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midnightarcheress · 5 days

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another casino thingy with john price, bc why not?

cw: nsfw. masturbation, fingering, implicit exhibitionist price?, f!reader. idk shit about poker. part one | part two

you go to the casino again. not to gamble though.

at first, you were reluctant on showing up. it was nice of John to give you money for your services that night, and you couldn't deny the instant attraction lingering on your brain, but you didn't want to feel like a token, a four-leaved clover he picked out of the grass. also, you were convinced that your luck was a one-time thing, so why bother trying again? he surely found another charm to put in his pocket by now.

however, those thoughts vanished from your mind when you heard a sharp knock on your door.

you look through the peephole and immediately recognize the person standing in your hallway – mohawk guy. how did he...? your first instinct is to ignore him, but curiosity wins the fight against logic and you open the door.

"hello, bonnie." he smiles, "Price's waiting for ye," he blurts out before you can even ask anything. he's waiting?

for a minute, you don't think. your body moves on auto-pilot, scouring your closet for a decent outfit and smoothing down your hair to look at least presentable, as a stranger – Johnny, you learned – paces in your living room.

the next thing you know, you're in the passenger seat of his car, one hand resting on your leg and thumb edging the hem of your skirt, driving downtown. you couldn't help but shudder at the tingling sensation of his fingers on your skin, and he just snorts at your reaction, amused. are they all this touchy?

thankfully for you, Johnny is a talker, so you don't have to do much work to pass the time. he tells you that John is actually the owner of the casino and that every friday night he hosts a poker game with some of his friends. that he and the boys – Simon and Kyle – help Price with the management and with making sure no one creates trouble, and that John hasn't stopped talking about you.

your eyes widen after his last words, earning a chuckle out of the scot and nearly making you forget the question that first popped into your head when you saw him at your door – how in the hell did he know where i live? but at this point, you're not sure you care.

the light squeeze on your thigh alerts you that you've arrived, hopping out of the car and walking inside. the place is as packed as ever, but he leads you directly to the back, the same door as before.

"there she is." John grins, already tapping his lap for you to sit, "now we can start." this time, you don't hesitate, happily obliging to his request even when a part of you cringes at your eagerness. you accept the glass of bourbon, neat, that Kyle hands you, and despite being too strong for your liking, you don't bother. probably tastes like John.

the first few rounds were tame, with low bets, but soon enough you see the flying 5000 chips landing on the table and hear the laughs getting louder, as he traces circles on your hip. you don't know if it's the alcohol coursing in your veins, the softness of his touch, or his hot breath on your ear, but warmth starts pooling in your stomach and your legs clump together to ease the tension.

John notices your squirms and devilishly smirks, enjoying your desperate attempts to forgo the desire building in you. "here, kiss it for good luck, Ace." Ace? his left-hand holds a chip up, as the right one sneaks between your thighs and pry them apart again, making you gasp.

you timidly lean forward to press a quick kiss on the chip and instantly feel the heat creeping up your cheeks when his hand reaches your underwear. "you're so wet, Ace," he whispers, pulling your damp pants to the side. god, what is he... oh.

you try your best to be calm, not let the sensation of his fingers grazing your folds cloud your mind, but it's too much. your head tips back onto his shoulder, and any word that threatens to come out of your mouth and stop him gets caught in your throat. there's people around. everyone can see how much of a mess you are. and they... don't care?

his thumb gently rubs your clit as his middle finger toy with your entrance in an agonizingly slow manner, soft sighs escaping your mouth and eyes embarrassingly glossy focusing on the table. the game is still going, there's at least eight other men in this room, counting the players and the boys, fuck i'm– you bite back moans, gripping his forearm to keep him in place and to stop yourself from writhing in his lap.

"easy, love," he murmurs, finally pumping his digit inside you, "such a greedy cunt." his tone is low, syrupy, dripping like honey over you and nearly making you cum at the sound of his voice. you nuzzle your face on his neck, muffling your whimpers and drowning in the scent of his cologne. "what's keepin' me from throwin' you on top of this table and takin' you right now, hm?"

"John–" you breathe out, coil on your belly tightening when he inserts another finger, hitting the spongy spot you were never quite able to reach, making you mewl with pleasure. his beard brushes on your neck and his warm lips trace your jaw, leaving an underlying burning on your skin that drops straight to your core.

through half-lidded eyes you see the dealer finishing distributing the cards and the subtle twitch in John's mouth when he glances at his hand. your mind is too far gone by the point when they place the bets, too lost in the feeling of his frantic thrusts, velvety walls instinctively clenching around him to enhance the bliss.

the knot inside of you snaps and you cry out, limbs trembling in his hold and pure electricity travelling under your surface; it's intense, ripples through your core, heavenly overstimulating every corner of your body and sending your mind to outer space.

you float back to earth and taste the metallic flavor in your mouth, bottom lip sore from biting too hard to prevent your screams. John nudges you back to reality with a kiss on your temple, "such a good girl, love." he flaunts his cards in front of your eyes, and after a few attempts to refocus your vision, he gloats, wide smile and lustful eyes directed only at you, "just won me thirty grand, Ace."

i'd love to write more of this casino universe but i'm very much lacking in the ideas department lol

#captain john price #john price #price cod #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price smut #price smut #ghost cod #gaz cod #soap cod #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #fem!reader #price x reader #price x you #casino au #nyx writes ☾#midnightarcheress

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barbeygirl · 1 month

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My useless Bucky HC’s

Either sleeps like he’s straight passed out every night or like a dramatically dying victorian child

Tries to give people nicknames, like he did to Buck. Sometimes they stick, sometimes not. It’s his love language.

Has a certain attention requirement. He’ll get restless if it isn’t met. Usually taken out on Buck or some other poor person

Is banned from two pubs in London. It’s not his fault but it also very much is

Avoids a third one because there’s too many ladies that know him… and don’t exactly like him

They’ve bonded over hating him. Bucky has his own little hater club

Loves music. Tries to get people to sing, especially when intoxicated, but usually gets too excited and takes over mid song.

Has a really bad habit of vanishing when drunk. His call to adventure is too strong. But everyone knows he’ll turn up at some point so they’re not worried.

Once he steps out of the pub, you’ll have no idea what he’ll get himself into. Anything is a possibility.

He could tell you he tried breaking and entering the Buckingham Palace last night, and you’d reluctantly believe him.

He’s rummaged most of London like this. The stories are crazy. Gets into trouble and strange occurances that only he could. He’s sort of a legend for it amongst the pilots.

But he has the best orienteering skills and will return once he’s done. Sometimes battered up and sometimes carrying whatever he’s won from his escapade.

masterlist

#john egan #bucky egan #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air #mota headcanons #mota #hbo war

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thats-ill-eagle · 4 months

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HELLUVA BOSS DEVIATING FROM ITS ORIGINAL PREMISE FUNDAMENTALLY DESTROYED THE SHOW

So, it has already been discussed many times in HB critical community that HB deviated from its premise after S1 and that anyone with an once of media literacy can tell that you can't describe it in any way other than horrible writing.

