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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 10 months

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The Forgotten Nest - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 3.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Father Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles (Teen Pregnancy, Absent Parents, etc.); Crying; Carole Would Be Disappointed; Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: Years ago, Rooster left Cora Mitchell's life when her dad pulled his papers. And, unknowingly, he left behind something other than just his toothbrush.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Master List

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Rooster walked out of the admiral’s office with his new orders clutched carefully in his hand. He kept his head held high as he walked through the narrow halls of the USS Gerald R. Ford, heading for his quarters to pack his bag and prepare to fly back to US soil. To Top Gun. To Miramar.

The Californian town had a lot of memories—some of the best and some of the worst of his life. It was the town where he lost his dad before he truly understood the gravity of it all. It was also the town where he spent his later years of high school after his mom died. Where he learned how to drive, where he graduated high school, where he had all of his firsts with a girl—now woman—whom he hadn’t seen since he stormed out of her life.

Cora Mitchell. Maverick’s daughter.

As a result of some poor decisions at nineteen, Maverick ended up with daughter only a few months younger than Bradley. Cora’s mom wanted nothing to do with her and even though Maverick was far from fit to be a father, he would have preferred falling down 100 flights of stairs than letting his child go into foster care.

Carole quickly offered to help raise Cora and help Maverick out. And as his mom used to call them, they were built in best friends. And in the later years of high school, they were a lot more than that. Sneaking into each other’s beds and spending the nights together was fairly regular and easy for them to pull off with Maverick’s bedroom on another floor.

Of course, then Maverick pulled his papers and then he left that life, and Cora, behind completely.

Rooster entered his room and shut the door behind him, heading for his bunk. His roommate wasn’t in, still doing drills with the rest of their squad, leaving Rooster alone with his thoughts. He opened the folder again, reading over the orders once more before he found his gaze shifting. Pulling out his personal bag, Rooster reached into one of the smaller pockets and pulled out a small photo preserved in laminate.

It was from a photo booth at Bradley’s senior prom. Cora sat on his lap, beaming at the camera as Rooster pressed a kiss to her cheek.

It was stupid to still be this curious about what Cora was doing with her life. After all, he was the one who broke up with her and stormed out of her life, saying all kinds of nasty things that he regretted the second that he said them. And he had to admit that he had scrolled through social media, trying to find a glimpse into her life, to no significant results.

All he knew was that she took some time off after high school and eventually graduated from nursing school. He assumed that she was still working as a nurse. And he knew that she now lived in or around Miramar. He didn’t have the guts to try and contact her when he was in town for Top Gun the first time around.

But maybe this new, and probably highly dangerous, mission would finally give him the kick in the ass to try and make things right with Cora. Even if it was just a simple apology, like a small ‘sorry,’ it would take away some of the guilt that ate away at his stomach every single time that he remembered her crestfallen expression and calls for him to come back.

