#Goose is crying in the afterlife
Text
And now I’m saying goodbye
Summary: “I’m not ready” he begs face tilted towards the sky, heavy machinery meeting his ears as the helicopter grew closer. “I’m not ready yet, please”, his voice flattered, arms tightening as his voice cracks, a single tear falling down his cheeks. “We haven’t talked yet”.
ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47681809
Word Count: 1.7
Relationship: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Characters: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, mentions of Nick “Goose” Bradshaw
Additional Tags: Shot down in foreign land, Shot down, reunion, Anger is not a good motivator, Past Character Death, Saving Grace - Freeform, Agony, grief, Very short Greif Fic, Sam corrupted me, I’m going to hurt you all
His heart stopped in his chest as he watched a jet - a very familiar jet - fly out of the smoky remains of the helicopter aiming to kill him, the snow shifted under his foot as he watched in horror as a SAM launched and collided with the jet which had been left defenceless.
Bradley.
He wasn’t sure when he had started running, only that a pulsing hot anger flooded through him as he sprinted across the snowy landscape. Ignoring the sharp pain running through his chest settling on his right side as he twisted to duck under a heavy branch. Snow shifting under his feet almost causing him to trip and fall. Heat radiating off him warming his body despite the freezing climate. He wondered briefly if the snow behind him was melting.
How could he be so reckless? How could he be so stupid?
A faint pain on the side of his head faded into the background as his helmet thudded against his leg as he sprinted in an attempt to get to the man before his jet did. Heart pounding, lungs burning, throat closing.
His body was too old for this shit.
He stumbled into a clearing spotting the man standing up and unclipping himself from his parachute. Groaning and coughing as he stumbled slightly trying to pack away the chute before any enemies caught sight of it.
“Bradley!”
The man’s head shot up, chucking his helmet to the side with a grin. “Mav!” He cried in relief.
How could he be so irresponsible?
He looked so happy to see him, relieved. Dropping his chute and stepping towards him, ignoring the task completely. His shoulder dropped as joy flooded the man’s face. Face twisting slightly in confusion when he failed to stop, continuing to charge towards him.
He crashed into the younger man, hands on his shoulders and he shoved him, hard. Bradley landed heavily in the snow with a wince, staring up at him in shock “what the hell!”. The younger man scrambled to his feet when he continued to follow him.
Barely making it to a standing position before he was pushing him again. Bradley managed to catch himself that time, feet planted safely in the snow as he stared at Mav with a bewildered look.
His teeth grinded as he glared at the man, fire racing through his veins, how dare he take that risk. “What the hell were you thinking!” He snarled. Demanding to know what the hell the man was thinking in order to be this stupid. He refused to lose another Bradshaw.
“You told me not to think!” Bradley cried out in frustration throwing his arms out to the side like he did as a teenager, he waited for the glare to follow with the man’s childish excuse.
“So you thought it was alright to threaten the entire mission? The very being of why we were here to begin with.”
“What” Bradley spluttered, eyes widening as he crossed his arms defensively stepping back as he approached, eyeing him wearily eyes darting across his face, “Mav did you hit your head? Are you alright?”
“Shut up,” he seethed “if it wasn’t for your stupidness, your recklessness ! We wouldn’t have been down here to begin with,”
“Mav” Bradley’s voice wobbled slightly, the boy stepping back looking slightly frightened, hurt plastered across his face. “You don’t mean it, you just have a concussion. It’s fine, we’re fine ”.
“If you have just trusted your team instead of swooping in to be the hero every time there was a threat then you wouldn’t have run out of flairs, you wouldn’t have been defenseless-”
A loud sound of blades cutting through the air met his ears in the distance Bradley sent him a panicked look. “Mav we have to go!”
“-then I wouldn’t have had to save you! If you Bradshaw weren’t so keen on dying, I wouldn’t have to keep babysitting you” he spat unconcerned of the approaching danger. A second chopper, the others would handle it. There’s no way Bradley is stupid enough to come back on his own. He had taught him better than that, they had taught him better than that.
“Mav! Please” Bradley reached out tugging on his flight suit sleeve only causing his anger to rise to a new level. He shrugged the man off with a fierce glare.
“Don't touch me”.
Trapped. Held down. Dragged. Hurt.
“Mav! Come on. We have to get out of here!” Bradley tugged again, eyes darting past his shoulder. Face filled with worry and panic as he attempted to drag him along behind him. “Please Mav” he begged, eyes clouding over with barely suppressed tears, his jaw flexing as he tried to push past the harsh words.
“I said don’t. Touch. Me” he roared, shoving the man back, his sudden aggression seemed to startle Bradley causing the younger man to fall back. Body hitting the snow with a sickening thud, grip on his sleeve loosening and falling limply to his side.
He didn’t get back up.
He rolled his eyes “Oh come on” he scowled “You're not five anymore Bradley, don’t act like it”. He nudged the man's leg with his boot, impatience eating away at his skin, his anger fading slightly at the lack of response, he swallowed thickly when a small line of red dropped down into the snow from under Bradley, the mans face having paled to frightening match the now below him.
The blood pooled around his neck, possibly from his head as it stained the snow. The sight made him freeze. A bloody Bradshaw, silent, still. He could feel the cold water surrounding him, Nick’s heavy weight in his arms as he struggled to keep them afloat. He could almost hear Nick's playful laugh in his ears.
“B-Bradley?” His voice cracked slightly as a cold wave rushed over him, he pushed back the urge to gasp for air as a heavy weight settled in his chest, he felt like he was suffocating. Water flooded his throat down to his chest, relentless as he choked, his hands flexing as if looking for the extra weight of Nick's body. Horror bloomed in his chest as his godson refused to move.
“Bradley, this isn’t funny” he attempted, his scolding falling flat as he stared down at the man. He refused to answer. “This isn’t a joke!” He cried out, dropping to his knees beside the younger man.
The disappointment and pain as what had happened really hit him. God why did he say such horrible things to the kid. His kid . He should have controlled himself better, had more tact. He would have learned, he would have taught him better.
He grunted as he leaned back pulling the man into his lap, his head resting against his chest with his legs on either side of the still man as he pulled him into a sitting position, arms around his waist to hold him up. Trying to ignore the blood sneering against his skin and clothes. His stomach heaving at the much larger pull that had been hidden under the man’s body, blood slighting down his neck, blood smearing across his lips and chin. His skin chilled from the surrounding snow. He hugged the man tighter, he couldn’t let him get cold. Bradley doesn’t like the cold, he could remember all the times he had woken up in the middle of the night to an extra bed mate, the boy preferred to curl into his chest stealing his warmth.
You’re warm uncle Mav! You're safe!
His chest tightened as he tried to push past the similarities of Nick, the mustache, the blood, his neck, laying limp against him, cold.
He swallowed harshly, “Bradley?” His breath hitched as he brushed his hand against the man’s forehead brushing his hair out of his face gently “Baby can you hear me? I need you to say something, anything” he pleaded.
The silence was deafening, head pounding as he blinked trying to focus. The sound of the blades cutting through the air only hurt his head more as he pulled Bradley closer. Trembling fingers brushed against his face, smearing blood as he reached down to the man’s neck waiting for the thudding of the man’s heart. Waiting for the bleeding he had always taken for granted to kiss his fingers. The only thing that could soothe his nightmares, it was an accident- so was Goose. He flexed his fingers, readjusting his grip when he failed to find a pulse. Ignoring the bluing of the man's lips as he bit his cheek, his chest caved in on itself, tugging sharply. A strange feeling of emptiness filled him as he stared at the little boy he had watched grow up.
He almost felt hollow.
It was cold, he argued. Maybe he was in the wrong spot.
Tears formed in his eyes when Bradley stayed silent, the vein under his fingers failed to pulse. The helicopter blades slicing through the air were barely heard under his scream of agony. His cry of grief, of pain, of heartbreak cutting through the air sharply. He held his little boy in his arms tightly, rocking them back and forward with a half choked laugh “Come on baby, don’t do this to me”.
The boy who he had sacrificed everything for, the boy who despite everything followed him. The boy that he had killed.
“Please” his heart was breaking, everything around him seemed so bleak compared to the vibrant blue draining Bradley’s lips, the red cast aside bleeding into the now stealing his life force, the pale skin that resembles porcelain. He certainly felt fragile.
“I’m not ready” he begs face tilted towards the sky, heavy machinery meeting his ears as the helicopter grew closer. “I’m not ready yet, please”, his voice flattered, arms tightening as his voice cracks, a single tear falling down his cheeks. “We haven’t talked yet”.
His body shook with a sob, burrowing his face into Bradley’s neck as he trembled. “We haven’t talked yet” he cried hoarsely, his squeezing shut as he heard the click of a gun.
Pain flooded through his body as he felt his body slump to the side. Fire eating at his skin as his last passing thought hit him, eyes staring blankly at the blood stained snow. His arm reaching out, fingers brushing against Bradley's face. His blank clouded eyes staring at him in a look of shock and pain.
This still hurts less than saying goodbye.
#top gun fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun fandom#top gun maverick#pete maverick mitchell#bradly rooster bradshaw#crash#agnst#whump#let me hurt you#it wont hurt i promise.#i lied#nick goose bradshaw#hehe i aim to break you all#Goose is crying in the afterlife#Mav is absolutely being haunted#main character death#mavdad
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It’s been a long long time
Characters - Iceman x Maverick, Goose x Carol, Hangman x Rooster
Summary - Maverick had acquired three miracles in his life, Three things he doesn’t think he can live without until he loses them, and gets them back.
Word Count - 3.7k
Warnings - Cannon character death, Grief, funeral, hopelessness, re-imagining of the afterlife
A/N - This is by far the saddest thing I’ve ever written, but also the sappiest if you can believe it. The inspiration for this fic came to me after I watched a TikTok of a sweet old lady that described what she thinks the afterlife might look like. I want to make it clear this is far from religious, just very sweet. Please enjoy and don’t come at me with your pitchforks if I made you cry, because I certainly did.
Maverick was a reckless son of a bitch. He lived a life of adrenaline, a life running from one adventure to another. His first adventure was learning to fly, forcing his way into a Navy that didn’t want him. He knew what he wanted and he went out and got it. Flying brought him his next adventure, Nick Bradshaw. The man that became ‘mother goose’ was a friend you only got once in your life. He was married to a smart as a whip girl that could put you in your place and make you laugh in the same sentence. Together they had a kid that was smart enough to cure cancer and like his parents, brighten up your entire day. The whole family was a ray of sunshine that nobody could resist. That ray of sunshine even melted his next adventure, the iceman. Now this adventure did not start out as such. It started out as more of a thing to be conquered. If he was better than him, he was truly the best there ever was. In his strife for victory he overlooked one simple thing about the man, he wasn’t in it for fame and glory. No, he wanted to climb to the top to make a difference. He wanted to look out for the little guy, and what better way to do that then from a rank that can make actual change. So yeah he flew ice cold, no mistakes, but it was because he had to. It pissed Maverick off at first, but then he started to see the heart in him and couldn’t help but fall in love.
These three adventures became like three miracles to Maverick. He felt like if he had these three things then he would be happy. But as human life goes, nothing lasts forever. The first Miracle he lost was Goose. His sunshine. It happened on a regular Tuesday and came out of nowhere. That flat spin he couldn’t recover and the faulty canopy together took away his light. After that he made sure to watch out for Goose’s little family. He made sure Carol always had enough money and that Bradley always had someone to play ball with. It was then when one of his miracles, Ice, stepped in and really started to shine. Their relationship started that day on the carrier when they declared themselves wingmen. Their adrenaline ran high as they got back to their quarters, unable to resist the bubbling feelings between them any longer and sank into a desperate kiss. They decided then that though they had to hide, it would be worth it. It meant the entire world to Maverick that the man who made his reputation and living on following the rules, would break one of the biggest ones just for him. They carried on like that, loving each other, flying, and taking care of the Bradshaws. It worked well, for a while. It seemed like the worst of their lives was over. On yet another regular Tuesday, Carol left them as well. From diagnosis to death bed it was a fast and slow six months. Little ten year old Bradley understanding and bearing the weight of two dead parents. Luckily Uncle Ice and Uncle Mav were there to pick up the pieces the best they can, only to lose him eight years later when they tried to stop him from flying. “Tom, we did the right thing, right? Obeying his mothers wishes?” They were sitting on their backyard porch swing of their shared house, Mav between Ice’s legs, his back pressed against his chest, it rumbled when he spoke. “It was the only choice we had. You know we had to do this. For Carol.” Maverick hummed his agreement, “for Carol.” It was a mantra that carried both of them through the coming years. It was hard on both of them to not have any contact with a kid they considered to be their son.
Ice climbed the ranks while Maverick made his home at the rank of captain. High enough to gain some respect, but not too high that they chained him to a desk and clipped his wings. It was 2011 when Ice made his first change. He had climbed all the way to the comfy job of Commander of the US pacific fleet, brushing shoulders with all of the powerful people and even the president they both liked so much. Ice had come home one night all smiles, something uncharacteristic for the job he had. When Maverick enquired as to why he was in such a mood all he did was kiss him and tell him he loved him. It wasn’t until early Sunday morning while they were lazing in bed with the TV on when their ‘friend’ the president came on the screen. Both men immediately turned their focus from each other to the TV in time to hear his speech. Mavericks ears were ringing and eyes fuzzy with tears, he heard the words ‘Don’t ask don’t tell’ and ‘repeal’ and he was all but jumping on the man he referred to (In the right audience) as his husband. Ice didn’t seem as shocked as he was, but he was no less happy. Maverick was like an overeager puppy from there on out, touching Ice as much as he could in public, seeming to try and make up for the 20 years they couldn’t. He was always pushing the limits, and now he could do so without feeling guilty for dragging Ice down with him. Ice was happy to indulge, Maverick had rubbed off on him after all. When their favorite president legalized gay marriage in 2015 they, like many other couples, scrambled to get married. They invited Bradley and pretended not to let it get to them when he didn’t show. They were lucky enough to get their TOP GUN class of ‘86 there with Slider as Ice’s best man and Merlin as Maverick’s. The jokes that night were never ending, the entire class deep diving into how they totally knew they were in love even back when neither pilot knew themselves.
