#it’s so pretty but looks kind of tricky to get into but it might help me w reading intuitively but there’s a lot going on

[sometimesanalice]

Leave a Light On

Summary: When Bradley had given you a key to his place, what he probably didn’t expect was to find you there at 2 am sitting at the piano you’d helped him find.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 7k

Warnings: lots of pining and yearning (Minors DNI)

(this was the story I was working on back in January, before the 'Like I Can' series and anything else on my masterlist. I'm so excited to share it with you all!)

When Bradley had given you a key to his place, you imagine he probably thought you’d check on his plants every now and then. That you’d pop by to give them a quick water and then be on your way.

Maybe that you’d take the Bronco out for a quick spin, so that his baby it didn’t sit there too long going unused. You were one of a very small handful of people he trusted to drive his most prized possession. There was something special about being behind the vintage wheel with the sun on your face as you cruised along the highway, even if it wasn’t the same without him sitting there smiling next to you.

He’d already put his mail on hold with the USPS, but you knew that he knew he could count on you to rescue any stray package that might slip through the cracks and make its way to the front door of his charming craftsman bungalow.

What he probably didn’t expect was for you to be there sometime past 2 AM sitting on the creaky bench of the old, but well-loved, piano that you had helped him to find.

You should be tucked away under the comforter of your own bed, in your own room, at your own place.

Instead, your fingers are navigating over the black and ivory keys trying, yet again, to make it through a tricky passage on a song that you’ve spent the better part of the last three months trying to perfect.

He was coming home soon and you couldn’t wait to hold him, to love him, to surprise him.

Each time he leaves, it gets a little easier to miss him. You wear your longing like a locket rather than an albatross around your neck, always there but easier to bear.

Rooster had a way of filling a space in a way you’ve never experienced before. His larger than life charisma was one of the first things that had caught your attention, followed by that damn smile of his.

He was always humming in the kitchen.

Or whistling in the car.

Or playing the piano to decompress after a long day.

Or listening to something on his mom’s refurbished record player.

His presence always so tangible and warm, like a blanket pulled fresh from the dryer. With Bradley around, you could wrap yourself up in the sheer comfort of him.

And when he was gone, it was the quiet that you struggled with the most. A constant reminder of just how far away he was. No texts or calls or voice memos throughout the day. No little everyday sweet somethings that let you know he was thinking of you.

The sound of silence followed you everywhere. Its heavy companionship making itself known regardless of how loudly you sang along to his favorite songs on the playlist he had made you or how many times you played through the song you were learning just for him.

You had grown up in the silence, you knew it well.

Parents who stayed together because it was easier than splitting the house and sharing the kid. And on the rare occasions it wasn’t quiet, it was loud. The kind that was inescapable regardless of how much you buried under the covers or how far you tucked yourself away in the corner of the backyard.

Until one day the glossy, satin walnut upright piano appeared along the wall in your barely used dining room. And then it soon became your favorite way to cover the quiet and to mask the loud.

Looking back on it now, maybe your parents had wanted something to fill the silence too.

The hours and hours of lessons you and Bradley had both been forced to sit through as children was something that the two of you had bonded over pretty early on. And while he had kept up with playing, it was something that had fallen to the wayside in your life. First with school, then with a career, and now with purposeful avoidance.

There was once a time when reading sheet music had come as easily to you as reading a book. And then one day, they were just a bunch of random dots scattered in between and across five lines on a piece of paper.

There was once a time when you didn’t even need to look down to know where your fingertips were flying to. And then one day, all your fingers could do was stumble and trip over the keys as you winced at the dissonance it created.

And when Rooster had learned about your mutual musical upbringing, he had made it his personal mission to try and get you to play something for him. He was so sweet, so sincere in the way he’d ask you, all big brown eyes and hopeful smiles.

It had always made your chest tight to brush him off. It was something he clearly wanted to share with you, but that part of you ached like a phantom limb. You didn’t know what would be worse embarrassing yourself or disappointing him with your lack of skill when it was something that you used to be so proud about.

It was easy to dodge him at first during nights out at the Hard Deck with your understandable Not with all these people here’s to your practical Mozart would just bring the vibes down’s to your evasive Maybe next time’s. 

And when his polite requests were met with empty answers, he took it a step further.

One night in his bed, the curtains fluttering as the sea breeze mingled with his sandalwood scent, he’d whispered into your heated skin, “I’ll get you to play something for me one of these days. Maybe I just need to find the right form of bribery.”

His teasing innuendo juxtaposed deliciously with the deliberate touch of his fingers and tongue as he’d played your body to a perfect crescendo.

It reached a point where you couldn’t stomach to see the dejection in his eyes, the hurt he tried so hard to hide when you’d deny him yet again, that you had to own up to your closely guarded secret.

The confession had whooshed out of you in one breath, leaving you feeling deflated and defeated afterwards.

When you eventually mustered the courage to look at him, he’d been wearing the softest look of understanding on his face, as if he could sense the toll it took to admit the loss of that part of yourself. Then he gathered you in his lap and held you, all while the tears of frustration simmered behind your tightly squeezed eyes.

And when he offered to help remind how to read that language without words, to help you remember the letters of the keys beneath your fingers, it had made your heart hurt a little less.

You weren’t ready then, not like you are now.

But nothing gave you as much pleasure as it did to watch Rooster seated in front of the well-worn and well-played upright piano of Penny’s at the Hard Deck. There was nothing more exhilarating than seeing him in his element so at home on the bench, scuffed and scratched from performers of the past, as he shared that part of himself with everyone in the bar.

He made it look so easy. So damn effortless. His thick fingers flying purposefully over the keys as he played from memory. His joyous enthusiasm electrifying and substantial enough to get the whole bar singing along with him.

It always drew him a lot of attention.

How could it not? He was magnetic on a bad day and captivating the rest of the time. And entirely too handsome for his own good.

Interested eyes, curious eyes, hungry eyes followed him around more often than not after an impromptu performance.

However, those brown eyes of his were always set on you.

Never wavering, never straying from you as he’d weave his way poco a poco, little by little, back through the packed bar. Handing out high-fives to people on autopilot as he passed by to return back to your side. Glistening with the sweat he worked up and grinning widely as he’d greet you with a How’d I do, sweetheart?. Those big, capable hands sliding around your waist, in the back pocket of your jeans, under your top to rest on your low back.

The two of you never stuck around for long after he wrapped up. You didn’t mind helping him find ways to put that excess adrenaline to good use. Usually in the backseat of the Bronco.

You’ll never forget the first time Bradley serenaded you. The song meant for you and you alone.

If someone were to cut into that soft, pink part of your brain, you’re pretty sure they would find that memory pressed there like flowers between the pages of a book. Forever apart of you.

It was the song that always took you right back to that little vinyl shop along the pier. And back to that date that had almost derailed it all.

When Rooster had picked you up to take you to dinner all those months ago, he had seemed a bit antsy and absentminded.

Sure, he had gotten out of the Bronco to come fetch you like a gentleman, instead of sending some half-assed Here text like your ex had been fond of doing. You thought for sure he’d be hustling you back inside after he caught a glimpse of what you were wearing once you opened your front door to greet him.

So you were surprised when he’d simply pressed a dry kiss to your cheek and escorted you to his car with a hand placed respectfully between your shoulder blades instead of cheekily in that space between your low back and ass.

That spot that toed the line between decent and indecent. That spot that made him smirk when you’d give him a pointed lift of the eyebrow, because the two of you knew exactly what he was doing. And better yet, liked it.

However, that night it was almost like he was going through the motions, like he was already somewhere else.

The car ride to the restaurant was silent except for the white noise of the highway as he drove. The circular knob for the radio set to the left.

Off.

Which in hindsight should have been your first warning, since Bradley was never not listening to the Oldies station. A vintage vibe for your vintage boy. 

When you were finally seated across from him at that new trendy Thai place you had been dying to go to, his fingers wouldn’t stop tapping out some unheard tune. On the tops his thighs. On the top of the table.

His eyes were landing everywhere else other than on you. On the large leaves of the potted palms, on the ornate pattern on the gold silk that was swathed across the ceiling, on the intricate hand-painted tiles on the floor.

You’d been trying to carry on a conversation for the past fifteen minutes and were feeling completely on edge when you had to repeat yet another question for him.

The anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach had been getting more and more difficult to ignore. You could tell he wasn’t really there, what you were trying to figure out was whether or not he just didn’t want to be there with you.

And god, the drinks hadn’t even come out yet. There wasn’t anything for you to distract yourself with other than your water glass, and even that was already empty except for a few melting ice cubes.

His half answers and noncommittal noises were rapidly clearing things up for you.

He’s breaking up with me.

It was at that crushing realization that the waitress had returned with your drink orders. The bright orange concoction that she set in front of you had been topped with a lovely purple orchid and glittery swizzle stick.

A happy looking cocktail for the girl who thought she was going to have another great date with the guy who was saved in her phone as “Golden Boy”.

“Have you two decided on what you want to eat? Or would you like to hear the chef’s specials again?” the waitress had asked, her gaze bouncing back and forth between you and Bradley.

You could tell that she was sensing the brewing tension between the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ll here much longer, maybe just the check--”

“Sorry, if we could have a few more minutes to decide--”

You’d both started speaking at the same time only to turn to the other wearing matching faces of absolute confusion. He’d gone ramrod straight in his chair, his fingers finally still on the tabletop. The shock in his eyes was apparent, and you could only assume it was there because you beat him to the punch.

The waitress had looked at you sympathetically before saying she’d come back in check in a few minutes and then quickly spun on her heel to take her hasty leave.

It was the look that she’d given you that had really sealed the deal for you, and wasn’t that just great? You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rest of the waitstaff was already hearing about the couple fighting at Table 12 and taking bets about whether or not they’d break up.

Lucky them, dinner and a show.

You’d reached the fruity drink in front of you, the condensation from the glass leaving a ring on the table and took a large sip for moral support. Feeling the weight his stare on you the whole time as you savored the tart taste of passionfruit as it burst across your tongue.

He’d just have to wait. It was your turn to ignore him.

As you’d swallowed it down, it had left you feeling more than a little angry that it tasted so good when you were feeling so shitty. He knew how much you liked an over the top cocktail, why couldn’t he have picked some dingy hole-in-the-wall to do this at rather than ruin this place for you? The hot prickling sensation of righteous indignation filled your chest.

You really didn’t want it to drag out any longer, setting your liquid courage back down you’d met his stare and got right down to it, “If you’re going to break up with me, Rooster, can you just do it now? I’d like to still be able to order Pad See Ew in the future without thinking about you and this moment.”

You removed the napkin from your lap, folding it up primly before placing it back upon the table as you waited for the final nail in the coffin to be pounded in on the remains of the happiest-and-easiest-and-clearly-too-good-to-be-true relationship you’ve ever had.

“Wait, what? I don’t want to break up.” His eyes were wide and searching, the hurt in his voice had been evident. And it was the first time all evening that he seemed to be present with you, like your Golden Boy had finally showed up to the date. “I thought things were going well. More than well, actually.”

“Yeah. I mean, I did too. Until tonight,” you’d agreed, defeatedly. “I’m really confused here. You’ve been completely distant tonight. Not to be vain, but look at me,” you gestured to the sexy lowcut dress you’d worn for the evening. It was something you’d been saving in your closet for the right occasion. And you’d thought it was going to drive him wild, but he hadn’t even given it a second glance.

You’d leaned in a bit, lowering your voice, “It’s a boob and leg dress, Bradley. I look really fucking hot, and frankly, I didn’t even think we were going to make it here once you saw this. It wouldn’t have been the first time we’ve missed a dinner reservation. And you haven’t said a single thing about it.”

It felt like a silly thing to be upset about in the grand scheme of things, but his inattentiveness that evening had stung more than you’d wanted to admit to.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I noticed,” he’d retorted hotly. His eyes had been heated as he’d matched your movement and leaned in further across the table. “Half the men in here noticed it too the second you walked in.”

You didn’t bother trying to hold back your scoff of frustration, the man was infuriating.

“Then I don’t understand why you’re making me feel like being here- with me- is the last place you want to be right now?” You’d given up on trying to sound unaffected, this was not the evening you had envisioned. It felt like being blindfolded on a rollercoaster, unable to see what exactly you were hurtling towards.

“I got my new orders today,” he’d blurted out, his eyes trying to read yours for the reaction. “I’m being send as aerial escort for a diplomatic mission. I ship out next Monday for six weeks.”

He’d told you later that he was grateful it wasn’t a longer one, he knew he was lucky because he could have just as easily been sent away for a deployment longer than you’d actually been together.

“Oh.”

You’d known that that moment would have happened eventually with his job, so you shouldn’t have been surprised. However, it was one thing thinking about it theoretically rather than looking at a ticking clock with a deadline.

“Cards on the table, sweetheart?” He’d waited for you to nod before continuing on, “I am really fucking into you. I’m trying not to put pressure on this, because I’m pretty sure you’re my dream girl. I wanted to take you out for a nice meal, get you a couple of those complicated fun drinks you like. I even looked at the menu in advance, they have one here that they light on fire and it seems like something you would love.”

He was right, it was something that you’d love. You had even eyed it when you first got the menu, but you hadn’t wanted to get anything that would draw you more attention when you already felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you.

“Then I wanted to take you home with me and tell you after we had a great time out. I wanted to ask you to save that Sunday before I leave for me, so that we could spend the whole day together.” His fingers had started playing that unheard tune on the table again. “I wanted to show my girl the best time, to keep her wanting to come back and to stick around. So that someone else doesn’t catch her eye, so that I don’t lose her to someone better than me while I’m away.”

His confession had your heart taking up residence in your throat. Having him lay it out for you so clearly and knowing that he’d felt as serious about you as you did about him was everything you had wanted to hear. However, one thing nagged at you.

“Bradley, you make me happy. Like really, really happy. I’ve only got eyes for you. If I’m being honest, this stopped being casual to me around our third date. And I trust you enough to know you’d tell me if this”, you’d gestured between the two of you, “wasn’t what you wanted anymore before starting up with someone else. I hope I have that same trust in return, because if you’re worried about me stepping out on you while you’re away, I don’t know how this is going to work. And I really want it to work.”

“Shit, I’m really striking out here. Batting 0 for two,” he’d sighed out more to himself than to you, leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair. “Our third? Really? I thought for sure after that disaster that you were going to block my number.” He huffs a laugh, cheeks turning the same shade of pink that they had that chaotic evening on the beach.

“Bradley, it was comically bad.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at the memory of it. “You were trying so hard and you were so flustered. It was so endearing.”

“Who would have guessed getting attacked by seagulls and coming home covered in sand flea bites could have been so appealing?” He joked self-deprecatingly.

“Me, I could have. Since I was with you,” you said sincerely, “No one I’ve dated has ever put half as much effort into trying to make me happy as you have.”

