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mcclainwilla · 6 days ago

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Writing Fight Scenes Part 9 - Training

I'm back, after a grueling hiatus spent working on my current wip, for now referred to as m&m - a prequel to my duology that follows two guys who attend a military academy. In my experience, I see a lot of characters who are 'finished products' in terms of their fighting abilities; today, I'm talking about the process of training.

This one goes out to @pulletandraptor, who was kind enough to include me in their writing references masterlist. I hope you find this useful!

Approaches to Training

I'll be candid, this is going to draw heavily from my own personal experience, but I'll do my best to cover multiple perspectives.

Depending on the circumstances of your story, your character might have a gradual, carefully-timed introduction to various aspects of fighting, or they may be tossed into the ring headfirst. There are benefits and drawbacks to every approach; I'll list them below.

Low-Stress Classroom Environment

Think of a mixed martial arts class with multiple participants of about the same skill level, led by an experienced instructor. In these types of controlled environments, characters will gradually be introduced to aspects of fighting as their skill progresses - they may learn the basic blocks, hand strikes and kicks, then how to escape from various wrist grabs. When they're ready, they may progress to light sparring with plenty of safety gear (discussed in detail below), then learn how to throw an opponent to the ground, and finally how to execute certain blood chokes/cranks/bars/etc (discussed in Part 7).

Advantages:

imo, the safest approach to learning fight techniques, both for your character and for their peers

Builds camaraderie between characters (more coming soon)

More accessible for characters whose stress response is flight, freeze or fawn, as it allows more time for acclimatization to increasingly stressful situations

Your character will likely develop better fighting form, which will make it harder for opponents to find chinks in their armor

Enables character to perform more technical maneuvers like the aforementioned chokes/submissions (as opposed to using brute force)

Disadvantages:

Characters get used to 'playing by the rules'. This comes with two implications:

They never get used to putting their full strength into their hand strikes/kicks, and never follow all the way through on their chokes/submissions

They are not prepared to deal with other fighters who do these things, nor do they know how to defend against illegal hits (discussed in Part 8)

This can be a big problem. A character who has risen to the top of their school of training might be in for a rude awakening when they find themselves facing off against an opponent from another school. (Or, they might mop the floor with them. Who knows)

Mid-Stress Boot Camp Environment

As the title suggests, think military basic training or police academy (at least, if you're in America. Ew, I know)

The most important thing to remember is that main goal of those bitchy drill sergeants isn't to break your character down, it's to prove to them that they can survive stressful situations and still keep their wits about them. It's to build work ethic, discipline, and respect for your character's superiors. And sure, yes, to make your character more physically strong in a relatively short amount of time. I don't know much about the process of teaching fighting techniques in gov't academy settings (I made up my own rules for my book), so I'll be speaking in a more general 'physical exercise' sense.

Advantages:

Faster results than the classroom environment

More representative of the 'real world' (although certain illegal strikes will still be, well, illegal, even in a soulless place like the military!!)

Toughens your character mentally as well (though this is only an advantage if it actually works. Which leads me to...)

Disadvantages:

High-stress at times, characters with flight/freeze/fawn responses will fare the worst. Might even worsen these stress responses

Makes your character more prone to injury. When they are pushing their body to its limits, they might end up pushing a little too far. I used to know a powerlifter who slipped a disc in his spine doing sit-ups during his basic training. Those kinds of injuries stay with your character for a long time, maybe even for life

High-Stress Street Environment

Also known as the 'fuck around and find out' approach. In these kinds of environments, your character may not even have an instructor. They might live in an environment where they have to fight for their livelihood every day, and as they go through the years, they learn what works and what doesn't based on the outcome of the fight, if they even get to walk away. Think of it like growing up with siblings who were much bigger than you, but taken to the next level; these characters are scrappy and can hold their own against imposing opponents, but they're almost entirely self-taught.

Advantages:

Your character is equipped to deal with whatever their opponent throws them, including dirty tricks and illegal hits

Your character might be better at using the terrain to their advantage. Discarded board on the ground near the fence they have to jump to get into the city? Make them smack someone with the side that has the nails in it

I'd argue your character would be more acclimatized to dealing with pain, which would make them more durable in a fight. This is a double-edged sword tho...

Disadvantages:

As the rules are shunned, the stakes get higher, and it becomes increasingly more likely that your character won't walk away from a fight

A character without a formal fight education probably has sloppier fighting form, which gives an opponent more openings to target

As a final note, the Luke Skywalker in the swamp-esque training scenes generally won't do much for your character. I am a proponent of positive stress - your character needs to be pushed an appropriate amount in order to grow in their fighting skills, and telekinetic meditation just doesn't cut it imo

Gear

This will be broken into two parts - common training tools, and common safety gear. The tools at your characters' disposal/the safety precautions they're allowed to take will depend on the aforementioned approaches to training - you'll probably want to allow more training and safety gear in more low-stress approaches.

Training Gear

This is not an exhaustive list, but rather some of my personal favorites. Note that all the names I'm about to give are slang terms invented by my training place. Feel free to come up with your own names to give your story an individual feel!

Kicking pads: thick (about the same length as your palm) rectangular pads a bit bigger than a human torso; meant to absorb the sharp impact* of elbow strikes, knee strikes and kicks. Great for repetitive kicking/hitting drills. Your character holds it like a shield flush against their hip/torso

Blaster pads: just like kicking pads but even thicker/more absorbent; meant for the strongest impacts (mostly kicks)

Wishbone pads: a handle that branches into two partially-joined pads (put your palms together, but keep your fingers apart. Like that). Good for precision kicking drills because they make a nice clapping noise when you hit it just right

Hand pads: kind of like oven mitts that your character's training partner wears on each hand, the padded side over the palm. Good for repetitive punch combination (remember - your character wants to throw punches in bunches) drills. The training partner will move the pads to different locations for different types of strikes/punches, detailed in this post

Punching/kicking bags: exist for the exact purpose you would imagine. No training partner required, although they're helpful for holding the bag still because they tend to wobble/swing after hard hits. There are multiple types of bags - standing bags that have a water/sand-filled base (of these, there are ones with cylinder-shaped bags, upside-down cone-shaped bags, and rubber ones shaped like men. It's an unspoken rule that everyone names their man-shaped bag 'Bob'. Everyone), as well as bags that hang from the ceiling on chains. I have no strong preferences but hanging bags are probably my favorite

Pool noodles! Pool noodles. I'm being deadass. Pool noodles are great discipline tools for teaching your character how to dodge because if they mess up and get hit, it doesn't hurt at all! They're also good for teaching precision - your character's training partner can throw pool noodle hits at intervals for your character to try to punch/kick

*I say 'sharp impact' because, while kicking/blaster pads absorb the 'jab in the gut' sensation, I was once kicked halfway across the mats by a second-degree black belt and football player while holding one. It didn't hurt my stomach so much as it did jar my entire body.

Safety Gear

Here, it's important to note that not all places use the same safety gear. Personally, my safety gear was pretty limited, even though I was taught in a classroom environment. Generally, the lower-stress the setting, the more safety gear your character will be allowed.

Helmets: non-negotiable in classroom settings (I'm not sure what the military allows, and they're probably not common in unstructured environments). This is google-able, but traditional sparring helmets are padded all over, and cover the jaw/around the chin, over the temples/ears, the forehead, and velcro shut at the back of the head. Some come with clear plastic face masks to protect the eyes/nose/mouth - these are nice. I am part of the reason my studio began to require these. Sorry man

Mouth guards: should be non-negotiable in classroom settings but I actually never used one. These serve a dual purpose - they stop your character from cutting their lips/cheeks on their own teeth if they get punched, and they stop your character's opponent from cutting their hand if they accidentally punch your character in the mouth (Again. No one ever purposefully punches someone in the mouth)

Wrist wraps: these are NOT gloves in any capacity! Rather than offering shock absorption, wrist wraps keep the wrists very stiff and immobile so that the impacts of punches don't jar/smush the interior components of your character's wrists over time. Arthritis is no joke. These are more common for boxers/stand-up fighters, as opposed to wrestlers. I never used these

Gloves: as hinted at above, these provide more shock absorption for the bones of the fingers/hand. The amount of padding varies. Typically, stand-up fighters will wear both, gloves over wrist wraps, anytime they're punching anything, including punching bags. You should know that it's still totally possible for your character to break their hand while wearing boxing gloves, tho

Body pads: basically like a padded suit of armor that covers the chest, stomach, sides and back so that it doesn't suck as bad when a character gets hit in the diaphragm/liver/kidneys/ribs. However, it can be a counter-productive suit of armor because some include targets over these regions for training purposes. They also make versions that just cover the breasts because it sucks to get kicked in the titty. I never used either and I took my titty kicks like a champ. More common among stand-up fighters

Shin guards: these are padded, as opposed to armor-y, and either slide on like a tall sock or strap around the calf and ankle. The best ones have flaps that protect the tops of your character's feet as well. I actually did use these because we had a couple of BITCHES who would jab their elbows into my feet/shins

Cups: I wasn't born with a loverman so I don't know the intricacies of this one, but the key takeaway here is that they are NOT invincible. It's like, if you get shot while wearing a bulletproof vest, you won't feel the bullet, but you'll still feel the force with which it was fired. Also it's still possible for your character's opponent to reach around and grab the cup wearer by the nuts (seen it happen). I've known several stand-up fighters who opted not to use one, so it's up to you

The main takeaway: I didn't use nearly as much safety gear as I should've, and it's a miracle I don't have even more chronic pain

Character Behavior

Finally, you may have heard the phrase 'professionals are predictable; it's the amateurs that are dangerous'. This can be true, but there's more to the story. Allow me to elaborate:

Amateurs

In my experience, amateurs are either really, really skittish or really, really bold. The skittish ones are (understandably) afraid of being hit and will throw punches from miles away because they're afraid of getting close to their target. The bold ones have never been hit and therefore have no reason to fear it, so they charge in, eager to get a hit in/win the fight/impress their instructors or peers. It's the bold ones who are the dangerous ones, imo - sometimes they're so bold they do crazy shit you weren't expecting and it knocks you on your ass. It's just that after all that, you know what to expect, and it's a lot easier to counter. Additionally, all forms of fighting/martial arts require balance, flexibility, body awareness, fine motor skills and multitasking skills, which amateurs likely haven't developed yet. The skittish types usually look stiff and uncertain, and the bold types look ragdoll-y and wild

Students

Once again speaking from personal experience, characters who have undergone some fight training but aren't yet good enough to be considered professionals have the widest range of styles. You have skittish, you have bold, you have characters who hammer away and you have characters who pick their punches carefully. Those who favor the techniques they're starting to learn and those who use their strength. What students often lack is situational awareness - there are times when it's appropriate for a character to push, and times to conserve energy. Students are also juuuuust starting to develop an eye for strategy, but don't expect them to be making observations like 'she always drops her left hand before throwing a roundhouse kick, imma get her ass'. They are still very much in flight or fight mode, and much of their internal narration will be centered around the here and now/what they're experiencing or doing in the moment

Professionals

My favorite way to identify a professional is to look for someone who can fuck around in a fight and still not get hit. My old instructor would put his hands completely down, and it would drive me nuts, and yet I never once landed a headshot. Sure, professionals are predictable, because they have a solid understanding of technique and don't usually do stupid shit. But professionals are so in-control of the situation that they're actually the safest people to spar against, because they can moderate their own output so well

In general, think of ufc fighting, where some of the best athletes in the world go toe-to-toe. Two professionals, pitted against each other, and while there's often a clear winner, both parties usually leave the octagon with some bruises. Getting better at fighting means your character will often triumph against characters in brackets below them - students over amateurs, professionals over students. But within a given bracket, it often comes down to narrow differences in skill, circumstance, and even luck. Let your characters struggle.

I know this was a long post, so thank you for sticking with me! I hope this is helpful!

#writing #writing advice #how to write #writing stuff #fight scene #wip #wip stuff #writing tips and tricks #writing help #writing fight scenes #willa mcclain

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clarisse0o · 10 months ago

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Camp Wiegman-Part 46

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

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Friday, February 5th; 1:50 PM - Manchester Airport.

It's hard to describe the feeling I have about what I'm experiencing right now. Not too long ago, this was a situation I couldn't have imagined. I lead the way ahead of my two instructors as we board the plane that will take off for Barcelona.

“Damn, Barcelona, really!” comments Ingrid. “How can you even think for a second about leaving that incredible city to live here?”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised that she knows something like that about me. Well, to be honest, it's not a secret anymore, but I had never talked about it directly with Ingrid.

“A place isn't everything,” I shrug.

I smile when I see Shay welcoming passengers in the distance. When she sees me, she seems to recognize me because she smiles back. We’re almost at her station now.

“Hello, Ona. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“It almost didn’t happen,” I half-joked.

“What happened to you?”

I tend to forget the state of my face, but thanks to people’s comments, I’m reminded of it. According to Lucy, everything is healing well, though it will still take some time before it all disappears. At least my aches and pains are less severe, which is already a good thing.

“Oh, um…”

I stop when I feel a familiar warmth settle on the small of my back. I turn around to find Lucy.

“We're blocking the way, baby.”

I blush, still not quite used to this kind of comment in public. Shay smiles at me, not helping to ease my embarrassment.