Tucking the photo back into his bag, Rooster stood up and started to pack, letting his mind wander to what Cora’s life looked like now.

~~~~~

“Nicholas Peter Mitchell!” Cora thundered, marching towards the stairs, still dressed in her scrubs from work. “Get your butt down here now!”

Cora was only partially pleased to hear her son scrambling around, undoubtedly in the middle of some kind of panic due to her tone. She tapped her foot, able to picture her son’s exact expression of fear. She would have preferred that he simply told her ahead of time because then they could deal with it together, but he forced her hand by hiding it.

The sound of a door opening and a soft pattern of footsteps caused Cora to pick her head up. Her eyes narrowed when her son, Nickie, poked his head out from behind the wall with a sheepish smile. She shook her head when his expression gave away the fact that he knew exactly why she was upset. And that only caused her migraine to intensify.

“Hey, Mom. Did you have a good shift?” Nickie asked kindly, stepping out from behind the wall. “And did I mention that I love you and that you look more beautiful than usual today?”

Nickie, or simply Nick to his friends, was far from her twin. His hair was a light brown and curled at the end. His eyes were big and light brown, like someone she knew well in the past. The shape of his head and his cheekbones that were starting to emerge from the baby fat came from her side of the family, but the slope of his nose reinforced his father’s influence on his features.

But his sheepish, mischievous smile was definitely a Mitchell trait. Undoubtedly.

“When were you going to tell me that you got a speeding ticket?” Cora questioned, eerily calm despite her earlier yelling. “Today? Tomorrow? Next week? Never?”

“Mom, I already paid it off—”

“—When were you going to tell me?” Cora demanded, not amused. When Nickie fumbled for a response, Cora straightened up. “You have had your license for a month and you’ve already gotten a speeding ticket, Nickie. That’s not funny. You clearly do not understand that your car and your license are privileges, not rights.”

“It was at that speed trap under that highway pass on the way to school,” Nickie tried to explain, but Cora was not going to give him an inch of the moral high ground.

“I do not care where you got the ticket. I care that you were reckless behind the wheel of a motor vehicle. I care that you got a speeding ticket and now it’s on your record. And I care that you hid this whole thing from me.” Cora sighed, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head at her son. “How much was it, Nickie?”

“Thirty bucks,” Nickie replied quietly.

“Well, then I think that thirty is an appropriate number of days to not need your car. And a good number of days to think about the importance of following traffic laws,” Cora stated, folding her arms over her chest. “Where are your keys?”

Nickie sighed and walked downstairs to grab his keys from the countertop. He quickly returned to his mother’s side and placed them into her open hand without a fight. Cora closed her hand and shoved the keys into her pocket.

“I’m serious, Nickie,” she stated softly, causing the teenager to turn back to her with doe eyes. “I don’t want you getting hurt. And speeding around, especially on these roads where there’s a thousand pedestrians and everything—it’s not safe. For you or anyone else.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for having the maturity to realize that it was your bill to pay,” Cora offered her son in return, her tough exterior cracking just a bit. She rubbed her face tiredly. “And that’s probably what I get for letting your grandfather teach you how to drive.” Letting out a sigh, Cora dropped her hand from her face and turned back to Nickie. “How’s your homework coming?”

“Mostly done. I’ve got a test tomorrow.”

“Good.” Cora set her purse and the mail down on the countertop. “I’ll get started on dinner after I take a shower. Work on your homework and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Cora walked into her bedroom and made a beeline for her on suite bathroom. Throwing her scrubs into her specified scrubs laundry bin, Cora quickly washed up from a long day at work. She changed into some comfortable clothes and a Navy sweatshirt before heading to the kitchen to start on dinner. The sun started to set in the distance as Cora waited for the chicken to cook.

The distinct sound of a Kawasaki caused her to look up from the oven, frowning with surprise. Walking over to the front windows, Cora was shocked to see her dad pulling into the driveway.

“What the—” Cora walked over and opened the front door, stepping out onto her front porch. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

“I thought that I would drop by since I was in town,” Maverick replied, setting up his kickstand and getting off his bike.

“Why are you in town? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Cora added on, walking down to greet him. Maverick picked up the bag that he strapped to the back of his bike and pulled his daughter into a hug. But when she felt him wince, she instantly pulled back with a sharp, knowing look. “What happened now? What did you do this time?”

“Is that dinner that I smell?” Maverick asked, redirecting the conversation.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation,” Cora warned him, turning for her home and pulling the door open. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not twenty anymore? And could you at least wear a helmet once in a while?”

“Mom, who are you talking to?” Nickie yelled from upstairs.

“Your grandfather decided to drop by. Randomly,” Cora called back to her son.

A second later, there were a set of rapid footsteps echoing down the hall before Nickie appeared at the top of the stairs. His grin was immediately wide, showing the likeness between him and his grandfather, before Nickie hurried down the rest of the stairs to greet his grandfather.

“What are you doing in town?” Nickie asked, jogging over to Maverick.

“Well, I thought that it was a good idea to visit my favorite kid and grandkid once in a while,” Maverick joked, pulling Nickie into a hug despite his aching ribs

“Pops, I’m your only grandkid,” Nickie pointed out, frowning slightly.

“Still counts.” Maverick stared up at Nickie, jokingly inspecting him. “Did you get taller since the last time that I saw you? You look taller.”

“Maybe you’re just shrinking,” Nickie quipped, causing Maverick to turn to Cora.

“Don’t look at me,” Cora replied, gesturing to her own short stature. “Nickie over here got about three generations worth of height.”

Or, rather, he just had other genes to pull from when it came to height. And the men on the other side of Nickie’s family were all at least six feet tall, like Nickie was quickly shaping up to be. But not a single Mitchell in that household was going to bring that up.

Once dinner was finished cooking, the three Mitchells set the table and sat around, chatting and catching up since the last time that Maverick was in Miramar.

“I thought that you said that you wouldn’t be done with that project for a while,” Nickie stated, turning to his grandfather.

“Well, plans change,” Maverick replied noncommittally, glancing down at his plate.

“Because they were actually changed or because you felt the need to change them?” Cora deadpanned, cutting into her chicken.

“There might have been some . . . minor scheduling changes.”

“So, you’re not just visiting then,” Cora deduced, reaching for her drink. How she wished that it was wine instead of water.

“How long are you in Miramar for then?” Nickie asked excitedly, reminding Maverick painfully so of Bradley as a teenager.

“A few weeks. Somewhere around a month.”

“For what?”

“That’s classified,” Maverick replied, causing Nickie and Cora to roll their eyes in seemingly practiced sync. “I’d tell you, but—”

“—But then you’d have to kill us, yeah, we know, Gramps.”

“How’s school then? Still swimming and everything?” Maverick asked Nickie, changing the subject.

“It’s good. Swim doesn’t start for a few more weeks, but I’m trying to train before it. But I think I’m going to have to focus on running.”

“Why? Something wrong with the car?” Maverick questioned, looking concerned.

“No, just the driver,” Cora replied, setting down her utensils. “Nickie got a speeding ticket.”

“How bad?” Maverick asked, earning a sharp look from Cora. “I mean, that’s bad, Nickie. Don’t do it again. You have to get a little bit more driving experience before you start speeding.”

Cora sighed, holding her head in her hand for a moment as Nickie hid a smile behind his mouth. Maverick shot Nickie a joking smile before straightening up in his seat.

“But you’re doing good in school, Nickie?”

“Pretty well. Pre-calc is kicking my butt, but I think it’s supposed to get better.”

“Well, don’t be afraid to enjoy your teenage years a bit. Don’t go rushing off to try and grow up before your time,” Maverick replied, glancing over at his daughter for a moment. “Besides, I thought that you were going to try out for the surf team.”

“They want me to,” Nickie agreed, taking a bite of his dinner. “Mom’s a little scared to let me do it.”

“I just think that baseball is safer,” Cora replied softly, reaching for her drink. “Besides, between swim and water polo, you’re going to turn into a prune, Nickie. Not to mention that you go out sailing with Penny and Amelia all the time.”

“I just like the water, Mom,” Nickie stated, missing the pained expression on Cora’s face. “And besides, the baseball coach is an asshole.”

“Language,” Cora stressed, causing Maverick to chuckle.

~~~~~

After dinner, Nickie excused himself to finish up his homework. Cora and Maverick worked together to clean up after dinner and to set up the spare room for Maverick to sleep in while he was in town. But after the finished up the housekeeping, the father and daughter sat out on the back porch. Cora poured herself a glass of wine for the conversation and brought Maverick a beer.

