#sometimes you can just be a horrible goose

[ghouljams]

Speakinggggg about the nun: say she slips up and kisses soap, does he has a meltdown because he thinks he’s responsible for corrupting a woman of the cloth? Or is super devious about it even before he knows she’s not a real sister

I'm telling you right now, Soap has a corruption kink here. He is devious about it, he doesn't know she's a fake nun but he also doesn't really care lol this got long, as Soap and his nun always get:

In order to keep up appearances you and your roommates help out at the church sometimes. It’s not too bad, the reverend is nice. Besides that they’re one of your customers so you don’t feel too pious helping them. Really does wonders for your nerves being in a house of God and feeling like you might burst into flames at any second. It would suck to die in your full nun kit, it’d be a horrible ghost outfit. 

Soap has never been one for religion, seems like a crock of shit to be beholden to some man in the sky. What’s God ever done for him? If there was a God he knows a couple people that should’ve been struck down long ago and were currently living very well. This was where Goose said you’d be though, so he was stomaching the church grounds.

“Soap?” One of your sisters catches him, fuck what is her name? “What are you doing here?” Steamin’ hell is it that obvious he isn’t a church man?

“Lookin’ to confess some things, don’t suppose you can help?” He flashes her a smile, watching her lips draw in a thin line.

"We… don't really do that, but you can talk to Moon, she's good at keeping secrets." She says, going back to what she’d been doing.

“And where might she be?”

Johnny finds you doing inventory in the church’s pantry, neatly cataloguing canned goods and recent donations. You hardly look up from your clipboard when he enters, figuring it’s one of your roommates. You turn to ask what they need just as his hand fixes itself to the shelf behind you.

“Johnny? What’re you doing here?” You blink up at him, he seems to be thinking something through. You raise a brow while you wait for his brain to kick into gear.

“I’ve come to confess,” He says finally. You smile, trying not to laugh.

“And they sent you to me,” You shake your head at his short nod, “Alright let’s hear it. Tell me your sins so you may be absolved.” You mean it as a joke, but he steps closer and the air changes. Something small and shivery in the back of your mind takes in how big, and warm, and close he is, how dangerous it is to be in close quarters with this man in particular.

"Forgive me sister for I have sinned," he says, voice low and seductive as he boxes you in, "I've been having impure thoughts." Your eyes dart to his jeans, you snap them back to his face as quick as you can.

"That's… fine, I'm- well I mean not fine in like a catholic sense," you press closer against the shelf as he leans more heavily on his arm, "Are you catholic Johnny?"

"Not even a speck," he says, tipping his head to the side, you mirror the motion swayed by the way his eyes land on your lips.

"That's your first sin I think."

"Won't be my last."

“You’re- this is-” Your brain throws up half cooked protests against having him this close. He hums, waiting for you to say something with a smile.

“Hail Marys,” He says, voice so thick and low that you have to press your legs together under your skirt, “you’re supposed to give me a number.”

“I’m-” Your eyes dart past him to the door.

“You, hen,” His fingers touch your jaw, directing your attention back to him, “just you.”

“I am-” You can feel your breathing, the way your chest rises and falls, you wet your lips with your tongue, “-a pious woman.” Are you reminding him or yourself? His smile seems to grow.

“And I’m a devoted man.”

“To the devil maybe,” Your voice whispers, letting him tip your head back, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Maybe.” He tells you, and kisses you before you can respond.

You’ve been kissed before, you’re not a real nun after all, but not like this. Not this slow and exploratory drag of his lips against yours that makes your eyes flutter closed. Indulgent, your brain purrs, he’s indulging in you in a way only a sinner can. With all the haste of molasses as his nose nudges against yours, coaxes you to open for him as his tongue swipes against your palette. He groans and your stomach drops hot in your core. You drop your clipboard in favor of pressing your hands against his firm stomach, fingers shivering against the hard muscle. Impure thoughts indeed. He pulls back and you blink your eyes open to see him smiling down at you. His thumb swiping at the wetness on your lower lip.

“Isn’t that pretty,” He tells you, you swallow, “Thank you, Hen.”

He leaves you almost as quickly as he found you, and you are absolutely fucked. Bad, very, very, bad for business.

[antiwhores]

Surrendered! - Bakugou x villain!reader

——-

A villain who dynamite couldn’t catch? Crazy. Especially a villain that cant even villain right.

This has been sitting in the drafts for months. I just decided to finish it because I’ve been gone for a bit. Short drabble

You were possibly the most annoying fucking villain ever. Bakugou would die on that hill.

You had built quite a name for yourself in the villain society. You were known as Dynamite’s archenemy; or migma. Because you were the only villain he couldn’t get rid of. You were actually rather respected in the villain community for it.

The government calls you a villain but some people would say you’re more of an anti hero than a villain.

Its not as if you kill people or anything. You are no mass murderer - you have never killed someone. Nor do you have any planes to take over the city or destroy all heros. You have never put a civilian in danger. In fact, you’re known to help people. Sometimes during intense battles you’ll even swoop in to get civilians and maybe throw off the villains from a far. You’re just… mildly infuriating.

Your evil doings are just stupid pranks with your stupid quirk that you had no license to use. And it absolutely infuriated Katsuki.

Some of your most well known feats are as such:

you hacked into the Japan news broadcast just to stream a video of you doing horrible karaoke of old 2000s albums.

You broke into hero Dynamites agency, stole some computers and made sure to keep their location on. Then you sent the whole agency on a wild goose chase to find them and what they hoped was you.

You cut the power in the building of one of the most important hero celebrations and award ceremonies right when they were announcing the number one hero.

You planted a harmless but rapidly spreading pineapple species in low income neighborhoods. They spread like flowers in the cracks of a fluorescent city in no time. Apparently its “vandalism” but everyone got to eat for a bit.

Everything you have done, it was to piss off a certain group of people.

Dynamite started chasing you around about 3 years ago when he was climbing the ranks after UA. And in all these years he has never been able to catch you.

You are the only thing that he cant win against because you always have an idea.

So naturally, he’s heavily on guard when he follows you down a busy street. A quirk was imprinted on him to completely mask his identity. He was like a whole new person.

Little did he know that you knew it was him. He can hide his face and voice but he can’t hide his booming presence.

Too bad you didn’t have time to indulge in some teasing with him. You had just done another one of your crimes a week ago and you had to see someone. It wasn’t too bad this time, you just blew up a building that was destroying the local echo system. No one was hurt, you evacuated everyone.

This person you had to see had key information on another man you needed to find. So you hoped that Dynamite would fuck off long enough for the quick conversation to end as you stood in an alleyway.

The man spoke to you in your mind. A telekinetic.

When he was done, he spoke aloud.

He took out a cigarette and lit it, offering you one. You refused. “Also, I’m sure you know this lass but…” He puffs out smoke to the opposite side of you and points directly at the wall Dynamites hiding behind. “That man has been following us for quite a bit!”

Dynamite barely holds back his sharp intake of breath. He thought that he was being to slick! What the fuck is up with you and your friends? At least you didn’t know who he was.

“Yeah,” you giggled, “thats my best-friend.” You spun towards him, lifting your hands to project your voice. “Where are your manners? Following a lady! Come say hello Dynamite!”

Damn it all.

In a split second he’s on you but you’re even faster. You’re suddenly behind him, embracing him in a tight hug.

“I haven’t seen you in like 6 months, Dynamite!” You squeal. “I was afraid you moved on to those other stupid villains. Like that bitch Movaro. You know, she tried to kill me!”

He’s been held in this grip before and he knows you have no intention of running away until he cuffs you so he just lets you speak into his neck.

“Serves you fucking right.” He reached behind his back and drags you off by your hoodie with one hand. You just let him hold you off the ground in front of him with a smile.

Although he hates to admit it, he’s grown quite attached to you. These past 3 years have been… weird. All he thinks about is how he wants to jail you already. But jailing you seems so wrong for him. You’re a villain, sure, but no extra has avoided him successfully for 3 years straight like you have.

He slams you against the wall and pins you there, preparing for a move to escape. You just smile at him though, “I have good news!”

You put your hands up and behind your head, “I give up!”

[trinkerichi]

What is your oppion on ribbun?

OOOH that's Jax/Gangle right? Oh boy you probably aren't asking for this but I feel like doing a big ramble and this is gonna be a long one. CHARACTER ANALYSIS INCOMING!

I'll preface this by saying I don't usually get too invested in shipping. I really like drawing interesting character dynamics tho, so I'll play around with the ships I see without really sticking to one. It's why I tend to draw a LOT of different ships only a few times each.

I'll ALSO preface by saying I really uh. Don't like Jax very much lmao I'm sorry. I'm not opposed to jerk characters in general, but I just didn't think any of his lines were funny. BUT I think that comes down to the fact that we only have a pilot and haven't seen much of their personalities yet. My favorite jerk characters, (Osomatsu, Bender, etc) all balance out their jerkiness by being dorky insecure losers that almost never win in the end so you kinda feel bad for them. I think if Jax ends up being written that way I'll become endeared to him. And goose has revealed before that none of the others actually like Jax so I kinda want to see that.

On the other hand, Gangle is my favorite character. She has barely 2 minutes of screen time but I love her concept so much. A friend called me out for this recently lol but all my BIG FAVS are characters that are themed around strong divided emotions. Pretending they're happy even when they're not, and having a hard time controlling their emotions as a result. (The latest ENA episode was a great example of this. Anyway.) Gangle being a sensitive flimsy pile of ribbons with a literal mask for a face? The fact that the tragedy mask seems to be her REAL face, while the comedy mask is so fragile that breaks if you so much as breathe on it too hard? I find that COMPELLING I want to see a whole series about her honestly.

Pairing her with Jax was inevitable, as is any fandom ship where the characters hate each other in canon. I usually hate this kind of pairing but this time I found it kinda fascinating! I think it's cause we don't really know a whole lot about either one of them so there's a lot of room to explore their characters through it.

I really do feel like Jax could hold a specific resentment towards Gangle. He's obviously not handling being stuck in the circus well, and he's bullying easy targets. He plays dirty. A person with high self esteem doesn't do that. Maybe he takes it out on Gangle because he hates how open she is about her feelings. He's putting on a tough and uncaring front, trying to pretend nothing bothers him, and she's out here being sensitive and fragile? How dare she! He's pushing her to her limits and she still won't harden herself. She doesn't have the energy to! Maybe she feels like she doesn't deserve to defend herself. It's so unhealthy! It's horrible!... And uh, sometimes horrible things are fun to write! DON'T JUDGE ME.

(And just so nobody accuses me of being insensitive here, without revealing too much, I've been in Gangle's place before. That's all I'll say.)