“She’s right,” she says. “I’ll come to see you at your seat later, hoping you don’t fall asleep first.”

I nod, smiling timidly. It seems like she’s remembered my habits, even with all the passengers she sees every day.

“Have a good flight.”

“Thanks.”

I reach for Lucy’s hand to hold it as we make our way to our numbered seats. I sigh when we’re finally settled after all that waiting. I find myself in the middle because I let Ingrid have the window seat, which she seemed to appreciate. I get the impression she hasn’t flown much in her life.

“Who was that?” she asks me.

“Who? The flight attendant?”

“Yeah. You seem to know each other well.”

“Don’t play the jealous card, Lex,” Ingrid teases.

“I’m not jealous,” she retorts. “It was just a question.”

Since she found out about us, Ingrid hasn’t stopped teasing Lucy. If I understood correctly, she has been teasing her since we first met. It seems like I’ve been tormenting Lucy for much longer than I thought. Now, Ingrid brags about being right and that it was about time she opened her eyes. I gently take Lucy’s hand. My gestures are still very timid, but she does everything to make me comfortable. Not only is this the first time I’ve accepted being seen in public as a couple, but it’s also so strange. This is Lucy we’re talking about—the woman who caught my eye on day one and whom I thought was unattainable. If you’d told me a few months ago that we’d be where we are now, I never would have believed it. Plus, since Feli, I’ve had a big problem with commitment, and since Lucy is my first relationship since her, she’s bearing the brunt of it. I’m lucky that she’s very understanding. She lets me go at my own pace. I’m almost glad we’re still in school because we can’t behave like a couple there. It will give me time to get used to our new relationship. The only problem is that now it’s the weekend, which means we’ll be far from school. I’m a bit anxious about how it will go. Lucy looks at me curiously, reminding me of her earlier question, which makes me smile suddenly.

“Her name’s Shay,” I finally reply. “We became friends the day I came back to Manchester in a bad state. She took care of me and gave me a sleeping pill to help me rest.”

“Oh,” she relaxes, starting to play with my fingers. “I hope you thanked her.”

“Of course,” I giggle.

Lucy has become completely different since we made our relationship official. She’s much more expressive now, and I have to say I appreciate it. I finally know what she’s thinking, especially when it comes to jealousy. Although she doesn’t express it physically, she asks a lot more questions than before. That was the case this morning during our study session when she brought up the topic of Alessia. She noticed that we’ve gotten closer and used our study time as an excuse to find out what we do during those moments and also to gauge how much I like her. I could tell our relationship bothered her, but she didn’t comment on it. I kiss her on the cheek at this thought before letting go of her hand. She slightly frowns at this gesture. We’re about to take off, so I want to prepare for the flight before being limited by the seatbelt later. I take out a pair of earphones and offer them to Lucy, but she doesn’t take them. I sit up to see what she’s doing and realize she’s captivated by Shay, who’s still standing by the doors. She’s quite pretty now that I look at her again. I narrow my eyes and wave my hand in front of Lucy.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“No,” I giggle. “I just wanted you to take the earphones.”

“Oh,” she says, taking them.

“Shall we watch a movie?” I suggest. “I’ll fall asleep if we don’t do anything.”

“We can. Unless you’d rather sleep,” she teases.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I can change my habits for you.”

“That’s sweet,” she smiles.

She leans in to peck my lips. This simple, spontaneous gesture fills my stomach with butterflies. Maybe this weekend will be good for us after all. Her role as a responsible person will finally be out of the picture, and we’ll be able to enjoy ourselves. I was starting to stagnate with all the studying she’s made me do since last night. It was far from fun, but I can’t blame her. She wants me to be ready for my upcoming tests before we leave, and I am now. Thanks to her and the tons of exercises she prepared for me, I’m now unshakeable on my management lessons. It was excessive, but at least I’m free for the weekend. I reach into my bag to pull out my laptop. It gets stuck, prompting me to lean over to unjam it.

“Nice butt, Batlle,” comments Ingrid.

I was about to reply, but a throat clearing interrupts me. I notice Shay when I glance over at Lucy. She’s looking at me with amusement.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you need to buckle up. We’re about to take off.”

I notice the seatbelt sign flashing above my head. It seems like she always has to remind me.

“Oops. I’ll do it right now.”

I grab the seatbelt and fasten it right away… Well, actually, Lucy does it for me when she sees how I was struggling. A small click assures me it’s properly secured. I double-check to make sure the light isn’t flashing anymore, and it’s not.

“Still as talented as ever.”

“Well, you have to be good for something.”

“Hey!”

“You know I’m joking,” I giggle before turning back to Shay. “We didn’t get to chat earlier. How are you, Shay? We can speak casually, right? We seem to be about the same age.”

“Yes, I think we can,” she smiles. “Unfortunately, I can’t stay long. I have to finish my round and then head back to my station. My supervisor would come down on me otherwise.”

“Oh, well, I won’t keep you any longer then.”

"Thank you. Have a good flight," she says as she continues on her way. "Oh, and lots of happiness to you both."

I don't have time to thank her before she's already off to check on the other passengers. Lucy's hand gently slides onto my thigh.

"She's nice," she comments.

"Did you see? She's cool, right?"

"Mmhmm."

I finally manage to get my laptop out of my bag. Lucy removes her hand so I can place it on my lap.

"Do you want to watch with us, Ingrid?" I offer.

"No, I think I'll take a nap instead. But thanks for asking."

"Too bad for you."

The intercom finally announces our takeoff. I plug in my hard drive while my laptop boots up. Meanwhile, Ingrid disconnects from the world with her headphones and the view outside. The plane begins to tremble slightly, a sign that we’re finally taking off. I glance at Lucy, who suddenly seems tense.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

"A little," she admits.

I smile as I notice her grip tighten on the armrest. I didn't know about this fear. I didn't even think she could be afraid of anything. I gently take her hand so she can hold mine instead.

"Hey, look at me."

"Sorry... It's just the takeoff that always gets to me."

Goodness, she's adorable when she blushes. For once, it's not me. I reach for her neck to kiss her. My gesture seems to have its effect, as her muscles relax, and her grip on my hand loosens slightly.

"Don't apologize. It's okay to have fears. You should have just told me."

"I should have, yes. I'm sorry."

She rests her head on my shoulder, gently rubbing her nose against my neck. It's rare for me to be the pillow, but I love this role too. I hand Lucy an earbud after plugging it in. The plane has gone quiet, which will allow us to enjoy the movies in peace. I'm not sure I'll make it through the whole film, but I don't dare move now that Lucy seems to have found her comfortable spot against me.

"We can continue Harry Potter if you want," she suggests as I scroll through my movies.

"Really?"

"Of course. You wanted to see them anyway."

"Cool. Thanks."

I quickly find where we left off last time and start it in full-screen mode.

"Can you sit up for a moment, please?"

"Are you kicking me out?"

"Of course not," I chuckle. "I just want to get comfortable."

She sits up with a groan, giving me the chance to settle into my seat. A sigh of relief escapes her lips when she finds her position against me again. I finally relax too. Just a few more hours and we'll be home.

Friday, February 5th; 11:05 PM - Barcelona Airport.

Getting off the plane is always difficult. Even more so today because of the position we were in with Lucy. Unsurprisingly, we fell asleep along the way. My limbs are seriously stiff now. I can't be the only one, given how Lucy stretches. We wave goodbye to Shay, with whom I managed to have a brief conversation before landing, and then we head down the hallway leading to the airport. Lucy takes the initiative to hold my hand. Unlike us, still struggling to wake up, Ingrid is full of energy and makes it known with her good mood.

"Who's picking us up again?" she asks me.

"Hector, my driver."

"Driver, as in personal driver?"

"Uh... Yeah, you could say that."

"Seriously?" she laughs.

"Hey! Don’t make fun. Hector's super cool, too!"

"You really do get chauffeured everywhere by everyone."

She's not wrong, even if she's joking. Buying a car will be one of my priorities once I leave school. I'll become much more independent. There are advantages to being driven, especially for nights out, but otherwise, it's much better to get around on your own. Speaking of Hector, I smile as we reach the end of the hallway and spot him in the distance.

"Is that him?" Lucy asks, looking around.

"Yeah. Come on!" I say, pulling Lucy along with me.

"Take it easy, we have time now," grumbles Ingrid, struggling to keep up.

My impatience makes me walk quickly. I'm eager to see everyone again. Sam immediately texted me when he heard I was coming back, thanks to my mom. He was so excited that he took charge of organizing everything with Sophia. He didn't seem to know I was bringing company. At least, he didn’t mention it. He'll probably tease me when he finds out about Lucy and me. I've told him countless times that I wasn't ready for a relationship, especially not in Manchester. And now I've done the complete opposite. As we reach Hector, I let go of Lucy's hand to hug him. My embrace seems to surprise him, and it’s no wonder. We're both far from being touchy people, but he responds without question. I've missed them all so much. After all, I haven't seen anyone since Christmas.

"Hey. It's good to see you again. Let me introduce you to Lucy and Ingrid, friends of mine," I say, introducing them.

"Friends, huh," he smiles knowingly, making me blush. "Hello, ladies. It's nice to meet you."

Lucy isn't one to hide, so I tend to forget myself around her. She chuckles and takes my hand again, likely confirming my chauffeur's suspicions.

"Hello. Thank you for picking us up," she says.

"No problem. It's my job, after all," he smiles.

"Did Mom spill the beans?" I ask.

"And then some," he laughs. "Samuel had to push a bit when he found out you were bringing company, but she told him everything."

I'm surprised. Not that Sam insisted, but that my mom talked about it. What's even weirder is that Sam didn't mention anything this morning when we spoke on the phone, even though he knew. I have a feeling I'm in for some teasing later.

"I see..."

"I've never flown before, but shouldn't we grab our bags?" Ingrid interrupts.

I laugh and nod. I was right again. She seemed too amazed for someone who's flown before. Her comment gets us moving toward the baggage carousel. Once we've collected our belongings, we head outside to meet Hector's service car. I sit in the front since neither of the girls wanted the seat. The ride is peaceful. Hector, usually so quiet, surprises me by chatting with my instructors to get to know them. Thanks to that, the trip feels shorter. Upon arrival, I chuckle at Ingrid's exaggerated comments about the sight of my house. Well, it is true that it's luxurious and very impressive from the outside. She won't be disappointed with the interior... Hector drives the car into the property after the gate and garage doors open via the remote controls.

"What kind of world do you actually live in?"

"A miserable one," I murmur.

"I doubt that, given where we are," she retorts.

"Believe me, if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that money isn't everything."

If I had the choice back then, I would have much preferred to live with my dad. He earned less money since my mom is a renowned surgeon and her boyfriend has a good position in the Police, but at least I would have had his love. His death left me feeling empty, which led to my downward spiral. It's not something I would have experienced with my mom. Besides receiving regular transfers, our relationship is unbearable. To think that she even blocked my access when I left home. At least now I manage it again. To be honest, I've never really taken advantage of it. The only times I've used it were for my outings, and now I also use it for my plane tickets. Everything else, I've saved, and I'm glad I did. I've always wanted to leave home early, and I'm closer than ever to that goal given the future that awaits me. We finally get out of the car, and Hector helps us with our bags. We thank him and wish him goodnight before heading inside my house. I tell the girls to be quiet since I'm not sure if Joan is already asleep. I lead the way into my entrance hall, gently rolling my suitcase on the floor. I quickly press the light switch to prevent the girls from bumping into any furniture in the dark.

- Ona!

I barely have time to turn towards the living room doorway before a little bundle literally jumps into my arms. Looks like we didn’t need to be discreet after all. I hoist him onto my hip, letting him cuddle me as much as he wants.

- Hey, what are you still doing up? I thought you’d be in bed.

- You should know him by now. He was determined to wait up for you.

My smile widens as I see Sophia standing beside her. I kiss Joan on the head, then move towards Sophia to hug her, ignoring my brother’s complaints between us.

- I missed you guys.

- We missed you too. And who are these lovely girls with you?

- This is Lucy and Ingrid. They’re spending the weekend with us.

- Nice to meet you both. It’s great to finally put faces to your names.

- Are you going to say hi? I whispered to Joan, who was curiously watching them.

He blushed and shook his head, then buried herself into my neck. I rolled my eyes playfully as I moved closer to the girls, which made Joan press even more against me. He’s always been shy around new people, but it seems even worse now.

- Oh come on, Joan. They’re really nice.

He shook his head again, making Lucy laugh, which in turn brought a smile to my face. I love hearing that sound and seeing her dimples.

- Leave him be. He’ll say hi when he’s more comfortable.

- I didn’t know you were good with kids.

- My brother is a special case, I replied to Ingrid, kissing the top of Joan’s head.

I turned to Sophia, who had a blissful smile on her face. It was surprising to see her still here. Normally, she goes home on weekends since my mom and Marcus are either around or take turns. I’m glad we came just for this. I would’ve been annoyed if she had to stay just for us.

- When did my mom and Marcus leave?

- This afternoon.

- Oh, you could’ve left and let Hector take care of Joan. He could’ve taken him to the airport.

- I didn’t want to bother him, and besides, it gave me a chance to see you too.

- You’re so sweet. How are you?

