#i honestly could not live without aviation at this point of my life i love it so much ;w;

[aviatrix-ash]

Tagged along with my airplane fixing teacher on a Saturday morning to help out with the Air Race Classic.

Saw so cool planes 💕

Fun days like this remind me why I love this field and why I'm still trying so hard to get into it.

#i honestly could not live without aviation at this point of my life i love it so much ;w; #there really is nothing like it <3 #aviation #avgeek #aircraft #airplanes #pilatus #mig 17 #beechcraft #come fly with me #air race classic #general aviation #planeposting

[baby-girl-e]

Cherry Wine

Tag List

Part 2

Characters - Phoenix x F!Reader

Summary - reader realizes her feelings for her childhood but convinces herself she’s out of her league. 

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings -  Fluff, Kissing

A/N - As most of my fics happen, this idea came to me in the middle of the night! If you like this, keep an eye out for a potential part two. Even if this crashes and burns and nobody likes it I’ll still probably write more because I write because I want to and it’s incredibly Therapeutic!

Growing up nothing made sense without Natasha around. You never had as much fun when she wasn’t there, always leaving early from the parties she didn’t attend. You had known each other since you were in elementary school, clicking the minute she moved in. She made you laugh more than any of your other friends, and you just seemed to get each other. For the longest time you thought that was all she was to you, a good friend. A good friend that you never wanted to part with. It wasn’t until she told you she was joining the navy that you finally realized how you really felt. Shit. You loved her, and she was leaving. You were obviously enthusiastically supportive of her decision, this was the perfect job for her. She was always destined to escape this small town, figuring she would outgrow it at some point.

 If you were being honest you had outgrown the town yourself, just didn’t quite have an out at the same time she did. That is until you got an offer to apprentice with a famous painter that had agreed to take you under his wing and teach you more than you could’ve learned going to art school. Painting has always been a comfort to you, being able to express how you felt without needing to use words. You could even channel your feelings about Natasha into them as well. One of your most successful paintings was actually inspired by her. It was an oil piece that depicted a faceless dark haired woman looking up into the sky. You had decided on a whim to enter it into a competition at a festival and ended up winning first place. You had a couple of offers to sell the painting (more than a couple honestly) but you just couldn’t bring yourself to sell a piece that meant so much to you. 

The painter who offered you an apprenticeship was actually one of the people who wanted to buy the painting, but when you refused his astounding amount of money solely for the fact that this painting meant so much to you, he knew he had found a true artist. That was how you found yourself with your bags packed and a one way ticket to San Diego. You got lucky when your now boss had told you where his studio was, heart warming at being so close to where Natasha was currently stationed. The two of you kept in touch and she said that after an extremely dangerous mission that almost took her life they offered her a choice of either staying or going somewhere else. She loved San Diego too much to leave it, and wanted to finally put some roots somewhere after years of traveling. 

Boarding your flight, your hands were shaking with anticipation. You were finally getting to live the life you’ve always wanted, close to the woman you loved and painting with a famous artist. The painting part was going to be the easy part. What about when you saw Natasha again? How were you supposed to act around her? Like you weren’t enthralled by every little thing she did? You liked to think positively, but you also liked to think logically. She was so far out of your league that it was almost ridiculous that you’d even be friends. She was always traveling, seeing new places, and she was a god damned navy aviator. She was the full package, beautiful, smart, and dangerously talented. You couldn’t help but feel highly inadequate speaking to her, let alone fantasize the idea that you two could ever be lovers. You shook the thoughts from your head and carried on boarding. 

The flight itself was short, given you lived only a few states away. Your new boss had set you up in one of the apartments he owned claiming he needed you to focus on your work and getting another job to pay for living expenses would be a distraction. After you argued with him for a minute, it was settled that he would let you live in the apartment and pay for your living expenses. You were never much of a negotiator and he seemed hellbent on supporting you. God knew he could afford it and never knew the difference. To put it into perspective, just one of his paintings could go for at least a year's worth of living expenses, and that’s being conservative.

 The rest of your things were being driven out by your sister and her husband in a week, so you made do with what you brought with you. After you unpacked the small amount of things you did have, you decided you wanted to go to the beach with your camera. It was nearing sunset and you were near giddy to get some good reference shots for a landscape piece that your boss wanted to work on with you. You threw on a light yellow sundress, sandals and a white cardigan thrown over the crossbody bag you always had. Once you felt confident about your outfit choice you headed out to the nearest beach. The walk there was pleasant and fairly quiet, save for the hustle and bustle of the city around you. It gave you time to think over how you would tell Natasha that you were here. You had been meaning to every time you talked, but the words always escaped you. It was almost like you wanted to live in your bubble of fantasy, fearing that reality might pop it. 

When you snapped out of your reverie you realized you had definitely made it to the beach, people scattered here and there, the day obviously winding down. You immediately pulled out your camera and started snapping shots of the ocean and the sunset above it. You made your way closer to the ocean, taking off your shoes to be more comfortable. Feeling like you had enough pictures of this particular part of the ocean, you let the camera hang from the strap around your neck. You walk a little further before you come across a rowdy bunch of friends that seem to be playing some game of football. They looked so happy and carefree in the sunset so you snapped a few shots of the group. It wasn’t until you put the camera down once more that you realized that you recognized one of the players. How could you ever not recognize someone that beautiful. She looked different here, more carefree, more sure of herself. You were about to make your quick exit, not wanting to disturb her or the fantasy you had built, when you heard your name being called by the Pilot in question. She was now actively running towards you at a speed you didn’t know was possible in the sand, so you made a quick choice to cap your lens and carefully set your stuff down before she all but tackled you. Your heart was soaring at being at the receiving end of one of her hugs again. Her hands were gripping your back like she was afraid you’d float away if she let go for even a second. “What are you doing here Y/N?” She was breathless and you blamed it on the fact that she had just stopped playing a game to sprint towards you. “I live here now, just got in today.” She pulls back just slightly to see your face and oh. You forgot how easy it was to get lost in her eyes. All this time you thought you were painting a picture of her in your head. You thought you had amplified everything to put her on a pedestal, but clearly you were wrong. “Like permanently?” You try to form a word but all of your energy is being put into not looking at her lips, knowing if you did your heart would take over and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tasting them, so you just nod. She smiles at that and it looks like she’s considering something. She always had that look when she was trying to decide if a risky move was worth it. 

One time when you were in elementary school the two of you had found a tall dirt hill and you just so happened to be on your bikes, so you both ran your bikes up the hill and stopped at the top. You weren’t sure but when you looked over to Natasha she had that same look, like she really wanted to do something but was weighing out her options. You’re brought back to the present by Natasha apparently making her decision because her lips were on yours. You were shocked to say the least but the second your brain caught up with what was happening you were kissing her back. Everytime you imagined what this would feel like you never actually got it right apparently. You never imagined the way she takes your bottom lip between hers like she wanted to keep it. You never imagined the way she shyly slipped her tongue past your lips to explore your mouth further. Your arms ended up around her neck as hers pulled you impossibly closer by your waist. Eventually the need to breathe became apparent and you pulled away to be slightly chased by her lips having a mind of their own. You pressed your forehead against hers and closed your eyes tightly. “Nat, that was..” You weren’t sure what you were going to say honestly. How can you describe a kiss that nearly stopped your heart? “A long time coming?” You let out a breathless laugh and grin. 

God how long had it been since you were this happy? Never? “I promised myself Y/N, up in that cockpit when I had escaped the dogfight with my life, that the minute I saw you I would tell you how I felt. That I’ve loved you for a really long time, I just didn’t notice until it was too late.” Your unfocused and dazed eyes caught hers at that, “It was never too late Nat, I’ve loved you for a really long time too.” Her eyes started to water and you realized just how much time you’ve wasted thinking that she just saw you as a friend. Suddenly you were kissing again. This time it was mixed with tears and smiles but you could care less because it still tasted sweeter than cherry wine.

#phoenix x reader #phoenix #natasha trace #natasha #top gun maverick #girls who kiss girls #lesbianlove #saphic #girlswholovegirls

[thelunarbar]

Time Well Spent

In which: Iceman’s younger brother, Chris, comes for a visit.

Word count: 3413(way longer than intended)

Author’s note: honestly I have no idea what this is. I saw a post asking what if Chris Knight(from Real Genius) was Iceman’s younger brother and this happened. It’s not great and not beta-ed but I had fun writing it and tbh that’s really all that matters. It also got way away from me.

Also if anyone is interested in a second part dedicated to what happens when Ice goes to see Mav let me know.

-/-/-/-

In retrospect inviting his little brother to visit him on base may not have been the brightest idea Ice had ever had. He loves Chris to pieces, but the kid is basically trouble on legs. And honestly Ice doesn’t think he means to make trouble half time. He just gets ideas, gets excited and runs with them.

“There are far more interesting things to see around here.” It’s not a question. Chris is sitting at the dinner table in Ice’s base housing, tipping his chair back, head tipped back to look at Ice who’s perched on the couch shuffling through pages of notes.

“We can’t all be geniuses.” Is Ice’s only reply. He puts his pen between his teeth and picks up the notebook laying on the coffee table in front of him.

“Don’t you know boredom is dangerous?” Chris let’s his chair fall back on all four feet. Ice groans and takes the pen from between his teeth. “I suppose I could always just go for a walk.” Chris stands and stretches.

“Civilians aren’t allowed to wander around base.” Ice replies without looking up, then flips to a blank page in his notebook and starts writing.

“Brother dear, I’m afraid the diagnosis isn’t good. You’ve become mind numbingly dull in you advanced age.”

“I’m twenty-seven.” Ice says, still not looking at Chris. Chris moves to stand in front of Ice and bends to meet his eye.

“And I’m afraid it’s fatal. You must be admitted immediately!” He says, completely ignoring Ice’s statement. He straightens and turns to face the living room at large, “if we hurry we may still be able to slow the process thereby extending your life expectancy.” He turns back to Ice grinning broadly.

“Fine.” Ice drops his pen and notebook on the table and tries to put all his loose leaf papers in a somewhat neat pile. “D’you want to see my plane?” Chris’s eyes light up and Ice just knows he’s scheming.

All of the planes are lined up in two neat rows, noses pointing at each other. Mechanics roam between them doing basic maintenance and upkeep and the occasional repairs.

Ice has his arm thrown around Chris’s shoulders as they walk, pointing things out and telling stories linked to certain places. Chris nods along, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey! Iceman!” Hollywood jogs over to them, grinning, followed closely by Wolfman.

“Holy shit!” Wolfman says, lifting his aviators to make sure his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him. “Icemen.”

“I didn’t know you had a twin.” Hollywood says.

“I’m not and I’m offended.” Chris says, slipping out from under Ice’s arm. “I’ve been considering it for several years, but it’s confirmed I have to have the plastic surgery. I can no longer share the face of dullard. I’m sorry, Tom. I can’t bear it any longer.” Chris spins in a circle and rubs his hands over his face before looking at Ice. “Do you think Mother will ever forgive me?” Ice decides not to dignify that with a response. “You’re right.” Chris continues. “Of course not. She’ll be outraged if I dare disfigure her darling baby boy.” He ponders his scenario for a moment. He grins at Ice, looking only slightly deranged. “You’ll have to have the surgery, brother mine. It’ll be more believable for you to be hideously disfigured in your line of work. The cover is perfect! I’ll schedule it at once.” He points at the sky, spins and makes to walk away. Ice grabs his shoulder and spins him around, throwing his arm back of over Chris’s shoulders.

Hollywood and Wolfman are cackling. Hanging off each other and carrying on far more than is at all necessary.

“Are you sure you two are related?” Hollywood asks, pushing his aviators up.

“If you didn’t share a face I’d swear you weren’t.” Wolfman adds. “Only difference I can find is that his blond is natural.” Wolf nods at Chris with a grin.

“Fuck you. Wood, Wolf, this my brother, Chris. Chris these are some of my wingmen, Hollywood and Wolfman.” Ice introduces them.

“Vanity and barely contained danger.” Chris says. “I love it.” No one has anything to say to that. “Terror on different levels. Equally heavy weights on the human soul and yet we chase them anyway? Odd.” Silence washes over them. Hollywood shoots Ice a wtf look and Ice just shakes his head.

“Oh! Mav is looking for you.” Wolfman tells Ice.

“Why?” Wolfman just shrugs. Ice rolls his eyes. “Ok. Where is he?” Ice asks, shifting from having his arm around Chris’s shoulders to around his neck, affectively putting him in a headlock to prevent him from wandering off.

“Said he was headed to mess. But I dunno if he’s still there.” Wolfman shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Hollywood glances at his watch, then leans over to whisper something in Wolfman’s ear. Whatever it is makes Wolf blush.

“We have to go.” He says, grabbing Hollywood’s arm and dragging him off. Ice has no doubts they’re going to find a closet or some dark corner to fuck in. But he stops that train of thought before it leaves the station.

Ice’s plane is almost at the end of the lines of planes. Emblazoned with both his and Slider’s names, ranks and callsigns. It never fails to make Ice grin. And long for the skies.

“It’s magnificent.” Chris says, smiling broadly, eyes taking in every detail of the F-14. Ice runs his fingers along it, wishing he could go up, take Chris for a ride, but he knows better. And unlike Maverick he’s not willing to put his career on the line for a joyride. But to each there own. Against his better judgement he does agree when Chris asks if he can sit in it. Chris tries both seats before deciding, for reasons unknown to Ice, that the back seat is better. Ice disagrees profoundly. It makes him wonder what Slider would say.

“You hungry?” Ice asks, glancing back at Chris, who’s scrutinizing all the equipment in the backseat.

“What is hunger, if not the driving force of life?” Chris has always loved to wax poetic. About everything. Just one of those things that tends to grate on Ice’s nerves sometimes, but also just one of his brother’s personality traits, without which Chris wouldn’t be Chris.

“Yeah. C’mon Shakespeare.” Chris pulls a face, but climbs down out of the plane followed by Ice.

The mess hall is mostly empty. Unsurprising, seeing as it’s almost two. Maverick is seated at a table alone, surrounded by papers and notebooks. It’s kind of odd to see Mav so invested in his lesson plans. Although, the last year had changed him in many ways, he’s still Maverick, just not as opposed to doing as he’s told. He’s still a maverick, of course, but with a new kind of caution, no doubt brought on by the undeniable proof of the fragility of life. Ice smiles despite himself.

He encourages Chris to go get himself something to eat before joining Mav at the table.

“Hey.” Mav looks up when Ice speaks and Ice has to try not to laugh. Mav has a pen behind each ear, one between his teeth and another one disassembled on the table in front of him. “I heard you were looking for me.” Ice settles on the bench across from Mav. Maverick pulls the pen from between his teeth.

“Yeah, I need you to cover a class for me tomorrow.”

“Morning or afternoon? Because I already have an afternoon class tomorrow.” Chris joins them then. He has a tray holding a plate of spaghetti, an apple and a bottle of water.

“Morning. I just-Bradley’s class is doing a play and he asked me to be there and I’d really like to be, but I need someone to cover my class.” Mav gives Ice his best puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah. Sure.” Mav grins, then slides his gaze to Chris.

“Hey. I’m Maverick.” Ice has the distinct feeling he may have just made a huge mistake.

“Chris.” Chris completely ignores the hand Maverick offers him. He puts his elbow on the table and leans forward, apple held in his hand. “Is you’re RIO Orthodox?” Chris chuckles at himself and then laughs harder at the confused look that crosses Maverick’s face.

“I feel like I’m missing something.” Mav says, turning his gaze back to Ice.

“Welcome to my life.” Ice mutters. “I’ll be right back.” As he hasn’t had lunch yet Ice goes to grab a tray.

Much to his chagrin by the time he returns to the table Mav and Chris are laughing and talking like old friends. Ice has a suspicion this won’t end well for him, but Mav’s grinning, eyes twinkling as he listens to Chris ramble on about something. It’s been almost a year since Goose. And since Maverick smiled genuinely. But this is the closest he’s gotten in months. And Ice is sentimental. If Chris can put a smile like that on Mav’s face he’ll pretend he isn’t terrified thinking about the things the two of them could get up to.

He sits back and just watches the two interact. They’re both talking with their hands, Maverick waving a pen while he talks. They’re deeply invested in a conversation about what it would to take a build a plane that could withstand going to Mach 10.

Chris makes a particularly bad joke and Maverick laughs so hard he can barely breathe before saying,

“Oh god, Goose would’ve liked you.” The second the words fall from his lips it’s like the barometric pressure drops. Ice can practically feel Maverick’s anguish. Mav’s smile fades immediately as he presses his lips into a thin line. Chris doesn’t seem to pick up in the shift and asks the worst possible question.

“Who’s Goose?” Chris moves his gaze from Mav to Ice and back again. Mav’s eyes go glassy and his lip trembles almost imperceptibly. Ice swallows and opens his mouth only to close it again, unsure how to respond.

“He’s-was my RIO. He’s g-he’s gone.” Maverick’s voice cracks and breathes in deep.

“Mav-” Ice reaches across the table, tries to grab Mav’s hand, but Mav stands up, hastily grabs all his notebooks and papers and leaves the mess hall. Ice watches him go before turning to his brother and slapping him upside the head.

“What the fuck?” Chris scowls and rubs the back of his head.

“Why can’t you take a hint?” The growl in Ice’s voice is unintentional. He knows Chris didn’t mean to upset Maverick more, but he’s gotten very protective of Mav in the last year. Chris has the decency to look ashamed.

“What did I do?” He asks, voice soft, genuine.

“Goose died in a training accident almost a year ago. Mav is still struggling with survivors guilt and he has a hard time talking about Goose.” Ice sighs and stands up.

“Maybe I should have been a little more observant of the situation, but I didn’t know.” Chris points out. Ice sighs again, standing up and grabbing his tray.

“I know.” Ice dumps the remains of his lunch in the garbage and stacks his dirty dishes and tray in the bin beside it. Chris follows suit. “I’m gonna take you back to the house and then go check on him. Make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.” Chris nods and follows Ice from the building.

