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allbark-no-bite · 11 months ago

Text

call it brotherhood (not love).

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.2k)

summary: jake meets his match in a soldier rather than a sailor. you’re a bit more war torn than he expected, but it’s okay because maybe he is too

warnings: 18+ smut, * graphic descriptions of injuries and death ⚠️

* if you are uncomfortable with this, please don’t read

author’s note: spoiler alert, i know this isn’t the Jake fic that you’ve all been wanting but i swear that one is in the works. i’m about to go back to school and wanted to get this out there for y’all :) (ps i apologize for the lazy ending)

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"At ease, gentlemen —And woman," Admiral Simpson adds after a moment, shooting an uncharacteristically apprehensive look in Phoenix's direction. Payback snorts at his hasty correction, and Jake is surprised when the admiral doesn't fix him with a nasty look.

If the man's cursory show of inclusion perturbs the female pilot, she doesn't show it, and instead she takes a seat with all the rest of them. Jake turns back towards the front of the ready room, sinking down into his chair just a bit, toothpick clenched between his teeth as he waits for the admiral to address them.

However routine, this training meeting was a bit out of left field, especially for a Sunday afternoon. The Dagger squad typically had one weekly, but it was usually led by Maverick and much more informal. That wasn't to say that seeing Beau was surprising, but the man usually steered clear of the wayward captain and left him to his own devices when it came to training the Daggers.

Today the captain sits in the ready room beside the rest of the pilots. Jake watches as Bradley sends his godfather an inquisitive brow from across the room, to which the older man just shrugs. Interesting.

Cyclone clears his throat. "Good afternoon. I apologize for keeping you all, but I promise this will only take a minute of your time. As I'm sure you are all aware, the United States Department of Defense takes immense pride in maintaining one of the most well integrated military forces in the world. It's our job to work closely with other service members to ensure their safety and the safety of our nation." He pauses. "As experienced as you all are, your time here at Topgun has not reflected that."

Jake's brow furrows, his tongue worrying at the toothpick clenched between his teeth as he listens to the admiral go on. Javy shoots him a look but Jake stares ahead, waiting for Beau to continue.

"The permanent installment of your squad here at Miramar was to create a tightly knit group of elite fighter pilots who would be available at a moment's notice, and however successful that may have been, I cannot neglect the fact that comfort builds complacency. Later today, a squad of U.S. Army soldiers will be arriving to aide in your training for the next six weeks. The integration of mixed branch training units has been widely effective around the country, and it's about time we do the same here at Miramar."

With that, the screen positioned on the wall behind him lights up, displaying enlarged headshots of about eight soldiers. The first seven are males of varying ages, but none older than probably thirty. Jake quickly skims over their names and credentials, but when he gets to the last profile, his eyes stop.

The last solider is the only female projected on the screen, but even so she stands out as compared to all the other members of her squad. He can't quite put his finger on why though.

She's uncharacteristically pretty. And by that he means that to most, her appearance would be inherently off putting— even without the straight-mouthed scowl on her face. She's got a square, almost masculine like jawline that hardens her features considerably. Her hair is light, worn from spending too much time in the sun regardless of however dark it may have been naturally. The same goes for her skin, which is comparably bronze in contrast to the tan line on her forehead, he would assume from wearing a patrol cap out in the field.

Her eyes are wild.

And that's when it hits him.

She'd been all over the news just a few months ago. Something about a patrol gone wrong out in the Middle East, which ultimately turned into a high stakes rescue mission to extract the surviving soldiers. They went in hoping to bring back nine men and came out with one. Apparently they didn't even get to recover the bodies.

Jake can't imagine what that'll do to a person.

Before he can stare at her profile any longer, Cyclone quickly clicks off the projection and the image disappears. This time he appears almost nervous as he stares back at them. "These soldiers are recently returning from a deployment in the Middle East, so I trust that you all will do your best to make them feel welcome. If none of you have any questions, that is all. You're dismissed."

---

The following morning, the Jake receives word from Maverick that the Admiral wants to see him in his office. It's not a strange request but certainly raises Jake's attention as to why specifically he was needed.

Upon entering the room, Jake finds not only the Admiral but Maverick and another female that he's yet to have seen before. All heads turn towards him when he enters, as if he were interrupting something. Immediately, Jake snaps to attention, his heels clicking together and his fingers brushing his brow with a sharpness that would make the academy proud.

Cyclone nods in his direction, acknowledging Jake's customary greeting and dismissing him with the notion. "Lt. Seresin," he begins, gesturing to the female standing across the room. "This is Lt. (L/n). She's uh—a member of the squad that I briefed you on yesterday."

He hadn't noticed that she was wearing Army OCPs but he connects the dots as soon as the admiral mentions her name. He remembers reading it on the projector during the meeting.

Rather than introducing herself, the soldier stands rigidly across from him, her arms folded in front of her chest with a look on her face that Jake can only describe as fucking pissed. Unsure of what to do but aware from personal experience with Phoenix that he shouldn't try to cross any unknown boundaries, Jake settles for offering her a respectful nod. She glares back at him.

"You're two of our only service members with active combat experience," Cyclone continues, obviously ignoring the girl's crossed disposition. "I'm hoping that you and Lt. (L/n) can find some common ground. Perhaps it would do you both some good to—"

"Respectfully, sir, if I wanted to vent to someone about my feelings, I'd go see a shrink," the woman growls. "I recommend you do the same, Lt. Seresin." Her tone makes Jake's brow raise slightly in surprise. No one talks to an admiral like that, not even Pete Mitchell.

"Lt. (L/n)," Cyclone snaps. "That's quite enough."

This time, she rolls her eyes with a scoff. "You can't just—"

"Get out."

She clamps her jaw shut but doesn't budge from where her feet are planted in the ground.

"I said, Get. Out," Cyclone reiterates.

The eyes that had caught Jake's attention in the first place fix the admiral with a chilling stare. To Jake, there's something familiar in those eyes. Some sort of unmistakably justifiable rage that runs deeper than just being dismissed from the conversation. Jake watches, his breath stalled as she sets her jaw, unwilling to move, when it hits him. Identical jawlines and untwitching scowls mirror each other.

The illegitimate child of Admiral Beau Simpson stands before him.

He doesn't know how he didn't see it before, granted they don't share a last name, but Jake was aware that the Admiral was divorced, had been for a while. Allegedly he wasn't the marrying type. Jake isn't surprised by the statement. Beau Simpson is a hard man to deal with.

Jake watches in silence as the girl ultimately releases an irritated huff and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her. He can hear the loud, petulant stomp of her boots as she retreats down the hall. Evidently her looks weren't the only thing that she got from her dad. She had a temper that rivaled even Bradshaw's.

The clearing of the Admiral's throat removes Jake's eyes from the door. "I hope you can forgive my daughter's behavior. Her return to the states has been...difficult."

"I'm sure difficult is the way she would describe you too sir," Maverick jokes.

Cyclone fixes him with a perturbed glare but decidedly ignores his comment in favor of addressing Jake. "Lt. (L/n)'s squadron was ambushed six months ago. Just about everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and she was the only survivor. As her father, I wanted her to accept the Purple Heart and retire." He gestures flippantly towards the door. "Obviously that's not what she did."

Jake speaks for the first time since he entered the room. "Respectfully, sir, I don't blame her. I'm taking this career to the grave. I'm sure both your daughter and Captain Mitchell can agree," he adds glancing over at his instructor.

Before Maverick can voice his agreement, the admiral cuts him off.

"As I'm sure Captain Mitchell can attest to, as her father, I'm just trying to look out for her."

With his preexisting connection to Rooster, the godson that he would risk his career to protect, Maverick has no room to disagree with the admiral. For once, the captain, who usually always has something to say, stands with his palms folded behind his back and keeps his mouth shut.

"As I was saying," Cyclone continues, taking a seat behind his desk and kicking back as if to signal that he's won the conversation. "It is my hope that given your own—" the admiral hesitates for just a moment too long for Jake's liking "—personal experience, you'll be able to get through to her."

Jake swallows and hopes that he doesn't look as uneasy as the insinuation makes him feel. He has to take a moment to reassure himself that the psych unit has repeatedly cleared him for duty and that no one's threatening to take his wings away.

The nights that he wakes up, drenched in sweat, with his fingers wrapped around imaginary joysticks hard enough to make his palms bleed are few and far in between these days. And even those he's gotten good enough at faking like they don't bother him because he hasn't failed a psych evaluation in months.

It doesn't mean he likes to talk about it or that he won't hear the fear in Rooster's voice if he does.

But he's more scared of not flying than anything, so all Jake does is nod and offer a dry, "I'll do my best, sir."

———

PTSD or modern day shell-shock is what they like to call it. You call it waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Because there is always another shoe.

The slam of a beer bottle down on the bar top lights your nerves up like nothing else. It sends your heart straight to your stomach and makes your palms sweat like when you miss a step on the stairs and for a split second, you think you're going to die. You never do of course, but your body is hard wired that way to keep you alive.

There's a flaw in your system that hasn't been right since the east.

You knew that a popular naval bar on a Friday night wasn't the best place for you these days but your nerves had been yearning for an ice cold beer and fuck all if you weren't going to get one. The alcohol would soothe your nerves anyhow.

But after thirty minutes of waiting on said beer, you were beginning to lose your patience. Normally you weren't bothered by that kind of thing. The place was obviously busy and the lone woman behind the bar was doing her best to satisfy the flock of servicemen that only seemed to accumulate with every beer that she handed out.

Just when you're about to give up and leave, a large hand covers your lower back, pressing you forwards through the crowd and toward the bar top.

"Two more on me, please, Penny."

The voice belongs to the tall man standing behind you. He's removed his firm, but respectfully placed palm from your back and is now leaning over you to accept the two dripping bottles of beer. It doesn't take you long to recognize the green of his eyes from a few days prior.

"My dad didn't put you up to this did he?" you ask, somewhat reluctantly taking the bottle that he offers you. It's finger numbing cold, just how you like it.

He kind of just slowly smiles and shakes his head.

Immediately you feel like a jerk. You sigh, dropping your shoulders and smile softly back. "Sorry. That was rude."

"No, ma'am, he didn't. Just had to find out if you smiled like that all the time."

The part of you that's a little bit of a bitch makes you clench your teeth together, tightening the smile that was once spread across your lips. "I'm not looking for that kind of thing right now," is all you say.

You want to tell him that you used to not be so mean.

At the realization that his words had the exact opposite effect of what he was going for, the guy graciously extends his hand. "Look I don't mean to bother you, I just wanted to say hi."

Despite not being keen on his advances, you aren't going to be rude so you accept his outstretched hand. You're surprised by his gentleness. It's not the rough, over-masculine shake you are expecting.

"Lieutenant (Y/n) (L/n)."

"I know your name," he admits with a light, almost embarrassed laugh. "I think everybody in here knows your name."

Your skin prickles. You stare at him stoney faced, bracing yourself for what's going to come out of his mouth. "Why's that?"

The guy—Lt. Seresin—you're remembering, shrugs. "I mean, you're quite the story back here in the states. A bit of a ghost story, I must say."

Ghost story is right. Because who survives that? How the fuck does a twenty-two year old girl survive an outnumbered ambush and not eight men with years of experience? Not someone who deserves to be called a hero, that's for sure.

You're trying your best to keep your cool with him. You know that you're in a public space and he's just being friendly. You used to be so good at this kind of thing, the flirting and small talk.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is what you need. Maybe this will make you feel normal again. You need to feel normal again.

Maybe that is why you let him lean in closer, buy you another drink when yours runs dry, and another one after that. Maybe that is why you make an effort to laugh when he does, and you close your eyes when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You let out the breath that's been tightening your ribcage and do your best to smile. "Thank you for the beer. You didn't have to do that." You hope the words sound as genuine as they're intended to.

He smiles back like he's supposed to, all polite and inherently forgiving of your original attitude. You catch onto the way it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You're not sure why but it makes you think maybe he's just a bit sad too.

Maybe that is why he lets you wordlessly take his hand and lead him to the back of the bar. Maybe that is why he lets you sink to your knees on the cold, sticky tiles of the men's bathroom floor, his hands already fumbling to unbuckle his belt.

It smells like beer and piss, and you don't even wait for him to get fully hard before you take him in your mouth, your nose buried into his pelvis, where it smells like sweat. It's all wrong and right at the same time, and he won't ask you to stop. He just curls his fingers into a fistful of your hair, pinpricks stinging at your scalp the same way tears sting at your eyes.

He—Jake—he'd told you a while ago, has a pretty cock. At least as pretty as cocks go. Pink and ruddy at the tip, where it mushroomed beautifully. Almost dauntingly long but not grossly so with a throbbing vein on the underside. You run your tongue along it and he muffles a whimper, his fingers wrapping harder around your hair in an effort not to buck up into your mouth. At least he's a gentleman about it.

He's heavy and twitching in your mouth. You feel heavy. He is standing above you, a harsh line of a man against the buzzing bathroom light. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose and he punches himself further, the head of his cock skimming the back of your throat.

You swallow around him, trying to hold together what little is left of your remaining sense of self. It's been a while since you've been so careless as to place yourself in someone else's hands, rolled over and showed your belly to someone who could easily take advantage of you.

Your jaw aches, uncomfortable and familiar, like something you don't want to remember. Tears well up behind your eyes, the threat of an unwanted but unknown feeling looming just out of reach. Jake's hand in your hair hold your head firmly against his pelvis, hips rocking up into your mouth. He sighs like he can finally breathe.

You can't breathe.

You try to and something rasps inside of you, choking. The feeling that had been looming threateningly sparkles through you. Panic.

You know that he tries to settle you, does his best to wipe the tears leaking from your eyes with his thumbs and murmurs softly to you. "Breathe. It's okay, breathe for me."

You can't. You can't breathe.

Your head is pounding and suddenly you aren't kneeling on the bathroom floor of the bar. You're on the ground, crying, screaming like a wounded animal and no one is coming to help. You can almost feel the dirt under your knees, taste the blood in your mouth.

"Y/N, you have to breathe."

Someone's grabbing you, hauling your useless feet across the floor. Your chest hurts like you've been punched with a bowling ball.

"C'mon, let's get some air."

How you end up outside the bathroom is beside you. All you know is one minute you're dying on your knees back in the desert and the next you're being sat down on the back steps of the bar.

The cool air of the San Diego evening brings you back. That and the press of a cup of ice water to your lips, the condensation dripping from the glass and rolling down your throat. You swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe your burning throat.

You're aware of Jake sitting down beside you, close enough to touch if he wanted to but still keeping his distance. You can feel his eyes on you, watching carefully for a moment before he turns to stare out at the not so distance shoreline.

Your stomach feels odd, like you might be sick.

He probably thinks you're insane. You would think the same. But if he's dying to ask what the hell that was, he's doing a good job of hiding it.

How do you tell him that sometimes you think that you should have died, that sometimes the memories almost kill you?

"I hid."

He looks up from peeling off the label around the neck of his bottle. "What?"

You swallow, trying to collect yourself before your words fail you.

"I hid. A—After I was shot, I didn't get back up. I crawled under the humvee and... and I just laid there. I laid there and I closed my eyes and I prayed. I prayed that they wouldn't notice me lying under there or that they if they did, they would think I was already dead."

A mixture of sweat and dust burns your eyes. When you blink, you can feel the sandy grit trapped between them. You squeeze them shut while trying to swallow back the dryness of your throat in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, but it doesn't do much. An unwarranted tear escapes and runs down the track of your nose.

With your rifle held closely to your chest, you let it slide down and collect on the bow of your lip. It joins the puddle of sweat that has already accumulated there. Out here, the sun cooks you alive. You swear it's a constant one thousand degrees. The twenty pounds of kevlar doesn't help.

Dirt kicks up beside you and gravel showers your helmet as a round of bullets buries themselves into the ground a mere six inches from your face. You hardly flinch.

Somebody is screaming. The sound of machine gun fire is ringing in your ears. Somebody is screaming.

"(L/N), C'MON. LET'S MOVE."

It's Cain. He's grabbing the strap of your kevlar vest and yanking you to your feet. You scramble after him, desperate not to be left behind. Bullets explode at your feet the moment the two of you emerge from the concealment of the dirt mound. Fear makes you run faster.

You spot Manny crouched behind the tire of the SUV to your right. He's firing rounds into the brush. You can tell that he's bleeding from a wound to his arm and you're about to veer off to help him when his head jerks backwards, the scattered remains of his brain plastered onto the white side of the truck.

You stop running, the words caught in your throat.

"RUN," Cain screams. He'd backtracked a few paces and grabs hold of your vest once again to drag you behind a second SUV. You stumble over him, falling haphazardly onto your rear once he lets go of you. He immediately turns to fire over the hood of the truck, and the bullets hitting the truck stop momentarily.

Clawing at the gravel on the ground, you hurry to scramble to your feet. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry and gritty. Huffing, you glance between Cain, who is fumbling to reload his magazine, and the crumpled figure of Manny a few yards away. You can only hope Ronny is still out there somewhere.

Before you can even try to locate him or any other members of the squad, movement to your left springs your muscles into action. You slam your back into the side door of the SUV just as a round of bullets pelt the spot where you were standing just moments before. Automatically, you raise your gun, returning the fire. There are a few more shots fired in retaliation, but they stop a second later.

Once you're sure they're subdued, you lower your gun, breathing hard. There's so much smoke and debris in the air that you can hardly even see Cain ten feet away. He's shuffling towards you in a low crouch.