Now, I'm going to ask you this for a second - imagine that you haven't seen S1, the pilot or read the premise of Helluva Boss anywhere. Imagine that you watch all (available) episodes of S2 and are asked to write a premise about it on some movie review website. How would you briefly describe what happens in S2?

Oh, you can't or are having major trouble doing it? Don't worry, you are not media illiterate, my friend. That is the case because IT'S LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO TELL WHAT HELLUVA BOSS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT ANYMORE.

There are many flaws that your writing could possess - inconsistent characterization, too fast/slow pacing and so on. However, they do not automatically derail your work. It is very much possible to recognize those faults, learn from them and do better in the future.

But the premise of your work is its literal BONES. You build up the plot and characters based on it. You just can't expect your show to be good, if you tear out its basis. Of course the pacing, character development and how plot points are wrapped up in HB is horrible - how can anything function without the very thing that holds it all together?

And I MEAN that the premise of HB completely disappears, not shifts or changes. Like, seriously, what the hell is HB supposed to be about now?

Stolitz?

Their interactions indicate zero meaningful development and are tediously spaced out to the point that it's hard to care about their relationship. It is made even worse by the fact that Stolas, just like in S1, still keeps pressuring Blitzo, despite him being clearly uncomfortable.

Blitzo making amends with people he hurt?

Even ignoring S1's nonexistent buildup of this plotline (Blitzo looking at photos on his phone doesn't count, since it's literally the ONLY moment that barely suggests it), there's no buildup in S2 either, when it comes to both Barbie and Fizz. It is certainly not helped by the fact that Barbie just vanishes after Unhappy Campers and Blitzo and Fizz's beef is resolved in a single episode.

Any other plotlines of S2, like Fizz's job, Crimson, Striker, or Stolas and Stella's separation are just too small or insignificant to be considered part of the supposed premise, INCLUDING the assassination business, which arguably takes up the least amount of time of aspects of the show listed.

It's no surprise that Helluva Boss is slowly crumbling. At this point, it's just a paralysed zombie who completely forgot what it once was. And it's damn sad to watch, because the show comforted me during some dark times and, despite Viv being an awful person, I truly hoped for HB to be great.

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss critical #helluva critical #helluva boss criticism #anti helluva boss #helluva critique

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foone · 1 year

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My one bit of advice I think every gamer should hear:

GO PLAY OUTER WILDS.

Seriously. It is easily one of my top 5 games of all time, and that's mainly because I'm being cagey about if it's the #1, because it probably is.

It's a game where you're a little alien who is taking their first flight into space, in their little spaceship. You go to space and find a mystery, and have to figure it out.

It's a game entirely about learning things about the world you're in: it's a tiny solar system modeled amazingly well, with varied planetary environments, archaeology, and quantum fun.

It's a game that's hard to talk about without spoiling, because it's about solving the mysteries. There used to be some other aliens here, they're long gone. What happened to them? Their whole society was built around trying to find something: what was it? Did they find it? And there's a weird disastrous event that keeps happening, why? Can you stop it? Should you stop it? Is it connected to the other weird things that keep happening? What happened to that ice planet that exploded with vines? One of the astronauts who came before you was the best pilot who ever lived, but they vanished. What happened to them? And why can you sometimes hear their harmonica over the radio when you point it at your own planet?

The game is wonderful and non-linear and the most unique approach to a Metroidvania I've seen years: it's basically "what if we did the Metroidvania idea but with no items or power ups? What if the thing that you got to unlock new areas WAS INSIDE THE PLAYER'S HEAD?"

Because you don't unlock the next area by picking up the high-jump boots, you unlock it by learning something new. Now you can do something you didn't realize you could before, but now you know you can.

And that's only one of the amazing concepts they stuffed in this game. The itemless Metroidvania, the tiny simulated solar system, the quantum mechanics... Each of these alone could be enough to carry an indie game. They stuffed them all in one game combined with a great story, and that's in a gamewith relatively little dialogue!

There's like a dozen people to talk to, but you spent a lot of time reading conversations left by the long-gone aliens. You get to know them, what they were working for, how they interacted, and what happened to them, thousands of years later. It's less the bioshock style audio-logs, and more like going over bits of ancient writing, making connections and correlations from the fragments you can find.

And don't get me wrong, this might sound like this game is going to be dry and boring: it is so very not. It is a game about mysteries in the void of space, the death of a civilization, and the potentially world-ending dangers that face a living one, and even bigger concepts. It could so easily be a cosmic horror, about the cold death of space and the universe itself, and the nihilism of realizing that even a race that could cross the gap between the stars and bend spacetime to their will... They too died out. If they couldn't make it, what hope do you have, in your little spaceship that's primarily made of WOOD?

And yet... The game is always engaging. It has a few scares, and space is never a safe place to be, but it maintains a sense of humor and wonder. Yes, the universe can be scary, but it's also amazing. And you're just a little salamander-guy who wants to see it all, and figure out all the things. Maybe you don't know something yet, but tomorrow is a new day, and you can go blasting off to another planet, find some writing in a city suspended upside down over a black hole, try to fly into the core of a water planet, dodge giant anglerfish inside the warped space of an exploded planet, and try to explore an ancient city that's slowly filling with sand. It is a game about Things Ending, and it refuses to give into despair. It is one of the most relentlessly optimistic games I have ever played.

And the experience of playing it is so unique. This isn't a game where you could watch a letsplay and only get spoiled on some plot points, it's a game where the fundamental gameplay loop is about learning things. You should try it for yourself. It's got hints and many different avenues to explore (and it even keeps track of them for you, in case you forget!), so you don't have to worry much about getting stuck for too long. You can always put aside a "puzzle" and come back later, after you've learned more. (I put puzzle in quotes because it's not exactly a puzzle game. It's more of a mystery game. You aren't solving a logic puzzle or putting the pegs into the right holes, you're asking "Why is this like this? Where does this go? What is this for?" and then figuring that out from clues)

It's like 25$ on steam, and you can get it for Playstation and Xboxes as well (sadly no Switch version. They were working on one but it seems that version has stalled, with no announced release date)

You can probably get it for like 10$ if you're patient and wait for a sale.

One final note: there's also a DLC. The DLC is fully self-contained, in that you won't miss anything playing the main game without it. It basically adds a huge side-area to the game which goes and fills in some gaps in the history, explains some things, and introduces some more variety to the Outer Wilds universe.

It's utterly amazing, too. It's basically Outer Wilds 2 in everything but name, but it's totally fine to just grab the base game and play that. You can always come back and grab the DLC later if you want more Outer Wilds.

