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#uhhhhh hi? take this?
drysdaales · 1 year
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everything you lose (a step you take)
bradley “rooster” bradshaw/jake “hangman” seresin | 1540 words | read on ao3
There’s a moment wherein Warlock walks in and says Maverick’s name and Bradley’s life hasn’t been changed yet.
And then, in a matter of seconds, Warlock delivers the harsh, unflinching truth. “He’s gone.” His voice is deep and gravelly with an emotion too great to bear, and Bradley almost asks who. Almost.
“What?” Maverick speaks like he’s been punched in the gut. Bradley blinks, looking between them with confusion. “What? W-when did he—”
“Sarah just called.” Warlock steps forward and extends a hand out, gripping Maverick’s shoulder tightly. “I am so, so sorry.”
Bradley feels like he’s outside of his body when Maverick nods, heaving a shaky breath like he’s screwing his head back on straight. “Kid—” Maverick cuts himself off, swallowing, and the devastation on his face feels like looking directly into the sun. “Rooster, I’m s—”
“What are you talking about?” The words come out mangled and hoarse, and Maverick shuts his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Iceman,” Warlock says, finally letting go of Maverick’s shoulder. He looks to Bradley with a steely determination in his eye, and Bradley feels terrified of him for the first time. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for your loss, as well.”
Everything is still as Warlock leaves the room; when the door closes, though, it’s like it breaks whatever stalemate they were in. Bradley understands the words individually, hears them, comprehends them as a sentence, but something’s not clicking. “My loss?” he questions aloud, and he hears Maverick sniffle.
“I’m sorry,” Maverick says, and his voice cracks at the end as he turns away, hiding his face in his hands, and Bradley feels like he’s suffocating and suddenly he can smell antiseptic and bleach and latex, and Maverick’s telling him off for skipping out on school when Gabriela, his mom’s favorite nurse, had to come into the hallway.
“She’s gone,” Gabriela said, so morosely Bradley would have thought she was talking about her own mother. “Oh, Bradley, Pete, I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Bradley demanded, and Gabriela’s eyes filled with tears. “We— We just walked out. Like, barely left.”
“I know.” Gabriela wiped at her eyes. Maverick stepped forward and gripped his hand. “It—”
Bradley pushed past her and stared at his mother’s lifeless body, eyes gathering tears in the corners. “Oh, kid,” Maverick said, turning him away from the bed, but Bradley couldn’t stop looking. She was never quiet. She was calming, sure, but never quiet. Not like this.
“She’s not moving,” he breathed out, stumbling back into Maverick.
“I’m sorry.” Maverick tucked Bradley’s head into his shoulder like Bradley was 7 and not 17, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Jesus fucking  Christ . “I’m so sorry.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” he asks, and he can’t even feel any shame for cursing in front of Maverick.
“You’ve got me,” Maverick murmured, pressing another kiss to the same spot. “I’m right here.”
I’m right here.
“Hey,” Maverick says now, tears running down his cheeks. He seems more clear and lucid, though, which is good, because Bradley isn’t. He’s stuck in between 17 and 32 and his mother’s been dead for 15 years and Mav’s been dead to him for almost just as long, and Iceman too, except— “Hey, Bradley.”
“What happened to him?” Bradley doesn’t even sound like himself; he feels crazed as he stares up into Maverick’s eyes, red and glassy. Maverick sniffles and glances away, but Bradley grabs his wrist and commands attention. “Mav.”
“He was sick.” Maverick swallows, crouching in front of him. He hasn’t aged much, Bradley thinks, except he could reach out and touch laugh lines that weren’t there the last time they spoke, forehead creases that only seem to have deepened.  He’s getting older, Bradley thinks, with a suspicious lump in his throat. “Cancer.”
Bradley almost chokes on it. “What?”
“He was—” Maverick glances away. “He was fine the first time. I only just—”
“The first time?” Bradley’s going to pass out. “What the hell do you mean the first time?”
“I left you a voicemail,” Maverick says.
“I blocked you,” Bradley snaps back, and Maverick flinches.
Bradley exhales shakily, taking in another uneven breath and Maverick places his hands on Bradley’s knees.  I know this isn’t easy, he said once, when Bradley was 14 and gearing up to watch his mother die slowly.  But I’m right here.  Bradley believed him then, when he was almost 20 years younger and immature and unscathed minus a dead father he barely remembered.
And even though Maverick’s betrayed his trust once before, his earnesty and pure, unflinching sadness make him believable again. “I’m really, really sorry,” Maverick says, and Bradley wants to say he’s sorry too, sorry for everything, sorry for Ice, sorry for shutting him and Ice out and sorry for Ice dying and sorry for saying everything he just said to Maverick, because—
No kids, no one to mourn you. Bradley shuts his eyes. He keeps fighting with Maverick, and everyone he loves keeps dying. It feels like it can’t possibly be sustainable.
He doesn’t speak, trying to hold all the emotions in without them bubbling over, because if they do he’ll break completely and tell Maverick he’s sorry and he’ll do anything to get him back and half of him wants that more than anything in the world. And then the other half, the half of him that was raised by Maverick, wants to tell him to fuck right off. 
