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iamasaddie · 18 days ago

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boiling

Tommy Miller x f!Reader

summary: What Tommy liked was structure, schedule. What he didn't like was reckless bullshit that you seemed to be a fan of. He also didn't like you, or so he says. warnings: MDNI, implied infidelity, PWtinyP, oral m!recieving, throat fucking, orgasm denial, still big girthy age gap (reader late 20s-30s; Tommy 55), thick Tommy, kinda rude Tommy wc: 2.6k a/n: is this becoming a series? i dunno, maybe. send asks gimme ideas please. this is not heavily edited, english is not my first language all mistakes are my own and yada yada (if u notice a silly mistake dm me pls). series masterlist | previous part | next part ao3

When Tommy was told that you went on a run he didn’t believe first. First, the runners’ outings were spelled out in the schedule, according to which everyone except the patrolmen were supposed to stay in Jackson today.

Second, you weren't one of the runners. Even though you were young and pretty agile, you lacked the necessary skills. You were good with guns and had quick reflexes, but you were dangerously inattentive. With a runner like you, they'd be left with nothing every time.

And third, the runners left in established pairs or threes. It was a matter of speed, trust and safety.

You left alone.

By the rules of Jackson, an unauthorized exit could end up with expulsion from the community, as it entailed an immediate risk. And knowing that, you risked your own place in one of the safest places on earth for what? His attention? If they hadn't needed an extra pair of hands in the stable today, Tommy wouldn't even have thought about you. At least that's what he told himself.

Jackie from the radio room, who quickly had given out all the information about your little trip with her lips pursed, was quietly babbling excuses. The girl swore that she was sure you wouldn't have gone outside alone. You were so confident when you told her about your nonexistent dialogue with Maria.

Tommy clenched his gloved hand into a fist, the leather squeaking and breaking the tensed silence.

“Fuck,” he spat out a curse and headed to get the horse.

You had enough brains to not go too far, yesterday’s report from Alpine was positive –no sign of raiders or infected– so Tommy wasn't too worried. Cold bit his cheeks, and frost formed on his mustache, which already began to shine with gray. Damn it, in this cold, normal people tried to hide their asses in the warmth of their houses, but there wasn't a drop of sense in you.

The horse tensed between his legs as they began to climb the mountain, and Tommy pulled harder on the reins, clucking to the animal.

The remnants of the once small town were well preserved compared to the majority of places he’d seen. The buildings, for the most part, survived year after year without much change, with the exception of cracked windows and occasional raids by overly daring vagrants.

Tommy tried and failed to figure out what exactly you might need there. Absolutely everything that was at least a little useful was cleaned out of the old supermarket and adjacent houses a year ago. All that was left inside was rotting furniture and trash.

He saw Pepper, the horse you particularly liked, tied to a pine next to one of the remote houses. His own stubborn Callus now trotted more confidently, apparently noticing his neighbor from the stable.

After making sure that the horse was securely tied, Tommy armed himself with a gun, making sure that safety was still on and he had enough bullets in the magazine, just in case.

The room greeted him with silence and the smell of mold. After taking a few slow steps deeper, Tommy finally heard muffled curses accompanied by the rumble of drawers opening.

“Oh, come on, really? I cannot fucking believe that.”

He followed the sound and found you kneeling next to an old dresser, pulling out drawers haphazardly and trying to find something. Tommy looked around the room, it was too empty to be messy: a couple of broken chairs, a half-rotten bedframe and this dresser you continued assaulting with your words.

He crept in without making any noise, and even with your usually swift reaction, you didn’t expect anyone there so he went unnoticed as he pointed a gun at the back of your head, almost kissing your crown with the barrel.

“Hands up.”

His voice was lower than usual, and the long ride through the cold with his neck exposed had made him hoarse. With a paused breath, you slowly raised your hands, not even trying to grab a weapon. Did you even bring it with you? Tommy felt a surge of irritation. “Turn around.”

“Tommy?” As you turned around and saw his face, your shoulders relaxed and you swatted the gun from your face with ease. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“That’s my line.” He put the gun in the holster, clicking it in. “You’re not a fucking runner, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Slowly, you stood up from your knees, brushing the dirt of the dark blue jeans that you managed to rip somewhere.

“Why do you care?” You huffed, “are you in love with me or something?”

Somehow, magically, all the calmness and restraint evaporated from him as soon as you opened your mouth. You knew exactly what to say to make him seethe with rage, the destructive feeling overwhelmed him and resulted in physical aggression, which he had been trying to repress ever since he ran away from the fireflies.

“Shut the fuck up.” He took a step towards you, practically pressing you into the corner of an opened drawer. His finger poked you in the chest, the tip of his index finger arched from how hard he pressed on your solar plexus. His eyes never left yours, turning black with every passing moment. “This is not about you, and not about me. I don’t fucking trust you.” For a second, it seemed to him that you twitched from the words like he slapped you in the face, but he did not stop. You always went too far, ignoring the consequences, and it pissed him off.

“I don’t trust that you’ll put a bullet through your thick fucking skull if you happen get bit. I don’t trust that you won’t tell some psychopaths about a nice little village with food and warm beds if they stick a knife in one of your pretty legs.” You kept quiet, lowering your eyes in semblance of shame, your fingers toyed with an edge of your opened flannel shirt, twisting a stray thread but not ripping it off. “That’s why we don’t go alone.”

He was boiling with rage, and when he smelled the already familiar scent of your sweat and skin, he realized how close he was standing. He was practically pressed into your body, his own belly hidden behind a layer of white top, a shirt and a warm winter coat was millimeters away from yours, and the tip of his nose was almost touching your face. After taking another gulp of your air into his lungs, he took a step back, shaking his head.

“What did you need here anyway? We’d searched these homes for goods months ago.”

Once he was out of your personal space, his voice less violent and carrying something that sounded like genuine interest, you felt like you could breathe again. Cockiness and indifference clinked in your words like armour.

“Thought that maybe they had some dicks laying around.” You shrugged your shoulders. “After all, you runners don’t look for shit like that and if some neglected wifey lived here she could’ve had a stache.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Tommy looked at you with an indescribable shock, as if you had just admitted that you had started the apocalypse with your own bare hands. When you didn't laugh, signalling a joke, an angry scowl returned to his face. “You’re actually serious.”

“Well, of course I’m serious. If I can’t get the real deal I can at least hope for a fake one!'“ You chuckled, walking past him and heading towards the door. He quickly catches your shoulder, his iron grip makes you hiss in pain. When you look at him with a question in your eyes, he only kisses his teeth and starts unbuttoning his coat, while still holding your srm hostage.

“What?” You ask him, even though you already knew what. You pussy had started throbbing the moment you saw his angry scowl that was soaked in worry.

Not granting you with a reply, he continued undressing hastily, the massive belt buckle –his special pride and joy– clacked loudly as the pull tab smashed into it. Tommy forced you on your knees, pushing you down in one rough movement, and you hissed when your knees hit the cold concrete floor. You let him do it without saying a word.

“What, shy all of a sudden? Wasn’t it what you wanted? Didn’t you just beg for my dick, sugar?” He looked menacing, standing over you like that. He was too close, his bulge almost pressing to your face. It was clear he was at least half-hard already, his jeans barely doing anything to contain his thick cock. His thighs were slightly spread, and even though he wasn’t holding you anymore, you couldn’t move, your mouth opened in surprise. “All hat, no cattle. Fuckin’ pathetic.”

You looked lost, your lips were dry and you swiped your tongue over them watching Tommy’s eyes follow the small movement. He thrusted his hips forward, the cold metal of his belt buckle hitting your lips. “Go on. It’s your last chance, and I am being serious.”

With spoken out permission, your hands start moving on their own. You unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He sighed in relief as his stomach was released. More gently than you planned, you untuck his shirt and a white top underneath, sliding your hands over his belly and giving it a light massage, pressing into the hot skin with your thumbs and rubbing. You could feel the imprints his jeans and belt left, and you wanted to kiss reddened lines, but Tommy grabbed your hands in one of his and pushed them south with a disapproving grunt. You moved his jeans down enough to take his cock out. As you guessed, it was already hard, and a cruel part of you celebrated the fact that he was as excited about the thing as you were. He was just hiding it better. How long did he want you?

You didn’t have an opportunity to see him so upclose, and you spend a fleeting moment studying the dick heavily swaying inches away from your lips.

He was girthy enough to make you doubt yourself, a thick, veiny shaft that was surrounded by black and grey hair at the base. The tip glistened with his need for you, and you felt saliva pooling in your mouth in response. Slowly, you move closer, your lips pressing a wet kiss to him and gathering the salt from the spongy head.

Tommy breathed in through his teeth, the air stinging his lungs like his consciousness stung his mind. Your soft mouth welcomed him inside slowly as you lathered him in your saliva. He was more than a mouthful, and you gagged when he hit the back of your throat, quickly releasing him.

A sticky thread of your saliva mixed with his precum connected your lips to his cock, but instead of giving you a break, Tommy just took his cock between thumb and two fingers and slapped your cheek in a humiliatingly arousing action. Your eyes shot up, and you met the black embers staring back at you. His plump, wet lips were parted and he let out shallow breaths.

You swallowed the lump and returned to his cock, swapping his hand for yours. In an attempt to get your breathing in order, you caressed his shaft with your lips, running them over his tense dick and tracing the pattern of his veins with your tongue.

As soon as your throat stopped burning, you slowly took him back in, enjoying the low growl mixed with the moans coming from above. He tried, he tried so hard to pretend that he didn't care. That he didn’t even want you. But he crumbled under your lips as quickly as you crumbled under his gaze.

With more confidence, you began to slowly push his cock deeper and deeper. Swallowing each time as soon as he pushed inside, and swirling his head with your hot tongue when he pulled back. Inch after inch you managed to take all of his throbbing shaft in, your nose tickled with his sweat-stained pubes.

For a moment you stayed like this, accepting your throat being stretched painfully, your airflow barely managing to support your lungs as you breathed slowly through your nose.

When you felt tears welling up in your eyes, you pulled off, exchanging your mouth for your hand. Hollowing your cheeks, you kept sucking his head and some of his shaft that you couldn’t cover with your palm.

Tommy’s grunts became quieter and you felt one of his hands grabbing you by the hair while the other gripped your wrist and pulled your hand from his cock. You could only moan in question once before he pushed all of him inside you roughly, setting a rougher pace than you were ready for.

