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lightwise · 2 months

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Full Circle - The Return to The Outpost

The Return is a masterpiece in visual, verbal, metaphorical, and situational parallel and payoff. We have been waiting for 3 long seasons to see Crosshair and his family come to terms with their choices, reunite, and move forward together, and this episode somehow manages to give us all of it by walking us point by point through the scene of Crosshair’s change of heart—The Outpost. Most likely the themes presented here will continue to be parsed out for the rest of the season, but their fulfillment is begun here.

We start with Crosshair outside of the ship, choosing target practice as a thinly-veiled excuse for avoiding his brothers. He is reunited, but not yet comfortable or fully trusted. In The Outpost, the scenes open with Crosshair outside of the ship on a smoking toothpick break, and he is approached by a Lieutenant who is decidedly not amenable to him. In both instances he is starting to be a little more open, however—his helmet is off, and in the first is listening to a group of regs, and the second, chatting with Omega and letting her show him physical affection.

After a reunion on everyone’s part with Echo, who we see fully embrace a hug from Omega, and slip back into familiar banter with Crosshair, we are taken to the dining area on Pabu. This is a callback to the dinner that the main group had when they first arrived on the island, except this time, Crosshair and Echo have come home, and there is an empty chair symbolizing the absence of Tech. This episode shows no other characters besides the Batch (now including Batcher as the best girl that she is). The conflicts and themes in this episode are meant to fully delve into the heart of what makes this family tick.

Barton IV is, as Crosshair states, a “remote, understaffed facility. It shouldn’t be a problem to infiltrate.” He can barely hold eye contact with Hunter while saying it, when once he was Hunter’s second. Hunter wants Omega to be safe and instructs her to remain behind, but she is adamant that they should stick together, just like she always has since joining them. Hunter almost looks like he’s going to cry, but he relents to both her demands and Crosshair’s input, although he is still suspicious of Crosshair’s motives.

Before they leave, Crosshair has his original Bad Batch armor returned to him by Wrecker. His old identity and loyalties, kept by his family the same way he never left their hearts. A contrast to his previous mission, where Crosshair and the other clones are considered “used equipment,” and their only purpose is to protect and retrieve the shiny new armor meant for their replacements.

As they make their way to the base, the weather also points to a drastic difference between the two episodes. In The Outpost, the weather is MISERABLE. Cold, stormy, clouded, dangerous. Crosshair’s inner turmoil at that time cost Mayday his life, and broke his allegiance to the Empire. But on their return it is clear, sunny, calm, settled—almost serene (on the surface). Crosshair has thawed and grown as a person, and his emotions appear to be in a much calmer, if somber, place. As they land, Echo states that there are no signs of life on the scanners.

The planet is a graveyard. A memorial. A resting place. Made to dredge up and bury.

A baptism. A resurrection.

They exit the ship, and a vulture shrieks overhead, a reminder of Crosshair’s failures. Crosshair lifts his head to look at it, and his shoulders slump. (There’s an excellent little explanation of the vulture symbolism here.)

Mayday had told him that the vultures are vicious creatures who find a way to survive. They bury the dead and they take the scraps and they clean up for everyone else. They are shunned but beautiful. And they survive. Against all odds.

The second the vulture disappears, tension between Hunter and Crosshair begins to spill over. While the others are happy to see Crosshair assuming his old identity, Hunter is suspicious that the planet is deserted yet still heavily guarded by sensor beacons, and rounds on Crosshair demanding explanations. Crosshair has willingly led them to the site of his trauma but he is NOT ready to talk about it yet, and matches Hunter snark for snark. According to him (he should know) the danger (local raiders) has been taken care of. Hunter is even more pissed off as he gets a glimpse of Crosshair’s activities under the Empire, and Omega is disappointed in both of them. Their feelings remain tense and tight as Echo convinces them all to get inside and focus on their mission.

Once inside, Wrecker asks a question that encapsulates the fate of all the clones.

“So why’d the empire abandon this place?” “I guess it served it’s purpose.” “Hmm, sounds familiar.”

This prompts Crosshair to separate from the rest and go to a side storage room, where he first comes across the same heater that Mayday had once carried over to him as a gesture of friendship. It is dark and dead now. A sweep of his flashlight, and an even more sickening sight awaits him. All of Mayday’s troopers helmets, once lined up in a silent memorial, are now in a pile on the floor. And Mayday’s is among them.

Crosshair must have known this was a possibility, coming back. He isn’t ready to talk about his feelings toward this place, but his face tells us all we need to know about his grief and his regret. He steps over and in reverence, greets the helmet of his friend. He understands now. Loss, grief, death. The burden that Mayday carried. Succumbed to. At the time, Crosshair had merely watched. Now he participates and gives Mayday and his squad the honor they are due. Hunter, who has become more and more suspicious of what Crosshair isn’t telling him, catches sight of his brother honoring a (supposedly) random group of regs, but slips away to not disturb him. Yet.

Crosshair rejoins the others as the sensors are turned off to redirect the power supply, and Batcher suddenly starts acting up. Crosshair takes her seriously, although he is forgetting something important that Mayday once told him—“you’ll freeze to death in that armor—if what’s in the ice doesn’t get you first.” Typically this is Hunter’s job, to be alert to shifts in the environment, but he is so focused on Crosshair “leaving” that he seems to be completely unaware of something stirring outside.

Crosshair walks out both to scout and to process his feelings, and is greeted with an up close look at the ice vulture that has haunted him. He starts to scowl and as the bird takes off, asks “are you going to be my shadow everywhere?” A statement that could hold true for both the vulture and Hunter, who has followed him. And Hunter gets right to the heart of it.

“I know you,” he says. Or I did, before you became someone I don’t recognize. Someone who would betray us and leave. “There’s more you’re not telling us. Start talking. What did you do to get on the Empire’s bad side?” Hunter needs proof. He wants to know how the brother who swore loyalty to the Empire thrice over and stayed on that Kaminoan platform had a supposed change of heart. But he frames it bitterly, believing that Crosshair is simply repeating a pattern—one that had almost made them enemies.

Crosshair’s hand shakes so much that his toothpick slips (like the sharp and pointed wit that often protects and comforts him), and we see a rumbling in the ice. Their emotions are starting to bubble and seethe.

“You thought we’d take you back and not ask questions? I don’t think so.” Hunter is losing his grip on his emotions and physically shoves Crosshair in an attempt to spark the fight. His face is drawn, angry, and anticipating hurt.

Crosshair remains remarkably calm, not even necessarily wanting to make an argument out of it, but he eventually responds to Hunter’s indignation with his own. And this time he doesn’t hold back. He starts at the end, admitting he killed an Imperial officer, but holds the tender explanation of why close to his chest still. Instead he tells Hunter what he thinks he wants to hear—that his betrayal of the Empire mirrors his betrayal of the Batch. Except Crosshair adds his own perspective—that he only betrays after feeling like he has been betrayed first.

Hunter doesn’t have time to ponder that information as Crosshair now unleashes the root of his own turmoil onto him—and he knows how to hit Hunter where it hurts. Where he’s failed.

“I risked EVERYTHING to send you that message! You ignored it. You let Omega be taken to Tantiss.” The hurt blooms on Hunter’s face. “You failed.”

Crosshair isn’t even concerned about what happened to him on Tantiss. He’s concerned about Omega. And he knows that fact will twist Hunter’s gut in ways nothing else can. Hunter is their leader. He by default bears the blame of what happens to them, even though his squad makes their own choices freely. Crosshair doesn’t want to let him forget it. Hunter never lets himself forget it either.

Both men only know their own sides of the story. And it’s tearing them apart.

They’re ready to trade blows but their attention is pulled back to their family and larger circumstances by Batcher barking. Hunter finally realizes where their emotions have brought them, but it’s too late. The snow erupts from a giant wyrm creature, no longer kept at bay by the high-pitched hum of the sensors. No matter the gulf between him and Crosshair, Hunter’s first priority is to shove him away screaming “move!”--echoing Mayday trying to save Crosshair during the avalanche. They fall to their knees and the ground splits between them. They barely make it back to the base as the symbol of their outburst chases them across the snow.

Plans are made. The squad won’t be safe until this threat is dealt with. Each member volunteers their strengths. Hunter is in mission mode now, his face open, and extends an olive branch after his brother offers to shoulder the burden of leading the creature back beyond the perimeter alone. “We’ll do it together.” But now it’s Crosshair’s turn to be suspicious. Will Hunter really trust me again? Can I trust him?

The creature follows them. Disaster strikes. Hunter shrieks and falls below the ice. All animosity gone, Crosshair rushes to him, panic lacing his voice. Hunter! I can’t lose you the way I lost Mayday, buried beneath the snow.

And now, it is Hunter’s turn to tunnel into the darkness below the ice and face everything he’s been running from. Shot for shot, Crosshair has already been on this journey, already faced himself, his fears, his failures, down there. They can’t reconcile their perspectives, because Hunter has yet to do the same. Hunter commits to making sure that the wyrm is led away from his family, putting himself in harms way to make sure they stay safe. However, he has a safety line—Crosshair and Batcher up top, tracking him, covering for his usual role.

“We found a weak point in the ice. We’ll try to dig through.” “You’ll try?” Their old banter makes a hesitant appearance. Hunter is still running. Crosshair is willing to try, as long as that effort is acknowledged. But despite their words, they hope that they won’t let each other down this time.

“Am I going to have a way out or not?” “If you end up where we hope you do.” Hunter needs reassurance of an outcome first. But Crosshair reminds him that he is the only one who can plot his path, and its consequences. Hunter has to take responsibility for his own journey. The way out of this predicament hinges on how far, and where, Hunter lands. And he won’t take shortcuts, even when Crosshair begs him to go ahead and exit the tunnel once they find each other. He begged Wrecker to get Tech back onto the railcar. This time, he’s in the trenches himself.

Tuned into his senses again, Hunter still doesn’t jump even as he feels the wyrm get closer, until the sensors are reactivated. Finally, he accepts Crosshair’s to help pull him out of the literal mouth of danger as the worm barrels into view. And they run again, leaping to safety just in time, having accomplished their mission. The wyrm is now harmless, roaring at them from the other side of the perimeter, chastened until it finally slinks away.

The boys collapse, share a fully open look. All they need now is a nod. They have each others’ backs. Approval, gratitude, and trust now have space to grow. They are brothers again.

And Crosshair gets a redo of his trek back to the platform, except this time, instead of Mayday dying in his arms, Hunter is by his side, unharmed, and Batcher prances alongside them. Instead of silent TK Troopers and the insolent sneer of Lieutenant Nolan, they are greeted by Echo and Omega’s shining faces, and Wrecker running to meet them (and hug them. We all know they secretly loved it.)

(Side note: both Crosshair and Hunter have shown self-sacrifice on behalf of someone else in these parallels. Behind the scenes, Echo and Omega have a conversation that hints at the fact that Omega might be contemplating the same. The outcome of the guilt and confusion shadowing her even while Crosshair returns to the light remains to be seen, but it does not bode well.)

The episode could end here. But it doesn’t. Now the real conversations can begin. It’s late in the evening and they have dug their ship out in order to depart. Bathed in warm light, Crosshair is finally ready to open up, at least a little, although he can’t face Hunter in the process.