It was the summer of 2016 that Maverick thought he might lose his next miracle. Ice had a nasty sore throat that turned out to be so much worse. Sitting hand in hand in the doctor's office ears once again ringing and eyes fuzzy with tears but this time for all the wrong reasons. Cancer. The same disease that took his friend would now potentially take his soulmate, his husband, his wingman. “It’ll be okay hun, we’ll get through this.” Ice was comforting Maverick even though it was Ice who was going to do all of the suffering. Or so Maverick thought. Ice went through all of the treatments he was told to, soldiering through like he always did. Maverick was another case all together. He was the one breaking down in tears at the sight of his husband, he was struggling so bad that Slider had to come over to watch Ice for a day just to force Maverick to leave the house. The day the doctor told them he was in remission was the second greatest day of his life, his wedding day being the first. They felt invincible again, like nothing could ever bring them down. Maverick felt cocky even, “Hell yeah, My husband beat cancer, no big.” Life started to get back to normal for a while, Ice went back to work, Maverick got a pretty good gig thanks to his husband, test piloting some pretty cool aircrafts. Mav had a hanger in the Mojave desert and split his time between there and their fighter-town house. They still missed Bradley like crazy but were starting to accept that this was probably going to be their lives for a while.
Ice’s cancer came back the summer of 2019. Ice handled the news better than Maverick, once again, quoting that it wasn’t uncommon for cancer to come back sometimes. He insisted that Maverick continue his work with the ‘Darkstar’ as if nothing was wrong, even he continued working to the best of his abilities. It wasn’t until Maverick came back from crashing the ‘Darkstar’ (an event Ice knew was bound to happen) and accepted his assignment at TOP GUN that Ice’s condition took a turn for the worse. Maverick hadn’t thought such a thing could happen, given how valiantly his husband had fought it off the last time. Ice did best to assure Maverick he was fine, but to no avail. Maverick knew, this could be it. Ice had encouraged him nightly to try and talk to Bradley, to try and reconcile with the boy. Maverick took it to heart, like he always did when Ice was concerned, and tried at every opportunity presented to him. But one night after a particularly hard training day, almost losing three separate kids, he wasn’t in the mood to fight with Bradley. The kid on the other hand had other ideas. “Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.” Those words stung more than the others. Bradley knew that wasn’t true, he was invited to their wedding after all. The argument spurred on from there and got worse and worse until… it got the worst it could ever. Warlock opens the door and after he says, “It’s Ice” his heart stops. Ice had collapsed at work and… things weren’t looking good. Maverick ran out the door and jumped on his Kawasaki speeding the familiar route to the hospital. His heart beating in his ears mind racing he vaguely hears himself say “My- my husband. Tom Kazansky?” Nurses are ushering him into a room with a haste he doesn’t like. He sees his husband then, The Iceman, The Commander of the US pacific fleet, the love of his life, looking small in a hospital bed. Ice’s face lights up when he sees his husband and if Maverick wasn’t so attuned to his husbands movements he would’ve missed the slight hand twitch that meant he wanted to hold his husbands hand. He was on a ventilator looking sleepy but Maverick could tell he was staying awake as long as he could for the sake of his beloved. “Baby,” Was all Maverick could squeeze out of his throat that had tightened. He moved quickly to his side to grip his hand, kissing it and his cheek. Tears were streaming down his face actively now. The doctor came in just then to update Maverick on the situation. It was only a matter of hours that Ice had left. He then told Maverick that Ice would probably not be able to speak at all, but it was up to Tom if he could manage. The doctor left them alone and Maverick sobbed into his husband's chest. Lifting his head up he looked into his soulmates still loving eyes. “Oh Ice, my love. We deserved more time. 36 years with you wasn’t enough. How am I supposed to live without you?” Ice smiled at Maverick, patting his cheek. Mav knew his husband well enough to know that meant, you have to. “I don’t want to. I won’t.” Ice was crying now too, a rare sight as the man was a Pillar of emotional stability. He put his hand at the joint of Mavericks neck and shoulder and squeezed giving him a sincere look. “I- love you.” Was all he could manage and so soft it was a near whisper. “I love you too, so much.” Maverick leaned in and kissed his husband for the final time. He put his soul into it, knowing in his bones that this was it. He pulled away by some force that wasn’t of this realm. He smiled at his husband and he got to see him smile back one last time before he closed his eyes. There went Mavericks’ second miracle. ‘I love you’ being his final words.
Ice’s funeral was brutal to say the least. He remembers only parts of it, the pinning of his wings, the gun salute, and the flyby. He got so many condolences he couldn’t remember most. He did remember one though, one very important one. Bradley. The young man had approached him after the burial and just hugged his once Uncle. “I’m so sorry uncle Pete. So sorry.” Pete wasn’t sure what he was sorry for, but just hugged him as tightly as he could for the first time in a decade. He just wished Ice was there to see it. “It’ll be okay baby goose. We’re going to be okay.” Pete could tell how much guilt the boy carried with him at never reconciling with his other Uncle. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Bradley scurried off somewhere. It wasn’t until they were on the carrier that they spoke again, promising to really talk after they got back. There was a moment or two, during that mission that he thought he was done for. The first instance being when he saved Bradley. He was at peace with his decision, saving his son and leaving to be with his husband was not something he was too torn up about. But then he woke up in the snow, Bradley stopping him from being shot by an enemy chopper, he cursed the boys 'maverick-like’ instincts. The next time he thought he was dead he wasn’t so at peace with the situation. Bradley was in the back seat and he was going to fight like hell to get him home. He decided at that moment, when they were being saved, to buy Lieutenant Seresin something nice. Hugging Bradley on the carrier healed him just as much as his hug at Ice’s funeral did.
After that mission he slowed down a bit. Only a little, but enough. He kept his and Ice’s house exactly the same as Ice had left it, cleaning regularly, but the decor never changed. What had changed was the pictures on the walls multiplied. There was the photo of him and Bradley hugging on the carrier, a photo of him and the entire Dagger squad, a group that had stayed in touch even after everything was over. There was a photo of Bradley and Jake when they had started dating, a fact that Maverick wished he could’ve told Ice even if it was more of a I told you so. A photo of the young couples wedding, Maverick being Bradley’s best man, it sat nicely next to Ice and Mavericks. He received many photos of his daggers over the years, them and their families. He found himself keeping 12 frames up and switching them out every year when he was sent new ones. Then there were the kids, like actual kids. Jake and Bradley had adopted a little baby girl and named her Carol Nicole, and then three years later a little boy and surprised Maverick by naming him Thomas Peter Seresin-Bradshaw. Pete cried for a solid hour and hugged his sons close. He cried even harder when they had explained they wanted them to always remember their grandparents.
Maverick had really come into his own as a grandpa. He not only had Jake and Bradley’s kids, but his daggers brought their kids around too. He watched them grow up still wishing he had Ice with him. The number of pictures grew and grew until there was barely any wall left. Maverick was just so proud of his family. As he aged up, his flying days were numbered. He retired from the navy a few years after baby Thomas was born, his last flight in a fighter jet was an F-14 they had saved. The whole family showed up, daggers and all. Bradley was at his wing and even Slider was in his back seat. “I wish Ice could’ve been here.” Slider sighed into the radio, “Me too man. But you know he never left you. Not even God could keep that man from you, why? I’ll never figure it out.” Maverick chuckled and carried on his flight. He mumbled a ‘Talk to me goose.’ And a silent ‘I love you.’ To his forever wingman. Landing that jet hurt more than it should’ve, it had been his lifeline for so long, just him and his jet. His family all hugged him and took a picture, that photo ending up on his wall. It wasn’t until his 80th birthday that he took his actual last flight. It was in the plane he kept at his hangar in the Mojave with little Tommy. Little was a bit of an exaggeration given that he turned 16 that year. Maverick was happy to fly with his grandson, to share with him something that united the kids entire family, especially his namesake. Even though the kids never met Grandpa Ice, a fact that broke Mavericks heart on multiple occasions, They still made sure to tell them stories about the man. They’d say he was the bravest man alive, and even though they never met, he loved them so much. After that flight with Thomas, Maverick stepped out of an airplane for the last time. He didn’t know it at the time, but this miracle leaving him didn’t hurt like the other ones did. He didn’t feel gut wrenching pain or heartache. He felt joy, spending the day with his grandson only to return him to his sons at the end. He went home that night with a smile on his face, feeling at peace.
Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell died two weeks later peacefully in his sleep. The cause was unknown, but his kids would say it was time for him to return to his soulmate. The two had been apart for too long and Maverick was not meant to be away from him for extended periods of time. They were sad of course, but they knew it was for the best. For Pete on the other hand, it was the best thing to happen to him in a while. It was like he was on a bus, sitting patiently among others waiting to get off. It was peaceful, not quiet, but not loud. When the bus stopped the driver said it was time to get off, that this was the end of the route. Pete stood and walked to the exit, unsure of what would greet him outside. When the doors opened it was sunny outside, and there stood a man, Blonde hair spiked, green flight suit with a patch that read Iceman. He had a cocky but kind look on his face as he took off his glasses and tucked them into his pocket. Maverick felt old compared to the young man, in his old man sweater, but as he stepped off the bus to greet him he himself was wearing his signature white shirt and jeans, cowboy boots and leather jacket. He was young again, just as he was when he met Ice to be exact. Maverick took in the man once again, his husband, he had missed him so much. “Hey stud.” He even sounded just like he remembered, that voice could calm him in a millisecond. The voice that was stolen from him too soon. “Baby.” Maverick whimpered and threw himself at his husband. Tom caught him with no trouble and hugged him tight. He laughed in Pete’s ear and if he wasn't already dead he’s sure that sound would have done him in. “I missed you Pete.” And even though for Ice it had only been a few hours, Pete believed him. “I missed you too. I love you so much.” Pete pulled back to look at his face and couldn't help but kiss him. The kiss was warm, happy, it felt like home.
They pulled back at the sound of what could only be described as howling. “Great balls of fire, there you are Petey!” Goose. Maverick turned around and there stood his best friend, arm slung around his beloved wife. “Goose!” Pete exclaimed before tackling the man into a hug. He could faintly hear both Ice and Carol laughing, but he was too busy hugging Nick. “Hey Mav, how are you buddy?” Maverick was tearing up at his voice, he forgot how much he had missed this man. “Oh I’m so good Goose. I missed you buddy.” Nick pulled back and gave him a smile. “I missed you too, man! Ice here filled me in on what I missed, you two were definitely busy.” Pete laughed, that was for sure an understatement. “Indeed, hey did you know we’re all grandparents?” The group was all smiles, happy to hear about their family. “Yeah and we’re all pretty pissed that you’re the only grandparent they met. They probably thought we were all crazy!” Carol was still Carol it seems. Mav put his arm around Ice’s waist and cuddled in. Tom kissed the top of his head and leaned against it. “Oh and this whole thing?” Goose gestured between the reunited lovers, “Was quite a surprise. Rivals my ass.” Carol playfully slapped her husband's arm, “Oh you’re just mad you didn’t call it sooner.” As the couple continued their loving bickering, something that was apparently still a thing in the afterlife, Pete turned to his husband. “So, what is there to do around here?” Ice gave him a grin, like he knew something Maverick didn’t. “Why do you think I’m wearing a flight suit?” Pete could’ve cried at that, he could fly again? “Really?” Ice nodded and called over to goose who was still teasing his wife. “Hey mother Goose, up for a flight?” Nick ran over and it was then that Pete noticed he too was in his flight suit. “Flying with Maverick again? Try and stop me.” And just like that, Pete had back his three miracles. His wings, his best friend, and his beloved. It had been so long since he had all three, and never at that same time. He thinks he’s gonna like it here.
#icemav#iceman x maverick#top gun maverick#maverick#bradley bradshaw#iceman kazansky#rooster top gun#top gun#goose#maverick x iceman#hangster#hangman x rooster#dealing with grief#death cw#funerals#immediately crying#im sorry
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The Captain’s Daughter (Alternate Ending)
Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader/OC
Warnings: depression, sibling fluff, sadness, shitty version of an afterlife
Summary: Maverick adopted Goose and Carole’s daughter, she’s one hell of a pilot, and Bob is smitten
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | alternate ending | part 4
masterlist
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The heart monitor starts crashing, Jake and Bob rushing out of the room, Jake to go find a doctor, and Bob to find Maverick and Rooster who left moments ago to get food. Jake stands beside his best friend, willing her to wake up. Bob stands beside her head, looking down at the girl he's come to love, tears threatening to leak from his eyes. Maverick and Rooster are crying at the foot of the bed, begging her to stay alive. They just lost Ice, it's too soon.
"I'm sorry," the ghost of Nicky stands beside Jake, although he can't hear or see her. "Thank you for getting them back safely, I forgive you for everything. You've always been my best friend."
She knows her choice was selfish, that if she stayed, there was so much more to her life. But she's saved her family once now, and the pain she went through at the thought of losing them was something she could never feel again, even if it meant them going through that very pain. Selfish, yes, but she didn’t care. She died saving the ones she loved, which was more important to her than anything. Her life was complete. Plus, she just got her birth parents back, why would she lose them again? Maverick was a great father, and he would've done the same for her, but it was about time she got to know the ones she spent her whole life trying to make proud.
"I love you Bob, take care of them for me," she whispers to the WSO who made her want to break every rule of dating her father ever made. She'll miss looking at him, talking to him, and flying with the shy lieutenant. They never officially became a couple, so it wasn't like she was losing much in that relationship, but she will never know what would've become. He deserves more than her, she will do her best make sure he gets his forever.
"Dad, thank you for everything. I'll always be with you. I couldn't have asked for a better father, I love you," Maverick looks to where she's standing beside him, tears running down his cheeks. He heard her.
"I'll always love you, sweetheart. You were the best thing to ever happen to me," he whispers only for the girl he raised as his own to hear. She feels bad knowing how much this must be hurting him, but he knows she's going to be with her parents and with Ice. That's enough for Pete. He knew she always wanted to know her parents like he did, it brings him peace to know she was happy.
The hardest goodbye is saying goodbye to Bradley. The last Bradshaw, something she caused. Wrapping her arms around her older brother, no longer feeling the comforting warmth, she offers her apology. "I'm so sorry, Bradley, but I'll be with Mom, Dad, and Uncle Ice now. Make us proud and take care of everyone for me. But let them take care of you too, it's okay to reach out for help. I love you so much."
A shiver is sent down Bradley's back as he feels something touch his shoulder, but no one is there. At the same time, the heart monitor attached to his sister flatlines. He knows what he felt was his sister, he knows she's gone. Silent tears stream down his face. The four men in the room come together, watching the girl they loved in their own unique way lose the week-long fight to stay alive. A lover, best friend, daughter, and sister.