“So, why are you really in town?” Cora asked, sitting down.

“Ice called me in,” Maverick stated, causing Cora to grow more serious instantly. “It’s a mission.”

“And not just any mission . . . is it?” Cora questioned, though she already knew the answer.

Ice wouldn’t have called Maverick in for just your run of the mill mission. This was a serious mission, that was certain. And that instantly caused Cora’s blood pressure to spike in an instant. Ice wouldn’t have called Maverick in unless it was something bordering on a suicide mission.

“No, it’s not,” Maverick agreed, nodding solemnly.

He looked away from his daughter for a moment, a rock settling in his stomach. It had been sitting there since a familiar face flashed on the screen in that conference room. But he knew that he had to unload it sooner rather than later.

To say that Maverick’s perspective on Rooster was complicated did not quite do it justice.

On one hand, as Cora’s father and Nickie’s grandfather, there was nothing that Maverick wanted to do more than to grab Rooster by his ear and give him the lecture of the century about responsibility and putting his personal emotions to the side to be a man and a father. Hell, if it was any other boy who did that to Cora, Maverick would have strapped him to the outside of the Darkstar and done a couple laps around the Earth.

But, on the other, as Goose’s wingman and the man who tried to raise Rooster, Maverick wanted Rooster nowhere near Miramar or this mission. Hell, Maverick did what he could to make sure that Rooster stayed as far away from a cockpit as possible. And that side of Maverick just wanted Rooster back in his life, safe and far from danger.

But being Cora’s father and Nickie’s grandfather was always the side that won out in the end.

“There’s something else,” Maverick began, causing Cora’s eyebrows to furrow with concern. “He’s involved in the mission.” Cora noticeably tensed up as Maverick added, “He’s here.”

“In Miramar?” Cora asked quietly, earning a nod from her dad. Sighing, she held her head in her hands for a moment. “Fuck.”

“Did you tell Nickie—”

“—No,” Cora interjected, cutting Maverick off. “No, I didn’t.” Not . . . not the whole story." She stared out at the backyard, out at the little swing set that Maverick and Ice built for Nickie on a warm afternoon so many years ago. “He’s supposed to be out in the middle of the Atlantic right now.”

“And I’m supposed to be in the Mojave.”

Nickie sat with his back to the wall, silently listening in on his mom’s conversation with his grandfather. He knew that it was wrong and he knew that he was already on thin ice with the speeding ticket, but he knew that his mom and his grandfather went outside to talk where he couldn’t hear them. But his mom always seemed to forget that the bathroom window was right above the patio.

“Have you seen him yet?” Cora inquired quietly, causing Maverick to nod slowly.

“Yeah, I did. Briefly. At the Hard Deck.”

“Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Maverick replied, shaking his head.

Cora let out another sigh and held her head in her hands again. Maverick quickly got up from his seat, setting aside his beer and pulling his daughter into a tight hug. Cora latched onto her dad, trying to calm herself down and not shed anymore tears over Bradley Bradshaw.

But she failed. Just like she did the last thousand times.

Nickie clenched his eyes shut and curled his hands into fists. His mom was the strongest person that he knew. Life threw a thousand things at her and she somehow always managed to keep herself and him on their feet. But the second that anyone brought up his dad, she always flipped a switch.

She always broke down or went into absolute survival mode until something else snapped her out of it.

Nickie stopped asking about his dad when he overheard his mom sobbing to Penny in the middle of the night about how his dad still wouldn’t return her calls. It happened years ago, nearly a decade now, but it was still fresh in his mind. Burned there for the rest of his life. And, well, if his dad couldn’t even give his mom three seconds of his life, then Nickie wouldn’t give him an ounce of energy either.

And, hell, Nickie was a mama’s boy. And anyone who made his mom cry was dead to him. Dad or not, the fucker who never showed up for him or his mom was dead to Nicholas Peter Mitchell.

Whoever the hell he was.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

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onenicebugperday · 6 months

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Californian two-pronged bristletail, Occasjapyx californicus, Japygidae, Diplura

Two-pronged bristletails are non-insect hexapods that are common in moist soil and leaf litter, but are rarely seen because of their size and subterranean lifestyles. Depending on species, they feed on a wide variety of live prey and dead organic matter. They are found throughout the world. Despite their similar-looking forceps, they are only distantly related to earwigs.

Photographed in California by easmeds

#animals #curators on tumblr #bugs #hexapods #diplura #dipluran #two pronged bristletail #forcepstail #californian two pronged bristletail #Japygidae #one nice bug

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annabelle--cane · 2 months

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Are u from California? Are u my little sister's best friend? The clues are adding up very strangely for me to be finding u on tumblr.com though my favorite podcast. Feel free to ignore if creepy I simply am increasingly suspicious.

alas I hath never set foot on californian soil, tis not I

#flightspecialists #answered

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cowyolks · 1 year

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It was Summer, Darling (Phillip Graves x Fem!Reader)

Prompt: A soldier lets his love for her tear him apart.

Warnings: torture, heavy angst, brief mention of a sex scene, repetitive text, death, broken promises. Lots of time jumps.

A/n: Reader’s call sign is Val.

It was summer,

He was buried in the pasture. Far from the cramped lots of the city. Here the fresh scent of lilacs and bluebells brushed in the warm breeze. Cooling rains drenched his bones, and while he could no longer breathe, the rich scent of soil engulfed his casket.

He had always said he would take you back home, to the rolling acres of his hometown. It fell as a broken promise, one that you had cursed even in his dying breath.

Now you were at his home, dressed in a pretty satin black. He was quick to praise his hometown, he said he was happiest there. Amongst the charming farms, proud people, and beautiful rolling acres of meadows. You didn’t see it here, however. It was gloomy, rain drizzling to set the mourning mood of his family. The farms were dark on the horizon, the people were weeping, and the meadows were empty of familar warmth.

