#or whatever John Adams said

[blvvdk3ep]

I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy to give their children a right to study terminally online yaoi fandom discourse

[idiotvamp]

yeah, im normal (got super excited over seeing adam's corpse for literally 0.5 seconds in saw X)

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman at NADWCON 2011 (North American Discworld Convention) ❤

Neil: The single worst experience that we went through was, I think, the film. The first go round on the film, where it was bought by very nice people who convinced us they were very nice because we were absolute innocent. And I just remember going up for the first meeting with them.

And we were going up for the meeting, and Terry says, 'Here, come over here.'

I said, 'Okay.'

He said, 'Um, look, I'm not sure about these people, and you're not sure about these people. If this is our first meeting, if they're just completely barking, we should have a code word. And whoever says the code word, we both get up in unison and we leave'.

I said, 'Okay, so we need a code word that neither of us could conceivably say in normal conversation.'

And Terry says, 'Yes.'

I said, 'Okay, what about Biggles?' Now, Biggles, for those of you who don't know, was a famous...

Terry, joking: A famous Cardinal. [Cardinal Biggles in Monthy Python].

Neil: He was. Of course.

Terry: They're young, that's the only one they know.

Neil: Captain W. E. Johns wrote books about Biggles, who was a World War I flying ace who, with his pals Ginger and Algy used to go out and shoot out the evil Germans. So, if any Germans are here, you're not evil, it was just in this book. So. So, I say, 'What about Biggles?'

And Terry is, 'Okay. Biggles it is.'

So we head up for the meeting, and we're sitting there around the table talking to what seemed to be terribly nice, sensible people. And then the executive walks in. And the executive in this case was a woman who looked like she had mugged somebody 20 years younger than her and stolen her hair. And she walked in and she didn't... She said like, 'Hi, Neil. Hi, Terry. It's lovely to meet you both. Now, I'm sure that the guys have been talking to you about your book, Good Omens, and what we're thinking about now. Okay, let me just run some stuff past you. We figure the dynamics of this are the kid, Adam, whatever his name is, Newt, the witchfinder. We see him as, like, maybe being Tom Cruise, young, goodlooking, hunky, but he's looking for the witches. And the witch, Athaneema, I think her name was. Okay, so there's Newt and there's Athaneema'.

And I look at Terry, and I need to actually mime this - I think we should do this together.

.

Fun fact: Neil wrote the 'Athaneema' into the Good Omens series :).

[ltbunny]

Ex husband price brain worms again, c.w/ nsfw, unedited, bad writing, I've never published nsfw before

It's your ex-husband, Price's birthday, and the last thing you expect is for him to show up, with a sweet, suave smile on his face

It's not even his custody day but he says "come on, love. I wanted us to spend it together, like a family. You're really not going to let me take my favourite two girls out for my own birthday?"

All you can do is roll your eyes and let him as he walks in, leaning down and leaving a small peck on your forehead as your daughter runs down the stairs to hug her dad, squealing.

He's adamant about cooking lunch for you two, but you stop him

"Oh, come off it, John, I'll cook since it's your birthday, and you keep saying you'll take us out"

He gets dragged off to play teaparty with the little princess and comes back after a while, his arms slot around your waist, swaying side to side softly as you half heartedly try to stop him, he just grins and nestles his head into the crook of your neck,

"Let the 'birthday boy' hug his wife, love."

"Ex-wife, john."

"Mhm, whatever makes you happy. Happy wife, happy life."

Lunch is served, and the three of you spend the rest of the day going shopping, prices idea. Dollhouse, cars, legos, Barbie, slime, whatever the kid wants, and some small gold necklace for you, even though you won't accept it,

"They're too much, John, stop it-"

"But, love, this is your favourite design and the colour. It'll look beautiful on you."

He buys it and even gets the jeweller to engrave a small j.p on the back of the charm while you're not looking.

He takes you two to a small fancy restaurant at the end of the day, your daughter playing with her new toys on the table, while John's hand holds yours on the table.

"Might retire soon, getting up there in age, love," his eyes watch the way your light up slightly, looking at him before turning away slightly, seeing his gaze, "ill be able to be around more often, wasn't that one of your complaints, I was too busy, so I gave you a little one."

You smack his arm lightly, "Oh, shush, John. She'll be happy. She is always saying how she misses her dad. She keeps asking for a little brother, says everyone in class has one except her," You chuckle softly

At the end of dinner, he drives you two back home, your daughter tuckered out, he picks her up and takes her to her room, tucking her in, kissing her forehead softly, "sorry, I'm not here much, princess, I promise to be around more, okay?"

He comes downstairs and kisses your cheek as you swat him off lightly,

"Stop it, John, you know that's not appropriate,"

"Mhm, whatever you say love, come help me take the things out the car will you?"

The night ends with price bending you over in the backseat, fucking you desperately,

"Fuck, love, I missed this grip, you might have a hard time saying it but your pussy's been missing me, huh? The guys you bring round ain't big enough for ya anymore? Don't worry, daddy's here."

Your fingers grip the car seat, squealing every time he thrusts in

"There's only one thing I wanted for my birthday, you know, love? It's been real lonely up by myself sometimes, and been thinking," he hums lowly, grinding deep inside you while you struggle to even keep up with his pace let alone words, he moves over you, one hand groping your breast, teasing the nipple, the other coming up to your clit, rubbing it along with the harsh pace, "been thinking bout this pussy, and getting the present of life, ain't that cute?"

You gasp, your pussy squeezing around his cock tighter as he starts rubbing your clit faster, "John, please- is, is too much," you moan

"You're doing so well for me, mama, you want another little one too, right? You always said one feels bad, we need to give our little baby a sibling,"

"John- holy shit," your legs shake as he presses you down against the seats, every thrust with one purpose, "please, please, I'm so close!"

He keeps going until he feels your legs trembling, three loads in, his fingers massaging your clit, his lips kissing your neck, leaving hickeys for everyone to see.

You wake up in your bed, listening to John's snoring as you yawn, shifting to get up slightly, his arms tighten around you and his eyes open slightly.

"Mmhm, best birthday ever."

He mumbles before he starts snoring again

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Last cbf soap thought (for now 😉)

Seeing each other dressed up for the first time. Maybe to a date, wedding, etc.

My thought is like in the movies when this is the first time the friends are seeing each other in a more than friends way 😍🥰 it generally sparks Jealousy, lust, and just kick starts the feels!!!

oh man yesss. Where they both realize "wait...i might be in love with my best friend."

Johnny doesn't knock when he enters your house. He's there so often he has a spare key so it's like he lives there anyway. You wouldn't know he was there if he hadn't called out to you because you were in the bathroom putting the finishing touches of your makeup on your face.

"Was thinking we could-what's going on?" His eyebrows knitted together as he takes in your face.

"I'm going on a date!" You beam at him but he doesn't smile back, in fact his face pulls into a scowl.

"A date?"

Jealousy immediately began to fester. A date? Like an actual date that might end up with a kiss on your lips that wasn't from him?

Your eyebrows knit together from his tone and you give him a look.

"Yeah? Matt asked me to dinner." You explained and his scowl grew worse.

"Matt?" He exclaimed. "He used to cheat off you in bio."

"I don't know what that has to do with anything."

It didn't have relevance but he was hoping that maybe it would deter you from the date. He was trying to come up with something bad about Matt to get you to not go on a date with him. What if you found out you really like him and then suddenly started dating him?

There was no way Johnny was going to stop being friends with you just because of Matt.

"He was dating one of The Mean Girls a couple months ago." He tried but you shrugged as you pushed past him to go to your room.

It was glaring red flag, he knew you knew that but for some reason you were being stubborn. Is he really going to be that much more fun that Johnny? He really doubted that...

"It's one date." You called out to him from behind your closed door as you got dressed. "And like a real date too."

Johnny huffed and crossed his arms. Were none of the outings you both had together enough? He could argue that they were dates...but you didn't see him like that and he wouldn't say that to you.

You opened the door and his face softened.

"How do I look?" You asked, hopeful for his answer but for a moment he couldn't think.

Fucking beautiful. Stunning. Like you deserve the world and everything good in it. There were no words to describe it other than the feeling of warmth.

Johnny was far too deep in love to answer you truthfully.

"If I said ugly would you stay?" He said seriously and you rolled your eyes.

"Seriously?"

"What if I wanted to hang out with you tonight?"

"We can after my date!"

Johnny went to protest but you began to push him down the stairs and towards the backdoor. He fought against you but you were adamant that he leave to the point that he almost felt a little hurt you were kicking him out of your house.

"Just go home! I'll text you when I get back and then we can do whatever you want." You told him, struggling to push him towards the door and scoffed.

"As if I'm gonna let him bring you back home. What if he asks to come inside?"

"John!"

"Fine!"

Johnny spent the next three hours sulking in his room at home. Between checking for your messages and ranting to himself about how stupid it was that you were going on a date with someone else, he was starting to worry why it was taking so long.

What the hell was going on?

"That's it." He huffed and called you, not caring if he would be interrupting your date.

"Hey..."

Oh no. He knew that tone. You've been crying.

"What happened?" He's already rushing to get back to your house as soon as possible.

"He didn't show."

Bastard. The next time Johnny sees him...it didn't matter. He just wanted to be with you right now and comfort you instead of think of the asshole who stood you up.

"I'll be there."

"Okay."

Before long Johnny was walking up to your bedroom. He knew where to find you, hidden underneath the covers of your bed clutching your bunny for comfort.

He didn't hesitate to lift the covers and crawl in with you. To anyone else this would look romantic but for you and Johnny this was just second nature. Both of you lost count of how many times you accidentally and purposefully shared a bed together.

When he found you in the dark, he pulled you close to his chest and gave you a firm squeeze.

"I'm sorry." He whispered and you let out a shaky breath.

"Thanks for coming back." You sniffled and he tightened his hold on you.

"Always, bonnie."

The two for you stayed silent for a while, just basking in the comfort of each other. Johnny couldn't feel happy that you date didn't go as planned even if he had been against it, not when you were so upset about it not happening at all.

Instead, he wanted to make you happier than Matt ever could.

"You wanna go get food somewhere?" He offered, pulling the blankets off yours heads. "Can eat in the car or I'll take you to a fancy restaurant."

You rolled over to look at him. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy as you stared at him with uncertainty while he gave you a soft smile.