“I thought I knew what I was getting into with the Empire.” Owning up to his perspectives, not shifting blame. It was a choice he made. “I’ve done things. I’ve made mistakes.” Ones that he regrets. Crosshair's default is still to paint himself in the worst light possible when trying to reconcile with someone, in the hopes that the darkest parts of him will be accepted. He so desperately wants to be accepted for who he is, even when he knows he has done terrible things, and maybe especially, because he hasn't fully forgiven himself for them yet. So he tries to shock and hurt in the hopes that either his inner self-loathing will be corroborated, or his need for forgiveness can come from an outside source.

And Hunter does forgive him, and doesn't even dwell on the many, many things he could blame Crosshair for, now that his own anger has passed. He acknowledges that he has regrets too, gives an even playing field by saying that none of them really had full information of what was going on when their separation first began, and extends solidarity in the best way he knows how.

A smoothing of the path behind, and a glimpse toward the path ahead. He doesn't know what it holds either, but he's willing to walk it together.

And I think their choice of words is what they needed from each other. Hunter needed to know how Crosshair viewed his own actions. Crosshair needed to know how Hunter felt about the consequences, both those caused by him and those caused by Hunter’s own choices since. Hunter has always questioned his brother’s perspectives—his mind. Crosshair has always questioned his brother’s heart—his loyalty. Their strengths--and also their weaknesses.

“All we can do is keep trying to be better. Who knows? There might just be hope for us yet.”

And for now, it’s enough. Crosshair looks into the sky, watches the ice vulture flying overhead once again, except this time, it flies off into the sunset, leaving him still mournful, but slightly more whole than when he first arrived.

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@drafthorsemath @freesia-writes @sunshinesdaydream @the-bad-batch-baroness @heyclickadee @the-little-moment @ladyzirkonia @jedizhi @burningfieldof-clover

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ghostofthemost141 · 5 months

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Mistletoe

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Themes: Fluff, Some Suggestive Themes so !18+!

Third POV

Word Count: 1,966

About: It's the official Christmas party on base and Gaz and Soap are trying to push you under the mistletoe with your obvious crush.

Notes: Sorry if my fics have been coming out slow. With holiday season coming up I have been working A LOT but since it is the holiday season, I figured I'd do a holiday themed one with Ghost. Name for you here is Sunny. Enjoy!

“Do it.” The two accented men whispered into your ear.

You shook your head in response, feeling your heart start to race in response. You knew the two of them were fueled by alcohol but it was mostly their Brit selves being the sneaky bastards that they are.

“Come onn, ‘unny.” Soap slightly slurred, trying to push you forward.

“No.” You snared.

Nobody else seemed to realize the scene that was unfolding in front of everyone, especially the unfortunate soul who Gaz and Soap were trying to push you forward to. The two bastards managed to sneak a mistletoe into the ceiling that nobody else, but you, have noticed. And the unfortunate soul, that you may or may not have become attracted to, was standing right underneath that mistletoe, completely unaware of what was going on. Or he does know what is going on and is just ignoring it. Who knows with your Lieutenant? You could hardly read the man as it is.

“The Captain is not going to be happy about this.” You snarled.

“Is the Captain in the room with us?” Gaz asked.

You gazed around the recreation room, immediately noticing Price’s absence. Son of a bitch probably went to get another one of his cigars.

“Shit..” I mumbled, feeling the smirks coming from the two of them without looking at them.

“Come on lass…just do it.”

“Get it over with.” Gaz followed after Soap, feeling a small nudge after another.

“You guys please.” I mumbled, feeling myself get more and more frustrated.

Who the hell let them get into the bourbon? This was ridiculous. Simon was on his phone, just standing there, in the middle of the damn room. Why wasn’t he sitting down so I wasn’t being put through this torture?

“Alright that’s it.”

“Huh?”

Quick as a flash, both Soap and Gaz leaned back and shoved you with so much drunken force that it forced you forward, crashing into your crush’s chest. Damn his chest was so beefy-wait what? Stop it!

“Fucking shit, Lituenant I am so sorry.” I frantically apologized, immediately pulling away from him.

Simon didn’t say anything but he glared at the two drunken idiots that were giggling like high school girls in some distance behind you. Even though he has the balaclava on, you could just see and feel the anger radiating off of him.

“I assume those two bloody idiots have something to do with that.” Simon asked.

“Y-Yes sir.”

You idiot, you thought. You have been up close and personal with your Lieutenant before so why was it so different now? Perhaps it was the alcohol running through your system, or it was because Simon was wearing his balaclava that exposes his upper half of his face, which allowed you to see his dark brown doe eyes. You could tell that Simon could display what he was saying through his eyes without actually saying anything. Despite never seeing his full face, you could tell that he was a handsome man. A very handsome man.

“I-I’m sorry.” You stutter out, realizing that you have been staring at him.

“Are you always this nervous around me?” Simon asked.

Did..did he really just ask that? What was he scheming? Or even thinking?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.” You say, trying to ignore the nerves and warmth inside of your gut.

Simon just stared at you, making you even more nervous than before. He then looked up and down at you, which made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he was examining you to see if you were lying just by your body movement. And boy was it showing.

“I have known you long enough Sunny to know that you’re lying to me.” Simon mumbled, keeping strong eye contact.

“Hmm what do you mean by that, Lieutenant?” You ask, trying to keep it casual.

“You don’t have to call me Lieutenant when we are off duty.” Simon mentioned.

“Oh really? Well then shall I call you Mr. Riley?” You joke.

“Heh. Just Simon is alright.”

Did he..Did he just chuckle? It was very subtle but you swore you heard it.

“Oh alrighty then, Simon, I still don’t know what you are talking about.”

Suddenly Simon took a big step forward, causing you to immediately step back away from him. Simon raised an eyebrow at you upon your action, essentially giving away how you were feeling.

“Are you sure about that?” Simon questioned.

“Yes, sir.” You were confident in your answer, despite the big beating in your nerves radiating throughout your body.

“Stay still then.”

And with that Simon took another big step towards you, and you remained still as he was up close to you. Simon’s eyes wandered all over you, studying your body language once again. Fucking shit this was nerve racking, you thought. Simon’s eyes then gazed up onto the ceiling, but you kept your eyes at his face.

“Bloody bastards..” Simon mumbled.

You knew exactly what he was looking at. That damn mistletoe. The damn thing that got you in this situation in the first place. You looked up, pretending to notice it for the first time.

“Oh, ha! How about that?” You casually said, but Simon could see right through your bullshit.

Simon stared right down at you, causing you to crane his neck to hold eye contact with him. He was so tall and so big, muscle wise at least. During missions, when you were uncomfortably close to Simon, your heart never raced and your hands never shook. Sure you felt intimidated by him a little bit but that’s because he was a beast of a man. The way you saw him take down an enemy was like watching a beautiful painting be done in real life time. He was precise and knew what to do. There was in fact a moment that happened between the two of y’all that you both haven’t had the chance to talk about. It wasn’t sexual in nature but it was definitely conversational worthy.

“Simon..” You mumble.

“Hm?” Simon raised an eyebrow hearing his name be called.

“Can we talk about..last week?” You ask.

Simon’s eyebrows went flat, giving you his neutral glare. He didn’t say anything, allowing you to go first.

“I know it shouldn’t mean anything, it's just..you don’t normally see your Sergeant half naked. On any mission” You start.

“I understand.” Simon said.

What had happened was you were injured to the point that Simon had to strip you of your clothes, minus your underwear, in order to pressurize and tend to your wounds. His eyes wandered all over your body and it made you feel something you haven’t felt before with anyone. It wasn’t sexual in nature, but it definitely felt awkward to be half naked in front of your Lieutenant. Coincidentally, no one else was around when it happened. Just you and your Lieutenant. You wanted his hands to wander and touch your entire body, and he felt that you were feeling that. It almost happened too, until Price and the rest of the Task Force came into view. His hand was on your chest and he leaned in close. It almost went into another direction.

“I just..didn’t know how you felt from that and I didn’t want us to have any weird tension or act differently towards each other cause of it.” You say, trying to get your feelings out there.

“You can tell me how you actually feel, Sunny.” Simon said.

What the hell does he mean by that?

“Uh..that is how I feel.”

Simon shook his head at you. This bloody bastard. You chuckled at him out of annoyance.

“And how do you know how I really feel, Lieutenant?” You snarky asked.

Simon then stepped even closer to you than he was before, as if he was trapping you between him and an invisible wall. It felt as if it was just you and Simon in the room, despite Soap and Gaz still being here, but they weren’t paying any mind to the two of you as they were both playing a drunk game of pool.

“I know what you wanted that day and I would’ve given it to you if everyone else didn’t show up.” Simon’s voice dropped an octave when he said that, sending chills down your spine.

Is he implying what you think he is implying? There’s no way.

“S-Simon..” You stutter out, not finding the words for this situation.

Simon smirked as he lifted his balaclava up to his nose, revealing more of his face to you that you have never seen before. It made your heart flutter and you got butterflies in your stomach upon seeing it. It was as if you were seeing something very intimate of him that you weren’t supposed to see.

“Simon..you’re..” You pause, barely finding the words to say.

“I’m wha’?” Simon smirked, fully hearing his voice for the first time.

“You’re handsome..I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”

Simon stopped you by holding your cheek, making you hold eye contact with him. He then took his mask, pulled it over his eyes, and rested it on his head, seeing his fluffy dirty blonde hair for the first time. Why was he doing this? You didn’t understand it.

“Simon I-”

SMOOCH

You were cut off by Simon’s lips landing on yours. His lips were soft, not chapped and felt so damn soft. You kissed back, not wanting this to end. Not ever, ever, ever. You felt Simon nibble on your bottom lip causing you to gasp out of surprisement. Simon then stuck his tongue into your mouth, causing you to softly moan with the action. You wanted to pull away, feeling too flustered, but as soon as you did, Simon held your head and forced you back on his lips, keeping your head in place. Instinctively, you put your hands on his chest, feeling his big muscles through the thin jacket he was wearing. Everything about this was perfect. You let Simon explore your mouth with pleasure, not even fighting for dominance with him and you just let him do whatever he wanted. You dreamed of this moment and it was finally happening.

“S-Simon..” You moaned into his mouth, which went straight to his lower region.

Simon couldn’t believe this was happening either. He eventually pulled away but remained close to your face. There was silence between the two of you but it was good silence, as if the two of you were processing what just happened in your own ways.

“Bloody fucking hell, get a room you two!!” Price’s voice suddenly boomed into the room.

You thought that would cause Simon to pull away from you but he didn’t. No, he kept his hands on you and you kept his hands on you.

“Fuck off and go smoke yooself to death Price.” Simon retorted back, knowing that was the booze talking.

Price just rolled his eyes as he approached Soap and Gaz, seeing what they were doing. The three of them had no clue how the two of you felt and you were bound to keep it that way. For now. Simon’s eyes went back to you as if he was examining you.

“Let’s go back to my dorm, aye?” Simon suggested, which then went straight to your core.

“Yes, sir.” You agreed with no hesitation.

Simon then led you to his room, and gave you an entire night of love and passion. And during the whole time, you began to think that this all happened, even if this was not going to be a permanent thing, you knew at least for the time being that tonight happened because of one damn thing. That damn mistletoe.

