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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

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Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Boston QZ : Part 9 ‘Rescue’

A/N: this was an extremely difficult chapter to write. So much happens and I want you to all please take care of yourself after reading. If it becomes too much, if you feel like you need to step away, please do not hesitate. Your mental health comes first. ♡

Summary: You and Joel find a middle ground after his PTSD episode from the night before. It’s Spring now, and you’re finally ready to get in on the action. Joel and Tess have trained you well. Uprisings of violence have left the three of you no choice but to leave the QZ. You plan to meet with another group at an abandon bookstore to plan your escape. Upon your arrival, you realize that someone has set you up. 6 against 3. What a slim chance of survival.

~word count : 8.7k~

Warnings: age gap (m/c is 28) graphic, detailed descriptions of violence. Shoot out. Guns/knives, knife wounds, graphic descriptions of blood. Agony, unrequited love, pining, angst, confession of feelings, trauma, feelings of guilt, child loss, swearing, anger, soft ! Joel, violent ! Joel, literally this is just one cluster fuck of emotions. This is not for sensitive viewers. (+18) MINORS DNI !

Songs for this chapter:

“Rescue” by Lauren Daigle

“Shrike” by Hozier

“Sign of the Times” By Harry Styles

“evermore” By Taylor Swift

“Particles” By Nothing But Thieves

“Lift me Up” By Rihanna

“Turning Page” By Sleeping At Last”

___________________

December 25th 2020 : Boston QZ

~Joel Miller’s POV~

Joel didn’t like to believe that he was born with a violent heart. Joel liked to believe that he was still a good person, deep down. Before the world had gone to shit, before the cordyceps, before the government murdered his baby girl in his arms, before all of that. Joel Miller was a gentle, protective and caring father. Becoming a father was Joel’s proudest moment. Being a good dad was tough, sure but Joel did everything for his baby girl. It was all for her.

Joel believed that his violent heart was a result in the world as he knew it, ending. When Sarah died, all he could think about was revenge and he meant it when he told you last night, in his fury, that he was a murderer, a cold blooded killer. That’s what he was. He went to bed with the knowledge of his past, and the consequences of his actions. He lived in it every single fucking day.

Last night should have gone differently. He thought to himself. It was early in the morning. He hadn’t gotten much sleep after he stormed off. He stared at the wall, recounting his dead daughter's screams, for hours. He recounted the fear in your eyes when he snapped at you. The way you flinched when he threw the glass at the wall. How you cowered away into the comfort of the couch, like a frightened animal. Despite his violent outburst, you still tried to comfort him, to bring him down. You were so fucking gentle with him. Even after he had let his rage out on you, your only goal was to get your Joel back. He couldn’t understand why you allowed yourself to stay so calm, to comfort him after he had treated you so poorly? After he had projected his years of pent up pain, agony and grief onto you, you still showed him kindness. Joel felt that he didn’t deserve that from you. He felt that he didn’t deserve you at all.

He swore he could still feel the caress of your palm against his face, the way your eyes frantically searched his, looking for anything you could find in his darkened pupils. He subconsciously found himself brushing his fingers against his beard then. You were too fucking good for him, too good for this fucked up world.

He had left his bedroom around 2 in the morning after he had calmed down, his footsteps were quiet as he padded down the hall to your curled up form on the couch. He wanted to make sure you got a decent night's sleep, it was the least he could do after what had happened. Joel had leaned down then, gently bringing his arms around you and lifted you up, bridal style from the couch, cradling you against his chest as he quietly carried you to your room. He watched you with soft eyes as you subconsciously turned your cheek against his chest, right against his heart. You looked so peaceful in your sleep. He quietly pushed your door open with his hip bringing you to your bed and gently set you down. He grabbed the quilt at the end of the bed and draped it across your small frame. Joel had leaned down, brushing a few strands of hair from your face and left a ghost of a kiss against your forehead, his eyes closing for a moment before he pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Gwen. I’m so sorry.” He whispered to himself as he looked down at you. A moment later, he had turned on his heel and willed himself to leave your room. He wanted to lay there with you, hold you close to his chest and apologize for his actions. You needed sleep, and he intended to give that to you. Joel for the first time, was actively putting your feelings above his own. He was trying to make that effort. It was the bare minimum but you deserved it. You deserved so much more than he felt that he could give you.

After he had left your room and returned to his own, and when he could no longer hear his daughter's screams ringing in his ears, Joel thought about you. His thoughts were constantly drifting to you and he wasn’t even trying to deny it anymore. What was there to deny? He had a soft spot for you. He wanted to be as close as he physically could be to you. He wanted to know everything about you. He was the flame from a lit match and you were the oxygen, keeping that flame alive. Last night was the first time you had ever truly opened up to him, and he fucking blew it. You had put your trust so deeply into him and he so easily lost sight of what truly mattered most. Last night Joel realized that you weren’t always so tough, so sure of yourself.

Last night, Joel saw a different side of you. The vulnerable, caring, and fragile side of you. You were a complex person, he realized. A complex person with deeply rooted emotions. You loved deep dish pizza and that stupid fucking Chicago Bean. You had a horse named Honey that was a Palomino, with the softest dappling, and you were the best of friends. Honey was violently murdered by raiders one winter, you were sixteen. You had the sweetest laugh that could make even the coldest man smile. You were a bubbly drunk, and ballsy wrapped up in one. You were affectionate towards those you cared about the most, and you cared so deeply for them. You held his face in your hands even when he turned violent and screamed and threw glasses at the wall and screamed some more.

These were just a handful of the things Joel recounted from last night. He could replay the entire sequence over and over in his head. All the way up to the moment where he snapped. The switch was flipped and he wished that you never had to see him that way. As he sat there in his solitude, he thought about how easy it would be for him to shut himself off from you again. To turn a cold shoulder, to make you feel as if you meant nothing to him. How easy it would be for him to push you so far away, so cruelly, you would never try to be close to him again. If Sarah was here, she’d be telling him off. “Why would you go and do that, dad?” He could hear her voice now. “Dad, I love you, but you’re an idiot. Don’t mess this up! She’s a good one. She makes you laugh, you smile the most when you’re around her.” He found himself turning his head to the side then, looking at the empty spot on the end of his bed and he imagined his little girl now. He found himself outstretching his hand and brushed it through the thin air, his face falling when he realized she was never really there, and he had just pictured her memory in his mind. He clutched the air in a tight fist before slowly bringing his hand down to rest along the rustled covers. He was trembling. “I’m not gonna let you down, baby girl. Okay? I–promise. I’ll fix this. I will. I–love you so much.” His tone was hushed and his voice had cracked towards the end.

He had sat there, staring at the empty space on his bed for what felt like hours before his senses returned. He knew then that he couldn’t push you away again. Things had gotten too personal. His walls had come tumbling down with yours in a deafening crescendo. Shutting you out permanently would in turn, tear him up inside. With his daughter’s words fresh on his mind, he knew that he had to fix this. Apologize, make it up to you somehow. If you needed space from him, he would give it to you. If you wanted to scream at him, cry in his arms, punch the wall, he would let you and in return, he would be there for you in any possible fucking way he could. However you would have him, he’d be there; indefinitely.

Joel had no plan of action whatsoever. He had no clue how you would react to him whenever you would wake up. It made him nervous. Nervous over the fact that the sheer chance that you wouldn’t ever forgive him was a real possibility. You were the most understanding individual that he had ever met but like himself, everyone including you, had their breaking point. It was inevitable to not have one and he hoped, prayed that you hadn’t hit yours.

He did what any normal, with a hint of insanity, person would do. He busied himself while you rested. He forced himself to leave his room, he checked his appearance in the cracked mirror in his bathroom, at least 100 times. Fixing his hair, splashing ice cold water in his face to calm his nerves. He was careful to be quiet despite how creaky the old floorboards were. The last thing he wanted to do was wake you. When he had come upon the shattered glass all along the floor against the back wall, he imagined the fear in your eyes again. The way you flinched and cowered away from him. He didn’t want you to wake up and be instantly reminded of his violence so he sank down to his knees, and started to pick the larger shards of glass up, carefully. He had cut his fingers a few times on some jagged pieces but he didn’t care. Minimal cuts held no power over him. The rest he picked up with an old newspaper page. When he deemed that the majority of the glass was picked up, he moved onto the next task.

He fluffed up the pillows on the couch as best he could. He then refolded the thick quilt he had draped around you hours ago, It faintly smelled of you. When he found the book you had been reading still on the floor, he bent down and picked it up. You had dog-eared the page you had left off on so he was easily able to flip to it. He skimmed over the words from the passage and it then dawned upon him, you had nearly been crying because of this damn book. This damn Heathcliff being a total jackass–who the hell talks to someone on their deathbed like that? He closed the page then and set it down on the coffee table. He moved into the kitchen then, grabbing the half bottle of whiskey and tucking it back into the cabinet. You could hold your liquor decently well, but he enjoyed seeing you get all flushed in the face, and fucking giggly. You were an adorable drunk. You looked so pretty with your lips wrapped around the rim of the glass– “focus Joel.” he said to himself. Now was not the time to allow his head to go to the gutter, no matter how easy it was to end up there. He put away the stray mugs and any other clutter found on the surface of the counter. When he was finished, he started the kettle so he could make you a cup of tea. He knew that could bring you a small bit of comfort at least.

He moved back to the couch and sank down. His curiosity surrounding the book you were reading got the best of him. He grabbed it from the coffee table and flipped back to the first page. He wasn’t a super big reader by any means, he had no reason to be. However, this was the only way he could pass the time till you would wake up. He quickly found himself immersed in the story of Catherine and Heathcliff, just like you had. Joel almost hadn’t heard the creaking of your door, or the soft sound of your footsteps padding down the hall but when he did, he shut the book quickly, tossing it on the coffee table as he sat up. Your footsteps were quiet, hesitant in a sense from how careful you were treading. His heart sank a little but he refused to lose all hope just yet.

When you had come into his view, the first thing he noticed was how exhausted you looked. He knew he was the cause of it. He took notice of how your arms were crossed over your chest. Most likely from the chill in the apartment but it made his heart sink further in his gut. What really did him in was how you averted your eyes completely from his. As if you were afraid that by just looking at him, you would set him off again. Joel knew then that how he acted last night, had severe consequences. He had emotionally damaged you.

He broke the tension then. “ ‘Mornin.” he rasped out, fiddling with his fingers as he waited for your response.

He was met with silence.

“I uh–I made you some tea. It’s on the stove, I can get it for ya if you’d like.”

