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sapphicjackal · 2 months

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Bingyuan Soulmate au 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Life was brighter with Yuan-ge in it.

Luo Binghe woke up before dawn with a smile on his face, fading dreams of a tender touch and warm voice lingering on the edges of his awareness. Not even the cold dirt floor of the woodshed could diminish the light feeling that courses through his body. He writes to Yuan-ge before getting dressed for the day, pushing back his sleeves and dipping his brush into ink.

“Wishing Yuan-ge a happy day!” Binghe wrote carefully with a smile, filling the words with happiness.

He wishes he could talk to Yuan-ge more. Yuan-ge writes to him a couple of things during the day, but Binghe has to wait until night when he’s alone in the woodshed to have a conversation.

Binghe was surprised to feel the rasping scrape of Yuan-ge’s writing implement so quickly, especially when Yuan-ge seemed to wake up a couple of hours later than him.

“Good morning Bing-er.” Yuan-ge wrote beneath Binghe’s message before more was written.

“You told me you had trouble cultivating, I thought about it last night. The most important part of learning is cross referencing. Is there any way you could look at someone else’s manual?” Yuan-ge asked, his words were earnest but they held a faint sense of suspicion in them.

“Yuan-ge?” Binghe wrote, imparting it with his curiosity.

“Make sure your material is real. People could be trying to hurt Bing-er with fake material.” Yuan-ge wrote, full of worry and suspicion.

Binghe recoiled from the message, his eyes wide. A fake manual? Binghe had never even thought of his manual being fake. Why would they give him a fake manual?

‘Because they hate you.’ a part of him thought.

No.

Even if Binghe somehow disappointed Shizun and earned his ire, there’s no way a peerless immortal like Shizun would give his disciple a false manual. Binghe hadn’t been here long, but he knew that it was deadly to cultivate improperly. It was one of the first things they were told. To follow their manual carefully and faithfully because any deviation could result in damaging or even destroying your meridians.

Binghe fought back the urge to argue with Yuan-ge.

Yuan-ge wasn’t a cultivator, he didn’t know how serious his accusations were. He was looking at this from the view of a scholar. With scholars it’s important to check that the copy of what you are studying is genuine. If you aren’t careful you could learn false information.

Binghe would check just so that he could reassure Yuan-ge that nothing was wrong. Ning-shije would be happy to let him look over her manual when they hang out later today.

“This one will check.” Binghe wrote.

“Thank you, Bing-er. I hope I’m wrong.” Yuan-ge responded, his words full of relief and underlying anxiety.

Binghe felt warm inside. Yuan-ge was worried for his safety. Even if it wasn’t necessary, it had been years since Binghe had someone who cared like this. Just like how his A-Niang worried when he went out to beg for food. It’s a special kind of worry reserved solely for the safety of the one you love most.

It’s been so long since Binghe felt loved.

The streets were hostile and cold, and coming to Qing Jing Peak was not much different. People were still cruel or indifferent. Binghe still had to struggle and fight to keep his head above water. He still went hungry most days and still slept on the dirt ground.

But now he could read what Yuan-ge says, and that alone made coming here worth it.

Binghe finished getting ready with a smile, brushing his hair to pull it into a neat ponytail. He dusted off his uniform a final time before stepping out of the woodshed to get a head start on his chores.

The rest of the day passed by like usual. His Shixiong’s jeered at him and piled more work onto his plate, he attended the classes of the Hallmasters who let him inside, and he did his chores. In the afternoon, Ning Yingying came to find him to hang out, accompanying him as he did his chores.

Binghe decided to wait until he was done chopping wood to ask Ning Yingying his question. “Ning-shije, could this one look at your manual please? This one is having trouble understanding his own.” he asked, placing down the rusted and blunt axe.

Ning Yingying perked up, happy to be addressed after a sichen of one-sided chatter. “Of course A-Luo!” she chirped, bouncing over to him. She pulled her manual from her robes and offered it to him with a smile. “You can ask Shije for help wherever you got stuck.” she said.

Binghe gave her a grateful smile, “Thank you, Ning-shije.” he said. Binghe sat down and opened up the manual, flipping through the pages. With each page his smile grew stiffer and a heavy feeling brewed within his gut.

This…

Binghe forced himself to take in each page before flipping it, resisting the desperate urge to flip through it rapidly. The words and diagrams were completely different. Binghe had thought himself dumb to be unable to read or understand some parts of his manual. For finding the diagrams to be confusing and painful to execute.

Yuan-ge’s words flashed in his mind.

“People could be trying to hurt Bing-er with fake material.”

This…

Binghe’s manual is fake.

If Binghe kept trying to cultivate using his manual, he could have died.

His Shizun had handed him this manual with a sneer, telling him to learn it well. Binghe had dedicated himself to this manual, reading each word carefully with his growing literacy and following each diagram attentively.

At best he would have wasted his cultivation, ruining his meridians and his chance at cultivation. At worst he could have Qi deviated and died.

Binghe trembled, a mix of emotions brewing in him as he realized that his Shizun wanted him dead. He knew that he had offended his master to some extent, but Binghe always thought that if he worked hard enough he could change his Shizun’s mind. If he proved himself, maybe Shizun would call him by name rather than ‘Beast’.

Binghe’s smile felt brittle as he pasted it to his face. “Ning-shije, do you think this one could take notes from your manual tomorrow? It’s much easier for this lowly one to understand.” he asked.

Ning Yingying agreed easily with a smile, taking her manual back before returning to her earlier chatter with a bright grin. If Binghe told her that his manual was fake, she would undoubtedly go straight to Shizun about it. Ning Yingying means well, but her words have always gotten him into trouble. Binghe can’t let her know that anything is off.

So, he smiles back and talks with her, pushing aside the growing anguish and anger inside of him. Those feelings could wait until he was back in his woodshed and could talk to his Yuan-ge.

They part ways when it’s time for dinner, Ning Yingying towards the mess hall and Luo Binghe back to his woodshed. Normally at this time Binghe would work on his cultivation until dinner is over, then he would sneak some leftover scraps that the other disciples didn’t eat.

Today, he didn’t bother. Instead he rolled up his sleeve and dipped his brush into ink.

“You were right, Yuan-ge. It was fake.” Binghe wrote, furious tears burning at his eyes. All of the feelings he had been pushing aside in front of Ning Yingying rose to the surface. His body shook with the intensity of his helpless anger, bitterness, and pain.

It didn’t take long for Yuan-ge to respond.

“I’m so sorry, Bing-er. You deserve better.” Yuan-ge wrote, words soothing with their protective fury and gentle comfort.

Binghe choked on a sob, staring at the words with glassy eyes. When had anyone ever said that he didn’t deserve what was happening to him? The last person to say something like that was his A-Niang, who told him that he deserved more than she could provide. She urged him to become a cultivator, to find a better life for himself. Binghe stayed at Qing Jing Peak no matter what happened because he held onto her words.

Binghe knew they didn’t like him here. He knew they wanted him gone.

He thought that if he could just prove himself, maybe then he would be accepted.

His Shizun had been trying to kill him since the day he arrived. There was no way that Binghe would ever make himself worthy in the eyes of Shen Qingqiu. He would only ever be a wretched beast.

“Yuan-ge.” Binghe wrote, hardly able to see through his tears as he sobbed hard enough to shake his body. He wished desperately that his Yuan-ge was here with him. Yuan-ge would make everything better. Yuan-ge was the only person who truly cared about him.

Binghe couldn’t force himself to calm down enough to read the response that Yuan-ge wrote, but he desperately grasped at the message to feel what it said. Binghe gasped, soaking in the love and comfort that was imparted into Yuan-ge’s words. Binghe clutched at his forearm until the skin turned pale under the pressure, greedy to get as close to Yuan-ge as he could.

Binghe wishes he could crawl beneath his own skin to get even closer to Yuan-ge’s words. He wishes he could travel across their string of fate and see Yuan-ge’s face. He wishes that Yuan-ge was here to hold him and whisper in his own voice whatever words he wrote.

Binghe could feel Yuan-ge keep writing to him, slowly filling up his entire arm before he started writing on their legs as well. Yuan-ge kept up a steady stream of writing, every character filled with comfort and love. Binghe traces the words as they appeared, chasing after the path they took as they scrawled across his body.

He doesn’t know how long it took for his desperate sobbing to peter off into gasping hiccups and sniffling, but Yuan-ge didn’t stop his writing the entire time. Binghe could feel that Yuan-ge was writing the same few words over and over again on their legs, keeping his writing small and compact.

Binghe wiped away his tears and fought to steady his breathing, wanting to read Yuan-ge’s words. He started with his left arm.

“My Bing-er, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“We’ll figure this out, Bing-er, I’ll help you.”

“I’m so sorry Bing-er, you deserve better than this.”

“Bing-er deserves the world, I would give it to you if I could.”

“I’m here, Binghe.”

Yuan-ge had written. They threatened to send Binghe back into a heap of tears, but he held back so that he could look down at his legs.

Yuan-ge had only written one thing, repeating the same words countless times, enough to fill the space from his ankle up to his knee on both legs.

“Binghe is precious.”

Binghe couldn’t fight back the tears any longer. He wrote back to Yuan-ge through the blurry film of tears, his poor penmanship suffering even further from his unsteady hand.

“I wish Yuan-ge was here.” Binghe wrote, wishing with all his heart that it could come true. The woodshed was cold and alone, but his body was filled with words of unconditional love.

Binghe has never felt so alone, but at least he has Yuan-ge.

Even if the rest of the world wants to see him dead or suffering, Yuan-ge is there.

Yuan-ge is all Binghe needs.

Part 5

#svsss #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen yuan #soulmate au #mxtx #scum villian self saving system #binggeyuan #bingyuan

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roosterforme · 2 years

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Batting Practice Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley realizes why you started running hot and then cold with him. He makes sure he remedies the situation with you.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing (eventually 18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley was counting down the minutes until he could leave work on Monday. The sporadic, slightly flirtatious texts between you and him Saturday night and all day Sunday were driving him wild.

He couldn't fucking wait to see you. He kept imagining how you would react to him in person now, especially after what you texted him this morning.

You should wear your hat backwards later today. That looked good on you.

Really, nothing about that was dirty, but it seemed to have that type of effect on him. Plus it meant that you were thinking about him, which left him grinning.

"Rooster, look alive, man," Jake told him, slapping him in the chest with a copy of the newest F/A-18 flight manual. Bradley grunted as the massive book made contact, and he glared at Jake. "What's got you distracted? Excited about all the MILFs you're going to see later? I wish Bob had asked me to coach with him."

Bradley just shook his head. "Moms aren't my type. Too complicated." He just wished he still believed himself when he said it.

Then he settled into the seat next to Nat, ready for a long lecture about his aircraft, his imagination drifted to you. He imagined the three of you at the Phillies game, all in matching backwards hats. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd like the way you looked with a hat that way, too.

Maverick's voice droned on in the background, and Bradley was pretty sure the information he was giving would be useful to know, so he forced his mind back to the present.

Once they were all dismissed, Bradley headed to the locker room to change out of his khaki uniform. When he glanced over at Bob, he chuckled.

"You know, we could wear our uniforms to practice one day. Drive the moms wild," Bradley said as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Bob just shook his head. "None of them know I'm in the Navy, and I don't plan on telling them."

"Oh," Bradley said as he unzipped his pants. "I did tell one of them that we're aviators."

Bob laughed lightly. "Let me guess, Everett's mom?"

Bradley decided not to reply. He just shrugged and pulled on his Tiny Eagles tee shirt and gym shorts. Then he pulled his worn out Phillies cap onto his head. Backwards.

"I'll see you over at the ballfield," he told Bob as he exited the locker room and headed for the Bronco.

There was just something about you. Yeah, you were pretty. But lots of women were pretty. Yeah, he liked the way your body looked. But the female form was something that never failed to get him going.

He wanted to flirt with you. He wanted to make you warm. He wanted to wear his ratty, old Phillies hat the way you liked it. Which was just a terrible idea, since dating a mom was not on his agenda. Even sleeping with someone who came with baggage was something he avoided at all costs, whenever he could.

Bradley mentally scolded himself for even briefly believing that a sweet kid like Everett could be considered baggage. He wasn't quite that shallow. But he liked his life simple.

Perhaps he should have kept the phone number of that woman from the bar.

He coasted into his usual parking spot and made his way toward the ballfield. He stretched and ran the bases a few times, basking in the early evening sunlight. When Bob arrived, they tossed a ball back and forth for a few minutes until the kids started to arrive.

"You miss playing," Bob said with a smile. "Why don't you play with the officers rec league?"

Bradley shrugged after he threw the ball to Bob one last time and removed his glove. "Because, no offense, but they suck."

Bob laughed loudly. "I resent that! I play center field!"

Bradley just grinned. "I know you do. Listen, I wanted to play pro ball until I was twenty-one years old. And while I love being an aviator, I am still good at baseball."

"Coach Bradley!" called Everett as he came streaking across the field.

"Hey, kiddo. You get lots of rest over the weekend? Ready to play?" he asked the kid, tugging down the bill of his cap and making him laugh.

But then Bradley saw you.

Okay, this was a problem. The whole text thread between the two of you was playing in his mind now as he watched you walk across the grass, hopping on one foot as you changed out of your high heels as you went. You were wearing a plain gray suit and trying to talk on the phone while you juggled your shoes and Everett's gear bag.

You looked complicated as hell at the moment. This was a problem, because Bradley's mind was telling him he suddenly liked complicated.

"Start warming up with Coach Bob," Bradley told Everett as he patted him on the head. That same warm sunlight that had felt so perfect on Bradley's skin was illuminating your face and hair, and he was already looking at you when he saw your eyes catch on him.

"I need to go, Frank. We can figure it out later," you said, pulling your phone away from your ear and ending the call.

"Hi." Bradley's voice was laced with everything he really wanted to say to you in person but didn't think he should.

"Coach," you replied softly, your long lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you closed your eyes for a beat.

"You give any more thought to the merits of sitting behind home plate versus sitting in the outfield?" Bradley asked softly, just for you to hear.

The way your lips parted wordlessly as you played with your hair had him grinning. You crinkled up your nose in that way he already loved as you looked down at the field. "Are you really serious about going to the game with Ev and I?"

He wasn't actually completely sure before this moment, but now he was. "Yeah. Of course I'm serious. Should I ask Everett where he wants to sit? Since you don't seem to care? And since I'll have an equally good view of you from any seat?"

