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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 3 months

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He Fell First (She Fell Harder)

A You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes (I'm Not a Game You Want to Lose) Oneshot

Past!Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: The Five times Bitsie couldn't keep her eyes (and thoughts) off Jake and the One time Jake couldn't keep his eyes off Bitsie.

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: This fic encompasses the entire timeline of the events happening in You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes. As such, there are mentions of cheating, some cursing, sex, sexual themes, as well as a look into Bitsie's mental state during the rough non-consensual sex mentioned in Love Has No Limits, Part Two of the main story.

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 7202

A/N: Hi All! So remember when I mentioned I wasn't ready to let Jake and Bitsie go when I ended the main series? Here we are! I'm so happy to share this new installment in their story with you all! It's also my first time writing a 5 plus 1 style fic, so I hope you all love it.

A lot of this story will not make sense if you've not read the main part of the series linked below.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for reading over this oneshot as I was trying to figure out how to write a 5 plus 1 style fic!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

1. Before Bradley Bradshaw

You're not sure why the blond on the other side of the aisle at the Commissary is staring at you. He's beautiful. You know that for a fact because you have eyes, and you're a little weak at the knees at the sight of how he fills out his khaki uniform. He’s probably only staring because you're a mess, with your hair in a messy bun, standing in the commissary wearing a ratty, holey T-shirt and ripped-stained jeans. Moving sucks. It feels like your spine is just stretching out again after hours in the car. Honestly, you’re not sure why you decided to have all your things shipped to Lemoore instead of directly to North Island. Three trips in your car later, and you’ve got everything you need with you, but you now have an avalanche of boxes waiting in your living room to unpack.

Your entire life in boxes is another reason you’d retreated to the commissary. It’s already 6 in the evening, and you want nothing more than to eat something and flop onto the sofa for the night. You’re hoping, at the very least, to pick up a few important groceries, such as milk, bread, eggs, and cheese, to tide you over until you can run to Whole Foods or Wegmans off base. It’s as you’re debating what type of cereal you should buy that the blond first catches your attention. It’s a Wednesday, and there are a surprisingly large number of khaki-clad navy personnel walking up and down the aisles collecting items they need. You’re probably one of the few in casual clothing, but that doesn’t warrant his staring.

It takes far too much effort to turn your attention back to the two cereal boxes in your hands. You can still feel the prickle of his gaze against the back of your neck.

“Y’know, if you’re deciding between Honey Bunches of Oats and Frosted Mini Wheats, I have to tell you that you’re probably thinking too hard.”

You startle, fumbling with the boxes, and stumble back into a broad, firm chest. His laughter is warm and musical as he steadies you with big, warm hands.

“I’m sorry.” You’re flushed and hoping that you’re not as sweaty and disgusting as you feel with this Adonis of a man so close to you.

“I startled you, huh?” His grin is crooked and wicked, making you grin sheepishly.

“Yeah, you kind of did.” You turn and gesture at the cereal boxes. “So, what makes you think you know the best cereal?”

“Well, I've been eating it my whole life, you know?” His eyes seem to twinkle as he responds.

“So have I. I happen to like Honey Bunches of Oats, you know?”

“All that tells me, gorgeous, is that you haven't put something truly delicious in that pretty little mouth before today.”

You squeak a little because you're not sure you've ever been so close to a man before.

“So, I would suggest Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's sweet and spicy, just like you are.”

You can feel yourself flush, even as he reaches past you, pulls the correct cereal box from the shelf, and places it in your cart.

“See you around, beautiful. I hope you enjoy your time on North Island.”

You’re a flustered mess as you checkout at the counter several moments later. You think about this flirty stranger as you unpack your house and put everything away for the rest of the week and most of the weekend. A part of you isn’t sure how to handle such casual flirting. Could that stranger have been serious? Did he actually want to see you around North Island? Or was that just something he was saying to be kind?

2. Befriending the Daggers

As silly as it seems, you feel like you can taste cinnamon sugar on your tongue when you and your team are introduced to the Dagger Squad in one of the hangars at North Island.

The reason why is simple. The blond who had been haunting your thoughts all weekend is standing at attention in the front row. His cocky smirk makes your knees weak, and you’re sure that his eyes on you make you stutter as you introduce yourself. Throughout that first briefing, you can feel his gaze track across your form as you take notes in your spiky hand. You think you see him smirk when your hand cramps, and you need to shake your fingers out. Still, it catches your attention in a fleeting moment, not keeping it for longer than a few seconds before the briefing grabs you again.

What follows is a day full of briefings, the problem with the laser targeting system setting your mind ticking into overdrive. Looking at the faces of the others on your team, you can see hints of the same curiosity and the same drive to solve this problem. Of course, it would be asking a bit much to be able to view the plane telemetry data and hardware logs and hear the comms recordings so soon after your introduction to the team. Something tells you you’ll have to wait for that.

“So, you’re joining us for drinks, right?” It’s one of the female lieutenants, Trace, you think her name is, who invites you out. “We go to this little place on the beach called The Hard Deck. Penny’s amazing!”

“You should join us, Bitsie!” His voice sounds just as good in the hangar as at the commissary, if a bit less worn and tired. The nickname is new, but coupled with the grin he’s leveling in your direction, you’re willing to accept it. You smile sweetly at the blond as he walks up behind Lieutenant Trace.

“I’m Jake, Jake Seresin. How’d you like the Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

Before you can respond, though, Trace muscles her way back into the conversation. “Stop making her feel awkward, Bagman.”

You smile gently over her shoulder at Jake as Natasha walks you away, talking a mile a minute. The Hard Deck is a surprisingly homey place. It’s warm and brightly lit, smelling of lemon polish and faintly of yeasty beer. It bothers you a little bit how Natasha doesn’t seem to want to let you go. Jake’s been waiting, sweetly, this whole time. You want to thank him for his cereal recommendations. But she’s introducing you to the others, and you're actually having fun.

Before long, you find yourself in a circle of women, and you’re surprised by how nice it feels. Mara, you've known and worked with for years, but you've never been close. Callie and Natasha are like two sides of the same coin. Both of them are whip-smart and take no shit. They’re the perfect counterparts to you and Mara.

Looking back, you've never really had many female friends. Most of your colleagues are males, males who don't want anything to do with you outside of seeing you every day and inevitably getting shown up by you. So it’s nice standing at one of the bar’s high-top tables while getting to know your new colleagues and hopefully your new friends.

You’re laughing and smiling, vacantly swaying to the song's beat pouring out of the jukebox when the song cuts out. You startle, then hum as you hear the plunking of keys from the piano on the other side of the bar. When you’d walked in, talking to Natasha, you’d thought the piano was just an ornament, something defunct and unplayable. The tune leaves the wooden instrument echoing with age.

Natasha crows with glee at the sound; all the Daggers roused into a festive mood in moments. “C’mon, you two! You’re in for a real treat tonight!”

The raspy voice that starts singing melds beautifully with the old instrument, lustily belting the words of an old song into the air. It seems to be a normal occurrence. As Natasha dances and pulls you into the fray surrounding the piano, you feel relaxed enough to dance along awkwardly in her wake. The other Daggers are arrayed in a half-moon around the back of the piano, facing a man with auburn curls wearing a cheerful printed shirt. You recognize him as one of the Daggers you haven’t been introduced to yet. He’s feeling the jazzy beat of the song as his fingers dance across the yellowed ivory keys.

When he peers over the rims of his RayBans, his eyes meet yours. In that instance, the world stops because his smile takes your breath away. You’ve never felt this seen, this beautiful. His eyes sparkle, the color of the whiskey in the glass atop the glossy wood of the piano. You’ve never heard this song before, but damn, if you don’t want to learn the lyrics via osmosis just to see him smile at you for singing along. You’re not sure when the song ends, or even that it does, notes echoing in the suddenly quiet expanse of your mind. You swallow when he stands up from the bench and downs the watered-down whiskey, tracking a droplet of the amber liquid as it drips down his neck. You have to remind yourself to be cool, to avoid glancing at his mouth as he swaggers up to you.

