights go down and the crowd is still chanting. It takes longer to settle them down than it does to make the decision to shrug off his guitar and run to his boy. Eddie hesitates only to look over at his bandmates.

They look exhasperated, but fond. Grant rolls his eyes and tells him to go kiss his stupid punk or whatever.

Eddie is off in an instant.

He finds Steve tearing his way over to him, runs straight into him almost the same way he’d run into him the first time they met outside of a venue.

There aren’t words, they don’t need them, already sung them. There’s just Steve and Eddie and how badly they’ve missed each other. The apologies and affirmations can come later, when their mouths aren’t so busy kissing the life from one another.

In the back of his mind, Eddie registers some of the crowd around them wolf whistling, but for once he doesn’t give much of a shit what the crowd thinks of him.

155 notes · View notes

humanharvest · 5 months

Text

i have some random headcanons i just need to type out and put somewhere so enjoy :D

i'll have to draw and design it at some point, but i kind of hc kabal as albino. this isn't backed by anything in canon, tbh i just saw the white/grey locs in mk legends and was like ooh maybe? but aside from that, i do think he's not actually all that bad of a guy. he's definitely easily impressionable and easy to pressure into things.

i just think he needs to have fun. he's just a guy in my mind, i also like the fact he has a fuckass bob it's so funny why do they give him the weirdest hairstyles, especially his twin ponytails. this leads into my next hc that he literally has zero fashion sense. none at all. his hairstyles all are kind of odd because of this, and often, someone else needs to help him pick outfits. i also hc that he's color blind. mostly unrelated to the last one, but not really. he will choose colors that he sees go together but will not go together at all since it's hard for him to actually differentiate some of them. erron will help time to time with his outfits, but more often than not kabal will just wear the same thing until it desperately needs to be washed.

some other characters i have a few headcanons for would be fujin. that man is a hugger, i just know it. he loves physical touch and finds that it happens to be one the best ways he can show support, whether it be hugging the life out of raiden or giving someone a pat on the shoulder. he finds his hair to be very important to him too, and to keep it healthy and growing well, he needs to cut the dead ends, but even when it comes to that, he worries about it. he'll do it but he just needs to sit and consider for awhile lol.

i like to think nightwolf showed him how to carve little wooden statues, so as a meditative activity, fujin will often hone his wood carving skills. sometimes, he gifts his best ones to raiden, others he puts on display.

more of a sad one, but hanzo always keeps a certain dirty stuffed animal with him. no matter what. he will go through hell and back to get it back anytime he dies, or he stashes it somewhere for him to find again. it's satoshi's stuffed animal from when he was an infant. a hand sewn rabbit, made by his wife when she was pregnant with their child. it's hanzo's most prized and safely guarded possession, and the only one to know he has it is kuai liang.

#mk #mortal kombat #mortal kombat headcanons #🩻 txt #mk fujin #mk kabal #hanzo hasashi #mk scorpion

22 notes · View notes

vibinwiththefrogs · 8 months

Text

Intro to U.S. Agriculture Book Recommendations

Requested by @languagesandpain

Healing Grounds by Liz Carlisle

If you're interested in agroecology this is a great place to start. It highlights a handful of Black, Latino, and Asian American farmers and their lives, history, and research. It's a great all-around book too because it touches on animal agriculture, produce, and mushrooms (which I don't see get talked about much), and also different methods like agroforestry and pasture systems.

Grain by Grain by Bob Quinn and Liz Carlisle

This book is basically the story of Bob Quinn and his farm, there's a lot of good info in it. This is the first book that really struck home to me that I need to listen to people in conventional agriculture even if I personally don't like it, because there's important experiences that need to be heard. It touches on topics like converting farms to more sustainable methods, heirloom crops, and how we deal with food/diet related science in the US. I don't have any health issues of note, but after reading this book I found an organic bread with Kamut wheat in it to see how it was, and it totally takes away any white on my tongue when I'm eating it daily. Pretty fascinating.

Perilous Bounty by Tom Philpott

This book widely covers major problems in US conventional agriculture, mostly covering major agriculture corporations and environmental impacts but also some labor issues, and small/mid size farm struggles. I'm not going to lie, this one is depressing. I generally do well with tough topics but near the end I had to put it down a few times because it was making me feel a bit hopeless. Which I fault the author with a bit for not dealing with better, because we need more hope to be able to believe these problems are fixable. He also doesn't cover the eastern US which irks me a bit because the south is a major agricultural region. But overall, a lot of great info and some interesting ideas for solutions near the end.

With These Hands by Daniel Rothenberg

I haven't actually read this one yet, but I've read sections. It looks like another tough read, but covers the experiences of migrant farmworkers across the US. Definitely trigger warnings for modern day slavery, racism, abuse, and more.

Dirt: The Erosion of Civilizations

I found this one to be a bit pessimistic honestly, but I read it a while ago so I dont remember what exactly bothered me. But it's a good overview of agricultural collapse through history, soil science, and issues in soil today.

Lentil Underground by Liz Carlisle

(Can you tell I've read all of Carlisle's books yet). So this book didn't really make much of an impression on me. But I'm recommending it because if anything it kind of illustrates the tediousness of policy change, changing people's minds, running an unconventional farm. It's a bit boring compared to the other recommendations but if you're in the industry there's things to think about in it.

Non-book recommendations

For a while was listening to Real Organic Podcast. After about 10 episodes (not in order) you notice they start to really repeat a lot of ideas. But they have a lot of episodes that highlight problems with chemical use, water use, how movements like organic get co-opted by big corporations, and more.