Slider is home when they get back. Stretched out on the couch reading a book with a bowl of dry cheerios sitting on his chest. He looks up when they walk in and grins when he sees Chris.

“Hey, kid! It’s been awhile.” He grabs his bowl of Cheerios before leveraging himself into an upright position and swinging his legs off the couch.

“Hey, Ron.” Chris replies, still rather subdued from the incident in the mess hall.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” And before Slider can question it Ice is gone.

“Where’s he going?” Slider asks Chris.

“Maverick’s old RIO got brought up and he ran off so Tom’s worried about him.” Slider ponders this for a second, before deciding he’ll talk to Ice later.

They talk at length about what Chris has been up to in the six months since Slider has last seen him. Slider talks about the girl he’s been seeing for the past four months. He admits he’s thinking of proposing.

Having known each other since shortly after Slider became Ice’s RIO they’ve grown close over the years and Slider sees Chris as the little brother he never had. Which is why Chris finds himself willing to admit to being in love with his friend Ick. As expected Slider is nothing but supportive after the initial shock.

They bounce through topics for awhile. They talk about Ice. A little about Maverick. And a lot about how Hollywood and Wolfman are definitely fucking.

Eventually Slider goes back to his book and Chris busies himself with disassembling the toaster and recycling it’s parts into something, in his opinion, more useful.

Ice comes back shortly before five. There’s a red splotch on the front of his khaki uniform shirt that looks suspiciously like blood and sad look in his eyes. He meets Slider’s gaze and nods toward the hall. The two of them disappear and Chris is tempted to eavesdrop, but it’s Friday and he likes to check in with Mitch on Friday evenings.

When Ice and Slider finish their conversation about Maverick and their concern for his well being, Slider heads for the shower and Ice heads back to the living room. He stops when he hears Chris talking, obviously on the phone.

“Because I already know exactly what he’ll say. And I’m it in the mood for a pep talk.” Chris says. There’s silence as the person on the other end talks. “I know that. I just-it’s my own fault. I did like the job and I am definitely still upset about it, but I’m not about to-” he cuts off, presumably as the other person speaks again. “I know.” A pause. “I know. Mitch,” Chris sighs, “I’m pretty sure they don’t give glowing recommendations to people they fire. And future employers aren’t going to look kindly on someone who’s been fired from one of the best-” Chris cuts off again. “I told you, I don’t want a pep talk! This is the second time in less than a year!” He snaps. “No! No, don’t give him the ph-hey, Ick.” His voice is thick with resignation.

It strikes Ice in that moment that Chris is a better actor than he thought. If he hadn’t overheard this conversation he never would suspected anything was wrong.

The minute he’d graduated Chris had had a job lined up. In less than four months he’d been let go. They deemed him irresponsible and immature. He’d taken it hard, but Ice had supported and encouraged him as he looked for another job. But it seems that job had gone caput as well.

Chris finishes his call and drops the receiver back into the cradle. Ice steps into the living room and takes in the sight of his little brother sitting in the couch with his head in his hands. Ice walks around the coffee table and drops into the couch beside Chris.

“I lost my job.” Chris admits after several beats of silence. Ice nods even though Chris isn’t looking at him.

“Did they tell you why?”

“That fire wasn’t my fault and they can’t prove it-” he’s getting worked up, angry. “But it cost them serval thousand dollars in lab equipment and since it was my project it was my fault. And as the low man on the totem pole they made an example of me. You know. What happens when you’re not careful enough. What they do with anyone they think is a liability.” Chris tugs at his hair. “Yeah I’m a genius. I graduated from a prestigious college, but I can’t fucking hold down a job. I’m a fucking liability and I’m too damn young to turn into a stuffy old lab coat with no sense of humor.” His voice cracks and Ice pulls him into a hug.

Ice thinks everyone, himself included, tends to forget that Chris is just nineteen. Everyone has expectations of him because he’s smart, but Chris is human and deserves the courtesy of being allowed to fail sometimes, to make mistakes.

Chris let’s himself sink against Ice. So tired of people making genius synonymous with perfect.

“I hate job hunting.” He says when Ice doesn’t say anything.

“I know, kid. But-” Ice stops, knowing he’s about to go into a pep talk and that’s not what Chris wants right now. So instead he just says. “You can always join the navy.” Chris snorts and then laughs.

“And be stuck with always pulling rank on me? No thank you.” Chris runs a hand over his face.

“Doesn’t mean the option isn’t there.” They sink back into the cushions and Ice brings his hand up to ruffle Chris’s hair. “You told Mother and Pop yet?”

“No.” Chris mutters. “They expect so much from me. And I know they’ll be disappointed I lost another job and I’m not ready to deal with that yet.” Ice gets it. Their parents hadn’t been super thrilled with his decision to join the navy. But as he’s risen through the ranks and gone on various missions they’d set standards for him and expected him to reach them. The Kazanskys are proud people and as the ones who must carry on the legacy and the name, Tom and Chris carry more weight than any parent should force on their child. Ice had long since given up trying to please his parents. This was his job, his life. It’s nothing to be sneezed at. And if they don’t think he’s doing enough, not meeting his potential, that’s their problem. But Chris, Chris still needs their approval. He may not be the studious little boy he once was, but he still wants to meet their expectations. And Ice hasn’t been able to convince him he doesn’t need to meet their expectations to be enough. Someday. Someday Chris will be free of the burden of being a Kazansky that was placed on him at birth. But until the day comes Ice will help him carry it.

“Life’s a rollercoaster, kid.” Ice says, “just because you’re at the bottom of one slope doesn’t mean the ride is over.” Chris pulls away a little so he can look Ice in the eye.

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Ice purses his lips and gives Chris a withering stare. “I hate motivational speeches.” He shakes his head and rubs his hands over his face. “They are always predictable and incredibly lame.” He smiles, not his foolish grin, not the scheming smirk, just a genuine smile, “but I appreciate the effort you’re making.” Ice chuckles and pulls Chris back against his side.

“Everything balances out eventually.” Ice says. Chris groans, but Ice continues before he can interject. “No speeches. I promise. Just a reminder.”

“Brought you courtesy of Mother Kazansky.” Chris says with a snort.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m simply stating a fact, that you, brother dear, are turning into Mother.” Ice wants to protest. He really does. But the longer he thinks about the more he realizes it’s true. He pulls a face and Chris loses it. “Come on. One of us had to turn into her and we all knew it wouldn’t be me.” Ice grins in a way Chris isn’t sure he likes.

“That’s ok. You’re the one turning into Pop.” The look of absolute horror that crosses Chris face makes Ice crack up. Chris punches him in the arm, but he’s smiling and, god, Ice has missed this. And he’s going to miss Chris when he leaves the next morning, but he decides not to dwell on it. He’ll let himself be sad about it tomorrow, let himself feel regretful for all the time he’s missed with Chris because of the navy. He knows he won’t get much sleep tonight, but he also knows it will probably be months before he sees Chris again. He knows too well that life is fleeting, especially in his like of work, so he’ll do his damndest to make every minute count.

#tom iceman kazansky #top gun #top gun 1986 #chris knight #real genius #top gun fanfiction #mine #mine mine mine #pete maverick mitchell #ron slider kerner #I tried to keep Tom and Chris both in character

[pedrito-friskito]

✨kay’s ultimate pedro ranking✨

ok ok ok ok @mandosmistress did this a while back (like a few days lmao what is time) and tagged me and I HAVE BEEN T H I N K I N G let me tell you.

so without further ado, under the cut is my (not so definitive) pedro pascal character ranking…..! (based mainly on attraction/how much I enjoy writing them)

FRANKIE MORALES. frankie. frankie frankie frankie. my man. sunshine of my life (haha see what I did there). there is just something about this character that really crawled into my chest, wrapped himself around my heart and said ”hi I live here now” and I’m cool with it. handsome in that rugged way, a little bit damaged, and good with his hands? done. hook, line, and sinker.

DIN DJARIN. oh the sweet soft-spoken tin can space man. in all honesty, him and Frankie fight for the top spot on a daily basis and sometimes the beskar-covered bounty hunter wins, and he truly was my pedro gateway drug so he’s gotta be high on my list.

JAVIER PEÑA. ohhhhhh mama I love me some Javi. (do I mainly blame my gargantuan crush on @the-ginger-hedge-witch and her brilliant Crush series YES AS A MATTER OF FACT I DO) something about those tight fuckin’ jeans and the stache and the aviators like yep honey take me I’m yours

JAVIER GUTIERREZ. sunshine baby angel too good for this world I just wanna give him a little kiss and carry him around in my pocket and make sure no harm every comes to him (no I haven’t written anything for him yet but I been thinkin’ thots okay)

DIETER BRAVO. ✨the trash man✨ another one I just wanna carry around in my pocket, also the hair does things for me (same with Javi G) like just let me run my fingers through it and I’ll die a happy gal. questionable life choices maybe, but we’ve all been there, right?

OBERYN MARTELL. oh my HEART. *cue adele* we could have had it AAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL. I would say spoilers but it was legitimately 8 years ago but he was so CLOSE and then so SQUISHED. tbh oberyn is the most intimidating to me to even think of writing but maybe someday….

MARCUS PIKE. I do really like Marcus. cheesy as hell? check. bit overboard sometimes? double check. BUT I really like the history of the character we got in limited scenes AND I have a fic idea for him I’ve been sitting on FOREVER and I def have to use it soon!

PERO TOVAR. okay I love me a grungy fantasy man okay like that’s my bread and butter. add in the grouchiness and the obvious way to his heart through his stomach? it’s go time, baby, I got plans for him too!

JACK DANIELS. oh darlin’, he hits the middle of my list for the sole reason that pedro and that whip awoken something in me that hasn’t shut up since I watched that movie and if you don’t think I’ve watched that clip where he pushes his jacket back and it’s a crystal-clear shot of his ass you are WRONG

EZRA PROSPECT. fits the grungy, violent thing pedro seems to work with half the time, and honestly, the linguistics of this man make my head spin (the main reason I haven’t written much for him because it’s a looooot of effort to try and think up dialogue for him!!!) BUT I do love that little moon-touched spot and the scar and the smile and just ugh yum

THE THIEF. full disclosure: I haven’t read a lot of fics about the thief (if anyone has recs let me at ‘em) buuuuuut I really like the whole vibe he has and the outfit? spectacular.

MARCUS MORENO. the glasses definitely do it for me but idk something about him I just…meh. have definitely read some fab fics about daddy moreno (maybe I’ll revisit him at some point). still hot, still delicious, just not my number one fav.

MAX PHILLIPS. maybe not the biggest asshole pedro’s played but definitely up there? I sat through the movie just for him, honestly the scene of him on the couch made it worth it and the smarminess is something else, but idk if I could ever write him! (kudos to all that do!)

DAVE YORK. ok ok ok ok OKAYYYYYYY. listen. he’s the baddie (and like a really bad baddie) so I gotta put him low on my list as far as attraction goes (plus I have mixed emotions about P without facial hair but I digress…) BUT I do have ideas. they are on the horizon. keep your eyes OPEN.

MAX LORD. I haven’t even watched wonder woman 1984 and I know he needs to be down here. maybe I’ll get some form of intoxicated this weekend and power through it, just for shits and giggles!

well KUDOS if you made it this far, this was actually so fun to do!

tagging a few pals just because, no pressure 😇

@prolix-yuy @pedropascalsx @mandoblowmybackout @mindidjarin @allfoolsinluv @iamskyereads and obvi anyone else who wants to play!!!

#pedro pascal #kay talks to people #mutual bbys #the ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN #pedro pascal characters

[thehoneybuzz]

Ashes to Ashes

Before April 23rd, I had never seen Mount St. Helens. She was a legend from my history textbooks - a harbinger of dark skies and an earth shaker. The Yakima Indian tribe calls her Si Yett, meaning woman. According to tribal mythology, the Great Spirit placed Si Yett between the battling brothers, Mount Adams and Mount Hood, to protect the region. Like other legends, Helens is a great marker of time. The question of, "Where were you when…" elicits memories as vivid as the glint of the glassy snow I found on her peak. 

After her eruption, some thought the world was ending. Observing her crater, her jagged peaks, and the ribbons of steam issuing from her, still - silent reminders of her violent potential - you are struck by her serenity as well as her power. Her allure is not a mystery, and it is that allure which called to me.

I thought she would make a perfect beginning. With peak elevation at 8,366 feet, she doesn't quite make the top 10 list of Washington's highest summits. Even at her tallest - 9,677 in 1980 - she only ranked at number five. Despite her diminished proportions, her treachery remains in her grade. You gain one thousand feet of elevation over each mile which makes her a formidable challenge. It was just the challenge I was looking to find. 

I packed and repacked gear, reviewed chapters on ice ax use and cold-weather layering in the Mountaineering Bible, and streamed endless hours of online videos in preparation. I hoped that all of this, in addition to my physical training, would be enough. I would be climbing my first mountain, and I would be facing the challenge alone. My companion was another inexperienced climber, and in conquering Helens, I would be solely responsible for my success - or my failure. 

Alone isn't something I'm afraid of - there is something to be said for self-sufficiency. My self-reliance has taken me to beautiful and terrifying places, unlocking the world in ways I couldn't anticipate. Being prepared, however, is critical. 

In aviation, before each flight, you inspect your airplane. The procedure never changes. Check oil, check gas, wings, ailerons, flaps, luggage compartment, rudder, elevator, wheels, brakes, antennas, lights, avionics. At this point in my flying career, the movements are automatic. I'll never forget the words of my first instructor, who told me, "You never want to be in the air wishing you had checked something on the ground. If you can be proactive, you should be. It could save your life." 

I took the lesson with me into mountaineering as I obsessively cycled through my gear list. I knew I was ready. So why did it feel like something was missing? I searched myself for answers. Charlie, our dog, sensed my impatience and rolled over on top of my neatly organized gear - adding a collection of his hair to my merino wool base layers. I laughed as I knelt to scratch him.

"Extra protection," I thought. 

That's when it hit me. 

Growing up, I lived on 20 acres adjacent to miles of preserved natural land. I spent most of my childhood with a book, a pocket knife, and a dog exploring the wilderness behind our home. It's where my love of nature was born. Jake, our family dog and a legend himself was my eager companion. 

"You can go wherever you'd like..." my mom would say as I packed a lunch for the day, "... so long as you bring the dog."

Jake was freedom, a good listener, and a ready companion. He was our protection. When my parents told me they'd be dividing our land and developing a new housing community, I mourned for myself, but I remember thinking what would happen to Jake. Had my parents forgotten him in their grand planning? I didn't know how he would survive in a shrinking world. 

It ended up not mattering much. My mom and step-dad divorced before the development took off. My brother, mother, and I moved into a one-bedroom apartment, and we took Jake with us. I was right to be worried about shrinking worlds but underestimated the magnitude. 

As I agonized over my lost home, Jake took on a new kind of protection. A constant in the raging sea of our changing lives, he remained steadfast. Unbothered by his changing condition, his fur caught my tears, and his ears caught my troubles. As a family, we rebuilt our lives. 

Jake held on for years for us, but after his hips went to the dysplasia typical of his breed, he simply couldn't hang on anymore. He let us know it was time - another one of his great mercies - and we did right by him. We lost our best friend that day. For all the space I thought he needed, what he wanted most was to be in our arms. That is how Jake left the world. If love could have saved him, it would have. 

No one quite knew what to do with his ashes. At first, it felt too soon. Having to say goodbye again so shortly after his loss seemed impossible. So Jake's ashes went into a cupboard, and there he stayed for 15 years. No moment or location ever seemed quite right. 

We had to move several boxes to find him. I remembered the sound of his collar as I gently divided his remains, securing a healthy portion rather unceremoniously in a ziplock bag. It was decided. I was taking Jake to the top of the mountain - My protector.

When I made it to the summit, I sobbed. I was overwhelmed at the release I felt - making those last few steps and revealing the world in all her glory. Mount Adams feels so close you truly feel as if you can reach out and touch his peak. The cornices that form atop the crater's edge tempt and terrorize you as you long to peek over their precarious ledges to view the scenery below. Rainier - invisible behind the peak - comes into view so sharply and suddenly that it shocks you. I don't think I'll ever be able to describe the peace and power you find at the top of mountains. 

As I took Jake's ashes from my pack, I looked up to find a group of skiers summiting behind me. I gasped out loud when I saw their companion. They had brought their young yellow dog - a ghost of Jake - to the summit. The dog smiled at me and came over.

I couldn't hide my tears as I buried Jake's remains in the snow. He had waited so patiently and so long to be back in nature. Putting him there felt almost spiritual. Ashes to ashes as two legends and mythical protectors - mountain and dog - laid together. Through tears, I shared my story with the group. Pippin, their lab, licked my ungloved hand as the alpine sun dried my tears. We toasted summit beers to mountain dogs and took off down the slope together. Having protected me one more time, Jake lay at rest on the summit at last. 

This June, I'll attempt Mt. Baker, and Jake will be with me again. It's been so many years since his passing; I was shocked at the depth of my emotions as I kneeled with his remains in the snow. I know rationally that his ashes add weight to my pack and don't offer any 'real' safety. You can't burn them in the cold; they don't purify water or offer sustenance. They are frivolous from the rational perspective. Yet, I can't imagine a summit without him. 

Growing up, I wanted a dog so badly that I gave my mom a PowerPoint presentation about why I deserved one. It's the irrational I'm interested in now. Knowing that when I needed him most, Jake was within arms reach, ready to guide me home. 

I honestly don't know if this is a story about mountains or a story about dogs. If it's a story about mountains, I could describe how every moment spent on the descent, I marveled at the beauty of the natural world. If it's about dogs, I could tell you about the two wet noses that welcomed me home: Sophie, my perfectly round Beagle with soft ears, and the sweetest hellos. Charlie, my foster fail, who, despite having been hit by a car as a puppy, approaches each day with an unrivaled sense of enthusiasm and joy. His love for life has reached me even in my darkest moments. Many happy years remain before I carry them up the summit, and for that, I am grateful.