“Hi,” His voice is like woodsmoke, dark and gorgeous as it drips into your ears. “I’m Bradley Bradshaw, but you can call me Rooster. I’m one of the Daggers, but if I’d met you before now, I’m not sure I would forget.”

“Bradley…. Bradshaw?” You’re not sure when Natasha, Callie, and Mara moved away, but when you look, you’re all alone in the corner of the bar with just Bradley Bradshaw for company.

“It’s a family name.” He drags one of his big hands through glistening curls, his bicep bunching alluringly in the frankly silly shirt he’s wearing. “My dad wanted the alliteration. My mom loved him too much to say no. So here I am.”

“It sounds like you love them a lot.”

His smile falters at your earnest words, a frown dipping his lips down for a few seconds before the smirk rises back into place. “Yeah, I did.”

Your mind churns, because you feel like you’ve pressed unwittingly onto a still un-healed old wound. You feel like you should apologize, like you have to apologize, but he doesn’t let you. The play of emotions on his face is lightning-fast. Before you can think, he’s already leading you to the next conversation topic: you.

“But that’s enough about me. Tell me about you.”

You flush and let your life story, a highly edited version, drip off your tongue. You’ve never felt like this before. You feel seen and inexplicably gorgeous, faced with a six-foot-tall man whose eyes seem to see right through you. He makes you feel giddy.

“What’re you doing tucked away in this corner with Bradshaw, Bitsie?” Jake’s voice makes you smile in a completely different way than when Bradley was making you giggle earlier.

“We were just chatting, Jake.”

“Yeah, Bagman.” It surprises you to see the nearly cruel look on Bradley’s kind-looking face. “We were just chatting. Piss off.”

Jake lifts his hands as he backs away, though you don’t miss how he mouths, “Later, pretty girl” to you over Bradley’s shoulder. You don’t miss the frown creasing on his handsome face, either.

“Does he call you Bitsie often?” Bradley sounds surprisingly concerned as he curls one of his big hands around your waist.

“He just started today.”

Bradley’s face makes you bite your lips. “I’m pretty sure he’s just teasing me, Bradley. It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not.” You can hear the rumble of his voice in your chest as he leans closer. “Sweetheart, he’s making fun of you. He doesn’t take you or your job seriously. He took your cute, little introductory speech and turned it into a mockery!”

“He isn’t making fun of me, Bradley.”

“Yeah, he is, sweetheart.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. “Bagman makes fun of everyone and everything. He doesn’t know how to give a compliment seriously if he tries.”

“He’s just going to hurt you, gorgeous.”

“No, he’s not.” You scoff.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You turn as bidden, expecting to see Jake looking at you with that same sweet look on his face. Instead, what you see is Jake smirking down at a gorgeous willowy blonde with big boobs and sweet, dainty features.

You, in your frumpy little business casual pants set, look terrible in comparison. When his eyes rise to meet yours, the smile falls a little, but it grows into something smarmy and ingenuine as his eyes meet the man standing behind your shoulder.

“See, sweetheart? The man flirts just to flirt. That’s all he means when he calls you Bitsie. He’ll flirt and then go home with someone else. You’re not his type. But luckily, you’re mine.”

His words make you smile, and you devote the brunt of your attention to Bradley Bradshaw again. You can feel the itch of eyes on you all night long. But when you sneak furtive glances over your shoulders at where Jake is standing with that blonde bimbo draped all over him, his attention always seems to be on her. But you can still feel the itch of his gaze in between your shoulders.

3. Dating Bradley Bradshaw

After that first night, you keep a close eye on the Daggers, especially how they interact with each other. Jake Seresin always seems to be on the outskirts of the group. Only Coyote goes out of his way to include Jake. Even when he is a central part of the conversation, Hangman seems to prefer biting commands and witty repartee, which doesn’t endear him to his squadron. You hear them all, though, noting the jokes that are so sly and cerebral that they pass the others by. You notice his concern, the tightly wound worry in every muscle as he tries his best to ensure everyone comes back home safe and sound, even in the midst of training.

Something about his attitude still bothers you, though. Or maybe it’s how he always insists on calling you Bitsie instead of your name. He can’t seem to bring himself to give you any respect, either, and it’s starting to piss you off. If you didn’t know differently, you’d assume Jake Seresin didn’t believe you belonged here, working on this team and completing vital work for the Pentagon and the US Navy. So, you dread walking into the pilot’s ready room on base for coffee. You’ve been dragging all day, and you have it on good authority that the pilot’s ready room has the best coffee on base.

Well, your thermos from home is empty, and you could use the pick-me-up, so you head over there, hoping you can avoid Jake Seresin. All you want is a decent cup of coffee before you’re back to staring at flight diagnostics until your eyes bleed.

The ready room is quiet, barring the ever-present roaring hum of jet engines in flight, and to your satisfaction, there is a pot of coffee waiting for you. You sniff at its contents, a little disappointed because there’s only enough for half a mug once you’ve assured yourself of its relative freshness. You make your mug happily, doctoring it to your satisfaction and taking the time to look around. Bradley and Nat have told you about the days they've spent here between hops while training for the Uranium Mission. The walls are covered in pictures, and you take the time to examine them as you sip your coffee.

When the radio flickers on with an echoey buzz as it connects to the comms of the jets in flight, you startle and whirl around.

“If you’re looking for the Chicken, he’s up in the air.” You have to fight to keep your dismay from showing on your face. You must be at least a little unsuccessful since there is an imperceptible smirk growing on Hangman’s face as he looks at you from one of the sofas. “At least you’ve found the coffee.”

“It’s the best coffee on base, after all.”

You refill your mug and try your best to ignore Hangman. But when you go to take another sip, you’re met with only the dregs at the bottom of your mug. There’s silence between you as you scramble into the cupboards, looking for the fresh coffee. When you measure the beans into the grinder and fire the grinder up, you deliberately avoid looking for the aviator lying supine on the sofa. You find a modicum of your composure as you measure the grinds into a new filter and fill the carafe of the coffee maker with fresh water. You hit the buttons decisively and hum appreciatively as the scent of fresh bitter coffee wafts from the pot. From the radio set, you can hear Phoenix and Bob on the comms, mostly Bob, as he clues his pilot onto unseen perils in the sky. On occasion, you can hear Phoenix’s measured tone and Bradley’s rough rasp, too.

“So, Bitsie, how do you take your coffee?”

You startle, sending crystals of sugar skittering across the countertop as Hangman’s voice gets even closer to you than it was before. You’re always impatiently waiting for the coffee to brew, so you always add the creamer and sugar to the bottom of your mug before pouring in the coffee. Hangman chuckles when he sees the sugar dripping lazily out of the torn open packet in a glittering stream.

“Sugar, huh?” He pushes you away and begins to wipe the sticky substance away but stops once he sees the bottom of your mug. “Fuck, Bitsie, do you pour any coffee into your mug at all?”

“Oh, trust me,” you snap, on the defensive at the sound of his voice so close to you, “I desperately need the caffeine to put up with you, after all.”

Something about the joking look on his face fades away at your tone, though the smile doesn’t.

“I drink my coffee black, you know?” He chuckles, leaning against the counter as he holds your mug hostage on the other side of him. “I like my coffee hot and full-bodied, a little bitter, but oh, so smooth on my tongue.”

He takes two measured steps into your space. With how close he is, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne and the bitter tang of jet fuel. “Coincidentally, I like my women like that too.”

“And how do they like you?” One of his eyebrows rises at your statement. “Your women, Bagman. How do they like you?”

“Oh, honey.” He grins as he fills the mug up and turns around. “I promise they don’t have any complaints.”

He sips insolently out of your mug, tongue lapping at the traces of coffee left on the spoon he used to stir the steaming beverage before handing the mug filled with hot liquid back to you. Your mind stutters as Jake Seresin stares you down like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. “Your coffee isn’t half bad either, Bitsie.” You can feel the warmth of his touch where his fingers brush against yours. “A little sweet, but it figures when the drinker is as sweet as you are.”

