#like this has been happening with various people all summer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sometimesanalice · 7 months

Text

Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss.

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier.

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together? You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day. I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

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

3K notes · View notes

siienthiil · 20 days

Text

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓪.

𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼.

contents.. yandere¿ dazai osamu x reader.

Choking.

You were violently choking on the hard wood floor, your body tilted to its side and your eyesight blurred by a mixture of dirt and blood that had infiltrated your vision. You had long ago coughed up all the rich liquid that was blocking your windpipe, which was a scare flavor of saliva and blood.

The air was vile, the smell so overwhelming that you could practically taste it on your tongue. You gagged, the unpleasant aroma of filth that has been accumulated overtime settling on your tastebuds and the smell adding to your migrane. Your head was pounding and you swore it was split open by the distracting pain that pulsated through your skull and to the back of your neck. Your leg too was also fractured, but to an extent, and bruises covered your body in various places.

But, nothing. Absolutely nothing would ever compare to the absolute fury Dazai unleashed on you after he found out about your escape attempt.

It feels like you're flying

Well, maybe you are by the way your body feels totally weightless as you desperately create distance from the prison you were once held in. Tears poured from your eyes like rivulets, a strange sense of hope swelling inside your chest. A feeling that you forgot had even existed and you sure as hell didn't want that feeling to go away.

You needed to get to where people were, you needed to blend into the crowd. You needed to get to the police.

The streets were no longer silent; distant laughter, people talking and the sound of motors running as vehicles drove up and down the road. Sounds you thought you'd never miss, but you did. Months of confinment and everything around you feels new. The air was cold and crisp and it seemed like yesterday that it was just the summer, yet it felt so long.

It doesn't take you long to stumble across a police station, the big and bold lettering on the sign catching your attention from a mile away. You waste no time to advance towards the building, bare feet crushing the cold snow beneath them with every accelerating step.

Until you're not.

Slender fingers wrap around your arm and suddenly your heart is in your stomach. The grip on your arm is animalistic and full of control, fingernails digging crescents into your flesh and you find yourself unable to move another step.

"where are you going?"

You're pulled back into consciousness by the sound of heavy footsteps reverberating against the walls and moving towards the door. Your heartrate immediately skyrockets, your anxiety alleviating your impending hyperventilation and cold sweat bathing over you. Your eyes shoot wide open and you fixate on the light shining through the small crevice beneath the door.

Quietly, you breath in through your nose and out through your mouth.

In through your nose,

out through your mouth.

The breathing exercise doesn't do anything to help soothe you and infact, you feel that your heart is beating so loudly that you think that he might've heard it to.

The footsteps come to a stop infront of the door and the air soon fell omnious and tense, hinges clicking and the door slowly opening with a loud creak. Dazai peered into the room, surveying it and noting every single detail, likely to see if you made another attempt to escape; his gaze lingering on the boarded up window. He looks away from the window and his honey brown eyes fall onto you.

Your blood runs cold and you'd hope that you would just go into cardiac arrest.

There was a slight tug at the corner of his mouth before his lips curl into a full blown smile, his eyes becoming downturned and his face molding into that disgustingly bright expression. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him and flicking on the light as he takes a step in. Why was he here? Why now? Is he planning to simply just watch you this time? Rarely, he would break a few of your limbs, but you didn't trust him. Not this time around. It rarely ever happens, but there's no guarantee where his head space is in, in that moment. He could suddenly burst and let all his anger out on you again.

He walks towards you and you narrow your eyes at him, an involuntary whimper bubbling within your throat. He kneels down infront of you and reaches his hand out to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your skin before you flinched away. The second you flinched, his heart twisted with hurt and rejection. He frowns and his hand falls to his side.

"You're still upset with me?" He says and he's not asking, he's simply making the observation. He finds it amusing how you think you could stay mad at him when he threw you into this room and only fractured your leg for precautionary measures. It'll heal, but it was much better than losing a limb, no?

You don't answer him and he sighs.

"I can't have you running off on me, ___. You understand why I did what I did, right? To...?" He's expecting you answer back, his gaze lingering on you and when you don't answer him, you can hear the finaltility in his voice. "To.. keep you safe. Now, say it back to me."

"Go fuck yourself."

Surprised, he leans back just a bit and raises a brow, his face slowly lighting up with amusement as his sinister laughter fills the room. He tilts his head at you, a toothy grin remaining etched onto his face as he looks down at you with mock curiosity.

"Where did you get the balls to speak like that? You're not exactly in the right position to be insulting me." He feigned arrogance, another huff of laughter escaping from his lips, "You are way too stubborn for your own good, gorgeous. You're gonna get yourself hurt if you keep this up."

Your eyes bore into him like daggers and you don't give him the satisfaction of responding yet again. Hatred pumped through your veins, fueling your rage and you wanted nothing more than to let out all your emotions on him. All the confusion, the hate.

The lack of communication from you made him frown once again, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"What's wrong? You were talking just fine a few moments ago. Cat got your tongue?" He tilts his head again, "You know how this'll turn out for you."

"Why me?" You croak out, managing to bring it upon yourself to finally say something that wasn't just profanities. He raises a brow.

"Why not?" He said, "You gave me a reason to."

"And what was that reason? I was there for you and you turned around and fucking kidnapped me!" Your voice is strained and it hurts to even talk, your voice coming out scratchy. Most likely due to the amount of coughing and screaming you did during the past couple days.

"If you're so insistent." Dazai chuckled, "You were too busy meddling in affairs that shouldn't have concerned you and look where being nosy got you. You were naive to think nothing would happen to you when digging around for information on the port mafia. I did it to keep you safe."

"To keep me safe? From what? The port mafia? Whatever they had planned in store for me would've been much better than the shit you've put me through." You spat angrily, slowly pushing yourself from off the ground and carefully scooting yourself back into the wall. Hissing in pain when you moved your injured leg to accommodate the position you were in.

"You wouldn't have liked what they'd do to you." He states matter-of-factly.

"You're a traitor and a fucking cunt. I trusted you."

"Is that all you know how to say? Profanities?"

"You were my boyfriend! You wouldn't have done this to me if you fucking loved me-" You should've known better than to think that he'd let you finish that sentence. Abruptly, his hand came up to have a tight grip on your jaw, forcefully pulling your face towards him and forcing you to look at him, a dangerous shadow casting over his features.

"I am your boyfriend and I do love you. You do not know the shit I would do for you and you'd certainly hate me more so if you had the slightest of clue of what I've done for you." His tone of voice sends chills down your spine and you find yourself not being able to hold eye contact with him for much longer. You close your eyes and you feel tears starting to form, prompting you to squeeze your eyelids shut. He doesn't take kindly to the action, his grip on your jaw tightening and with a slight shake of your head, you finally open your eyes to meet his gaze once more.

"Does it hurt?" He suddenly asks, causing you look at him with confusion.

"W-what?"

"This." He lets go of your face and stands up, towering over you and you carefully watch him as he takes a single step towards you. Your mouth runs dry and you want nothing but to disappear into the wall and to sink into the floor as his intimidating silhouette stared down at you. You don't even see him raise his boot before his foot came to press down onto your fractured leg, sending a rush of blinding hot pain throughout your entire being. Your mouth fell open, but no screams came out. All you could manage was a painful yell before your vocal cords decided to cease on you.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, tears finally pouring out of your eyes, "P-please, wait!" You gasp.

"What was that?" Dazai asked, putting more pressure down onto your leg. You wheeze and under the blurriness, you swear you can see him looking down at you with a great amount of pride and arrogance, his eyes sparkling with intense excitement. Though, he himself would like to believe he didn't like hurting you, but how else would you learn?

"I'm sorry!"

"Say that again, I didn't hear you." What an asshole, am I right?

"P-please, Dazai..I'm sorry!" Finally, he steps off your leg and you didn't even realize that you were holding your breath until his weight was finally off it. Crying, you reach for your knee on the same leg that was fractured, rubbing it up and down to try and soothe the pain as you rocked back and forth, trying desperately to distract yourself from the agony. Fuck, you missed being at home, missed the life you had before Dazai became a lunatic. But, it made you question, was your boyfriend always like this?

"I did warn you that you'd get hurt if you kept the attitude up." It is Dazai's voice that brings you out of your thoughts, but the agonizing pain was still there and honestly, right now you could care less about him being right there. You just wanted the pain to stop. To beg him to kill you, but you knew if you did that, than he's more likely to lash out. 'Kill you? Why? So you can leave me?' While savagely beating the shit out of you. If you had the strength, you would've attempted to kill him, but despite all the shit he's done to you, you still had those vague feelings for him. Or were they really vague?

He sighed and leaned down on his heels, demanding your attention as his hand reached for yours on your knee. You pull your hand away and he doesn't move or flinch, instead, his hand comes to where you were previously trying to soothe the pain.

"All I ask is that you listen to me, ___. Otherwise you wouldn't be going through all this pain if you would just fucking-" Cutting himself off before he could say something offensive. Which was laughable on his part. He surely had no problem using violence against you as a show of power, but when it came to his words? Oh, he was sure to be 'careful' with what he said when it came to you.

"I really don't like hurting you." He said, gently rubbing your knee. It takes a lot of focus to muster up the words through your fucked up vocal cords, but when you do, you dare ask.

"Then why do you do it?"

"How else are you supposed to learn if you can't obey what I ask?"

Anger just swelled within your heart even more. That was his justification for hurting you? Because you wouldn't obey him? He was never this controlling when you two first started out, but I guess it's true that you never really realize that you're in a bad situation until it becomes too late.

"I love you, ___."

"..."

"I love you too, Dazai.."

It's been 4 years(?) since I've posted lmao. This is a rewrite of a previous 'x reader' I wrote awhile ago. I am open to taking requests and it doesn't have to explicitly be yandere, you're able to request anything.

#anime #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs imagines #yandere x you #yandere #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #yandere dazai #Spotify

168 notes · View notes

badnewswhatsleft · 4 months

Text

scanned the little patrick interview from kerrang winter 2023<3

transcript under cut:

Patrick Stump’s mum is a methodical accountant who likes to plan ahead and think things through. She would bestow this organisational wisdom upon her son when he was growing up. When his band Fall Out Boy got signed, however, thereby kick-starting one of the most exciting trajectories of the past 20 years, Mrs Stump quickly realised there were limits to what she could assist him with.

“She said to me, ‘I can’t help you anymore - you’re beyond my area of expertise,’” Patrick recalls with a laugh.

In the years since, there has been no end of through-the-looking-glass moments for Fall Out Boy, a litany of incredible achievements highlighted by the ever-growing shows the Chicago four-piece - completed by bassist Pete Wentz, guitarist Joe Trohman and drummer Andy Hurley - have played. It’s an upscaling Patrick admits he still can’t fully process.

“I’m probably never going to get used to it, and I think I’m at peace with that,” he admits, taking time out backstage at Hamburg’s Barclays Arena on the band’s epic So Much For (Tour) Dust jaunt, which recently visited the UK.

Thankfully, Fall Out Boy will be back on these shores next summer, having been announced as headliners for Download Festival 2024, alongside Queens Of The Stone Age and Avenged Sevenfold. The news has given Patrick cause to reflect upon the pivotal shows and tours that have made FOB the band they are today, with a self-deprecating appraisal of the good times and the bad, the tiny gigs and the Hella Mega ones.

“A lot of my life makes sense to me, where I understand the various points of what happened and why, but there are moments with the shows we’ve played that make no sense at all,” Patrick reflects. “You go to arenas and they have pictures in the hallway of all the big artists that have played there, then they’ll have pictures of us, which sticks out to me!”

THE BAND’S FIRST-EVER SHOW AT DEPAUL UNIVERSITY CAFETERIA, 2001 “We were playing with some pretty cool math-rock and emo bands. When we got out there, we were horrible - I mean really terrible - and there were about three or four people there. I can’t remember what our band name was at the time - it wasn’t Fall Out Boy, and we were tossing some names around. I remember suggesting one of the names we had in mind to the drummer in one of the other bands and him telling me it sucked. We had a guitar player who I’d only met the week before and I’ve never seen since. I hope he’s doing good things. I heard he became a bike messenger. I cannot imagine a humbler beginning for a first show!”

FALL OUT BOY’S FIRST GIG WITH ANDY HURLEY, 2003 “I think it was with Andy’s other band, The Kill Pill. Andy played in both bands that night. It was a bigger show for us, opening for [Florida melodic hardcore band] As Friends Rust, and we didn’t have a guitar player, so I was playing guitar. It was weird because we were playing some newer songs, which stood out, so it felt like we’d started to actualise the band. I’m a drummer originally, so I was picky about drummers. But when we played with Andy, it was the first time that it felt right. I remember saying to a friend of mine who was there at the time that we were still a bad band then, and she said, ‘You guys couldn’t see it, but even then, it felt like the beginning of something.’”

THE FIRST UK TOUR, 2004 “One thing I remember was going to a Mexican restaurant, ordering tacos, and being unable to describe the things that arrived at the table - and not in a good way. That first UK tour was with Mest, and it was surreal. I think that might have been the first time I’d ever left the States, so going to another country felt like a big deal. When I got there, I realised the UK is similar in a lot of ways - particularly thanks to our shared musical history. One difference was that the venues all felt so much more punk rock than those in the States, with an unhinged basement vibe, which surprised me but was also thrilling.”

HEADLINING DECAYDANCE FEST AT THE HAMMERSMITH APOLLO, 2007 “I look back on some moments and realise they were bigger than I noticed at the time. The other bands on that bill - Panic! At The Disco, Gym Class Heroes, The Academy Is…, Cobra Starship - were all bands we’d played with a lot before that and were friends with, so at the time I thought, ‘Every show we do is Decaydance Fest!’ Then that moment in time was gone and I soon realised that it was crazy that we were able to get all those people together to do that show. You don’t necessarily realise you’re part of a thing when you’re part of a thing, so when I think back now, I’m amazed.”

THE LAST GIG BEFORE GOING ON HIATUS AT MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, 2009 “It was such a strange show. I had checked out at the time, and was busy thinking about solo stuff, but really I just wanted to make lots of music. One of the things that was crippling was making a record and then going on the road for two years to promote the record. For me, making records is what’s important, so the grind of having to make them so slowly was killing me. I was therefore in a bad space with the band. I think we were out with +44, and I remember Mark [Hoppus] shaving Pete’s head onstage. Pete had the famous haircut and that was the end of it. It was kind of a joke to do that, but it ended up proving to be fairly symbolic, as it really was the end to that whole moment.”

FALL OUT BOY’S FIRST GIG BACK AT SUBTERRANEAN, CHICAGO, 2013 “The whole thing happened so fast and so suddenly! We had a meeting in New York. The four of us met at our manager’s apartment and we talked about maybe getting together and seeing what happened. It was tense, actually, as we hadn’t talked to each other in a long time and there were all these old grievances - but there was also this sense that we were older and wiser. We put together some songs, and one of them was My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up). On the morning of the show, we appeared on a radio show and the whole station felt excited about the song. It felt like the beginning of a rollercoaster. That night, when we played Light Em Up, a song people could only have heard hours ago, the room exploded!”

CO-HEADLINING THE MONUMENTOUR WITH PARAMORE, 2014 “That was one of my favourite tours! Andy and I would do a drum-off, so we got to play together, which was a full-circle thing for me, as I had never got to play drums in front of people with the band before then - so that was fun! I remember thinking on that tour that we were really getting somewhere as a band. Our first show, we were a pretty bad band. For a while in the early days, we wrote better than we played, and we thought better than we wrote. But as time passed things really came together. That tour was a point where we felt that we were really getting somewhere. Plus, the audiences were great on that tour - incredibly excited and giving.”

HEADLINING WRIGLEY FIELD BASEBALL STADIUM IN CHICAGO, 2018 “When I was a kid, the height of my ambition was to play the [1,100-capacity] Metro in Chicago. I never thought in a million years that we’d get to play Wrigley Field - I didn’t even know that bands played there. It’s not a venue, it’s where the Cubs play. I’m still in disbelief that we’ve now played it three times! That doesn’t make any sense to me. The first time we did it was terrifying, but also familiar. We used to have an apartment in Roscoe Village, which is walking distance from Wrigley Field. I remember Pete and I writing [2003 single] Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy together, then we went jogging around Wrigley, and a group of drunk Cubs fans shouted ‘Fucking losers!’ at us. Being inside that structure years later, singing that song, was therefore so surreal.”