So with relationship stuff oh boy. We can take all those toxic traits to their extremes. But who would be the instigator?

What if Gangle coped with Jax's bullying by becoming more clingy. Becoming used to it.. Seeking him out. After all, he's paying attention to her right? Her warped self image being depressed and isolated in this circus for years would drive her to wanting any kind of stimulation.. does she realize this is self harm? What's it going to take for someone to step in before it goes too far?

Or on the other hand, what if Jax's fixation on bullying Gangle got mixed up in some more complex feelings.. If he really wanted to, I can see him manipulating her into a relationship just to see how many boundaries he can cross. He could have her wrapped around his little finger. Literally. He DOES have some misplaced affection for her deep down. He won't let himself think about it long enough to understand it, he's acting on impulse. She's uncomfortable but thankful for the seemingly lessened cruelty, so she puts up with it. And sometimes, rarely, between the thinly veiled insults disguised as compliments, he says something truly genuine and vulnerable. She can see it. He needs help. He needs love. But they're both hurting each other even more. It's wrong, but they're stuck now.

And now.. for the drama. Nobody can be pushed that far before snapping. As is the usual trope with soft spoken pushover characters, Gangle is a ticking time bomb. And I don't think she'd be willing to abstract entirely because of Jax, at least without clawing her way down.

Here's a fun fact. Have you seen that walk cycle video? Jax is tall, sure, but Gangle is PRETTY DARN TALL TOO. and she slouches. With her ribbons stretched to their full length she would tower over everybody. I want to see her get angry and be SCARY. I want her to stand up to Jax and lash out and scream and see him Genuinely Terrified. Everyone else caught in the crossfire too, covered in ribbon slashes. It wouldn't last forever. If the tension doesn't cause her to abstract she'll calm down eventually, or someone will be forced to break her mask to snap her out of the tantrum. Jax would pretend it didn't shake him at all, but would be noticeably quiet afterwards. Kinda shifting uncomfortably, they both avoid eye contact for as long as possible. His teasing towards Gangle never goes beyond slight ribbing again.

Whew.

Ok uh if you read this far, I don't LIKE the ship but it's a great character exercise! Hah I've thought a lot about it clearly. That being said, i usually prefer sweet cuddly ships myself. I think my favorite is Gangle/Pomni. I haven't seen this one around much, but those two are my favorite characters in the show and I'd love to see them interact! I think they could help each other with their anxieties and it'd be really cute. I don't even necessarily need it to be romantic I just think they'd have a sweet little dynamic together.

Surprisingly I've seen Gangle shipped with Zooble the most even though they haven't talked at all either and Zooble has like.. 2 lines. It might be cute but I wanna know more about them first.

As for Gangle n Kinger, I prefer them to have more of a father daughter type dynamic.

[bombusbombus]

It is vitally, vitally important that Clark Kent is boring.

I don't mean 'boring' in an inherently bad way. A desk job is boring. Data analysis is boring. Due process is boring. All of these things are imperative for a functioning society but almost nobody will ever be praised for them.

When my car got stolen a year ago, the guy who took it stole a bunch of other stuff too. I was sitting with a cop in a backroom of the campus police station for almost an hour while he was doing paperwork (to make sure everyone would get their stuff back), and at one point he looked up at me and he said, "sorry about this. It's not all shootouts and car chases like on TV."

And I almost said, "well, due process is sexy" (I didn't, for obvious reasons). But he looked surprised when I told him I thought due process was pretty cool. Like nobody is supposed to think due process is cool. Things are only cool if they're glamorous or flashy.

The guy who stole my car was horribly addicted to meth. The sheriff told me, "you should press charges so we can put him away for as long as possible."

The sheriff was lost in a world of heroes and villains. He was the "hero." The addict was the "villain." But the person who helped people was the guy at a desk, who went back over the mile long paper trail and returned every stolen item to its owner. The important stuff is when some guy in an office writes an algorithm to save endangered whales, or when the third double blind test finally shows sufficient evidence for the efficacy of a new cancer treatment. The goose that actually lays the golden egg almost never cackles.

This is why the 'Glasses' comic is so important, to me. We live in a world which glorifies exciting acts of heroism but not "boring" ones. We live in a world that thinks people like Clark Kent aren't important, when they're often doing the most important work, solving the systemic issues, saving people who aren't lost yet. Sometimes we need firefighters, but in a perfect world, we'd only need safety inspectors.

And sure, Superman is necessary within the story. There are disasters and villainy he can prevent. There are lives he can save. But being Superman is ultimately a terrible sacrifice, and if the heroism wasn't necessary he'd be Clark Kent all day. That's what makes him not a cop: he's not enjoying the car chases and shootouts. He avoids letting things get 'interesting' at all costs. He avoids glory.

The comic Strong Female Protagonist (by Brennan Lee Mulligan and Molly Ostertag, BRING IT BACK) has several fascinating pieces of philosophy on superheroes and society, but my favourite is this:

Kal-el, living solar battery, isn't just someone who contributes to society from the outside or the top. He plugs away at boring, everyday kindnesses just like other humans. (This can make for great contrasts with Lex Luthor, who is the epitome of a light bulb person and could never understand why Superman would want to be a battery.)

Clark Kent is boring. Clark Kent plays things by the book. Clark Kent is sexy in the same way that due process is sexy, and any character who thinks the Clark Kent side is 'less than' the Superman side, is textually a goddamn idiot. "No glory save honour" and he will always have both.

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Hi I was talking abt this with my brother earlier and just. The reason why loss and pain and grief hits so hard in ATLA is because you don't see what happens, you only see the aftermath, the scars it leaves behind. Imma use four examples- the Air Nomads, Kya (Sokka & Katara's mom), Hei Bai's forest, and Zuko getting his scar.

With the Air Nomads, you see the shell that they left behind in the world with the Air Temples and through Aang. You see how horribly it effects Aang, how his grief and rage at losing his entire people force him into the Avatar State. Examples of this are when he found Gyatso's skeleton, and when he lost Appa. You get to see how his grief transforms him so horribly, and how his survivor's guilt eats away at him, most notably in The Storm. There's also another thing that I want to touch on about this, but I'll wait until Zuko's section.

With Kya's murder, you don't see it. You only actually ever see her once in the entirety of ATLA, and that's only for a few seconds. But you grasp how devastating it was through the effect it left on Katara and Sokka. You can particularly see the scars it left through Katara's rage- we even got an entire episode, The Southern Raiders, dedicated to the rage and grief that Katara still feels about her mother's murder however many years after she died.

Hei Bai's forest is one of the easiest of these to conceptualise because it's literally the main plot of The Winter Solstice, Part 1: The Spirit World. Hei Bai's forest was burned down, the forest that he had been guarding for hundreds of years, and it leaves a physical scar on the land- Sokka even refers to it as such when they first come upon it. Hei Bai's anger is so great that he takes it out on whoever it can, capturing villagers from Senlin Village for misdirected revenge. The devastation of the land is felt through Hei Bai's anger, Aang's misery/guilt, and the physical effect it left on the land.

Finally, Zuko's scar. Like everything else, we never actually see what happens. We hear him scream and nothing else. We then see Zuko's desperation to return home, his anger at the world/universe that he has to go through this. And, I guess what makes it even worse, in The Storm we get a direct comparison of what life was like before he was scarred. Because we see how enthusiastic and optimistic Zuko was, and then we see what he became afterwards. This is the same with Aang and the Air Nomads- we see how lively the Air Nomads were, Aang's friends and home, and then we are left with the reality that all of those people were murdered and are dead. Zuko was a regular child, eager to do good and help his people, and he was punished horribly for doing so. He became bitter and resentful and miserable, banished from home on a wild goose chase. You can see the scars, both literal and metaphorical, that that event left on his character.

This is why I hate the live action already. I feel like they're just trying to profit off of showing ✨new✨, ✨exciting✨,✨never seen before scenes✨, like the Air Nomad genocide and how Zuko got his scar. I wouldn't put it past them to show Kya's murder, because they're most likely going to. I'm saying this as someone who loves writing about suffering and pain (woohoo teenage angst), sometimes not showing the traumatic event, only the aftermath, hits harder than showing it. Reference the above paragraphs for evidence, and then watch ATLA for even more that I didn't list/missed.

[callsignspark]

Bradley and Mary

straddling your partner's thighs

look at what you've done, anon. I've gone and written something ridiculously long.

send me a physical intimacy prompt for any of my Dagger, Sword & Shield couples!

your lap is my safe place - part i

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, uterine cancer (discussions of a terminal illness and treatment), death due to cancer (established universe death), grief over losing a parent, funerals, panic attacks, vomiting, you don’t need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this but you should anyway

word count: 7.1k

part ii - coming soon

note: originally, this was supposed to be a short, simple prompt answer - one part sad and one part smutty - but it's gotten extremely out of hand due to my inability to be brief. so this is part one (the sad part), and the smutty sequel will be coming (ha) sometime early next week. and when I say this part is sad, I mean sad. some of this is very much based on my experience with loved ones who have had cancer and/or were terminally ill. it was very therapeutic to write, even if I did cry a whole lot.

Tuesday, September 3, 2002 | 06:35 A.M.

Bradley wakes up to his alarm clock blaring in his ear, feeling like he’s going to throw up, which is weird for him. Mav says that he’s never met anyone with a stronger stomach. Eighteen-year-olds have stomachs of steel, his mom jokes when she’s having a good day.

He stumbles down the hall and hangs his head over the toilet. Nothing comes up. The nausea goes away in a few minutes, but his gut still feels twisted. He brushes his teeth and decides the likely culprit is the new recipe Mav attempted for dinner last night. He choked down a few bites of the horrible fish tacos before his uncle called it a failure and ordered pizza.

Back in his room, it doesn’t take him long to finish getting ready, pulling on his new first-day-of-school outfit and shaping his mustache. He doesn’t care what Slider says; it’s looking good, much thicker than when he started growing it in April.

“It’s my first day of senior year, my last first day of school. Until the academy, anyway. But with the summer training, the first day of classes probably won’t even feel like a first day.”

His father’s official Lieutenant-JG portrait stares back at him. Unanswering as he fixes his hair.

“Mom is getting worse… She’s getting weaker; I don’t think we have very long before she has to go into hospice. I really want her to get better - I wished for it - but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

He swallows hard and fights back tears, remembering his birthday just a few months ago. Everything hadn’t seemed quite as bad then as it is now.

“I hope she can make it to Christmas. I almost have enough money saved up to buy her that pair of earrings that look like the ones Princess Diana had at her wedding. They’re not real pearls like hers, obviously, but the lady at the jewelry counter told me they’re replicas, so I think she’ll like them anyway.”