Immobilized, you kept taking his cock into your throat, his heavy balls slapping your chin as Tommy practically fucked your throat. There was anger written all over his face, but you could barely see it through the wetness in your eyes. You just let him use you, remembering a new feeling, storing this side of him in your back pocket.

His movements became more erratic, the grip on your hair tightens so much that you whine in pain afraid that he'd pull your hair out. He was close, you could feel it by the way his stomach quivered, hear it in every ‘fuck’ he grunted out.

Tommy pressed you hard into his body as he held you on his cock. His top rode up, and your forehead slid against his happy trail that was covering his sweaty stomach. You felt him start to pulse and spit cum inside you, thick warm loads coating your abused throat as he almost folded over you.

As soon as he pulls out, his cock glistening in your drool and some of his cum, you start coughing violently, swallowing as much air as you can. He tasted like fresh earth after a long rain and salt. Two things that didn’t go together but you already craved more.

You wiped your lips and rubbed your head where he tugged on your hair just minutes ago. The sound of metal clinking brought you back to the moment and you snapped your head at Tommy.

You gave him a confused look when you saw him tuck his soft cock back into his jeans and re-tie his ruffled hair in a low bun. He intentionally ignored your insistent stare for as long as he could, but when you didn’t get up from the floor, he finally turned his attention from redressing to you.

“I wasn’t the one begging for your pussy,” he shrugs simply and points at your pussy where it was hidden and crying under your jeans. “So I guess you’ll have to sort your little problem yourself.”

You squeezed your thighs pathetically, trying to relieve at least some of the tension.

“We need to be back before the sunset, hurry up.” He threw over his shoulder, not giving you another look. Your eyes stung as you almost cried in frustration watching Tommy walk out.

It was going to be a long drive home.

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND REBLOG, IT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME <3

'you can maybe like this' ahh taglist: @tommysversion @toxicanonymity @worhols @tokkiotears @axshadows @yslgreen @vcnderlinds @0ceanwittch @your-redlight

#tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller smut #x reader #smut fic #iamasaddie fic

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shadowmaat · 10 months ago

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Jedi Service Corps

The Legends-fueled propaganda of "bad students get sent to the Agricorp/Services" has always bothered me. First of all, forcing kids into a career not of their choosing isn't the best way to encourage them to perform well.

The Services in general seem to get a bad rap, and TBH it's kind of bizarre to assume that every kid who winds up being taken in by the Jedi wants to grow up to be a cop. LOL!

There is so much untapped potential being ignored, and even within the four pseudo-canon branches there's a lot to explore.

Agriculture. Farmers Without Borders. LOL! It isn't just about growing plants, it's about analyzing trends, understanding ecosystems, geology, climatology, politics, etc. There's mechanical engineering so you know how to fix the machines that do the hardest labor (often illegally, given corporate software locks and so forth). Probably a lot of fiddly stuff with plant genetics, too, given similar issues with seed corporations.

Being Jedi, I'm sure they're also aware of the need to include "ornamental" plants to help with the emotional welfare of hurting/devastated populations.

Education. This field must be fucking wild. Sure, you have your future creche masters and archivists, but I imagine there are those who do public outreach, too, and go to schools to teach kids about what the Jedi do beyond waving laser swords. There's probably also a need for teachers in isolated/rural areas to help with basic things like reading, writing, and maths. Ditto areas devastated by wars and natural disasters, where kids need a safe distraction from trauma. I bet Educorp and Agricorp team up more often than people might think.

There's also the sheer variety of topics. Even something basic like history will have a wide net. Galactic history, region-specific, planetary, etc. And then there's the arts. Music, singing, dance, physical media, holo media, theatre, and so much more. There will be differences between species, understanding what they need to know, how they learn best, and what their aging process is like. Teachers to cover the full range of mortal maturity, from teaching toddlers to old-timers. And don't get me started on teaching "forbidden" topics in repressive communities.

Medical. LOL. Every. Single. Species. And often subtypes between them. So many specialists needed. And again, you probably have a number that specialize in helping in disaster areas. Hello, Educorp, let's help teach these people how to best care for themselves. Maybe Agricorp can help with showing folks how to purify their air and water. There must be SO many diseases, some of which have inoculations and so that don't. And again, figuring ways to smuggle medicine and supplies to those who need it despite the extortionist rates corporations charge. Repairing faulty equipment, finding work-arounds when the parts aren't there. Triage. Using the Force to help heal is all well and good, but sometimes they still have to get hands-on.

Even with non-emergency stuff, I imagine they're still kept busy. The idea of a Jedi "country doctor" settled in some remote area sounds delightful. Communities that get "lost" in the shuffle or otherwise overlooked. Veterinary medicine as a sub-specialty.

Jedi having a special "knack" for determining what's wrong with someone, finding early warning signs before it's too late, etc. Comforting the dying. Comforting the survivors. ALL the mental health stuff and neurodivergence.

Exploration. Jedi Starfleet. LOL! It isn't all about discovering new worlds, though. Sometimes it's rediscovering planets and cultures that have been forgotten. Charting new hyperlane routes and hoping the end doesn't pop you out in the middle of a star.

I betcha you could fold so many things into this one. Botany. Archaeology. Xenoanthropology. Medicine, of course, since new worlds/people means new poisons, venoms, and diseases. New or ancient languages? It'd help to have someone around who could work on translating. Diplomats to help you talk to people. Geologists. Zoologists. A bit of everything.

Sure, there'd be room for solo missions, but I imagine there'd be bigger ships that they'd launch from. A place to come back to so the brains can pore over everything you brought back and see what they can determine from it. And big ships (or any ships really) means pilots, engineers, general crew, logistics, and all those fun things.

Anyway, I can see plenty of room for additional corps, too, but of the ones that get mentioned in Legends there's still a huge playing field.

#worldbuilding #star wars worldbuilding

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insomniac-rambling · 4 months ago

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Do you have more beast redemption AU crumbs? I love the concept so much, I want something, thank you 💜💜💖

Well…

I do have a headcanon where after The Beasts corrupted, their Soul Jams altered them to represent their beastly titles more literally. Shadow Milk Cookie gained an insatiable need to lie pretty much every time he opened his mouth. There was a period while he was sealed that he went completely nonverbal just to avoid being forced to cook up some bullshit to spit out. Of course The Beasts managed to coax him out of this state, but sometimes he still went quiet. Wanting a break from being so deceitful.

Mystic Flour Cookie got her emotions taken away from her. She couldn’t feel anything, and absolutely nothing could make her react to a single thing. It was like her emotions had just been straight up deleted. And any time she came even remotely close to feeling something, her Soul Jam reacted immediately. Smothering the emotion until it dissipated. Whether it be pain, joy, anger, fear, anything.

Burning Spice Cookie gained an urge for destruction. The more he satisfies it, the weaker it is. The less he satisfies it, the stronger it gets. So he didn’t have a great time in The Silver Tree. His need for destruction would almost completely take him over, he’d start clawing, biting, and throwing himself against any solid surface he could find. Damaging his own body in a desperate attempt to make the urge stop. Often resulting in Silent Salt and Shadow Milk outright restraining him so he doesn’t kill himself.

Silent Salt Cookie, on the other hand, had his vocal cords literally melted down. Nothing else, just his vocals. Rendering him permanently mute. It took him a long ass time to figure out how to communicate again now that he can’t talk. Though he didn’t speak up much before, now he couldn’t talk even if he wanted to. Eventually he came up with a system of silent gestures and pointing, basically an archaic version of sign language, but with his entire body instead of just the hands. Only the other Beasts understand what he says.

And finally, Eternal Sugar Cookie got put in a near perpetual state of exhaustion. Feeling way too tired to do much of anything. She spent her days lazily playing her harp to charm cookies into either washing and feeding her, or going away and leaving her in peace. She slept like eighteen hours a day, and only spent an hour or two on her feet. Max.

Basically, their Soul Jams tortured them

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk #shadow milk cookie #mystic flour cookie #burning spice cookie #silent salt cookie #eternal sugar cookie #beast redemption au #redemption au #cookie run kingdom au #cookie run au #crk au #anything else?

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coldkidcookieneck · 26 days ago

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Title: Collateral Tension

Summary: Comfort is dangerous when your heart’s already spoken for. Jealousy doesn’t wait for its turn. For you and Frank… it might already be too late.

Author's note: Well, well, well… you guys asked, so I delivered 🫡. What started as a one-shot quickly turned into a whole series because, honestly, Frank and you guys just wouldn’t let me stop. Here’s the sequel packed with all the chaos, heartburn, and messy feelings you didn’t know you needed. Thank you for your support, and I hope you guys enjoy it, because Frank and you definitely aren’t done yet. 😉

Pairing: Frank Benson x Fem Reader

Warnings: Emotional Tension, Jealousy, Angst, Mild Violence and Language

Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 here

Cross-posted on AO3

=============================================

Summer came with long, quiet mornings—and too much time to think.

Your friends had scattered with the season. Chloe was off tanning on some remote beach with cousins who had more swimsuits than manners. Amanda was glued to her desk, caught in the soul-crushing grip of budget audits. And Liam was deep in a hush-hush private security contract that had him disappearing off the radar for weeks.

That left you alone, with far too much idle time and a heart that had been drifting places it shouldn't.

You’d been scrolling through local community outreach boards—more out of habit than anything—when a post caught your eye:

"Summer Volunteers Needed – Youth Cadet Workshops & Base Assistance (Non-Military Personnel Welcome!)”

It wasn’t your world, but it felt like a lifeline. Organising, helping, giving back—that was your thing. And the idea of keeping busy, of being needed, made your fingers hover over the registration link for just a second before you clicked “Apply.”

You didn’t think of him when you applied.

Okay, maybe you did.

Frank Benson.

Since that chaotic, unforgettable birthday dare—the break-in, the confrontation, the guilt that led to coffee—he hadn’t been far from your thoughts. That afternoon in the café had left something unspoken hanging between you. He was quiet, intense, but there was a warmth beneath it. A steady calm you hadn’t realized you craved until it was gone.

And it wasn’t there. Not really. A wave here, a nod there, like distant ships passing. But nothing more. No conversations. No follow-ups.

Just… silence.

So maybe, just maybe, the volunteer work was a way to drift back into his orbit.

Even if it meant doing it alone.

Surprisingly, the base accepted you quickly. Civilian volunteers were rare and welcomed. They gave you light duties: organising gear donations, helping with obstacle drills for visiting cadets, managing first-aid workshop signups. You weren’t military, but you worked hard. Asked questions. Learned the rhythm of the place. And before long, respect followed.