This time when you raised your eyes to meet his, he could feel them examine every inch of his chest and arms and the scars along his neck. Your gaze didn't move from his mouth as you whispered, "You're making me flustered." Then your eyes met his, and Bradley could feel your hesitation that wasn't evident through texting.

"I'd love to be responsible for that. You look cute when you're flustered."

Your eyes went wide as you muttered, "And you look cute with your hat like that."

The sound of Bob's whistle had both of you jumping so that you almost collided. Bradley could hear you mutter, "Oh shit," as you pressed your hand to your forehead and turned away from him to find a seat on the bleachers. And try as he may, he couldn't seem to catch your eye at all during practice.

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

You were embarrassed. Coach Bradley and all of his flirty text messages were making you silly.

He really seemed to want to take you and Ev to a baseball game. He had told you twice that the best seat in the house would be one where he was looking at you.

Nothing was ever going to be that easy for you though. As soon as Everett spent a Sunday afternoon watching baseball and eating ice cream with his coach, he was going to want that to happen all the time.

You were afraid you were going to want it all the time too. You were so attracted to Bradley. The way he flirted with you was subtle and yet intentional, and it left you craving more from him already.

How much was he willing to give? How available was he? How available were you? Frank wanted to get together with you again this week, but you didn't know if you'd be able to get a sitter for Everett. You didn't know if you wanted to see Frank outside of work anymore either.

But you could imagine sitting at Petco Park eating nachos and drinking a beer with Bradley while Ev ate ice cream out of a tiny plastic helmet.

"Fuck," you groaned, forcing your attention to remain on Everett even though you could practically feel Bradley's eyes on you.

Everett was better at tee ball than you had expected him to be. He managed to hit the ball over Bob's head pretty consistently, and you cheered for him when he turned and looked toward you. This is what he needed; an outlet for all of this energy and some male role models.

When practice ended and Bob announced that each child could come up and get their jersey for Saturday's game against the Tiny Hawks, Everett was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Mommy, I get a jersey just like the ones the coaches wear!"

You chuckled and kissed his cheek. "You sure do. Listen for your name."

When Bradley called his name, Everett went sprinting up to get his jersey, and you watched Bradley help him put it on over his shirt. Then he sprinted back to you and hugged you around your middle.

"Let's get going, sweetie. You must be hungry," you said, tossing his equipment into the bag, trying to make a hasty exit. You didn't want to continue your conversation with Bradley, because you were so mixed up at the moment.

And that's when you heard him talking to Henry's mom.

"Coach Bradley. I was hoping we could exchange phone numbers, just in case you ever needed any extra help with anything."

"Uh, sure, Sandra. Our Team Mom probably has everything under control, but what's your number?"

You shoved Everett's cleats into the bag and rushed him through getting his sneakers on. And all the while you heard Sandra offering her help with anything he might need. The worst part was the way she was rubbing Bradley's arm when you decided to glance in their direction.

"Let's go," you told Everett, ready to make a run for your car. How embarrassing! You'd flirted with your kid's tee ball coach over text all weekend, and now he was lining up Sandra, who was of course fucking gorgeous.

Gross. You felt jealous. You never felt jealous. Danny had been cheating on you for the last year or so of your marriage, and you'd never felt this way! You'd been mostly content knowing that you had Everett to make it all worth it.

So this felt wrong. The cold envious feeling seeping under your skin. Just wrong.

The two of you almost made it to your car, and of course, like an idiot, you had parked next to the Bronco again.

"Hey!" Bradley called, closing the distance as he jogged up. "I didn't get to say goodbye." He high fived Everett next to your car, and then you ushered Ev into the backseat.

"So, I'll see you on Thursday?" Bradley asked, ducking his head a little bit, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

"Yes," you told him, grasping your door handle. But he only let it swing open a few inches before he caught it in his massive hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked you softly.

You sighed and met his eyes. "I thought we originally exchanged numbers just to talk about team business."

Bradley cocked his head to the side. "Yeah... we can make it just team business, if you want. But I obviously wanted you to be the Team Mom. And I was kind of enjoying the more...personal chit chat."

You scoffed. "I get it. I do. But if you want to exchange numbers and have personal chit chat with all of the moms who are clearly interested in you, then maybe you and I should keep it businesslike."

When you wrenched the door open another foot, he didn't stop you this time. But he still gently closed it for you.

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The next morning, you felt a lot better. Bradley hadn't texted you, and you weren't about to text him. It was honestly better this way. He could flirt with Sandra as much as he wanted to, and now you didn't have to worry about anything except whatever was strictly required of the Team Mom.

When Frank knocked on your door at lunchtime, you had just finished up a project. So you let him come in, and soon he was kissing you. It felt pretty good, so you let him unbutton your shirt as well.

"Baby, how about a quickie?" he whispered next to your ear before kissing your neck.

That didn't sound too bad. Now that you had rid your system of yearning for Coach Bradley.

"Okay," you whispered when he started kissing the tops of your breasts and caressing your sides. You unzipped your suit pants and slid them down your hips along with your underwear while Frank pulled a condom out of his wallet and locked your door.

Bent over your desk with your cheek pressed to the smooth wood surface, you let your eyes drift closed. And that was a big mistake. Because it was too easy to imagine a backward cap, a mustache and a deep, raspy voice in your ear.

You felt him slide inside you, stretching your pussy in the process. It felt so much better than it usually did, you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan. Then he was moving, and you could practically smell sweat, spicy deodorant, and the freshly watered grass of the infield. Is this how it would feel to be bent over the wooden bleachers and fucked by Bradley? His mustache grazing the back of your neck as he whispered those flirtatious text messages to you?

Hands gripped your hips, squeezing you tight as your pussy was filled over and over. He would love taking you from the back like this, quick and dirty. Unrelenting.

You were gasping now, your lungs tight with each breath as you imagined his voice. You look cute when you're flustered.

"Oh," you groaned, and the pressure increased bit by bit. "Oh!"

He'd fuck you so good. He'd take care of everything you wanted. He'd press his mustache to your pussy, rubbing you until you cried. He'd finger you while he drove you around in his Bronco. You could picture it all so clearly. Feel it seamlessly.

Legs shaking, you fucked yourself back against him, wanting as much pressure as you could get. Then you felt it, and you knew it was going to be good. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, and you lifted your head off your desk, suddenly alert.

You were with Frank. You were coming so fucking hard on Frank's dick while you thought about another man.

"Oh! Fuck! Ohhhh," you moaned, completely shocked, totally stunned. It felt like you had been with Bradley. And now you were conscious of all the noises Frank was making as he blew his load into the condom.

You stood with your back to him and quickly started to get your clothes in order with shaking hands.

"Sounded like you really enjoyed that, baby," Frank said, and you could hear the smug smile in his voice.

Hell yes, you had enjoyed it, but not because of him.

"I have a lot of work to do," you muttered, rubbing your hands along your burning hot neck.

"Let's do this again later this week," Frank told you, kissing your cheek before he left.

You dropped into your seat and spent the entire afternoon thinking about what you had done.

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It took Bradley until Tuesday to realize what he had done wrong. You must have heard or seen Sandra with him. Fuck. He was just trying to be as accommodating as he could without telling Henry's mom to back off; he'd have to see her multiple times per week for eight more weeks!

But you'd gone from a simmering warmth with him to frosty cold on a dime. And that must have been why.

He didn't know how to make it up to you, and he didn't want to text you since you'd told him no more personal talk.

So he waited until Thursday at practice. When you pulled into the parking lot, you avoided the spot next to his Bronco. And you and Everett stayed in your car until practice was about to start, hustling across the grass at the last possible minute.

You were not going to make this easy for him.

Everett came running over to join the rest of the team just as Bob was dividing the kids into two groups. But Bradley could only focus on you. Your hair was swept up today, exposing your graceful neck, and you were wearing a black pencil skirt with a tight blouse tucked into it. You seem to have forgotten your beat up sneakers today, because you were walking around the field on tiptoes so your heels wouldn't get ruined.

You looked smoking hot, and you were not sparing a single glance in his direction.

"Bradley!" Bob called. "Focus."

"Right, sorry," Bradley replied, reluctantly taking his spot behind home plate where he couldn't spend the next hour looking at you.

He watched the kids go through the batting order, and then had them start practicing in the field. They were actually pretty good, and Bob was always such a calm presence that they responded really well to him. Bradley thought they would do well against the Tiny Hawks in two days.

Once the kids were dismissed, Bradley followed Everett to the bleachers, and on the way he asked, "Is it cool if I walk you and your mom to the car again, kiddo?"

"Yeah! My mom would like that too!"

Bradley wasn't so sure, but now at least he had his in with you.

"Hi," you said as Bradley approached, and he watched you kneel down in that tight skirt, his mind going to the filthiest places imaginable. If you turned and looked at him over his shoulder, he would probably end up embarrassing himself.

"Hi," he rasped, pressing his lips together as you helped your son change his shoes. "Everett said it would be cool if I walked with you two up to the parking lot."

"Whatever," you said without looking at him. So Bradley walked up with Everett between you and him as usual.

"What do you do in the Navy?" the kid asked him.

"I fly airplanes," Bradley told him. "And I wear all these cool pins so people know I'm a Lieutenant."

"What's a loo-tent?" Everett asked, and Bradley saw you trying to hide your grin.

"Nothing, really. It's just a fancy word for someone who still has to salute to pretty much everybody else."

Now you were biting your lip as Everett tried to pronounce Bradley's rank over and over again until the three of you reached your car. Bradley opened the back door and placed the gear back on the floor as Everett scampered in, but then he put a firm hand against the driver's door so you couldn't open it.

"Hear me out?" Bradley asked, and your eyes finally met his. Your eye makeup made them look impossibly big, and he could feel the saliva pooling at the back of his tongue.

"About what?" you asked softly, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I think I gave you the wrong impression about who I have and have not been talking to in my free time. Sandra did give me her number, but I will only text her back if she needs information directly related to the Tiny Eagles."

Your lips parted, but you didn't say anything so he continued.

"And yeah, as soon as you volunteered to be Team Mom, I was jumping at the chance to get your number. But can you blame me?"

"You were?" you asked, a look of disbelief on your face. But when he ducked down to meet your eyes and nodded, you ducked to the side and crinkled your nose.

"Yeah, Kitten. I was. So you can put your claws away now."

You sucked in a breath, and your arms fell loosely to your sides as you looked at him. All embarrassment was gone as your expression softened and your pupils went wide. "Did you just call me Kitten?"

"Mmhmm. You've got some claws on you, yeah? And you scrunch your nose up like a cat. Cutest thing I've ever seen."

Bradley's body was humming, and the look of pure desire on your face as you inched closer to him had him aching.

"Are you going to keep calling me Kitten?" you whispered, your eyes lazily taking in his lips and mustache.

"You liked that." He was telling you, not asking.

You were the one nodding this time, and Bradley bit back a groan as your fingers teased the back of his hand. "And which would you prefer I call you? Coach Bradley or Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

Bradley did audibly groan this time. "You're trouble, Kitten."

"You didn't answer my question." You were smirking now, desire mixing with boldness in your eyes.

"You can call me anything you want."

You nodded up at him, such a smug look on your face as you reached behind you and opened your car door. Bradley watched you gracefully ease yourself onto your seat.

"I'll see you on Saturday," he whispered, and then he cleared his throat. "Can't wait for our first game, kiddo," he added a bit louder, smiling at Everett in the backseat.

"Bye, coach!" he called to Bradley.

"Yeah, bye, coach," you added, and Bradley closed your door softly.

As you pulled away, he started to make the long walk back to the bleachers to grab his own gear with a smile on his face.

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Coach and Kitten! Ahhh! Big thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 4

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@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

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

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apomaro-mellow · 6 months

Text

King and Prince 15

Part 14

We have officially begun the second arc of this fic! Arc 1: Enemies Arc 2: Friends? ....Friends.... (<- You are here!) Arc 3: Lovers

The day before the festivities, Eddie was constantly on his feet and on the move. He had barely a moment to himself. But as the sun set, he took a second to check in on his favorite hostage-turned-guest. But Eddie never did these checks in person. Now seemed to be the time to give Steve as much space as he could. Eddie didn’t know in detail what kind of life he led in his old kingdom, but it couldn’t be anything good. A crown prince should be fighting tooth and nail to get back home. Steve hadn’t made any escape attempts since that last one weeks ago.

Eddie stood by the window of his room and held a hand out to beckon the raven that landed. He stroked its feathers in thanks for letting him see Steve. His eyes became the bird’s eyes whenever he wished, allowing him to see how Steve behaved while he was alone. He never intruded for long, but Eddie wasn’t going to fall to a soft heart and let someone untrustworthy roam without suspicion.

His precaution was starting to appear unnecessary in the end. Because Steve had no plans to harm anyone, not even him. As much as he and Dustin had prodded at the prince to see further than his own nose and learn about what was around him, Eddie had to admit that he too had his own assumptions about him.

He hadn’t imagined the enemy to be an uncontrollable monster like the other side did. But Eddie hadn’t expected someone willingly lending a hand to some kids, who did manual labor with very minimal grumbling. He hadn’t expected Steve to be, well, nice. He might be the first Harrington who Eddie hadn’t wanted to kill on sight.

One thing his little feathered friend reminded him of was the fact that Steve’s wardrobe was severely cut down from what he must be used to. There was certainly a drop of quality as well, though it was comfortable to wear. And Eddie thought he shouldn’t be left out of the fun when it came to new clothes.

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

The next morning, Steve rose with the sun and had breakfast with the children in the kitchen. Afterwards, he figured his job for the day would be helping out wherever he was needed for the activities around the castle. But when he caught Robin in the hallway, she shook her head at him.

“I don’t have you today. You belong to those kids there”, she pointed to the gaggle catching up from behind.

“Them?”, Steve asked. “But they’re going to-” Their plans all involved the action happening in the town just outside the castle gates. A town filled with this kingdom’s people. People who might want to see Steve’s end, if they knew who he was.

Robin just waved with her fingers as Dustin and El grabbed both of his arms and started to pull him towards the main entrance of the castle. Outside, a wagon was already hitched up to a horse, driver at the ready to take them out. Steve tried to keep the apprehension off his face as he watched the kids get on, then followed after. Obviously the townsfolk couldn’t tell who he was just by looking at him. Even so, what if someone let something slip and the wrong thing was overheard?