By the time my feet hit the pavement of the trailhead, I could wring out my socks. They had been drenched in melting show. I was happy and exhausted. It struck me again how the world keeps turning even in those surreal moments when time appears to stand still. Our descent had been complicated - but proved I could endure difficult things. I sang as I removed my boots and smiled, leaning against the trunk of my car. I looked up at the mountain - invisible in the evening mist - that I had just conquered. 

Mountains and dogs, I thought. A girl doesn't really need much else. 

#mountain dog #dogsofinstaworld #climbing #mountsthelens #dogsarefamily #dogsarethebest #mustlovedogs #short story #mountaineering #dogs of tumblr #dogsoftheday #hiking #hikingwithdogs #forest #outdoors #adventure #traveling

[justpeachythoughts0916]

Grieving & My Grieving Journey...So Far...

February 2nd, 2021: When I was growing up the only grief I truly felt was the loss of grandparents and pets. The only grief I experienced firsthand all made sense to me, people who followed the order of life you get older, you get sicker, and then die.  At that point and in those instances it wasn't hard for me to utilize logic and reason to understand their lives were lived and their time here had expired.

In high school I witnessed the school, my friends, and my classmates just in shambles after two boys died in two separate car accidents. These deaths caused me to feel an overwhelming amount of empathy and sympathy for my sad friends, but I wasn't close enough to these two to grieve really. I felt bad for everyone feeling so bad and knew a generic "I'm sorry" simply would not suffice.  I still knew there was nothing on this planet that I could say or do to heal that wound. I knew there was no making sense of these tragic deaths. Two happy, smiling, kind, young souls were gone. There is no making that okay.

Since high school this area is cursed with so many young deaths. We've lost people to suicides, accidents, overdoses, the list goes on. Still, I remained in the helpful, supportive friend role. I was not the one with my world upside down, and truthfully at the time I was grateful. Watching people so sad from grieving was heart breaking enough.

When I was 20 and pregnant with my first son we had a gender reveal party, we were ecstatic, my family never had boys. We had people stay the night in a tent in my mom's backyard because we in no way wanted anyone to drive home drunk. My friends at the time partied until morning, then all four went to sleep in a little four person tent.

I woke up at tenish, my mom made French toast for breakfast for everyone, then left for a matinee with her friend. One by one my hungover friends started coming in for breakfast. My son's soon to be God Father came in and said "Nate snored so loud, he shook my pillow" I replied, "He was cocked, and passed out" and giggled at the thought of their shenanigans. My step-dad and sister and his best friend were just watching the Sunday Giants game, casually cracking their first beer around noon. 

My friends were about ready to go, trying to figure out how to make the six people fit in a five person car. Nate wasn't up yet, not shocked, it was only 1:00 pm. He was sleeping on his tummy, using his arm as a pillow. I started to wake him up saying "Nate...Nate...Nate..." giggly and patient. I tickled his feet and he didn't move, he was just sleeping heavy. "Nate...Nate...Nate..." I pushed my fingertips into the soles of his feet and they stayed. I instantly said "He's dehydrated, and retaining fluid, get him water." Still not panicking...I stared at his back looking for breath movement before I thought "I'll just yank him by the ankles, that'd wake anyone up." So, I did just that...nothing. I went to look at him and saw purple skin through his red hairline and ran to get an adultier adult, my step-dad.

I ran into the house, where they were all watching a seemingly compelling play during the game, bursted in and yelled "Nate's blue, he won't wake up, I don't think he's breathing!" I've never seen my 6' 8" step-dad move so fast. He ran outside, ducked in and looked in the tent for about .1 seconds before he said "Steph, you need to call 911 now!" at 1:06 pm I picked up Nate's phone (it was the closest in reach) and tried to give a bunch of information to a dispatcher. I made little to no sense, because my step-dad didn't tell me why I was calling 911, combined with anxiety, I wasn't able to give them my mom's address. My younger sister tried to take the phone from me but the dispatcher asked "Can anyone there do CPR?" We all could, why didn't I think of that? I handed the phone off to my sister, and ran back to my step-dad and all my friends just shaking their heads and said "WE CAN DO CPR!" My step-dad as calmly and level as he could said "We can't save him, Steph, he's gone."

My. Soul. Left. My. Body.

My legs just stopped working.

Draped in my step-dads arms.

He's 6' 8" standing next to him I'm chest height.

I was down to his stomach.

Sobbing.

Drooling.

Quickly I ran away from his embrace screaming "NO. NO. NO. NO", into the road screaming up it "WHATS TAKING THEM SO LONG?!"

In that instant for the first time, it was me. I was the one with the dead best friend. Begging cops "Let me go with you to his Mom, her whole world is upside down here, and you're gonna tell her that with a straight face, just take me to tell her." Of course, I was informed protocol exists, and that couldn't happen. The second Nate's death hit social media I was the one flooded with "Oh my god, what happened?" "I'm so sorry" "My condolences" blah blah fucking blah.

My best friend's heart stopped to due to a lethal combination of Xanax and alcohol. Nothing about life or death made sense anymore. My best friend died from partying too hard? How do you make sense of that? When we all went to his services we stood in a circle together. Everyone stared, everyone, we were the last ones with him. We were trying to process what was about to happen at the viewing and we heard "That's them." The services were a nightmare. My friend Bryan and I were first to walk in, and the second we saw his bright red hair in that white casket we both couldn't stand. We stopped the line, and I sobbed and said "We can't do this." We went in the room with his twin sister and mom, we offered his sister his aviator sunglasses that were left in the tent, and we offered his mom to go to her favorite local ice cream parlor on Mothers Day every year, a tradition Nate followed with her. I asked Nate's mom permission to name my son Nathan when we went to see her the day after he died, so I tucked an ultrasound of his namesake in his pocket, and a pack of cigarettes with his lucky flipped. We stayed through the whole viewing, saw all those sad broken faces, got all the sad and sorry hugs, at the end we all walked up together I kissed his forehead, and we left.

I spent the first threeish years of my new life without Nate crying occasionally or at appropriate times, like when I gave birth to my Nathan. The rest of the time I kinda carried on like mentally him and I were taking a break from eachother, like I myself was choosing not to message or call. I got into therapy after hearing countless "You need helps" from family and friends. In therapy, I was cautioned that this event gave me Complex PTSD and Complex Grieving. Still, I just kept going with the flashbacks, nightmares, and the stages of grief over and over. Three years in, I had a startling realization using a butt fuck of psychedelics of "Oh my God, my person is gone, I can't get him back, we can't talk, and that really happened." Instantly, I was grieving his death like new again. Oh no. I had less than understanding from most people. Most people honestly seemed perplexed how it could feel so fresh after "so many years" *eyeroll to my spine*. Solely because me being pained and honest with it is/was uncomfortable. OOOF.

I knew Nate taught me so much in his life and in his death. He also was the first to teach me how to help people in early grief, because of how many conversations I had that were text book This Is Not What You Say To Someone Grieving. Then again, we're all different.

Just before the 4 year mark with Nate's death, death found me again and again, it followed the people I loved. My honest theory is I saw death up close and personal, I know what that type of empty feels like, I was the one sobbing pounding the ground, mad at the world, so I noticed the devastation easier. I became the support system for my grieving friends, all by just being honest from the get, "Welcome to the club you don't want to be in, you still have to try to eat, you're never gonna be the same and there is nothing you can say to me that sounds crazy coming from the girl who has screamed in the cemetery at 2:00 AM "OVER A FUCKING XANAX?!" and unfortunately this club doesn't come with t-shirts it comes with trauma." It's simple to me, really. Act like they have a cancer on their brain with out being so in-your-face-it-feels-fake. Easy. I've helped countless freshly grieving people in the years after Nate's death.

  In October of 2020 I was talking to Zack, my middle school best friend on the phone, I needed help. He couldn't help me, as he was in legal trouble and needed to lay low. We caught up for a while, aside from what I needed help with. At one point he said "I wish Squid was here, he would've been down in a heartbeat." Squid passed in February of 2020. We talked at length about being more careful with ourselves, the worries we had about our other friends, and what grieving is like. Then he said, "I don't know how much closer death can get to me than Squid, he was my boy, it broke me." I just said  "I miss that boy so much, he was so warm." Zack went on to say "I don't wanna know which one of us is gonna go first, I don't wanna be the one left." We gave eachother all of our love, and hung up.

  On November 19th, 2020 Zack and another friend of ours from middle school, Alex, were headed home from Alex's band practice late at night. Alex was driving when he lost control of the vehicle. They both died on impact, together. It killed me. They died just riding home? The messages flooded in again. "I'm so sorry" "If you need anything, I'm here" as disingenuous as you could be really be. Again, I'm the one with the dead friends. Feeling emptiness in my finger tips. I hated everything, again.

  "If everything happens for a reason, than what the fuck?"

"Why them? Why me?"

Despair

When I laid in my boyfriend's bed staring at where the white ceiling met the lavender walls with silent tears streaming down my face I felt empty in my bones. I went outside, lit a cigarette, and called my soul brother, Alec. Al is traditionally a goof ball, but in sad times he has a way with comforting people. He's an absolute doll. I knew I needed to hear his voice and his words. When we spoke I cried and said all the awful initial thoughts, "How am I the one left? I didn't wanna do that. What do I do?" After I got those thoughts out we had a talk that would forever change my views on loss and grief. He said "All of these losses teach us something. Losing Squid taught me that I needed, wanted, and could have a healthy supportive friendship with Alison (his ex-wife, my best friend)." Alison drove up from Georgia to support me, Alec, all of our people, and grieve herself with her people. The hug they shared outside of the funeral home looked cathartic on a soulful level to me. They were who eachother needed to have in that sad and vulnerable time, even after their separation. To that I said, "I still don't get the fucking point."

That's when Alec said something I'll never forget. First, he quoted Carl Sagan in Cosmos, "We're all just a blue dot." Made zero sense, as I had yet to read all of Cosmos, and Alec already had (more than once). He then said, "People's love for you is eternal, regardless of when their physical being dies. Every lesson they taught someone will permanently imprint them, transferring person to person, generation to generation. Zack's love, Squid's Love, Alex's love, Nate's love, everyone's love is eternal as long as your soul learned things from them." I started crying hard. We gradually caught up and got ready to hang up and he said "Stephanie, you will have my love eternally, in this life and in the next, even if my physical being dies you will always have love from an Al"

  I had to process those words for weeks, thinking of every act of love, every admirable thing, every moment I witnessed that all my seemingly lost humans gave me, and what changed in me because of those moments. All of these souls filled up books in my mind, heart, and soul. They taught me how to be a happier better me, and they all loved me so much. These acts of love transferred onto my family, my friends, my kids, my relationship, hell, even strangers. Alec was right, my humans didn't die at all, and the more I looked the more I found glimpses of their love here, with me, no matter where they are. They literally cannot die, and there's no choice in the matter, it just happens.

I still have sad days and moments, but I know the saddest moments for me are also the most loving acts they gave me coming to surface...They are still with me to make those moments possible. You cannot change grief. It is a wild bull you just got onto, and you have to hold on tight and dig your spurs in for the rest of your life. The only thing that has calmed the immense pain I've felt was allowing these amazing humans to permanently imprint their best moments onto me. I'm forever grateful I had the privilege to be imprinted by so many angelic souls. All these seemingly small, miniscule moments created the most love in my soul. I'm here to learn, and I've been taught by the best of the best. Their deaths were not in vein, their deaths have all changed me. I sincerely hope this makes you consider how many souls have imprinted on you in life and in death, allowing seemingly impossible eternal love into your heart and soul.

XOXO

"I'm sure there ain't a Heaven, but that don't mean I don't like to picture you there. I bet you're bumming cigarettes off saints, and I'm sure you're still singing, but I'll bet that you're still just a bit out of key." Cigarettes and Saints by The Wonder Years

Dedicated to:

Nathan E. Osgood Sami Jo Colson Zaccaria "Squid" Crankshaw Ally LaMont Ryan Burton Zack Luck & Alexander Simon

I'll miss you everyday for the rest of my life, and will carry your eternal love wherever I may go.

Finally, thank you, to the first responders of Mayfield, NY that were first on scene when Nate passed away on September 20th, 2015

#grieving #copingwithtrauma #copingwithloss #coping with grief #ptsd #complex ptsd #recoveringfromtrauma #mental health #first post #mywriting #writers on tumblr #firstsharedpiece

[wiinterrose]

          ( xavier serrano , cis male , he / him, 23 ) no way ! i swear i saw 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒 walking down danforth avenue ! i just saw a post about them on 6secrets ! i think it said something like “𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝟓 𝐀𝐌 : 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 ?”. isn’t that wild ? i guess that makes sense since they’re apparently 𝐃𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒 and 𝐂𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. fans will claim that they’re 𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 and 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂.  i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐑. whenever i think of them, i think of 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓-𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐒, 𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, & 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. i wish i would have asked for an autograph ! ( oliver, they / them, 22, est ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

— mikey was born and raised in winnipeg because i think it’s funny when characters are from winnipeg. if you’re from winnipeg i’m so sorry. definitely was born on the coldest day of that year ( so like some point in january )

— but because of those long, cold harsh winters, mikey found himself in a dance studio a lot. his aunt was a dance teacher and with rather absent parents who meant well but both had long hours at the local hospital, he spent a lot of time with her. he fell in love with dance pretty early on, always having a certain fluidity and grace even when he was young.

— random but he also played hockey up until he was like 16 or whatever because he’s canadian and i’m not stupid. it happened. he can still skate tho. in a slightly different life he probably would have been a pretty good figure skater huh 🤔🤔🤔 but anyway...

— also feel like it makes sense that he did gymnastics. and trained in classical ballet.

— he went to university of toronto for college, studying kinesology and dance, and danced at one of the prestigious studios in the city.

— his big break moment was when in his sophomore year at ut, he made it onto the second season of world of dance in early 2017 ( lets pretend that show has been on longer than it has bc i don’t want it to be the first season of it sldk ). he made it all the way to the finals and quickly become a fan favorite along the way. though he ultimately placed second and missed out on the million dollars, that was the beginning of many doors opening for him. ( for those who, might have the vaguest clue what i’m talking about : i’m highkey feeling like, michael dameski style which is an idea i had after i named him michael so don’t @ me for him having the same first name ).

— millions watched that show, including some prominent agents and scouts who were able to help him launch a professional dance career : something he never thought he’d see himself actually doing. his first big gig was making the dance team for some singer’s north american tour, and he ended up not returning to ut to pursue a professional dance career full time. since then he’s danced in a few music videos for some uber famous musican ( same one he went on tour with or not idk ?? also a wc ?? maybe ?? ), a tv show, couple movies, and other various gigs around the city. he works part time at a studio when he has time, and has been honing his choreography skills as well.

— he makes enough dancing, but certainly not enough to make him RICH. no, that come from an impromptu vlog he did while on tour with aforementioned singer. having already garnered a following from world of dance, he soon rose to youtube fame as well, something he never could have predicted. i feel like his videos are very just, day in a life with various random athletic challenges mixed in, and various workout and flexibility tips. he also still does pieces and duets with other prominent dancers just for fun too. his natural charisma and attitude really just carries him through easily lmao.

— mikey developed a bit of a habit of sleeping around when he left for college, all the newfound freedom was just intoxicating and well. he was hot so. it wasn’t like it was hard alsdkjf. that stuck around well into his blossoming dance career. nothing that was enough to be scandalous, but he made his way around. and then a year and a half into this unforeseen new life, he met matthew glass.

— he’d had a couple serious relationships before, one in high school, one his freshman year of college but neither of them could hold a flame to what he felt when he was with matt. perfection wasn’t something mikey believed in, but he almost did with what they had.

— it was like for over a year and a half he lived in this insane dream, and then mikey and matt broke up and he was devastated ( behind closed doors and with curtains pulled tightly shut ).

— he then proceeded to broadcast how perfectly fine he was doing by going back to his old ways and sleeping around obsessively, this time with very little regard as to how many headlines he was making. as far as coping mechanisms go, i guess sex is better than alcohol ?? not to say he wasn’t also drunk at times l o l.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂

— mikey gets around. has definitely been trying to forget matty with other warm bodies but honestly it’s not working

— very bi. very much does not care. if the world didn’t know he was before, it definitely does now lmao. he hasn’t come out in the sense he’s like posted a video about it and said “i’m bisexual” but it’s pretty obvious from the media and maybe he has gotten asked in interviews and has just shrugged and been like does it matter ?? i’m sorry he’s not the vocal bi ally we need. perhaps we will work on that.

— hasn’t dated anyone since matt bc he’s highkey lowkey still hung up on him but no one needs to know that right. outwardly, he’s very much the same : seemingly happy, but he’s a lot more careful with his heart and letting people close to him. if anything he’s become a bit of a two-way mirror, always seeing out but never really letting people see in, just what they want to see.

— probably goes without saying but extremely flexible. idk if any of you know who juuse saros is but apparently he can twerk in a split and i’m not saying mikey can but like. he just might be able to...

— straight up does not get cold. never wears more than a hoodie, probably danced shirtless in the middle of winter just fine. at least being from winnipeg is good for one ( 1 ) thing.

— i feel like people call him flower. idk guys. maybe im just thinking too much abt hockey goalies.

— always posting on instagram stories. u kno the type.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

— he tends to be extremely underestimated as he comes across a bit dumb and generally has a pretty positive outlook on life which people confuse for him being naive when that isn’t the case. but he’s found he can use that it his advantage and that sometimes, people will tell him things they think he can’t understand but he hears and remembers everything. it’s helped him out of a few difficult situations before.

— i feel like he has a bit of ethan dolan’s personality & dumbass energy idk guys...

— live in the moment kind of dude. his motto is probably like : you just gotta know what you want to do next. i mean looking back on his life it’s been pretty crazy and that’s only solidified his outlook that like, you really can’t control too much. just let it go where it takes you.

— people do like him though and they like talking to him for whatever reason. generally has pretty trustworthy vibes but he’s more slippery than he comes across. he’s a selfish person at heart and always has his own best interests in mind, even if it doesn’t seem that way at first.

— extroverted. i think ??

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

— 6′1″. chocolate brown eyes. curly brown hair. he has a lithe but extremely fit build due to his career. his core strength is especially impressive.