HAVING A FREDDIE MERCURY EXPERIENCE HEADLINING READING & LEEDS FESTIVAL, 2018 “I think about that regularly. I’m not a natural performer. I used to act, so I could act as a character, but I couldn’t really be me and sing onstage - that never used to be comfortable for me. I have this very specific memory of This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race. There was this part where I sling my guitar to the stage and I’m just singing and having the crowd sing with me. The way they responded at that point made me suddenly think, ‘Oh, I can do this!’ I remember running towards the audience with the microphone and the life that came back at me just blew me away. When you have an audience like that, you’re Freddie fucking Mercury! I think about that on an almost daily basis when we’re on tour. That song has a whole different life now because of my experiences at Reading & Leeds.”

PLAYING THE HELLA MEGA TOUR WITH GREEN DAY AND WEEZER, 2022 “I couldn’t have been more obsessed with a band than I was with Weezer in 1998-’99, when I was in high school. Then, years later, they’re your buddies and you’re playing with them and they’re playing some of your favourite songs ever. That is so strange. One of my musical origin stories was in fifth grade, when this kid in the middle of class beckoned me over. We snuck under a table, and he puts headphones on me and he plays Dookie. I was like, ‘What is this?!’ On that tour, Billie Joe Armstrong said I was a really good singer. I’m still recovering from that.”

#patrick stump #fall out boy #andy hurley #joe trohman #pete wentz #time capsule #read the charts #yaaay patrick crumbs <3 #biggest takeway is that he likes when audiences are excited #so if yall have GA standing tix to a fob show and all ur doing is standing there i will come to your location to shake you by the ankles.#/jk obviously but just barely.

368 notes · View notes

h4arts · 9 months

Note

belly conklin x fem! reader. where the reader is conrad’s best friend from school, and at first belly finds herself feeling jealous, but then she realizes she has a HUGE crush on her, and then they kiss!!

jealous, belly conklin -synopsis: since the age of twelve, belly had been jealous of your relationship with conrad. turns out, she was jealous of him the whole time. -warnings: underage drinking, kissing, angst with happy ending, very vague mention of a man not taking no for an answer, fem reader -notes: i got way carried away on this one, it's really long, i hope it's what you wanted!

Belly loved the summer house and the people in it. It was an extension of herself, the one constant she always counted down to, looked forward to, hated to leave, and always wanted to go back to. It had always been the Fisher and Conklin families, before Belly was born and long after she realized how joyous the place was. The summer she turned twelve, it became different though. That was the first summer she met you.

Conrad had spent the better half of a year begging his parents to let you go with them, that you were his best friend and he'd hate to leave you behind where all you'd have of this magical place were the stories he'd have when he got back. That's what Susannah had told Laurel when she questioned who you were. Belly just happened to overhear.

Belly hadn't cared much at the time. She'd thought that maybe another girl would mean less teasing, less jokes made at her expense. But as the summer progressed, she also felt jealous that you had just as much if not more attention from the boys as she did. They became your friends as much as they were hers. She decided then that she wished Conrad would've kept his school friends at school.

You had left a couple weeks early that summer, and Belly was glad things had gone back to normal for her last days at the beach house. It was just like it had been last summer, except it wasn't. You still lingered in the air, Conrad still talked about you and even Jeremiah and Steven did too. Belly found herself hoping as she got in the car that you wouldn't be back next year. That next summer would be the Fishers and the Conklins, no one else.

───☆───

The next summer had come, and Belly would be thirteen. It would be like any other birthday, just the parents, the boys, and her. But nearing closer to the beach house from the drive way, she knew by the laughter in the living room that you were back. Steven ran inside with Jeremiah who was previously helping with bags. Laurel gave a gentle squeeze to Belly's shoulder with a reassuring smile before following her son inside.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Belly promised herself she wouldn't let you bother her this summer. The beach house was supposed to be for happy memories and a fun summer. She wouldn't ruin that, even if she didn't like the changes it came with.

Inside, Belly was surprised when you stood to greet her with a hug, the smell of your perfume lingering even after you pulled away to help Laurel carry bags. It wasn't so strong it burned Belly's nose, but it was present enough to leave a mark that said 'I was here'.

That summer, she got sick and had to stay inside for a few days until she was better. The boys left every day without her but you stayed back and ate popsicles with her. You watched her favorite films with her and played various games with her. Then when the boys came back at night, you'd leave her with Susannah and Laurel to go hang out with them.

Even when she got better and the boys left to go camp at the beach like they had in a previous summer, there you were, trying to roast marshmallows over the living room fireplace so she could have smores too. When she asked where you'd gotten the supplies, you'd responded that Jeremiah was easy to bribe out of food with the right trade.

Belly had to admit to herself that maybe your presence wasn't so bad, that if you came back next summer, she wouldn't be so upset by it. She finally liked not being left alone or stuck with the moms watching old films, though she did enjoy it.

She was starting to think that maybe you weren't the worst thing to happen, but all those thoughts came crashing down one day at the boardwalk. Conrad asked her to go after they'd both been left alone in the house. He bought her a caramel apple, he walked down the pier with her, and when he asked to go play ring toss, Belly understood why he'd brought her. She remembered a conversation between you and Conrad earlier in the week when you and Steven had gone to the boardwalk by yourselves. You came back talking about a giraffe they had on the prize wall at the ring toss game.

When Belly approached the stand with Conrad, she saw him look right at it. She realized then that there was probably more behind the title 'best friend' when he spoke about you or when you laughed at something he'd whisper in your ear as everyone left dinner. She dragged him over to the ring toss game and said to win a prize. She walked away from him, leaving him to the pretty girl working the game.

Conrad found her later, confused as to why she didn't come back. In his hands were two prizes, which surprised Belly. He held out a polar bear with sunglasses to her. "They said it was the best prize they had." Belly took it, her other hand pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"I like the giraffe better. Thanks though." Belly walked away, leaving Conrad standing in the middle of the food court with the stuffed giraffe he'd won for you.

Belly cried that night. She was jealous, Conrad had dragged her all the way out to the boardwalk to win you the stuffed animal you'd seen with Steven. It wasn't fair, that's what she told Taylor when she got back home before school. Belly hadn't said goodbye back to you that summer, too sick with dislike to say it with any meaning.

Belly hoped more than anything you wouldn't come back next summer, but she knew you would, so she would bring Taylor. She thought maybe with her best friend there, the thought of you and Conrad would be distracted from her mind.

───☆───

It was mid-June, and Belly absolutely regretted bringing Taylor. She was only concerned with seeking Jeremiah's attention, leaving barely any of her own for Belly. Meanwhile, Belly had to sit on the sidelines and watch you and Conrad. Racing to the ocean, sharing huge bowls of ice cream, sitting next to each other at dinner, talking in hushed whispers and laughing so loud it rattled her heart.

Belly had brought Taylor hoping it would distract her from you, but she was constantly with Taylor, which meant you had all of your time to spend with Conrad. It shouldn't have mattered to Belly as much as it did, you were here for him anyways. He was the only reason you were there.

Later in the summer, Jeremiah wanted Belly and Taylor to be the judges of a surfing competition. Belly thought it would be just him and Steven, she hadn't seen you or Conrad all day, but then you both showed up, surfboards tucked under your arms as he laughed and you just watched with a smile.

Belly stood up to leave, everyone else was too busy to notice. Taylor was transfixed on Jeremiah who was already running out to the water with Steven, you and Conrad still stood in the sand laughing, hiding in the shade behind your surfboards.

Laurel watched her daughter walk in the back door, shoulders hunched and a frown etched deep into her face. "What's wrong? Are you not having fun out there?"

"I don't want her here." Belly mumbled, sitting on the couch between her mother and Susannah who held a glass of iced tea in her hands. The ice was making the cup sweat, so when Susannah reached out to Belly, her hand was cool and wet. She would've hated anyone else doing that, but it wasn't anyone else, it was comforting because it was Susannah.

"You don't have to bring her next year." Belly's frown deepened. They thought she meant Taylor. And it was true, she didn't want Taylor there anymore, but she meant it about you. She was tired of looking at you having so much fun with Conrad. She was sick of watching you do everything with him. She hated that you were with him all year round and she was only there in the summer.

Usually when summer came to an end, Belly hated having to leave the beach house. All she wanted was to stay there forever. But this year, she was ready to go. She was ready to escape the jealousy she felt every time she looked at you and Conrad. She was upset with Taylor and Steven who she caught kissing at the beach after Taylor promised not to hurt Jeremiah. It felt like that whole summer was just them falling apart. Before Belly got in the car, she tried to avoid the painful goodbyes. Not because she was sad, but because she couldn't stand to leave this place with her last memory being of you. You always said goodbye last and you would hug her and she wouldn't say anything, leaving you standing there in the driveway like she had the last two years. She couldn't handle it, not after this summer's chaos.

She wasn't fast enough though, or maybe you had come outside earlier. Belly watched you walk down the porch steps, Steven's hand wrapped around your elbow as he said something stupid, judging by the way your eyes squinted in confusion before Steven shook his head, signaling to dismiss what he had said. He walked around to the other side of the car, and Belly turned to get in before you said anything. To her misfortune, you were faster, wrapping your arms around her shoulders in the same hug you gave her every time you said goodbye.

"Goodbye, Belly. Have a good year. I'm sorry we didn't see each other much." You spoke in a whisper, just like always. It annoyed her. She didn't hug you back, she didn't say anything. She pulled away, turned towards the car, and got in. Not once did she look back, she never did. Belly had done this every summer since you arrived, she couldn't stand you any longer than she had to.

As Laurel drove away, Steven turned up the music he had on aux. Taylor was staring down at her phone, tapping away furiously. Belly could still feel the cool press of your rings on her sun warmed skin, she could still hear the softness of your voice, she could still smell the faintness of your perfume that was carried in the wind.

Next summer, Belly wouldn't pay you any attention. She wouldn't watch one more summer of you and Conrad when all she could do was sit and watch.

───☆───

As soon as the car stopped, Belly swung open the car door and stepped out into the gleaming sunlight. The cool breeze felt good on her skin, it was the feeling she'd been waiting for all year. She was so glad to finally be back in Cousins for the summer, forgetting all about what happened the last time she was here.

The front door to the beach house flew open, and Jeremiah ran outside, followed by Conrad and Susannah who lingered back a bit. They all shared hugs and greetings, until Steven finally asked where you were. It was the question Belly had purposefully tried to ignore.

"She's not gonna be here for a while, her cousin's getting married." Conrad answers, and Steven seems upset with the answer but drops it. Belly wished it would take longer than just a while for you to get to the house. But, it made easing into summer that much better. She hadn't been the only girl in the beach house since she was eleven. It was just like old times, Belly, Steven, Conrad, and Jeremiah. They went swimming in the ocean, had lunch by the pool, Belly watched movies with the moms while they boys went to a party. Belly had gone to sleep every day for a week with a smile.

One morning when she woke up though, that peace was gone. Belly had gone downstairs for breakfast, only to find you standing in the kitchen with Jeremiah, flipping pancakes and dodging the strawberries Steven was throwing at you. Belly frowned, you were there early. It had only been one week. Conrad mentioned exactly that, moving down the stairs around Belly to greet you. Even he hadn't known you'd arrive early.

"My cousin and her partner are going a few hours south of here to meet other family that can't make the wedding. This is just a pit stop so I thought I'd say hi." While you spoke, Steven threw two more strawberries at you, neither of which you were able to dodge. Belly watched from the stairs as Conrad tried to wipe the stains off the white shirt you wore. They were noticeable, right in the center of your torso. "It's not a big deal." You told him, taking the towel from Conrad's hand. Belly's stomach twisted, he smiled at you so easily, and your hand was on top of his before taking the towel. Jeremiah and Steven didn't even notice, taste testing the pancakes. Belly turned around and went back upstairs.

She didn't come back until the afternoon, preparing herself to see you standing with Conrad again. Against everything in her, she'd put on the smallest bit if mascara and lip gloss, hoping she'd be noticed better. Maybe the attention wouldn't be on you then, and she wouldn't have to see Conrad staring at you. You were gone by the time she stepped of the last stair. Jeremiah told her you'd left an hour ago when she asked.

Belly went back upstairs to take off the mascara and lip gloss. She changed into her swimsuit and rushed back down stairs, diving straight into the pool. She hoped Jeremiah hadn't noticed the makeup when she asked where you were, she didn't need it if you weren't there. She wouldn't see you with Conrad, that was all she put it on for to begin with.

On the day of her birthday, Belly still hadn't seen you since the surprise visit. She opened her gifts from everyone, they all had pancakes for breakfast, per her request. Conrad had asked if she wanted to go to the boardwalk, Belly agreed. Steven and Jeremiah ended up going too, but they went straight to the arcade as soon as they arrived. Conrad followed Belly to all the things she wanted to do, until it led them to a picnic table for a snack.

Belly didn't think it was a good idea to ask, but she had to know. She asked Conrad why he was friends with you. Belly wanted to know what was so important about you that he couldn't even leave you back for two months to be at the beach house.

"She's been my best friend for years. I've known her almost as long as I've known you. I just never really talked to her until the year before I first brought her here." Conrad shrugged, he didn't understand the importance of the question. But now that Belly had asked it and received the wrong answer, she didn't understand why it was important for her to know either. But she'd already asked, she wanted a real answer.

"That isn't what I asked you." Conrad sighed at that. He took a long sip of his drink and paused, almost as if he really had to think about the answer. Maybe he was just trying to avoid it.

"She was there for me when I needed someone." He answered shortly.

"And no one else was?"

"That's not what I meant." She knew. But she wanted a real answer, not a vague one, not one that could be misinterpreted. And she'd already asked twice. There clearly wasn't anything special about you, or Conrad wanted to keep something about your relationship secret. Either of those explanations would've confirmed Belly's suspicions.

"She just, she makes people feel safe with her even if they don't know her. She's just got that about her, y'know?" Belly had never heard Conrad say that about anyone. But, it made sense to her now though, why he would drag you miles from your own home and family every summer just to spend that extra time with you. It also made sense to her that you were more than his best friend, and she had a feeling she knew just how much more.

"Hey guys, guess who I just saw outside!" Jeremiah ran up to their table, Steven trailing a safe distance behind. Belly and Conrad stood up, following Jeremiah and Steven to the exit. The sun was setting, Belly hadn't realized how long they'd been there.

Just as Jeremiah said, you stood in the parking lot alone, a jacket draped over your folded arms. Belly guessed you'd come straight from the reception, judging by your slightly smudged makeup and the dress you wore that rippled softly around your legs in the breeze. Once you saw them, you reached into the bag hanging from your shoulder and handed each of them a pressed flower.

"My cousin saved me the leftover ones for my room. I don't need all the ones she gave me." The boys clutched onto them like it was all they'd ever have of you, observing every inch of their flower like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Belly put hers in her pocket. She didn't look back at you after she did, not wanting to know if you'd seen her do it.

Back at the house that night, Belly sat in her room, looking at the clock every so often. It was late for her to still be up, even for it being summer. Everyone was asleep, so she got ready to go for a night swim. This was the latest she had ever gone, so there was no chance Susannah would come down tonight. She'd have the pool all to herself, but she was wrong.

On a chair across the deck from the door, you sat looking out to the stars above the ocean. Hearing the creak of the door, you look back to see Belly standing there, a towel tightly clutched in her hand. Belly was surprised when you didn't smile at her before you looked away. You always did, and it felt odd to Belly that you didn't. She wondered if something happened, if you were upset with her about the flower or if you finally gave up on trying to be nice to her.

Belly considered going to sit next to you, but as she walked farther out from the deck, she saw the look on your face, illuminated by the moonlight. You weren't mad, or sad, or upset. You were just there. There was nothing wrong, so Belly dropped the towel on the closest chair to the pool and dove in. She swam her laps, took short breaks to just float, and every time she looked back at you, you were still there, eyes never once leaving the sky.

Finally feeling tired, Belly got out of the pool and wrapped herself in the towel. She headed towards the door to go back inside, but something made her stop. Something made her want to go sit with you and watch the stars, just for a bit. You still didn't look away from the sky as Belly sat next to you, and she didn't say anything. She tucked her knees up to her chin to fully wrap the towel around herself and she watched the stars with you.

She had no idea what you were thinking, or if you were even thinking about anything at all, so she quietly kept an eye out for any shooting stars until you suddenly moved your hand to your pocket. Belly jumped slightly, not expecting you to move. You pulled out a small box and handed it to Belly.