His charges were unaware, still talking about all the things to do once they were there. They were already dressed in their new finery, surely with a warning not to get them too dirty before the performance. Steve tried not to feel too disappointed by his own clothing. He didn’t need any eyes drawn to him.

“We’re going to the games first”, Lucas said.

“Who said you’re in charge?”, Max challenged.

“I thought we agreed we should see the market first”, Will said.

“I agree that we should go before they run out of strawberries”, Dustin started. “But we can afford some time to go and see the mechanists first.”

Steve was suddenly struck with why he was put on supervising duty. Without an adult, they’d surely run off in a dozen different directions. They were let out right in the thick of it and Steve was overwhelmed but only for a moment as he clapped his hands and called them to attention.

“Hey. Hey! If one of you gets lost or hurt, that’s my neck on the chopping block!” Steve didn’t want to think of how literal that might be. “I’ll decide where we go and when and I swear to the old gods and new if I hear any griping, you can hop right back on the wagon.”

There was definitely some eye rolling. And the start of groans. And crossed arms. But no one directly opposed him. That left Steve to make a decision. He put his hands on his hips, looking at them one by one as they gazed back expectantly.

“So here’s what we’re going to do”, he began. “You all just ate. We don’t need to go and get berries right now. I promise we’ll go before they run out. It makes the most sense to do the games first. You guys are bouncing off the walls and need something to direct all that energy.”

After which, they’d be in a mood for some kind of refreshing pick-me-up, like freshly picked fruit. And maybe even some kind of meal before seeing what else the people of this town had to offer. His plan was met with minimal protests and for a moment Steve got the idea that they might actually like and respect him. There were games for both young and old, separated by skill level.

Lucas decided to try his hand at archery and Steve felt a twinge of pride, especially when he got a near bullseye on the first try. The next few weren’t as great but he hoped Lucas would remember that first near-win. If nothing else, he might remember the impressed look on Max’s face before she wiped it away, glancing around to make sure no one else saw. Even though the others typically weren’t so swayed by feats of athleticism, they congratulated Lucas.

“You almost got it in!”, Will exclaimed.

“Think of the potential. With an archer, we could be unstoppable!”, Dustin said.

Steve didn’t want to think about what sort of potential they were imagining. He’d thought he’d just follow them around and make sure they didn’t get kidnapped but was thrown off when they dragged him to a different field where there were older competitors.

“I think it’s time you show us what you got”, Mike said, arms crossed.

“What?”

“You talk a big game, but no one’s actually seen you do anything serious”, Max said.

“Lucas was there when Nancy tried to chop my head off”, Steve said in his defense.

Mike shrugged. “Yeah, but she was probably going easy on you.”

“You’d probably be good at that”, El pointed to where a bunch of young adults were tossing spears to see who could get it the farthest.

A simple task, especially given his royal training. Steve thought it almost unfair as he stepped up to compete. But he took the other seriously as he stretched and got ready. He wasn’t surprised when he thrust the spear forward and it fell in a graceful arc leagues further than any other. Still, he was glad that he wasn’t getting rusty up in that castle, locked away. Steve figured he’d proven himself, but then he was pointed to hay bale lifting, then the races, and then a child toss.

“Wait, why am I tossing you guys into the water?”, Steve asked while other people were stretching their legs.

Dustin lit up. “The child toss has a rich history that’s actually hotly debated and only because Eddie won’t tell us what really happened because he thinks its funny how many different stories there are-”

“Just lift them up and throw them in the pond as fast as you can”, Max said.

“As fun as it would be to chuck some of you, not in these clothes”, Steve put his foot down.

Thankfully, they moved quickly to the other games. All things that Steve excelled at. For as much as he was trying to keep a low profile, the townsfolk started to be taken with this talented stranger. It didn’t hurt that many of the events gave them glimpses at his physique. As he promised, once they got their fill of watching him compete, he took them to the market where farmers were presenting the bounties of early spring. It was a good preview of things to come in the following months.

Steve popped a berry into his mouth when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw a man he didn’t recognize. For a moment, he thought he’d been seen for who he was, but he read the other man’s body language. There was something a little nervous about it, especially in the way he seemed to want to look at Steve but not meet his gaze.

“Hey uh, so I saw you over at the fields and uh-”

Ah.

Steve licked some of the juice off his fingers and noticed how intensely he was being watched. He had his fair share of bedmates back home and was familiar with the look of desire. It had just been so long since he'd seen it. Before the man could continue, El was calling for him and Max was grabbing him by the elbow. The girls wanted to go and watch the street musicians while the boys wanted to go and visit the mechanists. Steve finally conceded to a split on the condition that they met up for lunch in half an hour.

“Half an hour is barely any time”, Mike complained.

“It’s all you have if you want to eat before seeing the illusionist. You have to be on stage right after that”, Steve reminded them.

Given that time limit, Will and the other boys rushed off to see the new machines and inventions dreamt up during the winter while the girls led Steve towards music playing. Unbeknownst to anyone there, the king was already present, red hood obscuring his face as he sat on a barrel, playing a cheerful tune for his people.

Part 16

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690 @autumncrocusandladybug @lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #the party

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user2772636 · 3 months

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Moon River

(And me)

No matter how annoying, rude, or diabolical he is, he's still Angus Tully, your best friend and the boy you've been in love with since you learned how to.

Angus Tully x Reader

Warnings: swearing

Moon River - Frank Ocean (Cover)

"I wanna go to Boston."

Angus Tully was a wildcard. He's rude. He doesn't think before he speaks. He can be a hell of a pain in the ass. One second, he's quiet and all by himself in a corner, then the next he's spewing out words from his mouth that'll make you wish you were currently six feet under.

But he's really thoughtful. All those times he spends by himself, he thinks. About life. About school. About people. How we came from where we're from. How we breathe air and feel the soil in our feet.

No matter how many failed classes, how many times he was set back, Angus Tully is a smart boy with loads of potential. You just wish he saw himself that way.

"Why?" You ask, flipping the magazine between your fingers.

You were almost the exact opposite of Angus.

You studied hard, aiming for Ivy League schools and doing as much extracurricular activities as you could. You prioritised school, your work, your reputation. You rarely get in trouble, only getting called in offices for the reports you've sent.

So, why out of all the people in Barton, the only girl there ends up being his closest friend?

To put it simply; when you heard about Barton accepting girls for the new school year, you wanted to go. One, because, as your mother said, "It would do your reputation good for being a part of the first batch of girls in Barton," and two, because your best friend Angus Tully studied there.

Yes, you got in the school. Yes, you're part of the first batch of girls in Barton ever. What they didn't mention was the fact you were the only girl in Barton.

"You know why."

Angus's dad was put in a hospital after something happened in their home. Apparently, he was sick. At least, that's what Angus's mom said.

"We can't exactly leave. Hunham's gonna kill you." You finally put your magazine down, folding the corner of the page you were in to bookmark it.

"Not unless he doesn't find out."

"You know for a fact he'll find out."

"He'll find out too late. I know that for a fact."

You roll your eyes, sighing. You shuffle to your side of the bed to his. You pushed both your beds together. The excuse Angus used was that it gets cold at night. You didn't really mind.

You settle your head on his chest, arm wrapping around his slender waist. You exhale deeply when his arm lowers to rub your back. It felt nice in moments like this; The dark room illuminated by the orange hue of a streetlight outside. The wind howling and blowing snowflakes towards the west.

"I know it sucks we didn't get to go with those guys to ski, but they're jerks anyway. I'd rather spend my entire Christmas with you." You tuck your head into his neck, closing your eyes as your tiredness encapsulates you, as well as the warmth of Angus's hold.

"Well, we're not exactly doing that." Angus clicks his tongue. "Wish it was just me and you. No Mary, and no stupid fucking walleye."

You groan. "You gotta stop calling him that. He seems to be trying his best, even when his "best" is annoying." Angus adjusts underneath you, lying both of you down and draping a blanket over your bodies.

"Yeah, whatever." He relaxes onto the bed, eyes closing as well. His breathing is still manual, you can tell he can't sleep just yet. There's something in his mind.

"Angus... you okay?" He moves a bit, arm still wrapped around you. He doesn't answer right away, but when he does, his voice is a bit strained.

"Don't you ever get tired of me? Even just a little?" You wouldn't have heard him if it weren't for your proximity right now. You stay still.

"Of course I get tired of you. Almost all the time." He scoffs when you giggle a bit. You open your eyes and peek up at him, seeing a small smile on his face.

From the light that barely lit the room, you could see his eyes were glassy. You sit upright, cupping his face. His hand goes up to hold one of your wrists, his cheek leaning into your touch.

"How do you put up with me?" He sniffles, leaning his head down. "I can't even put up with myself sometimes."

There was only one answer to his question. You knew well in your heart what it was. Maybe it was time to tell him.

"Angus." You whisper, caressing his face your thumb. "Look at me."

He looks up, eyes a bit damp from tears. You wipe them away gently, keeping your eyes locked on his pretty brown ones.

"You're my best friend, Angus. But I see you more than that." You can see the emotions shift on his face, but he stays quiet, so you continue.

"I'm serious about what I said. I'd rather spend my entire Christmas with you. Over anybody in the world." You smile softly, taking your hands off his face to hold on his own.

"I'd also spend spring break with you, summer, the weekends. It's gotten to the point that I'd spend the rest of my life with you."

"The thing is, I'm never gonna leave. No matter how annoyed I am, no matter how fed up. Because I love you, Angus. I've loved you ever since I learned how to. And I learned from you."

He only stays quiet after. You're afraid you said the wrong things. Maybe you shouldn't have told him that. He's simply staring off into space, eyes glued on you. You try to take your hands back.

"Wait." Angus says. He keeps his eyes on you. There's this spark in them, and you can't tell what it is. You've only ever seen it in times like this; when you're alone with him.

This is a lot more different, though. There was so much intensity that-

His lips felt plump against yours. They were so soft. You could even somehow taste the pink in them. You couldn't get enough.

The moment you lean in, his hands cup your cheeks, just like you did to him moments ago. You bet he could feel how warm they were.

He tilts his head to kiss you more, adding a bit of force that just highlights his hunger.

Your hand finds his lap, and you rest them there. He pulls away, hovering a centimetre off your lips. You feel the way he breathes against you.

"If you wanted to take my pants off, just ask." He laughs, trying to ease the heat of the room.

You lean in just a bit, lips brushing. He tries to lean in too, but you pull away only slightly.

"If you wanted to kiss me, just ask." It was your turn to laugh as he rolls his eyes.

"Well, can I kiss you again?"

You didn't even need to say a word. A curt nod was enough for him to go back to kissing you silly.

A best friend is someone you hold dearly in your heart. Your best friend is already far above that.

The love you hold for someone close is something you never let go of. You can make a choice of holding that feeling a little while longer or giving it to them with everything in your being. Trust me when I say the second option is better.

HOLA CHICAS I FINALLY WROTE SMTH FOR ANGUS!!! If u followed me way b4 yk i was talking abt this man and saying how them white boys r ruining me (tbh they still are but im not complaining) i love this boy sm I WANT HIM SOOOOOO BAD UGHH. Anw this is short asf but its all i got for now 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ HOPE U GUYS LIKED IT!!!

#angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers #friends to lovers #moon river #one shot #reader insert

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 5 months

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OK OK BUT JOY, the prompt: “If you die, I die. Don’t you get that!” Between Irondad?! Either way! ASDGHJKL ANGST

AHHHH!!! Mini-fic time?? Yes. Yes, Mini-fic time.

Here it is, at 997 words. A lot of action, leading to a short panic-induced argument... and a hug. Because of course, there is a hug. :D Enjoy!! [click here for a reversed use of this prompt]

If You Died...

Peter hadn’t meant to get in over his head. It was just- he needed to keep his neighborhood safe, and he had powers. It wasn’t like he could see a problem and just walk away. But he had been careful. He’d used his tools and his abilities to access the situation. He’d asked his AI to run facial recognition on everyone involved and had cross-referenced their information through several databases; just to make sure he knew what he was up against.

Three regular guys, selling regular drugs inside a regular empty warehouse. That was it. Nothing about it had been alarming or ominous. So, taking them out should have been easy. And technically it was. It was the swarm of armed individuals that had flooded in after that had been the problem. He had that too for a while. Then the big guys came in. Three of them, with large shoulders and enhanced strength that matched his own. He was having a difficult time dividing his attention between the projectiles and the hands being aimed at his face.

“Karen?” He dodged, while shooting webs that never seemed to hit their mark. When they did, they never held for long. The big guys busted right out of them. “A little back up would be nice.”

“Of course, Peter. Contacting Mr. Stark.”

Peter ducked and slid beneath one of the large men’s legs. “Wait! Isn’t- Is Captain America available?” He spun around, sending his foot into the guy's knee cap. The impact made no difference; like a child kicking a fencepost. “Maybe Black Widow? Hawkeye?”

There was no debate. “Mr. Stark is already in route.” Three dots appeared on his HUD along with an ETA.

Peter wanted to fret over his mentor's imminent arrival but there wasn’t time. Whenever he thought he had one of the men restrained, they broke free and he had to start over again. One down, two to go. Two down, one- no, still two to go. It was a vicious cycle.

Ten minutes later a blast came from the right. A hole appeared in the wall and Iron Man, gauntlets ablaze, flew through it. Peter looked up. The momentary distraction allowed enough time for a football sized fists to make contact with his stomach. He flew backwards, through a spray of ammunition, and landed in the wall.

The comms crackled to life. Peter wished they hadn't. Pain was already radiating from the back of his skull down and down his spine. When Mr. Stark shouted his name, his ears began to ring. Dazedly, he looked up. Mr. Stark was swooping around the room. Metal clanked and repulsors whirred. Peter struggled to get to his feet to help. Mr. Stark’s voice was back in his ears.

“Stay down, Spider-Man! You’re done!”

Peter blinked. He took stock of his body. The blow had hurt, but he had enhanced strength and a healing factor. He shook out his limbs and demeaned himself well enough to continue. “I’m good. Just a little-”

He didn’t get to finish. Mr. Stark flew by, lifted his faceplate and scowled. “I said you’re done!”

The tone gave Peter pause. Reluctantly, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. “I’m really okay,” he whispered, despite his throbbing head.

“And I’m really not discussing this will you,” Mr. Stark quipped. “I’m just about done here. You stay put. Capice?”

Peter nodded and looked around. Most of the little guys had fled. And only one of the larger men remained standing. Clearly his webbing needed an upgrade. Maybe taser webs with a manual detonation. A range of fifty to ninety thousand volts would probably do it. Could the suit handle that without increasing the power? He was unable to finish the math before Mr. Stark was in front of him.