END

#cod #callofduty #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghostofthemost141 #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost #simon riley x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #mw2

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sunlightmurdock · 7 months

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Ceasefire | 1.0 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Synopsis: Bradley Bradshaw is in San Diego, summoned to Top Gun for the first time. Commander “Hyde” Simpson is his flight instructor, and she doesn’t have time for schoolboy crushes.

Warnings: ex-husband!beausimpson, divorce, age gap (rooster is somewhere between 26-28, reader is 38), power imbalance between instructor and student aviator, swearing, angst, rooster being a himbo x

…

It’s a perfectly fine afternoon. The sun is shining, the sky is clear and there’s a breeze that makes this late summer heat that much more bearable. And yet, nothing feels too bearable for you at the moment.

Your chest shudders as a heavy sob wracks your body, tears pouring freely down your cheeks. Traffic continues to your left. You’ve been pulled over for the past eight minutes because you were crying too hard to keep your eyes open anymore.

All those years ago, when you had first gotten your wings, you had been so sure of yourself. You went through flight school. Went through a stint of living on base. You’d heard just about everything that those men could have said about you. The jokes about fucking you, or you fucking someone else, someone more superior. Back then, you had held your chin high and promised to defy every single one of them.

Now, you’re crying on the side of the road because all of it came true. It all came back to sex. You fucked Beau, your superior. It hadn’t been about rank, or career progression — but that’s all anyone saw, even after you married him. Now, you fucked Bradley. Your student. You know how they’ll paint it. That you abused your power, you came onto him, promised him a fruitful career or something stupid like that.

No one knows yet that it’s Bradley. As much as Jake Seresin can be a cocky little shit, you saw it in his face that he didn’t want this to come back on you. Even when your jaded soon-to-be ex-husband lifted the poor kid right off of his feet and slammed him into a wall.

Always cool, Jake had denied every accusation that Beau could have thrown his way, shoved the admiral off of him and straightened out his uniform.

You lean your head back against the headrest and gasp for air, fighting off the clutches of hyperventilation as best as you can, wondering how you could have let yourself risk your career like this. As you squeeze your stinging eyes closed, you see Bradley’s face. Staring at you from the other side of Jake and Beau’s brief altercation.

He was asking you for permission, silently, you know that. Permission to end this and own up, tell Beau the full truth finally. But he hadn’t, for your sake. For your sake, he had hauled Jake down the hallway and broken up the scuffle.

You hadn’t been expecting to be yelling at your ex-husband to put down one of your students today, is all. You’re blindsided and the emotions are all hitting you at once. You know that Rooster will come looking for you, either now, or later.

The mature thing to do would be to text him and tell him that you need some time alone. After Beau’s tantrum, you’re not feeling too mature about things.

Aching in your chest, pounding in your head, it feels fitting when the already grey sky starts to pour. Silence fills the car as your breathing starts to even out. Shame takes the space of your jagged breaths. You think back to that wild kid who had worked so hard to surpass everyone’s expectations. How you have let her down since then.

Running from the scene wasn’t your best moment. This entire summer has been an endless string of poor choices, and the man who promised to cherish you for the rest of his life is hell-bent on making sure they catch up to you.

Rain coats the windshield, pouring heavy onto the roof of the car. The clouds roll in and the sky goes grey. You’re not sure how long you sit there sobbing, but it’s long enough for the storm to be right over you, that fine sunny day long gone.

Beau’s behaviour today is going to raise a lot of questions. He might be known for his temper, but he isn’t known for assaulting pilots in broad daylight. It’s already common knowledge that your marriage failed and the divorce is messy.

Questions lead to digging. Digging, prying — there’s really no difference there. Someone probably wouldn’t have to dig too far before they found evidence of how you chose to spend your summer.

The second that word gets out that you slept with one of your students, you’re finished. Your career, and everything you worked so hard for, it’ll all be gone. It certainly wouldn’t look good for Bradley either.

On the other side of town, Bradley drums his fingers along the leather of his steering wheel. He spent too long staring just now, so now he’s forcing himself to look away. The pine scented freshener dangling from his rear view could probably stand to be replaced soon.

He shouldn’t have cornered Hondo for this information. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have let your husband lurch for Jake like that. It was just a little stand-off, no one walked away from it hurting except you. Bradley put you in this position, he knows that.

Swinging open the door to his truck and stepping out into the fine rain, Bradley’s going to fix it. He walks up the driveway, blindly confident because that’s the only thing stopping him from turning around. He lifts his hand and knocks four times loudly against the door.

It takes a while, and Bradley’s just about to lift his fist and knock again when the door is pulled open. Beau stares back at him. Bradley inhales deeply.

“Hey.” He says quietly. Beau stares at him, cold and just as angry as he had looked in that hallway earlier. The rain is starting to pick up now. It’s grey and the afternoon breeze is on its way to becoming wind.

Bradley swallows. He was so sure he would be able to get through this without it leading to a fight, until he looked Beau in the face. There are two things Beau knows for certain — one: he never gave Bradley this address. Two: Bradley is also one of your students.

“We need to talk.” He exhales in one swift breath. Beau blinks. It’s a minuscule movement, but Bradley watches his fingers curl around the door. He doesn’t move. “I know this has got to be hard on you. But I need you to know that it’s not just sex.”

There’s a pause. It’s not that long. It just feels longer because Beau is silently piecing it all together. The young pilot in front of him is the one that has been screwing his wife.

“It was — but it’s not now.” It was just sex. He still hasn’t clocked that he should just shut his mouth. He should stop talking about all the sex he has had with Beau’s wife. Standing just inside the threshold and gripping the doorframe for support, Beau gives him one last chance.

“Bradshaw. What are you saying?”

Bradley shifts on his feet. The nervous energy is just buzzing through him. He can’t stand still. He’s been waiting eleven weeks to get this off of his chest. He almost pushes his hands into his pockets. He wipes them on his jeans instead. Closing his eyes, he bites the bullet.

“It’s me. It wasn’t Jake,” Bradley confirms Beau’s suspicions. “Look, man, I love her. I’m in love with her.“

Silence follows. Bradley considers that a green light to keep talking.

“She’s incredible. She makes me happy, and I- I think I can make her happy too. She deserves—“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish. If they were friends, Bradley might know that Beau had played as a defensive back through all four years of college and had broken eight guys’ collarbones over the course of his time there. Bradley grunts loudly, the air knocked from his lungs as his back slams into the stone paved driveway.

“You think you know what she deserves, you little shit?” Beau spits, his saliva spraying across Bradley’s cheek and making him cringe back, his head hitting the stone.

To add insult to injury, Beau’s shoulder slams into his ribs as they make contact with the ground, winding him even more. Bradley doesn’t have time to register that. His blinking eyes go wide as he watches Beau reel back and ball his hand into a fist.

“Stop, stop! — Wait, Cyclone — Admiral Simpson, shit!” Bradley reasons, gasping and out of breath, struggling to pull his hands free to raise them in defense. You’re going to kill him if he punches your husband. But this is happening either way, no ifs, ands or buts. Bradley watches as Beau winds back his arm. It’s a split second call.

Bradley throws all of his weight into the roll, knocking Beau off balance right as his hand comes down. Beau’s knuckles slam into the stone at the same time as he is tossed off of Bradley, his wrist bending awkwardly under the full force of his weight.

Between their out heavy breathing, they both hear the sickening crunch that Beau’s wrist makes. Bradley leaps onto his feet and turns quickly as your ex-husband rolls onto his back, clutching the injured appendage. Shit. He broke your ex-husband’s fucking hand.

“Fuck!”

“I told you I just wanted to talk!” Bradley sighs, putting his head in his hands and pacing away from Beau, then pacing back. Beau growls into his unbroken hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, are you okay? — Should I call someone?”

“I’m fine!” Beau snaps back. He’s not, he knows just as well as Bradley does that something is broken. Pulling back, he looks to the sky as the rain soaks his white t-shirt, still clutching his injured wrist. He’s got no choice, he can’t drive like this.

Pushing himself to his feet, Beau starts down the driveway. His shoulder slams into Bradley’s as he passes him. “Drop me off at the hospital.”

Bradley’s eyes go wide, he spins to watch Beau walk over to his car.

“You fucked my wife, you owe me.” Beau calls out without looking back, still clutching his injury. Bradley swallows. He could refuse, sure, but he doesn’t know what the right play here is. You would have the right answer, he’s certain. He fidgets awkwardly, stuck between staying and going. Beau’s voice booms from behind him. “Now, Bradshaw!”

Bradley sighs.

They each slide wordlessly into the front two seats, and Bradley starts the engine. He bites his cheek as the radio kicks in. He just has to say something.

“I fucked your ex-wife, not—“

“She was still my wife up until I signed those papers at 10:56 this morning.” Beau bites back, leaning his head back against the rest and squeezing his eyes shut. His wrist is swelling already.

Bradley shuts his mouth. He knows better than to speak further. The drive to the hospital is silent, other than Bradley’s seventies playlist playing faintly through the speakers. Neither one of them dares move to turn it off.

Beau’s still furious, walking six strides ahead as they enter the emergency room. Bradley trails, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jeans. Luckily, there’s a baby screaming as they fall into the metal seats to complete Beau’s paperwork — Bradley can’t stand any more silence.

“You can go now.” Beau spits, struggling to grasp the pen with his non-dominant hand to fill out the insurance forms. The younger pilot taps his foot against the linoleum impatiently at his side, taking no notice. Beau shoots him a look.

He wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving Rooster’s dumb ass here by himself.

The traffic’s heavy in the emergency room for a random weekday afternoon. Rooster busies himself counting the bloody noses and watching the six year old opposite him frown at the Where’s Waldo book in his hand.

“Right there. Behind the lamppost.”

Beau looks up from the paperwork, his features furrowed in a blend of anger and concentration. He glances over at Bradley, then follows his gaze to the book. You’ve got to be kidding.

Bradley turns his head, lips pursed as he looks down at Beau’s struggling left hand and the pen sitting limply between his fingers. “Here. Let me do it.”

“No, no — you keep looking for Waldo, kid. I’ve got it.” Beau snaps back, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Bradley rolls his eyes as he reaches harshly across. He successfully tears the clipboard and pen from the admiral, but not without first knocking into his blackening wrist.

“Fuck!” Beau whispers. The little boy looks at them over the book, wide-eyed. Bradley’s jaw ticks. He shoots your husband a stern look.

“So, is Beau short for something…?”

“Jesus Christ.” Beau mutters, rubbing a hand harshly over his face. Three and a half hours later, the sun has set and Beau’s still waiting for his X-Ray. Bradley’s half-awake, arms folded over his chest and his eyes closed at his side.

Beau’s phone splits the silence just long enough to startle Bradley awake. He’s just blinking, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Beau answers it.

“No. You really think she would want to talk to me after what I did? — No, Bernie, I’m at the hospital.”

Bradley sits forwards and yawns, leaning his elbows on his knees. The kid that was sat opposite him has been seen and has gone home now. He considers reaching for the book on the seat he was in.

“Her boyfriend broke my fucking wrist.”

Bradley scoffs, closing his eyes again. The conversation continues at his side, but he isn’t listening anymore. Beau exhales a quick goodbye and they fall into silence once again. It doesn’t last long.