You adjusted your base-issued lanyard and stepped onto the training field, clipboard in one hand and a half-melted iced coffee in the other. The morning sun already bore down with ruthless enthusiasm, and the scent of sweat, dust, and just a hint of cologne hung thick in the air.

A row of cadets stood near the obstacle course, barking jokes and shoving one another like boys on a school pitch—not exactly the image of stoic military discipline.

“Uh,” you called out, raising your clipboard, “Hi. I’m the volunteer coordinator for the workshop rotation. I’m looking for Group Charlie?”

One of the cadets—a wiry, red-haired guy with a constellation of freckles and zero shame—grinned wide. “That’s us, ma’am. Or are you here to sign us up for yoga and embroidery?”

The others burst into laughter.

You smirked. “Only if you think you can hold a downward dog for more than ten seconds without crying.”

A wave of “oohs” followed. One cadet gave a theatrical gasp.

“Careful,” another chimed in, grinning. “She’s got jokes. I like her.”

“Name’s Jake,” the redhead said, stepping forward. “That’s Caleb, Sam, Denny—and Alex’s late, as usual. Probably off fixing his hair again.”

You chuckled, noting names on your clipboard. “Got it. You’ll all be rotating between equipment checks, first aid stations, and drill setups. I don’t give orders—I just make the chaos slightly more organized.”

“You sound way too nice to be working here,” Caleb said, squinting. “You ex-military?”

“Nope,” you replied. “Just a civilian with a clipboard and a talent for controlled disasters.”

Denny snorted. “A brave soul.”

Before you could respond, a voice cut through the chatter—low, dry, and unmistakably amused.

“If you’re done harassing the new volunteer, we’ve got rope stations to set up.”

The group straightened instantly.

You turned—and there he was.

Alexander Carrington.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, forearms dusted with rope burn and confidence. His hair was tousled, the kind of mess that looked effortless but definitely involved a mirror. His grin was lazy, practiced.

“You must be Clipboard Girl,” he said, stepping closer and offering his hand. “Alex Carrington. You’re either new or lost.”

You shook it. “Neither. I’m here for the summer volunteer program.”

“That so?” His gaze flicked to your lanyard. “God help you.”

“I’ve heard that a lot today,” you said, trying not to smile. “But I’ve survived worse.”

One brow lifted. “You local?”

“Sort of,” you said. “I volunteer around town when I can. Found the base notice while doomscrolling summer boredom.”

Jake snorted. “If she’s bored now, wait till someone makes her untangle the rope station. That thing’s cursed.”

“Speaking of which—” Alex bent, grabbed a coiled rope from the grass, and tossed it at you. “Think fast.”

You fumbled but caught it. Barely. It was heavier than it looked.

“Welcome to the team, Clipboard Girl.”

You adjusted the mess of tangles in your arms. “Is this my official initiation?”

“Nope,” he said, already walking toward the climbing frame. “That comes later. Usually involves a water balloon and a lot of shouting.”

You rolled your eyes but followed.

Since that day, Alex has always been the first to lend a hand and the last to leave the mess hall. He took to you immediately—easy banter, harmless flirting, and a surprising sincerity that didn’t ask for anything in return. In just a few weeks, he'd become your closest friend on base. Like a brother.

Well… a brother who flirted in a way that made your stomach flip sometimes.

Frank, on the other hand, had yet to show.

But you knew he came in from time to time. You’d heard the instructors mention him—“Retired, but they still call him in for the real tactical stuff.” Briefings. Seminars. Advanced training observations. The kind of presence that left a ripple in the room.

You figured he was just too busy.

Or maybe…

Maybe he was avoiding you.

One morning, with the sun already climbing and your nerves tight for no good reason, you asked Alex as the two of you passed a knot of instructors by the tent.

“So… do all the instructors cycle through here, or just the unlucky ones?”

Alex followed your gaze, sharp enough to catch what you weren’t saying. “Most rotate in and out. Some just swing by for specialty sessions.”

You kept your tone casual. “Does Frank Benson still come around?”

Alex blinked. “You know Frank?”

“Sort of,” you said. Carefully. “We’ve… met.”

He gave a low whistle. “Huh. That’s rare. Most people just try not to get caught in his crosshairs. The guy’s a ghost—shows up, terrifies everyone with one look, then disappears.”

You smiled faintly. “Sounds about right.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “Wait—is he why you signed up here?”

“What? No!” Too fast.

He smirked and bumped your shoulder. “Sure. Okay. Your secret crush on the Phantom of the Base is safe with me.”

You laughed it off. Brushed it off. Swore you wouldn’t think about it again.

Until the day it stopped being theory.

You were juggling a clipboard, a water bottle, and two tangled ropes, cursing under your breath, when you saw him. Across the training field, near the seminar tent.

Frank Benson.

He was talking to another officer, arms folded across that broad chest, dark shirt rolled to the elbows. The sun caught the silver streaks in his hair. He hadn’t changed—still composed, sharp, magnetic in a way that pulled your breath short before you could stop it.

And before you could second-guess yourself as soon as the officer moved away, your feet were already moving.

“Hey! Frank.”

He turned. His eyes flickered over you. Blank. “Yes?”

You faltered. “I—I’m volunteering here for the summer. I saw you and thought I’d say hi.”

A pause. Then:

“That’s good,” he said. Flat. “They could use the help.”

You blinked. “Yeah. I’ve been mostly with the cadets, helping with—”

“I’m late for a debriefing,” he cut in. “Excuse me.”

He turned and walked away.

Just like that.

You stood there in the heat, heart pounding—not from the sun. From the slap of it. The cold shoulder. The utter dismissal.

The Frank you remembered—steady, kind, reserved but warm—was gone.

This one?

He looked through you like you were no one.

That night, you told yourself to forget it. To move on. To focus on the work. To not read into it. To not dig into old wounds and half-remembered things that had never really been anything.

And the next morning, when Alex bumped your shoulder with his usual grin and easy warmth, you leaned into it. Let yourself smile back.

You weren’t going to chase someone who didn’t want you.

Frank Benson was not easily rattled.

But he’d thought about her.

Too much.

Ever since that absurd night—the break-in, the challenge, the coffee. Her apology, soft and sincere. Her fingers brushing his when she handed him the sugar. The way she looked at him, like he was more than just a hardened shell of uniform and scars.

It had crept in—uninvited. That flicker of possibility.

He should’ve shut the door on it. But he didn’t. And now it lingered in the corners of his mind like smoke after gunfire.

Work helped. Even post-retirement, the base still called him in. Briefings, strategic planning, advising cadets. He kept busy. Deliberately.

Until the day she showed up.

She walked across the training field like she belonged there—ponytail bouncing, clipboard in hand, laughing at something one of the younger officers said. She had that natural glow, the kind that drew people in without even trying.

He’d felt it too. Dammit.

“Hey! Frank,” she called, jogging up to him. Sunlight danced in her lashes, her smile nervous but warm. “I—I’m volunteering here for the summer. Just saw you and thought I’d say hi.”

Frank’s stomach twisted. She looked happy. Hopeful.

Dangerous.

He stood straighter, voice clipped. “That’s good. They could use the help.”

A pause. Her smile faltered. “Yeah. I’ve been mostly with the cadets, helping out with—”

“I’m late for a debriefing.” His tone was ice. “Excuse me.”

He didn’t look back as he walked away. But God, he felt it—the way her expression crumpled, just out of sight.

Frank watched from a distance.

Unreadable eyes as she and Alex ran drills, shared stories over rationed coffee, and moved in sync like they’d done it for years. And every time they were paired?

A sudden reassignment.

“Carrington, med tent.”

“Carrington, equipment check.”

“Carrington, mess duty.”

Split apart. Every time.

No one questioned it. Rank had its privileges.

Jealousy is a quiet poison. And Frank was starting to choke.

You noticed.

How his eyes would meet yours, only to flinch away. How his voice turned sharp whenever you were assigned near him.

And so you avoided him. Stopped waving hello. If you saw him in the corridor, you turned the other way. If you were forced to speak to him, you kept it professional. Eyes lowered. Tone dull. As if you didn’t care.

But you did.

God, you did.

It got worse when Alex found her crying behind the supply tent one evening. He said nothing at first—just sat next to you, handed you a water bottle, let the silence speak.

“You okay?” he finally asked, voice low.

You wiped your eyes roughly. “Just tired. Just… tired.”

But Alex had seen the way you looked at Frank. Everyone had. And he knew.

“He’s an idiot,” Alex muttered.

You let out a bitter laugh. “You have no idea.”

Alex nudged your shoulder. “Then let him be. He doesn’t get to treat you like a ghost.”

But you already felt like one.

As the pattern continues, one day it leads to a breaking point. Like the saying nothing lasts forever.

Late-night duty. Inventory check. You and Alex were assigned to the old storage unit—dusty tents, ration crates, leftover gear. At first, it was quiet. Then came the teasing. Then soft laughter.

And then—

You both passed out on opposite mats, boots still on, backs sore, the air heavy with heat and exhaustion.

But morning didn’t come with sunlight.

It came with a storm.

You stirred, half-conscious, as the metal door clanged open.

Frank Benson stood in the frame—arms crossed, face stone, eyes burning.

“Get up,” he growled.

Your stomach dropped. “Frank—wait—”

But he was already walking away.

You scrambled to your feet, boots half-laced, stumbling after him. “Frank, it’s not what it looked like. Nothing happened. We were working late and just—”

He spun. Fast. Fury rippling off him.

“You wanted my attention?” His voice cracked. “You got it.”

You stopped cold. “You think I’d fall for some kid when I can’t get you out of my goddamn head?!”

Frank’s eyes darkened. He stepped in close, and you stepped in closer.

“Then stop trying to replace me,” he hissed.

“Then stop pushing me away!”

Your voice shook. “I’ve tried, Frank. I’ve tried not to want this. You keep shutting me out and I keep showing up like a fool because I thought—”

“You thought wrong.”

You moved again—anger crackling in your chest—but as you reached for his arm, he shoved past you.

And you slipped.

Your foot caught on a rock. The gravel bit into your palms. You hit the ground with a startled gasp.

Frank froze. His expression twisted in something like regret.

But he didn’t help you up.

You stared up at him, heart pounding. “You’re a bastard.”

He looked at you like you’d just sliced him open.

“I never loved you,” he said.

Something tore.

Not just in you—but in him, too.

“I was a mistake. You—” His voice broke. “You’re chasing a ghost. Go back to the boy. You’re good at pretending.”

You got to your feet slowly. Dust on your hands. Rage and heartbreak in your eyes.