“Let’s go.”

Peter allowed himself to be lifted to the top of a nearby water tower. He pulled his mask off and ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. “Mr. Stark, I-”

“Do you have any idea who those people are, what they’re capable of?” Mr. Stark gestured wildly toward the warehouse.

Peter shifted his feet. “I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t know? Of course you didn’t. Did you even stop to ask?” Mr. Stark wrapped his fingers tightly around his wrist. “There were two dozen lacheys and three giant bruises in there! What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t- it was three normal guys when I started!” he half-shouted. It wasn’t his fault, but Mr. Stark didn’t look keen to listen. “The others just- showed up!”

Mr. Stark took a step forward. “You could have died in there, Peter!”

“I wasn’t going to die!” he defensively shouted. “I have super-powers and I did call for back-up!”

“Your AI said you had been going at it for over an hour before you called! Peter-” Mr. Stark looked frantic with his hands running through his hair. “Peter, I don’t know how to explain this to you any more clearly. I-” His face dropped, all blood draining from his face. “What if you had died? Then what?”

Frustrated, Peter gritted his teeth. “It’s on you.”

Mr. Stark blinked. “No. No, bud. That’s not- geez.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, his breaths increasing as he spoke. “Pete. If you die, I die! Do you get that? If you die- I will never recover. I will-”

Peter’s brows furrowed with realization. Mr. Stark was having a panic attack. “Are you okay, Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark’s head shot up, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Peter stepped closer, his hand going to the back of his hair. “My head hurts but that’s it..”

Without warning, he was pulled into a tight hug.

“Just- promise me you won’t wait so long to call for help next time. Because- Peter? Peter, I can’t lose you.”

Eyes closed tight, Peter nestled his face into Mr. Stark's chest. “I promise, Mr. Stark. You won’t lose me.”

#thanks for the ask!#happyaspie mini fic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad and spiderson #iron man #spider-man #marvel #mcu #light angst #peter parker gets a hug #panic attack #irondad

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kianaisspiraling · 9 months

Text

Immortal GIGS Crew Phasmophobia AU

GIGS phasmo AU where they're basically just a group of retired immortals having fun :D

Impulse and Skizz started working for this ghost hunting company, and since they can't die, instead of reading the manual they decided to just fuck around and find out.

In truth, they kinda just showed up and started taking jobs. The company was gonna find these intruders and punish them at first, but when the spectacular results started coming in, the higher-ups hesitantly decided to let it go, since none of their actual employees were brave enough to take the cases Impulse and Skizz did.

Eventually, their results from one investigation were left with a letter requesting payment, since they didn't wanna keep using the cheap starter equipment in the van they "borrowed." So if the company slips an envelope full of cash into their own mailbox every time they receive a report for the mystery workers to take, and sometimes equipment disappears from storage with cash in its place, they simply would look the other way.

Later they drag Grian, Scar, and Gem into their shenanigans and they also fuck around and find out.

To the company, the GIGS Crew is their best team, even if they don't know much about them. They always take their hardest, most fatal jobs, and walk out completely fine.

Little do they know these eldritch entities die repeatedly and they scream like little girls. What is considered an almost certainly fatal job for any regular person, is just a game to the GIGS.

For example, all manuals say to snap pictures of cursed items, and safely return them to HQ to be disposed of in a contained area. GIGS crew though? None of them have the self control to not use those. Every single one of them would pull every tarot card for fun and you know it. Manual says to under no circumstances touch a summoning circle. GIGS does not read the manual.

They even set some rules early on, afterall this is a game to them, and what fun is a game if you can't die? So essentially they declared that if a ghost was to hit you with what would be a killing blow, you have to go into spectral form, in which you detach from your body and hover about like a spectator. Think Dr. Strange. The only thing they're allowed to do in this form is pick stray items up, and if everyone "dies" they have to jump ship and come back again later.

They can be 'revived' by the monkey paw or something too. Thing is, despite the fact that they don't need to, they still say, "I wish for Life," before the 'dead' person returns to their body. If this causes some recently dead guy a block away to suddenly wake up fine, sue them. They're causing miracles over here, be grateful!

Now imagine something happens one day that causes a human mortal that also works for the company in some regard to bare witness to GIGS' unhinged method of investigation. They're playing with cursed objects like toys, purposefully triggering hunts, and—

Unnamed is sitting in the van watching the camera closely when it happens. They've been tasked as a fifth, no wait, sixth member of the legendary GIGS crew for the day, since there's apparently a girl named Gem that subs in for Scar half the time. They're thinking that, sure, this team's been a bit reckless so far, but who are they to judge? These guys are THE professionals, after all. However, this viewpoint quickly gets decimated.

"HahAHA Scar's dead!" Unnamed's head snaps up at Grian's outburst. They, being the normal person they are, respond reasonably, "Wait, agent Scar is dead-?!" A pause followed by a realization, "Why the hell are you laughing-?!"

Grian, who came back into the van for candles since they were going to do an Onryo test before it started hunting, suddenly remembers that humans don't think death is funny. Right. Need to fix that slip up.

"Uhm... out of shock, I think?" Wow, A+ excuse, he mentally berates himself. Think Grian, think! Humans have that thing called grief, right? And isn't the first stage of that denial? Bingo! "I.. I'm sorry, I think I'm just.. in denial?" Grian wants to slap himself. Great idea, horrible execution. Unnamed clearly didn't buy it.

Thankfully, that mess was interrupted, "Hey guys, I found the monkey paw. Should I use it to bring Scar back?" Impulse says over the radio. Skizz and Grian are quick to agree, the latter also using the distraction to rush out of the van and that conversation with the candles.

It takes a moment to click, but Unnamed suddenly realizes, "Wait, are you guys gonna use a cursed item to bring Agent Scar back-?! Look, I know you all are mourning, but that is under all circumstances forbidden!" They take a breath in disbelief, "That could have unforeseen consequences!"

Skizz pipes up, not even trying to be subtle, "Well, duh. The consequences are what makes it fun!" Unnamed is interrupted by Impulse before they can rant about how bad of an idea this is—, "Yeah you say that until you're the one that has to deal with them," he chuckles.

Skizz, in blind yet playful rage, bites the bait, "Fine then! Give me the monkey paw, and I'll wish Scar back to life myself!"

Skizz does this and dies, and they can practically hear him complaining from beyond the grave. Impulse snaps a picture of his corpse as they make fun of the position he's in, his back bent backward. Unnamed is frozen in shock in the van as they listen to Skizz's friends, including a newly revived Scar, laugh at their own friend's demise. Oh god, they're surrounded by psychopaths. These guys take all the hardest jobs, of course they've gone crazy—

Unnamed, after spiraling for an unknown amount of time, looks over to the activity chart to see that there is a hunt going on. This gives them some time to collect their thoughts, only for that little composure to immediately be shattered when as soon as the hunt ends, Grian barks out a laugh, "Oh Scar! He's died AGAIN!", "Oh nooo!" Impulse follows along with a chuckle. Unnamed is on the verge of hyperventilating.

The two remaining GIGS return to the van and ignore Unnamed's impending panic attack. Grian tells Impulse that the hunt started right after the third candle blew out, so he thinks it's an Onryo. "I mean we do already have orbs, but I wasn't getting freezing temps and that ghost just wasn't answering spirit box." Impulse counters.

"Listen, I know I was spirit boxin' it pretty good,"—Unnamed shudders at that. The second-hand cringe they felt listening to Grian's "WHERE ARE YOUUU-?!" was indescribable—"but my gut is really telling me it's an Onryo! Besides, we've had ghosts that just refused to talk before."

"Your gut is usually right," Impulse mutters. "Look, we've got one of two evidence and a successful Onryo test, so I say we gag since Scar and Skizz are dead." Grian says. Impulse still looks unsure, "I just feel like it's too soon. One evidence is hardly enough, and that Onryo test could be a fluke."

They have completely forgotten Unnamed is there at this point, and they don't exactly feel like attracting attention to themself as they wilt like a flower in the corner, pondering their life choices.

Grian relents a bit, "Okay how about this, we ask Scar and Skizz if we should gag or continue investigating, fair?" Impulse nods, "Fair."

Unnamed looks up a little, concerned on how exactly they plan to consult their dead friends. They're beginning to think there's a high likelihood they'll quit tonight, and they're definitely going to need a therapist after all this.

Impulse speaks up over the radio despite them all being in the truck, "Alright guys, come get your clipboards!" Unnamed stares on in something akin to horror as two of the clipboards up on the wall start hovering. Impulse's voice is somehow too loud and too quiet at the same time, "Alright, throw your clipboards on the keyboard if we should continue, and throw them on the floor if we should gag."

Both clipboards are now being repeatedly picked up and tossed on the floor of the van by an invisible force. 'Forces,' they correct themself mentally, as it slowly dawns on them that these ghosts are actually Scar and Skizz, and isn't THAT a mind-twister?

Impulse looks slightly disappointed but smiles good-naturedly anyway, "You guys wanna gag? Alrighty then, check off Onryo and let's go!"

This is the moment that Impulse suddenly remembers Unnamed's existence, looking slightly worried at their lack of input, "You okay?" He turns his head, "Grian don't go yet, Unnamed hasn't given their opinion." Grian grumbles out a 'fine', and Impulse looks back at them, "You wanna gag, or should we contin–" Unnamed interrupts, "Just get me outta here please," they near-whisper.

Impulse looks them over and remembers that humans aren't meant to be that pale and hesitantly asks, "You uh... feeling sick?" He looks over to Grian for help, and Unnamed could swear they heard Grian sassily mumble, "Don't look at me, I dunno how humans work either," but they had to be hearing things, because that just doesn't make sense, surely.

"Impulse, lets just go and pass Unnamed onto someone who actually knows what they're doing," Grian grumbles, clearly frustrated. Impulse still looks concerned (at least he's trying), but concedes since, yeah, they really don't know what they're doing, do they?

As Grian starts the truck, Unnamed notices that Scar and Skizz's bodies are suddenly in the truck. Did– did Grian leave while Impulse looked them over? That had only lasted for a few seconds though, Grian couldn't possibly have dragged them in in that time, could he? It's like they were just teleported in here. Unnamed is really going to need that therapist, and maybe some kind of hallucination medication too...

While staring into space and down at the keyboard in misery, Unnamed distantly hears the sounds of someone cracking their joints and grunting noises to accompany it. They fully snap to attention, however, when they hear the people's voices.

Scar makes a sound of discomfort as he snaps his neck back into place, "Oh void, gonna feel that in the mornin'," he mutters to himself. Skizz on the other hand lets out a whoop at the satisfying crack in his back, before immediately thrusting into bickering with Impulse.

"Dipple-Dop, you killed me!" Skizz exclaims, and Unnamed gets the feeling that they should cover their ears, like a child does when their parents fight. "ME-?! You're the one who used the monkey paw!" Impulse retorts. Skizz, "Well, you shouldn't have given it to me!" Impulse, "But you literally asked me for it!" Skizz, "Well, I wouldn't have if you didn't instigate me!" Impulse, "Oh, come on! You..."

Unnamed tunes them out and focuses on Scar and Grian, all thoughts having left their head out of pure shock, believing this must be some twisted fever dream. It makes sense, they think, they have been tasked with reviewing GIGS' reports for the past month after all.

In truth, the only reason Unnamed is here in the first place is because Skizz didn't read a form before signing it. With their previous check, GIGS received a form that was asking about sending someone to monitor and review their methods and see if they're fit to formally become employees. It was really just an effort to get to know something about these mysterious volunteers, though.

Skizz, however, just skimmed the part gushing about how much the company appreciates their hard work and the benefits of becoming real hires, not actually reading the part about the employee evaluation, assuming they were just going to get the rewards. He signed it and wrote down the GIGS Crew email address he created a minute ago, hence why Unnamed is now here. Yippie.

They tune into Grian and Scar's conversation as they vaguely register Impulse and Skizz's continued, albeit quieter, bickering in the background. Scar is griping about the crick in his neck, "Why do you guys always have to leave a guy in the most uncomfortable positions, huh?" Grian responds blunty with zero hesitation, "Because it's funny," he snorts.

Unnamed tunes them out too as their brain starts to reboot enough to process that they are supposed to be dead. Why are they not dead-?!

Grian notices Unnamed staring in the corner and clears his throat above everyone else's chatter, making a gesture towards them once he has their attention. Unnamed can feel their heart sink straight through the floor, and a metaphorical noose tighten around their neck.

He looks over at Scar and Skizz, "You two really couldn't wait to get back up, could you? Remember, we. have. COMPANY!" Grian punctuates each word in that statement with a clap.

The two sheepishly look over at Unnamed while Impulse looks mildly panicked. Scar and Impulse were cooking up some half-baked excuses, and Skizz is malfunctioning when Grian sighs and relents a bit, "Okay, we're really not being that subtle anyway, are we?"

Scar is spewing a ridiculous explanation in the background, "They uh, shocked us back to life while you weren't looking, yeah!" A whisper from Skizz shuts him up, "I'm no expert, but I don't think that's how that works, buddy." Scar deflates a bit, "But that's all I've got..." Skizz rubs a comforting hand on his back, "I know, dude, at least ya' tried."

Before Unnamed can get enough of a grip on themself and ask what in the hell is happening, the ride ends, simultaneously having taken an eternity and also been way too short.

Grian slips out of the driver seat and ushers them outside quickly, them now standing in front of the company's main building looking lost. "Wait!" Impulse stops Grian from driving off, "You forgot your employee evaluation sheet. It looks oddly blank..." Impulse trails off before snapping out of his stupor, "Sorry! Didn't mean to pry. I'm probably not meant to read that, huh?" He slips the report into Unnamed's hand when they don't take it on their own.

"Oh, and would you mind taking in our report for this job too?" Despite the lack of a response, Impulse slips the report into their hands anyway, "Thanks, pleasure working with you! Sorry for any disturbances we many of caused." Impulse calls out as he steps back into the vehicle, Grian driving away as soon as the door closes, as if driving away will solve all their problems.

Unnamed starts to mindlessly wander inside the building, robotically turning in the report and submitting their evaluation sheet for review, one to the standard job review department and one to HQ. 'It really is a bit blank, huh?' They think passively. They're not really there, still feeling like they're floating in nothingness, but it's the first coherent thought they've had regarding reality in a while, so they'll take anything at this point.