“You should go.” Beau decides. Once again, Bradley ignores him. He’s sat here this long, he can stand to sit a little longer. “I mean it. She shouldn’t be on her own tonight.”

It’s the first thing that they’ve agreed on all day. Bradley turns his head to look at Beau over his shoulder, mulling the idea over for a moment.

“How would you get home?”

“I’ll get a cab.” Beau answers.

Bradley bites his cheek, pursing his lips. “You’re sure?”

“Sure.” Beau shrugs again. Two birds, one stone and all that crap. He doesn’t have to listen to Bradley snoring anymore and he’ll know that you aren’t crying by yourself tonight.

Bradley pushes himself up from the seat, fishing his keys from his pocket. “Sorry. About the wrist, and about… uh…”

“Don’t.”

“Right. Good luck with the X-Ray.” He finishes. Beau watches him walk away without a word. Glancing down at the swelling that has now spread across his entire fist, he presses his lips into a tight line.

He can’t imagine ever being okay with this. In fact, he’s certain — he’ll never make peace with it. That kid’s not right for you, and he never will be.

The first thing that Bradley notices when he slips back into the driver’s side of his truck is the thick cut through his bottom lip. It’s swollen and hot. He stares at it in the mirror in the sun visor, pushing his tongue out and dragging it across the cut. It could have been from Beau, sure, but it’s probably just from Bradley biting his own lip as he had hit the ground.

He hadn’t noticed. It hadn’t hurt. But he knows that you’ll notice. And you do — it’s the first thing you see when you pull the door open to him.

“What happened to your face?”

“Promise not to get mad at me.” He pushes inside and grabs your hips to walk you with him. The kids are at your mother’s. You’re all alone.

Immediately, your eyes narrow. You know better than to agree to terms as stupid as those. “What did you do?”

“I went to see Beau — wait, wait, don’t get mad,” Bradley breathes out, his thumbs dipping under the fabric of your t-shirt to stroke softly at your hips. “I love you, Hyde, and he’s hurting you. I wanted to make him get it.”

A deep sigh slips your lips as you press forwards, resting your head against his chest and closing your eyes. You’re too exhausted to argue, and whatever has happened is clearly already done. “And how did that go?”

“He tried to punch me and I think he broke his wrist. But it wasn’t my fault, I swear.”

…

Tags: @cherrycola27 @mak-32 @khaylin27 @stoncms @shanimallina87 @cool-ultra-nerd @angelmavmurdock @gingerbreadandpaper @mizzzpink @whisperofsong @throwinsauce @perpetuelledaydreaming @n3ssm0nique @thedroneranger @abaker74 @marantha @ghxst-heart @diamond-3 @shawnsblue

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #ceasefire

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whinlatter · 4 months

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Hello!! First of all I wanted to say I’m obsessed with your writing ❤️ Your hinny feels so real and nuanced, and I really appreciate how well you address their trauma and struggles they might have in their relationship while also showing their deep love for each other. Because of this, I would LOVE to hear any thoughts you have on what Harry and Ginny would be like as parents, such as what their biggest challenges would be/how they'd get through it, etc (and if you have hcs about the kids that would be the icing on the cake 😁)

you are a true angel for this! although i do (of course, always) have takes on harry and ginny as parents, i'm going to save them for another day while i still have other writing bits to do. BUT what i do have is a WIP fragment of a dad!harry and james scene that i originally wrote for the orchards sequel and that i'll probably never do anything with but that i sort of like anyway, because james is my favourite potter child for no reason other than i love the idea of harry potter and ginny weasley having accidentally given birth to someone easygoing/ronald weasley 2.0. i really hope you enjoy!

In the kitchen, four o’clock, sunny day, warm. He takes the potatoes out of the oven, gives them a good shake in the tray.

‘It’s nice, our house.’

When he looks up, James is at the kitchen island, going to town on an enormous bag of crisps. It’s a source of professional anxiety how easy it is for his children to sneak up on him. ‘Glad you think so,’ he says to James, as he puts the potatoes back in the oven. ‘You’ve only lived in it your whole life.’

‘Yeah, but I never really thought about it before.’ Big bite, raspy crunch. When he turns back, James is looking out of the kitchen window, peering into the garden, like it's his first time seeing it. ‘When you’re little, you just think it’s your house, don’t you. You don’t think, hey, this house is nice. You just think, this is our house.’

‘I suppose not. Don't fill up on crisps, you'll not want dinner.'

His son scoffs at that - as well he might, the appetite on him these days. Gin says it's a Weasley birthright. With another munch, James starts examining the ceiling beams. 'I like it,' he says decisively. ‘It’s a good house. Big, loads of light. Homely. Good garden, plenty of bedrooms. Gets sunshine from all sides. Not far from Granny and Grandpa Weasley’s. Near the sea.’

‘Is this you telling me you’re considering a career as an estate agent?’

‘Nope. Just saying.’ James considers his next crisp clutched between his forefinger and thumb. ‘Reckon I’ll raise my kids here, too. Leave it to me in the will, won’t you?’

‘Not sure about that one. What about Al and Lil?’

Dismissive wave of a hand. ‘Easy. I’ll pay them off. There’ve got to be some perks to being the eldest son. First-come, first-served, that’s the rule.’

'And Teddy?'

'Easier still. He still owes me for running over my foot in that driving lesson. I've been limping whenever I see him, laying the groundwork.'

He looks at James, black birdnest of hair, bright brown eyes, scrum of freckles. He’s got quaffle blisters on the base of his palms.

‘You’re doing it again.’

‘What thing?’

‘What thing, he says. Staring at me. That sentimental thing you do.'

‘I don’t do a sentimental thing.’

‘Yeah, you do. Al and I take bets on how many times you'll do it at family events. Your eyes get that spaced-out look. You’re about to tell me you love me, aren’t you?’

‘I do love you.’

'Yeah, yeah.' Eye-roll from James, though he's grinning. Tosses the crisp packet in the bin with a Chaser's precision. They take love in their stride, his children: receiving it, giving it out in spades. 'Listen,' he says, 'about those roast potatoes - very important - '

‘Crispy. I’m on it.’

'Good man,' says his son, and heads for the door. 'Back in a bit. I'm going to go map out where I'm going to put my swimming pool.'

#writing #next gen #i don't know what this is but i hope you like it anon #just a dad roasting some potatoes for his hungry son #and the hungry son roasting him right back #that's parenting folks!#dad!harry has my heart #james sirius potter #potter family #ginny weasley #hinny #if you squint #microfic

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cleverinsidejoke · 6 months

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Part One

Part 2

Based off of my little idea of an Sagau where the Creator is a friend of the reader's from their own world. You can read it here. This is a little long, but I feel that it's necessary to set the scene before going into the plot. I haven't done creative writing in a while, so I hope it's at a good readable state. I don't think there's anything to warn you about, but if there is, let me know and I'll update it.

1.7k words, excluding this introduction.

The hum of fluorescent lights fills the quiet office space, interrupted by your thoughts and the sounds of typing and paper shuffling. It had been a truly awful day.

The HR and customer service departments' phone lines and power had gone out in the early afternoon, and prior experience in both had lumped the workload onto the shoulders of you and your coworkers. All you wanted to do was go home. Even the warm sunny day and Cecil’s quiet humming were serving to worsen your already sour mood.

“Well everyone, it’s going to take longer than we thought to fix the issue, so we’ve got two options for you. You can work late tonight, get paid overtime, and get tomorrow off, or you can call it quits for today and head home.” The IT man nodded in agreement as your boss explained away the situation. “Just let me know by closing time.” Quiet groans permeated the room at the thought of staying late, but not coming in tomorrow was certainly a tempting offer.

“I’ll stay.” You pipe up quickly as your boss begins to leave. She pauses and turns around, appraising you with her unwavering gaze, as though observing your credibility.

“Anyone else?” Empty stares meet hers, the humming ceases, and an air of hesitance is her only response for a long moment. Raising an eyebrow, she turns to the door to leave.

“I’ll keep Y/N company.” Gene pipes up from beside you. “It’s no good being alone in a big office anyway.” You give them a nod of acknowledgement, also serving to convince the boss that you’re enthused about staying late. It’s a long moment before she breaks her gaze from yours.

“Is that everyone?” A few more of the older coworkers join in as the clock strikes five, and soon the life in the office blinks out. The boss returns to her office a few floors up. Far enough to not supervise effectively.

Gene had immediately put on elevator music after the boss’s exit, and began a push to finish the customer service work, which you were thankful for. It was always good to have some motivation. All that was left at this point was to make a list of the companies you couldn’t call this late and to finish checking the HR reports.

“Almost done?” Gene leans across their desk, reaching out to spin the papers on yours around to look at. “Nice.” Sliding the papers back, they look around the empty office. “When we get this done, would you like to play some Genshin?”

“Sure.” Your reply is loud in the quiet room. The devices and sound of people working renders an indoor voice small. “Your world or mine?” The fluorescent lights hum quietly overhead.

“Dunno. We’ll figure it out when we get home and log on.” The work goes by slowly, the tapping of the keys and rifling of paper sounding as the clock ticks on. Seven o’clock, eight o’clock, nine… “Done!”

Glancing up briefly as you finish organizing the reports, you see them exit the office, entering the break room. “Where are you going?” You call out quietly. Fluorescent lights hum a dull tune as you wait, clicking your mouse as you shut down the office system and open up the game. Using their back to push open the door, Gene reenters, holding two paper coffee cups.

“I figured I’d get us something to keep us up. If we’re free tomorrow, what’s to stop us from staying up playing Genshin?” Kicking the door shut, they flounce over, setting your cup in front of you. The pleasant aroma of hot chocolate escapes as you remove the lid.

“Are we gonna use the work computers or go home?” The pair of you had been friends for years, and recently roommates, as house prices were only increasing. You both pitched in on rent for the apartment, saving the money that didn’t go to rent or necessities to find a nice home so that you could potentially get another roommate. Gene had even pulled a few strings to get you this job, so it was safe to say that the pair of you were close.

“The boss is probably waiting for us to leave first, so…” Gene shrugs, taking a sip of their drink, spinning slowly in their chair, soon turning once again to face you. “Let’s get home and see if the update finished.”

“Got it. Let me grab my lunchbox and we can head out.” Pulling on your jacket, you go to the break room, grabbing your lunchbox from the fridge. Shutting off the lights in there, the dull hum lessens. Picking up your hot chocolate, you push open the office door, using your foot to hold it open for Gene.

“Thanks.” You exit the building, shutting off lights as you go, the hum lessening with each flick of a switch. The streets are loud despite the time, as all city streets are. Cars passed, each one with its own destinations, men and women called for taxis, others opting for the metro system instead, swiping their cards once and being on their way.

Taking public transportation wasn’t so bad, provided that it wasn’t too crowded. Unlike the senseless chatter of vehicles on the topside, the metro acted as the quieter underbelly of the city. Finishing your drink, you threw the leftover cup away as the pair of you waited for your train to arrive.

“Oh, I can’t wait to get home.” You groan, rolling your neck in an attempt to release the tension that rests there. “Get into pajamas, get some water, and just brainlessly explore Fontaine.”