The two of you exchanged a soft, tentative smiles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you had a wandering eye or anything, I promise.” His eyes pleaded with you as he reached for your hands and threaded his fingers through yours, his palms slightly sweaty. “This deployment is different for me. I’ve never had to ask someone to wait for me before, never had anyone who wanted to. And I’ve been really in my head because I was trying to find the right way to tell you, to ask you.”

You were still getting to know all of the expressions of his face, but the look of open insecurity he was wearing was new to you. And you’d felt something deep in your chest release and unlock.

For how easily he owned a room, for how confident he could be, getting to see these tender parts of him because he trusted you with them had made you ache in the most bittersweet of ways for the man who was in front of you.

You held his gaze, taking in his anxious expression. How anyone couldn’t want this man or didn’t think he was worth the wait was incomprehensible to you.

“So Sunday the seventeenth, huh?” you’d said with a grin.

His relief was palpable as he’d squeezed your hand a bit tighter, “Yeah, baby, you up for it?”

“A perfect day with my dream guy?” you mused, squeezing his hand back, “Yeah, I think I’d be up for that. I’m up for all of it.”

Not just the date. Not just the deployment. You already knew. With him, you wanted it all.

When the waitress returned a few moments later, Bradley ordered a green curry for himself and the Pad See Ew for you. Along with one of those complicated, fun drinks that arrived with fanfare and flames, all while he played with your fingers.

And after you were finished, she’d dropped off a fluffy looking coconut covered dessert that she’d stated was on the house as walked away with a wink.

You’d totally called it, dinner and a show.

As you’d left the restaurant, he tucked you in close under his arm pressing kiss after kiss to your temple as you made your way back to the Bronco.

And later, when he had taken you back to his place for the night, your boob-and-leg dress forgotten somewhere on the floor, he’d apologized again. This time with his mouth on your body.

Twice.

It had been a fluke, really, finding that record tucked away in that small, but well-kept shop on that Sunday before his deployment.

You’d surprised him with a certificate for a haircut and hot towel shave at an upscale barber for a little pre-deployment pampering. He’d gotten his hair trimmed the day before and he was somehow looking even more sunkissed than usual. His patterned shirt was mostly buttoned up and he had on your favorite pair of jeans- the ones that might have been a bit too snug, but did devastating things for his ass.

It was the outfit he’d been wearing when you had first met.

You and Bradley had spent a lazy, perfect morning at the beach reading and lounging and trading sea salt kisses before changing and to grab a bite to eat. He’d held up a towel up around you to slip into your sun warmed dress, behaving himself for the most part. But you’d still caught him sneaking a peek from over the top of the terry cloth.

After eating a late lunch at his favorite little café that served the best cioppino, you’d popped in and out of the various shops that dotted the boardwalk near the pier. It might have been the bottle of wine you shared, but he made sure to stop at every photobooth you passed along the way, collecting strip after strip of snapshots and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

His hand staying in yours the whole time.

When he’d spotted the tiny record store, he’d cheerily pulled you along with him wanting to look for new additions for his ever-growing collection. It was his newest hobby after getting his mom’s old record player restored. You had even helped him build the sideboard he had specially ordered for it to display his prized collection in the living room of his home.

You could hear him talking excitedly to an associate about some Jerry Lee Lewis albums, who offered to take a look in the backroom for him. You never had good luck when you tried to search for specific things, so you were happy to meander around a bit aimlessly and see what spoke to you.

Casually flipping through the stacks, you’d gasped when you landed on what appeared to be the holy grail of all vinyl records ever made.

“Bradley, look!” You’d held out the record for him like a prize. And he abandoned his own search to come join you on the other side of the store.

“Soldiers’ Sweethearts, huh?” He grinned at your find, his eyes crinkling around the edges. The navy colored jacket highlighted a trio of glamourous looking women, each of the three records featured a different performer and their covers of songs popularized during WWII.

“Mm-hmm,” you’d preened, feeling entirely too pleased with yourself. “You’re a soldier, I’m a sweetheart. I’ve never seen anything more perfect in my life. I have to get it.”

“Well I’m not a soldier, technically,” he’d chuckled, as you’d rolled your eyes at him. The joke had you scrunching your nose, and his mustache grazed you as he leaned in close to press a quick kiss to it. “But you’re definitely a sweetheart, sweetheart.”

You were still trying to learn the ins and outs of that part of his life. But you’d liked how he never made you feel stupid when you had questions. More often than not he seemed excited to answer them for you, that you were interested in what he did.

Rooster gently took your newest most prized possession into his big hands, “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Flipping the album over, he’d scanned the tracks listed on the back for the three records. “Some classics, but a lot I don’t think I know. Definitely some intriguing titles, like ‘Daddy’,” he read aloud with a raised eyebrow and a grin that could only be described as lewd.

The man was a menace and had no problem finding new ways to make you blush. You were grateful that the shop was empty except for the two of you, as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

“What about ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight’? Have you heard that one before, sweetheart?” His large body moving in and crowding yours, the smell of his cologne making your thoughts go a bit fuzzy around the edges. Your heartbeat kicked up in tempo as he brushed a piece of hair off your forehead.

That find was definitely a jackpot.

Him and those records.

“Mm, or how about ‘Make Love To Me’?” He’d murmured into your ear, his free arm slid slowly against your waist, making a home for itself low on your back. The warmth from his hand seeping through your dress and into your skin.

It was heady being the target of all his heated words and teasing tone. The pull in your low stomach getting more intense with every moment you’d stayed pressed against his hard body. You could see how his pulse was pounding arditamente con forza, boldly with force, from how close your face was to that thick throat of his. And you had wanted to--

“I knew we had it somewhere!”

The associate’s cheery announcement as he returned from the backroom startled you back into yourself. Feeling flustered you’d tried to pull away, but Bradley just kept his arm locked around you as he’d made his way to the counter.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. We’ll take this one too,” he stated as he’d smoothly placed your Soldiers’ Sweethearts album on the top of the pile he had accumulated. Only letting go of you to pay.

Naturally, you’d wanted to play the record the second you made it back to Bradley’s place.

He set it up for you before giving you a lingering, deep kiss leaving you to your own devices as he worked on the final few things left on his to-do list before his deployment early the next morning.

You were happy to make yourself comfortable on his wide seat couch with an Old Fashioned listening to Jo Stafford’s soothing voice with your eyes closed, wanting to luxuriate in the moment.

One where Bradley was less than twenty feet away puttering around in his kitchen and humming and murmuring to himself.

One where you could call out to him and he would be in front of you in a few long strides.

You wanted to avoid thinking about the next day and the beginning of your new normal.

One where you couldn’t expect text messages from him throughout the day.

One where concern and uncertainty would follow you around like a dark cloud until he came back home to you.

But he was here for now. And you wanted to savor it all, to soak up all of its sweet, syrupy goodness like the expensive cherry in your glass.

He must have sensed the turn in your thoughts because his sandalwood scent gave his closeness away before his voice did, “What do you say, Miss Soldiers’ Sweetheart? Can you spare a dance for me?”

You opened your eyes to see him standing before you with his hand outreached for you. The smile so gentle and open on his face, made it impossible for you to do anything other than wordlessly nod your head in agreement as you’d let him pull you up from your comfy perch.

“Apologies in advance for any injuries caused by my two left feet,” you joked a bit bashfully as he wrapped his arm around you.

“Lucky for us, I was gifted with two right feet. Don’t worry, we’ll even out each other,” he murmured.

He pulled you into his gravity, pressing your joined hands against his chest where you could feel the steady beat of his heart. The hand on your lower back urging closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head where you had tucked it into that safe space where his neck meets his shoulder.

take me in your arms, and never let me go whisper to me softly while the moon is low

True to his word, he’d guided you in a smooth, easy rhythm. The confidence in his steps as you were held within his sturdy arms was enough to make you feel secure in your own movement. With him you were completely taken care of.

hold me close and tell me what I wanna know say it to me gently, let the sweet talk flow

Your other hand slid up slowly from where it was resting on his shoulder to wrap around his neck, fingers threading through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck as your thumb traced the thick column of his throat.

Come a little closer, make love to me

He held you tighter, held you closer, as the song came to an end. The easy rhythm turning into a gentle sway that continued as the next song began. And the one after that.

That night in his bed he moved against you with such purpose, such tenderness. The sex with Bradley was always stunningly good, he was never content to let himself come until he’d rendered you thoroughly boneless and breathless. He was easily the best you’ve ever had, but that night it was different between you two.

The mood weighty and intense, both of you exposed in a way you hadn’t been before. But there was no mistaking the deliberate way he touched you, the unwavering way he rolled his hips against yours, the unguarded way he held your gaze as if he was committing that moment to memory as he made love to you.

He’d held you close to his warm body, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps, as you shivered through your orgasm. His mouth pressed against your ear as he whispered soothing sweet somethings until he followed you over the edge.

For Bradley, you were up for it. For him, you’d be up for all of it.

yesyesyes

Things were a bit too quiet for you.

You heart clenched in a different way when you looked at Penny’s piano on those evenings you spent with the Dagger Squad without him. The ache was still there, but so was a new kind of longing. Part for him, but also for yourself.

But you’d made it through that deployment with the help of your three favorite sweethearts: Jo, Vera and Anne. Although you always queued up one song in particular anytime you found yourself missing him a bit more than normal.

And when Bradley returned back home to you six weeks later, it was easy to fall right back into him. That quiet period was almost too easily forgotten when he was around to fill a space.

That night at the Hard Deck when he serenaded you for the first time, it was normal for him to strut over to the old jukebox to unplug it. His timing impeccable as always, silencing whatever country song Jake had queued up.  

What wasn’t normal was the way he took you by the hand leading you directly to the old upright and pulled you right onto the bench next to him.

There was already some sheet music spread across the shelf, you’d noted as he’d wiped his hands on the outside of his jeans before settling his hands on the keys. It only took you a couple bars of the intro to realize what song he was playing, already completely enamored before he’d even opened his mouth to sing.

It was your song.

Nothing in the world could ever compete with Bradley Bradshaw’s deep, raspy voice singing just for you. The significance of the song meant for you and him alone.

You heart had swelled in your chest until you thought it might burst from happiness. Never in your life had you been so thoroughly swept off your feet. It was a gesture came from his heart that made a home in yours.

Ever the showman Rooster put on a full performance, his aviator sunglasses sliding down his nose as he really leaned into it.

Your wide grin had turned to laughter when a few members of the Dagger Squad jumped in as back-up vocals, singing into their beer bottles in a way that obviously had been rehearsed. You didn’t know how he managed to keep it a secret. While Rooster was a vault in his professional life, when it came to his personal life Bradley couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

The whole bar was having fun with the jaunty tune, some couples dancing along in smooth circles on the sticky wood floor as he crooned. He’d leaned over to place a kiss on your cheek every now and then in between verses, and you’d felt yourself fall for him even harder.

He’d pulled you into his lap once he was done playing, as the din of the resumed chatter softly cocooned you. You’d seen all you needed to know reflected in his eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

“Will you play it again?” you’d asked against his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.” And you rested your head on his shoulder watching his fingers get into position on the keys once more as he played the few opening notes.

Somewhere you heard a groan followed by a grumbled, “Not again.”

“Shut it, Bagman,” you bossed at him, not even bothering to look in his direction. You only had eyes for Bradley.

“You heard the lady,” he chuckled. “Shut it, Bagman.”

And then he played it again.

take me in your arms, and never let me go

You should be asleep in your own bed and not at his place with only the soft light of the lamp above his piano and a now cold cup of tea to keep you company.

Tired of tossing and turning, you’d given up on the idea of getting any sleep at your own place after the second hour of trying. Throwing on your slippers, you’d grabbed your keys and then drove over to his place, still in the oversized t-shirt you’d put on before bed, in hopes that scent of his sheets would help lull you to sleep.

But all it did was make you miss him more.

It was too quiet without his soft breathing next to you as he held you close and tucked against his chest.

Too quiet without his records.

Too quiet without his happy humming.

Too quiet without him.

The sound of the tea kettle on his gas range had helped fill the silence, but it was his piano that had called you as you had waited for the water to boil. The sheet music you had left there from the last time you were over beckoning like a siren’s song.

It was your secret.

Only for a few more days, only until he came home.

You wanted to surprise him, to sweep him off his feet the way that he always did with you when he played for you.

During that first deployment, for the first time in years, your fingers yearned for the feel of cool, smooth keys beneath your fingers.

You hadn’t even told Bradley, the one person who would understand it the most, that you’d been thinking about it. Let alone that you were actually taking classes again. Making up excuses about manicures or errands or spin classes for why you were busy for an hour every Tuesday at five PM.

The thing that had once hurt your heart the most, was now the only thing that helped soothe the ache of missing him. The only thing that made you feel close to him when you were thousands of miles apart.

You wanted that familiar comfort of making music. You wanted it because you missed him, but you also wanted it for yourself.

A co-worker had given you the name and number for her kids’ instructor, Mrs. McMullen, an elderly woman who started teaching after her husband passed away. It took you couple weeks to work up the courage to make the call, the sticky note burning a hole in the pocket of your purse you had tucked it into.

You had been an anxious mess the day of your first lesson, hands shaking like you’d had one too many shots of espresso. It felt strange, a little surreal sitting there in the body you’d grown into on the padded bench in her cozy living room. One of the walls filled with shelves and shelves of sheet music, her own personal library.

And for a brief moment, you were transported to a different year on a different bench in a different room. Now and Then. Older and Younger. Both versions of you there to learn. All too familiar, yet entirely new.

You started with the basics. A reintroduction to those lines on the page and the notes that spoke their own language for those who knew how to read it.

Your fingers wanting to move quicker than your sluggish mind, like an echo of a memory of how it used to be. You winced and apologized after every wrong note, until she put her hand on yours, her skin looked as delicate as her fingers did, and said gently, “We learn by doing, mistakes only mean that you are trying. Once more, once again.”

After that first lesson, you’d gone back to your car and promptly burst into tears. Overwhelmed tears, happy tears. That tender part of you still soft, however no longer aching.

You’d left feeling lighter as you pulled away from her house to go meet up with everyone at the Hard Deck, but also with a packet of sheet music to practice for your next lesson.

When Rooster had told you about getting his new orders, when he had asked you again if you were still up for it. You’d told him the same thing you had at that date, you were up for it all.

You would take the sadness with the sweet any day of the week for as long as he was yours.

You’d known how you would fill the space he left behind. And exactly how you wanted to welcome him home. You’d been excited to put that certain song just for him in your cart, and then tacking on one more song to your order, a song that would be just for you.

Both you and Mrs. McMullen had be surprised at how you’d been able to pick things back up over the months, you still weren’t anywhere as good as you were when you were younger, but it wasn’t nearly as daunting as it used to be. And when you showed up to your next lesson after your songs had been delivered, she was more than happy to help you figure out ways to simplify the songs a bit so that you’d be ready when he returned.

And now you’re bent over Bradley’s piano with a pencil tucked behind your ear as you played through the hardest bit of the song, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve gone over it tonight. This morning? You were in that liminal space between yesterday and today. Where the time on the clock was just a suggestion because it felt neither here nor there.