Before they know it, they've found their way into the overnight stay room. Most investigations occur at night, so they have two rooms with sectioned off areas, each area containing a twin bed and a nightstand. It would look uncannily like a hospital if the nightstands were metal instead of wood.

They look up at the clock in the room and distantly note that its 2:17 am. Barely acknowledging that, they ungracefully flop onto the nearest available bed and pass out unceremoniously, not even taking off their shoes. The last thing to cross their mind before drifting off into a dreamless sleep is absolute certainty that this must just be a really strange nightmare induced by lack of proper sleep, and with that, they are at peace.

Unnamed hazily blinks their eyes open the next morning to see a silhouette sitting on their bedside, vaguely recognizing them as their friend, Unidentified. They can't focus on that though, only signing in relief now that that disturbing dream was over, writing it off as nerves for the upcoming job with GIGS. They're probably completely normal people, if a bit unorthodox.

This illusion is quickly shattered, though, because as soon as Unnamed is conscious enough to listen, their friend speaks, "So, how was it?" Unidentified stares at them with clear excitement, bouncing up and down a bit where they sat.

Unnamed, still pitifully oblivious, tilts their head in confusion, "How was what?" It's Unidentified's turn to be confused, "What do you mean, 'How was what?' The job with GIGS, obviously!" Unidentified exclaims incredulously.

Unnamed's face slowly morphs into one of unbridled horror as they realize that that wasn't a dream.

The next thing they know, they've sat up, fully awake, getting up and brushing themself off. Unidentified quickly switches from excited to worried, "Unnamed, are you okay?"

Unnamed can barely recall how to string together the sounds they call language to reply, "Yeah, I uh... I just need to go report something to HQ." Before Unidentified can respond, Unnamed has rushed out the door, straightening out their attire so that they look at least somewhat presentable in front of the company's head.

They file a request for an immediate meeting with the higher-ups, stressing the importance of it. They add that it has to do with Team GIGS as an afterthought, hoping it'll peak their curiosity.

And so Unnamed sits there, standing in the lobby with pumping adrenaline as they come to terms with a stark truth:

The GIGS crew is not human.

~•~

Bonuses!

POV GIGS Before:

"Look, Grian, I know you don't wanna leave the van, but this time you have to!" Impulse tries to reason, though he knows he's fighting a losing battle.

Grian refuses to relent, gaze boring into Impulse with several Eyes, "But whyyyy?!"

Impulse lets out an exhausted sigh, he's been at this for a while, "You know why, an inspector is going to be hunting with us this time, and they're human! We have to give them van duty or else they could die in the house. Like actually die."

Grian let's out an indignant whine, his wings puffing out in defiance, "And? There's gonna be five of us, can't we both just be in the van or something?"

"Grian, you and I both know that out of everyone here, except for maybe Gem, you get along with humans the least. You don't even try to be friendly!" Impulse counters. He can see Grian's resolve beginning to falter as he continues, "You don't wanna be stuck in the van with a 'strange mortal' the whole time, do you?" He uses air quotes, trying to speak Grian's language, and it's working.

Grian visibly deflates a little bit, crossing his arms and looking away as he bites out a bitter, "no." He's staring with only two eyes now, so that's progress Impulse thinks.

Skizz finally cuts in, not having wanted to get involved when Grian was still yelling, but will now that he's somewhat calm, "Listen buddy, it's not like you've never left the van before! You do it whenever Gemstone joins us, and sometimes when a bunch of us are dead!" Skizz chuckles a bit, "It's nothin' you haven't done before, G-Sharp."

Grian fully deflates this time, tension releasing from his body as looks at his feet and heaves a sigh of his own, "Fiiiine. The stupid human can have the vaaaan." He pouts, but it's the best they're going to get so they take it.

Impulse finally lets out a breath of relief, glad that he's avoided the possible murder of their inspector. Void, he really feels like a single mom sometimes.

~•~

POV GIGS After:

Grian is most definitely driving faster than the speed limit allows, not that he particularly cares. That went horribly, the human saw Scar and Skizz revive themselves for Void's sake!

In truth, they were never really dead. They really just couldn't bend their death-related rules they set for a day, huh? He has the urge to bury his face in the steering wheel as he drives. "This is why I avoid mortals," he grumbles to himself.

When they arrive at their designated "ghost hunting lobby," as they call it, they all devolve into various states of stress.

Grian face-plants into sofa and screams into a throw pillow, Eyes forming and popping around his head like lava. Impulse is pacing around the room like a maniac, pointed tail swishing back and forth in distress. Scar sits on the armchair, fiddling with his cane and pushing a hand through his hair, his eyes practically stapled open, gazing into space. Skizz just kind of stands there, his tail also swishing in anxiety as he dreads the inevitable.

Scar finally shatters the silence, "Now, I don't wanna point fingers, but," he points at Skizz, "kinda your fault, Skizz." There it is, there's what Skizz was dreading.

He tries to defend himself anyways, "Alright listen, I know that most of this is my fault for signing that dumb form, but you can't deny that we all messed up at least a little bit."

Impulse stops pacing at that. Grian doesn't move from his misery on the sofa, not reacting at all.

"I- yeah, Skizz is right. We all kind of screwed up. I think our main problem was how casually we acknowledged death. It's surprisingly easy to forget that humans don't view life as a game..." Impulse rubs the back of his neck, guilty.

Skizz still looks apologetic though, "Yeah, just know I'm really sorry about that. Maybe don't put me on mail duty anymore."

Scar stands up, his skin having taken on a blue blue sheen, his edges a little sharper, and small translucent wings behind him. "It's okay man, I probably would have done the same thing," he picks up a Jellie that's winding in between his legs, "plus we both kinda revived while Unnamed was right there, so you can't take all the blame for that."

"Thanks dude, that means a lot." Skizz slings an arm over Scar's shoulder.

Grian finally sits up, "So what happens now?" All heads turn to him, their stares questioning.

Eyes have never bothered Grian, since he has more of them, so he stands up fully and elaborates, "Well, within the next few days, the company is gonna know we're not human. What exactly do we do now?" A contemplating pause followed by a sad voice, "Do we... have to quit ghost hunting?"

The room goes deathly quiet. They... didn't think about that. Even Skizz and Scar look crestfallen. It's Impulse who pipes up, "No, we don't." he says surprisingly self-assured, all eyes now on him.

Impulse continues on, "I mean, Skizz and I just kinda showed up one day and they couldn't get rid of us, them knowing what we are isn't gonna change that. How exactly would they stop us?" The crew looks a little less depressed at that.

"Plus," Impulse looks hesitant for a moment, "Unnamed's reaction to death reminded me of how fragile human life really is, so even if we're only doing this for fun," he looks to each of them, "it makes me feel like we're protecting them, even if just by taking the lethal jobs."

Skizz perks up at the notion, and Scar breaks out into a grin, waltzing over to Impulse and slinging an arm over his shoulder. Jellie wanders off to go paw at Grian, who's sat back down, still squeezing that throw pillow.

Scar has regained his aura of grandeur, as he joins Impulse in cheering them up, "Yeah, I like that! We're helping by dying where they can't!" He looks very excited at the thought.

It's Skizz's turn to join the building huddle, an arm finding it's way on Impulse's other shoulder. "Oh yeah! Good guy Skizzleman, saving mortals from the horrors of death!" He pumps a fist in the air.

Grian gets up, Jellie trailing behind, and reluctantly joins the hug, arms around Scar and Skizz and his wings around all of them. "I don't care what happens to those humans, but whatever," grian mumbles. Impulse just smiles fondly at him, because despite how he pretends not to, Impulse can see just how much Grian truly cares. He doesn't have to understand mortals to care for them.

The soft moment is interrupted by a ding from Skizz's phone. They untangle their arms as Skizz checks what it is.

He perks up excitedly, "Oh, it's our report's review for the job!" He chuckles a bit, "If one good thing came out of signing that form, it's that we now get almost instant results!"

He clicks on the email, eager to see if they guessed right. Spoiler, they did not.

"What-?!" His face contorts to one of disbelief, "A Mare-?! How?" Grian shoots up at Skizz's outburst, clearly upset.

"What-?! Yeah how-?! That thing wasn't turning off any lights!" He squawks indignantly, a few Eyes floating over Skizz's shoulder to read it himself.

Scar looks wholly unaffected, "Eh, I don't really know how we got Onryo in the first place, I was too busy being dead."

Impulse seems to slowly come to a conclusion, "Well, if you think about it, we weren't really turning the lights on to begin with," his voice picks up a bit, "We were putting so many candles out for the Onryo test, that—"

Skizz finishes, "We stopped turning on the breaker 'cause the candlelight was enough!"

None of them have to turn around to see Grian facepalming, the scream of frustration enough for them to paint that picture themselves, "I hate this game!"

Grian isn't done with his rampage, "But wait, doesn't Mare also need spirit box?" He looks to Impulse for confirmation, and continues once he gets a nod, "But I did spirit box so well though! I had great coverage."

Impulse puts up a hand placatingly, "Yeah, I agree, you did spirit box pretty good, but we were on Nightmare, so spirit box probably just probably wasn't one of the two random evidence."

Grian crosses his arms, "Or maybe it's because someone," he casts a glare at Impulse, though he means nothing malicious by it, "just had to prestige, leaving us with shoddy level 1 equipment." He sighs however, "But you're probably right. We didn't really look that hard for Ghost Writing, did we?"

He wanders off to grumble to himself a little longer, and they all laugh at Grian's pity-party. They end up sitting on sofa together for a while, just chatting about things they couldn't talk about while Unnamed was there.

Impulse is telling a story from Hermitcraft earlier that day, but he stops when Gem comes up in it, paling, "Oh Void..."

Impulse's face unravels into one of dread, a realization forming, "Gem's gonna smack us all upside the head for this." Oh. Oh no. They all shudder in unison. They're screwed.

~•~

Thanks for reading my little self-indulgent AU-idea turned into a fic!

This was originally meant to just be an AU idea, but I blinked and I'd written a whole fic, so yeah.

I think I'll edit this a bit and post it on Ao3 too of that interests anyone.

Feel free to use the idea however you want, just tag me, I wanna see what you do :)

129 notes · View notes

hd-junglebook · 8 months

Text

Edge of Exile

part 1

Following episode 9 Unity Day of the 100

You were escorted from your cell. The guard fixing you with a stern look as you both walk the all-too-familiar route away from maximum security.

"Don't cause any more trouble," he warns. you simply nod, too overwhelmed with anticipation to respond.

You were led through the halls to Mecha Station. The guard ushering you toward a small but cozy room. "Home sweet home," he says gruffly before departing.

You step inside the new room, making faces at his back as he walks away. This room was so different from your drafty, sterile cell in Prison Station. This space feels lived in. The desk was the same, your photos and colorful blankets placed neatly inside the room already.

The medium sized window that adorned one of the walls adding some natural scenery, just missing your drawings and paintings, each one a reflection of your innermost thoughts and emotions.

…

Your first week of freedom went better than you would have imagined.

At first, you were skeptical of his offer. Everyone knew how Jaha led - with an iron fist. You had witnessed his disregard for human life firsthand when he floated most of your friends. But his deal was your only chance to get out of that cell.

The work itself felt good. Kept your hands and mind busy, and finally able to use the skills that had been useless in your cell. The engineers even valued your input, unlike the guards who had tossed you in confinement.

These full, simple days of freedom were all anyone could wish for after surviving isolation. Every morning you reminded yourself to be thankful for this second chance, even if you didn't fully trust the man who had granted it.

Kane had only visited twice your release. Your stubbornness kept you from speaking, a trait you most definitely adopted from being around him so long. But no matter how much you tried pretending he didn’t exist anymore, he had always tried to be by your side.

You found it so hard to hate him. Even now when you think about it. They had placed you in indefinite lockup instead of death, if it were anyone else you would have been floated with the rest.

….

A soft knock sounded from your door, vibrating through the thin walls, waking you from your deep sleep. Bleary-eyed, you approached the door to find your grandmother standing there in the dimly lit corridor.

"Vera? What are you doing here so late?” you state, head lolling to the side.

She stepped inside, a small smile appearing on her lips. "I'm sorry to wake you, y/n. I couldn’t sleep but there’s something I wanted to ask you."

A look of confusion spreads across your face as you extend your hand, gesturing for her to sit at the small table as you shook off sleep. "What is it?"

"It's about your uncle, Kane."

You sighed, "What about him?" your voice came out harsher than intended as you crossed your arms, unwilling to yield. "You don't know what he put me through."

"You're right, I don't," she conceded softly. "But I know you. And I know holding onto bitterness will destroy the bright, brave girl I love."

“I won’t be alive for long. He's still family. His burden is heavy too. Will you at least try, for your old Grandma's sake?”

You let out a long breath, feeling your heart crack open despite yourself. You nodded reluctantly. Where Kane and you would end up, only time would tell.

Sadness filled her eyes. "Resentment will only poison your spirit, child. What's done is done. But you still have a choice - let go of the anger, or let it define you."

…

It was Unity Day, and the entire Ark was celebrating, minus you and the few engineers working to get the last three stations fixed up.

You had gotten to work the moment you woke up, Vera’s words still circling your mind. Sinclair had been first to join you, meeting in the remnants of flint station, helping you figure out the repairs for the damage.

Together, you both had spent hours poring over the manual, checking, and rechecking each step to make sure everything was done correctly.

Both of you taking turns going on breaks and grabbing snacks you had stolen from the eating hall, but for the most part, you were both fully focused on the task at hand.

The temperature in the room rose as well, making your work even more challenging. The air conditioning had been broken for weeks in flint station as if the mounting pressure of work wasn't enough.

You and Sinclair had pushed through it, determined to see this done.

The heat was stifling as you both crawled through the tight utility space, searching for the wiring short that was causing power fluctuations in Mecha Station. Rivulets of sweat dripped down your back.

"Phew, it's boiling in here," you complained, pushing past another bundle of wires. "Couldn't they have put in some AC?"

Sinclair chuckled. "Unfortunately for you y/n, the Ark wasn't built with comfort in mind. But don't worry, we're almost there."

You grumbled good-naturedly as he shuffled forward. your toolkit banging against the metal walls, the sound echoing in the tight space.

"Watch out for that junction box," Sinclair warned over his shoulder. You looked to the side and saw the hazard just in time and pivoted awkwardly around it.

"Thanks for the heads up. Wouldn't want to get zapped in here."