Seriously. To sum up, Outer Wilds is one of the greatest games ever made, it won a ton of awards, and it should have won more. They should invent more gaming awards just to give to Outer Wilds. This is one of the games that is going to be talked about in future "history of gaming" classes and put on lists of the 50 most groundbreaking and influential games, alongside things like Myst and King's Quest and Zork and Mass Effect. It's just that good, that groundbreaking.

#Outer Wilds

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pilot-boi · 1 month

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Hey Pilot. I thought up another fucked-up hypothetical for Jaune, and there's nobody better to share those with, so.

Obviously, while in the Ever After, between the "girl who fell through the world" incident and RWBY turning up, Jaune was going through a little bit of a menty b. awful time for the boy.

What if a higher power (Blacksmith, probably) decided an intervention was necessary. But- her usual agent for such, the Curious Cat, is persona non grata to poor Rusty. Obviously, she can't just pull him to the tree for direct intervention, and she can't do anything that would break the timeline like sending RWBY to him early- but maybe there's someone else, some other deep connection she could pull on and send to him. Someone who's not on Remnant.

What if the Blacksmith sent him Pyrrha? After all those years, he'd doubtlessly still recognise her... but how long would it take him to believe she was real?

I love how I have become ��Fucked Up Jaune Concepts Central” It’s really great

But also

I’m gonna be thinking about this forever now

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS

Because I’ve been headcanoning that the Blacksmith DID appear in front of Jaune, the same way she did for Ruby. That’s part of the reason why he thinks he’s going crazy and hallucinating, this godlike being keeps appearing and vanishing around him and (from his point of view) fucking with his mind

So I could totally see her pulling something like this. And I could totally see Jaune NEVER trusting that this is actually Pyrrha and not just a product of his broken mind

At least… now until RWBY are there and he has something to compare against

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #arkos #mine #asks #golddragon387

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hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog · 3 months

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HELLOOOOOO

I have been semi stalking and poking my head into this account a lot since I adore fanfic anons content. And I would like to propose my own little AU and maybe fanfics for a later date (keyword, maybe since I may also post these onto my ao3) BUT LE CONSIDER:

Based semi on the AU from user AppleParty on Twitter, mainly just one idea, the one where Alastor is Lucifer’s personal guard, the rest is my own.

Basic gist: Alastor makes a deal with Lucifer. Lucifer grants Alastor all the power he desires, but Alastor has to vow to protect Charlie with his life and try and help parent her as Lucifer knows he is not in the right mental state to do so anymore. So Alastor ends up vanishing for 7+ years to help raise and protect the Princess of Hell, while also having a budding friendship with Lucifer (So Hell's Greatest Dad turns from dad off to a tongue and cheek teasing match).

Everything is fine and dandy, some of the same plot points from the pilot happen instead with the inclusion of Alastor. Vaggie and Alastor also have a more mutual respect but not friends yet relationship. The interview goes horribly wrong and Vaggie has to hold Alastor back from ripping Katie Killjoy’s head off. The scene in the limo is more tense as Angel is avoiding the piss off guard dog that is the radio demon now. Alastor tries to cheer Charlie up by cashing in some favors by calling up Nifty and Husk, probably in this AU, Husk is still not an overlord as Alastor owns his soul still, but Husk has more power and having to raise Charlie probably has matured Alastor more so him and Husk are more on even ground and Alastor looks at Husk as more as an advice giver when he needs it. Nifty is just Nifty. The two agree to work at the hotel as they are doing Alastor a favor and they believe in Charlie’s dream. Alastor is up for debate as he may only be doing this because he has to since he is her personal guard or he actually believes in it. The only thing he will say on the matter is he finds it entertaining and he can’t wait to see the chaos start.

All things are going good, they plan on celebrating and everything until a knock comes to the door. Alastor excuses himself, shooing off Vaggie to tell her she should be with her girlfriend, he will handle the matters. He goes to answer the door, being speaking in a manner tone until he opens his eyes and is greeted to

Vox

BECAUSE YEAH SPOILER ALERT THIS IS A STATICRADIO AU HAHAHAH

Alastor’s smile drops and he hisses in anger and slams the door shut in Vox’s face, not even giving the Overlord a chance to speak as he storms back into the lobby. Cue Charlie having to rush over and mediate everything and bring Vox in, who saw the interview on TV and wants to sponsor the hotel. Because well, hey it would be good money and it would be funny to see Charlie try and redeem sinners. But everyone can TELL there is tension between him and Alastor, like the scary kind of tension when you have no clue if person a is gonna lunge and rip out person b’s throat. But you know its there since they have a history together.

Cue all the hijinks that ensue as Alastor and Vox have to try and repair their relationship while also helping Charlie out with her dream. Also more chaos than normal since Alastor probably accompanies Charlie to more places than in canon.

But that is all hehe. Am gonna give myself a sign off so people know who I am soo

-⚔️aka “Hotel’s Radio Guard AU” (work in title au name) Anon!

I love your energy my friend, on this blog we appreciate fanfic anon, spamming, and all kinds of AUs

The beginning of this is similar to dadstaticradio au (except lucifer instead of lilith ofc) but there is no issue I take with that bc I love it

Also referring to Alastor as guard dog and "Niffty is just Niffty" made me laugh, if you ever do post on Ao3 pls tag me in it or sent a link in asks and I'll share it on your behalf

#ask #⚔️ anon #staticradio #fanfic #radioguard au

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celerydays · 9 months

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☁️ new setup / emotional support notebook ☁️

I’ve been craving something small because my B6 planner was feeling a bit too hefty and going unused, so I was testing out using a pocket Leuchtturm I had on hand for bullet journaling the last few weeks.

In the end, I've decided to go back to A6 for planning (for the first time since I think 2017?) I picked up a Sterling Ink blank grid TRP A6 notebook with 520 pages and I love how thiccc it is 🤌✨

It’s sort of gonna be a catch-all, bullet journal, commonplace book, ugly sketchbook, and scribble center that I’m gonna keep on me almost literally at all times (I don’t even remember the last time I traveled with my planner in my bag or kept it on my nightstand but we’re gonna start doing that again!)

One of my only rules in order to keep it simple and resist the urge to over-decorate and get caught up in the aesthetics rather than the practicality is to just use the one ☝️ pen and ink: my Pilot Vanishing Point with an EF nib and inked with De Atramentis Document Ink in Urban Grey 😌🩶

This page for planning looks neat/organized but my notes and commonplace pages aren't so much and I’m adoring it 💞 Been working to embrace imperfections and “hand of the creator” vibes in my art so I’m extending that to the other pages in this notebook 😌 (my planning pages still have to have a modicum of order tho otherwise I’d lose half my to-dos in the chaos 🫨)

#journal #journaling #bullet journal #commonplace book #commonplace journal #fountain pen #notebooks #hobonichi #cel journals #celerydays

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seekers-who-are-lovers · 3 months

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Some thoughts about things on Bang Bravern… (bit long, sorry)

Why do I clock the German major general Heidemarie as a lesbian?