It's not like it was the first time you two had ever eaten dinner together, but something about this felt different. Something about the way he was looking at you made your heart flutter and those pushed down feelings from when he kissed you last year came back.

Why would you ever want to go on a date with someone else when you loved Johnny?

"I'm a mess."

"I think you look pretty."

You scoffed and he chuckled, pulling you into his chest again. You buried your face in it, letting a few more tears fall before you took a deep breath.

"I don't care where we go."

You're just happy it's with him.

[vampirebloodie]

Saw Characters and what are they like in bed (Headcanons)

Warning: NSFW Smut 18+

Mark Hoffman

His favorite hobby is taking out a stressful day at work on your body.

He is an aggressive and not kind guy, but if you asked him, he would make an effort to be as soft as possible.

Biting, choking, slapping, hair pulling and various marks on your body would be common, he loves to show other people that you have an owner

Sex anywhere and everywhere without shyness and fear of being caught, if he feels horny it doesn't matter, he will fuck you right there or even drag you to a nearby bathroom

He likes to inject his sperm into you and see it running down your pussy, it gives a feeling of power

Call him "daddy" and watch this man become a machine that will make you cum for hours and hours

Condoms doesn't exist in his world

He loves seeing your ruined makeup stain your face while he calls you the most humiliating names possible

“Look at this pathetic slut finishing herself on my dick. How embarrassing."

Handcuffs? Oh yes, he would make a point of pinning you to the bed with them

He is a little cold, but then he would take care of you and your bruises, with ointments and kisses

Peter Strahm

Only his face seems to be rude, he is so sweet, always careful for fear of hurting you, always asking if you're okay and if you're comfortable

“Beautiful, im not hurting you, am i? Tell me if it hurts and i ll stop.”

At one point it gets annoying and you just ask him not to be so careful, maybe you might regret it later, because he will definitely destroy you

He likes to be called sir and agent, while he calls you darling, princess, beautiful

“You like it when this agent destroys your pussy, don’t you, princess?”

Praise kink???? praise kink!!!!!

His ties would be used to make it impossible for you to see

He would be a little afraid of cumming inside you and the results come in 9 months, but when he was horny, this would be totally ignored

He thinks the size of his hands are perfect for marking your neck and ass

After it was over, he would make a point of giving you a massage and buying some sweets for you to eat

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight

He is a super shy boy, when he see your naked body his cheeks would turn red immediately

This boy loves boobs and is obsessed with them, he likes to squeeze, lick, suck, play with your nipples

Talking about nipples, this is definitely the most sensitive part of his body, when your nails drag there it can be enough to make him squirm

Moans moans moans MOANS >>>LOUD<<<

Whimpers and tears are already part of him

He is so submissive that you feel sorry, if you told him to lick your feet he would do it right away

“Please mommy, i ll do whatever you want, let me inside you... I just want to cum, im so needy...”

Mommy kink??? Mommy kink!!! The more you are in a higher position than him, the more he likes it.

You are his world, he will do anything you want, he doesn't care, he just want you to feel good and satisfied

He is a baby!!! after sex he would stick to you like a bug just to get some affection from you, please take care of him!

Amanda Young

A super versatile woman, but who hates being the submissive in the relationship

She likes to see you writhing beneath her begging for more

A toy collector, she would buy the biggest ones just to test them on your pussy

Strapons are her favorite and your ass was her favorite thing too

“This hungry ass swallows this cock so well, im so proud of my girl, hm?”

She can be a little sadistic and likes to make you feel pain, but if you told her you didn't like it, she would stop right away

Public places? Public places!!!

She's not afraid of anything, she's faced a lot in her life, having sex in public wouldn't affect her in any way

John would always warn you to make less noise, but who said she cares about that?

Then she would lie with you, stroking your hair until you fell asleep and thanking you for being in her life

Lawrence Gordon

Oh Doctor Gordon, even outside of work he loves to play doctor and patient with you, making you take off your clothes for a very specific routine "exam"

“We need to do an exam, i see that you are not very well, i will have to analyze the inside of you...”

He's the ultimate romantic in the world, he would never have the courage to have rougher sex with you, but if you insisted a lot, who knows, maybe some hair pulling and slapping would happen?

He would definitely cum inside you with the intention of getting you pregnant and making you both stay connected forever

If you were on a date and he felt horny, he would pay the bill immediately and take you to his car

He loves seeing you in colorful lingerie and would buy several for you to wear only with him in intimate moments.

He cares more about your pleasure than his pleasure, if you cum? He will be happy and satisfied. If he doesn't cum? Who cares, then he would masturbate and that's it

He's the type of guy who takes a while to come, so your sex lasts a long time but always leaves you wanting another piece of him

Quickies at his doctor's office? Why not?

Your favorite food, lots of sweets, affection and a good and delicious bath would be prepared just for you after sex

[roosterr]

firewatch | day 04

series materlist

<< prev || next >>

john price x gn!reader wc; 4.6k summary; maybe you shouldn't complain about having nothing to do, or some idiot tourists will change that

haha yeah it's been three months, whoopsie. started hating writing for a while there, but i'm better now lol. pls enjoy, this series is a labour of love 💕

you severely underestimated how fucking tedious this would be.

honestly, you thought you could handle it. all you have to do is look out the window, take note of the weather every now and then, fuck around for the rest of the day, then rinse and repeat for a few months – and you're getting paid, to top it all off.

sounds easy enough.

you look outside, no smoke. you check the weather, it's sunny. two hours later, no smoke and not a cloud in the sky. six hours later, still no smoke, and, would you believe it, it's still clear blue skies and suddenly three days have gone by and somehow you're going stir crazy in the middle of a beautiful state park where most people would go to cure their cabin fever.

it's one thing to be left completely alone with your thoughts for months and months on end, but when you're so adamant about avoiding said thoughts, it turns out there really isn't much else to do.

john was right then, you suppose. people only ever take this job if there's something wrong with them.

well, you weren't completely alone. you take a sip of your tea, lukewarm by now, and turn your eyes to the radio next to you. john isn't bad company, truthfully he's probably the only reason you haven't gone completely insane yet. it makes you wonder how he possibly does this every year, with no other–

"fuckin' hell, is that fireworks?"

john's sudden exclamation startles you mid-sip of your tea, a fit of coughs wracking your body when you accidentally inhale some. you're about to scold him for scaring the shit out of you, but his voice comes through the radio again before you can start.

"out your west window, have a look." he grumbles, low and irritated.

you twist your neck to look, wiping the remnants of your tea from your face with one hand as the other puts the mug down on your desk. your eyes narrow at the sight of the colourful sparks and smoke in the air. "shit, i see them. that's super illegal, right?"

"illegal, and just flat out stupid." john replies, the frustration in his voice rumbling even deeper than usual. "you're gonna need to get down there and stop 'em."

"is…" you blink as another firework explodes above the treeline, "...is that really my job?"

you hear him huff on the other end. "your job is whatever i say it is, rookie. no rangers nearby to call, it's just you'n me out 'ere."

"great." you mumble dryly, casting a mournful glance at the half empty mug of tea sitting on your desk. "so, what do i do? kick their asses?"

"if ya like," john replies in a chuckle, "just make sure they won't come back, and confiscate the fireworks."

"aye aye, captain." you raise your hand in a mock salute entirely for your own amusement, and though he doesn't respond, you hear the click of his radio and an intake of breath as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind. you shake off his odd reaction and turn away to look over your fire finder at the various trails and paths. "so… how do i get down to the lake?"

"the trail north of your tower should take you." he says, prompting you to pull out your own map and quickly make a note of the trail he mentioned. it looked straightforward enough, a slightly meandering path through the forest leading to the clearing around the lake. "there's a shale slide along the way, so grab some rope. should be in one of your boxes."

your gaze finds said boxes exactly where you'd left them on the floor beside your desk, partially unpacked but still mostly untouched. you sigh and get on your knees, cursing your previous laziness as you rummage through them one by one. it's a mess of random supplies; a few boxes of matches, a candle or three, an old lamp that looks like something a coal miner would use, even a few rat traps that you keep a mental note of for future reference.

"got it." you announce, only a minute or two of searching later, standing again as you hook one of the clips onto your belt loop and let the rope coil hang there. "so you know this park pretty well, huh?"

john hums in agreement, and in the background you hear something that sounds like the door opening and closing, and then the buzz of the wind under his words. "this area, yeah. been doin' this quite a few years now. plus, i'm the one who drops off supplies at your tower."

"oh, so that's your handwriting on the boxes?" you grin, looking back at the boxes that still lay strewn across your floor as you grab your light bag and head out of your own tower. "maybe you should work on that. shit's barely legible."

"i'll make a note." he chuckles, and the conversation between you paired with the lovely scenery as you descend the stairs almost lets you forget about the reason you're going out in the first place.

unfortunately, your reprieve is interrupted by the echo of another firework in the distance, louder now that you're outside. the colourful sparks are still half visible over the treetops against the late afternoon sky, and you frown at the display.

you find the trail to the lake fairly easily, and cast a glance over at john's tower before it's blocked by the trees, just as yet another bang scares the birds.

you scoff as you watch them fly away, narrowing your eyes at the faint traces of smoke still visible in the sky. "can you hear those from over there?"

"just about." john answers, an amused kind of suspicion is his voice. "why?"

"oh, no reason. but if you happen to hear any screaming, do me a favour and ignore it." you try to disguise the grin in your voice, but you can't help the laugh that slips out when your heart john's rumbling chuckle through the radio.

"i'll tell the police it must've been the foxes."

another airy laugh escapes you at his words. john does seem to have a way of improving your mood, even when it had been decidedly soured by the morons threatening to set the forest alight. and, honestly, it’s difficult to stay annoyed when you’re surrounded by shafts of golden afternoon sun breaking through the canopy of leaves, and the soft rustling of the breeze through the branches. 

the forest feels almost dream-like in this light.

you’d mostly stuck to the southern trails on the handful of walks you’ve taken over the last couple days, taking to avoiding the lake since john told you it was somewhat of a tourist hotspot. it’ll be nice to see a new area of the park, you think, even if you’re only going there to yell at some people.

a twig snaps ahead, just off the path in the underbrush to your right, and you pause.

a dear trots into the patch of sunlight that falls through the trees to the centre of the worn trail, and it pauses too. you stare at it, and it’s deep black eye stares right back. it’s beautiful, you can just about think to yourself, your awe keeping you frozen in place.

and then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it’s gone.