— he has a monochromatic lineart tattoo of a rose on his left forearm / wrist and a butterfly ( again monochromatic & just lineart ) on his right shoulder. small scar at the base of his neck by his ear from an unfortunate hockey accident.

— needs glasses but usually only wears contacts unless he’s in his apartment late at night.

— he’s not overly fashionable, going more for comfort than how he generally looks. on a regular day, he’s probably got the whole... college athlete look going if you know what i mean. a big fan of mirrored aviator sunglasses. wouldn’t know what dressing up meant even if it slapped him in the face.

— PINTEREST BOARD

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

first and foremost i want to say that i like to vibe and brainstorm with people to come up with unique connections between our characters but here are a few ideas :

— ( f ) a close friend he has had on his channel a few times and fans passionately ship them but they’re really just good friends. maybe they play into the drama a few times as well tho. — the singer whose tour he danced on — singer whose music videos he’s been in — mayhaps even actors for that tv show / movie he was in ( v small role but whatevs. maybe they just Vibed yknow ) — flirtationship 😔 — always ye ol good hookup l o l — we keep running into each other idk maybe we should talk ??

TAKEN CONNECTIONS PAGE HERE

𝐎𝐎𝐂

         hey guys, i’m ollie. my intros are either written really eloquently or a big mess bc im trying to rub together a couple braincells at 1 am and whatever comes out, comes out. no need to guess which category this one falls into lmAO. anyway, i’m a slow plotter bc i’m easily overwhelmed trying to do too many things at once but i swear i will try to get to as many people as i can. and yeah this entire character is inspired by my love of world of dance don’t @ me... if u made it all the way down here u should watch this bc 😳 & mikey has the same athleticism and strength.

#sixhqintro #( the way all of five words have changed in this entire thing #despite the fact i know i COULD write it better but #am too lazy too alsdkfj ) #( new graphics psd i like better tho alsdkfj )

[foxtophat]

strange things like mercy is finally done!!!!!!

it took a while and i was worried i wouldn’t be able to keep on schedule, but in the end i fuckin NAILED IT guys. i know that i’m patting myself on the back but i feel great about this fic. i got to do most everything i wanted with it, and i think that it came out pretty good in the end!!

for those of you who have been reading from the start, i just gotta say thank you SO MUCH for your support. i know i was kind of lame about replying to comments early on but i hopefully will beat that bad habit back in time for the next story in this series!

now that mercy is over, uhhh, i guess i gotta start thinking about what happens next. what does everybody wanna see out of this universe, and what stories do i already have imagined that would appeal to you guys? i guess i gotta think about it. if you guys have any ideas or prompts for mercy universe fic, i would love to hear them :) even if i don’t write them i’d love to shoot the shit about headcanons and shit i got for this series, which TECHNICALLY spans 10 years... ugh so much time, ubisoft come on.

uh, anyway... i don’t know what else to say. i’m so fuckin thankful. i hope you guys enjoy this epilogue, and that it feels... coherent??? sorry this one in particular was tricky because uh, narrators are hard you know? well. i’m gonna go ahead and stop blabberin now, and for now i’ll just leave you guys with my love!

as usual, the chapter is under the cut if you’re in a hurry or don’t wanna leave tumblr. if you feel obliged, please consider reblogging and sharing the news of an actual completed fic for once in my fucking life

It is hot outside today. The cool morning air has no chance against a bright sun in a barely cloudy sky, and there's no way to confuse this summer heat for a warm spring day. By the time John and Nick finish loading the truck-bed with salvage, both of their shirts are damp from sweat. There's no such thing as sunscreen anymore, so Nick scrounges up an extra hat for John, and Kim reminds Carmina for the sixth time to drink as much water as she can while she's out in the sun. This is Carmina's first full summer above-ground, but from the sound of it, last autumn hadn't been much cooler, so she at least understands the concept of heat exhaustion.

As far as John can tell, the only person unphased by the heat is Grace, who stays on the porch and watches the two men work. She hasn't said more than two words to John in the past month, but she's always watching him. She makes it abundantly clear whenever she comes over to pick up Carmina or spend time with the Ryes, and no amount of conversation can keep her from boring holes between John's shoulders. There have been a lot of murderous glares thrown his way in his life, but Grace's is the only one that feels truly lethal. There's no social code left to keep Grace from shooting John the moment he steps out of line, and John is certain only Kim's goodwill is preventing her from going through with it.

Ten years ago, John would have been humiliated to be so utterly powerless against someone as insignificant as Grace Armstrong. Today, John is only grateful to finally understand somebody perfectly. Grace is exactly who John had prepared himself for when that caravan passed through. There's no uneasy truce between them, no muddled water. All John has to do is keep his head down and not look directly at her, and she won't shoot him. It's painfully simple, and exactly what John needs.

Kim hovers in the doorway behind Grace, going over house gun-safety with Carmina for the umpteenth time. John keeps his back to the porch as Nick slides plank after plank of plywood his way, so he mostly doesn't see them, but he can tell Carmina is bored by her exasperated yeses and okay 's. John briefly wonders what might've happened if he'd ever talked back like that to his parents, then promptly stuffs the thought away for another day. He's trying to stay positive about this trip, after all. The last thing he needs to do is think about the Duncans or the Seeds.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Grace asks Nick once they've finished loading up. Even with his back turned, John tries to keep his expression neutral.

"What? Yeah, of course it is." Nick looks across the bed at John, who is far too busy remaining silent and neutral to offer any support. "Everybody who lives there's already been through. It's not like John's gonna be a surprise at this point, and anyway, we're gonna need the extra hands."

"I'm surprised you don't just have Carmina do it."

"Kim won't let her ride in back," Nick grouses. He walks around the truck, pausing by the tailgate to double-check that it's locked in place. "Anyway, John wants to go." He eyes John, frowning, triple-guessing himself even after John's told him it's time. "Right?"

John has to take a breath to ease his exasperation before he responds. "Yes," he says, although really, it isn't about wanting to go. He needs to. He can't stay hidden away at Rye & Daughter Aviation forever.

Grace is not even slightly convinced. "If you say so," she says.

As usual, it's Kim who comes in at the eleventh hour to distract Grace away from John, who can safely move around without more scrutiny. "Thanks for watching the place," she says, swooping into the conversation as if she hadn't been listening a few feet away. "Carmina's been excited to show you her progress in the yard since the last time you were here."

It works like clockwork, and Grace winds up bashfully smiling under Kim's genuine gratitude. "Hey, it's no problem. Like I said, I'm always happy to help keep Carmina busy."

John had never taken Kim seriously before, not really, but he never should have underestimated her de-escalation tactics. Honestly, he'd never understood why Nick would rely so much on her. He'd assumed that it was all some sort of act that Nick put on so he could constantly remind everybody that Kim was his property, or occasionally to escape from a situation he wouldn't be able to win. John hadn't thought anything at all about why someone like Kim would let herself be used like that.

Nowadays, John holds their relationship up as a standard to set all others to. It's horrifying how far short John's past relationships fall in comparison to theirs. But those thoughts, like any others involving his families, aren't suitable for today.

Grace disappears into the house, Carmina following eagerly behind. Kim steps off the porch, lifting one hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

"You ready?" she asks. At this angle, it's hard to tell which one of them she's talking to, but John knows better than to assume she's thinking about him.

"As we'll ever be," Nick replies. "You sure you'll be okay in the back, John?"

Nick isn't trying to slight him, but John still has to hold back an instinctive reaction to say something snide. It's a struggle, more than he's willing to admit to, but he manages. "Yes," he says, the easiest word to fall back on in his vocabulary, but Nick doesn't seem convinced. He usually isn't, not by single-word responses and certainly not by that word in particular, so John rolls his eyes for show and adds, "I'll be fine as long as you can drive better than you can fly."

"Man, when'd you get so goddamn mouthy?" Nick gripes, mostly in good nature. "Lucky there aren't any planes left to settle that matter."

Kim waves Nick into the cab, and John climbs into the truck-bed, settling with his back against the cab. It takes a minute to adjust as they start down the drive, but John figures out how to hold down the open container of components, and most everything else lies flat on the bed beneath him. The driveway itself is bumpy terrain, but the road levels out surprisingly even as they turn towards Fall's End. John's view is limited to the road unfurling behind them, the scenery feeling like a strange, dreamlike replication of the place John used to know. Everything is simultaneously familiar and alien, and for most of the ride, John can only hold on and mark the distance by once-familiar billboards that are now mostly torn down.

From the way Nick and Kim had talked about Fall's End, John had expected more of the town than what he gets. After all, it was never meant to be a direct target of the Collapse. That's why Joseph had wanted it so badly. But as it turns out, calling what's left a town is stretching the word to its limits. Other than the church, only the Spread Eagle managed to escape complete annihilation, apparently by divine providence alone. The rest of the structures that once lined the side-roads are now nothing but abandoned ruins, picked clean of useful salvage and left to rot. From John's place in the truck bed, he has a good 360-degree view of the remains, although most of his attention is on not letting any plywood fall out of the bed as Nick speeds down the bumpy road.

It isn't as though John is surprised by the wreckage. Everything John had been working towards with Eden's Gate had prepared him for the fact that the old world would be gone when he came back from the brink. Still, as the truck chugs its way towards the bar, John finds himself unexpectedly struck by the ruin. All of the buildings that had provided tactical advantages according to Jacob are gone. There's no way to repair any infrastructure here. Joseph's talk about empty homes available to everyone, about fields of grain and a church full of children learning how to be good, honest people — all that's left of those empty promises are decimated buildings and hard, scorched earth.

Surely Joseph would have blamed John's expectations on his own laziness and impatience. Maybe he'd be right. But all John can think is that they could have simply waited the resistance out. They could have saved the valuable resources they had thrown at the war against the valley. What was the point of wasting their supplies and sacrificing blind followers for something like the Reaping?

John doesn't want to think about Joseph any more than he already has to. Thankfully, Nick brings the truck to a sudden stop, rocking John backward into the cab's window and pulling him out of his obsessing brain.

"Hey, see?" Nick comments to Kim as he climbs out of the cab, "I told you we had it."

"Barely," John adds. "Did you make an effort to hit every pothole on the way here?"

"I mean, the road's mostly potholes," Nick chuckles.

Clicking her tongue so that she doesn't incriminate her husband, Kim comes around to the side of the bed. "Let's unload everything before you two start arguing, okay?"

Even as Kim is talking, people are showing up to find out who just rolled into town. John recognizes most of them from their forays out to the Rye homestead, although a few unfamiliar faces are crowding the blown-out windows of the bar. John counts six people, which is already more than he expected to live in one place, but there are doubtless more inside. By his estimation, more than a dozen people are living in the area around here, including Jerome, although he can't imagine they all live here. They can't possibly.

"Glad y'all made it," one woman says as she steps out onto the deck. She sees John looking at her and remarks sourly, "Jerome said you might be bringing him. But not Carmina?"

"We needed the extra hands," Kim replies. She has her back turned to the bar, and so only Nick and John can see her roll her eyes in exasperation as she explains. "And Grace is watching Carmina today. They're building a shooting range at the end of the runway."

Sour-faced as she is, the woman who's been put in charge seems pleased to hear it. "Well, better'a shot, better'a person, I guess. C'mon, it's all going upstairs."

John unloads most of the truck by himself, leaving Kim and Nick with the task of taking everything inside. A few sheets of plywood, a crate of miscellaneous fasteners, and two metal fence poles later, he finds himself waiting alone by the truck. It's hot as hell, and although John will take the dry Montana heat over Atlanta's oppressive humidity, he still wishes that air conditioning was a thing. He can see the heat radiating off the distant cracked asphalt, and the sun gleams in the broken windows of a derelict shop across the street. There's a boisterous conversation happening inside, but John knows better than to go looking for shade in the Spread Eagle. He's fairly certain that if he put one foot in the bar, Mary May would rise from her grave and destroy him.

Nick had mentioned a memorial, but John doesn't see it from his spot on the street. Nick and Kim seem to have things under control, so John slowly paces away from the truck, heading around to the space that used to be a parking lot. Mary May's father would keep his ugly big rig parked out here as a trophy, but now the dirt lot is empty. There's no telling what happened to the truck, but John hopes Mary May got some solace out of it before the end.

John had expected the sort of memorial you would see on the side of the freeway, with a crude wooden cross and some affectations of remembrance. He's more than a little shocked, then, to find that Mary May's grave is itself the memorial. He shouldn't be surprised. Where else would they have buried her? But still, there is something deeply unsettling about it as he stares down at the uniform mound of rocks covering the dirt. There's a clean, fairly ornate cross lying across the rocks, and a crude wooden headstone that has her name, Mary May, carved in heavy uppercase, along with two dates: 1993-2023?

Of course, they wouldn't have known the actual year. John isn't sure of it himself now.

He stands at the foot of her grave for a while. There's a bare breeze sweeping over the empty valley, which manages to make the sun a little more bearable. John's not sure if it would be blasphemous to pray for Mary May or not, but he's sure she would cuss him out if he did, so he refrains. Apologizing to Mary May would have... well, it would have made John feel better, but now that he's standing here, he's not so sure she would tolerate it. Honestly, knowing her, she would have died out of spite if she'd made it far enough to see him again. She would have spat on him and told him to go to hell, then choked on radiation poisoning right there on the spot.

Then again, John had expected Nick to shoot him without reservation. Maybe she would have surprised him, too. Been different from the thing he'd imagined her to be in the dark.

Somehow, he doubts it.

With Nick and Kim still distracted and the rest of the group seeming to have forgotten about him, John takes the opportunity to explore the remains of town further. He walks from the bar, across the empty field and towards the decrepit church standing by itself. The road is still visible in patches, but John chooses to walk across what used to be the backyards of residents who have long since died. He keeps his eye out for snake-holes, but the dirt is undisturbed and possibly uninhabitable to even the most tenacious of serpents. Only time will tell whether or not anything could ever grow here again.

It's clear that nobody has made the same effort to reclaim the church as they had with the bar. John assumes that's largely due to Mary May's influence, although he can't blame the survivors for choosing the communal space with alcohol over the one without so much as a root cellar. Still, it fills John with a strange melancholy to see the church overtaken by vines and left like a sacrifice to nature. He's never particularly cared for religious institutions before, but he's no doubt personally responsible for the end of the practitioners who might have tried to save this particular building.

John had last passed through the front doors of this church in 2018, flanked by devoted sycophants of his personal design. He'd strolled down the aisle while Jerome was being wrestled to the ground, and he'd thought of every pew and pillar as his rightful property. Beyond the Project, this church was going to be his.

Now, standing here in the late 2020s, John only feels as hollow as the interior. He'd thought he'd been in control. He'd thought he'd been chosen. But in the end, every single thing Joseph had asked of him led him down a path to ruin, and the only thing that had saved him in the end had been his own cowardly, second-guessing self.

Stepping through the doors into the open, empty hall feels like trespassing in the most divine sense, but at this point, John figures God can't expect much from him. He's always been inserting himself in places he doesn't belong, after all. It's God's job to forgive him for it.

The wooden structure creaks even in the gentle breeze. Otherwise, the church is silent; even John's footsteps are muffled by dirt as he slowly makes his way to the remnants of the altar. It's been too long, but John imagines he can spot his blood caked on the floor from when the deputy shot him. Nick's, too, has been absorbed by time, but John knows that it's still there in the wooden floorboards.

There are more holes in the roof than shingles at this point, letting in patches of sunlight from the drifting sun. As a cloud passes overhead, the light briefly dims, and John feels a deep internal chill at the first hint of creeping darkness. Nick would probably tell him it's normal, or something, entirely unaware that John has no goddamn idea what normal is supposed to be.

That's ungrateful, he knows, but sometimes it's difficult not to resent that jackass a little for being so well-adjusted.

The clouds shift, and for a moment a single shaft of light shines down in front of him, haloing the weeds in an inviting ring of warmth. John is reminded abruptly of Faith, lingering deep underground with him, the light glowing off the ladder rungs as she reaches out for him, her hand outstretched as if she could show him what might be a way out.

The clouds move, flooding the church with light, and things are clear again.

Maybe he should be more worried by the fleeting afterimages of his bunker hallucinations, but considering how bad they used to be, John will take any improvement where he can find it. For the first few nights at the Rye's home, he had been plagued by the same near-tangible shapes that had haunted him below ground. Even after the worst had passed, so many of John's dreams of Joseph in the bunker had felt more real than the room he'd wake up in. Sometimes, he would stare into the distance and see a mirage of Joseph appearing over the horizon; other times, he would snap awake from a nightmare only to find Jacob watching him from the unlit corners of his room, flickering and disappearing in the edge of his vision. Faith's voice might laugh in his ear when he gets distracted by the slow-moving clouds in the sky. Even now, if he stands still enough, he can almost hear Jacob's off-key humming in the wind.

He hasn't told Nick or Kim about any of it, of course. He's not sure how he would explain it, for one — and for two, he doesn't know if he can stand any more of their pity. They already treat him like a child; if they think that he's mentally unwell, they're only going to be worse about it. John can handle a lot of things, but their sympathy chafes more than he'd like to let on. Besides, what could they possibly other than worry?

He knows that hiding it is more childish than explaining himself, but explaining himself these days just feels like asking for pity that he absolutely does not want. Nick's gotten back to hiding his moon-eyed concern with some degree of success, but Kim still speaks so gently to him and keeps suggesting he take breaks, that he rest, that he sit down and talk, just for a minute. If it weren't for her open altruism, he'd think she was trying to get something from him. Hell, maybe she is. Maybe spending eight years by himself has tanked John's ability to see when he's being manipulated.

It doesn't really matter. If his only choices are between Kim's prying and Joseph's interrogations, then it really isn't a choice at all.

Although John doesn't hear anybody enter, he isn't terribly surprised when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He turns to find Jerome standing in the entryway, the light streaming around him and framing him in the whirling dust. It's uncharitable, but John's first thought is just how old Jerome has gotten, eying his weary, slumped posture and the thick, dark gray banding his temples and beard.

"I thought I might find you here," Jerome says.