"Happy birthday, Belly." Then you turned back to the stars. She carefully removed the lid from the box, revealing a small starfish charm glinting delicately in the light from the moon. "For the charm bracelet you've got. It's to remind you of this place even when you aren't here. I know how much you love it here." That was all you said, and Belly assumed it's all you would say.

She stared down at the charm, and thought back to what Conrad had said earlier at the boardwalk. She makes people feel safe with her even if they don't know her. She's just got that about her, y'know? Belly now knew how true that really was. Even back when she first met you, you had been the one to make sure she never felt left out, you'd sit with her when she was sick or when the boys would leave without her. You'd always tell her to have a good year when she left and you meant it every time, even when she left you standing in the driveway without saying anything back. You'd gotten her something to remember this place and all the amazing memories it held.

Belly realized there was nothing about you that she could hate. Not the way your voice lingered in her head all the way home at the end of the summer, not your perfume that she could smell long after you'd vanished from sight, not the cooling metal of your rings that came with every touch or hug you gave her, not the welcoming smile you always wore. Even tonight, when she first walked out the door and saw you. She realized if it had been anyone else besides Susannah, she would have turned around and gone back inside. For some reason, it didn't bother her that you were out there with her. She felt safe.

"Good night, Belly." Belly looked up from the charm to see you already halfway back inside. "Don't stay up too late, you'll hate yourself for it in the morning." You were gone before Belly could say anything back. She wished she would've said something, she didn't even say thank you. It made her think about every summer she never said anything back, never hugged you back, never looked back.

Summer was over fast after you got there. Belly didn't try to avoid your goodbyes this time, but she was confused now. Why was she now realizing that all the things she thought she hated about you, she didn't and never had? She still didn't hug you back. She still didn't say goodbye. But halfway down the street, she looked back. It was the first time she ever did, and she wished she hadn't. Your arms were crossed over yourself, the same way she did when she felt bad. You were frowning, and then Conrad was at your side, wrapping an arm wound your shoulder and leading you back inside, a gentle smile on his face. Had it always been that way?

───☆───

It was spring break now, and Belly was still confused about last summer. She tried talking to Taylor about it, but she couldn't form the right words. All those times she saw you with Conrad, was it really you she was jealous of? Or was it just wishing that she was doing those things with you instead. Did she hate your goodbye hugs because if she hugged back she wouldn't let go? She missed the nights the boys left and it was just you and her, making your own jokes to laugh at. She finally recognized that she wanted to be the one you turned to, not Conrad.

Her whole life, she was so sure she wanted Conrad, for him to want her and to be with him. Now she wasn't sure that's what she'd wanted. Maybe deep down, she'd wanted the giraffe at the boardwalk because you wanted it, and it was subconsciously as close to you as she could get at the time.

Belly had stared at her phone for hours over the course of spring break, debating whether or not to call. She had no idea what she would say if she did, but she didn't like being confused over it. Time kept passing and Belly never called. And before she even knew it, school was out, exams were done, and she was packing her bags to go back to Cousins.

The ride there was the same as always, but when the car pulled in to the drive, only Jeremiah was on the porch waiting. He hugged Steven first before Laurel made her way over to ask about Susannah, to which Jeremiah responded that she was inside sleeping. Conrad came around the house a few moments later, pausing at the sight of them like he'd forgotten they were coming. He quickly greeted them before Steven announced it time for a 'Belly flop'. Conrad and Jeremiah were quick to follow. Belly looked around for you, but you weren't there. She guessed you were inside somewhere, waiting for them.

When Belly hit the water, she heard a new tone of voice added over the laughter of the boys. Swimming back to the surface, she saw you over Conrad's shoulder. You were smiling, hitting Steven's shoulder playfully. Belly swam over to the edge of the pool where you met her and kneeled down to help her out of the water. Once you were both sitting on the ground, you pulled Belly in for a hug, getting the front of your shirt wet. You both laughed and for the first time, Belly hugged you back. Things were going to be different that summer, she'd make sure of it.

Something was already different, though. Jeremiah and Conrad had never really paid her much attention before, but their stares had lingered a little longer than they ever had. Even Susannah had said Belly looked prettier, and she wondered if maybe your stare would linger as long as the boys' had. She hoped so.

The bonfire party came later in the week, and to Belly's disappointment, you'd spent most of that time with Conrad more than anyone else. Steven had told her not to go, and that he wouldn't be responsible for her. Belly didn't really want to go, but if was the only time she'd get to see you, she would go.

She called Taylor that night, asking her friend's opinion on what to wear. The call consisted of less help than meaningless bickering about what she should say to you. After the call had ended, Belly stared at her reflection in the mirror. She wondered if the dress she'd put on would even be noticeable to you, or if you would even care.

A thud echoed from across the hall, breaking Belly's thoughts. She went to see where the noise had come from, which led her to your room. Before she could say anything, the door flew open, revealing you in a shorter dress than you'd worn before and your makeup that hadn't been redone since the morning. You were shocked to see Belly standing there, waiting for you to say something.

"I heard something fall." Belly watched the crease between your brows even out, the confusion leaving your face.

"I just knocked my phone over. No big deal." You shrugged, stepping out of your room and closing the door behind you. "Are you going to the party?" You ask, eyes tracing over the dress Belly wore.

"Oh, um, yeah. Don't tell Steven though." Belly looked down, realizing that Steven would see her once she got there, so you telling him wouldn't even matter.

"Don't worry about him, go and have fun. He can be mad later, you look great." You put an arm around Belly's shoulders, leading her to the stairs so you could go.

Steven, Conrad, and Jeremiah had already left, the party was undoubtedly already in full swing. Belly would have questioned why you didn't go with them, but she knew from Conrad and Jeremiah's stories that you were always late to parties anyways.

Belly went around to the passenger side of your car, waiting for you to get your keys. She glanced in the window of the backseat and saw in the small amount of moonlight a stuffed giraffe in the middle seat. The one Conrad won at the boardwalk. A frown pulled at her lips as you walked outside, unlocking the car. Belly immediately got in, looking out the window. Getting in the car yourself, Belly felt your eyes on her, and when she looked at your reflection in the window, she saw the worry in them.

"We don't have to go. We can stay back and watch movies." You say, pausing to put the key in the ignition.

"No. I want to go." Belly still didn't look back, but she truly did want to go now. She couldn't go back inside and go to bed. It felt like every time she thought maybe she had a chance, Conrad came right back. The giraffe in your backseat was proof enough that she was right. She was going to the party, either with you or someone else to distract her from that thought.

"Okay." The car started, and the whole drive, Belly didn't look anywhere but out the window. You'd glance at her once in a while, making sure she was still okay. Belly tried to ignore it, just focusing on the music softly playing from the radio.

Barely waiting for the car to park along the crowded street, Belly tried to open the door. You locked it before she could, causing her to groan in annoyance. "Promise you'll tell me if you want to leave."

"Fine." Belly still didn't look at you, and she tried the door again. "Just unlock the door so we can go."

"Look at me, Belly." Finally, she turned to look at you, one hand still on the door and frowning. "Promise, or I'll turn around."

"I promise." Her shoulders deflated into a more relaxed posture, and you unlocked the door. Belly split from you as soon as you got to the crowd of people drinking and laughing. She needed a minute alone before she could go back to you or she got caught by Steven.

"Hey, Belly!" Jeremiah was walking over to her, a full solo cup in his hand. He held it out to her, and laughed at the grimace on her face as she looked down at it. "Don't worry, it's just water. I'm driving tonight."

She took the cup, from him and downed about half of the water before handing it back. Her nervousness had dried her throat. Jeremiah just shook his head with a smile. "Wait, how'd you get here? Some creep didn't drag you here, right?" It was Belly's turn to laugh, and she shook her head, explaining she'd come with you.

"Actually, did you see where she went?" Jeremiah squinted, trying to remember if he'd seen you.

"I don't think I've seen her yet, I mean you just got here, right? Maybe Steven knows, he was hanging around by the fire." He responds, turning to go in the direction Steven was.

"No, I don't want him to know I'm here yet." Belly stops him, and Jeremiah frowns but doesn't argue.

"I can ask Conrad." Belly nods, and Jeremiah leaves the cup of water with her as he goes racing off to find his brother.

A few minutes later, Jeremiah comes back, reaching for the water cup back from Belly. He took a long drink before answering Belly's previous question about your whereabouts. "She's actually with him right now. They're over by the water." Jeremiah points towards the ocean in a vague pattern, but Belly thanks him anyway and makes her way down the beach.

However, as Belly got closer, she stopped, trying to register what was happening in front of her. You were kissing Conrad, and clearly so distracted you didn't even notice the tide getting the side of your shoe wet. Your hands were in his hair and his arms were around your waist and Belly felt so upset that she almost didn't notice the man standing a few feet from you drop his cup and walk away.

Steven suddenly appeared with Jeremiah and a girl she hadn't seen before, and she was too frozen to even consider trying to run away before Steven saw her. "Belly, what are you doing here?" Her eyes turned to Steven who was quickly approaching her, she hadn't seen you when you appeared next to her, gently taking her arm and leading her away before Steven got to her.

"Let me go!" Belly tried to pull her arm away from you. You didn't let her go until you were both a safe distance from the crowd on the beach.

"Belly, just breathe." You stood in front of her, and she tried to move around you. "Belly." You blocked her again.

"Just let me go."

"Go where? And who with?" Belly didn't know, she just wanted away from you, and Conrad, and Steven. She didn't know when her tears started falling, or when you hugged her and she fought against your hold until she finally gave up. She let you run your hand up and down her arm to soothe her, you let her cry into your shoulder. "I'm sorry." You whispered.

Belly realized she'd been right, that it had always been you and Conrad. No matter how badly she hoped, it would never be you and her. Maybe she could've changed that if she'd been nicer all those past summers, maybe if she would've matched your efforts to be there, that could've been her you kissed on the beach.

"Let's go home, okay?" Belly nodded, she let you lead her back to your car. Even when you'd gotten home, she let you lead her up to her room, wash the light makeup she had on off her face and laid out a change of clothes. After you'd left her with a 'goodnight', Belly lay awake staring at her ceiling. The summer had just started, she couldn't handle watching you and Conrad all summer. She had barely tolerated it in previous summers. It would hurt worse to see it knowing for certain that you loved him.

She wasn't sure how long she had laid there when she heard stumbling on the stairs followed by a string of quiet curses. She heard you and Jeremiah say goodnight before Jeremiah's door closed and Conrad's swung open, hitting the wall before there was a long pause of silence.

Belly quietly got out of her bed and went to her door, cracking it open just enough to see what was happening. You were backing out of Conrad's room, whispering something she couldn't hear before shutting his door. Belly closed her own door, it wasn't loud, but it was audible. She stood behind her now closed door, listening as you stopped on the other side of it.

"Belly," She didn't respond, she didn't move. She just stood and stared right at the door where your face you be if she opened it. You sighed. "Good night." Belly listened until the sound of your footsteps quieted and your door squeaked shut across the hall.

Belly couldn't fall asleep, even after she had been back in her bed for an hour. She couldn't stop thinking about what she'd seen at the party, what you might've told Conrad before you shut his door, what you probably did the rest of the year when you weren't at the beach house. She wondered if you slept more peacefully than her, not knowing how badly Belly's heart was breaking.

The next morning, Belly didn't want to leave her bed. She didn't want to see you and Conrad, it would just make last night more real. Unfortunately for her, her mother walked in at the exact second she turned away from the door to go back to sleep.

"Belly, you need to get up. It's already late." Laurel sat on the edge of her daughter's bed, pulling the sheets off Belly's head.

"No. Can't I just sleep today?"

"It's summer Belly, go out in the sun, you can sleep tonight." Laurel sighed, standing up and going back to the door. She told Belly that you, Conrad, and Steven had gone to get drinks and muffins. Belly got up then. She thought she could go downstairs, eat something, and escape the house before you got back. Jeremiah was the only one at the time Belly could stand to see without being lectured or heartbroken.

"Finally! I thought I was gonna have to sit out on the surfing competition today." Jeremiah smiled up at Belly as she entered the kitchen, grabbing a box of cereal and a bowl, taking the milk from the counter before Jeremiah could refill his glass.

"I'm not going." Belly said, stuffing a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Jeremiah rolled his eyes.

"Of course you are, Steven's an unfair judge."

"No I am not!" Steven appeared in the doorway, a box balanced on one arm and a coffee cup in the other. Belly froze, she hadn't made it out in time.

"Yes you are, you give us all twos at best." Conrad followed after Steven with another box.

"That's not true." Steven argues, sliding Jeremiah's cup over to set down the box he carried.

"It so is. Just because we're better than you." Belly didn't look anywhere but her bowl of cereal, your voice was the last one she wanted to hear right now.

"Shut up, just because you went to a fancy camp-"

"No I did not!" You and Steven continued the banter as you set down the drink carriers balanced in your hands. Conrad opened the muffin boxes, mindlessly reaching for one as his eyes full of amusement never once left you and Steven you were now pushing each other.

"Hey! Watch the food, some people are actually hungry." Childishly, Steven stuck his tongue out at Jeremiah, who in turn rolled his eyes.

"Didn't your mom tell you we were bringing muffins?" Belly looked up for the first time since you got back. The boys had left the kitchen with their plates of muffins and drinks.

"Yeah, I didn't want to wait. I thought you'd be longer." Belly lied, putting her bowl in the sink and muttering that she'd come back later to clean it. She quickly left to go back to her room, getting right back into her bed.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at her door before it was gently pushed open. You walked in with a plate of muffins and two drinks balanced in your hands. Walking over to Belly, you held out one of the drinks, sitting next to her. Once Belly had taken the drink, you set the plate down in front of her on the bed.

"I know you're upset with me Belly." She looked at you, pretending not to know what you meant. "I would've talked to you about it last night, but I think it was best we both slept off a bit of emotion before talking." Belly looked away, she wasn't ready to have this conversation yet. Not last night, not now, probably not ever. Her heart couldn't take it. "Talk to me, and if you still hate me after we talk, I'll leave you be."

"Do you love him?" Belly's voice was hardly above a whisper, but you heard, and with a small sigh, you answered, knowing exactly who she was talking about.

"He's my best friend, Belly. He has been for years. There's a thing about a friend like that, that just becomes a part of you and your life. I do love him, very much. But I'm not in love with him and he's not in love with me." You explain gently, eyes never leaving the side of her face.

"So why'd you kiss him?" Belly looked at you, there was a certain sadness in them that broke your heart.

"Because some people don't listen to words like they do actions." That's when Belly remembered the man that had stormed away from you before Steven and Jeremiah showed up. She hadn't thought anything of it when it happened, too focused on her own heart breaking.

"Oh." Belly took a sip of her drink. Maybe she had misread the whole thing.

"You can talk to me Bells." You hadn't called her that before, she wished you would've. She wished you'd keep doing it.

"I like you." Belly blurted before she could talk herself out of it. You smiled at her.

"I know. I like you too." Belly's eyes scrunched in confusion. "I was just waiting for you to figure it out yourself."

"I hate you." Belly smiled then, her face relaxing as you both laughed.

"That's not what you just said."

"No." Belly thought back to all the summers she'd spent with you that led up to now, you laughing in her room. You liked her, not Conrad. "What was that thing you were saying about actions..." She laughed again as you rolled your eyes in fake annoyance.

"What do you want? My muffin? My drink?" This time Belly rolled her eyes and you'd laughed, but she still took the drink, setting both on the night stand beside her.

"I want you to kiss me."

"Okay." You took her face in your hands and kissed her. Belly hadn't realized before, but she lived for this moment. She could've done this all along, had your lips on hers, your hands in her hair, rings pressing lightly against her cheeks, your perfume drowning her in a scent that made everything but you disappear.

When you pulled away, she found herself wishing you hadn't. She didn't want you to stop, and then it hit her that she'd only ever have you in the summer. You lived hours from her, she couldn't go to you whenever she wanted. She had just finally gotten you, and not even three months later, she'd have to let you go.

"I'll come find you." Your voice broke her thoughts.

"What?"

"When summer's over." Belly thought you'd read her mind, you knew the look she had in her eyes. "I'll be there when you need me." She didn't say anything, she didn't want to think about it. Summer had just started anyway, and now she had you. She kissed you again, ignoring your complaint about the muffins that still hadn't been touched. How could she care about those muffins right now when she'd been waiting long enough to finally kiss you?