"Welcome home, kid," Tom says, hugging his bright-eyed niece as she returns. Her, Nick, and him all in their flight suits.
"Thanks, I'm happy to be here and be with you, Mom, and Dad," she says as her parents join the two of them.
"Why did you choose to stay?" Dad asks as we make our way to the volleyball pit. Him teaming with Mom and me with Ice.
"I saw my future, and it was nice, perfect even, but I didn't want it. My life was fulfilling and perfect the way it was. I knew the risks when I chose to save Dad, Bradley, and Jake, and I accepted them. The only thing missing from my life was my birth parents. Dad told stories, but I want to get to know you myself. Plus, I'll see everyone again, and I can't wait to hear their stories when I do. In the meantime, I finally get to spend time with you and annoy everyone as a ghost," Nicole explains. Everyone here has their own base, with the exception of her family, who made one mega base. Nicole couldn’t wait to explore it all while her mom explained how the afterlife worked.
Her funeral and wake were somber, sadder than Iceman's. Rooster was the one to give her her final wings. There wasn't a dry eye for a couple rows. She had made the ultimate sacrifice in a show of love, it was moving. Against Goose's protests, she watched and comforted her friends. Her presence scared Payback, he's afraid of ghosts, he didn't appreciate the ghost touches and shivers.
Mav kept her flight helmet right beside his, eventually gifting them to Rooster. The pair helped Bob and Jake get out of their depressions, they didn’t have anyone to lean on like Mav and Rooster had each other.
She watched over their lives, helping when missions turned dire. She wasn't ready to add any more volleyball teams. She made sure they had someone to love them and to love back. She listened as Rooster told stories about her, and she listened about how some sailors thought the ship was haunted by her ghost as she tries to complete the mission. When her friends swore she was there protecting their back, she would purposefully mess with them, only conforming it to them. That was the kind of shit she would do alive.
Bob was the first one of the group to join them at 50 years old -Mav passed a few years ago shortly after Penny- and she had been the one to greet him. He died peacefully, a car accident gone wrong. He never married, opting to be a dog dad his whole life.
"Hi Bob," the ghost of his love smiles. She's in her bomber jacket full of patches, a white tee, and jean shorts.
"Nicole," he kisses her, something he wished he had done his whole life.
"I missed you. We have a lot to catch up on," she smiles, leading him through a door and away from the flowers.
Catch up they did. Goose took a bit to warm up to Bob, but Mav and Gatsby had told him so many stories about Bob, it was hard to dislike the kid. Bob was instantly welcomed to flights with everyone, and Carole took him on as a volleyball partner. Bob joined Goose and Gatsby when they went to do their pranking shenanigans on the physical plane. Phoenix and Rooster had never been more scared in their old age.
One by one more bases were established in the afterlife as their friends joined them. However, the Kazansky/Mitchell/Bradshaw base was by far the most popular due to beach volleyball, routine flights, and Penny’s afterlife version of the Hard Deck.
#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#bob top gun#robert bob floyd x oc#bob floyd x oc#captain pete maverick mitchell#rooster#tom iceman kazansky#nick goose bradshaw
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Two Folded Flags Part 2
A/N: PLEASE READ THIS. This is in NO WAY a reflection on ANY religion, in this au there will simply be an afterlife to meet your loved ones again. If you have any issues with this please do not proceed with reading this story, once again it does not fall into place with a belief system.
This is my apology for part one
PART ONE
Pairings: Jake Hangman Seresin x F Reader x Natasha Phoenix Trace
Warnings: Angst, fluff, blood, death
You laid there gasping on the bank floor, blood gushing out of your stomach. A young woman tried to stop the bleeding but it wasn’t working, an overwhelming relief was flooding your body as you stopped feeling the pain from the wound and the whole in your heart. “It’s okay” you whispered to the woman, a smile on your face that was aged with lines by now. “I did what I loved, I get to be with my soulmates again. I’m glad I could protect your little kids,” the smile that graced your face grew weaker as the husband shield the twin boy and girl from the sight of you. There was a robbery at the bank as the man looked desperate, he went to attack the kids but you threw yourself in the way, getting shot. You were in uniform as you just got out of a meeting and needed to stop at the bank to get money for a the get together you, Rooster, Bob, and Coyote were doing, it was only you four left now.
You felt your eyes grow heavy as an overwhelming tiredness took over you. You could hear sirens in the distance but you didn’t care, you just wanted to sleep now. “Please, stop, don’t watch me die. It’s too traumatic on someone, just be with your little ones” you whispered and the woman turned away. You closed your eyes as they felt like cinder blocks were pulling them down. You fell asleep for a moment and then you hear the voices. “Hey love, you gotta wake up now, it’s time to come home. You’re with us again” a voice said and you could barely believe it, after forty years you heard her voice again. “Nat, give her a minute. She always was slow to wake up” You heard his voice. Opening your eyes, you found yourself laying in the meadow behind your old home, looking up at Nat and Jake who both looked like they were in their early twenties again, much younger then how they died. You could feel the sun and the wind blowing against your skin, making this feel very real. “Hey, y/n, we missed you. Welcome home” Jake said, smiling down at you. You jumped up and tackled them into a hug, no longer feeling the pain your body suffered through for years. You started crying happy tears as you felt their arms wrap around you for the first time in forty years. They felt exactly how you remembered and you smelt their perfume and cologne you kept stored in a box in the back of your drawer. “This is real? I’m really holding you both again?” You asked. Nat cupped your cheek, “Yes baby, were real” she said.
It was a while after you guys chose to say hello in a different way that you were brought over to the other that your soulmates had been spending time with. “Guess who took their sweet time to show up?” Jake called to the group, his arm around your shoulders and you held Nat's hand. There was Fanboy and Payback as they wrestled, Maverick broke away from kissing Iceman which you grinned seeing him with his soulmate again, and then you saw Carole and Goose who you recognized from photos. You saw a few others from Mavericks class mingling further away but Maverick came over and hugged you, “It’s good to see you” he whispered and you hugged him back. “I took care of him while you were gone” you whispered to Maverick, you and Rooster grew a lot closer when Mav died, “And I took care of them,” he told you.
You really couldn’t believe how alive you felt in that moment, but you truly felt whole again as you talked to everyone, happily in your soulmates arms. Nothing would take you three away from each other now.
Tag List:
@peaches-and-sunshine@natasharomanoffisbaebby@sweetheartlizzie07@lollypop90907@the-hottest-lieutenants @jamiedontbeacracko @blackcat2907 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho
#hannix#hannix x reader#icemav#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake 'hangman' seresin#Natasha Trace x reader#natasha phoenix trace#natasha 'phoenix' trace#rooster top gun#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun: maverick
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do ALL the tgm asks <3
Haha. Okay *cracks knuckles* here we go.
1. Favorite dagger duckling
B.O.B and Phoenix - I’m cheating and having two because it’s my ask and I can.
Phoenix: I’m dead dickhead.
Bob: See you in the afterlife Bagman.
How could you not love them?
2. Favorite line
To take that line, which is so prevalent in pop culture, and turn it into a moment that shows how grief changes over time, how it becomes a lasting connection to a loved one, and a reminder that we love and miss them is beautiful.
3. Favorite scene
The entire Darkstar sequence is not only stunning to look at, surprisingly emotional and thrilling, but it also does a pitch-perfect job of introducing who Mav is as a character to a new audience, as well as showing the existing audience how Mav is still Mav.
"Just a little push"
4. Scene that made you cry the most
My cry count at this film is 7
The Darkstar “Talk to me Goose”
Mav watching Rooster through the bar window
Ice/Mav meeting. “It’s time to let go.”
Iceman’s funeral
The moment Mav enters the bar to say goodbye to Penny, until the mission launch and his goodbye to Hondo
“Dagger one is hit”
Mav: Thank you for saving my life. Rooster: It’s what my dad would have done
Out of those, I think the one that really gets me every time and that I can cry about just thinking about is,
Gif by @ethanhunt
And the reason for that, as I have said elsewhere and I will be a broken record about, is that Rooster is, of course, talking about Goose... but he’s also talking about Mav. Plus, it’s tears of happiness because they’re family again.
5. Scene that made you laugh the most
Gif by @ethanhunt
You’re not expecting it on the first viewing, and it was such a fantastic way of breaking the tension because you’re relieved Rooster is okay, and they’re finally talking.
6. Underrated moment
So I want to highlight this moment between Hondo and Admiral Cain because it shows why Mav and Hondo are friends.
My other underrated moment is when Mav is in the bar watching Penny and Amelia. He’s on the outside looking in and you can see how much he craves to have that kind of life.
7. Favorite song from the soundtrack
The Man, The Legend/Touchdown
8. Favorite character
Let's take Mav being a favorite as a given. So my non-MAV favorite is Penny. God, she’s fabulous and every time I watch the movie I love her more and more. That Oprah Winfrey gif probably sums up my feelings about her best: "She is … the mother I never had. She is … the sister everybody would want. She is the friend that everybody deserves. I don't know a better person. "
Jennifer Connelly does such an excellent job hinting at how Penny is feeling internally and the things she wants to say but can’t, the conflict that comes with loving someone like Pete.
9. Favorite flying sequence
Maverick completing the course in 2:15. It’s thrilling every single time. And to see Mav from behind in the F-18 as he’s flying is such a small detail, but it gives it so much more intensity and puts you right in there. The supporting cast do a fantastic job of reacting in character. The more I watch the movie, the more I start to well up as Mav reaches the target, with the swell of the music and the look on Cyclone’s face. And Rooster too, watching with some pride and wondering how Mav is able to fly like that and how he can to.
10. Favorite hug
No dialogue needed, the hug says everything. Tom and Jennifer do a fantastic job of imbuing that relationship with so much love, respect and unspoken history.
11. A fan theory, that you maybe don’t subscribe to, but you find neat.
Shipping wise, Hangman and Rooster are ex-lovers. I don’t ship them personally, but I can totally see why people read there relationship that way.
A fan theory I can see, but don’t subscribe to is that the movie is a death dream, as mentioned in this article, “I’m sure you’ve heard the popular theory that Maverick died in the opening Darkstar sequence, making the rest of the movie a death dream.”
Which fits with an observation from this article. “There’s a ghostlike quality to Maverick in that scene and others — in that early bar scene, where the kids almost see past him, and then later, when he shows up in his Navy whites to say bye to Jennifer Connelly. He feels like a ghost.”
Personally, if any part were to be a death dream I think it would be after dagger one is hit.
12. Favorite shot
Gif by @indifferentvincent
And this from @rochc93 is why I love Tumblr because it’s as if you can all read my mind
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for the sleepover what’s your top three favorite scenes from top gun or tgm??!! love you sm i hope you’re doing okay honey <333 💐💐💖💘💝
ahhh ilysm!! i hope you’re doing good too my love💐❤️
i’ll do both!! i love those movies sm
tgm:
1: Mav pushing Roos in the woods, Roos throwing his arms in the air lol. That scene will never not get old
2: Bobs first scenes. I love that boy with my whole heart he makes me want to cry!!!🥺🥺
3: Mav slamming the wings into Ice’s coffin. Something about that scene makes my heart drop everytime i watch it.
honourable mentions to: “Baby on board” and “See you in the afterlife, bagman”
tg 1986:
1: “Hey Mother Goose hows it going!” “They were abused children”
2: I feel the need! The need, FOR SPEED! *loud clap*
3: You can be my wingman anytime. Bullshit, you can be mine.
honourable mentions to: Gooses laugh & “theres 2 O’s in goose boys”
mwah!!! thanks for the ask bestie <3
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Embo X Reader
Summary: You took a bounty with your boyfriend, Embo, and things do not end well
Side note: I have maladaptive dreamed about this story and have cried multiple time, so i hope y’all enjoy 😎. AKA i felt inspired by my tears 🥲 This is also my first fic I’ve ever written, so I’d love some feedback ❤️❤️❤️
Warnings: ANGST :( SO SADGE character death
You knew what you were getting into. Sure, you didn’t know the extent of danger you were in, but you should’ve expected it while taking this bounty.
He was a dangerous man, a very well known bounty hunter named Preema Vista. He is a strong Rodian, and was known to take bounties ranging from Jedis to civilians. The danger was there, laid out in the (metaphorical) contract, yet you and Embo still decided to take the bounty.
To give a little background, you and Embo have been dating for around a year and a half. You met through Cad Bane, another infamous bounty hunter. When you met, you felt a spark erupt between you two, and you couldn’t let that go to waste. And, the rest was history.
You soon landed on Maldo Kreis with ease, stepping off of the ship and immediately getting to work. You first checked every bar in town, as most bounty hunting scum thrived in those dingy environments. As if luck was on your side, you saw a quick flash of your bounty. He was sitting at a table, alone. You decided to run after him, all while leaving Embo in your tracks. Seeing you bolt after him, the Rodian decided to scramble to his feet and exit the bar. Noticing your absence, Embo followed this wild goose chase.
You kept Vista in your sight while you pushed you way past mon calas, quarren, and other amphibious species. The absence of “sorrys” and “excuse mes” made you feel guilty, but you focused on the bounty. You knew Embo was following you because you could hear him. You soon took a sharp left into another cantina, slowing your pace so that you could, hopefully, surprise Vista.
That hadn’t worked, because next thing you knew, you and Embo were in a standoff, and the odds weren’t in your favor. You had seen two Mon Calas next to you, a Twi’lek and a Gungan on your right. You and Embo had been standing back to back, the stance you guys always took in a standoff.
The Rodian made his way into your sight. “Leave before my gang and I rough y’all up”. His voice was high pitched a squeaky, so you weren’t too concerned. You peered over to look at Embo, noticing that he felt the same. Because of this, you felt this new surge of confidence, one that you thought would play in your favor. To your chagrin, you stepped, and noticed that one of the Mon Calas had stepped forward, and shot. But before the bullet hit your body, you felt a push from the person standing behind you. You quickly fell to the ground, Embo following and dropping above you.
You heard the cantina doors swing open, hearing Vista and all his friends giggling at your predicament as they left. You had no time to get up and fight them, as a large Kyuzo was on top of you.
You clenched your eyes shut, basking in the sharp pains radiating from the back of you head. Once you opened your eyes, you see a limp Embo lying on top of you. You felt the struggle behind his breaths, and heard the moans escaping his mask as he lied on top of you. You felt your heart drop, “This was it” you thought. “This was the end of the rodeo you and Embo embarked on”. Tears threatened to spill, but failed as you heard Embo start to speak.