When you sip from the mug with your face on fire, it tastes even better than when you make it for yourself. You slip out of the room when a crackle of feedback attracts Jake’s attention. It doesn’t occur to you until you’re sitting in your chair and staring at the after-action reports of the Uranium Mission that you’re placing your mouth exactly where his was in an indirect kiss.

For the rest of the afternoon, you find your mind tracking to green eyes and a sweet smile bared genuinely in your direction. Your brain feels like a stuck record, trapped futilely in the crosshairs of his gaze from when he’d been teasing you about your coffee preferences.

Worse than the bonfire lighting up in your stomach, there’s the guilt swarming in your belly after what happened. What happened with Jake in the ready room could classify as cheating, right? You’re not exactly sure because you’re not the most experienced. You also don’t want to tell Bradley because what if you have been unfaithful to him? You can’t confide in Natasha either, because she’s Bradley’s best friend.

Suddenly, your coffee goes from tasting like god’s ichor to tasting like ash on your tongue. Fucking Jake Seresin. Why did he have to go out of his way to make your life miserable?

4. A North Island Night Out

The more time you spent around Bradley Bradshaw, the more it felt like you could fall in love. Bradley’s sweet and kind, and he never once makes you feel bad about your career choice. Sometimes, in those long afternoons stuffed inside a hangar with ceiling fans barely pushing at stagnant air, you wish you could say the same about Jake Seresin. The worst part is how he has reasons to be as cocky and arrogant as he is. He flies his jet like a man possessed, or maybe like a man with nothing to lose. Some of you can’t help but wonder what you would have faced if you'd been going out with Jake instead of Bradley. You're not sure you would have been enough to change his ways.

Bradley, on the other hand? He's like your knight in shining armor. He never minds your rambling or how you babble when you get sucked into a conversation. In fact, you'd argue that Bradley Bradshaw is the first person who has ever taken you seriously. He makes you feel superhuman, like there is never any problem you can't solve. His smile still has butterflies taking flight in thick, cloying swarms in your stomach. He makes you laugh, and god when he kisses you? You feel radiant, like one word will have you taking off faster than an F-18.

A part of you can’t believe him, even now. He hadn't laughed when you'd told him how inexperienced you were, in truth, what you wanted him to give you for your first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He'd groaned into your ear, “Just let me make you feel good, on your terms, as fast or slow as you want me to be.”

You know what he's offering. As fast or slow as you want me to be is his way of telling you to take your time. But you're sure you will explode if you have to make out with Bradley Bradshaw again while rubbing a wet patch into the thigh of his jeans, while his fingers massage over your nipples and his tongue tangles languidly with yours.

You’ve had sex with him before, the sweet, gentle missionary kind. In fact, you’d argue that it was the perfect way to lose your virginity. But you can’t help but wonder if there isn’t more to sex with a man you love than a few slow moments in bed. You’re not even sure you orgasmed that night, or at least, it never felt like how you’ve made yourself climax. But ever since then, he’s kept you at arm's length. Sex was supposed to be the last step before all of the walls came down between the two of you. Maybe you can finally get Bradley to give you what you want, then? If only this date weren’t starting at The Hard Deck, though if you think back, most of yours do. It’s not like the Hard Deck isn’t a nice bar - it is. But The Hard Deck isn’t the most romantic of venues.

When you drive up to the Hard Deck in your little car at promptly six in the evening, you’re dressed to the nines, wearing a cute little sundress with a flared skirt and fitted bodice. It pushes your tits up and is nearly completely backless. You’re not wearing much under the dress, just a little lace-edged thong and strappy heels elevating you a few inches. Stepping through the door, it seems like the entire bar falls silent. For several long moments, all you can hear is the tapping of your heels against the floor. People seem to float out of your way as you greet Penny, grabbing your drink from her, a soda in a glass bottle dripping condensation, and walk towards the pool tables in the back of the bar.

Heads turn as you walk past, and you can feel a smug smile curl your lips. On any other night, the arrangement of the Daggers around the pool table would have been normal. You’d be joining them by now, taking your place next to Bradley to hang besottedly on his every word. You’d be the only one not in uniform.

Tonight, there isn’t a uniform in sight. Tonight, you’re dressed to impress. But you’re not dressed to impress the other Daggers, only Bradley. You hope your sexy little dress will be enough to have the romantic moment you’ve been longing for, finally. All your boyfriend needs to do is turn around and see you.

Nat and Bob confer in hushed tones as Bradley racks up against the pool table with the cue in his hand. He’s wearing those jeans that you adore, the pair that fits like a glove and with fabric so worn that it’s soft against your hands. Hangman and Coyote are on the other side of the pool table, identical frowns on their faces as they strategize over the configuration of the balls on the worn felt emblazoned with jets.

But it’s Hangman who sees you first with a clattering of his cue as it impacts the floor. His eyes bug out, mouth parting as his eyes rake over you from head to toe. His reaction causes silence to ripple outwards with him at its epicenter. Dagger after Dagger pauses to stare at you. It’s a gratifying feeling. Nat and Callie wink at you, and Nat carefully prods a pink-cheeked Bob into resuming their conversation. The only person arrayed around the pool tables who doesn’t seem to know you’re there is the man you dressed up for. Jake is nearly mute as you clack forward, sipping on your drink greedily because something about his gaze has you feeling hot and flushed. The only time he backs off is when Bradley seems to realize you’re right there.

“Fuck, baby.” Your boyfriend groans in your ears. His voice makes your skin flare hot, and a desperate ache starts between your legs. “Look at you all pretty and gorgeous for me. Let me finish this last round, and then I’m all yours.”

One round turns to two, and then three, and before long, you’re left all alone in a corner of the bar while the Daggers, including Bradley, party like you don’t exist. All of that effort to make it a romantic night, and you’re sitting here like you don’t exist. If you have to watch another badge bunny drape herself all over your boyfriend, you are going to scream or do something drastic. Maybe making out with Jake will get his attention.

“It’s a shame, you know?” You nearly topple off of your stool at the words emanating from next to you. “You look so pretty, Bitsie, and Bradshaw can’t even open his eyes to see his girl waiting for him.”

Hangman sounds so sure of you, so sure that you’re better than Bradley Bradshaw deserves.

“He just wanted to grab another drink.”

“That was three hours ago, Bits.” When Jake chuckles, you can feel your hackles raise. “Didn’t you have dinner reservations or something like that?”

Before you can respond, because yeah, you did, Bradley’s standing there.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bagman?” Bradley is slurring his words, listing from side to side as he stares the other man down.

“She’s mine, Bagman. Don’t you forget it!”

“If she’s yours, why are you ignoring her and walking around with badge bunnies draped all over ya?”

You can tell by how red Bradley’s face gets that he is one more word from launching himself at Jake. You’re unsure what prompts you to step in, but you do, sliding your hand up to the sweaty curls at the base of your boyfriend’s neck and whispering into his ear. You breathe your need, your want for him, into his ears. You have to ignore the scent of alcohol and sweat wafting sour from his skin, but you succeed in grabbing his attention.

But a part of you wishes your seductive ploy hadn’t.

You got your wish; your need to have sex with your boyfriend granted. But it’s not anything like you expected it to be. Bradley left bruises on your skin and bruises on your heart. He’d been rough with his touch and his words. But more than that, you can’t help but wonder if this would have happened with Jake. If he’d make you feel better than Bradley ever could. Isn’t sex supposed to feel good?

Faced with Bradley’s fumbling, you’d been anything but wet between your legs. You’d only started to get there when you thought, selfishly, of Jake. There was no foreplay, no making sure you’re alright. No kissing, no touching. There were no hallmarks of any of the care and gentleness Bradley usually treats you with. The whole experience has you feeling worse than you did in the car as he called you a slut for talking to a colleague and friend. Slut. It’s a word he’d used often with you in bed that night, too. A word that makes you feel guilty, dirty, and disgusting all at once.

What does it say about you that you had to think of a colleague and friend to get wet instead of your boyfriend?

Whether you realize it or not, that’s the first crack in the shaky, perhaps already crumbling, foundations of your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw.

