#i wish we had footage of the service

[aimeedaisies]

I just love the gif of Anne and Tim's wedding as your profile picture, especially when they both turn around and look at their guests, I still wonder what were they saying to each other - Mr and Mrs Timothy Laurence

Their very special day 🥰✨

I’d love to know what they said 🥹 make your guesses in the comments

[onlinesuzie]

♡ martin’s dare for you and hamzah ♡

words: 2.3k

genre: i’m not sure but there is heavy making out

summary: You and Hamzah were put together for a video idea. The only issue is that you have to stay alone in the same small hotel room, and with Martin and Mandy’s teasing truth or dares for the video, you and Hamzah share a little more than was expected.

note: still working on my hamzah x love island pt.2 but wanted to post so i hope you enjoy!!

☆

With the growth of the channel, Hamzah and Martin wanted to create higher-budget content for their new subscribers. This time, they decided to film a budget hotel compared to an expensive hotel video like many YouTubers had been doing recently. They realized that with the influx in followers, they would have to separate themselves to create a more exciting video. While Martin was set to bring Mandy along for the luxurious stay, Hamzah found himself without a filming partner for the budget hotel.

You and Hamzah had known each other through Martin when you were in school together. You were a help for the channel for a while, not necessarily an editor, but you would always be there to be a second set of eyes for any videos the channel would release. You had helped them because of your close relationship with Martin, but it would be a lie to say that you didn’t enjoy the nights you would be left alone on call with Hamzah while you went over video ideas when Martin was gone.

Nervous excitement coursed through you as you thought of him. You couldn't help but feel delighted that they would invite you along; it felt like the perfect opportunity to get to know each other better. You thought well of Hamzah; you always saw him as hardworking and dedicated to the channel, but you wished you could know more about him. He was always quite awkward sometimes on call when it was just the two of you, and you hoped that any nerves you were worried about would be smoothed out by the time the video came around.

———

The café was buzzing with chatter as you walked in, scanning the room for familiar faces. Mandy and Martin had chosen a cozy corner table by the window, and you spotted them immediately. Hamzah was already there, sitting across from them, nursing a coffee. The sight of him sent a little flutter through your stomach.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” you called out as you approached the table.

Mandy waved you over with a big smile. “No worries! We just got here ourselves. Grab a seat!”

You slid into the chair next to Hamzah, feeling a slight thrill as your knees brushed under the table. “Hey, Hamzah,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

“Hey,” he replied, giving you a warm smile. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and you felt a blush creep onto your face.

Martin leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed. “So, you guys ready for this? Epic, cool, rich, amazing me and Mandy versus you two. Should be interesting, still can’t believe that you agreed for me and Mandy get the better one.”

“It’s just cause I actually like Mandy and want her to have a nice room, unlike you,” you joked, nudging Hamzah playfully.

Hamzah chuckled, though you could sense a bit of his usual nervousness with you. “Yeah, I’m sure Mandy and Martin will still find a way to complain though, especially Martin cause that’s literally all he knows.”

Mandy rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, come on, Hamzah. You’ll have fun too. Just think of it as an experience.”

Hamzah nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, I know. It’ll be fine.”

Martin leaned forward, excitement in his eyes. “Alright, so here’s the plan. We’ll check into our respective hotels, get some footage of the rooms and our first impressions. Then, we’ll each order room service and document what we get. Should give us a good comparison I think.”

“How do we even know that we can get room service?” Hamzah questioned

“Well that would be even better! Maybe you’d actually spend your money on getting dinner with a girl instead of just talking about it all the time” Mandy laughed

“I literally didn’t even ask you” Hamzah bickered back.

Everyone agreed, the plan seeming solid. As the conversation continued, you couldn’t help but notice how Hamzah’s gaze kept drifting toward you. The four of you spent the next hour discussing the logistics of the video, what shots to capture, and how to compare the two hotels effectively. Despite the casual nature of the conversation, you felt a growing sense of anticipation for the evening ahead.

As you all stood up to leave, Mandy gave you a sly smile. “You two have fun tonight. And Hamzah, take care of our girl here.”

Hamzah blushed slightly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, of course. We’ll be fine.”

Martin placed his hand on Hamzah’s back. “Just think of it as another mukbang for the channel. And remember, we can always edit out any embarrassing moments.”

Hamzah laughed, though you could see the tension in his eyes. “Got it. No pressure, right?”

As you walked out of the café, you fell into step beside Hamzah. “You okay?” you asked softly.

He glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, just... a little nervous, I guess. But I’m glad you’re coming along.”

“Me too,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words.

As you all made your way to the parking lot, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was going to be more than just another video shoot. The unspoken tension between you and Hamzah was getting thick.

When you arrived at the budget hotel, the reality struck. The room was small, and the only bed was a double. Hamzah's stomach twisted at the thought of sharing such intimate quarters. "This is... cozy," he said, forcing a laugh.

You grinned, "More like snug, but we'll make it work!"

The budget hotel room felt cramped, a stark contrast to the lavish suite Mandy and Martin were enjoying just a few streets down. You and Hamzah sat on the edge of the small bed, laptops open as you looked over a list of dares sent by Martin and Mandy.

"Okay, your turn," you said, stifling a laugh as you read aloud,

"Truth or dare?"

Hamzah leaned back, arms crossed, trying to play it cool. "Dare, obviously. I'm not afraid of whatever Martin has to say."

With a grin, you scrolled down the list until you found one that made your eyes widen. "Let's see... Oh, this one's interesting.

“Kiss someone in the room!"

Hamzah's eyes widened, and he quickly glanced around the tiny space as if looking for an escape. "Uh, no way. That must've been meant for Martin and Mandy. We can't do that one," he stammered, his nervousness evident.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "Come on, Hamzah.

Don't be a coward. It's just a dare! Besides, it's not like Martin and Mandy would mind-they're probably expecting us to follow through."

"Seriously? Martin must be messing with us. He's being so cringe including that dare," Hamzah mumbled, clearly flustered.

"There's no way I'm doing it."

You leaned in slightly, enjoying the effect your words had on him.

"Then why don't you just kiss me? Unless you're scared," you challenged, your tone playful but laced with sincerity.

Hamzah swallowed hard, his eyes darting around as he searched for a safe response. "You're joking, right?"

"Not really," you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Come on, it's just a kiss."

"Okay, okay! I'll do it," he said, his resolve shaky but determined.

"But just a quick peck, alright?"

You nodded, excitement bubbling inside you. Hamzah moved closer, hesitating for a moment before leaning in. Your heart raced as his lips brushed against yours, light and tentative.

It was soft-just a fleeting moment-but it sent electricity coursing through you. He pulled back quickly, his eyes wide.

"See? Not so scary, right?"

You bit your lip, feeling a surge of boldness. "Maybe not so scary, but definitely not enough," you teased.

Before Hamzah could respond, you reached out, your hand touching his arm. The room seemed to shrink around you as you leaned in again. This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving together with a newfound urgency. Hamzah's hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer.

His lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with nervousness, but more eagerness. You responded, your fingers threading through his hair as the kiss grew more passionate. You could feel his breath quicken, matching your own as the intensity between you heightened.

Hamzah's hand slid up the back of your shirt, sending shivers down your spine. He broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

Seeing none, he leaned in again, this time letting his lips trail down to your neck.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing.

"Yes," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. "Don't stop."

The sensation of his lips on your neck made you gasp softly, “Hamzah…” a thrill running through you. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access, and he took full advantage, his kisses growing more confident and daring.

"You taste amazing," he breathed, his words sending another shiver through you.

The white noise of the camera equipment around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your own world. Each kiss, each touch, felt like a new discovery, and the cramped hotel room seemed to disappear as you lost yourselves in the moment. Hamzah's hand cupped your cheek, guiding your lips back to his. The kiss deepened further, his tongue brushing against yours, eliciting a soft moan from you. The passion between you was undeniable, and you both reveled in the electricity of the moment.

"You have no idea how long l've wanted to do this," he admitted between kisses, his voice filled with desire.

"Me too," you confessed, your heart pounding. "I've been waiting for this."

Minutes felt like hours as you continued to explore each other, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. Finally, you pulled back, both of you breathless and flushed, surprise and exhilaration in your eyes.

Hamzah whispered, his voice husky. "I didn't expect that."

"You’re so cute," you replied, smiling.

He nodded, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "Thank you."

For a moment, you just sat there, the intensity of what had just happened lingering in the air.

Hamzah cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, uh, about the video,” he started, a smile forming on his lips. “We should probably get back to it, right?”

You nodded, trying to steady your racing heart but feeling a giggle bubbling up. “Yeah, definitely. Can’t forget why we’re here.”

As you both sat up and reached for your laptops, the atmosphere between you felt lighter. You couldn’t help but glance at him every few seconds, each time catching his eye and bursting into laughter.

“So, what’s next on the list?” Hamzah asked, his voice filled with amusement.

You scrolled through the list of dares and challenges, trying to focus. “Let’s see… looks like we’re supposed to compare the room service menus next,” you said, stifling a giggle as you met his gaze again.

Hamzah chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, room service. Let’s see if this place has anything decent.”

As you both began browsing the hotel’s menu, the awkwardness started to fade, replaced by a comfortable, shared amusement. Every time your eyes met, you couldn’t help but smile, thinking about the kiss.

“Look at this,” Hamzah said, pointing to his screen. “They actually have a ‘budget burger.’ I wonder if it’s as sad as it sounds.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “We have to try it. For the sake of the video, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed, grinning. “Anything for the content.”

You both placed an order, deciding to film your reactions to the food as part of the video. As you waited for the delivery, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by shared glances and quiet laughter.

“Do you think Martin and Mandy are actually doing any of the dares we sent them?” you asked, leaning back on your hands.

Hamzah laughed, shaking his head. “Knowing them, Martin is probably kicking his feet and giggling at whatever Mandy says to care about the dares. But who knows, maybe they’ll surprise us.”

You smiled, your eyes meeting his again. “I guess we’ll find out when I compare footage.”

There was a brief pause, the silence filled with unspoken thoughts. You could tell he was thinking about the kiss, just as you were. Finally, Hamzah broke the silence.

“You know,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “I think I’ll keep some of the footage.”

You giggled, feeling a warmth spread across your face. “Yeah, what part?”

He smiled, a shy but genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat, “I wonder.”

The moment lingered, the atmosphere was comfortable. The sound of a knock on the door broke the spell, and you both laughed, the tension easing as you got up to grab the food.

As you set up the camera and started filming your reactions to the room service, the shared glances and secret smiles continued.

Later that night, after the filming was done and you both had laughed your way through tasteless burgers and overcooked fries, you found yourselves sitting close together on the small bed, the camera off and the lights dim.

“Hamzah,” you began, your voice soft and tentative, “I’ve really enjoyed tonight.“

He turned to you, his eyes reflecting the same emotions you felt. “Me too. I mean, I always enjoy hanging out with you, but tonight was… different.”

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “Maybe we could, you know, do something like this again. Just us.”

His smile widened, his eyes lighting up. “I’d like that. A lot.”

[thv-jk97]

Let me provide you with some facts about these episodes:

Jimin went to New York to support Jungkook’s solo debut and he’s the only member that did 😋

Jimin and Jungkook decided to go on a trip together and film it for their fans

Despite being busy, Jimin and Jungkook still made each other a priority and wanted to hang out, but couldn't because they were busy with their solo schedules

Despite being sick, Jimin and Jungkook still chose to film the show together because they wanted to

Jungkook took care of Jimin the entire time he wasn’t feeling well 🤧

Jimin kept making sure that Jungkook was taking care of himself

Jungkook built a stone tower and wished for Jimin to feel better 💞

Jungkook took his microphone off when he went into Jimin’s room and there’s no camera footage of that moment 🤭🤭

Jungkook was worried about Jimin burning his legs while they were riding the motorcycle together

They didn’t have any more plans to film episodes after the US but they wanted to spend more time together and went on two more trips together

The only reason that V is included is because he insisted on going with them

These are only some of the points I have, but there are so many more! I don’t know how you taekookers have been twisting these episodes up as some proof that Jimin and Jungkook don’t love each other. The truth is that they love each other so much that they willingly chose to enlist together for the entirety of their military service and nothing you or anyone says will ever change that fact. You can keep being in denial and keep suffering because jikook will always show us the truth.

Oh, anon 😅

I actually sent a screenshot of your ask to an irl friend to make fun of how delulu you are, but they wrote an excellent response that I wanted to share:

• Jimin went to New York to support Jungkook's solo debut and he's the only member that did

False. Jimin didn't even go to see Jungkook's performance, which the show confirmed. It's pretty clear at this point that he went to New York specifically to film the travel show.

• Jimin and Jungkook decided to go on a trip together and film it for their fans.

True, but you've phrased it in a way that intentionally emphasizes that they went on a trip and downplays the fact that it was filmed for fans, as though that was an afterthought rather than the primary goal. It would fit the facts presented to us by Jimin and Jungkook better to say, "Jimin and Jungkook wanted to record a travel show for fans." The travel show, not the trip, was the point, as evidenced by the fact that the idea originated with the concept of recording content, not with the idea of taking a trip together.

• Despite being busy, Jimin and Jungkook still made each other a priority and wanted to hang out, but couldn't because they were busy with their solo schedules.

False. Both Jimin and Jungkook spent time with other members during their solo schedules, which clearly shows that they could have spent time together if they had truly prioritized it, but they didn't. They also clearly state in the show that while one of them was busy, the other of them who was free at the time still didn't make the effort to reach out, telling us in their own words that it wasn't busy schedules that kept them from prioritizing time together. 

• Despite being sick, Jimin and Jungkook still chose to film the show together because they wanted to.

Technically this is an assumption, because while we know that they were both sick and that they filmed the show regardless, we don't know why they did it or how much choice they felt they had in the matter at that point.  I don't really disagree with you but it isn't technically a fact the way you've worded it.

• Jungkook took care of Jimin the entire time he wasn't feeling well.

False -- or at best, a deep stretch.  At one point, Jungkook handed Jimin some Pepto Bismol that the staff brought for him.  Other than that, truly, what did Jungkook do to take care of him?  He cooked sometimes, but Jimin helped cook too. 

• Jimin kept making sure that Jungkook was taking care of himself.

True -- I'll give you this one even though I think this is a bit of a stretch too.  Jimin showed concern over Jungkook being able to perform well since he had a cold/sore throat, I'll agree with you there.  That was sweet of him, he cares about Jungkook a lot.

• Jungkook built a stone tower and wished for Jimin to feel better.

This is an assumption.  Jungkook did build a stone tower, but there's nothing in the show to suggest that he did it with Jimin in mind, this is an invention of fans.  He was sitting around alone and built the tower, then quietly made a wish without sharing what it was for.  He specifically told Jimin to make his own wish when he came out of the cabin later.  There's no indication in the show that he did this for Jimin or with thoughts of Jimin.

• Jungkook took his microphone off when he went into Jimin's room and there's no camera footage of that moment.

True, but as a fact this means nothing.  Your implication is bizarre because if they'd wanted any sort of real privacy, they could have gone on a private trip instead of filming a TV show.

• Jungkook was worried about Jimin burning his legs while they were riding the motorcycle together.