"woah." you murmur, still gazing at where it disappeared into the trees. a smile pulls at the corners of your lips as you click the button on your radio again. "a huge deer just crossed the path in front of me."

a moment passes before john answers, a hint of a teasing laugh on his breath. "they do live out here, love."

you click your tongue, rolling your eyes to yourself as you step over a branch to begin walking again. "alright smartass, some of us don't spend ninety percent of our lives in the middle of the woods."

"i'd say it's more like sixty." he chuckles in response, wiping the faux annoyance from your face with ease. "what did it's antlers look like?"

you quirk an eyebrow and cast a look back over your shoulder at the trees where the deer had gone, but the point of his question still flies over your head. "uh, normal?"

another rumbling chuckle comes through the static before john adds, "which way did they point?"

"oh…" you hum, sidestepping a leafy shrub growing over the path as you think. "to the sides? like, outwards, I guess?"

"probably an elk then, not a deer."

you smile, somewhat impressed, but you're not exactly surprised. for whatever reason, john does seem like the type to know that kind of thing. "that's actually pretty cool. how’d you know that?"

"the informative poster provided by the park, which i understand is in both of our towers." he replies, a sense of smug amusement lifting his voice, which earns another eye roll from you that he'll never see.

"right, right. i definitely read that…" you mutter, which earns you a lighthearted scoff from john.

"did you at least read the one about the poisonous plants ‘round here?" he adds, and you grimace stepping over a ditch in the trail because, well, you know you should've, but there's only your own laziness to blame for ignoring it.

you clear your throat, stifling your grin as you answer in a decidedly unconvincing tone, "...yes–"

"christ alive…"

"–but, just to be safe, i'm not gonna touch any plants, so i don't have to worry." you continue – and as if on cue, a tall nettle waves in the breeze into your path, and you're only narrowly able to dodge it before it can brush your skin. you tut at the plant, like it can understand you, and it almost feels as if the park itself wanted to prove you wrong.

you'll keep that close call to yourself, you decide. what john doesn't know can't hurt him, right?

"i'm gettin' grey hairs talkin' to you." john mutters, and you can so clearly picture the disappointed shake of his head that no doubt accompanied his reply.

"you don't already have grey hairs?" you tease, unable to stop the laugh that comes through your words.

"oi, i'm not that old!"

"i know, i know," you chuckle, "but you do sound like a guy who's smoked a pack a day for twenty years."

"more of a cigar man, myself." he pauses, and you can hear the wind pick up in the background when he doesn't take his finger off the button. "not a habit you can keep up out here though, unfortunately."

"you could if you wanted, then we'd both have a fire to watch." you reply, your smile easy now, like you're talking to an old friend rather than someone you met three days ago.

"you're full of good ideas, aren't ya?"

the conversation dies down again after that, a comfortable atmosphere replacing it. the sun has gotten slightly lower in the sky since you'd started walking, and while it wasn't getting dark yet, it would be soon. wandering around the forest at night was possibly the last thing you wanted to be doing, so you'd better hurry this up.

thankfully you're not walking for much longer before you come to a break in the trees. the trodden path you'd been following gives way to the rocky ground, and just ahead you can see the sudden drop off that you assume must be what you're looking for.

you come to a stop at the edge, and gaze down at the steep descent in front of you.

"hey, i found the slope." you announce, clicking the talk-lock button on your radio so your hands are free to start unfurling the rope. your eyes drift to the slope despite how hard you try to keep them on what your hands are doing, and a spark of anxiety shoots through you as you look over it. "am i really going down this?"

"unless you wanna take the long way."

"i don't… but that's gotta be, like, a fifteen foot drop." you grimace at the sharp stones making up the ground below, your hands twirling the rope nervously between them. suddenly you weren't feeling so confident about this.

"that steep?" he sounds surprised when he asks, maybe even slightly concerned. "s'been a while since i've gone that way, must've had a landslide at some point…"

you seriously would've preferred he kept that thought to himself, because now there's an undeniable feeling, right at the forefront of your mind, that this was not going to end well for you.

"landslide. right." you murmur flatly. "that doesn't fill me with optimism."

if john's at all worried about this like you are, he does a fantastic job of hiding it. his voice is unshakably confident when he responds, "you'll be fine, just make sure your clips are tightened."

you sigh, hesitant to continue, but proceed to tie one end of the rope and loop it into the clip on the anchor point just before the drop off – a sturdy looking rock that you sincerely hope isn't going anywhere – and internally you debate over just cutting your losses and turning back, but considering how high the fire risk is right now, there's no way your conscience will let you delay getting to the lake.

you sigh, giving the rope an experimental tug to make sure it really is secure, which it does appear to be, before throwing the rest of it down the slope.

you really don't want to do this, but unfortunately, you really have to.

"alright, i'm going down. if i die it's your fault." you grumble, hearing a muffled chuckle from john as you take the rope firmly in both hands and tread backwards over the edge of the slope.

you only get two steps from the top before you hear the rope creak. the sound brings the taste of bile to the back of your throat, but you do your best to swallow it down. it's probably an old rope, a weird noise doesn't mean anything – it's the same as the noises your tower makes, right? old things creak, that's just what they do. no need to panic.

it's not like you have much of a choice. you're already suspended by it, and there's no turning back now. your palms start to sweat.

"don't do that." you scold the twine under your breath, willing the inanimate object to hear you. "don't make weird noises."

one more step and the rope creaks again, much louder this time and significantly more worrying. it sends a cold bolt of panic up your spine that you don't get to react to before you hear the unmistakable sound of fibres snapping. "wait– no no no no–!"

you vaguely hear john call your name, but it's muffled by your cut off shout as the rope snaps in half and sends you free-falling down the slope.

time seems to slow as you watch the rest of your rope get further away, your wide eyes meeting the vast blue of the sky above with only one thought on your mind.

this is gonna hurt.

a heavy thud reverberates through your skull when you hit the ground. hard. the impact knocks the air from your lungs and forces a strained whine from your lips. jagged stones dig into your skin through your clothes, only adding to the pain already radiating from your upper back.

john calls your name again, his voice a little more frantic this time, you note through the pain fogging your mind. "sitrep– uh, talk to me, what's happened?"

"ugh, shit…" another groan leaves your chest as you push yourself up onto your elbows, attempting to blink away the dark spots that float in your vision. "my fucking rope snapped. fell down the slope…"

"shit." he hisses. "you broken?"

"what? no," you mutter through a deep intake of breath, finally gathering the strength to sit up fully with a hand attempting to soothe the ache between your shoulders, but it doesn't do much to help. "my back just really fuckin' hurts…"

"right…" he murmurs, letting the silence hang between you for a moment too long before continuing. "the rope snapped?"

"yeah… made some fucked up noises and then broke clean in two." you send a withering glare to the other end of your rope, still hanging tauntingly from the top of the slope with a distinct air of mockery you didn't know an inanimate object could be capable of giving off.

standing requires a lot more energy than you currently have in you, but the distant sound of a firework reminds you again why you're even out here – so with a laboured grunt, you push yourself upright through the sharp ache in your back and brace yourself on your knees as your vision spins.

you hear john sigh absently over the wind on his end. "i'm sorry, this is my fault. i should'a checked the supplies 'fore i dropped 'em off at ya tower, i would'a noticed–"

"john, hey, it's fine, okay?" you interrupt his rambling before he can get too far into his own head, and frown to yourself. "but i'm not getting back to my tower that way…"

"there's– there's another path back, from the lake." his voice is quieter than usual, and he stumbles over his words – something so incredibly unlike him, it has you on edge from such a small change.

you hum, looking back up at the other end of your rope with a disdainful sigh as you brush the rest of the gravel from your pants. "as long as there's no more abseiling, i think that'll work."

john doesn't say anything more, which has you concerned, but you decide not to push it. he's clearly cut up about what happened, even if you don't completely get why, and you get the impression that moving on from the subject would be best for both of you.

the way the small valley is shaped leads you easily to the continuation of the trail, and before long the rocky ground gives way again to softer forest floor. you find yourself in another larger clearing, open enough that you can see ahead where the path disappears between more rocks and overgrown shrubbery. the lake must be nearby now, you think, because the distant sound of voices reaches your ears periodically on the wind.

the radio silence from john lingers in the air, heavy and stifling despite the great distance between you. the solitude leaves you with your thoughts, wondering why he was acting so responsible for something so beyond both of your control, and though you've resolved to leave the topic alone, you really can't seem to stop thinking about it.

another bang of a firework echoes around the clearing and you regret complaining about the tedium of the last few days. this was not what you wanted.

you drag your aching body across the rest of the clearing and brush a low-hanging branch out of your way as you make your way through the overgrowth between you and the lake. a clunking sound catches your attention, and you turn your gaze downwards to an empty beer can, followed by another further down path, then a few more, and a few more.

"holy shit, what is wrong with these people…" you mutter through gritted teeth, crouching down to gather as many as you can into your bag as you go – with only a short grumble at the pain it causes your back.

with a deeply exasperated sigh, you sling your bag back over your shoulder just as you come to the end of the trail and the bushes give way to the clearing of the lake. there's a small, raised island in the centre, where you can see the group lounging by the water with their music turned all the way up.

god, could these people get any more obnoxious?

you take a second to steel yourself, because this was not going to be easy, before cupping your hands around your mouth and shouting, "hey!"

they ignore you. of course they do.

"hey!" you yell louder this time, and thankfully they acknowledge you by finally turning off their music and glaring at you from their perch. you're probably supposed to handle situations like this with decorum, but as a result of the last hour or so your patience has worn incredibly thin, and you really can't find it in you to care. "fireworks? really? are you guys completely fucking stupid?"

they scoff and look incredulously between each other, before who you assume to be the ringleader yells back, "what the hell is your problem?"

"yeah, it's a free country!" one of the others adds.

"that's not how that works…" you sigh to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose and willing yourself to keep at least some modicum of composure. "you kids better get the fuck outta here! right now!"

they scoff again, and pointedly turn away from you. good god, the urge to throw rocks at them was getting harder and harder to fight.

"ignore them, it's just some random fucking loser creeping on teenagers…" the ringleaders comment is only just audible from where you're standing, but you do hear it, and it only serves to fuel your temper.

"what? no, i'm–" you falter for a split second, debating the consequences of the lie you're about to tell, but the side of you that just wants these idiots out of your life wins over fairly easily. "i'm a park ranger! and if you don't leave now, i can guarantee the cops are gonna be waiting for you when you do!"

a beat of silences passes, before they begin to mutter amongst themselves.