#belly conklin x you #belly conklin x reader #belly conklin #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin #the summer i turned pretty x you #the summer i turned pretty x reader

405 notes · View notes

tavina-writes · 5 months

Text

MDZS Society! aka: there's a lot less killing than you'd expect

This follows from this post and also the recent translations of MXTX’s most recent interview (which I can now no longer bother to find bc this has been sitting in drafts for like, siiiix months? More? Oh god anyway.) which reminded me about my feelings regarding MDZS society and how different it is from the martial societies we see depicted in typical modern wuxia. (Small disclaimer, I am a wuxia genre fiend and I love like, thinking about fictional societies so this is like, “AHA! You’ve unlocked my trap card!”)

For the purposes of this, I’m going to be looking at MDZS/CQL’s depiction of the jianghu (which I think is fairly similar! I don’t actually think the show writers made CQL’s jianghu/martial society more genre typical than it was in the book) and comparing that with modern classic wuxia (mostly Jin Yong and Gu Long works.) For this comparison, I’ll be looking at a Jin Yong book — Legend of the Condor Heroes (which is widely considered the starting point of modern wuxia as a genre) — and one Gu Long book — Dagger Li/Sentimental Swordsman, Ruthless Sword (widely considered his most popular work) — and seeing how their societies differ from MDZS society.

This will likely come in two parts because this one was already getting long, and I don’t think we can fit “how often does nobility exist in a typical jianghu and what do bloodline sects look like normally versus what they look like in MDZS” in this post along with the main topic of “is MDZS society a particularly physically violent place?”

This post discusses how often cultivators are socially expected to kill people. Like, actual living human beings instead of, say, monsters or ghosts which have been categorized differently than like, human beings.

EDIT: I forgot to talk about Dagger Li but this was already much too long sorry. Feel free to hmu for more thoughts though.

Now, it might be easy to think that cultivators killing actual people is a really common thing in MDZS/CQL universe! After all, they do have martial arts training and one of the prominent things about the first life is just how many people die both in the Sunshot Campaign and the fallout afterwards. However, I would argue that a lot of the traumas and related issues and reactions that happen in MDZS happen because cultivators are, by training and education, not actually prepared for killing actual living breathing human beings! (And also that the morality of this world prevents it for the most part)

Now, we do actually get a pretty good window into what the typical training is like for young cultivators in MDZS, because we get a fairly well defined schoolhouse scene where LQR is asking them questions about "how do you tell the difference between various different problems we have to solve?" and "how do you go about fixing this problem?" and none of those include the moral quandary of "if I, a young cultivator out in the Jianghu, see a guy who is doing something I morally disagree with, under what circumstances do I beat him up and/or kill him." This does not appear to enter the curriculum at any point, leading me to believe that the morally correct number of people not like, ghosts or ghouls or fierce corpses, a regular average MDZS cultivator is supposed to have killed is approximately 0.

Which. Is a thing you get in a normal martial arts wuxia jianghu. There is generally the threat of "oh yeah this that or the other faction will be doing shitty things and thereby try to murder you." Instead, in MDZS/CQL most of the heirs of sects are...attending school together. Doing teenage things like partying and gossiping and attending classes.

And sure yes, there was a case of WWX and JZX trying to beat each other up. But the sects did sure let their kids stay at Lan summer camp for months on end (sometimes repeatedly, see NHS) without fearing for their lives or that anyone would steal another sect's techniques or otherwise causing real havoc or intersect warfare etc.

Which is infeasible in any other sort of Jianghu situation. For example, contrast this scenario with this scene from LOCH where Guo Jing's shifus are giving him advice since he is newly 17 and about to set out by himself into the great big world:

Guo Jing therefore bid farewell to his teachers. They had witnessed his battle against the Four Demons of the Yellow River, and were not too greatly worried. The young man had proved that he knew how to use the skills that they taught him. Therefore they let him leave alone. On one hand, the meeting of outlaws in Yanjing worried them greatly, so that they could not ignore it; and on the other hand, a youngster always had to travel the jianghu alone, in order to learn lessons that no teacher could pass on. At the moment of parting, each made their last recommendations. As usual when the Six spoke after one another, Nan Xiren was the last one to express himself. "If you cannot defeat the enemy," he said. "Flee!" He knew that given Guo Jing's dogged character, he would prefer to die rather than to surrender, if he met a master, he would certainly fight to the bitter end, even at the risk of death. That was the reason Nan Xiren gave him this common sense warning. " Martial arts have no limits," added Zhu Cong. " As the proverb says, 'For every peak there is one yet higher', so for every man there is one stronger. Whatever your power, you will always one day meet a foe stronger than you. A true man knows to retreat when necessary, when facing grave danger, it is necessary to contain one's impatience and anger. This what is meant by the adage, « If one preserves the earth and its forests, one does not fear to lack firewood ». It is not therefore not cowardly to take good advice! When the enemy is too numerous and that you cannot face them there, it is especially necessary to avoid being too reckless. Keep in mind Fourth Shifu's advice!"

Does this seem like the sort of advice that any Young MDZS Cultivator would get? "You're a good kid, but when you go out into the world, there will be people who straight up want you dead even though they met you 15 minutes ago, you cannot persist in fighting with these people because they will want you dead and you are a baby cultivator who needs to learn to run away when shit gets rough or you will be dead."

And again I come back to how MDZS cultivators are more like occupational ghostbusters because this really does inform how their society functions and runs and how everyone reacts so badly to the Sunshot Campaign beginning and its aftermaths and possibly explains how JGS could get his way after Sunshot.

Because what happens when you get a society that does train heavily in martial arts and have Able To Kill Real People Weapons who spends most of their time solving very black and white situations of "okay is this ghost whose eating people's livers good or bad? y/n?" and a clear hierarchy of "how do we get rid of the ghost eating people's livers in town x" instead of say "is it morally correct to kill this group of bandits who's been threatening the town" or "is it morally correct to kill this shitty businessman who's been holding people hostage and threatening to hack off their limbs" you have a reduced level of philosophical musing on like, "what is the purpose of martial arts, which is designed to kill people and what do I use martial arts for?" and "under what circumstances and situations would I personally find it morally correct to kill a man?" Which are all questions that Wuxia coming of age stories typically have, and I think MDZS does have, but expressed differently.

Again, it appears that the number of Real Live Human Beings that it is morally acceptable to have stabbed in your life is approximately 0 in this universe, and the expectation that you, personally, might have to fend off people trying to stab you over brunch is also approximately 0.

This also leads to a situation where like, questions of vengeance have very difficult escape hatches! If your parents are murdered on the job by an evil rampaging ghost, this is very sad and tragic and now you're an orphan and of course that's not good, but this is a occupational job hazard, not like, "Yeah Joe Bob from the sect down the street murdered my dad because #Reasons~, and now it's my legacy to grow up to murder Job Bob from the sect down the street to avenge my dad."

(I have a whole essay about how this pertains to both of the Nie Brothers, and how it pertains to JGY and also Jin Ling, and how this seems to routinely fuck people up in MDZS in a very specific way we don't typically see in other wuxias, but this is getting SO long as it is).

But yeah "the socially acceptable number of real living people (instead of ghosts or demons or fierce corpses or whatever) to have killed in your lifetime as a cultivator is approximately 0" means that the Sunshot Generation gets really really fucked up by all of this "killing real people" they did.

Which! might be why JFM was so slow to move on "yeah the Wen are threatening to kill your heirs." <- socially inconceivable behavior. Why society in general is so shocked by Xue Yang and the murder of the Chang <- which would be bad normally but not quite like this. And why no one did anything specific about JGS even if they felt he wasn't entirely correct. What are they going to threaten him with? Death???? A trial of his peers? Social Shunning??? Public shame???

"But Tav how does this relate to CQL!Su She's morality?" I hear you ask. Well you see, the question of "he should've been ready to die for his sect!" is utterly baffling in a society where nobody is expected to be ready to die for their sect on a regular basis because the idea that you should be ready for someone trying to stab you before brunch is utterly nonsensical in a world where most people expect that the baseline number of murders a cultivator does in their lifetimes is 0. That's the world he lives in.

On this regard CQL!Su She is utterly blameless. Nobody handed him a rulebook or expectations sheet for "the sect down the street will try to kill you" nor SHOULD they expect he'd be ready to die at a drop of a hat when no part of the education or social expectations include "ready to die for your sect because it's routine for people to try to kill you."

If you don't even expect to be stabbed and possibly die at a discussion conference where there are lots of cultivators from many sects why on EARTH would you expect to be facing down death in your own home when there's. cultivators here to kill you, this situation is so out of left field?

#modao zushi #mdzs #meta #my meta #su she #this is not a society *without* violence to be clear #but it's not the sort of place where it'll have been acceptable to murder and maim before breakfast #and that's why traumas happen as they do #I've been sitting on this for ages #please don't discourse in my notes about if 'murder' is a good thing or a bad thing #this is just an observation on like #'is it societally common for cultivators to run around killing people?'#the answer to this question is no

212 notes · View notes

alwaysbewoke · 5 months

Text

NINE HOLOCAUST SURVIVORS COMPARE ZIONIST POLICIES TO THOSE OF THE NAZIS

“Sometime after [1956] I heard a news item about Israelis herding Palestinians into settlement camps. I just could not believe this. Weren’t the Israelis also Jews? Hadn’t we – they – just survived the greatest pogrom of our history? Weren’t [concentration] camps – often euphemistically called ‘settlement camps’ by the Nazis – the main feature of this pogrom? How could Jews in any measure do unto others what had been done to them? How could these Israeli Jews oppress and imprison other people? In my romantic imagination, the Jews in Israel were socialists and people who knew right from wrong. This was clearly incorrect. I felt let down, as if I was being robbed of a part of what I had thought was my heritage. …

I have to say to the Israeli government, which claims to speak in the name of all Jews, that it is not speaking in my name. I will not remain silent in the face of the attempted annihilation of the Palestinians; the sale of arms to repressive regimes around the world; the attempt to stifle criticism of Israel in the media worldwide; or the twisting of the knife labelled ‘guilt’ in order to gain economic concessions from Western countries. Of course, Israel’s geo-political position has a greater bearing on this, at the moment. I will not allow the confounding of the terms ‘anti-Semitic’ and ‘anti-Zionist’ to go unchallenged.”

Dr. Marika Sherwood, ‘How I became an anti-Israel Jew’, Middle East Monitor, 7/3/18. Marika Sherwood is a survivor of the Budapest ghetto.

-----

“Israel, in order to survive, has to renounce the wish for domination and then it will be a much better place for Jews also. The immediate analogy which a lot of people are making in Israel is Germany. Not only the Germany of Hitler and the Nazis but even the former German Empire wanted to dominate Europe. What happened in Japan after the attack on China is that they wanted to dominate a huge area of Asia. When Germany and Japan renounced the wish for domination, they became much nicer societies for the Japanese and Germans themselves. In addition to all the Arab considerations, I would like to see Israel, by renouncing the desire for domination, including domination of the Palestinians, become a much nicer place for Israelis to live.”

Dr. Israel Shahak, Middle East Policy Journal, Summer 1989, no.29. Israel Shahak was a survivor of the Warsaw ghetto and Bergen-Belsen concentration camp.

-----

“I am pained by the parallels I observe between my experiences in Germany prior to 1939 and those suffered by Palestinians today. I cannot help but hear echoes of the Nazi mythos of ‘blood and soil’ in the rhetoric of settler fundamentalism which claims a sacred right to all the lands of biblical Judea and Samaria. The various forms of collective punishment visited upon the Palestinian people – coerced ghettoization behind a ‘security wall’; the bulldozing of homes and destruction of fields; the bombing of schools, mosques, and government buildings; an economic blockade that deprives people of the water, food, medicine, education and the basic necessities for dignified survival – force me to recall the deprivations and humiliations that I experienced in my youth. This century-long process of oppression means unimaginable suffering for Palestinians.”

Dr. Hajo Meyer, ‘An Ethical Tradition Betrayed’, Huffington Post, 27/1/10. Hajo Meyer was a survivor of Auschwitz.

-----

“As a Jewish youngster growing up in Budapest, an infant survivor of the Nazi genocide, I was for years haunted by a question resounding in my brain with such force that sometimes my head would spin: ‘How was it possible? How could the world have let such horrors happen?’

It was a naïve question, that of a child. I know better now: such is reality. Whether in Vietnam or Rwanda or Syria, humanity stands by either complicitly or unconsciously or helplessly, as it always does. In Gaza today we find ways of justifying the bombing of hospitals, the annihilation of families at dinner, the killing of pre-adolescents playing soccer on a beach. …

There is no understanding Gaza out of context – Hamas rockets or unjustifiable terrorist attacks on civilians – and that context is the longest ongoing ethnic cleansing operation in the recent and present centuries, the ongoing attempt to destroy Palestinian nationhood.

The Palestinians use tunnels? So did my heroes, the poorly armed fighters of the Warsaw Ghetto. Unlike Israel, Palestinians lack Apache helicopters, guided drones, jet fighters with bombs, laser-guided artillery. Out of impotent defiance, they fire inept rockets, causing terror for innocent Israelis but rarely physical harm. With such a gross imbalance of power, there is no equivalence of culpability. …

And what shall we do, we ordinary people? I pray we can listen to our hearts. My heart tells me that ‘never again’ is not a tribal slogan, that the murder of my grandparents in Auschwitz does not justify the ongoing dispossession of Palestinians, that justice, truth, peace are not tribal prerogatives. That Israel’s ‘right to defend itself,’ unarguable in principle, does not validate mass killing.

Dr. Gabor Mate, ‘Beautiful Dream of Israel has become a Nightmare’, Toronto Star, 22/7/14. Gabor Mate is a survivor of the Budapest ghetto.

#israel #gaza #gaza strip #palestine #free palestine #anti-semitic #islamophobia #zionism

181 notes · View notes

the-badger-mole · 14 days

Note

If you were to expand on southern water tribe culture, what sort of traditions would the people have?

I've written a few traditions into my fics. Off the top of my head, here are a few:

All the Things That Are and Will Be

The death rites of the SWT don't involved burial in the ground. Instead a the body is washed and prepped by the family, and the body is laid to rest under stones piled around and over top the body. The ceremony involves a song commemorating the deceased for becoming one of the ancestors.

Traditional

To mark engagements in the SWT, the potential husband presents his intended with tools and supplies that will be useful to her in married life. This is usually sewing needles, knives, beads and furs, but the intended bride is allowed to make special requests. For Katara, this included fancy pens, new waterskins for formal and everyday use, and a crown. In With the Changing of the Tide, she also made special requests for a talking mirror and the skin of a camel seal. The potential husband also presents his intended's family with furs, skins and tools, and also, he joins the men in the family on a hunt for what will become the engagement party meal.

Uncharted Waters

In the SWT, villagers will gather frequently to share stories about a lot of things. Sometimes they're historical accounts. Sometime they're folk tales. Sometimes they're about how they got their various scars, like Katara tells Zuko in chapter 8.

Summer Bloom

When a SWT girl has her first period, there's a celebration among the women. They go into the mountains to the thermal springs and have what essentially amounts to a spa weekend. There she has a formal introduction to the "polar bees and otter penguins", the older women share their advice on dealing with period symptom, and there's a feast. The girl is welcomed into womanhood with gifts of needles, knives, combs and beads.

Some traditions I've been thinking about, but haven't actually written down yet: Siblings share a sleep cot until they're old enough to complain about it. When that happens, the family homes get bigger to accommodate more sleeping space.

There's a strong musical tradition within the tribe. Their instruments are limited. They have a drum, a hand drum, and a pipe for their major instruments, but they mostly sing. The SWT goes on to popularize acapella in the ATLA world.

The Southern Water Tribe is made up of several small villages lead by locally selected chiefs who then come together to choose one overall representative for all the villages. Hakoda is the third nonconsecutive member of his family chosen as the head chief, and Sokka is chosen after him. After Sokka, the next chief comes from an unrelated family and a different village entirely.

#atla #swt traditions #katara #sokka #hakoda #kanna #zutara #because the fics i linked are zutara fics or at least mention them

113 notes · View notes

pennyserenade · 12 days

Text

PEDRO PASCAL MASTERLIST.