“You’re lying.”

He didn’t answer.

You turned and walked. Not because you wanted to.

Because you had to. Yet, you turned one last time, one tiny hope that he might come to you, but he just turned.

That Night

You couldn’t sleep. Again.

Alex found you curled in the rec tent, wrapped in your jacket, staring at nothing. You didn’t even flinch when he sat beside you.

“You okay?”

You didn’t answer.

“You want me to deck him?”

That made you laugh—soft, wet, broken. “Might feel good.”

Alex smiled, handed you a blanket. “Then I will.”

You looked at him. At his kind eyes, his steady hands, his unwavering loyalty.

But he wasn’t Frank.

He never would be.

And you hated your heart for knowing it.

Frank’s Bedroom

He didn’t sleep.

Couldn’t.

He sat in the dark, elbows on his knees, fists pressed against his mouth like he could hold the words in this time. But it was too late for that. They were already out.

Already done.

“I never loved you.”

“I was a mistake.”

“Go back to the boy. You’re good at pretending.”

Each one echoed in his skull like shrapnel. He could still see your face—wide-eyed, furious, wounded. That moment when your mouth trembled but you held it together, that fierce glint in your eyes as you walked away, jaw tight, shoulders set like a soldier marching from a battlefield already lost.

Goddamn idiot.

He hadn’t meant to push you—physically or otherwise. But when you stepped forward, when you said those words—“You think I’d fall for some kid when I can’t get you out of my goddamn head?!”—it was too much.

Too honest.

Too close.

He panicked. Like a coward.

And then you fell. Literally. The sound of your body hitting the gravel was louder in his memory than it should’ve been.

He should’ve helped you up.

Should’ve said something—anything.

But all he did was look at you… and lash out again.

“You’re a goddamn fool.”

He muttered it now, aloud, to the dark.

To the stillness pressing in from every wall.

You were better off without him.

Better off with someone like Carrington—young, open, unafraid. He didn’t carry ghosts. Didn’t flinch when things got too real. He could sit beside you, offer you warmth without setting himself on fire.

Frank clenched his fists tighter, jaw locking as if pain might quiet the regret. But nothing could silence the sight of you walking away—dust on your palms, heartbreak in your stride, dignity intact despite the wound he’d carved with his own damn mouth.

He hated himself for that.

You’d looked back once. Just once.

Eyes glassy.

Not asking him to follow—just wondering if he ever would.

And he didn’t.

Because Frank Benson didn’t know how to stay when it mattered.

Only how to push and destroy and regret it in silence.

And now?

He’d broken what little you had left.

And there was no one to blame but himself.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #frank benson #frank benson x reader #eye in the sky

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theweirdwideweb · 7 months ago

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what are you up to lately, Miss Lindy? thinking about ya but haven't had a chance to keep up 💜

Thank you for asking! I'm 16 days sober and have come out of the worst withdrawal of my life. My inner sense of levity has returned. The good news continues: I got a job after 2.5 months of unemployment! My savings account is in the shitter but at least I'm going to start bringing home funds. My new position is actually a step down in title and responsibility from my last, but it pays the same and I don't have to work for that bitch supervisor who essentially forced me to quit. They're just running my background check and setting up a computer for me, so I should be starting either midweek next week or the Monday after. I'm enjoying my final days of freedom. The new job will be fully remote for 3 months, then a hybrid model which is what I wanted. I don't want to stare at this same corner of my bedroom forever! It'll be 3 days in the office, Tuesday Wednesday & Thursday. The hours are interesting too because it's 9 hours Mon-Thur and a half day off Friday every week. The place is less than 10 minutes from my apartment and it's even on the way to the grocery store. I'm very excited because I immediately clicked with the interviewers and believe socially I will receive a warm reception. In other news, after years of suspecting as much we have settled it that my 3 year old nephew is a nonverbal autistic. Jimmy is a special and beautiful boy and the first person I've known with nonverbal autism. We're thinking about all learning sign language once we understand his communication style better. I've been working on my relationship with my mom and we talk pretty frequently after ~7 years of low to no contact. She went through an intensive DBT program and has actually gotten better than she was. No one is more surprised than me but it's pretty cool.

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charmwasjess · 3 months ago

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As someone with the own Jedi blorbo who just wants to do Lore Keeper/Historian stuff I need like everything on Ko Shka. Please tell me they survive Order 66.

Also since you're done metas on Ataru , Soresu and Makashi are we going to get some for the rest of the forms? (Would really like your thoughts on Niman/Form VI.)

Hope your weekend was a good one!

OHH! What a delightful ask! How about a trade? :D I’d absolutely love to hear more about your Lore Keeper OC as well!!

Master Ko Shka is the kind of person who has made an artform out of being alone. She likes her own company, and the company of her books, and the lizard-chickens that hiss and peck around the courtyard of the remote, snowy forest temple of Oueyjo.

Her name is a play on the Russian word for cat, koshka, because she has cat energy to me: considered, selective, the queen of her domain. An Arkanian with pale hair and green eyes, she excelled as a Padawan and could have been on track to Chief Librarian like her close friend Jocasta Nu, but she opted for a quieter life of an outpost caretaker away from the Temple Archives. She specializes in translation, particularly from ancient languages. She loves stories, and has dedicated years to translating specifically Jedi cultural stories and legends. (Lol, "legends," she’s probably translating a few old EU novels.)

She was former creche clanmates with Jocasta, and a couple years older than Dooku and Sifo-Dyas, part of their larger friend group. (She thinks those two are ridiculous (affectionate) but low key doesn’t know why Jo hangs out with them so often - too much drama for her taste and Sifo-Dyas is SO LOUD even in sign language.)

Oh yeah, she speaks entirely in sign language! I have a headcanon that Jedi learn universal sign language at the same time as Basic, so even younglings can communicate it in fluently.*

As for her life after Order 66, my friend and wonderful reader @akaratna was kind enough to ask to take Ko Shka on a post-Order 66 adventure, so I think she does make it to that era, and may have another story in her aside from her appearance in my fic Rabbit Heart. :D I honestly can't wait.

*I also think Jedi incorporate signs unique to their own lineage or even to an individual, in addition. A common example would be a Padawan recognizing their Master’s unique signs in battle, but my favorite use I ever wrote was Dooku and Sifo-Dyas stopping to have an impassioned silent argument with each other in the middle of an armed standoff. The two of them would absolutely have and use a secret code language with just each other, probably invented for talking in class.

#I love the Jedi Humanities department #OH I GOT SO EXCITED ABOUT KO SHKA I FORGOT NIMAN #it's funny because Ko Shka actually uses Niman #I have long wanted to do a lightsaber meta post about it though and I'll make sure to tag you when I do :D #thanks again for such a lovely ask I really enjoyed thinking about this and I hope you'll feel like sharing about your OC!!!! <3 #star wars oc #jedi oc #sw oc

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aardappel-van-mijn-oog · 1 month ago

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Do you speak a minority language?

For the years I've been active in the minority language preservation community - through learning the endangered Kashubian language - I've been collecting the contact information of others fighting the same fight all over the world. I've met speakers of threatened Italian dialetti, remote North American languages, Celts and Caucasians and everything inbetween. It's truly been a dream come true.

I think, though, it might be time to expand the initiative beyond just "people I happen to run into". So, if you speak a language with limited resources and documentation, or that is under threat of extinction, consider signing up through this Google Form to give an email address that might be used to contact you. These will be stored, alongside any other information you choose to give, on a txt file saved locally on my computer and backed up to an external drive. It will only be given out on direct request, after I have spoken to and vetted the individual. Privacy is very important to me, and likely to you too.

Equally, if you are someone wanting to learn/learn about a minority language and would like a native/fluent speaker to ask questions to, you can reach me by my contact information also listed on the Google Form. Researchers wanting any documentation I might have come across are also welcome to contact.

I have been thinking of setting up a website to handle requests and submissions of resources/contact information, but I don't have any web dev experience, so if there's someone who'd be willing to help in that regard, again my information is listed in the above form.

Echt dzãka za twã pòmòc <3

#langblr #linguistics #minority languages #kaszëbsczi #kaszubski #language learning #languages #endangered languages #native language #language stuff

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reina-tries-2-write · 9 months ago

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The Space Between Sounds

Chapter 1: Unfamiliar Territory

SYNOPSIS: What will your first day at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech entail?

WC: 3.2K

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The story switches between your POV and Toge's between the asterisk cuts. Any descriptions of sign language will be referencing ASL not JSL since I don’t know it. This is my first serious work so I hope you enjoy!

masterlist - next

You step off the train onto the platform in Tokyo, stomach churning with anxiety. The station is noisy, louder than you expected and the ambient volume is a lot to take in. The buzzing and humming is unlike anything you’ve ever heard before and it feels like electricity is running through you.

Scanning the crowd in the station, your eyes finally land on the person you’re looking for. He’s not hard to spot since he’s easily over six feet tall and wearing a blindfold which only makes him stand out further. You walk over and greet him which he eagerly reciprocates before leading you out of the station.

The two of you don’t talk as you make your way through the massive city that you are spending most of your time gawking at. You lived in a remote village and had never seen a building taller than four stories so the city was quite the shock for you. It was beautiful and a lot more colorful and busy than you expected which was honestly a little overwhelming but enjoyable nonetheless. The towering skyscrapers reflected the mid morning sun in a dazzling display that sparkled in your vision as you took in the colorful lights and people of the city.

Today is your move in day at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech and you are incredibly anxious about it. Sure, anyone would be nervous about moving five hours from home for university but you have an extra reason to be nervous.

Aside from missing the first month of classes, the thing about you is…

You’re deaf.

You can read lips and speak fine, or at least well enough to be understood, but you still battle a communication barrier. It can be quite frustrating at times as well. When people find out you’re deaf but can read lips, they often exaggerate their mouth movements as they speak which only makes it harder for you to understand them.

You find yourself nodding and smiling along with strangers quite often, having absolutely no idea what they are saying to you.

Back home, your friends Mari and Kai were the only ones who weren’t weird about you being deaf and took the time to learn sign language with you. You had a blast teaching them in middle school and the three of you were super close throughout the rest of middle and high school.

The three of you went off to separate colleges but promised to do your best to keep in touch despite being so far apart. You were definitely going to stay in contact with then since they’re your best friends, number one supporters, and honestly, the best people in your life. They’re more like family really.

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts of your friends and back into your anxious reality as the blindfolded man, Gojo, lead you up a dark cobbled path onto campus.