"oh shit… are they for real?"

"i don't care dude, i can't get arrested again, my parents would kill me!"

"let's just get outta here, this is freaking me out…"

you fold your arms tightly over your chest and watch them scuttle to gather their things with a scowl. they collectively send you one last withering look, which you readily mirror, before they wade back into the lake and swim across to the bank on your left.

"fucking finally…" your gaze follows them until they weave between the trees and you can no longer see them. with a tired sigh, you bring up your radio and move to check where they disappeared to as you update john. "hey, they're gone."

there's a moment before john replies, sounding not quite as downtrodden as he was earlier, which you take as a good sign. "yeah? how'd it go?"

"i hope they drown." you grumble in response.

he laughs, genuine and deep, and you feel your lingering annoyance melting away with the sound. "let's hope they won't come back."

"are you…" you clear your throat, weaving your way between trees and bushes. "are you okay? about earlier, i mean?"

"yeah, i'm– i'm fine." john answers quickly, and you get the strong feeling that he's deflecting when he continues, "let's just get you back to your tower, eh?".

"and far away from these fucking tourists…" you mutter, which earns you another light chuckle from him. just the memory of them has you cringing as you brush through a few bushes. "completely unrelated question, but would i get in trouble if i, hypothetically, lied about being a park ranger?"

"hypothetically, i reckon we could keep that between me and you."

a small grin finds its way onto your face, just as you reach where you assume those kids had been camping. there's more empty cans scattered by the worn dirt track, which you gather up with a string of curses under your breath.

following the trail of litter as you round the trees, the first thing that meets your eyes is the remains of their campfire, still smouldering and glowing orange in the evening shadows.

"idiots lit a campfire, too." you seethe, sharply kicking dirt over the embers until you're sure it's out. "the fire risk is colour-coded for assholes like them, and somehow it still went over their heads…"

john sighs. "don't think too much about it. knobheads like that wouldn't get it if it smacked 'em in the face."

"who knows? maybe one of these days i will." you're only half joking, but the smile must come across in your voice because john's rumbling chuckle follows again.

"right, and when they ask 'how on earth d'you get fired from a job where all you do is sit on your arse all day', what're you gonna tell 'em?"

"that i beat up some dumb kids and saved the park from being burnt to a crisp?" you grin, starting in the direction you vaguely remember another trail ending, but a glint of light catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

you crouch down, and forgotten behind the bush is a half empty bottle of cheap whiskey. nice.

you slip it into your bag and call it the service charge.

"i think the coppers'll be more concerned with the first bit." john quips. you laugh through the twinge of pain as you stand again, and hope he doesn't notice.

"that's their problem. i'll be the people's hero." you say, earning a other deep chuckle that grows a light feeling in your chest. you get a few more strides up the path before coming across a trail sign with a spoke for fire lookout seven, and tell john, "hey, i found the sign for my tower, so i'm heading that way."

"good. that way's a bit more of a hike, but it's shorter, so you should be home in time for dinner." 

"perfect. can't wait to get back to my room temperature tea." you reply, with a trace of sarcasm that you're sure is only just noticeable.

john breathes a short chuckle, before his voice turns slightly more serious. "how's your back, anyway?"

"fucking hurts, but i'll get over it." you answer, and the moment silence that follows has you wishing you'd just said fine. it had slipped your mind how odd john was being about your fall, and though you want to find out why, you get the impression that questioning him about it wouldn't get you anywhere.

he clears his throat uncomfortably. "...sorry, again. it was my fault you fell."

you frown in concern when he apologises, again, and do your best to ease his mind. "don't worry about it, alright? i didn't even fall that far, i was already, like, halfway down."

he doesn't have to know that was a lie.

"still, it shouldn't've happened in the first place." he replies, still sounding rather pitiful despite your efforts.

"i'm being dramatic. it's really fine, john." you try to keep your words light, to convey that you really don't blame him, and he shouldn't either, but he simply hums in response.

"if you say so."

"well, y'know how you can make it up to me?" you let another smile creep into your voice when another idea comes to you.

"how's that?" he takes the bait, some form of amusement present rather than the cynicism from before.

"you can tell me some of your war stories," you can sense his hesitation through the radio, but you press further with a more lighthearted tone, "the cool shit, like how mission impossible is based on your life or whatever."

"well, i'm no tom cruise, but i was at the piccadilly bombin', back in twenty-nineteen." john replies, a hint of smugness behind his words that you don't even register through the shock that stops you in your tracks.

"holy shit, what?"

[veronicawildest]

SHORT VEDIC ASTRO

Btw, If you are offended by my posts or anything I write, feel free to block me or whatever. Just don't argue in the comments, Ok?

I converted the kundli of some politicians (Mostly among them presidents) And the patterns that came out were overwhelmingly Mars rashi and/or nakshatra.

Claire Nakti isn't joking when she said that Mars nakshatra are often into politics. (she said it at the Mars dominant men video)

(Disclaimer: The ascendant are from Astro-seek and the other ones are from Astro(dot)com birth time verification)

• John Adams (Former President of U.S) - Ashwini moon, Rahu and Mars in 1st house of Chitra nakshatra

• Joe Biden (As of writing this, Current President of U.S) - Anuradha sun , Ashwini moon and Anuradha rising

• James Buchanan (Former President of U.S) - Ashwini sun with Mars and Ketu

•George Herbert Walker Bush (Former President) - Mrigashira sun, Chitra moon

• George Walker Bush (Former President) - Chitra moon

•Barack Obama (Former President) - Dhanista rising

•Donald Trump (Former and Candidate for President) - Mrigashira sun, Jyestha moon

•Kamala Harris (Vice President and Currently Running for President) - Chitra sun, Ashwini moon with Mrigashira rising

•Ronald Reagan (Former President) - Dhanista sun, Bharani moon

•Droupadi Murmu (Current President of India) - Mrigashira sun

• Frank Walter Steinmeier (Current President of Germany) - Chitra moon

• Leni Robredo (Former Vice President of Philippines) - Ashwini sun

• BongBong Marcos ( Current President of Philippines) - Ashwini moon

• Joko Widodo (Current President of Indonesia) - Mrigashira sun

• Benigno Aquino lll ( Former President of Philippines) - Dhanista sun, Mrigashira moon, Ashwini rising

• Napoleon Bonaparte ( French General and Emperor) - Chitra rising

Final note: the sun nakshatra were prominent too in other politicians (it's either in their moon or sun) and surprisingly, Sidereal Sagittarius Rashi (doesn't matter the nakshatra)

[st1tch-p0p]

IMPORTANT LORE!

When Thatcher is inside the Murray home. In the clip, he is being taunted by an alternate (whether its Six or N or whatever else) its clearly singing a Childs lullaby in a low, masculine voice. The lullaby that is being sung is called "Amazing grace". It was written by John Newton, and it's a common lullaby to sing to fussy or worried children.

This particular lullaby is also VERY biblical! (Explanation Later). Also,

I have brightened the video as much as possible, and as you can see, a hand reaches around the corner and flips the light switch out as, whatever it is, sings.

Looking at the arm, I will say that this might not be Six, the arm lacks, yknow, a characteristic hoodie sleeve and there is no discernible face or features that would point to Six. But, listening to the voice, it sounds an AWFUL lot like Six himself/ something he would do and say. In the speech to Adam, he refers to Adam as his "sweet boy", and says that "he kept him safe".

Going out on a limb here, but Jude and Lynn are divorced right? Which leaves just Lynn to watch Adam most of the time. But just maybe when she wasn't looking or paying attention, or doing something else (sleeping, out of the room etc) and Adam was being fussy or upset, Six would probably "fill the role" as dad and sooth Adam back to sleep via lullabies or whatever he could do. This might be why Six has such a "bond" with Adam, because Jude wasn't there at the house to be "dad". Yet most of this goes down the drain, as whatever it is, it doesn't look much, if at all, like the Six we know and love.

So this is maybe N OR some other Alternate. We also know N had some part in tormenting the murrays. This is seen when N follows Jude to the safe house and corners him in the closet. Jude proceeds to yell at the Alternate saying, "IT'S YOU! ITS FUCKING YOU. YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME- MY WIFE, MY CHILD." This implies N might not only have been the one singing the lullaby at the house, but this also might just mean N plays a way bigger role than we think, ESPECIALLY in the death and torment of the murrays.

Then again, this could all fall flat because we don't know FOR SURE, it is N, it could be another alternate, or it could just be a hoodie-less Six being really, really weird.

[EXPLAINATIONS]

Newton's view of redemption and divine grace formed his perspective that he considered himself a sinner so vile that he was unable to change his life or be redeemed without God's help.

The song is ALSO said to represent the ability of humanity to transform itself instead of a transformation taking place at the hands of God.

So do whatever you want with this information, but I think it holds some importance to Gabriels plan, or some kind of lore with the murrays.

[spookieloverslittlemind]

Their favourite movie…

includes: Michael Myers, Pinhead, Brahms Heelshire, Art the Clown, Sun and Moon (fnaf), Marta (Outlast 2)

spoilers: mentions of Saw and LOTR endings but tried to keep it vague just in case

Michael

I wouldn’t say he’s “happy” to watch anything, because Michael doesn’t really express “happiness” in any context, but he is content to sit completely still for hours on end, watching whatever you choose. He doesn’t form opinions on films so doesn’t have a favourite, but when you watch a gory horror film together, the SECOND the end credits are rolling he is up and grabbing his knife, heading for the door; Mike loves some inspo x

Pinhead

Fascinated by human media, having long forgotten that aspect of humanity. Pinhead enjoys films that he finds mentally stimulating, thrillers and mysteries mostly (gory films have him scoffing because he could easily make a far more gory scene in the blink of an eye). That said, Pinhead doesn’t like rewatching films because if they have a mystery and he’s solved it, he has no interest in seeing it again because “It is done; an experience that cannot be repeated”. His favourite film is Saw because he was completely blindsided by the plot twist at the end - obviously, a body on the floor of the entire film is nothing more than furniture to Pinhead, so when bro GOT UP?? Pinhead was losing it. Had to pause the film to pace for a few minutes. Couldn’t comprehend how he didn’t see it coming.