- I’m good. And how about you? I’ve never seen your mom so happy since she came back from Manchester. She hasn’t stopped talking about the great day she spent with you... I have to admit, I was a bit surprised, she smiled.

- Oh, um... Yeah, I replied awkwardly, running a hand through my hair. It was nice. Thanks to Lucy, I said, pointing to her.

- So she’s the lucky one? Your mom couldn’t stop talking about her either, she teased. You were so nervous about coming out.

- Who’s Lucy? Joan finally popped her head out of my neck.

- That’s her, I said, pointing to Lucy again.

- Is she your girlfriend? Mom talked about her.

Wow, Lucy must’ve really made an impression if my mom mentioned her so much. I chuckled and nodded. Joan looked at Lucy more intently, tightening her grip around my neck. He seemed a little intimidated.

- You’re still going to sleep with me tonight, right? I don’t want you to leave.

- I’m not going anywhere. As for sleeping together, we’ll see, I said, glancing briefly at Lucy.

I didn’t want to agree without checking with Lucy first. We’re a couple now, and I’m not sure she’d appreciate me imposing my little brother in our bed.

- Of course she’ll sleep with you, Lucy answered my brother. But only if you share her with me a little too!

Joan relaxed in my arms. He looked at Lucy for a moment, as if judging her, before nodding with a small smile. Lucy must have that special something that makes everyone like her. At least she’s already managed to win over my brother.

- Hey everyone!

The front door slammed shut as Mapi burst into the room. Sometimes I wonder if this is really my house or hers. My mom had the idea of giving her a key so she could come by whenever she wanted. Now that I think about it, maybe she did that because she knew we were together for a long time back then.

- I know I’m a little late, but I really wanted to finish my project so I could relax this weekend.

She came over to greet us one by one with a kiss on each cheek. She lingered a bit longer with Ingrid, then surprisingly hugged Lucy before moving on to Sophia and finally Joan and me. She hugged me tightly, a gesture we both understood. We missed each other, especially after these last few emotional weeks. She pulled back with a smile.

- I’m glad to see you doing well. A bit battered, but still in good shape, she teased. And you, my little terror! Not even a hello for me? she said to my little brother.

Joan gave her a kiss, but my best friend pretended not to be convinced. She took him from my arms to give him some tickles. Joan burst out laughing, squirming against her, just as ticklish as I am, if not more. I took advantage of their moment to return to Lucy. She welcomed me by placing her hand on my hip to pull me closer.

- Nice house, she murmured. I’m looking forward to seeing your world.

- We’ll go up soon. But if you want to know the truth, I prefer your apartment, I admitted.

It’s much cozier than this big house. I immediately felt at home the first time she took me there. Maybe she’s my "home." At that thought, I wrapped my arms around her and rested my head on her shoulder, prompting her to wrap her arm around mine.

- You look exhausted.

- I am.

- That’s hardly possible. You slept one hours on the plane, little sleepyhead.

- You did too, remember?

- I never said I was tired.

I buried my head in her neck, savoring this simple moment. Maybe I’ll actually be able to relax this weekend. I’m starting to think I can.

- Can we go to bed now? I suggested.

- Great idea, Mapi replied. The little rascal should already be in bed anyway, it’s getting late.

- I’m not a rascal, Joan grumbled.

Mortified, my little brother hid in Mapi as we all laughed. The sight warmed my heart. Joan is so shy that he rarely gets close to adults, but my best friend is one of the few exceptions. He tends to interact with her the same way she does with me. I hope he’ll accept Lucy in the same way over time. Nothing would make me happier.

You’re right, he’s got sleepy eyes, I finally said.

He's far past her bedtime. Usually, he goes to bed around ten p.m. on weekends, and now it’s already past midnight.

"Are you two sharing a room?" I asked Mapi and Ingrid.

They exchanged a quick glance before Ingrid shrugged. It seems things aren't going so well between them. Lucy was right when she said there would be some tension at the beginning.

"I don't mind... Unless it bothers you?" Mapi asked timidly.

"No. We can sleep together."

"Cool. Can I take any room, Onita?"

"Yes, of course."

"Great, see you in a bit then. Should I put Joan in your room?"

I looked at her, now dozing off in Mapi's arms. It seems the wait wore her out.

"Yes, you can."

We wished them goodnight as the girls disappeared up the stairs. I finally turned to Sophia.

"Thanks for staying to watch her. You should head home now. They must be waiting for you."

"You know everyone must be asleep by now. How are you doing? I didn't want to bring it up in front of Joan, but you're pretty banged up."

"I’ve been through worse," I shrugged. "And I had a good nurse, so I’m okay," I replied, leaning closer to Lucy.

"I see," she smiled. "I’m happy for you... for both of you, actually."

"Thanks, Sophia... Thanks for everything."

"It’s nothing. Your mom asked me to stay available this weekend, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything," she said.

I nodded, thanking her. I don't like making her come back on weekends, but knowing the girls, we'll probably go out tomorrow night, so the offer is appreciated.

"Goodnight, girls."

"Goodnight," Lucy and I replied in unison.

We waited for her to leave before heading up the stairs with our suitcases. I chuckled as I heard Lucy grumbling behind me. It was far from easy, especially since I forgot to turn on the downstairs light. It must be even harder for her since she can’t see anything. I turned on the light once we reached the top and immediately went to help her. I guided her to my room, where a small lamp was already on. Joan was fast asleep in the middle of my bed. I was surprised to also find Ingrid there. I quickly understood her presence when I heard a noise coming from my closet.

"Ouch!"

"What are you looking for, Maps?" I asked, exasperated, while setting my suitcase down beside the closet.

"Ah, there you are! I can’t find Joan's pajamas," she replied.

"Maybe because they’re in his room?" I suggested.

"I told you so," Ingrid said.

"No, I’m pretty sure you always kept them here," she argued.

"And what do you think his room is for?" I rolled my eyes. "Never mind, I’ll handle it now that I’m here."

"Oh well... I’ll just grab my own pajamas then."

She dove back into my closet. My house is practically her second home, so she has plenty of clothes here. Most of them have been here since our relationship ended. She never bothered to take them back. I groaned as she dropped a pile of clothes at least three times. The girls stifled their laughter behind me. I glanced at the mess she made. She finally managed to pull out a pj set from the now-disheveled pile.

"Got it!" she announced, returning to us. "Sorry for the mess and, uh... the chaos," she grimaced, looking back. "You don’t mind cleaning it up, do you?"

"Get out before I change my mind."

"Thanks," she said nervously.

"Don’t forget your toothbrush," I teased.

"Oh yeah! I’ll be right back."

I held back a laugh as she almost ran to my bathroom. I looked at Lucy, who seemed just as amused. We were probably thinking the same thing. Mapi reappeared with her toothbrush and a tube of makeup remover.

"Well, goodnight, girls."

"Goodnight."

As soon as the door closed behind Ingrid and Mapi, we burst out laughing.

"Oh my God! I’ve never seen her like that before."

She was so stressed; it’s not like her. I wonder why. Ingrid has proven to me many times that she’s not a difficult person. She’s very kind and even supported my relationship with Lucy before it even began.

"I don’t know how Ingrid will manage to stay so calm. Mapi’s definitely going to drive her crazy."

"You think so? Poor thing."

"Yeah," she smiled. "But don’t worry, Ingrid will know how to handle her. Still, I’m a little jealous of Mapi."

"Oh yeah? Why’s that?"

"How come she has so many things in your room?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, that," I grimaced. "Well, she practically lived here when I came back, so she kind of took over my room. Let’s just say she doesn’t get along with her parents, so my house has always been her refuge. But she has an apartment now, so she could take them back."

"Relax," she laughed. "I wasn’t asking for that. It was just a question."

"Sorry," I replied, embarrassed.

"Can I take a look around?" she changed the subject.

"Of course, go ahead."

With a smile on her lips and a curious look, she began exploring my room. It’s quite large and divided into three areas. There’s my closet on the left, my bed in the middle, and a small sitting area on the right. I call it that because there’s a small sofa and a little table in front of my TV, which is mounted on the wall. The colors are neutral, with my personal touch all around. I painted the walls back in the day. My mom’s reaction was priceless the first time she saw it.

"It’s beautiful," she murmured.

"I had my teenage rebellion a bit late."

She chuckled as she approached the wall where the entrance door is. A massive forest is painted across the entire length. I’ve always loved nature. She looked up at the ceiling, where I had painted different shades of blue and purple with small white spots for the stars. My room is really like my sanctuary, my private domain. Few people have had the chance to see it.

"You did a great job. The result is stunning. You love nature?" she asked, making me nod. "Maybe we could go hiking or camping one day."

"Why not," I replied, smiling at the thought.

The bubble that had formed between us was suddenly burst by a noise at the door, followed by it opening to reveal Mapi. She looked even more stressed than before.

"Sorry to bother you again. I-I forgot the cotton pads."

"There are some in the drawers of every bathroom, Mapi," I said, raising an eyebrow.

She groans in frustration and then sighs, running a hand over her face. She really seems at her wit's end.

"Relax, Mapi."

"I’d like to see you try! You were in my shoes not too long ago, remember? Seriously, girls, I don’t know what to do. She’s so cold towards me. It feels like she hates me. What should I do?"

"Maybe it's because she does hate you," Lucy murmurs.

"But why!? I haven’t done anything wrong!"

"You're avoiding your relationship. It’s as simple as that. Ingrid doesn’t like being kept waiting. Own up to your feelings, and maybe she’ll change her behavior."

"I was just trying to do things right," Mapi sighs. "I wasn’t avoiding her… I couldn’t exactly start our relationship long-distance!"

"Really?" Lucy challenges. "I think you’re just being a coward. Do I need to remind you that Ingrid is my best friend? If you hurt her, you’ll have serious problems with me, no matter how much you supported me with Ona."

I had never seen Lucy so serious about Ingrid before. I knew they were close, but I never realized how deep their bond went.

"T-That’s the last thing I want... I’m just trying to handle this situation and do things right, I promise."

"You’re not handling anything right now. It’s easy to send sweet messages and then run away. If you want to prove that you’re ready to move forward, then own up to your words and kiss her."

I bite my lip, seeing Mapi's state. She clearly wasn’t expecting Lucy to react this way. Neither was I, honestly. It’s rare for her to swear or lose her temper. It’s almost... sexy. Mapi can only manage a nod.

"Th-Thanks. Good night."

She leaves as quickly as she came. She’s probably even more shaken up after what Lucy just said.

"Don’t you think you went a little hard on her?" I giggle.

"She just needed a push. Trust me, she needed it," she says, making me laugh.

She pulls me close when I start to move toward her, placing her hands on my cheeks. I close my eyes to enjoy the soft caress of her thumbs. She takes advantage of my slightly parted lips to kiss me tenderly. The kiss deepens quickly as her hand slides up to my neck under my hair. Her touch and the way her tongue meets mine make me feel breathless, like I’m losing my footing.

"Ona?" Joan whimpers.

I jump, accidentally biting Lucy’s tongue in the process. She groans in pain, pulling back. I bite my lip now, seeing her bring her hand to her mouth.

"Damn, Luce ! Are you okay?!"

"It hurtsh," she lisps.

Under different circumstances, I might have laughed, but right now, it’s just embarrassing. Her lisp is kind of cute, though, making me stifle a laugh.

"I’m sorry, Luce... Let me see."

This time, I can’t hold back my laughter when she actually sticks out her tongue to show me.

"Stop laughing! It'sh not funny!"

"Sorry. Please, show me again."

"No, you'll laugh again."

"Ona," Joan calls again.

"I’m coming, Joan."

"Take care of him. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course, you don’t have to ask. Make yourself at home. I’ll grab Joan’s pajamas from his room and be right back."

I kiss her cheek and go to get Joan’s pajamas and toothbrush. At least, that was the plan until I couldn’t find the toothbrush anywhere in the bathroom. Giving up on the search, I head back to my room. I stop at the door when I see Lucy sitting on the edge of my bed, deep in conversation with my little brother. It’s such an adorable scene that I hesitate to interrupt. But then Lucy notices me. She smiles warmly and motions for me to join them by holding out her hand. I walk over to find Joan wide awake. He was fast asleep just fifteen minutes ago. I hope he’ll fall asleep quickly again.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, we were just talking," Lucy answers, wrapping her arm around me.

"Cool... Hey, Joan, where’s your toothbrush?"

He timidly points to my bathroom. I really did search for it for nothing.

"Go brush your teeth."

"But—"

"No buts. Go on!"

It’s always a battle over this, but I’m glad he doesn’t put up much of a fight tonight. He trudges off to my bathroom, dragging his feet.

"He’s a lot like you," Lucy teases, laughing.

"Hey!" I say, playfully hitting her.

She laughs, pulling me between her legs. I instinctively place my hands on her shoulders to keep from falling on her.

"How’s your tongue?"

"It’s better. I brushed my teeth to ease the pain."

"I’m really sorry. That was so embarrassing," I say, blushing.

"It’s okay," she laughs. "It’s not your fault. These things happen," she says, resting her head on my chest.

She sighs, hugging me tightly. She must be as tired as I am. I smile, seeing her so peaceful against me.

"I’m glad you came back home with me..."

"Me too."

"You make me feel at ease wherever you are."

She lifts her head to smile at me tenderly.