You had practiced and practiced the song you had wanted to play for him once got home. You’re pretty sure Mav wasn’t supposed to tell you the significance of that particular song, but it had made your heart flutter wildly in your chest when he’d told you. And every time you’ve heard it since then.

It was polished, it was perfect, it was ready. All you needed was him.

The one you’re playing now con amore, with love, is the piece you pull out when you long for him the most.

The cover of the song had made you think of him from the moment you’d heard it. It was more lyrical and delicate than the original, and captured just how you felt about him. Just how much he meant to you. Sometimes you sing along with it, sometimes you just let the keys and pedals express the things you otherwise could not.  

It was the song of your heart.

Your fingers trip over one of the notes yet again, probably from the lack of sleep, but you weren’t ready to crawl back into Bradley’s comfy bed. Not just yet.

Sighing, you pull the pencil from behind your ear, muttering to yourself out loud as you note the spot on the page. It was already filled with little pencil marks, some older and some newer. All made because you were trying.

Once more, once again.

Breathing out slowly, you settle your hand back on the keys-

“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

Read {vol. ii} here!

He's a sneaky one, friends! I have Part 2 in the works, not to worry! We have to see how it all plays out! (put intended)

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist for the grand finale!

Here's a link to the Soldiers' Sweethearts Album, if you're curious!

But this is their song, the one Bradley serenaded her with! Jo Stafford's version of 'Make Love to Me'

I ended up making two moodboards for this part!

Here's the more colorful one! And here's the more yearn-y one!

You can check out my other stories here!

And a big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me spam you about this one!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you

[miintsprigz]

Hiii again!! I wanted to ask for Sniper, Engie, and Scout reacting to the reader doing something nice for them after they had a tough day. Thank you!!

Anon, I had been wanting the opportunity to do something like this, so bless you, and I hope that you enjoy this! I sorta zoomed through Sniper’s, I hope it’s still good aaaa

Characters: Scout, Engineer, Sniper (TF2)

Warnings: none that I can think of—I made myself very soft while working on this

GN!Reader doing something nice for the Mercs after a tough day

Scout:

You’d noticed for some time that work really seemed to be running Jeremy down more than usual. He came back to base moody, unusually quiet. It was so unlike him.

Thinking back to just a few months ago…what a difference. You remembered how enthusiastically he’d come running in, holding something behind his back…quickly revealed to be a bouquet of bright red roses just for you.

“I didn’t know what your favorite was, so I thought I’d just got wit da classic!”

You had asked a question after that though, one you were especially glad you’d asked now.

“What’s your favorite flower, babe?”

“Me? …huh. Never really thought about that.”

You watched the wheels turn a bit, and a nostalgic kind of look came over him. Jeremy was quite the sentimental guy, if you hung out with him long enough.

“I think one time I got Ma these big yellow ones…lilies? They were real pretty. Smelled nice too. Probably those.”

So one day, a while before you knew he’d be getting back, you went on the hunt. Yellow lilies were tricky to find, but eventually, you secured a whole bunch and had them nicely wrapped up for your favorite fella.

You enjoyed their fragrance as you waited for Jeremy to get back…they truly were beautiful. You could see why he liked them.

Finally, the door swung open, and you quickly hid the bouquet behind your back, just as he had.

He looked exhausted…of course, his face lit up as soon as he saw you. “Ah, finally home. How ya doin’, doll? Sight for sore eyes, as always.”

“I’m good. I got a little surprise for you.”

His brows arched, curious, and you could see that infectious smile that seemed so rare these days beginning to appear again. “Oh yeah?”

“Well okay, might not be too surprising, but…” You sheepishly grinned as you held out his gift. “…I found some.”

Scout’s mouth dropped open just a bit before he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, delighted. “Aw, baby…they’re beautiful!”

You motioned for him to take them, and he did, admiring them with a softness to his gaze. Only seconds later, as he looked up at you, that trademark, somewhat mischievous grin came to his face.

You chuckled. Your boy was back. “Whatcha thinkin’ there?”

“C’mere, you~” He pulled you in and kissed you before you could even prepare.

His free hand lightly brushed through your hair as he pulled back, seeming to be at a genuine loss for words. “You are so sweet, ya know that? I love you.”

Giggling, you pecked his lips once more. “I love you too.”

___

Engineer:

Poor Dell had really been pushed to his limit lately. It felt like you hardly saw him anymore. He was always working on something. The demand kept on coming.

Lately, you had to get up early to get any decent quality time with him before he went to work. When he got home, he always just wanted to go right to sleep, and you certainly couldn’t blame him.

He felt bad, and told you as much, but you knew it wasn’t his fault. “Get your rest, honey. I know you’re tired.”

Even in the morning, he was always up before you were, and had breakfast ready to go. You talked as you ate.

So, after Engie had come back in especially rough shape the night before, with his first day off in months the following day, you decided to surprise him.

You were not, by any means, an early riser. But you had a feeling that Dell wouldn’t sleep in long, even on his day off. You’d even gone to sleep a bit early the night before.

Ever the keen-eyed one, Engie had questioned that. “Goin’ out already, lil’ nightingale?”

“Yeah, I’m sleepy. Besides, we got all day tomorrow, right?”

“Yessiree.”

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you got everything together. It was a whole lot of work, mixing up batter, making sure everything was cooked just right, and of course making the presentation easy on the eyes. But it would all be worth it.

Finally, you were all set. You scurried to his room, knocking to see if he was up.

“Almost ready, darlin’! I’m a little late, sorry ‘bout that…”

“Don’t worry about it, Engie, take your time…” Last thing your cowboy needed was to be rushed around on his day off.

Opening the door, he beamed at you. “Well, look at you! All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed already, huh? I got a feelin’ we’re gonna have a grand day, you ‘n’ me.”

“Oh, just you wait…I’ve got something for ya, baby. C’mon…”

“Whoa, okay—I had a feelin’ you were up to somethin’ last night, ya lil’ schemer…”

You just laughed, excitedly pulling Dell along by the hand.

“Okay, right in here.”

The still sleepy eyes that were normally hidden behind his goggles blinked quick in genuine astonishment as he took it in.

“Well…good word, that’s like the cover of a magazine there, darlin’! You do this all by yer lonesome?”

“Mhm! I got up early in the hopes that I’d beat you to it—can’t have you working hard on your day off! Just hope it tastes good…”

“It will, baby, I’m sure of it…” He trailed off a bit, and as you glanced over, you couldn’t get a grasp on what exactly was going through his head. Seemed happy at least. Maybe you were used to seeing only half of his face. But then he rubbed at his eyes just a bit…

“Oh, baby…you okay?”

“Yeah…just fine, darlin’, sorry, circuits are still a lil’ fried…” He sniffled, and without much thought you wrapped your arm around him, stroking his shoulder.

“Been real tough goin’ lately, real tough…wasn’t feelin’ like myself no more. And ya did all this just for me…for us…”

He leaned his head to the side so it rested softly against yours, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, (Y/N). You are a wonder. I adore you, you know that?”

You chuckled, pulling him close. “Thank you, Dell. I adore you too.”

You felt him jolt a little, but he made sure to kiss you quick before he moved at all. “Please tell me you’re havin’ some a’ this—”

“Yeah! Wanted to make breakfast for you, but eat it with you too.”

“Well, we better not let it get cold now, after ya worked so hard! C’mon, baby…”

You laughed as you were now the one being pulled along, with Engie still praising your hard work and delicious cooking every step of the way.

_____

Sniper:

Lately, Mick hadn’t been telling you what was going on at work…which was weird. Normally, he really liked his job, and told you all about it. Lately though, he’d answered “how was work?” with the vaguest responses.

Sniper wasn’t the type of guy to word vomit about what was bothering him, but that cued you in pretty well.

You wanted to do something to help him, something to lift his spirits again. It took some time, but eventually, you hatched a plan.

One day, instead of waiting back at his camper, you made your way over to where the mercs normally exited the fort.

You waved to the rest as they ran past, more than a few asking what you were doing here. They could figure it was something to do with your boyfriend.

Mick was the last to leave…which was a bit weird. Must have really been working hard.

“Hey, Snipes!” Immediately, his head turned at the sound of your voice, taking a surprised step backwards before he quickly ran and skidded to a stop in front of you.

“(Y/N)? …whatcha doin’ all the way out here, darlin’? Everything alright?”

He looked…confused, but delighted.

“Yeah! I had an idea the other day…and I wanted to meet up with you a little bit earlier so I had more time for it. Let’s go back to the camper so you can change, then I’ll show ya what I mean.”

His eyes narrowed, trying not to smile at this. “Hm…alright. Keep ya secrets for now…”

It was only a moment before his fingers intertwined with yours as you started the short walk back. He tended to be a bit flighty when it came to physical contact, but you understood that.

Once Sniper was done getting ready, you grabbed the basket you’d kept hidden away. “All set?”

“Yep…ya want me blindfolded for this or somethin’?”

“Nah, I don’t want you to trip. Just follow me.”

You followed the path you’d drawn out the other day, although you’d come out here before you’d left the camper to lay out the blanket and get everything all comfortable.

Just as you’d planned, you got to the spot just in time to see the sun go down, and the stars had just started to appear.

A spot near a river, where the only sounds were from the wind and water, with the occasional birdsong and cricket chirp.

You’d had some help on this—Pyro, of all people, providing you with the necessary equipment and tinder for a little campfire. They’d been surprisingly helpful, even though you couldn’t understand them at all.

“I thought it might be nice to enjoy the nice weather and some dinner…oh, and uh, s’mores, if you want. I brought stuff for that.”

The normally more reserved and serious Sniper stood there for a moment, looking everything over. Slowly, this very peaceful smile came to his face.

You were used to him being quiet, but you just had to know what he made of all this.

“I know it’s sorta cheesy, but I hope—whoa!!”

Mick suddenly pulled you in close, holding you tight. You quickly returned the gesture, feeling the side of his face sort of brush against the top of your head.

“…I don’t got much words for this. Besides thank you. Ya have any idea how much I wanted to do somethin like this with ya, roo?”

You laughed a bit, closing your eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t have exactly guessed this, but…I had a feeling you’d been having a tough couple days.”

“You were right.” It took a good while before he pulled back, and even then, his hand still clasped yours. “I was.”

The firelight illuminated his eyes, and although the mellow tone of voice stayed the same, you could see it in his face just how moved he was.

“But that doesn’t even matter to me now. Cuz right now…it’s just you, me, and the stars, baby…c’mon.”

Going slightly rosy—you hoped he couldn’t see in the shadows that the dim light casted—you followed him, and the two of you sat down to enjoy your s’mores and each other’s company.

By the end of the night, both of you laid back on the blanket, full, warm, and happy, curled up together as you watched the stars glimmer above.

You felt a slight tap against your shoulder. “Mm? What’s up, Mick?”

He glanced to the side, once again gaining that shyness that tended to creep up on him. “…ya know how much I love ya?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, moving over a bit to kiss him briefly, eyes fluttering closed.

You pulled back, teasing, “Does that answer your question?”

He looked back at you, starry-eyed and red-faced, starting to laugh along with you.

“Hehe, yeah…yeah it does.”

“But seriously, I love you too—”

#tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 #engineer x reader #tf2 engineer #engineer tf2 #engie x reader #scout tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 scout x reader #scout x reader #sniper tf2 #tf2 sniper #sniper x reader #mint writes

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AMITA for lying to everyone I know about my identity’s as a queer/neurodivergent person?

I (18M) am a bisexual, transgender man who is also autistic, ADHD, and OCD. When people hear this about me, even if they know me, I feel like they build up this image of me as an awkward, “cringy” 11 year old who’s obsessed with “cringy” fandoms. And while i have a qualm with this because I know they are looking down on people who are just less masked/higher support needs, I also dislike that they do this because it’s just not who I am. Without the labels, I mostly seem like just a normal dude, if not a bit nerdy.

I also used to be extremely bullied as a kid (7-12) to the point of a suicide attempt, mostly due to homophobic, transphobic, or ablest remarks about me. Since then I’ve completely changed community’s and do not talk to anyone i knew before high school.

When authority figures (Teachers, Show Directors, Investors of the teen programs I lead) apply ablest/transphobic stereotypes or prejudices to me, they also tend to be less,,, normal? around me. Less kind compared to other kids, call me an “inspiration”, or they’ll coddle me when I’m incredibly capable. I do a lot for someone my age- and I know the connections I make now at conferences and whatnot will help me in the long run. My dad’s family is poor, and my immediate family is more comfortable but not that much. I know I’m smart, and I can weaponize that to get a better life for my family by getting good scholarships and jobs in good fields. I can’t just let people who could be very important to my goals look down on me. So i just.. don’t tell them anything about me. They might assume Im odd or “not normal”, and for the most part I let them assume whatever, but if i’m ever asked directly about anything I deny it. Especially in relation to me being transgender; I have the very privileged ability to pass without any medical intervention, and I use that to pretend to be cisgender. Living in the deep south of USAmerica, most of who I am could make my social life very uncomfortable to downright miserable.

Here’s where the problem starts happening. when my social and (what i consider to be a) “professional” life occasionally touch, I wouldn’t be able to be out everywhere socially without someone I don’t want knowing finding out. So i don’t tell any of my classmates/friends/peers about any of my identities either. I hang out with queer and straight people, never be actively homophobic/ablest, and will be very vague about the two questions i’ve ever received about any of that stuff. It’s very, very exhausting to pretend all the time, every day, especially pretending that I’m cisgender because it’s a tricky game, but I can’t really back down and I’m afraid that I might get bullied again if I was ever open about it with classmates.

A few months ago, I was dating this guy, who i’ll call Kai (17M) Kai is also a transgender man, but does not pass at all and is comfortable with it. He’ll get shit sometimes, but also has essentially no straight friends. I told him I was queer when we became good friends, and then told him I was trans after we started dating. I also told him why I lie about being cishet or neurotypical, and while he didn’t seem happy he didn’t push it at first. I told him that I understood if he didn’t want to be in a secret relationship, but because of where we live and what I want to do I wasn’t comfortable with being out again. He said he still wanted to date me, and claimed he would support me, and we had a pretty good relationship overall.

A month after that, he started bringing it up again. He told me that I was more than my identity, and if people didn’t see me for who I am instead of stereotypes, it isn’t worth talking to them at all. And while I agree with the sentiment, it’d never be possible to just not hear someone if they were harassing me, and while I truely dislike a lot of the authority figures that I engage with, they are in the professional fields I’m interested in, and I’m incredibly lucky for getting where I am so early. Kai also said that since I am well known in our very small school (only 300 kids), being out could be a positive influence on what people think about autistic people or trans people. In a particularly heated fight, he even said I was doing a disservice or betrayal to my community by not representing or being proud of being apart of them publicly.