"Let's move, (L/n). They know where we are. We've got to find different cover."

You nod, your finger still pressed tightly to the trigger of your weapon. You drop into a crouch and follow behind him as he creeps towards the back of the truck. He pauses a moment, scanning the landscape before looking back at you. His blue eyes are a startling contrast to the dirt and sweat covering his tanned face. He lifts his gun in the direction of a flipped humvee about fifty yards away. His mouth moves in a silent command.

One.

Two.

Three.

The gunfire starts up as soon as the two of you spring from behind the vehicle. You can hear the whizzing of bullets as they just barely miss your head. All you can do is pray you don't trip as you struggle to keep up with Cain. Your lungs burn and your boots feel impossibly heavy.

The terrain is barren but the ground loose, and rocks threaten to upend your footing, slipping out from beneath your feet as the two of you flee towards the vehicle.

30 yards from the humvee, Cain tumbles to the ground with a broken cry. The bullet catches him in the thigh, stopping him mid stride. He hits the ground hard.

Without even thinking, you skid to a stop. Bullets spray the ground around you. Somehow you're more afraid of leaving him than being shot.

"Go!" he yells at you, already trying to shove you away. "Go, I'm coming!"

Already, there's a lake of blood beneath him. You step in it and the ground squelches under your boot. Crimson gushes from his left thigh, effectively saturating the fabric of his pants. His face is terrifyingly pale. The bullet must have hit his femoral artery.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Like hell," you snap at him, your pervious fear suddenly boiling into the purest form of anger you've ever felt. Angry for being in this situation in the first place. Angry that of all people, Cain is going to die.

It's terrifying how quickly the realization comes to you, how easily you accept it as the truth. There's already too much blood. Without a tourniquet, he'll bleed out in minutes and there's not quite time for that.

"Leaving him behind wasn't an option. It never even occurred to me that it was," you confess, as if saying it aloud will somehow explain away this title of heroism that everyone wants to pin on you. "Dead or alive, he was coming with me."

You shoulder your rifle and use both hands to grab onto the straps of his vest, hefting him backwards towards the truck.

He must clamp onto his bottom lip to stop the scream that threatens to escape because the noise that comes from his mouth is garbled.

You drag Cain about ten feet before you realize how just heavy he is. There's sweat leaking into your eyes and all you can see is the bloody lake that's left behind as you drag him through the dust. Cain's gone quiet, his head lulled to the side, eyes almost shut.

"C'mon, Cain. We're almost there."

His boot snags on a rock, and when you tug him free, he doesn't utter a word.

Something inside of you knows he's gone, was gone long before you started dragging him. You're still ten yards from the SUV.

POP. POP. POP.

You pause, your eyes fixed ahead of you. "Have you ever been shot before?"

Beside you, Jake shakes his head.

"It feels like someone has shot a bowling ball into your chest. Knocks the breath right out of you."

Pain explodes straight through your ribcage. Your vision clouds and you're vaguely aware of your knees buckling beneath you.

When you come to, all of the wind has been knocked out of you from hitting the ground so hard and your immediate reflex is to suck in a reviving breath. Instead all that comes out is a gurgle, the tell tale sign that your chest cavity is filling with blood.

You swallow, looking off at the dark shoreline of the beach, watching as the waves crash against the sand. "I knew that I wasn't dead yet—I did— I just—" Your throat constricts and when you speak again your voice is quieter. "He was already gone so maybe a part of me had already gone with him."

Jake nods slowly, as if putting together the pieces that you're laying down bit by bit. Somehow his green eyes have remained soft this entire time and maybe that's where you find the courage to continue.

Lifting your head, you crane your neck to see the damage, but the thick layer of kevlar strapped to your chest obstructs your view of the lower half of your body. Grunting in frustration, you reach blindly in the direction that the pain is radiating from. Numbly, your fingers find the gushing hole in your side. The bullet had buried itself in the exposed inch of your stomach between your belt and your vest.

There mustn't be an exit wound because there isn't a ton of blood surrounding you. If the wet cough you emit is anything to go by, it's probably pooling in your abdominal cavity instead.

You're going to die.

"I don't know how long I laid there," you admit. "I knew that the clock was ticking, had been since the moment I hit the ground. It was only a matter of time before I blacked out or bled out... I guess I was just waiting to see which one came first."

The scattered rounds hitting the ground around you become muffled background noise as the lull of unconsciousness begins to sweep over you, dulling the world as you know it. Through the haze of your fading senses, your eyes fall on Cain's motionless figure a few feet beside you.

He's lying face up, his desert tan uniform seeped a muddy crimson. You'd known he was dead a while ago. Still, you carried him. He'd have done the same for you. He was your brother, dead or alive.

Blood bubbles from your nose as you struggle to keep yourself breathing. The fact that you have to remind yourself to do that isn't a promising sign. Your body is shutting down, doing anything it can to keep your heart pumping, even if it means shutting down everything else.

Somewhere through the dullness, you hear Cain's voice. MOVE, (L/N).

You close your eyes, trying to picture his face from what had been just a few minutes ago. You remember the urgency in his blue eyes, the intensity of his fear overridden by adrenaline. How had that been only moments ago?

MOVE, (L/N).

"I—I heard his voice," you state, your tone not open for discussion. "Not the gun fire, not God, not anyone else's. I heard his voice."

So many people had tried to convince you otherwise, tried to tell you that it was because of the shock and your brain was shutting down, that you were hearing things. But you know what you heard.

"He saved my life, Jake."

You can see the gears turning in his head, the question carefully forming on his lips. "Were you two— I mean was he—"

It's the first time you have to suck back tears, your chest rattling with a longing emptiness as you fight the urge to cry. Memories of his wild blue eyes and wide smile that could only ever mean he was misbehaving flash through your mind.

You met Sergeant Anthony Cain not long after you commissioned as a Lieutenant. You were still a green officer when you were charged with your first platoon and given orders to deploy out East. You were scared as hell and Cain was your saving grace. He came in as if he'd always known you needed him and the rest was history.

There was never any question about intentions or commitment to each other. Cain was as honest as they came and you left it at that. You never imagined that's where your story would begin and end.

"I don't know, Jake. We didn't get that far."

Forcing your eyes open, you access the area around you. The sound of enemy fire has slowed but that doesn't mean movement won't trigger a return of bullets your way. Still, you know they'll be looking for survivors once the dust settles, and you don't want to be around when they do.

The humvee is only a little over ten yards away. You might would say it was crawling distance if it weren't for the fact that you were actively bleeding out. Even so, you don't really have any other option.

You take as deep of a breath as you can, your chest rasping as you do so, before lifting your right leg and using the weight of it to swing yourself over onto your stomach. Immediately, searing hot pain radiates through your chest and legs. You cry out, curling in on yourself, writhing on the ground like a wounded animal.

Sputtering, trying to breathe through the pain long enough so that you can move, you feel hot tears track down your face. They're tears of insurmountable pain and hopeless desperation.

"All I kept thinking was 'how does anyone survive this?' It was unimaginable, the pain. Looking back now, I don't know how I did it. I don't think I could do it again if I had to," you admit.

Softly, as not to scare you, you feel the gentle weight of Jake's palm on your knee. "You won't have to," he promises. "But you did it. You survived."

You stare down at his hand on your knee.

With a trembling, blood stained hand, you reach out in front of you and dig your fingers into the ground. Heaving, you draw yourself forward, your legs dragging limply through the dust. It takes an unimaginable amount of strength to pull yourself even six inches.

Sniffling back tears and out of breath, you curl your fingers into the ground and drag yourself forward again. This time, you probably only move half as far. You have to fight the urge to just lay your cheek against the ground and cry.

You do this again and again, keeping one hand pressed into the gushing wound at your side while the other drags you forward. Your lower half has become increasingly heavier with each passing minute, your legs nothing but dead weight to pull along. You don't think you could move them if you tried.

It takes you forty minutes to drag yourself to the humvee. By the time you get yourself fully under the abandoned vehicle, your fingers are torn and bleeding, the tips ripped open and embedded with bits of gravel.

Your muscles collapse the very second you give them the chance. Your forehead drops down to rest against the ground, and you finally have a moment to shudder out a sob. Your throat is dry and cracked, and dust coats the inside of your mouth. You're dimly aware that your breaths are dangerously shallow. You just know that you're miserably nauseous and each passing moment is more unbearable than the next.

You turn your own palm over, staring at the scars of your ruined finger tips, scars that tell a story of how you survived. They're ugly, and you wish you didn't have to look at the all of the time. At least your torso is mostly hidden. You've moved to a beach town and will never be able to put on a swimsuit.

Jake’s eyes follow yours and after a moment he flips his palm over, his fingers spread and inviting. His hands are large and calloused from years of flying. There are fingernail divots in his palm.

Almost shyly, his green eyes meet yours. You see a bit of that sadness you saw earlier. “I know it’s not my job to be your shrink or whatever,” he adds with a laugh and you can’t help but laugh with him. “But you’re not alone. We’re all a bit fucked up if you haven’t noticed.” He shrugs. “It comes with the job.”

You can’t help yourself. You trace a finger over the scarred palm of his hand. “My dad would disagree.”

Jake is fighting the urge to close his palm around yours, not wanting to overstep, and so he’s pleased when you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Family dinner must be interesting.”

Jake came from a military family himself and so he knows how deep the ties run. His old man was a sailor and so he knew better than to come home sporting anything other than his dress whites.

You laugh out loud because he’s not wrong at all. Jake squeezes your fingers in response. His hand feels good in yours. Safe and heavy in the way a padlock feels. Like he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s not all ‘Go Army, Beat Navy’ believe it or not. Don’t get me wrong, I was raised a Navy brat and I have a hell of a lot of respect for my old man, but at the end of the day, I had to choose myself. I couldn’t do that with him watching over my shoulder. The Army’s been both the greatest and the worst thing that could have happened to me,” you confess.

Jake hums, dare you say almost disbelievingly.

“What?”

“A few weeks here and you’ll change your mind. No one does it like the Navy does.”

It’s your turn to make a noise of disbelief.

“I guess you’ll just have to impress me, Flyboy.”

Jake squeezes your hand again. “Oh I plan to.”

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shiki-jin · 1 year ago

Text

YOUR CELESTIAL MAJESTY • SAGAU

(part 0 here)

was listening to TruE on loop while writing the last part of this, it's genuinely such a good song ugwvdya

also can you spot the contradiction ;D it's plot relevant i promise

not proofread, dont bully me ill write a thesis on why youre a meanie

—

you had long deleted genshin, since you had other things to do. you had wanted to go back to the game for a while now, now that you were less busy, but there was just one little problem.

it was now taking up nearly triple the amount of space that it was when you uninstalled it. around 300 whole gigabytes.

jesus christ, what phone can even handle this???

your phone, apparently. because as you opened the game to see if maybe a miracle would happen and that if maybe they would just, like, remove half of the things in the game, it just… kinda loaded?

no installing new files, no checking for anything, no nothing…. just an immediate pan to the gates of celestia.

you decided to check if it was the right genshin since this was just way too weird, but countering your judgement, every link you found led you to the same game, leading you to believe it not to be a bootleg or an illegal version.

guess i’ll trust it then.

you clicked on the gates which opened smoothly, and your screen turned white. then, the symbols of the seven elements appeared in gray.

and then the game just… opened. no loading time, once again. no getting stuck on the geo symbol, nothing. nada. just a smooth entrance into what you had to assume to be teyvat — but your surroundings didn't really support that claim.

the grass was brown and just looked off, the sky was gray. a darker shade than, say, mond’s walls, but it was like one of those game crashes.

well, except you could still move around.

you moved your current character around (the traveller? since when were they the only one in your team?) and decided to open the map after not figuring out where you could possibly be.

hold on, this is springvale? since when?

eveything looked dead, like it had been rotting for a century. you tried to ignore it though, and teleported to the inside of mondstadt. surely this was just some glitch, right? one that would fix itself if you teleported?

maybe the world loaded incorrectly, maybe the fact that nothing took time to load meant that it couldn't load, maybe this or that, maybe…

maybe this really was how the game looked normally. you hadn't done any quests though, so you wondered if it could be restored.

you took a screenshot of the your surroundings — the stone, worn down and dirty. the houses which looked to be in a horrible state, and… the npcs, all sickly and pale, like they were starving.

you went to reddit (yes, reddit), and posted the screenshot, asking if it was normal.

you closed the game and decided to take a nap, too tired to really deal with this shit any further.

while you slumbered, people replied to your post.

╰┈➤ lol me too anon, me too

╰┈➤ isn't the game closed or wtv? how'd you get this wtf

╰┈➤ they're trolling

╰┈➤ o makes sense oops

╰┈➤ So we’re all still mourning huh

╰┈➤ jokes aside that's a super impressive edit ngl

you remained unaware of the truth, but you'd find out soon enough.

actually, you'd find out now, apparently…

what the fuck?? why is my bed so hard now?

you groaned and forced your eyes open, seeing a dark, nearly black sky.

the only light was a single star, lingering right above you.

“since when was i outside...?"

a voice spoke to you, answering your question.

“you always have been, have you not? but would you like to head inside, my lord?”

... huh? i recognize that voice...

—

p.s. place your bets on who it is, i’m thinking of one specific character but if there's a fan fav i'll make it them instead since i haven't written anything beyond this point (⁠・⁠_⁠・⁠;⁠)

p.s.s. don't expect updates to this series too quickly, i wish i could write as quick as i think of ideas but sadly that's not the case orz

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #sagau #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yippie #genshin self aware #genshin self aware au

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 1 year ago

Text

I Can Fix That... Pt. 3 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

notes: And the plot and smut continues hehe. In this installment I used Lady Arkham as inspiration. She is originally a DC character/villian. The backstories that I included here are all based on the original DC comicbook/nolanverse lore. I literally used Batman wiki for additional research.

Summary| Crane brought a woman home. That was definitely not something he ever anticipated that he would ever do. He needs to trust her and she's starting to have second thoughts. Was leaving Gotham the right thing for her to do? Yes, she likes Crane but does she like him enough? What is he hiding from her? Oh honey, he was hiding a lot...

Warnings| Fire, mentions of a gun, drugs, smut- fingering, teasing, masturbation, dubious consent, the word "r*pe" is used once, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving). Violence, death, insanity, overdose (no death), infidelity, murder, police violence, trauma, abandonment, general unpleasantness.

word count: 8086k

Lonely Day- System of a Down 🎵

Love Song- Jack Off Jill 🎶

Superstar- Sonic Youth 🎵

Please please please read warnings for this one- we're going over childhood trauma

The helicopter landed in an open field in the outskirts of the city. She and Crane climbed out and ducked beneath the blades as they crossed the pasture.

“We’re outside the city now. We’re safe here and depending on how Ra’s plan goes, we can stay here.” Crane looked down at the girl beside him. She watched the helicopter, distractedly, as it rose into the air and flew away. The field around them immediately quieted without the presence of the aircraft and they could hear the other breathe for the first time in a while.

“Where do we go now?” She looked around them at the expanse of pasture and wild flowers hidden in the dark.

“Over this hill.” Crane started walking and she followed, staying a few paces behind him. When they reached the top of the hill, she saw an old scarecrow standing in a field, empty of crops. The man was made of burlap and covered with rags. Straw exploded out of the scarecrow’s body. She looked at Crane who’d stopped to look at the scarecrow. Sensing her beside him, he glanced back at her and clenched his jaw. He gave no explanation or story and she didn’t want to ask because she didn’t want to cause him more pain. They walked a little farther and as they did, a large house came into view. Crane pointed it out to her with a sneer, directed at the house, not at her, “and there’s my father’s house.”

The lights inside the mansion were on and it leaked light across the landscape that separated them.

“Is your father home?” She asked and he chuckled darkly.

“No, I had the housekeeper open the house for us. Just like with the helicopter, I find it is always useful to play your cards carefully. I was suspicious of Ra’s because I’m suspicious of everyone, even you,” he nodded down at her and she frowned slightly. “I don’t make friends easily, they often disappoint me.” He smiled at his own self-effacing humor.

“Have I disappointed you?” She asked him. He turned his icy blue eyes to her and shook his head.

“No but we aren’t friends,” he laughed lightly and looked back at the house in the distance.

“No? Then what are we?” She pouted a little, looking down at her feet and then to his face.

“We’re more,” he answered evenly and began to walk again. She blushed and hurried to follow him, hiding her smile. Crane even smiled, blocking out the bad memories of the place they now found themselves in. He was no longer scared of the scarecrow but the memories he associated with the figure in the field did little to comfort him. They walked on until they reached the front gate and Crane typed in a passcode on an elaborate screen. The gates were black iron with sharp spikes fixed to the top and they opened with a long and droning squeak. The driveway changed to gravel as Crane led her up to the front door and he pulled on the lion’s head door knocker, releasing a loud door chime inside the house. One wing of the house, she noticed, was burned.

“You’re right, I’m starting to realize that I really know nothing about you.” She looked up at the large gothic mansion above her.

“That,” Crane turned his head to her and sighed as if it were obvious, “is what a second date is for.”

The front door opened and a man in a tuxedo greeted them coldly, reminding her of Crane.

“Welcome back, doctor.” The butler deadpanned and Crane pushed past, wiping his feet in the entryway. She followed suit and nodded to the butler, smiling excitedly.

“This is Miss —; Miss Y/N Y/L/N.” Crane gestured his hand carelessly between them and continued on into the reception hall. All the walls were carved from solid wood into even square panels.