As you walked closer and closer, the buzzing, humming, and crackling in your ears got louder. Despite being deaf, you can hear cursed energy, and is louder the stronger it is. That being said, Gojo is pretty damn loud and so is the campus.

Regardless of the volume, it is really nice, set in the woods just inside the city and has beautiful traditional architecture. There are several different types of housing buildings on the campus along with student housing of course.

There is also a large training area with multiple accompanying buildings, and more official looking buildings where classes and other meetings are probably held, in the middle of campus.

There are some nice secluded corners of the campus too with ponds and shrines and small places to spend time in nature.

Gojo leads you to a dorm building and you take a deep breath of the crisp September air before walking up the three wooden steps. After the front door closes behind you, you sigh lightly in relief at the welcome, slightly quieter atmosphere.

Your room is nothing crazy fancy but it’s still very nice. Your belongings have already been delivered and are neatly sitting on the wooden floor in the middle of the room.

All of the furniture was wood but was in very good condition, clearly new and well taken care of. The bathroom was pretty plain, white tile and vanity, a shower with a small bench inside, and a small cabinet under the sink. You take in the warm wood of the room, breathing in the smell of varnish and a fresh citrus-y cleaner. The only noise in the room was the loud crackling and buzzing of Gojo’s cursed energy blaring in your ears.

After looking around, you turn to him to await further instruction, having no idea what you’ll be doing today.

“Alright! Now I’ll give you a quick tour of campus and then you can meet the other first years.” He tells you.

You nod your head nervously and follow him out of the dorm. Despite the fact you are able to speak, you prefer not to. Mari and Kai had described your voice to you on one occasion and, through no fault of their own, made you extremely self conscious about it. You knew you didn’t sound normal and had what is called a ‘deaf accent’ which only made you even more different. Needless to say, you never speak unless you absolutely have to.

You hated the way people reacted when you did speak— the way their eyebrows would knit together, and their smiles would falter, told you everything you needed to know. It was better not to try. Better to just be silent. Stay in the background.

Gojo takes you around campus and explains some day to day activities, giving you a mini version of the orientation that you obviously missed. Walking by the training arena, you spot four people at work. Well, three people and a panda to your utter surprise.

Noticing your intrigue, Gojo explains that they are the other first years and that you’ll get to meet them soon. You watch a guy with platinum blond hair and the panda goofing off which makes the girl cross her arms and shake her head as if to fake disdain for their antics while the other guy laughs along.

They all clearly knew each other pretty well at this point and that only made you feel even more excluded. Not only were you going to have to learn how to read them, get to know them, and be accepted, but you were going to have to figure out how to communicate without talking if possible. You didn’t want them to think any differently of you.

Well, more than they initially would.

Were you going to be able to fit in with them? What were they going to be like? Particularly the panda. Was he able to talk? Would you be able to read him? What if you couldn’t?

After a tour of the buildings, Gojo lead you down the stairs into the arena where the other students were still training. He greets them and instructs them to come over to meet you. The humming-buzzing noise gets louder as they approach and you are able to tell that the taller guy is the loudest which only makes you more nervous. He’s almost as loud as Gojo and you know he’s freaky powerful.

Your only goal today was to try and fit in. Okay just get through introductions without looking like an idiot. If you can do that then maybe, just maybe, this whole new life— your fresh start— wouldn’t be so terrifying. Yeah. You got this. You had to. You couldn’t survive four years alone without anyone who understood you. Back home it was so easy to slip into the background unnoticed. But there were so few of you here you had to fit in. You’d just be a burden to them if you couldn’t. You had to be seen— useful for once.

You get increasingly nervous as they all stand around you and you begin to fiddle with your bracelet, plucking at the beads with shaky fingers as Gojo introduces you to them, simply saying your name and explaining that you’re deaf.

You wished he would have said more and you looked up at him, eyes pleading to give a better explanation. You desperately wanted to fit in. But he didn’t look over at you.

You give everyone a timid wave and notice the guy with platinum blond hair seems to take particular interest in you, his thin brows raised curiously. Unfortunately for you, he’s got a high collared sweater covering his mouth so you won’t be able to read his lips.

Everyone goes around and introduces themselves to you but, as usual, you have no idea what their names are. New words you’ve never seen spoken before, names in particular, were very difficult for you to lip read.

The girl seems a bit standoffish, crossed arms and raised brow, but looks relatively happy to have another woman around nonetheless as she looks you up and down with a bit of approval. You get the feeling she’s pretty intense and despite having the least amount of cursed energy, you’re most definitely intimidated by her presence and sizing you up.

The taller guy seems pretty tired, eye bags and slouched posture, and a bit shy due to his timid wave and smile. But he gives you the impression that he’s pretty easy going and approachable despite the massive amount of buzzing cursed energy he’s struggling to control.

The panda eagerly introduces himself but since you’ve never exactly spoken to a panda before, you have no idea what he says at all. He then gestures to the blond guy and seemingly introduces him since he doesn’t speak to you. Or you don’t think he does anyway. He gives you an eager wave, eyes crinkling with his assumed smile.

Great.

You still had no idea who any of them were. Not to mention, you’re particularly anxious about how you’re going to communicate with the guy who covers his mouth. Hopefully that wasn’t a regular thing with him. Could he even speak? The panda did introduce him and for all you knew, he could be deaf too. You highly doubted that though. He would have signed to you if he was, right?

****************************************************

Gojo told us that the final first year would be arriving today and we were all curious as to who they would be. I got genuinely a bit disappointed at having yet another person who wouldn’t understand me but that’s just how things are for me. Always have been, always will be.

We were in the arena for afternoon training when we heard Gojo come in. With him is the new student, another girl to Maki’s clear intrigue. The pair make their way down the stairs and we meet them at the bottom for introductions.

“Hey guys! This is our final first year Y/N! One important note is that she’s deaf but she can read lips so we’ll do introductions now!” Gojo chirps in explanation.

She gives us a shy smile and wave before continuing to fiddle with the bracelet around her left wrist. She looked absolutely terrified of being here, out of her element and around people who she clearly couldn’t understand. She nodded and smiled along with everyone’s introductions but I know she had no idea what we were saying.

I’m very used to getting that look when I speak. The awkward smile and glimmer of confusion in their eyes, stiff and nervous body language, being obviously uncomfortable and suddenly reserved— I know all the tells.

But something about her quietness was different. It was like she was escaping into her world of silence whereas my quiet was just something I was used to. Something that just inherently came with me.

I felt genuinely bad that she wasn’t understanding but of course there wasn’t anything I could say to help the situation. Panda introduced me and I did my best to be welcoming and approachable. I could tell she had extra no idea about Panda and I, probably because she’d never spoken to a panda and it was difficult to read his lips. Well, snout. Whatever.

I’ll have to do a proper introduction with her later when I can type or write something up. I didn’t want her to feel isolated. I know what that’s like too.

****************************************************

After the very unhelpful introductions, Gojo tells them to resume their training and says that you can just watch for the time being as the allotted afternoon training time was almost over. You nodded and sat down on one of the benches as the others continued.

The girl wielded a polearm and was clearly very talented with it, sparring with the Tired Guy who’s weapon of choice was a katana. The Panda and Blond Guy didn’t wield weapons and instead goofed off a bit and worked on their physical fitness, doing a few laps around the track and the like.

Training ended a little bit before dinner time and you walked back to the dorms with the others, behind them on the dirt path. Blond Guy looked back at you a couple times, his expression hard to read and you hoped he wasn’t being judgmental even though he most likely was.

You weren’t very hungry due to the large meal you’d eaten on the train a few hours ago so you simply headed off to your room to unpack. Plus you wanted an escape from the loud buzzing of cursed energy that was going to take some getting used to.

You started with your litany of clothes, filling up your closet before you started on the mess of boxes. You hadn’t exactly organized them very well in your rush to pack and you had to dig through them to find everything you needed as you went.

The room quickly turned into a mess, items scattered all over the place as you looted through boxes and simply dumped a few of them out on your bed to rifle through the contents.

But a couple hours later and your room was complete, reflecting your bedroom back home, your style, and personality as you liked it to. It was an extension of yourself in a way and you felt much more at home now that it was decorated and the like.

Okay. Nice and organized and just like home. Yeah. This is good.

It was now your new sanctuary in this new and honestly overwhelming place. Despite your orientation, you were still pretty clueless as to what was going on around here and you struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the place.

It was well after dinner time when you got hungry and thankfully, one of the few things you understood was that the kitchen was communal and you had free reign to use whatever you’d like unless it was clearly marked with someone’s name.

You made yourself a simple sandwich and as you finished, you heard the buzzing increase like someone was walking toward you. This noise was more of a humming that wasn’t overwhelming and had an almost pleasant pitch. Like a machine quietly whirring as it worked intently on its task.

Cursed energy noises— that was your one and only auditory cue as to your surroundings and since most everyone had some amount of cursed energy, you learned to tell where people were relative to you.

****************************************************

I ran into Y/N later that evening in the kitchen on my way to get something to drink. She had her back turned to me as she prepared something on the counter and as much as I wanted to approach her, I didn’t want to scare her or anything by suddenly appearing or tapping her shoulder.

So I stood there a bit oddly as I contemplated how I wanted to approach but a few seconds later, she turned around. Thankfully she didn’t look surprised or scared about my presence and I chalked it up to her having felt my footsteps as I walked in or something. That or she just wasn’t a jumpy person and was used to others randomly appearing.

She looked really troubled, her brows furrowed at seemingly nothing and her shoulders slouched as she held a blue ceramic plate with a simple sandwich on it.

Looking up at me, she froze, eyes wide for a second.

Did I scare her? Was there something intimidating about me? Was it because it was just the two of us in here? I didn’t want to be threatening.

She blinked a few times before she gave me an awkward smile before her expression fell even further than it was before.

I did my best to ask if she was okay but she didn’t pick up on it immediately. But after a few seconds, she understood and shrugged her shoulders in answer before looking down at the plate in her hand, expression conveying some sadness among other things.

She holds her hand up in an odd goodbye of sorts, almost as if to stop me from asking or saying anything before she scampered off to her room, shutting the door loudly.

What was going on in her head? Was I not as approachable as I thought? Or was something else going on? She probably had a very overwhelming day and another social interaction might be too much for her right now. I wasn’t offended at her awkward departure, I was just worried and confused about what she was thinking. I didn’t want her to feel isolated here.

****************************************************

Turning around, sandwich in hand, you saw Blond Guy in the kitchen behind you. He gave you a smile and wave before his expression changed. His brows furrowed and his head tilted to the side ever so slightly.