He was already up from his spot on the couch then, quickly walking into the kitchen area and grabbed your favorite mug and one of the last tea bags from Frank. He poured the hot water in before steeping the tea bag. You hadn’t moved from your spot in the middle of the room. This worried him immensely.

He brought the mug over to you then, hesitantly. He stopped a few inches in front of you as he held it out to you, waiting for you to grab it.

You had slowly looked up at him then, reaching for the mug and clutched it to your chest, the warmth settled into you, but your blood still ran cold.

“Gwen–” He was cut off by you.

“Why are you doing this, Joel?” Your tone was barely above a whisper and your eyes were looking anywhere but at his.

“Gwen, what are you talking about? I just wanted to make you a cup of tea–”

“No, Joel. You know that’s not what I meant. Why do you care? Why are you suddenly being nice to me?”

He looked at you then, finding it hard to find his words in the moment so when he didn’t answer, you continued.

“I can’t–I can’t keep doing this Joel. If you’re gonna push me away, just fuckin do it. You don’t have to stand there and pretend like you care about me. I know I overstepped last night, and I'm sorry for what I did. Just save me the pain and just say whatever it is you're going to say. Rip the bandaid off, Joel. Go on, I can handle it.”

He took a deep breath then, running his fingers through his hair momentarily. He expected you to be upset with him, you had every right to be. What he didn’t expect was how you were going to deliver this painful blow to him and now his hope was beginning to dwindle.

“Gwen, I have no intentions of pushin you away like that.”

“Bullshit.” Your words stung. You were waiting for him to yell, to snap on you again but it never came.

Joel had reached out and gently grasped your shoulders in his warm, calloused hands. You had flinched from the sudden contact but didn’t move away from his touch.

“Gwen, I swear on my daughter’s grave that I ain’t gonna push you away. Doll, look at me, please?” He was nearly begging you now. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you last night. You didn’t know about Sarah. It wasn’t your fault and you didn’t deserve to deal with me like that.”

He watched as you slowly looked up at him, fresh tears threatening to spill over because you were just exhausted. Joel, and whatever it was that was going on between you, whether it be a friendship or something more, exhausted you to the bone. You knew deep down that Joel was more than a friend, Joel meant more to you than he would ever know.

“Then why did you leave me? I-I was there for you. I held you. I comforted you, and then you up and fucking left.” You pushed his hands off your shoulders then, taking a step back.

“Baby, please just let me–”

“No, Joel. Stop it. Please stop it! I’m begging you. I’m not your baby, Joel. I’m not your doll. I’m nothing to you. Please stop messing with my emotions. You’ve already taken so much from me and now? It feels like a slap to my fucking face.”

He watched as you backed away from him, creating a distance and he was afraid that this was you leaving him. You had enough and last night was your breaking point.

“Gwen, Please. Just listen to what I have to say. All of it, Okay? If you decide after that you don’t wanna trust me, that you don’t think I care about ya, then i’ll let you go, okay?” I left you last night because it was too fucking much for me to handle. I had screamed at you, thrown glasses at the wall, made you feel like a trapped fuckin animal and you still held me. It–it confused the fuck out of me. I know it sounds like some lousy excuse, but I didn’t know what else to do Gwen. I didn’t want to leave you there like that. Not after what I just put you through.” He took a small step towards you then, his eyes trained on yours, pleading with you to believe him.

“I didn’t fuckin sleep last night because I just felt so guilty and if I could take back what had happened, I would. In a fuckin heart beat, I would have.”

The realization dawned upon you that Joel had carried you to bed sometime last night. You were half awake, still buzzed but you remember his familiar scent, his warm chest, his steady heart beat. You faintly heard his voice, felt his lips against the skin on your forehead. “You carried me to bed. Didn’t you?”

“I did. When I found you curled up on the couch like that, it didn’t feel right to just leave you there. You looked so uncomfortable and it was the least I could do. I know it wasn’t much, but I wanted you to wake up in the comfort of your own bed after all that happened.”

He watched as you slowly turned your head to the side, it was obvious that you were dealing with your own inner conflict now just by your demeanor. When you finally composed your thoughts, you looked back at him once more.

“You did all that, because you care about me? Why?”

Joel thought it was obvious that he cared about you but when he really thought about it, he had thrown your emotions through the ringer on multiple occasions. He had battered you up more than he realized. So, of course you were going to question him. He hadn’t given you any reason to believe that he really did give a shit about you. Considering he kept his feelings about you to himself. He wasn’t good at expressing them, and now it was coming out all at once and he couldn’t stop it.

“Gwen, of course I care about you. I care about you too fuckin much for my own good. Remember how I acted when you had that fever? I was terrified that you weren’t gonna make it.”

“Yeah? Then you came back, took care of me and fuckin pushed me away again.”

He rubbed his fingers against his temples then as he inhaled through his nose.

“I know what I did Gwen, and I’m sorry. I thought at that moment I was ‘doin the right thing. You cared too, didn’t you? I heard it. I heard you throw your knife at the fuckin wall.”

You scoffed under your breath then. “You’re doing a real fucking terrible job at presenting a convincing case right now, Joel.”

He took a step towards you then. He watched as you took one back.

“Look me in the fuckin eyes and tell me that you didn’t care, Gwen. That night, before I met up with Tess at the rendezvous point, I told you that she and I were together. You cared, I know you did. You just did damn fuckin good job at hiding it from me.”

He watched as you narrowed your eyes at him, your hands were balled at your sides in tight fists and you were trembling.

“Tell me that you don’t give a shit about me, ‘darlin. Tell me.”

Another step forward from him and your back was nearly touching the wall.

“Don’t fucking do this to me Joel. Stop it please. You can walk away now. There’s still time for you to fucking walk away.”

“Why do you keep fuckin pushing me away?”

“Caring about you the way that I do, is only going to end up getting me fucking killed Joel. Sooner or later, this is going to catch up to us! We’re all gonna die eventually. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth it to feel, to devote yourself to someone, when the fucking world could take them away from you in a heart beat!” Your back was now pressed against the wall, Joel was everywhere, all at once.

His chest was now barely touching yours, his forehead was dipped down, resting against yours. His warm breath was lightly fanning your face.

“I’d kill a thousand fuckin men before I’d allow that to happen, Gwen.”

You physically had to create some distance between you. He was too close, too real, too everything. You placed your hand on his chest to push him away and create that distance, but he wouldn’t budge.

“No Joel. Stop it. You don’t mean that. I’m not worth it, I’m not and you have Tess—”

“You don’t think you’re fuckin worth it? You’re fuckin incredible. You’re the only good left in this fuckin world, Gwen! I’ve been fighting this for so fuckin long. Do you realize that? I imagine what my life would be like if we didn’t rescue you from those raiders. If you didn’t give me this fucking scar? He gestured to the small dent on his eyebrow, the end result of you throwing a knife at his face 3 years ago. My life wouldn’t fuckin matter Gwen. I wouldn’t care if I lived another day. There was nothing left for me to fuckin live for. Then you came along, you showed up and fuckin flipped my goddamn world upside down. I hate you for it, you know that? I hate you for it because I fucking care so much—if something were to happen to you? I’m putting it all out on the fuckin table, baby. I’ve got nothing left to fuckin lose. You’re right, we live in a fucked up world. Hell, we could die tomorrow for all we know. Y’know what I’m not gonna do? I’m not gonna hide. I ain’t gonna run. I’m right fuckin here and I will wait for as long as I have to, I will wait for you.”

The weight of Joel’s desperate confession, knocked the wind straight out of you. It felt like he was depleting all the air from your lungs. Your heart was pounding against your chest, your eyes were wide and the tears that threatened to spill over, finally came. He was cupping your face in his hands before you even had the chance to wipe them away yourself.

“Joel, I can’t fucking afford to lose you. I can’t.” Your words came out in a choked out sob.

“Shh. Shh, ‘darlin. I’m right here. I ain’t goin anywhere. You’re not gonna lose me alright? I’m right here. It’s gonna take a hell of a lot to take me out anyway. I’d give ‘em hell first.” He was speaking so gently to you now. His thumbs were vigorously wiping away your tears and you finally gave in, falling into his chest as you clutched his shirt between your fists like your life depended on it. You were exhausted from fighting how you felt about this man. Your walls were crumbling down around you, while Joel was right there to hold you together. When your knees finally gave out, he scooped you up into his arms so you didn’t have to stand anymore. He held you so fucking close to him in those moments and you let it all happen; you were done fighting.

________

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Joel sat together in comfortable silence. So much had happened, so much was said and yet, you were both content just being in each other's presence. Tess had made it home safely sometime in the middle of the night. She was too exhausted to even notice you and Joel passed out on the couch together. He had draped the thick quilt over both of you, you had your calves comfortably resting in his lap and his fingers had been rubbing soothing circles into your skin before he had drifted off, not letting you go. Even if on the off chance she had noticed, she was too exhausted to care.

_________________

For the rest of the brutal winter, Joel made it his mission to continue training you. You spent many hours out in the woods together. Practicing your shooting, combat skills, and everything in between. Tess had even accompanied you on a few occasions. She taught you the dirty ways to win a fight, especially against a man. This was the first time you felt that she was viewing you as her equal.You appreciated her knowledge more than she would ever realize, and you came to find out that Tess was pretty fucking funny when she wanted to be. Everything was falling into place the way he should be. By spring, you were ready and adequately prepared to get in on the action, finally.

Spring brought new beginnings. With these new beginnings, came new challenges. The Boston QZ was arresting, prosecuting, and executing residents on the daily. Anyone that was caught breaking a rule, attempting to escape, committing treason, or acts of violence, were publicly executed every morning. You weren’t just dumping the infected dead anymore, you were dumping familiar faces into the deep pits. Times were getting tough and with every body you dumped, another new resident would come through the gates. It would only be a matter of time before Joel would get thrown in lock up, or worse. He had a few FEDRA soldiers wrapped around his finger but how long was that really going to last? On-top of everything, there were more firefly attacks. With hushed whispers of a possible overthrowing of the fascist pieces of shit that swore to protect their residents, and were murdering them instead. The QZ was never safe to begin with but now, it was turning into an active war-zone. Joel had made the decision that the three of you needed to get the hell out of dodge.

There were a few other smugglers that had the same idea as you. Joel agreed that having a larger group would increase the chances of escaping. More bodies = more lookouts = higher chance of survival. At least, that’s how he explained it. You had agreed to meet with the rest of the group at the rendezvous point: the abandoned QZ bookstore. It had enough cover in case something were to go wrong, and you always had to expect the worst.