With a sigh, you dropped your clenched fist, watching the upturned soil fall upon the covered casket.

He was nothing more than a memory now.

He’d met you in the scorching Californian Summer. You’d been enlisted into the notorious Shadow Company by an anonymous tip off.

Your eyes were cold, as they always were. A constant cloud of weeping destruction, as this was all you’ve ever known. Constant war, never ending blood shed.

You were told you’d meet one of the commanding officers in the training room, which is where you were heading with heavy and meaningful footfalls. The plan was simple; put on a show. Command respect. What you hadn’t expected when you arrived was a crowd. All their eyes heavily anticipating a new soldier among ranks. They bore into your frame, attempting to read any information you’d give off.

“Lieutenant.” A low voice spoke over the crowd. He was in a simple tee and shorts, likely trying to escape the sweltering heat. He was young, likely around your age, and not what you were expecting.

“Commander Phillip Graves.” He introduced as he moved closer, the little southern drawl he had escaping his petal lips. He was good looking, his face unblemished and cleanly shaven, hair a soft color of straw, and eyes like a calm eye before a hurricane. His handshake was firm, his hands calloused and warm as they clutched around your surprisingly soft ones.

You introduced yourself, falling in step beside him as he went back to what he was doing, two shadows brawled in a ring, both breathing heavy gusts. “Come on Diggs, you’ve got more in you than that.” His voice was like a buzz, and your eyes almost softened at just how much his Shadows seemed to look up to him.

“You gotta call sign, Lieutenant?” You remember him asking, a ghost of a smirk crosses over your face.

“Everyone calls me Val.”

“As in Valkyrie?” A shadow asked from around the mat, turning their eyes to you.

“No. Got it my first year as a Lieutenant, stands for Very Angry Lieutenant.” You informed, watching the amusement flicker in Graves’ eyes before he stepped forward on the mat. The soldiers all gave knowing looks as they glanced towards you.

“Well Val, per honorary tradition, we gotta see what your made of. Helps us decide if you get the soft cot or the hard one, last in line for dinner or first. You get the gist.” Graves’ voice was cocky.

You were definitely not dressed in workout clothes, but that didn’t stop you from stepping forward, widening your stance in front of your superior officer.

He was a good fighter, one that fought with blows like earthquakes and jabs that stung like viper venom. Yet, he wasn’t as quick as you, and it amused you that he protected his face more than the rest of him. His pretty boy face.

All the shadows would say he lost that battle, even though he had pinned you to the mat after a tough fight. He had a blue and purple shiner for weeks, ruining his perfect face. It amused you, but he seemed to take it like a champ.

He cracked jokes about it from time to time over your years together. “She knocked me so hard I fell for her.” He’d always say to his shadows.

It was something foreign to you. To have someone shamelessly flirt and express interest.

He’d admitted his feelings in the Scorching Californian Summer.

You were battered and torn, ripped of your cold structure as you limped across the open camp.

The choppers had discarded the wounded, their bodies just as tired and weak as yours. But you were a leader, and you didn’t bow to the temptation of exhaustion. Besides, you had to find him.

Blood was crusted under your nails, reminding you of just how close the call had been. You’d been the one to command this mission, and it was your fault that so many shadows had been snuffed out like flimsy candle wicks. You thought it would be better to split up, but now, as you met his eyes, you realized just how truly idiotic that decision was.

Your shoulders slouched when you dropped to your knees in front of his cot. He was nursing a bleeding gash to his side, likely from a stray bullet from the ambush. His usual tan skin was pale as a gentle smile spread onto his lips.

“Hey darlin’,” his voice was uncharacteristically soft, something that made your dams break and caused angry tears to track down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry. So sorry.” You choked out against your closing throat. You studied his face, braving a glance down to his cheek, where a deep gash cut against the flesh. It would likely scar.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He insisted, attempting to sit up against the worn cot, but he let out a pained noise at the flex in his side. “You couldn’t have known. And look at how many of us you managed to save, huh?” He settled back down against the cot, his teeth clenched together.

“Hundreds of them are dead, Graves.” You retaliated, your eyes not leaving his stitched wound. Yet your eyesight shifted as his fingertips guided to under your chin, shifting inches to look him in the eyes. “The explosives were recovered. Our squadron is still strong.”

His hand moved to your cheeks, brushing away the salty remains of shedded tears and sweat. “And I’ve still got the best damn partner in the world.”

At his insistence, the heavy storm clouds of your mind reduced to a calm overcast. A brief upturn of your lips told him all he needed to know. “There’s my girl.”

“You’re so looped on pain meds right now.” You teased, exhaustion replacing the adrenaline. He didn’t know what he was saying, and at the time, neither did you.

“I can’t lose you.” You had pleaded as your hand wrapped around his fingers.

“You won’t.” He had lied.

He’d made love to you in the scorching Californian Summer.

You’d both had some free time from the constant leading and organizing of the Shadow Company. You had a couple days to relax, which was impossibly rare on its own, and even more rare that Graves was there with you.

He’d lease an apartment on the San Diego coast, far from prying ears and seeing eyes. It was gorgeous there, with fluttering palms and white sands.

A little slice of heaven.

Yet nothing was as euphoric as his searing lips upon your bare skin.

The cool air conditioning did little to diminish the heat you were feeling, and the two of you only made the air hotter as he laid everything out in front of you.

He’d kissed your lips until they were swollen, and worshiped your body like a man who had just seen his God.

He didn’t care that salt still remained on your lips from the ocean’s waves. He didn’t care that your many scars littered your body like a demented painting. He didn’t even care to breathe as he swallowed your pleasured moans in his own ecstasy.