Maverick squeezes Bradley’s knees and turns to leave, and Bradley clears his throat. “Me too,” he says, and Maverick’s breath hitches. “I’m sorry.” A pause. “About Ice.”
And in that moment Maverick looks as young as he was when Bradley first remembers him, which is always, and he looks older than Bradley ever remembers him being, and Bradley realizes for the first time that Pete Mitchell isn’t immortal. Pete Mitchell could die tonight. Pete Mitchell could be shot out of the sky, or get into a motorcycle accident, or be randomly mugged, or just die of a broken fucking heart.
“I know you are.” Maverick gives him a small, watery smile. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Bradley doesn’t like this; something in his gut is tugging at him, and when he looks back up Maverick is gone. Bradley runs, shouting after him down the hallway. Maverick turns, and Bradley aches with missing him. “Are you—” Bradley clears his throat, but he’s still trying not to cry. “Are you going to be okay?”
Maverick shrugs. “I have to be,” he says. “I need to make sure you’re all—”
“No, fuck, Mav, not  that.” Bradley shakes his head. “I mean—shit, I don’t know, I’ve never—” He falters on the words, and he knows Maverick hears them by the way his face crumples. “Mav, please, I—”
“I’ll go see Penny,” Maverick says, and Bradley wants to shake him, tell him to say something. “Rooster, go home.”
“Tell me you’ll be fine,” Bradley pleads. “And I will.”
Bradley watches Maverick begin to roll his eyes, and then he stops, walking toward Bradley but stopping just short of being able to reach. “Bradley,” Maverick says gently, and Bradley shuts his eyes. “I’ll be okay. Will you?”
“I—” Shaking his head, then nodding, Bradley lets out a long breath. “Yeah. But you have to promise me—”
“I promise.” Maverick does roll his eyes then, and if Bradley tries hard enough, he could be 15 and his mother and Ice could be making mischief just down the hallway. If he squeezes his eyes shut, the peels of their laughter could echo off the high ceilings. If he believes it, it’ll be true. “I’m right here. You’ll be okay.”
Bradley opens his eyes then, and Maverick nods, walking away. It doesn’t feel right to let him. Bradley just wants to hold onto the moments that will keep him a kid—wants to hold onto his mother’s waist, wants to hold on to his first kiss, wants to hold onto Jake, wants to keep Maverick right there, next to him, so that he can’t go and do something stupid like  die  before Bradley gets the chance to—
Bradley sags against the wall, letting it hold him up, when footsteps creep toward him. Bradley would know them anywhere.
“Hey,” Jake says, eyeing him critically. Bradley has never wanted to punch someone or hold them more.
“Hey,” he says back.
Jake extends a hand to him, wiggling his fingers in Bradley’s face with a stupidly soft grin. “Let’s go sneak some food into Phoenix and Bob, yeah? You and I both know that hospital food sucks.”
Bradley almost chokes on the gratitude, almost blurts out an  I love you, almost almost almost—instead, he accepts Jake’s hand and squeezes once before letting go. “That’s a good idea,” Bradley murmurs. “Wish I’d thought of that.”
“Yeah, well.” Jake waves him off, snagging Bradley’s keys from his pocket, giving him a shit-eating grin before he walks away. “We can’t all be perfect, Bradshaw!” he calls back, and Bradley feels some sort of calm wash over him.
You’ll be okay.  Bradley takes a deep breath and vows to believe in Pete Mitchell for another day.
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carnivalcarrion · 5 months
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uh. yeah i have no excuse i just couldn't decide between scribblin' up a monster or Home so i fused the two. monster home for No concrete reason!
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demoralizedreprobate · 7 months
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so normal about the segment where heel bret hart comes on screen and shawn just starts stripping. (raw 5/5/1997)
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theloveinc · 4 months
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SHINSOU MAN, like really makes me feral thinkin like.. mans is SO nervous around you, you've been dating for a little while but hes still scared to breathe too hard around you. You both go to a mutual friends birthday and you're getting a drink for you and your mans, only to come back and he's literally in the middle of a fistfight, the other guy gets him in the jaw and he practically EATS it like its nothing, its only when you grab his white shirt with blood all over it and pull him off the other guy that you find out the guy said something SLIGHTLY disrespectful about you in your dress. And you have to try not to fuck him right there and help him clean the blood off his chin.
Under the awfully-yellow sting of the bathroom's florescent lights, it's the third time in a row you've tried to dab at Shinso's lip with an alcohol soaked cotton ball, trying (but mostly failing) to staunch the flow of blood which continues to pool and crack at the left corner of his mouth.
The split is only one of the two real injuries he came away from the fight with (aside from the potential concussion he might have no matter how fast he recovered from being punched between the eyes), but every time you try to press into the wound and wipe up the mess that was left behind, Shinso leans away as if to weaken the effect of your touch.
"Shinso, let me try. Please,” you beg. "You’ve gotta stop acting like this."