Your eyes widened as you froze in place.

How were you gonna communicate with him? The one person around here that you can’t understand at all. Was he gonna think you were weird for smiling and waving and gesturing instead of talking? Would you be able to fit in here with him?

He pointed to you and then gave you a hesitant thumbs up. Your own brows furrowed in confusion before you realized he was asking if you were okay.

Are you okay? No, not really. You were overwhelmed and exhausted and hungry and terrified of what tomorrow was going to be like.

But you give him an awkward smile before shrugging your shoulders and diverting your gaze from his violet eyes to the sandwich on your plate.

You notice what looks like a frown on his face, again you still couldn’t see his mouth, but the rest of his face conveyed it fine.

Oh god, what is he thinking? Does he think you’re weird? Does he not like you? Is he scared to try and communicate with you?

You hold your hand up briefly as a goodbye of sorts before sheepishly heading back to the quiet of your room.

The weight of the day settled onto your shoulders as you shut the door behind you. For a moment, you stood there, leaning your forehead against it, letting the quiet calm you down.

Finally, a space where you didn’t have to try so hard.

#jjk #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #jjk x y/n #toge x reader #toge x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #deaf!reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 months ago

Text

What Happens At Home: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: A new team member joins due to her traumatic past, hoping that she can give some insight before more people are killed. Meanwhile, you get the house ready for Spencer's mother on Christmas weekend.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

"Agent Hotchner. You should see this." Felix moves a small TV to face Hotch. It's an interrogation tape of one of the sixty-four suspects. "This guy is Frank Morris."

"I do? How do I know that?" Felix asks.

"I run the damn neighborhood watch," Frank glares.

"That means you're walking around at night."

"You said the profile could include somebody in the neighborhood watch, right?"

"That's where Agent Y/N comes in."

"I know the unsub's energy. I can match it to whoever is in the crowd."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm a psychic. I see energies. Everyone has a different base energy, and the unsub left a lot of it behind at the crime scene."

"That's not possible."

"She's the real deal, and we trust her wholeheartedly. Let us focus on scanning the crowd, you focus on bringing Frank in." Hotch doesn't give him time to question you. "We're going to try something else. Can you make some officers available to run a sign-in table at a community meeting tonight? One of the things we're going to be examining is body language in a group environment."

"Body language?"

"It's something that the unsub won't be able to control even if he were to try to."

"Right. Okay, I'll have some uniforms detailed for the meeting."

"Will you also tell Brinkman that the unsub will display something that he can't control?"

"Sure," Felix nods and leaves.

"Do you think they'll be able to keep that to themselves?"

"Let's hope not."

"Hotch, Might be able to point out the unsub but you told me that I have to have facts and evidence to back up my claim. Is this going to happen tonight or will you arrest whoever I say to?"

Hotch sighs and takes you off to the side.

"We can only hold someone for forty-eight hours without cause. If we get him now, we have a clock running. If you point him out, we can be better prepared and gather evidence before bringing him in."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Don't think I don't trust you. I do. I take everything you say into consideration."

"Thanks, Hotch," you smile.

At the most recent crime scene, Derek and Emily found a laptop owned by the latest victim. Once Derek brought it back to the model home, he hooked it up for Penelope to sift through. Aubrey was a writer so you're hoping she kept some kind of journal. Maybe she noticed someone following her or she felt weird about something. It's a stretch but you have no doubt if there is anything to find, Penelope is going to find it.

With the suspects who are left, Penelope looks to see if any of them have a tech background that would allow them to modify a remote control of a garage. It might be how the unsub is letting himself into the houses.

Marjorie's family was out of town. Jill was strangled in her laundry room while her family was camping outside. The unsub was able to get through the entire house only to find a room where someone was awake. That doesn't sound like someone just randomly checking garage doors to see if one will open. This unsub stalked his victims and reprogrammed a garage door opener to work on his victim's doors.

As soon as six rolls around, you're in the back which has a great view of the entire church. People are filtering in, but none of them are the unsub yet. Derek and Emily show up after looking at each of the crime scenes.

"We just came from the last victim's house. The unsub used the garage as access. Maybe a remote door opener made to be universal. The police are saying it's random, but how could you randomly find a woman so vulnerable? Garcia's going over backgrounds again, trying to highlight anyone with tech experience," Derek explains.

"She's also doing a full workup on Brinkman and Ruiz. They had that kind of access. Has anyone seen Ruiz?"

"I saw him a while ago," Rossi answers Hotch.

"He set up everyone filling out forms, but I haven't seen him since," Spencer says.

"We need to ask for help in a different way. Tell people that we're looking for someone who might have seensomething rather than someone who did something. No one thinks that their friends or neighbors are capable of this. We should get started."

Hotch walks to the altar to address everyone inside the church while you stay in the back. The unsub has not entered the building. You didn't even have to go inside the crime scenes to see his energy. It was pouring out of it like a disease. Hotch gives a brief overview of what's going on in a calm manner so that no one panics.

"We're hoping that someone may have seen something and not even realized it. Maybe you have a neighbor who takes his trash out late, works on his car in his garage, or anything that might put someone outside at an odd hour and allow them to see something."

"Is there anything we can help you look for?" Emily asks Ashley.

"It won't be overt. The kids probably won't be afraid of their dad."

"They won't? These guys have explosive tempers, don't they?"

Your dad did.

"Definitely. Anger wasn't normal at my house. Usually, when it happened, when he exploded, it was an anomaly. A surprise. If anything, my father was overly solicitous. Too nice. If I wanted anything like bicycles, toys, and dolls, all I had to do was ask. In groups, he always held my hand. Always. Sometimes so tight, it almost cut off the circulation. I can never remember him putting me on his lap or holding me in any way."

You look away from her as you think about your own dynamic with your dad. You had the complete opposite experience with him. He was scary when he was angry. When he punished, he punished. Afterward, he'd feel so bad about how he reacted that he'd give you anything you asked for. He was overly affectionate for you and loved to hold you as a kid. It stopped when you got too old for it, but he always loved hugging you. You never saw an issue with it. You still don't, but you're confused why dread and doubt are creeping up your back when you think back on it.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks and nudges you.

"My dad did that stuff for me."

"Your dad isn't a killer."

"Yeah, I know," you whisper.

"He'd always have these talks with me. He was terrified someone would take me," Ashley continues. "He knew what was out there. Men like him. Maybe this unsub recently bought gifts for his kids. My dad used to buy me things all the time."

"What kind of gifts?"

"Anything. Everything. I told you, there was nothing... My whole life, there's only one thing I wanted that I couldn't have."

"What was it?"

"A pet."

After Hotch is done talking to the crowd, he walks over to your group, and you shake your head at his questioning look.

"He wasn't here, Hotch. I didn't see his energy anywhere. I don't think he's here but he could have blended in. There's a lot of people here. Energies tend to mush together in large crowds.

"We're gonna start with the people who didn't show and cross-reference with families with no pets," Emily explains.

"No pets?"

"I remembered I wasn't allowed to have a dog or a pet of any kind. It was more than a rule. It was a big problem for us," Ash says.

"That could be something."

"I'm sorry I couldn't point him out."

"We don't expect you to point him out. We're hoping you can help us once we have things narrowed down. Plus, I believe Y/N. If she says he wasn't here, he's probably not here."

Spencer returns with a list in his hands. "Out of the sixty-four suspects, eighteen of them didn't show up."

"Okay. Prentiss, take Ashley back to the model home, go through the eighteen names, and add the pet information." Emily nods, and the two women leave. "Is Garcia's working on technical backgrounds?"

"Yes," Derek nods.

"Okay, get her the eighteen names. Did Ruiz ever get here?"

"No. Neither did the security chief."

"As far as I'm concerned, we have twenty no-shows."

An officer walks into the church and over to your group.

"Agent Hotchner? Detective Ruiz would like you to meet him at Main and Oak. There's been another murder."

You immediately head over to the house to see Felix talking with the distraught husband of the victim. He is sitting on the front porch steps with his head in his hands, crying his eyes out.

"I know, Mike. I'm sorry. We're doing everything we can," Felix sighs.

"The unsub's killed two nights in a row. It's a major escalation."

"We need to start over," Hotch says. "I think we go back to the beginning. Local PD gave us a list of sixty-four out of the seventy-one possible males. I think we throw that out and start with the original seventy-one."

"What about Ruiz?" Spencer asks.

"He's definitely on the list."

"He didn't do it but that doesn't mean he doesn't know who did it or isn't covering for him," you whisper.

You head back to the model home but Emily and Ashley aren't there.

"Hey, Reid, where's the list of people that didn't make the meeting?" Derek asks.

He hands the list to him. "Right here."

"We need to look at all seventy-one files. We need to eliminate suspects our way, not theirs."

The files of everyone are on the dining room table, and you grab a handful of them to look through. Spencer drums his fingers down the sides of the folders and frowns in thought.

Derek takes out his phone and dials Penelope, putting her on speakerphone.

"Garcia, are you ready?"

"Yes. What do you got?"

The front door opens and Detective Ruiz walks in. Everyone looks at him like he's the suspect, and he senses the hostility.

"What's up?"

"There are only sixty-seven files here. Where are the other four?"

"One of them is mine, and the other three are the victims' husbands."

"Why would they automatically be cleared?" Derek asks.

"Wouldn't they? I mean, if you're gonna check them, you might as well check me."

"We are," Rossi states. "Detective, where are the missing files?"

"Right over here."

Felix grabs the files and hands them over to Hotch.

"Garcia, we need you to run a few more names. Phillip Long."

"Long has no suspicions on his record, no arrests, and no technology either."

"Drew Jacobs."

"Drew had a couple of arrests for assault when he was younger. I'll give you more details on that in a second. Is this the husband of the woman whose computer I went through?"

"Yeah."

"She was really unhappy with him. She said he was distant and he left her alone at night."

"He was wandering outside," Felix says. "As a matter of fact, before his wife was killed, he was my top suspect."

"He's an IT expert who travels around the world," Penelope says.

"He's a tech. Thanks, baby girl."

Emily and the Chief of Security walk through the door just now. "What's going on?"

"There was another murder during the meeting."

"Where's Seaver?"

"I thought she was with you," you say.

"No. I left her here."

Hotch takes out his phone and calls Ashley who picks up immediately. He places her on speakerphone so everyone can hear her.

"Agent Seaver," she answers.

"Ashley, where are you?"

"Without a doubt, sir."