“ ‘Alright, sundown we head out. If things get sketchy, we run. No turning back.” Joel had said hours before the escape plan would ensue. As he was talking, he was looking right at you. He was always looking at you.

Evening came quickly and you found yourself packing the essentials from your room and taking one last look of what was your home for 3 years. It was bittersweet, but there was no time for emotions, you had to get out fast. Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you took one look at your barren bed and closed the door behind you. Little did you know, this would not be your last time in the apartment.

Joel and Tess had been loading up their guns at the kitchen table when you had walked in, your gun and knife tucked securely in their holster. When Joel had sensed your presence, he looked up for a moment and gave you a reassuring nod. His eyes told you that everything was going to end up being okay, and you believed him.

The three of you headed out of the apartment and onto the streets, quietly. Joel in front, you in the middle and Tess behind you. The abandoned bookstore was only about a 10 minute walk. It was no stroll, however. You still needed to be on high alert. The three of you moved silently through the shadows of the alleyways, backing yourself into a tight corner when a FEDRA truck would drive by with foot soldiers.

You had made it to your destination without getting caught. Joel had quietly pushed open the door with his shoulder, his gun was drawn and he looked around the expanse of the building, his eyes searching for any moment and when he deemed it safe, he ushered you and Tess inside, closing the door behind them. The bookstore was nearly destroyed. There were bookcases knocked off, shattered glass, books strewn about. Like most of the buildings, nature had begun to take over once more. There was moss throughout and long winding vines stretching up towards the half collapsing roof. You had your gun drawn now but couldn’t help but walk through the wreckage, glancing at what books were left along a mostly untouched shelf.

Minutes had gone by and there was no sign of the rest of the group's arrival. Something was wrong. You could all sense it and Tess was the first to speak up.

“Joel, something doesn’t feel right. Something’s off. They should have been here already someone probably fuckin set us up.”

Joel had kicked at a piece of rotten wood on the floor then, muttering under his breath.

“We’ll give it another minute and if they don’t show up, we’ll book it, alright?”

Something was definitely very off.

Another minute had passed and no sign of the group’s arrival.

“Alright, Joel we gave it another minute and now—”

Tess was cut off by the sound of debris crunching under heavy padded boots and Joel was already raising his gun from the intrusion. He looked to his left then, where you were standing, gun drawn and he motioned for you to get behind the bookcase.

“Gwen.” He hissed. “Get down. Get behind the bookcase, NOW.” His tone was urgent, but his eyes were focused on where the sound had come from. You ducked behind the bookcase then, crouching down with your gun held steadily at your chest, your finger on the trigger and then you heard familiar voices. The unfriendly kind. Robert’s fuckin henchmen.

“Joel, Tess.” The man had paused then. They had 6 men with them, heavily armed. “Where’s that pretty little thing you've been hiding away, Miller? What’s her name again?”

He snapped his fingers, making it seem like he couldn’t remember your name.

“Ah, Gwendolyn! That’s it. She’not hanging around with your sleazy ass anymore?”

“It’s Gwen.” You and Joel had simultaneously whispered out.

“What was that?” The man mused. “Gwen. Right, got it.” He took a step to the left, Joel’s eyes and gun followed him.

“So, she ain’t here then? Not hiding in the shadows waiting to snipe us out? Gwen, sweetheart, you hiding from us?” He sing-songed. It sent bile rising up your throat and your finger hovered over the trigger once more.

“She ain’t here. What the hell are you doin out here, James?” Joel spoke calmly, his gun still trained on him, watching him closely.

“Oh? She’s not. Well, ain’t that a shame.” He kicked over the standing bookcase that was a few feet from where you were hiding. The crashing sound nearly made Joel flinch and you had sucked in a shaky, low breath.

“Y’know Miller, it’s funny you’d ask. We caught wind that you wanted to get the hell out of dodge. Thought to myself, Joel Miller? On the run? There’s no way. Then one of your so-called “friends” rats you out. Say’s that you’re meeting up here tonight, and you’re leaving the QZ.” He kicked a book on the floor then and it landed with a thud, right in front of you.

“Can you imagine the look on Robert's face when we told him that you were ditchin?” He chuckled.

“I could give less of a fuck what Robert had to say about it.” Joel was quick to respond back.

“Course you could give less of a fuck, Miller. You thought you could just slip on out of here without him knowing? Never took you to be a fool. So here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna put the guns down. We don’t wanna fight. You’re gonna give us the pills that you owe us and we’ll go our separate ways.”

“If we don’t?”

James smirked then, looking over at the fellow smuggler. “We kill you both and take the girl. I know she’s hiding here somewhere, Miller. You couldn’t protect her forever. Robert’s been askin about her. He’d be pretty pleased if we showed up with the pills and her. Would definitely brighten his day.”

“I ain’t got any pills on me James. My guy got thrown in lock up and they’re probably gonna kill him tomorrow. You go back and tell Robert that he’s gonna have to find someone else.”

“Damn, you don’t have anything on you Miller? The hell happened? You’ve gone soft or somethin?” He had taken a step closer to the still-standing bookcase and Joel followed, he already had sweat beading on his forehead from the intensity of the situation, his blood was pounding in his ears.

“I don’t have shit on me James. We haven’t made a run in fuckin weeks cause of FEDRA. Look, I can offer you some of our supplies and ammo but that’s about it.”

You had slowly moved from your crouched position. From your angle, you’d have a good chance at taking one of his men out, but you’d have to be quick about it. It was risky, but you knew that if you didn’t at least try, the three of you were not going to make it out of there alive. Now was your chance to prove just how lethal you could be.

James sighed then. “You really never make this easy, huh? Well Joel, Tess, it’s been nice knowing ya—”

He was cut off by a gunshot, your gun. You had peeked around the side of the bookcase, aiming your gun at the one man that was closest to Tess. You breathed in, exhaled out, remembering Joel’s instructions as you released the trigger—BANG. The sound of the man dropping with a sickening thud was enough to have everyone turn in the direction of the gunshot.

“You’re a fuckin liar Miller and you’re gonna die for it—” more gunshots echoed and the chaos ensued.

Tess had taken out one man before she crouched behind a bookcase further from you. Bullets were flying everywhere, and now all three of you were hiding in opposite areas of the building. Popping up to shoot before crouching back down. You could only hide for so long.

You peeked around the corner once more, taking aim at one of the men once more, having a good shot at his leg. Before you could pull the trigger, you were harshly yanked back by your hair, the gun was ripped out of your grasp and thrown on the floor before you were slammed into the mossy pavement. You could faintly hear Joel yell for you through the ringing in your ears. He couldn’t reach you from where he was crouched. He couldn’t protect you. He was helpless.

You could feel blood trickling down your forehead, a kick to your gut from the heel of James boot sent you gasping for air, squeezing your eyes shut from the intense pain that knocked into you. Another kick and you were seeing stars. Surely, you’d have some angry bruises blooming on your skin.

“Fuckin knew you were here the entire time bitch.” He spat, yanking you up once more by your hair. “Think you’re so clever huh? What’re you gonna do now, sweetheart. Joel can’t fuckin save you.”

He had thrown you down to the pavement once more before he was on top of you, holding you down with his weight while you screamed and fought back with everything you had left in you. Your screams shattered Joel to the core, and he was left seeing only red behind his eyes.

In your fight for survival, you had grasped the hilt of your blade from your holster and yanked it out, in the process you had sliced James arm and sent him falling back, giving you the leverage you needed to get yourself up. You threw yourself onto him, jabbing your blade into his chest with a yell of pure rage. You heard his groans of agony as you twisted the blade deeper. Watching the life drain from his violent eyes before you yanked the blade from his chest and fell back against the pavement. In your rush of adrenaline, you hadn’t realized that he had his knife out and it was now pierced through your abdomen. White hot pain shot through your nerves as you took harsh breaths, crying out in agony from the pain you were feeling as you grasped the hilt of the blade lodged in your flesh.

Tess had seen you go down first and she shot up from her crouched position, taking aim at the last of Robert’s men, pulled the trigger and shot him in the head, between his eyes. She didn’t even wait to see him drop before she was rushing over to you. When she saw Jame’s blade sticking out of your gut, the blood pooling around the wound, she yelled.

“Joel.”

“JOEL!”

She was crouched beside you now grabbing your hand so you couldn’t pull the blade out.

Joel had rushed over to you then, pushing over what was left of the bookcase and when he found you laying on the concrete, gasping and crying out, and Tess holding your hand, he had images of Sarah. The blood pooling around her shirt, her gasps and cries—

“No. No. No. NO!”

He yelled, dropping to his knees beside you

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck. You’re okay Gwen. You’re okay baby we’re gonna get you out of here, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here!”

You were struggling to breathe and both Joel and Tess’s voices sounded fuzzy and far away. You only had a matter of time before it would be too late.

“Tess, help me! We have to get her up!”

He was already reaching for you then, wrapping his arm around your shoulder so he could lift you up. The movement caused the blade to shift and it sent another wave of pain as you cried out.

“I know baby I know. I have to get you up! I have to! Look at me baby, look at me! I’ve got you okay? I have to get you up!”

He brought your arm around his shoulder then before he hoisted you up into his arms, while Tess ripped off her jacket so she could apply pressure to your wound, there was so much blood already.

Joel was in a fury as he held you against his chest and let Tess lead the way out of the building as he ran like hell, each step he took caused you more pain and your eyes were barely open now, as you struggled to hold on.

“Look at me baby! Don’t close your eyes! Keep looking at me! I’m right here—I’m right here please please hold on baby! Please!” He was desperately pleading with you then as he quickened his pace.

“Baby I got you, I got you please please stay with me, Gwen! Stay with me!” His tone became more desperate, more raw as your eyes had fluttered shut by the time they had reached the apartment.

His jacket was now soaked in your blood as he kicked the apartment door open, Tess had rushed to the table, knocking everything off it as he gently laid you down on the surface.

“Get me the fuckin alcohol and first aid kit! Hurry, Tess!”

He worked fast at applying pressure to your wound, his hands were wet with your blood and he was fighting back his tears. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. “It’s going to be okay baby, I promise! I’m going to fix you right up! Open your eyes, Gwen! Please!” He applied more pressure to slow down the bleeding and you shot up, grabbing his hand and squeezed down hard as you screamed.