“Y/N” he groaned “Y-Y/N, are you there”
“Yes Embo, right here” you responded, as a single tear fell down your cheek. You pushed him so he was on his back, climbing on top of him so you could try to look for the wound.
You looked at the placement of the wound. It was right in the middle of his chest. You started to get up to frantically look for a med pack. Your hands were shaking as you started to push off the injured man, but two strong arms kept you in place.
“Let me go” you said in a shaky voice, “I have to help you”.
“There’s no use” he responded “I’m a dead man”
You started to shake and more tears threatened to spill. You knew he was right, but refused to say so, “You can’t die one me though, we were supposed to grow old together” you finished as the lump in your throat became bigger.
“We will” he began “I’ll always be with you. No matter where you are, you’ll feel my presence. I’ll be watching from the afterlife, aiding you in all the expeditions you will take in the years coming.”
You started to cry even more, and Embo brought a shaky hand up to your face, “We will meet again. One day, we will be reunited and spend the rest of the afterlife together. Me, you, and Marrok will be able to live peacefully together”.
You rested your forehead against Embo’s. “Promise?”
“I promise” he concluded.
You sat in silence as you watched him die. You began to quietly hum a song. Embo soon joined in, voice hoarse and raspy as he sung along.
As you both looked into each other’s eyes and sung the line, “But I know we’ll meet again on some sunny day”, you saw the life get drained out of his eyes, and he became limp.
You cried his name louder than you would admit, clinging to him as if he was the only thing that gave you life.
As your crying subsided, anger filled your veins. You picked up the helmet that rested on Embo’s head and stood up. You were going to find Preema Vista and his goons. You were going to kill them all, and make them pay for what they did to your boyfriend.
FINE
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Character Analysis: Jeong Yunho, ‘Father Earth’
Name: Jeong Yunho
Languages: English, Korean, Gaeilge (Irish), Spanish, French, Dutch, Egyptian (Post Transformation), Arabic (Modern Day), Japanese (Modern Day), Mandarin (Modern Day)
Crew Position: Surgeon/Doctor
Powers: Terrakinesis/Earth (Inherited from Egyptian God, Geb)
Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: North Eastern Facing, located on his left hip, Green Zircon
Eye Color: Honey Brown (Natural)/ Ice Blue (Demonic Form)
Hair Color: Brunette (Natural)/ Blonde, Dark Roots (Demonic Form)
Tattoos: A Robin, Cerasee, the Rod of Asclepius, an Amaryllis Blossom, and a Cup of Tea, all across his upper back/shoulder area.
Likes: Animals, Making Fruit Teas, Tending to Gardens, Reading, Capoeira, Cuddling
Dislikes: Greedy Doctors, Bitter Food, Neglectful Authority Figures
*The above artist rendition of Geb used courtesy of the game, Smite
Jeong Yunho.
A kind child from a loving family of four guardians. The son of Lloyd, Robin, Valeria, and Mei, Yunho spent his childhood learning how to make tea, gardens, and medicinal salves from plants, all while learning about the human body and the illnesses that plague it.
His smiling face is a treat for the people in town when he and his parents travel to gather supplies. His kind demeanor and the calm, earthy mixture of floral and fruit scents that cling to him often lead to him being inviting enough to all animals. He can befriend any animal effortlessly, something his mother Valeria often teases lightly about.
Surgeon Jeong Yunho
Having sought out the man that helped save his loved one, Yunho has dedicated himself to both Captain Hongjoong and the entire Utopia crew. He provides emotional and medical support to everyone in their time of need and his office is often an escape from the hardships that come with being out at sea, all with his serpentine friend Atlas usually wrapped around his neck.
Yunho may be one of the few men who are fully in touch with their…’other’ selves, and as such, he’s been looking into the true nature of their powers and where they come from. Perhaps the gentlemanly voice in his head can provide some answers…
-Mythology-
Geb, also known as Seb or Keb, is the Egyptian God of the Earth. He is the son of Shu and Tefnut, and his wife is sister Nut, the Goddess of the Sky. Geb and Nut bore four children; Osiris, Isis, Set (Or Seth), and Nephthys. (Though some myths will credit Geb with being the father to the god Horus, as well)
Though his name apparently translates to “weak one”, Geb is highly respected and often seen as one of Egypt’s mightiest gods. A protector and a guide, Geb has had many instances in his lore where he is often the support to an allied god through their own journey.
Despite being the God of the Earth, Geb also aided the deceased to the afterlife, and would provide them with food along to ease their long journey into the afterlife. Geb’s name is a powerful one, said to be spoken to heal the sick if their affliction was caused by a natural cause such as a cold or a poisonous sting from a scorpion.
Geb’s laugh is also powerful, said that the sound of his laugh alone can cause earthquakes. The god can have his moments (as most others do), where he will seemingly cause strife for his followers, just because it is within his power to do so. From droughts without warning, to being the reason there is a huge, near uninhabitable desert isolating Egypt from the ancient world, Geb was no stranger to flexing his power and causing hardships.
Despite this, he had his kinder moments, such as the fertile lands surrounding the Nile River. Just as he would cause a drought without warning, Geb would also bless followers with bountiful harvests, with a surplus to keep their livestock alive and healthy for day to day life.
In ancient depictions of the two, Geb and his wife, Nut are depicted with him lying below her as she stands above him in the shape of an arc, covering him, but never touching him. Geb is reclining, often with his knee pulled upwards, as a show to represent the intimacy between the earth and sky. His limbs are often metaphors for the valleys, mountains, or hills.
The most common depiction of Geb himself is that of a dark skinned man with a crown. Sometimes his skin is green. This is to represent the fertile soils of The Nile and growth of crops in the area. He is also often depicted with a goose on his head, as it is his sacred animal. He was also said to be able to transform into other birds, leading to the name “The Great Cackler” (which, given his earthquake laughs, watch out with that one-).
He is also associated with snakes, and less common depictions will have him as part man, part snake. In the Book of the Dead, Geb was credited with giving birth to the serpent Nehebkau.
-Power Applications/ Demon Transformation-
When Yunho unleashes his full power, his dark brunette hair will become mostly blonde. His eyes will go from their honey brown color, to an icy, nearly whitish blue color. A discolored triangle appears over his right eye and his smile is elongated, with earthy, root-like veins appearing around his lips and the edges of the triangular mark. He can see better out of his right eye, as his ‘Demon Self’ can see fully from it and assist during combat.
With the uniqueness of still being able to communicate with his ‘other’ self, Yunho is attuned to the Earth and uses his full body for combat. He mixes Hapkido learned from mother Mei and Capoirea learned from his father Robin with his plant powers to attack with every part of himself, using his powers for extra attacks, or to keep himself steady as he goes on the offensive.
Alongside his strong offensive capabilities, Yunho uses his powers for defense, raising thick trees and slabs of earth to block attacks or keep enemies at bay. He also can wrap vines around enemies to crush them, much like a constrictor would do to prey.
When not in combat, Yunho’s plants have a number of other applications, with the most notable being the ability to grow medicinal and essential plants on the ship for his salves and other medical needs. He can also grow a number of flora for his teas or for Yeosang’s food.
Plants also have a natural bioluminescence, and the kind doctor often uses his powers to brighten the normally undetectable light to a degree where they can be used to illuminate his room without the need for lanterns. His plants also have a strong scent, and are used for aromatherapy, thus turning his quarters into a calm room for the crew to freely enter to destress at any time.
Ideally, Yunho fares the best with his powers in an area that is heavily wooded or has little to no man-made structures to keep the destruction levels low. If the area is too dry, on fire, or cold, he has difficulty summoning plants, as they will often be brittle or too weak for attacks, but he can use his more defensive stone-type fighting, or hand to hand to compensate for the potential loss.
-Character Song Breakdown-
All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. Yunho’s character song is Voices In My Head by San Holo. I will go over some spoiler things, but if you made it this far, you may know this already.
Unlike some of the other boys’ breakdowns, Yunho’s is rather simple. The song was picked as a hint to the fact that Yunho is the first of the boys to interact with his ‘demon’ self in a manner that wasn’t self-destructive.
Impressed by his nature and lack of strong negativity within him, his demon self grants him full control of their powers and as a result of their mutual understanding, he’s actually stuck around instead of being ‘overcome’ by Yunho taking control. As a result, he is one of the only boys that has the ability to still hear the previous embodiment of his powers. Ever since he realized his transformation and relationship with his ‘demon’ self were different from the others, he’s been trying to dissect why exactly he was different from the others and provide aid to the other boys.
He can hear the voice in his head. Get it?
-I've got voices in my head
What to say when all is said?
I'm still try to understand
Sometimes words don't just make sense
-You've got voices in your head
What to say when all is said?
When you try to understand
But my words just don't make sense
-I say, "Don't make my heart ache
Don't make my heart ache now"
I say, "Don't make my heart ache
We'll find a way somehow"
-Character Blurb-
“Breathe.”
“I am, Yunho-”
“No. You’re not. Look at me.”
Yeosang held his head and shook as Yunho lifted his chin, frowning at the tears running down the smaller pirate’s face. He was headed to the galley when he found him crying, curled up on the floor, in the middle of a panic attack. He wiped his cheeks and picked him up, barely flinching as Yeosang clung to his form, biting his lip hard.
The walk to his room was quiet as Yeosang cried. Yunho set him down in his lap, thumbing away more of his tears before he looked him in the eyes.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I had a dream about her and...and…”
“Say no more. Come here.” He pulled Yeosang against his chest and hummed a low tune, rocking Yeosang as he shook. As he hummed, he raised a few plants to his bedside, the vines embracing the wood of his ceiling, drooping down to bathe the two in a gentle glow as the now-neon blooms let out a collection of scents that made Yeosang’s shoulders relax.
The gentle scent soothed him and after another half an hour he smiled and wiped his eyes, kissing the underside of Yunho’s jaw.
“Thanks, puppy.”
Yunho grinned and pulled him back against his chest, moving to lay down with Yeosang still by his side.
“No worries. I’ll protect you, okay? Rest easy, she can’t hurt you.”
Yunho wrapped his long limbs around the smaller pirate, nuzzling his soft hair as he exhaled gently, the earthy scent of the room relaxing both of them.
-M.List-
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*tips you a 20$* please for the love of Goose could you write something for beej And his lovely so for the prompt “I made you something to eat” when his so cooked for him when he’s sick just babying him and he’s like o god I love you and being John Mulaney I love my wife style pls thank you I love you so much ✨💚✨💚✨💚 happy new year baby ✨💚✨💚✨💚
Thank you for your donation to Goose, it is greatly appreciated.
-----------------------------
Beetlejuice sniffed.
Beetlejuice groaned, pulling himself up into a sitting position to grap a tissue, and felt drained by such a simple effort.
Beetlejuice, the (former) demon straight from hell; who had brought torture and pain to humans and spectres alike for shits and giggles, who had ridden one of the most fearsome creature in the Netherworld like it was nothing, had caught a COLD.
And he felt utterly pathetic.
"Beej, honey" the voice of the damned breather who had caused all of this, his doting spouse, floated into the room. Their call was a gentle tug at the edges of his brain. He felt as if he were being pulled from the thick, sticky, molasses of his miserable thoughts as you pressed cool lips to his forehead. "Oh, dear, you're burning up. Did you take the medicine I left out for you?"
His tired eyes met yours. "How do you breathers live like this?" He coughed, "I feel like I'm dying. Again."
You chuckled at the hyperbole. "We live by taking our medicine, resting up, eating. Y'know, human body maintenance 101." Smoothing down his hair, you planted a kiss on his cheek. "Speaking of maintenance, you need food. I made you something to eat, do you feel up for it?"
The smell of warm meat and broth finally registered in his stuffed-up nose. The combination of your tender touches and your serene voice had almost been too much for him, and now you had COOKED for him. His eyes shone.
You, the beautiful creature who had waltzed into his afterlife and had been unafraid. You, who had shown him he could love and be loved in ways he had never imagined. You, who had accepted his clumsy vows and had given him life (even with its inconveniences).
"Sweetheart, are you crying? It's just soup..."
He wiped his eyes and gingerly grabbed the bowl. He took a bite and looked for all the world like this simple chicken soup was the greatest thing he had ever experienced. "T-thank you." He drank the soup like it was going to disappear at a moment's notice, pausing to shower you with compliments between each slurp. "You're so good," sluuurp "I can't believe you love me this much," sluuuuurp "you're such a good cook," sluuuuuuuuuurp "I love you. I love you so much you're so good and pure and talented I--"
"Beetle," you giggled "put the soup down so I can kiss you, you silly bug."
#beej#beetlegeuse#fan fiction#beetlejuice the musical#beetlejuice the broadway musical#beetlejuice x reader#ask
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Screw Biology and Reality
A Supernatural A/B/O Fan-fiction
Featuring: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader, (past) Omega!Reader x Beta!Kevin Tran, Sam
Written for: @spnkinkbingo
Square Filled: Size Difference
Setting: Season 9
Word Count: 3108
Summary: You grieve Kevin, remaining hidden away in the bunker. With your next heat you hope to crossover to see him again. Dean makes every case to keep you alive. Will you ever see Kevin again? If so as what?
Warnings: 18+, A/B/O Dynamics, grief, suicidal tendencies, SMANGST, fingering, knotting, desperate dub!con claiming, betrayal, jealousy.
Read Part 1 first! then Part 2
Day Fifty-five
The hours were hollow now. Though Dean had saved Sam from the angel Gadreel, he was already off on another wild goose chase. Kevin seemed almost forgotten by the Winchesters already. Maybe it was Sam’s undo guilt or Cas’s experiments, but for you, Kevin would never be gone, in thought or memory.
Day Ninety
Time moved on. The days since Kevin’s death were suddenly more than the days you had with him. That short time another regret on your conscience. You were cleaning the kitchen when Dean and Sam returned to the Bunker, oddly rejuvenated from their spa case. The tension between them had lightened considerably since they left, which helped your overall anxiety levels. Navigating two Alphas was taxing enough, especially when they weren’t on their usual brotherly terms.
When Dean’s eyes lingered on you, you didn’t register the longing. Instead you unknowingly ignored him and moved onto the laundry.