“Want me to make something when we get home?” You don't respond as the train pulls in, doors opening and a straggler or two filing out as you entered, instantly finding a seat to sit on, relinquishing all strength to the anxiety and annoyance of the previous few hours.

The ride is silent. The stop soon arrives and you both get off, Gene wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you exit the subway into the poorly lit neighborhood. The apartment isn’t all that far or difficult to get to, and you’re soon at home, changing into your pajamas.

Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you exit into the small living room, where Gene is setting up your desktops and getting the game going. Curling up on the couch, you scan the screen. You had been doing commissions in Mondstadt last time you’d played, having left Lumine and Paimon to wait by the Adventurer’s Guild. Glancing at Gene’s screen, you make a request to join their world.

“It’s Diona’s birthday.” Your remark snaps Gene out of a previously unnoticed thought.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I forgot. Wanna do something for it?” They accept your request, and Lumine pops up in their world. Adding Diona to your party, you run circles around Gene’s traveler, Aether. Although Diona could get annoying, this was a tradition for you, and you weren’t about to break something that got your mind out of the ‘surviving life’ mindset.

“We could go to the Cat’s Tail, make a few wishes, then make a few drinks.”

“Sounds good.” Adding Diona to their team, you both make your way to the quiet restaurant while pausing briefly to check if you have the ingredients to make a drink. The game never specified if the drinks you could make were alcoholic, but it didn’t really matter with some imagination, did it?

After an hour or two of doing commissions and cooking, you had reached enough primogems to reach that final intertwined fate for a ten pull. Upon opening the gacha system, you were met with a strange sight. There was a search bar along the top, leaving only the standard banner on the main page.

“Did they say anything about a gacha change on the Special Program?” Looking over at Gene, you realize that they’ve already seen it.

“Give me a name.” They look over at you, hands positioned to type. "A five star.”

“I dunno.. Wanderer.” It soon pulls up the banner, which had passed a month or so ago. The gacha system is up and running for it. “Try an upcoming character.” You continue on this experimental run. Past and upcoming banners all show up, names of characters that haven’t released or been leaked yet.

Gene take out their phone to take a photo, and… nothing shows up. As far as their phone is concerned, the computer is dead. But it can’t be a hallucination, right? After all, you’re both seeing this.

“Well, let’s do a couple of pulls before lights out, hm?” Searching up Yoimiya, they do a quick ten pull. The blue stars streak across the screen, a purple one appearing along with it, melding into gold. The built up anticipation of the upcoming five star washes away as a familiar silhouette fills the screen. “Oh, Qiqi! I don’t have her yet!”

“Try again. You’ve been saving for Yoimiya for a while.” You set off on some of your own pulls, albeit with less success. Despite the guaranteed pity, you land in a web of Mona, Jean, and Tighnari constellations. And soon enough, you’ve stayed up much later than you intended.

Gene’s soft breathing cues you in that it’s gotten far later. Glancing into the kitchen, you see that the stove reads 11:10. Looking down at your friend, you grab the throw blanket and lay it over them, then beginning to shut down the game. Yawning, you close out of the gacha system and open up the menu, Paimon doing her usual tricks on the side. The exit game icon is gone.

Probably another new update that you missed. Too tired to figure it out, you opt to just shut down the desktops instead. The screens go white, the line up of elements blinking a pale grey before becoming a bright gold light.

You close your eyes tightly at the invasion of harsh light, flinching back from the desktops instinctively. Your ears ring, and you hear Gene stirring due to the light. Reaching out blindly, your hand comes into contact with something… warm. It grabs your hand harshly, jerking you forwards as you reach back, grabbing Gene for support. Then the tight grip on your arm releases.

You open your eyes. Your apartment is gone, replaced by a soft golden light around you. Below you is a vast world, extensive landscapes and cities sprawled beneath you, with the subtle shapes of people in the lights between buildings. The night of this world is beautiful. Gene grasps for your hand and you look over at them. Face filling with concern, they can only mouth their words. Where are we?

#sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact #genshin

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antisociallilbrat · 1 year

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This is Stan's list of ratings on who's the best Loser to go birdwatching with

Ben: 8/10 a safe bet. Pros: Is always quiet and tries to be attentive when Stan points birds out Cons: He honestly gets bored quickly out there and is too nice to say anything about it. Stan knows this and usually doesn't bring him bc he knows Ben wouldn't say no if he offered

Bill: 6/10 it's a mix bag Pros: Bill will always doodle the birds Stan points out and it's just sweet- Stan has a whole collection of them Cons: while Bill can be quite once they get there but Bill is an absolute clutz and makes a complete racket as they walk so when they finally find a spot, most of the birds are scared off. Also he whisper yells.

Richie: 3/10 but ironically still not the worst Pros: He can sometimes make funny puns with the bird names Stan tells him...that's about it Cons: Silence makes Richie nervous so he feels the need to fill it and sitting still for too long makes him jittery. Overall it's just bad for his adhd and for Stan's patience

Mike: 9/10 but still not the best Pros: He's quiet and always brings a homemade picnic! He listens nicely to Stan and asks questions about the birds, make Stan's interest in them feel validated. Mike is also just an animal lover so he's genuinely interested in what Stan has to say about them Cons: There's not much except for the fact he can sometimes get too excited and ask too many questions, and talking too much can scare the birds away

Eddie: 0/10 never again Pros: HA yeah right Cons: Eddie hates birds, he thinks they're germ filled things and he has no problem telling Stan this. He brought Eddie once with him and that was enough to never do it again. He loves Eddie, he does, but he'd rather not hear about how many diseases the birds are carrying half yelled into his ear in that frenzy way Eddie can only talk in

Bev: 10/10 she is an absolute angel Pros: She likes to curl around Stan and honestly just takes a nap as once they get settled somewhere most of the time, her head laying in his lap or on his shoulder. It's such a quiet and tender time in the early mornings that Bev doesn't often get but she feels at peace when she does with Stan. And Stan? He just honestly enjoys having a thing that's just his and Bev's, it brings them closer together Cons: Not really a con but she isn't a morning person so that's why she sleeps a lot, especially if they're under a sunny spot

Fun Fact, Bev and Stan's rating is based on a scene from this fanfic by the @the-angry-pixie

#I just love them #and these rating are 100% fact #I asked Stan himself #stanley uris #ben hanscom #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #stanverly #steddie #stenbrough #stanlon #stozier #stanscom #poly losers club #it 2017 #it 2019

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i-luvsang · 1 year

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ꔛ ⦂ 𓂃 don’t even know your name — boo seungkwan

based off of @imagine-svt's imagine (thank you for the lovely idea !!) , gn!reader , nonidol!au, fluff , cw: none , wc: 1.3K ！！ @luvhyun3 thanks for wanted to be tagged for this one <33 hope ya like :))

you’ve always found the idea of having a public transport buddy to be a small and subtle delight, but it seems the opportunity has never fully presented itself. you suppose that he’s the closest you’ll get, and considering him, you’d never complain. it’s true, the two of you barely speak, save the small moments; soft greetings, offers to sit in the chair beside him when there’s no other room, or apologies when you bump shoulders due to the rocking bus. even so, you like to pretend there’s an unspoken friendship between the two of you due to you getting on and off at the same stops on the way to work. plus, you can tell he gives a small smile under his mask each time you happen to make eye contact.

he seems bright and sunny, though sometimes you overhear him on the phone with his friends and his extravagant complaints against waking up so early are rather entertaining. at this point, you’re quite used to his presence each morning, even expectant of it. maybe, just maybe you look forward to it too. you must be a hopeless romantic, as to you, his expressive features and the loud laugh he tries to suppress to avoid disturbing others are like some dose of humanity that’s small, but precious beyond belief. sometimes you laugh at yourself for caring so much about someone you barely know, but you know it’s your way of hoping and holding on to a love for humanity in a world where things often fall apart. regardless, there’s no harm in loving something bright.

it comes as a surprise, though small in size, the first time the bus pulls away from the stop without him inside. often, he’s there before you, his satisfyingly crisp button-up shirts and brown briefcase a welcome sight each morning. so when the bus pulls up to the stop, and he still hasn’t rounded the corner at a jog the same way he does on the occasional days he’s running late, you frown a little as you board the vehicle. but you let thoughts of him pass by after considering that things just happen. alarms don’t go off sometimes, and people take the day off to visit a family member or friend for something special. maybe he’s caught a cold early this season, though you hope not for his sake, and a little bit for yours. it’d be a shame to miss his presence another day.

such a shame, that you frown and furrow your eyebrows as you approach the stop the next morning and his warm presence is missing from the scene. you dare to hope he’ll still show up, but your luck falls short when he never does. you were hoping to sit somewhere near him today.

you experience the same exact disappointment the next morning too. the bus pulls up in front of you and the others waiting, so you spare one more glance in the direction he normally comes from before standing with a small sigh. once in the bus, you're greeted with a crowd, forcing you to stay standing near the front. people jostle around you, trying to find a place, so you hold firmly to the bar over your head.

once settled, you’re surprised the vehicle hasn’t begun to take off. you wonder what the driver could be waiting for, stretching your head to examine the street for an answer to your question.

the answer comes a moment later, but not from the direction you were looking at all.

with windswept hair, a familiar figure all but stumbles through the bus doors, panting out a thank you to the driver for waiting and paying the fare with his phone. he continues to rush forward towards the seats before registering the lack of empty space, and skids to a rough halt right in front of you when he finally looks up.

“so sorr–” he doesn’t even get to finish his apology when the bus lurches forward, practically launching him into you before he could gain any sense of balance. in an effort to keep you from toppling over the people sitting around you, he manages to grab the bar above your heads and wrap an arm around your shoulders. you find yourself gripping his bicep with one arm, while the other finds purchase on the wrist that holds the bar, as your hand was ripped from its own hold when he crashed into you. your face immediately flushes with heat at the proximity of his body, no matter how awkward a position you’re in, and it takes several long seconds for the two of you to untangle your limbs from one another.

“are you okay?” you ask, just as he begins to profusely apologize. “it’s alright! it’s not your fault,” you insist as the apologies continue to tumble out of his mouth.

“no, no, i’m so sorry. are you okay?” he asks, out of breath and almost panicked at the thought of having hurt you in some way.

“i’m completely fine! don’t worry, you saved us both from trouble with your reflexes, so i should be thanking you,” you insist. “are you alright, though?” you almost comment on his appearance, but refrain for fear of bringing up some touchy subject. his face is haggard and worn out, with deep eye bags showing clearly from above his mask. his hair is unkempt, probably from running all the way to the stop, and his button up shirt is wrinkled and unevenly tucked into his pants. you’re sure most of that is due to the tumble the both of you took, though it’s clear some of those wrinkles were there before. he’s only been gone two days, and you can’t help but wonder what the hell happened in that time.

“yeah, yeah, i’m alright,” he reassures you, though his tone comes out flat and unconvincing. but it doesn’t feel like your place to pry, so you send him a smile instead.

“good. that’s good.” you wish desperately to mention his absence on the bus the last two days, or to strike up some sort of conversation. he looks so tired and beyond embarrassed for having knocked you over, and all you want to do in that moment is to make him feel at ease.

you clear your throat awkwardly, hoping that the words you settle on are alright. “it’s good to see you today.” you almost hope he doesn’t hear you, because you’re already getting embarrassed. god, who says that to someone who’s name you don’t even know?