Brown eyes identical to his own stare back at him. Hints of the mischievous, prank-loving man visible in the polite smile captured. The old photo is carefully tucked into the edge of his mirror; it was his mom’s first, but she gave it to him when he was eight. She had caught him staring at it every day for a week, quietly talking to it about his day.

“Wish me luck, Goose. It’s gonna be a big year.”

Downstairs, he’s greeted with the second weird thing of the day. First, his stomach, and now his mom is flipping pancakes. She’s hardly had the strength to use the bathroom by herself in the last six months, but this morning, she’s standing at the stove, singing along to the radio, and making his favorite breakfast.

She’s always said that bad things happen in threes, but strange things happen in pairs.

He thinks she might be right, but if she feels good, he’s not complaining. She never feels good anymore.

“There he is! Oh, Mav! Look at my baby boy, all grown up and ready for his last year of high school!”

“Ma…” He groans, and without prompting, he bends down to let her kiss and pinch his cheeks like he always does.

He’s not sure how many good days she has left, so he tries his best to behave and make her life easier.

He doesn't complain when she asks him to take the garbage out after he already did; her memory hasn’t been as good since she got sick. He keeps the anger inside when everyone forgets his baseball games because she had chemo; it’s more important for Mav and Ice to take care of her than to watch him throw a ball around. He even offered up his college fund to help pay for another round of treatment. He was denied before he could even finish the suggestion, but he just wants her to get better more than anything in the world.

Needs her to get better.

She sets a stack of pancakes in front of him, and again, he has the urge to cry when she kisses the top of his head. Her perfume takes over his senses, and if he closes his eyes, it’s almost like he’s little again.

A massive stack of fluffy, perfectly round pancakes, slathered in butter and syrup, filled with his mom’s love.

Mav sitting across the table from him, drinking the worst black coffee to exist on the planet.

His mom humming off-key at the stove, her beautiful, golden hair swishing as she gets into a song.

But then he opens his eyes, and he’s not little anymore.

The pancakes are still covered with butter and enough syrup to give him a cavity, but they’re not the same. They’re flat and mishappen; her arms aren’t very strong anymore, so Mav must’ve had to help her.

Mav still sits across from him, terrible black coffee in his mug, but now he looks old. Too old for someone in his thirties. They’ve been lucky he’s been able to be here this past year. After Mom got sick, Ice and Viper pulled some strings to get him assigned to a shore-duty desk job. Bradley knows he hates it. Can see it in the way he watches every plane that passes overhead - civilian, military, it doesn’t matter - his fingers twitching to be the one controlling the powerful engines. But he never complains, is steady and strong, taking Mom to appointments and Bradley to school.

His mom is humming at the stove for the first time in a long time, somehow more in tune than she’s ever been. He wants to make a joke about how the treatments must have fixed her tone-deafness, but it would just make everyone sad. A reminder that it’s the only thing her treatment has fixed.

It’s taken everything else away.

Her skin, once bright and youthful, is now dull and gray-toned. Her energy has been zapped; she doesn’t even have it in her to make it through their Sunday movie nights. Her body is frail. She was always slim, but now she borders on gaunt, her appetite nonexistent most of the time. Her hair was the first thing to go, a rotation of brightly colored scarfs and hats replacing the blonde strands that used to reach her shoulders. He looks at today’s choice. A bright red scarf that matches the white sundress and red cardigan she’s pulled on.

She looks pretty.

“You look pretty, mom.”

It grabs the attention of both adults, the two of them staring long enough that he squirms in his chair.

“Thank you, baby.” Her pleased smile tells him it was the right thing to say. “You don’t want your pancakes?”

“I do. They look great, but my stomach kinda hurt when I got up, so I don’t want to eat right now. I’m sorry. If you put them in the fridge, I can eat them for dinner.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! It’s a special day; we’re going to have something special for dinner! Something that Mav won’t be making.” The teasing smile she sends to the table makes the knot in his stomach unwind some. It makes him feel good enough to take a small bite.

The shape is wrong, and they’re not fluffy enough, but the taste is the same. The flavor melts over his tongue. The pressure in his chest, the one that showed up around the same time as his mom’s cancer diagnosis, lightens a little bit.

I should fake sick and stay home.

The thought comes out of left field, but he’s immediately on board. She hasn’t had a good day in forever, and he doesn’t want to miss it. Who knows when the next one will come. If there will even be another good day. He wants to spend time with his mom while she knows what’s happening.

“My stomach hurts; I don’t think I can go to school.” He groans and grabs his stomach, trying to look as pathetic as possible to sell his story.

He’s forgotten how sharp his mom is, how well she knows him. “Nice try, honey. You were fine two seconds ago, and you’re not missing your first day of senior year. Now, c’mon! It’s photo time!”

Carole is marching towards the front door before he can argue, so he tries to sway Mav in his favor. But the dark-haired man just shakes his head and avoids eye contact, grabbing the camera off the counter. Bradley stands in the middle of the kitchen, the knot retwisting itself.

He suddenly realizes that his upset stomach has nothing to do with yesterday’s tilapia trying to get its revenge and everything to do with what he overheard in the waiting room during his mom’s last checkup.

“I know, I heard. Isn’t it terrible? He'd been sick for a while, but it seemed like he was getting better. He even took his kids on a bike ride, and then - BAM! - he was gone the next day!”

“Oh, that happens a lot with people who are sick for a long time. Toward the end, they get this sudden burst of energy. It’s like God’s way of giving a happy memory to them and their loved ones. Letting them have one last good day before they go.”

He’s actually going to throw up this time.

Bradley drags his feet all the way to the front door, delaying his departure as much as possible. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he’s not going to win any fight against her right now - he’s going to school, come hell or high water. And he doesn’t want to fight with his mom; instead, he chooses to commit the moment to memory.

The gentle touch of her hands as she fusses with his hair, making sure it’s just right before any photos.

The brightness of her smile, how it’s the one thing that’s never dimmed despite everything she’s gone through.

The teasing barbs she exchanges with Mav, the man who has been family to her for longer than Bradley has been alive.

He looks at Mav, the man who has done his best to help raise him. Tried so hard to be a fatherly figure in place of the man who was lost too soon. Mav looks tired, Bradley wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as him.

She’s going. She’s going, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Just like every year since kindergarten, they squish together on the porch, his mom wrapping her arm around his waist. He thinks about how she used to have to squat down so their heads were together. Now, she’d have to go on her tiptoes, and he’d have to crouch down for that to happen.

He knows his smile looks fake; he has to force himself because this might be the last photo he gets with his mom, and that makes him sad beyond words. Carole quickly fixes that, tickling his side on that one spot that always gets him. He giggles and tries to squirm away, his smile turning happy and real as she laughs at him.

“You’re just like your father; he was ticklish in the exact same spot.”

Even the talk of Goose doesn’t bring them down like it usually does. Today, it lifts everyone’s spirit to realize how much he’s like the father he didn’t get to know.

After Mav has taken an ungodly number of photos, Bradley asks for the camera and stands next to his uncle. He snaps photo after photo of his mom, hoping that if he takes enough, he won’t ever be able to forget this moment. Then he shuffles Mav on the porch and takes photos of the pseudo-siblings. He rearranges them one last time, setting the camera on the porch railing and hitting the timer.

He doesn’t know it yet, but that photo of the three of them standing in the yard with the Bronco just visible in the background will be the last photo taken of his mother. As an adult, it will be tied for first place with five others as his favorite photo of all time.

After the last flash, Carole pulls him close. “I am so proud of you, Bradley. Your dad would be so proud of you. You’re such a good boy. I love you so much.”

He hugs her tighter than he should; he can’t help it. The little gasp she lets out at the intensity of his hug makes him feel a bit guilty, but he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t want to let her go.

“I know, honey. I know. It’s okay.” She tries to soothe her baby, who isn’t a baby anymore. He’s a full-grown man who is so much smarter and wiser than any 18-year-old should ever be. He’s been through so much more than any kid should ever have to go through. She feels bad about how quickly he’s had to grow up. “Everything is gonna be okay.”

No, it’s not going to be okay. But he holds back his tears because he doesn’t want her to cry when she’s having a good day. He reluctantly lets go and slips on his sunglasses - aviators, just like Goose - before heading for his car, knowing that if he doesn’t go now, he’ll never be able to make himself leave.

With his stomach in even more knots than he thought possible, Bradley heads off to school, waving as he pulls out of the driveway. Trying to burn the image of his mom waving, one hand on her hip as Mav nudges her and makes her laugh.

From the moment he parks the Bronco in the seniors-only lot, the entire school day feels like torture. He can’t even enjoy the beginning of his senior year, something he had been waiting for.

Senior year means graduation. Graduation means going to college. College means packing his stuff for Annapolis. Annapolis means he can finally start working on his dream.

He’ll learn how to be an aviator while roaming the same halls as Goose while he learns the ins and outs of aeronautical engineering. He might even be lucky enough to get placed in the same dorm room. Being an aviator means he’ll be just like his father. And Mav. And Ice. And Slider. And all of his other uncles from the class of '86. But he can’t bring himself to be excited like usual.

Instead, he’s on edge the entire day. Waiting to get called to the nurse’s office. They all had agreed as a family - Bradley, Carole, Mav, and Ice - that if she passed when he was at school, they would have the front office call him down to the nurse’s office. Ice would pick him up, Mav likely busy dealing with the doctors and the funeral home and everything.

He can barely eat the lunch his mom packed. A peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, cut into triangles like when he was little. Chips, cucumber slices, and a chocolate chip cookie round out the meal. He tosses most of the food but is careful to keep the little note she had put in the brown paper bag.

I love you, Bradley. You’re going to do great things.

He presses it between the pages of his calculus textbook before he goes to gym, making sure he doesn’t bend the pink sticky note, preserving her swirly handwriting as best he can.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the eighth period rings. Relief washes through his body. There’s been no call from the nurse, and his school day is over. He hastily packs his bookbag and practically skips towards the parking lot, waving at some friends still in class. He’s one got free period during ninth period, and as a senior, he gets to leave early if he has no class.

He’s planning his route home - he wants to stop at the corner store to grab a treat for his mom - when he skids to a stop where the concrete sidewalk meets asphalt.

Ice is leaning against the bumper of the Bronco.

“Happy birthday, Bradley!” His mom yells before blowing a kazoo.

He couldn’t be happier. It’s his birthday, his mom is having a good day, and he just got the keys to the Bronco. It’s officially his, just like he always dreamed it would be.

“Your dad’s dream was for you two to fix it up together and give it to you on your eighteenth birthday,” Mav explained. “I know I can’t replace him, but we had a good time working on it, right?”