5. After Bradley Bradshaw

You have work to do; you know you do. But it’s been under a day since you told Jake Seresin how your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw imploded easier than if it had been bombed. Realizing Nat had known, known what he did and condoned the betrayal, his cheating, is another stab to the back that you weren’t expecting. You can't believe how Bradley could harbor less remorse and guilt over having sex with Britney than you did over some harmless, practically meaningless flirting.

What happened to ‘sisters before misters’ and all sentiments to that effect? You’re thankful, truly thankful, that Jake didn’t know and that Mickey and Mara were unaware as well. Being so far away from North Island has given you a sense of clarity you never thought you were missing.

You’d be lying if you said Jake Seresin doesn’t have something to do with your newfound clarity, too.

One night, a bushel-load of tears and an unburdening of your heart, and he’s already raised himself in your esteems. It’s in how he’d listened to you, which has your thoughts spinning. Back when your relationship with Bradley was still rock solid, you'd thought Bradley was the only man who could make you feel like the most important person in the world. But you didn't realize how often Bradley’s eyes would glaze over when you got excited. You’re not sure you’ve ever been able actually to talk to your ex.

Jake let you cry, cry like you’d lost your reason for living. He’d held you while your suppressed grief had unleashed. He’d heard you spill your heart out to him and release all of your pain into the squalling storm winds. Then there was the rage in his face, in his voice, the rage he’d held tightly coiled in the corded muscles of his arm, in the jut of his proud jaw, when he found out Bradley had broken you, dominated your spirit, for a bet.

You’re not sure why he’s been so nice. He has nothing to gain by being kind to you. He didn’t when he wanted to get you off deck in the middle of the storm last night. Though uncharitably, you’re sure he’d likely wanted you off deck so he could get off deck himself. He didn’t have to make you a cup of coffee or raid his own special stash of granola bars, either. But more than anything, you’d love to know why he let you cry snot and tears all over his uniform when it was well past lights out. You keep thinking back to how it felt to be in his arms, how good it felt.

Unbidden, you pull out the paper Jake had handed you while you were eating lunch in the commissary with Mara and Mickey. It’s nothing special, just a note written in ballpoint pen on run-of-the-mill lined notebook paper. The paper is silky smooth against the pads of your fingers, the edges ragged like he’d ripped the page out of a notebook he had lying around. You can feel the indentations the pen had left on the other side of the page. You can see how the letters slur across the page as he’d written, the ink smudging imperceptibly as he wrote hastily. They’re just lyrics transcribed on the page, and they shouldn’t be thought-provoking.

It’s from a song you’ve heard a thousand times before, played ad nauseam on the radio with a catchy tune getting stuck in your head. More than the song lyrics, it’s the thought behind those lyrics. Honestly, you’re not sure how he got them for you. He called his sister in the middle of the night when he likely had to get special permission to do so just so he could get some stupid lyrics for you.

You can still see the twinkle in his eyes as he blushed crimson. He’d seemed proud, proud he was the reason for your laughter, proud that he’d pulled the wool from your eyes and showed you how ill Bradley had actually treated you. That look on his face made you feel like levitating.

You can’t deny it anymore. Bradley Bradshaw may have made butterflies swarm in your stomach, but Jake Seresin made you feel like lightning arcing through the air. He makes you feel wild and free.

+1. The Day Easton is Born

A part of you feels like you should be angry that it took only four years before you stopped being the sole item of your husband’s attention. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the same way that Jake did, especially because the cute little thing that’s caught his attention has caught yours, too.

He’s about four hours old with squishy cheeks, a red face, and a voice that would make his daddy proud. You’re sure that his voice is just like his dad’s, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard Jake’s voice ever hit the octaves this adorable sweetheart hits. It hurts a little bit that you’ve been ordered not to move, too, because everything in you is itching to pick your baby up and hold him in your arms. But Jake’s on baby duty at the moment. If it’s a poopy diaper, you’re more than ready to let him take that burden on.

You tilt the bed up until you’re reclining and tip your head gently to the side until you see the heart rate monitor reassuringly blinking your vital signs at you. When you turn your head to the other side, Jake's standing over the small changing table in your room, leaning down and looking into it. His face looks gentler than you've ever seen it, soft, like a man stripped bare to his basest parts. He has no walls up, no fears, just wonder as he stares down at the little bed. Well, maybe he’s looking a little less awestruck and a little more disgusted because your newborn son does, indeed, have a soiled diaper.

He’s not wearing a shirt. This fact doesn't surprise you because Jake wanders around your house half-naked all the time. At the same time, you’re both in a hospital, and it’s at least 10 degrees colder than it should be. You’re wrapped up in a soft pajama set and wearing a thick cardigan, but you’re still cold. When Jake hefts the small wriggling body of your son into his arms and settles him against his chest, now clean, your heart swells. The baby coos, a little snuffling exhale of breath that squeaks a little as he settles into Jake’s arms. Jake doesn’t seem to realize that you’re awake, either.

“Awww, hey, Buddy.” His voice is a tender rumble, big hands cradling precious cargo with the same surety he flies his jet. “Let’s not wake up Mama, huh? She’s so tired.”

“You took us by surprise, our sweet boy. We weren’t expecting you to show up in the middle of a Longhorns game, for sure. I will say that your arrival was a little more exciting than a game-winning touchdown. I wonder if your Uncle Javy will let Daddy watch the game on his DVR when you’re home? In any case, I do not look forward to replacing my Longhorns rug. You had to pick that rug to make your appearance on, didn’t you? Say, East, what’s the likelihood that your Mama would let me keep it if I wash it off?”

You have to stifle your snickers because the baby chirps and half burps in response. You can vaguely see the dark blue of the baby’s eyes as he blinks in Jake’s firm hold. East’s lips purse and part, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be in need again. But you’re so in love, and hearing Jake talk to your son might be your newest favorite thing.

“Yeah, I had that feeling. You’ll learn sooner or later that your Mama’s words are law. She’s going to be the disciplinarian between the two of us, for sure. You’re already wrapped around my fingers. I’m not sure I could tell you no for anything.”

He sighs, sounding choked up as he trails a finger down the baby’s soft cheek. “I’ve got so much I want to teach you. How to smile and utilize those perfect Seresin dimples. How to talk your way out of any problem you face. How to make your Mama smile (and maybe cry) every Mother’s Day as we show her how amazing she is.”

He presses a soft kiss to the top of the baby’s head and rocks slightly back and forth on his heels, an action that doesn’t soothe your son even a little. East is squalling already, and you have a feeling he will ratchet up a bit higher in volume if he doesn’t get what he wants.

“Hey, Cowboy.” Your voice is soft as you get Jake’s attention.

“Morning, Bitsie-baby.” His smile is wide as he stares down at you.

“There’s no way it’s morning, Jake.” He shrugs and rocks back and forth a little more as the baby objects a little louder with each sway. “And gimme my son.”

Jake smirked as he transferred the baby, eyes softening as you situated East against your chest, snickering as the baby latched hungrily onto your breast for his midnight snack.

“So he’s your son when you want him, but he’s mine when he’s got a nasty diaper?”

“Sounds about right, Seresin.”

“Well, he’s a Seresin, alright.” Jake snickers when you swat at his abs. “Made right for your tits, and aren’t they a pretty sight.”

“Not in front of the baby, Jacob.”

“Well, I dunno when I’m going to see them again one on one!”

“Try me when East’s two years old. Because I’m going to need that long to recover from having your big-headed child.” Your voice is as dry as the Sahara Desert as you laugh at your husband.

“Fair enough.” He tucks a wild strand of hair behind your ear and settles on the edge of the hospital bed. You snuggle into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“I’ll take beautiful over the complete mess I probably am.”

“You look gorgeous, Bitsie!”

You snort. “Jake, I haven’t showered in 48 hours, I was in labor for most of it, and I just had a baby. So what about me looks beautiful to you at this moment?”

“Everything.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’ve given me the best things in my life. You gave me your heart and a second chance with you. You gave me a family in you and our little Easton. You’ve changed my life.”

“If I didn’t find you gorgeous because of all of our relationship, then I’d definitely argue it is the memory of the lingerie you were wearing under your dress at last year's Navy Gala.”