“oh. oh, i– i, it’s good to see you too!” he’s clearly taken aback by your words, and now you fight the heat that rises up into your cheeks because you feel as though you’ve monumentally messed things up. and yet, it sounded as though he meant the words he said back, and his eyes look just a bit more relaxed. it’s his turn to clear his throat as a way to try and break the awkward silence between the two of you. “um. kinda random, but i hope you don’t mind my asking– you know, just because we see each other every day– or almost everyday.” he pauses, his breath catching when you dare to look him in the eyes. “uh, can i ask your name? i’m seungkwan, by the way, if me telling you first makes it any less weird.”

“i– no, no!” a sigh of relief exits your lips when you realize you must not have freaked him out by your previous words. “it’s not weird at all. it’s nice to formally meet you, seungkwan! i’m y/n.”

“nice to meet you too, y/n.”

you’re afraid you've fallen for the way he says your name. and by the look in his eyes, maybe he’s fallen for the way you say his.

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hugedwarflover · 3 months

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My first drawing for this year, and it's a reference to It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, which is one of the best, if not THE best sitcom of all time in my opinion. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it because it's hilarious and all the actors are phenomenal. My AU based off of the show is where Bashful is Charlie Kelly. The Pepe Silvia meme was the first meme I ever saw for Always Sunny before I started watching the show. I thought about drawing Bashful wearing the shirt and tie that Charlie wears in this scene, but then I decided not to. I do plan on redrawing many moments from Always Sunny. I want to make many drawings of Grumpy and Doc as Mac and Dennis, my favorite cartoon ship as my favorite live-action ship.

#The 7D #save the 7d #the 7d bashful #❤ my 1st favorite dwarf! ❤#The shy and adorable dwarf!#my art #autodesk #sketchbook #It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia #IASIP #IASIP reference #alternate universe #redraw #the show has never even won any awards for its acting and writing even though they are both fantastic #he's holding a cigarette here but it looks like he's holding a stick of chalk

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angelfoodcake222 · 6 months

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I made this post posing the question the read along the lines of "How would these characters react to their friend or S/O, Y/N, coming home after a big fight that made them temporarily forget about a prescheduled meet-up at their (Y/N's) place?" or something to that effect. Here's what I have for the selected individuals.

TW: The reader [that's you] gets into a big fight, mentions combat, blood, violence, & bandaging. Comfort at the end of each. Reader is in a dress on Mac's part for "Fabric in the Midnight Wind" effect~.

A/N (Author's Note): I'm labeling this as NSFW as it is dealing with violent elements. I'll make a traditional NSFW version if this one gets some traction via reblogs. Since there is a lot to read in one sitting, I'll sever this up to the Three Monkey Bois for now. On with the reading, enjoy.

Monkey Trio x Hurt!Reader

Sun Wukong, The Monkey King

Translation: "I have a way to make you truly confident!" 🫣 😳

>Boy! If you never live to see a single soul genuinely worry for your well-being, Sunny/Sunshine/Sundrop would be the lone beacon of an example you would ever think of.

>Hey was just chilling on your sofa, munching on some peach chips you had stored up for him, snug in a pile of blankets, pillows & plushies while awaiting your arrival.

>He came in a bit earlier to get y'all's movie night all set up so you could both relax, watch some movies (most are his own but they're from your collection anyway, being the 2nd biggest SWK fan right beside MK although Sun could argue who's who in that arena), then have a nice conversation before falling asleep on the amassed cushions while basking in each other's presence.

>The door clicked open before it screamed from your falling into the mudroom portion of the entrance, closing with just as much force as you close it with your foot. You grunt from your prone position into an uncomfortable kneeling one with a bit of effort just to be jump-scared by your simian companion.

>"What happened!?" "Why didn't you call me!?" "Who did this to you!?" "Your knuckles are redder than my scarf!"

>You settled your index finger over his mouth prompting his lips to zip together momentarily as you spoke lowly, your crimson essence oozing from somewhere just behind your hairline & over your face like a scene out of a horror film.

"Sunshine, Sundrop, Sunny, I love you & all, but I have the worst migraine imaginable right now & I'd greatly appreciate it if you could crank the energy down to a two for tonight. Please?"

>You try to stand but the shifting upsets the injuries to your leg & head causing you to falter shortly. Luckily, SWK has you covered.

>He sweeps you onto the softest cloud you could ever imagine & eases you the the bathroom where he helps bandage you almost to the point of mummification, only stopping when your wounds' blood flow does.

>The apology for forgetting about the meet-up was quickly fanned off as he stated that he was just glad that you were alive & had the strength to make it home.

>Without a moment to process movement, you were placed dotingly in the nest of new & old fabrics as SWK spoke with you about what happened unless you didn't want to talk about it.

>Either way, the night draws to a close with the two of you subdued by slumber & a plumbing adrenaline boost.

>At times like these, SWK wished he had Macaque's hearing so you would always be safe. Always.

•Bonus points if Y/N's eyes are bloodshot to such a degree that makes them match SWK in a macabre way, be it from fatigue, something thrown into their eyes, or even some cheap temple-based shots.

(((The Six-Eared))) Macaque

>>This one got out of hand & pocket for me, I apologize.

>Mans was so proud of you, that's a fact.

>For obvious reasons, Mac is a special case. Y'know, with him being nearly omniscient & all that to an uncanny degree.

>He heard it.

>No ifs, &s, or buts, he heard you struggling & portalled to the parking lot you had been ganged up into.

>When he got there, he couldn't move as he was watching you take the punks out left, right & center.

>Looks like you had been watching him closer than he originally thought.

>True, you learned his moves to a T, but there were many new moves he had not shown you nor did he learn of these moves until then.

>He couldn't resist sneaking closer, hiding in the shadows of light posts, the building the lot is connected to, even in the shadow of already fallen opponents just to watch you. Admire you.

>He had never seen you, his patient, doting, tiny slice of divine decadency, go absolutely feral on a pack of semi-post-pubescent punks before or on anyone or thing for that matter.

>You were rage personified; limbs snapped like malnourished celery stalks, punches to the torso forcing their knees to buckle lending to your own knee's task of colliding almost mercilessly collide with its target's face with a sickening smack, your nails digging into their now-exposed flesh as the battle left you with no other option but to strip the young adult males of their slivers of protection.

>All of this started just because none of them, not a single one, could or would take "No" as an answer to their sleazy, seedy, downright disgusting "generous offers" which led to them ganging up on you in the store's parking lot which escalated to the beating the few alpha-minded ingrates were receiving currently.

>They tore your dress up anyway, this angered you to the point of whooping them as Mac had bought that for you. It was a simple, comfy, modest dress to match your overall vibes, nothing skimpy or gaudy, but you were not pleased.

>In the heat of the fight, you had dropped the groceries you gathered just for your & Mac's night together; plums, sweets, a well-sized but not massive blanket to cuddle under, even a horror movie the two of you have been meaning to watch together for months up to this point.

>While you handed the last opponent's own backside to them on a silver platter, Mac sneakily gathered the miraculously safe items from beside your bicycle so as to not distract you from your feral focus & set them into the basket, simultaneously watching you send the remaining idiot whimpering off like the cowardly cockroach they were.

>Once you finish scolding the crawling mess now at least a few yards from you, Mac chuckled.

>"Mac!? How long were you standing there??" Your primordial bloodlust plummeted once your eyes landed on the lone trustworthy male as he stood under the flickering, stained light of the decrepit lamp post you parked under so far from the store because of a rude worker who threatened you far earlier. His smile sent rosey tones over your face.

>"Calm down, Sugar Plum. I heard you having a scuffle & came to help. Looks like you did a lot more studying than just watching me in the Dojo, huh?" That iconic smirk of his sent your soft pink face into a richer red that singed the forming bruise on your cheek & corresponding cut into an agitated throb. He leans to remove his cloak/cape, settling it over your shoulders as the chilly night air starts to reach through your heated skin.

>"Even though I think you look absolutely ravishing like this, I am still upset about those creeps touching you at all." You cock your not-so-sore brow at him. A smart comment was forming but wilted as you looked down, frowning at your garbs.

>Yes, you could sew it back together but it was the idea of the garb that Mac had searched & selected just for you that made you sad.

>"I could always get another dress for you." You shake your head at his kind offer before smiling.

>"& miss out on having tangible story markers? No way! These rips may look unseemly, but they are important & signify lessons well learned. I can patch 'em up, Mac. No worries."

>You welcomed wounds & injuries with torn fabric to boot over a few self-learned lessons? He should take a page or two from your book.

>His smile reflected yours, with all the warmth & kindness you've shown each other for nearly a year now.

>The walk through one of his portals, bike & groceries in tow, & into your home's front entrance area was probably one of the calmest moments of your day.

>Like SWK, Mac gathered plushies, pillows & the only blanket you had that wasn't washing right then onto your loveseat sofa.

>He tried brewing tea for you earlier but tripped & spilled it on the mound of blankets while trying to bring the whole kettle, sugar/sweetener & milk/cream to the softest place in the dwelling, leaving the current one being the lone survivor in the soaking accident.

>It was patterned with cartoon macaque monkeys chasing uncanny anthropomorphic bananas. Cute, though this was a gag gift from a relative of yours. You kept it anyway.

>While he bandaged your semi-dressed form, you worked on the dress after getting most of the blood out of its fabric.

>If he wasn't so busy trying not to bind your wounds too tightly or loosely, he'd be peacefully watching your needle pass through the garb's wounds as it pulled the thread behind it.

>The rest of the night was spent with small talk & cuddles, snacks, & a long-awaited horror movie you both giggled through.

>Slumber followed soon after the credits rolled in. Well, for you it did.

>Mac stayed up, watching your bruised, bludgeoned, slightly bleeding form's chest move as you breathed, your heart's recently rabid pace now slowed to its calmest rhythm.

>He made a mental note to dismantle each & every one of those creepers mentally & physically in due time, a devout note at that.

>For now, he rests his tail on you as his dreams follow his arms carefully curling around your tender body.

>Unmitigated dreams of a bloodied, armor-clad you wooing him Fabio style did little to calm his heart rate.

MK (Monkey Kid)

>He was slightly different from the two later seniors in terms of setup.

>He had the comfy setup but it was all around your coffee table where fun, colorful board games sat in their boxes with plates of apple slices, fruit salads & favored drinks & dips placed near it. Video games acted as a backup plan this time.

>The real meal was simmering on your stove.

>He even made a checklist & focused on it with all his heart & mind.

>He only got distracted twice! You'd be so proud of him once you came home!

>This is where MK is teetering between SWK & Mac; he was sitting patiently, doodling for a bit until he sensed something was off, like Mac.

>He chose Mac's route to head out & find you ASAP but was hindered by your limping shape stepping around the corner.

>He would have apologized for not watching where he was going if it weren't for you asking him why he was out this late all by himself.

>Cue the SWK reaction: "What happened!?" "Who did this!?" "Let's get you inside!" All of this was said in one compressed breath as he ushered you through the front door & onto the cushioned floor.

>He rushes to your bathroom to find the First Aid kit you always kept filled to the gills with life-saving tools. "Lifesaving" being defined as bumps & boo-boos by MK's racing mind.

>When he turns to see what you're giggling at, you catch his temple with your lips, smiling admiringly at his reaction.