I also recommend the news website Civil Eats. They post a lot of book recommendations, as well as cover a whole variety of agricultural issues across the world.

If anyone has any additional recommendations feel free to add on! I'm always looking for more books >:)

#not langblr #agriculture #agroecology #sustainable agriculture #regenerative agriculture #environmentalism #environmental justice #book recommendations

40 notes · View notes

exalted-dawn-drabbles · 9 days

Note

Henlo! For this DWC Friday.... I am curious about Hal & Talenna. 🌚 there’s a price to be paid for the things that we do.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM I had a fun time with this one. Its as though the snow started up just to set the atmosphere for it. I didn't strictly quote the prompt in this one but it is definitely a theme, as I think it is with all Wardens to an extent, when the price you pay is the luxury of a longer life. Hope you enjoy ;w; for @dadrunkwriting

Rated G: Bittersweet, Angst-Lite, ~630 words

The Price That We Pay For The Things That We Do, And Steps That We Take To Compensate | By Exalted_Dawn

Ink pooled against the final press of quill to parchment, wetting the page in a perfect, round puddle as the rest of the words she had written were set and drying. The charcoal bleed had stained her fingers and the edge of her palm where it had brushed against page, but it could be washed off later. It was the words she had captured that would stain her the longest, summarized in chicken scratch but echoing perfectly in the deeper corners of her mind. She had made sure to remember them all in perfect detail– at this point the written recounting was little more than insurance. A way to keep her client’s paranoia at bay.

Though, this particular client did not give her that distinct impression. Throughout the entire process, he had been distant. A faint presence even while sitting in front of her. His eyes, milky white and rimmed with purple shadow, had remained elsewhere as he spoke– pinned on the swirling snow outside the tent she had requested he meet her at. Watching as his footprints were slowly erased beneath the flurry and his trail wiped away by time. As was the way of things. But then, she supposed they had both gathered here to fight that fate, if only by a little.

“Is there anything else you would like added?” she asked, her voice quieted beneath the blanket of winter. “Anything particular you would wish to be remembered? I can promise that the events will be presented as they happened, but I get the feeling that this was meant to be more than just a history...”

Her words trailed off, leaving room for a response, but Warden Mahariel’s eyes remained fixed on the tent entrance. Not pointedly. Not with purpose. Just… fixed.

Talenna frowned.

A history could have been found in any number of books. Talenna was certain the events of his had been recorded more times than could be counted. If that had been all he was after, then she doubted he would have come here at all.

But she was a storyteller, not a historian. And what most separated story from history was its heart– a message.

She sighed. “...What do you want him to remember most, lethal’lin?”

Ever so faintly, the Warden’s face pinched with purple shadow– a bitter thaw. He lowered his face, tracing the lines and blackened skin of his palms in thought. Talenna tracked the bob of his throat as he forced himself to swallow. He had talked much today, and the day’s air was not kind for so many words, but she needed these ones. They were the most important.

“That I never stopped fighting,” he whispered at last, his voice choked. “For the Dalish… for the city elves...”

For him, and for a cure. Morrigan had told her.

“For the future,” she added softly, and nodded. With a final blow to her pages, she tucked them away into the safety of a leather satchel and stood. “It will be done. When the story is finished, and time has done its work, I will be sure to find him and deliver it to his ears personally.”

His hand clenched tight. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Talenna turned and took a step towards the tent flap. “But I will.”

It was her promise as a storyteller, to make sure his message was delivered. To the People, aye, but also his people. His family.

If the Warden at her back had any further objections he did not speak them, and so Talenna considered her work done. With a deep breath in, scented slightly of death, and the story of Warden Halevune Marahriel heavy in her heart, Talenna braced herself and stepped out into the swirling snow.

#dadwc #dragon age fanfiction #talenna ethera #halevune mahariel #dragon age

7 notes · View notes

moonstarrr · 2 years

Text

𝗠𝗿&𝗠𝗿𝘀.𝗕𝗿𝗮𝗱𝘀𝗵𝗮𝘄

-The day has finally arrived even with all the last minute preparations and phone calls it was all successful and you were hoping that nothing would go wrong you wanted everything to be perfect. You guys were able to find this lovely venue that was right by the ocean so you can get a beautiful sunset,sunrise and view every time you look out of the window. Phoenix and your bridesmaids stayed in the same suite and since it wasn’t a lot of you it was like a huge sleepover . They couldn’t stop talking about you and your dress and how Rooster is going to react.

“I’m not going to lie I’m kind of nervous”you said with a slight smile, Y/F/N looked at you and put her hand on your shoulder “Your nervous about marrying the love of your life”she said while chuckling while some of the other girls followed “Of course not it’s just I can’t help but think that something might go wrong” Phoenix came over and gave you a long side hug while saying “I can promise you that nothing will go wrong, and if it does happen I’ll deal with it but none of us will let anything ruin your special day including rooster stop worrying your about to be Mrs.Bradshaw in a couple of hours for crying out loud”. They all came in for a group hug. You guys had some champagne and soon took yourselves to bed.