“Welcome to the Crane House, ma’am.” The butler bowed his head briefly and followed them. She nodded her head in thanks and became immediately enraptured by the spooky house. “Shall we serve dinner now or would you like to change?”

Crane turned and cleared his throat, his eyes trying to focus on the room without his glasses. “We’ll change first, Hobbs.”

“There are clothes laid out in the bedrooms.” The butler bowed and disappeared behind a swinging door. She turned to Crane and laughed.

“What the hell is this place?” She asked in a bewildered whisper. Crane chuckled, finding the girl adorable in her amazement.

“This is my childhood home.”

“So this is where the famous Dr. Crane was raised. I’m intrigued.” She batted her eyelashes and ran up some of the stairs, her fingers trailing the thick banisters. Crane smiled and followed her.

“Do you like seeing this side of me? Does it thrill you?” His voice prodded her heart and her legs became wobbly.

“Everything about you does that,” she stood one step above him and cupped his face. She ran her finger down his angular cheekbone and swiped across his wide chapped lips. She kissed his neck and beneath his jaw before finally kissing his lips.

“For now,” he whispered as she pulled away. They climbed the rest of the stairs up to the second floor and Crane led her down a tight hallway. Animal heads were mounted on the walls and she studied them with a mixed sense of appreciation. Crane pushed open a door with a crystal doorknob.

“This is your room,” he swept his hand through the room and she gasped in awe. The one room was nearly the size of her entire apartment in Gotham. The walls were painted with elaborate murals. She stepped hesitantly into the room and twirled, wanting to see every inch of the place. Crane looked on from the door, his lips spread into a smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” he laughed and she ran into his arms, smiling.

“I love it! I am officially living out one of my dreams.” She pulled down on his collar and kissed him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and kissed him deeper, her fingers now brushing across the soft skin on his neck. Crane sighed through his nose and found her waist, resting his hands on the indents of her hips. The excitement of the day prompted a sense of adventure and need inside her and she communicated that through her kiss. She bit playfully on Crane’s bottom lip and moaned (intentionally) against him to fluster him. She felt his body shutter from the suggestive sounds she made against him. Her cunt throbbed wantingly and she could feel her heartbeat in her upper thighs.

“Mhm!” She hummed and caught her breath as Crane’s hands slipped to the base of her back.

“You never get tired, do you?” He muttered against her huskily and she shook her head.

“No, Dr. Crane.” She whispered with a soft whine and licked his bottom lip before kissing him harder. She felt his cock twitch on his pants as he pressed himself against her.

“Good, because neither do I,” he bit the point of her jaw gently and kissed over the hickies he had already made on her neck the night before. He looked all rumpled and hot in his suit after the action of the day and she desperately wanted to undress him. She wanted to fuck him like a normal couple, not tied down to a mortuary slab where she couldn’t even touch him. God, she wanted to touch him. She dragged one hand down to his crotch and cupped his cock through his pants. She rubbed her hand against the half-hard bulge and moaned pitifully as if she were the one getting touched.

“You’re pathetic,” Crane smirked and pulled her head back gently by her hair. She nodded with a pleased smile, happy that he saw her for what she really was and what she really wanted. He kissed her hard, taking her breath away, and sucked on her tongue so deep she felt like she might choke. When he pulled away and dropped his hold on her neck, his lips were pink and his eyes heavy with lust. She knew her face was flushed and that it turned him on but instead of acting on it, Crane leaned back against the door jam and jerked his head at the bed.

“Hobbs laid out some clothes for you. I hope they fit, I went through your closet to find your size but I trusted Hobbs and his wife with the shopping.” He smirked, proud of himself for leaving the girl so horny, it made him even harder. He left the room and closed the door, his erection still pressing against his pants.

She went down the stairs and looked around for the dining room, turning her curious head left and right. The clothes that had been laid out for her were simple and elegant. A long black dress with a boat neck that she wore with the burgundy stockings set beside it. She’d worn her black mary janes and run a brush through her hair, knowing that would be enough to help her look put together. She followed the sound of a crackling fire and polite conversation through a far door. Crane looked up as she entered and looked her up and down, his eyes sticky against her curves.

“What do you think?” She gestured to her dress and gave a slow twirl. The butler and his wife stood to the side, watching her with small, pleased smiles. Crane leaned forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth.

“Apparently, my housekeepers have extraordinary taste.” He smirked and stood as she walked to her place at the table on his right.

“High praise,” she smiled at Hobbs. As they sat together, Hobbs served their dinner of smoked ham. She took a long sip of the gin martini from her glass and swirled the stem with her wrist.

“It’s hard to believe that we were in Gotham just an hour or two ago.” She took in his body dressed in a black suit without his usual tie. His face was clean and he’d refreshed his hair with some gel, the smell was comforting.

“Tonight could have ended very differently…” he looked at his food. The butler and his wife left the room, going back into the kitchen.

“Thank you for what you said this morning,” she flicked her eyes up to his. He looked back and caught his breath. She looked stunning and he felt the need to pinch himself to remember where they were and how they’d gotten there in the first place. He remembered telling her to do as he said because he wanted her to live and he worried that Ra’s would go back on his word, and as he suspected, Ra’s had, just not with her.

“I’m just glad that we came to our agreement when we did, before Ra’s. I’ll admit that my desire to keep you alive was more selfish than chivalrous because I needed you for my own reasons.”

“Like what?” She raised her eyebrow and cut a piece of meat. It melted on her tongue and she swallowed it slowly, watching him.

“I have plans for Gotham, plans that would involve you,” he cocked his head towards her, adding, “of course. I don’t know yet how Ra’s plans will play out but I suspect that he will fail. Batman will think that he’s saved the city from ‘bad guys’ but,” he leaned in closer, “I’m not so easily defeated and I suspect that we’ll run into each other again.”

“Are you sure that you can trust me with these plans of yours,” she opened herself up to him and stood, looming over Crane in his seat,” these plans that also include me?” She rested her knee on the edge of his seat between his legs, straddling his thigh. Crane looked up at her calmly, unmoved by the position of her knee against his crotch or the heat of her cunt hovering above his thigh. Crane watched her for a moment, letting a heavy silence fall between them before inhaling and shifting his torso closer as if he were going to whisper something to her.

“Like I told Ra’s,” he started quietly, his eyes dark and harsh at the candlelight table. His hand squeezed the bottom of her thigh above her knee, she gasped quietly, “I’ll make sure that I can trust you…” his hand snaked up the inside of her thigh beneath her dress. He pulled the edge of her stocking away from her thigh and let it snap painfully back against her skin. “Won’t I?” He asked darkly as his forehead creased slightly. She gasped again as his hand found her underwear and stroked her clothed cunt. “Won’t. I?” He sneered and she remembered to nod. “Answer me,” he snapped and brushed his fingers past the crotch of her underwear, spreading the wetness between her legs with the pads of his fingertips.

“Yes,” she hissed breathlessly, closing her eyes as he rubbed her cunt, creating a dangerous friction.

“You’re pissing me off, detective.” He growled and roughly began to finger her, shoving two fingers harshly inside. She yelped and looked down at Crane, his eyes flashed.

“Why, Dr. Crane?” She wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck, her thumb sitting right below his adam's apple. She smiled when his other hand gripped her thigh harder. She moved her hips on his fingers and he watched with interest as she dripped around his fingers. “How can I fix it for you?” She purred against his cheek, moaning softly as he fingered her and teased her clit with his thumb. She began to pant and instinctively moved her thighs together as the pleasure became too much. She squeezed around his fingers and her hands tightened around his throat, about to cum.

“Behave,” he whispered seriously and removed his fingers before she could finish. She groaned in frustration and held his face between her hands.

“You’re such a tease, Jonathan.” She scolded him and he smiled.

“And you’re a horny little slut.” He whispered close to her lips and she shook her head, smiling giddily.

“I’m just a horny little slut for you.” She ran her tongue across his lips, dragging it up to his nose. She let go of his face and plopped back into her chair, crossing her legs pointedly. Crane rolled his eyes and raised his fingers to his mouth. He sucked her juices from his hand as she watched and then finished his drink, ignoring her when she whined with lust.

“You’re like a dog,” he rested his elbow on the table, “you think you’ll get what you want if you whine enough.” He delivered the sentence with a knowing look and returned to his food. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much that turned her on. She huffed and tucked her hair behind her ear and finished her martini hungrily. She finally had a moment to glance around the room and when she did, she saw a beautiful fire burning in a stone fireplace.

“That’s beautiful,” she gestured to the fireplace carved with cherubs. Crane looked and nodded.

“I think so too. We haven’t had fires in the fireplace since I was a child. You may have noticed that part of the house was destroyed.”

She nodded.

“That’s because the house almost burned down when I was…” he frowned as he thought, “five or six?” He shrugged and sighed, looking into the blazing fire. “My father never let us use the fireplaces after that. It made for cold winters,” He flicked his eyes up to hers and she shivered.

“I can imagine,” she thought back to her childhood in the orphanage, freezing at night during any season that wasn’t summer.

“The house will be a lot warmer now,” he said casually and allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips.

“What happened to ‘behaving ourselves’?” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow in fake disapproval. Crane chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he lied and they went back to eating when Hobbs entered with dessert.

iii

It was nearly 2am when they finally climbed the grand staircase to return to their rooms. There was a large common room that separated the two wings of the house on the second floor. The wing to their right was burned and stood empty.

“Where’s your room?” She furrowed her brow as they walked down the hallway, passing the laundry chute. Crane pointed to a room at the mouth of the hallway, near the top of the stairs. Her’s was at the opposite end of the hallway. She smiled and spun around, facing her side of the hallway. She let him watch her walk away, moving her hips as loosely as she could manage. When she opened her door, she turned slightly and gave him a closed-mouth smile, her eyes teasing him. He crossed his arms and leaned against his door, his expression unreadable. She closed her door and did a few extra happy-spins for good measure. She kicked off her shoes and explored the bathroom, finding herself in a mood for a bath after not showering the night before. She turned on the bath’s faucet and filled the large tub with hot water. As she undressed, she spotted a row of cosmetics set out for her use, and included in the assortment was the shampoo that she used at home. A small part of her found it scary that Crane had obviously gone through her home to find the things she liked but more than that, she felt honored that he had planned his backup plan with her in mind. He’d asked the housekeepers to prepare her a room and stock it with clothes and shampoo, all just in case she came with him. He’d imagined her coming with him, and that nearly made her cry. She slipped into the hot water and scrubbed every inch of her body, trying to remove all of the sweat, dirt, and debris that had stuck to her skin over the past 24 hours. She washed her hair with the mint shampoo as Crane had guessed she used correctly before. The suds ran down her hair and between her shoulder blades as her hands worked the shampoo into her head. She ducked her head beneath the water and watched as her hair floated out around her head. When she came up for air, her hair stuck to her back and she sighed pleasantly.

The bathroom was cold when she left the security of the hot water so she quickly wrapped herself in a thick towel and brushed her hair. She rubbed lotion into her dry skin and toweled off her hair. The housekeepers had given her numerous sets of pajamas in different styles. She guessed Crane had decided against going through her underwear drawer, what a gentleman. She liked soft lounge pants and t-shirts so she changed into the dark blue set they had provided for her and unmade her bed. The wide windows on the side wall looked out on the field and she could just barely see the outline of the scarecrow. The house itself had a strange and suffocating feel. She wondered what Crane may have endured here, what secrets he hid inside himself.

She bit the inside of her cheek and found the gun that she’d brought with her from Gotham. She hid the gun behind the headboard of her bed and sat with her knees pressed up to her chest on the mattress. She wrapped her arms around her legs and shivered, goosebumps rose on her legs and she rocked back and forth, resting her head on her knee like a child. Should she feel guilty for betraying her precinct? Should she worry about Sgt. Gordon and Gotham itself? What had Gotham given her? How had it protected her? She felt torn between a route of righteousness and one of passion. Crane offered her a path to her own future set outside the laws of society where she could create her own identity. She didn’t want to be the good girl cop anymore, she wanted to be everything else and she wanted Crane.

Crane was testing her. He wanted to see how badly she actually wanted him, how much she would fight to be with him. He needed her to be obsessed, foaming at the mouth at the thought of him. Maybe he was psychotic, sure (he was). His father certainly was and it usually runs in families. Crane’s manic obsession was her and he needed her, but before he could trust her, he had to be sure that she was totally and completely loyal to him. He knew she had her gun and he assumed she’d suffered more internal dialogue since escaping Gotham (he was a psychiatrist, so of course he knew these things). If he pushed her away would she cling to him more or feel the need to betray him? He had to admit that this test was grueling for him too. He didn’t think that he was capable of love or real attraction, he was a psychopath, literally. He’d studied himself as much as he had the subjects in his textbooks in school and he checked all the boxes but this- this- was a new development that he didn’t quite understand. It almost made him angry when he thought of the power she could wield over him if he got too close. She’d spoken so much of trust and he wanted to trust her. He did. But he’d trusted Ra’s, he’d trusted his father and at one point in his life he’d trusted Sgt. Gordon. Those relationships had not ended well. Then this prissy young detective comes along and confronts him with feelings he didn’t think he could have. That was why she was the subject of his fear toxin reaction. She’d found a way to matter to him and losing her had already become his worst fear. He wanted… oh god there were so many things that he wanted from her. He hoped that it wouldn’t take much longer because he was starting to lose patience.

She stared at the ceiling above her bed and tried to touch herself. She didn’t have her vibrator and Crane had made a point of pushing her away, so she was left to rough it out with her hands. She hadn’t been stuck with just her bare hands since college. Her vibrator had obviously spoiled her and she felt nowhere near as much pleasure without it, though Crane had come extremely close the night before. She dug her heels into the mattress and bit her lip, concentrating as hard as she could on Crane. She remembered the way he spoke to her as he fucked her, how calm and direct he’d been with her body. They both had needs and desires and he hadn’t let insecurities or formalities stand in the way. Her body was craving a release that she’d teased it with twice already that day and she couldn’t fall asleep without trying to appease it. After ten minutes of heavy breathing and a sore arm she collapsed in frustration across her bed. She desperately wanted him and nothing was going to cut it unless it was him inside her. Something- anything. She groaned into her hands and kicked the blankets off of her.

The door handle creaked and Crane shifted in his half-sleep haze. The bed moved around him and he was startled awake by the girl, straddling his hips. He kept a smile from his lips as he looked up at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” He got out before her hand clamped around his mouth. She shushed him.

“Listen here, Crane. Since we have an understanding,” she used his word for their relationship, “I’ll tell it to you straight. I want you. I need you. I have very few needs because I’m a simple girl, but right now, you’re one of them. I’ll ask you nicely and if you humor me, I won’t cause trouble.”

“Trouble?” His voice was muffled against her hand as he raised his eyebrow.

“I have a whole round of trouble tucked away behind my headboard.”

“Nice threat. So, you what? Want to rape me?” He propped himself up on his elbows.

She hooked her finger around the collar of his black t-shirt and sighed.

“You have such a dirty mind. Why do you have to make it sound so perverted?” She held his chin tightly in her hand and dragged her other hand down his chest stopping at the waistband of his pants.

“That’s what it is, detective.” He cocked his head to the side and rested it on his shoulder. “Are you really going to do that to me?”

“Says the man that strapped me to a slab and drugged me three times,” she held up three fingers to stress her point and shifted her hips on his crotch.

“We both have problems, what do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll fuck me,” she started to grind her hips and he withheld his sinful exhale.

“Oh?” He said instead, “what if I’m too tired? Fucking is hard work.”

“Then let me do it,” she shrugged with a smile, “I’ll make us both feel good.” Crane raised a skeptical eyebrow and smirked.

“You really didn’t get enough at dinner did you?” He teased and she shook her head.

“You have no idea.”

He watched her rub herself against him and then slowly allowed his eyes to meet hers. She moaned just looking into his eyes and he laughed.

“Ok, let’s see how you do.” He allowed her casually and watched as she bounced happily on his lap and scooted down to his knees. She pulled down the blanket and worked her hands below his waistband. He was already hard and she scoffed, pissed that he hadn’t admitted how turned on he was too. He smirked as she pulled his cock out of his pants and rolled her tongue around the tip. When she took him in her mouth he sighed softly, his mouth open as he watched her give him head. She swirled her tongue around his length and she bobbed her head up and down. She sucked and dragged her mouth slowly over him until he bucked softly into her mouth. She felt her stomach get hot with excitement and she worked harder, humming against him as she took him deeper. Crane clenched his fists and groaned. She pulled her mouth to the top of his cock and sucked hard, teasing his climax which she could tell was fast approaching. His forehead was creased and he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his head to fall back with a low gasp.

“Fuck alright, that’s enough,” He sat up again and smirked, “get what you want out of me.” He panted and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She licked her lips and crawled off the bed. Crane watched her as she stepped out of her bottoms and straddled him once more, naked from the waist down. His erection rested against her stomach and he swallowed, staring at her bare cunt.

“I hope you like what you see,” she whispered and removed her top. Her breasts shifted slightly against her skin as she moved and her hair fell around her in a sultry mess. “Because it all belongs to you now,” she pressed her hands against his stomach for balance and leaned closer. “But this,” she looked him up and down, landing on his beautiful eyes and smiling, “this belongs to me.”

“Silly girl,” he barely shook his head as his eyes trained on her, “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“We’ll see about that,” she shrugged and bit her lip as she lowered herself onto his cock. She whined in relief and moved her hips slowly. She was so wet he could her himself move inside of her as she fucked him. Crane’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he released a tight breath.