We broke up pretty soon after, but I think about what he said a lot. I know that I wouldn’t be the only out person at my school, and that my school is actually a lot better compared to most local schools, which are a lot larger and… dramatic, but I just don’t think I could be out without going back to how I used to be mentally. And Kai was right about how I could be a good influence on some of the meaner classmates- I do think some of my peers who I ingenuinely connect with might reconsider their prejudices if they knew I was transgender.

I’m intentionally choosing not to take the opportunity to do better. It wouldn’t ruin ALL my relationships with the authority figures I consider to be important holding, since it would just be my school, It might dampen one or two of them. Plus, I’m lying to pretty much everyone who knows me. They build relationships with a false idea of me, and I feel like an asshole sometimes because I’m not honest.

TLDR: I’m a transgender, autistic guy in a very bigoted community. Everybody thinks i’m cishet and neurotypical. AMITA for not being proud of who I am because of potential social losses, and AMITA for lying to people and giving friends/peers false ideas about who I am even if they would not be friends with me if they knew?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

[wren-kitchens]

me and @stiffyck were talking about aroace and t4t jizzie realising both of these things from a trans aroace scar, and because i’m normal (lie) I now have trans jizzie realising they’re trans and swapping names

you’re so welcome <3

(heads up, names are gonna be a bit confusing in this; this is lizzie’s pov)

joel does not know why they had to have this conversation outside in december of all times, because right now he is probably about to get frostbite. sure, the snow is pretty and all, but it is absolutely freezing, and the only thing stopping him from freezing to death is lizzie’s blazeborn ability to stay warm no matter what, and so she’s given him her coat to use as a kind of blanket.

since he started growing his hair out, lizzie has taken to playing with it more often, which is lucky in this scenario because her hands are so warm. in fact- joel thinks he’s forgotten to pay attention to their conversation with scar. oops.

“-all i’m saying is that, if you’re gonna compare restaurants, they’d better sell the same food.” lizzie is saying, far too heatedly for what the conversation is actually about. “there’s no point comparing, like- a fancy french restaurant that does snails and stuff with mcdonald’s.”

“ah, but scar’s diner will have it all, ms beans!” scar declares, and joel is suddenly doubting his grasp on this conversation.

“sorry- what are you guys even talking about?” joel says.

scar laughs the kind of laugh he does when he realises what he’s been talking about makes no sense. joel thinks it’s very funny that he knows scar has that distinctive laugh because of how many conversations he’s had with him that make zero sense. “sorry liz, I-“

liz.

all of a sudden, it’s like joel is underwater; he can technically hear scar correcting himself, and he knows vaguely that there is an outside world. but all [joel?] can think about is lizzie’s name used for him. and- y’know, now [lizzie?] has started thinking about it.. [he?] finds that [she?] absolutely can’t stop thinking about it.

[they?] remember the first time jimmy asked to be called jimmy, and the way his whole face lit up each time lizzie called him ‘jim’ casually, like it was nothing. but to jimmy- it was definitely something, and something big. [lizzie? joel?] had helped cut his hair short, and helped to dye it blonde, and in all honesty, jimmy has only looked happier on the day [names are so hard all of a sudden] was married.

“scar,” [lizzie?] says abruptly, and scar looks at [her?] with a small amount of concern. “can you..” [she?] can’t quite figure out how to finish that sentence. scar understands, regardless of those tricky things known as words.

“sure I can, lizzie.” scar says, and oh- okay. that’s- yeah. 

it’s like there’s a physical ball of energy swelling up inside of [her.], lighting her up from the inside, and- yeah. 

she.. she thinks she might be a girl.

“oh.” lizzie is grinning to herself and it’s starting to hurt a little but she really could care so much more right now.

“wait,” a voice says from above her, and lizzie looks up to see her spouse staring at her with a very familiar look in their eyes. “you- okay, hang on. you can- you can do that?”

“yeah, you definitely can.” scar gives a slightly crooked grin. “I don’t suppose you would be joel then, would you?”

“wh- it’s just- it’s that easy?” there’s a kind of worry attached to those words, one lizzie thinks she understands far better than she expected to. maybe she’s been a girl a lot longer than she realised. “I can just.. be a guy?”

“I did it.” scar grins in a way that makes lizzie think he’s holding back. “jimmy did it.”

“I- yeah, but-“ lizzie looks up and sees the corners of their eyes crinkled in the way that has always meant they’re suppressing a smile. she takes their hand and squeezes it. “it- it can’t be that easy, right?”

“you tell me, beans.” scar says, looking as if he already knows the answer to that.

joel relents, and lets himself smile. “yeah. it is.”

lizzie grins, sitting up and throwing her arms around her husband, and she’s laughing, and so is he, and they both might be crying a little too, and jimmy is gonna think they’re both such idiots, and she doesn’t care. she’s a woman, and joel is a man, and they just swapped names, and that honestly might have made this whole situation far funnier than it probably should be because- are they really both that unoriginal?

“I think,” lizzie sniffles, wiping her eyes on joel’s hoodie. “I think I got snot in your hair.”

“that’s fine.” joel giggles a little in that hiccupy way he does. “I might have just ruined your jumper.”

#jizzie #shadowbeans #ig?? #ldshadowlady #lizzie ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #gtws #gtw scar #he has too many tags #goodtimeswithscar #transgender characters #jimmy is also trans btw #trafficblr #trafficshipping #<- jic #I mean technically later in this au they both realise they’re aroace but #they don’t know that yet so #wren writes

[theresattrpgforthat]

games to play with my long distance partner? we’re queer nerds, i have a lot of dnd experience and some not dnd experience, they have a little bit of dnd experience, we both have fucked up schedules so something that’s asynchronous or short would be best. uh. there’s two of us. yeah i think that’s everything.

THEME: Long-Distance Games.

Hello friend, I am excited to introduce to you the joys of epistolary games!

From the Petals to the Leaves, by somewhere with stories.

This is a two player game about writing to a loved one while you are apart.  Throughout the game you will write to each other while in different gardens, surrounded by plants and flowers of your choice. 

This looks to be a pretty small game, but I think it fits the mood of writing to a loved one, with a concrete topic to base your conversations around - the plants in your gardens. I don’t own this game but I own a similar one by the same creator, so I’m assuming that the game provides you with a prompt list for each letter you send each-other. You can create your characters slowly as you write, uncovering bits and pieces about each-other through your fictional personas. If you just want something a little extra to flavour your letters to each-other, this might be worth looking at.

Soulum Scriptum, by Radmad.

Featuring the art of Marisa Bruno, Soulum Scriptum is a letter writing game for two or more players. You are isolated and alone, until a mysterious courier arrives at your door. They give you a proposition: write letters for someone just like you and they will bring you letters in return.

Develop the broken world and the haven that protects you, all while fighting despair and taking what hope you can find in your new connection across time and space. 

This is a game of connection, between two isolated individuals who are struggling with despair. There are pages for various steps of the game, from world and character creation, to how to manage your feelings after your first letter. There’s also instructions for what to do when you fill certain tracks, including the track for your Haven (your home) and your Hopes (lines and pieces of the letters you receive that give you hope). If you like emotional games that have great potential to tell a story that grows brighter as you play, I recommend Soulum Scriptum.

Talking Thunder, by Eleanor Hingley.

‘Talking Thunder’ is a two-player correspondence RPG about finding connection in a dystopian world. 

As the world changes, you never know what news each letter from your only friend will bring…

If you even hear from them again.

Another game about connection, this time in a post-apocalypse of some kind. I’m curious about how the letters are meant to reach each-other in the fiction of this game, although I suspect that ultimately that is up to the two of you!

We Are Ciphers, by Jgurantz.

We Are Ciphers is a 2-player letter-writing game where you craft a story using coded messages sent through the mail.  You and your partner both covet the Prize, which you believe will transform your lives for the better. But acquiring it is an extremely tricky operation. Many things stand in your way, including the Target. 

This is a letter-writing game with an added layer of complexity, because both of you could be writing in code! The code part is optional, but the premise of the game is that you are two spies trying to get your hands on the Prize - whatever you two decide that may be. The game comes with a list of popular media for inspiration, as well as a series of checkboxes for you to tick off to help you create a game that would be fun for the two of you. There’s also a number of worksheets to help you build your world, craft your codes, and create your characters. If you would like a fair amount of guidance as to how to play the game, We Are Ciphers might be up your alley.

The Wanderers, by AdventureByMail.

You and your friend wait to board two ARK-4 Civilian Class Shuttles charted for new colonies in the hinterlands of space. Though you will be several light-years apart, you promise to keep in touch through the interstellar communication network known as the Unified Starways Parley System. You'll use this network to tell each other about the life you build and the love you discover in the far reaches of space…

This creator makes a number of games designed for long-distance play, so if you like The Wanderers, you might want to check out some of their other work as well! The game itself is small enough to fit on a brochure, so it should be easy to print out and keep somewhere for easy reference. There are roll tables to help you create a character, and some advice on how to write your first letter. Following letters will be provided prompts based on a deck of playing cards, with special rules for drawing Aces. If you like using a bit of randomization to help drive a story, this game might be for you!

Games I've Recommended in the Past

I've played The Reaper's Almanac with a friend before and I really really love the premise of it. It has a chance to dive into some pretty traumatic material, however, as it is about death, so make sure to talk about your partner about the things you'd like to steer clear of if you play this game.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg #epistolary games

[haute-pockette]

The Doctor's incarnations have fears associated to what caused their regenerations Two acting childlike and whimsical because he's afraid of growing old again. He's scared of becoming a crotchety old man that will die alone. He surrounds himself with friends just as he much with surrogates, to help him feel like he isn't too old to be running about having adventures. Three having a lot of complex and mixed feelings about the Time Lords. He resents them for what they did to him and his companions, but also very scared of facing that fate again should cross their path once more. Four can't stand spiders. They didn't directly kill him, but damn did they play a big part leading up to his regeneration. They give him the willies and Sarah Jane and Romana always have to take care of invading arachnids while he is perched safely on the center console. Five hating heights might actually be canon, he's shown freaking out on a cliff in Castrovalva and hating every minute of a plane ride in Time Flight. Boy likes to keep his feet firmly where he doesn't risk falling. He'll get vertigo if too close to a ledge. Six being scared of getting sick. While this one is more vague, it was the fever of Spectrox Toxemia that kills, so I could see him being panicky and over compensating when it comes to illnesses. Pulls manflu pity every time: bed rest, tea, soup, hot waterbottle on the forehead, reciting rhetoric about his woes. Poor Peri and Mel has to tend to his drama. I can also see him hating bats but in a "why can't you fuckers make more than a tiny vial of milk, asshole???" kind of way. I think Seven's might also be canon (in the books at least) with the way he mentally locked away his Sixth self in fear of the Valeyard. Though he wasn't really a cause for regeneration, he certainly set the Doctor on the path to it. Eight terrified of medicine and hospitals. Aspirin is already deadly to Time Lords, anesthesia fucked up his regeneration. This boy won't go to a medical professional unless he's dragged in unconscious. He will look at broken leg twisted out of shape and claim he can walk it off. The Warrior/War Doctor scared of failing people the way he did Cass. His spirit for hope and brighter ending to the war broken when he regenerated. He became the one that got his hands dirty because he was too scared to let anyone else die under his care.

Nine scared of war. War Doctor held off his regeneration for years to keep fighting, and Nine clearly does his best to step away from the incarnation he hated being more than anything. Like he said, "Coward, any day." Ten is a bit tricky. He's scared of Daleks, losing companions. He's scared that people around him will be willing to sacrifice themselves for him. Scared of the heart of the Tardis, the very soul of time itself ripping away what/who he loves. After Rose is safe from it he was very careful to never let anyone open it again. Eleven scared to see another Time Lord again. He's heartbroken about being the last of his kind. Romana, Brax, Damon all gone. The Master's plans had gotten so much more violent and destructive and insane than they used to be. The other Time Lords so desperate to escape the Time Locked war that they'd destroy time to do it. He's scared of everything ending if the Time Lords return. I haven't really seen enough of Twelve or past that to give proper interpretations on them, but I'm pretty sure Twelve is determined not to be seen as an old man. It's like he sees this new cycle as starting over so he's trying to act like he's the young, rebellious first incarnation? idk

#Doctor Who #Headcanons #Classic Who #new who #Second Doctor #Third Doctor #Fourth Doctor #Fifth Doctor #Sixth Doctor #Seventh Doctor #Eighth Doctor #War Doctor #Ninth Doctor #Tenth Doctor #Eleventh Doctor #Twelfth Doctor

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Got tagged for several sentence Sunday by @bigfootsmom @eowon @rewritetheending @eddiebabygirldiaz @devirnis @thewolvesof1998 @lover-of-mine and @daffi-990, as well as a lot of people for a lot of tag games all week. I was out of town and didn’t get the chance to respond, but I did scribble out this little fic in hotel rooms across the state. Tagging @shitouttabuck @malewifediaz @homerforsure @jeeyuns @rogerzsteven @wildlife4life if you have seven, or several, or, uh, however many sentences this is you’d like to share!

This isn’t the first and only time Eddie has found himself watching Buck’s hands. It's the variety, maybe, in how many ways he’s good with them that’s so captivating. Work, obviously, was the first time he’d noticed. Buck — and Eddie smiles whenever he thinks about it, now — had made himself so loud and blustery when they’d met. Eddie hadn’t doubted Bobby’s assessment that the man was a good firefighter, but he figured he was a heavy rescue kind of a guy, here for his brawn, someone to point at danger to terminator his way through it. Then, he’d held a box out for a bomb so steadily it saved all their lives; then, his grip was strong and sure in a collapsing hotel; then, on every call, no matter what, he moved with absolute confidence whether he was tying a perfect hitch knot or offering a hand to help a frightened vic to their feet. He’s good, he’s good at his job, he’s good with his hands, and still even years later Eddie has to remind himself to pay attention to his own task when Buck is at his side with a kind smile and reassuring chatter as his hands work carefully away.

The second place he’d noticed was with Chris. Buck understands lego diagrams that look like rocket science to Eddie, Buck wasn’t overseas or parenting a young child and so has played video games newer than Grand Theft Auto on a hand me down 360 sometime before 2010. He’s right there with the kid, always ready to advise on a tricky part of the diagram or give pointers for a difficult level, always ready to catch and support and comfort and protect, but the thing Eddie realized pretty quickly is how often he doesn’t do these things. Buck, from the beginning, had complete confidence in Christopher being able to figure out anything he puts his mind to. He doesn’t coddle, he never gets impatient and does something for him to get it done quicker. He’s just there to hand him the next requested lego piece with the same sort of awed smile Eddie knows is reflected on his own face when he watches his son.

Then, probably the kitchen. Eddie’s a better cook than he used to be, but he’d still rather watch Buck prepare food, diligently studying his hand on a knife or how he flips a pancake. When Eddie was a child and his abuela still lived in Texas he would watch her cook, how she would pour all her love and care for all of them into the meal, and Buck is just the same. Seeing him try the same dish over and over to get it just right makes Eddie wonder how anyone could ever think of this man as reckless, thoughtless. Being handed a plate by Buck is to be cherished in a way Eddie thinks not many people get to know.