So what if “ga-ga-pi” is some kind of a code, similar to Morse code or the binary code? Lulu has her “ga-ga-pi.” The other Deathdrive has its “ga-ga-ga. Pi-ga-ga-ga-pi. Pi-ga-ga-pi-ga.” The sequence is different in order to convey another meaning. The only solution is how to interpret it. Or perhaps, I am just overthinking.

So what are the Death Drives?

From the series’s glossary:

Death Drives : A mysterious mechanical life form that suddenly attacked the earth. Their goal is to achieve the best "death" that each of them wants. They came to this earth around all the galaxies in search of an existence that will fulfil their wishes.

Those drives sound like a part of Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalysis’ theory, the theory of pleasure principle (Lustprinzip).

Did Masami Obari, the director, turn to the Austrian psychoanalyst to gather the blueprint for his latest work?

(I know that Freud doesn’t have many fans among the Tumblr folks. But he “is” my neighbour. After having seen “Freud’s Vanished Neighbors” and read an article that the Viennese didn’t accept him as part of the community because he was not born in Austria and had Jewish family, and was still referred to as “Zugeraster,” a derogatory term for an outsider, he earned my respect and like everyone who was born centuries ago had other mentality that was not at all fitting in the modern era.)

Deathdrives, or death drives, in Freudian psychoanalytical universe, mean Thanatos, Todestrieb in German, is a term that describes: the drive toward death and destruction, often expressed through behaviors such as aggression, repetition compulsion, and self-destructiveness.

From Freud’s book, “Beyond the Pleasure Principle” :

Our departure point was the great antithesis of life drives and death drives. Object-love itself shows us a second such polarity – that of love (affection) and hate (aggression). What if we succeeded in connecting these two polarities, what if we succeeded in tracing one back to the other! We have always acknowledged a sadistic component in the sexual drive; as we know, this component can develop a life of its own and turn into a perversion that dominates a person's entire sexual life. It also occurs as a dominant partial drive in one of those forms of organization of sexual life that I have termed ‘pre-genital’. But how could we possibly suppose that the sadistic drive, which aims to harm its object, derives from Eros, the preserver of life? Isn't it altogether plausible to suppose that this sadism is actually a death drive that has been ousted from the ego at the instance of the narcissistic libido, and as a result only becomes apparent in conjunction with the object?

So you have the enemies, the Death Drives, ready to destroy the humans, and Bravern on the other with the quality of being the Eros. The sentient robot’s ethos is to save the humanity first. All the while obsessing with his pilot, Ao Isami. Obsession and kindness overlapping.

@whypolar analysed their names, then doing some googling of the meanings of both Isami and Lewis’ names, it seems the two share the same description. Yours truly is not at all a Japanese language expert, this website suggests that Isami has 21 variations in kanji.

勇 means "bravery, courage."

Brave - Showing courage and strength in the face of danger or difficulty.

Daring - Willing to take risks and try new things.

Strong - Having great physical or mental power.

Courageous - Having or showing courage in the face of danger or difficulty.

Resolute - Firmly determined to do something.

Soldier - A person who serves in an army.

It describes Isami’s personality perfectly!

Lewis, on the other hand…

From the celebrated author of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll, to lauded actor Daniel-Day Lewis, a boy called Lewis is in good company! Lewis is of German origin and means "Renowned warrior." It has many variations in Latin, French, and Gaelic languages that all point to the same sentiment of “strength” and “courage”. With the name Lewis, you can hope to instill your baby boy with a fearless optimism for life.

All three of them—Bravern, Isami and Lewis—are “strong and courageous.”

#bang brave bang bravern #yuuki bakuhatsu bang bravern #ao isami #lewis smith #isami x lewis #heidemarie #death drive #sigmund freud #masami obari #bravern thoughts

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purelyfiction · 2 months

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Barely Even Over. - Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x F!Reader

Word Count: I don’t know, I’ll update this when I’m off mobile

Summary: You’ve never been good with complacency. You’ve nearly broken it off four times with Bradley before, feeling trapped and needing to run. You don’t know why it happens, or why you feel so compelled to escape. This time, you can’t get past it. What had always been passing conversation has been a full production. You’re nearly to the curtain close when the entire thing is derailed by a very agitated pilot on your front porch.

Content Warning: lots of cursing, lots of angst, potential trigger for anxiety

Author’s Note: I’ve been obsessed with this song by Drake Milligan and I couldn’t get this out of my brain. Also!! Rooster content? In 2024? Wow. - unedited, unbeta’ed we die like idiots.

God, you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here. The fact that it was almost eleven o’clock at night and someone was pounding at your door was one of the countless reasons you’d put in a transfer request.

The main reason you were leaving stood on the other side of your open door.

Bradley stands, dripping wet from the monsoon that’s raging outside (you’d heard it from the wind and the pelting rain on your window), the most vicious look on his face. You spot the equally soggy piece of paper you’d shoved in his mailbox this morning in his hand.

“You really thought you could just drop this off and bolt out of town without a word?” He shakes the wet mangled letter around, a drop of water flinging to the tip of your nose. When he starts into it, you’re pushing the door shut, regretting not checking the peephole before you tugged the door open. Rooster’s hand grabs the edge of the wood before you can get too far, pushing his body weight into it to keep it ajar.

“Or that I had to hear from Hangman of all people that he saw a moving truck taking your shit?” You turn and enter into the empty apartment, trying to avoid this conversation. That was the point of the letter, the point of no contact the last few hours. You were about five hours from departing San Jose and never coming back. Bradley slams the door shut as he follows you inside.

“Jesus, wake all the neighbors while you’re at it Bradshaw.” You groan, stepping into your bathroom to do a mindless check that everything had been packed. That you weren’t forgetting anything.

“Fuck the neighbors, Gemstone! You were going to just fucking ghost me? Ditch me without a goddamn word?” You can hear the pain singe his voice. A normally smooth and entertained gruff is resentful and burned instead when he speaks to you. He follows you as you move to the kitchen to do one last once over, averting this onslaught as much as you could. “Drop a shitty letter in my mailbox to dump my ass, ignore my texts, decline my calls - not a single word from you! What the fuck??”

“I’m being restationed, Rooster, it’s not-“

“Oh bullshit!! Mav told me the truth! You fucking requested the transfer! You thought you could sneak away without witnessing the storm you’re fucking making! Just dropping all your ties and escaping -“ he huffs and the paper in his hand is crumbled into a wet lump, then slammed at a nearby wall. So much for your security deposit. “You are always looking for an out. For a reason to leave California- the navy- me. As if the last three years were so fuckin’ miserable that you needed to just vanish. Like nothing ever happened.” Bradley is seething with each curse and vent that exists his lungs.