( spotify playlist )

one shots:

woman taken by the wind ( e )

desire is a delicious thing.

foreigner’s god ( e )

screaming the name of a foreigner’s god, the purest expression of grief - hozier

( spotify playlist )

one shots:

take me where your heart is ( e )

even in a big world, there’s not much else to do but be fascinated with one another.

flesh & blood ( e )

javier peña has never been the best at deciding what’s good for anyone but sometimes, just sometimes, he can figure it out for himself

i remember you well ( e )

there are memories that haunt and there are memories that merely linger; what they were that one summer is the latter to Javier.

life could be a dream ( e )

to outrun being human is not sensible. its their constant state of being and something that they are reminded with frequency. so, they’ve stopped trying at that. instead, javier and this woman have decided to embrace the pain of being human together. its a wicked game, sure, but no worse than realizing separately that they are one lonely drop in a big ocean.

series:

scenes from a marriage ( finished ) ( e )

javier peña is a dea agent naively navigating his way through life in colombia. as if life is not complicated or risky enough while he partakes in the search for the infamous pablo escobar, javier has decidedly fallen in love. these are the scenes from his marriage, full of trials and tribulations, set in colombia, circa 1979–1993. anthology series, but definitely better if read in order.

fade into you ( on-going ) ( e )

like all great things in laredo, they began as whispers. javier has been back from colombia for a couple months and he is beginning to readjust back into a life he had fled. life is an endless cycle of restless nights, nameless hands to shake, and the unshakeable feeling that he is an outsider in his own hometown. mariella and her family have been in laredo since a little after javier left it, running from their own pasts and making it home. her life is an endless cycle of working, feeling too known, and the unshakeable feeling that she is never going to be a person that belongs anywhere. now that their stays in the town are overlapping, javier and this woman find themselves gravitating towards each other. being cut from much of the same cloth, she and javi are made to tackle long overdue life lessons through one another. whether they learn from them or not is something everyone in laredo is curious to find out

drabbles:

time of the season ask ( m )

( spotify playlist )

one shots:

ungodly hour ( m )

‘til the cows come home ( e )

jack daniels is the sort of man lucky enough to happen upon beautiful women’s windows, and she is the sort of woman unfortunate to want men who do that. it’s been working beautifully ever since he did.

series:

his girl friday ( on-going ) ( e )

when agent jack daniels discovers that his partner alicia fitzgerald (better known as pinkie to jack, because of her preference for pink champagne) is to be married, he decides he must do his very best to save her from the life of the mundane.

( spotify playlist )

series:

goodbye, baby ( on-going ) ( e )

for as long as she could remember, ada perez has wanted desperately to be a writer of worth. she’s sworn time & time again that nothing can or will stand between her & that million dollar article she knows she’s got in her. when she sided with dave york, who was notorious amongst the elite of new york’s ugly underbelly, she really began to believe herself. he introduced her to a world of lies, deceit, and doing anything to stay at the top. he let her rub elbows with the prominent people he’d know for years, letting her see him promise them dirty deeds in exchange for protection & status. then he let her write articles about the very same class of people, outlining their various sins, just because they didn’t deliver the way he thought they should have just once. she learned quick that the name dave york was synonymous with god in this world of theirs, & she clung to him. now, many loyal years later, ada is being pushed to understand what it means to truly sacrifice for your maker. will she be confronted by the fact that in her still beats the heart she denies she’s got, or will she be rewarded manna from heaven for her good behavior?

( spotify playlist )

series:

losing dogs ( on-going ) ( e )

frankie morales knows he isn’t the most perfect man, but he’s found someone who cares for him despite it. a friend. a lover. this is a collection of one shots about the same couple, but they can all be read separately.

( spotify playlist )

one shots:

it’s never over ( m )

dieter asks you to go to the opening night of his play and you do. for this he rewards you handsomely.

only backwards ( e )

it has been 6 months since you last heard from dieter bravo. this time he comes back to you with a black eye and he asks for too much. it is just like always.

you can(t) always get what you want ( e )

your relationship with dieter (albeit the very loose definition of the term) has finally landed you in the tabloids. he attempts to make it up to you

three’s company ( e )

the world is slowly descending into madness all around you, so you decide to give in and go with dieter to his latest poor decision: a franchise movie filming in england. one night while there, you both sweep another into this odd half-hearted, life-long tryst you've got.

the hollywood hedonist method ( e )\

dieter's movie is bad and he looks to you for a quick fix to a long problem.

#pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #dieter bravo x reader #frankie morales x reader #dave york x reader #oberyn martell x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal #dave york #dieter bravo #frankie morales #javier pena #oberyn martell #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels #pedro pascal masterlist.

61 notes · View notes

iskratempestmadness · 2 months

Text

A few facts about the characters of "Baki the grappler"

Characters: Baki, Hanayama, Katsumi, Jack, Retsu.

Baki

Food

- it may seem that he prefers something simple, but he doesn't mind trying unusual food combinations. According to the type of ice cream with French fries.

- traditional Japanese cuisine on weekdays and fast food on weekends. He likes to treat himself to a big burger on Saturday night. Although he will have to work hard afterwards to get himself back in shape.

- has a neutral relationship with alcohol. He can drink during the holiday, but usually tries to abstain.

Leisure

- you can't tell from him, but he reads quite a lot, although he can't be called a bookworm. He definitely likes manga and comics, as well as something light from Japanese classics. He reads to relax, so he doesn't want to strain his brain.

- he likes to play board games. He is quite experienced in them, but in some cases, fortune does not favor him.

- walking in the fresh air. As I said, he just wants to relax, so contemplating nature is perfect for that. He likes the prospect of going somewhere to the countryside and staying there to live.

Moment:

It was early in the morning, when the city had not yet had time to wake up. The young man was sitting on a bench in the park, which was close to his house. Despite the fact that summer had already arrived, it was quite cool outside, but the young man did not seem to notice this. Hanma has been visiting this place quite often lately. Perhaps it was here that he could fully relax. His thoughts were confused, like the thoughts of a man who had just woken up, he was thinking about everything and at the same time about nothing. However, he noticed all the peculiarities of his environment. For example, he noticed that the birds were calling to each other today more briskly than usual, and also that this morning was warmer than yesterday, but it was still a little cool for summer... He liked it... And he also liked to have such a carefree time... This is the kind of environment he wants to spend his life in...

Hanayama:

Food

is mmmm... He loves Japanese fast food. You know, quick fried meat in batter with vegetables and various sauces. Or udon in a small but cozy eatery. But he needs really big portions.

- he also likes traditional Japanese dishes, but he prefers not to eat them too often.

- Alcohol? He is an expert in this. It may seem that he drinks only strong drinks, but he is also very well versed in the lungs. Hana also belongs to the type of people who drink and do not get drunk.

Leisure

- naturally, he spends a lot of time in bars. He knows all the bars in Tokyo. And he wrote a review for each, all the pros and cons of the institution were taken into account. He finds this way of spending time very entertaining.

- he likes to play billiards when he has free time. And he's pretty good at it. Despite his size, he is adept at this.

- fishing. Ohhh, he's a pro at this. And how else can you call a man who went to a shark with his bare hands? But even in less extreme conditions, he finds pleasure in fishing.

Moment:

A hard day. This is perhaps the most plausible description of what happened today. There are so many issues that need to be resolved "urgently", so many people who do not understand what they want from him... It exhausted him. His head was throbbing violently, preventing him from concentrating...What was he thinking about? Yes, there's nothing to talk about.Hana was in the very state when a person's mind is filled with various short memories that have no connection with each other...And he didn't have a single sensible thought in his head. He lit a cigarette as usual. And he himself did not understand how he ended up where he is now. It was one of the idzkai he frequented...Heh, perhaps this really was the best option to relax. The young man sat down at the counter and waited for his order... and for some reason, he was already feeling better now. My head didn't hurt so much anymore, and there was no annoying carousel of memories. Hana waited for his order and to his delight, the food really helped him. In some cases, even such small things can make you feel better.

Katsumi:

Food

- HOMEMADE FOOD. To give Natsue her due, she cooks beautifully, so Katsumi's favorite food is homemade food. He doesn't even have a preference, he just loves it and he'll eat whatever they give him.

- he also likes strange food combinations. He is always ready to try something new, but he already has his favorite combinations. I can assume that this is watermelon and feta cheese or popcorn with hot sauce

- relationship with alcohol... Well, he only drinks on holidays, but Katsumi doesn't know the measure. If he drinks, he gets completely drunk. He doesn't know the measure at all.

Leisure

- bowling. He just likes this kind of leisure activity. And he became almost a master at it.

- he likes to sing and not only in the shower. Therefore, one of his favorite ways to spend time is karaoke. He might not be a brilliant singer himself, but he puts his whole soul into it.

- cooking. In this, perhaps, it cannot be said that he is a great master, but he really likes to learn this. He was already delighting himself with a couple of simple dishes. However, it should be noted that his dishes are a little overcooked.

Moment:

He decided to put himself under stress again. There was no other way he could have called it. Of course he liked cooking, but what was happening was terrible. The heated oil splashed in all directions, he spilled something on the floor, broke a couple of plates, and a mountain of dishes in the sink was waiting for him. Is it not a horror? Nevertheless, Katsumi was determined that he would cook this dish. Why didn't he go the easier way? Why didn't you just order what you wanted? After all, he could have asked Natsueh to cook this dish, why didn't he? There were several reasons. First, he liked it. Yes, despite what was happening, he still enjoyed cooking. And he didn't expect a good result at all, he just enjoyed the process. The second is his stubbornness. Is something wrong with him? So what, he will do it as many times as it takes for a decent result. It's a challenge for him. It's a tough call. He had to sweat a lot, but... God, he was really glad... The food was good. But as usual, it is slightly peppered.

Jack:

Food

really has no preferences. All that can be eaten is food for him.

- however, he highlights the Canadian cuisine. After all, this is his native kitchen. One of his favorite dishes is cream cake and "nanaimo"

- attitude to alcohol? Mmmm... Given his lifestyle, we can say that he does not drink at all. But sometimes when he can't sleep, Jack will drink a glass of tincture, but no more. Most likely, he will be able to put tinctures.

Leisure

- He likes to swim. This is an ideal way for him to practice and relax. Besides, he is fond of diving. (So it's ideal for him if he lives somewhere near the sea or a deep lake. This is one of his dreams.)

- he can play the guitar. Despite the fact that he trains almost all the time, he also finds time to practice it. His game is at the amateur level, but it's also not bad.

- What is it? Just like Bucky, he can't be called a bookish character, but he has a couple of bookshelves. Jack prefers little-known works by popular authors. And his favorite genres of books can be called detective and fiction.

Moment:

Quiet. It's late in the evening, it's about one or two in the morning. The noise of the city is no longer audible, only the quiet rustle of leaves and the occasional rumble of water. The atmosphere is wonderful... However... The young man had not been able to sleep for about two hours and it began to bother him. Instead of lying on the bed, he could have done something more useful with a light... well, or at least interesting. Reading was perfect. Jack sat up in bed, turned on the lamp, picked up a book lying on one of the bedside tables and plunged into one of those most amazing worlds that are considered fiction or a fairy tale, and call it fiction. Hanma was quite picky about literature, although he didn't read much. But this book was really interesting to him. Why? Perhaps it was an interesting plot, or curious descriptions of the area, or dialogues of the characters, or... Why guess? Jack liked this book because he could use it to distract himself. There was no hint of the real world in it. Not once in the entire book has there been a hint of problems that were in the real world. And the young man didn't think it was a bad thing. On the contrary, he liked it. It brought lightness, calmness and calmness to his life... Perhaps... A little bit of happiness...

Retsu:

Food

is Chinese cuisine. To say that he loves her will not be enough... He RESPECTS her. He respects her all. From dishes in street eateries to home cooking.

- Japanese cuisine is in second place after Chinese cuisine for him. However, he is extremely critical of her. Retsu tries to eat right, so he carefully monitors what he eats.

- does Retsu drink? Exclusively on holidays. But if there is an opportunity, he will refrain from doing so. He really doesn't like alcohol.

Leisure

- cooking. And he's a pro at it. He has been cooking since childhood, he has a wealth of experience and his knowledge in cooking is still being replenished. He read a lot of books on cooking and watched a huge number of programs on this topic. He is completely enlightened, as it might seem. However, he claims that he still has a lot to grow.

- reading. But he can be called a bookworm. He read everything from classics to manga. And this made him extremely selective in the collection of works. For Retsu, the book is needed not only to relax or distract himself, but also to rethink life. The book is a source of wisdom for him.

- he is fond of photography. And in this he is at the beginner stage. But he learns fast. He likes to photograph animals and plants. He also likes to shoot landscapes.

Moment:

"Yes, this is what we need... This kind of view definitely needs to be captured." This was the first thought that came to Retsu's mind. And the scenery was really spectacular. Mount Fuji. The height is 3776. And it's amazing. The young man was really happy despite the cold and the long journey. Taking out his camera, Retsu started taking pictures... huh... Amazingly... But the camera did not transmit even a tenth of the landscape... However, the footage was amazing. Retsu didn't have much experience in photography, he was still a beginner. How did he come to this? Why photos? Everything is simple. There have been changes in it. Let's just say his mindset has changed. The young man seemed to rethink his life... And I made a conclusion. He needs to slow down. Pay a little more attention to his environment. Watch the world more. That's why he chose photography. With his help, Retsu had the opportunity to forever contemplate what he had captured.

I don't think I'll pull part 2, heh.

77 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 8 months

Note

Okay, hear me out. The reader has a birthday in the summer and boyfriend!Steve is throwing her a little surprise bd party somewhere outside of Hawkins, along with Eddie, Robin and the kids 🥹🥰

thanks for your request!! — the one where steve harrington and the rest of the gang try hopelessly to celebrate the grump of the group (grumpy!reader, established relationship, 2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

A heart-shaped cake sits on top of a rotting park bench.

It’s obviously homemade, slathered with sage green icing that’s visibly uneven — bare in some places and thicker in others. Your name is written on the very center in a darker shade of juniper. At least, you’re pretty sure it’s supposed to be. The letters are sloppy and nearly illegible. It could say anything really, and you’d have no way of knowing.

Several smaller hearts are dotted around the top and the sides, looking more like gloopy circles and poorly drawn birds. You figure they were added as an afterthought, perhaps to distract from the various dents around the edges of the cake.

Despite all that — or maybe because of it — your heart swells with an inhuman sort of warmth.

You didn’t think people cared enough about you to bake a cake for you. Or to throw a surprise party for you. Honestly, you didn’t think anyone besides Steve even knew it was your birthday. The thought makes your chest feel tight, a healthy mixture of mirth and panic.

Several faces smile expectantly at you. You blink owlishly back at them. The twittering sounds of nature fill the anticipatory silence.

“Sorry,” you apologize in a half-sincere monotone, fidgeting awkwardly on the wooden bench seat. “I just… I never know how to respond when a group of people sing Happy Birthday to me.”

Steve smiles and smoothes a palm up and down your spine. His honey eyes flit between your profile and the burning striped candles on top of the cake. “I think most people usually blow out the candles at this point, babe.”

“Yeah,” Robin concurs from across the bench, sitting squarely on the edge to fit beside Dustin and Eddie. Her blue eyes widen as her maroon-tinted mouth quirks slightly upward. “If they burn too low, they’ll set the cake on fire.”

Eddie beams at her words. His chocolate eyes dart between Robin, the cake, and you. “Wait… That actually sounds kinda cool,” he lilts with a soft chuckle.

“No! Not cool!” Dustin argues in response. His bushy brows pinch together in disdain and his nose scrunches at the thought. “We worked hard on this cake, okay? So let’s maybe not ruin it—”

“I thought it was already ruined?” you blurt before you mean to.

The curly-haired boy snaps his attention from Eddie to you, equally as confused as you seem to be. “What?”

You shrug with a flat face. “I don’t know… I thought you guys, like, dropped it on the way over here or something.”

You’re too kind to be mean, too aloof to realize how insensitive you sound.

You thought it might’ve been the perfect explanation for why the cake looked so… messy. Dustin was a perfectionist to boot, and Max commanded the boys like it was her job to do it. With their forces combined, you figure they could make just about anything five-star bakery-worthy.

This heart-shaped cake in front of you isn’t perfect. It looks more like what would happen to a sheet of paper if you gave toddlers a bunch of finger paint. Because they weren’t trying to make it flawless at all. They were making something sweet for you and having fun together while doing it.