“I think that lingerie was pretty life-changing for both of us, Cowboy.” You cradle Easton close and gesture for one of the many burp cloths arrayed on the table on Jake’s other side. “I’m about 90% sure that was the night we made East.” You pat the baby’s bottom gently, grimacing when he lets loose a surprisingly loud belch before cooing angelically. “Well, you certainly burp like your dad, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Jake tugs the baby out of your arms, swaying side to side as the baby’s eyes droop closed. He snuggles East close before laying him into the crib. You watch approvingly as he pulls the crib closer, the same worries about your newborn son in his mind as yours. “I’ll have you know, kiddo, that your mama loves my burps.”

“Don’t lie to our son. He’s not even a day old, Seresin, and you’re already lying to him!”

“Am I lying if I’m telling him the truth? His mama does love me.” You wrap your arms around his waist as he settles back into the hospital bed next to you.

“Yeah, she does.” You kiss his torso, nuzzling in close as he holds you close.

“I love you so much, Jake. I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I’m not likely to stop now. Having this,” you gesture to the hospital room at large, “is better than my best dreams. Though, I would prefer it if you could convince your mom and sister to let us have some time with East alone before they descend on us.”

“You got it, beautiful.” He runs his hands gently up and down your back. God, you're not sure you can give him up, not anymore. Right now, you're pretty sure that if Jake gets out of the hospital bed, you'll freeze solid.

“You were always my dream, Bitsie baby. Forever and always.” You barely hear the words, sleep pulling you under riptide-fast. But a part of you knows Jake doesn't mind. It's always been a not-so-secret fantasy of his, having his family at arm's reach.

Honestly, you could get used to it too. Your Jake Seresin pillow is the best of the best, after all.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@greenbaby12 @eli2447 @the-romanian-is-bae @luckyladycreator2 @lunamoonbby @angeliccks @daisydaisygoose @inky-sun @fighterpilothoe @pulisvertz @wildxwidow @angelbabyange @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @dempy @shanimallina87 @abaker74 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star writes #you play stupid games you win stupid prizes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #past rooster x reader #past bradley bradshaw x reader #past bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster is a dick #he's not the greatest in this #top gun imagine #top gun angst

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curlybinghe · 1 month

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i wonder if anyone in trigun has ever had a sandwich. like if Grass was something meryl, a lady in her 20s, had never seen before (at least in tristamp i remember that being the case), i imagine wheat, tomatoes, spinach etc are also extremely rare or maybe even nonexistent on noman's land.

in the opening of 98 trigun, vash is seen eating a hamburger (or trying to) and it makes me have questions. was the bun made from real wheat?? do they have cows,,? or was it like. worm burger

this whole post may be a failing of my memory, because i don't remember too much about the worldbuilding shown in trigun (or anything at all for that matter. idek what i had for breakfast this morning). also, i have yet to read trimax, so my information base is holey, but like

vash deserves a sandwich. i need to know if vash the stampede has ever experienced the joy of a nice, fresh turkey sandwich with tomato and spinch and cheese and all the fixins. maybe even some avocado. give that man a sandwich right now

#trigun #ramblin #wolfwood too. in fact give the whole squad sandwiches #vash the stampede

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prismaticpichu · 2 months

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POTENTIAL (spoiler free) HOT TAKES; DO NOT TOUCH STOVE 🔥

As I continue to scarf down Rebirth food like a rabid chimpanzee, I’m starting to come to an interesting realization:

I think I discovered a new reason as to why I love CC so much among the compilation. And that is bc it is debatably the easiest content in all of the 7 series to follow/digest. Don’t get me wrong- the writing is still messy and holey and did throw a bit of a wrench into pre-established canon. But chopping all of that off and looking at the game for what it is…? Idk! It’s not too rough to swallow. We have our steady main character who we see develop/grow tragically jaded, we have a villain we relatively follow till the end, we have our side character who we also see progress/regress/however you wanna put Seph’s cheese falling off the cracker. The only really boggler in the plot imo is admittedly Angeal, with his wishy-washy good guy-bad-guy conscience, but his sole presence is still not enough to completely muddy the story if you ask me. CC’s still a fun and memorable and enjoyable ride, and the plot beats are easy to process and hit just as hard as any other game in the compilation.

Now, OBV, Crisis Core has some canonical reasons for being more linear and objective: this is technically the “real” story, with Zack’s memories and all, and so it’s freed from all that ambiguity and haziness of Cloud’s journey in OG. But at the same time……. that’s kinda my point, lol? Like, again, don’t get me wrong- on one hand, og does a phenomenal job in creating tension and uncertainty and capturing Cloud’s identity crisis by making scrambled eggs out of his memories. But on the other hand, it’s also… a taaaadd much? Like to the point where it’s nearly impossible to actually understand the story on the first go. And there’s nothing wrong with it taking a few playthroughs to fully grasp things! It adds a sense of replayability. But if you don’t have that kinda patience, the whole thing can be a tad frustrating and confusing. And, idk, Ig my point is that Remake/Rebirth kinda falls into this same trap. The games are such, such, SUCH a fun ride (really! <33), but boy do I feel like I’m untangling tangled earbud wires trying to understand some of the game- especially in the homestretch. It’s just a real big meaty sandwich to swallow, and it can be a bit overwhelming lmao. Not to the point where it ruins its enjoyability- cause again, the story’s mainly a blast- but it’s admittedly hard to get 110% immersed in the world when I’m left trying to actively break down what’s going on. I won’t go into any specific details for spoiler reasons, tho I’m sure y’all understand from Remake alone where most of the confusion lies/in which elements.

The last thing I wanna do is be too negative tho. Needless to say these games and franchise is incredibly special to me, and I adore so much about Rebirth so far. The character interactions are near perfection, the stakes have never ever been higher, and there is soooooooooooo much to explore!! <33 And it’s also prolly worth mentioning that I’ma person who gets confused VERY easily lol. So it’s very possible that I’m struggling more than usual to grasp everything, and it’s creating some skewed judgment. But I thought it was worth sharing my thoughts regardless.

Thx for listening to my ramblings! Hope y’all are having a wonderful day <3333 Keep up the hype!!!

#ffvii #ff7 #ff7 rebirth #ff7 remake #things #opinions opinions opinions #that no one asked for lmao #final fantasy vii

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sirfrogsworth · 3 months

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I GOT IT TO FOLD!

My best attempt yet. I didn't brown the heck out of the eggs or anything. But I also ran out of ingredients so it was just cheese and eggs. Oh, and I tried chives because I saw them in a video. Though, I couldn't really taste them (I don't have a strong sense of taste). I guess I can try adding more and see if I taste anything. Or maybe a different brand would help.

Also, I have officially bought my first useless kitchen gadget.

In the omelette videos I kept seeing people say they preferred whisking the eggs with a fork. And I was looking at stuff on Amazon and I saw this whisking fork called the "Fiskie."

And I thought, "That's perfect!" It's just a little fork with holes for whisking. Exactly what I needed.

And for the second time in 2 says...

It's huge. Almost as big as the too big pan. I don't know how many times I need to learn this lesson.

Say it with me so we all remember together, "Always check product dimensions. Amazon has no banana for scale."

I tried using the Fiskie to whisk. And, it was too big. Very unwieldy. And was not superior to an actual whisk. So now I guess I have a giant useless holey fork.

In any case, my new 10" pan arrived.

I guess I'm all set for pans.

I really hope this auction goes well because I kind of went over my spending money budget 5 days into the month.

Let's hope 10" is in the Goldilocks zone. It's definitely easier to lift and shake.

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minheelovelee · 5 months

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I found your blog when I saw your post about the corruption of kink teamies👀 but I want to ask for the fluff

In your opinion, if a &Team member becomes a dad, which one is more likely to be a boy's dad and which one is more likely to be a girl's dad? 😆

I have the opinion that EJ, Harua and Jo are more inclined/suitable to be girl's dads, because they are very gentle boy🥺. Somehow their vibes really suit being a girl's dad.

But I want to hear your opinion 😄✨

soooo so cute. i love. as a girlie with four sisters, i like to think i have the best girl dad. bless that man's soul.