Eddie has watched Buck’s hand on the small of Ali’s back, Taylor’s, Natalia’s. He’s watched them hold their hands, lead them in dances, seen how big his palm looked where it gently rested against their faces, wondered very quietly in some deep and hidden corner of himself what that kind of touch from that specific hand might feel like. He’s good with his hands and he’s got good hands, long fingers, little scars and freckles all over, a little bigger than Eddie’s own. He’d wondered — how could he not — quietly, and then louder and louder, and then-

And then Buck’s touches started to last longer, started happening with more frequency. A hand on his back as he passes him in Eddie’s kitchen, a room so familiar to them that the gesture is entirely unnecessary. A hand on his knee in the engine as Buck laughs at his jokes, Buck’s fingers curled gracefully around his elbow as they talk in a quiet corner of the station, gentle probing touches on every tiny scrape and bump Eddie accumulates on the job. Lingering, is the word for it, Buck’s fingers more and more reluctant to pull away, Eddie always leaning into the touch.

And now - a holiday party, full of folks from dispatch, the entire 118, Eddie’s pretty sure he even saw Ransone around the dessert table earlier. Buck’s got himself trapped behind the bar after he mixed a cosmopolitan for Karen and her delighted sound upon tasting it drew a crowd and endless requests started pouring in. So here Eddie is, too, the pair of them never far apart. He’s been perched on a stool for the last hour at least, watching Buck’s deft hands pour and mix and even do some fancy tricks with the bottles, tossing them in the air or behind his back. It makes Eddie laugh every time, and Buck’s responding grin makes him feel warmer than the alcohol could.

“You’re good at this,” Eddie says, which feels too obvious, or at the very least a vast understatement, and definitely something someone with a terrible crush would say, but something about the party and the way Buck keeps leaning towards him and, probably, the very good blackberry brambles that appear in front of him at regular intervals are all making him over inclined to share.

Buck’s grin is a little crooked, like his tongue is pressed against his teeth, and he winks, the bastard. Eddie’s probably turned a dozen shades of pink. “Bars I worked in had shit wages. Had to rake in the tips.” He nods towards Eddie’s glass, even this movement seeming extraordinarily smooth. “How’s the drink?”

Eddie snorts and takes a sip, like he needs to think about it. “You know it’s good. How come we just drink beers all the time when you can make shit like this?”

Buck laughs, head tilted back as he shakes a mixer full of Chimney’s piña colada. “Seems kinda overkill for a Tuesday night.”

Eddie grins into his drink, because Buck is at his house on Tuesday nights, and Wednesdays, and most of the rest of the week too if they can swing it. “Oh, I’m not a special enough occasion?”

“You’re plenty special, Eds.” Buck’s response is immediate, and his eyes have got all terribly soft and hard to look directly at, but the party and the leaning and the drinking have made Eddie brave, so he doesn’t duck his head. “I’ll make you a nice drink anytime.”

“Or you could-“ Eddie’s words catch, he coughs, he takes another sip of the bramble. Chimney leans against his side for a moment to grab the glass Buck’s poured his drink into, and Eddie remembers they’re not alone, they’re in a crowded room full of people who know them, he should probably go find water or breathe some fresh air, but then Chimney flits away again and Buck is looking at him expectantly.

“I could?” He prompts, with a smile that Eddie wants to fall asleep and wake up to, wants to taste.

Brave. He can be brave. Eddie rests two fingers on the back of Buck’s hand where he’s set it on the counter, looks up at him like his sister’s cosmopolitan magazines said to do. “You could show me what else you can do with your hands.”

Buck searches his face, taking big marathon runner breaths. “Eddie-” whatever he’s looking for he seems to find, because he nods, glances at Eddie’s drink, downs whatever’s left of it, and tilts his head towards the back door. It’s California, it’s not cold, but it’s winter and uncomfortable enough the backyard will be empty of party guests. Neither of them should get in a car yet, but this- this’ll work. This’ll do, in a pinch. Buck turns his hand palm up. “You wanna get out of here?”

Eddie takes Buck’s hand in his own, and they fit together just as perfectly as he hoped they might. “Yeah,” he grins, wide and goofy, unable to try and look cool about this at all. “Yes, please.” Buck is grinning just as wide, so there. “Your patrons might be upset though. Pretty early for a bar to close.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Buck says, tugging Eddie’s hand to start moving across the room. “You gave me the best tip of the night. I-“ he trips a little over somebody's toe, apologizes while Eddie giggles into his shoulder blades. “I’m retiring. They can make their own drinks.”

“Retiring?” Eddie’s impressed Buck gets the door open on only the second try. “What are you thinking of doing next?”

Buck turns around, bright against the dark backdrop of the empty yard and cloudy night sky, big dumb smile on his face. “I thought I’d become a firefighter.”

Eddie cackles, and chases Buck through the door. He stumbles a little but Buck’s hands come up to rest steady on his waist, catching him, easy.

#tag games #several sentence sunday #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #my writing

[slasherbvnnie]

Hello!! Could I request a billy loomis smut about her being new to the school and then sitting beside eachother. It could be like strangers-to kinda friends-friends-good Friends- eventual smut when she gets jealous of Sydney. It’s fine if not! Have a good day! x

Hi! So sorry this request is late, but I really enjoyed writing it and couldn't stop to be completely honest. No smut in this part, but there will be in the second part of this! I honestly might make this longer and into a mini series, I like the idea!! Like, literally, this is longer than any chapter for Until We Found You...

Who's Watching Billy

Part II

Word Count: 2401

Context: Modern day scream au, all characters 18+, afab!reader

“Well feel free to take a seat anywhere, I’ll send you an email later today to update you on everything we’ve done so far. I’m sorry for the complications, admissions is kind of tricky sometimes,” you saw an older lady speaking to a guy. You looked down at the paper in your hand for the hundredth time before looking at the room number on the wall, staring at the two who were blocking the doorway to your class. Thankfully, you made out that the older lady was the professor, so you were thankful that she wouldn’t have any grudge against you for being late for class.

“You must be my other new student, right? Seems like your admins are having a fantastic time with schedules lately,” she joked as she looked to you. You flashed a sheepish smile, giving a nod as the guy turned his attention to you. You couldn’t help but blush, he was pretty cute and having his attention on you just made you want to cower away. A small smile turned on his lips before he looked back to the professor, thanking her for her help before walking into the class. “As I was telling Mr. Loomis, I’ll send you an email after class going over everything we’ve discussed so far. I’ll put all the information you need to know to be able to catch up with us, so just leave a good email with me once lecture is over,” she said as you nodded. “Great, thanks, I hope it hasn’t been too bad. My administrator just told me the class I was enrolled in before wasn’t going to count towards my program and all so- yeah.” You rambled on before nodding, “no worries dear, the only other seat that hasn’t been taken so far will be right next to Mr. Loomis. I’m glad you both arrived today, we’re having a lab later and you’ll need a partner for it,” she said as she moved out of the doorway, you nodded, heading to the back of the class to sit next to the guy from earlier.

“So, did they also fuck up your blocking or is it just your first day here,” he asked as you sat down, shaking your head. “uh- neither. I apparently enrolled in another class that would have just counted as an extracurricular and was told last minute that one I needed, this one, had one seat left open,” you explained as he nodded. “Glad you had a mess up, though. Otherwise I would be out of a partner,” he said, making you smile.

Two days later, you were back at class, seated next to Billy once again. “So, about the project, I was watching a few movies last night to get some ideas,” Billy said to you as you looked over, “oh? You found some movie scenes with chemistry in them?” You asked as he nodded, “have you ever watched who’s watching oliver?” He asked as you thought, “that slasher movie about some creepy dude who kills for his mom?” You smiled when he nodded, “yeah, you know the scene where he’s dissolving all the evidence? I figured that could fit with the project,” he said as you laughed, earning a small glare from him. “I don’t know…I mean, it’s kinda creepy to mention that. How about something more tame, like that movie where jeff Goldblum plays the guy who learned about dna or something,” you suggested as he rolled his eyes. “We could, if you want to be like majority of these idiots. Or, we could be more unique and disturb them while educating them,” he said with a smirk as you laughed again. “How about something better? We have a horror movie night while your set up to an apple watch, then we do some calculations to see if you were scared enough to emit isoprene.” You suggested, seeing his eyes light up. “isoprene,” he questioned as you nodded, “yeah, it’s this chemical we’re always processing but when you get scared, it goes up. We can monitor our heartrates with our apple watches while watching some scary movies and talk about that. We could even timestamp the scenes we got scared at,” you said as Billy smirked. “I’d like that,” he said with a smile as you nodded. “Wanna do it tonight then,” you asked as he looked away and sighed. “Ah, I’ll be busy with my girlfriend,” he admitted as you sighed, “oh…um, tomorrow night then?” You offered as he nodded with a smile. “Tomorrow night sounds good.” He agreed.

After class you said goodbye to Billy and began to head back to your home. You popped in your headphones and turned on your favorite playlist as you made your way to your car. What disturbed your usually normal walk however was seeing Billy with his girlfriend, as well as three others who were talking. You frowned a little, trying to brush off the tiny stupid crush you were developing on Loomis, getting a little angry for thinking that he didn’t have a girlfriend. He was handsome, of course he would have one. You were about to walk past, hearing the two other boys in the group arguing about something you couldn’t make out over your music, but you were disturbed when one came up to you. “Excuse me,” he said, making you pull out an earbud and look to him. “Ah, random awkward question, but do you think you would say you find me attractive. Me and this idiot are having a debate and-“ “leave her alone Meeks, I don’t want you freaking out my lab partner,” you turned to see Billy talking to the male in front of you, the girls and the other male laughing.

“Lab partner, huh,” said the third, you looking to the group in confusion. “Not freaked out, just confused,” you said with a small awkward laugh. “Randy thinks he has a chance with you, caught him drooling over you,” said the unknown male, “and he doesn’t. She’s too smart for him,” Billy said as he wrapped his arm around Sidney. “Sorry about them. That is Randy, a dumbass. The other dumbass is Stu. Then Tatum and…Sidney,” he said, kissing Sidney on the cheek when he introduced her. You tried to hide your frown and instead smiled, nodding. “Um, nice to meet all of you, I guess,” you said as the girls smiled. “So you take chem with Billy? You’re pretty lucky, he’s smart with that kind of stuff,” Tatum said as you nodded, “yeah, he is,” you said with a smile. “Sorry guys, I have to get going,” you said, about to put your headphones back in before Billy called out to you again. “Hey, still good for tomorrow?” He asked as you nodded, “Yup! I’ll text you what time,” you said, seeing Sidney give him a look at your response.

Ever since that night of horror movies, your feelings for Billy had only grown. You were mad at first because you knew him and Sidney were dating, but soon you just became mad that you two weren’t dating. Your anger turned into sadness eventually through the three months of the knowing each other, having been invited to hang out with the friend group more often and becoming a good friend to them. Throughout the months, Billy never seemed to once show interest in you, he wasn’t like Stu who constantly was flirting with others, or Randy who was trying to ask the two for advice on how to make you more interested in him, he just seemed content with Sid. However, October marked a turning point. Casey Becker and Steve Orth were the first thing that began to change the group. The next was the attempt at Sidney which led to Billy getting booked for a night.

You were surprised when Randy called you to let you know what happened, explaining how Sidney was nearly attacked by ‘leatherface’ which he used as a nickname for Billy. “What is this, fucking the house on sorority row or something,” he asked, as you shook your head. “So, did he do it?” “His dad’s some lawyer, even if he did he’s probably getting away with it,” he said as you sighed. “Thanks for letting me know, Randy. Um, I’m gonna call Tate to try and see what’s wrong,” you said, hanging up on him. The next day at school, you noticed that the spot next to you wasn’t empty. Instead, Billy sat, scrubbing his fingers to try and get the ink off. “Hey,” you said softly, his eyes darted up to you before he relaxed and looked back down at his hands, wiping them on his jeans. “Hey…” he said, surprised when you sat next to him. “Not afraid of the killer?” He asked as you laughed, “Loomis a killer? I mean I admit you are kinda creepy enough for it but, no, I don’t think you did it.” You said as he chuckled, “well I’m glad you don’t think so, Sid sure does,” he sighed as you rolled your eyes. “I mean, I could see it if you were in theater. Didn’t she say the killer left then you came out? You’d have to be a track star and the best undresser ever,” you joked, smiling when he laughed.

A bit into class you heard an announcement on the intercoms, you and Billy looked at each other when the overhead voice said that classes were cancelled for student safety. “Wonder what happened,” you said as he hummed. “Maybe ghostface is on the loose again,” he said as you nodded, “scary…” you mumbled, putting your things away and picking up your backpack. Just then Billy’s phone dinged, he looked down at his phone and chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, there’s a party at Stu’s tonight.” “Macher really does have great timing, truly,” you said as he smirked. “Hey, how about you come with me? I’ll pick you up before it starts,” he suggested as you paused, “what about Sidney?” You asked him as he sighed and shrugged, “she accused me as the killer last night, I think I would say we’re pretty much done.” He said as you shrugged. “Um, I don’t know, Billy…” “Come on, if not as my date then as my friend, yeah?” You saw his eyes piercing into yours, a shiver of excitement going down your spine as you nodded and agreed, receiving a big grin from him.

Billy was running a little late, putting gas is what he had texted you. You were waiting on your porch, pacing back and forth slightly as you waited for him. You looked up when you saw headlights in the dark heading towards your driveway, smiling when he honked at you to get in. “About time, take that long to pump gas?” You teased him, smiling when you saw the ends of his lips upturned slightly. “Didn’t know I had to make a good impression, this isn’t a date, remember?” He said as you rolled your eyes. “And we’re an hour late, you owe me alcohol if Stu is all out,” you hummed, “it’s stu, if he’s out just blow him and more will magically pop up,” he joked, the two of you laughing as he drove off.

By the time you made it to the Macher residence, you noticed not as many people. That didn’t bother you really, you just enjoyed the promise of free alcohol and making out with someone by the end of the night. You two hopped out of the car, heading to the door before seeing Sidney about to walk out. Both of your expressions were the same, confused and a little angered to see the other. Billy and Stu looked at you two before at each other, Stu grasping his hands together as he cleared his throat. “Well look what we have here,” he said as Sidney looked to him. “Did you invite Billy?” Stu stayed silent for a moment, pressing his lips together and sucking them in slightly before letting out a chuckle, “I thought it would be nice for you two to uh…reconcile, you know.” He said as you pushed past them, walking to the kitchen where you saw a few others chugging alcohol and hanging out together. You couldn’t hear much over the loud speakers Stu had set up throughout the house, different songs blasting from his playlist. You poured yourself a drink, heading out to explore what was going on around the house.