You can imagine the kids laughing as they flick flour at one another and smear green icing on each other’s cheeks. Your chest warms all over again. Your heart glows with a happiness you often keep hidden.

“Considering it’s your birthday, I am actively choosing not to take offense to that statement,” Dustin responds after a beat of silence, a sincere smile on his boyish features.

“We made it ourselves, actually,” Lucas tells you with his own grin. He sits adjacent to the former boy, shoulder-to-shoulder with Max. Despite the many inches of space on either side of them, his bare arm brushes against her freckled one.

“That makes sense,” you mutter to yourself.

Steve exhales a laugh from beside you. His broad hand squeezes gently at your shoulder. “Blow out the candles, babe. Before you actually do set the cake on fire.”

Your chest inflates with an inhale that you blow out through your mouth. The flickering orange flames shift sideways for a moment before turning into wisps of gray smoke.

The group around you starts to applaud. Some of them cheer quietly for you. It makes your brows furrow with distant contempt. You shrink into yourself, not made to be easily celebrated.

Steve smacks a kiss to your cheek, then. His plush, pink lips smush against your skin and pull into a beam a second later. His eyes sparkle with the sunshine expression when you turn to look at him.

His arm curls more intently around you to hold you closer. Even though you make no move to hold him back, you melt into him just the same. His smile widens when he feels you grow heavier against him — much less tense than you usually are.

“What’d you wish for?” he wonders with his brows raised.

In a deadpan, you answer. “That goes against the philosophy of wishes, Harrington.”

“Right,” he concurs in a scoff. You feel his chest rumble with breathy laughter. It makes you lean further into him before you realize you’re doing it.

Steve notices, though — rather quickly, because physical affection never did come easily to you. His already wide smile grows somehow fuller. His nose smushes into your hair when he pressed a kiss to your temple.

—————

The cake quickly disappears as everyone cuts themselves a slice and downs it with vigor. It’s less about being dreadfully hungry and more about there being something innately delicious about homemade pastries.

Dustin tells you he calculated the recipe himself — comparing the backs of several cake mix boxes and what he knew you liked best. That, along with Max’s strangely distinct cheffing ability, created the perfect cake.

It was just dense enough, just sweet enough, just soft enough.

Despite its mess, it was undeniably made with love.

When Steve dismisses himself to get the cooler of drinks he left in his car, you take your slice of cake with you. You hold the festive plate in one hand and a plastic fork in another. Blanketed by shade at the side of the vacant road, you confess with green icing on the corner of your mouth — “Can we go home now?”

Steve huffs as he drops the heavy cooler on the grassy trail. He rises with a furrow to his brows.

“What? We just got here,” he answers with a soft chuckle, reaching his arm out for you. His knuckles brush gently at your chin as his thumb swipes over the corner of your mouth.

The action is too quick for you to dodge. Your features scrunch in disgust when he licks the rouge icing from the pad of his finger.

“We haven’t even finished eating yet.”

“But it’s so hot,” you gripe, face twisted in a distant pout. “And there’s, like, a million things I’d rather be doing.”

“Well, that’s rude,” the boy jokes with his head tilted to his shoulder.

“Everyone just, like… keeps talking to me. And looking at me. I don’t like it— it’s weird.”

Steve smiles, pink and lopsided. “God forbid someone pays a little attention to you every now and then, huh?”

“You do it enough,” you grouse like you’re not grateful for how much he loves you. Your face is fixed in a deadpan to conceal the adoration you have for the boy in front of you. Your eyes twinkle with all of it, anyway. “I don’t need anybody else to give me attention.”

Steve’s chest swells — with pride, perhaps, or maybe with how much he loves you. A healthy mixture of both, maybe.

“Damn right, you don’t,” he singsongs lowly before leaning down to kiss you. His soft lips press against your scowl. He feels like the white puffy clouds above you and tastes like the blue sky surrounding them.

You don’t want to lean into them, still a bit pouty in your way.

You regret not kissing him harder the second he pulls away from you.

He picks up the cooler and flashes you a soft, sympathetic grin. “C’mon, babe. Just a little while longer, okay? And then I’ll take you home. I promise.”

He’s about to walk away from you, turning on the heel of his dirty sneaker and expecting you to follow him.

You don’t, though. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in one place, calling out for him before he can get too far. “Wait!” you blurt, still quiet in your plea.

Steve stills. He turns back to you, his brows raised expectantly. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence passes. You shift your weight on your feet and hold yourself tighter, letting the sounds of chirping birds and rolling breezes fill your quiet until you can find the words — the courage to say them, more like.

“That wasn’t my wish,” you confess gently.

You don’t say anything more than that, despite how vague it sounds. You expect him to understand you without having to plead for him outright. He usually does, though sometimes he loves to hear you beg.

Now, he’s just purely confused.

“What do you mean?” he presses, not teasing you, just trying to understand you better.

“When I blew out the candles,” you explain, monotoned and still slightly pouting. “I wished that… you’d kiss me.”

That wasn’t entirely true.

Actually, you wished that all of this would be over a lot quicker than how dreadfully slow it was going.

You loved your friends, you really did, but you were not the same extroverted being who loved surprises that your boyfriend was. You’d much rather pretend you weren’t another year older and spend the day in bed, wrapped like a present in Steve’s arms.

And you don’t mean to lie about all that, but you don’t know how else to ask for another kiss.

You’re still learning how to be more openly affectionate with him — how to let Steve be more affectionate with you. He’s learning how to give you more space just the same. He can be too suffocating at times, he’s found, and his relationships have wilted like a dying flower accordingly.

You’re both looking for that sweet spot, the exact middle between too clingy and too distant. You’ve found that in each other in a lot of ways. The two of you bring a bit of both that balances you out perfectly.

Your words make Steve melt.

He exhales a sharp laugh through his nose, chest swelling with so much love that it hurts him. His nose scrunches as he walks the short distance back to you. “Well, what kinda douchebag would I be if I didn’t let my girl’s wish come true on her birthday, huh?”

He drops the cooler at his feet again, and it crunches beneath the green grass. Melted ice and canned soda swish audibly from within it as he takes you in his arms. In the cool shade, his wide palms smooth around your hips to warm you like the summer sun.

You keep your arms crossed over you like you didn’t just beg him to be this close, still holding your plate in one hand.

“A huge one,” you answer, voice as flat as your face as you blink up at him. “You already are, actually.”

“Says the girl asking me to kiss her,” Steve jokes with a crooked grin.

Though your own smile threatens to quirk the edges of your lips, you fight to keep it hidden. “I take it back,” you quip at his teasing.

You’re lying, but he already knows that.

“No, you don’t,” he lilts with the shake of his head. He beams at you, perhaps too fondly than you deserve, and leans down once more to give you exactly what you wanted.

His pink lips lock with yours in a mixture of vivid hues. He tastes like sweet cake and sweeter soda. The rough pad of his tongue licks against your mouth to get a taste of you, too. It’s as soft and sweet as you’re still learning how to be.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabbles #bug's summer fic fest!

310 notes · View notes

rebeccathenaturalist · 1 year

Text

What Are Mosquitoes Good For?

Originally posted at my blog at https://rebeccalexa.com/what-are-mosquitoes-good-for/

Now that the weather has cooled down over much of the United States, insects have died back or gone into hibernation for the winter. So you may be tempted to be glad that the mosquitoes have disappeared for the time being. Maybe you even wish they wouldn’t come back next year! After all, they’re just mosquitoes, which annoy us and spread diseases, right? What are mosquitoes good for, anyway?

Much to the surprise of a lot of people, they actually have some pretty important ecological functions, and your local ecosystem would likely suffer if the mosquitoes were all exterminated. So today, I am going to be a mosquito apologist.

What Are Mosquitoes Good For? Food!

You may have seen hundreds or even thousands of mosquito larvae swimming in a pond or other fresh water. Perhaps you thought every single one of them came to find you after they became adults! They certainly are prolific; some species can lay as many as 300 eggs at once.

But this isn’t just because they want to have more young to annoy you, generation after generation. Rather, it’s because a lot of mosquitoes end up eaten before they even get a chance to reproduce. As eggs and larvae, they’re food for fish, amphibians, and aquatic insects and other arthropods. Once they take to the wing, birds and bats become major predators, as do adult dragonflies and other winged insects, plus spiders that catch them in their webs. While a single bat might not actually eat 1000 mosquitoes in a night, all those various predators do take a significant chunk out of the mosquito population.

Platanthera obtusata is just one of many orchids that rely on mosquitoes for pollination.

What Are Mosquitoes Good For? Pollination!

Believe it or not, most mosquitoes aren’t out for your blood! The majority of mosquito species are entirely vegetarian; it’s only a few in which the females seek out blood to help produce eggs. Most mosquitoes drink nectar or plant sap, and in the pursuit of the former they play a vital role in pollinating the flowers they visit. Goldenrod and orchids are just two examples of groups of plants pollinated by mosquitoes. And while mosquitoes might drive Alaskans buggy, they are vital for pollination during the short Arctic summer.

What Are Mosquitoes Good For? Keeping Things in Check!

Mosquito larvae spend anywhere from a few days to a few weeks in the water where they hatched. They feed on a variety of bacteria, algae, and other microorganisms. Because they have a lot of growing to do, and need to prepare for their final molt to adult form, they have to eat a lot! That means they help keep their prey species’ populations in check. An overgrowth of algae, for example, can reduce the amount of sunlight that submerged plants have access to, and as the algae dies it increases the amount of nitrogen in the water. By constantly grazing on algae, mosquito larvae are helping to prevent these sorts of ecological imbalances.

What If We Made Mosquitoes Go Extinct?

So what are mosquitoes good for? Quite a lot, apparently! However, there’s no denying some species have also caused us a lot of grief. There have been calls to exterminate all mosquitoes, or at least every species that could ostensibly cause us problems through disease transmission. And to be sure, I don’t want to see people dying of malaria or West Nile virus, especially as these diseases often hit disadvantaged populations harder, with fewer resources for treatment. But it’s something where we need to weigh the consequences carefully.

What would happen if there were suddenly no more mosquitoes? Sure, the animals that prey on them could potentially find other sorts of food, but there would be an upset in the food web as the predators put more pressure on remaining prey species, which could lead to some of those species become locally endangered or even extirpated. Or the predators might drop in number as they failed to find enough food. Either way, getting rid of all the mosquitoes would have a negative impact on the food web.

Finally, and possibly most importantly–we may not fully understand the ecological roles mosquitoes have. As I wrote recently, ecosystems are incredibly complex networks of relationships among thousands of species, and for centuries we have been eradicating entire species without any thought as to what long-term effects their loss might have on their native ecosystems.

However, that brings up another point: the fact that there are invasive mosquitoes. Invasive species wreak havoc on ecosystems they’re introduced to, and it just so happens that one of the most notorious disease-spreading mosquitoes, Aedes aegypti, is invasive across much of the tropics, as well as subtropical and temperate areas worldwide. Spread through the slave trade, this mosquito is a prime vector for yellow fever, dengue fever, Zika, and several other pathogenic diseases affecting humans. Its cousin, Aedes albopictus, is also a disease vector and is more cold-hardy, meaning it could spread even further.

What’s the answer? Well, historically people just drained wetlands, much to the devastation of the native ecosystems there. More recently, the widespread and indiscriminate use of pesticides like DDT also knocked back mosquito populations (at least temporarily), but also killed off many other animals both directly and indirectly, to include nearly wiping out multiple raptor species due to eggshell thinning. Moreover, mosquitoes have developed resistance to pesticides, making them a less useful tool overall.

More recent innovations to control specific invasive mosquitoes hold some promise. A. aegypti, for example, has been genetically modified in labs to create a strain known as OX513A. Not only do the offspring die before they can reproduce, even if a OX513A breeds with a wild mosquito, but the offspring also apparently lack resistance to some pesticides. Biological control using Wolbachia bacteria inhibits A. aegypti‘s reproduction, and also makes them unable to carry certain diseases such as Zika and dengue fever.

So it would appear that the fight to control invasive species also has the bonus effect of stopping the mosquitoes most likely to give the rest a bad name.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

#mosquito #mosquitoes #insects #invertebrates #arthropods #wildlife #wild animals #animals #entomology #biology #ecology #invasive species #nature #natural history #bugs #long post #environment #environmentalism #conservation

822 notes · View notes

bri-sonat · 11 months

Text

Captain and the Mate - Part One

Pairing: Pirate!Captain!Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol & blood, brief death mention, sapphic yearning, the usual warnings when writing in the GoT universe.

Synopsis: When the infamous Captain Bri makes port to recruit members to her crew, you don't waste the opportunity. To your relief and pleasure, she accepts you, and the time spent aboard her ship and among her crew leads to many things. One of them being a relationship developing between you and the Captain herself.

A/N: Happy Pride Month!! This has been sitting uncompleted in my word since like, February? March? I am not sure. Either way, a very long time. The fact that I finished this during Pride Month was only coincidental, though I am glad it ended like this because Pirate Captain Brienne is the hottest thing I have ever seen in a long time and I hope you all think the same! The sea shanty referenced is this one, but I have modified it a little bit, of course. Either way, it's good. Listen to it if you wish. :) English is not my first language and so on. Enjoy!

Thank you to bae, wifey, co-brainrotter, sharer of brain cells, and co-writer, @daydream-cement for unknowingly giving me this idea by sending a picture to the GC all those months ago.

The summer evening sun set over Oldtown as you followed the Honeywine down to the nearby inn and tavern. The Hightower's fading shadow informs you of the late hours - confirming that you were right on time for your destination and its event.

Word had spread fast when she had arrived. Whispers enthusiastically gossiped about why she was here, and what her business was. Eventually, the information reached your spiked ears: she was recruiting members for her crew.

This was something you had dreamt of ever since you heard about her: sailing with her. Someone who struck fear in people with the same name she was praised with, her actions earning her a nickname traders rued to hear. Her sails and flag striking terror and fright across all nine seas whenever spotted, and rightfully so.

She had quite a reputation. The pirate Captain who only raided, robbed, pillaged, boarded, and stole from the large, and wealthy trading companies. No one knew why she does what she does, why she only attacks the ships she does, only she knew. It was one of the largest mysteries surrounding her, she was an enigma, and she intrigued, and fascinated you at the same time.

The glowing braze of the Hightower danced in the Honeywine along with the nearby torches of the various stone houses that stood along the river. Every step you took brought you closer to the tavern, and effectively closer to her, and it was only when the tall and wooden Quill and Tankard Inn came into vision that you realized just how stupid this was.

What did you think was going to happen? That you’d just be able to waltz straight in, and that she’d accept you to her crew? No, that was wishful thinking. She would have many men on their knees in front of her, begging to sail with her, if they knew what was good for them. To even have an audience with someone with her renown was a privilege, and you were just satisfied with being in her presence.

Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she might be looking for more than just work power. You had heard whispers that she had lost her Quartermaster and that she was in need of a new one, but this was just hearsay, and gossip, and you decided not to trust any of the two.

Opening the door to the wooden tavern, you quickly laid notice of the fact that it was quieter than you were used to, surely had to do with the looming presence in the room.

In the back of it - in front of the hearth and under the slanted roof - an intimidating, short-haired blonde woman sat by a table. A goblet in one hand, the other fiddling with a dagger. Her booted feet were slung up on the wooden surface as she gently rocked on her chair.

She looked bored, apathetic. The dimly light tavern only cast a shadow over her face, meaning you couldn’t quite see what she looked like from where you stood.

The tavern was empty, well, emptier than you had expected and you wondered if she had turned any men away because they failed to live up to her standards, or if you were the first one to arrive. Judging from the fuming men who sat in a corner you could see as you approached the bar, you guessed the former.

“Good evening. Do you want your usual?” The barkeep approached you as you stopped at the bar, her hands wiping themselves on the apron around her waist before they came up to help her lean against the bar top. You and she had formed an interesting friendship after your regular visits, and you had spent many evenings ranting to her about your long-time wish to sail with Captain Bri.

Unbeknownst to you, the uninterested blonde’s eyes had found you the second your back was turned. She raised her goblet to her lips, taking a sip of the strong cider the tavern was known for. The movement in her other hand never stilled, the dagger constantly moving in her scarred hand.

The reason for her eyes finding you was unknown to her, maybe it was because you had been the only non-man to come into the tavern that evening, the bartender excluded. Or maybe it was because she found you, a complete stranger to her, intriguing and magnetic, even if it was subconsciously.