“I know baby I know, stay with me! I can’t take it out yet baby I’m sorry! I’ll make the pain go away, I promise! I’ll make it go away!” He watched as you fell back against the table once more just as Tess came back with the bottle of rubbing alcohol and the first aid kit and a few towels to use to pressurize the wound.

“Tess I need you to fucking hold her down okay? She’s gonna move when I take this out and then you get those towels on her right after, okay?!”

Tess had nodded, she was far calmer than Joel in those moments and thank god, because if she wasn’t, there’s no way he was gonna get through this.

“Okay baby I’m going to take it out now okay? It’s going to hurt for a minute but you gotta trust me! Count with me, 1-2-3!—” he had quickly yanked the blade from your abdomen then. The scream you let out would forever haunt his dreams as Tess held you down, you could make out her face slightly through your pain and deliria. Her eyes showed fear, fear that you could die on this table tonight.

Joel had tossed the blade to the side then as he grabbed the towels and pressed them down hard onto your abdomen, Tess took over then and he held your face in his bloodstained hands. He was covered in your blood and it made him feel sick. “Baby, baby. Hey, baby. Open your eyes dammit, please. Your eyes are so beautiful, Gwen. Please let me see them again.” He stroked your cheekbones gently, tears running down his face. “We’re gonna fix you right up. Gonna stop the bleeding and stitch you up, okay?” He had kissed you then, for the first time. He kissed you with tears wetting his cheeks, leaving salty streaks in their wake. He could taste the blood on your lips from the gash on your head, but he kissed you as if he could breathe life back into you from his lips alone.

“Joel if we can’t slow down the bleeding—”

“Don’t fuckin talk like that Tess! Don’t. She’s going to be okay, we're gonna fix her up. We’re gonna save her! She can’t fuckin die like this dammit. She can’t!”

With the strength that you had left in you, you slowly reached your hand up brushing your fingers against his face, your touch was there and gone as fast as it came. His face fell when your arm dropped to the side of the table, your fingers outstretched and unmoving.

“No. No. No. You are not dying like this dammit! Don’t fuckin leave me, please!”

He moved the blood soaked towels off of your wound and onto the floor. The bleeding had stopped enough for him to stitch you up, but he had to be fast.

“Tess, get me the needle and thread!”

He wiped his hands off quickly then as Tess grabbed the needle and thread, they didn’t have a lighter to sterilize it but there was no time to think about those things.

“I need you to hold her hand and talk to her, okay? Just fucking talk to her and tell her that everything is going to be okay!”

“Joel—”

“No Tess, fucking do it, please!”

She grabbed your hand then, giving it a squeeze while Joel had started to stitch your wound up, she used her free hand to feel for your pulse then. It was there, but it was faint. You were barely just holding on. She had crouched down then brushing some hair from your face gently, seeing the matted blood from the gash on your head. She leaned down and whispered. “Hey, I know you love him, Gwen. So please, do us both a favor and don’t die tonight. He needs you. I know he does. You don’t deserve to go out like this. You’re gonna be okay. You’re a fighter, remember? Always have been”

Joel had started to stitch you up then, he was no expert but he worked fast despite the horrors that he was facing in his mind. This situation was all too similar to what he went through with losing Sarah. Except, this time he actually had a chance to save you, and he would be damned if he didn’t try.

You had faintly squeezed Tess’s hand, you heard what she said, part of it, and you were going to fight like hell.

When Joel had finished stitching you up, he looked up at your face to see if there were any signs that you were still there. He grabbed the rubbing alcohol and applied it around the wound before he ripped open a thing of 17 year old gauze and placed it down on top of the wound along with a bandage. Finally, he grabbed the bottle of penicillin. If the blood loss didn’t take you out, infection certainly would. He injected the needle into the vein in your arm then and looked at Tess before he sunk back into the chair with his face in his hands.

“Joel. Hey, Joel. She’s breathing. She squeezed my hand. I think she might have heard me.”

He looked up at her then, feeling exhausted and defeated but he willed himself to stand and be by your side once more. He pulled the chair back before he sat down, grabbing your outstretched hand and brought it up to his face. He pressed a soft kiss to the outside of your palm, interlocking his fingers with yours and squeezed. It was a gentle reminder to you that he meant it when he said he wasn’t going anywhere. He would be right there for you, always.

Tess hadn’t let go of your hand either, she used her free hand to grab the rubbing alcohol and a gauze pad. He watched in disbelief as she poured the liquid onto the gauze and gently dabbed it on the gash along your head and wiped the matted blood away.

Joel and Tess sat there with you till you showed early signs of recovery, your chest was beginning to rise and fall at a normal rate. Your breathing was still faint but it was there and sure beacon that you weren’t done yet.

Joel had gently lifted your body from the table, bringing you over to the couch and set you down before he draped the blanket across you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head, closing his eyes for a moment before he had pulled back.

Tess was already disposing of the bloodied towels and your shirt. The table looked like a crime scene, your blood was everywhere and when Joel came to help, she stopped him then.

“Hey, it’s okay. I got this, really. Go and be with her. She needs you the most right now.”

He reluctantly agreed, giving Tess a slight nod before he walked over to the couch and slowly sank down, he lifted your head gently so you could rest it on his lap, his movements were extremely slow and gentle as he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. He noticed your dried blood all over his hands still, a painful reminder of what had happened.

______

Tess had joined him then, she sat across from him on the coffee table. Her hands were stained with your blood as well. Both parties were silent then, replaying what had happened in their minds before Tess had finally spoke, breaking the silence.

“Y’know, I should have never underestimated her. She took that first shot with zero hesitation.”

He slowly looked over at her then, brushing his knuckles across your forehead gently.

“I should have been there to save her, Tess. I wasn’t. I failed her.”

“Joel, no. You didn’t fail her. You couldn’t control this. Neither of us could. She fought like hell.”

He was too exhausted to argue and in a way, he knew Tess was right. He didn’t fail you. He taught you well. You protected them with that first shot. You knew that James was going to kill them if you waited any longer. So you took that risk, even if it meant you would get hurt. You didn’t care, your instincts kicked in and you went with it, guns blazing and fire in your heart.

“I understand now. I didn’t before, but I understand why you care about her so much, Joel.”

“Tess—”

“No, just listen to me alright? Let me say this. You need to hear it. I knew from the beginning that you saw something special in her. I didn’t understand why. I mean hell, she threw a knife at you man and you decided, hey, let’s take her in. She tried to kill me but we can’t just leave her out here like this. Then, I saw the way you would look at her. It wasn’t noticeable at first and half the time I thought I was imagining it. Then I’d catch you at random moments, she’d walk through that door and I’d see that smile. It only comes out when she’s around. You only call her doll. You’ve never called me that and I just started to notice all the little things. I was jealous, Joel. I was because all I had ever wanted was for you to look at me that way. Then, I thought I had you when we were at Bill and Frank’s. For a split second, I selfishly thought you would have forgotten about her. How silly of me, right? She’s hard to forget.”

“Tess, why are you tellin me all of this?”

She sighed then, rubbing her palms along her torn jeans before she looked at him, with a soft, knowing smile.

“Because I’m letting you go, Joel.”

He frowned slightly then as he looked at her. He wasn’t expecting her to be like this, certainly not now. Tess still meant something to him. She always would, but he loved her in a different way. The way he felt for you was on a whole other spiritual plane that even he himself couldn't fully explain.

“I’m letting you go because you were never mine in the first place. Not really. You were always hers. It just took me a while to realize it.”

Joel had reached for her hand then, placing his over hers and gave it a squeeze. He had fresh tears threatening to spill over then.

“I’m sorry I could never love you the way that you deserved.”

She placed her other hand over his then, rubbing her thumb against his knuckles gently.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that Joel. Just love her the way that she deserves, okay?”

He nodded then as he glanced down at your sleeping form. You weren’t out of the woods just yet, but with Joel by your side, and Tess close by, you had something to hold onto and live for.

“I will, Tess. I promise you I will.”

CHAPTER 10:

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spooky-donut-ghost-house · 3 months

Note

Found it interesting that both these shows have basically the same starting point (and their own flaws)

This is so true omg

Especially given the fact there are some extremely jarring writing issues in SU such as the treatment of Steven's PTSD and everyone basically ignoring his obvious signs of mental illness to redeeming the genocidal space Nazis and also defeating the main big bad by having Steven just say "no u"

Obviously SU doesn't have as many jarring writing mistakes as HH and HB but there are a lot of similarities such as art style inconsistencies and as well as a common theme of an anti black racism with the treatment of Bismuth in her first episode and the cut character Concrete and not to mention the use of Pink Diamond having a human zoo which were very real things that existed back in the day and also having Pearl be completely in love with who is effectively her owner (don't even get me started on Pearl's treatment of both Steven and Connie) and also the fact that nobody called CPS on Greg for raising his son in a fucking van and MUCH more

Not to mention SU and HH/HB both have toxic fandoms

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thegoblinboy · 10 months

Text

The Kings Hostage Part Two

He was, wasn't he? Steve Harrington was currently holding Eddie Munson hostage against this wall in a shitty bathroom in an even shittier hospital. Steve's hand was pressed tightly against his mouth and nose, close enough to suffocate Eddie a little as he fights to breath normally. Even with the overwhelming scent of hand sanitizer and rubbing alcohol burning the edges of his nose hair off.

A moment passes as Eddie stays frozen in his spot, hands up in the air in an attempt to show the other that he wasn't a threat. He wasn't sure if it was working, but what he was sure of was the fact that Steve Harrington was currently stoned off his gourd. His eyes were way to wide to be the look of a sober mans, they were also extremely glossy. The glossiest he has ever seen, and he's witnessed a lot of men going on powerful trips in his lifetime. Not even his father had that distanced look when he was under the influence which made this whole situation even more nerve wracking. He has never dealt with any kind of drug that was this strong.

Steve's eyes blink rapidly, having a very long delayed reaction as he finally processes that Eddie was safe. He nods his head, mumbling under his breath before something seems to click. "Oh fuck!" he curses as he stumbles back a little. Hand moving up to his hair, obviously in distress over something as he stares down at the floor. Eddie was too nervous to ask the other what he was freaking out over. He doesn't seem to have to as the other nearly flops over.

Eddie moves as quickly as he can, helping the other slide down to the floor. Back hitting the door of a stall, that was not a very sturdy surface to slide down as it pushed back from Harringtons weight. Nearly causing him to fall backwards and crack his head open on the edge of the toilet seat. "Robin... need Robin. Fuck need to find her before the Russians. Can't let them torture her like me." the others mumbling so bad that Eddie barely understands what he's saying. What he did catch though seemed to be ramblings of a mad man.