You’ve run out of cabinets to check. Out of options to avoid looking at him. So when you finally do, you see the mustached man shaking slightly from the temperature of the cold water clinging to him via a damp Hawaiian shirt. The way his eyes locked to you with seething hurt, a brokenness you couldn’t comprehend.

He wasn’t supposed to get home from his training in Atlanta until tomorrow. You were supposed to disappear. Jake and his big fucking mouth. Before you can say anything, Bradley turns to face you fully, brows pushing downward as if it would expel the anger out.

“Three years. Fucking three years and you think you can step out like this. Without a word, without giving a rhyme or a reason - leaving in the middle of the night - without a clue you were even considering this?? Buying fucking plane tickets behind my back?? Packing your entire god damn life up without a notion of the feelings of people around you - of your fucking boyfriend? You didn’t think to have the decency to break up with me to my face??” His hand points to the slop against the wall that had been your letter. His notice of termination so to speak. “The fact you couldn’t say it out loud- couldn’t face any of this at the face value means you don’t actually want to do it. You don’t want to do it, you’re just scared. You’re scared of the same surroundings, the same job, the same city, the same house, the same person, Gem. That’s what you are. Always leaving so you don’t get hurt when you get freaked out.” The register of his words is loud, but not nearly as loud as the next round of spitfire.

“If we’re gonna break up you’re gonna do it now! You’re gonna say what you put on that god damn piece of paper to my fucking face! That you never loved me, that you’ve been hanging on to a lie! That you can’t stand to stay in this god forsaken city a single second more! You don’t get to just leave and not see this!!” He points to his expression. “The mad! The angry, the rejection and betrayal! If you’re gonna do it you’re gonna do it to my face!” Finally, finally, Bradley takes a shaking breath, turning away to try to collect himself.

“Bradley, I didn’t want to do this like this for a reason-“ he spins. There are tears rolling down his face.

“Fuck, I love you.” The stinging sensation starts. The familiarly ominous feeling that sinks in and starts to eat at you every time you’ve had this conversation. “You loved me. I know you did. At some point you did, I know you did and you can’t lie to me and say you didn’t.” The hot tears are barely breaking surface tension along your lash line. “Don’t leave me like this, Gems. Don’t- cause I won’t-“ he hovers in his words, “I think I deserve at least a bad goodbye. Not some letter full of lies hit you don’t mean. Some pathetic attempt at closure is better than whatever the fuck this is. This, this, sorry excuse for a break up.” His feet come sinking toward you as he reaches out. You don’t back away.

His hand takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, his other hand coming to wipe your own tears in the hollow room. “I can take hellfire. I can take screaming, shouting, shit, you can hate me if you have to, honey.” It’s so fractured, his voice. Strained from shouting, tainted with emotions he clearly hasn’t come to understand yet, “just… don’t leave me like this. Still so in love with you. Still wanting to see your face when I wake up every day, to curl into you and avoid the world a little longer- still wanting to fix that damn car with you,” you stifle a laugh, despite the gravity of everything, “still completely and utterly adoring you. Don’t leave me loving you. Please, Gems, don’t.”

The two of you grow quiet, Rooster’s hand still clutching to yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck. He pulls you in, lips pressing to your forehead. He stays there as a soft cry that moves through his chest, tears dampening your hair as the two of you stand there in the cruelty of your wake.

#rooster x f!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley x reader smut #rooster bradshaw x f!reader #rooster x reader smut #rooster x you #bradley rooster x reader #Spotify

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hermitmoss · 1 year

Text

autistic gansey: the raven boys

literal thinking

All of the sources said that church watchers had to possess “the second sight” and Gansey barely possessed first sight before he put his contacts in.

It took Gansey a moment to realize that Ronan had made a joke, and by then, it was too late to laugh.

Gansey, misunderstanding, immediately asked her, “Why would you have to leave?”

“Coincidence?” Ronan asked. “I think not.” It was meant to be sarcastic. Gansey had said I don’t believe in coincidences so often that he no longer needed to.

He said, “I don’t think that minor children are required to get gifts for their parents. I’m a dependent. That’s the definition of dependent, is it not?”

Several exasperated faces turned on Gansey. Maura said, “Well, he’s not going to just go away because you don’t want to deal with him.” “I didn’t say it was possible,” Gansey replied, not looking up from his splint. “I just said that it was what I would like.”

"His name wasn’t really Butternut, was it?" Gansey asked Adam in a low voice.

food sensitivities

Gansey said, “Tell me there’s no sauce on this burger.” Dropping the strap from his teeth, Ronan scoffed. “Please.” “No pickle, either,” Adam said

stimming

The area around him smelled strongly of mint from the leaf he chewed absently.

He ran his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip, a habit he never seemed to notice and Adam never bothered to point out.

Gansey was crumpled on his bed, earbuds in, eyes closed. Even with the hearing gone in his left ear, Adam could hear the tinny sound of the music, whatever Gansey had played in order to keep himself company, to lure himself to sleep.

special interest

Gansey couldn’t resist talking about Glendower. He never could.

But Gansey never minded retelling the story. He’d related the events like they’d just happened, thrilled again

he was wondering if it was more than the ordinary curiosity people possessed when faced with Gansey and his obsessive accessories. He knew Gansey would find him overly suspicious, unnecessarily proprietary of a search Gansey was more than willing to share with most people.

“We talking about Gansey the third and his New Age obsession?” the secretary asked.

what he found was that Richard Gansey III was more obsessed with the ley line than he had ever been. Something about the entire research process seemed … frantic. What is wrong with this kid? Whelk wondered

It was suddenly difficult not to be excited by the idea of explaining it all to her.

The easy way that he began the story, at once striding through grass and eyeing the EMF reader, let Blue know that he had told it many times before.

“If you’d just asked,” Gansey said, “I would’ve told you everything in there. I would’ve been happy to. It wasn’t a secret.”

masking and mirroring accents

Adam remembered finding him intimidating when he first met him. There were two Ganseys: the one who lived inside his skin, and the one Gansey put on in the morning when he slid his wallet into the back pocket of his chinos. The former was troubled and passionate, with no discernible accent to Adam’s ears, and the latter bristled with latent power as he greeted people with the slippery, handsome accent of old Virginia money.

It was a default answer, she saw; he fell back onto his powerful politeness when he was taken by surprise. Also, he was still watching Adam, taking his cues from him as to how he should react to her. Adam nodded, once, briefly, and the mask slipped just a little more. Blue wondered if the President Cell Phone demeanor ever vanished completely when he was around his friends. Maybe the Gansey she’d seen in the churchyard was what lay beneath.