“Fuuuuck…” he hissed and she squeezed around him, nearly orgasming just by hearing the pleasure in his voice. She panted breathlessly as she started to move up and down, her hands balanced on his navel where there was a thin dusting of hair. He thrusted up involuntarily and they both moaned. She sped up slightly, moving her hips back and forth. Crane’s hands found the fleshy handles of her hips and dug his fingers into her skin. He had laid back completely making it so that he had to raise his head when he wanted to watch how she snapped down on him. She let her head fall back and moaned loudly as his cock hit the right place each time. The pleasure was so good between her legs that her release felt like the desire to pee. When her climax snapped, her eyes rolled back and she gasped, riding it out and enjoying the pressure of him inside her as it carried her through the high. Her climax triggered his as he felt her cum around her.

“You’re going to cum inside me,” she panted and whimpered through the sensations.

“Is that an order?” He gritted out, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips. He was trying to hold off his orgasm but as she nodded and squeezed him again, he let himself cum inside her with a loud groan. She sat for a second longer as he finished and finally moved off. She cleaned him off, sucking his swollen cock and swallowing all of the excess cum and discharge that had collected along his length. He covered his face with his hands as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you going to leave it in?” He asked in a deep, tired voice.

“Your cum?”

“Yes, are you going to leave it in you?” He removed his hands and watched as she crawled up the bed to sit beside him.

“Do you want me to?” She let her hair fall around them and he twirled the end of one of the pieces.

He thought for a moment before nodding his head, “yes.” She curled up beside him and draped her leg between his. He exhaled slowly and wrapped his arm around the back of her head, resting his hand on her shoulder. She rubbed her nose against his chest, breathing in the clean smell of his t-shirt. Crane closed his eyes and waited as her breathing became more regular and slow. She started to fall asleep, her hand clasped against his ribs. When she was asleep, he propped himself up on one arm and watched her. Words couldn’t describe how good that was, what she did for him. It was better than their first time when the roles had been reversed. He liked that she could touch him and explore him with a needily innocence like a horny teenager. Crane thought about his cum still sitting inside her, collecting around her inner-thighs. He kissed her as she slept deeply, licking the salty taste from her lips and swallowing. She made a noise in her sleep and he drew his hand around her perfect breast, admiring her body in the dull glow of the moon. Gotham would be no match for them once they were united. No one could stop them, not even themselves. Once they started they could never stop, they had to take everything from each other. His head fell back into his pillow and he kissed the curve of her throat before allowing himself to fall asleep beside her. He’d never slept with a woman after sex. She was the first.

They woke up late in the morning and dressed warmly, both wearing sweaters and long pants. Crane had traded in his suit for more casual wear though his attire was always oozing with old money aesthetic. After a breakfast of eggs benedict and black coffee, Crane asked if she wanted to see the house.

“Of course,” she smiled and nodded excitedly. There were some questions she still had for Crane and she had her own list of theories and thoughts that the house inspired inside her. She worried what the house would reveal and more importantly, what it may say about Crane. She wondered if he had lived a childhood similar to hers, one of trauma and violence, even if he had lived in a huge mansion with every monetary item he could ever desire.

They started outside the house, walking the grounds. The exterior of the house was set in elaborate stone carvings. The roofs were made of dark terracotta, framing widow peaks at the top of many of the towers. Crane watched her reaction as they rounded to the side of the house with the destroyed wing, still black from the burning. She could even still smell the charcoal made from the house’s old paneling.

“Your father never rebuilt it?” She asked, curious. Crane studied the crumbling structure and shook his head.

“No, he died before making plans for a renovation.” She looked at him quickly and met his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“But you understand.”

She nodded slowly, “I was an orphan, I never knew my parents.”

“So was I.” He clenched his jaw and looked down at the ground.

“Your mother?” She asked hesitantly.

“She died, here, in this wing.” He pointed to the second floor of the burned wing. “That was her room.”

“You were young then too,” she remembered and he nodded. “Do you remember your mother?”

“Some things but nothing that brings me much comfort. I remember how she died and I remember how my father mourned her.”

“So she died in the fire?”

“Yes,” he nodded and folded his arms across his chest, “she was trapped inside after the fire started. They weren’t able to save her. My father was never the same after that.”

“When did your father die?”

“Before I went to college…” he trailed off and they stood in silence for a moment. “He was a chemist, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know. Did he teach you?”

Crane chuckled darkly, “I guess you could say that. He used me for his experiments.” He scowled. What he had said back in Arkham came back to her mind and she risked asking more.

“Jonathan?” She started.

“Yes?” He asked, his voice hard and protective like a layer of ice.

“What did he do to you?”

Crane swallowed and turned away from the house, forcing her to hurry behind him to keep up. His hair was tousled by the wind as he walked through the icy field. As the slope curved downwards, he finally started to speak.

“He was the one who first came up with the idea for the fear serum. After my mother’s death he became obsessed with it and started to test it on himself like a lunatic. It messed with his head and made him relive my mother’s death over and over again until he finally had to stop and find a new subject. His new subject became me.” He darted his eyes angrily around the ground as he spoke, spit flying from his lips. “He would give me the toxin and at the time, it was 10x more dangerous. He used me to gauge the body’s reactions to fear and kept track of what the brain imagined during that state of panic. He wanted to create a cure for fear, a way to remove the body’s reaction to it. At some point he made a breakthrough in the case using people he’d kidnapped and found a way to remove a person’s ability to be afraid. He used it on himself and after that, his natural instincts became mute. When I was sixteen he brought me here,” he stopped suddenly and she looked as he gestured at the scarecrow hanging from its perch, “and he administered the drug one last time.”

“What happened?” She whispered, her blood going cold.

“I overdosed on the serum and hallucinated that the scarecrow was alive but the fear I felt was multiplied from the large dose of toxin. Your old boss, Sgt Gordon, found us out here having come to arrest my father for kidnapping and murder. Because my father no longer feared anything, he charged Gordon and Gordon shot him. He died where we’re standing… and I watched it. I watched it all happen.” He stared at the scarecrow, his face set. He didn’t show any emotion as he recounted his father’s death, his own trauma.

“What did Gordon do?” She stepped closer but left him a small circle of space, a safety net.

“He took me to the hospital and once I recovered, they brought me back here.”

“You were so young,” she whispered sadly, wanting to cry for him.

“So were you, weren’t you, when you were left at the doors of Gotham’s orphanage?” She nodded.

“I was a baby.” She hugged herself and stared down at the ground beneath them.

“That’s why I think we’re so similar. We raised ourselves- you and I.” He smirked, “it would explain our similar psychology.”

“The fact that we’re both deeply disturbed? Sure, I’ll give you that,” she laughed lightly, her nose burned in the cold air.

“Mm… deeply disturbed,” Crane sounded out the words with a soft hiss.

“Psychotic?” She offered.

“Psychopathic.”

“Deranged.”

“That’s not a medical diagnosis I’m familiar with,” he looked down at her, taking in the profile of her ruddy cheeks blistering in the wind.

‘But not far off is it?” She smiled and looped her fingers in the front of his sweater, her hands brushing the hard muscle beneath.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to conduct more thorough examinations.. I’d kill to have a look inside your head.” His fingers traced her hairline and pulled gently on her hair.

“I have a few ideas for other places you could examine,” she teased and he smirked, coming back from his temporary emotional lag.

“Intriguing offer, detective.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” she returned his smirk and pulled him away from the scarecrow. He followed her. “Why did you choose the scarecrow as your alias?” she brought the conversation back and his forehead creased again as he thought.

“I was forced to face my fear and after I returned here with just Hobbs and his wife to keep me company. I decided to take back the power that the scarecrow took away from me that day. Embracing my fear made me stronger, more powerful,” He answered seriously and she nodded.

“Why did you improve your father’s fear toxin if you knew what it was capable of?” She asked quietly, watching for his reaction.

“I made it because I knew what it was capable of. People like us have suffered, we’ve been wronged, we’ve been abandoned and ignored. There are people in this world who have the privilege of never being afraid because they have nothing to fear. I made it originally to use on the city’s elite, the people who think they’re better than me because they think they’re wealthier than I am, smarter than I am. Ra’s distracted me from my plan and I know now that I was right from the very beginning, Batman and his like need to be dethroned. We can be the ones to do it.”

She looked into his eyes and kissed him, drawing his face down to hers by the rough collar of his sweater. His lips were dry from the wind. When she pulled away he held her face between his hands and looked at her seriously, his nostrils flared.

“Do you still trust me after everything I just told you? Do you still want to be with me?” He asked her calmly, a dark glint in his eye. She dropped her head to the side and he caught it easily in his palm.

“Yes, yes.” She nodded.

They walked in silence, their hands brushing against each other and their hair blowing in the short gusts of wind.

“There’s still something you should know,” Crane began as they crossed through the door into the grand entry hall.

“Like how you learned to ride a horse?” She joked but Crane didn’t smile. His face was hard again as it had been before. Her smile faded slowly and she felt her heart shutter and drop. “What?” She whispered and Crane left without another word, so she followed him hesitantly. He led her down into the basement, taking a stone staircase hidden behind a wall panel that also served as a door. Their steps echoed in the small space, electric sconces burned along the creepy passage. Finally Crane stopped at the door at the bottom of the stairs. The door was made of solid steel and Crane had to enter a passcode to open it.

“Through here,” he guided her through the door and closed it behind them. The room was large and cave-like, lined with bookshelves and lab equipment. She gave an appreciative gasp, taking in the room that served as Crane’s office and private lab. “This was my father’s lab and when he died, it became mine.” He walked around to his desk and rummaged through one of the bottom drawers, removing a few small folders and placing them on his desk. He rested his knuckles on the cherry wood surface and sighed, finally meeting her eyes since they got back to the house.

“Back to our topic of trust, I should tell you that I did a little snooping, if you will, into your past when we first started crossing paths. I wanted to know who I was dealing with, which is why I did this and now that we’ve ended up here together, I feel that it’s only right,” the word tasted bitter on his tongue, “to show you what I found. I’ve always told you that we’re alike, that we understand each other but I’ve never explained why. This is why I know we’re alike, Y/N.” He opened the front flap of each folder and pushed them down to the front of the desk. “You should know what happened to you as a child, the things they never told you at the orphanage.” He waited as she swallowed and looked between the papers and Crane.

“What do you mean?” She whispered, “the things that happened to me?”

“How the Wayne family ruined both of our lives.” His voice was slow and dark like syrup and it took her a few seconds to process what he was saying, what he was implying. She looked down at the folders again and took a step closer. When she reached his desk, she scanned the documents with blurred vision. “What… what do they say?” She rubbed her eyes and stepped away. Crane took the first folder, his jaw clenched.

“Y/L/N, Y/N was born into the Arkham family, the founders of Arkham Asylum. Her parents were known to have had numerous disagreements with the Wayne family over the inappropriate use of the criminal justice system by moving people whom the Waynes didn’t like into the asylum. The Arkhams did not believe that the Waynes should have had the right to imprison their political enemies and opponents and tried to inform the public. The message to the press and other government officials was intercepted by the Wayne administration and destroyed, though one draft of the letter was salvaged from the Arkham’s trash and archived in the police station, it was never investigated. The Arkhams, both in their early 30s, were found dead a week later in their home. With no other living relatives, the baby, named Matilda Y/N Arkham by her parents, was discreetly handed over to Gotham orphanage by people closely connected to Wayne following the murder.” He paused, his eyes flicking up. She had gone white and her hand was clamped around one of the shelves on a nearby bookshelf. She looked up at him when he stopped and tried to speak but nothing came. He still waited, giving her time to speak but when she didn’t, he continued.

“My private investigator found this from government records, including records still housed in Gotham orphanage. They knew this whole time and never informed you even after you became a legal adult. They never investigated your parents’ death and Thomas Wayne, the father of Gotham’s famous playboy, Bryce Wayne, never paid for his actions. He continued to imprison his enemies and without your parents there to run the asylum, it fell into its current state. Nothing I could have done with Arkham would have ever salvaged it after what Wayne’s administration did. So, you see now why I said that we were alike in so many ways. The Wayne’s have too much power even now and someone needs to do something about it.” Crane sighed and walked back to the front of his desk and leaned against it, his eyes lowered to the ground. She inhaled deeply.

“You said something about Wayne ruining both of our lives. What did he do to you?” She asked him, her face red from stress and emotion.

“He killed my mother,” he answered evenly and they met each others’ eyes. Her questioning eyes prompted Crane to explain. “He visited my mother whom he’d been seeing for a few months. She wanted to end things because she had me and I was getting older, and her marriage was starting to improve; she no longer wanted to be his mistress. He got angry and locked her inside her bedroom and then he lit a fire, right outside her room. He left before anyone realized what had happened. They found the key in her bedroom door, still inside the lock, locking the door from the outside. They knew that something had happened and the people in the police department knew the rumors, the secret love affair between Mrs. Crane and Mr. Wayne. There was a whole case but the police commissioner closed it and it was never solved. My father was a good man before that day, my mother’s murder drove him insane. For years it led him to do things that he shouldn’t have done. Wayne had a hand in my fate too, setting up my parents’ demise. I would have ended up alongside you at Gotham’s orphanage if Hobbs and his wife didn’t agree to look after me for those last two years before I was old enough to be my own guardian. Thomas Wayne died when I was eleven and yet, he still managed to kill my father from the grave. So, we’re connected by a chain of discord welded together by the Wayne family.”

“Yes…” he whispered and sank down into a dusty armchair. “So my real name is Matilda Arkham?”

“Technically speaking, yes.”

“And so that means Arkham Asylum also belongs to me?”

Crane smiled with his wide lips closed, “technically.”

Realization clicked in and she couldn’t help but laugh. She covered her mouth with her palms and laughed hysterically. Crane smiled down at his feet and scratched the side of his face. Though she suddenly realized that her entire life had been a lie, she laughed because now, everything made sense. And by some disturbed twist of fate, she and Crane had been bound to be together all because of Thomas Wayne. She pulled herself from the chair and looked at the family picture included in one of the folders. Crane leaned over her shoulder, breathing calmly against her neck. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she studied the picture. Lying in the arms of a woman with strawberry blonde hair, was her. Her father held her foot in between his fingers, smiling down at her with brown eyes. She’d seen their portrait in passing in the asylum and yet she’d never placed why they managed to look so… familiar. They’d been celebrated psychiatrists in their time. She looked at Crane, still leaning against the desk beside her, his blue eyes were trained on her face. So that’s why she had a thing for psychiatrists, she realized.

“Are you ready to hear my plan now,” he asked her with a smirk, “... Miss Arkham?”

#cillian murphy #cillian fanfic #smut #fanfiction #cillian x fem!reader #young cillian murphy #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #batman begins #dc scarecrow #hot scarecrow #lady arkham #dc comics #dr crane

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ramons-elevator · 2 years ago

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I just wanna take the time to list the fucking bugs on the QSMP because they range from mildly inconvenient to this has changed history forever and they are the weirdest fucking bugs

Broken hearts: this is the bug of when people log in, it shows half of their hearts just being blacked out and it take someone smacking you to get them back. Its very funny when an egg or someone randomly goes "hey hit me". Honorary mention is when someone gets withered and the withered hearts stay. Very angsty I love.

Broken voice: this is many things, but mainly when someone has to deafen and undeafen when someone relogs. It was a big problem in early days because people didnt know and it was annoying, but now its just common knowledge.

Sweeping edge: Me and my homies hate this bug. Basically it was a line of code in one of the mods that got bugged and instead of sweeping edge dealing 0.5 of the damage of a hit, it would deal 5 time more. For example, when Etoiles and Bad were testing it out, Pomme hit Bad with a weapon and it killed Etoiles who was next to Bad. This is more than likely the cause of deaths for Tilin and Juanaflippa. Im glad it got fixed, but it still installs fear into OG islanders to this day.

Dorime bug: The funniest and stupidest bug of all. Dorime randomly playing out of nowhere and the only way to get it to stop is to turn musicbox noises on and off. It happens enough that people usually have their musicbox noises turned off at all times

Sound bug: Sounds be loud. Even from hundreds of blocks away. This is elevator sounds, monster/demon sounds, camera sounds, etc. Its normal at this point, but it sometimes freaks people out and think admins are fucking with them.

Dapper's flying hammer bug: A recent bug, but when Dapper and someone fight and Dapper hits them with their hammer, they start flying indefinitely or until they relog. The first time this happened was fucking insane because it was Dapper and Ramon doing their usual fighting and then Ramon started flying away. Fit, Bad, and Dapper all had no idea what to do and were all freaking out/crying laughing.

Ramon's duping bug: A bug that's been fixed, but Ramon figured out that if you sling shot something in a certain way (I think it was in the Copacabana ocean?) it would dupe a whole stack of whatever was shot. This also lead to Ramon and Fit figuring out that if you sling shot a waystone, it fucking crashes the server. Which led to a day where everyone was using that so they can keep doing Lucky Ducks.

Death bug: This is when someone has the visual of "0.0/100.0 Time left 00:00:00" stuck on their screen. Usually leads to someone BEGGING someone to let them kill them. Pretty funny and dumb.

Eggs being tall: Aka eggs models not loading for people. It usually makes people try to roleplay their way out and being scared of tall eggs. I.E. "Tall Richas isnt real" or Cellbit screaming in horror in purgatory when the lil eye guy model wasnt loading and saying the castle is haunted.

Teleport bug: Not very common, but some times if someone is trying to use their warpstone, they particles start to fly around them and they dont stop until the person lets go of the warpstone. This can make a wall of purple particles around someone.