"What?" Eddie asks feeling like he was out of the loop of something. Eyes carefully watching the others every move. Not letting one single twitch go past his sight, just in case the other decided that their momentary truce was over.

And fuck. Eddies heart breaks a little when he watches Steve, who was younger than him. Still barely an adult, looks up at him with eyes filled with tears. There was something terribly wrong happening, if Steve truly believes that something horrible was happening to him and his friend. There was no way a simple mall fire could cause so much pain and paranoia in someone who's barely nineteen years old. Slight puzzle pieces seem to click into place.

What happened to Steve Harrington that he was apparently showcasing signs of PTSD? Why was he currently higher than any drug Eddie has ever encountered? Most of which were some form of drug that the hospital had, sometimes stronger with the mix of street drugs. His gut was telling him something was off about all of this.

"My best friend... Best Friend in the entire world. Robin. Need to find her. Can't let her be by herself. She must be so scared." He sniffles rubbing his eyes a bit. As if he was unable to control his emotions as if everything that was once bottled was breaking through.

What shocked Eddie was the fact that the guy seemed to genuinely care more about someone else's well-being than his own. Considering the fact the guy was currently sitting bear ass on the floor. More specifically the men's bathroom floor and god only knows what diseases are forming down there.

"And oh god. Dusty Buns and America." Steves eyes somehow grow even wider, and Eddie can't help but be reminded of a deer. Bambi to be specific. Though he's sure he was going to need a translator soon because not one thing the other was saying was making sense.

Their time seems to be up as Eddie hears the security guard coming back down the hallway. Boots echoing loudly, along with his radio constantly making random noises. And oh fuck, Harrington is starting to shake. Face going white as he starts to ramble out words. Moving and trying to hide in the stall, pulling Eddie along with him. How the other could stand up that quickly was beyond him. Nor did he know the answer to why Steve Harrington pulled him in close in a cramped-up stall.

Chest to chest as Eddie stumbles forward and his hands land on the wall behind Steve to keep his balance. Afraid that he was going to accidentally tackle the guy in whatever messed up world he was currently in. Eddies nose brushes up against the others jaw as Steve looks in the direction of the door. Hands shaking as they grip onto Eddie's 'Diary of a Madman' shirt. Wrinkling the clothing together making Eddie look just as disheveled as Steve.

He's sure that both of their hearts were racing pretty bad, he does know that they were both breathing offlay loud. Eddie could smell the others after shave, even though he could see a few stray hairs on the others chin from where he stood. He snaps back to when he hears the door handle of the bathroom Shangle a bit. He thinks quickly as he shoves himself off the wall, forcefully pulling himself from Steve who had a reasonably tight grip on him.

Eddie doesn't know why he does it. But it feels right. Moving his hands back up he lays them on either side of Steves face. Trying to get him to focus. It was such an intimate thing to do but he doesn't care. He needs the other to focus on him. With whatever was in his system and the guard trying to open the door Steve was barley keeping any focus. Eyes moving wildly, and the other was clearly running off from emotion not logic.

He's careful not to hurt the other with his rings simply cupping both sides of the others face watching the way he turns into Jello under the contact. Eyes still blown and hazy as he's forces to look at listen to Eddie. "Listen, I'll handle this. Why don't you get changed and I'll handle the guard hm? Think you can handle that big boy?" He keeps a cavity inducing smile on as he ignores the door for a second. Keeping his words hushed and calm as he makes sure the other understands what was going on before he even thought of leaving the other out of his sight for a second. When there is some form of confirmation from the other, he gently pats the others face. Careful to not hit any cut or bruise.

He pulls back a moment later, moving and picking the clothes up and giving them to Steve. Who presses them against his chest as his eyes never leave Eddie, not even to glance at the door when keys are heard from the other side. Eddie is quick to pull a cigarette out, lighting it as he takes a puff of it as he unlocks the door before the guard could come in. It's been a while since he's needed to act, but he has gotten in trouble numerous times to know how this should go.

He creaks the door open, pretending to hide the cigarette behind his back. Careful not to catch it on his shirt. He puts a more fake smile on his face compared to the one he gave Steve. Eyes meeting a pair of suspicious blue, glancing over Eddies shoulder in an attempt to see if Steve was with him.

"Sir, you can't lock the bathroom door." His voice is stern. Though Eddie can't take him seriously. He was no Jim Hopper. He smiles tightly about to explain when the other finally gets a sniff of his cigarette. "And you can't smoke on hospital grounds." Eyes pinched together as he starts to work to his walkie talkie. Probably to report it. Before he can Eddie begins to ramble out an explanation.

"I'm sorry, It's just.. I didn't want to leave to far from the waiting room. Didn't even think about the no smoking rule, I'll put it out right now. Promise." He does a thing with his fingers, pretending to cross his heart with his free hand. Now not bothering to hide the cigarette. The guard hesitates, sighing after a moment as he nods his head in understanding,

"Alright, don't let it happen again. It has been a long night, and I'll let it slide." He moves stepping back from the door before asking, "Did you possibly see a patient run by? In a blue gown, brown hair and has his face is pretty much dented in?"

Eddie pushes out his lip out a bit, pretending to be in thought as he shakes his head no. "No, sorry. Wish I could help." he smiles. Before doing something awkward with his hand before they both just awkwardly smile at each other before Eddie closes the door. Waiting for the other to leave before locking it again.

Sighing in relief, he moves to see how Steve was getting along. He really doesn't understand how he got himself into his mess but here he was, standing in front of the stall he left Steve in watching him fight to get a pair of shorts on. That were apparently to tight to on him. Though the gown had been forgotten, laying on the ground as Steve fights with his clothes. Eddie pinches his nose with a groan as he watches how ridicoulous the other looked.

"You know what, who needs pants."

This probably has one more part left to it, I just enjoy the format of writing it into parts and posting when finished. Though the entire thing will be put up on ao3 possibly.

#steve harrington in the hospital #hes so freaked out #poor eddie doesn't know whats happening #steve harrington #steve x eddie #bxb #steveharrington #eddie stranger things #steve and eddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steveddie

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sg-x00-airgetlam · 1 year

Text

Disabled Trans Girl Needs Help Again (Stuck in a Fascist State Edition)

Unfortunately, after several months, I haven't been able to find a job I'm capable of working here. I live in Montana which you might have seen in the news recently for silencing our trans rep Zooey Zephyr, throwing her supporters out of the gallery with riot police, and then passing/signing one of the most transphobic bills into law. It's not quite Florida death penalty stuff, but it's about on par with the horrible Missouri one. Healthcare ban for Trans Youth, taking away insurance coverage, etc.

It's legal to discriminate here in hiring etc for being trans, and my state medicaid coverage is going to stop paying for my hrt later this year. I'm pretty scared of even my city, which was relatively left leaning, becoming more and more hateful. There have been shooting threats made against local queer events even. Also, my housing situation is going to become extremely unstable after July. Bozeman has possibly the single worst housing market in the country.

After a lot of blood tests and scans etc trying to figure out the cause of my worsening chronic fatigue, pain, and digestive issues, my doctor is diagnosing me with fibromyalgia. I'm in constant pain, and I spend a lot of my time in bed each day because I can't even focus on my computer etc with it sometimes. That combined with autism/ptsd is making my life in a city with very little in the way of social resources extremely hard. I am trying to get approved for disability, but it is taking forever.

Ideally, I would like to somehow leave this state and go somewhere more trans friendly. Last time I asked for help, I was able to replace my dead car battery, so I'm able to actually drive now. However, the voltage regulator on my alternator is apparently broken. I'm unsure how soon that will become a bigger issue.

In terms of more immediate problems, I've run out of food again, and I'll need to get more catfood and litter soon. Anything anyone can offer helps a lot.

I can receive payments on my venmo, @ Talon-Battle. (The name should show up as Claire Battle).

Here are some pictures of my cat.

Thank you for reading/reblogging/helping me!

#mutual aid

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pocket-jack · 5 months

Text

Ok... We all have menstrual cramps... (Everyone with something to menstruate, at least...). So I present to you... KIDLAWLU crumps synchronized! Not menstrual... But crumps.

•Kid usually just have phantom pains in his chopped off arm. His shoulder also hurts because he wears heavy metal (ha, zing ✨). Sometimes it's just a little ache that annoys him, and sometimes he just feels himself returning to the day when he was laying on the ground feelings his freaking hand got cut off, suffering from extreme pain, panic attack and adrenaline boost.

He doesn't have any panic attacks know, but that's episodes are enough to bring him on Law's knees with a really ashamed begging to get the pain away. Then he would sit and wait until the painkiller starts kicking in, receiving massage from Luffy.

•Law is a guy who suffers from migraines sometimes. It was caused by a lot of stress and head traumas, luckily he knows how to deal with those. Yet sometimes he have to lay completely still in a fully dark and silent room with earplugs on, only to not feel a piercing pain.

It's a miracle, but Luffy and Kid starts to play a wonderful game of pantomime everytime, when Law starts to go paler with each moment and throwing up on the special basket near the bed. They tend to lay with him, and warm him up in attempt to put him to sleep. It's a small thing, but it helps to go through mostly all of the migraine attack.

•Sometimes Luffy just... Feels his scar ache. It might be just a little ache, but sometimes he feels himself returning to the Marineford. He usually get angry or frustrated with what seems to be no reason, but Kid understand him. Maybe it's just PTSD symptoms they going through together, but they're always understand what the other needs.

But unlike Kid Luffy just has it hard. Panic attack is a normal thing for him. Raising heartbeat, problems with breathing, head spins, and there's a nauseating feeling that someone or he is in danger. And he just walks around the perimeter to try to find something to beat the frustration in. And when he just can't he usually screams, or break staff or slams himself against the wall out of pure helplessness.

Kid's are there just letting him hit whatever he wants, but when the deal comes to hitting himself, he usually stops Luffy. If Kid's not suffering from phantom pains himself, he calls Luffy to the place where they can spar and kick their frustration out. Usually it helps to ease the pain, because it's more of psychological torture then the real one. Luffy needs a distraction and he can be distracted really quickly. Then they go to some places where they can play games or do the fun activities together, because Luffy gets so happy, when he sees something exciting to play.

When Kid is not feeling himself well, they just sit together in awkward silence, because each of them is too proudful to ask for help. Yet Kid just holds him tight, for Luffy to not run away. Usually Law just comes around with the painkillers for Kid and some fidget toys for Luffy. He could give him a medicine, but Luffy just too easy to stop from panic attacks to do so.