A few minutes later, when Gansey climbed into the front seat beside the pilot, she saw that he was grinning, effusive and earnest, incredibly excited to be going wherever they were going. It was nothing like his previous, polished demeanor.

There was something about the timbre of his voice that surprised Blue. It wasn’t until he spoke again she realized he was using the tone she’d heard him use with Adam.

This Gansey, this story-telling Gansey, was a different person altogether from any of the other versions of him she’d encountered. She couldn’t not listen.

Gansey had always felt as if there were two of him: the Gansey who was in control, able to handle any situation, able to talk to anyone, and then, the other, more fragile Gansey, strung out and unsure, embarrassingly earnest, driven by naive longing. That second Gansey loomed inside him now, more than ever, and he didn’t like it.

some days Gansey wished that he could be him, because Adam was so very real and true in a way that Gansey couldn’t ever seem to be.

Gansey was first into the room, and he clearly hadn’t expected to find anyone there, because his features hadn’t been arranged at all to disguise his misery. When he saw Blue, he immediately managed to pull a cordial smile from somewhere. And it was so very convincing. She had seen his face just a second before, but even having seen his expression, it was hard to remind herself that the smile was false. Why a boy with a life as untroubled as Gansey’s would have needed to learn how to build such a swift and convincing false front of happiness was beyond her.

not understood/accidentally offensive/words coming out wrong

The Aglionby boy appeared puzzled for a long moment, and then realization dawned. “Oh, that was not how I meant it. That is not what I said.”

To his credit, the Aglionby boy didn’t speak right away. Instead, he thought for a moment and then he said, without heat, “You said you were working for living. I thought it’d be rude to not take that into account. I’m sorry you’re insulted. I see where you’re coming from, but I feel it’s a little unfair that you’re not doing the same for me.”

He hadn’t meant to be offensive but, in retrospect, it was possible he had been. This was going to eat at him all evening. He vowed, as he had a hundred times before, to consider his words better.

He’d managed to offend again, with no effort at all.

After a moment, he said, "Sometimes I’m afraid he’ll never really understand me."

I did tell him, right? I did say that we were to wait. It’s not that he didn’t understand me.

Words pressed against his mouth, begged to be said, but he kept silent.

But Gansey’s words had somehow become unwitting weapons, and he didn’t trust himself to not accidentally discharge them again.

“My words are unerring tools of destruction, and I’ve come unequipped with the ability to disarm them.

specifically coming across as condescending

She clearly hadn’t found him condescending. Which was probably because she hadn’t heard him speak.

“Sometimes he’s very condescending.” Adam looked at the ground. “He doesn’t mean to be.

“Really?” Gansey asked, so innocently startled by this that it was clear that Adam had been right before — he hadn’t meant to be condescending.

“God, I’m sick of your condescension, Gansey,” Adam said. “Don’t try to make me feel stupid. Who whips out repugnant? Don’t pretend you’re not trying to make me feel stupid.” “This is the way I talk.

honesty

Adam suspected Gansey’s preference was because Ronan was earnest even if he was horrible, and with Gansey, honesty was golden.

“So I think we deserve the truth. Tell me you know something but you don’t want to help me, if that’s what’s going on, but don’t lie to me.”

“I’m going to need everyone to be straight with each other from now on. No more games. This isn’t just for Blue, either. All of us.”

He wasn’t sure how to speak without hurting Ronan. He couldn’t lie to him.

“age-inappropriate”

Gansey himself sat at an old desk with his back to them, gazing out an east-facing window and tapping a pen. His fat journal lay open near him, the pages fluttering with glued-in book passages and dark with notes. Adam was struck, as he occasionally was, by Gansey’s agelessness: an old man in a young body, or a young man in an old man’s life.

In his best professor voice

He sounded so old, Blue thought. So formal in comparison to the other boys he’d brought. There was something intensely discomfiting about him

once again Blue got the sense that he seemed older than the boys he’d brought with him.

There was something very ancient about him just then, with the tree arched over him and his eyelids rendered colorless in the shadows.

“You haven’t been a dependent since you were four. You went straight from kindergarten to old man with a studio apartment.”

Malory had been the first one to take fifteen-year-old Gansey seriously, a favor for which Gansey would not soon stop being grateful for.

journal is comfort object

Gansey retreated to his bed, though he didn’t lie down. He reached for his journal, but it wasn’t there; he’d left it at Nino’s the night of the fight.

Whelk held his hand out for the journal. Gansey swallowed. He asked, “Whelk — sir — are you sure this is the only way?” The journal weighted his hands. He didn’t need it. He knew everything in it. But it was him. He was giving everything that he’d worked for away. I will get a new one.

alexithymia

He thought this feeling inside him was shame.

Gansey tried several different ways to think of the situation, but there wasn’t any way he could paint it that made it hurt less. Something kept fracturing inside him.

Gansey couldn’t begin to explain the size of this awfulness. He only knew that it burst inside him, again and again, fresh every time he considered it.

some complicated longing to settle an argument that waged deep inside himself.

overwhelming emotions

More than anything, the journal wanted. It wanted more than it could hold, more than words could describe, more than diagrams could illustrate. Longing burst from the pages, in every frantic line and every hectic sketch and every dark-printed definition. There was something pained and melancholy about it.

His bald expression held something new: not the raw delight of finding the ley line or the sly pleasure of teasing Blue. She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness.

He couldn’t stand it, all of this inside him. In the end, he was nobody to Adam, he was nobody to Ronan. Adam spit his words back at him and Ronan squandered however many second chances he gave him. Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year.They were always walking away from him. But he never seemed able to walk away from them.

“too serious”

Things seemed to weigh heavily enough on Gansey as it was.

His voice was peculiar. Formal and certain.

~awkward

He knocked fists with Adam. Coming from Gansey, the gesture was at once charming and self-conscious, a borrowed phrase of another language.

“I don’t know what else to say.” “‘Sorry,’” she recommended. “I said that already.”

clumsiness and disorganisation

It wasn’t that he meant to be careless — as Adam told him again and again, “Things cost money, Gansey” — it was just that he never seemed to realize the consequences of his actions until too late.

[Ronan] stopped the recorder and said, “You’re dripping gas on your pants, geezer.”

Gansey crashed onto the driver’s seat.

Then there were the notes, made with a half-dozen different pens and markers, but all in the same business-like hand. They circled and pointed and underlined very urgently. They made bulleted lists and eager exclamation points in the margins. They contradicted one another and referred to one another in third person. Lines became cross-hatching became doodles of mountains became squirrelly tire tracks behind fast-looking cars

Not the tidy stacks of an intellectual attempting to impress, but the slumping piles of a scholar obsessed.

It looked like the home of a mad inventor or an obsessed scholar or a very messy explorer; after meeting Gansey, she was beginning to suspect that he was all of these things.