&team as girl dads or boy dads

girl dads

princesses. hello kitty. painted nails. sleepovers. snuggles. triangle-cut sandwiches. these friends are perfect tea party guests. they make perfect girl dads.

nicholas

yuma

harua

boy dads

sports cars. dinos. holey shirts. bugs. sandwiches with just cheese. holding hands. these friends love to play a little rougher than most. they make great boy dads.

fuma

taki

maki

#mhll epex #mhll k #mhll fuma #mhll ej #mhll nicholas #mhll yuma #mhll jo #mhll harua #mhll taki #mhll maki #&team imagines

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blushcoloreddreams · 4 months

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Toast with poached eggs

serves two people 15 min

2 eggs

2 large slices of Italian bread, brioche, or sliced bread)

½ avocado *optional

Slices of raw ham (from Parma or spanish jamón) *optional

1 tablespoon of vinegar

Extra virgin olive oil to your taste

Salt and ground black pepper

Butter to grease the pan

You can use cream cheese on the toast instead of avocado. Can also replace the raw ham for a slice of bacon and, besides that, use sweet or spicy paprika over the egg to season it

For the toast

Heat a non-stick frying pan and grease it with butter.

Brown both sides of the bread slices in melted butter in frying pan over medium heat.

Remove the avocado avocado husk with the help of a spoon and and cut delicate thin slices (in the shape of arch, with the avocado facing down

Arrange the avocado slices overthe bread already golden and add a trickle of extra virgin olive oil.

Place the ham slices cut into strips (1 finger thick more or less) over the avocado to make it easier to bite later, * since that raw ham is somewhat resistant.

For the poached eggs

Heat the water until boiling and add the vinegar to a small but deep pot (at least 4 fingers deep and space to make 1 egg at a time) and add the vinegar

Carefully break one of the eggs over a sieve so that the part less dense from the white, drains. Then return the egg to a ramekin or low cup.

Lower the heat on the pan and, with a spoon, make light circular movements, as if stirring water — a small whirlpool forms in the center.

Drop the egg in the center of the whirlpool and do not move any further until it is cooked.Observe that the egg is wrapped and the “bag” forms.

Remove the egg with a slotted spoon (that big, flat, holey spoon or with a sieve) when the white is firm enough and serve it on top of the already assembled toast. *If you don't like runny yolks, let it cook a little longer.

Note: this is a classic technique, which causes some difficulty at first time. Try a few times, don't give up if the first one doesn'twork!

Another way to do this would be to line a small pot with plastic wrap; break the egg in the center; close the plastic film like a “bag”, surrounding the egg and Place it in the pan, holding it by the tip until it cooks.

Finish with salt and ground black pepper to taste!

#personal #level up #femininity #personal development #cooking #recipe #feminine #traditional femininity #food #foodie #foodlover

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widespot · 2 months

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Holey cheese, River brought his family along and is taking her to the Gate! He's really laying himself out, and she can't very well either be a bitch to him or jump his bones in front of his folks, no matter how frumpy they are. "The chef here has won several awards."

"The desserts here are supposed to be really good!" "Oh, I shouldn't." "Yes, you should! You should enjoy yourself, always!" How is she supposed to stay mad at a guy who says things like that? And Daisy's right - it's ridiculous to think he invited that nasty cow's attentions.

"So Mitch actually caught a fish! We had it for dinner - it was delicious." Plumbob, his family are pure-D country, aren't they? But Widespot isn't really, anymore, and neither is he.

"I know you've been hesitating about the band, but - you'd be such an asset to them."

"Well, bleahlo!" "Oh, hi, are you from another country? 'Cause around here that word doesn't have a B in it."

Okay, so, Dixie may be country but she's also a hoot. "Oh, I have an even better story about beach balls than that one!"

#Wheels #Helen #River #Helen & River #Dixie #Beulah #Homer #Mary

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blood-injections · 1 year

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Once in a while I’ll hyperfixate on my own aus and I’m like god this would be SO FUCKING GOOD IF I COULD JUST WRITE IT and I’ll sit back down and crank out a chapter if I’m lucky and then lose all ability I have to write and not touch it again for like two months so the specific one I’d love to post right now except when I do write it it’s. It’s not in order. I started in the middle and I now have like the two beginning chapters and I have a bunch of random scenes idk where they’d be yet and I have the end and there’s like maybe ten chapters but like the amount of the au they cover is so small the finished fic would have to be like fifty chapters at this rate. And each chapter is at least 3k words and so it’s like. I have the main shit figured out but it’s so hard coming up with the filler stuff so so it’s just a big block of very holey cheese and I want to post it but I can’t because I don’t have the beginning and I don’t want this specific one to be fucked up and out of order with funky flashbacks or the future as a start or whatever and then it goes back and tells the story like those are cool but this one I’m doing normal but ohh my god else wise I’d post it right now I’m obsessed with it. It’s that venom sib pornodroid au I posted about forever ago where it’s Pois and Kobra in the place of red and blue in the comics and poisons battery is dying so Kobra has to go and try to get a new one but they deny it because poisons an outdated model so Kobra shoots the dracs and just steals a battery and so they were already coming to recycle poison but now Kobra’s also wanted so they run away to the desert where yes they can still functuon they just like get cut off from the bat city internet system or whatever and they have to run off plus instead of like just plugging in like droids can in the city. But they always wanted to be killjoys were just too scared to risk it all try and escape and preferred to wait for destroya to come save them instead. But now they have no choice but they wanted ti be killjoys anyway so it works out and they get to the desert and choose their killjoy names and are exposed to like the culture and the freedom and all the different ways to say fuck you to BLi and learn that you can change more than just your name and poison embraces genderfluidity and kobra was a female model pornodroid but realizes he’s trans so fucking transgender pornodroid hell yeah. Also he figures out he’s a aroace and he really hates his past so he tries to forget about it and a couple months into life in the desert they meet Jet and ghoul because ghoul got shot like an idiot and jets stitching him up in the diner that was the first shelter they spotted and Kobra and poison come back from a concert or rave and find them there and they hang out a bit and become friends and then a crew and after a few months when poison has totally fallen in love with ghoul but lowkey hat themself because they know they’re not human and can never be and that ghoul would hate them if they knew their secret(Pois and Kobra are hiding that they’re androids. They’re so troubled lmao) and that ghoul could never love them bc they’re not human and they also don’t want to be used or seen as what he was seen as in the city which was a tool and a product not a person. So they’re terrified and so is Kobra but poison gets shot one day a few months into being a crew and tries to hide it but his systems are trying to shut off because they register the injury and he wants to get back to the diner to fix themself but of course ghoul notices that he’s hiding pain and he’s like are you hurt and poison holds out until they get to the diner but then ghoul grabs their wrist and is like I KNOW you’re hurt let us help you let me help you and poison tries to convince him he’s fine and he makes knowing he contact with Kobra who defends him but sounds like an asshole bc he’s like leave them be when they’re obviously not fine and ghoul won’t let him go but poisons blacking out and crying and his systems shut off right there in the foyuer and everyone freaks the fuck out

and Kobra has to take over the situation and fix poisons damage and when they come back online everyone’s like silent and staring at them and they’re fine and they’re like yeah I’m. Im a droid. And Kobra’s like we both are because if they’re going down they’re going down together. But of course ghoul and Jet are amazing and don’t care they’re the same killjoys they’ve come to call their crew it doesn’t matter where they came from they have feelings and shit just like everyone else. And its all okay and ghouls still freaked out because surprise surprise he’s also like madly in love with poison and is now torn becuase of this so when poison rests some more he goes and chainsmokes on the roof and thinks over but finds he really doesn’t care what poisons made of and when poison wakes up and goes up there just to stargaze he instead finds ghoul and they have a nice long talk and poison tells him about their past and reveals that they’re not just a droid but a pornodroid and they just bond and shit and it’s all okay and ghouls like you don’t need to worry I’ll gladly watch the sun rise with you forever becuase they’ve been out on the roof talking all night and poisons like sounds romantic and ghouls like is that alright and poison like blushes and is like of course and the finally kiss like two days later.