•Like the best boyfriends ever, they can have everything at the same time. And that's when they all just go quite for some time. Law knows the sign language, so he usually just use it's lazy form to talk. Luffy knows the sign language a little bit, because he was dating Law before Kid and therefore had some time to learn. Yet it's imperfect so he usually draws a really poor drawing to make Law and Kid smile. Kid doesn't know the sign language, and he tries, showing pantomimes. Usually he just opens his mouth in hopes that his boyfriends know how to read his lips. They don't. They usually end up laughing, hurting poor Law's head more, but then just stop to hug him as an apology. Law usually have emergency pack ready for their bad days: heating pad and painkillers for Kid, migraine pills, dark glasses and earplugs for Law and drawing kit and puzzles for Luffy. It's a miracle, that they can exist together in piece and even laugh. Evil love, huh?

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar law #eustass kid #kidlawlu #lawlu #kidlaw #kidlu

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isfjmel-phleg · 13 days

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After my presentation of the Secret Garden and CEN paper, someone in the audience asked about applying the lens of CEN to other children's book from the same era. I thought about it afterward, and the best example that came to mind was Anne of Green Gables.

Anne Shirley, before her arrival at Green Gables, has experienced CEN. It has played out in a much different way for her than it does for Mary and Colin in TSG, due to differences in social class, but the principle has been the same. As an orphan raised in homes that viewed her as an inconvenience and a sort of unpaid servant, she has never had an adult in her life who prioritized her emotional well-being, who took the time to be kind to her, to listen to her, to teach her how to function in the world beyond basic survival. She is aware that no one wants her after her parents' death, and she is made to feel guilty by her caretakers for having the audacity to exist and need to be "brought up by hand." It's difficult for Anne to even talk about these experiences when Marilla asks her. She's relieved to get relating them over with, because "Evidently she did not like talking about her experiences in a world that had not wanted her."

And then there's this exchange:

“Were those women—Mrs. Thomas and Mrs. Hammond—good to you?” asked Marilla, looking at Anne out of the corner of her eye. “O-o-o-h,” faltered Anne. Her sensitive little face suddenly flushed scarlet and embarrassment sat on her brow. “Oh, they meant to be—I know they meant to be just as good and kind as possible. And when people mean to be good to you, you don’t mind very much when they’re not quite—always. They had a good deal to worry them, you know. It’s a very trying to have a drunken husband, you see; and it must be very trying to have twins three times in succession, don’t you think? But I feel sure they meant to be good to me.”

Anne has clearly been mistreated, but she's describing--and pointedly not describing--suggests less of aggression and physical harm and more of something missing, an emptiness, a lack of love--CEN. Likewise, she herself exhibits some signs that can be associated with this type of maltreatment. Difficulty with emotional regulation, attachment problems, extreme sensitivity to rejection, negativity toward herself, excessively immersing herself in imagination (a mild dissociative tendency), anxiety around social situations (regarding how to behave correctly and whether people will like her), etc.

And in a way, the entire first book of the series deals with how she finds healing from her past of CEN, through gaining the love and acceptance of her new family, of friends, of an entire community.

From what little I know of L. M. Montgomery's life, CEN was likely a factor in her own upbringing, and it repeatedly features in her novels (The Blue Castle and Jane of Lantern Hill, for instance, in particular feature heroines who have experienced CEN) with poignancy. Montgomery paints moving portraits of how badly children can be scarred by a lack of love and affirmation.

Anyway, situating Anne's backstory as rooted in CEN helped me put my finger on one of the reasons that I felt that the recent series Anne With an E--at least the first season, which is all I've seen--misunderstood the nature of Anne's past. In this version, we see flashbacks to Anne's past, in which she is being viciously bullied by other children for her talkativeness and imagination. They even go so far as to stuff a mouse into her mouth, and the show suggests that Anne has PTSD as a result of this kind of treatment.

And yeah, Anne's childhood in the book isn't great and clearly has hurt her deeply, but this interpretation felt off to me. What Anne has to say--and not say--about her past in the book suggests not that she was targeted as an object of others' aggression but that she was disregarded. No one was giving her a second thought. That's not as dramatic and shocking as vicious bullying, but it's another, more subtle, insidious kind of maltreatment, just as hurtful in its way but harder to pin down. It's easy to portray a quick, sensational scene of our protagonist being obviously, overtly, grandiosely mistreated, but how do you show the gradual piling up of years' and years' of being treated like you don't matter? All the tiny incidents that chip away at one's sense of self-worth? The building of a worldview in which you must earn love and acceptance but somehow you can never manage it and of course it's your own fault?

And I'm reminded how recent adaptations and retellings of TSG shift the narrative toward grief, which is easy to dramatize, big and impressive and full of obvious pathos. It's an easy way out of depicting a subtler kind of suffering, and the same way, Anne With an E replaces Anne's CEN with bullying and PTSD. There is a place for such stories, but Anne's isn't one of them. It's almost as if there's an inability to understand or a reluctance to depict any kind of suffering that isn't big and grand and shocking. There are many ways that people can be deeply hurt, and it doesn't always look like a major traumatic event that's easy to pinpoint. Sometimes the hurt isn't a tidal wave that engulfs in a single devastating event; it's a slow drip that erodes oneself away little by little. That's closer to what is depicted for Anne, and Montgomery's other protagonists who have experienced CEN, and it's important to recognize what exactly is going on because this sort of thing still happens every day in the real world, in many forms, and it needs to be seen and combatted. And seeing this form of maltreatment play out in literature helps us recognize it and empathize with and reach out to those whom it has impacted--or possibly even to identify it in our own histories and search for our own healing.

#I apologize if not everything is phrased perfectly - I'm just working through some initial thoughts on this #but I hope the point of what I'm trying to communicate will get through

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foressfaction · 4 months

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:Ticci Toby:{A Rewrite}

WARNING:: This story contains EXTREMELY triggering topics such as Domestic/Child/Substance abuse, Death, harsh language, GORE and dissociation triggers.

This story mentions mental illnesses and disorders such as Depression, PTSD, ADHD, and Tourette's Syndrome.

!!TICS MAY BE TRIGGERING!!

Prologue

So it begins. The boy tugged on the skirt of a middle aged woman. She was his mom. Her hair was short, cut into a nice layered bob, though it had grown over time, it at one point was a pixie cut. She had diamond shaped ruby earrings on, in an attempt to look formal. Her name, it rolled off the tongue very smoothly, Connie Rogers.

"Why are there so many old people here?" The brunette boy asked. Connie's son, who's name also seemed pretty vague. Tobias Rogers.

The woman was quick to correct him, shushing him loudly while murmuring under her breath with a hint of embarrassment on her face. "Toby! Haha, I'm so sorry about him," she yearned off the stares she got from her son's odd choice of a question. And a rather rude one too. Toby had always been quite the weird kid. He said what was on his mind, whatever it was, and when he wanted to say it. Maybe the question would've been better at a funeral, or a grandma's birthday party. Do grandma's have birthday parties? Toby wouldn't know honestly. He never did meet his mom's mom. That's a funny way to put it.

The two were currently at a 'meet the teacher' day. Y'know, the day about a week before the first day of school. For Toby, he will be starting the 6th grade. To him, school has always been a joke. He barely passed 5th grade and was one point away from having to be stuck doing summer school. He had never been a people person either, especially with other kids his age.

"Are any of these people actually going to be important?" Toby asked, earning a glance from his mom. Her dark circles are more visible than ever.

"I'm sure they will be, look, that's your principal, you should probably go say hi, or....something. I have a lot of paperwork to fill out. Go have a look around, stretch your legs, we've been walking all day."

Toby made a spitting noise as if he thought that was one of the most boring things she could've said. He bared his braced teeth. Meet his principal? He didn't realize going to a different school would be so tiring. Toby eventually left her side, wandering out into the empty halls. Oh so that's why there was a big sign on the door that read 'staff only.' Not like that mattered to him, no one saw, no one had to know. Despite it being a day for his entire grade to be here, it was almost like the halls were abandoned. His mind was always a little trickster, it would make him believe something when that 'something' isn't in existence. Toby took some steps forward, then found himself walking further away from the chattering of the people from the room he was just in. His entire body felt cold, chills running up and down his broken nerves.

It was kind of eerie, not gonna lie. The only thing Toby could hear was the pitter patter on his own shoes, the same old shoes he's had for years. Honestly surprised the souls haven't torn off yet. The boy found himself turning multiple corners and met with endless hallways of lockers. He's never seen a locker before. There were thousands of them, atleast, that's what his mind was showing him. 'Did I take my medicine?' was the first thing he thought to himself as he continued down these narrow halls. He was over thinking the reason why his mom shooed him away, probably because he was a distraction, or knew he needed one. As uncanny as this felt, Toby found himself quite occupied. He had started counting the lockers, every one of them, and remembered the exact number of lockers on the 8th hallway.

That's suddenly when he saw that one part of the hallway's lights were off. It was right smack in the middle of the hallway, so why did those lights not work? Toby grew curious so he started to inch towards the area. That's when he noticed they weren't just off, but flickering a little.

He knew this feeling a little too well. That feeling of being watched, judged. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He felt the air grow thick around him, as if gross, slimy water had just been poured onto him, soaking him to the heavy weight of being drenched. This of course actually didn't happen, but it felt like it did.

Toby turned around quickly, hearing something behind him, then again in front of him. He thought he was going to give himself whiplash from all of the darting of his head. Nothing was there though, nothing of sight, atleast. When Toby looked back to the hallway where the lights were supposedly off, he noticed they were working now. This caught him a little off guard, but as he looked closer, he could see that even further down than before, lights were off.

It was leading him further down the hallway?

Toby shook his head. "No that's not real." He whispered. "That's not r-real," he once again whispered with a little more voice. He felt that if the longer he looked, the more that feeling of tightness would increase.

Toby turned his back to the suffering lights, inching his way back to the room he was in not too long ago, with his mom. He turned the corner, only to nearly run into the frantic woman. "There you are, goodness, I thought you left this building." She spoke in a rather worried tone, taking his hand into hers, her rings were cold against his fingers. "You're really warm, are you okay? Are you sweating?"

Toby looked at her quickly, confusion sweeping him. "Am i?" He asked out while taking his free arm and wiping his forehead. Behold, bits of what felt like condensation rubbed off his skin. "Well we can forget meeting your teachers, I have your schedule here. I don't want you overheating again in all those layers, you know you can't feel temperatures to an extreme, you know this." She slightly scolded. Toby was just confused. He didn't feel too hot, he didn't know he was sweating. He does struggle with a certain disorder where he could technically place his hand on a lit stove and not feel a thing, despite his flesh melting off and severely damaging his hand. If anything it would just feel warm.