EfficiencyTM

Gansey derived a large part of his pleasure from meeting goals, and a large part of that large part was pleased by meeting goals efficiently. There was nothing more efficient than aiming for your destination as the crow flew.

RulesTM

They didn’t even have the authority to choose an alcoholic beverage. They couldn’t be deciding who deserved to live or die.

likes mechanical things (not counting the camaro because that’s just Too Many Quotes to compile)

He liked the little knobs and toggles and gauges of cockpits, and he liked the technological backwardness of the simple clasp seat belts.

not understanding/realizing things

Again, his face was somehow puzzled by the fact of their hand-holding.

It hadn’t occurred to Gansey that if the Camaro had been operating properly, fleeing would’ve been an option.

Gansey didn’t understand, but he nodded.

And now Gansey was a king here, and he didn’t even know how to use it.

difficulty reading people/nonverbal cues not impacting him

Gansey suspected that none of them was being completely honest with their replies, but at least he’d told them what he wanted. Sometimes all he could hope for was getting it on the record.

One of Ronan’s eyebrows was raised, sharp as a razor. Gansey strapped his journal closed. “That doesn’t work on me.

He didn’t believe she was really offended; her face didn’t look like it had at Nino’s when they’d first met, and her ears were turning pink. He thought, possibly, he was getting a little better at not offending her

need for certainty

What Gansey needed out of life was facts, things he could write in his journal, things he could state twice and underline, no matter how improbable those facts were.

generally unusual ways of thinking

An astonished Roman historian commented, You look under rocks no one else thinks to pick up, slick.

general “strangeness”

Adam leaned toward her as if he was about to say something, but ultimately, he just shook his head, smiling, like Gansey was a joke that was too complicated to explain.

“ARE YOU LISTENING, GLENDOWER? I AM COMING TO FIND YOU!” Gansey’s voice, ebullient and ringing, echoed off the tree-covered slopes around the field. Adam and Blue found him standing in the middle of a clear, pale path, his arms stretched out and his head tilted back as he shouted into the air.

“You find it not normal?” She could tell that he very much wanted her to say that he wasn’t normal, so she replied, “Oh, I’m sure it’s quite normal in some circles.” He looked a little hurt, but most of his attention was on the meter, which showed two faint red lights. He remarked, “I’d like to be in those circles.

Gansey couldn’t keep the exasperation from his voice. “‘Strange’ doesn’t help me. I don’t know what ‘strange’ means.”

He was himself, but he was something else, too — that something that Blue had first seen in him at the boys’ reading, that sense of otherness, of something more, seemed to radiate from that still portrait of Gansey enshrined in the dark tree.

not knowing other people don’t know things he knows

“Gansey, seriously,” Adam interrupted, to Blue’s relief. “Nobody knows what quiddity is.”

“Nobody knows who Ned Kelly is, either, Gansey.”

Born This Way

A small voice within Adam asked whether he would ever look this grand on the inside, or if it was something you had to be born into.

just. this. the way he knows to think this, the way he instinctively compares them to aliens that humans mistreat and that he logically shouldn’t love.

They were like aliens, Gansey thought. Aliens that we have treated very badly for a very long time. If I were a tree, I would have no reason to love a human.

#richard campbell gansey iii #the raven cycle #autism #*#my meta #meta #autistic headcanon #disability #trc #s4v

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mamawasatesttube · 11 months

Note

11 timkon for the devotion ask 😁

11. “I’ve already died once. I would do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe.”

also prompted by @blueforget-me-not, @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write, and @chaoxfix !! (phew this one's popular!)

"Absolutely not."

"Tim—"

Tim whirls on him, glaring. "You," he hisses, jabbing one finger into the S-shield on Kon's chest, "are vulnerable to magic. That thing," and he points at the unnatural, glowing storm raging outside, "is full of insanely powerful magic that could fucking kill you. You're not fucking going."

Kon's jaw is set in that infuriatingly stubborn way of his; the glint in his eyes is nothing short of mulish. "Somebody has to get to the middle to stop that wizard freak. It's only gonna get worse if we don't do anything. And Cassie's already hurt. I'm going."

Not for the first time, Tim curses his own vulnerability. Curses that he's the best pilot among the four of them. Curses that the storm is raging too fiercely to just leave the plane on autopilot. Kon is determined to throw himself into harm's way, and Tim can't even come with him.

He turns back to the controls, glances at the anemometer; the wind is still rising. Ominous purple lightning crackles across the clouds all around them. The image of Kon flying down towards the sorcerer only to get struck from the sky by three hundred million volts of magic flashes through Tim's mind; it takes more self-control than he'd like to admit to not flinch.

"Cassie's hurt because she already tried confronting him directly, alone." At least his voice comes out steady, if a bit taut. "You think it'll go better if you do it instead?"

Another lightning strike shoots by, so close it nearly knocks the plane from the sky. As it is, everything outside goes bright white and the sensors scream; by the time Tim wrests the plane back under control, they've dropped five hundred feet, and he can see the churning, frothy waves down below.

Shit.

"At the very least, I can distract him while you find a place to land safely," Kon says, ever-so-graciously not rising to the bite in Tim's voice. "'Cuz you're talking a big game about me getting killed, but it looks to me like just trying to fly out here is probably gonna get you killed. And I mean, I've already died once. I'd do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe."

It would have been kinder if he just punched Tim in the gut.

For a moment, he can't breathe; panic and hurt and fury and terror all sweep through him in an excruciating rush, and his grip tightens on the throttle so hard it hurts.

"Really?" he hears himself say, lashing out in automatic self-defense. He hates this, hates fighting with Kon, hates what he's about to say because he knows it's cruel, but he can't stop himself in time as the words pour out. "You'd put me through the survivor's guilt and the grief and everything you know I went through once already, a thousand times over? Didn't know you had that kinda viciousness in you." He laughs humorlessly. "Kinda impressed, if I'm being honest."

For a moment, there's nothing but the sounds of beeping sensors and the howling wind. For a moment, Tim is terrified Kon has just vanished, thrown himself into the heart of the storm without another word—

But then warm, strong arms wrap around his shoulders and chest, and Kon's cheek presses against his hair, and Tim can breathe again. Kon is leaning over the back of his chair and just holding him, and Tim can breathe.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Rob," Kon murmurs. His breath against Tim's ear sends a shiver down his spine. "But I... you're right. I shouldn't have said... I mean, I... well, we can—we can talk about all that later. Right now, let's just..."

"Sorry." Tim takes one hand from the yoke to lay it over Kon's wrist, just for a moment. His heart is still thundering in his chest, a mirror of the storm outside; he doesn't need to ask to know whether Kon knows. "I didn't mean it. You're not—you're the kindest person I know."