He’d claim you as his, just as you’d leave the lasting and black mark on his heart. And you’d never be the same again.

You’d watch the waves in his arms, admiring the constant and repetitive pushing of the seas on the sands. Wishing that your love could be as eternal as the water hitting the shores.

He was your salvation in the Scorching Californian Summer.

It had been a month, and while you had been through vicious torture before, it never really became easier.

It was a scout mission in the Russian backcountry, scouting had always been something you were exceptionally great at. But this time, there was a tip off.

You’d gotten your shadows to safety, that was the main concern. Graves always voiced his concerns of your selflessness. “You’ll get yourself killed one day, Val. And I’ll pull you out of hell myself.”

You’d stepped into the line of fire, offering yourself as leverage. Who were they to refuse the second in command? They’d brought you into the freezing gulag, roughing you around the edges that left your body nothing more than a shell.

Over the month they cut you, they tore you, they shredded you of who you were. The hope you had was squashed, and your soul was tired.

It was winter there when he’d found you.

You never remembered much after meeting his eyes, knowing somehow you’d now be safe.

He always refused to mention much about that day. He was kind to you after, doting on your wounds and being your crutch as you healed. But something was wrong, terribly wrong.

His eyes that were once the calm of the storm now raged. His body was a taut wire, ready to snap back on oblivious fingers.

“Is everything okay?” You had asked him after several months of your recovery. At long last you’d be shortly returning to your position, no longer bound to the summer home Phillip and you had shared. It was refreshing, to spend some valuable time with the man you had fallen for, but the more he stayed, glued to your side, the more he itched.

“M’fine, Val.” His response was cold, something unlike him. Especially when it came to you. “You don’t seem fine.” You had watched him, watched how his mannerism had shifted.

He’d hardly touch you anymore, rarely spending time on the sandy beach as you used to. He locked himself in his office for long periods of times, speaking lowly in a voice you couldn’t hear.

He was a stranger you loved. And it had hurt more than the constant torture in the gulag.

“It’s just, you’ll be back in the field again. We’ve got our first big gig together in Las Almas. I’m terrified.” He admitted, pulling you into his arms as he held you. You didn’t want to move away, regardless of your mind screaming at you that something was off.

“Don’t be. You’ll be with me every step of the way. Right?” You reassured, shifting in his arms, breathing in his fresh scent of pine needles and gentle patchouli.

“Right.” He lied again.

You’d made love again that night, this time against the steady patter of raindrops. Looking back, it was like the sky was warning you, he touched you as if you were already dead. A mourning of what you could have been. this wasn’t summer.

You should have prepared yourself for the worst. That much was obvious.

He broke you in the Summer.

Your body torn from your heart as you decided to do what was right. You had been the one to fight him, moving his rifle out of the way to protect the Task Force.

He’d betrayed them, but most importantly he had betrayed you.

Everything the two of you had built up, now broken down to resemble ruins.

He’d gotten himself burned, and while you had fought against him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to follow the team to kill him. They were cautious of course, how could they not? They saw how Graves acted around you, his eye watchful on missions, he did seem a bit too quick to come to your defense after Hassan had threatened you.

So they did what they thought was right; cuff you to the desk. You had let salty tears fall from your cheeks as you waited in that warehouse. Waited to hear if Graves was finally dead.

They treaded careful water when the team returned. That alone was enough for you to hang your head.

Graves was dead.

It was the Scot who had pulled you to the side, after pulling the cuffs from your sore wrists. Soap was cautious, but he fished into his pocket, pulling out a charred velvet box that somehow was not completely destroyed.

“This was in his pocket,” he spoke before leaving you alone.

Your hands shook around the box, breaking it open slightly to reveal a beautifully crafted gold ring, cut and molded perfectly to the size of your finger. Inside, a little note peaked from the corner, carefully you unfolded the paper.

I’d known I’d marry her since the first time I laid eyes on her. Life’s been rough to us over this year, I haven’t been the same since I rescued her in Russia. It made me realize something.

I don’t want to be a soldier anymore.

After everything, i’m scared. I have too much to lose. You’ve weakened me, honey. Now I want more, I want to be with her. I want to take her to my hometown and raise little ones that look like their mother.

So after this mission I want out as soon as possible. I’d do anything for her, even if this means she’ll side against me. So I hope, that she will say yes, so I can throw this damn paper away and never have to show her. So she can forgive me, after all I’ve done.

Because with her, it’s summer. Always and eternally summer.

#cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #soap mactavish #phillip graves #commander graves #Phillip graves x reader

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true-blue-straya · 15 days

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The greatest tragedy is that Australia is full of so many eucalyptus trees that I would love to climb, but I CANT because I’d put my hand down on a spider and die (not necessarily because the spiders venom got me either. But because I fell out of the tree)

fun fact they imported them to california because they looked cool.

then they sucked out all the nutrients in the californian soil so that no other plants could grow there.

then they set on fire.

god bless america

#the spider would run away #theyre not stupid #aussieposting #this is a good ask i have nothing to add #also an entirely true story

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delafiseaseses · 10 months

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I thought about the NCR Sharecropper Farms and Concluded they should not Exist.

Strong opening line, 'ey? How's ol' Delafiseaseses gonna justify that?

Quite easily, actually. Y'see some people misunderstand the NCR Sharecropper Farms, they think it provides food to the Mojave. Not true. It provides food to the NCR, clues in the name, really. Its a Sharecrop, the NCR gets some of the crop and the sharecroppers get the rest of their crop as payment, the portion the NCR takes goes to NCR Military bases. As Romanowski says 'A lot of the crops grown here support the various NCR camps in the region - McCarran, Golf, and Forlorn Hope, to name a few. We can't have wastelanders popping in here for a free meal, so my squad and I are assigned to keep things from going to hell.' and when Romanowski says 'Wastelanders' he means 'people from the Mojave Wasteland' of course.