"Funny," John replies, "I was thinking the same thing about you."

Jerome approaches, although he stops at the first overturned bench, leaving the entire length of the aisle between them. Some part of John wishes other people would be as cautious about him as Jerome is.

"Nick and Kim wanted me to check on you. They said you might have come this way."

"Of course they did," John sighs. He can't help but be impressed that they didn't come looking for him themselves. Kim will no doubt have something to say about him having wandered off by himself, even though they're nowhere near danger.

The last time John stood in this church with Jerome, he had been desperately trying to maintain his control over the situation, wildly throwing everyone towards salvation without considering what saving somebody meant. It's been nearly a decade, but John can still feel the tension that remains between them, stretched between the destroyed pews like a tangled net.

"I take it things have been working out well," Jerome says. Despite having every right to be suspicious, he only seems curious as he asks, "Are you planning on staying with them?"

John resists pointing out that every plan he's ever made has gone belly up almost immediately, as well as the fact that he hasn't thought more than a day or two in the future for a long time now. The most neutral response he can offer is, "As long as they allow me to."

Jerome hums in response. John feels a sudden urge to bolt as Jerome begins to slowly pace down the aisle towards him, but his boots are glued to the spot. He already knows how the pastor feels about his miraculous survival, and he braces himself for what will most likely be a scathing indictment of all of his short-comings. A list of reasons why he should abandon the Ryes and resign himself to some serious kind of penance.

When Jerome speaks, it's only with neutral curiosity. "It's been a while since you've been inside a church, hasn't it? A real one, I mean. For genuine reasons."

John feels childish for not being able to directly meet Jerome's eyes, but he can't help it. "Not... since my parents died," he admits. For a second he wonders if Jerome ever read Joseph's manifesto, if he ever had the opportunity to see for himself what Joseph had to say about his youngest brother's upbringing. Jerome's expression betrays nothing, but John worries anyway. He isn't lying when he says, "They... soured my relationship with religion," but he still feels like he is. It wasn't the Duncans who kept him from church, after all. If anything, they would have been massively disappointed to learn that he stopped the moment they weren't around to demand his piety.

"And then Joseph changed your mind," Jerome says. It's just a fact, but it still feels like an accusation.

Still, it's the truth. "Yes," John says. "He came to me, and promised me it would be different."

Exhaling slowly, Jerome finally passes John by entirely, stepping up behind the ransacked altar and looking at the spot where a crucifix should still be hanging.

"It's been a while for me, too," Jerome says after a short stretch of silence. "I want to say that maybe this place still counts, but I don't know. It could be that there are no churches left to go back to." There's no missing the age in Jerome's posture as he bows his head. "After everything we've been through, after everything you put us through — I don't know. There's probably no coming back from that."

Despite the blame being put squarely at his feet, it doesn't sting like an insult. It's just another fact, one that John won't forget any time soon. He can't afford to.

"You only have to tell me to rebuild it," John says. He tries not to hate himself for how desperately the words come out, but he means it. At least it would be a tangible step in the right direction for once, instead of one more blind stumble.

Jerome huffs, eying John with no small amount of bemusement. "I think we have more important things to worry about for the time being," he says. "The church can be a lot of things, but it can't hold a candle to a place with electricity and some aged whiskey."

How would Joseph react, if he had come out of his bunker to find his flock had chosen a bar over his church? John can't imagine he would have handled it with the same resigned grace Jerome is showing now. How long before he would decide to return to the armory, so that he could remind his followers they were supposed to be afraid of him? Of them? How long would Joseph's utopia have really lasted, even if everything had worked out exactly as he'd hoped? He can't imagine it would have taken long for his own voice to join the chorus shouting might makes right.

"It's only a place," Jerome says with some concern, which cuts through John's thoughts like a knife. "We can pray just as well at the bar, or in a bunker. After all, God doesn't live in the temple."

"I suppose that's true." John wishes that there was a pew left safe enough to sit on. Jerome might be right about the fundamentals, but right now John just wants to feel some sort of physical support. He settles for leaning against the least fragile part of the wall he can find, listening to the creaking wood for any sign of splintering.

The church remains silent around them. Somewhere up in the rafters, a bird flutters around, and it's the only living thing to break the gentle sound of the breeze. Jerome paces the perimeter away from John, no doubt going over every lost item, every blown-out window, and reminding himself of what once was. It's all John can do as he looks around.

Eventually, Jerome gets to the heart of the matter, which John has been waiting for since he arrived in the church. "I don't expect you to have an answer," he proceeds, "But I wonder whether you've been thinking about what I told you."

John has, as a matter of fact, been thinking about what Jerome told him. He's been thinking about it since they talked on the radio, a few days after the caravan had left Hope County. In a way, he's been thinking about it ever since he saw Joseph and his people invading the Rye homestead. There had been too many followers already for John's comfort, and if Joseph is left entirely alone, that number will only go up. They might not have to assassinate him, but they'll most certainly have to stymie the number of people who might listen to what he has to say.

"I don't know if I'm the best candidate to deprogram former cultists," John says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Almost every follower had to go through me. There's not much chance they'll listen to anything I have to say."

"It won't be just your words that will convince them, but your actions, too." Jerome sighs heavily, wearily making do as he sits on a ruined and overturned pew. "Their faith was shaken like you said it would be. But word of Joseph's return has begun to spread, and... well, reason is already unfamiliar territory for some of them."

That's not surprising. John wonders how many members survived who had walked the path, who had been baptized and washed in Bliss and left in that inexplicable limbo as the Collapse came and went. John's own mind is still riddled from the endless testing and perfecting, sleepless weekends wandering through fictional fields with his brother preaching in his ear, finding the right balance between this world and the next so that Joseph could show the world.

"I want to help," John insists hoarsely. "But... talking to them will be difficult. The further down the path you are, the harder that becomes." Even now, a dull but steady pressure is starting to build behind his eye, his mind flooded by a super-cut of Joseph's voice, questions chanting at him, Do you feel it? Can you see it? Do you understand now?

John doesn't expect Jerome's hand on his shoulder. He hadn't seen the other man move, but suddenly there he is, gripping John's arm as though he's trying to drag him from a crowded room. His grim, critical stare is unsympathetic in a way that neither Nick nor Kim would probably appreciate, but that steely gaze is the cold water John needs to clear his mind.

"We can wait," Jerome eventually relents. He doesn't sound disappointed, but that doesn't stop John from imagining it. It's not much better when Jerome reluctantly admits, "Nick... mentioned what happened with the bunker."

Of course he did. Nick couldn't possibly keep something like that to himself, could he? Well-meaning bastard. John tries to gather some sort of frustration, but it's hard to fight the resigned relief he feels now that he doesn't have to explain himself all over again.

"These things will take time," Jerome says.

John sighs heavily, rubbing the tension from his temple. "I am not known for my patience, Pastor."

Jerome's response is a deep bark of a laugh, equal parts humor and exasperation. "Ain't that the truth," he chuckles, smacking John's arm hard promptly before putting a good six feet back between them. "I'll do what I can for anyone who comes to me," he says, crossing his arms. "Eventually, I'm going to... need your help. They are going to need your help. I want that time to happen before Joseph makes another move." Any levity in his voice dissipates as he grimly reminds John, "It's only a matter of time before he learns you're here with us. I don't think he'll let that lie."

Briefly rubbing his knuckles, John casts his gaze towards the sky above, as if there might be some revelation to be had in the atmosphere. "I know," he says at last. "I can only hope he's disappointed enough in my survival to be satisfied with my cowardice."

It looks as though Jerome wants to say something, but he refrains, shaking his head briefly. "We can certainly hope," he says uncertainly. "Now, I think it might be best if we head back."

John can't help but suspect that Jerome doesn't want him to linger in the church any more than he already has. Still, he's right — nobody said this was meant to be a long trip, and John could use the ride to think.

It's only once he steps through the front doors that he realizes how much cooler and quieter the church had been than the rest of the world — there's some loud laughter floating in the wind from the bar, and the air comes as a blast of warm wind that nearly takes John's hat off before he can put it back on. From where he stands on the steps, John can see Nick and Kim by the truck, talking to a handful of people who John may or may not have personally attacked. Should he wait? None of them will appreciate his presence, even if Nick and Kim appreciate the work he does. It might be better for everyone if he lets the crowd clear.

Jerome's hand is heavy on John's shoulder. "No use avoiding them forever," he says, applying just enough force to encourage John to push forward. "Redemption doesn't happen by sitting around and waiting for it."

None of the townsfolk acknowledge John's presence, even when a few call out greetings to Jerome. Kim looks mildly irritated when she glances at him, which is probably because he walked off without mentioning his plans.

Nick, on the other hand, only seems relieved to see John arrive. "Great, you're back," he says, genuinely enough that some of the townsfolk seem scandalized by it. "You ready to head home?"

John doesn't know how to handle the words. He can hardly explain his reaction to them, unable to fully grasp the sensation of warmth that comes from such a simple sentiment. There's only one word that comes to mind, lighting up in his mind like a marquee, a sentiment genuinely given for once in his life even as he struggles to hide it.

"Yes," he says. "I'm ready."

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

[gizkasparadise]

Kdrama review: Vagabond

Master Kdrama rec list.

Series: vagabond Episodes: 16 (14 of 16 aired so far) Genres: Intrigue, action/adventure, SADNESS, drama/tragedy, J U S T I C E, thriller, romance Spoilers in the Review: first episode/basic premise If You Like, You’ll Like: the guardians/lookout!, Taking The Law Into Your Own Hands, four brothers, gu family book, just between lovers/rain or shine, I Lived Bitch, lee seung gi playing yet another wannabe action star that has to run all the time, lee seung gi playing yet another character in love with suzy bae, wholesome high fives, having to run really fast as the bullets go put put ting ting ting behind you, PARKOUR 

Rank: 10/10

“we didn’t die! we didn’t fucking die! high five!!”

-

ok let’s get this out of the way:

do i understand any of the political plot? i do not. is it easy for me to keep track of various Machinations? no i have no idea what’s happening 9 times out of 10. could most of this be solved by singular phone calls? probably. why the hell is a vagabond?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[puts on aviators]

i don’t give a fuck about all that

premise [SPOILERS for first ep, cw child death]

cha dal gun is a stuntman and martial artist who is raising his nephew after the death of his brother. he has such a signature look in the flashbacks:

a look

he’s not the best in terms of success, but he loves his nephew a lot and does what he can. he teaches his nephew martial arts, and his nephew makes a Super Elite Child Tae Kwon Do Team that pays for him to attend a Diplomatic Tae Kwon Do match in morocco. idk why diplomacy is resting on children’s small fighting shoulders, but okay. 

dal gun’s entire life spirals when his nephew’s plane to morocco unexpectedly crashes, killing everyone on board. Evidence emerges that makes him suspect a cover up, which eventually involves...

go hae ri, a rookie intelligence agent who is not so great at her job. the majority of her coworkers dont expect much from her because they’re awful. hae ri wants to continue her steady government position without obstacles but that doesn’t work when dal gun decides to

P U N C H

his way to 

J U S T I C E

-

main characters

cha dal gun

former stuntman trying to get by turned vigilante roof hopper. he will make you cry. following the death of his nephew, he’ll do Whatever It Takes to uncover the political conspiracy and government cover up surrounding the mysterious plane crash. for justice.

lowkey trying out to be an assassin’s creed player character. does push-ups upside down and shirtless because sbs producers know what they’re about. doesn’t smile much but when he does the lighting on the show increases 17%. he lived, bitch

go hae ri

rookie agent who doesn’t do combat missions. she spends a couple eps Avoiding the Call, but once she gets going she cannot and will not be stopped. brains to dal gun’s brawn. the daughter of a heroic marine who died saving lives, she wants to do the right thing for justice

her hair is so excellent because it’s full of secrets. over sharer. does not know when to recognize that someone has a crush on her. doesn’t think enough of herself. very concerned about people’s dal gun well-being. has the code name elsa? like from frozen?? why???

ki tae woong

a senior at the national intelligence service and you know he’s By the Book because he’s like 1 of 2 people that habitually wears a tie to work. but he also has the Is He A Second Lead? Hair Part so that lets you know he’s actually soft at heart. capable and super cool under pressure, he also, you guessed it, has a sense for justice. 

the blue to dal gun’s red. will do what’s right and if you don’t do what’s right he will scold you for it or be Grimly Disapproving. has the vibe of an intelligence agent who actually submits the paperwork on time in triplicate

some support characters selected by how much they are my favorites

park gwang deok

this man will make you cry. because justice.

gong hwa sook

hae ri’s bff who also works at the national intelligence service. im sure they said what her actual job is at one point, but she’s basically the one who squints at surveillance footage and Finds The Hidden Clue after Enlarging The Image. ride or die, will try to protect you from shame (for justice)

lee jessica / jessica lee

im sure you immediately know who this woman is based on the all-white pantsuit. jessica works for a Company of War that is seeking to get a government contract for providing fighter planes. mmwhatchasay. screams into cellphones a lot while never putting her arms into the sleeves of her designer jackets. has no sense for justice!!

lily

an assassin/mercenary who (gasp) also has a low (low) key sense of justice. is hired by jessica for Reasons. i love her so much. i need more lily in the remaining episodes.

Drawbacks.

does it always make sense? to be honest i could not even tell you a yes or no here

there are many interchangeable evil men in suits

people complain about suzy bae (hae ri)’s acting but honestly i enjoy it so w/e

Reasons to Watch.

THE GRIEVING FAMILY MEMBERS OF THE VICTIMS OF THE PLANE CRASH. one thing vagabond does really well is remember that this isn’t just dal gun’s loss. several family members have important roles in the activism for justice and lmao they make me cry. i cry so much at this show. it’s very human and reminds me of how trauma is addressed in just between lovers/rain or shine

action scenes!!!! it’s all off the fucking chain. like. the production value is so high for this show you can almost see SBS execs figuring out how many subway sandwich scenes need to go into the next drama they write

the mains!!! all three are so great and good and excellent. dal gun and hae ri have some awesome character development throughout -- hae ri especially

the romance between dal gun and hae ri is incredibly sweet and fluffy despite the intense situations they’re in

dal gun is Very Aware that hae ri is Attractive and does a lot of awkward throat clearing while hae ri is just like DID YOU EAT TODAY

Final Thoughts.

power moves! things that make me cry! slow motion action sequences for the aesthetic! battle/power couple! and of course

J U S T I C E

#vagabond #vagabond sbs #lee seung gi #bae suzy #suzy bae #J U S T I C E #gizka does kdrama #IT'S ON NETFLIX

[lothirielswanmarvel]

Chapter 1 of Avengers: Love and Lightning

Love interest: Thor (+ a Peter Quill love triangle later introduced in the series)

“Vision, what's next on the list?”

“Blueberries, sir—boss—tiny man with lots of money,” Vision stuttered as we walked on the aisle. Tony Stark, famous billionaire and world-saver, sat in the shopping cart that I pushed, munching on an open box of pocky.

“Tiny Man better not squish my M&Ms,” Rhodey muttered. Every now and then, Rhodey would reach out and steady himself against the edge of the cart. The metal casts that encased his legs were bulky, and I couldn't imagine how irritating they were. I noticed Vision wince every time Rhodey stopped to gather himself.

I sighed. My family had gone through a divorce recently (and you can imagine how crappy that was, given Director Nick Fury was practically the priest that united the match). The Avengers had separated, leaving all parties in broken pieces. All of the people I cared about in my incredibly tiny yet fulfilling social circle were in pain. How was someone like me, an introvert with zero superpowers, supposed to fix that?

“Oh! Can we pick up some cucumbers?” Shuri asked. Her voice was light and had a hint of an accent to it. She wore bright colors and had a chipper air to her. Sometimes, I swore she was a character from an anime brought to life.  

“No,” T’Challa said sternly.

Our group took up the entire aisle, and as we slowly inched towards the end, I daydreamed about the book I had stashed under my bed in the Compound. But I forced myself out of my comfort zone, more than a regular amount: I felt like they needed me. And I honestly cared too much to forsake any of the Avengers right now.

“Ms. Angie, can I have some cucumbers please?” Shuri turned to me with a polite smile on her face.

I blinked. “You’re the princess of an entire continent. I'm pretty sure I have no say here.”

“Sure you do, Ms. Angie,” Peter Parker, another random kid that Tony adopted off the street, raced up to our party. He stuffed a bunch of doughnuts in our cart. Tony nodded his approval, “ ‘Atta boy. Now go steal the bananas by the ‘kids get free snacks’ sign.”

“Don't listen to him, Peter. Tony can go by himself,” I said. “And what do you mean, I have a say?”

Peter shrugged. “Well, you’re an adult, right? You’re old enough to drink, that's pretty old.”

I stopped pushing the cart abruptly and gaped at Tiny Man 2.0. “Wait, hold on a minute, did you just call me old?”

“You read books all the time,” Shuri replied.

“You always prefer your free time in solitude,” Vision interjected.

“And you look…” Peter trailed off as he studied my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tony making cutting motions with his hands.

“You look, uh,” Peter swallowed. “You look really young. I mean, you dated Thor and he's like a thousand years old. You're practically dating the elderly.”

“Woah, that is not cool, man,” Rhodey shook his head.

“We need to work on how you talk to women,” Tony told Parker. Then he turned in the cart to glance at me, and cowered behind a jar of Nutella. In the background, T’Challa started hitting his head on a box of cereal.

I sucked in a breath as I processed all of this information. “Okay, a few points to be made here: I am a young woman in the prime of my life.”

“Who radiates youth and beauty,” T’Challa offered.

I continued, trying not to blush, “Right...er, thanks. Number two: I never dated Thor. If I wanted to date the elderly, I’d call up Bucky in Wakanda. Last thing,”

I stared down Vision, Peter, Shuri, and Tony. “if I am the adult, that means you are the child.”

I continued down the aisle, tugging Tony along in the cart. “Rhodey, pick up some Minute Maid juice boxes for the kids.”

“But I like Juicy Juice more…” Parker whined.

“Tough!” I turned around the corner, and crashed carts with someone. I winced at the sound. Tony squirmed in the metal basket, “Hey—oh, they visited the liquor section.”