Brahms

Every Barbie movie from the early 2000’s, classic animated Disney princess films, and Peter Pan; Brahms thinks the princesses are very pretty (often comparing them to you regardless of your gender because he romanticises every fibre of your being) and believes himself to be the boy who never quite grew up, ironically. Doesn’t mind gory films, but doesn’t like complicated ones because he gets very frustrated; prefers to cuddle up with you and watch something wholesome. Will get pouty and is not above begging to start a movie over the second it’s finished.

Art

He’s pretty casual about the films he likes, he prefers classics that have decent remakes and his favourite is Carrie - a revenge plot with magical powers that cause a gory rampage? Count Art in. What he is passionate about, though, is the film he hates more than any other that fits the same criteria of a classic with a decent remake: It. And it’s literally because Art thinks he himself is the best scary clown. Sometimes you put it on (either the classic or new, the reaction is the same) just to piss him off and Art will come storming in, signing angry gibberish with flailing hands until he’s sulking on the couch beside you because he will insist on watching the entire thing again so that he can complain throughout.

Sun and Moon

Sun likes exciting films with happy endings, a very big fan of action movies. Contrary to this, his favourite movie isn’t just one, but the full Lord Of The Rings trilogy - Sun loved reading the books in between watching the films to digest every scrap of lore, but after watching the end of Return Of The King? Couldn’t bring himself to read the last book, because it was too sad. Sun is adamant he will never rewatch the trilogy because it upset him but objectively, that’s his favourite. He’s overjoyed to watch anything with you, because he loves spending time with you, but you have to tell him in advance it has a happy ending or he wont watch it, and if you lie? Moon pending.

Moon prefers quieter, calmer and darker films, with a particular love for gothic horrors based on the supernatural rather than slashers/gorefests. His favourite is An American Werewolf In London, the negative aspects of the transformation being very relatable to Moon.

Marta

Say hello to the biggest film critic of all time. Marta will insist that watching movies is a waste of good time that could be spent praising God or eradicating heretics, so will turn her nose up at almost every suggestion you make, but when you show her John Wick? Oh, Marta’s sense of justice is PREENING. She’s all about that. By the end, her internal monologue is begging God not to let her joy show on her face. As long as you tell her a film is like John Wick, she’ll give it a chance, but John Wick remains her favourite.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

*Long Sigh*

TL;DR - Why do Tracy (Hailey) and Jesse (Jay) from Chicago PD get so much attention for no reason? What’s the matter with other characters/actors?

Listen guys, I get it. I understand. Y’all love Tracy and Jesse. But come on - one post on Instagram and I see it several times?

It isn’t right that I get more posts about Jesse, Tracy, Jay, Hailey or Upstead (and whatever their ship name is for their actors) in general than for things I actually care about in Chicago PD. I am glad they’re living life and having fun and being friends or whatever they decide but I just don’t understand the hype.

Shipping characters is great. Actors, alright, as long as it’s not pushed onto them or pressuring them in any way. But I mean… where’s the love for everyone else? I rarely see appreciation posts for Elias Koteas (Al), Jon Seda (Antonio), Patrick John Flueger (Adam), Marina Squerciati (Kim), LaRoyce Hawkins (Kevin), Amy Morton (Trudy) or any of the other actors/characters aside from Jason Beghe/Hank Voight. Everything else under the Chicago PD tag is Jay/Hailey stuff…

I guess I’m just thinking it’s not fair that Jay/Hailey get all of this attention when we haven’t even gotten a gif set of the S11 finale with Hank and Al (except when I asked myself and @andgry4 made me a very beautiful one). But I had to ask!!! Everyone just cared about Tracy’s departure from the show and said it wasn’t enough when the whole episode was about her. :/

The show is about Hank and always has been. He’s the main character, period. How does everyone hate him? I love his complex character. Not to mention how much better and complex his character is than anyone in Chicago Fire. (Not bashing the actors, but the characters themselves.)

I personally never cared for Hailey and I understand loving one character a lot, but when Tracy/Jesse post something on Instagram, it’s a big thing? Why? Who cares? And why do I have to see it four times per day with 0 other posts about anything else PD under the Chicago PD tag? (The Instagram post wasn’t even about Chicago PD, they weren’t on set or anything, so why tag it that??)

I guess I’m just wondering what makes them so special over anyone else from the show? :/ It is obnoxious that so many people love them so much and “aren’t watching anymore” or are “finally free” because Tracy and Jesse left. If you didn’t like the show, why watch in the first place? I like Jon Seda, but I only watched one season of La Brea because it got kinda boring to me. I wasn’t “finally free” of it, I just stopped watching - simple as that. If you don’t like the show, quit watching. I don’t care who’s on it. It could be my favorite actor and yet if it wasn’t interesting, I wouldn’t watch it…

It’s incomprehensible to me why they’re so special when they’re not even on the show anymore anyways… I get the fanfics and don’t mind them. But things like this? One post on Instagram that they’re being friends? Crazy how much attention the fandom gives to this instead of anything else Chicago PD related. 🤷‍♀️

[suggs444]

Mark Hoffman X Reader: Stubborn.

You’re a Jigsaw accomplice. John and Amanda are dead but the games must go on. Mark is back from dealing with Strahm. He’s cut up from the glass coffin. You decide to put your differences aside and help him.

TW: injury and swearing. fluff ??????

Gif by dilfgifs

..

Your head was buried into your work. Mark had been gone for awhile now. To the point were your concern was growing. He had left to deal with Agent Strahm. He had been close on Mark’s trail, and not that you cared. But if he found Mark, he’d find you. That you couldn’t abide.

Strahm needed to die. This, you both agreed on for once.

Your head shoots up as soon as you hear the familiar creek of the warehouse door sliding open. Instinctively you jump up, pulling your gun. You had to accept the fact that this could be Strahm. That he had arrested Mark and you were next.

You point your gun at the hallway.

Mark comes into the view and a sigh rips from you in relief.

“Fuck,” You mutter, putting your gun down and closing your eyes for a second. You silently thanked god.

Mark shrugs his coat of with a grunt, discarding to the floor. Then one suspender hiking off his shoulder, then the other. You note he’s sweating. You also note that he seems in pain.

“Strahm’s dead.” Is all he says.

“Good,” You reply cautiously as you peer at him. “Are you alright?”

He doesn’t reply. Only walks past you and as he does you get a clear view of his back. His shirt ridden with blood, cut and torn by the glass coffin.

“Mark, your fucking back-”

“Yeah, I know.” He gruffs out, shoving his hand into the first aid and greedily grabbing whatever he could. Bandages spill out from his adamance.

You stare and consider helping him. Though you know he’d deny any help. You two are as stubborn as the other. Though you figured you’ll have to look past your differences eventually since you and him are the last ones standing.

You sigh, dropping your shoulders.

“Let me help, Mark. You won’t be able to see what you’re doing.”

“I’ve got a mirror.”

“A mirror isn’t gonna make sure that doesn’t get infected.” You reply.

He shoots a glare at you, “Since when are you a medical professional?”

You tighten your jaw. He’s hard work.

“It’ll get infected.”

He looks away from you and stares down at the desk. You can see he’s contemplating your offer.

You take that opportunity to walk over, and take hold of the antiseptic bottle in his hand. His eyes shoot to you and you look back, waiting for him to let go of it.

He looks tired.

“Please.” You say.

He continues to stare at you blankly. And eventually, he lets you take the bottle, nodding once.

“Alright.”

..

Mark hisses and jolts slightly.

“Take it easy,” he snaps.

You were removing the remaining glass from his back with some surgical tweezers. He’s shirtless, sitting backward in a chair while you work on him.

You couldn’t deny the flawlessness of his frame. How broad and stable he is. Soft skin for such a crude man.

Especially for a man you don’t like, you remind yourself.

You brush away your thoughts and blink.

“Sorry.” You reply, dropping the glass into a silver bowl next to you.

You hear him huff, no doubt hot and bothered from the pain of the wound. You couldn’t blame him. Though you had to admire the lengths he went to, to get rid of Peter Strahm. And not just for himself but for you both.

You found yourself feeling guilty, but also incredibly appreciative.

You swallow hard before seeking out another piece of glass from his back. You feel him wince.

“Thank you by the way.” You say.

“Huh?” He replies, head whipping to the side to try and see you over his shoulder.

“I said thank you.” You repeat, more clearer this time as you lift your head so he can see you.

He catches your gaze for a second before looking back forward.

“For what?” He asks, his voice hoarse.

You drop another piece of glass into the bowl. It clanks loud.

“For resolving the situation with Strahm. I know you did it to save your skin but, I benefit from it too.” You say softly, too focused on a stubborn piece of glass as you try to wriggle it out.

It eventually gives and you smile relief, adding it to the bowl.

“Yeah well, kill to birds with one stone right?” He says, turning his head over his shoulder again to look at you.

You sit back, meeting his gaze.

“You owe me.” He says, and you note the slight mockery on his face.

Is this him trying to be funny?

You smile, “I’m owing you now, jackass.”

You mock, referring to the fact you’re tending to his wounds. His smirk widens slightly, and he faces the front again.

“Then we’re even.” You hear him say.

You smile to yourself.

..

You finish your last stitch after what felt like a lifetime, finalising your treatment as you plaster up his back.

“All done,” You say, standing up from the chair and rolling your shoulders.

You hear him thank you as you walk over to a bowl of water to clean your bloody hands. You felt accomplished. Proud almost.

You couldn’t help but feel like you’d made progress with him generally. You both needed it now more than ever, especially now that it was only you two left standing.

As you turn, he’s stood too, but shirtless still and you feel your throat dry as he looks up at you from the shirt he’s holding in his hands.

“I mean it, thanks y/n.”

You offer him a small smile and nod once.

“It’s the least I can do, really.” You reassure, shrugging a shoulder. You can feel the heat on your cheeks.

He notices it too, and the slight upturn of his mouth is apparent.

“What?” You question.

“Nothing.”

He insists, gently slipping on his t shirt and begins buttoning it up. He’s still smirking.

“Okay well, try not to do too much otherwise you’ll ruin all my hard work.” You mock, referencing his stitches. He actually smiles in response, huffing a small laugh.

“No promises, alright? Not with a job as physical as ours.” He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows.

“No promises.”

..

part two ??????

[goatcheesecak3]

Adam gets a good ending because I said so

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x gn!reader

Includes: angst, fluff, not a whole lot of dialogue, more plot really. Not written for any gender in particular.

For context, this takes place just after the first saw. The nerve gas house is mentioned, but at this point John hasn't set up any traps in it yet (he's most likely off in Mexico dealing with Cecilia right now).