"We’re going to do things right. I promise."

I nod eagerly. I know we will. As long as she’s by my side, I feel invincible.

"I’m looking forward to tomorrow. You’ll finally meet Samuel. I’m sure you’ll like him."

"I’m sure I will."

"Ona?" Joan interrupts us.

I reluctantly pull away from Lucy to see my little brother standing timidly in the bathroom doorway. I go to him and pick him up. Meanwhile, Lucy has gotten up to grab her things from her suitcase. I quickly change Joan so he can get under the covers. I ask him to choose a side instead of settling in the middle as he does when we sleep with Mapi. Joan listens without fuss. Since Lucy isn’t done yet, I decide to change in the room to save time, picking out a long t-shirt and shorts from my closet.

"I really like your new girlfriend," Joan tells me. "She's really nice."

"Really? I'm glad to hear that."

I sit on the bed to take off my shoes and socks, listening to my brother talk about Lucy. Apparently, they introduced themselves and had a little chat. I'm really happy that Lucy took the first step. It means a lot to me. I take off my pants and replace them with shorts, folding the pants neatly afterward. I've always made sure to keep my room tidy without my mom having to tell me. I finish by taking off my top, and of course, that's when Lucy comes out of the bathroom. She pauses for a moment, finding me in my bra. I quickly cover myself with my pajama top, which makes her smile.

"I've seen you in worse situations than this, you know."

"That was different," I mumble. "I'm going to brush my teeth, I'll be right back."

"Aren't you going to take a shower?"

I shiver as her fingers brush against my bare hip when I pass by her. I'm sure she did it on purpose. I clutch my t-shirt a little tighter in front of me.

"Tomorrow morning… I'm too tired now," I manage to say.

"Alright, hurry up then. I'll be waiting."

I leave her space and lock myself in the bathroom, taking a deep breath. If she wanted to kill me, she almost succeeded. I quickly change, remove my makeup, and brush my teeth. I fix my hair in the mirror and catch my breath. I smile at myself in the mirror to gather some courage, but I quickly lose it when I see how ridiculous I look. I suddenly understand Mapi's nervousness, even though our situations are different. I give myself a little pep talk before leaving the bathroom. The first thing I see is Joan, peacefully asleep again. Lucy is lying on the opposite side, tapping on her phone. I slip into bed between the two of them, relieved that the bed is big enough to comfortably fit all three of us. I wouldn't have allowed Joan to stay if we were cramped like sardines. I observe Lucy, who smiles at me. I barely have time to notice she was on Instagram before she closes the app and locks her phone. She sets it on the nightstand and lies down to face me. She slides her hand under the pillow to touch mine. Her smile widens softly as her other hand reaches for my face to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Is everything okay?" she murmurs.

"Why wouldn't it be…? Do you think I'm not okay?"

She laughs softly, running her hand along my back, pulling me closer.

"No. I just think you're stressed and distracted. Are you trying to compete with Mapi?"

I blush, lowering my head. She kisses my forehead. Why am I feeling this way? It's just Lucy in front of me, the one who knows everything about me and who helped me open up to the world again in just four months.

"I'm sorry…"

"Was it my gesture that bothered you?"

She moves her hand to my hip, her eyes following the movement under the blanket. I was about to speak, but she interrupts me.

"You know," she begins, "I know it's hard for you to let yourself go with me."

"That's not it," I interrupt her.

I take a deep breath before lifting my head to face her. My heart aches when I see the look on her face. It can't be easy for her to be in a relationship with someone like me.

"I'm sorry you're bearing the brunt of my psycho ex. You're not the problem; you're the solution, I promise. Just give me some time to adjust to all this… It's hard to open up in a relationship, especially with you. You can read me better than anyone, and it's kind of unsettling."

She chuckles softly, continuing to stroke my hip. I force myself to stay calm to prove my point.

"Are you sure about that? That's not the impression you're giving me. Since we made our relationship official, you tense up at the slightest touch. It wasn't like that before."

"That's because our relationship has evolved, and I don't know what you expect from me. I don't really know how to explain it…" I murmur.

"Hey," she says, lifting my chin with her fingers. "I don't expect anything specific. I just want us to regain the connection we had before. The rest will come naturally, without forcing things."

I sigh in relief, nodding. Why was I so worried? Lucy is perfect with me. I should have talked to her about it right away. She always has the right words to reassure me.

"The only thing I ask is that you don't push me away," she continues. "I'm here for you, and I want to help you as best as I can."

"I would never make that mistake, Lucy… I know you're the only one I need. One day, you'll know everything… if you want to, of course."

"I do. Everything about you interests me," she says before kissing my forehead. "Don't hesitate to talk to me if you ever feel like it."

Once again, I nod as I snuggle closer to her. Her arms automatically tighten around me. They make me feel like I have a shield protecting me from everything around us. Some time passes before she breaks the silence with a throat clearing.

"And, um… I don't know if this needs to be said, but you know I would never raise a hand against you, right?"

"Of course," I reply with a smile hidden from her eyes. "I trust you more than anyone, Luce."

She sighs heavily, letting the air brush through my hair. She kisses the top of my head again, holding me even closer.

"Good," she murmurs. "All I care about is that you find peace within yourself."

I close my eyes, seeking as much contact with her as possible. I want to feel normal again, too. My fears and nightmares are starting to weigh on me more and more, but I have no doubt that everything will be resolved in the coming months. I'm not alone anymore. A smile crosses my face when she starts exploring my hip again with a gentle touch. If I don't think about anything, I can finally enjoy it.

"I'll get there with you by my side… I promise. But… don't take this the wrong way, but I was dreading this weekend…" I admit. "I was afraid you'd expect too much from me."

A genuine laugh escapes her lips, though she softens it, given our surroundings. I almost forget about my sister, who is peacefully sleeping behind my back.

"You idiot. Did you really think I was going to jump on you or something?"

Now that she says it like that, I feel really ridiculous for having thought such a thing. She pulls away from me, forcing me to look at her. Embarrassment washes over me when I see her teasing smile.

"S-sorry," I stammer.

"Ridiculous," she gently teases me again. "We have all the time in the world for that kind of thing; you don't have to worry about it."

"You're right, sorry," I say, my cheeks still flushed. "It's just that I don't want to deprive you either."

"You're not depriving me of anything. Having you close to me is all that matters. You don't have to worry about that. I'll make you enjoy all this again, and most importantly, I'll always keep you safe."

"I already feel safe, Luce. Why do you think I slept so well when we first started sleeping together…?"

"I messed things up more than I thought… Your nightmares have come back, haven't they?"

"You didn't mess anything up. We wouldn't be here otherwise. Stop blaming yourself for something I've already forgiven you for. And yes, my nightmares have come back, but it will get better. All we need to do now is move forward."

"You're right. We'll take it slow. We've already overcome so much, so we'll manage to live as a couple, I promise you."

I nod, completely agreeing with that.

"Okay, it's time to sleep now…"

She turns for a moment to turn off the light and then pulls me back into her arms. I find my position easily, without feeling any discomfort. I close my eyes, desperately clinging to her t-shirt. This conversation has done me good. I know everything will be okay now. She doesn't realize how much I need her. I slip my leg between hers to get as close as possible.

"Can I?" she asks, slowly sliding her hand under my tank top to touch the bare skin of my back.

I smile and nod. I enjoy her touch. She's probably the only person I allow to do so much, even if she doesn't realize it yet. I've been waiting so long for this moment when she'd finally lower her barriers too, and it's finally happening. Her warm hand returns to caress my spine with the tips of her fingers. I lift my head to try and find her lips in the dark.

"Goodnight, my love," she murmurs against my lips.

That nickname makes my stomach flutter. It throws me off so much that all I can manage is a mumbled goodnight into her chest before falling asleep peacefully.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze #mapi and ingrid #mapi leon #ingrid engen #Mapi

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ambernotember · 4 months ago

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Day 59: Flight

could follow Day 54: Alarm (here)

“Hey, Tommy is a flight instructor, right?” Ravi asked.

“Yeah, he does lessons, why?” Eddie spared him a quick glance as they loaded up the tools.

“I was thinking it could be a good thing to learn, you know? More options in the department.”

“Better watch your ankles,” Chimney chimed in.

“My ankles?” Ravi asked, confused.

“Buck still has a bit of a jealousy problem about Tommy,” Hen said.

“Don’t steal my boyfriend,” Buck said, pointing at Ravi and ignoring Hen.

“Yeah, I’m more afraid of Sergeant Grant,” Ravi muttered under his breath.

“Why would you need to be afraid of Athena?” Hen asked, eyes glittering with the possibility of gossip.

“Just like, in general, I mean?” Fuck.

(@118dailydrabble)

on ao3

(more drabbles)

#ravi panikkar #eddie diaz #hen wilson #chimney han #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #911 #911 fanfic #911 fic #118dailydrabble #my stuff #my 118dailydrabble

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usafphantom2 · 5 months ago

Text

#TomcatTail

#TomcatTuesday

That Time at Top Gun I Got Jumped by an F-5

Disclaimer: This #TomcatTail occurred almost 30 years ago and while I’ve got the lion’s share of the details correct, there may be a few errors but not in anything substantive to the story. Sorry, I’m old.

Getting selected to attend Top Gun in March of 1995 was pretty cool. Back in those days, TG was still at NAS Miramar so a good bit of training occurred in the Top Gun hangar and out over the water off San Diego. Other elements of training involved training ranges near El Centro/Yuma, Fallon, Nevada and China Lake, CA (emitter hop). All in all it was a great experience but it did have a couple “others”.

First, both the selected pilot and RIO are supposed to be cruise qualified, having done a deployment as they would likely become Pilot and RIO training officers after they graduated. Unfortunately, the luck of the draw had it that a non-cruise-experienced RIO got the nod to attend with me which made it just a bit more challenging. No dig on my RIO, it’s a really hard thing for anyone to do, but it made for some extra work on me in a learning environment.

The second “other” – and I know you aviators out there will be shaking your head in recognition – was that when I went through there was a HUGE budget problem in the flying hour program: not enough money for gas (when is there, right??). My CO’s solution was to only partially fill all the jets for each flight (internal fuel only) and NOT fill the drop tanks. Your normal fuel load of 20,000 pounds was reduced to 16,000 pounds (yes, 20% reduction). Not my favorite CO, BTW. I asked “can I at least take the drop tanks off so I don’t have the drag penalty?”, his answer was, in a word, “no.” D*ck. Any other classmates have this problem? Nope. Double D*ck.

That was my challenge all the way through Top Gun; an inexperienced RIO (still love him like a brother) and a 20% fuel penalty for every flight. My RIO got better pretty quickly and generally rose to the occasion, and for my part (having always been a Friend of Maintenance or FOM) I managed to often times sweet talk the Sailors fueling the jet to “accidentally” fill up the drops. I always had a great relationship with Sailors (my Dad was Enlisted before he became a Naval Aviator), so it wasn’t that hard to get ‘em to help me out on occasion.

It was a pretty lengthy syllabus (I counted 28 hops in my logbook just now) with your standard “small to big” training focus. 1v1s, 2v2s, 4v4s, the infamous “Flanker Hop” against high alt/high speed Vipers, threat emitters at China Lake, and Strike missions around Fallon, Nevada. The instructors were absolutely top notch and literally everything you did (from brief, to flight, to fight, to debrief) was critiqued. It’s like applying Blue Angel precision to the fighter environment.

With that, we come to the story of getting jumped by an F-5. As I recall, the hop was a four plane Self Escort Strike (Fighter/Bomber configuration) at the training range around Fallon, Nevada carrying two each inert Mk 82s (cement 500lb bombs). We’d fight our way in from the east on the north side of the range, hang a left at the right time to attack the Bravo 19 target complex to the south, and egress/hook out to the west after that (picture counter-clockwise flow). We were in a four plane and the section of F-14Bs were in the lead, and I was Dash-2 in the section of F-14As.

Side note – one crew per squadron was selected per class so they generally ran 2 sections of Tomcats and two sections of Hornets (maybe a few more). At the time, I was in VF-24 in the F-14A so I got crewed up with another Pilot/RIO [admission – for the LIFE of me I can’t remember their squadron……VF-213?.....31?... ...dunno….it was 1995 and they were flying A’s out of Miramar] and we’d swap leads every other mission/syllabus hop. Today “Stinky” was in the lead (not his real callsign).

We started the run from the east headed west along the northern boundary of the working area. We were one mile combat spread (each jet 1 mile apart) in a line abreast and I was on the far right (northernmost fighter); lead fighter in the B was on the far left and Stinky was 1 mile to my left. Break those hands out again if it helps. Looks about like this:

◄ - Dash 4 (me)

◄ - Dash 3 (Stinky)

◄ - Dash 2 (F-14B)

◄ - Dash 1 (Lead F-14B)

The expectation is that we’d see some long-range contacts (we did) and fire some BVR weapons (we did) and then make our way to the target area and get jumped either in the middle during our turn south (we did) or immediately off the target after we released (we did).