Bradley nods and hugs his uncle. Mav will never be his actual dad, but he’s the closest thing he has to one. He helped raise him. He had sacrificed so many weekends to spend time with him, showing him how to fix the Bronco or throw a football with a perfect spiral. He’d even taken him on motorcycle rides, but they agreed not to tell Mom about that.

“Okay, knock it off, you saps. It’s time to blow out your candles, Baby Goose!” Slider enters the dining room, looking ridiculous with a crooked party hat on his head. He’s concentrating hard to balance a cake that’s much too big for the six people in attendance at his birthday dinner.

It’s set in front of Bradley, and he laughs when he sees the cake is covered in little plane toys. It looks like a cake made for a little kid, and he loves it. Aunt Sarah lights his candles and starts singing. He sits there for 30 seconds, watching his family sing off-key and thinking about how he loves his family so much his heart hurts.

“Okay, baby! Close your eyes and make a wish!” Carole smooths a hand over his hair.

He smiles up at her. “Only if you help me, ma.”

She bends down, doing a quick countdown before they close their eyes and blow out the candles together. For the first time in years, Bradley actually makes a wish.

Please don’t let my mom die. I need her.

Ice is talking to Slider, who’s parked in his white Jeep, and even from this distance, he can tell they’ve been crying.

Slider has obviously given Ice a ride to school, and now they’re waiting for him. If Ice doesn’t have his truck, that means he’s going to be driving Bradley. And that can only mean one thing.

She’s gone. My wish didn’t come true.

His backpack hits the ground at the same time as his knees, and he throws up. It’s not a lot; he’s barely eaten today, and by the time his uncles reach him - their feet pounding on the pavement - he’s just sobbing and dry heaving into the grass.

“Breathe, Bradley. You gotta breathe, buddy.” He can’t tell which one is talking; blood is rushing in his ears, and he just keeps crying.

“Bradley.” It’s Ice, holding his face up. “Listen to me. Your mom is not dead. Do you hear me? She’s not gone. But she had to be taken to the hospital; we’re still waiting for the test results. We’re gonna go there right now, but you need to breathe first, okay? You gotta breathe.”

He does his best to stop crying and take in air. His body literally shudders on the first breath, his lungs greedily sucking in the oxygen. After a few breaths, a water bottle is shoved in front of his face. He doesn’t even know where it came from, but he drinks, his throat raw.

Slider pops a mint into his mouth before helping him stand. “It’ll help your throat and your stomach.”

He races to the car, throwing the keys to Ice, who almost drops them. Both adults speed out of the parking lot, heading directly for the hospital.

Halfway there Ice has a chilling realization. The car is silent. If he’s learned anything in the last twenty-odd years, it’s that a car ride involving a Bradshaw is never silent. There’s always talking and laughing. Usually, you can count on singing and bad seat dancing, but today, it’s silent. There’s not even the sound of crying. And when he looks over at Bradley, he’s startled to find him catatonically staring out the windshield, his face bone dry. He looks like a statue, and it freaks Ice out how quickly he’s shut down. He hasn’t attended Sunday service in a long time, doesn’t even know if he believes in a higher power, but at that moment, he sends off prayers to every deity he can name, hoping that one of them can pull off a miracle for the boy who’s already dealt with so much.

It’s even worse at the hospital, Slider nabbing the spot next to them seconds after Ice shifts into park. The three of them hurry towards the ICU, where a nurse lets them all in after she hears who they’re visiting. Technically, only Bradley and Pete meet the requirements to be allowed in, but the entire ward is aware of the situation and are prepared to let as many people visit as needed.

Bradley freezes halfway to Carole’s room, Slider almost running him over. A priest is walking out of her room. He shakes hands with Mav and somberly nods at the frozen trio when he passes.

Mav watches as his best friends gently nudge his godson forward. His heart feels like it’s splitting in two as tears start streaming down Bradley’s face. A face that looks so old and so young at the same time. Maverick feels like he’s watching his 18-year-old nephew transform into the little boy who just lost his dad. His lower lip trembles just like it used to when he would fall and scrap his knee. Except this time, there’s nothing Mav can do to make it better. There’s no antibacterial spray, no Spiderman band-aid, no over-dramatic kiss with magical healing powers. This time, there’s only a young man who’s now taller than him. He stands in the doorway with red eyes and a mustache that makes him look so much like Goose.

“What happened?” Bradley croaks, afraid to enter the room. He hates the way his mom looks when she’s hooked up to all those machines. The beeping hurts his ears. “Why was the priest in here?”

“I don’t know, kid. We were about to eat lunch, and she collapsed. The doctors don’t know either; the test results didn’t show anything that’s telling them what’s going on. Everything is just suddenly worse.” Mav gets choked up; he can hardly continue. “They uh- they said this is probably it. That we should say our goodbyes. That’s why I had the priest come in. When we talked about her final wishes a while ago, she made me promise she would get her last rites.”

Bradley tackles him in a hug before he finishes talking. They cry together, mourning the loss that hasn’t happened yet.

The four of them have been sitting in silence for hours, listening to the beep of the heart monitor, when Bradley speaks up from his post beside his mom. “What else does she want? I know she wants to be buried next to Goose, but what else? She didn’t tell me.”

“She wants yellow carnations in her arrangements. Her wedding band stays with her, just like Goose, but her engagement ring goes to you. She wants to be wearing that blue dress she wore when she first met your dad.”

“That’s it?”

“There are a few more legal things, like with the house and the cars, but that’s laid out in her will. She made me promise I’ll take care of you, which I was always going to do no matter what.”

And she made me promise I’ll never let you fly.

Mav doesn’t add that final promise to the list; it’s not the right time for that conversation. He’s not sure it’ll ever be the right time.

Carole can feel herself getting weaker, but today is a good day; she feels good. Strong.

“Peter Howard Mitchell! Listen to me, you stupid, stubborn, obnoxious jackass! We don’t have a lot of time before Bradley gets back, and we need to talk about this!”

Bradley had felt guilty about leaving to go to the movies with Tessa Richardson, but Carole had insisted - he’d had a crush on that girl for years. It was about time he had his first kiss. And she was 95% certain it was going to happen today. Her motherly instincts were tingling.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Carole! I’m sick of every conversation we have being about you dying!”

“You think I like talking about it? Knowing that I’m leaving behind my little boy?” She gets in his face, yelling with every ounce of strength she can summon. “You think I like knowing that my body is giving up? That I’m dying? I can feel it happening, Pete! I can feel myself drifting away! And nothing the doctors are doing is helping! I know that it’s scaring Bradley, scaring you, but it’s scaring me most of all!”

Maverick catches her, and they sink to the ground; she sobs in his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry; I’m so sorry, Carole. What do you need me to do?”

“Bradley can’t fly.” She pulls back, wiping her eyes. “He can’t fly for the Navy, Pete. I know he wants to, but you can’t let him.”

“But Carole, it’s his dream to-”

“To die just like his father?” Her words shock him. “I love Nick more than anything, Pete, you know that. But do you know what I would do to have him here with us today? Do you realize I’ve lived three times as long without my husband than I did with him? It’s been fifteen years - almost sixteen. I only knew Nick for five, and we were only married for three before he was gone. I would do anything to have Bradley know his father.”

“Care…”

“You’ve been incredible, Mav. You’ve done your best to be a father to him; he loves you so much. I love you so much; you’re my best friend. But I've missed my husband every day for the last fifteen years. He was the love of my life, and I miss him so much my heart hurts. I’m not going to be here, but I can’t stand the thought of the same thing happening to Bradley. I won’t let that happen to my baby. So, you have to promise me, Pete. Promise me you won’t let him fly.”

They sit on the floor in silence, staring at each other. The internal debate roars inside Maverick, hurting his chest. He loves the Bradshaws more than anything. He would do anything for them. He still feels guilty about his best friend’s death, knows it was his fault, even if the investigation said he was innocent. The guilt of Goose being gone eats away at him, little by little each day.

Carole is right.

He can’t - he won’t - lose Bradley the same way.

“I promise I’ll do my best to keep him out of the air. But Carole, he’s almost an adult. Soon, there won’t be much I can do to control him. I can’t stop him from applying to the Academy or joining the Navy.”

“Yes, you can. Get Ice to pull some strings, indebt yourself to Viper. Do whatever you have to do. Do everything you can to protect him, Pete.” Her voice is cold and emotionless, knowing it will destroy her son, but at least he’ll be alive.

It was the one and only time they had talked about it, but every time Bradley excitedly talked about his future, Carole would look at him with this face that made Mav feel awful. It’s her request, but he was going to be the reason Bradley’s dreams were crushed.

Mav leans over in his chair, guilt and hopelessness consuming his body. The knowledge that his godson was about to be more like him in all the ways he never wanted.

Orphaned. Mother dying, with a broken heart, years after his father was killed while flying.

Denied entrance to the Naval Academy due to something beyond his control.

“She doesn’t want anything else?”

“No.”

It’s the last word spoken. A lie.

Slider and Ice spend the night just outside the door in some extra chairs an orderly had been kind enough to scrounge up. Mav shifts between standing at Carole’s side to hold her hand and sitting ramrod straight at the foot of her bed.

Bradley stays by his mom’s side the entire night, clutching her left hand. He plays with her wedding band, twisting it around her finger like he used to when he was little. He thinks about how different everything is going to be. He’s going to be alone a lot more now. He’s legally an adult, so when Mav gets deployed or transferred, there won’t be a need to scramble to make sure he’s taken care of. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the house or if it’s even his to worry about. Mav, Ice, and his mom had taken care of the legal stuff without him. He wonders if Slider would loan him some money so he can get those earrings. She won’t be able to appreciate them, but he still wants her to have them. It’s the last thing he’ll be able to do for her. They’ll go nice with her blue dress, he thinks. He sits there and thinks. He’s there the whole time.

He’s there, wide awake, when Carole takes her last breath at 3:14 AM on September 4th. He’s there when the doctor comes in to declare her dead; he shakes Bradley’s hand, giving him the first of the thousand condolences that will follow. He’s there when the nurse comes in to turn off the monitors and unhook the IVs; she gently asks if he wants to leave while she cleans his mom up, but he refuses. He doesn’t have a lot of time left before he’ll never see her again; he can’t waste any time. He’s there for another hour, trying to say his goodbyes through sobs. He’s there until his uncles drag him out, promising him that he’ll see her again before the funeral. He’s still there, mentally, when he goes to sleep at Uncle Tom’s house. He and Pete are sleeping over, neither of them ready to face the house.