A/n fun fact: this is actually all 100000% true and Canon, Adam is still alive.

You were a plucky young urban explorer, and you'd caught wind of an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city. It had been boarded and chained up, most likely to keep out squatters and junkies, but also people like you. Well, whoever owned that building would have to try harder than that to keep you and your trusty pair of bolt cutters out. You loved to explore the dead parts of the city, dilapidat buildings and forgotten homes, to see what stories they had to tell, what history they were hiding.

Upon arrival to this house, you parked your van just out of sight around the corner and double checked your rucksack to ensure you all had your supplies. Phone, torch, bolt cutters, energy bar, gatorade and just in case, pepper spray. Satisfied that you had what you needed, you approached the house on foot looking for an entrance. You found a back door, boarded up, but the wood seemed to have succumbed to the elements, leaving it rotten and weak. One hard kick with your steel toe capped boots was all it took to give way. You turned on your torch and began your usual routine. You first headed upstairs, just to give the place a once over from top to bottom, identifying any safety risks before you could explore more in depth. Once you'd reached the ground floor again, you let out a dissapointed sigh. The entire house had been gutted, no furniture, no stories to tell, just empty. You figured you wouldn't be here long. The air was still - no - stale. You cursed yourself for not bringing some sort of mask, you were certainly breathing in years worth of mould, dust and cobwebs. It smelled damp and the stench of rotting wood made you feel as though you were going to retch. Regardless, you soldiered on, in desperate hopes of finding something, anything that would make this expedition worth while. And oh boy, did you find it. It hadn't occurred to you to look directly at the floors before, but something in your gut told you to look down, and to your excitement, you discovered that you were stood over a trapdoor. You wedged your bolt cutters between the floorboards and began to pry, until a satisfying crrreeeeaaaakkk sounded out, signaling that you'd gained access to whatever secrets lay beneath.

You stood, staring down at a short set of stairs, you couldn't see where they lead. It was dark down there, darker than the house, and not just in terms of light. Something about it seemed sinister, as though you were staring at the steps down to hell itself. Against all your better judgement, you began your descent. You made note to keep the trapdoor open, it was heavy to lift, and you were sure it would be even heavier to push back up if you needed to get out in a hurry. Smart move.

A seemingly endless corridor presented itself to you, so long that your torch light didn't reach the end, instead it illuminated specks of dust floating through the air. This wasn't a basement, it was a fucking secret tunnel. Something was terribly wrong, this was hidden for a reason. You knew whatever awaited you at the end of this corridor wasn't going to be pleasant, yet you persevered.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached a heavy, rusty iron door.

"What the fuck" you muttered to yourself, although it might as well have been a yell, the way it pierced through dead silent corridor.

Suddenly, you thought you heard something. The faintest sound of a whimper. You jumped, and let out what you thought was a confident "who's there", but in reality, you sounded small and afraid. You could hear the fear in your own voice, which only filled you with more dread.

You heard it again, this time slightly louder, and more alive. It was a terrible noise, no words, just the agonising cry of abject horror. There was no denying it, someone was behind that door, and they needed your help.

"I can't believe I'm doing this" you said to yourself as you took a deep breath. You didn't give yourself time to think, or psych yourself out, you just acted. Grabbing the heavy door and pulling it with all your might. Adrenaline coarsed through your veins as the door gradually opened.

The sight you were greeted with was like nothing you'd ever seen before. Your eyes followed your torch around the room, seeing a stomach churning mixture of normalcy and horror. The white tiles, urinals, shower heads and sinks were not unlike any locker room you'd ever seen, but they were coated in a thick layer of grime and filth. In the very center of the room you saw what you hoped wasn't a dried up puddle of blood, but the corpse next to it didn't fill you with confidence. Hang on a second- a CORPSE? All at once, the stench of decomposition, bodily fluids, and the terrible sight of it all hit you like a punch in the gut. You stumbled over a sink, gagging and shaking. You weren't sure if it was fear or disgust that finally made you vomit.

"Wh.. what are you gonna do to me" a timid voice wept from somewhere behind you. You spun round, flashing your torch into the darkest corner of the filthy room. There, sat chained up and shaking like a beaten dog, was a man. His face gaunt and pale, stained with blood and tears. His skinny arms hugging his knees to his body, as he stared up at you with big, wet eyes.

"Oh my god" was all you could say, as your eyes found their way to his ankle. It was shackled to a pipe, his foot was badly bruised and clearly broken.

The man began to let out small, pitiful sobs, as though he was too tired to cry properly.

"Wh.. what happened?" You asked. He didn't - couldn't answer.

"My name's y/n, I'm gonna help you okay?" You said, frantically reaching into your bag for your bolt cutters.

The man threw up his arms in defence and retreated further into his little corner as you approached him.

"Please don't hurt me!" He wailed.

"I'm not going to hurt you, but we've got to get you out of here fast, okay? You can trust me" you said, approaching with more caution now. You had no idea what your plan was, but you knew it would start with getting him unchained.

"Hold still, I'm gonna cut the chain okay?" You said softly. Everything in you wanted to panic and scream, but you knew you needed to keep your cool if you were going to help this guy.

He nodded timidly, and watched as you cut through the chain.

"Were they... has whoever did this fed you?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

He shook his head, "They left me here to die," he managed through sobs.

Remembering your gatorade, you pulled it out of your bag and handed to him.

"Here, the sugar in this will help you. What's your name?"

He hesitated for a moment, but decided that trusting you was really his only viable option.

"It's Adam.. h.. how did you find me?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out myself. Listen to me Adam, we can't afford to waste any time, okay? We go out that door and keep following the hallway. There's a way out of here, but we've got to go now. Can you walk?"

Adam shook his head and began to cry again.

You took a deep breath, realising the severity of the situation. There was no way he'd make it along the corridor, let alone up the stairs.

"I could go back out, and call for help, but you'd have to wait here"

Adam's eyes widened and suddenly he was clinging onto you, like a frightened child on their first day of school

"Don't leave me, please don't leave me" he blubbered, his words almost inaudible.

You suppressed the urge to cry. Seeing a grown man, so frightened, so alone that he was reduced to this... all you wanted to do was hug this poor stranger. In that moment, you knew you couldn't leave him there alone. He must have seen unspeakable horrors in that room, you couldn't leave him there wondering if you were ever coming back.

"Listen to me, Adam. I'm not gonna leave you, we can figure this out. Here," you handed him your rucksack, "put this on, and then get on my back. You'll be in charge of shining the torch, and I'm gonna carry you out of here, got it?"

He nodded, and very hastily obliged, taking huge breaths and trying to steady himself.

His hands were tight around your shoulders, his muffled cries close to your ears as you carried him. He was light, it was clear that he had been down there without food for too long, but it made carrying him easier.

You couldn't quite run, but you steadily jogged through the corridor, your pulse so strong you could practically taste it. You flew up the stairs, and to your relief, the trapdoor was still open, and the house still vacant. You wasted no time getting to the back door and out into the night.

Taking in his first breath of fresh air since who knows when, Adam began to sob uncontrollably, still clinging onto your back.

"Nearly there" you spluttered, beginning to run out of breath. Realising how close you were to your van, a surge of adrenaline spurred you on and by some miracle, you sprinted the last stretch to your van.

You buckled Adam in and headed straight for the hospital.

A few days later

You'd exchanged details with the police and the hospital staff once Adam was being taken care of. You'd given your witness statement and lead the police to the scene of the crime, and now, a few days later you could finally relax a bit. But not entirely, you couldn't stop thinking about Adam. No one even knew he was missing, he would have died if you hadn't accidentally stumbled upon the monster's lair. From what you knew, he had no one. That was when the phone rang, it was the hospital. Adam, having been seen to and fit enough to talk to people, had asked the hospital staff to contact you. They were asking if you'd come to visit later that day.

"Of course, I'll be there! How's he doing" you asked the nice lady on the other end of the phone.

"Much better now, he'll look forward to your visit".

You entered the hospital ward, armed with a bunch of flowers and a get well soon card. You weren't sure if Adam was the type to be into flowers, but you figured it was at least a nice gesture. Adam looked much better indeed, his face had more colour, his arms looked less feeble. He was attached to a drip, you assumed that was something to do with the malnourishment, his foot in a cast and he had a neat dressing on the would in his shoulder.

"Hey, big guy," you smiled, as you approached his bed, sitting down beside it.

"Y/n, you came!" He beamed. This was nothing like the Adam you'd met the other day.

"Of course I did! How are you feeling?"

He reached out and took your hand, a content smile stretching across his face.

"Great, thanks to you. I don't even know what to say, you saved my life"

You knew you'd saved his life, but something about hearing him say it to you out loud just tugged at your heartstrings. You felt your eyes well up, as you squeezed his hand.

"Hey, don't get all soft on me now" he teased, in a reversal of roles where he was now the one to comfort you. "All you did was carry a man from the pits of hell, it's not a big deal or anything" he joked.

You let out a small chuckle.

You really liked Adam's sense of humour, and you couldn't begin to describe how wonderful of a feeling it was to see him laughing and joking. To see him safe and comfortable after that terrible ordeal.

Your visits with Adam became a regular thing, and quickly the two of you became close. You supported him through every step of his recovery, and once he was discharged, you kept in touch. Often meeting for coffee, going on walks. You learned about Adam's love of photography, and watched fondly as he took candids of people on the busy streets, or every now and then snapped one of you because in his words, "the lighting brings out your eyes". Over the course of the next few months, this friendship blossomed into something more. It started when you'd come over to keep him company, he'd been having trouble with nightmares and you were there to help him deal with them. One thing lead to another, and you'd found yourselves cuddled up in his bed admitting your feelings for one another.

A year on from the ordeal, though Adam was still struggling, he was practically a new person.

JIGSAW KILLER SURVIVOR CELEBRATES ONE YEAR OF FREEDOM

Read the front page of a local paper.

On this day last year, local man Adam Faulkner-Stanheight got a second chance at life, when urban explorer y/n miraculously discovered him while investigating an abandoned home on the outskirts of the city.

"Babe, look at this, we've been papped" you chuckle, handing Adam the morning paper as you sipped your coffee.

In perhaps the most an unconventional meet-cute we'll ever see, Mr Faulkner-Stanheight and Miss/Mr y/n, appear to have found love with eachother, despite the traumatic way in which they met. The two now live together and co-own a successful photography business.