Tony reached out to steal the pack of beer and yelped when three long blades came before his hand.

“I’m so sorry! Hi, Logan,” I said, facing most of the staff of the X-Men. Professor Charles Xavier was sitting in the cart, giving Tony a disapproving look. Erik Lensherr pushed the cart without even touching the handle, who offered an unfriendly sneer to Vision. Hank McCoy was nearby, studying the shopping list. Sometimes he glanced up at me and quickly looked back down at the slip of paper.

“Our deepest apologies, Ms. Green,” Charles wore a friendly smile when he met my gaze. “Do excuse us. Mister Wade Wilson has been draining our supply of snacks for the students, so we’re here to pick up more biscuits.”

“That's british for crackers,” Hank McCoy translated.

“They don't need to know our life story, bub,” Logan grunted.

“Right. We must be off,” Charles waved as his cart started moving by itself. “Good day to you, Avengers.”

Erik sneered at Vision as they passed. “Next time you touch my daughter, remember: I can control metal.”

The group marched off to raise havoc in the bakery department.

“The other side of the pond is crazy,” Rhodey remarked, watching them go.

Tony held up a beer in victory, “Ugh, why is this warm? We’re getting some Aviation American Gin.”

I started pushing Tony again. Both him and the doughnuts had some weight to them. “No alcohol around kids.”

“But mom!”

“No dice,” I said. Our group kept walking. My mind wandered back to what Peter mentioned: he thought Thor and I were dating. We were intimate—I mean, we were close, not in a romantic way, but...he always came up to me first when he returned to Earth. Thor sent me exotic flowers from Asgard sometimes, when he was away—he called me his “earthen goddess” on the tag, and it always made me feel all warm and tingly.

Thor and I had struck up a system while he was away, too: to make sure he was alive, we sent letters through Heimdall for each other. I felt bad bothering the poor Watcher of the Nine Realms, but at least I knew Thor was okay. He was off doing space stuff, and I did my earth stuff: I just...I missed him sometimes.

Only when fiery sparks filled the air did I return to reality (only Thor could make me forget what planet I was on). Doctor Stephen Strange appeared before us.

“Hey,” I was the first to recognize him. I probably knew him better than everyone else; my health history wasn't...pristine.

Tony stuck his tongue out at him like a five year-old. “What, you got tired of your blue telephone box?”

Peter and Shuri gasped. “Can I be your companion?”

“I asked first! I got dibs! Ha!”

“No fair! You didn't even get your Hogwarts letter!”

Stephen smirked, and despite Tony, leaned on the front of the cart, holding my gaze. “Hello. Food shopping with the family?”

“And pursuing other condiments, including feminine hygiene products and alcoholic beverages,” Vision added.

I plastered a smile on my face. “Just an ordinary day living among superheroes. Very boring.”

Shuri nodded vigorously. “It's true! All Ms. Angie does is sit on the couch and play video games and cry over made-up people. There is nothing interesting going on in her life.”

I gripped the handle to the cart tightly, silently vowing never to have children. Stephen’s cheekbones were sharp and taut like they were held up by internal wiring. He had a regalness to him. I was one of the few around that he actually joked with, “I disagree. I think there are plenty of interesting things about you.”

I made a face at him, wondering if this was a hint to a new health crisis—or even worse—an attempt to flirt with me. Suddenly T’Challa was right next to me. “What is your motive in this visit, Strange? Perhaps you have run out of money, and cannot afford basic necessities.”

I groaned at the two of them. “Please play nice. I think I’ve finally reached the temptation to buy Aviation American Gin. Tony, direct me.”

“Yay!” Tony pointed Logan’s stolen beer bottle towards the end of the aisle. I followed my soon to-be tipsy compass.

Stephen still lingered in our group. I glanced over at him, “If there’s anything you’d like…”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” He said.

“Angeline, I think you are too kind to the misfortunate,” T’Challa mused.

“Guys, please. I get enough bickering as it is: I'm surrounded by four kids,” I motioned again across our group. “Let’s just be nice, and enjoy Tony’s black card.”

We reached the end of the aisle and a curse flew from my mouth. I crashed carts with someone else.

“I'm so sorry—” I trailed off when I looked up at the person.

“Intruders!” Scott Lang raised his nerf gun from his seat in the shopping cart. “Make way, people! It's the White Jets to our Latino Sharks!”

Steve Rogers sighed. “Scott, you have to stop watching musicals with Cassie.”

#avengers #mcu #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel #xmen #thor #thor odinson #thor odison x reader #tony stark #natasha romanoff #shuri #peter parker #peter quill #stephen strange #doctor strange #tchalla #wanda maximoff #steve rogers #scott lang #clint barton #james rhodes #sam wilson #bucky barnes #deadpool #wade wilson #god of thunder #vision #guardians of the galaxy #logan howlett

[theactualpilot]

Do the evens on both posts, 😘

2:Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel? Yes, who doesn’t?

4:Have you ever stolen a street sign before? No but I stole a cone before

6:Do you cut out coupons but then never use them? I do neither

8:Do you have freckles? I don’t think so. maybe one or two but not a lot

10:What is your biggest pet peeve? When people don’t let me finish talking I’d say

12:Have you ever peed in the woods? Yeah a ton, I love camping (also when i get drunk)

14:Do you ever dance even if theres no music playing? Not normally

16:How many people have you slept with this week? Zero

18:What is your Song of the week? not really of the week, but I’ve been listening to a lot of songs by Old Dominion recently

20:Do you still watch cartoons? Yeah sometimes

22:Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some? Under my house I think

24:What do you dip a chicken nugget in? BBQ or Honey Mustard

26:What movies could you watch over and over and still love? Saving Private Ryan, or Curious Case of Benjamin Button

28:Were you ever a boy/girl scout? Boyscout

30:When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? A LOOONG time ago (anybody wanna be pen pals?)

32:Ever gotten a speeding ticket? Nope! All warnings lmao

34:Favorite kind of sandwich? Turkey melt

36:What is your usual bedtime? Anywhere from 1 - 3

38:When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween? One year I went as anakin Skywalker

40:How many languages can you speak? Fluenty? One. learning? Italian and Russian

42:Which are better legos or lincoln logs? Legos gtfoh

44:Who is better…Leno or Letterman? I don’t watch either so idk

46:Are you afraid of heights? God yes lmao

48:Do you sing in the shower? Not normally. Maybe if I’m home alone

50:Ever used a gun? Mutliple times yes

52:Do you think musicals are cheesy? It depends on the musical. I love Hamilton

  54:Ever eat a pierogi? Yes theyre god damn amazing

56:Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? Astronaut, Pilot, at one point I wanted to be a car wash owner

58:Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? Yes

60:Wear slippers? Nope

62:What do you wear to bed? Boxers

64:Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? Target, fuck walmart

66:Cheetos Or Fritos? Fritos

68:Ever hear of the group Tres Bien? Nope

70:Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? Not Really, maybe something to do with aviation

72:Ever won a spelling bee? Nope

74:Own any record albums? nope

76:Regularly burn incense? Nope

78:Who would you like to see in concert? Old Dominion for sure

80:Hot tea or cold tea? Cold, and Sweet

82:Sugar or snickerdoodles? Por Que no los dos?

84:Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? Yes

86:DJ or band, at a wedding? DJ

88:Ever have plastic surgery? No?

90:Can you knit or crochet? Nope

92:Do you want to get married? I think so? I’ve heard horror stories from pilots so I’m scared, but I think to do

94:Who was your HS crush? I had a couple, a couple good friends that I’m still friends with

96:Do you have kids? I do not

98:Whats your favorite color? Blue

2. where do you see yourself living in 10 years? Seattle I hope or SLC

4. has your aesthetic changed at all in the last year? No, I don’t think it ever will

6. name three books that changed your life. Harry Potter Series, 11/22/63, and Cell by Stephen King

8. what three songs can you not get enough of right now? Hotel Key by Old Dominion, Ikuyo by KYLE, and Song for Another Time by Old Dominion

10. state an unpopular opinion that you have. Oh shit, I’m not sure, I don’t think I hold many unpopular opinions. Maybe, past 70 you must take a driving refresher every two years, and they can take your license away if they feel you’re unsafe

12. describe your ideal date? Go to a bar, talk and get to know each other, maybe go for a walk afterwards, hopefully lots of laughing. I’m pretty low key with first dates honestly

14. if you could have dinner with anybody, who would it be? My dad probably

16. what’s your favorite instrument? I don’t think I have one? Maybe Piano or Sax

18. what’s a topic that you wish you knew more about? Politics and current world matters. I’m unfortunately kinda ignorant when it comes to that and it makes making an informed decision hard

20. favorite fruit & vegetable? I looooove pears

22. favorite beverage? toss up between coffee, beer, and sweet tea

24. are you reading a book at the moment? what do you like about it? I’m not :( I should really start

26. what’s your favorite season & why? Autumn, its gorgeous, slightly chilly, i love flannels, halloween is a gorgeous holiday, I could go on.

28. what do you do when you need to de-stress? Deep breaths mainly. I try to step back and take a moment to gather myself

30. name an experience in your life you wish you could do over? College 100%

32. what’s your favorite weather? sunny without a cloud in the sky, or rainy

34. describe a time that you were brave. When my dad passed, or that one time I almost drowned

36. do you have a place you go to when you feel stressed/sad? Not really

38. what time is it where you are? 3:05 PM

40. got any summer plans? Summers almost over???

42. favorite film genre? Thriller, or Sci-Fi

44. describe your body without using any negative adjectives. Hairy, somewhat fit (depending on the day), nice to look at (I think)

46. are you on good terms with your parents? Yes

48. do you typically look for a partner with the same traits as you or someone to complement yours? Honestly, both. you can’t be completely opposite but you can’t be the exact same either

50. put your music on shuffle and list the first 10 songs to play. oh god this sucks okay

Gortoz A Ran by Denez Prigent

That Would Be Enough by Lin Manuel Miranda

I know him by Lin Manuel Miranda

American Idiot (Live) by Green Day

All Signs Point to Lauderdale by ADTR

We are Young, by Fun

The world As we Know It by Scary Kids Scaring Kids

Why Don’t We Just Dance by Josh Turner

Toxicity by System of a Down

Rolling in the Deep by Adele

Thanks for the ask, love :)

[bluboothalassophile]

Stories of the Batfamily + extended family/friend's attempts to get jason and raven together to the point that they have maybe? Group chats , monthly meetups or get togethers to devise plans of attack (matchmaking) without targeted people knowing to the point it turns into a batfamily bonding experience 👪✨ Although its clear that jason and raven are naturally going to be together on their own time when they are ready, i wanna see other methods the batfamily has used before jayrae happened

Hello,

This is sounding like fun antics, to which I should build on… I like the way you think. Expect more of the Batfamily shenanigans to ensue!

Keeping the Peace…

Bruce valiantly tried to stay OUT of meddling in hischildren’s lives. TRIED being the operative word here. There were waymore of them than him, and his wife did not help matters. Selina was easily thebiggest instigator of shenanigans in his house and had been since they werekids. So, aside from being out numbered and out gunned, he was trying harder atbeing a parent and not a meddler. Again, easier said than done.

No matter, Bruce was in a board meeting, with the heads hisnewest acquisition, Jetsons Aviation, which was currently the leadingcompletely earth-based company leading in space exploration. George Jetson andhis daughter Judy, with their lead engineer, Dominique Blake, sat there as theyfinished the contract signing. George was a rather plain, lean, redheaded man;his daughter, Judy had platinum blonde hair and looked about Tim’s age, andDominique Blake was a vivacious redhead. All three were sitting in apprehensionas the contract was handed to him to sign.

“Father!” a voice shouted, and Damian burst into the room. “Idemand that you help us!”

Cass, Tim and Stephanie all peaked around the corner andBruce sighed as he leaned in his seat.

“I told you he was in a meeting!” Tim hissed.

“I tried to stop the gremlin!” Stephanie snapped.

Cass beamed at him and Bruce smiled slightly at his daughteras Damian took up his line of sight. Damian puffed up his chest, put his handson his hips; everything about that just screamed Talia al Ghul as Damian glaredchallengingly at him.

“Damian,” Bruce sighed. “George Jetson, this is my son, Damian,Damian I am in an important meeting.” Bruce saw the bemused look on George’sface.

“This is more important,” Damian stated in a huff.

“Then it will wait, until after I’ve finished my meeting andI take you and your siblings to lunch to discuss this important topic,” Brucecountered.

Damian opened his mouth to protest.

“Bye dad!” Cass smiled as she grabbed the neck of Damian’s shirtand dragged him after her. Bruce sighed as he turned back to the trio who werelooking ready to burst into laughter. Signing the document they finished thediscussion of the merger, and Bruce asked Lucius to d an audit of the companybefore standing and assuring George that he would be back and would like totalk more about the funding needed for the company.

Bruce was bemused to be greeted by Tim, Tammy, Stephanie,Cass and Damian. Damian was scowling at having been dismissed, Tim had his handentwined with Tammy’s while Cass and Stephanie were both having a vibrant conversationabout… waffles?

“What was so important Damian?” Bruce asked as he and his kidsstarted down the street.

“I must insist we buy the Kiss Cam at the Play Offs game!” Damianstated.

“What?”

“He’s been on this since yesterday, sir,” Tammy said.

“And why do we need to buy the KissCam?” Bruce asked drylyas his son walked beside him.

“Jason is being an imbecile, I saw him with that Rose woman.It is not allowed,” Damian huffed. Bruce sighed then.

Jason was a complicated matter still, but it was mostlyamusing when Damian saw Jason with Rose. Which had happened after the weddingwhen Jason had crossed paths with Ravager. Bruce still remember cringing as thetwo toppled off WE Tower, and Jason kissed Rose until last moment when he escapedthe death fall, Rose a step behind him the entire time. That night Bruce andthe family had kind of gotten a front row seat without distractions or interferencewhat Rose and Jason were really like. And it had landed in one of Jason’s safehouses. Bruce remembered because he had come by the next morning mainly to makesure Jason was alive, only to find a naked, pissed off Rose chained to theheater as Jason ducked out the window to escape Rose’s wrath.

“Jason is free to do as he pleases,” Bruce reminded hischild.

“I told him that,” Tim piped up.

“The gremlin thinks we need to save Jason from Rose,” Stephaniegiggled.

“JayRae,” Cass chimed up. “Hot dogs,” Cass pointed at astreet vendor. Bruce pulled out his wallet and handed her the bills as shedragged Tim, Tammy and Stephanie after her for hot dogs.

“Jason is a moron,” Damian huffed sourly.

“Jason is also an adult free to make his own decisions,”Bruce reminded his son.

“Bad ones.”

“Damian,” Bruce sighed.

“You are concerned for our well being as your children, andas you are our father, even if Jason is a colossal imbecile. He can no longerbe trusted to make decisions about his love life,” Damian stated.

Okay, those were valid points, but the same could be saidabout Tim or Cass or Duke, and Bruce didn’t interfere with their lives. And hehad seen what meddling did with Barbara and Dick, so he didn’t see how thiscould even end well. However, Damian was persistent, and Jason was no doubt awareof Damian’s incessant pushing for him to get together with Raven, so Brucecould honestly see no harm in amusing Damian. Jason and Raven would sort it out.And it’d be a moment of peace.

“Fine.” Bruce submitted to keep a moment of peace. Hischildren were weird regarding Jason and Raven. But who was he to judge, so longas they weren’t at each other’s throats he’d let them set Jason up with Raven.Honestly, this was the most civil Tim and Damian had been since Damian’s arrival.

Internally Bruce pleaded for Raven and Jason’s forgivenessfor throwing them under the bus.

“You see reason, good.” Damian huffed.

Bruce saw peace. Not reason. But for now he would allow his sonthe delusion that he was in on these antics to keep the peace in his house. Solong as Selina didn’t get in the antics he couldn’t see the harm.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Jason sat up when he felt the hairs on the back of his neckstand up. He didn’t like that feeling, something was up…

“Jay get your paranoid ass down here! I need a shower andLian needs food!” Roy shouted.

“I’m coming! Calm your tits!” Jason shouted back as he stoodand jogged down the steps of his ware house to where Lian was fighting Roy tonot get in her high chair for the mushy greens.

“You take her, I have to be at the site in twenty,” Roy huffedshoving Lian at him before running off.

“You clearly annoyed your daddy, good girl, for that wegonna have peaches for lunch!” Jason smiled as Lian squealed in delight. Kidwas kind of growing on him.

#bluboothalassophile #fanfic #one #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #tammy fox #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #george jetson #judy jetson #jayrose #roy harper #jason todd #lian harper #hopes for a bastard #hopes for a bastard universe

[apocryphalfemme]

Solum Sonus

The successor to my previous fic Veritas Revelata.  Happy (end of) Pharmercy Week 2018!

Please enjoy below the cut, and see you in the air.

“In fact, when she thinks about it, reasons as to why she shouldn’t be in a relationship begin to pile up.  Orphaned before she began her education.  Jumping so many grades at a time that she was in med school before she hit puberty.  Abused and manipulated by the monster that Overwatch became.  Scarred by a toxic amour who inflicted wounds that still haven’t fully healed.  Scorching her soul and breaking her body to heal others.  Thanks to the hellish cocktail that constitutes her life experience, Angela’s interpersonal skills are about as developed as those of a cinderblock.  Fareeha doesn’t deserve to have to put up with this kind of mess.  Maybe…  Maybe they shouldn’t be together.

The thought shakes Angela to her core.”

Or

While awaiting the solider’s return to Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Angela considers the nature of her relationship with Fareeha.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Ti-

-ck.

“Verdammt.”  The clock is broken.  And Angela is losing her mind.  Every five seconds, the accursed thing hangs for just a moment too long.  It’s absolutely infuriating.  

In truth however, it’s been broken for several weeks now.  Usually she’s so focused on her work that the sound it makes is little more than background noise.  Plus, who pays attention to analog anymore?  Athena keeps time accurate to the zeptosecond displayed on the holopads throughout the Watchpoint.  But that’s besides the point.  For some reason, Angela has not for the life of her been able to ignore the noise today.