And all is well actually everything is great for a few more months until they get in a fight with Korse and he’s like oh look who it is our escaped pornodroids and he talks shit at them like they’re not people and also Kobra hasn’t told anyone he’s trans he’s happy just presenting and not revealing those personal things about himself and his past so only poison knows he was a female pronodroid and while poison has been in love and doing great he’s been still hating himself and his body and his past and he’s totes autistic and is always overwhelmed and shit and every once in a while when he feels himself reaching a limit he takes time to himself to go blow off steam and scream into the desert in the middle of nowhere and shoot stuff or go to a concert or whatever and just empty that overfilling bucket. And when Korse comes he’s already been stressed but then Korse taunts him and calls him terrible shit and he’s like trembling in place as he’s like do your little friends there know what you are? That you’re a product of BLi? A droid? A bitch? And he’s like barely restraining himself but then Korse says something in reference to poison and how they’re an outdated model and would’ve been melted down if the two of them hadn’t malfunctioned and he basically says like a slur as he says that stuff and Kobra sees RED and fucking GOES FERAL AND ATTACKS HIM. And Korse can’t even fucking do anything his gun gets knocked aside and Kobra’s living up to his name and striking like a a fucking viper and absolutely beating Korses face in until he’s like unrecognizable. He’s not even aware of this, it’s a meltdown, he just went into a trance and doesn’t brave out of it until poison like grabs him and he realizes he’s shaking like a leaf and sobbing and he gets pulled away from Korse and they leave and leave him to die because he’s basically on the verge of death(they should’ve shot him though because he does in fact survive) and Kobra is like exhausted now becuase of this meltdown and all his secrets being exposed at once and he rests when they get back to the diner while poison freaks out and stays by his side all night becuase they’ve never seen Kobra like that and didn’t know he was struggling but they should have and once again morning comes and they have a nice long talk and Kobra agrees to be more open with everyone and everything’s fine again and like within a couple weeks he and Jet have formed a queerplatonic relationship and he’s doing better and it’s basically happily ever after but that’s not the end no there like a few year time skip. And poison was already an outdated model when they escaped the city and Kobra was a newer model but now they’re both like ancient in android terms and the desert has taken its toll on their mechanics and their batteries aren’t holding as much power anymore just like when poisons battery died before they escaped the city. Poison starts deteriorating first, limbs becoming stiff and achy, rust in their veins. They know their systems are messed up and there’s not really anything they can do and theyre fucking terrified and once again they hide their problems, they don’t show that they’re aging. But then the glitches start happening and they’re harder to hide and after a while Kobra finally corners him and is like tell me what is going on. I know you’re not okay. And poison breaks down and says his systems are failing again and Kobra with like a haunted expression is like I know it’s happening to me too. But his state isn’t nearly as bad as poison is yet. And like poisons protective of Kobra because he’s their younger brother but Kobra’s even more protective of poison because he already had to watch them nearly die the first time around when their battery was dying and an androids battery dying is akin to a human starving to death but being physically unable to eat or take in any nutrients whatsoever. So he almost lost poison once and he’s not about to do it again, he’s super fucking protective of them and he’s like we need to tell the others and poisons like but I’m scared how do we even fix this,

we’re androids we’re not meant to last for more than a few years and Kobra’s like I don’t know I really don’t trust me I’m scared too but we need to tell them because they’ll figure it out soon anyway and they deserve to know either way and you’re already getting pretty bad and sooner or later so will I. So they sit down their respective partner and tell them and theirs a lot of tears and they all search for tech or upgrades and solutions but can’t find anything good enough and all of a sudden poisons getting real bad real quick, glitching all the time and battery running out faster, and they’re basically about to die again and Kobra feels kind of like he’s failed them and the four of them realize the only way they’re going to save poison and Kobra is if they go to the city. So they do. They sneak in, find the labs, the plan is to steal the tech they need, new parts, new battery’s, whatever they can carry. But a lot of the new stuff isn’t compatible with the older models, not without precious time being lost with the personalizations that would need to be done to the tech to make it compatible, time they don’t have with poisons condition worsening by the day and Kobra also slowing down considerably.

And then an alarm goes off and Jet and ghoul fight off the oncoming dracs while Kobra’s helping poison and he sees all the new models laid out and empty, not programmed quite yet. And he has an idea. Jet and ghoul fight off the first wave of dracs and come back in like we need to get out of here but Kobra explains his idea and they’re like fuck wrought because they can’t leave to make it work. So they all barricade themselves in the lab while Kobra hooks poison into the like machines there to essentially transplant their programming and consciousness into the shell of the brand new android models laying around, because that’s something possible and easier than retrofitting a ton of tech. More dangerous since they have to be in the heart of bat city to do it, but worth it. And while poison in those new body is charging and rebooting Kobra’s up next because he walked Jet and ghoul though the process and now he’s getting his consciousness transferred to a new body too(they make sure it’s a male model this time around :3) and it takes like and hour for them each to reboot with like all systems ready so Jet and ghoul are on their own, doors barricaded, waiting for their best friends to wake up.

But they do, and they fight their way out. They all earn a few injuries but they survive, barely escaping and getting out of the city. But they do, they escape, they get home, and Kobra and Poison are in brand new vessels, they look different but not that much, androids are all pretty similar looking, and you can alter your own appearance somewhat. Kobra’s finally in the body he always wanted so he’s great, and both models are brand new and super advanced so they’re still not really superhuman, but these bodies will definitely hold up a lot longer to the elements, and they don’t have to run off plus, Their batteries last longer and there’s different ways of getting energy, like from eating, where food they ingest is converted into biofuel and they can run off it. Physically they’re more inhuman but simultaneously also more human than ever before. And that’s the definitive happy ending.

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spacelazarwolf · 1 year

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Out of curiosity, do Jewish people consider marriage to be “holy matrimony” or was that a Christian thing? I’m genuinely curious cause I’m about to make a Swiss cheese joke about marriage and I want to be informed (I’m not joking about any of this, except about the Swiss cheese in which case I am joking about that). (I just need to know if I should specify if the cheese marriage would have to be ordained under a Christian minister in the joke for it to be “holey matrimony”) (I probably don’t need to actually specify that for the really bad joke to land but now I’m curious)

so afaik, “matrimony” is just another word for marriage. that being said, the specific word “matrimony” is derived from latin which is the primary language of the roman catholic church. particularly the phrase “holy matrimony”, as i believe that’s directly from catholic liturgy. i don’t think i’ve ever heard it used in a jewish setting so if i had to guess i’d say it’s probably mostly used in christian contexts. so yes, the holey matrimony would likely be carried out by a christian authority, most likely a roman catholic priest.

#ask avishai

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hussyknee · 1 year

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4th ECT session yesterday. Two more to go. The first one made my brain feel like a shuffled deck of cards, by now it feels like holey cheese. I can't remember half my life for the last few months, I can't remember half my current hyperfixation book, I have no memory of reading any of the fics I've bookmarked the last two weeks, I keep forgetting what year and month and day of the week it is. I keep forgetting words. I don't feel connected to anything in my life. Just an electron adrift in the vast.

This some Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind shit. Maybe how it works is you can't be depressed if you can't remember what you're depressed about. Amnesia fics are ruined for me forever. By next week I might go full-on Bourne Identity.

Never doing this again thanks very much.

(Just to be clear though, it's nothing like the ableist Cuckoo's Nest movie stuff. All I ever remember is the sedative being administered through the cannula and then being told to get down off the bed and wheeled into the ward. Don't even remember falling asleep. The most I've gotten is a slight headache afterwards.)

#electroconvulsive therapy #mental health #actually bipolar #amnesia #knee of huss #I don't remember what tags I usually use for these posts #aaaargh

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notstinky · 9 months

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TIMING: Various (2007, 2010, 2016, 2022) LOCATION: Toronto, Ontario CONTENT: Sibling Death tw, death (described in obituaries), implied bullying SUMMARY: There are no friendships greater than those forged in the halls of public school. Too bad Cynthia ate all her friends.

Zainab Khan (2000-2022).