Adam smiled fondly at the article, until he noticed the attached picture of the pair of you sat in a café window. He let out a groan.

"Why did they have to use that picture, I look like I'm a having a stroke" he whined, causing you to chuckle.

"Well I think you look very handsome," you peck his cheek and pour some coffee into his mug.

Life is good.

A/n first Adam fic! Ik it was a little rushed, but I honestly just wrote it so I can live in denial comfort myself by giving him a happy ending😭 Hope I did our pookie bear justice <3

Requests are open! Check my pinned post for details and masterlist :^)

Replies and reblogs are very much appreciated bc I don't have many saw mutuals and I'm tryna locate some teehee

[graciegoeskrazy]

we're all just the same, what a shame

matty healy + daughter!reader (ft. mainly ross but a bit of the band)

warnings: fluff, short, should I start rewriting atpoiim with h!r???

a/n: I hated this but now I don't think it's that bad. just short and sweet. (like the concert I didn't get tickets to 😭)

The band was in NYC preparing for the release of a new album, an abundance of press, a Madison Square Garden performance, and new changes to a show that was yet to be finished. Despite your father’s protest that you should stay home and live your normal life, you tagged along. Because it was a very stressful, working time for them, you were 100% prepared to take a step back and let them do their thing.

The knock on your door took your gaze out of your phone and onto the door of your hotel bedroom that connected to the rest of the suite you and your dad shared. “Come in.”

You knew from his posture and they way he slightly hid behind the door that he was up to something. Your head tilted in confusion, prompting him to speak.

“Do you have…fairy lights?”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Why the fuck would I have fairy lights?”

He gove you a brief look that meant ‘language’ and then paused.. “‘Cause you’re a teenage girl.” He said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“No. Whatever do you need fairy lights for?”

“A fort.” His face comically didn't change.

You sighed. “You’ve gone mental.”

—-------

“When I thought I was gonna take a step back and let you work I didn’t think building a fort was on your to-do list.” He didn’t respond, just shrugged while sparing you a glance, then continued draping the fabric.

“Why are the lights off?” You said, walking through the hallway.

“Aesthetic.” He said simply.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever trusted your aesthetic.” You flicked on the tall lamp shade as you finished your sentence.

He looked up at you, bright eyed, and smiled. “Ah, good ideas babe!”

You quicked your head. “What?”

Without another word, he dragged the lamp inch by inch into it’s spot by the fort, then draped the remaining pieces of fabric onto it. “It needed height.” He said smiling at you.

“So why are you doing this exactly.”

He started to speak as he slightly struggled to enter the white sheet at the front.

“I’m gonna make a small one for the exterior, and in the video we’re gonna do a transition and it's gonna be like ‘look, it's bigger on the inside’ and it’s gonna be a metaphor.”

“A metaphor for what?” You asked.

Your father paused. “Something stupid?” He said, looking at you.

“Oh, right, right, of course.”

—-------

At the arena, hiding in the nearly empty dressing room, you were prompted to your feet when you father texted you telling you to come to the green room. You practically groaned upon entry. Adam held the camera and your father stood in front of it awaiting your arrival. He clapped his hands together excitedly and you groaned, preparing to turn away. “Not again.”

“Come onnnnn. I need you in it for the video. For your reaction.”

You rolled your eyes, to which he only allowed it this time because you were helping him with something. The small interior was already filled wall to wall with the band, who all smiled upon your entrance. Ross smiled the biggest, excited to see you, and opened up his arms wide, prompting you to sit with him.

Matty and Adam set the camera up and you switched to Ross’s lap while they did so.

“Hey! You found fairy lights!” You said, pointing up to the ceiling of the fort.

“Yeah, Uncle Ross had some.” Matty said, not taking his eyes off of the project in front of him and Adam.

You looked at Ross. he just shrugged. You knew your father probably just ran to the store to get them.

—-------

Your mind wandered back to the conversation in the room when your father commented on John’s go at jujutsu.

“You'd be mint.” He said.

“He’s too big.” Ross chimed in from behind you.

“No- What do you mean he’s ’too big?’ You have to be big in order to fight. Be able to sit in someone till they can’t breathe.”

“I’d be great at it.” All eyes turned to you as you spoke.

“You’d die in a second tops, baby.”

You shrugged. “Have a little faith.”

—-------

Some of the band left. Now it was just you, your dad, Ross, Adam, and Polly. You left to get a bottle of water and when you came back you found your dad sitting criss-crossed and decided to sit in his lap. It was a routine you’ve had since you were little, and a moment that always made everyone around giggle or smile, especially when you were little. Seeing a four year old toddle in with a snack in one hand and a blankie in another sit on her father’s lap when he least expected it. Matty kept his gaze on his phone as he readjusted his arms to capture you into a none-crushing hug paired with a gentle kidd to the side of your forehead. “Why did you wait till I was 14 to build a fort? I feel like that's a primary school thing, no?”

“How dare you deprive your daughter of a childhood.” Ross said.

Matty finally looked up from his phone when he rolled his eyes. “I give up.”

You and Ross laughed as you both pissed your father off for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

[chiisana-sukima]

Hello, what do you think about the take, and what Dean says in that one episode, that Sam is not like John than Dean?

Hi, Nonny! Thanks for the ask!

I'm guessing the episode you mean is 04x19 Jump the Shark, where Dean says Sam is more like John than he himself (Dean) ever was. If not, my apologies for misinterpreting, and I hope this is interesting anyway.

Imo accusations in spn of someone being like John are mainly about four things: anger, stubbornness, the desire for revenge, and child endangerment. And about those, my main thought is this:

image source

I do think early spn makes comparisons between John and Sam that are intended to represent character flaws Sam needs to struggle against and overcome. Sam is sometimes angry, he's often very stubborn, and there are multiple seasons where he's driven in part by desire for revenge. For better or worse though, I don't find the comparison very compelling; mainly because anger, stubbornness, and desire for revenge are all morally neutral. The only actual bastard in that combo up above is the child endangerment, which isn't really relevant to early seasons Sam.

Anger, and even hate, don't actually lead to the dark side of the Force; maladaptive responses to emotions do. Whether one wants to go to Blackwater Ridge like Dad said to practice one's vigilante serial killing profession or search for Jessica's murderer to do the same is not the compelling ethical problem spn makes it out to be. Either option results in killing (people-like-)monsters that are killing people while being too busy to kill other (people-like-)monsters that are killing other people. And everyone who's dead at the end of the day is equally dead regardless of whether one's motive was "pure" (saving people) or "stained" (revenge).

To give spn what credit it's due, s4, where this comparison from Dean occurs, *is* the closest Sam ever comes to having anger and desire for revenge drive him into maladaptive and harmful behavior. Especially in the flashback scenes to when Dean was in Hell, Sam is at least having a really rough time of it, even if he still honestly seems to not be harming anyone (more than usual for a hunter) but himself.

Any moral dimension is significantly undercut by the fact that Sam's kill count in s4 is not especially high (Sam 9/Dean 10), as well as by the fact that the behavior Dean doesn't approve of is saving possessed hosts instead of offing them indiscriminately as collateral damage to get at the demons inhabiting them.

And this quote itself is especially weirdly vibes-over-substance in that Dean is just disillusioned with Sam because Sam is disillusioned with life. There is no actual moral element to discuss. Adam was long dead before they got there. Sam is technically on the correct end of the argument: being left in the dark--the path Dean was advocating throughout the episode, and that he's bitter in this speech that Sam disagreed with him on--did possibly factor into getting Adam and his mom killed. Certainly Sam disagreeing with Dean in the present did not. But honestly, who cares either way? None of it is relevant now. Dead is dead, and neither Sam nor Dean had anything to do with it or has anything to be ashamed of.

Which brings me to the one thing the person who did have something to do with it actually should have been ashamed of: John treated all his kids badly. Whether he was motivated by anger and a desire for revenge or by fear for their safety or the side effects of alcoholism or not being able to keep it in his pants or whatever else is really only minimally relevant in terms of how much harm his behavior caused them.

And while I'm not a huge fan of the "Dean is Sam's parent" reading of spn, there's no doubt that because of John's neglect and parentification of Dean, Dean often feels like he was functionally Sam's parent. Which is fine! Feelings are neutral! But he also conducts his half of their relationship from within that paradigm; which is not great in the show's present because Sam is an adult.

And given all that, lets get back to Dean's "you were more like him than I'll ever be". Who, by the end of the season, is endangering their "child" here? Who, in Levee, puts their own needs and the needs of the hunt above the life of the person they (feel they) raised? Who says "You walk out that door, don't you ever come back"? And how likely do we all think it is that the writers didn't do that on purpose?

[ageless-aislynn]

Title: “15 Minutes” (10/15) Author:  @ageless-aislynn​ Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: As you heal, you're not alone. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating:  T (PG13) Length: 2,604 (this chapter, 24,863 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N:  Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Apologies for the break we took for a few weeks here. 😳This chapter turned out a little longer than I expected, (please enter "that's what she said" joke of your choice here), so I hope that makes up a bit for the delay. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger​ @mysardencut​ @laurenstacy610​ @sporadicbelievernightmare​ @ultrablackwidower​ @bxmxtx​ @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Pressure on your chest brought you startling awake, flinging your left arm up as if to try and break free of a restraint. White hot pain burst from your shoulder down your bicep like a cord of fire trying to amputate your arm. You gave a strangled cry, managing to sit up and clutch at the various points of hurt as the agony gradually faded.

Out of the darkness, a now-familiar woman's voice said your rank and last name. "Are you all right? Do you need me to dispatch medical assistance?"

"No," you quickly said, automatically straightening your sleep-rumpled shirt. "I moved my arm wrong. Thanks, though."

"Of course," she returned, her tone kind.

"Are you, um, monitoring me?"

"Just for sounds of distress or pain. John was adamant that your privacy be respected as much as possible."

That made you smile slightly under the cover of the lack of light. "I hope they've given you something else to do other than to listen for me to say ouch."

"Not to worry, I keep busy."

You nodded even though she couldn't see it. Or maybe she could? Was she holed up in some ONI office, watching you with thermal signatures or some other sort of tech? "I appreciate it, Ms. Classified. Though I believe you gave me your name, didn't you? I'm sorry, I can't remember what it was."

"You were a little busy at the time," she demurred. "It's Cortana but I rather like 'Ms. Classified,' I have to say. It's like a nickname between friends, isn't it?"