Do the sharecroppers sell their crops to Mojave citizens? Possibly, but remember all the sharecroppers are NCR citizens brought over by the 'Thaler Act', nobody from the Mojave directly benefits from this arrangement.

You may think 'Well, not like anyone in the Mojave before was using the land.' possibly wrong. While he's not from the Mojave (and is an unrepentant Enclave fascist, but that's irrelevant) Orion Moreno has this to say 'I came out here to get away from them - didn't work out so well. Next thing I know, I'm squatting in "their" land. Never mind that I'd already been living here for years.', and when he says 'years' he could mean up to over 3 decades. So we've got to wonder... was the land unoccupied? Moreno is a stubborn old Enclave soldier, he wouldn't scare easy, he gets harassed by the NCR, as he says when you first meet him 'Bah. Looks like I forgot to lock the doors again. If you're with the NCR, get out. This place is mine, and I'm not leaving.' or, if you am in NCR faction armour 'Look, trooper, I was living in this house long before your farms got set up. Don't even think about evicting me.' most people would be forced off by these tactics. So it is entirely possible the NCR has displaced Mojave residents to set up their precious farm.

Both quests involving the Sharecropper Farm also include a backdrop of NCR vs Mojave Locals. The most obvious is, of course, The White Wash. The Westside Co-Op, an actual local community farming effort (which does have some New Californians, but they're unaffiliated with the NCR), is only surviving because of the syphoning of water from the Sharecroppers by Tom Anderson. The water from the local water system that the NCR took over, I might add. Why do they get to claim ownership of Lake Mead's water and the Vegas water system?

And the second, Hard Luck Blues is more indirect. The NCR isn't at fault at all for this, the Vault 34 Civil War damaged their reactor and that was entirely on them. But the final choice between saving the Vault 34 Survivors or dealing with the radiation leak caused by the Vault 34 Civil War killing the survivors. So it is literally saving an NCR Asset or saving people who for over 200 years have lived in the Mojave.

Now, I'm not saying the Sharecroppers themselves deserve to suffer lower than needed water rations or radiation in their soil. They didn't set this up, they're just working class NCR citizens trying to survive, but, the thing is, the Sharecroppers can just... leave. And they do if these quests are resolved in ways that hurt the Farms.

After the White Wash siding with Anderson/Westside the affected sharecropper Trent Bascom says he's quitting because 'I wouldn't be able to meet the quota, and the NCR would kick me out of my job, anyway. Nah, it's better I get out on my own terms.' and he's even got a plan for his future 'I hear the Brahmin ranchers out in Redding are looking for some hard workers, so I might try there first. I hate working with Brahmin, though.' so, yeah, that sucks for him, but he's got a future. He may not like that future, but its more of a future than the Westsiders have if they lose their Co-Op.

And after Hard Luck Blues you can find some Sharecroppers out front of the Big Horn Saloon in Boulder City. The named member of this group is a woman named Anne, she has this to say 'We're heading back home. I hope our troops do the same. This land can't be saved. Trying to grow crops in this heat, with so little water, is bad enough, but now we've got radiation seeping into the farmlands east of New Vegas. We're done. Let the people of these hell-hole deal with their problems, I say.' and, y'know, I agree. Maybe the people of the Mojave should deal with their problems and not have a military force from somewhere else claiming their land and water? Especially since the area is still disputed at this time. They're literally fighting a bloody war which they have a 3/4 chance of losing during all of this.

To put this all in a shorter way: The NCR Sharecropper Farm's existence is an example of NCR colonialism.

Like, it's textbook fucking colonialism. They forcefully took over part of a land that's not theirs, brought in their own people to 'settle' the land and violently keep the locals out of it all, who suffer because of it. I've said before that the NCR playacts the USA and they certainly playact it accurately.

So, unless you're doing an NCR playthrough, I'd say its probably best to side against the Sharecropper Farm in every instance because the NCR Sharecropper Farms should not exist. It sucks for the Sharecroppers, but they'd be out of the job when the NCR withdraws anyway. Probably best for everyone if they get out before the NCR Military does.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #new vegas #hard luck blues #the white wash #ncr #ncr sharecropper farms #trent bascom #anne #westside #vault 34 #orion moreno #new california republic

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rockislandadultreads · 2 years

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One with Nature: Connecting with the Natural World

Losing Eden: Why Our Minds Need the Wild by Lucy Jones

Today many of us live indoor lives, disconnected from the natural world as never before. And yet nature remains deeply ingrained in our language, culture and consciousness. For centuries, we have acted on an intuitive sense that we need communion with the wild to feel well. Now, in the moment of our great migration away from the rest of nature, more and more scientific evidence is emerging to confirm its place at the heart of our psychological wellbeing. So what happens, asks acclaimed journalist Lucy Jones, as we lose our bond with the natural world--might we also be losing part of ourselves? Delicately observed and rigorously researched, Losing Eden is an enthralling journey through this new research, exploring how and why connecting with the living world can so drastically affect our health. Travelling from forest schools in East London, to the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, via Poland's primeval woodlands, Californian laboratories and ecotherapists' couches, Jones takes us to the cutting edge of human biology, neuroscience and psychology, and discovers new ways of understanding our increasingly dysfunctional relationship with the earth. Urgent and uplifting, Losing Eden is a rallying cry for a wilder way of life - for finding asylum in the soil and joy in the trees - which might just help us to save the living planet, as well as ourselves, from a future of ecological grief.

Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer

As a botanist, Robin Wall Kimmerer has been trained to ask questions of nature with the tools of science. As a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, she embraces the notion that plants and animals are our oldest teachers. In Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer brings these lenses of knowledge together to show that the awakening of a wider ecological consciousness requires the acknowledgment and celebration of our reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world. For only when we can hear the languages of other beings are we capable of understanding the generosity of the earth, and learning to give our own gifts in return.

Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest by Suzanne Simard

From the world's leading forest ecologist who forever changed how people view trees and their connections to one another and to other living things in the forest--a moving, deeply personal journey of discovery. Suzanne Simard is a pioneer on the frontier of plant communication and intelligence; she's been compared to Rachel Carson, hailed as a scientist who conveys complex, technical ideas in a way that is dazzling and profound. Her work has influenced filmmakers (the Tree of Souls of James Cameron's Avatar) and her TED talks have been viewed by more than 10 million people worldwide. Now, in her first book, Simard brings us into her world, the intimate world of the trees, in which she brilliantly illuminates the fascinating and vital truths--that trees are not simply the source of timber or pulp, but are a complex, interdependent circle of life; that forests are social, cooperative creatures connected through underground networks by which trees communicate their vitality and vulnerabilities with communal lives not that different from our own.

The Vanishing Face of Gaia: A Final Warning by James E. Lovelock

Celebrities drive hybrids, Al Gore won the Nobel Peace Prize, and supermarkets carry no end of so-called “green” products. And yet the environmental crisis is only getting worse. In The Vanishing Face of Gaia, the eminent scientist James Lovelock argues that the earth is lurching ever closer to a permanent “hot state” – and much more quickly than most specialists think. There is nothing humans can do to reverse the process; the planet is simply too overpopulated to halt its own destruction by greenhouse gases.In order to survive, mankind must start preparing now for life on a radically changed planet. The meliorist approach outlined in the Kyoto Treaty must be abandoned in favor of nuclear energy and aggressive agricultural development on the small areas of earth that will remain arable. A reluctant jeremiad from one of the environmental movement’s elder statesmen, The Vanishing Face of Gaia offers an essential wake-up call for the human race.

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takemebackto-eden · 7 months

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EM ‘Hey Stranger’ • Chapter Six - Happier Than Ever

Chapter summary: Nina struggles with her past and letting Eddie in.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, mental health, depression

A/N: I know Happier than Ever isn't an 80's song but it fits well with the situation!

Monday / 6:30pm / the forest, Hawkins

Nina is running through the woods, headphones on her ears, panting with effort. The music in her ears is blasting, blocking out any of her surroundings. Dodging stray branches and rocks with effort, Nina’s pace picks up as the thumping of the music increases. As the song shifts to the next track, Nina slows down to catch her breath.

When I’m away from you, I’m happier than ever,

Wish I could explain it better,

I wish it wasn’t true.

Tears form in Nina’s eyes. She takes a gulp of her water and starts to run again.

Give me a day or two to think of something clever,

To write myself a letter to tell me what to do.

The tears are flowing freely from Nina’s eyes as she picks up the pace.

I knew when I asked you to be cool about what I was telling you,

You’d do the opposite of what you said you’d do,

And I’d end up more afraid.

Don’t say it isn’t fair, you clearly weren’t aware that you made me miserable.

Nina begins to cry heavily, eyes blurring as she runs wildly through the forest.

I don’t relate to you, I don’t relate to you, no,

‘Cause I’d never treat me this shitty,

You made me hate this city.

Nina is running so fast she can’t stop, branches whipping her skin as she sprints through the trees, tears sliding down her face.

Never told anyone anything bad,

‘Cause that shit’s embarrassing, you were my everything,

Now all that you did was make me fucking sad.

Nina falls to her knees at the clearing of the woods near the main road, sobbing.

I could talk about every time that you showed up on time,

But I’d have an empty line ‘cause you never did.

Soil and wet leaves stick to Nina’s knees, light trickles of blood from scratches from stray twigs tickling her forearms and thighs. Nina’s body wracked with sobs as she tries and fails to catch her breath, her breathing uncontrollable and panicked. Nina pulls off the headphones angrily, furiously wiping her tears.

She takes a deep breath and sighs, trying to calm herself. It starts to rain and Nina laughs a sad laugh.

Fuck it, she thinks. She slides a cigarette from her pocket and lights it, not caring that she is getting drenched.

Eddie appears by the side of the road in his van, rolling the window down in response to seeing Nina soaking wet, smoking in the rain.

Eddie: (concerned) “You okay there, stranger?”

Nina: [shrugging in a comical pessimistic way, heart hurting] “Do I not look okay?”

Eddie: (amused) “You look wet.”

Nina: (self-deprecating) “A little bit, yeah.”

Eddie: (concerned again) “You need a ride?”

Nina: “Please.”

[Nina hops into Eddie’s van, taking the last few drags of her cigarette before dumping it out the window]

Eddie: (teasing) “Smoking and running at the same time? This some new sort of Californian work-out I don’t know about?”

Nina: (smirking) “Oh yeah, it’s all the rage back home.”

Eddie: (worried) “You’re bleeding.”

Nina: “It’s okay.”

Eddie: “No, seriously, you’re covered in cuts.”

Nina: “Yeah I was running pretty hard back there.”

Eddie: [joking to hide his worry] “What were you running from? Wolves?”

Nina: (Sad smile) “Something like that, yeah.”

[A silence falls over them both.]

Eddie: “Are you okay?”

Nina: [clearly not okay, tears mixing with the damp of the rain] “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Eddie: “Are you sure?”

Nina: (looking at Eddie sadly) “Why, do I not look okay?” [Nina’s eyes are red and puffy, her clothes soaked through, leaves, dirt and blood coating her legs]

Eddie: “You don’t have to make a joke out of everything, you know? You can talk to me… If you need someone I mean.”