Egg names: This is a very early "bug". In the beginning, in order for the parents to name their egg, they had to right click their eggs and name them. This made people accidentally name their eggs stuff like "eee" or "Wwww". Also other parents naming other eggs other names (Mariana named Leo "shit" and Foolish named Juana "Marianaisabitchjr"). On the first day, for some reason, everyone was named "TILIN" for like 5 minutes. This 'bug' also got the iconic clip of Phil right clicking on the OG code and he got a chance to name it and it freaked him out.

Im pretty sure there's a lot more, but I love how insanely modded server has the weirdest bugs known to man. Feel free to add any you remember.

#qsmp #qsmp eggs

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the-penguin-of-baskervilles · 2 years ago

Note

Hello Alice! Lloyd and princess have been living in my head rent free lately 😍 and it’s got me thinking (please no pressure ever to answer any of my silly little asks!) what do you think princess would do/how would she feel after all this time apart and after everything that’s been going on if she thought Lloyd had sleep with someone else during this time apart?

Thank you for sharing your stories with us! I’m so excited for what’s next to come with these two❤️

Author’s Note: @drabblewithfrannybarnes 🥰

Thank you so much for this lovely ask! I wish I was a faster writer, but alas… that will never be my lot in life. 😭 Instead of doing Kinktober, I’ve been working on improving my short story skills this month, which led to me revising this several times. And by revising I actually mean starting from scratch three times in a row.

I’d challenged myself to keep trying until I had gotten it just right, so it was very satisfying to look at this draft and realize I was finally happy with it. Thank you so much for motivating me to write this, please enjoy! 💙🩵🤍

If He Wanted To, He Would…

“Hey Princess? Can you fix my phone?”

You were stirring honey into your tea, watching the clump slowly dissolve, when Lloyd made his request. He stood by the door wearing athletic shorts and a blue quarter zip, frowning at his phone.

“I thought you were going on a run.”

Lloyd grunted, tapping the screen. The line between his eyebrows appeared.

If this phone issue prevented him from going on his run you were going to lose your mind. Thanks to the stalker situation, your alone time was extremely limited. Only when Lloyd jogged the trail encircling the cabin were you allowed the luxury of complete solitude. He jogged three times a week and each excursion guaranteed you at least an hour of alone time. Without these breaks you’d go insane.

“Why don’t you take my phone instead?”

“My email isn’t synching. I’m trying to make sure the email I sent to Bishop went through.”

“I’ll fix it. Here, you can use my phone.”

Lloyd scowled at the offending device. “I didn’t even mess with it this time. Why is it doing this?”

You held out your phone. “Just take mine.”

“Do you think it’s the wifi?” Lloyd asked.

“You can borrow my AirPods, too,” you said.

“I never run with headphones in and neither should you.”

“That’s something you will never, ever, have to worry about.”

Lloyd smirked as he exchanged phones with you. “Right, I forgot who I was talking to. Good luck with that thing, I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

When he was gone you collapsed on the couch. Finally, the sanctity of solitude. You basked in the silence for a minute before turning your attention to repairing his phone. There were no issues in the app settings or the phone settings, so you tried restarting it. After clearing the cached data, you removed his account and added it again, without success. Then you updated the app and, much to your relief, the email finally synched.

You’d just finished the installation and locked his phone when it buzzed. A text appeared on his lock screen, visible in the preview window.

Don’t worry about Michael. He isn’t the jealous type.

You stared at the message, baffled, like a puppy encountering its reflection for the first time, perplexed by the inexplicable sight. Who was Michael? Perhaps some context would help. You opened the message app and scrolled back through his previous messages with the sender, April Ward.

Their first message was dated about two weeks ago, right after Lloyd had returned from Idaho.

Seeing you on Friday… I love you… don’t worry about Michael… he isn’t the jealous type…

April Ward was his ex-girlfriend. What had happened between them in Idaho?

You hadn’t questioned the limited contact you’d had with him at the time, but now it felt like a huge red flag. Your stomach twisted into knots.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Twenty-five minutes had passed. Lloyd would be home soon and you still didn’t know what you were going to say. Your thoughts were chaotic. You felt naive, foolish, and gullible.

You had believed he was grieving and settling his father’s affairs. You had assumed he was too busy to call you or that his phone was out of service range. You were such a sucker. Hurt and anger vied for dominance inside of you, but neither gained enough ground to claim victory. The emotions were deadlocked and trapped in the middle of them, all you felt was numb.

Distantly, you recognized that you were in shock. Of course you were in shock. It was a shocking development. This wasn’t the Lloyd you knew. He’d never let you down before. In spite of his rough edges, he was always honest with you, even when it came to difficult topics; especially when it came to difficult topics.

How had he become this person, someone capable of such an ugly betrayal? When had your best friend turned into your enemy?

You didn’t hear the creak of the door’s hinges, but at Lloyd’s voice, your head snapped up. Your lip curled into a snarl.

Lloyd stopped short. “Princess? What’s wrong?”

“Who’s April Ward?”

His nostrils flared as he inhaled through his nose.

“She’s a veterinarian who treated a sick calf for me a few weeks ago. Why?”

“Liar. April is your ex, I read your texts.”

“Princess, it’s not what you think-”

You hissed. “Stop! Stop lying to me! You cheated, didn’t you?! Just admit it!”

“I’m not lying!”

Without thinking, you flung the phone at him. Lloyd ducked and it hit the wall, then clattered to the floor.

“Calm down!” Lloyd barked.

“No! Tell me what happened!”

“It wasn’t on purpose-”

“You slept with her by accident?! Come on!”

“I didn’t cheat, Princess! Listen to me! I didn’t intend to see April. There was a sick calf, so I called the vet, who turned out to be my highschool girlfriend.”

“And then you slept with her.”

Lloyd snarled. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

Your chin lifted. “She cares about you.”

“We dated in highschool, okay? That’s all. For the record, the last time I slept with her, you weren’t even alive!”

“Are you insulting my age, or yours?”

Lloyd threw his hands up. “Neither. Forget I said that. Here’s what happened on Friday: I called for a vet and April showed up. She treated the calf, we had a drink in the kitchen and talked for a few hours. When we finished talking she went home.”

“What are you leaving out of this story?”

“Nothing!”

“Did you have sex in the kitchen?”

“There was no sexual contact, there was barely even physical contact!”

You zeroed in on his last point. “Ha! So you did something with her, didn’t you?!”

“There was a kitchen table between us for 90% of the evening. She reached across it and touched my hand while we were talking. Later, I hugged her goodbye. That was the extent of our physical contact.”

His delivery was fluid. The words were crisp and his tone of voice was even. That should have comforted you. Instead, it made you even more suspicious.

“Princess, I can only tell you this in so many ways: nothing happened. Believing it is up to you.”

“If nothing happened, then why didn’t you tell me that you’d seen her?”

“I don’t like talking about that period of my life… and… maybe because I didn’t know how to approach the subject.”

You stared at Lloyd, torn between doubt and trust.

He sighed. “I know it looks bad. If our roles were reversed, I’d react the same way, but I swear it was nothing more than old friends catching up.”

“Fine. I believe you.”

He looked relieved for a split second before you continued.

“But keeping this from me was a betrayal in itself.”

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were still curled up in the rocking chair on the porch when dusk faded into night. As a concession to the dropping temperature, you’d draped a blanket around your shoulders. The nights were getting colder as autumn approached.

If he wanted to, he would. If he wanted to, he could.

You’d always considered Lloyd to be honest, at least with you, before today. Now you wondered about the veracity of that assumption. As you examined your reasoning, the uncomfortable truth crystallized. Lloyd was capable of cheating on you. He was certainly sneaky enough. Keeping secrets and guarding his emotions were Lloyd’s greatest strengths. He was a master in the art of lying. Half-truths, omissions, fabrications, he could do it all and conventional ethics didn’t mean much to him. He lied as easily as other people breathed - those were the cold, hard facts.

Reality slapped you in the face, unraveling the sense of trust you’d previously had in Lloyd. In an abstract way, you’d always known he was ruthless, but now you appreciated how easily he could rip your heart out if he wanted to. Him wanting to wasn’t even a requirement, all it would take was a moment of carelessness.

You didn’t know what you were feeling more: hurt, anger, or fear. Each emotion claimed a part of your heart, splitting it into three equal pieces. The feelings swirled, a vortex of negative thoughts that sucked you into a whirlpool of despair. Your mood dropped as quickly as the temperatures. Soon, chilly air nipped at your nose and ears. You drew the blanket tighter in an effort to conserve warmth.

The door creaked and you heard Lloyd’s footsteps approaching, but you didn’t acknowledge him.

“It’s getting cold, Princess. You need to come inside.”

You ignored him.

“Princess…”

You burrowed into the blanket, silently declaring your intent to remain where you were.

Lloyd sighed. “I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Too late,” you muttered.

“I can’t change the past, but I can give you access to my phone if you want. Is that a reasonable compromise?”

You turned to him, frowning.

“The problem isn’t access, Lloyd. I have that already. The problem is that I don’t want to keep you on a leash, I just want to trust you. Think about it from my point of view - if I’m going to have a meltdown every time one of your exes shows up, I’m in for a bad time.”

“April is my only ex-girlfriend,” Lloyd said.

“So, we’re back to lying, are we? I’m trying to meet you halfway, but if you keep-”

“She is, damn it! I never wanted a relationship before. You know I’m telling the truth, Princess. You were my closest friend for the past three years. When was my last relationship?”

Abruptly, the weight of evidence tilted in his favor. Your thrumming pulse slowed to a steady beat. Lloyd moved closer.

“Come on, Princess, you’re freezing. Let’s go inside.”

You shook your head. “I want to believe you, but I know how easily you can bend the truth.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Lloyd countered. “I’ve already synced my messaging app to your personal laptop and shared my location with you. If you let me, I’ll prove that you can trust me.”

He extended his hand and you hesitated, but took it and let him pull you to your feet. You let him lead you inside to the sofa, where he laid a throw blanket over your legs.

“You haven’t said whether you’ll give me a second chance,” he said.

You twisted your hands in your lap.

“I know that I misinterpreted your messages to April. That said, I’m not letting you off the hook for withholding information that would’ve put them in context. The root of the issue is that if you decided to cheat on me, I probably wouldn’t notice. You’re sly enough to get away with almost anything, if you set your mind to it.”

“Alright, but let’s take another factor into consideration,” Lloyd said. “The pool of women who actually want to sleep with me after they realize I’m an asshole is smaller than you think.”

“Oh, please. Give me a break, women drool over your ass every day.”

“Before they talk to me. Now, if we consider the pool of men who want to sleep with you… it’s large to begin with and once they get to know you, they’re even more interested.”

You snorted. “Should I sync my messaging app to your laptop?”

“No need, I already know your passwords. Are we good?”

“We’re not bad. I wouldn’t go as far as calling us ‘good,’ though.”

Lloyd nuzzled your temple. “I was telling the truth about April being my only ex-girlfriend.”

“It’s hard to believe, but… it tracks. I know you’re not used to explaining yourself, but if this arrangement between us is going to work, you need to.”

He relaxed. “I can do that.”

You snuggled into his chest, basking in the warmth you found there. His broad palm stroked up and down your spine and within a few minutes you were nodding off.

“How many ex-boyfriends do you have?” Lloyd asked.

Your eyes flew open. “Um… why?

“I just want to know how worried I should be.”

“You don’t need to be worried.”

“That’s not an answer, Princess.”

You licked your lips. “How far back do you want to go? Kindergarten? Middle-school?”

Lloyd scowled. “Kindergarten? How many boys are we talking about here?”

“I…” you broke off. “Hold up, how did we get on this topic?”

“That’s not important,” Lloyd said. “How many boys have you dated?”

You sat up. “That isn’t what you asked me. You wanted to know how many ex-boyfriends I had, not how many boys I’ve dated. Those are two different topics.”

His lips compressed. “Fine, then. How many boys have you dated?”

“I guess about…ugh…” You covered your face, groaning. “Do we have to do this? Trust me, you’re better off not knowing. My dating history is cringe-worthy.”

“I want a number, Princess.”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. “I might need some scratch paper…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The End.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reblogs, likes, and comments are all appreciated and welcomed!

Masterlist

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autisticfoxgirl333 · 6 months ago

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*Uploading SMG4 OC*

Everyone, Hoshinzo.

She was created to be a good friend of the SMG4 crew (especially Meggy). She is also the foil/good counterpart of Mr. Puzzles.

Description of her is down below.

WARNING: MENTIONS OF NEGLECT, BODY HORROR, GORE, AND OBSESSION.

Hoshinzo has like an anime motif in sharp contrast to Mr. Puzzles' inkblot cartoon color, having a magical girl motif.

Hoshinzo's screen can cycle through different faces that appear on it, having some animesque faces, goofy faces, and weird looking faces.

She has a bit of obsession with anime and video games, a bit enough to collect every figurine, video game, manga, and comic in her house. She used to be scared of things going unexpected until the SMG4 crew managed to convince her to let it go and embrace her imperfection.

She may look like a robot thanks to the head, but she's actually a cyborg thanks to a near tragic accident.

She is a video game expert, thanks to playing games for ages.

Despite acting like a preteen, she is technically a young adult, though she is a well-meaning and mature person at heart and isn't as insane as Mr. Puzzles. She had also lost the ability to age.

When she was young, she barely had time to hang out with her parents due to them having to do work all the time and never having time to spend with her, making her feel neglected. She turned to video games, comics,manga, and anime as her comfort and her friends, which led to her slight obsession.

When she got older, she made the outfit she wears now with just old clothing and good materials that were still brand new.

One day, when she was ready to show off her new outfit to the whole world, she got into a near fatal accident that horribly damaged her body just before she noticed and escaped. She had to be quickly rushed to the hospital.

At the hospital, the accident had got her digestive tract exposed and a huge crack in her skull. Surprisingly, her heart, lungs, and brain have survived the accident. A group of doctors and scientists agreed that surgery can't save her life, so they had to replace most of her organs with mechanics and flexible limbs while making sure they keep the blood, veins, nerves,heart and lungs without damaging them. Her digestive tract had ended up being removed and given instead to other patients that needed saving, causing her to lose the ability to get hungry. They had changed her skin color to a black tar like color as part of her change for her cyborg update. Her abdomen had to be fixed with a flexible limb-like mechanical one so she could bend her body like a normal person. The scientists and doctors had also placed her brain in a metallic shell and put it in a robot head that is the same one she has today with the same robotic neck she has now. They had also fixed up their clothes before having out of pity of how hard she worked to make it. Essentially, after that cyborg change, any organic thing that remains of her were most of her undamaged body, her heart, veins, nerves, lungs, brain, and blood. They even installed an extension cord with a plug that is now connected to her spinal cord for when she needs to get energy to sleep and charge like a phone. They had also connected her hair with the robot head to make her look like her ordinary self a little.

When she woke up after the desperate transformation was complete, she looked horrified at first but decided to recover from it and continue her life now as a cyborg. (Though there are times she wished to be human again)

After she became a cyborg, she decided to leave her old home, packing her belongings, and find a new house to live by herself, teaching herself how to socialize, and learn the life of a cyborg.

She had always loved to meet Mario in real life. When she learned that Mario was real, she excitedly rushed to meet him. Things were a little....unexpected. However, she still sees SMG4 Mario as a friend.(Though she wished SMG4 Mario was like the normal Mario).

She has a tense relationship with Mr. Puzzles, especially all the things he had done to her friends, though she felt pity for him when she learned that they had something in common and wished to be his friend, even if they are enemies and is unnerved but his desire to perfection and insanity. Like Meggy, she wishes that Mr. Puzzles will reform after he got arrested.

Even though she can't eat anymore, she had taught herself how to cook, even if some can look random. She just does it to cook for her friends or for when they come by to her house.

Her name is a portmanteau of "Hoshi" and "shinzo," meaning star and heart.

She is taller than any of the SMG4 crew, though not as tall as Mr. Puzzles.

While not without her flaws, she is genuinely a kind, loyal, and smart friend and has a lot of sympathy to others who suffered.

If you ever visit her house, be ready that you will see a lot of pink with lots of video game and anime collectibles like it was decorated for a holiday. As well as thousands of comic books, mangas, and video games.

Although Hoshinzo has taught herself how to socialize, she is either have struggle witu it at times or can be awkward with it. She tried to make new friends but could get too nervous with it or cam get into clumsy embarrassing moments. Because of that, her only friends are the SMG4 crew. (For Now)

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sylphidine · 6 months ago

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My giftfic for this year's @rotgsecretsanta

Prompt 51 [Pitch/Pitchiner] NDU verse (masquerade, dancing]

“I’m done. Done. DONE.” Pitchiner matched deed to word and slammed the cover closed, then shoved his textbook off the bed. The effect was muffled by the book falling onto the rug, rather than clattering on a hard surface.

Pitch looked up from his own studying, seated at the desk in the corner of Pitchiner’s bedroom. He half-turned the swivel chair so that he could look the athlete in the eye and raise one slim eyebrow at him. “A bit hammy, even for you, don’t you think? And I thought I was supposed to be the melodramatic one here.”

“I can’t soak up another word of this, I swear.”

“Then don’t. You’re the one that always tells me not to overwork, and to take breaks.”

Pitchiner hoisted himself up and crossed the room, taking Pitch’s face in his hands and enjoying how a flush sprang up in the other man’s pale cheeks, just from that little touch. “I’ve seen what happens when YOU overwork, babe. I’d like to keep you out of the hospital.”