True -- Jungkook was considerate in letting Jimin know that it would be hot.  Seems like it isn't something Jimin was already familiar with, so they must not have done this together before.

• They didn't have any more plans to film episodes after the US but they wanted to spend more time together and went on two more trips together.

This is a fact mixed with an assumption, which is a common fallacy in Jikooker arguments.  It's true that the idea to film more episodes came from Jimin and Jungkook themselves, per the Forbes article BH shared.  However, also per that article, the motivation was to "do something more as a gift to fans," rather than specifically to spend more time together as you've stated (something that they could easily do alone together, with no staff or crew, and in their own home city, if they wanted to).

• The only reason that V is included is because he insisted on going with them.

False.  For one thing, Tae was already included in the show within the first few minutes, when Jimin mentioned him.  He was then brought up again by Jungkook, talked about by Jimin, and Jungkook offered to call him. He's literally already appeared on the show for the sole reason that Jimin and Jungkook were thinking of him.  Additionally, there have been multiple sources explaining the meaning of Jungkook's words in Korean as more accurately, "he came without hesitation/without thinking much," rather than the "he really insisted" shown in the English subtitles, and this interpretation is corroborated by the official subtitles in other languages as well.

You end your list by saying that Taekookers are trying to twist these episodes to say that Jungkook and Jimin don't love each other.  Maybe some are, but from what I've seen, most Taekookers accept that Jimin and Jungkook love each other very much -- as familial, good friends who have been very close for a very long time.  It's Jikookers who try to twist the reality of their bond into something it isn't, despite their own words and their own clear demonstrations of the love that they do feel for each other, and for the other members, including Taehyung -- even going so far as to create fantasies from no evidence and present them as facts.

Me rn:

[iron-rose-art]

Chance Meeting

Context, Reader works at Daycare and was leaving the plex now that their shift was over. They saw a rowdy kid being too rough on a certain gator and their parents weren't around. Although the reader is tired, the reader couldn’t stand by and not say anything to the kid, especially when you know that the animatronics aren’t really programmed to tell a kid to back off. One thing led to another and it shouldn’t be a surprise that a kid that thinks he’s allowed to do anything has a parent that lets him do anything as long as it doesn’t disturb them.

Monty x Reader, no use of Y/N, reader is tired and has to go full Fazbear Inc. customer service mode on a parent

Read on Ao3 too if you wanna

---

“Ma’am, Fazbear Entertainment has full rights to escort you out of the premises for being discourteous in our plex. We ask of you and your family to be respectful to our star members.” You pointedly say with a trained smile on your face. You know the woman’s fuse was on a short timer, a few seconds away from having a meltdown over you telling her kids to act at least somewhat civil to the animatronics.

“HOW DARE YOU!” She bellowed out, her face getting red as she pointed a manicured finger at you.

Yup.

There it was.

You’d would find some humor in her overreaction if you weren’t so tired from your shift.

“You do NOT get to tell me what to do!” She aggressively poked at your chest. “I should call your manager! He’ll get you fired for talking to me like that!”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and scowl at her, instead standing straight with your feet planted and tipping your head to the side with the same polite smile on your face. “We take customer service seriously here at our Pizzaplex. We also do not allow harassment of workers, it is a serious breach of contract of our terms of services.” You reply back with a calm voice. You can hear the murmurs of the people around you noticing the one-sided screaming match, no doubt your co-workers and managers will hear about this tomorrow. Great.

“I don’t care! I paid to be here and you were the one to ruin it for me and my family!” She jabs you again hard enough to make you take a step back. You clasps your hands in front of you, partially to keep your hands still and partially to give a bit of space between you two.

“If you are dissatisfied with our service, you are more than welcome to file a claim to our customer service office. If that claim is revised through camera footage,” you point to a nearby camera, “audio files, and witness testimony and is deemed as false, you hold a chance of being banned and blacklisted from the Plex. Permanently.” She opens her mouth to retort but you step forward and motion to a nearby Security Bot. “If that is something you wish to avoid, alongside paying for damages done to company property, I strongly advise you to leave for the day.” You watch as she narrows her eyes at you, her gaze flickered from looking at you, behind you, to the security bot and back at you. She scowls but steps back, glaring at you while the security bot starts to guide her to the entrance.

You feel bad for how tight she is holding her son’s hand as she walks away. He looks more embarrassed than her for being told to leave.

“Thank you for your patronage and we hope you have a Faz-errific Day!” You say in your best impression of the bright daycare attendant and wave with a cheery customer service smile as they leave. Once they were far away and the crowd around you lost interest, you turned around and heaved a sigh. Another day, another shitty parent like that.

You open your eyes and freeze when you see the giant animatronic you forgot had been behind you and was the whole reason you were dealing with that mom. Your eyes trail up as you take in the green scale pants, the broad yellow and green torso, the sharp teeth and finally the red eyes behind the star sunglasses.

You look up at Monty and give him an apologetic look, suddenly aware he had been quiet the whole time. “Um, sorry for uh, stepping in like that. Just y’know I’m not really a fan of uh, bratty kids and entitled parents.” You shrug and wave your hands in front of you before fiddling with the collar of your shirt to resist the urge to clear your throat and apologize more. Monty was staring at you unblinkingly, his jaw open enough for you to see a hint of tongue behind sharp teeth. There is the faint sound of a motor whirring but you figure it’s just a noise from somewhere else in the plex.

You stare at him as he stares at you.

Now you’re definitely wishing you were in your car and on your way home. “Do you um, do you need me to call Parts and Service to check if anything-”

“You were able to handle a piece of work parent and now you’re nervous?”  You would be a liar if you denied jumping a bit from hearing him finally talk. You were wanting him to talk of course, but it still caught you off guard. Especially with his voice being deeper than you thought. And he has a southern tilt to his voice box, odd but it’s fitting. He had an eyebrow raised and you realize it’s better to focus on what he asked than think too hard about his voice.

You feel your face getting hot under the scrutiny. This isn’t how you thought your first meeting with any of the Glamrocks would go. “Uh, I mean I deal with shitty parents that don’t actually want to parent their kids all the time so…” You shrug and mumble before you can think better of it. You lean back when he throws his head back as he laughs out loud. It’s a nice laugh to hear; sure it’s rough and gravely, it’s loud, but contagious and so wholehearted that it has you laughing along to the situation as well.

This really is where your life led to isn’t it? You can tell a mom to back off like you’re a lawyer but as soon as you need to talk to a seven foot tall robot gator you forget how to speak. Poof. All ways of talking go out the window. It’s so ridiculous the only thing you can do is laugh. And you can’t find it in you to care if it attracts attention from the crowd this time. It takes a minute before he exhales and makes a motion of wiping away non existent tears from his eyes.

“And you’re cussin in front of me! I could tell on ya if I wanted to y’know. That ain’t very family friendly.“ He cocks his head to the side as he grins down at you, the southern drawl in his voice deepening as he speaks.

You snort as your own laughter dies down to giggle. “I doubt The Montgomery Gator would tell on me for cursing on the job.” You look up at him, his own toothy grin mirrored back by you. You don’t know when you moved closer to him over the short conversation but you’re not feeling the urge to step away just yet.

“You’re not wrong.” He snorts and nods to your shirt as best he can. Or at least you think that’s what you think he was doing. “You sure aren’t what I expected from a daycare worker, y’know?” You look down at the bright lettering of the SuperStar Daycare Staff name tag still clipped on your shirt. With all the ruckus that happened, you completely forgot to take it off once you clocked out of your shift.

"Um, thanks." You weren't quite sure how to respond to that but you figured it was a compliment. You eye up the dented casing on his lower arm. "Are you sure you don't want to call Parts and Services to get that checked out?"

“Nah, m’ handler will check that out when I go down there in a few. You look,” he tips his head to the side as he pauses for a second, “tired, you shouldn’t you be going home now?”

To prove his point, you feel a yawn crawling its way up. You instinctively raise your elbow to hide your yawn and nod at him once it passes. “Yeah, definitely should be on my way home. Hopefully you won’t have to deal with any more shitty parents today.”

“I doubt it.” He says with a chuckle.

“Good good.” You wave at him while you start walking away. “See you around then Monty, have a good night.”

“Goodnight Superstar, don’t be fighting any more parents if I’m not around, you hear?” He lowers his sunglasses to wink at you as you walk away.

You scoff and roll your eyes but still smile at that. You give him one last wave while you make your way to the entrance, fishing out your car keys from your pockets as you leave the plex for the day. You think about the times the little kids at the daycare would say that Monty was scary, but from that little interaction you had with him, you realize he might not be as bad as people make him out to be. You feel a soft smile on your face as you drive home. Hopefully you can run into him and talk to him some more tomorrow, preferably under better circumstances.

What you don’t know you missed is the same gator watching you leave with a fond and curious look on his face, also looking forward to bumping into you while you work.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku [Tech x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: This is my submission for an event hosted by the wonderful @cloneficgiftexchange, written for @apocalyp-tech-a. I hope you enjoy my first Tech x Reader! 2nd Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader who works as an analyst/researcher for the GAR. Minor AU changes (no missing and/or dead Clones here (but Echo is still part of CF99)!). Prompt sentence/s will be orange to keep in line with the color scheme of the graphics. Tech has a “secret” crush on Reader that she knows about. Flirting is stored in the info-dumping/poetry. Star Wars and real-world swearing is as naughty as it gets. Some Mando’a. Brief references and allusions to injury and other canon-typical violence, and a small flashback where Reader’s senior colleagues are (implied to be) behaving like jerks to Tech, but nothing explicit. Use of stylistic and narrative italics. Fictional flowers. 

Prompt: Can't we ever go to a nice place? | Oh, that's what that button does.

Word-count: 8,270

Another Primeday, another pile of notes in your locker. 

That's how the weeks always started. 

You worked closely with the Grand Army of the Republic as something of an analyst and unofficial bookkeeper, going on for two years now. Colleagues and work-friends would slip scraps of flimsiplast in the ventilation grooves of your locker as a way of non-electronic communication.

The old fashioned way, older department heads joked. 

The flimsi stacks contained a mishmash of written comms. Inside jokes. Recipe trades. Reminders to get CT-6922’s helmet serviced for the video feed you needed for Jais in the Reverse-Engineering Department if they're ever going to find out how that new Separatist spider droid worked. 

And a poem, written in spidery Aurebesh lettering from your “secret admirer”. Always the top of the pile that collected at the bottom of your locker. 

You knew full well who it was after a while, piecing together all the clues he'd strung along for you. Game recognizes game, as they say. It took cracking a complicated cipher in order to- 

Nah, who are you kidding? 

You got impatient and asked Jais in R.E.D. to help you with scrubbing the security footage for the last person to stop by your locker one morning, finding a haiku waiting for you. A haiku regarding subject matter you had just been discussing with a colleague the other day who had a grueling day of carefully dissecting a Flame Beetle from Kashyyyk ahead of them, and you were slated to assist them. 

The shimmering shell  That conceals a beetle’s wing Is called elytra  - I wish I was a beetle 

Mild alarm that someone was messing with you turned to curiosity soon after; it had been Tech of Clone Force 99 who dropped the poem into your locker some weeks ago. 

He'd been helping the analysts while he got his leg in working order, having broken both the tibia and fibula of his left leg in a skirmish. (That's about as much as you knew at the time.) Tech would be returning to fieldwork sooner than later; between check-ups and some physical therapy work, the genius and navigator of CF99 kept himself busy here, so he would still feel useful to the GAR while recovering. 

Of all the analysts Tech assisted, you seemed to be his favorite given that you actually liked letting him help you, and didn't saddle him with a dull day of deskwork like some of the senior analysts who wanted him out of their hair. 

You felt it was incredibly unfair to Tech, but there was nothing you could say to change their minds. You'd tried. 

Instead of reading this week's new stack of flimsi notes from your weekend off at your locker, you decide you'll read them at your desk for a change. The smell of Tech’s typical caf blend is particularly inviting this morning. It’s been raining since last week, this morning the hardest yet. Thank the Maker you had a rain repeller in proper working order for the walk to the research center from the speeder cabs. 

“Good morning, Tech.” 

Sitting down, from around the other side of the desk, you can see he's in a walking boot now. An improvement from when you last saw him just two short days ago. 

“Hey, that's a good sign! Think you'll be back with the rest of the Bad Batch soon?” 

You take no offense when his eyes do not lift from the screen of his datapad. “Good morning. I suppose, yes…” He doesn't sound entirely enthusiastic like one might've expected, but you have enough of a grasp on his mannerisms by now to know that Tech is eager to return to his brothers in due time. 

You've met the rest of his squad on a handful of occasions as they've come to check on him, making sure he's not missing all the action by keeping him up to speed on their exploits. 

Smiling, you slide a cup of caf you believe to be Tech’s closer to him as you leaf through the notes from your locker. 

“Don't let your caf get cold.” 

The datapad drops away. “That is for you,” he explains, “if you desire to try it, that is. I recalled you expressing interest in the last blend of caf I brought in, saying that it smelled good last Taungsday.” 

You blink, surprised he remembered those details. Well, not that surprised; you understood Tech had a remarkable memory that allowed him to recall obscure details. It’s saved you from a few headaches, like that same Taungsday when a visiting representative from Glee Anslem insisted upon having the innocuous bouquet of Nabooian Honeysuckles sent off for allergen testing. Whatever it was that provoked the Nautolan’s (thankfully minor) allergic reaction, it was not the flowers, though they were refused return. 

Shame… the delicate white, orange and cream blossoms were such a thoughtful gift from Senator Amidala to the visiting representative and now they look so out of place on your desk, still in the elaborate ceramic vase they came in. You’re going to need to find a way to return it to Ms. Amidala once the flowers have shriveled and lost all their silky petals. 

Thanking Tech for the thoughtfulness behind brewing you a cup of caf, you give it a careful taste and find the flavor far more robust than the instant mix the breakroom keeps on hand while you read the first of the notes. (Looked to be a heads-up that a commando had some grisly footage to be analyzed because Trandoshan pirates were involved and the credits were on Delta Squad being responsible.)

“Mmm… That’s nice. Thank you again, Tech.” 

“You are welcome.” he replies, half-ducking his head back down into the datapad, though his eyes remain on you. 

Framed by the yellow lenses of the black-strapped goggles he wears, there is an observative nature to those brown eyes. The phenotypic eye color for all Clones is brown, he explained to you once. Though yes, there were a few aberrations in physical traits among his brothers in the GAR, just not quite to the same scale as the experimental squadron that Echo from the 501st Legion (once thought to be dead) joined not long ago. Echo still keeps in contact with the 501st, Captain Rex and a brother named Fives the closest of all. You figure what he must have been reading off his tablet before he came in this morning were more messages from his brothers. 

Setting aside notes as you read them, you’re careful to keep the scrap of poetry for last as always. Wonder what it’ll be today. A sonnet? Free-verse? Acrostic or maybe a limerick? Another haiku? Tech seemed to love leaving you haikus most of all. 

Still finding his eyes upon you, you lay aside the last note about keeping an eye out for a missing label-maker and delicately clear your throat. “Yes, Tech?” You’re careful to offer him a friendly smile, a quiet measure of assurance that you’re not annoyed or disturbed by his watchfulness. 