>"My hero~." You compliment as he falls over in a plumb of blush, still gripping the bandages leading to your half-wrapped limb.

>He regains his composure enough to finish his task & hug onto you, only leaving to make your respective meals.

>The meals, drinks & snacks were delicious, the board games were simple enough. You both came to a tie on a racing game, calling a truce in trade of small talk on the gathered bedding beneath you two.

>Sleep was a slow-moving thing when you were with MK, his excitable energy was contagious & activated by anything & everything.

>You both randomly plummet into respite as MK dreams of a cheesy scene based on your complaint earlier.

A/N: OK, this was a bit short, but I'll be making more of this later. Mei, Sandy, Pigsy & Tang are next! Find my master list here!

Finishes one piece/part of a series. Five milliseconds later, me:

#prompts #writers on tumblr #mature #just thinking #reader insert #fanfiction writer #lmk mk #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king #lmk x reader #lmk macaque #lmk

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notwantedonthemoon · 8 months

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Noyes family designs: part three

Lucy gets her own page because she was… so difficult to draw. I had no idea what colours to draw her with. I still don’t know what I’m doing with her.

Someone PLEASE ask me about Lucy, I love talking about Lucy.

Design notes:

• When drawing her webbed hands and feet, I considered making them look like cormorant feet, but I decided against that. I based them off Panamanian golden frogs instead, because I couldn’t resist. They’re magnificent. Look at these little guys:

• They’re lovely and sunny and have no eardrums, so they communicate with a form of frog sign language! They wave at each other! • I generally attempted to make Lucy look vaguely frog-like. • I thought it would be fitting for Lucy to look bright and sunny, since Lucifer is known to be the light-bringer; I also heard it said that Lucifer was the ‘brightest angel’. No idea where I heard that one, but I’ll take it. • Lucy gets a staff- I will admit that I have disappointingly little knowledge in weaponry so I wouldn’t have the faintest clue as to what type of staff it is and whatnot. While reading the book, I was absolutely convinced that Lucy’s parasol was a means of hiding a secret weapon of some sort, and the most convenient weapon would be a staff. I had high expectations of a flashy anime scene where Lucy converts her parasol into a tool to more effectively beat someone up. This does not happen but Findley can pry my dreams of cool anime scenes from my cold, dead hands. • I can see ‘Not Wanted on the Voyage’ Lucifer being the brightest angel, but as in being the most intelligent angel, not one that is particularly powerful. I don’t get the sense that she’s a combat specialist like her brother Michael, and we never hear of her miracles being considered impressive by angel standards. And I like that- the idea of Lucy being a threat simply due to being clever and tricky. (Lucy herself seems pretty confident in her own ability to be resourceful and wriggle her way out of situations: “I’ll make it up as I go along” seems to be her general motto. She strikes me as the type of person who waits until the very last minute to start working on a school project but somehow always manages to do well.) • Her feathered gown is based off of a common bronzewing, simply because I looked up pictures of birds with bronze feathers to reference from. They’re quite cute as well:

• Lucy’s ‘honey-coloured’ hair was inspired by Hannah Montana. I have never watched Hannah Montana and yet I am convinced that they are basically the same character.

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anubisandco · 4 months

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Ghost and Rabbit. pt6

lol sorry if its fucked Im on my phone bc my laptop finally craped out but part six enjoy! also not beta'd so forgive the mistakes I was in a rush.

Red on white. Bandaids over bulletholes. Stitches torn and sewed. Rabbit was never really good with the feeling of blood on her hands, she had learned early in her medic training how to put gloves on in less than a second. She could sew a mans ribcage back together without getting a single drop on her.

She hadn’t always been that way of course, as a Sniper Rabbit was used to the feeling of the copper-tinged liquid.

But then it happened just once, Blood up to her elbows, on her face in her mouth. It was in her hair and on her clothes, she could feel it under her fingernails.

It was an accident of course, way back before 141. A teammate was coming up behind her, he made no noise, said nothing to alert her that he was there. By that time Rabbit knew what she was capable of, she enjoyed the kill, loved the feeling that squeezing the trigger gave her. The feeling of a knife in skin. She was more monster than man. Rabbit was far from okay but she was the best, and she was doing her job. Or thats what she told herself anyway, this was expected of her, the killing the adrenaline.

He had grabbed her shoulder telling her what was doing on below and out of her sight, they were alone on top of a building the rest of the team on the ground below.

She didn’t even really know what she was doing one moment she was alone and the next she was being pulled off of a body, her arms and face caked in his blood. Rabbit could hear their commander yelling her name and for her to stop, she could hear Simon. She could hear the blood in her veins, but she couldn’t hear his heart.

The man below her was nothing more than shreds of skin and some bone now, her rifle lay beside what used to be his head also covered in the gooey substance.

Her chest heaved as she put the scene together.

The smell hit her and then her feelings did. The feeling of blood on her hands on her arms.

Rabbit stumbled away from the body mumbling about how she didn’t know, it was an accident. No one was really listening to her, or anyone really. They couldn’t tear their eyes away long enough. Simon rested his hand on her arm gently stopping her from running off, she didn’t look away, she couldn’t.

It was months of paperwork, of talks of transfers and therapists, Her commander seemed unconcerned with what happened. She was made for this line of work she had heard him say once.

Everyone else ran.

She was a phantom around base, Rabbit wouldn’t speak touch or look at anyone for a long time, even Ghost had a hell of a time with her. She spent most of her time in her room alone, or as alone as he would let her be.

She stood in line with the other team members at his funeral, it was a bright and sunny day, no clouds no rain. No black umbrellas. Nothing to save her from seeing his family's faces.

It had been covered up, all of it. No one knew what she had done, the reports had been lost the witnesses bribed into the shadows, his family would never know. It was all an accident, a miscalculation some bomb went off. The damage was passible enough for a bomb.

This wasn’t on her shoulders anymore, She would be allowed back onto the field in no time.

She told Simon she wanted to retire, he told her He’d support her.

She retired as a sniper instead, took up the medic position much to her commander's dismay, he had her transferred for it. Rabbit had her rifles stuck away in the farthest corner in her closet at home, in the tall black bags they came in originally, She hadn’t opened them since that day. Rabbit refused to engage in combat, she had told Price as much on her first day with the 141. Ghost arriving just a day after her, He told Price He’d cover her, always.

Price knew part of the story, the bleached version of it at least.

Rabbit hasn’t fought a soul since that day, She’s skittering around the battlefield all the same, her med pack with her always, and Usually Simon right behind.

Over the years the rest of the team had picked up this quirk, yes Rabbit had knives but she’d never move to pull them out, more for show and Simons sanity than anything else.

She wasn’t always bad with the feeling of blood on her hands. But something in her screams at her every time she feels that stickiness.

You killed him. You killed him. You killed him.

She could suddenly taste it again, see, feel, and hear it.

Rabbits kill count was large, the number wasn’t anything to be proud of by moral standards, but the digit was impressive. She knew the number by heart, anytime she killed she had added it to her mental list, now she kept a different list. The lives she saved, each name she could recall. She knew it was a terrible habit, the remembering, the counting.

But she felt as though the more good that she could count it would maybe one day out number the bad, some sort of sick self-centered justice.

She had almost lost everything and she knew it, so now Rabbit spent her time rebuilding. Changing, doing things that she knew mattered.

Every once in a while, a memory would pop up out of nowhere. Some mission, some face she couldn’t name, someplace she’d been. She’d see herself do things she couldn’t even really remember but it happened.

Simon knew, he saw it on her face every time. She refused to say anything to him about it, dodging the subject like bullets.

#cod mw2 #cod price #fanfic #fanfiction #ghost cod #ghost x reader #könig cod #price x you #simon ghost x reader #soap modern warfare

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puraiuddo · 1 year

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Sunstreaker & Sideswipe Fic Recs!!

Since my post begging the fandom to help me find a fic on ffn based off its plot got so many notes (because people were interested, but had no idea what I was talking about) here’s some fics whose names I do know! (with additional plot info from me)

Us Against the World by Toe of Sauron (Chapters: 28 - Words: 33,946)

Or, 28 Twins. IDW-AU. Sideswipe: gung-ho prankster. Sunstreaker: ego-centric sociopath. Inseparable. Unstoppable. Loyal to the end. Or, at least, that’s what everyone thought. Pre-Earth.

Decepticon Sunstreaker!!

Disjointed ficlets about Sideswipe and Sunstreaker before/during/after Sunstreaker joined the cons and then switched sides

Uses IDW characterization so there’s some tension between them

Includes grievously injured Sunstreaker and Sides going somewhat feral which is always A+

Through Another's Eyes by Toe of Sauron (Chapters: 1 - Words: 3,683)

IDW-AU. "You touch their sparks together and they blow up and they die!" Us Against the World tie-in.

Falls between chapters 20 & 21 of Us Against The World

Is technically unfinished, but only in that it was meant to be a bunch of one-shots and is just instead only 1 one-shot

Follows Ratchet, First Aid, & Ironhide as they do exactly what the summary says to Sunny & Sides

Ariadne's Thread by Toe of Sauron (Chapters: 24 - Words: 110,882)

IDW-AU. They told Sideswipe it was the only way; they had to abandon Sunstreaker to fight the Decepticons, to preserve the greater good. So what is he supposed to do now, when the greater good isn't good enough? Sequel to Us Against the World.

Set a little while after the last chapter of Us Against The World

Follows Sideswipe after he goes awol upon learning that Sunstreaker went missing (fell victim to the headmasters, but he doesn’t know that) and the autobots gave up on finding him

Sides teams up with IDW!Hunter (and eventually Bayverse!Simmons), but the humans are not annoying like they usually are

Involves grievously injured Sides & Sunny & epic fight scenes

Involves Sides just loving the hell out of Sunny and being willing to do anything for him

+ Sunny/Sides reunion!!!

Split by Sincere Nonsense (Now on ao3!) (Chapters:4 - Words: 19,897)

The twins were always together, right?

Even though it’s on ao3 now, I had to include it b/c it is my fav sparkling!twins fics

Separately follows Sunstreaker/Sideswipe as 6-10yro equivalents

Sunstreaker is at an orphanage

Sideswipe is with their creators

Both of them have mystery health issues, but why would that be????

Sunny’s story is kinda absolutely heart-wrenching

Includes Sunny/Sides reunion obv

Transformers: Juxtaposition by Vaeru (Chapters: 40 - Words: 123,067)

Sparkbearer Saga: Part I. G1-based AU. A car wreck on a rainy night leads to the oddest partnership imaginable. A disembodied voice, possessed cars, alien robots, kidnapping, rescue, abduction, sparks, keys, and tomato sandwiches... Read if you dare.

Ordinarily, I hate OC-centric fics, but the main gal in this is actually pretty chill

Follows her sharing headspace with Sideswipe, but how did that happen??

Sideswipe can occasionally take over her body which is funny

Sunstreaker shows up and essentially says “you’re coming with me to the ark whether you like it or not, b/c you stole my brother and i want him back”

Something that stuck with me is that it’s probably the best fic I’ve read at portraying that sheer scale of both transformers and their lifespans/slow living pace

I don’t remember a lot of plot points, b/c I haven’t read it in a hot second, but I do remember it’s good

All About Us by Juzu (Chapters: 15 - Words: 44,818)

A collection of drabbles and oneshots featuring Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and the mechs and femmes they come in contact with. Topics from fanfic100 table. Mainly G1, but will probably have some movieverse thrown in.