Nina: “Should change your name to Eddie the Wise rather than Eddie the Banished.” [Realising she made another joke, defensive]“I don’t make a joke out of everything.”

Eddie: “You kinda do.”

Nina: (stubborn) “No I don’t.”

Eddie: (wary) “It’s okay, I do too. I’m just saying, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Nina: [defensive, retreating] “You don’t even know me.”

Eddie: [hurt] “I know you well enough.”

Nina: [hurting, feeling trapped] “You know nothing. Thanks for the offer but I’m perfectly fine by myself.”

Eddie: “Oh.”

Nina: “Just drop me off here, I’ll walk.” [Taking off her seatbelt and opening the door before Eddie can fully slow the van down, wanting a quick exit.]

Eddie: “Nina, wait…” [Nina slams the door behind her and runs off up the road.] “Nice one, Eddie.”

8:30pm

Nina walks along the side of the road, kicking the rocks under her feet. She chews her lip, tears forming in her eyes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought.

She thought of the hurt look on Eddie’s face when she slammed the door and left. Guilt twisted in her stomach.

She sat down by the side of the road, resting her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands. She sighed deeply.

She didn’t want to go home, she didn’t know where to go. She wanted to make things up with Eddie.

Should she? She thought. What if he doesn’t like me anymore? What if he thinks I’m a bad person? What if he thinks I’m a baby, a fuck up, too complicated for him?

He’s better off without me, she thought.

She looked in both directions of the road, no traffic on either side. She sat in the quiet of the edge of the forest for a while, pulling at grass from the ground, twirling them around her fingers. She made a flower chain with daisies she pulled from the ground.

I don’t want to lose him over something as stupid as this.

She stood up, daisy chain in hand, brushing off her legs and walking back into town.

On the way back Nina walked past Forest Hills where she knew Eddie lives. She searched for his van in the trailer park, which wasn’t there. She wandered around for a while, hoping she could find some sort of clue to which house was his.

Neighbour: “Can I help you, darling?”

Nina: “Oh I’m looking for Eddie, is he around?”

Neighbour: [shaking their head] “Sorry, he’s not home. I can pass on a message?”

Nina: [having an idea] “Could I maybe borrow a piece of paper, please?”

10pm / Forest Hill’s Trailer park

Eddie returns home from work. He’s had a terrible day, feeling glum and frustrated about how Nina had left him.

He slams his car door, making his way up the steps to the front door. He looks confused at the note he finds on the door frame, a daisy chain attached.

Sorry I was a bitch, can we talk? call me? *************

Nina x

Eddie smiles, running the daisy chain through his hand.

He giddily walks inside the house, daisy chain in hand, dialling the number.

He sits on the couch, waiting patiently for the phone to pick up.

Nina: (quietly) “Eddie, is that you?”

Eddie: (softly) “Hey, stranger.”

Nina: “Hey. You got my note.”

Eddie: “I did.”

Nina: “I was worried you wouldn’t call.”

Eddie: “I’ll always call.”

Nina: [rushed, upset] “I’m so sorry for how I acted. I was a baby, and so rude, and I’m so sorry.”

Eddie: “Nina, it’s okay, calm down-“

Nina: “No it’s not okay, you didn’t deserve the way I treated you, I’m sorry.”

Eddie: “I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have pushed you-“

Nina: “You didn’t! You were nothing but kind. I fucked up, I’m sorry-“

Eddie: “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Nina: [frustrated] “It’s not okay!”

Eddie: “Then I forgive you. Better?”

Nina: “I-“

Eddie: “I forgive you.”

Nina: [after a pause, quiet] “I won’t do it again. I was just having a bad day. Sometimes I get…”

Eddie: (amused) “Dark and twisty?”

Nina: “How do you know about that?”

Eddie: “Robin told me.”

Nina: [deadpanned, cursing Robin] “Great, just great.”

Eddie: “It’s okay, we all get a little dark and twisty sometimes.”

Nina: (uneasy),“You do?”

Eddie: “Sure. It’s okay.” [another silence falls over] “Do you want to talk about it?”

Nina: “I was just… I listened to a sad song. It got me overthinking and I guess what you said touched a nerve.”

Eddie: (guilty) “I’m sorry.”

Nina: (softly) “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

Eddie: “You know you can talk to me about.. stuff, if you want.”

Nina: [with a small smile] “I know.”

Another quiet pause passes. They both want to continue the conversation but don’t know how. Eddie plays with the daisy chain mindlessly, Nina curls the cord of the phone around her finger.

Eddie: “I like the daisy chain.”

Nina: “I don’t know what I did that.”

Eddie: “It’s cute.”

Nina: “It’s stupid.”

Eddie: “It’s not stupid, I like it.”

Eddie can hear Nina smile down the phone.

Nina: “So, what were you up to tonight?”

The conversation flows for nearly an hour. They laugh and share stories, getting to know each other better.

Nina: (shy) “So, Dustin invited me to the hideout tomorrow night.”

Eddie: (awkward) “He said, yeah, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Nina: “I want to! If you want me to?”

Eddie: (smiling) “I’d like you to.”

Nina: (shy) “Okay. I better go… I’ll see you tomorrow? 9pm, right?”

Eddie: “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Nina: (smiling) “Goodnight Eddie. Sleep well.”

Nina smiles as she hangs up the phone, breathing a sigh of relief. Eddie reluctantly puts the phone back on the receiver, his mind reeling over their long conversation on the phone, giddy. He puts the daisy chain on his bedside table, and falls asleep happily.

➡️Chapter Seven - How Do I Get You Alone?

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddiemunson #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddiemunsonstrangerthings #heystrangereddiefic

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