Day One Hundred and two
Being a kept woman had its advantages: you had your own room, freedom to roam the bunker, everything but leave. When suddenly, there were more reasons to appreciate your new life: Dean had started bringing you home gifts. Little things, like new shoes or a pastry he remembered you liked. Once it was an album of a band, he hated, but saw it while he was scanning for the vintage finds and thought of you. All these new conveniences still did little to null the ache of Kevin’s loss. Some days you swore you heard his voice, just around the bend. But each time you entered another room, it was devastatingly empty. Once the knots started in your stomach again, you realized that your wait was nearly over.
You awoke with a throbbing like you had never felt before, your slick stuck to your thighs. You were in heat and without your mate, there was little to do but wait for the end. Kevin was gone and soon you would be too. Maybe then you could both be happy, once this wretched life was forgotten and you were reunited in whatever afterlife you were granted. The thought of seeing him smile once more caused you to cry. It had been so long since you had felt real emotion, but now you let the tears fall against your pillow. It would all be over soon.
Day One Hundred and four
The Bunker was filled with the scent of your heat, so permeating that Sam wouldn’t leave the garage. Dean breathed through his mouth as he told Sam to give him twenty minutes to grab more clothes and check in on you. When you didn’t answer him, his time ran out and his brother bailed, guessing inevitability had finally caught up with you both. Mark of Cain or no, Dean had it bad for you. Everyone could see it. You just seemed to have forgotten.
Dean easily picked the lock on your bedroom door, walking in to find you breathing shallowly in a sweat drenched tee and an old pair of pajama bottoms that were probably Kevin’s at some point. He fell to your bedside, ignoring the instincts clawing at his mind. You were both hot and cold to the touch, skin clammy and lips chapped, your pulse was racing in the tender flesh of your neck. You didn’t respond to his touch or his voice. Dean panicked, face falling beneath yours as he unconsciously scented you. Beneath the heat there was still pain and he realized why you were so unresponsive. With a fierce shake, Dean broke you of your trance, warm calloused hands encased your shoulders as the world came back into focus.
“You--- you can’t be here,” you moaned. A full body cough set him back on his heels as you recovered. He grabbed the untouched water bottle from your desk and held it to your lips. Weakly, you clamped your mouth shut.
“Goddamn it, drink Omega!” Dean ordered, fear lacing his words.
Just as you were about to reply, he poured the liquid into your open mouth, sputtering you sat up, coughing more violently until you could breathe deeply again. Once you did, your body was flooded with Dean, his concern and his heady Alpha scent. The only thing that could stop you from seeing Kevin again, was yourself. You just had to hold out, it wouldn’t be long now.
“Come on, sweetheart, I need you to drink? Okay? Just a little?” Dean begged, wrecked over your listlessness. You shook your head and closed your eyes, turning your head away from him on your pillow, because it was too much effort to roll your entire body away. Minutes went by and Dean started to pace, you drifted in and out of consciousness. Suddenly something warm and strong enveloped you, something that caused you to whimper with need. Carefully Dean rolled you to your side, his naked body slotted behind you as he nuzzled your shoulder, your hair, your pulse point.
You never realized how much bigger he was than you were until he was everywhere. Your body knew what it needed was there for the taking, but your mind fought those primal needs. You were mated, how could you take another?
“Shhh, it’s alright. I’m right here,” Dean whispered, his deep voice soothing. His hard cock prodding the back of your thigh.
“I can’t.” Your meager retort.
“Let me help you--- please don’t leave me. You’ve got to fight, Omega. Don’t give up now. You’ve come so far, let me take care of you,” Dean’s voice hot and fierce in your ear, but his hands remained gentle, rubbing your upper arm, willing you back to life.
You felt like a fuse burning on both ends, the will to live and the need to be with Kevin again accelerating the growing emptiness inside. Dean shielded and held you, sturdy and patient. Slowly you began to let yourself feel, skin almost vibrating from holding back from the connection for so long. Once you reached back, hand searching until it landed on Dean’s hip; the smothering desire of your heat reemerged. You pulled him impossibly closer to you, fingers trailing down and over his taut ass, the muscles of his powerful thighs and back up again. He grunted behind you, plump kisses finding your nape as you gave him permission.
“Can I?” Dean whispered, breath catching as you erratically began to rock back into him.
You nodded pathetically. “Please? ’m so weak—” you mumbled, face falling forward, trying to present.
Dean pulled you back, flush to his chest. “I got ya. Don’t worry.”
Reverently, Dean undressed you, his lips pulled at your skin, like firecrackers sizzling along until he moved on and sparked another to life. Carefully his hands roamed your body, thumb barely brushing the curve of your breast as he sank lower, his wide palm splayed over your tummy and finally his fingers slid into your folds. You keened as he ghosted over your sensitive bud, gently prodding your entrance. Encased by his body, you were at his mercy, yet you craved his salvation. Now that you had allowed yourself to accept his touch, you realized how much you needed him. Dean, not just an Alpha. Just Dean.
He pulled your knee up, letting his dick slip between your thighs, your smooth wetness easing some of his throbbing as he glided up to meet his own hand as it tapped against your hood.
“You’re so beautiful, ‘mega. I can’t believe--- fuck,” Dean broke off as you angled your hips, causing his head to catch at your opening. “Need to open you up, don’t want to hurt you.”
Once you felt the hint of the stretch of him, you didn’t argue, but the desperation was clawing at your core while the need to be bound to Dean thrummed your every nerve. You whimpered as he pulled away, the comforting wall of his body rolling above you as you fell onto your back. He thumbed your face down to your chin, pulling your gaze into his intense stare. In his green eyes was everything he couldn’t say, everything you had been missing since losing Kevin. Inside them there was a softness you never knew someone like he could possess.
“Alpha?” You breathed, his eyes darkening with his title. Dean hummed, easing down onto your chest, his forearms framing you. At long last his lips found yours, almost timid compared to his past explorations. Your jaw fell open for his lapping tongue, letting him taste and tease you while making your head spin. He tasted like coffee and something comforting, warm and almost sweet. You nipped at his bottom lip before he dragged away, lips leading him lower. Your hands braced on his biceps; fingers barely able to notch against their breadth.
Without pulling away, Dean left an array of needy kisses over your neck and chest, his hips slowly wedging between yours as you hitched yourself up to accept him. He swallowed a groan as he felt the heat of your core tease him once more. With staggering dexterity, Dean shifted all of his weight on to his right side, freeing his left hand to spread you open. His heavy shaft wept against your trembling thigh as he entered you with two thick fingers. He prodded deeper as a satisfied hiss fell from your lips, you felt him watching you, but you couldn’t look back at him, mind unable to focus on anything but the pleasure he was granting you.
Your legs opened wider, heels digging into his thighs, failing to draw him closer. Dean chuckled at you, deep in his chest, that amused smirk breaking you open like nothing had. You whined and reached up to take his devilish lips in a fevered kiss, just as his tongue met yours, he began to rub tight circles over your inner bundle of nerves. The pressure was blinding as your climax avalanched through you, renewing your slick and drawing his fingers deeper inside your channel.
“That’s my girl,” Dean praised against your gasping mouth, his breath feather light and taunting. You licked back into him as he centered himself above you once more. As Dean angled his blunt tip at your core, your hands rested on his thick trapezius muscles, unable to process the power his bulk allowed.
“Gonna go slow,” Dean explained, eyes watching you for any sign of fear or regret.
“Alpha, please!” you begged, rolling up to take him at last.
“God, woman,” Dean groaned, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply before inching inside you.
It was mind altering, the heavy stretch of him entering you. Impossibly he just kept going, deeper and deeper until you felt torn in two. His knot, thick and cool as it kissed your overheated lips. He sighed rapturously; the sound delicious, eventually you remembered to breathe again yourself. The moment he felt you relax, he drew back, emptying you but for his smooth cockhead and slammed back through your wanton walls. Everything ceased to exist, save for you and Dean. He was everywhere, above, below, around and inside of you. You took all of him, pulling his breath into your lungs as you panted together. Your mind pulsed with your pleasure, overwhelming in intensity.
His knot knocked at your opening, swollen and ready. You sucked in a ragged breath, trying to focus, to relax yourself enough to take the final stretch of him. Dean felt your shift and dipped his head to suck a hardened nipple into his talented mouth. The new angle sent you reeling, each forceful thrust coasting over your G spot with purpose. Once his hot mouth found your other breast, your body seized in a second orgasm. That relentless pull against his shaft dragging him over with you, his knot plowed into you, even against the thundering pulses of your channel.
As soon as Dean peaked, knot locked inside of you, filling you with his seed, you passed out, the blissful sensations drowning you. Dean barked out in pleasure; his mind slow to process your limp form as he shallowly rutted his body against yours, continuing to pump into your womb. Once his vision cleared and he nuzzled against your temple, Dean knew something was wrong. His hand came up to your throat, the pulse suddenly faint against his fingertips. He called your name, but you would not wake.
His mind spiraled, fear and guilt flooding his system. He whined as he nipped at your earlobe, eyes closed as he felt you fading away. He scented you, tongue dragging over your tender flesh as he braced himself to do what he only hoped could save you. Something you never mentioned. Something he hadn’t even thought to ask for. Not yet. As your breath stuttered, Dean sank his teeth into that pristine patch of skin that his eyes always seemed to find. Hard and deep they slid until your blood coated his tongue. Suddenly you gasped.
His face broke away in a relieved grin, his forehead rested against his mark as he inhaled with each of your breaths. Cautiously he lapped over the bite, sealing and healing it as only your Alpha’s saliva could. You moaned, hand finding the back of his head, your fingers brushing through the short hair there as he soothed your wound.
“Hey, you with me?” Dean’s voice broke through the surface, pulling you back into the light.
“Alpha?” You asked groggily.
“Hmmmm, my Omega,” Dean hummed, kissing up your jaw. He let out a rattled breath, relief radiating from his every pore.
Carefully, Dean rolled you back to your sides, his thumb brushing your hair from your forehead as you struggled to focus on his face.
“Hi.” You smiled lazily.
“You hangin’ in there?” Dean asked, eyes searching. You nodded, hand holding his to your cheek, cradling him to you. “Gave me quite the scare, Omega. I had to—”
You shushed him, shaking your head at the same time. “It’s better this way.”
“You sure? I wanted you to want it,” he whispered, not looking you in the eye. What he meant was him. He wanted you to want him, not need him. You didn’t reply, but for a quick kiss, eyes closed as reality sank in.
Day One Hundred and forty
The lights had been weird on and off for weeks, but this was the first time the boys were home to see it for themselves. Dean lurched from bed, eyes scanning for some unseen threat. You rarely saw your Alpha go into instant kill mode, but his heightened senses only peaked under severe stress. He called out to Sam, causing you to cower back as he ran from the room. Slowly, you relaxed, hearing their voices drop as they assessed the situation. When you opened your eyes again a familiar, yet impossible voice greeted you.
“Sweetie?” Kevin’s sputtering form called to you. He shifted in and out of your vision like a spastic strobe light. Your breath fogged as you tried to understand what you were seeing. Who, you were seeing.
“Kev?” you asked dumbstruck. He smiled sadly as you approached, arms reaching for him until Dean’s presence at the door froze you in place.
“Well, shit.” Dean spat, hands on his hips as he caught his breath. Sam just behind him as you all stared at Kevin’s ghost. The story unraveled; Heaven was closed, leaving Kevin trapped. You knew you had heard him all those months ago, but the roller coaster of easing into life with Dean had deafened you to his once soothing voice. Your gut hitched as you realized everything he could have seen. All the time you spent with Dean, so much more than you had shared with him.
You remained quiet as Sam and Dean questioned him, unable to form a thought relevant to the quest for finding his mother. Once Kevin convinced Sam and Dean to follow his ridiculous lead from the veil, you were left alone. You knew Kevin wouldn’t be able to maintain his full form for long, especially after they took the coffee pot with them. Though you knew you were truly what he could come back to, if he tried hard enough. Because he had never stopped trying, but somewhere along the way you had.
“You sure you’re alright?” Kevin’s voice was already muffled.
“I’m fine, Kev. I’m so sorry—” you started.
“Hey, I get it. I know you couldn’t help it. Not really.” He was being too kind.
You sniffled. “But, it’s still not fair. I should have tried harder.”
“What? And end up lost in this ocean of souls with me?” Kevin balked, mischievous smirk that you loved returning to his ashen face. “It’s better this way.”
You inhaled at the familiar phrase, shame pushing out the tears you had barely contained this whole while. “I still miss you, though.”
“I know you do. I miss you too. But you’re safer with Dean. He can give you what you need without you having to spell it out. He was made for you,” Kevin placated, unable to comfort you more than a cool patch against your cheek. “I forgive you.”
The last words faded away as he sizzled out of sight, the connection broken alongside your heart. That night you cried yourself to sleep, buried in one of Dean’s flannels.
Day One Hundred and forty two
As soon as Mrs. Tran stepped into the Bunker, you instantly understood so much more about the man you had lost. She was ferocious in love for her son; you wished you had gotten to know her on better terms. No one said anything about who you were to Kevin, unwilling to burden her with more than she needed. As soon as she was ready to leave, you gave her a tight hug, knocking her back on her feet, though you two were nearly the same size.
“Take good care of him,” you begged under your breath.
“I always did,” she chirped. You couldn’t help but feel hurt by her words, though she couldn’t have meant anything by it. Watching them both leave was the overdo closure you needed to move on with your life. Kevin was not someone you could ever forget; he was your first love. The kind of love that is always looked back upon with unscrutinized nostalgia because of its sacredness. But Dean was your mate, the love of your life, born from near death to deliver you into the women you could be. He was your forever. And you were his, even when the Mark wouldn’t let him go.
^*^*^
#spnkinkbingo#a/b/o dynamics#alpha!dean x omega!reader#beta!kevin x omega!reader#omega!reader#grief#smangst#Smut#dean smut#alpha!dean smut#ANGST#spn fanfic#spn fanfiction#spnkinkbingo2019
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vmin drabble | m | just married and they’re cute about it! just a load of fluff!
They stumble into the room and it’s beautiful, or so they sort of remember from when they checked the website. Right now they can’t take their eyes off each other, or their hands, or their lips, or their legs, which is proving an issue for balance for the moment. They get all tangled and Taehyung lands on the bed, Jimin flopping onto his chest and they kiss sloppy and wet, tongues licking uncoordinated and delicious and familiar and- and it’s so funny. This morning they were boyfriends. Now they’re husbands. The kisses fade into laughter, Taehyung pulling Jimin further up so he can see but Jimin’s wriggling, laughing with his whole body and Taehyung feels himself lose the battle with Jimin’s infectious joy is. He loves him. Fuck, he loves him so much.