You were set to get married at 11:00 and you had your alarm set for 8:30 and if you needed extra time it was also set for 9:00 but the girls weren’t letting you stay in till 8:30, you were awakened by the sound of one of the girls “Good morning Mrs.Soon to be Bradshaw you gotta get a move on”, It’s not that you didn’t want to get up it’s just that you wanted to lay down a little while longer but you could already tell yourself to stop dreaming about it because it wasn’t going to happen. You got up and stretched too see a silk white robe with bride in the back in a glittery gold print. You went to the kitchen area and saw many different kinds of fruits on a platter with varieties of food that you like . At this point everything felt so surreal too you, you couldn’t believe that you were actually here, going through all of this and too soon be married as well you needed someone to pinch you quickly to make sure you weren’t dreaming and if you were you wouldn’t want to wake up from it anytime soon. After you finished eating you went to go take a quick shower and do your skin care before your hair and makeup artist arrive to start getting you ready. You could hear the girls talking with excitement in their voice for you and rooster, you guys were the hot topic constantly. It was now 9:10 and your makeup artist arrived and soon after your hairstylist arrived and they got started on you, normally you go simple makeup but because today was your wedding you wanted to step it up a notch but just by a little bit . You went with a beige/gold kind of eyeshadow that kind of faded into black at the ends when it went with your eyeliner and for your hair (whatever hairstyle you want). You especially loved the glitter spray the lady put on you it really brought everything together at the end. As you were about to get up from the chair you heard the door knock and your heard Phoenix open the door and yell “Y/N it’s for you” you kind of wonders who could possibly be wanting too see you right now but you figured that its probably something really important, as you peak your head around the door you see Bob with a small smile. “Hi Y/N, this is for you from Bradley”he said with amusement l, and as he was about to hand you the box from Bradley you ran too your bag and got Bradley’s gift to give to Bob so he can give it to him when he gets back “ Thank you and can you give this to him as well please” you said with a smile, He turned back too you and nodded “Of course” and with that he was waking his way back and you closed the door.

“GIRLS I GOT A DELIVERY” you said with curiosity and excitement on what this man could’ve possibly got you, the girls came rushing in and surrounding you too see what you got . You opened the box carefully and took off the lid and when you did the first thing was a note that was handwritten by him and it read…..

“Hello my darling or should I say Mrs.Bradshaw

I don’t even know where to start on saying how much I love you, if I were to say I love you that would be an understatement as too how I truly love you. Im so glad that you came into my life and I would probably be lost if you didn’t, you keep me going everyday even when I’m miles away from you, you still somehow have me head over heels for you. We have made many memories as boyfriend and girlfriend but we are soon going to go and now make memories as husband and wife and I cannot wait for that door too open. I love you with every single fiber in my body and I love you too the moon and back, what’s in the box is something really important to me and I believe that it will suit you very well, it was my moms favorite and I know she would want you too have it, love you honey.

From: Your love,Bradley

Once you finished smiling too yourself you opened up the wrapping paper, and saw this beautiful necklace with a emerald green pendent on it that was shaped like a pendant. You felt tears coming too your eyes and the girls say and they were quickly trying to get tissue and fan your eyes because they knew that you didn’t want to ruin your makeup and they couldn’t bare to see your cry especially not today. Phoenix came over and held your chin up so she can dry the corners of your eyes so no tear can run down “Bradley really adores you, you know that” “ I know and so do I” you didn’t realize how much time has passed and you saw that it was almost time to you to get going so with that you quickly went into your room and had the girls help you get into your dress it took a little while because you guys had to make sure that it was on properly and looked good. After all the final touches including putting on your veil that went in like a hair clip and even packing a pair of comfy slippers because you knew your feet would hurt you if you wore those heels all the way through the wedding.

(Time jump to the ceremony)

You wanted your dad and Maverick too see you before you walk down the isle so you walked up to them and their backs were turned and you were holding your bouquet in one hand and tapped them both on the shoulders signaling them to turn around. They both were at a loss for words they were just in shock and awe with how you looked and both of them thinking about how fast your grown up . All they could really do was hug you and give you a kiss on the cheek and say how proud they were of you and you looked amazing and soon your mom came and was trying to stop herself from crying “ Don’t cry because of you cry im gonna cry this is the second time of stopping myself from crying” you said while fanning yourself again “You just look so beautiful my dear” she said while holding your cheeks.

You heard the wedding music playing meaning that it was your time to start Walking.

(Roosters pov)

He was standing at the end of the isle in the middle of a beautiful flower arch with the bridesmaids standing in one side and his grooms men standing behind him and they were also looking down the isle and everyone started rising up and there you are maverick on one side of you and your dad in the other walking you down the isle and your mom in the front smiling at you. I couldn’t help it, I started crying I tried to hide it but my god she looked so gorgeous and happy what else was I supposed too do. I really do love her. I tried to wipe my eyes and Coyote put his hand on my shoulder trying to give me some kind of reassurance.

(Back too you)

You soon got up and your dad and maverick handed you off too Rooster . He held both of your hands while you rested your bouquet down and you guys weren’t really paying attention to what the priest was saying because you both were so caught up in each other’s eyes in pure love but you both broke out of it once you guys heard

“Mr. Bradley Bradshaw do you take Ms. Y/N to be your lawfully and wedded wife, to comfort her and take care of her in sickness and in health”

And with confidence he said I do

Now it was your turn

“Ms.Y/N L/N do you take Mr.Bradley Bradshaw to be your lawfully and wedded husband, to comfort him and take care of him in sickness and in health”

I do

Now the moment that you all have been waiting for

“ I now pronounce you husband and wife you may now kiss the bride”

The priest didn’t have to tell Bradley twice

(I do not own any of the photos or gifs used credits go to the rightful owner)

#imagines #fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #headcannons #top gun movie #top gun fic #bradley bradshaw top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun rooster #rooster x reader #rooster x you

316 notes · View notes

ollieofthebeholder · 1 month

Text

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website There's a soundtrack to this one if you're interested

Chapter 105: March 2001

Gerry gets back into town with exactly two hours to spare. It isn’t exactly optimal, but at least he’s able to grab a shower before rushing off. He has to double back when he almost forgets something important, and his mother tries to waylay him, but he manages to get away from her and catch the train just before it closes its doors.