He’s there three days later, shyly asking the funeral director if it would be too much trouble to change his mom’s earrings. When he asked Uncle Ron about the money, he put them both in the car, drove to the mall, and paid for the earrings without question. The two of them hugged for a long time before they went home. He’s there at the viewing, next to his mother’s casket for hours, numbingly accepting condolences and hugs from hundreds of people. The one bright spot is being reminded how many people loved his mom. How wonderful she was to everyone she met.

He’s there at the graveside service, the first to place a rose on the polished wood. He stays there once it ends, refusing to leave, watching as the casket is lowered and the hole is filled with dirt. He’s there to place a bouquet of yellow carnations, her favorite, on top of the fresh earth. He pats the dual gravestone, one half still blank, before he lets Mav pull him to the car. He looks back one last time, and as the sunshine dries his tears, he swears he can hear his parents' laughter in the wind.

As an adult, now with two dead parents and one estranged, he’s there every year that he’s not deployed. He clears away any weeds and leaves before placing a bouquet of yellow carnations on the gravestone that now bears two names. Sometimes, there’s a single red rose already there when he arrives. Those are the years he knows Mav beat him to saying hello. He’s there for hours at a time, sitting with his parents and eating a bag of trail mix with extra M&Ms added - Goose’s favorite.

The first year that he and Mary are together, he’s there alone. He trusts her implicitly, and she knows the whole story. He told her what happened with Mav and everything that followed; it was a conversation they had early on. But this is something too raw, too personal, to share so soon in a relationship. He’s spent so many years doing this by himself that he’s not sure how he would handle having another person with him. Even if it was someone he loves so much.

Mary understands.

“Of course, you understand, you’re perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Bradley. I just care about your feelings.”

“You’re perfect for me.” He kisses her before she can protest. “Thank you for caring about me.”

The day of, she kisses him softly as he leaves, pushing a sandwich bag of trail mix into his hand. Her only ask is to tell her when he gets home safe if he needs space, letting him know that her house is always open if he doesn’t want to spend the night alone.

He spends that first year catching them up. Now that he’s stationed in San Diego, it’s easier to visit more often, but several things have happened since his last stop. Usually, he talks for a bit and then sits in silence, choosing to reminisce on the happy memories. This time, he spends most of the time talking. Telling his parents about Mav, the shenanigans of the Dagger Squad, about Mary. He tells them all about Mary. How much he loves her, how he hasn’t said it yet because it’s only officially been two months, how he’s pretty sure she can tell anyway. He goes on and on about her eyes, her kindness, her intelligence.

“I love her so much; I’m going to marry her.” He blurts it out, a small gasp following his declaration to the etched granite stone. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, but it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. And now he can’t stop thinking about it.

Mary in a white dress with a veil sitting on her pretty brown hair, a gold band on her ring finger. The two of them committing themselves to each other in front of all their loved ones. Twirling her around the dance floor to their song, dipping her at the end to kiss her and make her blush. Everything that would follow. A house. A dog. A few kids. Diapers and dance recitals to gray hair and wrinkles.

“Holy shit… I’m going to marry her.” The breeze ruffles his hair, and he knows it’s his parents. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll make sure we’re married before I get her pregnant, unlike you two.”

He decides to stay the night at Mary’s, feeling better than he ever has on this day. He goes to find her the moment he enters the house, using the key she recently gave him. She’s on her office floor, organizing her bookshelf, when he presses himself against her, devouring her in a kiss. Bradley’s added weight throws her off balance, and the two of them topple over, sprawled in the paperbacks.

When he finally pulls back, he’s pleased to see that she’s flushed and her chest is heaving.

“I’m not complaining, but what was that?”

“I’ve never had someone to come home to after visiting them; I’ve always done it alone.” He talks into her neck, enjoying the way her fingers tighten in his hair when his lips brush her skin. “I’m just really thankful I have you.”

“Oh, Bradley…” Mary doesn’t know what to say. She loves this man so much, and she knows it’s too soon to say that, so she shows him. The night ends with a shower and papercuts in places where papercuts should never happen.

The day sneaks up on him the second year they’re together. They’ve been busy; between work, helping Jake with his surprise, and preparing to move in together, August went by in a blink. It leaves him with no time to mentally prepare.

Bradley jolts awake, sweat covering his temples and his heart thumping. It’s the worst nightmare he’s had in months. It was a twisted mess of awful moments. Some real, some imagined. Reliving his mother’s death but worse, almost dying on the uranium mission, losing Mary to cancer, same as his mom. He woke up just as a doctor was telling him she was gone and he wasn’t allowed to see her.

“No, sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t go back there. Her husband doesn’t want anyone else back there. You’ll have to wait for the funeral… if you’re even allowed in, asshole.”

He whips the covers off and trips his way to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before his dinner makes a return trip. The commotion wakes Mary, and she quickly makes her way to him, finding him laying on the floor, his shirt whipped into the tub.

His chest is so tight it hurts. He can’t believe he’s having a panic attack. He hasn’t had a full-on panic attack in years. There’s been anxiety, moments where he can’t easily catch his breath and his heart beating faster than it should, but nothing like this. He feels like he’s drenched in sweat, his heart is pounding, and he can’t breathe.

“Bradley? Look at me, sweetie.”

Mary.

“Can you look at me, Bradley?” He can hardly see through the tears. “I know it’s hard because you’re crying so hard, but look at me.”

It takes all his strength to turn his head, but he does it because he knows she’s worried.

“There you are. Okay, baby, I need you to breathe with me.”

He’s not exactly sure how she does it, but she helps him calm down. His body listens to her instructions before his brain realizes.

It takes a while, but he can breathe normally again. She helps him sit up, propping himself against the tub and letting his head fall back. He hears the sink run before there’s a soft touch on his shoulder.

“Gonna touch you, that okay?” He nods, appreciative of how considerate she is, always thinking of him.

Mary gently wipes his face, cleaning it of tears and sweat before brushing the washcloth over his arms and chest. It helps ground him, feeling more inside his body than before.

“What time is it?” Bradley rasps as she rinses the cloth.

“Late. Or early, depending on how you want to think about it.” She peeks out of the door, checking the time. Her face is somber when she comes back to him. “It’s 3:20, honey.”

“Twenty years… she’s been gone for twenty years.” He reaches for her, and she easily complies, straddling his thighs when he tugs her hand.

They sit in silence, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

“I had a nightmare.” He starts, answering her silent question. “It was her death and the uranium mission back-to-back, losing her and then him.”

She hums, encouraging him to continue. She doesn’t know the details of that mission - her clearance level is high but not that high - but she knows that he and Mav barely made it back. Both of them brushing hands with death multiple times.

They have nightmares. Less frequently now that they’re a few years down the road, but they still happen. Mav dreams that he doesn’t save them, that one of the bogeys gets them before Hangman reaches them. Bradley’s feature him missing the helicopter, having to watch Mav bleed out.

“Then it was you. You were sick. It was the same thing as Mom, uterine cancer. And I couldn’t even say goodbye. You married someone else, and I wasn’t allowed in.”

She takes a sharp breath. That’s new.

“I don’t want to lose you, Mary. I love you so much, I think it would kill me.”

“Oh, honey.” She cradles his face, forcing him to look at her. “You listen to me, Bradley Bradshaw. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you more than anything. In two weeks, we’re going to be living together. When the time is right, we’re going to get married and have a family.”

She can't help but press a quick kiss to his mouth. “And I’m healthy. There’s no history of uterine or breast cancer in my family, and I just had my annual appointment last week. All the tests came back negative for bad things. Nothing is wrong. I'm totally healthy, okay? I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“You’re right, I can’t. We can’t control everything, and sometimes bad things happen. But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure I don’t ever leave you.”

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and scratchy. “I know it’s hard with what I do, but I promise you’re my number one thought when I’m in the air; coming home safe to you is my top priority.”

“Now, I’m gonna cry, Bradley.” They both let out watery laughs. “You’re such a sweet man.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now let’s go back to bed; I need my beauty sleep before I meet your parents.” She pulls him up, and they fall asleep quickly, tucked together as the early morning light peeks through the curtains.

When they get to the cemetery the next afternoon, a red rose sits on the headstone. One step in front of him, Mary picks it up and brushes some leaves off the base. He watches as she places the flower back in its spot, plucking a few dandelions before she stands.

“There,” she says, brushing dirt off her hands, “that’s better.”

The wind picks up, twisting her long hair around, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Mom, I know. She’s very pretty. I’m working on proposing. We gotta do some stuff first, but it’s coming.” He mutters under his breath.

“What was that, honey?”

“Nothing, baby doll. Want to help me put the blanket down?” His hat blows off, and he scowls at the tree that’s nearby, smiling when he hears her muffled giggle.

Miss you, dad.

part six will be coming next week! have a great weekend everyone!

@gretagerwigsmuse | @bobfloyds | @hangmanbrainrot | @notroosterbradshaw | @princessphilly | @roleycoleyreccenter | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice

fic tag | Mar[r]y Me masterlist | credit for dividers here

[ellestra]

Space Adventure

I already saw The Marvels and it was pretty much exactly what I was hoping for - light, fast, fun. I will keep this vague since it's only Wednesday but it was really fun.

The action flows nicely and we get really cool dynamics between the three Marvels. I love Monica confronting Carol about her abandonment and it was refreshing that they didn’t let their issues distract them from the fight. I liked how Monica was the responsible adult and became the voice of reason. I loved how quickly she and Kamala fall into a big sister - little sister dynamic. And of course Kamala was the best one with enjoying the adventure and world saving. And fangirling over Carol. And then Monica. And of course Fury too (she’s basically going all Fury at the end). Also I loved their training montage.

I liked how Carol is confronted with her failure to deal with stuff that can’t be solved just by punching through things. She tries to fix it all alone because she broke it. But at every step she is shown she can’t really do it alone. She needs friends who can both help and call her on her bullshit - whichever she needs at the moment. And sometimes solve the issue because they have necessary abilities or capabilities. Not just Monica and Kamala but also Fury, Goose and a certain royal.

The villain of this is driven by hurt and anger and Carol is responsible for all of it. It's a classic story of good intentions gone horribly wrong because just kill the evil leader is rarely a solution that ends wars. Most civilisations are not Chitauri. Dar-Benn has some understandable goals but, as always happens in such cases, prioritising revenge doesn't end well. And hubris doesn't help either. Still, I could see why she would not want to believe any offer from Carol to be genuine. And it's nice of Marvel to give both Zawe Ashton and Tom Hiddlestone a big moment this week.

Also , there is a flerken bit that, for me, was alone worth the price of admission. It’s horror for the participants and it’s comedy for the audience and the music makes it so much better. I see myself watching it on repeat once it hits the internet.