“Senator Amidala sent a letter of apology to the center regarding the honeysuckles and vase,” he begins, explaining the letter was forwarded to everyone who worked in the analysis department, “and since she feels terrible about the situation inadvertently caused for both her guest and the center, she suggested someone is welcome to keep both, if they wish.” 

“Well that’s very kind of the senator.” you reply, giving the flowers on your desk a look of consideration, one that prompts a strange expression out of the genius you generously share your desk with. 

You ask what the matter is with another swig of caf. 

“I hope you don’t mind too terribly that I… accepted on your behalf.” Tech confesses, aware he’s more than likely crossed a line by doing so. You and Tech do not know each other all that well, but he’s strung together enough clues to have some idea of what you like. He’s noticed what you give the most attention to, and you had secretly been admiring the Nabooian bouquet for some time on Taungsday… 

Cautiously, Tech adds, “You could always give them to a friend.” 

Casting a third glance over the tri-colored flowers, Tech is assured that won’t be necessary, and he’d been correct in his assessment all along. “I don’t mind at all; thanks for saving me the trouble. I was secretly hoping to take these home, I’ve been obsessed with Naboo for a while now…” you admit, dropping your voice into a near-conspiratorial whisper. 

There was an often sunny windowsill back home with plenty of space for the vase and flowers that would make for the perfect spot to show both off. Maybe it’d inspire you to finally take that trip to Naboo you always wanted. Naboo sounded like a nice place, nestled in the Chrommell system of the Outer Rim Territories. 

Idyllic, picturesque, it was often described. 

All this analyst-work had you in a position to see the glorious, the gory, and everything in-between in the adventures of the Grand Army day in and day out. Compiling reports near and far was beginning to instill a sense of longing for adventure in you; nothing grand was necessary, just something different. Something beyond the walls of the GAR research center here among the Core Worlds. 

I’ll be satisfied with a taste of adventure. Just one bite. Just one, I promise. 

The yellow-lensed goggles are adjusted. “What fascinates you so much about Naboo?” Tech asks, curiosity burning at him. 

“Oh… I dunno,” you say with a shrug, smiling, “it’s hard to put it all into words.” And you wouldn’t exactly have the time, either, with your shift due to start soon. While you’ve still got the time, you should finish as much of the caf as you can before it grows cold, and finally get around to this new poem Tech’s left for you. Maybe he can already guess that you know these are from him, but a part of you finds it fun in some way to pretend you don’t. 

Fixing an errant strand of hair back in place, you unfold the note and read. Another haiku, today, lamenting the dreary weather. 

To simpler splendors  Like summer's gentle breezes and honey most sweet - When will the rain stop?

You find it curious and strange - this possible complaint - given you know Clones come from the storm-cloaked world of Kamino. Surely this weather feels just like home for him; familiar, maybe even comforting. But maybe it’s not his complaint, it could have been your own off-handed remark from some time ago that he’s echoing back to you now. 

Tech’s level of observation was truly incredible, sometimes. You already felt yourself missing his knowledgeable presence once he was healed up and returned to the Bad Batch. That wouldn’t happen until he was rid of the walking boot and cleared for active duty, which was mildly comforting to you, selfishly speaking. Logically you know this arrangement is temporary, and you will not always have your willing assistant. 

A willing assistant who has given his attention to closing off communications with Wrecker, from the sound of things as CF99’s genius reads the messages under his breath. Tech is trying very hard to appear like he’s not taken notice that you’ve read his latest haiku. 

You set the poetry aside along with the other locker notes, and pick up your clipboard full of the day’s tasks. “Take your time, Tech.” you promise, chuckling warmly as he flashes the famous pointer finger in your direction, requesting just an extra moment. “I know Wrecker misses having his big brother around.”

Tech says nothing in response to your teasing quip, only offering an appreciative if distracted smile before he’s ready to help you with your tasks for the day. 

On Primedays, the first item of business on the list is often the most nerve-wracking of all your assignments, today no exception.

“Dammit, I grabbed the wrong screwdriver… Would you mind handing me the… the, uh…?” Tech takes the incorrect screwdriver from your fingers and replaces it with what you need while you struggle to think of the name for the correct type, much to your relief. “Oh, thank you Tech. Will you need this back when I’m done?” 

Tech nods, a silent promise it was no trouble. “I will not. I’m finished with what I needed it for. Feel free to use it as long as you need.” He does not need to remind you to go slowly. 

Your first research assignment of the morning involves dismantled bombs, and the additional Clone tucked in one corner of the room clad in the bright orange of ordnance specialists serves as an eye-catching distraction rather than a precautionary measure. Nicknamed Reddy, this Clone trooper is only doing his job, of course; he’s supposed to be here as part of the protocol. This facility has gone one thousand and twenty-seven days without an explosive incident, which is a comforting number, but there is no room for complacency. In the unlikely event a bomb somehow reactivates, Red Wire is here to snuff it out for good. 

(Or tell everyone to evacuate and seek shelter if he somehow can’t.)

Helmet clipped to his utility belt, Reddy is reading the printed report, bobbing his head in time to some jaunty tune he’s got stuck in his head. “Disarmed and partially dismantled by… CT-9903. That’s your squadmate Wrecker, right?” 

“Correct.” Tech replies tersely, hoping not to prove himself distracting to you. He’s only standing as close as he is to give or take tools as you need them. 

Reddy nods his head in approval of the work scattered over the examination table. “He did a good job. Definitely has the gentle touch needed for bomb disposal.” Yes… Wrecker certainly had steadier nerves than yourself right now. You would prefer not to have shaking hands, no matter how incapable this bomb is… should be… of going off. 

“Reddy…”

He catches the warning. “Sorry, ma’am.” 

You just need to pull off a particular durasteel plate, and take detailed pictures of a unique section of wiring to enter it into the GAR database of known bomb constructs and find close or exact matches. Then Reddy has the pleasure of disposing of the remnants for you. Fewer distractions while you remove notoriously fiddly screws, the better. 

So why are your hands still shaking now that you should be able to focus again? 

“... dammit…” You’ve worked yourself up about the unsteady nature of your hands now. Stress will only worsen it, prolonging the tremble. Setting the screwdriver aside is the best course of action until you can find your nerve. 

Rational thoughts, you remind yourself, everyone has had this happen to them at one time or another. 

“May I?” Tech offers, voice softer than you ever remember it being before now. 

He is careful in offering to help without immediately trying to take over your work. Tech recognizes you are capable in all the various aspects of your job, and he does not wish to undermine or blow off your expertise. He understands from experience how that can be frustrating, even disrespectful.

And Tech aims to be very respectful of you. He's been very careful in how he's hinted his interest in you thus far. (Maybe too careful.) The haikus in your locker had been because he heard you liked poetry, and he proactively accepted the honeysuckles Senator Amidala offered for the trouble because he thought you might like them. Sharing his favorite blend of caf was a decision more premeditated than the other two.

You step to the side, accepting the offer. 

“Thank you, Tech...” you say, gesturing to the tools in an unspoken measure of please, by all means. Tech takes position where you previously stood, and begins to work on the dismantled explosive. Long, dexterous fingers make the process of loosening and extracting the remaining screws look deceptively easy. 

“You’ll want your datapad soon,” Tech suggests helpfully, soon down to just two more corner screws to remove. 

“Oh, yes…!” 

Scooping the tablet off of the examination table, you habitually skip your fingers across the reactive transparisteel and pull up the camera function, priming everything to capture the colorful chaos of wiring and circuitry inside once Tech has removed the panel. Once it is lifted out of the way, Tech side-steps to allow you in front of the bomb once more so that you can capture records for the GAR database. 

However, the camera will not focus.

“Strange…” You tap the center of the screen, hoping perhaps the datapad will behave like your modern comlink and auto-focus, but it does not give you the result you hoped for. You chuckle somewhat bashfully. “Sorry, it’s… been a while since I’ve used this old datapad for taking pictures.” 

“Press the red, center button on the top row twice.” 

Taking the advice of the bespectacled Clone beside you, the image on the screen comes into crisp focus, not a detail lost. “Oh, that’s what that button does.” This tablet is an older generation, but the facility keeps it because it's sturdy and reliable. No sense in replacing perfectly good technology so long as it continues to work. 

“Been using these tablets for ages and I never knew that. How'd you know that?” Reddy asks from the corner, safely voicing his curiosity now that the hard part is behind you. “Just real tech-savvy, I take it. That how you get your name?” 

Tech smiles knowingly. “Learning the ins and outs of each machine I use is crucial to my effectiveness in service of the Republic. Much in the same way you're here to assist the researchers, analysts and reverse engineers in bomb identification, in some cases.” The second question goes unanswered, you notice, but Reddy seems to let it go. 

“Hah, can't argue with that comparison!” he says agreeably, his smile sunny. You’ve always liked that about this particular member of the bomb squad; Red Wire has an optimistic disposition and general attitude despite the nerve-rattling nature of his job. He’s not terribly jaded or gruff like some of the other Clones on rotation at this facility. 

Once you've collected all your necessary pictures, you are promised that he'll take it from here. “Good work as ever ma'am. I'll clean up while you get started on the search.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate the help as always from both you and Tech.” you say, patting him on the shoulder before you follow after Tech, who’s already making his way back to your desk, neck craned over his datapad. Stepping past the blast doors to catch up to Tech, you breathe a sigh of relief while Red Wire begins the disposal process, the hardest task of the morning behind you. 

“Glad that’s over,” you say, finally feeling your quickened pulse slowing at last, “Thank you for the help once again, Tech.” You’re certain he heard the first thank you, but extra gratitude never killed anyone. 

Tech’s deliberate stride slows to match with yours. “It was no trouble. I thought you might want the help.” A polite smile breaks the veneer of the usual expression of thoughtfulness and concentration you’ve become accustomed to in the time Tech’s been here. 

You’re very familiar with how he appears when he’s concentrated: the furrowed brow, his shoulders rolled forward, the subconscious setting and unsetting of his jaw as he mulls over a million thoughts. Wowing your colleagues with how he could extrapolate info from separate, complex datasets within multiple windows on the screen of his datapad without error. 

The way his brown eyes, deep and dark, looked like honey when framed behind his goggles…

Sitting down at your desk where you fire up the database you’ll be working with, already you see the slight furrow of his brow as Tech takes his seat on the other side, trading messages with his squadmates while he elevates his leg to alleviate the pressure of the walking boot. Tech misses being out there in the field more and more with every passing day. 

“Tell ‘em I said hi.” you request with a soft chuckle before allowing him to concentrate on keeping himself in the loop. You just have to hope his handsome face painted in deep concentration doesn’t prove too distracting for you as you cross-reference your wire samples. The squad leader of the Bad Batch, Sergeant Hunter, had teased Tech once a few weeks ago, when he dropped by with Echo, on the depths of Tech’s concentration. That’s when you’d truly taken notice of it for the first time.

Tech, utterly embroiled in some “little” project he’d created for himself here at the research center, was staying long after your scheduled hours, repeatedly promising that you really don’t have to stay here. 

You turn another page in your holomag. “I’ll be fine staying here a little longer. I want to make sure none of the senior analysts bother you. Again.” It was a slow Zhellday afternoon you had no other plans for, and a couple of people a little further up the chain of command really had a bug up their ass about Tech’s presence here today in particular, continually complaining about an incident with his crutches.

Someone hadn’t been looking where they were going and bumped into the mobility aids propped against a wall, knocking them over this morning. Unfortunately, there had been a tray of glass instruments set aside nearby that did not survive the crutches’ sudden descent. The senior analysts, most of them much older than you, wanted him thrown out of the facility and have the agreement with the GAR that Tech would be here until his broken leg healed nullified. 

“He’s got a broken leg! Is he supposed to just hobble around the lab without his crutches? It was an accident, but I’m starting to suspect you’re looking for excuses to get rid of him because you’re feeling threatened by his intellect!”

Clone Force 99’s second-in-command hums shortly in delayed response, a frown marring his otherwise concentrated expression. Tech adjusts his goggles as he pours over some reference. The man with partial skull iconography inked across his similarly tanned face next to Tech carefully nudges him with his elbow. 

“Tech, this is when you’re supposed to tell the nice lady thank you.” Hunter warns him, teasingly of course. He’s gotten back from a long deployment, and rather than going to the nearest mess hall with Wrecker and Crosshair, he’s come to check up on Tech, finding that he’s still at the GAR research center. He’s too tired to give any kind of reprimand just for the sake of appearances. 

“Especially after this morning… Don’t make me do the nat-born thing, vod.”

Tech sort of scoffs, the threat of referring to him by his CT number, like a misbehaving natural-born child hearing the use of their middle name, by his brother having little effect. 

“No thanks necessary, honestly.” You turn the page to your holomag, skimming the article to see if it’s worth an in-depth read, then meet Hunter’s eye. “It was honestly a bit cathartic to have a go at those jerks.” Decrying them as jerks to the squad leader of the Bad Batch was putting it real mildly given your true thoughts of them right about now. 

Echo gives you a knowing nod. The sergeant smirks, and this is what gets Tech to break his silence. 

“Don’t, Hunter.”

“Glad you made a friend, Tech.” Hunter says it with complete sincerity, so far as you can tell. Leaning back in the borrowed lab chair, Hunter kicks his feet up for a moment on a corner of the desk to adjust some parts of his armor. “Wrecker might get jealous.”

“I think we all would.” Echo says with a kind chuckle.

“Plenty of me to go around,” you promised the three of them, “I love making friends with the GAR.”

A few hours later, now four items deep into your checklist for the day with the wire cross-referencing behind you, you lean back in your chair and stretch your arms above your head, feeling something pop with great satisfaction. “Mmm! That felt good. Hey, Tech?” He nods to show he hears you, at which point you continue. “I’m thinking of running home real quick during lunch to take the honeysuckles home so I’m not wrestling with those on top of everything else I’ll have to take with me tonight. You gonna be okay on your own for a bit?” 

“I will be fine.” he assures you, sliding the clipboard from “your” side of the desk over to his. “I may need the password to your desk-mounted computer terminal, however.”

“It’s ‘naboofields’. All one word, no capitals, special characters or letters.” 

You root around your desk for one of the seemingly innumerable sticky-flim pads you possess, scribbling down the password - just in case - as neatly as you can before removing the top flimsi-note and hand it over to him. Honeyed eyes blink once in mild surprise after he inspects your handwriting. 

“Not very secure, I know.” you laugh bashfully, straightening a few sheafs of flimsiplast before gathering up the stack of locker notes to tuck them in your pocket. Busywork to avoid any kind of lecturing look. But when you meet his eyes for the moment before wondering how best to pick up the ceramic vase full of beautiful tri-colored honeysuckle, you find no disappointment. Only more curiosity. 

“Have you ever been to Naboo?” Tech asks. He’s noticed this particular topic has been cropping up a lot between the idle doodles on flimsi scraps of the bulbous Shaak grazing through lush emerald fields and little reminders you’ve written to yourself scattered across your desk lately. Ticket prices. Best time of year to go. Popular festivals. Fashion. You were weaving a curious pattern.  

Tech doesn’t do this very often, but he hazards a guess. Could you perhaps be… homesick?

“Were you born there?”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t born there, and I’ve never visited before. Naboo’s just some… silly dream of mine lately.” 