Still, he’s a bit later than he’d like, and he just hopes Melanie is being optimistic.

The auditorium is crowded with families, from babes in arms to elderly folks, and it takes Gerry a good bit of scanning before he spots who he’s looking for. He distractedly thanks the student usher who hands him the folded bits of paper that constitutes a program and makes his way down the aisle to some seats on the left side of the theater, about three rows back. He’s in luck—there’s a seat next to Melanie that’s empty except for a bouquet of roses. From the fact that they’re mixed red and yellow, he guesses she’s the one that brought them.

“Does this mean you’re saving a seat for me?” he asks.

“Gerry!” Melanie’s face lights up, and she leaps to her feet and hugs him tightly. “Jesus, I thought you were still in Switzerland!”

“Luxembourg. Got back a couple hours ago.” Gerry leans over to shake Uncle Roger’s hand, then picks up the bouquet. “So, can I sit with you?”

“Duh.” Melanie plops back down into her seat and bends over to retrieve her program. Gerry notices she’s wearing the stole Alastair gave her for her ninth birthday, thrown over her jumper and jeans, but doesn’t say anything about it.

Instead, he opens his own program and skims it. There are two choirs that are more or less open—the Junior Choir and the Senior Choir—plus a Young Men’s Chorus and Women’s Ensemble, both by audition only, made up of students eligible for the Senior Choir but with a better grasp of things like pitch, musicality, and not bobbing your head violently along with the beat. This is Martin’s last year in the Junior Choir, and Gerry knows he’s planning to try out for the Young Men’s Chorus when they open up again…or has he already?

“Did Martin ever do that audition?” he asks Melanie, who would be the first to know.

“It’s not until next term, I don’t think,” Melanie answers. “It starts in the fall, after all. Anyway, he hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

Gerry hums as he skims the list of songs the Junior Choir will be singing. Unsurprisingly for the Easter term, there are a couple of songs that look to be religious, or at least trending in that direction—he knows “Because He Lives” is definitely an Easter song, and “One Song (A Song of Peace)” is probably similar—plus a couple generic spring songs, some songs that seem to just be for fun, and a single song in a foreign language, French this term. Gerry mentally braces himself for the typical childish hacking through the language.

“I haven’t heard Martin practicing any of these,” Melanie murmurs, also looking over the list.

“Well, you know, your mother isn’t well,” Uncle Roger says absently. “Martin doesn’t practice in the house so much, so he doesn’t disturb her.”

“There is that,” Melanie admits. She glances at the opposite page. “Ooh, the Young Men’s Chorus is doing ‘Diu Diu Deng’!”

Gerry is about to ask her what that means when the lights in the auditorium dim and everybody—for the most part—quiets down. It’s not like a professional performance where people understand what they’re supposed to do; it’s an amateur production, quality notwithstanding, and some people don’t seem to care how loud the crowd noise is as long as it’s not their child on the stage.

The Junior Choir, all neatly dressed in black slacks or skirts and white tops, file onto the stage in ordered rows, filling the risers as they do so, to enthusiastic applause and a few good-natured cheers. Gerry scans the group coming in; Martin, as both one of the older and one of the taller boys in the choir, is usually one of the first ones out so he can climb up and get to his spot, and he wants to get a good look at him before all he can see is eyes and hair over the row of faces going from plump to angular as they begin to change from child to teen.

But there’s no sign of him.

Gerry blinks, and looks harder—like Martin would be difficult to miss. But no, it’s only girls filing out now and climbing the risers. Martin is nowhere to be found. As the last child takes her position, the director, a man Gerry knows well by now, comes out and bows to the audience, then turns to the choir, waiting for the applause to die down so they can begin.

For his part, Gerry is having something akin to a mental breakdown. Could Martin have dropped out of chorus without telling them…or worse, been removed against his will? It’s likely he wouldn’t say anything; he wouldn’t want them to worry. But would he let it get this far—let them think he was going to be in the concert, knowing he’ll be found out? That’s not Martin’s style at all. He’s not the kind of person to put people out, and for them to show up expecting to cheer him on would be (at least in Martin’s mind) a huge inconvenience. He surely knows by now that they will come to all his concerts; Gerry might go out of town more often than he likes, but Melanie and Uncle Roger never miss.

So it must be something else. Something must have happened to him…but what? Surely he rode in with Uncle Roger and Melanie rather than walking himself, so something must have happened to him since they arrived, but—

Melanie slaps his arm urgently, not hard, just a frantic patting to silently get his attention. Gerry turns to face her as the choir begins a slightly clumsy but overall decent (to his ear at least, not that he’s paying a whole lot of attention) rendition of their first spring song. The question dies on his lips as she stabs her finger repeatedly at the back of the program. With the lights down, Gerry can’t read it from there, so he picks up his own program and turns it to the back, then holds it closer to his face. The back of the program is where all the members of the various choruses are listed, and his first reaction is to breathe a silent sigh of relief when he sees MARTIN BLACKWOOD right there on the page, immediately above ANDREW CARTWRIGHT.