Not much caught your eye, just people competing in drinking games, others just hanging out with friends or dancing with their dates of the night. You made yourself comfortable, leaning against one of the walls in the living room, getting a small look at the doorway and seeing Billy and Sidney talking, Stu closing the door as the two talked together. Both of you watched them, surprised when Sidney had moved away and slapped Billy, moving away from him to call out again for Tatum so they could leave.

You were a bit happy to see Billy hurt, but a large part of you was also sad and angered by it. You didn’t enjoy seeing him hurt physically, but it made you a bit more comforted knowing he felt a tiny bit of the pain you were hiding. Stu was quick to try and calm down Sidney, putting his arm around her shoulder as they talked.

You and Billy made eye contact from across the room, he gave a dejected smile and a shrug, heading your way. “Did you know telling a girl that you don’t appreciate being called a killer and assuming that breaks you guys up is not a good idea?” He asked as you laughed, “I could have guessed,” you hummed, sipping on your drink before offering him the cup. “Promise it’s not laced or anything, not yet at least,” you said jokingly as he drank. “I would prefer if it was,” he said as he handed it back to you. “How about we get a refill and head upstairs? We can steal some of Stu’s cds and dvds, hopefully not his porn collection,” he said, making you laugh once again. “Hey, who knows, Stu might have good taste in porn,” you said with a wide smile as the two of you headed out to the kitchen.

#billy loomis smut #billy loomis brainrot #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #scream 1996 #scream x reader #scream au #scream1996 #scream #ghostface x reader #ghostface

[svltzmans]

out of the woods - h.m.

a/n: i'm back with longer fics again! i was in a bit of a dry spell with inspiration but i'm finally getting back to it! you might be asking "lizzie will you ever stop naming your stories after taylor swift songs?" and the answer is no ❤️

warnings: smut (18+), kinda angsty? but not really, hope has her humanity off for a bit and her and reader are exes (but not for long), this is very very soft and the smut is pretty tame lmao, i didn't edit this at all

"you're just not the person i fell in love with anymore."

the moment y/n broke up with hope was still a blur. hope's humanity shutdown was rough on everyone involved, but she never would have expected losing the love of her life over it.

at the same time, she understood. now that she had her humanity on, she realized how coldhearted she had become and the way she treated y/n reflected her lack of sympathy.

it hadn't took long for hope to realize that she had made a huge mistake. sure, she had little control over the way she acted when her humanity was off. regardless, she still mistreated y/n and lost her in the process.

y/n knew that she loved hope, and she was sure that she could cope with her supernatural qualities, including her occasional lack of humanity.

however, y/n quickly realized having humanity-less hope as a girlfriend was harder than she had imagined.

any kind of affection from her girlfriend was almost entirely out of the question. it felt like the person she loved had disappeared, and it was too much to handle.

ever since the breakup, hope had been determined to win y/n back. she understood that the trust between them had diminished and it would be hard to show y/n that her recent behavior was behind her.

y/n was apprehensive when she interacted with hope. she wasn't cold, but she certainly wasn't warm either. she just didn't believe that hope truly had turned her humanity back on, knowing that a vampire with their humanity off could be beyond tricky and manipulative.

a major part of her believed that hope would never do anything to hurt her, humanity or not, but she just couldn't take that risk.

hope had tried to open up to y/n about her humanity and tell her that she was truly back, but y/n would just brush her off.

"i just need more time," she would say, and hope would solemnly nod in understanding.

eventually, hope couldn't cope with y/n's indifference any longer.

"y/n, please just talk to me."

y/n finally agrees to sit down with hope, avoiding eye contact with her ex-girlfriend.

"please look at me, y/n. i miss you so much. i know i was awful to you."

y/n reluctantly looks up, locking eyes with hope.

"how do i know it's really you, hope? how can i believe you?"

hope can't help but feel hurt by y/n's lack of trust, but she knows she would feel the same way if she was in y/n's position.

"i've spent every minute of every day thinking about you, y/n. you are everything to me and it kills me that i hurt you so badly. i wasn't myself and i know that's not an excuse. but god y/n, i miss you so much. and i'm so sorry."

y/n softens at hope's words, realizing that she was being genuine.

"i miss you too. and i'm sorry for blowing you off. i guess i was just scared. i know you wouldn't hurt me. i just couldn't bring myself to talk, i didn't know if you were actually back or not."

"i'm here, y/n. and i'm never going away again."

hope tentatively brings her face closer to y/n's, waiting for a reaction.

when she doesn't get one, she presses her lips to y/n's.

when hope finally pulls away after what feels like an eternity, y/n wraps her arms around her tightly.

"i'm so glad you're here, hope. really here. i missed you."

hope melts into y/n's arms, allowing her head to rest on her shoulder.

"hope?"

"yeah?"

"be mine again. please."

hope doesn't respond, opting to kiss y/n again instead.

hope is gentle in every sense of the word, her hand gently resting on y/n's cheek, gently coaxing her to lay down.

she takes her time, wrapping her arms around y/n as she kisses her.

hope toys with the wastline of y/n's sweatpants, running her fingers over her stomach.

"may i?" she asks tentatively, looking deeply into y/n's eyes as she awaits her response.

"thought you'd never ask," y/n laughs quietly before attaching her lips to her girlfriend's once more.

hope's touch remains gentle as she dips below y/n's underwear. she studies y/n's face carefully, ensuring that she is completely okay with what she's doing.

"that's my girl. always doing so good," hope coos, listening to y/n's gentle whines.

when y/n falls over the edge, she wraps herself around hope again, wanting to be as close to her as possible.

hope holds y/n for some time, running her hand over her back.

just when hope thinks y/n has dozed off, she hears her sleepily mutter something in her ear.

"i love you."

hope wasn't sure if she would ever hear y/n say that again, and she feels relief flooding her whole body at her words.

"i love you so much, y/n."

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #wlw #legacies #legacies x reader #hope mikaelson x fem reader #the originals x reader #hope mikaelson fic #hope mikaelson imagine #hope mikaelson smut #hope mikaelson x fem! reader

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Since Taylor seems to be confused about what Mary's Song (Oh My My My) is, I put together a comprehensive list of potential mashups or pairings she could use during surprise song o'clock. Hope this helps 🫶

She said, (dear reader) I was 7 and you were 9. I hit my peak at 7. The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children. I looked at you like the stars that shine in the sky. Love you to the moon and to Saturn. The stars in your eyes shined brighter in Tupelo. I've never seen nobody shine the way you do. He's passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. The pretty lights. One night a few moons ago, I saw specks of what could have been lights but it might just have been you. I know looks can be deceiving, but I know I saw a light in you. And our daddies used to joke about the two of us growing up and falling in love. Up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush. And our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes. When you're on the phone and you talk real slow 'cause it's late and your mama don't know. And said "oh my, my, my." (My, my, my, my.)

Take me back to the house in the backyard tree. Please picture me in the trees. In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords. Friday night beneath the stars in a field behind your yard. Said you'd beat me up, you were bigger than me, you never did. Hey Dorothea do you ever stop and think about me? Down in the park, honey, making a lark of the misery. You would break your back to make me break a smile. We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be, the mischief, the gift wrapped suburban dreams. Take me back when our world was one block wide. We had this big, wide city all to ourselves. When I'm feeling alone, you remind me of home. I didn't choose this town; there's just one who could make me stay all my days. I dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried. Daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you. I've been loving you for quite some time; I just like hanging out with you all the time. Just two kids, you and I. You throw your head back laughing like a little kid. Like a child when our eyes meet. At 14 there's just so much you can't do. When you're 15 and somebody tells you they love you, you're gonna believe them.

(Next chapter) I was 16 when suddenly I wasn't that little girl you used to see. 16 and wild. A teenage couple in the driveway, holding hands on the way to a dance. I'm crazier for you than I was at 16. Teal was the color of your shirt when you were 16 at the yogurt shop you used to work at to make a little money. The kind of radiance you only have at 17. But your eyes still shined like pretty lights. Your eyes look like coming home. Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night. And our daddies used to joke about the two of us. Any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored, 'cause my heart is yours. They never believed we'd really fall in love. Seems like there's always someone who disapproves. Sun sinks down, no curfew, twenty questions, we tell the truth. You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out, you are in love, true love. Not trying to fall in love, but we did like children running. And our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes. And your mama's waiting up, and you're thinking he's the one. And said "oh my, my, my." "Oh my, love is a lie," shit my friends say to get me by.

Take me back to the creek beds we turned up, 2am riding in your truck. 2am, in your car. Just a boy in a Chevy truck that had a tendency of getting stuck on back roads at night. And all I need is you next to me. Everything I need is right here by my side. I'll be summer sun for you forever. Take me back to the time we had our very first fight, the slamming of doors instead of kissing goodnight, you stayed outside till the morning light. I remember that fight, 2:30am as everything was slipping right out of our hands, I ran out crying and you followed me out into the street; you took me by surprise, you said "I'll never leave you alone." This love is worth the fight. You fight, then you talk. When we had that fight out in the rain, you ran after me and called my name, I never wanna see you walk away. Oh my, my, my. My heart, my hips, my body, my love.

A few years had gone and come around. Our coming of age has come and gone. We were sitting at our favorite spot in town. I love my hometown. This place is the same as it ever was. And you looked at me, got down on one knee. And all at once, you're all I want, I'll never let you go. I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings. I wanna teach you how forever feels.

Take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle. Church bells ring, carry me home, rice on the ground, looks like snow. I want you for worse or for better. There you'll stand, next to me, all at once, the rest is history. Our whole town came and our mamas cried. I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe. I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs would surprise the whole school when I ended up back at our class reunion walking in with you. You said "I do" and I did too. I vowed I will always be yours. I'm so in love that I might stop breathing. You and me forevermore. Take me home where we met so many years before. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings. Barefoot in the kitchen, sacred new beginnings that became my religion. Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. It's been 2190 days of our love blackout. Floors of a cabin creaking under my step. Just being in your arms takes me back to that little farm. He feels like home. I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet, 'cause I haven't moved in years. I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway. We'll rock our babies on that very front porch. Your little hand's wrapped around my finger and it's so quiet in the world tonight, your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreaming so I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light. Give you my wild, give you a child. We could get married, have ten kids and teach them how to dream. After all this time, you and I. Time, mystical time. I've been sleeping so long in a 20 year dark night, now I see daylight.

I'll be 87, you'll be 89. Long story short, I survived. Time breaks down your mind and body, don't you let it touch your soul; I'm gonna love you when our hair is turning gray. All my days, I'll know your face. I'll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky. When Emma falls in love, it's all on her face, hangs in the air like stars from outer space. Oh my, my, my, my.

#i did it i remade it 😭 #actually. its longer this time skdhskfbjs #now after that entird debacle. you better appreciate this 🤺 #mary's song #taylor swift #taylor swift debut #marys song #surprise songs #the eras tour

[astrojulia]

Explaining the Aspects

A very important part of everything in astrology (predictive astrology, natal charts, synastry…) is knowing how aspects work.

There are two ways to explain each one of them, the more formal one which is what you see in books and the one with analogies. I like to do both because it's hard to make something stick in my head, LOL. So let's go.

What is an aspect?

Okay, so now let's finally talk about what all these astrological aspects really mean. Basically, the aspects are like the different vibes and energies that flow between the planets, which represent different parts of your personality. So, depending on which planets are in aspect with each other, you might feel more stressed out or more at peace in different areas of your life.

It's kind of like a map of your inner world, and the different angles and shapes that the planets form can either create a sense of harmony or tension. The way that these energies interact can really affect your personality and how you feel day-to-day. So, if you've got a lot of planets aspecting with each other, you might feel those influences more strongly than if they were just hanging out on their own.

There are several aspects, but the ones I use and the ones that are most seen are: Conjunction, Sextile, Square, Trine and Opposition. What about the others you may say, well, I don't work with them, so I am not going to dive in about something I am horrible not good at.

Conjunction

Basically, a conjunction happens when two planets are in the exact same spot on your astrological chart - we're talking zero degrees here, people. Typically, people say that an orb of eight degrees on either side is what counts for a conjunction, so there's about a sixteen-degree arc where these planets can be hanging out together.

When planets are conjunct, it means that the parts of your personality that these planets represent are getting super cozy with each other. The quality of this connection really depends on which planets are involved - if it's two inner planets, you're probably looking at a pretty chill and harmonious situation. But if it's a mix of different kinds of planets (like mental and emotional), you might get some tension going on.

If the Sun is involved in a conjunction, it's going to make the planet it's conjuncting even more powerful. And if the Moon is involved, it's going to bring out the subconscious influence of that planet in your psyche.

Now, when we start talking about outer planets, things can get a little tricky. Depending on how your psyche is set up, a conjunction between outer planets can either be super harmonious or super stressful. And let's be real, most people find the energies of outer planets to be pretty difficult to deal with.

Even calculated points like the Ascendant and Midheaven can get in on the conjunction party, and they tend to take on the flavor of whatever planet they're conjuncting. So, if you've got a planet conjuncting your Ascendant, that planet's influence is going to be even more magnified in your personality.

In other words, conjunction is when two planets will work on the same issue in their company, and depending on the planets the work environment will be good or bad.

Sextile

The sextile is like two planets giving each other a friendly high-five from a distance of sixty (60) degrees apart. It creates a hexagram and a Star of David shape on the astrological chart. Basically, if two planets are within twelve (12) degrees of each other, they're sextiling. It's considered a good vibe kind of aspect, like the universe is giving you a little helping hand. It's all about opportunities and being able to make the most of them.

When planets are sextiling, it's like they're saying, "Hey, let me help you out, bro!" or "Yo, I've got a great idea, let's work together!" They complement each other and bring out the best in one another. For example, when a fiery planet is sextiling an airy planet, it's like they're two peas in a pod. Similarly, when an earthy planet is sextiling a watery planet, they just get each other.

But, like everything in life, there can be downsides to the sextile. If you ignore the opportunities presented by the sextile, you might miss out on some great stuff. If you pursue them too hard, you could end up stepping on other people's toes. If things come too easily to you, you might start taking them for granted. And if you're not careful, you might let greed and selfishness get in the way of your personal growth. So, remember to stay humble and grateful, and take advantage of the good vibes when they come your way!

In other words, the planets support each other here: it’s a collaboration no matter the company sector they work for. If one is making a mistake, the other will rectify it and not complain; if something is wrong it will provide support and not critique. For example, if your Pluto is in sextile to Jupiter, you will feel quite powerful while you’re feeling lucky, but if you play too much, you will recall that you need to be more serious and reserved.

Square

It's what happens when two planets are 90 degrees apart from each other. Usually, there's an orb of about 8 degrees in either direction, so the square can happen for about 16 degrees total. This divides the circle into quarters and makes a square shape within it.

The thing about the square is that it's all about conflict and confrontation. It's like two cars crashing into each other or one car smashing into the side of another. The right angle means there's a lot of resistance and neither planet can easily budge the other. So, it's not exactly a happy-go-lucky kind of aspect - it's considered a tough one.