“Why do you say ‘silly’?” The question is earnest and sincere, and Tech sits forward off the backrest of the lab chair, posture straightening out. “Has someone said something unkind about your desire to see Naboo?” He couldn’t imagine why someone would disparage this; many galactic citizens express some level of desire to visit this planet in the Chrommell sector at least once in their lifespan. 

He’s assured there’s no one being unkind to you when you wave him off, sliding the vase across your desk carefully. “No one other than me, I guess. I dunno when I’d ever have a chance to go visit between the work I do for the GAR, plus being in the middle of the Clone Wars for stars’ sake…” You’re considering if it would be worth telling him about your developing case of wanderlust, your craving for a taste of adventure. (Just a taste… just a taste!)

What Tech was supposed to do with that revelation, you weren’t sure. Did you want his help planning this whimsical trip? Or did you just need to confide in him with this harmless little secret? 

“Would it be impolite to presume you don’t have many vacation days accrued in order to enjoy a short holiday?” Tech assumes you’re well aware of labor laws the GAR has to comply with for civilian staffing, like yourself, but he has no means of knowing how much PTO you have stored up without rooting into the system.

“Karabast, I- I hadn’t even thought of…” Your thoughts trail off as you look out one of the rain-spattered panes of transparisteel and determine you need to stop by your locker to gather your weather wear and rain repeller. When was the last time you had some extended leave from work that wasn’t a sick day, anyways? “I have some PTO I’m owed, but I try to be smart and save it for emergencies… I, uh, think I have more than two week’s worth.” Truthfully it’s been some time you looked at the amount of PTO you’ve accrued. It very well could be less than you remember, or more than you imagine. 

Tech makes a quiet murmur of agreement that saving the time off for emergencies is rather smart, shrugging after a stretch of clearly contemplative silence. “I was merely curious.” The statement makes it tempting to tease him in return, say something like aren’t you always? but he has something more to say before you work up the nerve, gesturing to the clipboard. “May I watch the helmet footage for you while you take the Nabooian Honeysuckles home?”

“I was warned it was grisly.” you caution him out of kindness, thinking back to one of the locker notes. “So, as long as you don’t mind or won’t be bothered, I suppose you can look at the footage for me… Credits are on it being sent from Delta Squad.” 

Scrutinizing the datadisc, Tech finds RC-1207 etched into it. Commando Sev, he tells you, went missing on Kashyyyk for a month early in the war… (Thank the Maker, his pod brothers had been fortunate in finding him.) Sev has never spoken of the experience. 

“This should prove to be fascinating, in some regard.” Tech speculates, slotting the disc into an external inspection device to set everything up to complete this in your absence. Goggles are adjusted every so slightly, changing the way they are seated on his face. “I’ll leave the notes for you on your desk by the time you return.” he promises. 

You make sure you’ve gathered the last of your things, saying that you better get going now that everything’s agreed upon. Carefully cradling the vase in the crook of your arm, you arrange the bouquet slightly with your free hand to avoid bruising any of the velveteen petals as you carry it. 

Turning on your heel, you head for your locker to collect your rain repeller. “Appreciate it, Tech, thank you. I’ll catch you later.” 

“Watch out for the deeper puddles, don’t slip.” Tech calls after you. 

He’s overheard many of your colleagues using this phrase the last couple of days to warn one another; the longer the rain’s gone on, the deeper the areas of rain retention have become since the water table is oversaturated. There has been no break in the weather, but the end is in sight. 

‘When will the rain stop?’ Soon. Maybe even tomorrow.

Habitually, you call back that you’ll be careful and another farewell, flashing him a sunny smile as you head out the door for the speeder cabs, the honeysuckles in one hand, repeller in the other. You don’t expect to be gone long.

Taking the vase full of honeysuckle home is your highest priority, right along with making sure the flimsiplast scraps in your pocket remain dry. Flimsi, while conveniently reusable, was hair-thin, had a slight transparency to it, and dissolved in water. (Why some disposable gowns for med centers were made out of the acrylic material when it was kriffing semi-transparent you had yet to figure out.) If you were careful of the shifting winds before you got to a speeder cab, Tech’s poems would stay safe and dry in your pockets, joining the others in a box of precious keepsakes at home. 

Maybe you could put them all in a scrapbook one day, able to read and admire them all at leisure, or whenever you miss having new haikus show up in your locker once Tech’s broken leg is fully healed and he rejoins his brothers. Tech’s been careful not to voice how much he’s come to miss his brothers - else he risks sounding ungrateful for the research center agreeing to let him assist there after much back and forth - but you know he’s getting somewhat impatient. 

“If I had known a second BX droid was around the boulder, I wouldn’t have tried to kick the first over the precipice…”

“That’s how you broke your leg?”

“Had it broken for me when the commando droid grabbed me, more accurately. Better me than Echo…” 

He’d return to his brothers in time with the whole of hyperspace at his fingertips. Hunter would get his second-in-command back. The Havoc Marauder will have both of her pilots and it won’t be Echo spending time alone in the cockpit. Wrecker and Crosshair will once again have their brother to parse through factitious scenarios and the complicated mathematics necessary to pull it off relating to their enhancements to help one another in staving off hyperspace hypnosis. 

And you’d go back to dreading Primedays and dreaming of clover covered plains on Naboo between every string of data you analyze for the GAR once Tech left. You’d miss the extra pair of capable hands and his talented, dare you say exceptional, mind. You’d miss the presence of yellow-lensed goggles and the steady, red light of the cylindrical camera attached to them that sometimes followed you around the analyst lab, that were as much a part of Tech’s face as the rest of his features. 

You’d miss him and the harmless little crush Jais teases you over since helping you find out who your secret admirer was. 

“Swing by your locker lately?”

“You have better eyesight than a Mynock but all the subtlety of a Reek, Jais. Yes I saw he left me another haiku.”

“What do they say?”

So much by using so little. 

Tech has just seventeen syllables to work with, but boy does he make them work. 

They will last far longer than any tender blossom, tucked carefully on the windowsill and lovingly arranged to fill in the gaps in the bouquet during transport. Home only for a short time, you settle for tucking the new haikus and other notes on the low table in the living room to sort through later tonight while eating dinner. 

Come to think of it, maybe you should invite Tech over for dinner sometime, while he’s still here. (While there’s still time to leave things behind in order to remember him by.) He’s been staying in temporary accommodations in the unofficial research district since the nearest GAR barracks are an hour away, and the district isn’t too far from your place. You’re not sure what the protocol on this is (or if there’s any), and he’s more than welcome to turn you down, but-

This harmless crush has gone beyond only going one way. 

You’re going to miss Tech when he leaves, not just because it means you'll lose an eager assistant who shares what he learns while you work. You've grown to like him in ways you haven't devoted proper time to exploring why with the nature of your work, but you like Tech too. And you don’t want just a vase full of honeysuckle that will one day wither and a smattering of haikus to remember him by. 

You want something more. Something meaningful before he goes back to making mayhem for the Separatists. 

And maybe it can start today, if you're clever enough. 

It's time to stop daydreaming.

When you return to the research center, you first put your rain repeller away in your locker and collect the few notes that appeared while you were out. No new poems, only warnings that one of the senior analysts had a bug up their ass the size of a mynock (scratch that, a bantha) again over something minor, and it's best to stay out of their way until they cooled off. 

“Hey, Tech, I'm back.” You announce your return from the lockers to avoid potentially startling him, finding him fiddling with a part of his vambrace. “Got some cryptic notes in my locker. Feel like I missed some excitement while I was away.” 

“Yes… You certainly did.” One of the analysts lost their temper with the ‘newfangled’ caf-pot in the break room, Tech explains. Nothing newfangled about it in truth, it just wasn't working because it had been unplugged for cleaning and someone just forgot to leave a note. 

“Speaking of notes,” he says as an aside, procuring a printed message from Lieutenant Waxer of Ghost Company in the 212th, “This came in just before you arrived while I was at the copier.” 

Giving the lieutenant’s request a once-over, you find a general greeting after the Grand Army of the Republic’s letterhead, asking if someone would mind helping him locate the origin of a particular word in the language of the Twi’leks. Printed requests are deemed non-urgent, but it’s simple enough that you don’t mind adding his query to the bottom of your daily checklist, on which you find only the helmet footage crossed off. 

“Thought you’d have gotten more done than this.” you say, chuckling as you take a seat at your desk. 

Tech adjusts his goggles and meets your eye. “Felt it would be impolite to take your work from you when we had an agreement for just the footage.” He returns to fiddling around with his vambrace and his datapad, perhaps trying to sync something up. 

His concern of taking further work from you without asking is very kind, and rather touching. You feel warmth in your face disproportionate to the heating system warming the labs on this rainy day. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t have minded too much, but thank you. What’d you do instead until I got back?” You figure it didn’t take all too long to study the commando’s footage, finding the notes Tech’s took for you pinned underneath the datadisc the feed was stored on. Lifting the high-tech paperweight, you give the notes a glance. 

It’s the same thin lettering as the haikus. 

Tech tuts in thought while snapping a part of his vambrace back where it belongs. “General research. Nothing important.” He does not immediately elaborate on what he had researched, thinking you may want to take a moment to mentally prep yourself for returning to work and start on the next task at hand. 

They were not concerns he (often) had to keep in mind with Hunter, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair because he knew them so well compared to other people, compared to you. They spent the most time together and could give him a playful ribbing for overstepping boundaries, or starting detailed explanations when it wasn’t the best time. No one cares! was often said in-the-moment, and apologized for in ways that did not involve the words I’m sorry - and that was normal with his brothers. 

So when you break into a big, friendly smile and draw out the word “Liiiike…?” while you continue to settle in, Tech knows it’s okay to elaborate. That you seem interested in what he has to say. 

“It was the origin of halliksets. I became distracted when I learned they were quite popular on Naboo, and spent some time looking into that instead.” As he expected, you perk up with the mention of Naboo, interest piqued. “They’re made with seven strings, and the ore commonly used to make them comes from Kreeling, a mining planet also within the Chrommell sector.” The ore seems to be used to decorate the rounded body of the instrument, from what he had been reading. Ornamentation rather than function. 

“Huh,” you say politely with a smile to match, “I had no idea. That’s really neat.” 

You thank him for sharing before agreeing that perhaps you should get started on some of your work when he warns you that he can hear someone from another department coming, and it may be wise to appear busy. 

For the next fifteen or so minutes, you and Tech are careful to appear focused on tasks from the clipboard. Something about figuring out why a standard caustic compound utilized by the GAR didn’t work. Tech casts a subtle glance over his shoulder while you muse over the specs, wondering just like you why someone from another department is taking their sweet time to leaf through all the disposable pipettes in the storage cabinet of all things. Trying to eavesdrop? Just really particular about their lab supplies? Who karking knows. 

While looking into the humidity record on Felucia the day of the recorded equipment failure, you take a moment to open the system you submit your time-off requests to and look at the amount of paid time off accrued. Two and a half weeks. That’s not bad. 

“Good to know….”

“What is it?” Tech asks.

“Oh, just poking into weather records,” you hum, hiding the portal, “Seems the caustic compound failed because of higher than average humidity that day. It was under six months old, so I don’t think it was a product age failure.” From the flashpoint of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, much of the equipment utilized barely sits on a shelf any longer than six standard months after its production and purchase for the Grand Army. 

Clones were clever. Well trained. They knew how to account for things like planetary climate, weather conditions and equipment age out in the field, but you’ll always have the occasional fluke. Things beyond your control, beyond what you trained for. (Some things you could never train for.) But the Grand Army of the Republic could be trusted to give it their all, no matter the occasion, no matter the challenge. 

You trusted men like Red Wire with your life here in the labs when you had to work with disarmed bombs, never doubting his ordnance training for a second. The same goes for the man sitting on the other side of your desk from you now, the injured leg in the walking boot propped up in a spare chair. You trust Tech too. 

When the personnel from another department finally leaves, they’re grumbling something venomously about the missing label-maker under their breath, the word “di’kut!” loudest of all. 

You recognize the Mando’a. Pronunciation DEE-koot. Multiple meanings. Idiot. Useless. Waste of space. (More accurately a waste of their time… Pretty sure someone already said the label-maker wasn’t in there.) You wonder where they know the word from. 

Speaking for yourself, you’ve picked up a smidgen of the language from working as a researcher and analyst, and you’ve added a few more words to your repertoire from Tech’s uninterrupted correspondence with the Bad Batch that he’s allowed you to see some of. 

And speaking of them… Now that you and Tech are alone, this might be a good time to try putting your plan in motion knowing how much PTO you have to work with now. You want to go to Naboo, and you want to see if there’s any way you can convince Tech to go with you. Maybe even meet you there with the rest of Clone Force 99. Make bumping into them look like a coincidence. 

“Hey Tech, when you return to your brothers, any plans or ideas on where you’ll go first?” 

A pad of sticky flimsi-notes is pulled from one of the many drawers of your desk, and you root around for a working pen while you wait on an answer. Calling upon courage from the very heart of the cosmos, you hope you can pull this off. 

Tech answers the break in relative silence with a quirk of his eyebrow. “None that I’m aware of, but I suspect we’ll be going wherever we are needed.” There is a long contemplative pause, eyes flicking to his trusty tablet more than once as a few new messages from Wrecker come in. 

“Is there some reason you’re asking?” He pushes the datapad aside now, giving you more of his attention, which is appreciated. 

Shoulders bounce. “What if I said I was just curious?” You don’t expect him to buy that, he’s too clever. But you need a moment of quiet contemplation on his part to count out the syllables without messing up. Once you’re certain you have five, then seven syllables, you flash him an easygoing smile. “Being curious isn’t a crime, is it?”

“On some planets it is. Some rather… ridgid, often self-isolated cultures across the galaxy view curiosity as a sign of an idle mind and fear it will inspire mischief. Free thinking. Rebellion.” 

The question had been rhetorical, and you don’t mind that he answered, but you find the fact quite sad. You also don’t want to begin to imagine how that sort of “crime” is punished. Curiosity is a natural part of life to all, to criminalize it is… frankly ridiculous.

“Well good thing we’re not in one of those isolated cultures.” you say, now thinking how you’ll finish penning this poem. Should you add your reasoning for why you wrote this at the bottom? (Would you even have room?) Maybe you should just tell him after he’s read your poem instead. 

“Agreed.” Another message comes in from Echo this time, but Tech ignores it, continuing to hold eye contact with you; almost like he’s performing an inspection. “So I hope it does not feel like an accusation when I say I don’t believe you are ‘just curious’.” 

“I did have an idea…” you admit, fiddling with the pen in your hand for the moment, “Since I heard Clone Force 99 isn’t keen on following every little order…” This is when you choose to slide the haiku you were working on over to “his” side of the desk, waiting in nervous silence as brown eyes scrutinize every Aurebesh letter laid bare before them. 

Can't we ever go  to a nice place, verdant fields  of spring eternal? - Feel like breaking a few rules?

Tech’s eyes lift from the flimsiplast note, looking surprised. He didn’t take you for the sort of person who’d encourage breaking certain GAR protocols, let alone… Your name falls from his lips, asking what this is about in the same tender tone. 