It was sad to be reminded he wasn't like the other normal kids in his grade, and certainly wasn't looking forward to another year of the constant reminders either. "I will be more aware next time." He stated, tone sounding a bit degraded.

It wasn't long before the two brunettes were on their way home. Toby was gazing out of the window, sitting in the backseat with his legs pulled up into a hug. The ride was silent, but his mom had never been too talkative after the last few months. Things weren't too good at home. Though he was going to go to a different school, they still lived in this dump of a house. Denver was a nice city, but in winters it was hard to stay warm, and in summers it was hard to stay cool. The house overall just about had it.

And the family knew that.

Toby finally broke the silence as the car hit a few road bumps. "There's exactly 286 lockers in the school." There was a moment of silence, but when he expected an answer there was nothing. "Mom?" He called out, not moving from his position but did lean his head over to try to peek into the rear view mirror that hung on the roof of the car.

He could see makeup running down her face, hands clenched onto the steering wheel tightly. If he listened closely, he could hear sniffling.

Toby knew better than to barge into questions but this time he knew the answer. He would have the same reason to cry, but lately he hadn't been able to feel much emotion at all. He, again, only saw life as a joke, nothing was real, no matter how hard he pushed away the reality. A 20 minute drive full of sniffles and awkward silence finally ended as the brown Subaru pulled into the cracked driveway to an old two story house.

The thing looked as if it was gonna fall in at any given moment. On the inside it was pretty big, still had carpet though it was old and stained, very stained.

A couple of whistles left Toby, followed by a few uncomfortable popping sounds from his neck. He had something called Tourette's Syndrome which caused the boy to jerk and tic uncontrollably. It was very uncomfortable for both him and those having to witness it. If he wasn't careful, he could accidentally hit someone, or himself. Which he does occasionally. Toby stepped out of the car to see the man standing on the porch, cigarette in hand. Seemed like he didn't see them pull into the driveway. Toby knew he did.

Toby noticed his mom left the folder of his school rules and other stuff in the car on the dashboard. He opened the door to reach in and grab it, his hand slipping with a slight tic, accidentally honking the horn, making the woman jump.

"Fuck- sorry, fuck! Sorry!" The boy jumped to coo out as he held the folder up. "Got it-"

Toby quickly closed the door to head inside, hearing the man spur something up. "Fuckin' boy." He muttered in a southern accent.

Toby paid no mind as it was something he was used to, rushing into the house and sitting the folder onto the counter, opening it and looking at all the papers. "Oh there were 287 lockers..I was off by one." He had his finger on where it stated the fact. He didn't understand why he was so fixated on the locker count. Gave him a distraction probably.

Toby moved the papers just enough to peer at his schedule, something he didn't have at his old school. "Wait mom? Why did you sign me up for public classes?"

The folder was snagged away from his hands, probably giving him a paper cut. "Stop complainin' and suck it up, it's about time you learn with other kids." The man scolded. Toby could see the vein popping from his forehead. The same shaggy blond buzz cut blanketed the man's head. His dad; he carried a name that would make anyone grimace just hearing it, Jacob Rogers. "Dad!" Toby tried to take the folder back but that only earned him a smack on the hand with the rather hard plastic outsides of the yellow folder.

Toby glared slightly as he took a deep breath.

The brunette woman strolled in, setting her bag down on the small island counter as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Look, Toby, I tried to suggest special education, but they said that it was time for you to get to know your grade better, plus wouldn't it be great to hang around people who...Actually respond when you talk to them?" She spoke out, slightly raising her voice.

"But they were nice to me," Toby added, narrowing his eyebrows, taking glances at the folder in his dad's hands. "Can i atleast see it closer? Again?" He eyed the man after asking.

"Your sister takes public classes, so can you. It's time we stop babying you, you're 13 years old for fucks sake. Act like it."

"Jacob!" Connie shouted with an offended tone. She knew the man was an asshole but she usually tried to defend her kid's opinions. Their marriage hadn't been the best lately, especially after her husband started to waste their money and abuse alcoholic substances. Speaking of which, the blonde man held a dark green bottle in his hand that wasn't clinging to Toby's school information.

The second Toby noticed that his mom saw the bottle, he knew they were about to bicker.

He just didn't want to be in the middle of that, excusing himself from where he took a seat.

Toby disappeared upstairs to one of the rooms he called his own. It wasn't much, just a carpeted floor, a dark blue rug with matching bed sheets. Completely unintentional. His shelves consisted of vintage toys he never touched, books, a lamp, and other nick nacks. He only ever kept one thing out, a stuffed cow. Why? He honestly grew an attachment to it. The poor thing was ripped up in many places, had patches on the stomach and left side of the head. It looked derpy as hell but he loved it to death.

Sometimes though when he holds it, he can't help but remember the time he 'played tug-o-war' with his dad who eventually ripped the head completely off while trying to take it from him. His only reason was because 'he was too old.' No one is too old for a comfort item.

Toby crawled onto the bed and took the cow plush into his hands and stared down at it. He gently gnawed at the inside of his cheek, a habit he developed a while ago. "Today isn't the best day, Mr. Cowbells, will you make it better? At least until Lyra gets home.." He hugged the stuffie to his chest and stared down at his sheets. It wasn't long before what he assumed would happen started up. He heard their loud voices downstairs. He knew it wasn't going to be too long until he heard thrashes and door slams.

It was like this all day, everyday.

All day, everyday.

••••••I

#creepypasta #slenderverse #foressfaction #ticci toby #toby rogers #ticci toby creepypasta #ticcitobyrewrite #creepypastarewrite #fanfiction

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overthemoonx · 5 months

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I Love Amy: The Coolest Webcomic I’ve Ever Read

⚠️MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD!!! I TRIED TO BE AS VAGUE AS POSSIBLE⚠️

Usually I’m extremely picky with webcomics, as I’m not afraid to drop them the moment I lose interest. So when I say this webcomic is interesting, it’s INTERESTING.

In fact, it may be one of my favorite ones.

“I Love Amy” is a webcomic released under Peanutoon back in 2022. It follows Bibi Reden, a cutesy girl with a bunny motif who has an obsessive crush on a boy named Peter. Once she finds Amy Lee, a shy girl in her grade talking to him, Bibi immediately befriends her and tries to get Amy to help her get with Peter. But plot-twist…they fall in love with each-other instead.

Psychological horror, drama, romance, and comedy? I’m hooked.

My first impressions were that it was gonna be a stereotypical yandere story, with Bibi set with the motive to KILL Amy in the beginning for talking to her crush. But it’s much more than that.

Bibi is a canon psychopath, who portrays traits of the disorder that are commonly expressed. But even so, the author definitely did their research. Bibi is low on empathy, has a tendency to lie, and can’t decipher right from wrong. But unlike contrary belief, she not incapable of love; she just loves people in her own special way, wanting to “keep them forever.” This is shown how she obsesses over Peter, and then later on, Amy.

What makes this series amazing is that her disorder is not her only “personality trait.” (Which by the way, disorders aren’t.) Bibi is very energetic, cheerful, and sticks to her ideals. She’s unique and is still able to think about others (or those she likes at least). Bibi is so well-written, how could you not fall in love with her? And speaking about love, this is where her love interest comes in.

Amy Lee is the definition of “plain-“ until you look a little bit deeper.

After a traumatic event involving her mother as a child, Amy lives with her aunt. Though she is loved and cared for in her current household and those around her, she still exhibits clear symptoms of PTSD. This causes her to be socially anxious and withdrawn, showing more signs of a social phobia than just pure introversion. But, she remains kindhearted and loyal. Amy is very down to earth too- a trait that’s personally to die for.

With Bibi’s eccentric personality and Amy’s closed off persona, they are like night and day. So, how could two different people possibly fall in love? Simple; naturally, like any other person. Even with their complexities, they are still able to love each-other whole-heartedly.

The webcomic also deals with themes about the effects of trauma, friendship issues (which I will get into another time), and sheds light onto family issues and grief. For such a cutesy-art style comic, it deals with every topic in such a unique and accurate way that I was really impressed.

So please, give this webcomic a shot!!!

#i love amy #amy lee #bibi reden #Bibi and Amy #webtoon #webtoons #comics #reviews #comic review #webtoon recommendation #queer representation #queer #queer romance

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sebastianstangirl01 · 2 years

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Close Call

Title: Close Call

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell Reader and Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Daughter Reader

Warning��s: bad description of flying, near death experience, blood, ptsd, language.

Summary: When a training exercise goes wrong leaving Y/N injured some not so great memories are resurfaced for her father and boyfriend.

Y/N’s call sign is “Rebel”

Authors Note: Some of the terms and information may not be accurate. I am not a pilot so I don’t know how everything works, I used Google to help write this. I hope you all enjoy this and there will be more of these types of one shots to come. Please make Top Gun and Top Gun Maverick requests!!!! I am really into both movies right now and have lots of motivation to write for them!!!

Flying is the most accelerating feeling for any pilot, having complete control over something so much bigger than themselves. The adrenaline rush is what every pilot craves.

But no one craves that rush more than Y/N Mitchell, she was known for her risky moves and confident tone. Definitely taking after her father Captain Pete Mitchell while her fathers call sign was Maverick which was self explanatory Y/N quickly followed in her fathers footsteps with the call sign Rebel.

Y/N quickly made a name for herself in the Navy showing people that she was more than just Mavericks daughter, one of the youngest pilots in history to graduate at the top of her class from Top Gun and the youngest Navy Fighter Pilot to get promoted to Lieutenant. It’s safe to say that Maverick was extremely proud of his daughter and so was her boyfriend.

Bradley Bradshaw, call sign Rooster with the strained relationship that her father and Rooster had because of Maverick pulling his papers to the academy it was a little rocky when they took the step and got together but both men knew that they would always have something in common and that was their love for Y/N Mitchell.

Being called back to Top Gun was a great experience and something that Y/N was a little nervous about, Rooster and her father were civil but it was obvious that their relationship was still very much strained and when she found out that he was going to be their instructor she was worried.

“Please tell me you’ll at least try to get along with my dad.” Y/N told Rooster one night as they laid in their shared bed, Y/N laying on Roosters bare chest as he rubbed circles up and down her back

Rooster sighed softly tilting his head to plant a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the coconut scent that was her shampoo.