Basically, the square represents different parts of your mind that are fighting with each other. And if you're not dealing with those inner struggles, you might end up projecting them outward and causing conflicts with others. The planets involved in a square are usually in elements that don't mix well, like Earth and Fire, Fire and Water, Water and Air, or Air and Earth. So, it's hard to find common ground and make peace.

But hey, don't despair! Even though squares are traditionally seen as bad news, some astrologers think they can be good for you. The tension and conflict represented by the square can help you grow and develop. It forces you to overcome obstacles and learn how to deal with difficult situations. So, even though it might not be easy, it could be just what you need to become a stronger, better version of yourself. And, honestly, a chart without any squares might mean you're not being challenged enough to really reach your full potential.

In other words, when the planets are subtracting each other. They go to the desktop and refuse to look each other in the eyes. They will not cooperate when it comes to working together. So if you have Jupiter in the 10th house and Mars in the 1st house, when talking about career you can see your Mars as your eternal front neighbor who sells exactly the same thing as you, you can help each other… but it will need A LOT of maturity.

Trine

Hey, so the trine is formed when two planets are separated by 120 degrees. It's considered a chill and harmonious aspect, and can be represented by an equilateral triangle within the horoscope circle. Basically, everything is balanced and the vibes are good. The energy between the planets flows easily and functions associated with those planets tend to work well together.

If you have a trine in your chart, you might find yourself feeling happy and content with its trine subject. However, there are some risks associated with the trine. If one or both of the planets are difficult for you to work with, the trine can actually amplify that difficulty. Also, because everything seems so easy, you might become too complacent or unprepared for life's challenges.

On the upside, the trine can help raise your consciousness and connect you with your spiritual side. There's also something called a grand trine, which is even more awesome because it involves three planets in trine with one another, creating a circular flow of harmonious energy. All in all, the trine is a pretty sweet aspect in astrology.

In other words, the planets add up and it can be both useful and dangerous. A trine in earth house (2nd,6th and 10th), might generate an obsession with these themes, making the native anxious, as well give the native skills that can make it shine in several fields.

Opposition

So, basically, when two planets are opposite each other at a distance of 180 degrees, it's called an opposition. This means that the functions represented by those planets work in opposite directions and can often lead to conflict. However, the conflict associated with an opposition is generally more easily resolvable than that associated with a square.

The key to resolving the conflict of an opposition is to realize that the duality between the two functions is just an illusion. Both sides of the opposition actually share common qualities and complement each other. By finding this common ground, opposition can be transformed into cooperation and harmony, leading to strength and wholeness.

However, if the conflict is left unresolved, it can lead to confusion, dilemma, and ongoing conflict. To protect itself from the discomfort of the conflict, the ego may adopt one of three defense mechanisms: siding with one end of the opposition, suppressing one side of the opposition, or projecting the qualities of one of the opposed functions onto someone or something else.

Eventually, though, the subconscious mind will create circumstances that force the ego to confront the conflict of the opposition. So it's better to face the conflict head-on and work towards finding common ground and cooperation rather than avoiding it altogether.

In other words, the planets will argue A LOT, but remember that not every discussion is bad, there’s discussions that’re for improvement, like debates.. but this is always an exhaustive process. When you use energy from your Moon that’s in opposition to your Mercury, both your emotional and rational will get tired because the two worked, even on opposite sides.

Sources

[15] SERVANTOFTHEFATES. Disponível em: https://servantofthefates.tumblr.com/. Acesso em: 29 de mar. de 2023.

Art: Spin@書籍発売！

[7] GARGATHOLIL. Depth Astrology: An Astrological Handbook - Volume 1: Introduction. Smashwords Edition, 2014.

#all about astrology #astrology #astrojulia #astrology notes #astrology basics #astrology tips #astro community #witchblr #astroblr #astrology aspects #something big is coming... why I do that? LOL

[daylight6256]

My Unpopular Interpretation Of Gojo Satoru’s Character

He’s a hypocrite who’s unable to see through the lies he feeds himself.

First of all, I probably need to establish how I define ‘hypocrisy’ in this case so it’s easier to see what I’m getting at. In Gojo’s case, his hypocrisy manifests in his proclamation of loneliness as the only way of living for “the strongest”. He looks at everyone else through a lens of superiority and views other sorcerers as burdens rather than allies. Instead of looking at jujutsu as an act of teamwork that requires constant input and effort from all parties involved, he sees it as his and only his responsibility in the sense that he faults himself for any losses that ensue in the wake of missions. This guilt might seem like it could be naturally attributed to his status as a teacher but I do think that this issue runs deeper and is a lot more sinister specifically because of the way Gojo was raised.

It’s important to establish that the source material leaves a lot up to speculation when it comes to Gojo’s upbringing but I think it’s reasonable to assume that things weren’t….pretty. Considering the fact that Gojo was the first sorcerer born with both The Six Eyes and Limitless in who knows how many hundred years, the weight of expectations placed upon him by his clan must’ve been soul-crushing. Not only was he deprived of his childhood but he was also immediately relegated to the status of a god by everyone around him. This kind of rabid devotion can’t be healthy for anyone, but especially not for a child. He then went on to live all his formative years under his clan’s supervision which effectively meant that he could only see the world in relation to himself for the first 15 years of his life.

And then Geto came into his life like a whirlwind and crumbled the foundations that helped set up his viewpoints of the world up until that point. Geto also helped in razing the walls that Gojo built between the world and himself to the ground. When it comes to Gojo, while some of his loneliness was definitely self-imposed due to his flawed belief that “the strongest” are destined to only be able to rely on themselves, I also think that a lot of his anti-social behavior can be justifiably attributed to his clan isolating him from anyone they deemed as beneath him, which is basically….everyone. Therefore, Geto was the first semblance of normalcy Gojo had in his life.

I believe that a lot of Gojo’s infatuation with Geto boils down to Geto being his gateway out of loneliness. Gojo stopped being “the strongest” precisely because of Geto’s existence. Gojo suddenly had the ability to be a child precisely because of Geto’s existence. He viewed Geto as a gift - probably the first time he had this thought in relation to anyone other than himself. Geto was Gojo’s reason for looking at the world outside of himself. He was also his reason for feeling anything other than disdain towards everyone else. I also think that the severe contrast between what their upbringings look like externally served as the catalyst to the development of their relationship. Gojo’s life up until that point was so eccentric and so deprived of a sense of normalcy that only someone whose life had an illusion of normality despite being equally as eccentric could make sense of. While Geto couldn’t relate to everything clan-related in Gojo’s life, he could probably sympathize with the sense of ‘otherness’ that Gojo felt because of being born into a family of non-sorcerers. And so they bonded over being “the strongest”.

Here comes the tricky part though. I am of the opinion that both boys were so drunk on their power that they thought that basing the entire worth of their relationship on it was….normal, again because their reference point for what is and isn’t normal was very off-center. So when Toji ultimately destroyed their lives, the foundation of their relationship suddenly wasn’t as sturdy as they thought it was. Now, I must admit I don’t know if Gojo ever actually looked down on Geto for eventually becoming “beneath” him, but Geto being the chronic overthinker that he is probably thought that he did anyways, and for valid reasons: seeing Gojo’s attitude towards everyone other than Geto himself must’ve done a number on his perception of his own self-worth in relation to Gojo after the Toji debacle. And with both of them being children and with Gojo being so power-drunk that he couldn’t see through the mask Geto put on, I honestly can’t see a way in which things wouldn’t have ended the way they did. So when Geto eventually left, Gojo came to the conclusion that any attempt to form any meaningful relationship with other people was pointless because they would either end up feeling resentful towards him (re: Geto or at least what Gojo thought Geto’s reason for leaving was) or fall so far beneath him that they’ll eventually have no choice but to leave (re: Geto again).

He faulted his own power for creating a rift between Geto and himself without possessing the sufficient introspection to realize that the crux of the problem lied in Geto’s inability to stomach the disregard with which the higher-ups treated sorcerers. Gojo was so caught up in his own power to correctly conclude that something outside of himself was what eventually drove Geto to leave. Which brings us back to square one. Gojo’s lack of ability to think outside of himself is the driving force behind his hypocrisy. Instead of actually putting in the work to understand the internal mechanisms behind the thought processes of the people around him, it is much easier to pretend that their actions or lack thereof must be in some way linked to his perception of his power, rather than an external force he possesses no control over. Because at the end of the day, it is easier to pretend to have a semblance of control over the way people act than to be faced with the damning realization that you simply don’t. In Gojo’s case, it was easier to assume that Geto’s defection was in direct correlation to his own rise to power rather than due to a fault within a system he had no control over.

It’s important to emphasize that I think this opinion is strictly limited to teen Gojo (immediately after Geto’s defection). He eventually did end up accepting the truth of the matter for what it is - you can only save those who want to be saved (aka you don’t possess control over every facet of being) which is why he helped raise a generation of sorcerers to ensure that the world was left in safe hands.

This is all over the place lol I’m not even gonna try to edit it but I appreciate input and constructive criticism!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk #jjk spoliers #satosugu #character study #gojo satoru #geto suguru

[bonesandthebees]

strange nightmares

I had a really dumb idea for a drabble after todays streams but it's too short to post to my ao3 so here have some Wilbur and Tallulah

(it's not as angsty as it looks) (spoilers for phil's stream and charlie's streams from today) (also I wrote this in like 20 minutes)

~

“Are you ready to go to bed now, Tallulah?” Wilbur asked, smiling as he set the guitar down on the ground. 

Tallulah seemed unsure. Her brows were scrunched as she rolled onto one side, before promptly rolling onto the other. Wilbur wondered if she wasn’t tired yet, but before he could ask, he noticed something troubling.

Her hands were shaking where they clutched at her blanket. It was then Wilbur’s gaze trailed up to her eyes again, and recognized the fear sitting in the brown. 

“Are you scared of something?” He asked softly, scooting his chair closer to the end of the bed. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” 

Tallulah stared at him for a moment, her lip trembling as she seemed to have some kind of internal debate with herself. Then, she reached for her notepad on the nightstand, and began to write. 

I’m scared I’m gonna have nightmares again

Wilbur blinked. “You’ve been having nightmares?” When Tallulah nodded, he made a pained noise. How long had she been having nightmares for? Did Phil know about them? Did he comfort her when she woke up? What were the nightmares about? Was it because he was gone so often, she didn’t feel safe without him?

“Oh darling,” he murmured, moving to sit on the edge of the bed so he could wrap her in his arms. “You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to, but what were your nightmares about?” 

He waited for her to finish writing in the notepad before glancing over. 

I had two nightmares last night. In one of them me and abuelito and chayanne were on an adventure but then we got killed by a really scary monster and died.

Wilbur hissed out a breath between his teeth. Goddammit, Phil.

While he didn’t doubt that Phil took great care of his granddaughter, Wilbur knew that taking her on all those adventures was going to cause something like this sooner or later. He’d wanted her to keep her childhood innocence for as long as possible, but now she was terrified she was going to get killed by a monster because her grandpa kept putting her in dangerous situations. What kind of a childhood was that?

“I’m so sorry-” 

Before Wilbur could finish his sentence, Tallulah started writing again. 

The addition said:

In the other one some weird man was standing over my bed and kept singing a song about giving me nightmares

Wilbur blinked. That didn’t sound like a monster dream.

“Did he do anything to you in the dream?” Wilbur asked, tugging her closer. 

Tallulah shook her head and wrote: he just kept singing and then he left and now I have it stuck in my head

Hm. That was tricky. 

“Well, maybe if we give the song new lyrics we can get that stuck in your head instead, so it’s not as scary,” Wilbur suggested, although he had no idea if that would help at all. “Would you wanna do that?” 

If anything, brainstorming lyrics might just take her mind off the other nightmare with Phil and Chayanne, so at least there was that. 

After a moment of consideration, Tallulah nodded. 

“Okay, you wanna hum me the tune so I can see if I can play it on my guitar?” 

Nodding again, Wilbur reached for his guitar as Tallulah cleared her throat. Then, she began to hum. 

Only a few notes in, Wilbur recognized the tune.  “He sang the fucking Pokemon theme song?!”

Shrinking back at the volume of his voice, Tallulah gave him a confused look.

Wilbur blinked a few times. Should he even try to decipher that one? Where did she hear the Pokemon theme song? They didn't even have Netflix on this damn island!

Fuck. His daughter was somehow having nightmares about Ash Ketchum. Even though he'd never read a parenting book, he was pretty sure they didn't have an advice section for this.

Clearing his throat, Wilbur straightened back up, knowing he needed to focus on getting Tallulah to calm down so she could go to sleep.

"Sorry, uh, I'll explain what a Pokemon is tomorrow," Wilbur said, adjusting the guitar on his lap. "Anyway, uh, I actually already have some lyrics in mind for that if you wanna hear it?"

Tallulah nodded again, perking up at the promise of getting to hear him play guitar again.

Wilbur began to strum the familiar chords.

"I wanna be the very best, that no one ever was-"

#qsmp #wilbur soot #tallulah #my writing

[togglesbloggle]

Evolution, Metaphor, and the Meaning of Gay Alligators

A few times recently, I’ve run across discussions about animal sex that are wrong in interesting ways.  I don’t want to derail those conversations, and I certainly don’t want to call out anybody in particular, so I’m branching off here- but the most recent one was in the notes about the discovery (original paper) that most alligator sex is between two males.

Anyway, a not-uncommon element of these discussions is for somebody to frame animal homosexuality as ‘confusion’, particularly with simpler animals.  The idea behind this isn’t too tricky: it proposes that the animal’s sexual instinct is functionally oriented towards (or intended for) heterosexual coupling and reproduction, but that the perceptions and processing power of the animal’s brain are too limited to reliably distinguish between the sexes.  As a result, simpler animals of the same sex may occasionally copulate with one another by accident, as one of the failure modes along the way to biological reproduction.

If you are a card-carrying member of the Tumblrati, the word ‘heteronormative’ might well be in your brain already, and fast approaching your tongue.  You might be building an argument about how sexuality has social as well as reproductive functions, that a lack of human imagination doesn’t prevent evolution from building towards homosexuality for its own reasons, and anyway human sociolinguistic concepts are a lousy fit for animal behavior.  These are pretty good arguments, but I’m asking you to pause that line of thought briefly; it’s not where I’m going.

Animals confound us in an interesting way: their agency is without question, but their sapience is limited, and we struggle to imagine ‘what it’s like to be an alligator’ for that reason.  What is it like, after all, to be conscious but not self-aware?  So when we ask ourselves why an animal does what it does, we tend to use evolution as a way to paper over that gap, and say “well, the alligators must be having sex in order to reproduce and succeed as organisms.”  Persistently, in odd and elaborate ways, we make this assumption that animals are themselves pursuing adaptive fitness in a way that’s much more direct than humans do, as if natural selection were a motive for animal behavior and not just an explanation for it.

This is the deeper and more interesting error that I’m trying to chew on.  The ‘mistake’ theory of animal homosexuality assumes that animals are motivated to pursue biological reproduction, not because of what we know about them as individuals or as a species, but because of what we know about the forces that produced them.  This assumption gets silently made in the case of alligator sex in part because we often make this assumption, it’s nearly our default way of thinking about these things.  