"Where are you?"

"Yes, sir."

A look of realization falls over Hotch's face.

"Can you get out of there?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't do that. Mr. Jacobs told me that his daughter was frightened, and as soon as I can make her feel better, I'll come back."

She hangs up and you look at Hotch who is worried for her.

"Jacobs has her. She has no gun. Let's go."

"Son of a bitch," Felix curses.

You rush over to Drew's house. Based on the energy you can see floating out of the house, there is a child inside. It's like Ashley's childhood all over again.

"Prentiss and Morgan, take the back. Make noise. Let him know he's caught. It may be the only chance she's got."

You go with Htoch through the front door, and you keep your gun aimed in front of you.

"FBI!"

You make your way upstairs to see a little girl with tears streaming down her face and Drew standing behind Ashley with a knife to her throat.

"Drop the knife," Hotch demands.

"Daddy!"

You walk over to the little girl and pull her into you to keep her from running to her dad.

"Drop the knife!" Rossi yells.

You turn Drew's daughter toward you so she doesn't have to see what happens next. Drew pushes Ashley to the side and lunges at Hotch with the knife. You cover the girl's eyes just as her dad is shot twice in the chest. You don't waste any time in getting the girl downstairs so that she can't see her dad's dead body lying on the ground.

Case closed.

Spencer stayed true to his word and flew to Las Vegas to pick up his mom while you went back home and got the guest room ready for her. She's been having more good days so her doctor allowed her to take Christmas weekend away from the facility. Spencer texted when they landed in Virginia and once again when they were pulling up. You open the front door and smile when you see Diana.

"Diana! I'm so happy to see you! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, dear," she smiles back.

"Why don't you two sit down and I'll make some tea for you two," Spencer offers.

You lead Diana to the living room and sit with her on the couch. You wanted to wait until Christmas morning to tell her the news but you can't contain your excitement much longer.

"We have some news, Diana."

"What is it?"

You hold out your left hand to show off the beautiful diamond ring. "Spencer and I are getting married. We're engaged." She gasps happily and grabs your hand to inspect the ring further. "We'd like you to be there."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she grins.

"Would you like to watch some Christmas movies?" She nods and leans back in her seat. "Great. I'll be right back."

You walk into the kitchen where Spencer is and slink up to his side.

"I like how happy you make my mom."

"She makes me happy, too. Afterall, she gave birth to you."

Spencer leans down and kisses you, utterly and completely in love with you.

"Children begin by loving their parents. As they grow older they judge them, sometimes they forgive them." – Oscar Wilde

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite

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mychlapci · 9 months ago

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Episode 6 - Masters & Students

Looking at TFP Starscream is so funny to me because he’s got those big fuck off eyebrows that look literally glued onto his face. I like to think they’re attached via magnetics because that’s the only explanation I have for how silly they look.

OH BOY I SURE DO LOVE THE FACT THAT THE VEHICONS ARE SHOWN TO BE CAPABLE OF TALKING, ASKING QUESTIONS, AND GENERALLY SHOWING SIGNS OF SENTIENCE. IT SURE DOES FEEL GREAT KNOWING THAT THE AUTOBOTS ARE GOING TO BE KILLING AND RIPPING THEM TO PIECES ON THE REGULAR WHILE SPOUTING OFF ABOUT HOW THEY’RE THE GOOD GUYS. [Obviously these are implications drawn from the fact that the show runners probably weren’t thinking about the vehicons as anything more than canon fodder. But ough, I do not like those implications.]

Also it’s really funny that the show wants me to believe that Starscream is a worse leader when he successfully lead the Decepticons for three years without the Autobots realising that he had several mining operations on Earth. Starscream should’ve been leader for the rest of the series, send tweet.

That being said, I would like to shove him into a trash compactor.

God I want to kiss however the hell rigged Starscream’s face, he’s so damn expressive.

Ratchet is like ‘Babe 🥺aren’t you happy that your former friend is finally dead’ while Optimus is fucking sulking.

Wwwhuat. I hope Ratchet’s voice actor got paid well.

“You’re a human Jack, can you build me a small intestine.” Arcee is allowed to be funny, as a treat.

I love how you can see Bulkhead raising his finger to argue with Ratchet before he puts his hand down and shakes his head in defeat.

GOD SOUNDWAVE LOOKS SO FUCKING SILLY WITH THAT LITTLE ANTENNAE THING STICKING OUT OF HIS BACK.

Okay I’m back on my tfp Soundwave hating arc. This time I think I’ve pinpointed why I don’t really enjoy him [design not withstanding] it’s because he has no body language to even remotely influence his personality. He is literally standing there in 99% of his scenes. There’s no movement from him, no indication of what he’s thinking, feeling, or wanting to do. Starscream literally says “What do you mean you can’t pinpoint his signal?!” Which implies that Soundwave is actively communicating with him. But if you look at his model he’s just standing there. There’s no movement of his tentacles, hell his screen doesn’t even flash red to indicate that he hasn’t found Skyquake’s signal. I think with a few bits of body language acting, Soundwave could’ve been a really interesting character. I don’t need him to talk verbally, fuck I don’t even want him to have a noise indicating he’s talking like Bumblebee, I just want him to express literally anything.

Fuck Optimus is so goddamn big.

“Unfortunately Megatron’s legacy will live on as others rise to take his place.” You can just say it’s Starscream Optimus, there’s literally nobody else. We see nobody else trying to be leader, it’s just Starscream. [Actually that would’ve been an interesting plot point or story.]

RHRUGH Grandpa Ratchet wants nothing to do with the battlefield, he’s helping them with their science homework.

AAAAH I DON’T LIKE SOUNDWAVE’S SPINDLY FUCKING FINGERS. PUT THOSE THANGS AWAY MAN

Lord Skyquake is a crusty old man. Yeah I see why Maggot likes him so much. His colour palette is actually really nice, besides Knockout, we don’t see many Decepticons with colours ranging outside of blue, purple, or grey. It’s a good decision to make him so differently coloured from the rest of the cons. Also I think it’s interesting that Optimus says that he hasn’t obtained an altmode yet but we clearly see him with cockpit and wing kibble. Obviously the logical explanation is that the animators really didn’t need an entirely separate model with just the cockpit and wings removed but it is very funny to think about. Also lord he is large.

Starscream’s inability to gauge which people he should order around continues to astound me. I love him for that. Get fucked you stupid pigeon.

LMFAO THE WAY HE JUST RUNS ARMS OUTSTRETCHED TOWARDS OPTIMUS. IS HE STUPID?!

I said it in DMS, but I’ll say it here. The real tragedy of knowing that Skyquake is going to get canned is the fact that he has a really interesting and unique colour palette and weapon [machine gun] that distinguishes him from the other cons and they just kill him. What a waste.

God they have to let Ratchet be in charge, he’s been so cooped up.

“Soundwave, why aren’t you tracking them?” Maybe he is, though I can’t blame him for not knowing considering Soundwave is just standing there, a-posing.

Starscream is so dramatic.

SEE THIS IS WHAT I’M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT. Soundwave repeats Starscream’s voiceline and then releases Laserbeak, that’s a genuine little bit of character driven story telling that Soundwave doesn’t actually trust Starscream. :[ Why couldn’t we get more of that.

They should let Optimus run more people over in his altmode. It’s funny.

OLD MAN DOWN

The laser eye beams is so funny. Like obviously they have to make sure you know he’s scanning an altmode but it’s so fucking funny.

Starscream should’ve taken Megatron’s body and then- [The rest of this post has been removed for violating Tumblr’s terms and conditions.]

RIP Skyquake, your colour palette and cool gun were of too much interest for TFP, you had to die.

Episode 7 - Scrapheap

Slight nitpick that doesn’t matter but oh that opening dialogue from Ratchet is so expositiony. Like yes Bulkhead, who has been alive for several million years, you do not know that exposure to lower temperatures can fuck up your systems. This literally doesn’t matter but I think it’s funny. Obviously it sounds good because it’s Ratchet saying it.

Ah the bugs. Scraplets are a fun concept I think. Tiny metal eating critters that can terrify even the biggest Cybertronians.

Ratchet is the biggest hater and I love him for that. He continues to be the best.

Awwww Optimus saying he’ll bring Raf back a snowball is very cute.

As someone who lives in the ye old midwest where we regularly get temperatures in the freezing during half of the year, the kids being really excited about the snow always seemed silly to me. Like, it’s just snow lmfao. But I do get it. Though the idea that Raf just spacebridging himself to the arctic circle for a few minutes is something I’ve thought about. Honestly I think we should’ve got more things involving the ability to transport oneself to anywhere in the world. Like Miko going home for a few days.

The scraplets are just little guys. Small fucking beast.

Bulkhead’s actor is so fucking good in this episode.

Also the heat maps that the scraplets see in confuse me sooo much. You’ve got most of the cybertronians heat being centred around their shoulders, legs, and feet. Ratchet’s chassis is almost entirely blue while his upper thigh is red which makes no sense because his engine should be putting out some kind of heat right? Bulkhead’s chin is green while the top of his helm is red and the inside of Bumblebee’s thigh is blue while the top is red. What the fuck is going on with them?

Bulkhead’s war trauma of watching a scraplet eat someone he knows should’ve been touched upon more.

“Typically I find your fleshiness to be your least engaging quality.” This just in, Ratchet does not find flesh attractive, robofuckers move on, grandpa does not want you.

Once again Bulkhead’s VA does a fantastic job!

They’re eating him alive. Tragic and terrible day for Grandpa.

It’s still so fucking funny that they picked the b-plot to be Optimus and Arcee freezing to death. Like it provides for some really sweet moments, particularly when Optimus goes to hold Arcee’s hand but it’s still really funny. Like yeah Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead are all getting eaten alive and meanwhile Optimus fucking Prime is freezing his tits off.

OUGH SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO WAS EXPECTING THESE!!! my cat died and i had so much school work and my life has been a mess. but yeahg, have some tfp reviews :] also maggot you are following my main if you ever wanna yap about skyquake to me! if you say yes i'll come off anon and dm you via tumblr.