“Likewise, you oaf.” Pitch’s tone was sharp, but he couldn’t stop his lips from curving into a tiny smile. He pulled Pitchiner’s hands away from his jawline. “I’m in a generous mood, so I’ll suffer through a few more episodes of that execrable romance show you were watching last night, if that will distract you.”

“Really?” Pitchiner sounded like an eight-year-old who’d just be promised a trip to an amusement park. “You’re the best. And listening to you ripping apart ‘historical accuracy’ is half the fun for me.”

“Pleased to be of service.” Pitch led the way to the living room and sat in his usual spot on the couch, while Pitchiner fixed the settings on their digital TV and cued up the next instalment of the Regency-era dramedy.

Midway through the second hour, Pitch’s sarcastic commentary became noticeably sparser. He leaned forward and almost seemed to be committing certain scenes to memory.

“Does genius burn?” quipped Pitchiner.

“Maybe,” murmured Pitch in an absentminded way. “I know I could write circles around these people, but I’m intrigued in spite of myself. Every week there’s a ball or dinner dance, and somehow it’s treated as a novelty each and every time. Were the upper classes that dim, or were they just that bored?”

“I wouldn’t know, dear, not being an upper crust type. That’s more your department.”

“You have a point. Although Mother’s the one with aristocratic blood, not Father. Those two would never have been allowed in the same room, let alone at the same ball. Father would have been denounced as ‘being in trade’, and escorted off the premises.”

“Only if it were at someone’s manor,” argued Pitchiner, warming to the topic. “There were assemblies and masquerades open to the public back then.”

“Really.” The single word came out of Pitch’s mouth in tones much less acidic than his usual delivery. Pitchiner grinned; not only was he himself less mentally constipated and refreshed enough to go back to studying, he could almost hear the wheels turning in Pitch’s head as he came up with a new idea to be written down.

Although, knowing Pitch, some fictional character was going to suffer horribly.

------------------------------

Once he could feel Pitchiner’s arms loosen around him as the larger man drifted off to sleep, Pitch slipped out of bed and opened up his laptop. He knew that neither the light from the screen, nor the tapping of the keys, would penetrate his bedmate’s slumber, and he needed to chase this idea. After all, he HAD boasted that he could write circles around the creators of the show, and he could not back down from that challenge now.

A few minutes on Google turned up what he needed to absorb for background, and his fingers began to fly over the keyboard.

-------------------------------

The thin man pulled the bulky hooded cloak more tightly around him and adjusted the plague doctor mask he wore. Scowling beneath its protective covering, he stared at the wooden sign suspended from thick chains to hang over the entrance to an exceedingly nondescript building. In extremely plain painted letters, the sign read “PUG’S RETREAT”.

No foaming tankard of ale. No poorly-executed coat-of-arms. No proprietor’s name or year of establishment. Nothing on the sign to indicate this was a tavern that was supposed to be hosting a public masquerade tonight. Or a private one, for that matter. And there were no windows, no lighted portals, meant to attract a crowd, showing a glimpse of merry-makers.

What kind of public house had no windows? This was a far cry from the thin man’s usual slumming spot, the Golden Lion on the Fulham Road.

The only clue that the thin man could register was a steady sound of voices mixed with laughter, with a background swell of music [fiddles? An accordion?], seeping out from behind the closed oaken door.

Should he knock? Or should he boldly turn the handle of the door and stride in as though he owned the place? He silently damned his usual drinking partner Sandy for telling him about this masquerade, and then forcing him to go alone by claiming a prior engagement. The way that Alexander, Lord Mansnoozie would waggle those golden eyebrows of his, combined with muted laughter that shook his round frame, could always make the thin man both enraged and curiously uncomfortable.

But the places where men who craved the… intimate… company of other men. places that WEREN’T down on the docks, and thereby safe for those on foot to avoid attack by cutpurses, were getting fewer and farther between.

The Honourable Pitch Black, born five minutes too late to claim the title of viscount that his elder brother Piki now gloried in, decided that he was going to have to take a chance tonight.

He opened the door and entered Pug’s Retreat.

----------------------

Pitch felt an unexpected twinge of embarrassment at using his own name and Piki’s in this manuscript. “It’s just a placeholder,” he muttered under his breath, as though there was someone reading over his shoulder.

Behind him, Pitchiner snored on. -------------------------

He’d been expecting something dark, shabby, and smoke-encrusted within, judging by the exterior. Pitch was quite pleased to find that he was wrong.

The taproom positively gleamed with fresh brass polish, and the smell of soap was in the air, as though walls and floors had just been scrubbed. The slight young fair-haired man behind the long wooden bar wore a clean apron over an oversized burlap tunic; he was using an immaculate cloth to dry a pint glass held in his delicate hand.

There were a few dedicated drinkers scattered at tables here and there, but the sounds of what Pitch had come for could be heard on the level above. The strains of music, the thumping of dancing feet. His confidence restored, he nodded to the barman and headed towards the staircase leading to the upper floors and what must be the inn’s assembly rooms.

The crowd that greeted him was a colorful one. A red-clad devil, horns, hooves and all, was dancing with what looked to be a Greek god in clinging robes and golden sandals. A Judge of a court of assizes circled the room arm in arm with a lamplighter. Other people were costumed as a Punch and a Judy, foreign merchants and chimney sweeps, sailors and sultans.

Women danced with women, men danced with men, and groups of conversationalists ringed the walls.

A refreshments table was set up against one wall, and Pitch started to make his way towards the punchbowl before belatedly realizing that his bird-beaked mask would not allow him to eat or drink.

He turned away, disappointed. He must have involuntarily made a disgruntled noise aloud, because an answering chuckle sounded behind him.

“A medical puzzle, Doctor?”

The voice was deep, rich, and smooth, amused but not mocking. Pitch turned back and looked up.

And up.

The speaker was gigantic; if he’d been a horse he would have been more than 20 hands tall. A domino mask did little to disguise a handsome dark-complected face, with strong jawlines , sharply jutting cheekbones, and a prominent nose that looked to have been broken on at least one occasion. His thick black hair was swept into a crest not unlike a bird of the fabled tropics off the coast of Africa. He wore a gorgeous coat of red and black with many buttons marching proudly down its front, sashed in at the waist before flaring out into a swirl of material at the back. The collar of the coat stood proudly upright, framing the wearer’s face in feathers.

The part of Pitch’s brain that devoted itself to fashion was both appreciative and envious.

This was the costume of a pirate. No ordinary pirate, either… a king among pirates.

Pitch said hastily in reply to the other’s query, “Nothing I can’t solve.”

“Good,” the giant said genially. “Well, since you can’t drink until we unmask at midnight, and I’d hate to be rude and drink in front of you, do you fancy a dance?”

“That is what I came here for, after all,” snapped Pitch reflexively, before softening his tone and adding, “Your lead, I presume?”

The other nodded, smiling, and held out a hand.

------------------------

“So I’m the handsome commoner who gets to dance with a lord, huh?”

Pitch made a strangled noise and nearly fell out of his chair. How Pitchiner managed to sneak up on him EVERY TIME, as silent as a jungle cat stalking prey, was always as frustrating as it was startling.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to read over people’s shoulders?” he hissed, more for show than any other reason.

“Yup,” Pitchiner replied with a huge shit-eating grin. “And my grandmother, and my great-aunt. Never stopped me, though.”

He scooped Pitch up off the chair and into his arms in a bridal carry. “You can read it out loud to me tomorrow, but right now it’s time for nighty-night. Good little romance writers need their shuteye.”

“I’m NOT–” Pitch started to squawk, and then thought it better to bow to the inevitable. He WAS getting tired, and he could refine future scenes when he was better rested.

He was sure Piki had never thought of writing in the Regency period. If just once he could beat his brother to the punch…

Pitch yawned and let Pitchiner lower him to the bed before pulling the covers back over them both.

His mind’s eye was full of dancing visions in sable and scarlet as he dropped off to sleep.

#rotgsecretsanta #rotgsecretsanta2024 #nightmare dork university #ndu pitchiner #ndu pitch #regency romance #bridgerton

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tarisilmarwen · 3 months ago

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@badthingshappenbingo

Title: “Locked Inside My Head, No One Can Hear Me Scream"

Prompt: And I Must Scream

Fandom: Aldnoah.Zero

Character(s): Inaho Kaizuka, Count Saazbaum

Warnings: Depiction of sensory overstimulation

AO3, FFNet, Request a prompt/character

For my first venture on my new BTHB card, because I saw the prompt and knew immediately what I wanted to do for it, we are returning to the Fix Fic AU. Which means more of Inaho's Super Bad Unfun Time.

To recap, for those of you just joining us:

1. The AU branches off the end of Episode 7. Though Inaho does shoot Slaine down, Asseylum convinces the Earthlings to retrieve him (owing to Martian soulbound reasons, see "Half My Heart To Make You Whole") and he spends the rest of Cour 1 by her side, and is present for the battle at Saazbaum's landing castle, protecting Asseylum.

2. The confrontation inside the landing castle ends with Asseylum having to leave Inaho behind in order to drag a wounded and dying Slaine out to get him immediate medical attention. Yuki and Inko reach the chamber too late to stop Saazbaum from disappearing with Inaho as his prisoner. (Though they don't actually know if either of them are alive.)

3. After about three months of torture and mistreatment, Saazbaum has Inaho's robotic eye installed and begins trying to put him to use as a remote pilot for the Tharsis, intending to use his strategic acumen against the United Earth Forces.

We pick up with them some time into that.

—

Drip, drip, drip...

Inaho watched the IV bag of paralytic serum filter down through the tube that led to the stint in his left hand in absolute misery. His bionic eye counted every single drop, tracked the amount still left in the bag, just for something to do in the monotony.

The observation screen was on, technically, but tuned in to nothing but static. Inaho thought Saazbaum did it on purpose, because he knew how much the popping and buzzing overstimulated him, how his ears would start feeling like there was a shovel scraping inside them and his teeth would feel vibrations and a rattling inside his skull, and how his brain would try to pick out patterns in the snow to desperately compensate for all the extra noise.

Even now he could hear the static like constant alarm bells in his head. He wanted to cover his ears, block it out, but the cuffs holding his hands to the chair and the paralytic moving through his veins made that impossible.

He ground his teeth tight, and was grateful to be allowed that small bit of movement. The IV drip wasn't as potent as what he'd been injected with before, but it still kept him frustratingly, helplessly immobile, unable to do much more than turn his head slightly or cast his eyes in different directions.

It was maddening.

He was going to go insane.

He could feel his thoughts fraying, and struggled to hold on to some measure of control of them.

As he was wondering just how long he had endured this hell his eye quickly calculated how much of the bag had already depleted and compared it against the rate of drip, and helpfully supplied him the answer in the display across his iris.

Inaho choked a bit to discover he'd only been left alone with the static and his thoughts for thirty minutes.

He wondered with dread how long Saazbaum was going to keep him in the chair this time.

He focused back on the drip. Tried to let it become the entirety of his concentration. Someone would have to come in to replace the bag eventually. If they left him too long, maybe enough of the paralytic would leave his system so he could move a bit more.

He let that train of thought carry him, watching the drip and running calculations inside his head.

Rate of absorption is based on age, weight, sex, and miscellaneous other biological factors... compensate for intravenous versus oral consumption... height is 164cm and weight is 54.43kg...

He got lost in the scenario, and it made the static scraping against his ears a bit more bearable. He followed the hypothetical towards its conclusion.

He may be able to move his arm... What could he do with that mobility? Not much, admittedly, but it was something.

The IV stand was about eight inches away from his arm. If he broke his thumb he might be able to squeeze his hand out of the cuff to grab it. Its weight was��

Far, far sooner than he was expecting, the noise of the door rang out from behind him. Inaho startled, tried to crane his numb head to the side as far as he could.

A nondescript Versian operator—his eye counted up the young man's heartbeat, height, and breath pattern and identified him as one of his assigned medical technicians—had entered, and carried another full IV bag, even though Inaho's current one was nowhere near empty.

A strangled noise escaped Inaho's throat. His eyes pinched as they followed the bag, watching with despair as it was switched out with his old one, barely an interruption in the steady drip, drip of paralyzing agent.

He tried to turn up his head, tried to catch the technician's eye, tried to speak, but he could only make garbled whines and grunts. The short circuit between his brain and his mouth that had been growing worse since his implant surgery wouldn't even allow him to beg for reprieve. Words crowded at the back of his mouth but couldn't make it through.

The technician merely departed, impassively.

Inaho's eyes burned, left socket uncomfortable around his cybernetic implant, as a wordless shriek echoed through his head.

***

"Sir?"

Count Saazbaum glanced up from his reading, lowering the book a fraction. "Yes?" he called.

Hovering in the doorway was one of the young medical technicians. The lower half of his face was illuminated by the light banks on the floor, and Saazbaum didn't miss the man's look of concern.

"It's been five hours. Do you want us to move the Terran back to his cell or...?" the technician asked.

Saazbaum blinked up at the clock on the wall. "Ah. So it has been." Stirring, he slipped his bookmark into place and straightened his crossed legs, then reached up to take his reading glasses off. "The time must have slipped away from me," he said, smiling faintly.

Rising to his feet, the count brushed off his jacket, setting his book aside on the end table.

"Yes, we'll release him in a moment," Saazbaum said, answering the question. "I think he understands my expectations now."

Nodding, the technician disappeared through the door, waiting patiently outside for Saazbaum as the count made his exit. Saazbaum's feet were already well-familiar with the route to the transreciever room; he led the way there, musing on events.

The Terran pilot hadn't thrown a temper tantrum with the Tharsis this time but he had still been fumbling with it in a way Saazbaum found unacceptable.

"I know you're more skilled than this," he'd told the boy, before ordering the IV drip and leaving him in isolation.

Hopefully by now the Terran would be more cooperative.

He was staring forward towards the floor when Saazbaum entered, light slanting into the room from the door behind him. The count circled around to the front of the chair, looking down at Inaho with a smirk.

"I trust you've had plenty of time to consider your situation?" he asked.

The boy's gaze flicked up and he shot Saazbaum the most hateful glare, his eyes lined with angry, impotent tears.

Saazbaum's smirk widened, triumphant. Victory crowed in his heart. He was finally getting a rise out of the boy. It was the most emotion the Terran pilot had shown in the entire time he'd been Saazbaum's "guest".

Aside, of course, from the abject terror and fear when his electronic eye had been installed.

Speaking of...

"Your implant records everything it does in a log," he told Inaho, tapping a finger to the side of his own eye, mockingly. "Every task, every calculation. I knew what you were thinking before you had even finished formulating your little plan."

Inaho closed his eyes with a hitch of breath, face falling.

Mean satisfaction curled like a content dragon inside the count's stomach. Hands clasped primly behind him, he continued.

"I expect your full obedience and effort from this point on, Kaizuka," he said, and noticed the flinch the boy gave at the rare usage of his actual name. Saazbaum didn't make a habit of it on purpose, to generate precisely that instinctive fear reaction, to emphasize to the boy that he was a means to an end, a tool to be used, that he could be discarded at any point when he was no longer useful. His eyes were ice cold on the young pilot. "No more pretending you can't do better. I've seen you fight. I know what you're capable of. Any further incidents will see you in this chair, with the IV, a catheter, and a nutrient drip, permanently," he emphasized.

Even through the grip of the paralytic, the boy was shaking, trembling with fear.

His threat made clear, Saazbaum nodded at the medical technician, who came forward and began squeezing off the drip feed.

"Oh, and from now on, when I ask you a direct question," Saazbaum added, almost as an afterthought, "I expect you to answer with 'Yes Milord' or 'No Milord'. Is that clear, Terran?"

A look of panic flashed across Inaho's face. He didn't answer.

Saazbaum held up a hand, stopping the technician just shy of slipping the tube out of the stint. The technician looked up with curious apprehension.

The count waited.

The boy's throat tightened, twitched, choking on tiny mute grunts.

Saazbaum inclined his head, raising an eyebrow. "Well?" he prompted.

Inaho struggled a moment or two more, a panicked keen passing through his nose before a thin whisper managed to pull out of him.

"...Yes Milord."

That would do. Saazbaum dropped his hand and stepped back, letting the technician finish disconnecting Inaho from the IV, enjoying with cruel glee the effect he had on the fragile Terran pilot.

The boy was almost broken. He was certain of it.

***

Inaho wanted to sag forward as the stint in his hand was removed, but he was still mostly paralyzed, and had to wait until Saazbaum motioned the guards into the room to uncuff his hands from the chair and haul him up.

He hung limp, all his weight dangling from their grips on his elbows. The static viewscreen was finally, mercifully silent and he was out of the chair, out of that horrible room, but he couldn't appreciate it, couldn't do anything that would trigger the functions of his eye.

Despair choked around his neck. Even his own thoughts weren't private, weren't safe. His eye was always listening. Always betraying him.

There was no escape.

He was dragged back to the cell and dumped there, on the floor. The door was shut, closing him back in darkness.

Inaho lay there with his cheek pressed against the floor, limbs still too numb and frozen, useless, splayed underneath and around him, and marinated in the cloying hopelessness.

#bad things happen bingo #BTHB #aldnoah.zero #fanfiction #prompt fics #whump #cute boys in peril

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usafphantom2 · 11 months ago

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11th August 1937: First flight of the Boulton Paul Defiant turret fighter. Designed to combat the threat of large, unescorted bomber formations attacking the UK, the type was never intended to see action against significant single-engined opposition. It had no fixed forward-firing armament, so couldn’t be used as a conventional fighter. Suffering heavy losses during the Battle of Britain, it had more success as a night fighter and also served in a variety of other roles.