You reached the problem spot - a bundle of fraying wires with melted insulation. Sinclair gave a satisfied nod. "Just needs some fresh wraps and it'll be good as new."

As you both worked, Sinclair made quiet small talk, telling stories about past repairs and close calls he had with a coworker of his, Raven Reyes.

His calm expertise putting you at ease.

After another 30 minutes, all your hard, sweaty work paid off as you finally heard the hum of the machines coming back to life.

Packing up the tools, Sinclair nervously smiled at you. "You did great work today. With some more training, you'll make an excellent mechanic."

Pride swelled in your chest at the praise as you fanned yourself off from the heat. "Does this mean I get to do the fun zero-G jobs next?" you said jokingly.

He laughed heartily. "Maybe not just yet. But you've got a bright future ahead. Now let's get out of this sauna."

Grinning, you followed him out, grateful for his patience. Both of you let out a sigh of relief as you collapsed into a chair, exhausted, still drenched in sweat, sharing a fist bump before you stood and headed to the hallway to catch your breath, the sound of music and chatter filled the air.

The hallways decorated in banners and streamers recycled from the previous Unity Day adorned the walls.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you remembered that you needed to find Kane and your grandma before getting back to work.

"fuck," you whispered to yourself, speed walking down the hall.

you turned a corner, eyes on the floor glancing at the confetti when you were jolted out of your thoughts as a blonde lady bumped into you, causing you to stumble backwards.

"Oof!" you gasped.

Quickly regaining your balance as you looked up to see who had collided with you. It was Diana Sydney.

Diana looked at you with a mix of surprise and annoyance, her mouth pinched into a thin line before quickly brushing past you and disappearing down the hall.

"Excuse me!" You called after her, irritation flaring. "You just ran right into me!"

She paused and half-turned, eyes scanning right through you with her dark eyes. "Did I?" she murmured dreamily before whisking away again.

You stood there rubbing your left shoulder where she had hit you, stunned by her complete lack of courtesy. "Unbelievable," you muttered under your breath.

You couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about her reaction.

You had never met her before, but you had heard all the stories from your uncle about their shared time on the council.

You quickly made your way through the rest of the halls, passing by Jaha speaking to the citizens on the Ark and the delinquents on the ground through a broadcast.

His voice was firm as he spoke, pausing every so often to look at the faces in the crowd, stating that the ark would be sending down reinforcements within the next 3 days.

Just when you were about to give up your search, you spotted both Kane and your grandma off to the side of the room in the middle of a conversation.

Kane brushing off his mother’s request, about to walk away leaving Vera to stand alone to watch the unity speech.

Your heart ached at the sight, you couldn't understand why Kane would leave her like that.

You walked faster, almost in front of them when all of a sudden your thoughts were drowned out by a deafening boom as an enormous explosion rocked the station.

Your body lifted off the ground, a flying piece of metal stabbing your leg as you crashed to the floor. You felt a jolt of pain as your head smacked onto the surface, and everything went black.

...

When you came to, a groan escaped your lips, your whole body aching in pain from the fall. You look around to find yourself lying on the cold, hard surface of the floor. The footsteps vibrating on your face and muffled voices nearby.

You tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through your head and you fell back down. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you struggled to move, your ears ringing and your vision blurry.

The feeling of wetness pooled on your thigh, a gasp escaping your lips when you looked down to examine your leg.

A gash stretched across the area above your knee. Your nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of your thigh jaggedly cut open.

With trembling hands you ripped off your sleeves to tie around your leg. Pain shot through your body in ripples the tighter you made the knot.

Shouts and screams all around you, the smell of smoke and burning filling your nostrils, panic set in as you frantically looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

It took a second for you to even understand how you ended up in this situation, how did this happen.

The chaos around you seemed to intensify as you looked around, noticing the number of people panicking, some of them injured and bleeding. The ground was littered with debris and shattered glass, and the walls were crumbling from the force of the explosion.

You spotted your grandmother lying on the floor impaled by a jagged piece of metal, your heart began to race, eyes widening at the sight of her blood pooling beneath her. The sight of Kane leaning over her, his voice trembling as he recited the Travelers Blessing.

"In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next,” he whispered, his eyes filled with tears. “Safe passage on your travels until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again," Kane said, spending his mother’s last moment comforting her.

Pushing down the swirling panic in your stomach, you focused only on putting one foot in front of the other. You couldn’t look at her anymore. The adrenaline dulling the pain coming from your gash slightly.

You limped forward slowly, the bodies of council members greeting you as they lay motionless on the ground. There were four of them, all of them unconscious.

Jaha approached from your side, concern etched on his face.

"Y/n! Are you alright?" he asked urgently.

"I - I think so," you stammered back, disoriented.

Kane stood from his place on the ground, closing vera’s eyes and coming over to where you stood with Jaha.

“You need to get out of here, they tried to kill you,” Kane said to him, voice shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Do you realize it was Diana who tried to kill you, she’s the only one not here.” Jaha looked at you with a grave expression.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, looking to both you and Kane with urgency, “First priority is getting survivors to safety. Then we stop them before they cause any more harm” he said. “We have to lock down the ark.”

“Kane find Diana.”

….

The adrenaline was pumping through your veins as you and Kane walked down the dimly lit hallways, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the metal walls. The air was thick with smoke, making it difficult to see and breathe.

Four skilled ark guards following in the rear behind Jaha, their weapons at the ready. Diana’s followers were not to be underestimated, they were fighting for their cause and would do anything to escape.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached the end of the hallway where the exodus ship was docked.

The doors were sealed shut, the guards and Kane charged towards the door, using all their strength to break it down. To no avail, the door didn’t budge. Jaha begged Diana not to do this.

You spotted a long metal pry bar lying nearby and snatched it up.

"Use this!" You called, passing the bar to the nearest guard. He wedged it into the seam between the doors, the muscles in his arms bulging as he heaved with all his strength. They worked together, pushing with everything they had but it wasn’t enough.

Jaha persisted attempting to talk Diana down, “Diana, please! You don't want to be remembered like this!” The desperation clear in his voice.

“I won't be because you brought this on yourself, Jaha. You promised the people truth, and all you gave them were lies!”

Jaha paled in response, “You had me shot! You detonated a bomb in a public meeting, killing six innocent people, and now you want to kill everyone on this space station to satisfy your ego?”

Diana smirked, looking back to her followers “He is still lying to your face. There aren't enough dropships to get everyone to the ground.”

The men shared a look, Red deciding to break the ranks and save himself and sprinted forward, before anyone could react. Just out of your grasp, he had slipped through the open doors and seized the controls.

With a grinding screech, the massive doors began sliding closed, causing the dropship to begin its launch.

Sinclair began pleading with Jaha, his breathing heavy. “ Sir, we have to go right now! Everybody out! Get back behind the containment doors. Go, go, go! Please, sir.”

….

The ship was pitch black and the air was thick and heavy, causing sweat to bead on your skin despite the cool air lightly blowing around the halls. In the distance, a shuffling noise came from behind you.

Your heart rate quickened as you turned around, but there was no one there. But then, you heard it again, this time, it was closer. You strained your eyes, trying to make out any movement in the shadows.

The sound of footsteps bounced off the walls, slow and deliberate, as if whoever was making them was trying to be quiet. You tried to tell yourself that it was just your imagination, but the footsteps grew louder and closer.

Just as you were about to scream, a hand landed on your shoulder. You jumped and let out a gasp, as a familiar voice started to speak. “It's just me, Kane,” he said, his voice low and calm.

You let out a sigh of relief and turned to face him, thankful to see he was okay. In the faint light, you could see his tall figure looming over you on the floor.

“Can you stand up?' Kane asked, concern written on his face, the blood from your soaking the white fabric of your sleeves. You nodded yes and grabbed Kane's hand to stand up.

“We should look for everyone else,” he said, breaking the eerie silence. “We have to find Jaha.”

You nodded in agreement, relieved to have a goal in this unknown darkness.

…

Kane kept a steady hand under your arm while you slowly made your way down the hallway, leg throbbing with every step you took.

You both rounded a corner, stopping in the middle of the hallway as you stifled a groan when a spike of pain shot through your leg. Kane paused, his brow creased in concern. "Just a little farther," he encouraged.

You nodded, biting your lip as he continued walking you forward. The hall was eerily silent, a sudden clanging rang out, followed by a loud curse. You jumped abruptly, exchanging startled glances with Kane, heading forward to investigate the noise.

There on the floor was Wick, his arm caught in a doorway, tools scattered at his feet. He looked up at you in dismay. He was in a state of panic, his eyes wild with fear as he struggled to free himself.

"A little help here?" Wick pleaded, still trying in vain to free himself.

Kane sighed and moved to examine Wick's predicament. "What happened?"

"I was trying to override the door panel when it decided to eat my arm!" Wick explained in exasperation.

"What the hell happened, anyway?" wick said distracting himself while you and Kane use an axe to try and open the door.

Kane had a somber look on his face when he replied, "We were betrayed. Councilor Sydney... she took the Exodus ship by force. The damage to the Ark was catastrophic."

Wicks face turned in disgust, "What a bitch! You know, my mom voted for her."

You bit back an amused smile at the absurd situation despite the pain you were in. Only Wick could get into such a mess.

Once freed, Wick shook our hands gratefully. "I owe you both. Let’s look for everyone else."

With your leg burning in pain, you decided to separate and venture back to the med bay, you knew that they would be able to handle themselves and you were useless until you patched up your leg.

You could feel the warmth of the dark blood soaking through your pants, and you knew that you needed to find a safe place to tend to your wounds.

You hobbled through the wreckage of the ship, pushing the doors to the infirmary open.

….

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middlingmay · 4 months

Text

This fic is for @johncleven who requested a fic based in Stalag Luft III with music, dancing, and a confession from Bucky about Gale's name.

If anyone's interested, the song that appears in this fic is 'I'm Making Believe' by Ella Fitzgerald and The Ink Spots. I have not stopped listening to it.

youtube

Note: if you're here looking for technical accuracy on the mechanics and operation of illicit crystal radios, my friend you are in the wrong place. Suspend your disbelief and just go with it.

Enjoy under the cut!

The boys thought him the steady calm to Bucky’s frenetic energy. Probably even more so now, stuck in this camp. Whilst Buck had doubled down on his reserve and control, not letting a thing slip by the veneer, Bucky was losing himself to the need to be doing something but being rendered completely and utterly unable to do so. Like a dog on a chain.

But. What the boys didn’t notice, had never noticed, was that Bucky wasn’t the only one that needed to be doing. Buck had always felt the same, it just looked different. It could be reading a textbook or a manual, learning something useful, or playing chess to hone is strategic thinking. In Stalag Luft III, it was organising the boys, gathering and analysing reconnaissance, and most recently building a crystal radio.

He was fiddling with it now. The boys were asleep, and rather than lay in his bunk doing nothing, Buck sat at the rickety table, holding the earpiece in place, touching the clip to the coil.

Static.

Bucky shuffled in his bunk.

Buck hoped he wouldn’t wake. Like everything else about him lately, Bucky’s sleep had become erratic. He’d slept like the dead, before, but now even that relief had been stripped from him.

And Buck so desperately wanted to provide him with whatever reprieve he could. John Egan - their beloved Bucky - had been the rock of the 100th. He’d given all of them a willing ear, a supportive hand, a laugh when all they wanted to do was cry. And now, when Bucky desperately needed them to step up and do for him, they had nothing to give, nothing to provide that critical, momentary, grounding humanity he’d given to them so easily. Given away so much in fact, that he didn’t have any left for himself.

And losing Bucky, even to himself, was unfathomable. They were inexorable.

-aking believe… in m- … so far away.

Gale’s hand stilled.

It couldn’t be.

-wish you…could hear w…say.

He dropped the earpiece. Quiet and quick as he could, Buck dove to where Bucky slept.

This. This was worth waking him for. A fragment of humanity - and one of Bucky’s favourite fragments - dropped right into their laps.

Music.

“Bucky,” he whispered urgent in his ear, well aware even in his excitement that grabbing him would be a bad idea.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. They flickered with fear for a split second before he clocked Buck’s apple cheeks and the delight in the eyes staring back at him.

“What? What is it?” He asked groggy but awake. “You hear something on the radio?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah. C’mere.”

Bucky untangled himself from the ratty blanket and trotted after Buck. Gale quickly plucked up the earpiece, worked the clip, and was relieved to hear the faint sounds still crackling.

He offered it to Bucky.

Oh and Gale didn’t think he’d ever forget the look that came over Bucky’s face.

It was like watching a man come back to life. Light flooded back into his eyes. A pleased flush gave health to his cheeks, and a smile Buck hadn’t seen since he called out to John at that barbed wire fence crept across his lips.

God, Bucky had laugh lines again.

In the quiet hush of their hut, Bucky whispered into the dark:

“And here, in the gloom of my lonely room, we’re dancing like we used to.”

Like the word was all he needed to be reminded that something like dancing still existed in the world, Bucky slowly, so slowly released the clip to stand and hold his hand out to Buck. Though he stooped so he could still hold the earpiece to his ear, as if he could hear the echo of the music he'd just let go of to ask Gale for a dance.

“They’re playing our song, Buck.” Bucky waggled his fingers and his eyebrows and in that moment he looked so much like the Bucky Gale had become part of, who had become part of him, that he could have wept. He was utterly powerless to refuse Bucky anything. It didn’t even occur.

Placing his hand into Bucky’s, and feeling a little smug at the pleased shock on his face, Gale let Bucky pull him close, though he didn’t miss the regretful look on his face when he had to put the earpiece down to do so.

Buck could do this. For Bucky. The boys were asleep and the night was as peaceful as it was going to get.

So, when Bucky tucked Gale’s hand safe between their chests; when he wrapped his other arm in a solid weight around Gale’s waist and Gale pressed his other hand in the space between Bucky’s shoulder blades, behind his heart; when Bucky began to lead them in his first dance in months -

Well, then Gale began to sing.

“I'm making believe that you're in my arms,

though I know you're so far away.

Making believe I'm talking to you,

wish you could hear what I say.

And here in the gloom of my lonely room,

we're dancing like we used to do.

Making believe is just another way of dreaming,

so till my dreams come true…”

Bucky watched him with wonder. Gale couldn’t watch him back, couldn’t bear the raw tenderness of it, and tucked his cheek against Bucky’s. Bucky pressed into it, and breathed Gale in.

“I'll whisper good night,

turn out the light and kiss my pillow,

making believe it's you.”