So we’re “haulin’ the chili” as we used to say, ingressing at 480kts and nearing the swing south. Parenthetically, we liked to travel at speeds in multiples of 60 because that made the time/distance calculation easier…..480kts = 8 miles a minute means 16 miles away = 2 minutes. We hit the turn point and start this sweeping gentle “wheel” to the left and steady up on a southerly heading as I get back in position having been on the outside of the turn. Right when we settle back in and we’re all 1-mile line abreast, my RIO shouts out on the tactical frequency “BOGEY RIGHT THREE O’CLOCK ONE MILE!!!” I look over and sure enough there’s an F-5 at one mile away on my altitude pointing right at me. Dang it.

Here’s where it gets funny. Stinky calls out on the radio “We’re clear!”, meaning he thinks we don’t need to engage and can blow through. Well yes, Stinky, YOU are clear because the F-5 is TWO miles from YOU and has no chance of catching YOU, but I’VE got him in my knickers and I HAVE to honor his presence and engage. So I do.

INTERMISSION – I will say that Stinky was a resoundingly gifted Tomcat pilot and was as good at ACM as anyone, but this was NOT the first time he’d left me to engage as he blew through. It happened on a previous 2 plane ingress; I got jumped and he kept going. Not the coolest move, naturally, and the Instructors were savage in their critique but honestly I didn’t have to worry about it after Top Gun because he wasn’t in my squadron. We now return you to your previously schedule dogfight.

So bam, max performance turn to the right to take the F-5 down my right side close aboard to try and neutralize the threat and then figure out what’s next. I figure that if I want to have a snowballs chance in hell to get back to my division, I had to steer the fight properly. So he goes down my right side and I take the fight two circle (continue the right turn, but mostly in the vertical), come out of blower to get the speed down and turn rate to increase quickly and pull hard to get nose on. It works pretty well because the F-5 turns about like a Phantom (meaning: it doesn’t). I get the nose to rate around quickly and pull down to get nose on the F-5 and call a quick “Fox 2” on him. Fortunately for me, we’re kind of pointing the way we were going originally, so it’s blowers to Zone 5 and try and find our buddies. Honestly, I think that was a gift from the Instructor to configure it so I’d bag him and be able to continue. They were always good like that.

My RIO finds them on the pulse scope pretty quickly; they’re a number of miles ahead but we’re heading down hill toward them in full grunt, haulin’ and extra helping of chili. I get a visual and aim for the Dash-4 position to the right of Stinky where I was previously. By this time we’re getting close to the roll in point on the Bravo 19 target. The plan is to do a “John Wayne Left”, where – just like in the movies – we all roll in on the target leftward, one after another. We’ll likely even mentally make that noise from those movies…..”Brrrrr…..Brrrrrr…..Brrrrrr”. The timing works out absolutely perfectly (rather be lucky than good). I’m sliding up into position when Dash 1 rolls left….Dash 2 goes……my RIO gets Air-to-Ground read into the system, good symbology…..Stinky goes….then I go.

Master Arm on, roll left, pull nose to the target, 45° dive set, symbology tracking (a vertical line through the target with a que marker marching down to a release marker), que marker hits release marker, press the bomb button (“pickle”), thump-thump, and we’re off target. I pull out hard, roll wings left to look back briefly at the target (a hit, or at least close enough) and find and join on Stinky in spread again.

The B guys get jumped from the north now and me and Stinky have a couple bogies on our nose to the west. We’ve split into roughly separate sections so now it’s time to fight our way out. Fortunately for us, the bogies are right on our nose, so discretion being the better part of valor we blow through as we accelerate through the number at about 5,000 feet off the deck. Not a good idea to hang out over simulated bad guy country after you just bombed the shit out of ‘em. “Evaluate the bug” says Stinky…..”good bug” says the Instructor. Success.

We come back for the debrief and it goes fairly well. For those that haven’t been through, “fairly well” means you get talked to about each and every point of the flight for about 3 hours. Stinky got savaged for not honoring the threat to his wingman but again, no big deal to me. And then we go to the tapes to evaluate our strike run. It comes to my turn and we roll tape. The vertical line (Bomb Fall Line, I think) tracks over the target, que hits, bombs come off, and the instructor hits pause.

“So how fast were you going at release?” Uh oh. I had no idea. So you know, there are actually limits to how fast you can drop ordnance based on how much testing had been done on the airframe. At that point the Tomcat wasn’t cleared for supersonic release. Conjecture was that depending on speed and airflow that a released bomb may get “stuck” in the air around the jet and clatter around in the tunnel between the engines. On the “good/bad scale”, that’s clearly on “bad.”

“I’m not sure, Sir. I was trying to get into position on time to roll in with the division and I didn’t check.”

“Well, based on what we could see on radar, you joined your division nearly supersonic, right around 600 knots. Then you rolled in, so I figure you may have dropped past the number. Congratulations, you’re a test pilot.”

Oops. “Uhhh…..thank you Sir.” What a time to be alive!

@RSE_vb via X

#f 14 tomcat #grumman aviation #fighter interceptor #aircraft #navy #aviation #us navy #carrier aviation #anytime baby!#cold war aircraft

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voch · 7 months ago

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idk if I ever shared my grown up versions of the cups but I updated them today

Cuphead is a famous baseball player on the Inkwell Inkspots, the team he’s dreamed of joining since he was little. He’s rich and unmarried and probably has unresolved problems.

Mugman is a history teacher at Inkwell Elementary. He’s happy with his job, is roommates with Canteen Hughes, and often helps him repair planes.

Chalice gave up her dream to become a race car driver to help Saltbaker feed the poor and needy around the Isles, and now she’s his official assistant. She keeps her Super Art II always summoned as a pet.

Canteen Hughes is an ace of aces pilot who fought in WWII. He’s also a mechanic, flight instructor, and plane repairer.

#cuphead #mugman #ms chalice #canteen hughes #Cuphead npc

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quakerjoe · 5 months ago

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A CUPPA JOE: 14 JAN 2025

Let's keep on point for a moment and screw the civility for a bit. My sense of civility died with Heather Heyer.

As tragic a thing it is when violence breaks out, TOO OFTEN it is the ONLY language that seems to get through to the rich and powerful since the voices of those whom they lord over always, reliably, fall upon deaf ears; ears crammed with corporate cash and bribes from oligarchs.

"Can we all just get along?" did nothing leading up to the American Revolution

"Hey, how about we don't allow slavery, huh?" didn't free a single slave in the USA.

"Yeah, Pearl Harbor... how about that? And those natsi death camps! We should all be waving fingers at those nations, especially when you look at how bad Stalin's Soviet Russia outdid Hitler but Stalin got away with it because he mostly kept Russian atrocities in-house. Ammiright?" Thanks, Mr. Chamberlain, but no thanks. Churchill's predecessor kept trying to play nice with natsis. How'd that work out?

Since the dawn of humanity, there is a line of trust between those who give consent to be governed, and those who do the governing. History is filled with countless examples of rich @$$holes who just don't know when to quit and they push and push and push until the breaking point hits and these dip$hits are suddenly surprised to find themselves being put up against a wall to be shot, led up a scaffold to be hanged or beheaded. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

We can warn them, time and again, that if the masses aren't being responsibly governed by people who see to the needs of ALL (or for feck sake, at least MOST) of the people in the country, it is inevitable that the masses no longer consent to the governance being applied.

Thomas Jefferson said it well in the Declaration of Independence: "When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation."

In other words, government in question anywhere, any time- "You're Fired!" When government agents sell their souls to oligarchs and push lies and create an environment where "We the People" cannot hold free and fair elections and hold the results of said elections to come to bear in favour of the MAJORITY, then we, as a society, as a whole, have failed ourselves and our posterity.

Every industrial nation on the planet has socialized medicine but one. ONE! You guessed it- the U.S.F'n-A. Every day the American people, no matter what side of what aisle you're pitching for, are highly strung out knowing, consciously or subconsciously, that their family's fortune can be erased with a major medical debt. This alone should be as uniting factor among ALL Americans, but the people of this country have grown increasingly stupid, less informed, more ignorant and certainly more apathetic.

Americans have a SERIOUS problem with TRUTH. This is what brought us to this sheep-like state of being.

Does anyone seriously believe the USA was minding its own business when the Japanese destroyed Pearl Harbor in WWII? History classes never teach 'Murican kids about how we helped the Chinese repel the Imperial Japanese forces from invasion. We cover up all the planes we sent to China to bolster their air force and the stories of brave American pilots who served as flight and combat instructors during this time. Covert submarine missions conducted by the US Navy to destroy Japanese shipping rarely, if ever, gets a mention. You know who DID know about US involvement in hindering Japanese advancements in the Pacific then? The Japanese. We weren't sucker punched. We weren't broadsided by the Japanese. We just didn't have the guts or gumption to answer the calls of our allies in China and the Pacific OR of our allies in Europe to stand up and fight when the call came. It wasn't until the Axis powers openly punched us in the face that we finally had enough support to DO something other than continuing talks and sending out pleas for the Axis powers to knock off all the killing and conquering.

This begs the question- when do we acknowledge that sometimes to stop the slaughter, one must stand and fight/commit violence? Is it only wrong when it's against our own rich @$$holes running the show at home? How many people DIED because trumplefuckstick screwed us ALL during the pandemic? How many DIED because insurance companies refused to keep up their end of the faith/trust and cover the life-saving things needed for people to survive an accident or curable disease? How many CEO's out there listen to those who, in the case of insulin alone, literally BEGGED to have the prices brought down to some reasonable level of affordability?

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness." Paragraph II of the Declaration of Independence; just a reminder that the oh-so-sacred Founding Fathers were very well aware that government gets power from those consenting to be governed. When government betrays the sacred trust of the people that put these @$$holes in power in the first place, it is on US to remove them and while through the rendering of laws that should allow us to do so peacefully, Jan 6 has proven that even those pillars of democracy mean f-all today.

So who is going to help us out? God? Jesus? The Great Pumpkin? The Spaghetti Monster? I highly doubt it. God hasn't show up for a war since, oh, ever. I mean, never. Religion has gone from an early stage of mystery where the wise find themselves on a quest for knowledge and to seek the Divine in any and all things while the not-so-enlightened use it like they do today- a tool to make even the dumbest, stupidest, most ignorant tw@ts appear smarter than they are because they were clever enough to tell an even greater body of people following them "It's God's Will and He works in mysterious ways- DON'T QUESTION." Nothing has drowned out God(s) like human arrogance and hubris like 'organized' religion has. It has trained the less fortunate to believe what they're told and to not question anything. Those who see behind the curtain see it for what it is: The Oldest Grift that's still going after thousands, maybe millions of years.

If you think I'm having a poke at God(s) (There are more than the One God- the First Commandment makes it abundantly clear) you're wrong. I'm not. I have no truck with God, and if we, as a species, are truly the recipients of the gift of Free Will, then that's simple enough to understand and it would of course explain why never openly see or hear from God. Then again, who REALLY does?

For example, look at Joseph Smith. This convicted grifter from my state of Vermont, managed to somehow procure unto himself some mysterious golden tablets that only HE could even see, let alone read. He managed to con a bunch of desperate, disenfranchised burnouts to follow him across this continent, to settle in bum-feck nowhere in Utah near a poisonous lake. He convinced these poor, less-than-bright acolytes that he was their new messiah and that they should all give him their possessions as well as their women (meaning their wives and daughters of all ages for him to F'k as he pleases). Yeah. That's Mormonism. That's religion in general, from ancient times to Charlie Manson and David Koresh and Jim Jones. It's not about gods or sacred tomes and riles, it's about selfish shitbags finding a flock of dimwits to follow them and that in places in the world where education thrives, it is harder and harder to find such dimwits to lead in a collective flock.

It happens all the time in the US; a nation continually crashing the education system to the point where it's beyond the point of being a matter of national security because the troops are literally too stupid to work the equipment. People aren't so stupid, I think, that they don't know why the GOP wants to end TikTok. It's an untethered platform where we can see, unedited, what's going on elsewhere. We can see the war crimes committed by the IDF in Palestine. We can see the atrocities committed by Russia in Ukraine.

The point is, sooner or later THE TRUTH GETS OUT. As the protagonist in "V for Vendetta" said- "People shouldn't be afraid of their government; government should be afraid of its people." He's right. In a time where civics is no longer taught in public schools, that's just the GOP and corporatists in government suppressing the truth of how things work, to keep them in fear of all sorts of things that really DO NOT MATTER in the realms of reality!

Racism- an artificial construct that means literally nothing. You may as well hate people because of the color of their car or house or shoes. Nonetheless, it is a perfect tool to keep people divided. It is the tool of white men to keep black people in a state of fear, but is the KKK publicly branded a TERRORIST organization? What about Natsi groups? Churches that promote division and hate? I don't see them getting hit with terrorism charges, but one young man kills some rich prick? HE gets a terrorism charge? How do we define "terrorism" in the US these days? Is it only when rich people are made to be afraid? Hmmm.... Must be. This is why it's just hunkey-dorey for cops to shoot black people in the back for no reason. Kill some rich CEO who is LITERALLY responsible for a death rate akin to 9-11 EVERY MONTH for years?