When Defiants first saw action in May 1940, helping to cover the Dunkirk evacuation, it seemed at first that the turret fighter concept could work, with a number of claims made against both bombers and fighters. However, by the time the Battle of Britain began in July, Luftwaffe pilots were well aware of the type’s vulnerabilities. This culminated in 264 Squadron losing 11 aircraft, 5 pilots and 9 gunners in 6 days at the end of August, causing Defiants to be withdrawn from daylight operations.

Retasked as a night fighter, the type would come to bear the brunt of defensive duties against the Blitz, with the Beaufighter suffering a troubled introduction to service. Though not yet equipped with radar and still struggling to locate their targets, Defiants scored the most nocturnal kills of any RAF fighter type during the winter of 1940/1941. Crews learned to use their turrets to advantage, firing undetected from abeam or below Luftwaffe bombers. The last Defiant night fighters, now carrying AI radar, continued in service until May 1942.

Defiants were the first RAF aircraft to carry dedicated electronic countermeasures equipment. ‘Moonshine’ was used by formations of 6 aircraft in daylight to simulate the approach of a much larger force on German radar screens, while ‘Mandrel’ emitted a jamming signal and was used by single Defiants at night. These missions continued until mid-1943, and would see the type’s final operational sorties.

Defiants were also employed in several other roles, including as trainers. Many were modified for use as target tugs, either during production or retrofitted. The type was briefly used for air-sea rescue, carrying underwing dinghies, but this was not a success and Defiants served i. That role for only a few months in 1942. One of the final duties performed by the type was in the testing of early ejection seats, with flights continuing into the early postwar period.

Pictured:

1) Prototype Boulton Paul Defiant, pictured in 1937. The earliest flights were conducted before the installation of the turret, giving a somewhat false impression of the aircraft’s performance.

📷 IWM (HU 106297)

2) Formation of Defiants from 264 Squadron in flight, August 1940. It was the losses suffered by this unit which led to the type’s withdrawal from daylight operations.

📷 IWM (CH 883)

3) 264 Squadron gunner about to enter his turret at Kirton in Lindsey, Lincolnshire. Due to the restricted space, Defiant gunners wore a specially designed parasuit or ‘Rhino’ suit, which incorporated a parachute. However, actually getting out of the turret in an emergency was a different story.

📷 IWM (CH 874)

4) Defiant Mark II equipped with AI Mark IV radar at Boscombe Down for handling tests in August 1941. This variant entered service at a time when Luftwaffe attacks on Britain were scarce, with almost all bomber units redeployed to the Eastern Front.

📷 IWM (ATP 9780B)

@JamieMctrusty via X

#b.p. defiant #night fighter #aircraft #ww2 #aviation #raf

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timesleatherjacket · 2 months ago

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Vice Versa

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial! With the prompt:

[over on ao3] Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler WC: 719 The console room being upside-down's one heck of a way to wake a person up. And what's with the rabbit-themed walls?

Rubbing at her eyes, Rose steps out onto the ceiling. And slips down the curved wall with a yelp. Scrabbling for purchase, her fingernails scrape across worn copper, then oddly-indented roundels… before she rolls to a stop at the bottom.

"Ow," she says.

Overhead the door that'd led her into this mess clicks shut; the quiet sound echoes through the cavernous space.

"Sorry, sorry," a cheerful and all too familiar voice calls. "Everything's just a little… wonky, right now. I'll get it fixed in a jiffy!"

On automatic, she looks down.

Below her cyan gleams across thick branches that stretch outward from their coral base, catching on wild hair and a beaming angular face.

The Doctor's currently clinging half-way up one of the struts like his very life depends on it, sonic screwdriver held in one hand.

"Looks like you've been trying to fix this for more than a jiffy," Rose calls back. "How's this happened?" She eases herself into a sitting position, trying to ignore how her stomach's currently doing backflips on how far off from the safe ground she is… and the stings from newly borne grazes. Won't be surprised if she winds up with bruises after this, that was far from a fun fall.

"Ah yes, well," with a grimace, he scratches behind his ear, "she doesn't like the rabbit-themed desktop I er, installed."

"The what?" She squints at the odd shapes situated around the roundels. Usually they're hexagons but these have sets of rounded out-rectangles sprouting out that look a lot like… "Oh."

Fiddling with the sonic's settings, the Doctor hurries on with adding, "With all that jabbering on you did on the phone with Jackie about chocolate eggs and all of that. I thought, Easter, you know, bit of celebration, bit of fun! Bring a bit of a festive touch to the ship!"

"An' you didn't think to ask about stopping off to celebrate it with me and my mum?" Amusement bubbles up before she can stop it, knowing fully well how awkward he can be about anything close to 'domestic'. … Despite his whole time spent celebrating Christmas with her shortly after he'd regenerated.

"Welll…" He trails off, squinting at the monitor blaring dimly down below. Then points the screwdriver at it. There's a whirr, an irritated grating noise similar to someone clearing their throat, then… the rabbit outlines around every roundel are replaced by angles again.

And Rose realises she's being turned around mid-air - floating in place.

Before gravity notices it exists and pulls her down at a surprisingly gentle pace. Trainers clacking against the metal grating, she turns to catch a blur of pinstripes halt before the console.

Tapping on the chunky keyboard, the Doctor turns the monitor screen off before twirling to face her, tucking the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket. "Told you fixing it wouldn't take too long," he says, sounding way too smug over sorting out something he'd caused. "Now, what do you say to visiting a particular planet over in the Oryctolagus system? Has giant rabbits over there. Just imagine it! Fluffy giant rabbits, with floppy ears!"

Running her hand through her hair to disentangle the mussed-up strands, she quirks an eyebrow at him. "You're still thinking 'bout the chocolate eggs, aren't you?"

Tilting his head a bit to the left, he leans further against the console's edge. "Who says I am? Might not be." He tugs at his ear. "Well, little bit. Can't go wrong with those ones with the little surprises in the middle. Pralines. Chocolate itself used to be a luxury item, you know. Up until the late 19th century. Speaking of luxury items with surprises inside - Jewelled Fabergé eggs! They were grand gifts created for Russian Tsars by Peter Carl Fabergé himself."

"Could always stop off to pick some of the Easter eggs up," Rose suggests, keeping it casual as she goes over to rest against the railing. "Head over to the… Oric-whatever system."

"Oryctolagus," he corrects. Tapping out a random beat against the coral surface, he turns to eye the doors before looking back at her. "Could do. Quick pop in, then off again. Just… for the eggs."

"Just for them," Rose agrees with a small grin.

And he grins back at her, that small moment of hesitance gone in an instant.

#flash fiction friday #doctor who #timepetals #tenrose #easter #tenth doctor #rose tyler #fff301 #what happened here #ao3 fanfic #arty writes

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pixelvisionuae · 3 months ago

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#LED Display Installation and Maintenance Services #LCD Smart Conference Display #Rental LED Screen in Dubai #Outdoor Fixed LED Screen #Indoor & Outdoor LED screen supplier

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bratshaws · 2 years ago

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through the hourglass 309.brb x oc

a/n: OOOOOOOOOOH (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

/267/268/269/270/271/272/273/274/275/276/277/278/279/280/281/282/283/284/285/286/287/288/289/290/291/292/293/294/295/296/297/298/299/300/301

/302/303/304/305/306/307/308

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca @callsign-magnolia

The drab walls of the briefing room enclosed the squadron as they awaited the commencement of the mission briefing. Rooster and McAllister sat side by side, reviewing the flight logs one last time before the higher-ups took the stage.

The air in the room was charged with tension and anticipation. Pilots whispered among themselves, exchanging insights and predictions about the upcoming missions. The commanding officer stepped forward, a stern expression etched on his face, and the room fell silent.

And he was very glad it was Cyclone.

"Good afternoon, pilots," he began, his voice carrying authority. "We've gathered here for a crucial briefing regarding the next set of missions. As you're all aware, recent events have emphasized the need for heightened vigilance and precision in our operations."

Rooster listened intently, but his eyes moved around the room,one of his hands cupping his chin as he watched, like a hawk, everyone’s expressions.McAllister, seated beside him, however absorbed the information like a sponge. His eyes flicked between the screen and the documents in front of him,

Rooster couldn't shake the feeling of Mark's eyes on him.

Cyclone's briefing style was methodical, his explanations precise and to the point. "Mission Alpha will involve a coordinated strike on an enemy supply depot located here," Cyclone pointed to a spot on the map. "Intel suggests a significant buildup of resources that could bolster their offensive capabilities. Our objective is to cripple their logistics chain and disrupt their operations in the region."

Rooster's eyes flickered to McAllister, who was nodding along, his gaze fixed on the screen. The young pilot seemed determined to grasp every nuance of the briefing.

"Mission Bravo," Cyclone continued, "will be an aerial reconnaissance mission over the disputed territory. We need up-to-date intelligence on enemy movements and installations. Stealth and evasion will be key. We're expecting heavy resistance, so be prepared for dogfights."

The briefing unfolded, each mission intricately planned with a focus on precision and coordination. Rooster noted the critical points, mentally mapping out the roles of each pilot in the upcoming operations.

He stole a glance in Mark's direction, finding the fellow pilot locked in a conversation with another squadron member.

The suspicion gnawed at Rooster, but he pushed it aside, refocusing on the briefing. Cyclone’s words echoed in the room, outlining the significance of each mission and the potential impact on the ongoing conflict. “Any questions?” Cyclone asks with his eyes moving to each face, “No? Good,Rooster,” he beckons the Lt. “A word?”

Rooster nodded in acknowledgment as he stood, excusing himself from the briefing room and telling McAllister to keep an eye around. Cyclone led the way into a smaller, adjacent room where they could speak privately.

"Rooster, I've been reviewing your recent missions and your performance evaluations," Cyclone began, his gaze penetrating. "You've been doing exemplary work, and your leadership in the squadron is commendable. However, I need to address a matter of concern."

Rooster raised an eyebrow, his expression attentive. "Sir, if there's an issue, I'm here to address it."

Cyclone leaned against the briefing room table, folding his arms. "It's nothing coming from you, you are doing fine but…this breach thing.”

Cyclone's mention of the breach immediately heightened Rooster's alertness. "Sir, I've been keeping a close eye on the team. The recent missions have been intense, and I'm making sure everyone is sharp and focused..."

Cyclone nodded, acknowledging Rooster's vigilance. "It's not about your actions, Rooster. Like I said you were doing fine…I’m just annoyed because this whole thing could’ve been prevented if you got the info. I’m…very relieved everyone survived, truly, you did great.”

"Thank you, sir. Do we…have any leads or suspects?"

Cyclone's expression grew grave. "The investigation is ongoing, but we're working with limited information. That's why I wanted to speak with you. You're perceptive, Rooster, and your experience could provide valuable insights. Have you noticed anything unusual, any behavior that stands out among the pilots?"

Rooster's mind immediately went to Mark. The fellow pilot's demeanor, his interactions—or lack thereof—with others had raised red flags. "Sir, I can't say for certain, but…someone has been somewhat isolated. He doesn't interact much with the other pilots anymore, and there's a certain tension when he's around."

Cyclone nodded thoughtfully, absorbing Rooster's observations. "I appreciate your honesty, Rooster. We need to maintain a cohesive unit, especially in times like these. Any additional information you can provide will be crucial to the ongoing investigation."

"I'll keep a close eye, sir. If I notice anything else, I'll report it immediately."

"Good. We can't afford any compromises in the squadron's integrity anymore. Now, back to the briefing." Cyclone gestured for Rooster to follow him back into the main room. “You still have to give me your reports.”

Rooster returned to the briefing room, his mind still processing the weight of Cyclone's words. The gravity of the breach and the potential threat within their own squadron lingered in the air. He resumed his seat beside McAllister, exchanging a brief nod with the young pilot. “Everything okay,sir?”

“Yeah,” Rooster nodded “Don’t worry about it.”

Cyclone resumed the briefing, seamlessly transitioning back into the strategic details of the upcoming missions. "Mission Alpha is scheduled for tomorrow at 0600 hours. Flight squads will be divided, each assigned a specific target within the supply depot. We're anticipating heavy anti-aircraft defenses, so precise coordination will be crucial. Rooster, you'll be leading Alpha Squad."

Rooster acknowledged Cyclone's assignment with a nod, already mentally strategizing the squad's approach.

The room was filled with the low hum of discussions as the briefing continued. Rooster delved into the details of Mission Alpha, working out the finer points of the strategy with McAllister and the other squadron leaders, Jake and Nat, thank God. The intensity of the planning session heightened as they considered the potential threats and challenges they might face in the upcoming mission.

As the briefing concluded, Rooster gathered his reports and notes, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him. He exchanged a few words with McAllister, emphasizing the need for vigilance. The young pilot nodded, his determination evident.

Rooster stepped out of the briefing room, his mind was still preoccupied with the ongoing investigation and the looming mission. He needed to keep a close eye on the squadron, especially Mark, and ensure that every member operated as a cohesive unit.

The airbase buzzed with activity as pilots prepared for the upcoming mission. Rooster made his way to the hangar, where the sleek Hornets were prepped and ready for the sortie. The ground crew worked efficiently, performing final checks and loading the necessary munitions.

They were leaving in the morning but you had to be sure, after all.

Rooster approached his Hornet, running a hand over the smooth surface of the aircraft. The adrenaline of the upcoming mission coursed through his veins, and his eyes moved briefly.

Mark lingered in the periphery of Rooster's vision, engrossed in his own pre-flight preparations. The tension between them remained palpable, a silent undercurrent beneath the bustling activity of the hangar. Rooster's instincts told him to stay vigilant, to keep a watchful eye on Mark's every move.

First he wanted to befriend everyone.

Now he was isolating himself.

After the breach.

Suspicious.

Rooster took a deep breath, grounding himself in the present moment. He couldn't afford to let personal tensions distract him from the mission at hand. The squadron's success depended on their unity and focus, and Rooster was determined to lead them to victory once again.

So he could go back to Bea.

“Bea.”

“Yeah?”

“Your aunt is…very strange.’ Shells muttered as the two cleaned the Hard Deck, Shells was leaning on her mop while Bea lifted the chairs so the floor was easier to clean, “I mean, it’s not like she’d know about Mark and Miranda but um…wow.”

The rhythmic sound of the mop against the floor echoed through the empty room,the lingering scent of cleaning supplies mixed with the familiar smell of the ocean created an odd but not entirely unpleasant atmosphere.

"Well…yes. True" Beatrice said, glancing at Shells as she maneuvered a chair into a corner.

Shells shrugged, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I don't know. It's like she has this...otherworldly air about her. And the way she talks, it's like she's always dancing around something, you know?"

Beatrice chuckled, setting another chair down. "That's just Aunt Martha being Aunt Martha. She's always been a bit mysterious. I remember the time she convinced me there were fairies in the garden."

“I mean, that’s pretty cute.Reminds me of my grandpa telling me there were monsters under the bed." she pauses “Didn’t help he was a vice admiral, made everything…uh…scarier.”

Beatrice sighed, taking a break from arranging the chairs. "Aunt Martha has her own way of looking at the world. She's intuitive, and sometimes it feels like she's tuned into a frequency the rest of us can't hear."

Shells chuckled, resuming her mopping. "Well, if she has any insights into what's going on with Mark and Miranda, now would be the time to share."

“Shells, Aunt Martha's insights usually come in the form of cryptic riddles. It's like she speaks in a code only she understands."

"Fantastic," Shells muttered, rolling her eyes. "Just what we need right now."

“Well,she told me to patient and to be careful.” Bea shrugs, “Better than nothing.”

"And what about Rooster? Martha had any insights about him?"

Beatrice paused, her brow furrowing in thought. "Well,she did mention something about navigating storms. Metaphorical ones, I think."

Shells chuckled, a sly grin on her face. "Sounds like Martha's way of saying, 'Good luck dealing with your complicated pilot husband.'"

Beatrice rolled her eyes, a fond smile tugging at her lips. "Something like that. Aunt Martha's advice always feels like unraveling a puzzle. But you know, she's family, and family has a way of seeing things we might miss."

"Yeah, well, I hope she sees something helpful in that mystical crystal ball of hers," Shells quipped, wringing out the mop. “And the kids? Are they with your parents?”

As Beatrice continued arranging the chairs, she nodded in response to Shells' question. "Yeah, Mama and Papa took the kids for a little while. They wanted to spend some time with them, and I thought it would be nice for the kids to have a change of scenery." she says

“Besides, it helps them feel at ease, they just want to help now that Rooster is deployed.”

“Did you tell them about…Mark and Miranda?”

Beatrice sighed, a moment of hesitation flickering in her eyes. "Not yet. I don't want to worry them unnecessarily. We don't have concrete evidence, just... suspicions. And you know how Mama worries."

Shells nodded in understanding. "True. It's a delicate situation. We don't want to cause unnecessary stress, especially for your parents. But if things escalate, we might have to let them in on it."

Beatrice nodded,"Exactly. Let's focus on what we can control for now. Aunt Martha's cryptic advice aside, we need to stay vigilant and keep an eye on Miranda without causing a panic."

"Agreed," Shells said, glancing around the now-clean Hard Deck. "Well, this place is spick and span. I think we've done our duty as cleaning warriors for the day."

Beatrice chuckled, placing the last chair in its designated spot. "Cleaning warriors, huh? I like that title. Maybe we should get capes."