"This?" he finally responds, surprisingly egregious in tone for someone of his usually-very-cool temperament, eyebrows going halfway up his actively-bruising forehead as he snaps his head to face you. The sudden movement causes your hand to go skidding across his cheek, leaving a long red stain straight up to the swollen temple he's currently holding a bag of melting ice against. "The guy said he’d—”
"I know what he said," you cut him off, throwing down the now-soggy puff onto the porcelain countertop as you step back and glare. "I'm talking about the fact you're barely letting me help clean you up."
Shinso rolls his eyes. "You think I asked for help dealing with this?”
“It’s not fair for you to hurt yourself if I’m just meant to sit there and watch. We’re supposed to be dating. Are we?”
"What,” you can tell he’s trying not to raise his voice, especially as you reach out to trace your fingers down his arms, “do you think?"
"Hitoshi," he finally looks at you straight when you say that name, his body instantly going still. “I am being dead serious. Either you were standing up for me, or you just wanted to pick a fight. Which is it?"
If possible, the man's frown deepens even further, though you can feel the way his muscles begins to relax as he tries to calm himself under your touch.
He pauses a minutes to swallow. And to stare. And then, “you,” he finally says, unblinking. "I was doing it for you."
You lean back in finally, tenderly, pulling him into a soft kiss where his lips fit perfectly against yours and the taste of blood the last thing on your mind.
"Good," you pull back, only slightly, near breathless. "So let me help you. At least before I thank you.”
-
(someone get this man some ginseng… sorry i went insane anon!! shinso just makes me a lil wet. I hope this was okay)
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Are there any good kimharry fics where like Kim is Very Obviously trying to be a massive flirty cocktease except it's Harry pov and Harry thinks it's entirely unintentional?
Bc I think that would be VERY funny and I would like to see it 👀
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orpheuscas · 1 year
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fics where dean and cas get married are like. one of you is a convicted felon who is legally dead six times over and one of you is the possessed husk of an illinois accountant who went missing a decade ago. only one last name between the two of you and nary a social security number in sight. who is giving you a marriage license
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worstloki · 2 years
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Absolutely obsessed with Thor naming things wrongly but saying them with his whole chest in such confidence that for a grace period no one doubts him
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nextstopparis · 1 year
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me explaining how everything would’ve been different after bbc merlin episode 2.08 the sins of the father if morgause had juST USED THAT DAMNED CRYSTAL SOONER and seen arthur actually fighting uther and being lied to and manipulated back into thinking uther was right because tHEN SHE COULDVE SOUGHT HIM OUT BUT ALONE THIS TIME AND DEFENDED HERSELF AND GOTTEN ARTHUR ON HER SIDE and then when she reached out to morgana the three of them would’ve teamed up and brought uther to his knees
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justmwahstruly · 4 months
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IM FUCKING CRYING DAWG THANK YOU
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NOT THE WAY MY JAW DROPPED.
UHH YOURE WELCOME?? SLSJSKDKSJDJDBXBYKS DIES/POS
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doodlerh · 1 year
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redrew/barely redesigned some old ocs!!
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thatgirlonstage · 5 months
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Thinking through the logical conclusions of lore that the source material has clearly not thought that deeply about can be annoying or depressing in the sense of seeing exactly how deep the plot holes go but so long as it doesn’t inherently break the suspension of disbelief or ruin your enjoyment of the overall story it can be really fun to figure out what you can use to plug the holes. Like that’s just free real estate now baby. If the lore implies X but the story wound up at Z, then you can make the journey through Y be whatever you want it to be
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clownfile · 17 days
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GUYS, THE CREATORS OF P.AYDAY 2 HAVE ACKNOWLEDGED HOUSTON MAKING A COMEBACK FOR P.AYDAY 3 WE MIGHT GET MORE HOUSTON CONTENT.
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mattodore · 8 months
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kisses him goodnight
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horrormusicals · 9 months
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do u guys think about how much self-loathing ladybug probably has. how insecure he is. how bad his self-esteem is. how everyone on the shinkansen hated him (save for shigeru and yuichi) and he was just used to it. how much he tries to do one simple task of getting off the train with the briefcase but he can’t even seem to do that right, and with his history, nothing ever seems to go right for him ever. his savior complex. his low self-esteem. his anxiety. how much he relies on maria. when he starts tearing up in front of her after the crash
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tezzzzza · 9 months
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happy samijey sunday it's 10:41am and i've made myself cry already
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ask-ursa-tonypeter · 2 months
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[fic: wicked love] Tony & Peter, would you rather fulfill your biggest wish or resolve your biggest regret?
Peter: Oh, that's…
…Well, they're kind of the same thing, I guess. I want… I want me and Dad to be able to be happy-- like, really happy, long-run happy, and… getting things really resolved about what happened before is part of that, right?
Unless you mean somehow undoing my biggest regret, which is… harder. It'd be nice to be optimistic and say, well, if we're happy then what happened back then doesn't need to change, but… that would be kind of selfish.
----- Tony: If we're talking magic genie wish: doesn't matter, same difference. If not... it's still the biggest wish.
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