You don’t need to watch any of the TV series (they catch you up on the important parts). Sure it’d be easier to care about Kamala’s family dynamics if you’ve seen Miss Marvel but even that is skippable. If you watched certain D+ series you’d also be more excited about one of the teasers at the end. For the other Multiverse of Madness is a template.

[timetravelbypen]

22 for Thasmin 😁

Hello hello, I haven't forgotten! Here you go!

22. "Weirdly, the best sleep I’ve ever had."

            Yaz is exhausted. The Doctor’s had them on a three-day-long wild goose chase—or, wild dog chase, she supposes, although she still has no idea what the deal is with Karvanista—and as soon as they’d got back to the TARDIS, soaking wet and without any more answers than they’d started with, she’d sent them hurtling into the vortex and gone storming off without another word. Yaz had taken a very, very long shower and tried to go straight to bed, but in spite of the fact that her limbs feel like lead and she can feel the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes, her brain just won’t switch off.

            The Doctor’s been snappish with her, sometimes, for a while. Since the Master. She’s used to it, even if it grates at her, even if she doesn’t understand it. But these last few days have been… different. The Doctor’s seemed… desperate, somehow.

            She’s seemed scared.

            The look in her eyes before she’d stormed off earlier was dark and hopeless in a way Yaz was all too familiar with, but had never seen on the Doctor’s face before. She can’t stop thinking about it, for all she wants to go to sleep and forget everything about the last three days. She doesn’t think she can get the Doctor to talk about it, but she does want to make sure she’s okay… or at the very least not making things worse for herself.

            Sighing, she shoves herself out of bed and pads off to the kitchen to make two cups of tea. Mint tea for herself, and black tea with an obscene amount of sugar in it for the Doctor. But when she leaves the kitchen, she can’t find her anywhere. She’s not in the console room. She’s not in either of her favorite libraries. She’s not in the game room that’s been mostly empty since Ryan left, or in one of the other kitchens, or by the swimming pool. The ship’s got nearly endless corridors all winding around each other; she could spend hours looking and still not find her, At the very least, the tea’s going to get cold.

            She sighs, wondering if she ought to just give up and check on her in the morning, when the ship sort of burbles around her. The Doctor’s been teaching her to pilot, slowly, and there’s a lot she doesn’t understand yet. But a soft, bubbly hum at the back of her mind, along with the ambient glow of the hallway brightening along one side, is clear enough: the ship knows where the Doctor is, and wants Yaz to follow.

            So she does, circling back around until she’s in the console room again. Yaz frowns; she’d already checked in here, and it was empty, wasn’t it? But then the ship brightens the light around the hexagonal steps along the back wall, and Yaz finds a small, slumped over shape there.

            “Doctor!” she cries, just about remembering to set the tea down instead of dropping it in her haste. She looks so small, so crumpled up—had she gotten hurt and not said? Had something happened?

            She springs forward and reaches out, but unlike on Gallifrey, her hands are hidden somewhere underneath her, so instead Yaz gently brushes her hair away from her face, sneaking a hand between her cheek and her shoulder to try and find a pulse, because she looks so horribly still—

            As soon as Yaz’ fingers brush her skin, the Doctor jolts, sitting up so fast she sways on the step.

            “Careful!” Yaz says, catching her by the shoulders. “Doctor, what happened? Are you all right?”

            “Me? Oh, yeah, m’fine, just, you know, bit of a nap—”

            “The TARDIS were worried about you,” Yaz says, not saying that her heart is still racing in her chest, that the sight of her lying there fallen over like that had scared her too. “You sure you’re okay?”

            “Weirdly, the best sleep I’ve ever had, if you can believe it,” the Doctor says, and she stretches, her joints making horrible popping sounds.

            “Turns out, I can’t,” she says, rolling her eyes theatrically. “C’mon. It’s been an absolutely bonkers few days, you need some actual sleep in an actual bed. Where’s your room?”

            “Mmmm, haven’t really got one,” the Doctor answers, ducking her head. Yaz realizes she hasn’t pulled away from the grip on her shoulders, and so, very gently, she dares to stroke her thumbs back and forth, ready to let go the instant it seems like the Doctor’s uncomfortable. Instead, she can feel the tension bleed out of her body with each touch. “Got the whole ship, really, haven’t I? Except for your room, Yaz, that’s yours. Wouldn’t want to be rude.”

            “No,” Yaz agrees, smiling gently. She glances around and sees that either the TARDIS has once again provided or that they’ve forgotten to put away the stargazing mattress—it’s really become a bad habit at this point. “Still, there’s at least one better place than the stairs. Up you get.”

            The Doctor groans pathetically, but lets Yaz pull her to her feet and walk her over to the mattress on the floor, lets her peel off her coat and boots before collapsing onto it face-first. Yaz chuckles; she’s still concerned that the Doctor’s so tired, still worried about that hopeless look on her face and the shattered way she’d just found her, but looking at her now, starfished across the mattress with her hair fanning out around her head like a burst of sunlight, she can’t help but smile. She’s adorable like this, really.

            “See?” Yaz tells her, grabbing one of the blankets the Doctor hasn’t already pinned beneath her and pulling it up over her shoulders. “Better, right?”

            “Mmm,” the Doctor hums.

            Yaz nods, letting her fingers trail over the edge of the blanket. She’s not sure why she’s lingering. She should go, let her get some sleep, try and get some herself. But she can’t quite bring herself to move away just yet. When she finally does, though, the Doctor’s hand snakes free of the blanket to grab her own.

            “Yaz…” she says quietly. “You could… that is, could you… just for a little while…”

            “Do you want me to stay?” Yaz asks, just as quietly. She feels, quite suddenly, like she can’t breathe.

            “Please,” she whispers, and she blinks open her eyes, and there it is again, that frightened, desperate look Yaz can’t bear. “I can’t… please.”

            Yaz will think about it later. She’ll wonder why, and what it means, and whether it was a good idea. But right now, all she sees is that the Doctor is afraid, and that she can help.

            “’Course I’ll stay,” she says. “Go on, budge up then.”

            The Doctor shifts, and Yaz lifts the blanket and slides beneath it beside her. She’s about to ask if the Doctor’s got enough space when she moves in, burying her face in Yaz’ shoulder and winding an arm around her waist, holding her tight. Yaz lets out a surprised huff of laughter before leaning into the hug, the surprising warmth of the gesture.

            “Never took you for a cuddler, Doctor,” she murmurs against the top of her head.

            The Doctor says nothing, just holds her tighter.

            “It’s all right,” Yaz whispers. “I’ve got you, okay?”

            The Doctor nods against her collarbone, and slowly, as Yaz traces circles between her shoulder blades like her mum used to do for her after a nightmare, she relaxes. Her breathing evens out enough that Yaz thinks she’s dropped off again. Yaz closes her eyes, resting her cheek against the crown of the Doctor’s head, the soft Earl Grey scent of her and the steady four-beat rhythm of her heart unexpectedly soothing in her arms.            

“Sweet dreams, Doctor,” she whispers with a yawn. Perhaps, just for tonight, she can help give her that.

[polaroid-paranoid]

General Headcanons I have for Medic!

Totally the type to sing in the shower.

His singing sounds more like a lamenting goose, and does it regardless of whether or not the mercs can hear him.

Sometimes sings lullabies to his doves.

Definitely baby-talks his doves as well.

I feel like he’d be the type to take frigidly cold showers with no issue.

He's not generally all too interested in art, but can perfectly sketch almost any skeletal structure of any organism without any flaws, and can even list off every single bone in such an organism as well.

Gets rather annoyed whenever somebody touches his medical equipment, yet not quite in the way Heavy is with his mini guns.

It’s more of like a strange OCD thing, ‘this scalpel must be exactly tilted at 72 degrees, the blade just barely poking off of THIS exact table this much, anything else and it’ll look off’.

He wears a pair of dove slippers he got from the mercs on Christmas.

The one time he tried to cook, he nearly burnt down the base and horribly scorched his hair.

He is no longer allowed in the kitchen.

Holds grudges easily, although you can never tell if he has something against you unless it’s something that absolutely enrages him.

He's not all too much of a fan of large parties, and more prefers small group hangouts with a large glass of beer or two.

He has little cravings for the food back in Germany, of which he often goes to Heavy for (I feel as though Heavy would know at least SOME cuisine other than his own).

Despite the horrifying (and rather unethical) experiments he does on the mercs, they aren't nearly as comparable to what most of the mercs have already done to their body (Spy smoking non-stop, Scout's Bonk craze, and Demoman's alcohol addiction).

He’s surprisingly good with children, and is more of a fun-loving parent/caretaker than anything.

His favorite flower is Foxglove, and has a white foxglove plant in the Medbay that is horribly wilting and is in dire need of a pot change.

Literally cannot take care of plants unless reminded of his plants by somebody else, as he’s usually too caught up in his work to remember to care for them.

If he's ever in love, he's falling right in the 'unhinged/psychopathic hopeless romantic' trope.

His favorite music genres comprise of classical and orchestra, his favorite song being, “La Danse Macabre”.

I feel as though Medic’s either a Gemini or Aries.

Medic's favorite season is Spring. Mainly because of the influx of animals for him to harvest organs from.

[yankstrash]

#83 with holtzy? like maybe he gives you a hoodie when you guys are working on a project together and he realizes he likes you as more than just a classmate or friend

request for the umich celly extravaganza !

"Keep it. It looks better on you."

Currently, you were over at your class partners house, working on a project in his room. Your partner was Steven Holtz, UMich hockey player and one of the cutest guys you'd ever met.

When the professor first assigned you two as partners, you were nervous. Not because he's an athlete or extremely good looking, but because he was smart. Like, really smart.

Not that you weren't smart because you were, very much so, but he was brilliant, and it intimidated you.

However, as you worked together more and more, you realized he was a really nice, humble guy. He never bragged about his grades, or hockey or anything. He was just a guy who went to class, did his homework and aced every test while shooting pucks in the net everyday. No big deal.

You guys had been working for about an hour now, almost being halfway done with your project.

You rubbed your arms up and down as you began to feel chilly. While sometimes it felt warm enough in Michigan to only wear a short sleeve shirt, the weather was not quite there yet.

Steve looked over at you when he saw you rubbing your goose bump covered arms.

"You cold?" He asked you.

You shook your head, "I'm fine." You assured.

"You're cold." He said, giving you a stern look.

"Maybe..." You said, continuing to rub your arms.

Next thing you knew, Steve was on his feet and in his closet. He walked out with a gray hoodie in his hands.

"Here, take this." He said, handing you the hoodie.

"You sure?" You asked.

"Yeah, it's no problem. I'm sure you'd look better in it than me anyways." He said.

The flirtatious comment did not go unnoticed as you slipped the very oversized hoodie over your head.