Gender Issues- Literally meaningless in the grand scheme. Why are so many GOP/MAGA f'n OBSESSED with this? It is something that a very, VERY small percentage of the population is affected by, and still, it's nobody else's business. Just the same, this little prop in the culture wars if waved around, set on fire, and used as yet another prop to divide us all when it takes far less effort to just not be a dick, not let it be a thing, and to either ignore it (best choice of the apathetic) or to take a sincere crack at trying to actually understand it, the sciences behind it, and to get a little smarter (best for those with empathy and a sense of curiosity for learning what was once considered a fictitious thing that people with "issues" had. Biologists have been mapping the genetic spectrum for a while now, laying out their findings to show why some men are androgynous and feminine and others are 'alpha male' douche-canoes, mouth-breathers and knuckle-draggers. You know; MAGA types.

The list is far longer and more specific, but you get the point. There's no TRUTH to 'race' or 'gender' that matters worth a damn for those who are accepting of everyone around them and tend to judge others by their character, not skin tone or by what's going on in their crotch.

Now that I've written a small novelette here, I'm going to conclude by reminding you that violence is often the last viable hand dealt to those who can't afford an anty and are never given a seat at the game. "Freedom's just another word for 'nothin left to lose." When you live in a time and a place where fear is a daily part of your mental diet because some religious nut is going to terrorize you because of your gender/sexuality, it's not right and when there's nobody to help, this leads to violence (self inflicted or lashing out). Everyone has a breaking point.

If you live somewhere where white people cause you to pucker-up because you're about to get pulled over by a white cop and this could literally be your final moment of life, it's only a matter of time before it invokes violence.

Tragic, though it may be, this is where selfish, evil, vile people in power push things, over and over again. They truly bring it onto themselves. They literally turn kind-hearted, loving people against them because they no longer want their boot on their necks. "We the People" out here will, when pushed far enough, bring the torches and pitchforks. There are more of those people than rich people have bullets.

Luigi got a terrorism charge, not because he killed a man. He got it because of who he killed and that the result wasn't as negative as those in power demanded and the bullshit terrorist charge is simply the rich man's way of saying "We can't be having you kill one of us rich elites and we'll have to make an example of you."

Sadly, nothing heroic is likely to transpire from Luigi's actions. Americans forget shit very fast, all the time. They're conditioned to it. I find myself fighting against that sort of forgetfulness all the time. It's why I read books on history, and if history is anything to go by, one of two things is going to happen this year in the USA.

ONE: All hell is going to break loose and the US will have ended its existence as a sovereign nation, or

TWO: Fuck-all nothing.

You know all of those 2nd Amendment fanatics who sit out in the woods having firearm fantasies about saving the world from tyrannical government while have group circle-jerks at their special camp? Well, decades of looser and looser gun control have been put at their feet so they could DO that, even sacrificing our children in schools and other loved ones out there in movie theaters and other public venues, just so they can have they're ammosexual fantasies. So... Where are they now? An ACTUAL TYRANT, guilty of grape, theft, grifting, stealing secret gov. documents and officially convicted of 34 felony charges is about to have round two in making 'Murica a hateful, divided shithole. Are the Gun Nuts coming to save us? Don't be stupid. Of course they're not. If ANYTHING, they'd be trying to pucker up enough to be able to kiss dipshit-donny's ass nice and deep. We're talking some serious colon cleaners here. We DO know that they're going to feel more embolden than they did on Jan 6 and that a LOT or people are likely to die. That's not the use of violence to solve a problem; that's them using violence in order to keep the problems going and they goddamn know it.

In the end, while I seriously don't condone violence, I cannot condemn outright since that's sometimes the only way to solve the problems dropped on us by a government that has betrayed you on one side of the aisle while the other side continues to take corporate cash to do nothing about it. While my heart is adamantly against violence, history has shown us all, repeatedly, that sometimes, as a measure of last resort, when the rich and powerful have left "We the People" with nothing to work with or to survive off of, gets the job done.

There are far more of us 'common folk' than there are rich people, and they forget, constantly, that they need "WE" more than we need "THEM". NOBODY with a conscience felt remotely sad when Luigi put 3 well-labelled slugs into a total tyrant. Boo-fucking-hoo; he had kids and blah, blah, blah... So did a lot of the people he consciously and willingly MURDRERED with his business practices just so he could have... money.

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telesodalite · 4 months ago

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Really slogging through this month creativity-wise, so... uhhhh??? Various scavengers headcanons in no particular order??

Putting them below in case it gets too long 👁👁👍

: Misfire has freakishly good handwriting. He won't say why, claiming it's just pure talent or something, but in truth it's because he spent most of his academy days stuck in some form of detention writing rules, regulations, and flight calculations over and over again until some form of perfect standard academic print became muscle memory as a side effect.

: Misfire also has an uncanny ability to mimic people's voices and various sounds. Lots of time to kill throughout his life led to some odd talents. Can't hit a high note to save his life though.

: Speaking of high notes, Krok is mildly sensitive to loud noises. Being on the frontlines for most of the war left him with an on and off again tinnitus. Certain loud noises trigger it, causing his audials to glitch and statically ring with feedback.

: Both Krok and Crankcase suffer from the occasional migraine, with Krok's being more akin to a silent migraine, and Crankcase's being more severe and frequent due to the head trauma.

: Krok has a habit of collecting old personal logs and journals from the abandoned bases and stations they pick through. They have no value, but it mattered to someone once, and their perspectives and experiences are recorded within. He's not sure what he's going to do with all of them, but he often finds himself reading through their words again and again.

: Spinister is often incredibly quiet despite his size, and frequently unintentionally sneaks up on everyone. The mix of his controlled footfalls, and softer way of speaking, (outside of stressful moments at least), have led to the others nearly jumping out of their own frames when he seemingly just pops up behind them to ask a question or check-in.

: This quietness makes Spinister an incredibly scary opponent in close-quarters, as at any moment he could slink around a corner, and next thing you know, there's a rotor blade protruding through your chest. As you bleed out, he finally makes noise by loudly, and cheerily proclaiming he "got one!' :D

: Krok is also a fairly tough opponent in close-quarters. While he's skilled in a range of weaponry, mostly shotguns and sidearms, it's when he doesn't have range that things can get brutal. Think martial arts meets some sort of nightmare soccer strategy with a knife. Lots of broken legs and shattered kibble as he brings opponents down to his level, or rather, the floor.

: Post-war though, Krok often gets caught in a flashback, and sort of checks out during or after the fight. Especially at the sight or sound of any spinal breaking or tearing, he'll freeze and has to be pulled back to safety until he's with them again.

: Despite how much he tried, and still tries, to become something of a marksman, Misfire would honestly do better with hand-to-hand. His previous instructors and leaders knew this, and sorta kinda hoped he would pursue it for the sake of actually being useful during grounded combat. But nah, its not what he wants to do. Until he's forced to at least, then he's a menace who has no qualms with playing dirty. Only problem is his lack of training, which more often than not ends up biting him in the aft.

: Krok also sees Misfire's potential, but trying to teach him any legitimate strategy goes nowhere. Usually during sparring, Misfire taunts Krok into dropping any strategy himself, pissing him off to the point they're both beaten and bloody and heaving on the floor, because Misfire won't back down, and Krok is still very competitive at his core. It's a good way to blow off some steam tho, even if no one is learning anything from it.

: Crankcase hates close combat, and greatly prefers a comfortable distance in any situation. Fulcrum would probably rather kiss an organic than willingly put himself in close-quarters with someone trying hurt or kill him. So sparring isn't really much of an interest to either of them. Crankcase pulls the medical exemption card when asked, and Fulcrum tried every excuse when the others attempted to teach him something. Ultimately he was tossed into a few sparring lessons whether he liked it or not. A few kicks and one hell of a punch from Krok, a couple enthusiastic tackles and strangleholds from Misfire, and one very scary attempt to escape Spinister only to end up on the floor in seconds, and he quickly reconsidered self-defense.

: On the topic of floors, Fulcrum is quite the architectural nerd, and greatly enjoys getting to freely explore and pick around through abandoned bases and colonies. While the decline in Decepticon style and grand structural flair post-empire is disappointing, and frankly a lost art in his eyes, he still finds the more practical run-of-the-mill bases and structures just as fascinating, and can and will ramble on about the materials and structural details. Finding remaining blueprints is a rare and exciting achievement that no one else but him really appreciates :(

: Misfire, despite being all for their whole scavenging thing, isn't terribly keen on the whole exploring abandoned places angle of their work. He's not terribly claustrophobic, like most fliers, but certain spaces send a chill up his spine. Something about a place that should be full of noise and life sitting empty and quiet just doesn't sit right with him. Add a hint of his neither here nor there superstitious beliefs, and half of these derelict places might as well be haunted or cursed. Fulcrum finds this incredibly amusing, because, psh, its just an empty building? There's literally no rational thing to be scared of, like organics, or pirates, or killer plants, or blood walls, or small organics, or Autobots, or bugs, or wooden frames, or big organics, or the DJD, or ceiling brains, or cops, or- etc etc. So, get over it, lol. They all think it's weirdly hypocritical tho, since Misfire tends to be the most casually morbid. Totally chill with dead people, just not "dead" spaces. Perfectly fine on the remains of a battlefield, hates being near an actual tomb.

: Crankcase sometimes hangs back from scavenging trips, either making some excuse about fixing something on the ship or not feeling well, just so he can work on a small collection of handmade starship models he's been making from scrap in secret. He's a little embarrassed about it, hence the secrecy, but it's a hobby that brings him a lot of joy. Cons4eva was the first person he showed them to, and after some encouraging feedback, he showed the others, and was a little taken aback and suprised when the rest of the scavs found his creations really impressive and neat.

: After that, sometimes the others would buy or steal actual models from markets and such to bring Crankcase. Misfire is usually the one stealing things, but it was Fulcrum who somehow pocketed and made off quietly with a very rare and expensive model he remembered being a favorite of Crankcase's.

: Generally they all apply the five finger discount approach to shopping. But Misfire and Spinister are the best at it, with Misfire being very good at causing a distraction, and Spinister just naturally having a habit of quietly picking stuff up as he goes along. Krok sometimes overthinks it too much, Fulcrum almost always hesitates, and Crankcase just doesn't often care enough to try.

: Misfire isn't allowed to go out shopping alone tho since the incident...

: Spinister also isn't really allowed to go shopping alone, but for reasons not relating to stand-offs with local law enforcement. He always forgets the list, and just comes back with random items that caught his attention, some paid for some stolen. He bought a giant alien squirrel once. It "disappeared" not long after, much to his disappointment, but everyone else knew Fulcrum left the cargobay door open on purpose.

: Krok and Fulcrum shopping together is simultaneously as efficient as it gets and also pointlessly drawn out. They're going to argue about something inane while going over what goes on their strict list of necessities, then be in and out of the store casually and without any trouble or unnecessary purchase. Consider stopping for lunch afterward, argue over where to eat, then have a pleasant vaguely gossip-y lunch, and then have another argument about the directions getting back to the W.A.P. "Maybe we should stop and ask for directions.", and "We have a perfectly good map, we don't need directions." can go either way depending on their moods.

: That said, Krok and Fulcrum get into a lot of very pointless arguments, for reasons Fulcrum can't pinpoint and Krok doesn't care to disclose. Fulcrum tries to deescalate more often than not, but after a certain amount of snide remarks, he gets very petty about it. Unfortunately Krok is yet again, still competitive, and will dethrone any reigning monarch of pettiness that day if his hand is forced. This is entertaining to everyone but Fulcrum. Don't dare try and interrupt tho, or you'll get caught in the crossfire. Spinister tried to mediate once... it went poorly. Misfire likes to make it worse tho >:)

: Personally, Spinister does not like to argue, and if he finds himself in a heated argument or verbal fight, he'll just straight up leave. Without a word, just up and gone. Won't bring it up either, might as well have never happened. This is simultaneously a blessing and a curse for everyone else.

: Misfire likes to argue, or rather, he likes to debate. Especially about random topics, just for the hell of it. Spinister doesn't tolerate it, Krok will humor it occasionally, Crankcase sometimes plays along also for the hell of it, and Fulcrum sorta missed the whole "for the hell of it" part, and will legitimately debate back because wtf do you mean "is cereal soup?"!?

: Out of the whole group, only Misfire and Fulcrum can really "cook", in the sense that they're the only two capable of making more than one thing from scratch. But, they cook very differently, and the kitchen can become very hectic if they're cooking together.

: Fulcrum is more the type to follow a recipe to the T, very precise with each measurement, and careful with all the cheaper additives and "recycled ingredients" they have to work with. He likes a challenge, but he's also not particularly adventurous, so he doesn't stray too far from the basics. That way it's almost therapeutic, just following a recipe, and going through the motions. He tends to clean as he goes, figuring that just makes it easier for him after he's done. Getting the first bite or best of whatever he's made is obviously a justifiable reward for that effort.

: Misfire on the other hand, is the type to throw whatever tastes good in a pot or pan and somehow make something miraculously edible out of it all. Recipe-smeshipe, it's all about flavor and texture for him. You measure with your spark and your tank. The sweeter or spicier or both, the better. Food is a journey in his opinion, the newer and weirder the neater. If you see an optic float to the top of your bowl, awesome, lucky you! He uh, totally intended to put that in there... totally. Oh, and don't ask what's in the drink, you don't want to know. The kitchen looks like a warzone when he's done, and he's probably not going to clean it.