“I thought about what you asked regarding how much time off I have, and I found out I have two and a half weeks…” You explain, fiddling with the pen some more to occupy your nervous hands while he continues to monitor you. “I thought… Maybe once your leg heals up, and you’re cleared to return to active duty, you could find an excuse to spend some time on Naboo. Get to know each other better, perhaps?” He clearly has some kind of feelings for you that are in the earlier stages of reciprocation, and if you’re away from the lab, and he finds the time or the excuse to nip down to the Chrommell sector and meet up with you on Naboo, then neither one of you have to worry about behaving quite so professionally. 

Looking down at the haiku once again, Tech takes in your explanation, your invitation, and offers a mild chuckle at long last.

“You know what my brothers will say if I tell them about this?”

You swallow nervously. “W-what?”

“That it almost sounds like you’re asking me on a date.” 

You do what you can to keep your jaw from dropping, but there’s little to be done about the fiery feeling building in the apple of your cheeks that suggests there may be color blooming there. If you’re blushing, Tech certainly does a splendid job of politely pretending he sees no such thing while he gives your poem another look. 

You do the same in kind when additional color builds in his own face and crawls up his neck from under the top of the body suit. “I take it you figured out who was secretly leaving you the haikus.” His smile is timid, but not quite as nervous as your own. 

“I did. A while ago, actually.” you confess, confirming his suspicions. “I had help checking the cameras to see where the first one came from. I didn’t see a reason to say anything, or stop you.” You add that you’ve kept every single one, too, to some surprise of the computer and weapons specialist sitting across from you. 

He sits forward now, carefully easing the walking boot to the floor. “You really want to spend time with me on Naboo?” Your earnest nod surprises him further. You do. Out of millions of Clones in the galaxy, you’re asking Tech (and his brothers by proxy) to join you in visiting the idyllic planet. 

You carefully carve out a little portion of your PTO and submit the request as the very first step in the planning process, and while you await approval you and Tech will continue to work together as normal. You still have to behave professionally in the meantime. 

Well, as professionally as possible when Tech decides he can now confess he has a backlog of haikus for you, enough so you could have one waiting for you in your locker every day until he’s cleared to return to fieldwork in a few weeks, in theory. 

“Poetry every Primeday, honeysuckles today, and now you’re offering daily haikus? Maybe I will be asking you out on a date if you continue to spoil me like that.” you warn him, chuckling. Of course now you get the feeling Tech will make sure the weeks leading up to your time-off would consist of honeysuckle and haiku to ensure that you would. 

And those were going to become some of your best weeks working as a researcher and analyst for the GAR, whether you got that time off or not, because it would be spent making precious memories with Tech. 

That was what mattered most.

First time I've ever participated in one of these events, and I don't think I did too badly, considering I completely restarted this at one point! (Apologies for how long this ended up being, too, haha.) I hope you liked it, Tech-a! 🩷

Fic taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: Open]

[corazondebeskar-reads]

remember what you're staring at is me

jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 8 - found footage | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 2.9k

summary: A videotape is left on your porch one morning, and it changes everything about your budding relationship with Joel Miller.

warnings: Jackson!Joel, some dark!Joel, some soft!Joel, we love a man who contains multitudes, ambiguous ending, I wish I had made this a much longer one shot but oh well, references to The Hospital Incident, oral (f & m receiving), implicit p in v

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You find it on your porch one morning in an old paper bag. Someone’s written right onto the brown wrapping with black crayon—”you need to know the truth.” It seems rather dramatic once you peel back the paper to find a videotape. 

It's not high quality—the footage is fuzzy and crudely edited together. But there’s just no mistaking the man on the screen. 

Joel and Ellie came into your life when they arrived for the second time in Jackson. You had heard the gossip the first time, but never met the pair. 

You met him fairly quickly when he swung by with a torn jacket, gruff and blunt but polite. Steady. “They, uh, said to ask you about some mending?” 

“Sure thing,” you say easily, smiling at the very handsome stranger. “Let me take a look.”

It was a casual thing, the sewing, and you liked it that way. You didn’t make anything, didn’t haul things to the market. You spun the wool for those who did craft things, and then you kept to your little projects at night.

The push and pull of the needle was the meditation you needed to keep going every day, even now, even safe here in this bubble. Something productive, something to keep your trembling hands busy and your mind blank. 

And in return, you got company and conversation. Most folks knew your services could be bought with a warm drink or baked good, a promise of a favor you’d never call for.

“How long?” he asks, voice flat and serious, but it didn’t prick at you, didn’t land as rough as it set out. 

“Not long,” you muse, looking over the tear—a knife gash of some sort, and the thin lining that peeked out. “Ten minutes if you just want it sewn up, or if you give me a day, I can get it properly stuffed.”

“Sewn, please.” 

Please. You like that. Manners at the end of the world. 

“You sure? Be a lot warmer if I fill it out.” 

“I don’t—” he scowls at the ground. “I barely have anythin’ to offer ya for the mending.”

You want to tell him it’s on the house, call it a welcome basket, but he’s holding out what he does have to offer and your jaw drops just a little, lips parting to make way for a soft, pleased “oh” that has him straightening up. 

“I can find somethin’ else,” he says.

“Oh, no. That’s… amazing,” you say, taking the jar into your hands and popping the lid. They certainly aren’t potent, not like you remember, but oh, you could die from just the faint smell of the cinnamon sticks. “This is… more than enough. I’ll owe you, I reckon.”

“I dunno about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Seriously,” you say, eyes wide. You set the jar on the counter. “For that, I’ll get the whole thing done tonight.” After all, the delay had only been so you could go to bed. 

“Y’ain’t got to do that, I don’t mean to be a bother.”

You brush him off and start gathering your supplies. If you steep the thread in tea for a bit, you think, you might be able to get close to the color of the fabric.

He turns down a cup when you offer but does take a seat at the table. He’s as stiff as your late husband’s favorite bourbon, but the blunt edges grow a little duller when you don’t try to keep up small talk.

The bright overhead light casts him in shadow, deepening the circles under his eyes and drooping his wrinkles in inky black. But his eyes are bright and curious as he watches you start to add unspun wool from your stockpile into the jacket, trying to shape and layer it evenly through the inside. You have to make a couple incisions but keep them tight to the hemlines and existing stitching.

The thread dries quickly with the hearth raging and he speaks for the first time as you weave it through the needle’s eye.

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a threader,” you say, offering it to him to see after you’ve pulled it loose. “I, um. I’m not as dexterous as I used to be and I can’t say my sight’s as keen, either. Makes it easier to use these damn tiny needles. Luckily, it wasn’t a very in-demand item when people were raiding shops.” 

“Huh,” is all he says, sliding it back across the table to you. 

The stitching is quick and rote. You’re used to people pouring out their life stories and desires and drama when they sit at your table or on your sofa, feet kicked up on your coffee table while you sew. 

But this silence with Joel is warm, too. You’re almost regretful the job didn’t take longer.

You stand up and he follows, pushing his chair neatly back into its place. He takes the coat and runs a gentle finger across the original wound.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. 

You give him a wan smile, never having found those words to settle right in your skin. “Nice meeting you, Joel,” you say instead. “You know where to find me if you need anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and lets himself out. 

You lock the door behind him and wonder why you feel so energized. That tea was decaf, after all. And a little fuzzy, if you were totally honest, but you weren’t going to dump it down the drain just over a few fibers. 

One day when he comes, it’s with a bundle of thick socks and another, smaller jacket. Not a difficult job, but the gift he brings to trade knocks you off kilter so hard that you have to sit down.

“Not sure if it’ll be any use to you, but figured you’d know someone who can use it if you don’t,” he says, looking at the floor.

You’ve gotten to know him a little better, though his visits are few and far between. But he’s gotten more comfortable around town, more interested in following that wild daughter of his than hiding away. 

Sometimes, he’ll even sit at your table in the mess. You’d even go as far to say that the two of you were friends.

So you can tell what he’s trying so hard not to project. He’s nervous.

It looks almost like a desk lamp with its sturdy base and bent wooden arm, but in place of a shade and bulb is a hoop. You recognize it immediately and your stomach swoops. It’s an embroidery stand and you might faint just from that, just from having a steady way to hold the fabric tight as you sew. 

But that isn’t all. He shows you how to turn the peg that loosens the grip of the handle on the side, a raw hewn thing that doesn’t match the worn stain of the stand. You’re burning, head spinning, and the fuzzy darkness at the edges of the world stop you from focusing on the gift. 

The carved handle, he says, with hands curling around either side of you, has been partially hollowed to accommodate the end of the magnifying glass. You can raise and lower it with the peg and rotate the handle to use the other side of the glass.

“Joel,” you say uncertainly. He doesn’t really seem like he’ll want the attention drawn to it, but you have to know. “Did you make that?”

“Nah,” he scoffs. “Just added the glass is all.”

“Just added the glass,” you echo in a whisper. But you know he doesn’t mean he only attached it. He made the entire attachment and fit it onto the stand. 

His ears are red and he won’t look at you. 

You set a cautious hand on his arm where it reaches across your shoulder, still resting on the table. He’s caging you in from where he leaned over to demonstrate. “Joel, this is incredible. This is… this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Ain’t a big deal,” he mumbles but he doesn’t shake off your hand. “Just saw it and thought it might be useful.”

You feel emboldened by his kindness, so you curl your hand around his bicep. “Can I thank you?”

He looks down at you now, seeking something that he must find, confirmation in your blown out pupils and parted lips, and nods. 

He doesn’t break away as you slip from the chair to sink onto your knees or when your fingers loop around his belt to pry it open. 

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” you say, voice tight. 

He shakes his head. “You’re not.” His voice is the rumble of thunder breaking a tense summer night. 

You don’t bother removing his belt, simply knocking it open to reach for his zipper. 

You’re about to tug his pants down when the door opens. 

“Hey sugar,” Tommy drawls, “all my fuckin boxers have holes. Can you help a guy out? Promise they’re cle—“

His loud mouth gave just enough warning for Joel to pull his shirt down over his belt and for you to fumble at rolling the cuff of one pant leg up just so, reaching for a pin. 

“Oh hey, Joel!” Tommy says happily. “Finally fixin’ those ratty old things?” 

It’s a fucking miracle that he’s in these jeans, his favorites. Actually, it’s not, he wears them all the time, and they’re just a little too long so the bottoms are torn up. 

“Guess so,” Joel scowls. He’ll have to finally let you hem them now. 

“Just leave ‘em on the table, Tommy,” you say around the needle between your teeth. “And tell Maria to stop bein’ so rough with them.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “She can’t help it, sugar. I’m irresistible, see?” He claps his brother on the back and takes his leave. 

You slump a little, sighing as you set the needle on the table before moving to resume your activity. 

But Joel steps back. “I should get goin’,” he says. The line between his brow is cavernous and his lips are tugged down at the corners. 

“Oh. Okay,” you say, and pull yourself up with a hand clutching the table. 

“So. Thanks again,” he says. And then he’s gone. 

You let yourself drop dramatically into a chair, groan growing as it turns physical when your tailbone hits the seat wrong. 

You’re rubbing your forehead and thinking about going to bed to give yourself a pity orgasm when the door opens. He’s quiet and cautious, but he pushes the door shut behind him and locks it. 

“M’sorry,” he says. “I…”

“It’s okay,” you say with a tired smile. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” he says, offering you a hand. 

You take it and let him pull you to standing. 

His other hand finds your waist. “I was bein’ a coward.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“Darlin’, you couldn’t,” he says. His arm slides further around, pulling you to him in a gentle embrace. He looks down at you through heavy lids, watching the way your lips part just a little. “You still want this?”

You bring a hand up to cup at the hair that curls down the nape of his neck. “Please,” you whisper. 

He matches your motion, cradling your head in his palm as he dips his head to kiss you. He wastes no time, licking into your welcoming mouth, seeking out the earthiness of the tea still lingering on your tongue and the sweet shiver of goosebumps prickling across his skin as you wind your fingers into his hair.

“Shit,” he mumbles when you break away for air. “What do you want, baby? What can I have? You gotta tell me now, before I can’t think straight.”

“You can have whatever you want, Joel,” you say, hot breath brushing his swollen lips before he presses them to you again with a growl.

It’s a much quicker kiss, and he breaks away to drop to his knees and push your skirt up to your hips. You have to lean back with both hands clenching the edge of the table not to fall over in shock.

He nuzzles against the soft cotton of your panties and groans at the smell of your wet cunt. He mouths at it gently over the fabric before hooking his finger around the gusset and pulling it aside to part your lips with his tongue. 

“Not fair,” you gasp as he feasts. “I was supposed to—supposed to do that for you.”

“You said whatever I want, darlin’,” he says against your pussy, chasing the taste of you. 

“Fuck,” you pant. “Fuck.” 

“Gimmie one and I’ll let you suck my cock if ya want it so bad,” he says, plunging two thick fingers in and basking in the way you squeal and squirm. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, pistoning in and out like he’s trying to win a race. 

It works, with his tongue on your clit and his fingers against that soft, secret part of you that no one has touched before, you gush around where he spreads you. “That’s it,” he croons, “good girl. Good fuckin’ girl, give me another.”

“You said—”

He cuts you off by sucking on your clit and your hips rock, wobbling the table as he takes another from you anyway. 

“Couch or bed?” he says, tugging your panties down your legs now that he’s sated the immediate urge. 

“Don’t care,” you say.

“Alright, bed,” he says. “Wanna do this right.” 

“Don’t think you could do it wrong,” you say, a lazy, sated smile on your face and a lightness to your eyes that he thinks he could get addicted to. 

He does let you suck his cock, and thinks maybe he could die happy from the warm, wet of your mouth and the way you look up at him like he’s the only thing in the world. 

At that moment, he is. You had resigned yourself to keeping your little crush a secret until it faded, too fond of him to risk it, but here? Now? Now that you’ve had him, you don’t think you can ever go back. 

He’s gentle in a way you can’t quite name. It’s not that he’s soft with you, but just aware. Like he knows where you’re capable of meeting him and settles there. He makes room for himself in you like you’d done for his coat, opening you up and stuffing you until you’re warm and full and renewed. 

He doesn’t leave you to stitch yourself up, either. He buries his face in your tits and holds you tight after, cleans the both of you up with a warm towel, and kisses you before he leaves.

Neither of you want him to go, but he’s got Ellie at home and won’t—can’t—worry her by not coming home. Not without warning. Next time, he whispers, and it carries a question and a promise. 

There is a next time. And another. And another. You think you might be in trouble. You do far less mending jobs once your evenings are taken over by Joel. You still take them, darning socks on the soft with your feet in his lap, or basking in the way he looks proud and satisfied when you use the stand to fix up bigger projects. Some of your favorite nights are when he sits and strums his guitar while you sew, just two people finding peace by creating it themselves. Together. 

So when eight months later, that tape finds its way into the VCR you’ve only used twice, you’re more than familiar with the bulking shape of him. The way his hair sticks up when he runs worried hands through it. The grip of those hands, sure and steady.

He finds you there on your third viewing. You didn’t even hear him come up the porch, didn’t realize the sun was starting to crest over the mountains, that he’d be coming by with breakfast just like he promised.

The little Joel on screen is working his way to the operating room. You’ve stopped flinching at each crack of the gun or collapsing body. 

“Where the hell did you get that?” 

You do startle when he speaks, unaware that he’d been watching you watch the tape for a minute. His voice is low and slow, something lurking beneath the baritone that trips an alarm. 

This isn’t your Joel. This is that one, the one from the TV. 