It’s awfully low down on the page, though. The Junior Choir is usually right at the top…

Gerry’s eyes flick up, just a little, and he sees the word TENOR, which is also unusual, since the Junior Choir is only two parts as far as he knows—he remembers Martin saying once they don’t start really breaking them up until Senior Choir. Then his eyes widen as he realizes that Martin’s name is on the far right of the page…and the column is actually headed TENOR 1.

He looks again, and there it is—Martin’s name listed under the Young Men’s Chorus.

Gerry—there’s no other word for it—goggles. He knows you’re supposed to be thirteen to get into that group; Martin won’t be thirteen until August. Then there’s the fact that, according to Melanie, he’s not supposed to start in it until the fall. But yet…here he is.

During the applause for the latest song, Gerry leans over and whispers to Melanie, “He wasn’t in the Young Men’s Chorus at Christmas, was he?”

“No!” Melanie hisses back. “The most complicated piece they did was ‘Dona Nobis Pacem’, remember?”

Gerry does, but he’s been wondering if he misremembered. Still, Melanie wouldn’t have said Martin was still planning to audition if he had already been in.

He can hardly concentrate through the first half of the concert, barely manages to applaud at the appropriate times, but when the Senior Choir sits down and the director announces the Young Men’s Chorus, he leans forward, anxious and eager.

Bit odd to call them ‘men’ when they’re thirteen to sixteen, isn’t it? whispers a voice in the back of his mind, sounding amused, and Gerry has to admit that it is a bit odd even if they did append young to the front, but he supposes that if they’re referring to the Women’s Ensemble they can’t very well call it a Boys’ Chorus. His eyes flick back and forth along the line of boys, young men, whatever, as they file in. There are only about a dozen of them all together, and—ah, there he is. Third from the end, he’s the taller of the two Tenor Ones on the front row. Even from where he sits, Gerry can see that he’s visibly pale and nervous, only not fidgeting in his tuxedo jacket and bow tie because he’s too much the professional to do so. But as soon as Martin’s eyes lock on the director, a whole new demeanor takes its place. He’s still pale, but he’s calm and focused. Nothing will exist for him from here on out but the music.

And what music it is! Even Gerry, who really knows very little about music overall, is impressed. For such a small group—now that they’re all out, he can count sixteen, four to each part—they fill the space, and they sound wonderful. Maybe he’s a little biased because Martin is part of it, but he never felt this way about the Junior Choir, only that Martin was one of the few good parts of it, so they must actually be good.

They sing a classic song with a lot of “hallelujahs” in it, another song that invokes the stars, and a song that has Melanie sitting bolt upright and smiling from the very beginning. Gerry surmises this is the one she mentioned before the concert. It’s obviously a Chinese song, and just as obviously about a train—Gerry doesn’t speak it, but he gets that much—and from the bright look on all the boys’ faces, not just Martin’s, they’re obviously enjoying it. It gets the loudest round of applause of the evening so far.

Once the auditorium is quiet again, there’s a single note on the piano that dies away quickly. The director waves a few beats, and then the boys begin singing a slow, sonorous song that thrums in Gerry’s chest. “Brightly beams our Father’s mercy…from His lighthouse evermore…”

Gerry lets his eyes drift shut as he listens. The song is poignant and solemn, but somehow feels…important. It’s almost as though the song itself is a beacon calling to them; in fact, it gives him almost the same sensation as that song Melanie sang a couple years back to find Martin in the park, an incident he still shies away from thinking about too hard or often. It’s a song of hope, of steadfast faith, of assuring someone that you’ll be there for them, no matter what.

And then a single clear, pure voice rings out over the room. “Throw out the lifeline, throw out the lifeline, someone is drifting away…”

At that, Gerry’s eyes pop open wide, because he knows that voice. His lips part in shock as he stares at the stage. Martin, his eyes shining green all the way from out here as they fix on the director’s baton, sings the verses to the second half of what’s obviously a medley, alone and unaccompanied and unafraid. Martin, who is always nervous and afraid of putting himself out there, who stammers any time he’s put on the spot, sings with a confidence that’s no different than when it’s just the three of them in a park or on the river bank or on top of a hill, with the unfettered pleasure of someone doing what he’s always meant to do.

And Gerry, who has heard Martin sing a thousand times, who knows his voice is like this, is utterly entranced.

There’s a beat of silence when the whole choir finishes a reprise of the chorus of the first song, and then the audience nearly takes the roof off the auditorium with their applause. Martin’s cheeks turn faintly pink as the director gestures to him, but he doesn’t duck his head or back away, which is…honestly progress.

The boys do a fast, peppy song about putting bones together and taking them apart again, and then they end with an absolutely gorgeous song Gerry’s never heard before, but he recognizes the lyrics as being one of Martin’s favorite Byron poems, “She Walks In Beauty”. Gerry’s pretty sure he’s not the only one that tears up a little.

The Women’s Ensemble goes next, and in Gerry’s totally unbiased opinion, they should have gone before the Young Men’s Chorus, because they can’t hold up. The director calls everyone out for the final song, which they do at virtually every single concert, and then it’s over.

Melanie is beaming ear to ear as she turns to Gerry. “That’s the best one ever.”

Gerry can’t help but laugh at her. “You’re just saying that because Martin got a solo.”

“No, I’m saying it because it was amazing.” Melanie shifts the bouquet to one hand and punches Gerry with the other. “Come on. Let’s go find him so we can yell at him for not telling us.”