: Put them in the kitchen at the same time? You'll probably get a very decent dinner and desert, but it's going to take a bit before there's something to put on the table. Outside of the times Fulcrum has chased Misfire out with a kitchen knife and an actually decent aim, and that one time Misfire wasted a whole cake by shoving Fulcrum's face in it, it's mostly just a whole lot of bickering and minor food fights before they put their heads together and compromise. It's a rare occurrence, but also very worth it for everyone else.

: Spinister can't cook, but he can dice and slice like a pro. Krok can make like, one thing from scratch, and that's it, that's his thing, his one thing, but he's good at it. Crankcase just doesn't want to cook, he's fine living off their equivalent of coffee, beer, and ibuprofen.

: The temperature control of the W.A.P is caught in a silent war between them all. Krok and Fulcrum naturally run cold, Fulcrum more so than Krok due to a predominantly hollow frame, so a warmer temp is more comfortable. But Misfire and Spinister run warm, very warm in Misfire's case, so cooler is better. Crankcase could go either way, so he enjoys hijacking the thermostat just to mess with the others whenever he likes it. Ultimately the W.A.P itself is winning the war though, since it resets itself on a whim outside of anyone's control.

: Grimlock isn't participating in the "war", but due to his poor bodily control early on, he fluctuates wildly between being very cool and very warm, and is an unfortunate victim caught in the crossfire -_-

: Outside of the Captain's quarters, most of their rooms weren't originally bedrooms/bunkrooms.

: Misfire's room used to be the ship lab, but he converted half of it to be his quarters and the other half for collecting and mixing the energon they've scavenged. It's like if a circus, a frat room, a butcher shop, and a osha violation of a laboratory got turned into a bedroom. There's colorful string lights hanging from the walls, and an cracked TV that's always on in the corner, sometimes with music playing at the same time. He shoved two berths together and covered them in thick worn cushions and various mismatching pillows. The remaining lab holds glowing canisters full of various organs, with drip lines spiderwebbing haphazardly across them into portable vats. Vials of energon and other various bodily fluids fill the spaces between. Depending, sometimes a partial corpse is resting on the lab counter, only halfway siphoned and emptied of it's internals before Misfire got distracted from working.

: Crankcase's used to be a storage room, but he's converted it into both a sleeping quarters and a workshop. While he often just works and repairs things in the cargobays for convenience, anything requiring more attention or precision ends up in his room. Tools and soon-to-be repurposed junk alike hang from the walls, and shelves and the floor are lined and cluttered with even more parts and pieces. It's very work focused, but there's a poster or two here and there, a small radio to keep up with what's going on in whatever sector there in, and the box of starship models shoved underneath his berth. The berth itself is fairly simple, worn cushions, just enough pillows to keep his helm protected, and a thin blanket in case he gets cold.

: Spinister technically has a room, one of the few rooms that had originally been a bunkroom, but he never really did anything with it ouside of simply shoving as many berth together to sleep on. More often he just sleeps in the medbay instead of dragging himself to "his" room. Other times he just sleeps in Krok's room, because the captain's quarters has the biggest not-shoved-together berth on the ship, and with Krok barely using it himself due to raging insomnia, Spinister's not letting those nice cushions and padding go to waste.

: The captain's quarters probably used to be nicer, neater, and more spacious, back when the W.A.P was just an Autobot exploration vessel, but Krok has filled as much of the space as possible with an overflowing desk, crates full of their most precious/expensive cargo, multiple crowded bookcases, a small personal arsenal, a secret cooler he had Crankcase install after one too many stolen drinks, and that large cozy berth that everyone but him seems intent on sleeping on.

: Like Crankcase, Fulcrum also ended up taking an old storage room, as the idea of taking Flywheels' room just didn't feel right. But besides the desk he maintains for working at and storing personal items in, and his berth, shoved in corner and piled high with padding and pillows, the rest of the room is still used for storage and organization of salvageable technology and more delicate items that he and Crankcase trade back and forth between their rooms to each repair and work on. On the days he's losing the thermostat war, he's got a small heater he runs to keep the chill out. A cold room reminds him too much of Styx, so nice and toasty it is. Keeping it toasty also has the added benefit of warding off Misfire from interrupting his work.

: None of them have particularly healthy or "normal" sleeping habits, mostly due to inconsistent energy and energon levels, but also for a range of reasons.

: During longer trips from sector to sector with no stops and little fuel, they all sort of enter a vaguely hibernating state of fuel conservation. Which just means they nap on and off again for most of the trip.

: All of them suffer from nightmares, but Crankcase also gets sleep paralysis, and Krok and Fulcrum have night terrors.

: Krok's insomnia probably wouldn't be as bad as it is, if it weren't for him making it worse by actively choosing not to sleep until absolutely necessary. He hates the fear and confusion of night terrors, and struggles with rumination while trying to sleep. So, he pushes himself until his body almost shuts down for him. This concerns everyone, but particularly Spinister and Fulcrum.

: Spinister sleepwalks and sleeptalks. Sometimes coherently enough none of them can tell that he's actually asleep unless he wakes up mid-sentence or falls over. Mostly he just comes into someone else's room and stands silently over them, before either waking up or wandering off to curl up somewhere not made for sleeping to keep sleeping.

: Misfire just sleeptalks, both quietly and loudly, about any and every topic imaginable. Often incoherently, but sometimes not, other times it's basically a confessional slew of things the others usually silently agree on not bringing up when Misfire's awake again.

: They're all restless, either physically, mentally, or both, and struggle with falling asleep unless utterly exhausted. But once asleep, they each have different ways of sleeping.

: Fulcrum always curls up, which isn't great for his shoddily replaced joints, but it's a hard habit to beat.

: Krok tries to sleep on his side, but usually ends up on his stomach despite how instinctually wrong it feels to leave his back "unguarded".

: Spinister is either splayed out or curled up, rarely any in-between.

: Crankcase usually sleeps like he's in a casket, and often looks the part.

: Misfire shifts and moves so much it's probably a miracle he hasn't pulled or torn his own wings by accident.

So, wow, huh, it got long lol. But also I'm tired, so, yeah, that's good enough for now perhaps. Might do more later, since these are like, very basic ones, and it definitely didn't cover much with Flywheels, Grimlock, Nickel, and any others. But I'll get to those later. Probably. Hopefully.

Mostly doing this for myself tho, just to compile a bunch of random notes in one place. But if y'all read this far, cool <3

Also, if you see some and think, hmm, that sounds familiar? Yeah, probably is. Picked up a lot from fics and others ideas, and it all just sorta ended up in my garbled notes to save as inspiration for fics or drawing at some point. So, it's here now too, and that probably goes for any possible future hc posts as well.

If you see any that sound vaguely like yours, or are something you've thought of before, or aren't listed here at all, then I love you, you're brilliant, tell me more of your hcs pls and thank you <333

#to tag or not to tag... that is the question #hmmm. yeah maybe this will be just for me. and anyone else who sees this one here #ill tag it later for reference or smth #might do one for just shippy stuff too. thinking about it. hmmm #sleeps first tho. tis 4am. which is... not great :| but anyways #goodnight and good morning <3 #(if you see any errors. no you didn't <3(just kidding. ill proofread tomorrow or smth))#edit: i lied. i dont feel like proofreading lol. but am tagging so i can find this later #scavengers #krok #spinister #misfire #crankcase #fulcrum

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theapollochronicles · 4 months ago

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𝐒𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 | 𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐆.

summary: gotham city had been a brutal lesson, one she wished she had never learned.

warnings: mentions of alcohol abuse. mentions of nudity (if you squint). reader is a college professor who studies photography. dawn is a self defense instructor & a ballet dancer. there’s some angst, but nothing extreme.

pairing: dawn granger x black!male!reader

Dawn hadn’t known what to do with herself after Hank’s death and leaving the Titans.

After she left Gotham, she spent however many hours on the jet contemplating her decisions. Leaving her friends behind to fix the aftermath of Scarecrow wasn’t something she’d think of doing, but Hank was no longer here and she had no intentions of putting on the Dove suit ever again. She felt as if she’d failed the meaning behind the Dove, the first reason she ever put on that suit in the first place was to help Hank —and herself— save their dying community from the terrors of the unknown world they lived in. She wanted to forget the past —living in the present now with herself and life— ignoring the lingering pain she had felt when she’d glanced over the many suitcases she brought along for the flight, especially one she failed to realize that held the very thing she was trying to run away from. Her suit —or most importantly— Don’s suit. It hadn’t even clicked into her mind as it was the first thing she grabbed and stuffed into her suitcase before zipping it up and tossing it aside. The clothes material became nothing more than a nuisance to her now.

Paris had always felt like home to her. She would always enjoy a nice stroll by herself, alone in her own thoughts, and roam the busy streets of her city. Eventually, she’d always find herself at her mother’s favorite old tea room or at the top of the Eiffel Tower. She hadn’t gone near or thrown herself into anything dangerous since first arriving in Paris.

But the stress began to overstimulate to the point where Dawn began to give up on her new life, her new start away from the road of grievance and anger. She began —much to people's dismay— by visiting the alleyway pub just a few blocks down her penthouse, her random clock-ins becoming a daily thing ever since moving back to Paris. Dawn had no dignity in herself to let herself move on the right way, turning back down the dark road that led to where she was now.

Back to first base where her old life had begun, attending AA meetings every once a week.

This time around, she found herself alone.

They had started off great at first, managing to get her ‘thirty-day’ chip the first month she attempted to try and stay clean. It went by smoothly, even if she didn’t enjoy talking about her problems in front of random strangers, and had made the promise to do better for herself. She had made sure to stay in contact with her friends, asking them to send her updates or having friendly conversations with Dick or Kory. Finding out that Donna was actually alive and helped a lot in Gotham City made her tear up a bit, promising them that she’d visit soon when they returned back to San Francisco. As the second month began, she had tried to make friends with her neighbors —who were all so welcoming to her and offered whatever help they could give helping her finalize moving in or offering her evening snacks— trying to expand her horizons within her community.

She was doing so well, she thought.

What a stupid thought.

Her nasty habits began showing again when something so small reminded her of her lost loved ones. Every time she came across a hidden photo in her phone, she’d clutch the device to her chest and begin to sob relentlessly. Soon then, her attendance at the meetings began to get sloppy as well - always coming nearly an hour late - reeking of garbage and alcohol as she started to go back to the alleyway pub once again. Even her sponsor, who was a kind middle-aged woman, tried to influence her back on the right path. But there was no hope, not for someone who stopped believing in it when she kept losing again, and again, and again.

The alleyway pub that Dawn always attended in the late evenings was always dimly lit and quiet, with the occasional groups of people just trying to look for a good time and enjoy some drinks.

That’s where she sat now, her shoulders slouched as she leaned her front against the counter with a beer tight in her hand. To say Dawn didn’t have the best of days was an understatement because every day to her was dreadful. She had woken up to a chilly apartment, forgetting to shut the balcony doors when she passed out last night. Her coffee dispenser coincidentally stopped working just as the liquid began to brew and all the food in her fridge expired a week ago, meaning she had to go down to the grocery store and buy some essentials. When going down to the store, her favorite bakery had been closed due to building repairs —which ticked her off even more— since she hadn’t had her morning coffee yet either. Finally arriving at the grocery store, she went straight to the food aisle and chose some things before going up to the register to pay, only realizing that she had forgotten her wallet back at her apartment when she was rushing around to find her coat —which had been covered in lint and wrinkled. She paid with whatever cash she had on her, having to take a few items out of her cart to pay for what she needed before she began her walk back to the apartment.

And just as her luck was beginning to turn out, heavy rain appearing from nowhere, began to pour down on the stark-haired girl. By the time she had rushed back to her building, she was dripping wet head-to-toe and covered in mud —since someone decided to drive beside her and drive across a muddy puddle— splashing it all over her in the process. Dawn finally had enough, entering the lobby of her apartment building and waiting for the elevator to take her up to her designated floor.

She stood there like an idiot for 5 minutes before coming to the guess that the elevator was indeed, not, coming down to the main floor.

Twenty-six flights of stairs to climb, Dawn, you’ve got this.

And her ascension began by trudging up the first flight of stairs.

When she had gotten around to the 7th floor, her steps became slower and she grew tired from carrying the bags up so many steps. So, she had decided a small break wouldn’t do any harm to her, not one bit. Dawn slid down the wall and sat at the top of the staircase, reaching into her bag to find the items she had been looking for (which was a bottle of cheap wine). Unscrewing the bottle cap and chucking it somewhere next to her, she gulped down half of the wine in under thirty seconds and wiped off any liquid remains with the back of her hand.

“Having a party up here?”

The familiar voice almost had her tumbling down the stairs, but she managed to catch herself on the railing before she could embarrass herself in front of a neighbor. With a glance over her shoulder, Dawn came upon your tall figure coming towards her, sitting down just a few steps in front of her and then gazing back up at her.

“Shit, Y/n,” she sighed in relief. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“My apologies, miss,” you winced. “Stuck in a hospital on a Wednesday evening doesn’t sound like a good way to start off the evening, does it?”

Dawn let out a forced chuckle. “I’ve been through worse.”

With a small hum, you eyed her head to toe. “It seems like you have.”