He moves like a jaguar, slinking and graceful. “Where,” he snarls, breath curling off your clammy skin, “did you get this?” His hand curls around your shoulder at the base of your neck. 

“It was on my porch,” you whisper. 

His fingers dig in a little where he holds you in place. “Try again.”

“It’s the truth, I swear. I didn’t know what it was.” 

“How much did you watch?”

“All of it,” you whisper, though it feels like the click of a lock.

“Goddamnit, baby. Why’d you have to do that?” 

There’s an actual click, the unmistakable flick of a release. 

“Joel, please,” you say, voice breaking. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“I can’t take that chance,” he says. 

He still hasn’t brought the knife close to you, though, so you hazard a glance over your shoulder. You wish you hadn’t. He’s gone, his sweet eyes dead to the world, no whisper of his gentleness to be found. 

“I swear, please. You can trust me.” 

“Can’t trust anyone in this world, darlin’. You shoulda realized that by now.”

*title from "Through Glass" by Stone Sour

[ddagent]

It was Margo's first time in Russia. She'd seen news footage, of course. Heard it spoken of so fondly by Sergei in the years of their acquaintance. Despite the reservations of his government, his hatred for the KGB, he had spoken warmly of vacations with his family, of cooking with his mother, of the first heavy snow. Margo wished, truly, that she could experience Russia through his eyes. But Sergei had been dead for eight years and all around her was ghosts.

Thankfully, there was the work to distract her. Always the work.

The Goldilocks capture conference in Leningrad had not been as...productive, as Margo had hoped. Political posturing; capitalism and bottom lines outweighing scientific merit and discovery. Exhausted, Margo had retired to a fireplace in the hotel bar, sharing a drink with Aleida, licking their wounds after the new Director of Roscosmos had scuppered their intentions to bring the asteroid to Mars.

Margo rolled her neck, fingers pressing against the condensation of the glass. "We should be holding this in Houston."

"No arguments here. Instead, Morozova gets to run the show." Aleida sipped her brandy. She was still pissed she'd been relegated to an inferior hotel, whereas Margo, as director of NASA, had been give five star accommodation. Margo couldn't blame her. "There's something about her I just don't trust."

"I'd say someone was pulling her strings, but I think she's at the top of the food chain here."

Margo didn't enjoy spy novels. Didn't enjoy ear pieces and false identities and honey traps. Any possible love for the genre had been eroded when the KGB had throttled Sergei in front of her. But she knew the signs. The hallmarks. The way Irina would pause. The way she would formulate words on her tongue that held no meaning, just regurgitated from others. No doubt, Margo would know what lay behind it all in due course. But for now, she was happy to spend some hours of the day away from Irina Morozova and Dev Ayesa.

"I'm gonna head up to my room." Margo stared at Aleida. "You sure you're going to be okay over there? You can stay with me; it's not a problem."

"I've slept in worse." Aleida drained her glass. "Text you when I'm there. Don't forget to text Ilyana and Andrei."

Margo would not. Sergei's aging parents had been so excited about her trip when Margo had told them during her last visit. Maps had been involved; images summoned from the web to replace the photo albums they had lost. It had been another dinner where Margo had felt a stab in her gut at all they had lost to come to the States: their home, their possessions, their son. Margo had done everything to get Sergei and his family out. All but see him home safe. Still, Margo had promised to take pictures for his parents and she would fulfil that promise.

As she left the hotel bar, Margo noticed that Irina had left. She traversed the halls, seeing if she had picked up a shadow. She entered the elevator alone. Pressed seven. Flexed her fingers around a phantom touch. Exited alone. Margo hovered, as the doors closed, imagining his body close to hers. Aleida went to the IAC now. Margo couldn't bear it. At least there were no memories here. No ghosts that would haunt Margo as she entered her room.

Margo began the short walk to her suite. The door was ajar. Fuck. There was no housekeeping cart outside, or room service. Just an open door spilling light into the hallway. No. Not again. She was not going to stand for this. She was done being messed with. Storming into her hotel room, Margo caught sight of a figure by her desk and called out: "I am not being fucked around by you people anymore. You'll have to strangle me this time."

The figure turned around and Margo's world spun.

"Hello, Margo."

It wasn't possible. She was dreaming or had been knocked out somehow between the elevator and here. This wasn't real. Bradford had tried to get home. He'd been on the plane; had made it to Germany. But the KGB had found him. Bradford had spared her the details, not wanting to see her tears, not wanting to know how close the head of NASA was with the former head of Roscosmos. But he was dead, of that she was sure. Margo had mourned him. His parents, his sisters had mourned him. There was a photograph of them from Apollo-Soyuz on her shelves that Aleida always stared at when she came into Margo's office. Staring at a ghost, a legacy.

Yet here he was.

Sergei Nikulov – older, with creases around his eyes but still looking healthier than the last time she'd seen him in person – stared at her. Smiled at her. Before the weight of his haunting fell heavy on his shoulders. "We do not have much time."

Margo didn't respond. She merely approached, cautiously, as if he were made of vapour and would disappear if she made one errant step. She took stock of him: the rise and fall of his chest, the flush of his skin under the warmth of the hotel lights, the stray thread on the sleeve of his shirt. After a visual inspection, Margo investigated closer. She took his hand in hers. Familiar grooves and lines. A phantom touch made real. His grip tightened, held her hand for the first time in nearly a decade.

Margo gasped and immediately closed the distance between them, cradling his face in her hands. "I thought—" He nodded. "I thought I couldn't save you."

Sergei took one of the hands pressing against his cheek and kissed her palm. "I am afraid, Margo, that I am beyond saving. This time, I am here to save you." His shoulders fell in defeat. "We need to talk about Irina Morozova."

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Hello BPP,

One of the thoughts I have had over the last few days, and one I hope doesn't offend anyone, is that shipping sometimes is founded in selfishness.

The reason I have come to this conclusion is the behaviour of a certain community that is quite vocal online in their displeasure over the content that gets produced. They have turned to focusing solely on the members they ship instead of grasping the emotional weight of the moments we get to observe. They immediately jump to the conclusion of a conspiracy against their ship, despite how non-sensical repressing said ship would be from a purely capitalistic viewpoint, and then use footage that was taken without the consent of the members and after their express wish for fans to not appear at the send-off to support their theory. I have heard of them furthering the narrative that their ship is real due to private moments yet these moments are either (a) debunked by those who are not sucked into the narrative or (b) obtained by sharing videos once again without the consent of their shippées.

But it isn't about the bond between JK and Tae for them but rather being right, about being the ones to see the truth - going against the grain - and whatever rhetoric they like to employ.

It's about the fetishisation of two attractive men being together, a comforting thought for what I imagine to be girls and women that would like to be in a relationship with these two themselves. Why else would they mostly focus on bashing a company and real human beings because they're not being catered to?

It is quite disturbing to consider how there's this willingness to cross boundaries of every type, including tweeting at an actual government branch and then accusing said branch of furthering fanservice. All of it is, as I stated at the beginning, selfish. There is no consideration for the feelings of the people they claim to protect, no media literacy, no acceptance of Occam's Razor, no interest in factual depictions.

I hope they grow tired soon, because it is tiring to even witness in the periphery.

---

Sorry for the quite stilted English, I've been watching too many video essays the past few days and I physically cannot turn off that filter.

***

It’s sad, amusing and concerning all at the same time, isn’t it? You’ve hit the nail on the head and yeah it applies to most shippers: taekookers especially but also many jikookers, and even solo stans, who resort to the same mental leaps when their expectations aren’t met. I agree with you and have said much the same several times in the last few years.

I don’t share your hope that they grow tired soon though. In fact what tends to happen is that they become even more unhinged. The more they invest into their theories and worldview, the more they take increasingly invasive steps to validate those theories. It’s sad and one of the worst expressions of sunk cost fallacy I’ve seen in fandom. The most we can do as fans is to check that behaviour when we see it in the fandom, and deplatform people building a following set on those ideas. And hope to god that the military does a decent job of ensuring their security while in service.

[ape-apocalypse]

can you reccomend some of the documentaries you watched about apes?

Funny enough, I've been planning on making a list of documentaries so thanks for the push! I’ve watched a bunch to hype up for Kingdom and I’ll keep watching as we wait for POTA news. These are what I've been able to find with my various subscription services and internet access in the USA so their availability may vary for you. Also a warning that, due to these being non-fiction documentaries there is very real footage of animal injuries and death (from both humans and natural circumstances).

Monkey Business (Amazon Prime) - A long running show (9 seasons) about a primate rescue center in the UK. I really loved this one because you got to follow apes of the course of years. I even cried when one ape who had been there from the first season passed away in the final season. The show mostly focuses on chimps and orangutans but also features lemurs, woolly monkeys, gibbons and other species. The center focuses on giving the animals in their care the most natural life they can in captivity, and also assists in breeding programs for several endangered species. Jane Goodall even comes out in one episode to present them with an award for excellent enclosure construction. The theme song is very loud and distinctive, the point that my roommate asked how long this series was because she could hear the theme song coming from my room for weeks as I went through all 9 seasons. Highly recommend this one because the personalities of the apes really stand out when you spend literal years with them; it's worth the time commitment, I loved it.

(Also in making sure I had all the details about this show right, I learned there was a follow up show called Monkey Life that featured Andy Serkis himself narrating the first season and they seem to all be available on YouTube for free so I have a new multi-season show to watch now, thank you!!!)

Orangutan Jungle School (YouTube) - Rescue group dedicated to teaching young orangutans how to survive in the wild so they can be released when they're older. Only the first two episodes of this show are available on YouTube for free but I also devoured any clips I could find. I found this show particularly hilarious because the baby orangs are adorable. They cry when they don't get their cups of milk fast enough or when they can't figure out how to crack into a coconut. I always see adult orangutans as slow moving, so the activity and demanding personalities of the babies delighted me. If nothing else, watch these two clips because I have watched the clips of the babies screaming and the humans overreacting to fake snakes on repeat for ages.

Chimp Empire (Netflix) - Two chimpanzee groups in Uganda's Ngogo forest face off over territory and food, while each group faces their own struggles from within. This one is about wild chimps and it is fascinating to see their natural ways outside of rescue centers. The cinematography is gorgeous; I'd love to know how they got all these shots without disturbing the chimps. It's only 4 episodes; I wish it was longer but it packs a lot into its short run time.

Meet The Chimps (Disney+) - A one season show focusing on chimps living in a rescue center in Louisiana. A single season show so you don't get a lot of time with the chimps but it's got a much smaller number of chimps to get to know than Monkey Business. Also the troops are housed near each other so it's interested to see the dominance displays, even through a fence. My favorite part was near the end with the mystery of who was the father of an accidental baby. I guessed wrong!

Kingdom Of The Apes: Battle Lines (Disney+) - Two separate ape groups, one of chimps and the other of gorillas, sort out fights for dominance and leadership of the troop in their own ways. Personally I didn't like this one. Jumping back and forth between gorillas and chimps in a documentary less than an hour didn't leave me very invested, but I thought I'd add it if anyone was interested.

I'll throw in a couple podcasts too, should be free on your preferred podcast app:

Ologies, one episode on primatology and a separate episode on gorillaology

National Park After Dark, a two-part episode on the life, work, and murder of Dian Fossey, a primatologist who worked with gorillas and wrote the book 'Gorillas In the Mist'

The Wild With Chris Morgan, an episode on orangutans called People Of The Forest

There are a lot more documentaries I want to watch, especially several for free on YouTube. I hope this list is of interest to you and I welcome recommendations from anyone else.

[spacepiratenemo]

Hello! My Name is Nemo! Welcome to Jackass!

MEME-TIME! MUHAHHA! 😂💯👾

Lol, this was "supposed to be quick, easy and literally just a meme" and now it took nearly a week and drove me nuts 3.14 times XD 😂

I had this in mind for ages and pushed it to the back of the shedule all the damn time, now it's finally done. *20th century fox proudly presents* Nemo being grounded! 😂

Two weeks of kitchen service is way too nice for all the non-sense and chaos she caused on board - and of course she just gotta provoke, eh? Push one button and BANANABEARD CAN GLOW WITH LED LIGHTS! ISN'T IT BOOTIFUL???! 😂😂😂

I'm surprised Pops didn't throw this girl over board a single time... XD

Anyways, hope this short memetic content amuses you as it amused me! XD Which punishment do you think Nemo deserves? How long would you ground her for? How many dishes would you let her wash? ><

LOL

Nemo loves to prank others! From glueing Pops to his seat, to putting chilli into Marco's pineapples - everything is possible! And since she is a horrible influence regarding this on Ace, he often tags along with her shenenigans! In a nutshell, so far in the story they pulled off:

Roasting a Seaking with an alien-weapon

Spilling glitter everywhere

Using yellow paint to make Pops mustache become banana

Glue Pops to his throne

Make Blamenco smell his own feet

Let Deuce run in a circle for one hour to find his mask

Hide Vista's hair-care products and let him suffer to find out

Fireworks ala Firecracker!

See if you can cook faster than the oven! (Faster apparently does not imply better...)

Use watermelon-seeds as ammunition against everyone!

Make Haruta admit to his love for rubber duckies

Find out who Jozu's secret crush is

Arrange a date between Whitey Bay and Izou, don't tell either of them though!

Surprise everyone with a loud, cheerful party at 3 AM for a whole week!

Sulk at the Crew when 3 AM parties are suddenly forbidden.

Make the sulking as dramatic as possible and pretend to die.

Shock the Crew by jumping into the sea and let them believe we drowned!

Jumpscare them all with a trumpet.

Make them fear the trumpet.

Make them wish the trumpet was a nightmare that would end.

Place fart-pillows everywhere.

Tag "Kick me!" pictures to everyone's back.

Make the world believe aliens exist.

Fake an alien invasion.

Make headlines!

Use narcolepsy as an excuse for literally everything fifty times in a row.

Make them believe you don't understand socialising.

Put too much wasabi into all beers.

Sew Marco a feather-dress.

Put eggs into Marco's bed every day.

Ask Marco if he's already a chicken-daddy every day.

Test: How long and how intense can you annoy Marco until he fries?

Will he taste like chicken when he fries?

Force everyone to do maths!

Put the alpahbet into the maths once they think they're safe.

Let Ace believe he is safe from the maths, but then make him do maths anyway.

Make everyone be scared of numbers!

Make everyone scared of numbers and letters in combination!

Put hidden numbers everywhere to cause paranoia.

Replace Satan.

Paint Pops a pretty make-up while he sleeps.

Also do his fingernails.

Put a bow on him.

Make Namur believe he might be an alien as well

Make everyone believe they're aliens

Establish a conspiracy and laugh about the idiots who believe it

Fake a UFO crash

Fake found-footage of alien abducting pirates to cause global panic.

Shoot confetti-rockets at Mariejois and make them beliebe it was the Marines.

Estabilish A.M.A.B as a Slogan: "All. Marines. Are. Bastards!"

Create hundreds of robots, fake loss of control and prank'em by thinking A.I enslaves mankind.

Clone coconuts.

Clone a huge amount of coconuts.

Establish coconut as super fruit and throw them at everyone who disagrees with you.

Polish Jozu to make him Shiny-Jozu.

Make Blenheim believe Fossa has a crush on him.

Watch chaos unfold.

Mess with the cacti-juice.