The lobby and halls are crowded with people finding and congratulating their respective students. Melanie greets and congratulates a couple of girls she evidently knows at least in passing—as usual, they act polite but not particularly enthusiastic—but it takes Gerry a bit before he spots Martin trying to edge his way around the crowd. He nudges Melanie and points. “Look, there he is!”

Melanie shoves the bouquet at Uncle Roger and immediately starts threading her way through the crowd. She’s always had a talent for this sort of thing, and she slides through the gaps like water sliding through cupped hands. Gerry glances over his shoulder at Uncle Roger, unable to hide his amusement. “Well, she’s going to get there first. Shall we?”

Uncle Roger gestures. “Lead the way.”

Gerry is not particularly large or intimidating, so he can’t exactly shove people out of his way, and he’s not as agile as Melanie. He squeezes through whatever gaps he can, Uncle Roger’s polite “excuse me”s following him, and makes it to Martin’s side well after Melanie has attacked him in a tight hug.

“You’re an absolute ass,” she says, the delight in her voice belying her words. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d got into the Young Men’s Chorus already?”

“It—it was a last-minute thing,” Martin says, his cheeks turning bright pink. The blush gets even deeper when he notices Gerry. “When—wh-when did you get back?”

“Just in time.” Gerry comes over and hugs Martin, too. “What do you mean, last-minute thing? That’s not something you can just learn at the last minute.”

“No, I—I mean, not—” Martin swallows nervously. “It, um, over the break at half-term, Joseph White had to have his tonsils taken out, and something went wrong, so he couldn’t sing anymore. He told Dr. Clayton to run the auditions early and pick someone to replace him, and…well, I-I guess I was the only person to audition who could hit Tenor One parts who did well enough to start now?”

Gerry doubts that, actually, but he’s not going to say as much. Instead, he says, “But then you got the solo?”

“Not originally. It was supposed to be Kent Phillips, but he missed his cue one day and I just, I kind of jumped in out of habit, and Dr. Clayton asked me to take over.” Martin ducks his head, obviously embarrassed. “I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Yeah, well, obviously Dr. Clayton doesn’t think so,” Melanie points out.

Uncle Roger finally makes it over to them, smiling broadly. He presents Martin with the bouquet. “Well done, son. It’s a shame your mother couldn’t make it, but if you’d told us you had a solo, I know she would have been here.”

Yeah, right, whispers that voice in Gerry’s head. Gerry grunts his agreement without thinking. Melanie scowls momentarily, but says nothing. Martin, for his part, manages a tentative smile that at least looks convincing as he accepts the bouquet, even though he doesn’t actually agree with his stepfather’s assessment. “Thanks, Dad. I’m glad you could make it, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Uncle Roger rumples Martin’s hair affectionately. “Come on. After that, I think you deserve ice cream. Gerard, care to join us?”

“I’d love to. Thanks, Uncle Roger.” Gerry smiles up at the man and throws an arm around Martin’s shoulders. “He’s right. Let’s go celebrate, yeah? Even if you think it was an accident, that was a damned good performance and you deserve to celebrate.”

Melanie slides her arm around Martin’s waist from the other side. Obviously unable to protest, he lets them drag him outside, Uncle Roger leading the way.

Okay, the voice in the back of Gerry’s head whispers. Why this? Why tonight?

Why not? Gerry asks the voice.

Sorry, Ger. Not talking to you right now, just trying to work some stuff out. We’ll talk later.

Gerry feels something inside him warm, for reasons he can’t explain. But since his brain has just informed him they’re not going to be on speaking terms for the rest of the night, apparently—he swears he can hear someone laughing at him all of a sudden—he decides that’s a problem for later. For now, he’s going to concentrate on his siblings, and on his Uncle Roger, and on ice cream.

He can worry later.

#ollie writes fanfic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#gerard keay #melanie king #martin blackwood #the implication of timothy stoker

4 notes · View notes

tornrose24 · 1 year

Text

Examing episodes for the ‘Scratch is a wraith’ theory and details I collected. (Possible spoilers up to season 2, episode 5).

So I decided to rewatch some episodes of Ghost and Molly McGee that featured Todd for some careful observing. Especially regarding the whole ‘Scratch is a wraith theory.’

Season 1

Getting the Band(shell) back together

–Todd’s first appearance. We get to see a bit of the exterior of his house.

–This is the first time Molly meets Todd when she’s collecting money, but he just shuts the door in her face.

Monumental Disaster

–Todd thinks bringing cups to a potluck is a good idea. He seems happy about them or maybe the idea of being included…. Or getting to eat.

–Todd is white and as luck would have it he is seen next to other white townsfolk. However, it’s clear that his skin tone is grayish and a bit more on the pale side compared to the healthier complexions of those other townsfolk.

–The mayor snaps at Todd that cups don’t count. They didn’t count at his 8th birthday and they don’t count then. Apparently, the mayor knew Todd as a child. (This could be important in the future).

–Todd is pretty dejected at being rejected. He walks away… And Scratch pops up seconds later.

–Around the time this episode aired, it was easy to notice the similarities for a keen observer, but I assumed that Todd could have been a living relative/descendant of Scratch’s.

–Seen again with his cups when they reveal the new statue. Seems to be the only person who isn’t smiling/not happy. This is likely the second time he’s seen Molly.

The Festival of Lights

–Todd is seen with a book called Bill and Bob’s OK Adventure. It’s an obvious reference to Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure about two friends time traveling and meeting historical figures. (Hmm, two friends meeting historical figures…. That rings a bell). It’s likely he was going to buy it.