"Tim." Kon holds him a little tighter. "It's okay, dude. Let's just focus on getting outta here for now, yeah?"

Getting out of here. Not confronting the sorcerer. Tim sucks in a breath. They do need to get Cassie some medical help, and some time to strategize can't hurt. Hopefully, he won't grow too powerful before they can double back and take him out.

"Okay," he says, and rubs his thumb over the pulse point in Kon's wrist before reluctantly dropping his hand back to the yoke. The wind outside buffets them relentlessly, despite even the formidable stabilizing tech built into the Batplane; he can't afford to keep his hands off it for too long.

Lightning flashes again. It's a little easier not to flinch.

"I'll run distraction outside," Kon says. "But I promise I won't confront him. Just get you a little breathing room to fly."

Anxiety spikes again in his chest, but Tim nods. He trusts Kon, and Kon is more than capable of playing a distraction while keeping a safe distance. "...Be careful."

Kon somehow, breathtakingly, manages to laugh despite it all. "C'mon, Rob, you know me. When am I not?"

He drops a quick kiss to the top of Tim's head, then vanishes before Tim has the chance to answer. Tim misses his warmth immediately.

It's fine. He'll hold Kon to that promise to talk later. For now, all that's left to do is to make it out of the storm.

50 Prompts About Devotion

#timkon #rimi writes #guy who has been listening to the totk colgera theme on loop: hey what about wind and storms as metaphors. what about--#ANYWAY hoo boy! idk if i like how this one turned out sorry but i hope it was fun all the same uwu #clambuoyance #blueforget-me-not #cas-and-their-refusal-to-write #chaoxfix #tim #kon

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spilledkaleidoscope · 8 months

Text

If Kim used fountainpens, he’d use a Pilot Vanishing Point with Platinum Carbon Black cartridges

#or you know #a moonman A1 #I could theoretically see him using converters too but with the CON-40? never #fuck that thing #Harry would have a bunch of patterned platinum preppy with shimmer inks that he never cleans #listen this is all very important to think about #im just gonna #assume the cartridges fit #if not he refills pilot cartridges himself

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zadralien · 3 months

Text

Trying to save the one thing he loves most about space.

Ficlet under the cut

I always imagined this sort of scene to Trapped In Dillard’s by Foxing,

It hadn’t meant to go like this.

The Voot groaned, cutting Dib’s attention from the static over the radio as he yanked his boots on. He’d begged Zim to stay where it was safe, where they could wait in quietly together in the ship until the diagnostics were complete or until a friendly nearby ship heard their distress call.

But Zim had never been great at keeping his ego in check. He’d insisted that as a solider of the Irken Armada, he was most qualified to depart from the warm confines of the ship and manually check out the exterior for damages.

It had been fine at first with Zim giving frequent call-outs of his observations as Dib began to map all possible issues.

At some point, he’d registered a low buzzing sound beneath Zim’s chatter.

Dib scrambled to flick a call out of warning over the radio once he’d realised what might be happening - but it was too late. The buzzing had stopped and Zim was cut off, static pouring over the radio as the cockpit clicked and flashed to life.

Dib flung himself over the co-pilots chair, clamouring desperately towards the oxygen helmets kept in a corner compartment of the ship. Yanking the radio off his spacesuit belt, he threw his helmet on and slipped a second one under his arm.

“Zim,” Dib called out over his radio, “please tell me you’re alive.”

Nothing but the rush of static responded.

Dib whirled over to the airlock, reaching up and snatching an overhanging a lifeline to clip to his belt. He took a steadying breath, and punched the code in to open the airlock.

Usually, looking out into the open vacuum of space was soothing to Dib - the mundane reminder that he was just a small part of the universe, a leaf in the stream of a much larger river. It was a welcome relief from the crushing pressure of being his father’s prodigy. Now, the vast vacuum of space chilled him to the bone as he looked around the sides of the ship for his only friend. He was met only with a crushing black emptiness sprayed with dying stars. One wrong move, and nothing stops you from vanishing in an endless drift towards a certain and slow death.

He steeled his grip against the top of the airlock door and pulled himself upwards, letting go at the last minute to float towards the top of the ship. He looked desperately to the topside of the ship where he knew Zim was working, noticing a little hysterically that the hatch was still open and unmanned.

Swallowing, he looked up and around at the consuming blackness around them, their only grace a nearby set of dwarf suns emitting a dim light.

When his eyes finally landed on something floating some distance away from the ship, Dib’s heart jumped. He squinted as he took the binoculars out of his suit pocket, adjusting them hurriedly as the picture of Zim’s red suit slowly came into focus.

“Zim!” Dib called in vain over the suit comms, using all of his strength to launch himself off the ship with the help of his suit thrusters.

As he floated, he didn’t know if it was the scene that was slowly becoming closer or or the freezing temperature of space, but Dib’s blood felt sharp and icy as it forced its way through his body, biting pains emanating from his chest. Zim’s body was unmoving and, much to Dib’s mounting panic, unmasked against the void. His face was basked into the deep shadows of space and light of the nearby suns. His body, for the first time ever, was completely limp.

After what seemed like years, Dib finally reached Zim. He knew Irkens, with the the help of their Paks, could withstand the pressures and temperatures of space for an intimidating amount of time, but Dib didn’t know the limitations once the body had already sustained injuries from electrical charges. Already, Zim’s face was beginning to crystallise and bloom into a deep deadly blue. Dib yanked the helmet out from under his arm and pulled it over Zim’s head, clasping it desperately to Zim’s suit with shaking hands. He watched as the mask signalled it was delivering a much needed flow. Pressing one hand to Zim’s chest, he allowed himself a small rush of relief as he felt Zim’s chest move with a fragile breath.

Dib pulled Zim closer, cradling his neck carefully and pressing their torsos together as he inputted the recall command on the lifeline.

As they were yanked back towards the ship, he braced himself for the unceremonious crash against the floor of the spacecraft, twisting to ensure he broke Zim’s fall.

After a moment, the airlock closed swiftly. Dib reached over towards an emergency kit for high flow oxygen, clicking the hosing into the back of Zim’s helmet. With a pained grunt Dib slumped backwards, pulling Zim’s body up and into his lap, allowing the quiet hiss of air soothe him. He brushed a hand over Zim’s shoulders and arms, coming up to cup a hand against the helmet where Zim’s cheek slowly began to slowly radiate back to his usual green colour.

Dib let his head fall back against the wall behind him, taking a deep shuddering breath.

Even with everything he has seen on this escapade across the galaxy - from the extraordinary planets and individual lifeforms to the nebulas and vast galaxies, he’d never been as euphoric to see his alien again.

#alien #art #dib #dib membrane #dib x zim #invader zim #zim x dib #zadr #zim and dib romance #zim #my art #space #ficlet #Spotify

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