“I’ll try, only for you.” Rooster said and Y/N nodded taking what she could get tilting her head to place a kiss on his chest

“That’s all I ask. We better get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.” Y/N said and Rooster nodded

Tomorrow they were doing their first practice for the course they would be flying on their mission, Y/N helped her dad study the rough terrain they would have to navigate so he could build a accurate course to follow on the computer.

“I love you sugar.” Rooster said as he tightened his grip around her waist

“I love you too.” Y/N smiled leaning up to give him a goodnight kiss

──────── 🛫 ────────

Something had been bugging Y/N all morning as she got ready for her test flight, she had a bad feeling in the bottom of her gut. Like something was going to go wrong.

She had just gotten dressed in her flight gear and was standing at her locker looking at the pictures taped to the door. One had her dad and goose together she always loved hearing all the stories about those two.

There was another that had her, her dad, Rooster, Goose, and Carole they were all sitting together on a couch Goose was holding 4 year old Bradley with his arm around Carole and a big smile on his face and Maverick had 1 year old Y/N in his arms kissing her cheek as Y/N had a wide smile on her face showcasing her 2 front teeth. Y/N and Bradley were holding hands in that picture it was like they were meant to be.

There was another picture of Y/N and Maverick from her Top Gun graduation Y/N had jumped into her fathers arms wrapping her legs around his waist and arms around his neck as Maverick smiled and squeezed her waist tightly holding her up, they both had wide smiles on their faces.

The last picture was of Y/N and Bradley, she smiled as she ran her finger across it Y/N was being held bridal style in Bradley’s arms she was leaning back with a wide smile both arms stretched back and Bradley was looking down at her with bright eyes it looked like he was in the middle of a laugh.

Y/N shook her head and closed her locker, she needed to have a clear head. But no matter how much she tried she couldn’t shake the bad feeling. Y/N walked out of the locker room and out onto the runway.

“Hey, you ready?” Y/N’s RIO Ashton Burton call sign Ash asked as he walked up beside her.

“Born ready, I just wish our wingman wasn’t Hangman.” Y/N told him and Ash nodded in agreement

“Me too, but with you flying we’ll be just fine.” Ash said patting her shoulder before jogging ahead

“Y/N!” She heard behind her and turned around to see Bradly jogging towards her making her smile

“Hey.” Y/N smiled as he stopped in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist

“Just wanted to wish you good luck. Watch your back out there.” Rooster said, it was no secret that he wasn’t Hangman’s biggest fan and with him being the one who is suppose to have Y/N’s back it made him worried

“I’ll be fine babe. I’ll see you after.” Y/N said reaching up to curl the ends of his mustache making him smile

“I love you.” Rooster said kissing the tip of her finger before bringing a hand up to her face, pulling them together letting their lips meet in a short but passionate kiss

“I love you too.” Y/N smiled before turning to walk away glancing over her shoulder to see Rooster still standing there with a small smile on his face as he put his sunglasses on

Y/N walked over to her plane and put her helmet on making sure it was secure before putting her aviators on that once belonged to her dad that he gave her as a gift when she graduated from Top Gun.

“Y/N, you read me?” Mavericks voice asked over the radio, he would be flying alongside them so he could supervise better and see what each pilot needed to work on

“Loud and clear dad.” Y/N answered

“Be safe and remember.” Maverick said before Y/N interrupted

“Don’t think just do.” Y/N finished his catch phrase

“That’s right. Hangman get ready for take off.” Maverick said as Y/N got into the plane and buckled in making sure that everything was in working order, which it was

“You feeling good?” Y/N asked Ash

“Feeling great, let’s do this.” Ash said as Y/N reached her hand back and they fist bumped like they always did before every flight

“Hangman ready for take off. Try and keep up Rebel.” Hangman teased over the radio

“I’ll do my best hangman.” Y/N replied sarcastically

“Hangman you are a go for take off.” Maverick said and Hangman immediately took off in front of Y/N. “Rebel, Ash. You are a go for take off.”

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Y/N whooped before taking off souring into the sky. “Sure is a pretty day today, you enjoying the view Hangman?”

“I’m loving the view Rebel, how about you. My tail shiny enough for you?” Hangman asked

“It could use a little work.” Y/N said rolling her eyes

“Hangman you are approaching the check point, remember you must reach the target in 2:15. Rebel, Ash you’re right behind him.” Maverick spoke over comms

“Copy Maverick.” Hangman said before speeding up and passing the check point

“Here we go.” Y/N said before also speeding up, the force sending her back into her seat as she mimicked each move Hangman did.

She noticed that Hangman was going way faster than they were suppose to making Y/N struggle to keep control of the plane as she sped up to try to keep up with him.

“Hangman you’ve got to slow down. You’re going way too fast!” Y/N said over the comms

“What’s wrong Rebel? Can’t keep up?” Hangman asked

“I can keep up just fine jackass! But for this mission it is about more than just speed we have to hit each curve perfectly or we die. You’re going way faster than necessary.” Y/N said as she followed Hangman around a curve, suddenly the jet jerked causing Y/N’s eyes to widen as she tried to control it. “Fuck we flew right into Hangman’s jet wash.”

“Rebel talk to me what’s happening?” Maverick asked over the comms

“We’re caught up in the turbulence. It stalled one of the engines, we lost the left engine.” Y/N said as she extinguished the left engine leaving them with only the right as she tried to gain control of the plane.

“Right engine is down too.” Ash exclaimed making Y/N curse

“Fuck! Extinguishing the engine.” Y/N said putting the fire out and trying to restart the engine. “Both engines are out! We’ve lost both engines!”

“Rebel you’ve got to get the plane under control!” Ash said

“I’m trying damn it!” Y/N exclaimed as she jerked the joy stick, the plane started spinning out of control towards the ground. “Shit I can’t, we’re spinning out I can’t get control!”

“Eject now! You can’t save the plane! Y/N eject!” Maverick exclaimed over the comms as he tried to clear his own head, memories of the day Goose died seeping into his mind

“Eject!” Y/N exclaimed as she tried to reach for her ejection cord but the G-Force was pinning her to the seat. “I can’t reach it!”

“I’ve got it! Ejecting now!” Ash said reaching up and grabbing the ejection cord

Y/N jerked back as she was shot out of her seat as she was thrown backwards smacking her helmet into the canopy. As her parachute deployed she hung limply as she floated down to the ground.

“Rebel! Mayday mayday! Rebel is down! Rebel is down!” Ash said as he landed a few yards away immediately detaching his chute and rushing over to Y/N dropping to his knees beside her

“Talk to me Ash!” Maverick exclaimed trying to find a safe place to land

“Her helmet is shattered I think she hit her head on the canopy there’s a deep gash on her head she’s bleeding really bad.” Ash said as he put pressure on her head

“Main this is Maverick, we need a medical evach now!” Maverick said. “I’m landing.”

“Negative Maverick report back to base.”

“That’s my kid!” Maverick exclaimed

“There’s nothing you can do for her right now, report back to base immediately!”

Maverick cursed before turning around and flying back.

“Don’t let her die Goose. Please she’s all I have.” Maverick mumbled

“Rebel! Stay with me, open your eyes!” Ash said tapping the side of Y/N’s face. “Helps coming.”

──────── 🛫 ────────

Bradley had never ran somewhere so fast, when he heard about Y/N’s accident he immediately ran out to his car and drove as fast as he could to the hospital she was transported to.

Still in his gear Bradley ran through the hallways of the hospital dodging patients and staff with only one thing on his mind.

Seeing the love of his life.

“Bradley.” Maverick said spotting the kid he watched grow up and love his daughter

“How is she?” Rooster asked coming to a stop in front of him

“She just got here they won’t tell me anything yet.” Maverick sighed frustrated

“What the hell happened?” Rooster asked

“They got stuck in Hangman’s jet wash it killed both engines and caused a spin out.” Maverick said pausing

“Exactly what happened to you and my dad?” Rooster asked seeing Mavericks face

“Yeah. Ash said she hit her head on the canopy luckily her helmet took most of the impact.” Maverick said blinking his tears back

“Where is Ash?” Rooster asked clearing his throat as he could feel it starting to close up

“They are keeping him overnight for observation he’s getting checked out now.” Maverick said

“Family of Y/N Mitchell.” A doctor said coming down the hallway

“I’m her dad this is her boyfriend. How is she?” Maverick asked

“Very lucky. Just a few inches to the right and the blow to her head would have been fatal, she has a severe concussion and whiplash but other than that just cuts and bruises. I want to keep her for a few days to watch her concussion and after some physical therapy she should be back in a plane.” The doctor said making both men let out sighs of relief

“Can we see her?” Rooster asked, needing to see with his own eyes that she was ok

“Absolutely, right this way.” The doctor said gesturing for them to follow him

Maverick and Rooster stopped at the doorway of Y/N’s room, there she laid hooked up to a bunch of wires. She was in a hospital gown that showed the bruises and cuts on her arms and chest, she had a gash on her forehead that had been stitched along with a few bruises.

“You go on in I’m going to call and let everyone know she’s ok.” Maverick said and Rooster nodded walking over to her bedside, he pulled a chair over and sat down beside her.

Bradley grabbed her hand gently and brought it to his lips kissing it in relief, he couldn’t imagine losing her.

“I love you so much. I’m so glad your ok.” Bradley said gently stroking her face

It had been a few minutes and now Rooster was just sitting there stroking her cheek mindlessly, not even feeling as Y/N’s eyes fluttered open.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever.” Y/N mumbled with a smirk, Bradley chuckled remembering how his mom use to say that was her catch phrase that would keep his dad in line. Y/N loved it and has used it ever since.

“Show me the way honey.” Bradley smiled in response, copying his fathers response.

“Hi.” Y/N smiled

“Hi. How are you feeling?” Rooster asked

“Like I got hit by a plane. How’s Ash?” Y/N asked

“He’s fine, was really worried about you. They called his wife she’s on her way.” Rooster said and Y/N nodded

“Where’s dad?” Y/N asked looking around

“He’ll be right back, he called to let everyone know you are ok.” Rooster said as Y/N groaned

“My head hurts.” Y/N whined

“You’ve got a concussion. The doctor said you were really lucky.” Rooster said kissing her forehead

“I am Mavericks daughter.” Y/N smiled knowing that he was basically invincible, or at least that’s what all the admirals thought

“That you are. I love you so much.” Rooster said

“I love you too.” Y/N smiled

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #pete mitchell #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #pete mitchell x daughter reader

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