Either way, her gaze was fixed on your back for a few seconds as you interacted with the barkeep, only redirecting her attention somewhere else once one of the men from her crew exclaimed how ‘slim the pickings’ were from beside her.

“No. I am here to meet the captain. However, now that I am here, it all seems like a most terrible idea.” You gave your answer to the barkeep, voicing your concerns. You were sure the nervosity was easy to hear in your voice when you spoke. The excitement of meeting Captain Bri had completely overshadowed the reality of the situation, but you couldn’t just turn around and leave. You had to at least try.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” the barkeep chuckled slightly. “She has yet to accept a single bloke. I’d say your chances are high.”

“Well... I am here. I might as well go try.” You released a shaky sigh. Realizing you had to at least act somewhat confidently so that Bri would consider recruiting you, you pushed down your anxiousness to the best of your abilities. “She’s the woman at the table. Right?”

“Mhmm,” the bartender hummed in confirmation. “Go wow her.” She gave you a thumbs up and a smile before she departed to help a customer who was waiting further down the bar. You turned around and approached the intimidating presence by the table with determined steps.

When you stopped in front of the table, you could, by the help of the glow of the fire behind her, finally see her face. Her face. Many things were told about Bri the Righteous Beast, but none of the stories mentioned her immense beauty.

She was incredibly handsome, her disheveled blonde hair framing her intense blue eyes as they raked you up and down. And her lips. Good Gods, her lips. The small, accented scar on her upper lip scrunched as she smirked, and you wondered how she had been bestowed such a stunning ‘flaw.’

She was a vision, there was no other way to put it and you could spend so many hours just staring at her. There would not be enough time to take in her entirety, but your life would have to suffice.

Eventually, your gaze wandered to her hands. Her hands. They looked so strong, and her fingers were so long. Small, long, and deep, scars were visible on most of her fingers, her palms, and the backs of her hands, surely from learning to master dagger fidgeting and sword fighting.

The hand that had previously been playing with a dagger had stopped, and the noise of sharp metal being stabbed into wood ripped you out of your observation.

“Well. Look here. The Lady here wants to join our crew.” If Bri’s face was attractive, her voice only matched it. It was velvety smooth, so deep and so extremely intruding. Her accent only made it even more delicious, and you were sure you would never get used to it. Even if the captain’s voice and words sounded cocky, there was a mighty insecurity swimming in her eyes and her soul that did not match her outwardly persona. “I’m no knight, but I’m sure pretty ladies such as yourself should be in their castle... not down here with us peasants.”

The smirk plastered on her face was infuriating, but you couldn’t deny that it was thought-provoking and so, so attractive. Her words didn’t have the effect on you that she might’ve liked them to have, not even the comment on your appearance, as the constant eye contact only reminded you of the self-consciousness inside of her. At the same time as you wanted to tuck your tail and run, you wanted to stand your ground. Show your grit. So, you did. “I’m no Lady. But I’m sure you knew that. You were right about one thing, however. I want to join your crew, Captain. I want to sail under your command.”

The blonde raised a brow and her smirk fell. She threw her feet off the table to place them on the ground so she could lean forward in her chair. She placed her goblet on the table next to the wood-impaling dagger, her eyes scanning your face imperceptibly. “...Very well. Have you sailed before?”

“Yes, Captain.” The intense eye contact was burning you up from the inside and you wanted nothing more than to break it - if only just to breathe, but you knew you couldn’t do that if you wanted Bri to believe your words. Because of this, you remained strong. “I was Quartermaster on my last ship before the captain got drunk and sunk it during a supposed boast. I wasn’t present.”

The captain cocked her head to the side as she watched you, trying to assess whether you were telling the truth. In the years of being a pirate captain, Bri had learnt quite fast how to tell if a person was lying. From what she could tell, you weren’t.

She was silent for a long while before she finally spoke. “Well, as luck would have it, I need a new Quartermaster. My last one had to be... let go. But I say that we should get you started as a crew member first. Just to see how you work. And to build trust. And gain respect from the rest of the crew. We just met, after all.” Suddenly, the blonde woman stood up from her chair to reach out a hand to shake, and oh, was she tall. At least six feet, you guessed. There was seemingly nothing about this woman that was unattractive.

Her intimidating height and appearance made it hard to resist staring at her open-mouthed but that would be considered rude, and frankly unprofessional, so you abstained. Even if it was tempting. Instead, you grabbed hold of her incredibly soft, outreached hand and shook it, your eyes never leaving hers, even when you had to change from gazing down at her to up at her.

The smile she offered was much softer than her previous demeanor had been, and it caught you off-guard. It matched her more than her earlier expression. Matched the emotions that you could see deep in her eyes and soul.

You could only hope to get to know her on a level that would allow you the pleasure of seeing and meeting the real her. Until then, you’d be the best crewmate she had ever seen.

“Welcome to the crew.” And just like it never left, the captain’s overconfident behavior had made its return. She let go of your hand and motioned with her head towards the men sitting in a booth diagonally behind her before sitting down in her chair. “Go socialize with the rest of the crew. Get to know them well. You will be spending a lot of time together. Don’t be scared... they don’t bite. But I might.” That cursed smirk again. Why did it have to look so good on her luscious lips? It was plain torture, that much was clear.

The only thing you could do was nod and go sit down with the crew, the rejected men in the other booth groaning in anger as you did. When it reached your ears, you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit smug that you had been chosen and they hadn’t. Maybe this wasn’t the most terrible idea you had built it up to be when you entered the tavern. This had been the best idea it had originally posed itself to be in your mind.

The men conversed around you, and even if you were sitting amongst them, you wouldn’t say that you were paying attention to anything they were saying. You were more focused on the woman who sat mere meters away from you with her back toward you. With the new point of view, you could observe her without her knowing it.

Her booted feet had found their way up onto the table again and the dagger was back in her hands. Her trousers were dark, in this light you couldn’t be sure but either a dark grey or dark blue. The shirt she wore was loose on her upper body, it was off-white due to years of wear and slightly unbuttoned at the top which you had registered when you gazed down at her.

There was a piece of cloth tied around her waist to ensure that her shirt didn’t blow up in the intense ocean winds. It was blue, close to the color of sapphire, but considering the sun was ruthless and had bleached it significantly, it was hard to tell.

The sword that hung by her hip was broad but seemed light enough to offer one-handed handling. A broadsword if you had to take a guess.

The rest of the evening was not as eventful as you had hoped. Bri turned away every single person that approached her except for one man.

When the tavern began closing for the night, the captain approached the table you and the rest of the crew were sitting at.

As the hours had gone on, you had grown more comfortable than you thought you would and had even had a cider or two.

The rugged exteriors of the men did not match their insides and you found them to be quite charming and funny, which was rare for most men in Westeros, but especially for pirates. You could see why Bri had recruited them to her crew.

Your chatter was cut short when Bri stopped by the table, her eyes roving over all the people who were sitting by it. When her eyes got to you, they lingered for a few seconds longer before they resumed their journey. You noticed this and you wondered if it was intentional or not. When she finished her scan, she spoke with that deep voice that made a shiver run down your spine. “The haul was scarcer than I had expected...” After she had uttered her first few words, she made direct eye contact with you and smirked, again. “But it will have to do. I’m sure our two new recruits will pull their weight.” It seemed like forever before she broke the contact, moving her gaze to the only other recruit.

The sound of a voice coming from behind Bri made her turn around and the rest of you direct your attention to the person behind the captain. “If you don’t have a room rented, it’s time to leave. We close in five minutes.” The voice came from the barkeep who was holding back the largest smile when she saw you sitting amongst the men. She had her arms crossed over her chest as she addressed Bri and the rest of her crew.

The captain nodded toward the bartender before turning to face you and the men once again. “It seems like we have reached the end of the line, gentlemen... and gentlewomen. Let us trot back to the ship and our respective beds, shall we?” Bri turned back to the bartender once again to offer words of gratitude. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

The barkeep in turn responded with a curt nod and a ‘anytime.’ She then stood to the side so Bri and her crew could leave, only giving you the largest grin when you passed her by to leave the tavern. She whispered some encouraging words, well, they were short considering you had to keep moving to not fall behind.

Bri led you and the crew out into the chill night air, and it was needed because the second you had stood up you had felt the tipsiness from the strong cider. The cool air would help in sobering you up, and if it didn’t, you were sure the salty ocean air would when you departed out to sea the next day.

The walk along the docked boats in the Honeywine was longer than you had expected it to be, but when you finally reached the ship at the far end, you were more than ready to call it a day.

The captain stopped right before the docked ship and let the rest of the crew board but stopped you and the other recruit. “This is The Bloody Sapphire. She will be your home for the rest of your life until you die or desert. You better not because if you do desert, I will hunt you down and kill you. If you treat her well and with respect, she will return the favor. Your beds are below deck, make yourselves comfortable. Tomorrow, we make way to Lannisport to resupply. They are not very friendly so put your best innocent face on for our visit. If you need me, my cabin is underneath the quarterdeck, but do not wake me unless there is a fire, we are sinking, someone is attacking us, or if someone is dying. Savvy?”

You and the man looked at each other before you looked at Bri again and nodded. Both of you responded in unison, making the captain laugh slightly. “Savvy.”

“Good. Then you may board.” The captain stepped aside to allow you both to step aboard, but before you could step a single foot on the wooden deck, Bri stopped you with a hand hovering in front of your sternum whilst she allowed the other recruit to step aboard and you watched him disappear below deck.

You looked at her with a puzzled expression as your mind ran through the possible reasons for her stopping you. What could she possibly say that the other guy couldn’t hear? Then again, she had her reasons, and you shouldn’t question her. So, instead of voicing your confusion, you remained silent as you waited for her to speak.

“I never caught your name. I suppose my mind was distracted and I completely forgot to ask.” Bri dropped the hand that had been hovering in front of your sternum and it came to rest on the pommel of her sword. Her voice was much softer than it had previously been when she had addressed you and your fellow recruit, and you wondered why that was.

What you didn’t know was that against her better judgement, the captain’s brain had somehow convinced itself that you were a safe space. Even if she had only met you a handful of hours ago. She was drawn towards you.

When you told her your name, she repeated it and the way it sounded rolling of her tongue with her accent was orgasmic. Never had it sounded so beautiful as it did when spoken by her. In return, she introduced herself to you, not that she needed to, you already knew her name. But you guessed that it was an act of honor. “Bri of Tarth.”

“The Sapphire Isle? Is that where the name for your ship comes from... and your waist fabric?” Learning where she came from spiked your curiosity, and you asked more questions than you probably should have, considering she enjoyed her privacy. What you weren’t expecting, and that was a pleasant surprise, was that she answered.

“Indeed. The ship's name is... a long story.” Bri looked down at the fabric around her waist and smiled before she looked back up at you again. “Well spotted. It is indeed sapphire blue... or it used to be, at least. It is from Tarth, I wanted to have something on me that would remind me of my old home. This piece of fabric has been with me since the beginning of my seafarer career. I’m surprised it hasn’t ripped yet.”

You observed the fabric tied around her waist, excluding dirt stains from years of usage, the occasional blood spatter from seeing many battles, and the bleach from the sun, it looked strong. “I’d say it won’t rip for a while... looks like good material was used. Whatever it was intended for must’ve been important, the fabric looks expensive.” You looked up at Bri again and met her eyes. A flash of what looked like sorrow was briefly displayed in her eyes and you realized that your nice, late-night, alone chat was over.

Her demeanor changed in the blink of an eye - as if she had mastered switching her expression and behavior. Her tone switched from gentle and tender to overweening, but her eyes never left the previous persona. “Sorry for holding you up. Off you go.”

You wanted nothing more than to stay, to protest, to say that you wanted nothing more than to stay here all night and converse with her, but your feet worked against the will of your brain and before you knew it you had stepped aboard the ship and was climbing down the stairs that led below deck, leaving Bri standing behind.

She boarded the ship after a few seconds and retired back to her quarters where she proceeded to think of you until she fell asleep. You fell asleep thinking about her, her intense blue eyes and her blonde hair stayed on your mind until you fell into slumber next to the rest of the crew.

------

The weeks that passed after you were integrated into Captain Bri’s crew went by lightning fast. You and the recruit, who you had learnt was named Will, had worked hard and had earned both the respect of the rest of the crew and your captain.

After your conversation on the dock, you had managed to get a private chat with the tall blonde five times. The interactions were cut short by various interruptions or her withdrawing from the discussion.

It was like there was some sort of conflict inside of her and she couldn’t decide which side to listen to. It was heartbreaking to watch.

After a month of sailing with Bri and her crew, you began climbing the ranks. It started with a simple suggestion that ended up working well in everyone’s favor and before you knew it, you had been voted for and promoted to first mate. The new title didn’t do much in terms of giving you more one on one time with the captain, but it was a step towards it.

After three months of being aboard The Bloody Sapphire, a chaotic boarding made it clear that the ship clearly needed a Quartermaster and the crew voted for you, considering your experience. Bri could not complain because it meant she would be able to see you more often. You were always standing by her side when she was standing by the wheel, after all.

This new rank did earn you the privilege of having many alone talks with Bri as she steered the ship. Until she, of course, left for her chambers and left you to take over for her. The shortness of the interactions meant you didn’t learn that much about her that you didn’t already know, and it was starting to gnaw.

That was until you were standing by her side by the wheel on a very sunny fall afternoon and the men started singing. The song was about some scorned woman killing a man who betrayed her and the woman by his side.

It took you until the middle of the shanty to realize that it matched some of the things you knew about Bri. You turned your head to look at her where she stood, her gaze fixed dead ahead. “Is this shanty about you?”

The captain sighed and the noise of it disappeared into the chilly early Autumn air. She was silent for a few moments until she nodded. “It is. The story went down quite differently, however.” Bri’s gaze never wavered, her eyes never leaving the blue water. “I didn’t sneak aboard a ship for revenge. I snuck aboard a ship because I wanted to get away. The fact that the person who betrayed me was on the ship as well was only a bonus. She just disappeared, and I found out why when I saw her walk with her new lover. I didn’t kill them. Just to make that clear.”

You listened to Bri’s story but completely stopped breathing once she so casually mentioned that the woman was her former somewhat lover. Even if it caught you completely off-guard, you were able to listen to the rest of her retelling.

This was the most you had learnt about her in one single conversation, and it made you mightily happy. You so desperately wanted to ask more questions, about why she wanted to get away, who did kill the two lovebirds, but you didn’t want her to escape back to her quarters again.

Even if you wanted to get to know her even more when the opportunity had presented itself and she seemed to be open to sharing, you would rather enjoy her presence in silence over not being in her proximity at all. Meaning you only said something to let her know that you had listened and acknowledged her sharing but kept your mouth shut to not let anything slip out. “I see.”

You stood in silence for a while until Bri opened her mouth to say something but was inevitably disrupted by Will who had shown up at the captain’s side in the blink of an eye to explain that they needed to dock somewhere to resupply.

After the blonde woman had dismissed him, she looked over to you and within seconds you had moved to the sea map to lay a new course towards a pirate-friendly port.

When you returned to the helm, Bri left for her quarters again. Your absence had surely led to her conflicting with herself again and had probably concluded that she had shared too much with you. You had no idea what she did in her quarters all those hours, but you didn’t want to ask because you wanted to offer her privacy. At least there was some progress.

------

Six months after learning that Bri had a shanty written about her, you had been able to snag her for many more chats and each one lasted longer than the one before.

You learnt more and more about her in every day that passed and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were so in love with her. You had known it about one month after sailing with her, but now, you were sure. Her looks combined with her gentle and loving personality made it so easy to fall for her. You just had to make sure that you did not hurt yourself on the way down, but it was a bit too late for that.

You were more than certain that she didn’t feel the same way, even if she behaved so differently around you than she did around the rest of the crew. However, what you didn’t know, was that Bri was very much attracted to and interested in you and all that you were. Having you next to her every day was one of her greatest privileges and she reveled in your proximity.

Seeing your face every single morning made her happier than any loot ever could, and she quickly found herself stumbling before she eventually fell for you. Yet, she couldn’t see how anyone could ever find her attractive, less love her. So, she didn’t allow herself to hope that you would feel the same about her and subjected herself to a life of yearning.

It would have remained hidden until the day you both died - if it weren’t for a cold winter evening.