–As pointed out by another, Todd seems to be happy at the mention of food and is ready to grab some of Leah’s creations. (What is something that Scratch really likes again? That’s right, it’s food).

–“I’ll have one.” Do I detect a faint hint of eagerness? However, despite sharing the same voice actor, he doesn’t sound like Scratch here. (Unlike how it’s pretty obvious with Molly and Darryl’s bodies.)

– Unfortunately Scratch beats him to it.

Citizen McGee

–Can be seen in the crowd close to the reporter at the start of the episode. Yet another one of the few times he was in Molly’s presence.

The Internship

I lucked out in seeing this mentioned in regards to the wraith theory.

–This is perhaps one of the most notable times Molly is onscreen with Todd and the most they’ve seemed to interact together. He tells her to “Take my old junk” and we see the following from the pile:

The Bill and Bob book (guess he didn’t like the book or was he just done with it?)

Book on plants opened on a warning about needing to water them.

String of lights

Pyramid

Mason jar

Flashlight

Vase (?)

Toolbox or lunch box with what seems to be his name on it

Box with stars on it (That’s an interesting object)

Cup

Additional brown boxes

Rusty pliers and fork

Rusty pipe (I HOPE that’s all rust)

Basketball with a crown on top

Eyeball attached to spring (hmm, that’s an interesting object too)

Strainer

Some sort of cheese grater?

Opened lock

Robot that says “You are my best robot friend” (voice box was used to create a top secret project). The robot looks like a kid’s toy, looks like something a girl might have owned, and has a rare voice box.

–Actually he’s got a weird assortment of ‘junk.’ Some of it IS junk, but others seem to be possible clues.

–He doesn’t seem to be looking right at Molly and doesn’t seem to care much about what he’s doing.

–He’s also not that tall looking. In fact, he seems close to Molly’s height.

–“I’m Elated.” That line sounds apathetic and slightly irritated. His expression at this line IS similar to a face Scratch might make.

–Again I admit it’s tricky to tell that Dana Snyder is voicing him in this one, despite being credited as his VA (Dana Snyder was listed for additional voices (seperate from Scratch) in the Festival of Lights, but he wasn’t in this one). He doesn’t sound too much like Scratch. (But if the theory is correct, then it’s likely to keep Molly from recognizing his voice.)

–The ghost intern looks a little like a young Scratch, speaking of coincidences. (By the way, I’m going to be mad if the intern is Todd’s soul instead of Scratch.)

–If the theory is correct, then the pawn shop might become important later.

The jig is up

–I almost don’t need to go into too much detail on this one since this one is too obvious. But I will do a few:

–Scratch not only straight up says that Todd acts like he has no soul and is pretty miserable, but the two are seen in the exact same shot together.

–Also Todd’s reaction to getting his lunch down his pants is to just walk awkwardly away. He’s not even freaking out over it. (His behavior reminds me a little of Darryl’s soulless body just taking orders without question).

Season 2

I Wanna Dance with some Ollie

–Todd doesn’t appear in this one, but Scratch is seen reading the same Bill and Bob’s OK Adventure book. I find this detail HIGHLY interesting.

Davenport’s on Demand

–appears during the song and ordered a huge bag of ‘old grapes’ raisins that he has trouble holding up. Well… he’s able to hold the huge thing in the first place. (A few seconds later, the song switches right to Scratch. Kind of interesting that he’s sandwiched between a Molly part and a Scratch part.)

Of course, while Todd isn’t in Molly vs the Ghost World and Double Double Darryl and Trouble, they are very crucial for the theory–in fact, Molly vs the Ghost World was what lead to the creation of the theory. Both siblings’ soulless bodies are discolored and act pretty apathetic… sounds familiar? And of course, Darryl’s body just goes through life and does whatever he is told, as well as do things that aren’t entirely characteristic on his own, like helping the principal in one scene.

So my take on Todd is that he is someone who is apathetic and just goes through life. However, he does seem to want to be included in events at times, especially when food is involved. I admit, the scenes where he is seen with Molly are of interest especially since those are the few times I caught him talking. He’s also mostly been a background character, but some of the stuff I’m seeing adds up and does point to the theory being true. If not, he’s making for one hell of a good red herring.

If anyone has any more from any episodes that I missed to add to this, please let me know.

#the ghost and molly mcgee #scratch the ghost #molly mcgee #wraith theory #this is one of those times where i'm thankful i have access to disney plus and can rewatch some episodes

26 notes · View notes

revols-headcanons · 1 year

Text

the belcher family headcanons

(i just started rewatching the show. i haven’t seen past s6 so don’t spoil too important things. but i’ve also seen lots of clips from later episodes, some full later episodes, and the movie).

they are all autistic; with tina, gene, and linda being the most obvious while bob and louise being less obvious. linda’s diagnosed while bob isn’t (he’s in denial of even being autistic), and they’re working on getting their kids diagnosed (though they cannot afford it, so it’s not a priority for them).

bob doesn’t believe he’s autistic (internalized ableism) but he is acutely aware that there is something ‘wrong’/‘off’/different about himself from others. both bob and tina share that same insecurity that everyone else can tell that they don’t quite belong.

this is based off of one line from an episode, but while gene loves doing filthy things (eating tacos on toilet, eating mold, etc.), he cannot stand the sweatiness of hands or the feel of his bare feet on the floor. he washes his hands consistently and he always wears socks. linda carries baby wipes, hand sanitizer, and extra socks for gene in her purse because of one really bad experience.