"See, perfect fit." He said, as the sweatshirt practically swallowed you whole.

You smiled as you two got back to work.

Within the next few hours, your project was done and Steve was walking you back downstairs.

"Glad that's over with." You said as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Why, am I that horrible to spend time with?" Steve asked as he put his hand over his heart.

Your eyes widened as you realized that your comment probably came off wrong.

"No, no! I didn't mean it like that, I just-" You started to say before he cut you off.

"I'm just messing with you, Y/n." He replied, laughing.

You let out a sigh as you said, "Ha ha."

"I did have a nice time working with you though, maybe we can hangout sometime soon? Like, without the schoolwork?" He asked.

You beamed as you nodded your head. "Definitely! I'd like that."

You turned to leave, stopping in your tracks when you remembered what you were wearing.

"Steve, wait!" You said, causing him to turn around.

"Your hoodie!" You said, as you began to reach for the bottom of it before he stopped you.

"Keep it. It looks better on you."

[yennefer-x-tissaia]

It was really heartbreaking to see how Yennefer cries over Tissaias body, no question. I cried by myself when I watched that scene. Watching Yennefer feel it happening, she found and held and then sobbed over her body... The acting was just... wow.

But can we please talk for a second about how Tissaia cried for Yennefer at the beginning of 2x01 after Vilgefuck left her and stabs dead soldiers? Like I am not talking about that last scream that came at the top of her lungs which could freeze my blood and gave me goose pimple. But I am talking about the first and second time right before that.

She was out there for hours probably days, searching in the head of every soldier for any hints of Yennefer. And then Vilgefuck tells her that she is gone... She couldn't feel Yennefers chaos, everything indicated that she was dead and she was still trying everything to find her. She was so done with everything and still cried her name. Yes, I said cried. Because the firdt two times you can't call it anything else. Because she sounded so tired and desperate at the same time before she broke our hearts even more with that last scream.

Really, Tissaia shouts Yennefer's name in the forest ... that tired "Yennefer...?" with her desperate look with which she has still searched her surroundings. It sometimes just appears out of nowhere in my head and shakes my heart.

The acting was just… wow.

Anya did say that her reaction on screen is was her own reaction to the scene.

We know there's always the source material but when you read the script, and you saw how that death was going to unfold, what was your reaction? What you see. Yeah, it was horrible. Also, I just don't want MyAnna to go. Yes, it was Yennefer and Tissaia, and I was playing that beat. But it's a loss to the show as well. She's carried a lot of people.

Yes, I said cried.

Oh, I don't think there's any doubt that she's crying. Her mascara has run for one thing 😉

I agree on all counts, anon. The acting in both of those scenes is top notch and speaks to their deep bond. (Have to say I was pretty surprised at the depth of Tissaia's feelings and how openly she displayed them in ep 2.01, but I was here for it.)

[drawthething]

Welcome to DTT's gallery of useless text posts because I'm in the post-exam mood and bored!Today we shall discuss about:

"Obvious ways to NOT get scammed when opening commissions"

Now if you're a smart and capable human who's already so good at being an adult then you might not need these advices. But if you're kinda gullible and young and eat instant noodles for dinner sometimes like me, this post might be for you!

1. "You're up for commissions? DM me!"

See, these jerks probably follow the #commission tag on insta to find their easy target. You have the comm sheet right there clear as daylight and they STILL ask this thing in your post's comments. And they don't even want to DM you, YOU DM THEM! Absolutely horrible commission etiquette! I think it's best to ignore these comments even if you're not sure about their intentions.

2. Random acc with 2 posts and 200+ followers casually walks up to your DMs and says: "Will you draw my pet for 200$??"

Suuuper basic tactics for scammers to initiate their hustle. They're just soooo basic and soooo boring they can't come up with anything else for you to draw they HAVE to be like "I don't give a damn about what you usually do or what weird fandom hyperfixation pills you're on but here's an easy-to come-up-with art idea!". And a fricking fortune for pets portraits?? Come on.

Yes, check the account too if you smell something fishy. Even if it's profile is an innocent old looking lady who seems really rude at texting for some reasons, it's worth being cautious about.

3. "Aww man something's wrong with your PayPal link, can you send me your email name instead?"

Now of course I'm not saying everyone who wants a pet drawing is a scammer. If you're still unsure or see nothing suspicious about the client, feel free to continue the conversation!

But oh noooo, every damn time they seem to have some fricking issue with your PayPal link! They DEMAND to know your email! Or offer to send the payment in some really vague foreign way. Alrighty, no big deal yet, it's not like they want to know your Roblox password or GG search history right? Let's see what might happen next!

4. Nope, no payment sent, but oooo, new email! So fun, let's check!

BAM! An "official" mail from PayPal. Some weird issue occurred and *inserts bullcrap explanation* now you have to like, send them back 500$ out of nowhere! Wait, what?!

Calm down, don't do anything yet (even if the "client" is so rudely pressuring you cuz you 'own' them cash now) Go through everything as thorough like it's your life crisis and notice that this email has an embarrassing typo! Perhaps... this is not a PayPal mail? Well no crap! You know exactly who sent it you silly goose! Plus these losers do be using ugly ass fonts amirite? Smh.

5. They're so obviously not interested in your art

Some of these bastards are just so vague about what they want for their art, you know? Instead of going on and on about the details, like do they want it coloured or not, what the artstyle is, yada yada bla bla bla, all they're excited about is getting to the payment part! The fun part of the hustle, yayyyy!! Oh and they're oddly rude and distant in the way they talk sometimes. Unacceptable even for scammers! If you want my money at least be nice!

6. So what do you do with these guys?

Block, delete, report and run!! And if you're still mad at them for lying to you, don't forget to tell those mfs to get a life instead of trying to scam someone who already knows how to make terrible financial decisions!! (it's me, I'm someone)

Pls remember though, don't jump to conclusions early yet. Now you don't want to accidentally block an innocent respectful person, do you? Trust your instincts!

Aaaaand that's all I have! Thank you for reading this nonsense, you truly are a delight! Please be safe, be cautious and be a decent human being who don't try to scam people!

Love ♥️

[harmfulb1tch]

Mistakes turned into Insults Part 2 - (Dad! Maverick x Daughter! Reader

A/N: I know it’s been VERY LONG since Part 1, but here you have Part 2! I hope you enjoy

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Ships: PLATONIC DAD! Maverick x Daughter! Reader, sort of Rooster x reader

Warnings: swearing, bad writing

Part 1

—————————-

You felt pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. You had just confronted your dad for not letting you go in a high risk mission by reminding him he had killed his best friend. Goose’s death was the thing he regretted the most in his life. It was on the number one spot in the list of things he has regretted in his life. Sometimes you thought you, yourself, were up there in the list. You sometimes believed having you was your dad’s biggest regret. Maybe because you weren’t the best daughter, maybe because you reminded him of his ex wife, or just because your birth slowed his career as a pilot immensely. After this fight, you were completely sure you were in the top 10 things he regrets the most.

And there you laid, on you best friend’s chest, crying while he held you. Rooster was an amazing friend, you both had been through thick and thin together, since you were born he was there. Although you were much younger than him, it never bothered him nor you. He was always your shoulder to cry on, and you were his.

You didn’t exactly know why you were crying this much. It wasn’t because your dad wasn’t letting you go on the mission, you weren’t a 12 year old that was banned from going to a party because they were too young. And you were extremely sure it wasn’t because you were hurt because of the argument, you were the one that hurted someone. Was it regret? Yeah, probably. A mix between regret and embarrassment. What you had just done was horrible, a high level asshole move. You shouldn’t have reminded him of his biggest mistake.

“It’s ok… he’ll be alright, he’s a strong guy. You had all the right to be pissed off at him. You are the best pilot out of all of us, and he’s not letting you go. I would be mad too…” Rooster’s voice reminded you that you were still next to him, that he was still holding you. You hugged him tighter, still crying and shaking. You loved him so much. Not only as a friend, which you did. He had been your crush for the longest time. You had liked him since you were thirteen, but by then he was already 18, he would never have liked you back then. It was impossible. It was even a bit weird, but we all know how early teen’s minds work, they get friendly with an older guy and fall in love in an instant. At the time you wouldn’t even DARE say anything about this crush (obviously) so you just started thinking you’ll stop liking him. Oh how wrong you were. Many birthday’s of yours passed, and when you saw him again on your nineteenth birthday, after losing contact with him, all those feeling’s came right back. It was funny how fast you fell for him again, as if those feelings were waiting in the deep shadows of your mind to come back into the light as soon aa you eyes laid upon him again.

“Thanks Roos.. but I’ve got no excuse for this one. What I said was terrible… just terrible” you said sobbing. It pained you just to think how much it hurt your dad. “How can you not be mad at me as well?! He was your dad!” 

“Yeah... I’m not saying what you said wasn’t cruel, it’s just I get why you said- hey- no, no it wasn’t your fault... don’t worry- please don’t cry more....” It was innevitable, when he said it was cruel you couldn’t hold it anymore, you had to make this right. 

“I gotta go Roos. I’m going to apologize to him, but uh... see you around” you said hurrying.

“Ok... go make things right with your dad. Remember you only have one and he loves you to death.” He said with a sad expression. When you saw the look on his face you turned around and hugged him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you for everything, you’re the fucking best”

“It’s no problem Y/N, don’t worry about it. You’d do the same for me” And with that, you hurried to search for your father.

When you arrived by his place (that was actually yours too, but since the argument you had stayed by Rooster’s), you didn’t see his car at the entrance, so you supposed he had gone out, great. Either way, you still knocked on the door as to not scare him by barging in. You got your keys out and with shaky hands, opened the door. You made yourself comfortable in his sofa until he came back home from wherever he was.

A couple of hours passed when you heard his keys as your dad came into the house with three brown bags full of groceries in his arms. At first he didn’t notice your presence, but when he did, he was at first startled and then immediately looked down as if he didn’t want to talk to you. That gesture is something you had gotten from him. You always looked down when you were mad, sad or had an anxiety attack. 

“hey um dad... I’m, I’m-” You couldn’t even finish the sentence when you started crying your eyes out, immediately hugging him. He was very shocked by your actions and you were too. You both knew you had always been a bit childish but you were kind of embarrassed by your actions. Your dad didn’t really care that you reacted that way. He was just glad you were hugging him back and talking to him as per usual. 

“I’m sorry dad... It wasn’t your fault at all... What happened with Goose was an accident and you had nothing to do with it... I shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations in you like that, I know why you don’t let me go to the mission and I totally understand” You said when you finally stopped crying. He just hugged you closer and caressed your hair slowly until you calmed down.