The Bloody Sapphire had dropped anchor not that far away from Tarth, and the Sapphire Isle was visible from the deck. The ship was cleverly hidden with its sails and flag lowered to avoid a surprise attack should it be stumbled upon.

You were just about to retire to bed when you spotted Bri standing by the railing, looking out over the ocean in the direction of Tarth.

Slowly, you approached her and stopped next to her, looking out over the Sapphire Isle yourself. After so many of your conversations and her sharing so much, you felt confident enough to pose a query after you had stood in stillness for a few minutes. “Do you miss it? Tarth, I mean.”

Bri leaned against the railing of the ship as she stared at the silhouette of Tarth. Her silences before her answers had become commonplace and you had gotten used to them at this point.

As you patiently awaited her response, you shifted your gaze from the darkened Sapphire Isle to the woman standing next to you. You really couldn’t help yourself when she looked so pretty in the glow of the torch.

The fire cast a shadow over her face - her side profile looked even more angelic in this light, and you could only wish that you would be able to see her this close and like this so many more times in your life.

When she finally replied, she ripped you out of your appreciation for her features and you began focusing your attention on her voice as well. “Sometimes. Though it’s very rare. The people I have met on my journey and my crew have treated me so much better than anyone on that island ever did. They have never insulted me. Not once. Not even when they learnt that I was a woman. I never wish to go back there. This is my new family.”

She was so... vulnerable and it made you shocked. Sure, she had shared small things about herself in your talks but never something this deep. You couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste again. “When they learnt you were a woman? May I inquire in what it is that you mean, Captain?”

Bri gazed at the Isle where she had grown up and eventually left as she told her story. It almost felt ironic in a way. Like it was coming full circle. Speaking about something she had never uttered out loud as she was close to and looking at Tarth. The island where the anecdote began.

“When I first snuck aboard a ship that docked by Tarth, I told everyone that my name was Bri, and I even darkened my voice so they would believe that I was a man. When they eventually learnt I was a woman, they welcomed me with open arms instead of shunning me and calling me names. It was such a new approach and reaction. I’ve never been so happy.” Towards the end of her story, the blonde was smiling fondly as she thought back to how welcomed she had felt by a band of outlaws when she couldn’t even get the smallest amount of kindness on Tarth.

Your gaze never left the captain’s pretty face. You could never get used to how beautiful she looked, and you simply could not believe how other people could not find her as attractive as you did. She was the most gorgeous person you had ever laid your eyes on in your entire life.

Despite your mind coming up with all sorts of scenarios that would surely be deemed inappropriate should someone hear them, you still managed to ask a follow-up question to Bri’s tale without slipping anything that would let the blonde woman know that something completely different was going on in your head. “So... Bri is not your real name?”

The captain shook her head before she responded. “No. No one knows my real name. The old band I joined and my current crew stated that to them, my old name does not matter. To them, my name is Bri. Though, I have nothing against my real name. I just prefer to have the rest of the world know me as it, so they get confused when they see that I am a woman.” Bri let out a small chuckle at the end of her explanation. Almost like she was thinking back to the different reactions she had gotten from various captain’s ships that she had boarded. “Except you seem to have known that I was not a man from the beginning based on your reaction when you first saw me...”

“You are a legend... I had to know more about you. There was not a lot to learn about you from the people I managed to find. I only found out about your womanhood through a friend who works somewhere where tight lips go to blab. She also sees many things. Though, finding out that you were a woman only made me want to sail with you even more... I... May I pry?” Even if Bri seemed to be more comfortable with sharing and answering your queries, you knew that she had a habit of removing herself from the discussion when it was too much, and you did not wish to take her openness for granted. She had done nothing but treat you with respect, so you did the obvious thing and returned the favor. You had no interest in upsetting her when she was so exposed.

“I see... Yes.” Her answer to your question was fast and equally as quick as she had responded, she turned her head to look at you who was intently admiring her. With her now facing you, you could see her breathtaking blue eyes that sparkled so bewitchingly in the light from the torch just meters away from you both.

“What is your real name?” The inquiry was a whisper as your eyes scanned her face for any sign of the overweening personality you had gotten used to usually signaling the end of your conversations. It never came. The gentle and careful personality remained. The personality you assumed was the real her.

Bri opened her mouth to answer your query but stopped when a noise sounded from below deck signaling that one of the crewmates was still awake. The captain turned her head to look at the hatch leading down and waited for someone to pop their head up, but that never happened.

Even if it was still quiet below deck, she couldn’t risk someone eavesdropping on the conversation considering her behavior was completely opposite from how she usually acted. Before she spoke, she turned her head back to look at you. “We shouldn’t do this here. Join me in my quarters?”

The question caught you by surprise. Never had you been inside of her quarters before and it was something you could never have dreamt of and now she was extending an invitation. At first, you were unsure if you had heard her correctly but as she looked at you expectantly, you knew you had heard her right.

You almost screamed your answer, ‘Gods, yes please!’ but that might be seen as a little bit too enthusiastic and would surely weird Bri out. What came out was more composed and calmer - not a single trace of the previous excitement. You were surprised that your voice came out without a single shake, tremor, or stutter considering the storm that was going on inside of your head. “Sure, Captain. If you’d have me.”

Your answer made Bri smile the smallest bit. She found it endearing. She found you endearing. She spun on her heels and started for the door that led to her cabin, and you followed close behind.

------

Part two can be found here!

taglist: @na-shoba, @pastanest, @the-fuck-do-i-know, @christies-fleur, @idontlikepexple, @lord6-6fandom, @sapphicmitski

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth x reader

277 notes · View notes

tgmsunmontue · 3 months

Text

It's not who you know 3/4

YEAR 3 - Non-angsty Nepo!Baby Bradley and his years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead...

YEAR THREE - 2003 - PART 3

Bradley’s time in San Diego is now numbered in days rather than weeks and Tom helps him pack for his first extended stay on a cruiser. Tom wonders if his name was even put into a hat for a place on a submarine; unlike his relationship with Man and him, it’s no secret that Bradley wants to fly. If a carrier had been an option he’s pretty sure Bradley would have gotten that. He’s seen Bradley’s report though, knows he’s excelling in all areas, clearly determined to succeed and he’s so proud. Of course, Bradley still needs to take part in the standard summer activities, despite having grown up and having them happening around him constantly, getting dragged across the country to attend various things in his shadow.

“You know I’ll be visiting the USS Princeton while you’re onboard.”

“Yeah yeah, I promise not to have to be thrown overboard for insubordination.”

“No, that wasn’t… I was more thinking that you might find yourself hearing things about me which are going to make you want to pop someone in the nose.”

“Like what?”

“Oh god, all sorts of shit. People think I don’t know what they say behind my back but trust me, I know.”

“I haven’t heard anything!”

“You’ve not done any active service yet. Fresh greenie not even a proper upperclassman yet. You’ll hear stuff.”

The expression on Bradley’s face is equally angry and annoyed and Tom holds back a groan.

“Bradley, I’m serious. You’re really going to have to hold back if you get angry. Don’t worry about my honor okay. You’ve spent the last couple of years pretending you don’t know me and Mav at all, don’t blow your cover over something stupid that doesn’t matter. You understand?”

“Yeah. Thanks Ice. And thanks for going along with this whole thing, I know it probably feels a bit stupid some days, but it’s really nice knowing that the friends I’ve made are my friends because of me you know, not because of what connections I might have.”

“Yeah kid, I get it. Fair warning they might feel pretty pissed when they do find out though.”

“Nah, I’ve picked good friends. I reckon they’ll understand.”

“Okay. Now did you need anything else? I know Mav has been riding you hard about your flight hours…”

Mav of course has made the most of whatever spare time they’ve had and ensured Bradley built up his flight hours again so his license doesn’t lapse. Tom doesn’t think there are going to be very many other upperclassman with as much flight experience as Bradley. Talk about being overqualified. However he also knows it makes for a damn strong application so he’s supported Mav in his undertaking.

They say goodbye to Bradley on the porch, tell him they’ll see him onboard when he’s mixing with the enlisted personnel and Tom wishes they could watch him board, feels like it’s another milestone he’s going to miss. Reminds himself firmly that he’ll see him again onboard the same damn ship and he’ll have plenty of opportunities in the future to wave Bradley off on deployment.

… … …

He doesn’t punch anyone, didn’t even need the warning, wonders what Ice thinks people say about him. He’d heard them talk, but nothing more than him being brass and being very cool-headed in times of crisis. It’s all been pretty benign stuff really, and no-one had stopped talking when he entered a room or anything.

For the first time ever he puts up a photo of Ice and Mav beside his bed. It’s weird, but he can see why people don’t see Admiral Kazansky. He’s got a few copies of the photo, Slider having printed him off a bunch in thanks for forwarding him the electronic file and that is probably going to come back and bite him in the ass at some stage. Now he’s back in Bancroft, preparing to help with Plebe Summer, this time older and not being expected to have to deal with people yelling in his face while not reacting. It’s going to be a cake-walk in comparison to two years ago and he’s looking forward to it.

“You’re not meant to be in here,” Bradley says, seeing Natasha at the end of his dorm bed.

“I was sent to collect you, I have permission,” she says, hand waving away his concerns. “Let me look at that photo. Holy shit… I thought your first dad was hot, but your other dad? I mean… wow. I know I told you I like girls more than boys, but these are the type of boys that I prefer…” she says, tapping the photo. “Huh. Maybe it’s just men and women, because to be honest I don’t find anyone here very attractive.”

“Gross,” Bradley states, because he’s very firmly kept the company of his own hand when he’s been on base. His summers are probably a lot wilder than Mav or Ice think they are, but he tries to make use of every night he has home once they’re

“To you maybe… pretty sure you’d find my brother hot.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you!”

“That’s because you’re repressed.”

“Rather be repressed than find either of my dads hot thanks!”

“Okay. That’s fair. And you probably won’t be too ugly once you grow into your face…”

“Wow, you really know how to flatter a guy…”

… … …

Plebe Summer starts and Bradley throws himself into being the best role model he can. He knows that in the future some of these people will be his peers, maybe even be his superior, but right now they have to get through what he still considers the hardest summer of their life. Of course hardly anyone drops out, the selection criteria is far too difficult and physically rigorous to make it something someone would easily just drop-out from without serious consideration first. There’s friendly competition and even friendlier encouragement, the brigades working together.

There’s one guy that keeps catching his eye and he’s not sure if it’s deliberate on the guy’s part, somehow magically putting himself nearly always in Bradley’s line of sight. Or whether he’s only got himself to blame, eyes just drifting to watch. Either way he’s really fucking horny and the guy is hot. Not that he will do anything, but it doesn’t stop him thinking about it.

“Now there is a guy who doesn’t need to grow into his looks…”

He silently agrees.

God what he wouldn’t do to get his hands on him.

Ah well. His own hands on his own body and his mind on another it is.

… … …

“Do I have a sign on me that says to tell me if you’re gay? Or a lesbian? Or bisexual?”

“Um… not literally. But there is the common knowledge that you have smoking hot dads and therefor okay with the gay.”

Bradley groans.

“I had another guy come out to me today. No reason. Just to tell me. Also he said he thinks we’re cute together.”

“Ew.”

“I just nodded and smiled.”

… … …

Michael Williams sighs. It’s the second… complaint? Notification? Information? Tips? Regardless, they’re both about Bradley Bradshaw’s relationship with Natasha Trace. They’ve been spied coming out of rooms together, otherwise small, dark, empty rooms like the store rooms. Fraternization. Actions unbecoming. Fuck. The kid wants to be treated like all the other kids, he’d be getting pulled into Mack’s office for a dressing down, short and sharp. Both of them would be.

Part of him wants to, still a little ticked off at the whole stunt Bradshaw is pulling. He’s not familiar with him outside of watching him last year, seeing a whole raft of his superior officers watch as Admiral Kazansky toured the campus dressed as a civilian. But also Bradshaw is good. He does everything well, more than well. And he’s cheerful and helpful and encourages the underclassmen and there had been no fault in any of his behavior.

Until now.

He walks down the corridor to Admiral Kerner’s office, nervous as he knocks on the open door.

“Sir. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course, come in.”

He does, closes the door behind him and notes the eyebrow raise and the lean back in the chair. He has his full attention.

“Sir. I need you to do a favor and make a call to your friend Kazansky.”

“Why, what’s happened?”

“I’ve got two instances of fraternization for Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace.”

“And you want to do what? Tattle on him to his uncle?”

“No, I was actually after guidance on how I should proceed. I would pull them both into my office and give them a stern talking to, and a warning. Is that appropriate?”

“Bradshaw and Trace are the same rank Captain, it’s not exactly forbidden, just heavily frowned upon. The fact you have had two complaints tells me that this is more likely a case of sour grapes on whoever is complaining, so I’d be having a talk with them as well. But let me see if I can get Ice on the blower…”

Michael will never understand naval aviators and their call signs, but he stands and waits as Admiral Kerner dials, then asks to be put through. Obviously whoever it is on the other end knows not to mess with one Admiral ringing another. He listens to the one-sided conversation and watches Admiral Kerner’s face with interest.

“Hey Ice, it’s Sli. Yes, well, I didn’t think I’d be speaking to you today either. Look. Yeah. This is about Bradley. Did you talk to him about behavior?” Face curious, openly contemplative.

“Okay, so you covered that with him. Then why are we looking at two instances of fraternization?” Eyes narrowed and considering.

“No, it’s with a fellow midshipman. Also an upperclassman.” Serious.

“Yes, I’m aware it’s not actual fraternization.” An eyeroll.

“Yes, it is.” Face back to curious, speculative.

“Oh. Huh.” Surprise.

“I did think it was maybe a case of sour grapes, jealousy at his general capabilities and the fact that he’s generally well liked amongst his peers. Except by a couple apparently.”

“Yes well, he’ll be fine. We’ll pull them in and give them a heads up. Both of them. Midshipman Trace is equally talented and capable.”

“Yeah, was nice talking to you too. Will have to have a proper catchup when it’s not about work.”

… … …

Jake isn’t sure what he has to do to get the guys sole undivided attention, but he’s not going to give up trying. He’s so good at everything, competent in this easy way that turns him on in ways he’s never thought were possible, and he’s a teenager and being horny is pretty much a permanent state for him. Except when he’s too tired to even think, which unfortunately for his first year at USNA is a whole lot of the time. Either it gets easier or people just learn how to cope with everything better because Midshipman Bradshaw makes it look easy.

… … …

“Oh god, it was horrible. I can’t do it again. How do they do it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Submarines! Going under the water…”

“Uh…” Tom exchanges a look with Pete and opens his mouth. Closes it again. Bradley is back home for part of summer, having just experienced his first dive and he’s at a bit of a loss.

“Bradley. Buddy. Uh. You realize you’re in the Navy right? And that has, uh, a lot to do with the water?” Mav says.

“But I’m going to fly planes!”

“Maybe he should have joined the airforce,” Tom muses.

“You wash your mouth out right now!”

… … …

“Seriously, if I was going to fuck around I’d do it somewhere far less obvious than the fucking storeroom!”

Tom winces, because clearly Pete has heard the rumors about Bradley and Natasha Trace. God he loves the rumor mill of the US Navy, bunch of gossipers the lot of them. He hadn’t bothered mentioning anything, because he knew nothing was happening. Mav is of course mentioning it. In the worst possible way. Clearly having forgotten that Bradley came out as gay several years ago and that Natasha Trace is a woman. He’s going to need a coffee.

“Bradley! What do you mean Bradley? Don’t walk away from me young man!”

“You said we leave our ranks at the door with our shoes, so this conversation is over! And I said if!”

“I know what if means in this house, and it definitely means something definitely happened!”

… … …

“Do I even want to know?” Tom asks, taking a quiet sip of coffee.

“Mav’s scared I might be having sex.”

Tom raises an eyebrow, he’s fully aware Bradley’s been sneaking out for the last couple of years. He guesses Bradley’s now feeling mature enough to talk about it. Good.

“Are you being safe?”

“Yes.”

“Good enough for me. Don’t get caught.”

Bradley scoffs.

“I learnt from the best remember!”

“He got caught plenty of times,” Tom says dryly.

“I meant you Ice.”

“Oh.”

It’s been a long time since he’s blushed.

PART FOUR

#Nepo!Baby Bradley Bradshaw #IceMav #Top Gun Maverick #Top Gun Maverick Fanfiction #AU where Bradley goes to USNA #Hangster #creeping in there a tiny bit #it's not who you know

89 notes · View notes