Buck’s voice vanished into the night and Bucky turned his head just enough to look Buck in the eye, forehead to forehead.

“Gale,” he breathed, reverent.

A prickle of nervous pleasure had Buck huffing a breath through a tiny smile. “Gale? What happened to Buck? He in trouble?”

Bucky shook his head and his skin rubbed softly against Gale’s. “Thought you hated ‘Buck’?”

Gale hummed. “There’s no Buck without Bucky, and I don’t hate that.”

Bucky pulled back a little. “No?”

And Gale closed the gap again. “No. I thought you hated ‘Gale’?”

John laughed gently through his nose. “As if I could.”

Gale made a little noise in his throat and lifted his eyes to Bucky’s. The space between Gale's brows was a little creased, confused, and Bucky knocked his head gently against it.

“How could I? Hmm? Gale. Know what it makes me think of?”

“What?” Gale near whispered.

“The wind. The skies. Flyin'. They’re beautiful, vast. Make me feel powerful, and freer than I ever felt in Wisconsin, before all this. How could I hate a name like that?”

Bucky brought their dance to its end and Gale just stared, raw and open.

He watched as the clinging vestige of John’s charm lifted Gale’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there, with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Thanks for the dance. Gale.”

With a final squeeze of his hand, Bucky headed back to his bunk and burrowed back under his blanket, and Buck didn’t want to deceive himself, but he thought the other Major might have stood straighter and settled more peacefully than he had since he got here.

Buck felt a rush of pride at that.

#clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #mota #masters of the air #fic #fic request #Youtube

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mins-fins · 9 months

Text

☆ 1, 2, 3 NCT DREAM !

❝ jaemin really just broke the expensive ass

coffee machine.. how does he

expect to pay for that? ❞

──── ﹒ 𓇬﹐⬦﹒ ⟡ SYNOPSIS !

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 it's at times like this that you really wish you were born rich. in your opinion, there's nothing worse than having to wake up and get ready in the morning everyday just to be subjected to verbal abuse from adults who believe the world revolves around them. honestly, the fact that you somehow have enough patience to get up and go through this shit day after day is much more surprising to you then the next women that comes in attempting to assault you because you wouldn't give her a 50% discount.

unfortunately, the expensive ass tuition you have to pay and your basic life necessities mean that you can't exactly up and quit whenever you want to. you know if you hold on for just a little bit longer, you'll eventually be able to get through it, but with customers that enjoy berating you, managers that don't give two shits, coworkers that quite literally make you want to rip your eyes from their sockets, and all while trying to balance college work at the same time, your not sure if your remaining patience is gonna be enough to keep you from finally snapping at everyone.

⌗ PAIRING 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 nct dream & male!reader

⌗ GENRE 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 college au, the characters work at unnamed retail place, sitcom style fic, fluff, angst, crack, comedy (attempted 😢), isa's written version of superstore, mostly platonic

⌗ WARNINGS 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 swearing, explicit language, the horror of retail working environments, shitty managers, mentions of smoking, mentions of mental breakdowns, depression, and verbal abuse, everyone has their issues and it sucks

⌗ STARRING 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 nct dream (ot7). original characters, other idols, and you of course!

⌗ STATUS 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 updates every now and then.

⌗ TABLE OF CONTENTS ꜜ

⌗ CHAPTER ONE — killing my boss challenge!

⌗ CHAPTER TWO — DO NOT GIVE JISUNG FIRE!

⌗ CHAPTER THREE — jaemin the virgin sacrifice.

⌗ CHAPTER FOUR — free boba

⌗ CHAPTER FIVE — jeno x yn otp

⌗ CHAPTER SIX — that's an instruction manual

⌗ CHAPTER SEVEN — no pun intended

⌗ CHAPTER EIGHT — el oh el

. . . more chapters tba!!

⌗ ISA SAYS ! um hello :]!! happy new year if your reading this and you are ahead of me in terms of timezones. during 2023 i had HORRIBLE luck when it came to actually starting a series and finishing it 🙁 and i am very disappointed in myself but tbh i was never really dedicated to all of those series but this is one im genuinely excited about this one because there's mostly a lack of romance and i am HORRIBLE at writing romance so yeah 🙏 i have to go to work now so i wont be around for a few hours but ily all have a very good new year 🫶

#女˚ 1 2 3 !#nct dream #nct dream au #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #mark lee #huang renjun #lee jeno #lee donghyuck #na jaemin #zhong chenle #park jisung #nct dream x male reader #male reader #nct dream series #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

Note

But think of the scandal of pro hero bakugo getting caught stalking and harassing you and ruining his image and he blames you so he comes to collect "revenge"

I’LL SCREAM! I couldn’t decide whether I wanted them to have been in a relationship or not so I wrote about him being a stranger to you, but how hot would it be if he was your boyfriend? And you’d been over the moon because he’s like the dream guy right? The guy every girl wishes she could have— but you see that dark side of him that no one else can see. So you’ve been dating for a while until he got too intense too quick, too obsessive and possessive and when you broke it off he began stalking and harassing you? (I might write this one too oop)

Because it’s all your fault he’s doing this, that you’ve made him into this.

He was perfectly fine until you came along. Teetering on the number one spot, advertising campaigns fighting for his face as an ambassador, fans going wild for the latest piece of Dynamight merch, tweeting their love and praise for the hero.

Life was good, he was doing good.

And then suddenly he can’t stop thinking about you. The day you were sharing the same train carriage as him as you both made your way into the city. His normal train cancelled due to signal failures which meant that he was forced to get the next train, now full to the brim with commuters.

His back pressed against the cool glass of the door as you stood in front of him, the saccharine scent of your perfume invading his senses as he was unable to take his eyes off you. The innocent way you tried to stop yourself from leaning against him in the packed carriage, even though businessmen continued forcing their way on to the train. Forcing your body harder against his as you mumbled out quiet apologies, glancing up at him with a small smile before guiding your eyes back to the floor.

Each time the train would jolt it would push you back into him again, and Bakugou wished it would happen more often. Something that would usually be an annoyance for him was now becoming a comfort. His heart falling when you began to weave your way through the crowd of people as you got off the train at your stop, his crimson eyes lingering on you through the glass windows as he watched you continue up the escalators at the station.

And now all he could think about was you. Sitting behind his desk at work as he fantasised about the perfect life with you, even though he didn’t even know your name. Wondering if there was a way he’d be able to find out, maybe through travel records or having a sidekick follow you out of the station one day. He wondered what train you got home, having never seen you on any of his when he’d commute back past eight in the evening.

Deciding that he would start to get the same train, the one that left after his usual. Standing in the same carriage as he began to look out for you, noticing the pattern in your movements. There were two different carriages you’d usually jump on, one was your preferred— a little further down the platform where it was quieter, and the one you’d jump on when you were rushing to work. Dead centre as you managed to hop on before the doors closed, almost making it look like some kind of sport.

After a few weeks of getting into the same train carriage as you on the way to work, it’s soon not enough to satiate his need to be close to you. Deciding one morning— when he doesn’t even have work, to get on the same train as you and follow you to work. Keeping a few steps behind you as you walk towards your building, noticing you’d always stop in at the same coffee shop before you’d go in to the office— Manual’s Agency. This would make it easier to find out who you were.

And the next day he has your name and department, already organising a bouquet of flowers to be sent to you with a sweet note accompanying them. If only the sweet note didn’t terrify you when you read it. Mentions of watching you for weeks, following you and his intent to be with you. Little gifts continue to show up for you, but you have no idea they’re from him.

Any men that had ever been flirty with you on social media were also nowhere to be seen, a young sidekick from Manual’s agency that you’d been texting back and forth now continued to ghost you and you had no idea why. Texting your friends that the guy that you’d just been on a date with was now completely ignoring you, and them telling you that you could do so much better.

Little did you know that when he’d left the bar that night, Bakugou had cornered him down an abandoned alley and threatened to make sure every agency in the city wouldn’t hire him if he continued to date you.

And when the time came for Bakugou to finally reveal himself to you— he terrified you. Stopping you right outside your favourite coffee shop as he tried to hand you your favourite drink, his hood pulled up over his messy blond hair as he towered over you. Telling you about how he’d been watching you for weeks, and how he wanted to marry you.

But you’re petrified— not only at the fact that he said he’s been watching you for weeks, but at the fact that he knows your exact order, he’s been sending you gifts with your name on, and he just said he wants to marry you. So you race off and into the safety of your agency.

It’s a few weeks until he tries again. A restraining order isn’t going to be enough to stop him, nor will all the articles now branding him a stalker and a creep. He’ll set you straight— make you tell everyone it was just a big misunderstanding.

He waits in the coffee shop for you, nursing your exact coffee order as his crimson eyes focus on the tall high rise as he waits for you to leave for the evening.

5.05pm — he checks his watch as he notices you walking out, much slower now after a long day at work. He follows you back to the station, getting onto the same train as he decides today is the day he’ll follow you home.

#tw:stalking #trigger:stalking

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dduane · 2 years

Note

What inspired you to write Young Wizards? A relative, a dream you had? Did the story come to you as you were writing it, or was it hammered from bits and pieces of thoughts made plain on text? Were there parts you struggled with, parts that came easier than others? (Have you already answered these questions in an interview you can link to?)

What inspired me to write So You Want To Be A Wizard?

Partly humor. Partly rage. (More about both under the cut...)

The subject's come up in interviews every now and then, but let's tl:dr; it here.

The humor: Often enough while I was nursing, and seeing the bizarre things people would do to their own bodies, I wished out loud to various fellow health-care professionals that human beings came with some kind of instruction manual or new user’s management guide. Now, I'd known the "So You Want To Be A…" series of (US-published) career books from my childhood. One day when I was thinking about them—possibly while trying to figure out what the title of such an instruction-and-advice manual might be—the word "…Wizard" plugged itself onto the end of the title template.

Instead of a simple instruction manual for people, I gradually found myself considering what a wizard's manual would look like. Where would it come from? Who would it have come from? Might it, itself, be an entirely bigger manual than the one I'd been joking about—but one containing the full instructions and background material you'd need for (maybe) understanding life and the world, but (definitely) doing magic? A book as big or as small as you needed for the work in hand, and full of the answers to questions you never thought you'd get answers to? ...

From that basic concept, the wider concept of wizardly culture built itself up over the next couple of years. ...Naturally I'd read Le Guin's "Earthsea" books years before, and I'd noted (but decided to pass on) the concept of a school-for-wizards. While it was interesting enough, it'd already been done by a writer far more skilled. What interested me more was a DIY-ish approach, where you learn by yourself, do things that interest you, and join up with other like-minded practitioners when the mood moves you or circumstances require.

Anyway, now comes the rage. While all this was percolating in the background, I was finishing up a YA series by another writer. When I hit the end of it, I was profoundly upset by the events of the series’s closure. They seemed to me to have treated strong and resilient young characters as helpless creatures without agency, subjecting them “for their own good” to an amnesic end-state they absolutely didn’t deserve. I got mad about this. I dove into the writing of the first Young Wizards book with the intention of treating my young characters a whole lot better—since if there was anything I knew about kids from my nursing, it was that a lot of them were tougher than many of the adults around them.

Once I was started, the writing went straightforwardly from book’s beginning to book’s end (because as I was already a screenwriter, and screenwriters outline, the novel was naturally outlined too). The writing took about six months, as right then I was also writing for Scooby and Scrappy-Doo to pay the rent. I turned in the book and didn’t think much more about what might happen next (though I knew there was quite a lot more story to tell) until I ran into Madeleine L’Engle at some event of my publisher’s. She took me aside and said, “I read your last one. I liked it a lot! When’s the next?”

That was when I realized I had a problem... so I got busy. :) ...And I’ve been busy with the Young Wizards universe ever since. I’m busy with that universe right now, though it may not look like it. And I expect to be busy with it for years to come.

HTH!

#Young Wizards #Young Wizards meta

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heongiu · 1 year

Text

Gun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight mention of SH, sensitive topics. Reader suffers from Endometriosis.

A/N: I suddenly thought of this when I was researching about endometriosis, if you're not comfortable with the following, please stop reading. And I'm sorry if somehow this makes you sad 😭

Gun once again, had arrived at a place where he was feared the most at.. A place where his story all began, and also a place where he had found you.

In Japan, at the old fashioned Japanese house, where lived the Yamazaki Clan. This time he had arrived with an unexpected guest... None other than you, his wife.

The people and other clan members looked shocked, it had been years since they saw you, you looked.. Like you had gone through some very grim times, perhaps something others could not understand, but you looked better than before, at least.

"How dare you make her step here?" The old woman interrupted Gun, he had been stopped in his track, he stared at her holding your hand in his tightly.

"Move aside" He ordered angrily, his tone was stern and cold, almost piercing like an arrow through some one's heart and if they were to continue being this impudent, he would manually do it with just his bare hands, but unfortunately, he couldn't.

"That woman is a witch! She can't even bear a child! What good would she do for giving us no successors?!" She reviled towards You and you knew just how much those words left a wound on you, that no one could fathom the depth and agony of.

Gun's expression had turned furious, his eyes were glinting with anger upon hearing such insulting words, and that too from someone he shared common blood with. If she was not a woman, he would've punched them so hard they would've faltered to the ground terribly.

You stopped, holding his hand tightly as you squeezed it, then came out few vaguely audible sentences from your mouth.

"Gun.. Leave it be, I-I'll be fine here.. You go in" You encouraged him to move forward without you. upon seeing you so depressed and hurt, he couldn't help but feel even more anguished at those who had nerves to utter such words. you could feel him let go of your hand slowly, as he towered the woman.

"I said move" the annoyance in his tone was enough for them to know he was very serious to his core.

Blood and relations were nothing to him anymore but meaningless terms. for you he could fight the universe and go against every law.

It had been years that you were struggling with endometriosis. And during those days of the week, you couldn't even breath due to such intense pain. you felt nothing more than a burden to him, even though he had told you several times that he loved you more than anything, your vulnerable mental health let you fall into depression quite easily.

And now when You had finally secured your way out of it, which you once used to face everyday, people just couldn't help seeing you looking better could they?

Previously, You had even suggested Gun to get married a second time, with someone who could give his clan the successors they had put their hopes high for. But oh how he loved you, too much to even replace you, and in fact, no one could, in his vision, you were more than enough, more than he had desired.

Maybe, just for once, you wanted to feel like a mother, because you knew you'd do your best to be one. Perhaps you had failed yourself somewhere in the past, to face such a thing is not wished for often. And what good did taking more-than-prescribed pills do to you?