“Jimin, Jimin, did you,” Taehyung can’t stop giggling, “Did you see Uncle Boon on the karaoke?”
“Stop, he…” Jimin gets a teeny weeny dizzy spell and Taehyung keeps holding him up. Finally he hiccups and carries on, “He shouldn’t’ve had all that crab…”
He rolls over and they’re kissing again, Jimin grabbing Taehyung’s collar and pulling him down to smack a long hard one to his lips, peppering them all over his face. Taehyung laughs more, feels like he might float away but it’s okay, it’s all okay because Jimin will always catch him before he’s lost.
They’re dispensing with their fancy white shirts when suddenly Jimin sits up.
“Baby!” he declares, “Baby, my husband, my fuckin’… Ugh! Love of my life, my afterlife too, probably, um…”
Taehyung traces his knuckles over Jimin’s cheek. The gold band is beautiful on his skin. Jimin catches his uncurled fist, kisses it quickly, grins at him, his eyes smiling and lovely, “Yes, my special guiding light, my love?”
“I wanna fuuuuuck,” Jimin whines. “You wanna fuck, right?”
“I’d love to fuck,” Taehyung intones, his voice calm and dripping like honey, “And we’re gonna fuck.”
“Wait.”
“Hmm?”
Jimin kisses Taehyung’s hand again. “I wanna… in addition to terrific fucking, make love.”
“Shh, okay. Greasy,” Taehyung sits up and watches Jimin instantly make room for him. How they move together… it’s really something. “Gay.”
“Yeah!” Jimin agrees without a second of hesitation, alcohol making him unashamed and so happy. Or maybe it’s the day. “Yeah, I’m really gay and I love you.”
“Jimin,” Taehyung drags Jimin onto his lap, sucks a nipple into his mouth just to hear Jimin moan. He wants to feel every particle of him, make themselves indistinguishable from the other. “Fuck.”
They get quiet, Jimin’s weight so comfortable and right pressed up against Taehyung. He draws his fingers through his hair and it makes Taehyung groan. “Taetae, you looked so pretty tonight, you know how handsome and pretty and mine you are?”
“How handsome and pretty and your’s am I?”
“The… most.”
“Very accurate,” Taehyung emphasises his point by laying a quick smack to the meat of Jimin’s ass.
“Mmm,” Jimin rolls his hips back onto Taehyung’s lap and hums loud like he’s melting. “I’m gonna fuck you ’til you cry, Tae.”
“You’d better,” Taehyung grins slowly and Jimin puts his finger to Taehyung’s lips, dark look on his face.
“Seriously.”
“I take your threats very seriously, darling,” Taehyung breathes, takes Jimin’s tiny fingers in his own, presses the tips of them to his mouth, the cold of the ring against his chin. He sighs. “Oh, Jimin.”
Jimin leans in conspiratorially, eyes flickering. He’s so bright. He’s so fucking beautiful. “I have a plug in - hic! - inside me.”
Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “You had a plug in during our vows?”
“What?” Jimin snorts, just the tiniest bit of snot coming out too, and thoughtlessly Taehyung swipes it away with the cuff of his sleeve. “No, that’s like… my grandma would’ve known, for sure. Put it in just after we cut the cake.”
“I love you.”
Jimin tilts his head, his voice tight, “I love you…”
“No, Jimin, I know you don’t believe me when I say it,” Taehyung squishes Jimin’s face between his hands and he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or just Jimin, everything about him, but he’s never felt so alive as he does right now. “I know you don’t always hear it. But I love you, more than my heart can contain, sometimes. It fills me up, it makes me so warm. Makes me feel light, makes me feel like a fuckin’ star.”
“I believe you, baby,” Jimin says, teetering on the verge of tears.
“C’mere,” Taehyung murmurs, as if they could get any closer without fusing. “Keep me warm.”
“You fuckin’ lizard…”
“Your fuckin’ lizard,” he says plainly. “I’m your’s Jiminie. Stuck with me.”
Jimin snuggles against him, moans a little as his back clicks and Taehyung smooths a hand over his back. “Never thought I’d have someone like you… Never thought I’d… feel like I belong somewhere like I do, here…” He sounds sleepy and safe, as he should, as he should feel for the rest of their lives. “I like that you’re my home, Taehyungie.”
They doze like that, Jimin’s breathing so soft Taehyung wonders if he’s asleep. He spots the remote and, ah, KBS has a special on SNSD tonight…
He strokes a hand through Jimin’s hair, kisses it when Jimin stirs a little. “Can I watch TV?”
“Baby, it’s our wedding night!” If he had the energy he’d probably be kicking his legs out. “My plug!”
“You’re so tired, Jimin,” Taehyung reasons, even if he’s still at half-mast. He grins at Jimin’s pout and giggles a little. “We can fuck in the morning.”
“You’re not even gonna finger me?” Taehyung just grabs fistfuls of Jimin’s ass, both hands. “Ah, ah,” and yet even as Taehyung leaves the slightest graze of his fingernails over Jimin’s cheeks, red lines on goose-bumped skin, he recognises the way Jimin slumps against him, completely relaxed and definitely falling asleep. “Ah, feels… hmm…”
“Baby?” He stops, kisses his forehead again, slowly.
Jimin hums, his eyes closed. “Hold me?”
“Always.”
“Always always?”
Just one more kiss. “I promised, didn’t I?”
“Promise,” Jimin slurs, kissing Taehyung’s chest, pats it reassuringly as he snuggles up as close as he can. “Yeah. Love you, Tae.”
#vmin#taehyung#jimin#taehyung x jimin#bts#bts fanfic#sfw#they're gross and married and we stan that's it#send ur prompts to twitter! or here lmao
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Panic Room p.3
summary: when the end of the world arrives, you have a front row seat. mental institution/apocolypse au based on the music video for panic room by au/ra
characters: nurse!peter maximoff x patient!reader, charles xavier, logan howlett, erik lehnsherr, jean grey, scott summers
warnings: mental instability, cursing, mentions of death, mention of religious topics
a/n: this is shorter then the other parts but the next one will be longer. enjoy!
(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)
“On three,” you breath out, feeling yourself start to slip out of consciousness, fighting to stay awake long enough to get to safety. “One…two…”
Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. That’s all you can think as you stare into the black pits that the creature is carrying as eyes, dead and filled with a darkness that you’ve never seen before. Not even your dreams could do justice to actually facing a real one.
It’s almost in the room now and the door is detached from it’s hinges. The only things holding it back are you and Jean. You take a deep breath, focusing all of your attention on giving the door (or, now that it’s not attached to it’s hinges, you suppose it’s only a scrap of metal) one final push back into the hall. Erik begins to use his power to assist you as well, pushing the creature back enough that you may have enough time to get to the vents before the monster can grab you.
“It’s now or never!” Charles shouts from the vents, seeing Jean start to fade now as well.
“Three!”
There's no crying wolves now 'cause the truth has settled in
The calm before the storm. That’s what people always say. In the middle of a disaster, there’s always a moment where things seem to slow down and you feel something resembling peace. A false sense of security.
That’s what you feel when you release your hold on the door. A millisecond of calm, the tension in your body releasing to the point where you almost fall over. You feel serene in that moment, that security washing over you in a wave. But then there’s a crash and the door has been shoved into the wall, the creature already charging you and Jean. So you strain, the calm gone and the tension in your shoulders back as you use your power to get to the vent. Jean and Erik reach down as well, and they both help you get into the vent as quickly as possible, letting you pull your leg in half a second before the creature can close it’s jaw around you. After Erik closes the vent, all you hear are the strained, muffled screams of the creatures below you.
There’s a moment of silence in the vent, the only sound being your and Jean’s heavy breathing after the strain of holding the creature back for so long. That and the creature itself struggling to get to you.
“You two,” Charles begins, putting a hand on Jean’s shoulder and smiling at you, “saved all of us. Thank you.”
You nod at him, falling back against the wall of the vent and closing your eyes, the image of the monster’s eyes, dead and empty, flashing through your mind.
How did they get here?
You hear them, their sounds still echoing in your head, distorted and horrific. You can practically feel the weight of it pushing down on your chest, almost making it impossible to breath. You feel closed in and you feel the monster’s presence around you. You need something to ground yourself, something to hold onto before your fears take over.
“Y/N,” a familiar voice says, muffled as you bring yourself back to the present and away from your thoughts of the monsters. You open your eyes and see Peter in front of you, one hand reaching out to take yours and the other brushing over your cheek.
“Are you alright?”
You nod, leaning into his touch, grounding yourself with the feeling of his warm hand on your skin.
This is real, you tell yourself, the image of a monster crossing your mind, almost appearing next to you, Peter is real. You’re safe here. They can’t get to you here.
“I’m alright,” you respond, covering his hand with yours. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
He nods and disregards the blatant stares of the others, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your hair.
You breath a sigh of relief, your arms immediately winding around his waist.
“I thought I lost you,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck as he holds onto you, “I thought they had you.”
You shake your head, running your fingers through his silver hair and tugging at the strands so he’ll look at you, only shaking your head at him in response.
“I’m right here.”
He smiles at you, and that smile takes you back to only days before...when things were better. When you were laying in bed with Peter during one of your rare moments of peace. No nightmares, no hallucinations, no monsters. Nothing.
This is real.
Then you feel it again. The unnerving presence of another creature. You begin lose yourself in it’s eyes, in it’s empty pits. They’re the creatures of your nightmares and they’ve just been brought to life.
“Hey,” Peter says when he feels you begin to tremble involuntarily, your weight shifting so that you can lean into him further. Your arms tighten around his waist as you try once again to ground yourself.
You’ve heard people say that they’ll lose their grip on reality. You wonder if that’s what’s happening to you.
“I can feel them,” you whisper into Peter’s neck, “it’s like they’re inside my head.”
Peter purses his lips and glances up at Charles, who is staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face, his arm wrapped around one of the patients who is still trembling from the events.
The vent is quiet for a few minutes while everyone takes a moment to let the events sink and realize that they’re not in a dream. Then someone from the back speaks up, they’re voice carrying to where you have closed your eyes, already half asleep against Peter from exhaustion.
“Did you know this would happen?”
Your eyes open when the unfamiliar voice seems to be speaking to you, seeing someone from the back of the crowd staring at you.
“You had to know this would happen, you freak,” he sneers, his last word making you wince, “you had dreams about them. You’re the only one who knew they even existed-”
“C’mon, man,” Peter says, glaring at the patient, “shut the hell up, she just saved your life.”
“Oh, shove it, Maximoff,” another voice speaks up, this one more familiar. You look around and see Scott staring at the two of you, his eyes accusing. “Just because you’re sleeping with her doesn’t mean you know what’s going on inside her head.”
“Scott,” Charles speaks up, silencing the growing argument immediately, “Peter is right. Y/N and Jean just saved out lives. You should choose your words more wisely.”
You glance at Scott and meet his eyes, but his glare is cut short when Jean forces him to turn towards her, her own glare directed at him.
You lean back again and close your eyes again, images of the monsters still haunting your vision. You think that, if you’re lucky enough to go to the best place the afterlife has to offer, they’re the closest things you’ll ever see to demons.
You can feel it happening again, the feeling that you’re slowly losing your mind. You force yourself to open your eyes so you don’t lose yourself in what’s behind them. You ground yourself in the things you can feel. In the metal you’re sitting on that’s cooling your skin and providing you safety from the creatures below you. You can feel your leg touching someone else’s. You’re not sure who’s it is, but there’s someone there, and that feels like enough.
And you feel Peter. You feel his arm wrapped around you, pressing against your skin, letting you know that you’re safe. You feel his breath against your neck, the warmth a stark contrast to the cool surface you’re surrounded by. You can feel his heartbeat, the steady thump against your back more reassuring then anything else you feel.
This is real.
Hiding under goose down for your nightmare to begin
Three years later...
“Run!”
You hear the shouts of your fellow mutants coming from behind the trees, but you make no move to run with them. The monsters are getting closer now, but before you can do anything Peter is behind you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you forward.
“What the hell are you doing?” he snaps as he begins dragging you with the others running in the direction of safety. Or, the allusion of safety. Real safety, real warmth and comfort and the feeling of security...that doesn’t exist anymore.
You don’t respond to his question and he doesn’t comment, focusing on taking you somewhere where you can’t get hurt.
He finally comes to a halt near a lake and you see some of the others on the opposite side. You tense when the familiar growls that had been haunting your dreams for three years fills your ears, but before you can even consider turning to look at them, Peter takes you to the other side of the lake, then he’s gone before you can say a word to look for any other survivors.
It takes a few minutes, but when he has everyone and gets a satisfying headcount, his eyes fall on you and he stalks towards you at a normal pace, probably trying to walk off some of his anger before he reaches you.
He takes your face in his hands, his eyes wild as he stares at you.
“What were you doing?” he asks, holding your cheeks tightly to emphasize his questions, “are you trying to get yourself killed?”
You just stare at him, knowing that the truth would only hurt him. Because the truth is, that was what you were trying to do.
Those things had been after you for three years. No matter where you go, they find you. And they always seem to be after one thing in particular: you. If you were gone, maybe they’d leave the rest of you alone. Maybe they’d back off and you’d all be safe.
Charles was the first to figure out what you were doing, and after a late night talk with him he told you that he could see the logic in your reasoning, that it may work. But he also explained that losing you would destroy Peter, and that self sacrifice isn’t he only way. That he’d figure something else out.
But it’s been a year since that conversation, and nothing has changed. Everyone is still in danger and you can’t live with yourself knowing you might be the reason.
“Please,” Peter breaks you from your thoughts, “tell me what’s going on.”
You shake your head. You shake out of his grip and you shake away the thoughts clouding your mind as you step forward towards Charles, standing in line with him and Logan, then ahead of them towards the next camp you’d found. One that would keep you away from the creatures for now. Until they find a way around the lake that Peter had run across. But until then, you’d be safe.
You’re sure it won’t take long.
“Y/N,” Charles says, “ I heard what you wanted to do.”
You stay silent, continuing forward until the bare space Peter had found a few days earlier is in sight, the few tents you have already set up.
“Please give me some more time. I think I’m finally breaking through. I might be able to know what they’re thinking if you just give me more time-”
“I’ve given you time, Charles. It won’t work. They’re monsters, they don’t think, they kill. That’s all they know.”