She couldn’t tell what to put that as, because it seemed like you were taking pity on her. The way she was dressed, her tangled hair in a small braid, and the bottle of wine clenched in her hands, told you that she wasn’t having the best of her natural days. You’ve been her neighbor for almost a year now, so you’ve seen the worst of her relapses. She tended to never show herself when she wasn’t sober, not wanting to scare her neighbors with her nasty hobby. But you still remember her stumbling through the halls past midnight, trying to find the keyhole to her door before she had done something else and accidentally waking her sleeping neighbors, slurring some curse words as she finally entered her penthouse and shut her door.

“The cheap wine has been brought out,” you said matter-of-factly. “Not a good day?”

Dawn eyed you for a second, then glancing back down to the bottle of wine in her hands. She was ashamed, you could tell by the way she hadn’t given you a response and her eyes actually began to gloss over. She smiled brokenly, small curls falling in front of her porcelain face as she shook her head softly.

“Not a good day, indeed, Professor L/n.”

You nodded, knowing if you’d shown her any more pity she’d hate you for it. Because Dawn Granger didn’t like to be taken as the weak, broken alcoholic who was still mourning the man she loved. She hated herself for being so vulnerable in that moment, tearing up and drinking cheap wine on a stairwell. This was not how she wanted to go.

“Plenty of people have their bad days, sweetheart,” You leaned your chin on your knee, and she intentionally moved closer to you so she could bring her knees to her chest as well. “Would you like a generous offer?”

She gazed at your face longer than she anticipated, a hum vibrating off of her as she waited for you to answer back.

“There’s leftover breakfast that I cooked earlier and a pre-recorded James Bond movie with your name on it,” you offered her, your gaze softening. “I could run you a bath. Get you out of these filthy clothes; he said in a so-not creepy way.”

With a tired nod from Dawn, you silently held your hand out to the bottle of wine. She hesitantly handed it to you and watched as you stood and held out the other hand that wasn’t occupied to help her up.

Leaving the bottle on the top of the staircase, you helped her with the rest of her groceries and led her to the elevator without another word.

The elevator ride had been silent with Dawn still clutching onto your hand tightly, which meant she made no intentions of letting go just yet. You helped carry her bags until you reached your door before handing them back to her and unlocking your door, taking them back from her as you held the door open for Dawn to enter your dimly lit apartment. The smell of your morning breakfast still roamed in the air, making Dawn perk a bit as she hadn’t eaten anything due to her food expiring.

“I’ll draw up your bath,” you went to remove your own coat, hanging it on the coat rack. “You can remove your shoes and coat. I’ll throw them in the wash for you and lend you some clothes of mine.”

Dawn nodded silently and watched your figure leave down the dark hallway as she did what was told and removed her shoes by your door, leaving her dirt-ridden coat on the floor beside them.

Looking around your apartment, she loved the aesthetically pleasing light and mood shift once she entered. You were a college professor teaching photography, but you also worked for a very popular magazine company in Paris. It’s how you were able to afford such an apartment in the middle of Paris.

The stark-haired girl always admired your work. She remembers how focused you would be when trying to take a photo of something at the park across the street, how your fingers would curl around the camera and you’d look over your photos with your brows furrowed and face concentrated. Dawn always caught you on your way out of the penthouse when you wanted to grab some more photos.

You even had your own album file of all the photos you’d take of Dawn when she wasn’t focused—or too drunk to comprehend what was going on. But Dawn didn’t know about that, and you weren’t planning on telling her since it seemed a bit weird you’d keep a bunch of photos of your neighbor.

“Okay,” Dawn snapped out of her thoughts and turned back towards the hallway from where you appeared. “Everything you need should be there, just shout if you need anything.”

She nodded her head, beginning her march towards your bathroom and leaving the door slightly ajar as she began to undress and dipped her toes first into the warm water of the tub.

In the kitchen where you began to heat up the breakfast you made the same morning, the soft splashing made you suggest that Dawn was already in the tub. Looking over your shoulder to the countertop, the wine and other few small bottles of scotch or bourbon had still sat inside the grocery bag.

Being a recovering alcoholic yourself, even you had a hard time controlling the urges of drinking any type of alcoholic beverage. You weren’t a good person when drinking, which caused you to stop and find some help. That’s how you came upon the AA meetings and met Dawn for the first time - then realized that the two of you were neighbors when you both walked the same path home one night.

To say Dawn was surprised was an understatement. She had actually thought you were a stalker and almost beat you to a pulp until you showed her your apartment keys. She apologized profusely and offered to buy you a coffee. That’s how you were the only person she’s ever told that she went back to her meetings after the Gotham aftermath, it’s how she learned to trust you when she was most vulnerable, and it’s also how the both of you formed a relationship that people would usually see as intimate between neighbors.

Your thoughts were cut off by the unsubtle, yet soft sniffles, coming from the hallway that led to your bathroom Dawn was currently occupying. It may have not been your place to interfere, but when you heard the soft splashing and a feeble voice echo out your name, you switched off the stove and your feet began moving on their own.

Laying a hand on the slightly ajar door, you let out a soft sigh.

“Dawn?”

“I’m sorry—I just needed to know if you were still there.”

You placed your weight on your other foot, shoulders slumping in relief to know that she didn’t harm herself whilst in there.

“I’m here,” you reassured her, peeking your hand inside before deciding to open the door a bit more and sit against the doorway. “I like my place and besides, you like to snoop around when I’m not paying attention.”

A small smile etched across your face at the soft chuckle that left the stark-haired woman.

Dawn slumped against the tub with her head gently thudding against the tiled walls. Tear marks trailed down her cheeks as she tried her best to wipe them away, biting her bottom lip to attempt to keep her emotions at bay. From how you sat, the door slightly covering your face, you wouldn’t be able to see her broken features. You couldn’t see how the mascara from the previous night was ruined by her sobbing and making her look as if she had raccoon eyes—which if she hadn’t kept up with her skincare routine, you would’ve been able to see just how terrible of sleep Dawn had been getting ever since she first moved back to Paris.

“Will you… Will you stay here?” She pleaded. “Just until I’ve finished up, please.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Of course.”

The two of you sat in silence for what felt like forever. It hadn’t been too long before you had warned Dawn that breakfast was waiting on her; which prompted the stark-haired woman to get out of the tub. Her movements were weak, causing you to step in. She allowed you to enter the bathroom fully, despite your promises that you’d mean no harm, helping her out of the tub and into clothes of yours that you gathered beforehand. Dawn reeled at your gentle hands and how you handled the ex-vigilante as if she were a delicate flower in a field, you took your time and went at her comforted pace. You didn’t rush her, nor scold her for the mess in the bathroom that was left afterwards.

If anything, it was the least of your worries as you noticed Dawn’s petite figure and how hollow she looked. She’d been starved and dehydrated, due to her own fault of not taking better care of herself.

You helped her get dressed and carried her over to the island countertop, placing her down on a stool and sliding a cup of orange juice in front of her. She gave you the best smile her weakened figure could muster up before attaching her lips to the cup and swallowing every drop. Now, if you hadn’t been so focused on preparing the leftover breakfast for Dawn, you would’ve stared at the stark-haired woman forever. How her hair perfectly framed her face, lining every detail from her facial expressions to her body movements. You were certain that if your camera had been in your hands at that moment, you would’ve had a memory card filled with photographs of Dawn Granger in all her essence.

The real Dawn Granger.

Not the facade she had grown to be nowadays.

The afternoon had flown by whilst you spent your day nurturing Dawn back to health. After making sure she ate every scrap of leftover breakfast and at least two more glasses of orange juice and water, the stark-haired woman was now residing in your bed—after 20 minutes of arguing that she wasn’t exhausted and that she’d nap on the couch, she caved in and was swallowed whole by the comfy cushions of your pillows and weighted blanket that smelled like you, it wasn’t difficult for her to fall asleep so easily. You decided to use that time to grab her keys and move her groceries over to her apartment before beginning some work at your desktop. It was a little after 8 PM before Dawn had begun to stir awake and glance over to where your back was facing her, a photograph of what looked to be a backdrop of a woman on your computer screen.

You had part of your headset above your ear, allowing you to hear the shuffling of your mattress and blankets that told you Dawn had finally awoken from her peaceful slumber.

Dawn blinked, glancing around your bedroom. “How long-?”

“Not long,” you shrugged her off. “Two hours or so.”

“Shit,” She cursed, a hand running through the knots of her hair. “I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome…”

You shook your head. “It’s alright. I didn’t mind. Although, I do have to warn you that you snore loudly in your sleep.”

“Concerned for me, neighbor?” Dawn tilted her head, tousled strands of her stark hair falling to the side.

You nodded profusely. “Very. You sounded like you were being strangled.”

Dawn let out a weak chuckle. “Not my first rodeo with that.”

“What?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Snoring?”

“Being strangled,” She answered, amused at how your expression went from curiousness to confusion in a matter of seconds. “And before you say it, not the kinky kind either.”

Dawn didn’t understand why she was being so forward with you, including with how her previous relationships tended to end; the thought of Hank’s quick remarks to her words made her turn away from you. She wouldn’t blame you if you had decided to call her crazy and kick her out of your apartment—not wanting to stay within ten feet of your deranged neighbor for a moment longer. Dawn thought about how she’d be left alone with her thoughts. The weight of her actions and what she’d reveal to you tonight weighing all her other concerns; like how you’d probably never see her the same again, how you’d take one look at her and think “so you’re the lunatic running around in the bird costume?” before fearing for your safety and calling the authorities to handle it. If it wasn’t for how trusting she was, and how protective she found herself to be around you, Dawn would’ve kept her mouth shut about her extracurricular activities and lived the rest of her life drowning in Paris.

But being ‘Dove’ was a big part of who Dawn was, whom she grew to become, and how she handled the trauma of losing her mother and her lover.

Dawn thought that Hank was all she needed.

But from the moment she met you, the kind neighbor who’d help her up to her penthouse when she was too drunk to remember where she placed her keys —her coat pocket—, Dawn knew that she had nothing to fear when it came to you.

“I’m a vigilante, y/n,”

You huffed, “Yeah, I know.”

“You… know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, a soft chuckle leaving your lips as Dawn’s confusion stretched across her entire face. “You hang your suit up in your closet, Dawn. I came across it one night when you had a… nightcap. Didn’t take too long until I put two and two together and got four.”

Dawn huffed, her shoulders slumping as her back hit the headboard. “So why not say anything? Why not turn me in?”

You sighed softly and rested your back against the chair you sat on, arms crossing over your chest as you thought about your answer. You had known what the Dove suit was capable of and who was wearing it underneath, but it had all made sense when you began to understand where Dawn was coming from. Paris was not short of its own heroes; Diana Prince, or Diana of Themyscira is a known resident of France. Most of the photos in Dawn’s apartment were of her and her friends, or in other words, her former teammates that you recognized upon seeing on the news before Dawn arrived in London.

“You know what I’ve done,” she continues, her solemn gaze catching yours. “You’ve seen it. You know what I’m capable of.”

“I have,” you nodded. “I have seen, first-hand, what you could do to a group of drunkards who try to rob college professors in the area. Need I remind you that you saved me two thousand dollars in buying a new camera to replace the old one?”

“This is not the time for jokes, y/n.”

“It’s not a joke, Dawn.” Shaking your head, you sighed as she watched you with tearful eyes. “You did what someone else wouldn’t dare to do. You saved my life.”

“I could’ve shown some, an ounce, of restraint! Instead I sent four guys to the hospital in critical condition, y/n! Is that the kind of person you want saving you?”

“Were they going to going to show me an ounce of restraint? They beat me until they cracked my ribs, would’ve probably done a lot more worse if you hadn’t decided to put the suit on that night.” You explained to her, watching as tears began to form in her eyes. “All my work would be lost. I wouldn’t hold the position that I do now at work, all because someone took a leap and decided to take action. That was you, Dawn.”

Dawn released a heart-wrenching sob and covered her mouth with the back of her hand to muffle the rest, curling into your duvet as you stood to take the few steps you needed to finally reach out to her. She allowed you to hold her, your arms wrapping around her small frame, and embrace the warmth radiating off of you. She dug her face into your neck, muffling her cries against your shoulder as her hands clenched the back of your shirt.

Almost as if you were to slip away at any moment.

Which made you realize that this was probably the most human contact she’s had in months. You were sure of it by the way she had yet to pull away —not that you’d let her—, her vanilla and pinecone scent filling your senses immediately.

“You have way too much faith in me,” she finally spoke, her face still buried in your shoulder so her words were slightly muffled. “Frightens me just how much of it you have.”

Combing your hand through her damp hair, you let out a soft sigh and rested your chin on top of her head. “A stubborn woman once slurred to me: “faith is not belief without proof, but trust without reservation,” which I am most certain you read off an aids commercial, but then again, I couldn’t think about it any longer before you were chucking an empty bottle of wine at me.” You chuckled lightly at her soft whine at the reminder of her actions.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” she grumbled.

“It’s my ‘get-out-of-jail’ free card,” you objected. “In case you decide to chuck your purse at me next, or a car, for that matter.”

Dawn chuckled. “I have no super strength to be lifting cars, y/n, you know this.”

“Don’t think that’ll stop you from trying either way.”

#dc titans #dawn granger #the dove #dcmultiverse #dc comics #dawn granger x male reader #dc fanfiction #dc requests open!!#dc masterlist

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