And so much more...

... to be continued!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Ngl I'm quite feral at the moment for Ewan in the mesh top, He just looks way too good. I love how the top hugs his body so beautifully. I wish we got to see the fit with the jacket fully off but I also understand that might be overkill for Ewan and it could make him uncomfortable. I would never want that to happen.

Bro was so close though to taking it off fully, he does know how to tease. That in and of itself sends me to another universe

I think Ewan nation would collectively have a conniption if he took off the jacket fully and we got some slutty little waist and bicep action. I know I would have one at least lmao

Okay I think it's time for me to go to bed lol it's 5am and Ewan is making me lose my mind.

I feel like I'm going to be embarrassed for sending this ask later for just thirsting so I apologize for the thirsting. I just had to get this out of my head.

I will forever be in Davey Sutton’s debt. His service to this fandom can never be repaid.

I think there is a brief moment from yesterday’s photos and footage where Ewan is jacketless. Can imagine he was boiling in that long leather coat!

[walnutsxblacklicorice]

AHS Hotel Deleted Scenes Theories

Sometimes in promos or featurettes snippets of scenes are shown that never make it into the final cut of the episodes. There are a few from American Horror Story: Hotel that I really wish we could've seen so I'm going to list them here along with my theories of what they may have been.

This is adorable elevator footage that definitely should've made it, look how soft they are 🥹

The post-sex scene

This is a snippet from the promo for episode 5 "Room Service" and for the longest time I assumed the Countess' hair was reminiscent of the late 80s/early 90s and this was a flashback. However, I am now convinced that this scene is actually from episode 11 "She Gets Revenge" and I'll tell you why.

This gif is from the actual scene in the episode. Notice how the setup with The Countess smoking in the front and Ramona standing in the back is the same (just in a different location)? That is how I first noticed the parallel.

The reason why I think the deleted snippet happened after is because for one, when the Countess opened the doors to her bedroom in the actual episode, her bed was made and tidy. In that snippet you may notice in the background the sheets are messy as if someone had just been in that bed. The Countess is wearing the same makeup and nails as in the episode and her hair looks like it was the same style and she just let it down during their love session. I'm not sure where Ramona got that orange dress but I assume it would be from the Countess' closet.

I really wish we had gotten this scene because I am very curious what their conversation after they had sex was like and how Ramona eventually decided to spare her life.

Ramona admiring the Countess' art piece

This snippet was shown in a sort of fall preview promo for the FX networks. My best guess is that in this scene Ramona was in the Countess' penthouse for the first time (in 1977) and admiring her art collection. I can imagine that this clip was maybe shot to be shown when Ramona talks about how the Countess knew everything about art and literature (there is also a deleted scene where she's flipping through a book, which I'll get to in a moment).

How I know this scene is set in the 70s is because of 3 things. Number 1, her hair looks the same as it did in the 70s scenes we got to see. Her curls aren't as defined as in her present-time hairstyles. Number 2, her eye makeup is golden-metallic. If you look at her different makeup looks you will notice that her eye shadow in the 70s was always golden, whereas in 2015 it is always lilac purple-ish metallic (which was also popular in the 70s and may symbolize how she's still yearning to go back to that time). And number 3, the art piece she's admiring is not on display in Elizabeth's penthouse in the present. A somewhat similar figure could also be seen in the background of this behind the scenes clip of a scene that also took place in the 70s, though.

That shows how the Countess had different pieces of art on display in different decades.

Ramona in the nude on Elizabeth's couch

This behind the scenes footage is from a featurette. Angela Bassett has talked about how she had to sign a nudity waiver for this season but, though we got a sensual scene between her and the Countess, we never actually saw her in the nude. I wonder if they also shot a more revealing sex scene and it just didn't make the cut but the closest we know of that Angela came to being nude this season is this snippet.

Ramona is nude wrapped in Elizabeth's blanket, implicating they just had sex, and flipping through a book. I can imagine this was possibly meant to be shown when she talked about the Countess' love for literature.

The Countess walking down the stairs

This scene may very well be the same one I just discussed because I am convinced she is looking at Ramona sitting on the couch here. Why? Because her hair is the same style it was when she met Ramona and her nails are still red, too. It looks like she just changed into a different dress. And also the look in her eyes and the faint smirk is very similar to how she looked at Ramona before, indicating romantic interest in whoever she's looking at (Ramona).

Ramona in the ballroom

We don't know who the Countess is pointing at here exactly in this behind the scenes footage. But we do know that Ryan Murphy originally tweeted that "Angela will be making lots of trouble with Gaga in the ballroom and elsewhere."

The ballroom scenes are set in the late 70s when the Countess and Ramona started dating. However, Ramona is nowhere to be seen, likely due to the fact that she didn't get introduced until an episode later. Which is unfortunate because it would've been a lot of fun to see her in the ballroom and also given more context as to why it was Elizabeth's favorite time period.

That concludes my findings of deleted scenes from AHS: Hotel. I hope you enjoyed this little deep dive and are just as disappointed as I am that we didn't get to see these gems so that hopefully one day Ryan will release them for our viewing pleasure. It's especially sad because both the Countess and Ramona deserved a lot more sceen time, so to see they did originally have more scenes is frustrating. But alas I am grateful we got the scenes that we have at all.

[space-mermaid-writing]

The witchling and the god [Loki x Witch!Reader] Chapter 19

Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision. This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter's Note: More notes at the end of the chapter. Beta by @zaria-04

Chapter 19: Loki on a mission

Despite the many events in recent years that have brought the planet into turmoil, alien threats from space, attacks from other dimensions or an attempted world domination by third parties are fortunately rather rare.

More and more often, the Avengers are also involved in cases of civil protection and disaster control. In other words, whenever extra helping hands with special skills are needed.

You had a meeting with Tony about your not-job, where you talked about how to proceed with Loki's integration into the team. The Asgardian attended the meeting - since returning from the Lunar Convergence, both of you have become almost inseparable. You were seen almost exclusively together in the compound, but that seems to surprise few. Loki is still reserved in front of the prying eyes of the others, listening rather than talking. But he slowly warms up.

The three of you agree that it’s time for Loki to go on missions with them. Preferably missions that make a good PR. Even the Asgardian no longer has any objections to this.

"By the way, how was the coven?" Tony asks you after you have discussed everything important and he has put a glass from his private supply in front of each of you. "Did you dance naked around a well?"

"Wouldn't that involve being an innocent virgin?" you ask, laughing at this cliché.

Tony tilts his head. "Normally I'd love to deepen that topic but since you came back with Loki," his eyes dart briefly to the Asgardian, who looks rather amused, "and I don't want to know his part in this, I'll pass."

"Your loss," Loki winks with a grin.

~~

Two weeks later, there's the first mission Loki will be on.

"After the hurricane yesterday, there was a landslide in southern Appalachia. Several towns are cut off, one is buried under the landslide," Steve summarizes. "The task is to recover injured people and clean up as much as possible."

All the Avengers present in the tower have been called into a short-notice meeting and are briefed by Cap.

"Sabrina is going to make us some first aid healing potions and send them later," Tony adds. He is sitting near Steve and fiddling with a hologram on his Stark Phone. It's aerial footage of the area.

You yourself are not at the meeting. Tony had called you and you immediately got to work, as the potions took a day and a half to finish. Before you left through the doorway to your cottage, you kissed Loki goodbye and wished him well.

Although the incident is a tragedy, it is the perfect opportunity for Loki to show his face in public.

Clint and Natasha are currently on the road for Shield, but the rest of the Avengers would participate.

"Let's hope we won't face too many casualties." Steve lets his eyes wander around the room. "Suit up and pack everything you need for a week. We take off in an hour."

For the others, it's routine. Most have their gear ready in case there's an impromptu emergency. Loki has everything important he needs in his pocket dimension with him, and does not need to add a lot more for the next few days.

He leaves the suite together with Thor and shortly thereafter the two are seated next to each other on the Quinjet.

"I'll be traveling home soon," Thor tells him. Contrary to his usual manner, his voice is lowered. "I could talk to Father about your exile. I think it is time for it to be lifted."

A little surprised at his words, Loki merely nodded. He remembered his mother's words at the Lunar Convergence, before they parted.

Home is wherever you decide it is. Or whoever.

When Thor had just mentioned home, Loki had not first associated it with Asgard, to his own surprise. He was used to despising his father's decisions - most recently his banishment to Midgard. No time period had been set for his exile, and Loki had assumed that should he ever be allowed to return, he would do so immediately. He had never given a thought to the possibility that he might want to stay on this planet. Voluntarily.

Should the opportunity present itself, would you accompany him? Did he even want to go back to Asgard, back under the strict eyes of his father?

He has a lot to think about. Thor seems to notice this, because perhaps for the very first time, his younger brother has nothing to say, but is silent.

He pats him on the shoulder and gets up to go to Steve.

The movement makes Loki look up. He tears himself away from his thoughts - now he wouldn't come to any solution anyway and it's better to focus them on the task at hand - and lets his eyes wander. The mood among the heroes is relaxed. In his head he still does not pronounce this word without a trace of sarcasm. The irony about the fact that he is now at their side is not lost on him.

The mission holds no real threat, it's about helping the people. To clean up and save what can be saved.

In addition to Thor and Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner is also on board, bringing the muscle of the Hulk. And then there are Tony Stark and Peter Parker. Loki notices that the boy's gaze is on him and he raises an eyebrow. Briefly, he is tempted to change his face to that of his Jötun form and scare the boy. But it's probably not a good idea to intimidate a team member.

Suddenly, Peter walks up to him. Since the boy doesn't live in the tower and is still in his training - which brings many obligations with it - Loki had only ever seen him from afar in the hallway or between meetings. They haven't spoken a word to each other yet.

Peter is changing that now.

"Hello, Mr. Loki, Sir. We haven't had a chance to introduce ourselves yet," he greets the Asgardian politely, but not at all intimidated. Rather, he seems curious.

"You are that spider boy," Loki replies curtly.

"Spider-Man. I've almost graduated from high school. You can call me Peter, though."

Loki merely nods. He's not quite sure what to do with this kid. From his perspective, he's so small, even if he doesn't give a fragile impression. He wonders why by the Norns he seems to draw in Midgardian younglings. It is a mystery to him.

"You can do magic, right? Thor told me about it," Peter continues. "Like Stephen? That's pretty cool. I swing and I’m pretty strong."

"Stephen? Do you mean the Sorcerer Supreme?" It's the one piece of info from the boy's little rant that gets Loki's attention. Peter nods.

"Ah, yes. His stage name is Doctor Strange. Met him a while ago. He got this weird cape. It's kinda alive."

He looks a little puzzled when Loki suddenly starts chuckling. "I like you, Peter."

"Thanks, Mr. Loki, Sir." The boy smiles politely, still not quite sure what the reason for the Asgardian's good mood is. But he is pleased nonetheless.

"Just Loki is fine."

"Alright. My Aunt May always tells me to be polite and not assume that I can address my teammates directly by their first names. I'm a lot younger than everyone else, after all. And Thor and you are like royals from space. Alien princes. Not as scary as the alien queen from that old movie though." Peter happily rambles.

Irritated, because the words coming out of his mouth don't seem to stop, Loki looks at his brother, who catches his glance. But the other Asgardian merely observes the two of them and nods encouragingly at Loki. Loki scolds. This is not helping. His expression only seems to amuse Thor more.

Loki turns his head back to Peter. "Do you ever shut up?" It's not an aggressive, not even an annoyed question, just a serious one. But Peter swallows the rest of what he was going to say and runs his hand through his hair. A little tic of his when he's nervous.

"... Sorry... I'll leave you alone for some Bruce Wayne time." He notices the confused look on the Asgardian's face. "Batman? Always alone and brooding, while listening to Nirvana? I... will just go." With that, the boy turns and hurries away.

Upon arrival, Steve contacts the head of disaster control to get an overview and plan further action. The sky is still dreary and cloudy and there is a light but steady drizzle.

Thor and Peter make themselves instantly useful and help clear one of the larger city streets so that emergency vehicles have better access to it. Tony has brought his Stark's Ark technology to temporarily power the area. The electricity had been knocked out by the disaster, and right now the only backup power here is from a couple of smaller generators. He wanders off to install the system and takes Bruce with him.

So Loki is on his own for the time being. He puts on his hood as a protection against the rain and also moves away from the Quinjet and looks around. Chaos reigns everywhere. The town has been buried under mud. There is too much water for the earth to hold, so there are large puddles and ponds everywhere. A creek that runs along the edge of town has swollen into a small river with a brown slurry. There is dirt and debris everywhere.

Some people are trying to get some work done with shovels, and government-supplied excavators are being unloaded.

Not a single house seems to have been spared, they all show different levels of destruction. Some have only had the first floor hit, with mud going in through the door or a broken window. Walls are crushed, roofs uncovered, trees fallen. Vehicles that were not stored in the garages are lying in the middle of the street or in former front yards, sometimes upside down. So are garden furniture, barbecues, fences. Most of it isn’t usable anymore.

Small task forces are already blazing trails into the ruins in search of survivors. The catastrophe was barely twenty-four hours ago. There is still hope. But they must proceed with caution, because some of the buildings are in danger of collapse. The water has softened the walls and floors and turned them into dangerous terrain.

Tents have been erected wherever the ground is firm enough to allow it. That's where disaster control has set up camp. People are being fed. Most of the residents have already been placed in emergency shelters in the next district. Volunteers from there have arrived to lend a hand with the work. And then there are those residents who are too stubborn to leave. When you lose everything you own, you don't necessarily want to be sent away from home, too.

Loki notices the beginning of order. But it's still not enough to lift minds. Not by a long shot. There is mourning for what has been lost, despair, resignation. Pure willpower to get through even this incident. Determination.

Loki knows these feelings, they are familiar to him. Albeit in a different way.

After only a few steps, his boots are muddy. Probably at least one person would start a discussion with Thor why he didn't prevent the hurricane. But Thor is not the god of weather. That's Freyr.

An older lady is arguing with two responders in reflective vests. Their faces are all hidden under the hoods of their rain jackets, but Loki hears their voices as he teleports onto an overturned SUV to get a better view.

"...Please, you have to get him out of there."

"We have to wait for the big machines, ma'am," one responder replies, and the other adds, "Go back to the shelters. We'll do our best."

One of the men points toward the tents and brooks no further argument. With drooping shoulders, the woman turns and leaves. She pulls her coat tighter around her shoulders. The cold and wetness eats through the clothing the longer she moves in it.

She passes near Loki and sees him standing on the car. She hesitates, but is desperate enough to try her luck.

"Excuse me," she addresses him and Loki turns, looking down at her. "Are you one of the heroes who were supposed to arrive? Please help me find my son Tyler."

"I am not..." he begins, as she raises her hands pleadingly.

"Please, I'm begging you."

It is absurd. If Loki had been in this situation five years ago, one year ago – him standing tall, a person at his feet, begging - he would have laughed and savored the moment to the last drop. It would have been his highlight of the day. And he would have thought twice about being merciful. Or if it was beneath him to even answer this prayer.

Now he merely nods and slides down to stand next to her.

"Where did you see him last?"

"He was in the house when the disaster happened. It's back there." She points down a side street that is completely flooded with mud. Disaster control hasn't gotten to it yet. "He wasn't with the rescued, so he must still be there. Please, I'm worried about him. He lives alone."