-burnt ice anon

oh god, sorry for your cat, and good luck with school! it's okay, now we're here and it's time to talk about tfp.

to be honest, you're the first and only tfp Soundwave hated i've ever met (or seen) and even though i have no beef with tfp Soundwave you have actually have a very refreshing point of view. i mean, i always thought that him just standing there is just what he does but now that i think about it i'm like YEAH he should've been a bit more expressive. like, when he uses snippets of Starscream's voice, or that scene where they want to pull the plug on Megs and he just bluntly points to the screen tracing his brain waves, i think since he's a silent character, more stiff and creepy movements would have done him some justice.

once again, happy that Skyquake has been received in a positive way. The way he runs out at Optimus with his arms out flailing is so funny. No thought, he's just fucking mad. And you know, I never realized, but it's kind of odd they don't have any alt-modes until they scan an earth vehicle. like, why wouldn't they? maybe they had to deactivate their tcog for the stasis? i guess that's some scifi bullshit that could explain it.

Also if you wish to discuss Starscream doing anything at all to Megatron's corpse, anything at all, i have some thoughts. i've got thoughts. and a fanfic link i discovered recently.

anyways, the heat maps in the scraplet episode are So funny to me now that you pointed it out. they make no sense at all. it's a really funny episode overall. despite the fact that it's about bots getting eaten alive.

#maggot would love to contact you surely expect a beautiful life of hearing about skyquake and dreadwing and most recently starscream #a lot of starscream #but i'm not complaining. love that guy #texty

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calicofurball3 · 3 months ago

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Hello! I saw your astrology game 😆 here is my vedic chart. I wish you all luck with your blog ✨️Thank you sooo much 💕✨️

Heyy there, tysm for the well wishes!🥺💗 Just to let you know, the particular chart that you’ve sent is in the placidus and not the whole sign system, although I’ve considered it in the latter aspect while making these predictions😊

I also did notice that the Asc, Dsc, IC and MC in the chart is quite close to the cusp of the houses. Since this isn’t quite common, I’ve read somewhere that if it were the case, one should confirm that the time of birth is as accurate as possible. This is because even tiny difference in minutes/seconds could change you’re ascendant and hence the whole chart. It may end up feeling like you don’t resonate with the reading at all. So I just wanted to clarify that as well😅

(Do note that asteroids, Pluto, Uranus and Neptune aren’t considered in sidereal astrology, so I wouldn’t be considering them)

Ascendant in Scorpio, in the Anuradha nakshatra could mean that you have a well structured, defined face, with sharp features. It’s also possible that ppl might’ve obsessed over your looks, or wanted to have similar features as the ones you have😭

This along with other placement in the chart is giving a lot of model vibes🎀✨

With mars aspecting the first house, you could have a slightly reddish undertone to ur skin, or MAYBE ginger hair? You may possibly have scars or acne as well perhaps. You’re likely to be a physically active person, who enjoy working out, sports or other physical activities.

With Sun in 9th in pushya nakshatra, you’re father could’ve been quite supportive and close to you, probably more closer than you’re mother. With Ketu in the 9th with the Sun, that too in cancer, it MAY be that you’re dad sometimes could have fulfilled the role of your mother as well? Or she could’ve been not present in ur life often, probably quite busy with work or so. It could also be that you and your mother have different ideologies that there’s a lack of understanding of one another perhaps.

Sun conjunct Ketu in 9th vibes lots of karmic vibe with the father. Sun being the 10th house lord in 9th could suggest luck from career in ur life. It’s also possible that you may be working in the same field as your mother perhaps.

Mrcury in the 9th with Sun and Ketu suggest that you could be extremely curious. You may love to dig deep abt stuff that you find interesting, knowledge that’s hidden (like esoteric subjects, or even secrets for instance) and spiritual knowledge.

You could also be extremely smart, and may enjoy activities like solving puzzles, mysteries, escape rooms and so on. With mercury being the 11th house lord, you could potentially earn from these interests of yours as well if you’ve wanted to.

A Leo Saturn in 10th house suggests you could have karma to serve others. You may work in government related organizations, or ur job could have something linked to the government. It’s also likely that you MIGHT have faced some sort of defamation in workspace, career or public.

Saturn being the 3rd house lord here could mean that you may have trouble with communication in ur workspace, it’s possible that you could be in an authoritative position and ppl may find your words quite bossy? This may also suggest u need to put in efforts into career in order to climb the professional ladder but it gets better as years pass on. All ur achievements that recieve recognition would be through your sheer hard work.

I do get the vibe that you may be involved in the healthcare/ teaching/ government/ beauty industry in the professional sphere. Saturn being 4th house lord as well, work place may feel like ur second home lol. In the literal sense of it, you could even be doing a remote, work at home job. If not this, it may be possible that you might lack time to spend at home cuz you’re too busy at work.

Rahu in the 3rd house suggests that you may be able to speak or learn multiple languages easily. It is considered a pretty good placement in astrology, and amplifies the courage in you. You could have lot of siblings too perhaps. This might sound a little random but, with this placement, you may come up with great clap back to insults (esp since it’s in Capricorn)😭😭

9th house moon in 12th could very well indicate higher education abroad, infact you could get lucky and attract more opportunities in foreign lands. With moon in the nakshatra of Vishaka here, you may find yourself at the crossroad of choices often in ur life. You could also worry a lot about your purpose in life, that you MAY have anxiety or such as well.

Moon in the 12th, you restrict ur emotions a lot, holding it in. You may feel embarrassed to showcase ur emotions, or fear being emotionally vulnerable in front of people. You may love the finer luxury in life, since it’s in libra, but you could have a tendency to overindulge in them as well. This is a highly intuitive placement, you could possibly have vivid or prophetic dreams as well. I am getting the vibe that you’re mom may be quite distant from this placement.

7th lord Jupiter in 4th indicate that your FS maybe from the same hometown, or somebody that you could meet through family, or family functions. You could feel at home with your FS. Since 7th lord is in Aquarius, they may be someone who questions traditional practices. It’s possible that you’re meeting or union may be unconventional lowkey.

Jupiter being in Danishta also suggest that you or your FS may know how to sing or play an instrument, possibly taught from a young age. Jupiter being the 5th lord could also suggest that you love kids and could make a great mom as well (if you’re a woman). It’s possible that you may date ur FS for a long time before getting married.

Ascendant lord Mars in 7th, especially in a moon nakshatra, people could find you quite hot. You may have a physical physique that lot of ppl desire to have. Although mars is in Taurus here, you or ur FS might be quite stubborn as well😅

Mars in the 7th is considered Manglik (unfavorable) in Vedic astrology. It’s believed to cause obstacles and delay for marriage. But do note that this placement alone won’t determine ur entire marriage life (need to check D9 chart as well). You’re FS could also be quite attractive.

Since mars is in Taurus, you could be someone who puts a lot of effort or energy into maintaining your physical appearance and attaining the finer things in life.

If you’re into starting a business or getting into any legal contract, you may get into conflicts involving those ppl. Since 7th house lord Venus is in 8th, business partnerships and relationships could undergo lots of up and downs.

You may undergo lots of transformation through relationships. It’s also possible that you or your FS may not express love/ feelings openly? You could be someone who hesitate to get into relationships or confess ur feelings without analyzing it thoroughly (perhaps cuz of hurtful experiences in the past). Venus in the 8th suggest that ur FS could be well off financially as well.

Since Venus is in Gemini here, you may love to hear gossip or exclusive tea abt others😭😭

Venus in the nakshatra of Mrigashira makes you a very curious person. This along with mercury conjunct sun in 9th makes you someone who loves to explore different subjects, you could be really into occult/healing as well.

Thats about it! I hope you found it useful💗🌸

Feel free to leave a feedback and let me know how accurate the reading was!

#astrology #vedic astrology #natal chart #astro observations #sidereal astrology #astro community #astrology readings #astro game #astrology community #astrology blog

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lavenderek · 6 months ago

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Will you ever finish do you know? Or is it done?? No pressure either way! I just love it so much ❤️

odds aren't looking so good. sorry guys lmao

might as well tell you how it ends

i've lost my notes because my old laptop doesn't turn on anymore, but from what little i can remember, there was some kind of argent-adjacent group whose goal was to figure out how to prevent werewolves and other shifting creatures from happening in the first place. so they were doing tests on the ones they captured. essentially, magic eugenics. uh-oh, evil, spooky. these were the guys who tried to break in.

it's obvious sam was afraid of delilah. it was going to eventually become clear that this is because he caught a glimpse of her at his window the night a "ghost" came. but it would later turn out he saw her talking to the person who tried to get in through the window. she had nothing to do with that person. sam was mistaken on account of being a toddler. womp womp (does L on forehead)

delilah was a transparent red herring. she honestly was just a nomad passing through, and saw the attempted break-in while on a jog through the woods. she chased that person off, but in general she had no desire to get involved. she just wanted to prevent local packs from growing hostile to her. but english wasn't her first language. it was all a communication issue a-hyuck! she also didn't enjoy stiles, which was entirely unrelated.

stiles was going to get into Danger solving the mystery, going against derek's wishes. although he'd get away all right, this would damage their relationship. derek was like, you can't go out and do this detective bullshit, it's not just you anymore. he felt stiles was chasing the feeling of excitement from his youth, inconsiderate of the fact that he had children relying on him. and stiles was sincerely offended that derek was taking zero initiative to proactively protect his family. yk.

but they'd get over it and win somehow. i don't remember how. in the background of all this, scott and lydia would fall in love.

i wanted to finally end the series because the idea of a slice of life fic where these OC children were in like, middle school didn't interest me; and i wanted to end it with something interesting to make up for the boring, meandering nature of the fic in general. but three things happened:

first, i got a new job with an hour long commute one way, so i lost a significant amount of free time and energy; second, i entered an artistic block from which i never really recovered; and third, i realized a complete departure from the tone of the fic was actually a dumb idea because it's not remotely what the readers signed up for lmao. how does this realistic depiction of postpartum depression fit in with the joking depiction of a c-section at a vet's office? and besides, people will only read about a couple experiencing and then moving past marital problems so many times anyway.

but i held out hope. i was like, one day i'll be inspired to write again and i'll be able to address these problems, so i shouldn't give away spoilers. then as time passed, i was like, i shouldn't tell them about these lame plans and reveal that my fic only seemed good because the market was flooded.

anyway i figured i might as well finally explain myself. sorry for all this. and from the bottom of my ass, thank you so much for your support and kindness. my time in the fandom was sincerely some of the best years of my life. all of you are wonderful, wonderful.

in case you're curious, as teenagers: zdzisława refused to go by any other name in school, forcing teachers to learn polish phonetics; sam was on the autism spectrum and got into art; vern was prom king; and some chick at their school would manifest magic powers at midnight on her sixteenth birthday. hijinks similar to the movie teen witch happened, involving vern but completely peripheral to any of our other main characters.

#haters #who is this even #which are my ask and anonymous tags #dyk

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