Charles just stares at you, and you know he’s digging around in your mind, trying to find anything that might help. He had broken his promise a long time ago about not looking through someone’s mind when it wasn’t necessary, but you’ve learned to stop fighting it. He can do what he wants with your thoughts while you still have them.
“I’ve seen inside their heads, I’ve felt what they feel. And it’s only death and darkness. Their drive to kill is more powerful then anything I’ve ever felt and it’s...it’s driving me insane, Charles. It’s tearing me apart, I don’t know if I can handle it anymore.”
“So your solution is to die.”
“That’s not-” you bite your lip, trying to keep back a burst of anger and irritation threatening to come out. “That’s not the only reason. I told you why I’m doing this.”
“And I agree with you, that may be one solution. But I won’t let you sacrifice yourself. That’s not how we’re going to fix this,” Charles says, seeing the defeated look on your face and stopping you, letting the others go ahead, “talk to Peter. He’s worried about you. He can help you.”
You never get the chance to talk to Peter. Your shared tent is silent that night, and as you’re about to consider your options, you feel it. You feel their presence and you know what you have to do. For Peter and for Charles and for all of the others who’s lives are in danger because of you. Because you’re still alive.
That night, you leave your tent and go to the edge of the lake. And they’re waiting for you there. They’re waiting patiently, standing there grunting out breaths and waiting for you to advance on them. They looking at you, but it’s almost like they’re looking through you.
“What are you waiting for,” you snarl, feeling fear creep into your system as the realization of what you’re doing sinks in. You shove it back, just wanting it to be over. “Do it.”
By the time the sun rises, everyone in the camp is dead. All except one.
“What the fuck?”
There's no crying wolves now 'cause the truth has settled in, hiding under goose down for your nightmare to begin
(x)
#peter maximoff x reader#peter maximoff x you#peter maximoff imagine#peter maximoff imagines#quicksilver x reader#quicksilver x you#quicksilver imagine#quicksilver imagines#xmen imagine#xmen imagines#marvel imagine#marvel imagines
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Some thoughts on my experiences as an Artemis devotee
Being an Artemis devotee isn’t pretty. It isn’t glamorous. It’s often just you covered in mud and sweat and mosquito bites.
It’s running into traffic to save a turtle. Three times. It’s pulling your car over on the way to work and jogging back half a mile to help the dog you passed limping along the side of the road. It’s watching a goose get clipped by a car and trekking through the cold on a busy highway to see if it’s alright.
It’s carrying a wounded animal into your bedroom and dealing with blood and pus getting all over you and your things. It’s forcing yourself to peel back skin and cartilage to look right into the gaping wound in a living creature’s head. Maybe vomiting a little from the smell. Shaking as you flush out the infection, wishing you weren’t doing this, but knowing that you are the best advocate this animal has. It’s the leap of joy you feel every time that creature runs and climbs and trills and chews up your shoelaces, because it means he’s alive and well.
It’s the beat of fierce love in your chest when the filthy, flea-bitten feral kitten you’re nursing back to health purrs in your arms for the first time. It’s crying at the vet’s office when they tell you that this young life is too deeply riddled with disease to go on much longer. Feeling like you have failed. It’s making the decision to let that child’s misery end. To send it to the endless forests of the afterlife with a silver arrow that will bring no pain.
It’s knowing that to care for living creatures, you must sometimes get your hands dirty and make hard choices. You must deal with people thinking you’re absolutely fucking nuts for risking your safety, spending your money, your time, your energy, on “just” an animal. It’s knowing that many people won’t understand, and doing it anyway. Because she called, and you chose to answer. Because there is love in you for all that is wild, for all that crawls and stalks and swims and slithers and bounds and flies. Because the natural world deserves a guardian from man’s unchecked invasion. Because to sit by and do nothing is incomprehensible to you. Because, for the life you have chosen, it is simply right.
#artemis#artemis devotee#animals#wildlife#tw:blood#tw: animal death#tw:vomit#i really hope this doesn't sound self-righteous
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The one where your soulmate’s ghost haunts you when they die. NovaHD
Alternate version of this prompt for @ryanthemadbitch cause they suggested an alternative I hadn’t even considered when I wrote the original and I love me some angst, so this is a thing. It’s similar situation to the other, just reversed and an added element.
~~~~~
Shattering glass and crunching metal were the last thing Aleks heard. It was instant, he didn't feel anything, but he opened his eyes and found himself standing in the kitchen of his and James’ apartment. His heart felt like it exploded into shrapnel as he knew without a doubt that he was dead.
Music blared through the kitchen and James was singing along as he put away dishes, stepping over Ein stretched out in the middle of the floor. It was a moment that Aleks rarely saw, sometimes he would hear James singing from the other room, but if James knew Aleks was there, he would stop, his face flushing.
“I didn't know you were home yet.”
“I like your singing, you don't have to stop.”
“My singing is shit, no one wants to hear that.”
He stood frozen in the doorway of the kitchen. This wasn’t what he expected the afterlife to be like. He had never believed in anything in particular, but this… this hadn’t even been on the list of possibilities.
He turned as a soft thump of a slobber covered tennis ball and a quiet yip sounded behind him. Mishka looked up at him expectantly.
“You can see me, girl?” He asked. She tilted her head at him in response, glancing down at the ball and then back to him, waiting for him to throw it.
He gasped and flinched away as James stepped through him. It wasn’t painful, more unexpected than anything, but James flinched too. Aleks could see his skin prickle into goose bumps and he shivered.
“What the hell, we got a draft or something?” He mused to himself as he glanced back before bending to pick up Mishka’s ball. “Hey doggo, where’s Aleks, huh? He should be home soon.” He said and tossed the ball down the hallway for Mishka to scamper after.
James went about his evening, eventually shutting off the music and booting up a video game in the living room. Aleks had only been supposed to be gone for an hour, but it was already past that.
Aleks stayed rooted to the spot he originally found himself in. Mishka flopped onto the floor at his feet, huffing in frustration that he wouldn’t pet her. He didn’t try out of fear of causing her any discomfort the way James had experienced when he walked through Aleks.
James kept checking his phone, growing more irritated by the minute that Aleks hadn’t returned home. His phone stayed stubbornly silent.
A couple hours had passed when a knock sounded on the door and the dogs exploded into excitement.
“Alright, you two, chill out, Jesus christ,” James said, stepping high to get over the bundles of fur crowding his feet.
Aleks knew what was coming. He wished he could stop James from opening the door, wished he could protect James from the heartbreak he was about to experience. But it was too late. The door was open and James was hesitantly greeting two blue-clad police officers.
Aleks didn’t even listen to the conversation, waiting for the click of the door as the officers left. He only moved when he heard a heavy thud as James collapsed against the door and slid to the floor.
He wished he hadn't died so quickly. He wished he had felt any sort of pain for it as punishment, he didn't deserve to be so pain free while James suffered so much.
Ein and Mishka looked expectantly between the two of them, glancing from Aleks to the pile that was James in front of the door. Aleks finally moved to sit on the floor next to him, leaving a bit of space between them. He whistled and gently pat the air above James’ lap, inviting Ein to climb onto him. She did so enthusiastically and James immediately held her close and buried his face in her fur. Mishka slotted herself in between them, pulling her paw back as it slipped into the cold space Aleks’ leg occupied.
There was nothing he could do but watch as James fell apart beside him. Without a physical body he couldn’t even cry as the emotions welled up inside him with no outlet.
He crumbled even more as James let out a choked sob, hugging Ein even tighter. Aleks slumped and banged his head against the wall.
If hell was watching the love of your life suffer alone, he was in it.
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A list of random crackheadery from high school cause I low key miss it
“I’m gonna yeet myself into the afterlife”
“I’m gonna rotisserie cook your future children and eat them”
“KARMA’S A B*TCH!” Yelled while playing a game of uno in homeroom very loudly
a kid walked around our lunchroom with a fake blue bird pinned in his hair which was life size and honestly the weirdest part of lunch
“What should i put on my shirt for (x club)? It’s between uwu, Space Boi uwu, and rawr XD. My goal is to be as cringey as possible.”
*crying* “Well you just threw off my groove and i-“
(To the tune of G-6) “I’m a dumb bish, I’m a dumb bish”
“(X name)! How far would you have been if i didn’t stop you to tell you you’re a thot”. “Probably yeeted off a bridge by now”
“He just looks like a sad pigeon with a boss hat”
(To the tune of celebrate good times) “end my suffering, come on!”
“My hands are white!” “YOU’RE WHITE!”
“I’m a firm believer in don’t judge something unless you try it, unless it’s illegal or drugs; don’t do drugs kids”
“.....but not all dogs can fit on skateboards!”
“Can we just cut my legs off and sell them”
“Invade my body, daddy bacteria”
“That’s what I imagine it would sound like if a spider ran in tap shoes”
“My church had an average attendance of 421 this year, we were so freaking close”
“Did you know that Waluigi has the same number of syllables as hallelujah, so if you think of any song with hallelujah in it you can replace it with Waluigi and it’ll fit”
“Anyone wanna feel my swollen gland”
“Your gay is like your mother’s tendency to sleep with men: plentiful”
“If being gay is a sin is satan the gay fairy”
“Vines are like actual vines: you get stuck and you never get out” “vines can choke you though” “Yes choke me daddy vine”
“You are each gonna have a burger component on your back” “I wanna be the meat ;)”
“Grab me however you want daddy hamburger”
*showing a paper with a picture of a bottom bun* “I guess you could say I’m a.... bottom”
“STOP EATING THE DUCT TAPE!”
“Shut up, don’t talk about my potatoes like that”
“Can you snort tide pods”
*whisper screaming and hitting a chair* “WHY IS COTTON EYED JOE BACK”
“But if two furries screw, is god cool with that?”
“PHD- pretty high dolphins”
“Do crocs have memory foam? i think not”
“I’ve run out of creative ways to whip”
“This is why we shouldn’t legalize weed, because we’re having this conversation sober”
“Don’t you just get sad every time a chair dies”
“Praise our lord and savior, Magic Mike”
“I’ll give you fifty bucks if you can guess what’s in my thermos.” “Coffee.” “No. It’s chicken noodle soup”
“I’m gonna eat your fingernails” “did you say EAT” “yeah, I’m gonna chew his fingernails off”
“I already went back to Mexico”
“You’re the BFG” “How so” “Big Frickin Gay”
“But since you’re gay, would you date me if i was” “the only way I’d date you is if you were an online catfish”
“We have a speaker with fake arms today” “he cant bring those in the school those are weapons” “how is he gonna throw them?” “With his feet”
“did you say the THOT police?” “no you idiot the THOUGHT police”
“I’m not scared of Russia. Like honestly i can beat them”
“I share a brian with satan and it smells shirty” (not a typo. Those exact words. I think it was making fun of a typo)
“I look like I’m about to go repaint all my mugs with lead paint”
“And today on the game show of sentences i never thought I’d have to say: it’s not a necklace if you buy it in the pet aisle of walmart”
“You look like the kind of person who would cut spaghetti with dull scissors”
“Hey, hey, hey, not in my f***ing Christian Minecraft server”
“We’re all going to hell” “Not me” “listen we’re in a school we’re already there” “True”
*to the tune of “what is love? Baby don’t hurt me”* “POKÉMON! BABY DON’T HURT ME, DON’T HURT ME, NO MORE”
“YO! PITBULL JUST CAME IN AND OFFERED DONUTS!”
“I’m gonna suck your eyeballs”
“Are we not allowed to have our nails painted since we’re guys” -a definite female, to another definite female
“Ok, so here’s the deal: straight people are uncooked spaghetti. Gay people are cooked rotini. I’m kinda like a cooked spaghetti. I’m not straight, I’m in between.” “The Italian is now interested I’m here what’s up with pasta”
“This song reminds me of Mexican food” “How does this remind you of Mexican food it’s jazz?”
“You’re not allowed to switch schools, I need my twin cop”
“You guys are the reason I wanna die” “you guys are the reason I drink”
*taking a huge drink of peanut butter hot chocolate* “I’m allergic to peanut butter” “THEN WHY DID YOU DRINK IT????” “Because i wanna die”
“so there’s two kinds of country hicks: the yee haws and the haw yees. Now the yee haws are the ones in country songs, they’re vaguely normal and drink and do horse riding stuff. The haw yees are the ones who fish with their hands and then f*** their cousins afterwards”
“Pop is just spicy water”
“I’m sorry, it’s not pizza Steve anymore” “Who is it” “the fresh prince of bel air”
A kid took his phone out of the microwave like that was a normal thing that humans do
“BUT IS HE DATING THE DEER?!”
“Chinese people eat cats, why not lesbians?” *teacher looks up* “saying Chinese people eat cats is too far”
“A gryffindor and a ravenclaw ooh this is good”
Two girls at the exact same time: *Gasp* TEA!
*girl leans back and cracks her head on a counter kind of thing* a friend:”that’s the third f***ing time!”
“SUCK MY WEENIS!”
“If you ever need a professional con artist I’m here” *teacher looks up* “you didn’t hear that” teacher:”hear what”
“Guys I’m stupid. You know when there’s a big number and then a lil number what’s the lil one called” “exponent?” “Yeah!”
*impersonating yoda screaming*
*chugging coffee* “well, I’m still just as tired, but now my atoms are just jazzed.”
“Not to quote Frozen, but you can’t marry a man you just met!”
“Not knowing what kind of exorcise people are talking about is always interesting, because I don’t know if we’re talking about working out or satan”
“If we actually die in the scene where they kill themselves, do we get bonus?” Teacher: *sighs* “sure.”
“Physically you have hair but spiritually you’re bald.”
*Singing boyfriend by BTR for about an hour straight*
“Stop saying teehee you sound like off brand Michael Jackson”
“He smells dead mice for a living!”
*kicking someone’s foot off a ledge* “long live the king!”
*holding a banana like a weapon* “give me all your debt!”
“I want my fingers to be four inches long”
“Let me read your head for a second”
“Oh no you’re white out now”
“This is what happens when your insides are cold”
“Did you just call me a dumb banana?”
“So Kelvin is Fahrenheit...”
“Let me add another fat roll to your arm”
“You wanna see a cute pic of my baby nephew?” “Sure but I might cry”
“Listen I need these pictures to load so I can see if my goats are being little crackheads”
“I keep trying to see if you’re a VSCO girl but you’re holding out on us”
“Pumpkin. Spice. Bleach.”