“It’s ok sweetie... You don’t have to worry, I know you didn’t really mean it. I understand why you are upset. I’m sorry for doubting your abilities as a pilot. I- I think it’s because... because I still think of you when you were 5 years old... You will always be my little girl, the one that asked me to fly with her, the one that cried when her ice cream would melt in her hands. And it made me think... I think you should be my wingman for the mission. At the end of the day, you are not only my daughter but also the best pilot of all.” while saying this, a smile spread across his face slowly as he saw your eyes light up like when you were a child.

“Dad I-... Thank you” You smiled softly at him, hugging him again.

You both then decided to sit down on the sofa to watch a film, like you always did on the afternoons since you were 3 years old.The comfortable silence that surrounded you both was then broken by your dad talking again.

“I’m glad I’m going to have you as my wingman Y/N, I think you are going to do a great job.” He said

“Thanks dad” You smiled at him hugging him again. 

“By the way, what's going on between you and Bradley, you both have been extremely close lately” He looked at you with a smirk, knowing that you probably liked him and that you have for a long time now.

“Dad! Nothing between us is going on! We are just friends.” you complained

“Yeah, sure”

“Dad!”

“Just so you know, he probably does like you back”

Tag List (quite short):

@idkwhattodowithmylife67

[actingfool]

guess what? i've decided it's finally time to talk about the wonderful world of hanafuda, how that connects to the shinjuku reapers, and how from this information we can deduce what kubo's noise form is!

now that neo has been out for a while, this might be more common information, but i'll give a primer real quick. much like how the shibuya reapers in twewy have a theme for their noise forms (the zodiac), the shinjuku reapers have their own theme. and that theme is hanafuda! (and i can't give myself credit for this concept. i originally came across this idea here, iirc).

essentially, hanafuda are a type of playing cards. they have a long history of different forms and being used for a variety of games (including gambling). highly recommend looking that up if you're interested. in the modern day, hanafuda decks generally have 48 cards split into twelve suits (think like how western playing cards have suits). each suit corresponds to a month and has a variety of symbolism in the art connected to that. generally speaking, every suit is represented by a plant/flower. sometimes they have an animal on one of their cards too. that's why we're interested.

getting back to neo twewy, the shinjuku reapers don't necessarily have the hanafuda link hidden in their names, but instead in their birthdays.

for example, tsugumi's birthday is in january. the january hanafuda suit has a crane as its animal. shiba's birthday is in june. the june suit has a card with butterflies, etc. wondering where ayano got an iris noise from? her name means iris and every card in the may suit has irises on it. even characters who don't get a noise form in-game have some kind of connection (e.g., kaie and hishima both have name references to things on their birthday month cards).

so. that was a VERY elaborate prelude to present my hypothesis: kubo's noise form is a goose.

his (supposed) birthday is in august, and the hanafuda suit for august is quite fun for a number of reasons. most importantly: THERE'S GEESE ON IT.

in fact, i'd like to say there's some interesting symbolism going on, at least for the most colorful cards (a full moon, and flying geese). august is the card suit associated with the changing of seasons to fall, so naturally there's a harvest moon. we are going to choose to ignore the fact it makes the sky an ominous red color in this depiction. or the linguistic implications of a harvest moon. and how haz has the kanji for 'moon' hidden in his name.... the rolling hills depicted are supposed to be fields of susuki grass (one of the seven flowers of autumn. the more you know! but we don't care about that here). the geese are geese. but more specifically, they are indeed migrating!

i've seen at least one site suggest the birds in question are meant to be swan geese, which used to fly to japan for the winter. and i am inclined to think that's an accurate choice.

speaking of birds. does the color scheme look familiar by any chance?

SO. whether on accident or not, kubo matches the geese. also i think it's a really cute coincidence (if it is one) to pick a migratory bird to go with a guy who showed up, ingratiated himself into a team, and would've just picked up and left if all had gone according to plan.

conclusion: i'm gonna let kubo have one thing in common with his fake buddies and get assigned Goose by the hanafuda noise form sorter.

it's a beautiful day in shibuya, and you are a horrible goose.

[toonqueen]

Day 28: Macabre Duck

My headcanon for Nega Magica and Nega Gladstone’s relationship is complicated. Ha. I have written about it before. My Nega Magica is a paladin/healie magic type. Though that seems like a good thing, her magic spells can also dip into memory manipulation and a little mind control when needed. I like the concept that Negaverse versions are not like just completely opposite of their prime versions. At first glance she seems like a goodie goodie compared to Prime Magica. Believing in balance and helping innocent parties. However she has some shady dealing and secrets. Those that don’t know the couple well would see the situation as a Beauty and the Beast type thing. Grimstone is moody and edgy seeming personality while Magica seems like an innocent soul just hopelessly in love with a monster and willing to stay with him. But oh boy she’s doing the manipulating let me tell you.

My Nega Gladstone goes by Grimstone. My prime-verse headcanon has the luck being something coming down from Grandma Duck’s side of the family, magnified by the Distelfink. So in the Negaverse the  bloodline from Grandma Duck has one family member each generation that is consumption cursed. Like how Paddywack feeds on fear, Grimstone feeds on luck. So you can see how that would pit him against his primeverse version at some point. Oh ho ho. While Gladstone is lazy and relies on his luck, Grimstone is a well studied warlock on top of his consumption cursed abilities. 

Grim and Magica stay at Grandma’s farm, which unfortunately Grandma duck isn’t alive anymore. She was a bit of a paranoid survivalist so the farm is pretty self sustaining and had power off the grid. They do work as a pair to fight super natural things and collect dangerous artifacts they keep safely locked up in the farmhouse basement. That part of their lives is a parody on the RL based couple in The Conjuring. Once again I like the idea of Negaversers not being black and white good and evil based on their prime counterparts. Though Grimstone has tried to each Gladstone’s luck a few time in the primeverse, in the negaverse he and Magica are doing things to help save the world sometimes. Yah know. (I do the same with Negaduck but that's a different story HA)

I’m giving a lot of links to old stories cuz I haven’t had time to do Duckvember this year but here is a great story touching on their relationship haaaa. 

What little short story I wanted to write for this prompt was actually Magica getting badly injured on one of their missions and Grimstone bringing her body back to the barn with the Distelfink. He can’t do any healing magic at all because of his whole consumption cursed thing. He does his best he can with no luck (ha.) 

The actually have three kids and there youngest an adopted canadian goose named Orin, witnesses this going on. Grimstone tells him momma is alright and to go in the house and get some things needed. I see him being around 7ish in this story. With Orin’s help he is able to get Magica’s major wound closed up and maybe she might have needed a little rezz to. She might have been a little bit more dead than alive. But luckily now stable her own healing tomes kick in and she though unconscious, gets healed enough that she is going to be okay. 

Grimstone reassures Orin that momma was okay all along she just need a little help. And also don’t tell momma what just happened she’ll be worried and we don’t wanna stress out momma. 

Of course the next day when Magica is feeling better but resting in bed, Grimstone brings her breakfast. She states she knows everything that happened. Because Orin is a little snitch and loves his momma more than his daddy so he told Magica EVERYTHING. Magica isn’t mad, is glad Grimstone was able to save her. But like, his healing job is horrible she’s gonna have a scar on her torso thats never gonna go away but GRIM DID HIS BEST OKAY. ;-;

[iheartgod175]

Some more SW Stuff I’ve had on the brain…

Friday, I had the idea to do a short story focusing on Pig’s mom. Or come up with a design for her, anyway. One idea I’ve always had since I was little was that Pig’s mom had died when he was young, hence why the brothers are raised by their dad. Poppa Pig hasn’t remarried since then, but does keep her memory alive within the family. The short story I had in mind involved how Poppa Pig and his wife met, with his wife being an inventor while he, and his own brothers, are still builders. How she died is something I’m still working on. While in the original SRBA it was inferred, chapter 4 of DR confirms that AP’s mom did die…which makes Material-B’s remarks even more horrible.

I had two new AU ideas—one being a Whyatt/Princess Pea AU where Whyatt is Pea’s bodyguard and the Azure Flamechaser full time, and the other being a Whyatt/Red AU that’s kinda like a gender bent Beauty and the Beast, except that one has a few more elements of the original Grimm Brothers’ fairytales. Not sure if I’ll ever get around to posting them, though!

Due to playing Honkai Impact 3rd, I realized that majority of my stories have their own Kallen Kaslana—or legacy characters whose actions directly shaped the events of living ones. For FLaG, it was Sebastian Lièvre and Nico Fontaine. For BT, it’s Olivier Coyote and Rose Rabbit. For Temporary Truce, this almost became the case for Punkin’s mom and Cat’s father. For The Zula Patrol: Dreamscape Crusade, it’s Multo’s ancestor, Multo I. And this story has three dead characters whose stories still affect the present: Mother Goose, Prince Phillip, and Pig’s mother, whom I’m still thinking of!

I also realized during the writing of chapter 4 that AP basically became a miniature Nanoha, with a bit of Hibiki Tachibana thrown into the mix. One of his lines to Material-B (“I’ll come back alive and make it happen, even if it kills me!”) is directly inspired by Hibiki’s famous declaration to not die when fighting Miku in Symphogear G.

I also want to write more of King and Queen Pea, who are the main royals of Storybrook Village, if I’m guessing this correctly, and have had some important roles in the SRBA ‘verse. Queen Pea knows a lot about relics and swords, and King Pea went toe to toe with his daughter and won (although technically, he didn’t fight her, just talked sense into her). There’s a hint in chapter 4 that points at there being more to Princess Presto’s Second Style than being a merge of her old powers and new powers.

A funny idea I had that takes place after the events of SRBA is where Whyatt chats with his family about the Super Readers, and Jack notes that he often wondered who Whyatt was referring to when he needed the Super Readers to solve a problem, much to his embarrassment.

Writing those Why/Red scenes has given me fuel to write more of them! So, you can expect a few one-shots featuring them sometime in the future! One cute little one shot that I have takes place a bit before the events of SRBA Reloaded, where Whyatt decides to get Red a special present for her birthday,which is a soccer ball made out of chocolate. His mother, who knows that he hardly if ever eats any candy, notices this and teases him, asking if he’s buying it for a girl. If there’s one thing about Whyatt, he’s a terrible liar, which leads to him being slightly embarrassed, haha XD

Regarding Jeremiah, the Super Readers do eventually learn of his familial connection to Chaos, and question why he’s fighting his brother. Chaos is one of the few people that Jeremiah outright hates, and deems unworthy of being saved. There is a reason for this that’ll be explained in chapter 6. Jeremiah did try to help Chaos turn from his ways, but he did something so heinous that he cut him off and they became enemies.

Might make a few OCs, especially those who were the first Super Readers! ^^