"It is," you said. "And please feel free to use my first name. No need for friends to stand on formality."

"Thank you," she said and, after a slight pause, added your name as if it were an honor to do so.

Was she a Spartan, perhaps? Something about her careful manner reminded you of how John sometimes reacted to interpersonal things as if he hadn't ever dealt with them before and wanted desperately to be right in his response.

You wasn't sure if you should ask and while you were still wondering, she said goodbye with a sound like pixels vanishing, though there had been no hologram of her to see this time.

Your day was a lot more mundane after that. PT came by as Dr. Savannah had said they would, and you dutifully did the exercises with minimal grumbling and complaining. The ancient saying about medics being terrible patients was still said for a reason, after all, but you didn't want to be One Of Those if you could help it.

The therapist had brought you breakfast from the mess for after your session: the cold cereal MRE, typically called mush rarely edible, along with plain black coffee. She also told you that the next session would be tomorrow instead of later today, due to a scheduling conflict.

So that left you with a whole lot of day and very little to fill it.

You were scrolling through your padd, looking through old documents and messages, intending to clean up and organize things but, more often than not, ended up reminiscing on the past, on friends once part of your every day life now long gone, either transferred away or worse.

You discovered a folder full of sketches of various Mjolnir designs you'd done back before you'd decided for certain to begin training to be a Brokkr tech. Your interest in the Spartans and their armor had been a mere hobby, then.

You were far from a gifted artist but trying to capture the different iterations, the bulkier but classic shapes of the Mark V, the more streamlined Mark VI, had made for fun practice. You'd also tried out a few ideas of your own, such as "floating" pieces of armor to try and better protect the Spartans' joints without sacrificing mobility. The final image, though, had been a purely fanciful one: a fusion of Mjolnir and medieval, a literal Spartan in shining armor.

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was no number on the chest plate but it was clearly Master Chief to anybody who was familiar with his armor configuration. The patterning on his visor had a texture reminiscent of a knight's helm and the flare of his shield had a shape like the plume of a feather at the crest of his head. One arm was extended but incomplete: you hadn't decided whether to give him a BR or DMR or go for something like a broadsword or lance. Then you'd simply never come back to finish it and it had been forgotten in your drafts for all this time.

Tapping a fingertip contemplatively against your lip, you thought for a moment, then impulsively picked up your stylus and began to draw.

Gentle fingertips brushed against your hair and you woke to find John next to the bed.

"Sorry to bother you," he murmured, "but you looked uncomfortable."

The moment he said that, your neck began protesting the odd angle your head had slumped into.

"Well, that was a bad idea," you said plaintively, straightening up very slowly. Your entire body ached like you'd been moonlighting as a punching bag. Your padd slipped off your lap to the mattress, then bounced towards the edge, and John easily caught it on the fly.

You suddenly remembered what had been on it. The screen was dark but all it would take was a brush of a finger to activate it again and he'd see--

"What's this?" he said, orientating the padd right side up.

"That's... my poor attempt at artistry," you said, feeling heat blooming up your neck. You resisted the urge to snatch it from his hand and throw it to the floor yourself.

"It's not poor," he countered, studying it even more intently. "Not at all. I like it a lot, especially the detail here."

He tapped the image and the SPNKr rocket launcher you'd placed casually in the Spartan's hand, resting on the armored shoulder, expanded to better reveal the intricate filigree you'd spent a considerable amount of time adding to the large missile chamber.

"I mean, it's not practical, of course," you mumbled but his sincere appreciation lessened your embarrassment. "I wanted a medieval feel to a modern weapon."

"Do you have others?" he asked, handing the padd back to you.

You appreciated that he didn't just start flipping through the images. You swiped back to show him your other Mjolnir studies.

The very corner of his mouth twitched. "These are all mine, aren't they?"

"Hm, I suppose they are," you said in mock surprise. "It looks like I've had a favorite Spartan for a while now."

"Good," he said decisively, then glanced at you with a soft smile. "Could I send a copy of this to R&D?"

"Which one?" you asked, alarmed.

"The floating armor," he said, the smile growing a bit.

"Yeah, if you want," you said and forwarded the study to him. "I doubt I've thought of anything they haven't by now but I guess you never know."

"And could I have a copy of the other one, just for me?"

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed.

You switched back to the medieval drawing, adding your signature with a flourish in the corner before forwarding that one as well.

The door chimed and he went to open it as if it were expected.

"Master Chief, sir!" the young private said, making a motion no doubt intended to be a salute that he couldn't complete because of the large and apparently heavy covered tray he was carrying.

"At ease," he said, taking the tray from him.

The private snapped a salute as crisp as if he were in the presence of Lord Hood himself, then kept standing in the open doorway, staring rather starstruck.

"Thank you, you're dismissed," John told him.

"If you or the Hero of the Pit need anything, let me know, sir," the marine said earnestly before backing away.

Once the door closed, you said, "That really is a terrible nickname."

"The Covenant call me 'Demon,'" John said, bringing the tray to the bed and setting it on the foot.

"'Demon' is badass," you countered. "Mine sounds like I fell in a hole and somehow managed to crawl back out."

"Crawling out of that hole wasn't a given," he said, "and you made sure nobody else was in there with you."

He lifted the cover on the tray, revealing two sizzling plates of food. The smell that hit you was divine.

Your voice dropped an entire octave. "Is that eggplant parmigiana?"

"I... think so? It's whatever was being served in the Spartan mess for lunch." His expression darkened. "You were supposed to get breakfast from there, too, but there was apparently some sort of mix-up. It's been dealt with."

You felt momentarily sorry for whoever had been on the receiving end of being dealt with. "I can't eat Spartan portions."

"You actually can because it so happens that I can calculate how many calories a Brokkr mechanic-slash-medic needs in order to heal properly." He held that with a serious expression for a moment, then winked. "And I also asked Dr. Savannah about it. She said, and I quote, 'Tell her it's fine to live a little.'"

"Oh, well, if it's doctor's orders..." you trailed off with a grin.

He left to get a small table and chair for himself since there was only the one lap tray and you took the opportunity to hit the head, thinking you'd be settled back in before he returned. As it turned out, you either greatly underestimated how far he had to go to find what he was looking for or, more likely, had greatly overestimated how quickly you could move.

Your left arm wanted to draw up to your torso from the way your damaged shoulder muscle was currently being foreshortened. Raising it even close to 45 degrees made it feel like it was being ripped off of your body. You took a couple of deep breaths, forcing it straight down to your side, and gritted your teeth though the pain as you returned to the main room.

John had already finished setting up the portable table and turned, his expression going almost comically aghast. "Should I call somebody? What can I do? I can carry you or--"

"No, it's fine," you told him. "I just have to work through it."

He hovered next to you as you made the few, torturous step back to the bed, his worry a palpable thing. Your bad knee buckled and he caught your arm -- fortunately, the right one -- to keep you from going down. His fingers hit a bruise hidden under your sleeve but you managed to not react.

The stricken look he gave you meant he'd seen the reaction anyway.

"There we go," you said, trying to sound breezy but the result was more winded than anything as you propped up against the headboard. "I'm ready for lunch. Are you? Lunch sounds great right about now."

He seemed at a loss as to what to do. You gingerly reached out and wrapped your fingers around his.

"I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm healing on schedule and it could've been much worse."

He nodded shortly, very, very carefully folding his other hand over yours. With a brief glance away, he nodded a final time as if agreeing to something you couldn't hear and then exhaled purposefully, affecting a lighter tone. "Well, let's see how that eggplant parmigiana is, then, hm?"

Even though physical therapy wasn't scheduled again until tomorrow, you went ahead and did the exercises anyway. Not only did it give you something to do after John left, but you were even more inspired to try to regain your strength as soon as possible.

Since you were alone, you felt free to swear your way more and more creatively through the entire session and only after the fact did you worry that maybe you had accidentally taught Cortana some new words and phrases.

Nah, you thought. Surely, she's not stuck sitting at some console all day and night, listening for me to need something, right?

You almost asked it out loud, just to see if she was listening, but decided against it. You didn't want to imagine she'd been instructed to keep her earpiece in to monitor you even when she took a meal or bathroom break. Or that maybe she never even actually got to go off-duty at all. It hadn't escaped your attention that John apparently didn't trust anybody else to provide your erstwhile overwatch.

You ate your dinner when it arrived, a very delicious chicken gumbo, then turned in early, since sleep was also an important factor in healing.

But your sleep was restless, the aches in your body keeping you from getting comfortable, and then when you did doze off, your mind kept taking you back to those moments when you were trapped. A couple of times, you found yourself jolting awake, John's name on your lips. You wondered if he was on base, asleep in the Spartan quarters. You'd assumed he would come back if he were here but you hadn't actually asked him to. It was his room, though, so wouldn't he...?

Try to get some sleep, that's the best thing right now. You'll feel stronger tomorrow, you silently instructed yourself, trying to find a comfortable position.

The next time you woke, your heart was thundering in your ears and you made a small panicked noise.

The lights abruptly came up to a quarter and you looked around wildly.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

John sat up from where he was stretched out over on the couch and you instinctively reached for him. He was there almost as if appearing by magic, letting you grip his hand as he leaned over you.

You were tangled in the covers and struggled to free yourself. He carefully extricated you with his free hand.

"Were you having a nightmare?" he asked and you nodded.

"I- I didn't know you were here," you said, stumbling over the words. "Why are you on the couch? You could share. I'd- I'd like you to."

He got that slightly stricken look again. "I'm heavy. I'll hurt you by moving around. I can't... I can't cause you more pain. I'm right here, though."

You understood what he meant but it still stung a bit like rejection. You normally would've let him go, would've tried to accept it gracefully, but the phantom weight on your chest changed the words on your tongue.

Your voice emerged small and compressed. "I need you, John."

The words clearly hit him like a plasma bolt to the chest and his fingers closed gently around yours.

"All right," he finally said. "I'll be careful."

It took a few minutes but eventually you were in his arms, turned on your right side with your injured left arm resting on his chest, your head tucked into the curve of his neck. All of the movement did hurt but you absolutely didn't care; all that was important was that he was here, you could hear his heart beneath your ear, could feel his warmth seeping into all of your pains and soothing them.

"Thank you," you murmured into the softness of his shirt.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, kissing the top of your head and lightly brushing his fingers across the hand you had on his sternum.

You were almost asleep when you thought, but weren't completely sure, that he also quietly said, "I need you, too."