“I’m already a mother and I don’t like it.”
“This is a vegan cult, Jessica”
“Did you just say you started a religion?” “Yeah, I think I’ll call it the Fedoras”
“Isn’t a fedora just like... a cowboy hat but formal”
“Yes choke me daddy panic”
“I’m your emotional support crackhead deal with it”
“She got possessed by country satan”
“If you think about it toes are just little feet”
“Oh my god imagine if you pronounced Roosevelt like goose”
“Roosevelt got really sad when i broke up with him.”
“I love how I just classified reaper as its own state of being”
“So Santa’s not a cryptid”
“We’re not meat creatures like crabs”
“Do you want to be a famous writing?”
“Self care is becoming a breaded chicken tender on the weekends”
“You are a little yellow boy”
“I gotta look up how to have a stroke”
“At least you still have straight privilege”
“You piece of b*tch”
“Children having skulls is scary”
“You wanna crochet my friend a rat”
“If you kill yourself and you have a life insurance policy that your family then collects, is that insurance fraud?”
“Spaghetti man is talking about pregnancy and I’m scared”
“You’re the cutest trash I’ve ever seen”
“Poetry? Lame. DriversEd? Lame. Dousing myself in butter and becoming a dinner roll? F*ckin’ MINT”
“Finally, an invention to get rid of me” *zooms in on words garbage disposal*
“Is Swiper from Dora a furry or an actual fox?”
“I’m laughing because I just realized the word identity has t*tty in it”
“Oh my god I thought Paris was a country”
“Girl if you are having a baby this month the only thing you are birthing is FLAT Stanley”
“My eyes really said gardening”
“I snorted soapy water this morning”
“Intestines: do you really need them or are they a social construct?”
“I watched the first episode of that show illegally, and it was great”
“How much does a hit man cost in this economy?”
“Is santa wearing stripper heels?”
“No, I didn’t give birth to a baby cow”
“I am a whole grape not a raisin”
“I’ve decided on my career. I’m becoming a hit man for cheap”
“And you fought the tomato”
“You can be gay with the homeless”
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Draft of the Most Crucial (Parts 2 & 3)
The following two portions are released together. Just like Frank Zappa deemed parts two and three of his wonderful album Joe’s Garage too small to be released separately, I’ve deemed parts two and three too small to post separately.
I haven’t read through the entire thing in one sitting, so I wouldn’t come into this with high expectations. Anyways, I hope you don’t suffer too much trying to read through this post.
Part 2: The Fragmentation of Dreams
2A: Dreams on the Ocean Liner
Nautical Particle
A little rot ought not stop this promised ship;
A farcical barnacle is a spectacle we welcome.
Seldom should we find a delicacy on a trip
As those Portuguese so often eat them
Before their metamorphoses is complete.
See, they may cling to things and such
But that is because they lay dormant.
Foreign to fresh feed, the Portuguese eat much
On the sea beast, but if they had faith, just a gram
They’d wait and find there’ll be more meat.
See, the goose is not actually a bird;
Rather, it is some kind of crab.
‘Bove rabbinical and levitical word,
God’d not explain the reason for this truth
But he gave us eyes to see his work.
The goose, when it remains submerged,
Begins to turn to stone. It calcifies,
Defies understanding but when it has emerged…
The Benedictines held in their mouth each tooth
Except one, who whispered an animal does lurk
Within the flowers of the coral tree.
They’ve come above the water;
Utter praise to god that has blessed thee
And me and all for the geese
Shall grow, and and a goose we’ll feast.
So when you question the life ‘neath the ship
I’ll have you know that you question our own.
Aaron, you sea pup, those beasts below that grip
Will give food and will please
All of the men, for we’ll dine three nights at the least.
The Blinding of Argus I*
Onward and steadfast into the tumultuous storm.
Only faltering fools should fall to the rain,
So fasten yourselves because this is your alarm.
Before us is the swirling drain
And drain you of life it shall with exquisite form.
Pray now to your God, and refrain
Once we enter; there shall be no arm
So strong to save you the pain
Of hell’s wilderness, Leviathin’s scorn.
Water swirls like the sand in the storm; grain
Beating upon the very soul, worn
Down by utter disdain.
Charybdis bites at the heels to quench her thirst.
The Moskstraumen that shall paint a world so bleak, unmarked.**
Leviathin’s eye that consumes the light first
And then consumes the souls of men lost in the dark.
The Waves*
Like pleasurable ecstasy,
Wave after wave upon me
Come to drown my tiring soul,
And I cannot let go of the frame
When, for a moment, things are tame.
Howling out my shipmates’ name,
Tides gain force and hug the hull.
Wave after wave upon me
Like pleasurable ecstasy.
Wave after wave upon me
As the storm grows strong and blows.
My heart that beats for such a beast should come down like a rogue
Unto the ship, feasting so that it eats th’ whole of my ship.
I pray to God that I might not let go. I fear to slip
And disappear forever into the eternal empty sea.
Where are you God? Your hand, I cannot see.
Where are my mates? No one knows,
And I am without ease within.
Oh, if you should please to hope,
Give me a sign, I fear this
Calm won’t last too long.
The Sun
The cold rain stops, swirls ‘long
Gentle breeze of sea salt air,
The sun is no longer gone.
I breathe on in; something is wrong
The peace is gone, I, not aware,
Walk back down and see John,
Undone and slaughtered dog;
And all my friends were too undone.
Tears, for hours, I would cry.
Before began to turn the cogs
And the rot began to fill my lungs,
But the tears still welled in my eyes.
One by one that go the residents.
Sick to my stomach, I feel not pleasant
I know their carcasses must be jettisoned
As I find them to be ever r‘pugnant.
Sabotage on the Argus
Some say that my ailment should be cured with ale,
And I know that I’ll rather medicate than meditate
Because I was sold on a ship that’s sailed,
Only leaving me with my teeth grating.
Tomorrow may promise to come, but it is paled
Awfully by the promises that, yesterday, I left, mistaking
Mossed stones for green pastures. Stale,
Ever so tasteless, but not painless; such is fate.
Oh, that I might be able to change;
Not that I may become strange…
To me, it’s a matter of correction.
How a corrosive connection
Ever makes painful every inspection.
Ailed, I have been for far too long.
Repugnant, I’ve found this failure of mine;
Gall that I shouldn’t blame myself. But I’ve been wronged
Utterly and thus erred eternally, cursed to the brine.
Sabotaged on the Argus, to which I belong.
Imagining Old Friends
“Where now to, my captain?” “I don’t know.
I think back to souls I left so long ago.
I think back to the days of young,
When the salted air’d not beat my lungs,
And I can only hope to hold to dreams.
I think if I could only write upon the beams,
With knife in hand, I’d write until I filled the pages
Of empty reams that have been forgotten for the ages
If it would mean I could preserve a legacy
Lived in the empty hull of a ship damned at sea.
But the past was lived so long ago,
And we live to tell this tale, so I’ll not write it… no.
Now then, let us travel, for I’ve not the heart to stop
And if we live, it’s because, unlike stones, we shall not drop.
I say we should go until we find our foot holds to the ground
And we’ll sing our praises until we reach the holy mount,
For in these seconds, we realize that we’re in the midst of conversion
And angelic souls shall fall like demons if we wait hold to diversions.
2B: Awakening
Dream
Thus went th’ walk through hell:
Weary dreamer leaves his cell
With my key to all.
Escaped the blurred hall,
Fell into the bivalve shell
Before the portal.
The pressure and heat,
Coquina spread b’fore your feet.
‘n Marcos leaves you meek;
Before it, land, bleak.
And you’re sent to walk the street
T’ find wild’rness’ mystique.
Call
Anastasia’s at your back
And she’ll wait for your return
But everything’s empty inside your mind.
August, in its right, has come
And James had long been gone
Before you had the chance to say goodbye.
All’s gone through the wilderness;
All’s gone into the deep.
Baffled you, the emptiness, with its creep.
Mystique
The western road takes you to th’ unknown
The northern one leaves you at the offshoot of the river
And it’s killer for to travel down the coast
But the wilderness boasts with shivering leaves
The cool wind that’s blown when God breathes.
Confusion
How far must you walk in these woods? You are lost.
All the trees grow slender, with bark turn’d to white.
You walk the wooden path with splinters at your feet
And the nails in your coffer replace your daily wage.
How far must you walk? In these woods, you are lost.
As concrete jungles rise around you to fill your sight,
You realize you have a common place at your feet.
How it seems common place to forget at your age.
When you look back upon your life, what hope should it foster
Will the weight be unbearable or are things a bit lighter?
You are such a common man. No effort t’ move a meter.
Are you a puppet on God’s stage? You have no answer, I’d wager.
(The First) Reflection
If hell is for my afterlife, should I have myself a beer?
I think that maybe hell is here and it makes me feel right queer.
The pilfered moments pile high, but stand only for a while.
Is life merely mere or mirrored small f’ ‘ppearance and for style.
Part 3: Consequent Ending After Facing the Truth
3A: Once More Unto The Beach
Confrontation
Through brooks, the bream would travel through,
Not baffled by the path it took.
Where laid the eggs, ‘t’d disperse the seed.
Thus stays its line, birthing its breed.
You mistook my dreams. They addled you.
Your rattled laugh… I’d bit the hook;
Hang me up to dry on high.
Low below bellows my cry.
How your life is shades of gray;
Dark, no color, feel no shame
For all you ever were was fake.
They look at you and call you brave.
I look at you, another stray.
You fail the grade but it’s all a game;
You have no goal, no claim t’ a stake.
They’re naive to believe a knave.
Bury four dozen seasons (and all without reasons)
Remember when we were young?
Remember those days of old?
Remember how you made me feel?
I remember things professed and told.
Pretending you’d love me,
Pretending you’d care,
Pretending you’d need me.
Pretending, you’d swear
That you’d never leave me –
‘til death do us part –
But I couldn’t stop thee
When you did depart.
You tell your old stories.
You tell your old tales.
You tell them your worries.
Your mind never fails
Except now it scurries;
It’s been far too long.
Now, with you here, Maurice,
All I knew was wrong.
Recall those stories you read
Of sailors and pirates out west.
You read it, you lusted, you fled.
So, you left me and the sun at rest
To go hide in Avalon,
And I’d never known.
For twelve years, you were gone.
Twelve, I was alone.
For twelve years, I would don
A face made of stone.
That wanton, early dawn,
You cannot atone.
A widow’s veil, I wore.
Years wearing that veil.
To God, I prayed and bore
Tears with no avail.
And then I resigned more.
I did not prevail.
Well, now I shall take your
Minister’s black veil.
You distort the truth you give.
You purport adventures incurred
By a man whose life has been lived.
You took all your tales from another.
(The Second) Reflection
What am I but an unholy soul riding the waves of destiny? A sailor cast away into the tumultuous inferno, I’ve been struck with profound emptiness that any light in me would shine ethereal. As pass the millennia, so pass the centuries; those pass like seconds on a clock and moments in a lifetime, unhappy. Blessed be I if, a moment in life, I could steal. But cursed am I, for in truth, life is nothing but a collection of fleeting moments of ecstasy and misery. I may wish for pleasurable endeavors and treasures abound, but I’ve worthless fruits with value unsound and fruitless worths with futures destitute. Just as quick as the dark is cast to a crevice, so too is a dark veil to be set over my eyes.
Secondary Ending: Unsalvageable
It’s lost, like a ship
Cast into the deep.
Bubbles that’d quip
A whisper of sleep.
The gargantuan beasts —
Those devilish seas —,
They bite at the coasts,
Nibbling children’s toes.
I needn’t wonder;
They no longer creep.
Rolling of thunder,
But th’ heavens won’t weep.
How much was I rused?
As much as I’d choose.
What my heart had seized
Was only a tease.
And now, what’s worse:
The sea demons’ keep,
Or hunger and thirst?
To th’ ocean, I leap.*
Dutch’s Sorrows (or; Maurice’s Regret For Jumping Ship)
The deep, blue sky that stays above
My sullen, wanting eyes.
Drive me closer to my home,
My strong, silent creator.
Lead me to the place I’d known
(That I might win this race)**
Until I hold on to my love
And the sea is gone.
Drive me closer to my home,
Turbulent composer;
All the love you hold, please show
Because I’m growing old.
3B: To Live And Die A Self-Proclaimed Sage
Wide-Eyed, Foolish Dreams
Why would I choose to write
If an angel wrote in my journal?
All the pages would be blank
For the moment it should come back and write again.
But I, foolishly,
Thinking I could respond, did write
In the hopes that being nocturnal
Would bring the diurnal being to flank
Me to fill the pages, but ‘twas never again. (Never again.)
Why’d I foolishly
Think in responding, it’d write?
The Forgetful Muse
A sad man lost at sea, a soul th’t starved.
Please, r’turn me th’ strength and the intell-
-igence. One final letter I shall write:
A cruc’al draft, th’ last long tale I’ll tell,
For in this foreign sea, forgotten writs
Are in th’ books inscribed with my p’n marks,
And th’ last hidden thought has hid b’hind
Wrinkles in time that are apart and far.
I turn away th’ troubles of m’ life.
If these lost mom’nts left with blowin’ winds,
They would soon be r’turnin’ back to me,
Like scrapped, old dreams ‘nwrit; to them, akin,
For in this foreign sea, forgotten writs
Are in th’ books inscribed with my p’n marks,
And th’ last hidden thought has hid b’hind
Wrinkles in time that are apart and far.
She is th’ inspiration stowed away.
She is, t’ me, th’ beauty cast from me.
I wish so much t’ call, with force, her name;
She’s th’ forgetful muse called Euterpe.*
I – a forgetin’ mule that’s been displaced –
Pray that p’rhaps a return shall soon be.
It’s been long time since overdue f’r when
She would, discreet, come and command to greet
A sad man lost at sea, a soul th’t starved.
Please, r’turn me th’ strength and the intell-
-igence. One final letter I shall write:
A cruc’al draft, th’ last long tale I’ll tell.
Primary Ending: The Second Social Death
(I) Was beholden, once more,
To the place in my dreams;
N’ther beauty of life nor
Truth in the reams
Of letters written by
Machinations o’ th’ mind,
And so long that I’d pry
But so little t’ find.
I shall let my mind drift,
As I now have my word,
Since those letters ‘d now sift
Like sand in water.
See, my bottle was smashed
On the stones of the sea
And my message was dashed
For eternity.*
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