Of course, today is no ordinary day.  Today, Fareeha is finally returning to Gibraltar from an extended deployment to Nunavut, Canada.  She’s been gone for two months, two weeks, and four days.  Angela has kept very precise track.  She did try to let the time pass of its own accord, but… well.

Call it a scientific foible.  Call it a neurosis.  Call it whatever you want.   Angela has been eagerly counting down the days to Fareeha’s homecoming this entire time.  Part of her can’t wait to hear all about the progress that’s been made in the frozen north of the Americas.  Part of her just can’t wait to see Fareeha again.  Another, more primal part of her wants to press her girlfriend up against the wall and just-

Wait.

Girlfriend?

Are they… girlfriends?

Angela slouches back in her chair, pinching her brow.  This is the other reason she’s so eager to have Fareeha back home.  Because a mere week and a half after Fareeha first professed her love to Angela, Winston had sent her halfway around the world.  Angela had been livid.  Fareeha needed at least a month to recover and acclimatize to her new prosthetic leg.  But mainly, she was angry because they’d never had a chance to… talk.

Oh, sure, they’ve called each other during their separation, almost every day.  But they have yet to take the time to discuss the nature of their relationship and where it’s going to go.  Especially in light of Fareeha’s confession.  To be fair though, neither of them are particularly good at this sort of thing, even under normal circumstances.  Fareeha, charged with the burden of command, is always so very busy marshaling their forces, or organizing briefings, or allocating resources.  And Angela is no better.  She practically lives in her lab.  Sometimes literally.  Though she’s now begun to make an effort to venture out into the world, usually with Fareeha, almost all of her time is still consumed with the fabrication of the pico-structure of new strands of nanite, or the refinement of older surgical impedimenta, or endless experiment documentation, or… something.  There’s always something.  So whenever the two of them are alone together, they’re loath to do anything but simply be; to exist in tandem away from the pressures of responsibility.  There had been months, months of skirting around what they meant to each other before Fareeha’s near-death experience had forced them to broach the topic.  So while they very clearly are something, Angela’s not sure either of them knows what.

And even then, what is that something?  What exactly is the foundation of their relationship?  Fareeha has made it very clear that she’s in love with Angela, desperately so.  Does she love Fareeha in return?  She thinks so.  But the thing is, Angela isn’t good at relationships, she knows this for a fact.  The only other romantic connection she’s ever had was…  Well.  Frankly, it was the relationship equivalent of dumpster fire, and certainly not a confidence builder in terms of her ability to have a healthy relationship with a partner.  The last thing she wants to do is hurt Fareeha by jumping into something that she isn’t prepared for.  

In fact, when she thinks about it, reasons as to why she shouldn’t be in a relationship begin to pile up.  Orphaned before she began her education.  Jumping so many grades at a time that she was in med school before she hit puberty.  Abused and manipulated by the monster that Overwatch became.  Scarred by a toxic amour who inflicted wounds that still haven’t fully healed.  Scorching her soul and breaking her body to heal others.  Thanks to the hellish cocktail that constitutes her life experience, Angela’s interpersonal skills are about as developed as those of a cinderblock.  Fareeha doesn’t deserve to have to put up with this kind of mess.  Maybe…  Maybe they shouldn’t be together.

The thought shakes Angela to her core.

She also knows that’s the last thing she wants.  Even if she knew for certain that leaving Fareeha would be the best thing for the soldier, Angela’s not sure she could do it.  Fareeha is always there for her, always dropping everything to help Angela through the fire.  It’s selfish, she knows but…  Angela moans quietly, holding her head in her hands.  For ten and a half weeks these thoughts have whirled unceasingly through her mind.  On some level, she doesn’t even want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to be thinking about this in the first place.  Honestly, all she really wants is…

Fareeha.  What she wants is Fareeha.  When she wakes, when she dreams, at the forefront of her mind is always, always Fareeha.

Why do they need labels?  Why can’t they just be together?

Enervated, she checks the time, and jumps when she reads the digits on the holopad.  03:45 AM.  Fareeha’s flight is slated to touchdown in fifteen minutes.  She glares at the report in front of her.

“Screw this,” she mutters.

Pulling her lab coat over her shoulders, she’s out the door without a second glance at her shambolic desk.  She can file that report later and Athena can kill the lights.  Angela’s got somewhere she needs to be.

Winding through the empty halls of the Watchpoint, she decides to push her perturbation to the side, if only for the time being.  For Fareeha’s sake.  The soldier’s probably exhausted and the last thing they should do at this hour is have a conversation about the nature of their relationship.  So when Fareeha gets off the dropship, Angela will greet her with a warm, yet calm demeanor.  Maintain composure.  Perhaps invite her back to her quarters and treat her to a well deserved hot meal, if she feels up to it.

Eventually, Angela pushes through the industrial double doors to the landing pad.  She hugs herself for warmth, shivering as the cold night air of Gibraltar nips through her clothing.  Why the hell do they make lab coats so ridiculously thin?  She looks at her watch.  Arrival in T-minus 2 minutes.  Surrounded by slumbering aviation machinery, Angela waits anxiously.  

All at once, a dropship roars overhead, swinging around in the sky before commencing touch down.  They’re here.  The engines thrum thunderously, whipping the air as the craft sinks to the landing pad, causing her coat to billow wildly behind her.  She starts to fidget with the high neck of her sweater, and slaps her hand when she realizes she’s doing so.

Remember.  Composure.  For Fareeha’s sake.

The colossal VTOL thrusters proceed to cool off and the loading ramp begins to extend.  Angela scans the people disembarking, trying to catch a glimpse of golden loops braided in sable hair.  First come the team members who were deployed.  They’re clearly exhausted and quickly filter off the landing pad to bed.  Then the freight unloads itself, running on automated protocols.  And finally comes… the flight crew.  Laughing, joking after a long haul across the Pacific.  They wave cheerfully in her direction, but quickly depart when the pilot suggests they go get drunk in town.  

The landing pad falls quiet.  

Angela’s poise falters.  

Where is she?

And like an answer to a prayer, Captain Amari abruptly appears at the top of the ramp hauling her oversized duffle bag, yawning into the back of her hand.  She’s here.  She’s home.  Angela tries to call out, but her voice sticks in her throat as she stares for the first time in weeks at the strapping woman sauntering down the ramp.

But when Fareeha catches sight of her, the soldier falls stock-still.  Their eyes lock.  For several long, heavy moments, neither of them move.  And then Fareeha is letting her duffle bag fall to the ground, starting to sprint in Angela’s direction.  Angela’s composure flies out the god-damn window.  Suddenly, she’s running across the tarmac, in her heels no less, to meet Fareeha halfway.

They collide solidly, arms wrapping tightly around each other.  She buries her head in Fareeha’s chest and feels strong arms curl further around her back, pulling her close.  Warmth floods Angela’s body, eradicating the chill.  Silence reigns, interrupted only by shaking breaths.  

Until Fareeha finally speaks, tremulous voice muffled in Angela’s hair.

“I missed you.”

Angela almost laughs, but emotion chokes her.

“I missed you.”

Again, silence falls.  

Well.  Not quite silence.  

In Angela’s ears, Fareeha’s heart beats powerfully.  It grounds her like an anchor, focusing her in the here and now.  The worry, the doubt, the fear melts away, immaterial.  Suddenly, clarity strikes Angela like lightning.  She knows what she has to say.  She knows exactly what to say.  Gently, she leans back in Fareeha’s embrace before reaching up to take the woman’s head in her hands.  She gazes into kind ochre eyes and speaks, quiet but unafraid.

“Fareeha, I want to be with you, but I don’t know how.  I’ve never… Never before have I felt about someone the way I feel about you.  Never so strongly.  It scares me a little, and I would be lying if I said I knew how a future together would play out.  I am far, far from perfect.  It will not be easy.  But I do want to be with you.  If you’ll have me.”

Fareeha doesn’t even hesitate.  In lieu of speaking, she pulls Angela close once more, the taller woman leaning down to kiss her fervently.  It’s exactly the answer Angela had hoped for.

Minutes pass before she breaks away to breathlessly speak.

“Now come to bed.  You must be exhausted.”

Fareeha’s eyes twinkle mischievously.

“Why Angela, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were propositioning me,” she teases softly.

Angela snorts and lightly cuffs Fareeha on the chest.

“You are shameless, you know that?”

The soldier goes to retrieve her duffle, calling over her shoulder,

“I only do it because you’re cute when you blush!”

Angela feels herself redden, a fact that has Fareeha grinning when she returns to wrap an arm around Angela’s shoulders.  She slips her own arm around Fareeha’s waist, and they slowly walk towards the doors to the Watchpoint.

“Fareeha Amari, I swear…”

“Oh you know you love it.”

She’s right.

Angela does love it.  

She loves it all.

She pulls Fareeha a little closer as they walk to try to show her just how much love she feels.  Things may not be perfect.  But with Fareeha by her side, Angela feels at peace.  Finally, at peace.  Together, once more.

#Pharmercy #Pharmercy Week #Pharmercy Week 2018 #Pharah #Mercy #Fareeha Amari #Angela Ziegler #Overwatch #Shipping #Fanfiction #clithroeshewrites #Day Seven #Day Eight #MOAR SAPPHIC GAYNESS

[thelostsmiles]

Chris/10 would recommend ★★★★★

It was riveting, witty, and passionate. 

I highly recommend reading “Gimme Shelter” by @sincewhendoyoucallme-john

However, if it’s late and you have to go to bed soon because you have work, school or any other important thing tomorrow, still read it but know that you will not get the amount of hours you’re accustomed to. I guarantee you will not be able to put it down.

*spoilers*

From the opening line of “the love affair began with salt” comes one of the most memorable Johnlock stories I’ve encountered. It’s a surfing adventure that takes place in the 70s on the beaches of California and Hawaii. Right away, I could feel the warm sands beneath my feet and the sticky ocean breeze on my face.

I’m a fan of The Rolling Stones but “Gimme Shelter” introduced me to songs that I hadn’t heard before. The ones I was familiar with, I now hear them with different more vibrant colours. That’s one thing I really appreciated. The music. I love that the author included a song at the beginning of each chapter. It placed me in the right mood and setting for what was to come. Either by lyrics or melody, each song coordinated very well with the scenes. But just as they mention, if there is only one song you hear throughout, the title song is it. I’d personally include “Time Is On My Side”, “Paint It Black”, “Moonlight Mile”, “Miss You”, and “Wild Horses”. I’m listening to the playlist as I write this and it swells my heart with happiness *thinks about them standing on that cliff in the summer of 1977* :’)

The writing is brilliant. It’s very eloquent and enthralling. They developed Scotty and Johnny into fully formed beings that without a doubt became Sherlock and John in an alternate universe. It had the right amount of description to where I felt like I was there witnessing these two falling in love. I’m not exaggerating. At one point, I picked up my phone to continue and I was confused for a moment. I wasn’t sure which app to open. Netflix? Hulu? Did I mean to turn on the telly? Am I listening to an album? It was implanted into my retinas remarkably vividly. I was sitting at home in the cold fall sweater weather feeling like I was wearing shorts and a tank top while lounging on a beach towel with aviator sunglasses on as I sipped a coolly frosted beer. I was laying there propped up on my one elbow, smiling wide because Sherlock and John were standing under a palm tree being adorable thinking nobody could see them caressing each other but I could. I almost felt like a creeper.

Now that I have given a decent review, here are some of the informal, inappropriate and honest reactions I had while reading.

Sleep? What is that? It’s a little over 159k words. Not enough. No wonder my eyes burn but it’s worth it. It feels like they’re about to melt out of my sockets. To be fair, it could easily also be because of the tears I’ve shed due to how beautiful this is. “I can’t quit you, baby. But I’m gonna have to put you down for a while.” Me towards this art because this is like air. I need more of this ultra high purity grade oxygen.

It’s romantic, erotic, sensual and exciting and I’m not even referring to the smut, albeit that is also incredible. Like the sex they had the morning of their wedding day and how John saw Sherlock looking down at him. One word: soft. The tenderness of the whole story is captivating. It’s giving me 1976% good vibes.

Why would you make Greg this way? It’s intense and I approve. Greg is that best friend anybody would be lucky to have.

Get Off My Cloud. “Obviously.” And there’s the Sherlock Holmes we all know. Scotty wearing these aviator glasses is something else. This gorgeous bastard knows he’s sexy and he knows in this moment Johnny’s mouth is dry. Damn. What a treat to have these two meet and not exactly hit it off well because, yes, the drama. The anticipation is killing me. I’m about to wipe out head first into the 70s. I don’t want to be saved, thankyouverymuch.

I Just Want To See His Face. I think we all can appreciate his solider kink. What a tender child. Lord, I want for this to keep going. It’s so good. But omg noooo, my heart is breaking. I want to crawl in to hold young Scotty in my arms. How dare they do that to his surfboard? I’m mad as hell.

 Street Fighting Man. The great Scotty Holmes wiped out. Ahuh. Sure, Jan. But was there ever any other option? Not when he wants to look into those deep blue eyes again. “Stay the hell away from me!” Oh, Johnny. You have no idea how big of a lie this is.

Under My Thumb. Wow. Scotty really dressed up all fancy to go meet Johnny at his workplace just to return the bullet casing. He would. “Nobody calls me John.” Well, this gorgeous man just did. Let hiiiim (I feel like this is a good nod to your name @sincewhendoyoucallme-john ). Yes, Johnny. Stare into Scotty’s lovely eyes, letting your skin prickle underneath. Train with this beauty. He will show you all there is to know. You two will become pros and live ridiculously happy lives together :))

Time Waits For No One. Johnny talking about the war with Scotty, saying things he’s never said to anyone else is soothing. A bond is forming. Woah, woah. Hold up. That post beach workout shower scene?! What the hell is this?? I am gasping in wonder. It is like a bomb waiting to drop and I’m over here craving it. It was like a slap to the face when those dudes barged in. That was a close one. It all felt illegal. Hot but illegal. Bless you for including it. Their “tents” though. Grade A tents.

Miss You. Johnny’s friends really showed up during their last day of surfing together. Ok but this tension between them is awkward. He’s jealous of Greg!! Ahhhh. Help him. Johnny and Scotty bickering on that flat rock had me on the edge of my seat. I could hear them yelling and now I’m yelling. Strike me with this kind of discourse anytime. As long as it ends with them happy, I’m all for it. Oh my. That CPR kiss? Never have three letters been quite intoxicating. This is what I needed. Very good. Yes, save Johnny Watson, Scotty. Rip his top open and place your huge hands on his chest. Give him the kiss of life.

Time Is On My Side. I cannot breathe. I am laughing and smiling too hard. My face is going to get stuck if I’m not careful. It feels like there are anchor shaped knots in my stomach. My heart is on fire. My throat is swelling to hold on to the blood pulsating through my veins. “You forced me to breathe again.” Ok, but @sincewhendoyoucallme-john now you’re leaving me without air. He whispered THANK GOD. Same Sherlock. Same. John wanting to wake up before the sun because he needs to see Sherlock is exciting. Sherlock telling John that he wouldn’t let him embarrass himself, telling him that he believes in him is pure. Let them eat poke all day. Automatic coffee machine? Obviously. So Sherlock. I demand this whole scene with them on the cliff and in the water after they jump to be transmitted on all television and radio stations internationally. Send it straight to space and blast it into everyone’s mobile phones because this is what it’s all about. This was so romantic :’) Someone please make this into literal food so that I can consume it as all my meals.

Moonlight Mile.  I… Never… Honestly… I just felt this story crawl into the right atrium of my heart and settle deep into the folds of the left ventricle. I have been murdered and resurrected in a matter of one chapter. I changed my mind. This is the purest thing. Their time together like that was deliciously unexpected. Glorious. The way you described it @sincewhendoyoucallme-john You have a gift, my friend. You do. It’s like being able to eat all the tasty desserts in the world without ever getting ill. Like you can’t ever get full so you keep stuffing your face and smiling because it’s so satisfying [insert SNL Emma Stone eating ice cream gif here but in a joyful way].

Paint It Black. I’m going to have to go to the dentist now. You’re giving me a toothache. I’m also screaming because no they didn’t just snog each other behind this shop. Gah. Yes, they did :>

I Can’t Quit You Baby. I’ve never known a pain greater than John having to leave Sherlock to head back to Los Angeles … “leaving Sherlock alone and untouched on the sidewalk, looking like he’d just said goodbye.” Stop it! Stop. Please. I’m despondent and I need medical attention. But he promised and he’s going to keep that promise. I know it because they didn’t just completely devour each other in a sweet embrace crushing their bodies together, bruising their skin and breathing in their very souls for nothing.

Shine A Light. I, too, waited for one hundred and forty seven hours for this moment. That is all.

Dancing With Mr. D. Yes!! You ride that wave, Sherlock. Let the ocean spray massage your back while John’s illuminating smile creates sun rays that shine down on you. Surf like hell, Sherlock Holmes! Now go get your man. “A new tattoo of the memory of John’s touch on his skin.” I’m putting this whole moment in my will to be read aloud.

Heaven. “You coming, captain?” Get your ass out there, John. Your beautiful golden love waits for you. My heart!! I love physics, man. This should be included in every maths course. 

Wild Horses. God, I love this so much. I love it with the passion of 1977 burning suns. I will never be the same. It’s like I threw my own bullet casing out into the distance. The dog tags and the piece from Sherlock’s first surfboard is better than any ring. They’re happy. I’m happy. All Sherlock had to say was “John” and we all understood … John… *floats away* I think that, for me, this was the pièce de résistance. It’s what it all came down to. The way you described what each of them means to one another was fresh and true. It was breathtaking. You truly captured their significance to one another. And isn’t that one of the reasons why we seek out fanfic?

Everything about this is mother hugging fantastic. From the lovely moments between John, Greg, and Molly to the memories between their mothers and to the contagious laughter with Johnny and Scotty. I mean Sherlock. No, I mean Scotty. No! Sherlock. How it transitioned from Johnny and Scotty to John and Sherlock is everything. What a gem.