All of it’s good, but in particular I love chapters 6 thru 8

Bayverse & follows Sideswipe slowly dying/fading away b/c Sunstreaker is “dead”

Low and behold, an injured Sunstreaker breaks atmo in the middle of a storm & Sides goes awol to find him

Everyone freaks out b/c they think Sideswipe is nuts and went off to die

Reunion!

Fluff & cuteness between them and also platonic Ratchet

The Lost by The Starhorse (Chapters: 6 - Words: 80,408)

A series of lifechanging events involving Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, told from different points of view. Written in 2002, long before it would become painfully obvious that I could have chosen a better title...

This fic is sooooo //makes incomprehensible noises & flailing hand gestures

I think I may have read (at least one chapter of) this story more than any other Sunny & Sides fic

The first chapter is?? in first person from Bluestreaker perspective??? for some reason??? The rest of the story is... not like it at all??? Please read past it.

Follows a snippet of time following Sideswipe taking a huge hit for Sunstreaker and nearly getting himself killed

A perfect storm of events immediately afterwards leaves Sunstreaker in a bad way mentally...

which results in him doing a bad thing...

and other autobots doing a bad thing to retaliate...

which doesn’t actually lead Sunstreaker to retaliate, but Sideswipe...

who gets completely fucking diabolical

I love all of it. Read it.

Discontinued, but still 100000% worth reading:

Double Trouble in Red and Yellow by Katea-Nui (Chapters: 6 - Words: 44,926)

One of Wheeljack's secret weapons goes awry, and the Seekers find themselves in a situation they never quite expected... Parenthood. Rating may change, but probably not.

Newly sparklingified twins end up kidnapped mid-battle by the command trine

Sorta hilarious, b/c the command trine is very much aware of who Sunny & Sides are but nabbed them anyways & still intend to keep them

Interesting take is that Sunny/Sides are not mind-wiped infants like usual, they’re like 4-6yrs -ish equivalent and have memories of their lives up to that point

Sorta revolves around the trine beginning to love the sparkling twins

ends much too soon

Little Brother by Meiza (Chapters: 9 - Words: 64,542)

Prowl is infamous for being a logical, nigh emotionless thinker who's better at battle calculations than interpersonal relationships. How he was roped into taking care of the last survivor of Praxus is anyone's guess.

Obv revolves around Prowl w/ baby Blue which is always adorable and done very well, but that’s not what we’re here for

Sparkling!twins show up chapter 5 and are hilarious

Ends on a cliffhanger //shakes fist

Re:Start by plenoptic (Chapters: 13 - Words: 67,631)

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker never had a family. They thought they would never escape Kaon's gladiatorial pits, that cannon fodder was all they would ever be. And they were wrong. Twins!centric, OptimusxElita. Giftfic!

Optimus & Elita One rescue and adopt gladiator 7-8yro equivalent twins

Follows the twins losing the rough edges and letting themselves be kids

Tragic stuff has to happen though, of course

Also ends on a cliffhanger //shakes fist harder

Surface of the Sun by Hearts of Eternity (Chapters: 34 - Words: 229,063)

A look into the lives of the infamous Twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, as they go through the evolution that will take them from younglinghood to the gladiatorial circuit, up to the moment that marked them as Autobots for the rest of their lives.

Part of the Hearts of Eternity’s War Eternal series which is fantastic and which they list the contents/reading order of in their bio

It’s tragic when any fic is discontinued, but this one especially kills me b/c it’s a prequel and so you know where they eventually end up, but the story discontinues before the major plot points so you don’t know how they get where they end up (unless you ask the author and get the inside scoop like me)

Super interesting take on the rarity/novelty of the split-spark phenomenon

Super unique take on the backstory of Sunny/Sides... (ie they grow up in a circus??)

Super interesting subplot of the original 13 primes (all OCs, but well done OCs) meddling in mortal affairs for their own (good or bad) reasons and they have a particular interest in Sunny & Sides

Real dark at times

As We Come Together by Hearts of Eternity (Chapters: 54 - Words: 485,586)

While the surviving Autobots begin to flock to Earth in response to Optimus' call, trying to find a new home on the strange organic planet called Earth, some unfortunate bots are beginning to realize the price of war may have been too high. Sequel to Time

I said Surface of the Sun discontinuing was tragic, but this one is... worse.... the cliffhanger where it ends destroys me... but I asked the author how it ends and am willing to share the info if you want to know

Not Sunny/Sides-centric, but I love them when they show up and I love the rest of the story b/c this is one of those fanfics which could really be its own novel b/c of all the dope original ideas. Can’t say enough about the author’s creativity and effort.

(fyi Time refers to Time We Have Left which is a bunch of character-centric ficlets that you don’t really need to read to understand this one)

Anywho the Sunny/Sides part of the story first follows them flying with Prowl, Chromia, and G1-Arcee to earth. There’s some drama & tragedy, of course.

We get little snippets into Sunstreaker’s backstory that Surface of the Sun didn’t get to cover

They land, more drama and tragedy

Does involve mentions of pre-Sunny/OC which isn’t ideal, but //shrugs

Soooo much Sunstreaker & Sunny/Sides angst, but also character growth

The... the cliffhanger...

And that’s all for now, folks.

#maccadam #sunstreaker #tf sunstreaker #tf sideswipe #sideswipe tf #sunstreaker tf #autobot sunstreaker #autobot sideswipe #transformers #transformers fic recs #purs post

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her-storybooks · 2 years

Text

Spring Showers: Aaron Hotchner and Y/N

Summary: Prompt – Sharing and Umbrella. It’s Spring and had been sunny all day! Why would she need an umbrella? Surely it wouldn’t rain. Author's Notes: Okay, I really loved writing this little drabble! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing. Remember to leave me your prompts over on Tumblr!

Why didn’t she bring a coat with a hood? She had seen the weather report in the morning, she knew there would be sporadic downpours of rain throughout the day. It was in the middle of Springe – the hot temperature a deceiver to the water constantly waiting to fall. In her own defense, it was now night, and they were supposed to be at home, catching up on rest and starting fresh the next day. That was a rare benefit of having a local case. There was no need for dingey motel rooms and long hours spent traveling in jets of SUVs. It was a ‘hop, skip, and a jump to unknown terrors,’ as Penelope had cheerfully put it. When she got the phone call that another body had been found in the park, Y/N didn’t waste much time clambering out of bed and putting effort into her appearance. She threw on some casual clothes with her badge and gun. It wasn’t raining when she left her apartment, so it didn’t occur to her to pick up her umbrella or a coat. Why would she? It was still so humid! Now she wished she had taken a few moments to gather her brain before she exited through the door.

The park was dark, lit up by flashlights and portable lights brought in by the team. The rain poured heavily, soaking Y/N’s hair and making her T-shirt more see-through than she would have liked. She looked around with a grumpy face seeing the rest of her team in hooded waterproof coats.

“How you doing, mamma?” Morgan shouted over the rain with a cheeky grin.

“Fabulous,” Y/N grunted, hugging her arms around her chest to hide some modesty.

A flood of light lit up the crime scene as a car pulled up on the side of the road. The team all looked and recognized Hotch’s dark car. They watched as Hotch got out of the car, umbrella in hand and shielding him from the sudden downpour. His footsteps splashed on the ground and mud, making tiny invasion marks on his jeans. It was always odd seeing him in his casual clothes, jeans, and a T-shirt. The cropped sleeves slid up and hugged his bicep as he bent his arm to carry the umbrella. A brief flash of Mr. Darcy crossing a misty field with a damp shirt went across Y/N’s mind. However, it wasn’t Mathew Macfayden’s face she was blushing over.

As he got closer, his confused frown became more prominent to the team members. “You didn’t bring a coat? An umbrella?” he grunted observing Y/N’s drowned rat state.

“I left in a hurry.” Y/N smiled sarcastically – not letting his usually attractive brooding sway her poor mood. Hotch looked at the other members of his team and their smug grins, wrapped comfortably in waterproof plastic. He glanced back over at a grumpy Y/N and watched how she shielded herself with little effect. He saw the raised goosebumps on her arms as the cool water contrasted with the humid air.

“Here,” he said quietly. Y/N looked at him unsure before he firmly pulled her towards him. He held her under the protection of the umbrella, but Y/N noticed how their sides were brushing against each other. As much as it pleased her, she wasn’t sure if Hotch was okay with this amount of contact or if he was just tolerating her presence to be polite. She stepped to the side slightly, so their bodies were no longer pressed into one another, but that meant standing half under the umbrella and half in the rain. The water bouncing off the umbrella slid off the fabric and pooled onto Y/N’s head, making her more soaked than she already was. She grinned and bared it, not wanting to make a fuss.

The team carried on discussing theories about the case based on their new victim, but Hotch was struggling to give his full attention to the case. In the corner of his eye, he could see Y/N blinking away the heavy stream of rain that poured onto her. Was she being uncomfortable to make him more comfortable? She must know by now he had no problem with her sharing his personal space. He secretly welcomed it. Slowly his hand left his pocket and snaked around to touch the side of her outer hip. He pulled her slowly towards him, not breaking eye contact with the rest of the team. He pulled her to his side and slightly comforted her into the nook of his arm. She didn’t argue or try to pull away again, he hoped she didn’t feel as if she was being forced into his embrace. He pulled his hand away gently, giving her the chance to step away if she wanted to. But to his surprise, she stepped closer. She continued to shout her own theories over the rain and contribute to the group’s discussion, at the same time warming his side. All the time being a welcomed weight against his arm.

Y/N kept her composure as she practically snuggled underneath Hotch’s arm as the rain fell down the team. She breathed through her nose, hoping to steady her heart. However, it had the opposite effect, his scent and smell that filled her nose made her heart beat faster. The heavy thudding began to dye down as they reached the end of their conversation. The agents no longer needed to shout to be heard and everyone’s hoods left their heads. But Hotch’s umbrella stayed upright and strong. And Y/N stayed neatly tucked into him.

“We’ll meet back at the precinct and go over victimology again,” Hotch said firmly to the rest of the team. They scattered like insects into their own cars. Y/N forced herself to shuffle and turn towards Hotch, stepping out from under the umbrella now there was no protection needed from the rain.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly.

“You’re welcome. Erm… you might want to…” was he blushing? Y/N was so unsure what made the crimson flush appear along his cheeks. “What?” she asked. He nodded down towards her chest.

“Your er… top. You might want to go home and… you know.” Y/N looked down and saw how her dark black lace bra was practically exposed to the world as her white T-shirt clung to her skin and became see-through from the water.

“Oh, God!” Now it was Y/N’s turn to blush as she covered her chest. “Yeah, I’m gonna, go home first.”

She ran quickly away from Hotch, mortified that he practically saw her in her bra.

Hotch stood there dumbfounded and lacking the mental ability to tell his legs to move.

#Aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x y/n #aaron hotch fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #ssa aaron hotchner #reader insert #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner fic #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #Aaron Hotchner oneshot #Aaron hotchner fluff #prompt #pining #mutual pining

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