Shells grinned. "I'm all for it. We'll be the superheroes of cleanliness." she smirks “I’m sure aunt Penny wouldn’t mind but you holding up okay, Bea? I know it's not easy with Rooster away and all this tension in the air."

Beatrice smiled, hugging herself. "I'm managing, Shells. I am a lot better than I was, honestly."

Shells smiles, hugging her close, “I’m glad, girlie, you deserve a break, you know? Hey,I’m going to see Ev tonight,she asked me to bring her some of our old college supplies, wanna join?”

Beatrice considered the invitation, "Sounds like a plan. It's been a while since I caught up with Ev. I could use a break from all this."

Shells grinned, her enthusiasm contagious. "Great! It's a plan, then. We'll raid the old college stash and have a mini reunion."

As they made their way out of the Hard Deck, the atmosphere seemed to lighten, the weight of responsibility momentarily lifted. And…Beatrice felt lighter, much lighter.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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linuxgamenews · 8 months ago

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Upgrade Your Steam Deck Experience with SteamOS 3.6.19

SteamOS 3.6.19 release with big update for Steam Deck support in a variety of areas, even games. Thanks to the Valve team and all the players who shared their feedback. Available for all owners via Steam. Good news, fellow Steam Deck users. SteamOS 3.6.19 has released with a whole range of updates, tweaks, and fixes to make our Deck experience even better. Let’s dive into what’s new, and I’ll keep it simple and to the point.

System Updates

First off, SteamOS 3.6.19 now runs on an updated Arch Linux base with the Linux kernel bumped up to version 6.5. What does that mean for us? It translates to better hardware compatibility, smoother performance, improved security, and a more stable system overall. If you’ve had any issues with random crashes or slow updates, those should be less of a problem now. Speaking of SteamOS 3.6.19 updates, they’ve made future OS updates quicker, which is always a win. Also, there are fixes for certain microSD cards, especially some SanDisk ones that were being misread by the Deck. Plus, session restarts should be faster, especially if your system glitches from GPU errors. If you’ve run into issues with long play sessions causing crashes (like the annoying ‘page allocation failure’). That’s has a patch too. And for those unlucky few who had corrupted Steam installations, recovery should now be smoother.

Wi-Fi and Connectivity Fixes

Steam Deck also fixed several Wi-Fi issues. You should have fewer connection problems, especially if you’re using WPA3 security or Wi-Fi 7 access points. Plus, Valve’s handheld should handle cursor alignment and performance overlay glitches more effectively. Which is also a nice touch.

SteamOS 3.6.19 Display and Performance

For anyone using the OLED model, display issues like weird refresh rates, gray lines during boot, or random screen blacks should be gone. There’s also better color balance and gamma uniformity, meaning the display should look crisper and less “greenish” in low brightness settings. VRR (Variable Refresh Rate) issues with external displays have also have a fix now. Due to make gaming on bigger screens a better experience.

Bluetooth and Controllers

Big win for Bluetooth users—there’s improved pairing for Apple AirPods, and new support for HFP and BAP Bluetooth profiles. They’ve made sure only certain Bluetooth devices (like controllers) wake up the system. So your Deck won’t suddenly power on when you don’t want it to. Some controller bugs have been fixed in SteamOS 3.6.19 too. Check out the gear that now has support through each link, so you can get exactly what you need. Especially for the DualShock 4 and DualSense controllers. Also, Steam Deck now officially supports the ASUS ROG Ally extra keys, Raikiri Pro controller, and Machenike G5 Pro controller, which is great for those who use these peripherals.

Desktop Mode and Docking

If you’re a fan of Desktop Mode, there are a few KDE Plasma updates (now at 5.27.10). SteamOS 3.6.19 also offers a bunch of fixes to ensure smoother switching between Desktop Mode and gaming. External display issues (like blank screens or crashes) should be fixed now too. For those using the Docking Station, there are new HDMI CEC features, meaning you can control things like waking up the TV or switching inputs with your Deck, which is pretty neat.

Battery Life and Power

Steam Deck LCD users will notice up to a 10% battery life improvement under light load situations, which is always welcome. There’s also better power management with fixes for things like random power LED blinking.

SteamOS 3.6.19 Game Fixes and More

A bunch of game-specific fixes are also apart of the changes. Titles like BlazBlue Centralfiction, Warriors All-Stars, ELDEN RING, and Disgaea 5 Complete should all run smoother without those annoying display glitches or crashes. Even game recording should work better with fixes for colors and capture issues.

Final Thoughts

Overall, this is full of useful upgrades, from better Bluetooth and controller support. Also, smoother display handling and more reliable updates. So, if you’ve been running into any of these issues. SteamOS 3.6.19 should make your Valve handheld that much better to play games. Time to get gaming and enjoy these fresh fixes. Available for all owners via Steam.

#steamos 3.6.19 #valve handheld #steam deck #linux #gaming news #valve #windows #pc #games

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remimibanana · 1 year ago

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Nintendo 3DS Retrospective Part 2: A System’s Function

The beauty of this handheld is that there are so many things you can do on this system without even having a game. I think it's what gave the 3DS its charm, giving you a reason to keep playing.

As a kid, I didn’t have any internet. The closest I had was this Telstra Prepaid Wi-Fi stick where I used to waste all the internet downloading Sailor Moon videos. There was a short period where I was able to connect my 3DS to the internet so I got to experience at least the heyday a bit!

Anyway, I spent most of my time on the system itself, the lovely Home Menu and all its built in software. I have a lot to say about all these!

Part 2 is under the cut!

I had three 3DSs at the very end, to which only one works properly. The other two have issues but I still kept them for the precious memories. It's crazy to think how long this handheld has been in my life, and how many memories it gave me.

Without it, I don't think I would be who I am today. I really don't know we will live in a world without it...

For as long as I can, I will keep playing on it! I’ll be 50 and still be on my 3DS lol

How did I get my first 3DS?

It was out of nowhere. I didn't know I was going to get this life changing handheld. My dad and I were driving to our family friend’s house as we always did back in the day, while I stared out the window blissfully unaware.

Once we got there…my dad stopped the car and pulled out a box from under the seat and handed it over to me, telling me that he had a surprise.

It was a red original 3DS?! I took it into my hands, staring at the box in disbelief. I remember the box so vividly, and the awe I felt at the fact my dad got me this?! My dad looked real happy to see me so happy.

I remember wanting to rip it open right then and there. My dad told me to wait until we actually got into the house since he also had another one for my family friend. At the time, I only had my DSI which I used be on all the time.

I remember rushing in and opening my 3DS with my family friend who opened theirs, plugging in the handheld and turning it on for the very first time. The setup music is so nostalgic to me for this reason, I spent some time setting it all up and exploring the home menu.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t charge well to this current day, you have to press down on the charger in order for the system to charge at all. I think something is wrong with the charging port but I was never able to fix it.

This was the first 3DS I ever modded, because I was too afraid to mod my 2DS back when. If I bricked my main 2DS, I would have cried. I nicknamed it my “Luma 3DS” after the custom firmware and installed a whole bunch of games on it! I even got a custom theme with the Luma 3DS logo.

I put it somewhere but I don’t know where it ended up aha

How did I get my second 3DS?

My red 3DS lasted probably a year or two before it decided to stop working out of nowhere. The blue LED would turn on, and then a small pop sound could be heard as it turned off. I remember I was really upset, because I loved this handheld.

I was out of a 3DS.

For my birthday shortly, my grandma bought me a white 3DS XL, the same one as above! It came preinstalled with Mario Kart 7, which is why its my favourite Mario Kart.

I remember pointing at it in Big W when she asked me what I wanted, and my grandma didn't look as happy as I was. I think the price displeased her but she still bought it for me, hehe.

This was my main handheld for years, where my brother used play on it from time to time despite how much I didn't want him to. I still have it to this day, although it is worse for wear. One day, it refused to boot into the Home Menu.

No matter what I tried, it wouldn't boot. It would either be stuck on the Black Screen of Death or it would be stuck on the Home Menu transition you would get when you pressed the home button. It was really devastating for me, I had so many memories on here that I couldn't access anymore.

My red 3DS started working out of nowhere, by the way. One day, I tried turning it on and it booted into the home menu without any trouble. I remember showing my dad and he wondered why I even got this white one if the red one was working.

That’s when I dubbed it my dad’s 3DS since he liked to play Mario Kart 7 with my brother and I from time to time and he would use this one. I actually wiped the whole 3DS for him since I wanted my dad to have it (even though I didn’t have to do that lol).

How did I get my current 2DS?

Surprisingly, I got out of gaming for a while. At least on the 3DS side, which is utter blasphemy to me now. I can't believe I'd ever stop playing this handheld! I feel like it makes me a fraud, you see how much I harp on about this handheld and yet I stopped playing it lol

In 2019, I made a friend who really liked Pokémon. He would often bring his 3DS XL to school to show me his games and all the Pokémon he caught. He would ask me if I had any of the Pokémon games and I said I did. This prompted me to find my red 3DS and buy Pokemon Moon so I could play alongside him.

But alas, since my red 3DS has those issues as you know, it was really hard for me to have a fully charged handheld. I felt so bad when my friend wanted to battle me, but I couldn't half the time since the 3DS was either dead or about to die.

He were kind enough to give me his charging dock for the 3DS, but it still didn't solve the issue.

That’s when I decided for my birthday, I would ask for a new 3DS! I wanted to play with my friend! It was harder to find a new 3DS on sale in the shops at this time, so I went to my local pawn shop. I remember wanting an actual 3DS, but my mum wanted to get something a bit cheaper.

This is why I have my 2DS! It came with its own case, which was one of the reasons I chose it. I didn't mind not having any 3D functionality, since I never used it anyway on either of my previous 3DSs.

It still works to this day, and fully modded! I finally got over my fear of modding it, nothing happened. It really is easy to mod your 3DS, by the way.

I do plan on buying a Japanese New 3DS LL one day, the pink and white one! I've always wanted it for myself!

A sad story...

I used to keep all my games in this case right here, since I didn't like keeping them in their original boxes for some reason. It's a decision I regret to this day, since I really like the boxes!

As I mentioned above, I got out of gaming for some time. It seems like during all that, I misplaced the case. It was gone from sight, no matter where I thought I left it. I looked everywhere, but it was nowhere.

To this day, I have no idea where it is. It's been years...perhaps its gone forever. It's really sad to lose something that meant a lot to you, although I don't blame anyone but myself for this. I should have taken better care of it.

I lost all the games I had physically, and that was practically all my games. I had so many I received over the years, all in a poof. I hope I can manage to find it one day, there are a lot of precious memories in it!

I have a fun fact with this that I’d like to share!

I had two copies of Super Mario 64 DS in here because I lost my first copy and asked my grandma to buy me another one, but then my mum found the first copy some time after lol

Now I take better care of things, but if it ever shows up, I will cry profusely. I hope I can find it!

Home Menu

When you turn on your 3DS, you are met with the Home Menu in all its glory.

It's probably one of my favourite menu designs, alongside the Wii. It's simple yet so effective, the BGM is one everyone will never forget and it's also customizable! I feel like Nintendo peaked here, and then just ditched it when the Switch rolled around.

I used to love scrolling all the way until the very end of the menu, and making the icons bigger or smaller! I also loved making folders to store my games. Ever since my white 3DS, I have a folder for the system titles and a folder for my games and demos!

Themes

With the Home Menu, you were able to customize it with themes! These could be bought from the Theme Shop, which sadly stopped working when they shut down the Nintendo eShop.

I’m using Pokemon Sun and Moon— Tropical currently, but I like swapping them out from time to time. Some have their own BGM and sound effects, while others simply change the background.

Here are some of my favorite ones I have!

Splatoon: Squid Sisters

Senbonzakura/Kurousa

ACNL: Paw Print Room

Kirby Copy Ability Global Poll

Sonic Boom Shattered Crystal

Persona Q2 Theme

Badges

To go with themes, they made badges that you could obtain and add to your menu!

When they released, I remember downloading the Nintendo Badge Arcade when I had the chance to. I'll be making a special post just for it, so please look out for it!

I used to put badges anywhere and everywhere I could! It didn't matter if it looked good or not, I just wanted to have as many as I could!

You could even put them on folders! The absolute peak of this feature.

My favourite badges are the ones that act like software icons, where you could click on them and it would open the software! As you can see, I have ones for each of the built in software. The original titles have been put in a folder at the very end, out of view.

Streetpass Mii Plaza

The iconic plaza that everyone knows! You can’t go hearing Streetpass without the Streetpass Mii Plaza!

I've spent a lot of time on here during my time on this handheld, from its initial stage to what we have now with all the DLC! I have always loved the concept of Streetpass, and I wish they brought it back for the Switch.

Alas.

Let’s talk about each of the things you can do in it! I come from Australia so I'll be using the European names for everything, by the way.

I feel like we can't overlook the main plaza area. The iconic BGM, the sea of Mii characters that you can look over as you increase your plaza population and all the various options and games you can choose from!

Puzzle Swap

I love this little game so much.

As the name suggests, you swap puzzle pieces with the people you Streetpass with to complete various puzzles and gain new ones!

I remember trying very hard to complete all puzzles I had, especially excited when I met new people who had the puzzle pieces I needed! I love the BGM and the little tweet of the bird that swoops in to deliver the pieces you got.

With my 2DS, I have loads of puzzles to complete since I always choose pieces from puzzles I don't have when I get Streetpasses. They are really rare nowadays after all. I want to try to do as many puzzles as I can.

Otherwise, I use Play Coins to buy pieces. This takes forever since you can only buy one at a time, and you aren't guaranteed a piece you don't have. I like to sit there and do this from time to time while watching something.

I have over 500 left to collect...I hope I can complete every single puzzle one day! That will be one of my life goals!

Streetpass Quest

Saving the world has never been so much fun.

This was the first game I ever completed fully, and probably will be the only one. You have to save the King who looks exactly like your Mii from the evil Dark Lord who kidnapped them by recruiting soldiers!

I originally beat this on my white 3DS, slowly progressing through all of the floors. There are many enemies and many types of floors that require certain abilities that are based off the Mii's colour. Very simple but fun!

I remember there was a floor that was bright white which required a Mii with black to darken the floor and a floor that was pitch black, requiring a Mii with white to brighten the area.

The only issue with that was I never got a Mii with those colours. I would buy soldiers with Play Coins, and yet I never got black or white for some reason.

There is also a sequel to this game, where you have to save the Princess and the Prince too! I remember being really surprised when there was more to play.

Later on, they introduced new games, as well as the concept of Streetpass VIP! It was a one time payment and you would receive all of the games available and have added bonuses, such as the ticket system!

I have played every single one, but I'll just talk about the one I enjoyed the most!

Streetpass Garden

This is my favourite game out of all of them. I remember choosing this as the free game that the Streetpass Mii Plaza was offering on my white 3DS.

I love how simple and yet fun it all is. You plant a seed into a pot and the people you meet water the flower and make it grow. It takes a lot of people to do so, more than you would expect.

Once it blooms, you can germinate for seeds! Each seed can either be a new breed or an alternate colour of a breed you already bloomed. There is a percentage for each of these, and I always chose the ones that guaranteed a new breed!

Your goal is to fill up your planter handbook and become a master gardener! I think I was very close to doing so on my white 3DS, while I’m still trying to on my 2DS.

For some reason, I chose the Streetpass Slot Racing game on my 2DS for my free game and I remember regretting it since I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would.

I just wanted my garden back man.

Activity Log

It's so simple yet so charming.

I love the grid aesthetic they chose, it reminds me of my school notebooks I used to use.

All your titles are shown in this little book and I think that’s so cute. I love flipping through all the pages and seeing every single title I’ve ever played appear on there.

Even Homebrew appears on here, which I found really funny. You see normal titles and then you have the FBI manager.

I loved just looking through each the days, seeing what I played the most!

This reminds me of the Wii, where you would get an envelope with your play time. I actually didn't know this was a thing until I looked at the Activity Log recently.

System Settings

I really love the System Settings. I suppose that might be a weird sentence, but it's true!

The BGM is an absolute banger, sometimes I love to boot up the application to simply listen to it all! Please tell me I’m not the only one who does this.

My favourite one is the Internet Settings, Nintendo didn’t have to go so hard on something like this but they still did. I could listen to this for hours happily and vibe.

The little guy helper is the very best, I never really needed any help to connect to the internet, but I still used the helper anyway. I wish we had something like this guy on the Switch.

I would often visit Other Settings, particularly the Profile section. You can edit the User Name, Date of Birth, Region and go onto the Nintendo DS Profile, and that’s all you could do on there.

Nothing truly special, and yet here I am mentioning it for a very specific reason. It’s probably really odd and weird, but I still want to share it with you all!

I might be the only one but…I like to vibe to the Nintendo DS Profile.

It’s basically the DSi Settings but only having the ability to edit the Message and Colour. The sudden change from the light yellow to black as you see this on your screen….so good.

I love the BGM of this so much, it’s unfunny. It makes me feel things, so much nostalgia for something that most people overlook. I vibe so hard.

As soon as I found out that this existed, I was always there. I still do this from time to time in fact, whenever I’m on the System Settings.

I can hear it even now….

To be continued!

With that, Part 2 is done! We're far from done though, I still have more things to blab about in Part 3! Can you tell how much I like the 3DS?

Hope to see you there!

#3ds retrospective #3ds #retrospective #part 2 #weeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhh #don't goooooooooooo #sobbbbbb

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