When many, expected children, you were taking rounds of the hospital, just to see if this prolonging gist, would depart, but to your demise, it couldn't, and you were stuck with it for your life time. You were not one to adopt, you did consider, but you knew the poor child would face injustice.

you snapped back to reality, Gun looked back at you, his eyes had widened at the fact you told him to enter without you, and how could you? He approached you, gently holding your hands in his together as he spoke to you.

"I placed this ring on your finger that day for a significant reason, it's so we both would stay together forever, no matter what goes and what comes." With a squeeze on your hand, he brought you inside, with no resentment or regret on his face. even if in their eyes now, he had become a villain, he couldn't care less.

Though the looks the other people gave you, and how they mocked you, they all would descend on their knees if they were confronted by the man himself.

That very night, when the moon had risen from it's slumber, you were entangled in his arms, without a worry, without a thought, drifting to peaceful sleep.

#lookism #lookism manhwa #park jonggun #lookism jonggun #park jonggun x reader #park jonggun x reader angsty fluffy

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angelsanarchy · 1 year

Text

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 10 -> CH 11

"He's a pretty good cuddle buddy." "I'm glad he can bring you some comfort."

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @thatsthewrongwallcraig @icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06 @shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl @s-0lar @kristennero-wallacewellsver @ophelialaufey @mayathepsychic1999

Jack spent the majority of the day hanging out with Ace. He didn't have it in him to work on his writing today. All he wanted to do was stay active long enough that he would be able to sleep through the night like he had last night. He didn't see himself being able to actually get it up twice in one week so physical exhaustion the manual labor route was all he could do.

Ace was actually really obedient off leash. He ran him around the backyard, playing catch with him using one of his dad's old tennis balls. He shuffled under his feet almost tripping him a few times as he re-arranged new furniture upstairs. He even watched Jack exercise, or at least a poor, uncoordinated workout with a few smoke breaks mixed into it. He knew he would eventually have to quit but he hadn't planned on it being any time soon.

By the time they had eaten, showered and retired to bed, Ace was snuggled next to Jack the moment he flopped down on the bed. He hadn't realized what time it was but the ping of his phone startled him.

Y/N: Hey you're probably sleeping already but I just wanted to give you a heads up that we're back home and I will pick Ace up in the morning.

Jack frowned knowing he was going to lose his bed buddy but his stomach jilted with excitement knowing Y/n was home.

Jack: You didn't wake me. Ace and I just laid down, did you want me to bring him home now?

Jack waited for another message but the phone started ringing, making Ace jump.

"Hey, I can get dressed and bring him to you-"

"No no don't get up. I'm too exhausted to deal with his excitement tonight so he can stay as long you're okay with it." Y/n sounded tired.

"Yeah we'll be fine tonight." Jack reassured.

"Oh I have no doubts." Y/n chuckled.

"Yeah he's a pretty good cuddle buddy." Jack gave him a squeeze.

"I'm glad he can bring you some comfort." Y/n's smile came through the phone as Jack got comfortable.

"How's your mom doing?" Jack asked genuinely curious.

"She's doing a lot better. She was asking about Ace and I told her you were taking care of him so she may want to meet you. She's big on giving people flowers but I reminded her that you might not be a flowers guy." Y/n said making Jack chuckle.

"She doesn't need to do that. I mean I can appreciate some flowers but she's been through enough. No need to garden on my account." Jack felt relaxed talking to Y/n. He felt like the only other person he could talk to like this was Shanda except he never cared to see her naked.

"Well maybe you'll get lucky and I'll bring you more coffee and breakfast." Y/n offered.

"That would be nice but the way my sleep schedule is, I may still be knocked out at 11AM." Jack rubbed at his face and could hear her click her tongue against her teeth.

"Must be nice! I wish I could sleep in." She teased.

"Trust me, I would love to have a normal sleep schedule but my medications have other plans." Jack glanced over at the pill bottle on the nightstand.

"Your meds giving you a hard time?" Y/n asked concerned.

"Nothing I can't live with I guess. Just never being able to sleep or eat right." Jack's chuckle made Y/n frown.

"Oh so just those two life necessities? You know, you're allowed to try different meds to counteract some of those side effects. You should really talk to your doctor about some of those side effects messing with you." Y/n sincerely cared about Jack not feeling well. He chalked it up to her being a nurse.

"Nah he already knows. Plus I've recently had a surprising change that I'm afraid I might lose if I start a new medication." Jack spoke so freely that he felt himself getting slightly hard just at the mention of what happened last night.

"Oh yeah? That's great. Big change like more energy or small change like your body doesn't ache as much. I know muscle spasms are a bitch." Her knowledge of medication side effects might be useful if he would just accept the help.

"Um...well I was able to get an erection for the first time in a year." Jack laughed earning a whistle through the phone.

"Whoa whoa whoa, that's great but it's only a big change if you were able to finish..." Y/n waited for his answer and his silence made them both erupt in laughter.

"Jack Thurlow, you absolute slut! Congratulations on a long suffering orgasm." Y/n practically sang. Jack couldn't help but wonder what she would think if she knew she had a hand in it, no pun intended.

"Thank you. No one was more surprised than me but it helped me sleep so it was definitely a win." Jack sighed giving his chub a slight rub.

"As great as that is, you should still consider some alternatives or additives. Cumming is wonderful but being able to eat with nausea and sleep without interruption only makes that even better." Y/n's suggest didn't fall on deaf ears.

"I will consider talking to my doc about some changes if you promise to bring me a breakfast burrito tomorrow." Jack smiled knowing she was returning it on the other end of the line.

"Deal. Now put your pants back on! No jerking off on or near my dog you horny nerd." Jack's laugh was straight from the belly. He hadn't laughed so hard in longer than he could remember.

"I make no promises." Jack joked.

"Goodnight Jack." Y/n laughed into the phone.

"Goodnight." He hung the phone up and noticed he was still smiling even after placing the phone on the nightstand. Ace stared at him for a few moments and Jack reached out to scratch his head.

"She's not so bad, Ace. Not so bad at all." Jack snuggled down behind Ace ready to fall asleep clutching the pup. He wasn't sure if he was actually exhausted or if his brain was ready to shut down just so he could get to morning faster.

#Jack Thurlow #Jack Goes Home #Jack Thurlow x Y/n #Glass Houses Series #Glass Houses #One Shot Series #Culkin Cult #Rory Culkin #10/38

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 2 years

Text

TAWERET

I WANT TO TALK ABOUT TAWERET!

I’ve been putting this off for a while and I need to discuss Taweret! Let’s go!

So who is Taweret. (Disclaimer: I am not an expert on Egyptology or mythology in relation, I’ve only done a little research).

Taweret is a goddess that gained increasing power and placement throughout Ancient history.

She is described as having the head of a Hippopotamus, arms/paws of a lion, and tail and legs of a crocodile.

That is one strong and fierce combination. They looked around Egypt and went, “What is the scariest things we have out here?”

So what is her place? Fertility and Rejuvenation (Goddess of pure water from the nile). Okay, They loved that shit back then. Makes sense.

Oh, and Protector of Women and Children.

It was common to find pictures of her around the homes of new born babies and young children. She was painted on their cups and plates, had little statues placed near their cribs.

She was fierce and terrifying. She was meant to protect the children from illness and ill intent. She was motherly and protective. She kept harm from them and the family. It was believed that if you raised a hand to your child or wife, you would face Taweret.

So what DOES happen in the afterlife? Where does Taweret fall into play?

When you died, you came before a series of judges who would ask you questions. (Book of the Dead was an instruction manual filled with how you were supposed to answer these questions, as well as spells to help keep you true).

Once you answered the questions your heart was weighed against the feather of Ma’at. If your scales did not balance, you were fed to Ammit. If your scales are balanced, you would be welcomed to the afterlife by Osiris.

In the afterlife, you were given a plot of land to do with as you wished and expected to maintain it. It was filled with abundance and everything you could need to be happy and good of heart (including worship of the gods). It was supposed to reflect the world that they had left behind (hence taking all your things with you in death that brought you joy in life).

So what place did Taweret have in the afterlife?

Taweret held the role of funerary deity. She was in charge of rebirth and passing into the afterlife. She became the center of homes in the New Kingdom, becoming related to life-giving regeneration, rebirth, and purifying.

At times, she was seen as the opposite of Ammit, who was the devourer of the impure soul and path to darkness. Taweret was nourishment and aid to those in need.

SO WHY WAS SHE ON THE BOAT?!

So in the Moon Knight show, the ways of the old world have fallen into the past and current gods/goddesses just kinda watch and don’t do anything. MANY of the old gods/goddesses are imprisoned for not following the rules one way or another. Others are banished (Khonshu).

It’s easy to believe that with important gods being banished/imprisoned, their duties had to be filled by others. It’s easy to think that the one that was supposed to be on the boat got themselves imprisoned and the next closest thing was tossed into the job with a little guide book.

She has a guide book with a speech and rules. She doesn’t really seem to be familiar with her role or how to carry it out. Or perhaps, she isn’t familiar with D.I.D situations. A soul arrives and she expects one and is met with two. Do the rules still apply? Does she still do the same thing? Will she blow them up when she tries to remove their hearts or are they going to be fine?

Marc does not understand Egyptian Mythology. At all. This boy be skating by with “Egypt for dummies” folded up in his back pocket with the first page highlighted and then he figured he’d get around to reading the rest later.

As Avatar to Khonshu, he’s tossed into an afterlife not meant for him and an afterlife he does not understand.

What is more, Marc is so estranged from his own culture and religion that he is in spiritual distress. He knows what is supposed to happen. What he was told and taught to happen.

And here he is faced with a situation he doesn’t understand in the slightest. This further highlights how lost Marc is. He is so hurt and broken up inside that he believes that he isn’t even worthy of his own Jewishness.

He killed people. He did terrible things. He was beaten and blamed for the death of his brother. He was taught to hate his life and himself. He tried to take his own life most likely more than once. He wasn’t even worthy of death as Khonshu kept bringing him back.

This brings us to Steven. Emotional protector and Spiritual protector. Steven not only understands what death means in relation to his Judaism, but he knows Egyptology. He KNOWS the gods and goddesses. He knows the book of the dead forward and backwards. He’s probably read it in three different languages.

So when Taweret shows up, how does Steven explain who she is to Marc?

“This is Taweret, goddess of women and children!”

That’s an interesting breakdown for all that Taweret does. Especially with all that Steven knows she does. And she is kind and gentle with them. She gives them chances, tries to welcome them, even fights for them. She even reaches out to Layla on their behalf.

One has to wonder if she learned their story and, though she did not understand it, she felt for them. A child that needed help and protection and did not receive it.

Is it possible that out of all the gods, one that was most fitting for them was sent to be their guide on the boat?

Is it possible that Steven, the protector, was the one that somehow chose the one to greet and ultimately judge them?

If Ammit was a representation of their mother, then is it not fitting that Taweret, the one of purity and rebirth and protection, would be the one to meet them?

Now as others have pointed out, this is not where they are supposed to be. There is no representation of ‘heaven’ meant for them and the notion of Steven being left behind healing Marc is a pretty bad one.

With Jeremy Slater writing, it was a rough go of what happened. However, I choose to see where Diab, who is NOT Christian (as far as I am aware please correct me if I am mistaken) took us visually. He isn’t Jewish either, but he is Egyptian and telling an Egyptian story.

At this point, they are dead and they are trapped in an afterlife that isn’t theirs and doesn’t make sense to them culturally. Marc my sweet idiot man takes ‘Field of reeds’ literally.

Much like Vallhalla’s field of wheat, it is a large quiet peaceful afterlife filled with joy, celebration, and life. Even on the ancestral plane with Black Panther, it is a beautiful place but there is MORE there. So much more.

Marc just finds himself in an empty field. Just a big ‘ol field full of nothing. Because he does not understand where he is!

“Okay, I’m supposed to go somewhere peaceful in a field.” And it’s beautiful, and it is peaceful, but it’s very literal.

And Taweret is just like, alright. I saw your life and it was full of rage and violence and hate and pain. This must be what you want I guess? Isn’t it nice? It’s pretty quiet and alone here. You must have wanted to be alone because of the whole D.I.D thing I guess?

She doesn’t really understand what’s going on either. This isn’t really it, but this is the first time she’s really come across this situation.

Taweret: Your heart is full. Your journey is over.

Marc: It's so... quiet.

Taweret: The peace you've always wanted but never had. You're manifesting it. No danger. No loneliness or hurt.

Marc: What about Steven?

Taweret: He's gone, Marc. The Duat has him. Please enjoy your peace.

Marc: We need to go back for him.

Taweret: It doesn't work like that. Leave here, and you can't return. Anyway, you don't need him anymore, Marc.

Marc: So I get to go on to eternal peace, and he just... stays lost in the sand forever? No, I'm not good with that.

It isn’t full. We can see it. He’s clutching it and it looks empty. And Marc knows this is not it. There is no Hell in his belief. He just sees Steven as being trapped somewhere he isn’t supposed to be. It’s Marc’s nature to help people. And Steven helped him. Steven protected him.

So yeah, it’s been covered before. He leaves. There are whole metas out there (Love you @fdelopera ) about this part and I recommend you go look up the Jewish perspective because it’s beautiful.

But I want to focus again on Taweret.

Marc goes back, the heart glows pure and true and full with Steven there to help fill it, and Osiris opens the gate back.

But she isn’t done.

One of the rituals of funerary rites is to replace the heart with a golden scarab with a spell written across it that helps to guide the soul while they are being judged. It helps keep them true and pure. Keeps them a good person.

Taweret sends a Scarab to save them and fight along them. A protector of women and children to shield them.

So why was Taweret on the boat? Do you think Steven had anything to do with it? Do you think Marc subconsciously knew what he needed as a child? Someone to save them? Do you think she just so happened to have gotten the job as a toss up and then saw two small boys in need of help?

She could have just judged them right then and there and tossed them off. She didn’t have to give them time.

Do you think she knew the whole time that Marc needed to make that choice to go back? That he would always have made that choice? That it was Steven that needed to know that Marc would come back for him? That Steven needed to find his own purpose as the protector?

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight Meta #Steven Grant #Marc Spector #Taweret #It has been a hot minute since I went off #I have been wanting to rant about this since October you guys #You have no idea #AM I MAKING SENSE HERE?!#Am I the only one that stays up at night wondering these things?!#Man yells at clouds about his favorite blorbos while crying

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