She’s an elderly woman. On a sunny, good day, she probably would have looked younger, but today the lines in her face deepen from the worry for her son.

"I'll do my best."

The Asgardian sets off. The mud is three feet high and not yet dry enough to walk on, which is why Loki climbs onto a piece of debris peeking out from the dirt and from there jumps onto the underside of a vehicle within reach that the storm has overturned. Thus he moves forward in a zig-zag pattern, teleporting a bit at a time when he can't find a suitable surface nearby.

The mud and the floods have also pushed up the sewage, and it stinks.

The house the old woman showed him has not been affected by the landslide from the mountain, but the mud has pushed a vehicle through the wall on the first floor and some windows are broken. Also, a tree in the front yard is leaning, but that's probably the least of their worries at this point.

The front door barely hangs on its hinges. Loki kicks it hard once to clear the way, and it falls over.

The mud has also found its way into the house, though not as high as outside. Some of the furniture has toppled over, including the refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen, and its contents have spread across the floor. Soon rats and raccoons will be all over it.

If the woman's son - Tyler recalls Loki his name - is smart, he had retreated to the upstairs during the flood. The Asgardian looks at the wooden staircase, which looks sodden and very unstable. He decides not to risk it and teleports.

"Tyler?" he calls as he looks around upstairs. It's not quite as much of a mess as downstairs, but parts of the roof are uncovered, letting in the rain. Loki isn't familiar with Midgard's architecture, but he doubts anything can be salvaged from this house.

In the bedroom, he finds a man lying unconscious on the floor. Above him is a hole in the roof. Either he was hit by a falling part or he tried to climb out and fell.

Loki puts two fingers to his neck and is glad to find a pulse. But the young man is far too cold. Who knows how long he has been laying here. Without further ado, Loki picks him up and looks through the cracked window over to the paramedic’s tent.

The next moment he is standing between them. The medics are startled by his sudden appearance and jump apart, and someone lets out a scream. But then they see the patient in Loki's arms and they jump into action, taking the man from Loki.

Shortly after, the relieved mother also appears in the tent, but Loki has already moved on.

He passes Peter, who lifts a fallen wall of the house, which is otherwise still almost in one piece, and pushes it over his head. It's impressive how strong the boy is. He doesn't even struggle a bit with the weight, merely with the unevenly distributed weight.

The wall cracks and a piece threatens to break. Loki raises an arm and uses magic to fix it. Together they lift the wall, leaning it against what's left of the house. Beneath it, the rubble of the front yard emerges.

"Thanks, Loki." Peter is wearing his Spider-Man suit and mask, so Loki can't see his face. He merely nods in reply and then helps the boy clear away more small pieces of debris.

The further they fight through the dirt, the more objects appear that had been washed out of the houses. Everything that merely needs to be cleaned up and is otherwise not broken is collected in a spot near the tents.

Peter and Loki probably find the most usable things of all. Peter because he goes out of his way to salvage things and Loki because he secretly fixes some things that seem important with magic.

Late in the evening, the Avengers gather at the Quinjet for a meal. The sun is setting, but thanks to Tony there is improved emergency power and outside some floodlights could be set up.

Inside the jet itself, they are supplied with everything they need. It’s warm and there are bunk beds for everyone.

"Good job so far." Steve enters the jet last. He comes straight from another meeting with the head of disaster control and has worked out a plan with him for the next few days so that everyone can be deployed to the best of their ability. "Make sure you guys get enough sleep. Tomorrow we'll start early."

Loki turns his face to his brother and Thor catches his gaze and tilts his head questioningly. Loki replies with a brief nod and the matter is settled between the two brothers. Asgardians need far less sleep than ordinary humans. As the others gradually settle down to sleep, they leave the jet and continue to work for much of the night.

There are also some humans on duty, but far fewer than during the day. Because despite the lights set up, it's dangerous. For normal mortals.

But the two gods roll up their sleeves and work their way through the chaos.

____________________________

Loki and Peter are my second favorite unexpected friendship duo in this story. Peter with his Gen Z humor and memes and Loki being confused by it.

Peter: “Mister Doctor Strange, Sir.” Strange: “Please, we saved the world New York together. No need to call me Sir.” Peter: “Okay then, Stephen.” Loki: laughing “This boy, I like him.” Strange: is having an aneurysm

Also, I started writing this story as a regular Loki/Reader story, but it became more of a story of Loki’s character development in the second half. I won’t apologize for that.

Tag List: @lokisgoodgirl @lokixryss @itsybitchylittlewitchy @yokshi-unbeliebubble @fictional-hooman @elennair @all-envy-suyu @purplekitten30 @elisadmaggiore @nothing2113 @baebeepeach @ceo-of-stfu @moonlightreader649 @ronipiamka @fluffybunnyu @ninjarose23 @ozymdias @huntress-artemiss @thedistractedagglomeration @rosaline-black @sofi786 @moonlightreader649 @paetonnn @eldriidd @r4inlov3r @eleniblue @eleniblue @maeisonline @marvel-love24 @sinsandguilt @kalinaselennespeaks @ohtellmelove @eleniblue @msrawog @hyojin-2579 @just-someone11

If you wanna be added/removed dm me, write a comment or send a raven

[th3-unseen-backup]

03/08/2015 20:12:46 PST

FOOTAGE FROM CAMERA 10/10000 OBSERVA

[A man walks into the clean and stark lobby of Observa Inc., it is devoid of all life aside from a receptionist who is diligently packing away her desk in preparation for the end of her shift. The man approaches her, confused, asking something. The woman doesn’t understand, she gives him a well practiced kind and mild mannered smile built from years of customer service in her attempt to dismiss him. However, something he says to her freezes her face in abject terror as a single tear rolls down and hits an odd button on her desk. The elevator invites him inside.]

>Engage with my own senses.

[The sound of a door being pushed open is heard, the noise of server boxes constantly buzzing]

Guard 1 : (Quietly) If you see it…

Guard 2 : (Quietly) ...it will take you.

[A short moment of silence before slow, quiet footsteps are heard, and the clang of a door closing, the sound echoing down what seems to be a bit of a long hallway. Only footsteps are heard for a moment before a sudden jolt of fabric and the footsteps stop.]

Smith, J. : (Quietly, with some hesitance.) Wh- Hello?

[Nothing but the buzz of the server boxes is heard.]

Smith, J. : (A bit louder.) You aren’t him.

[Footsteps continue, slowly getting closer to the microphone. The footsteps slowly change from walking on a hard floor to walking on something wet and mushy, making the footsteps slowly shift into an irregular pattern. Only the buzzing of the server boxes and footsteps can be heard for a few long moments before the footsteps come to a stop.]

Smith, J. : [A lot closer now.] (With some hesitation and nervousness being heard in his voice.) Magnus… I know. But I can’t.

[The sound of fabric and movement is heard, but otherwise, only silence.]

Smith, J. : (A bit firmer, and a tiny bit fearful.) Magnus, I told you, I need answers. I’m not going back.

[The floor squelches as something picks something up.]

Smith, J. : [He is breathing quite heavily and fast now] (Quiet, restrained panic is heard in a whisper.) W-what the fuck…?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : [His breathing slightly calms down. And he is silent for a bit.] (A knowing tone in his voice.) You aren't Arthur, are you?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : [He lets out a sigh.] You seem to have Xavier's personality down. [A pause.] How do you know so much about me? How do you know about Xavier and others?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : [Another pause.] …I guess. But still, I don't talk about my family back home that much to others.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Almost a humorous tone can be heard in his voice.) We have similar habits. [A pause.] (His tone has returned to a curious but slightly nervous one.) What happens to the people and kindred who come here, and never leave?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (He sounds slightly curious now.) That makes sense.. but aren't you kindred yourself? Feeding off of kindred blood probably isn't the best.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Nervously) I see.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : [He hesitates.] (Cautiously) ..What happened to Arthur in London? He's not telling me anything, and I can tell something happened.

[A bit of a longer period of silence.]

Smith, J. : (Shocked and intrigued.) …A-a cure? What do you mean by a cure? Is there a cure for kindred?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Fascinated.) Yeah. [A pause.] (A bit of a playful tone.) I wish I had my notebook to jot this down.

[A long period of silence.]

Smith, J. : (Confused with a hint of fear) I help you?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. (Hesitantly.) You want to… Listen to everything happening around my phone?

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Regretful.) …fine.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : For now.

[A very short silent moment.]

Smith, J. : (Cautious.) The kindred outside this place literally told me that if I see you, you will take me. I think I’d prefer not to get taken.

[Silence.]

Smith, J. : (Untrusting.) …I hope I don’t regret this.

>End.

03/08/2015 22:47:15 PST

FOOTAGE FROM CAMERA 628/10000 OBSERVA

[Outside the clean sleek obelisk of a building that defines Observa Inc. stands a man. Grainy and shrouded in darkness, we watch as a silhouetted hand pulls out a phone from his pocket, a notification for a message lighting up the screen. Light by the dim light of his phone, face twists into a frown. He opens the message, types something out, and then turns off his phone as he walks away.]

[turtlesocksv2]

4 Minutes Finale liveblogging

i can't believe we're already at the finale. what am i going to do with my fridays if i don't have my man Bible or my babygirl Fuaiz? Anyway let's begin.

Oh now we KNOW this is all in Tyme's head because he actually has good bedside manner here lmao. He WANTS to be good with patients, he WANTS to have accepted the teaching position. He regrets how things ended with Nutcha. It's really a shame the world jaded him so much.

wailing and crying about how both Great and Tyme rewrite everything to be softer and sweeter with each other. they never stood a chance and wish so desperately they did. Tyme even brings the Nepo Kitty into his domestic fantasy!

underwater kisses >>>>>> god they're so cute here.

Awww, Den's voice broke through to Tyme. Unlikely Besties!

Ahhhh, the coma visions are connected.

Fasai is ice cold and I love her.

" I think Tonkla is getting revenge for his brother" "and just HOW does Tonkla know these things HMMMM?" lol his boss knows Win is a weak link.

Tonkla and Korn are so messy but the love is there.

Lmao Win seeing the CCTV footage and realizing that TonklaKorn is endgame and he never had a chance. poor guy. If Win ends up shooting Tonkla and JJay kills Fuaiz AGAIN i'm gonna laugh so hard.

Tonkla is just straight up stomping on everyone's hearts. "I did it, faster than you! I shot your brother! I cheated on you! with a COP!"

MMMM WHATCHA SAY... I called it! lmao JJay and Fuaiz as doomed lovers where JJay ends up killing him every time...I kind of hope BOC keeps that going because it's hilarious and tragic.

Oh Korn's ficit going alllllllll the way back so he can run away with Tonkla is so sad.

Den/Lukwa still adorable, still endgame. happy for those crazy kids.

ahhhh, the waiting room was an art exhibit! Ok! but Art Exhibit curator lady is absolutely some fucked up Goddess of Time or something. she was so sus.

lmao Great having to work Food Service. that's gonna end well. Love the neon wings framing him, that shit always slaps.

Great kicking his parents out of Thailand for good by exposing corruption...love that for him.

Poor Inspector Win, still pining after Tonkla and getting flashbacks when more revenge cases pop up.

Honestly, if I were Tyme I think I'd like that better than straight up killing him: You survive at my hands, because of my mercy, and I can take that away. Live with that fear.

asdjkdf the "We Never Woke Up" fakeout Sammon here giving me Dead Friend Forever flashbacks.

[pico-digital-studios]

My thoughts about JD 2018

Yes, I'm aware that I'm running a risk of being hounded by fans who think JD 2018 is borderline irredeemable as a game, but... I honestly can't help but feel bad for the reception it ultimately got. Sure, the game wasn't at all the best, but there's still some good points I can see out of it from the gameplay footage I've seen, alongside me playing some of that game's songs on Just Dance+.

For starters, I wouldn't call every choreography the worst in that game. I genuinely had fun dancing along to songs like "In the Hall of the Pixel King", "Another One Bites the Dust" and "Sugar Dance", and some of the other choreographies on the game look like they'd be fun for me to perform. However, I wouldn't call all of them very good, either. Simply put, you're not gonna be catching me dancing to "Make It Jingle", no way. "Beep Beep I'm A Sheep", maybe, but I'll at least keep my hands off my bedroom floor for that one.

Now, as for the song selection itself. I was pretty numb to some of the big pop ones on there for a bit, but watching gameplay footage and trying the routines on Just Dance+ helped me have some renewed appreciation for what we had back then. Though I'm not as big a fan of some of the songs on that song list, there are still a good majority on there I've enjoyed getting to listen to, especially with the choreography visuals.

Onto the menu presentation. Yes, it was pretty simplistic, but it definitely had substance to it, especially with how the colours in the Just Dance mode's menu changed depending on what song you had selected. And boy, those holiday themes looked like a joy to experience on the menu! The basic good stuff of Easter, Halloween and Christmas without disrupting the core essence of that menu. Makes me wish the other games after then had such a feature to use.

As for the extra modes themselves. I can pretty much agree with a lot of the criticism directed towards Kids Mode, and if I was manning that, I'd take an approach that Just Dance Kids 2014 did, incorporating nice songs for the little ones alongside some good pop songs for the older kids. Even though Dance Lab isn't as good as Just Dance Machine, what with its routines bundled into preset groups of 5, I'll be alright getting started with that before taking on its Shake Lab mode.

But the idea that truly stood out to me, and why I'm aiming to get the game for my Switch as an extra side-thing in case I can't access the Just Dance service? The Double Rumble songs, which allow use of both Joy-Cons in a set of five different original songs. Ubisoft could've gone well with the Switch versions by incorporating that into some of their actual song lists, but sadly, it got dropped the following year and hasn't been seen again since.

Honestly, as much as I like the newer menu layouts introduced in 2019 onwards, what with you being able to preview songs before dancing to them, I miss remembering the feeling of trying to dive right in and see if the choreographics picked my fancy or not, like I did with the Wii versions of 2014 to 2016. And I'm not too big a fan of the bland white background seen in 2019 to 2022. Feels devoid of any substance compared to what 2018 had going for it.

If I decided to help develop a Just Dance offline game in the future, I'd definitely take cues from 2018 for the interface design choices, and I'd include the option of having either thumbnails or song previews available for when a song is selected, and this can be toggled whenever. Sets of songs (like those from past games) would have the category system that 2016 to 2018 had utilised so that it's easy to flip through them, alongside having the Search function available at all times if you're trying to find a specific song from the selection.

Though 2018 was more limited in other modes compared to the previous year, at least its Switch port can be considered playable (and at least 2018 Switch didn't ditch two popular songs like 2017 did for its port, or sent said versions to Unlimited for no reason). I'm honestly sour about 2019 outright ditching all the alternate modes aside from the Kids Mode, much to people's distaste to it barely changing its acts (and including some kid-unfriendly songs through Unlimited (especially looking at you, "Who Let The Dogs Out?" and "Copacabana")).

So, as my final verdict, I can see 2018 as a fun game for me to play on occasion, though I do admit that it needs some improvements (like a fixed song list and such) to better stand out. The visuals are pretty up to snuff, and should Ubisoft revisit that old menu style again, it'd definitely be a plus with the odd tweak. That, and not locking most of the songs behind playing a couple again.