Zainab was a regular volunteer at The Yonge Street Mission and her friends and family remember her as a compassionate woman. She was attending Toronto Metropolitan University as a part of the real estate management program. She is survived by her mother, father and two younger brothers.

2007 - "Wanna trade?"

Cynthia looked up at the girl towering over her, shoving a tin-foil wrapped package into her face. Cynthia looked around, wondering when the joke was going to come. All the other kids had pushed their desks up together, even Cynthia's desk partner had pushed hers halfway across the room to join her friends. Even though the teacher had told her not to; even though they weren't supposed to do it.

They'd had a substitute for the day.

"Um, I'm..." Cynthia stared at her ham and cheese sandwich. She'd been picking apart the crust for a few minutes now and had earned herself a neat pile.

"It's a pizza pocket," the girl explained.

"Oh." Cynthia blinked. When her father went shopping, he told her that they didn't have the money for any of the stuff she pointed out to him. It was ham and cheese on white bread for her most days. She was lucky enough to get a few chips to carry around in a plastic baggie. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't like 'em." The girl sat down on the edge of Cynthia's desk. She unraveled her pizza pocket and snatched up Cynthia's sandwich. "I'm Zainab," she said.

Cynthia resisted the urge to tell her that she knew, because they did attendance everyday and she liked to listen to all the names and their accompanying 'present' or 'here'. "I'm Cynthia," she said and imagined that Zainab resisted the same urge.

Zainab took a big bite of her sandwhich and Cynthia's hand shot up into the air. "Um," she squeaked, flushing. "Can you eat ham?"

Zainab opened her mouth, revealing the unswallowed mush of bread, ham and cheese. "No," she spoke with her mouthfull. "Bha do I do?"

Cynthia held out her hands and Zainab spat the sandwich out on to them. The two of them stared at the slush and laughed.

Ham and cheese couldn't be switched but as it turned out, Zainab hated her orange juice boxes and Cynthia hated her apple juice ones.

Leslie Hsu (2000-2022)

Growing up in Vancouver, Leslie's parents moved to Toronto when she was nine. She was a student of The University of Toronto's science program majoring in Biology. Leslie is survived by her mother and father. Leslie Hsu will be deeply missed.

2010 -

"I'm not gonna talk to her, she's weird."

Zainab looked pointedly at her best friend. "You're weird," she responded.

"No." Cynthia turned red. "You're weird."

The sounds of Leslie's crying were, to her credit, rather subdued in her corner of the playground. Zainab reached out and pinched Cynthia before she shoved her forward. Her shoes squeaked as stopped herself from tumbling on to Leslie's hunched body.

Cynthia's thin body cast a small shadow across the asphalt and Leslie looked up, sniffling at her.

"Um, yeah, Montell's a real jerk. I'm sorry he, uh, pushed you." Cynthia kicked at the ground. "Or like whatever."

Leslie wiped at her cheeks. Cynthia's worn jeans, old off-brand sneakers and holey t-shirt were a farcry from her pristine spring dress and navy blue espadrilles. She twisted her body to face the other girl.

"Is this seat taken?" Cynthia laughed awkwardly, pointing to the spot beside her.

Leslie laughed because it was the sort of thing you did when someone asked a stupid question. Cynthia sat down quickly and Zainab joined them on the floor, moving around small pebbles.

"I'm sorry I called you poor," Leslie said all at once.

"Yeah," Cynthia shrugged. "Well, it was true, so..."

"No it's not," Leslie argued, because that was the sort of thing you did when someone called themselves poor.

"No, really." Cynthia perked up. "I'm so poor I roll around on the ground to get enrichment."

Leslie stared at Cynthia. Silence stretched between them and with each distant roar of laughter from the playground, Cynthia shrunk into herself. When Leslie finally spoke, it was with a smile.

"That doesn't even make sense," she said. "You're so weird."

Zainab kicked Cynthia's foot.

Jalisa Jordan (2000-2022)

Jalisa died in hospital from injuries following the gruesome Lakeshore Blvd. animal attack. She was a student of The University of Toronto's English program. She will be remembered as the energetic and friendly woman that she was. She is survived by her mother, father, and older sister.

2016 -

"I caught a new one."

Cynthia and Leslie looked up at the girl Zainab had her arms around. She looked at the two of them with wide-eyes and a tight smile. The two girls shared a look between each other and over the French notes they were sharing. Their half-eaten lunches sent the aroma of oranges and cheese into the air.

"Her name is Jalisa," Zainab broke the silence. "She just moved here."

"We're trying to study, Zee," Leslie said.

"Yeah, we're conjugating verbs," Cynthia backed up her friend.

"Oh, do you guys have Ms. Boni for French?" Jalisa asked, surprising everyone with the sound of her voice. Cynthia thought this might have been the occasion to cheer; the girl can talk! Ring the bells!

"Yeah?" Cynthia squinted.

"Oh, I have her in the morning. I just had the test."

At once, Cynthia and Leslie parted themselves, smacking the space of open tile that they made. Jalisa slid across the floor as she joined them laughing at their notes.

"'Êtes' has a circonflexe," Jalisa explained, pointing at the first letter.

Leslie snatched her notes up, holding them close to her chest. "I was about to add it," she frowned.

"Um, so where are you from?" Cynthia asked.

Jalisa responded quickly, "Mississauga."

Leslie's face scrunched up. "We had a French trip to watch some movie in a dank theatre there."

"Yeah." Cynthia brightened up, grinning. "Les Pee-Wee."

"Oh my god, yeah." Jalisa unfurled her crossed legs. "The one with the totally gay hockey players."

"Yes!" Cynthia's smile grew wider. She nudged Leslie. "See, I told you! They totally gave gay vibes."

Leslie countered, "they were not gay."

"They slept in the same bed! That's gay!"

Leslie sighed, "we sleep in the same bed sometimes."

"And it's gay when we do it," Cynthia frowned.

"It's kinda gay," Jalisa said.

Cynthia nudged them both, grinning wide. "I like you, Jalisa," she announced.

"Thanks." Jalisa bit the inside of her cheek. "You're okay."

Cynthia "Cindy" Liang (2000-)

2022 -

The lights of Jalisa's blue honda civic did little to cut through the unusual fog covering the streets. Her GPS complained loudly at her, reminding her that she'd taken a wrong turn and then several more wrong turns.

"I told you to let me drive," Leslie huffed in her place from the front passenger seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Leslie, I swear to god...." Jalisa groaned, tapping at the screen fruitlessly as she tried to adjust the route. Her car moved at a nonexistent pace and from the back seat, Zainab was thankful for the empty roads.

"Just do a three-point turn here," she suggested.

Cynthia growled.

"Cindy?"

Cynthia was doubled over, she'd undone her seatbelt a few wrong turns ago. She clutched her stomach; she clawed at it. Sweat turned her pale skin slick and drool spilled from between her trembling lips.

"Cindy, are you okay?" Zainab's hand was on her back, rubbing small circles. "Hey, Jalisa, pull over. I think Cindy's feeling sick."

"What?" Jalisa twisted around briefly before she snapped her attention in front of her. "But I just got on the right road."

"Jalisa." Zainab's voice turned severe. "Pull over now."

Cynthia's body twitched. From deep inside her chest, she let out a low, constant growl. Her fingers dug into her flesh.

Leslie spun around. "Cindy? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

The car halted; Jalisa clicked it into park, flicking the emergency lights on. She joined her friends in staring at Cynthia.

A cracking sound erupted across the car. Then a pop.

"Cindy?"

On the night of October 8th, 2022, a horrifying scene was discovered inside a vehicle on Lakeshore Blvd. W by Islington Ave. Two girls were pronounced dead at the scene with a third rushed to hospital. It is believed that the girls were on their way to pick up a friend. Authorities speculate that a bear broke into the parked vehicle but no word has been officially released yet. A warning has been issued for the city of Toronto and Peel region. Trips into wooded areas are discouraged.

#ive had this sitting in my draft for WEEKS #i should have edited it but i just want to post it #dont look at me #i want to title all her solos with paramore songs but we will see how long that lasts #sibling death tw #writing #solo #in the mourning #headcanon #s1

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