one of the belcher parents is hispanic. i’m saying bob because gayle gives off eccentric white woman energy. but gene learns all the spanish inappropriate words and bobs like “gene i don’t even know spanish what-”

tina ends up starting an elaborate friend-fiction and fan fiction business in her school. she makes a lot of money writing romantic hypotheticals for her classmates. louise becomes her sales manager (and gets andy and ollie to make fanart for the fics) and gene makes little jingles for them as well.

gene gets dizzy when he watches fireworks for too long due to his sensitivity towards bright, flashing lights. the forth of july and new years eve are difficult for him because he loves the celebration aspect, but has to go inside to prevent himself from panicking. usually bob goes inside afterwards to talk to him and calm him down since bob used to act similar as a kid.

tina and linda both do the dinosaur arms, and linda, gene, and louise do the hand flaps and happy claps. louise and bob both chew on their shirts when they’re stressed (and then immediately changing their shirts because wrinkly, wet t-shirt is an uncomfortable feeling/texture).

this one is based off of a convention panel, but louise is really good at math but doesn’t apply herself at all because she thinks school is pointless. either that or she is really good at learning languages and that she can speak spanish, french, russian, german, swedish, portugeuse, and japanese— all at varying levels of fluency and all learned during different time periods of her life.

^^also based on that same convention, but tina learns taichi martial arts because she thinks it’s cool. she originally does it because of the cute instructor, but then she realizes how nice of an outlet it is.

linda’s the only straight, non-LGBT+ belcher (or is she??) and she is very much like “aww my little babies going to their first pride! love is love, alright!” like the lovable, just cringy, supportive parents are. when the kids come out, none of them know the proper terminology. it’s like: “i’m not a boy! or a girl! i am everything! i’m collecting all of the pronouns like pokemon” or “i would very much like to date multiple people, that way i can admire all the butts.”

during pride month, bob puts up a little bisexual flag as a partial coming out, a partial way to create a safe space, and a partial rainbow capitalist move (something something mr. fischoeder threatens to raise their rent, and the belchers need a break financially), and he tells the kids to get business for the restaurant— the kids interpret that as: gene makes a really bad song like “boys are hot, i like them. gay people. love is love. buy our burgers cuz the gays are great and we support them very much” (or basically that one tiktok audio that goes “fortnite, balls, i’m gay, i like boys, i kidnap autistic kids”), tina puts posters up around school that say “buy one bob’s burger dish, get homosexual validation from an adult who supports gay youth” (which confuses bob when a bunch of children buy burgers and then rub their snotty noses into his apron and suffocate him while muttering “i haven’t had a parental hug in years”), and louise guilt trips and gaslights the elderly into buying from the restaurant or else they’re homophobic assholes (some of them openly are homophobic, to which louise purposely shoves/trips them in response).

^^bob ends up scolding the kids but they make a huge profit. the kids also didn’t technically say anything that wasn’t really true (except for louise but yk). bob pawns the comforting children to linda, who hugs and validates the children while bob grills.

tina definitely watches those magical girl animes like sailor moon. gene watches cartoons and slice of life anime. louise watches studio ghibli movies religiously and her favorite is my neighbor totoro (that green night light thing (kuchi kopi) is def based off of totoro). she also loves death note and definitely supports light and/or L to an uncomfortable degree.

tina is a massive taylor swift fan. her favorite album is fearless and her favorite songs are fifteen, hey stephen, love story, and white horse. she knows all of the lore and will make random references like “this is why you don’t miss someone’s birthday. have you even heard all too well? the moment I knew?” she compares jimmy jr. to romeo in love story and stephen in hey stephen even though she has no competition for him. she’s definitely dramatically slid down her door screaming the lyrics to enchanted before. (jimmy jr. would probably like john mayers music b/c of his dad, and that is tina’s biggest ick about him).

gene vaguely likes red and 1989 (specially sparks fly, new romantics, bejeweled, and starlight) and louise says her favorite album is reputation but it’s actually folklore (specially i did something bad, the last great american dynasty, karma, and peace).

they used to have a christmas tradition for the kids where they can get whatever they can carry in their arms. they stopped doing this after one year where all the kids got the most expensive items ever for no reason.

gene is a zodiac kid who definitely says “venus is in retrograde” and “you’re such a gemini.” louise always makes comments like “of course you’re one of those star losers.” he’s also like “tina, you’re a libra and jimmy jr. is a leo— that’s completely incompatible. the stars don’t lie!”

in a comic it mentions that tina has blue eyes, and the show mentions gene and bob having brown eyes, so i think linda has blue eyes and louise has brown eyes.

gene had a horrific musical theater phase. he learned burn and candy store on his keyboard. in high school he signs up for the theater program. he was one of the few amab people who signed up, so he got a fair amount of leading roles.

the kids full names are: tina ruth belcher, eugene nicholas belcher, and louise ann belcher.

gene doesn’t go to college, instead he pulls a bo burnham (minus the bigotry) and performs musical comedy.

louise takes online college courses to become a business major with a minor in culinary arts so she could run the restaurant.

tina goes to college to become an author. she writes both smutty romance books (pen name is dina capulet maybe?) and childrens pony books (real name of tina belcher) but by different names.

not belcher specific, but their town is the most neurodivergent town in existence: all five of the belchers, teddy, gayle, courtney, jimmy jr, zeke, andy and ollie, just to name a few.

#bobs burgers #bob’s burgers #bob’s burgers headcanons #bobs burgers headcanons #bob belcher #linda belcher #gene belcher #tina belcher #louise belcher

28 notes · View notes