I thought I was going to read a story that lead up to just the Billabong Championship but, boy, was I wrong. I got so much more. It’s like I was expecting to win the lottery but along the way I also “solved world peace and found eternal life all at once.” That line was perfect, by the way. It started on a high note and ended on an even higher one. It will be forever in my brain riding a big wave in Waimea. I’m thisclose to moving to a piece of paradise on the shore of a private beach in Oahu. 

Oh my literal God. Sweet Jesus above. This is fantastic!!! It’s one of the best things I’ve read and I want it made into a book. One hardcover copy so I can place it in a special section of my library to treasure it dearly as I would any first edition. And then one paperback that I can take with me everywhere I go. I didn’t know I needed this like the salt in the ocean.

So you see, I love this AU Johnlock story. No offense to the infinite stars above and the green earth but this is one of the greatest things to have been created. I send my thanks to Keith Hartman for not letting John die on that beach. I send my love and appreciation to the sky and the sea for crossing that horizon line to melt into one. Above all, I send many more thanks to the author for putting in the time and energy into this. When you see art, read stories or any other form of work in any fandom and if you experience something powerful, whether it’s as easy as a smile or intense like the strings of your heart being pulled, do not hesitate to let the creator know. Having said that, I appreciate you for your creativity and your dedication. Thank you, thank you, thank you @sincewhendoyoucallme-john This is something I’m holding on to forever *makes a leather-bound manuscript to keep in a first-aid emergency kit*

If you’re looking for something new to read, do yourself a favour and check this one out. I am jealous of everyone who reads it for the first time as I wish I could experience that rush again. Reading this was like tasting the most delicious strawberry milkshake with cream on top while listening to the beautiful sound of a conch shell calling out for the attention of the sky and sea to witness the bonding of two amazing people. I will never look at a jellyfish or a plumeria blossom the same way again *turns this whole thing into audio format so I can listen to this diamond certified song over and over again*

The only way I can come to terms with the fact that it’s over is by letting the tears falls down my face.

Chris/10 would recommend

#can you tell i loved it? :)) #I wrote this in an attempt to remember the emotions I experienced while reading it for the first time #gimme shelter #johnlock #I’m going to treasure this always #fic rec #thank god for brilliant fans who give us stories like this #my two cents

[dontshootmespence]

Becoming Real: Omitting the Truth

In this installment of Becoming Real, she has now crossed streams with where she was in The Old and The New. She is 14 years old, in her first year of high school, and has snuck out of the house for a date with Michael LaMontagne. They are trying to see if they would be good together because they’ve been best friends forever. After her dads find out, she asks them for advice. @coveofmemories @the-slytherin-ice-queen @cosmicjennifer

                                                            -----

For weeks now, Diana and Michael had been wondering if there was something more between them. One morning recently, she woke up to the image of kissing Michael LaMontagne, one of her best friends since the day she was born, but then again, she’d had that kind of dream about a number of people, boys and girls, so she wasn’t sure what to do with it. 

“You’re gonna come to museum today, right?” Michael had texted her. Neither of them let their parents know that they were going on a “date,” but they wanted to see where it went. She texted back that yes, she was going to go to the museum, but she didn’t want to let her dads know exactly where she was going. Instead of telling them the truth, she told them she was going to a friend’s house - Aiyana from her soccer team.

Spencer and Luke gave her a kiss goodbye and told her to stay safe and have fun, and she felt a pang of guilt. Maybe she should just tell them where she was going and who she was going with. They wouldn’t have a problem with Michael, not by a long shot, but she was afraid that they wouldn’t want her going on a date at 14, so she decided to not say anything. 

When she closed the door, she walked in the direction of Aiyana’s house and then turned around to head toward Michael’s. He and Henry were the only ones at home. Henry and his girlfriend, would be taking them there, and they’d be meeting up with Jack Hotchner and his new girlfriend. “Hey! You look very pretty,” Michael said, handing Diana a flower from his backyard. She smiled and tucked it into her hair as she, Michael, Henry and his girlfriend, Alaina, piled into the car to head toward the museum. “You’re not gonna tell mom and dad, right?” he asked Henry.

“Of course not,” he said. “But I don’t think they would care.”

“Probably not,” Michael replied, “But Diana doesn’t want Uncle Spencer and Luke to know.”

“Why not?” Henry asked confused.

Diana just said it was because of her age. She was on the young side to be “dating,” but she honestly didn’t even know what this was. She just wanted to see how she felt about Michael. “I don’t think they’d really be bothered by it, Diana,” he said honestly. “I won’t say anything. But you’re a good kid. I think they’d be okay with it.”

Within ten minutes they were at the National Air and Space Museum being introduced to Jack and his new girlfriend. “Ohhhh,” she said after learning who Diana was. “Nice to meet you, ladies. And you too Michael. Hi again, Henry.”

As they walked up to the counter, Diana pulled out her rose-colored wallet with all the money she’d saved recently. “I’ve got it,” Michael said, reaching into his own wallet and pulling out some cash for tickets. “I just got my first part-time job. I’d like to pay...if you don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Michael,” Diana replied sweetly. Michael had grown quite a lot in the last couple of years, so at this point, he towered above her. She stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Without thinking, she linked her hand in his and they walked toward the Exploring the Planets exhibit. “This is awesome!” She looked around the exhibit at how it was seen through the “eyes” of the Voyager that explored space. “What are you supposed to do when you wanna do everything in life?”

Michael laughed bringing his arm around her shoulder and pulling her toward him. “What do you mean by that? Like jobs? You wanna be an astronaut?”

Diana wanted to be everything. How was she supposed to choose what to do with her life when she loved so many things? She wanted to be a zoologist. She wanted to be a doctor. She wanted to be an astronaut. She wanted to be a marine biologist. There was an endless amount of things she wanted to do with her life and there wasn’t enough time to do them all. “I want it all,” she laughed. “How do I decide what I want?”

“Well, we’re both still young, so we don’t have to choose just yet,” he replied. “But my guess would be to think about which one of those things you could imagine doing day in and day out for 40 or 50 years - and even that thought excites you. What couldn’t you live without if it were taken away from you?” It was more of a rhetorical question, so she let it roll around in her head for a while. She was 14; thank god, she didn’t have to decide just yet.

As the left the Planets exhibit and walked toward the Sea-Air Operations exhibit, Diana asked if Michael’s desire to be a part of the BAU had ever wavered. It hadn’t. “No,” he smiled. “It’s still what I want. I can’t imagine doing anything else.” Diana buried her head in his shoulder as they continued to walk around the various exhibits. Whenever they spent time together, it was effortless. They didn’t really need a whole lot of words to communicate. That’s why spending time with Michael was so enjoyable. That was the other thing. How were you supposed to choose one person to spend your time with? She was pretty sure she was capable of loving more than one person, so who did she choose? Michael, another boy, one of her other friends, a girl? She didn’t know and it was all very confusing. 

“Where to now?” he asked, holding out the museum map in front of Diana. “Your choice.”

“How about this?” World War II Aviation was a big exhibit and she’d always loved history. As soon as they walked in, they were eye to eye with a B-17 Flying Fortress plane, a replica of one used in WWII. “God, I wish we could climb on it,” she laughed.

Michael would’ve jumped on that opportunity with great joy. “Do you think we’ll ever grow out of that?” he asked. “Wanting to play with things we shouldn’t? Because they’re not fucking toys?”

Diana giggled into his shoulder. “Absolutely not. Dad and Daddy would definitely wanna jump on this plane and they’re not kids, so I don’t think we’ll ever grow out of it.”

“Good,” he replied with another smile that made Diana blush. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Me either,” she replied. They’d pretty much been walking around by themselves, occasionally passing Henry and Alaina, as well as Jack and his girlfriend. They went into a few more exhibits: Modern Military, Moving Beyond Earth, and Rockets and Missiles, but eventually, it was time for them to leave. They’d been there for hours.

Henry and Alaina came out of nowhere and asked if they were ready to leave. “You two are gross,” Michael laughed. They’d been all over each other all day. He was pretty sure his big brother would marry her one day. She’d make a cool sister-in-law and Henry really seemed to love her, so he was okay with that. 

After walking around all day, Diana drifted off on Michael’s shoulder as they made their way back to his house. “Time to wake up, Di,” he said when they arrived. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you back?”

“Yea,” she nodded. “I had a great time today.”

“Me too,” he said. Gently, he placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her into him, placing a soft kiss on her lips before pulling away. It was small, but Diana felt her heart go all wobbly. She kissed him back before pulling away and heading home.

“Make sure to text me when you get home!”

“I will!”

When she approached her house, she pulled out a key and opened the door. “Where have you been?” Luke asked, his arms crossed over his chest. “You weren’t at Aiyana’s.”

She stared between both of her fathers blankly and her palms began to sweat. How had they known? Was it just a parent thing? “Aiyana and a couple other girls from the soccer team were out on her front lawn,” Spencer said. “You weren’t there. Why would you lie to us?”

The disappointment in their eyes almost broke her; they’d always been so proud of her, and she’d let them down. She wasn’t going to continue lying - it wouldn’t get her anywhere. “I didn’t want you to tell me I couldn’t go,” she said softly, closing the door behind her. 

“Couldn’t go where?” Spencer asked, his eyes filled with worry at where his baby might have been. 

As she went to sit on the couch next to him, she let them know that she was out with Jack, his girlfriend, Henry, his girlfriend, and Michael. “So were you on a date with Michael?” Luke asked. His eyes began to water. She wasn’t a baby anymore. He wasn’t ready. 

A small smirk crossed Spencer’s lips. “Why didn’t you want to tell us that?” he asked. “You know me love Michael.”

“I know,” she said softly, “But I am 14 and I thought you’d tell me I couldn’t date yet, so I lied...I’m sorry.”

“You are a bit young to be dating, but Dad and I have already discussed this, and it’s okay, as long as you tell us where you’re going, who you’re going with, and when you’ll be back. We just want to make sure you’re safe,” Spencer said.

Luke walked from the kitchen and sat down on Diana’s other side. “And you can tell us anything. We’ll answer any questions you have, and we’ll respect your decisions, okay? Just don’t shut us out.”

“Okay,” she said after giving them both a hug. “I’m sorry again.”

After a few moments, during which Diana thought she might explode from the tension, Spencer asked how her date had gone. “It was fun,” she said. “We went to the National Air and Space Museum.” That definitely was his child, Spencer thought to himself. “And then before I left...Michael kissed me.”

“Really now?” Luke asked with a smile. He and Spencer could just imagine the look on JJ’s face when she found out. “Are you gonna go out with him again?”

She wondered if she should tell them about being confused, but she wanted to be open with them. “I don’t know. I know I like boys, but I don’t know if I like girls yet. I feel like I have enough love for lots of people, so how do you decide who to spend your time with?”

Luke grabbed Spencer’s hand and kissed it. “Well, it’s different for everyone,” he said. “For me and Daddy, we thought about who we couldn’t possibly live without, and that was each other. But some people have one monogamous relationship after another and enjoy each person’s company while it lasts. Other people don’t limit themselves to one person. Sometimes they date more than one person. It just depends on what’s comfortable for you.”

“That’s annoying,” she smiled.

“What is?” Spencer asked.

“Not knowing.” She twitched her fingers until she realized she had to text Michael and let him know she was home. “I wanna know what to do.”

Spencer let out a small huff of air and stood up to kiss his now-teenage daughter on the forehead. “We all do,” he replied. “But here’s a little secret...even when you grow up, and you meet someone, you still don’t know what to do in life...ever...it’s always confusing.”

“Really?” Her fathers always seemed so sure of themselves.

“Totally,” Luke said. “Life is an endless series of not knowing what the right decision is.”

Diana faceplanted in the couch with a giant ‘ugh,’ leaving her fathers chuckling on either side. She was just starting to realizing what growing up actually entailed. But they’d prepare her as best they could - and she’d be more than fine. She was their daughter after all.

#otp: it's all good #spencer reid x luke alvez #spencer reid #luke alvez #reidvez #ralvez #dontshootmespence #becoming real

[captainsbabysitter-blog]

Eleven Questions Tag Game

Rules

1. Always post these rules

2. Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you

3. Write 11 questions of your own

4. Tag 11 people

Tagged by @mccoymostly

1. What’s your absolute favorite scene from any film?

Oh damn... Start off with a harder one, why dontcha? Okay, stay with me because I’m gonna have to explain this. The scene in Van Helsing when the giant vampire egg sacks are introduced and here’s why: the first time I watched this movie, I was the only one who hadn’t seen it. I stared at the screen for a moment, glanced around the room and declared, “Jesus, their vaginas must be like slip and slides!”

The movie was paused so we could clean up all the soda that had sprayed out of peoples’ mouths. It was a proud moment and I smile every time I see that scene because of it.

2. What’s the most terrible book you’ve ever read?

Okay, but worst I’ve read all the way through or worst that I’ve TRIED to read and just... Couldn’t? Worst I’ve ever read all the way through is The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I fucking hate this book with a special hatred usually reserved for people who have personally wronged me or killed my puppy or something. Worst I tried to read and just couldn’t finish was Starship Troopers. I just could not get into it.

3. Star Trek NoTP, and why?

I actually don’t really have one? I have pairings that I REALLY don’t understand (Bones/Chekov???), but there aren’t really any pairings that give me that visceral NoTP vibe.

4. The four most badass humans to ever walk the earth? If you’re feeling it, I’d love to hear your justification. ;)

Hm... Most badass...

Ada Lovelace has always been a personal hero of mine. I love ladies. I love math. I ESPECIALLY love ladies who do math. Particularly in a time where it was considered improper for such things.

Amelia Earhart. It’s cliche, but there was just SO MUCH about her that I love. She ticks off most of my deep love boxes. The creation of the 99′s in an attempt to encourage more female aviators is high up on that list.

Now for someone a little less famous. My paternal grandmother. Her first husband and father of my oldest uncle was apparently a right bastard and used to hit her. Well shortly after my uncle was born, she decided she had quite enough of that, thank you very much and went upside his head with a cast iron frying pan. She then took my uncle, left him, and then married my grandfather a few years later. Role model material right there.

Lastly, my mother. She went through a special level of hell living with my father who, while not physically abusive was definitely manipulative and emotionally/psychologically abusive during the years they were together. She has been a never-ending fountain of acceptance and love for me, my sister, and our friends. There’s a reason all the friends of mine that meet her usually call her Robyn-mommy.

5. The fictional character you identify most with, and why?

Leonard McCoy, hands down. My boyfriend and I constantly joke that he and I are the same person, but it’s only partially a joke. And I realize it more and more with little things here and there. Obsessively look after my friends and family while frequently neglecting my own care? Check. Snarky, sarcastic, sometimes abrasive exterior used to express fondness? Check. I could literally spend hours and hours dissecting this (because I have), but I’ll just leave it there for now.

6. If you could hang out with one person for a day, living or dead, who would you pick, and why?

Another hard one. Hm. I’d want to see what Jesus was really like, honestly. I feel like we’d jive really well and I’d just like to hear his thoughts on things directly from him without a middle man.

7. What character, from any source, do you think gives the best kisses, and why?

Hm... Probably wishful thinking, but I imagine Aragorn. He just seems like he’d have the right balance of gentle passion meets rough possession. Like... He’d grip your bicep to the point where you feel like there will be imprints of his fingers with one hand and the other would cup the back of your head or your cheek so tenderly you might cry and his lips would be that midpoint between chapped and moist that’s just... UGH okay I may have thought of this a lot.

8. Who is your favorite artist (any medium; this can be interpreted broadly), and why?

Da Vinci. I can’t even describe to you the amount of time I’ve spent over the years reading about his work, and I just LOVE all the drawings of his inventions no matter how farfetched and impossible they are. Just the fact that someone dared to dream them up makes me giddy.

9. What’s your favorite theoretical crossover? In other words, what characters, from different fandoms, would you like to see interact, or who would you like to see thrown into a different universe? I hope this question makes sense, guys.

I’m honestly not big on crossovers anymore. Back in the day, my friends and I used to RP and it was just... A HUGE crossover mishmash of anything and everything we were into at that particular moment crammed into a single universe we created, but now I’m just... Meh.

10. Who is your favorite iconic scientist, and which of their contributions do you find most significant?

Bill Nye. Hands down. His contribution was instilling in me a lifelong love of science and learning that has carried on as a recurring theme through my entire life.

11. If you could remake any movie, in any way you want, what movie would you pick, and what would you change?

Ooooooh... I would remake the Dragons of Autumn Twilight movie. And I would change... Everything except the voice actors they chose. The voices? Flawless. The animation? I wanted to cry. I’d aim for either a live action movie, or I’d remake it so the whole thing is in a hand drawn animation style instead of the weird as fuck thing they did where the draconians/dragons/other baddies were CGI, but literally EVERYTHING ELSE was hand drawn???

Bonus, because Anna lives to break rules

If you could make any contribution to any field (cure any illness, make any discovery, invent any technology, write any book or create any art, be remembered for anything), what would it be, and why?

I would solve the problem of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch and other trash vortexes like it throughout the oceans. I have an insane love of the ocean and everything in it, and so the fact that humans created this giant mass of floating debris that’s hurting a ton of sea life, but we can’t adequately remove it all because of how small the pieces are/the sheer volume of the masses upsets me more than I can really describe.

Tia’s Eleven Questions:

If you could have one pet without being concerned about the size of the animal, what would you want?

If you could eat only one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?

What’s a movie you feel is underrated by the public at large?

Is there a TV show you feel shaped your childhood? What was it?

What your favorite item you own and what makes it special?

What’s one vice you have that you know you indulge in more than you should?

Worst movie you’ve ever seen? Why did you hate it?

Favorite childhood memory?

What animal do you feel best represents who you are? Bonus points for why.

What makes you feel accomplished?

What’s on your bucket list for this year?

Tagging: @gracieminabox @mccoymostly @thevalesofanduin @ilovetinycreatures @theanishimori @imoutofmyvulcanmind @outside-the-government and anyone else who wants to partake in my craziness!

#getting to knooooow yooou! #getting to know all about yoooou