I’m very sympathetic to this error!  Biology and especially anatomy is our go-to example of purpose in nature; questions like “what are your lungs for?” have obvious (if surprisingly sophisticated) answers.  Behavioral instincts are a little more complicated, but it’s still kind of the same thing- we can cogently talk about the reasons why we shiver when we’re cold, for example.  And every time we have this conversation, natural selection is looking over our shoulder waggling its eyebrows at us.  This kind of language can be very, very misleading, inviting a slip from “we <are born with an involuntary reflex to> shiver in the cold because it helps us survive,” to “we <agentically prefer or choose to> shiver in the cold because it helps us survive.”  It’s practically designed to trip us up like this.

I think this happened in our language because of the theological fights around evolution in the early days of its discovery.  You know how it was- Darwin, the monkey trials, all that nonsense.  Natural selection accounts for biological diversity and the seeming-purpose of natural forms in a way that requires no conscious designer (or Designer), and so what might have been a purely scientific discovery also ended up blowing a hole in the social and religious functions that that sense of purpose provided- and was called upon, in some ways, to fill that hole again.  Evolution got smooshed into a sort of theological shape, and now we have the sort of culture where the phrase “evolutionary imperative” feels like it makes sense to us instead of being an obvious contradiction in terms.

That theological shape comes back again and again when we try to speak poetically about natural selection, because it’s always lurking very shallowly under the surface.  In these failure modes, we talk about natural selection in almost filial terms, a generative entity that hangs out in a workshop occasionally holding up new animals for our perusal; it’s hiding behind Kipling’s ‘gods of the copybook headings’, NRx’s ‘gnon’, Scott’s ‘Goddess of Cancer,’ and so many others.  I did it a little bit myself, not three paragraphs ago!  I called evolution “a force that produced them,” like it was some sort of creator-deity sculpting gay alligators out of clay.  Like “what evolution wants” is something that a person can talk about…

Metaphors and language are hard, but I’ve been trying to think a lot lately about how to build a story about evolution in my head that doesn’t have this problem.  Something passive, you know?  Something that doesn’t have the property of being a designer, doesn’t tempt us into treating ourselves and the organisms sharing our world as if we were all agents of some Lovecraftian entity.

I’m not entirely satisfied with my answer just yet, but for now, I’m trying to let evolution be a labyrinth.  It’s filled with twisting corridors and strange rooms, dead ends and loops, and terrible, deadly traps.  It’s unfathomably large, and mostly empty- even though trillions and trillions of us have explored this maze, we’ve only really seen a small part of it, and out beyond the edges of our knowledge, there’s still mile after endless mile of quiet, dark corridors that have never known a footfall.  

It’s not a comforting place, and even though we were born here, it’s not really home; it’s not something built for us, or one that’s especially concerned with our wellbeing.  But the thing about this labyrinth is that most of the rooms have prisoners in them, strange and unfamiliar beings held in stasis and waiting for the door to open so they can spring into life and begin their own wandering.  And this is a treasure of a kind, if you want to see it that way; not wooden chests full of gold coins, perhaps, but something new and beautiful all the same.  And if that’s not reason enough to explore the maze, to go out beyond the relative safety of the room you were born in- then, well, there’s always the rumors that there’s a real exit, hidden somewhere among the twisting corridors.

It’s… not bad, I guess?  The metaphor has its uses.  

I think it does a decent job of capturing and illuminating lots of our moral intuitions; bioconservatism (and to a lesser extent, social conservatism) as a refusal to explore the maze, rejecting the insane dangers of exploration and the questionable rewards of the search and instead preferring to stay at home in the room where we were born– still trapped in the labyrinth, but at least alive, at least for a while.  It shadows that position with the correct amount of irony, reminding us that human existence follows from a four-billion-year history of discovery, adaptation, and mutation by nonhuman organisms; it reminds us that the discovery of human beings came at a terrible cost for those who came before us.  And importantly, it allows any given organism to be a thing-in-itself.  Sure, life originates in certain places and certain patterns according to the latent shape of the labyrinth (though my metaphor isn’t very good at describing that shape…), but it’s free to act as it prefers, and live or die by those choices.

My hope, anyway, is that by dwelling on this metaphor, and stepping back from all the talk about creators and purposes and imperatives, you’ll find it easier to see what ought to have been fairly obvious to us: alligators have gay sex because they think the other alligators are sexy, and they want to have sex about it.

The questions that follow after, like “why do alligators find each other sexy?,” are also important!  It is vital to learn as much about the shape of this labyrinth as we can, the better to traverse it safely, to explore it comprehensively, and maybe even to find the exit.  But those are different questions, and conflating them can only lead to confusion.  We must begin by acknowledging that we and our fellow-travelers on Earth do not exist for the sake of natural selection, and that any willful concessions to it are strategic, not moral.  The creatures all around us- human and otherwise- carry their own motives and their own reasons within themselves.  To live in the world as it is, we have to confront that radical pluralism head on, and not try to wipe it away by pretending these are all just masks over some domineering force of nature puppetting them towards inscrutable ends.

[drkmgs]

Tyler's Sibling

Wednesday Addams x Reader Galpin

Warning: injured arm, scar, pain, sibling issues...

previous chapter next chapter

Remember this story? Yeah? It's been sitting in my drafts for months, and finally, I found a way to continue it. There are definitely more chapters to come, but I still have to empty my drafts...

Stay tuned!

Kissing your brother's crush wasn't on your bucket list and if he finds out about it, he will give you hell. It's not like he hated you already. It was shocking news when he showed up today for his shift at the Weathervane. As for your luck, today is also Outreach day which means you will have Nevermore students to help out there. You thought your day couldn't get worse, but it did. Xavier Thorpe is assigned to help you out. Great. Now you're stuck with two imbeciles who despise each other and have an oddly obsession with Wednesday.

You were at the counter but you could feel the tension between the two guys and you weren't in the mood to stop them from attacking each other. You have probably more problems to deal with than them. You hear the Weathervane's door open and Wednesday Addams enters.

Xavier: I thought you were supposed to be at Pilgrim World.

Wednesday: I deserted it while my sanity was still intact.

Xavier: Oh yeah? You want a coffee? It’s one of the many perks of this wonderful assignment.

He tried to be smug and leaned against the counter, but Wednesday brushed him off.

Wednesday: I'm actually here for Tyler.

Xavier: I told you he was bad news.

Wednesday: Twice. But who I speak to is my business.

He's mood shifted and was no longer leaning on the counter. It was hard not to laugh at Xavier, but you had to keep your cool. You weren't eavesdropping, they were just talking loud enough for you to hear.

Tyler: You rang? Want the usual?

Wednesday: and some help. You know the original pilgrim meeting house, the one from the 1600s? You know if it’s still around?

Tyler: What’s left is out in Cobham Woods, but it’s pretty much a ruin.

Wednesday: Show me.

Wednesday took a map out of her bag and lay it flat on the table next to them. Your brother hesitant pointed at the location, where the ruins might be.

Tyler: Uh…There, but, look, it’s kind of sketchy. Squatters and meth heads use that place as a crash pad. My dad has it cleared out every couple weeks. What’s this about?

Wednesday: Nothing.

Tyler: You’re becoming obsessed with this monster in the woods thing.

Wednesday: Would you rather I develop an obsession with horses and boy bands? Thank you for the help.

She was about to leave when your brother offered his assistance.

Tyler: Hey, listen, the ruins are kind of tricky to find. I could take you this afternoon. My shift ends at 2:00.

Seriously, you had enough of these shenanigans. You passed by them and clean some of the tables that were left unattended. You forgot about your scar and pulled up your sleeves to not get them dirty. Sure at this point, everyone's eyes were on you. Wednesday's eyebrows furrowed at the sight and were quick to stand beside you. You felt her cold hand against your wrist, just like your first encounter, but this time she didn't go into an epileptic state. However, she did stare at your scar and examined it. She's been so caught up with the investigation that she almost forgot the vision about you. She was snapped out of her thoughts when you pulled your arm away from her, pushed your sleeve back down, and continued to clean the rest of the table.

You ignored her, pushing the curiosity about the kiss back into your mind, and went to clean more tables. All three of them just followed your actions with their gaze and after a minute Wednesday was out of the caféhouse. You sighed heavily when you see her walk out from the Weathervane into the streets. You turn around to return the used coffee mug but was met with Xavier's face inches away from yours.

Y/N: The fuck, dude.

You lean back and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. You don't know if he trying to send you something telepathically or is searching for something on your face. You slightly pushed him away, so you could pass by him, but what he said made you stop on your tracks.

Xavier: Wednesday hates physical touch. You're the first person I've ever seen Wednesday touched. What did you do? Did you get powers overnight or what?

You turned around and raised an eyebrow at him.

Y/N: Is this jealousy talking to me? Well, I am sorry that Ms. Wednesday Addams didn't pay attention to you and found my scar far ahead interesting than your lame-ass flirting. If I got powers overnight, you'll be the first one to know.

You left him with that and marched back behind the counter to get the cups cleaned. You were about to rinse them when your scar started to sting awfully painful. You dropped the cup which alerted Xavier who was still standing where you left him, that's when you realized your brother was nowhere to be seen. When did he sneak out? How did he sneak out? He's going to be in so much trouble, you thought, but that's for later on because you're almost on the ground hanging onto the sink to keep your composure, it didn't help with the pain dragging you down. You can see Xavier staring at you with worry and don't know what to do look.

Y/N: Help me sit on the ground, you imbecile!

You snapped at him for just standing there and not helping you to sit down, but you were glad to snap him out of his trance, and he gently helped you sit down on the ground. You cling onto your arm for dear life and prayed that the pain stops any minute now. Xavier can see your limped arm shaking and that you were in real pain.

Xavier: Shit. Don't you have any medication?

You shook your head, still clinging onto your arm, you almost banged your head against the wall, because of the pain. Then you both heard the door open and close.

:Mr. Thrope. Where's Tyler and Y/N?

You hear your father's voice and walk up to the counter. You were about to call him, but the pain beats you to it and you let out a painful groan. That's when you see him rushing past Xavier and sitting next to you. He pulled you in his arms and tried to console you.

Donovan: It's going to be alright. You're going to be fine. I have got you. Xavier, Where is Tyler for God's sake?!

Xavier was about to answer him. When your brother emerged from behind him with shock on his face. Xavier and Sheriff Galpin had their eyebrows furrowed at him. Sheriff Galpin was ready to curse the fuck out of him for leaving his sibling alone, but he felt you relaxed in his arms, and he knew you'll pass out for holding the pain for too long. Sheriff Galpin sighed.

Donovan: Tyler, you stay here until closing hours. I'm bringing Y/N home. Give me their coat.

Tyler passed him your coat. He put it over you to cover the unconscious you and carried you out of the caféhouse into his truck. This didn't go unnoticed by a Wednesday Addams, who was drenched in rain. She watched Sheriff Galpin drive away with furrowed eyebrows. As she enters the Weathervane, she finds Tyler and Xavier in a discussion.

Xavier: How can you not know what is happening to your sibling? Their arm was shaking uncontrollably and they passed out because of pain!

Tyler: Stop pestering me! I don't know what you're talking!

Wednesday: Y/N passed out? When was that?

Wednesday interjected their discussion. Xavier turned to her.

Xavier: You're drenched.

Wednesday: Answer my question.

Xavier: Uh like 10-15 minutes ago?

With that information, Wednesday left the Weathervane. She had a lot of questions in her mind and the only one who can answer them is you. The visions she had. You getting attacked by the same monster that saved her. You passed out while the monster showed up in front of her. Are you and this monster connected by any chance? She needs to know.

taglist:

@lukam8 @shygirl1925 @maria-403 @smromanoff

#wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #drkmgsstories

[starry-blue-echoes]

Star Swap: I might have mentioned this, but I love the idea of Jonathan semi-accidentally rallying the meeker prisoners like Guccio and Atroe, which means a lot given that the prison is largely led by a right-makes-right mentality. Because Jonathan is nice and caring and kind and (with some advice from Gwess and Ermes) not afraid to start punching people if need be. He may not have his old muscles but he still has his boxing skill and maybe his hamon? Can't remember when he was taken. Anyway, he manages to assemble a small following of prisoners, helping them so that they can eventually help themselves.

YESSSSSSSSS

while Jolyne's body may not have the pure muscle and intimidation factor that Jonathan's original one had he's far from helpless. As you mentioned there's the aforementioned Hamon and boxing, plus how Hamon would work really well with The Passion when he gets pricked

and it's definitely an accident at first. Jonathan couldn't help it! He wants to help people, no matter whether or not they can give him anything in return. And while he may not teach them Hamon (he realises pretty early on just how dangerous that could get if he taught others), he can teach them how to defend themselves and get away from danger

For a bit of fun chaos, I like to image there was an instance where two people he taught used the things he learned to pick on others and he marched his way over and started scolding the shit out of them. He gave them a flawless "I'm not mad just disappointed" look and speech like he was their parent or something and he looked to genuine and upset and oh god I feel so bad what the fuck was I thinking-

and just to add a but of extra fun spice to it, maybe one of the two ends up attacking him because You Can't Tell Us What To Do Short Stack only to promptly get their ass handed to them on a silver platter. Maybe even a broken bone or two........ but then when it's over Jonathan completely heals the opponent but leaves himself injured so when the guard shows up it looks like the fight was completely one-sided

was that a bit tricky of him to fool the guard like that? Yes, he feels terrible about it for days afterward and can't get the mental image of Dio out of his head, but he isn't going to just let this person use what he taught them to hurt people that just wouldn't be nice >:(

he doesn't even realise how many people he's befriended until Hermes makes a comment about it and he almost starts crying because he hasn't had this many friends EVER, he's still honestly trying to come to terms with the fact he has friends period

once again, I'm loving the mental image of Hermes and Gwess trying their absolute damnedest to just Keep Jojo Alive. They know he's powerful and that he should theoretically be able to handle himself, and most of the time he's honestly really reliable! He's surprisingly emotionally intelligent and knows just what to say....... but then right after he'll do the stupidest (/aff) shit imaginable and they'll remember "right, this is the same guy who thought the tv was trapping people inside and that blood letting was an acceptable medical treatment"

also, speaking of Atroe, I had a silly idea for how Foo slides into things: I think it would if they're just Body Buddies. That's it. Foo expressed interest in helping out Jonathan for the respect he showed them and Atroe was like "welcome to the club! Jojo's really cool and nice so I can't blame you, why don't you come with :D" and just lets Foo vibe in their body

would this work biologically? I don't think so, but also consider It Would Be Funny For The Sake Of The AU

#star swap #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #stone ocean #jjba part 6 #jjba jonathan #jonathan joestar #the passion #jjba hermes #hermes costello #jjba gwess #gwess #jjba atroe #atroe #jjba foo fighters #foo fighters #sb answers #ailingwriter