#it's been so long since I don't post a fic

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[soaps-mohawk]

Phill needs to be strapped to a chair. They need to duct tape a glass jar to him with a couple of rats inside. Then blow torch the jar so the rats don’t have any other option than to chew there way out threw him.

The way you write him makes me hate him so much. That’s just because you’re a good writer and you can manipulate (is that even right?) my emotions to feel that way. Your Phil is so disgusting and vile. I hate him so much. I am so glad that it’s not this reality for ‘mega. I could never imagine reading a story like that.

‘Mega never having the freedoms that she has with the 141. You know what I mean by freedoms right? ‘Mega would never get to choose under Phil’s rule. He would shut that crap down as soon as possible and I can’t bear to think what he would do. He would be the type of person to have that fakeness to him. Pretending to smile while deep down he’s threatening you.

It’s more scary when someone does that. Having that undertone to something that they said in a what you assume is a friendly matter. Ugh no thanks. My autism radar would be off the charts.

I don’t know if I read this correctly in the main fic but I’m assuming they think graves is dead?? Like in the reboot series when soap blew up the tank. I’m going to just go with that because I’m pretty sure it wasn’t explicitly said he was dead. I know Shepard is still alive in your fic. Are you going to have John kill him like in MW3?? That would be badass. Finally getting his revenge for hurting ‘mega (instead of getting revenge for everything and soaps death. Rip soap).

This is getting really long.

Anyways how are you? I hope everything is going alright. Just posted my second short story on tumblr ☺️

He deserves that kind of torture in this fic honestly. He is not a good person anyway but he's extra just...icky in this one. I can't not see him that way so...very sorry to the Graves lovers out there. I just can't see him as anything but a yeehaw Texas republican man.

I don't think Graves would be a bad alpha per se, but it would feel a lot like a kind of trad wife situation (which it is). 'Mega is there to keep the image of a perfect house and life and family and have kids and take care of them and the house and the chores. Zero agency, zero choice in anything. Not necessarily abusive, but constantly reminding others of where they stand beneath him in that silent, threatening way.

As far as Graves in the fic....

It's been a lifetime since I've used this gif I've missed it 😂

I'm doing alright, all things considered. Busy busy busy, but busy is good. Makes time go by faster.

[hms-no-fun]

i have an intense love/hate with godfeels because it is beautifully written but it also makes me viscerally uncomfortable. something something disturbs the comfortable and comforts the disturbed probably. engaging with that discomfort teaches me more about myself and is definitely worth it for something like godfeels. any advice for constructively engaging with media that Pisses You Off, by no fault of the creator? what would you say to your haters in good-faith, if you could?

well, to be fair i have said plenty to my haters in good faith previously, but that was a very direct response. if you and i were having a polite conversation amongst the two of us, my first question would be "how far did you get?" godfeels has been going for six years now (!!!), and it's gone through many phases in that time. i'm at a point now in my life where if someone tells me gf2 didn't click with them, i'll probably nod and say "yeah it's rough around the edges, there's a lot of stuff i'd do differently today." the most vocal contingent of haters i've ever gotten were the handful of people who dipped at gf2.2 when june got superdrunk and accidentally murdered a bunch of people, assuming the story was going to be about how cool and based that decision was. anyone who's actually read gf2 to completion should find that misconception laughable. it also makes a difference if you finished gf2 and stopped there, or started 3.1 and fell off, or if you got through chapter 8 and fell off, or if you're currently reading Double Album. each of those is a slightly different conversation with its own pros and cons. whether or not i'd try to talk someone into continuing their read depends entirely on those questions (and also how self-confident i'm feeling in the moment).

i guess i would say to someone who is not enjoying godfeels that they should stop reading godfeels. it's an extremely heavy story that digs into a wide variety of traumatic subject matter. it is also deeply personal in a lot of ways, which is perhaps a weird fit for a Homestuck fanfiction. so i can understand someone from the wider fandom hearing about godfeels as "the June Egbert fic" being disappointed that it's not fluff. i've documented in the past how gf2 emerged out of my dissatisfaction with the image of "Hairclips June," whose transition exists off screen and whose acceptance by her friends is an obvious expectation. i kind of feel bad for how that shook out in the long term since, between the lengthy hiatus of hs2 and the broader strangulation of the post-canon movement during the pandemic, the canonical "Hairclips June" story (or at least "June Who Doesn't Suffer 100% Consequences" story) doesn't seem to exist. i don't mean literally canonical, i mean "seeped into the fandom's collective unconscious" canonical, like Detective Pony. there are plenty of fanworks that do a good or at least interesting job with June, but they're not *about* June in quite the same way godfeels is. it's entirely possible that such a thing DOES exist and IS popular (i freely admit to being out of touch with modern fanworks), but for better or worse godfeels still seems to be the thing that comes up most often-- and not always in a positive light.

for a while now i've been working on an "Author's Introduction" which on the surface is an attempt to contextualize the phases of godfeels for new readers, but in actuality is more of a history of/commentary on the post-2019 fandom and the so-called "Homestuck Renaissance." i see this as necessary because godfeels is an extension of that moment, in particular the loudly recuperative pro-Vriska boosters and their exquisitely galaxy-brained VrisRezi meta. then gf3.1 responded to the fandom backlash, chapter 8 responded to my experience watching every foundation of my post-transition life crumble during the pandemic, and then Double Album is an exploration of building yourself and community back up in the aftermath of tragedy.

it's not that this context is necessary to understand or appreciate godfeels, just that i think it helps put things in perspective. when i started gf1, i hadn't written fiction in nearly 7 years. today, the series is sitting just shy of the 500,000 word mark. at every step of the process, the quality and ambition of my writing has increased exponentially. there's a reason i've written Double Album as a jumping-on point for new readers-- besides being better in virtually every way that matters to me, it's also largely shorn free of the baggage that can make godfeels a hard sell for folks. whether or not it actually SUCCEEDS as a jumping on point is another conversation entirely.

so i guess all of that is to say, if we were having a private conversation just the two of us, i freely admit that godfeels is a wildly disjointed story on top of being extreme and often emotionally masochistic. i am proud of this work from start to finish, but it fundamentally is the process of its authorship in a way that a thoroughly drafted and edited novel simply isn't. i used to publish chapters the instant they felt done to me, with only minimal revisions. these days i let chapters bake a lot longer and put much more thought into how they fit into the larger whole. i kinda miss the old way but the new way results in much better work.

i'd be curious to hear what exactly it is that Pisses You Off about godfeels, and why you nevertheless feel it's a worthwhile reading experience. you ask me for advice on how to constructively engage with media that pisses you off, but i don't have any because in general i don't engage with media that pisses me off. i stopped reading fanworks after 2020 because everything that survived seemed to cater only to the sector of the fandom that harassed my friends out of their jobs and platforms. i found their interpretations/extensions of canon lacking, their tendency for straightforward fluff rather grating. i COULD have made that everyone else's problem, but what would be the point? i wasn't the target audience. i didn't enjoy the work, so i stopped reading it. i'd rather move on to media i enjoy than suffer through media i don't.

BUT. there's a fine line here, because it actually takes a lot to Piss Me Off. i don't really believe in rules or standards in art as Inviolable Laws Of Nature. my measure of whether something is good has a lot less to do with its inherent quality and a lot more to do with the balance between intention and execution. it rarely matters how amateur something is, if it meaningfully accomplishes the thing it set out to do then i'll probably like it (or at least respect it). i look for expressions of authenticity, moments where the artist and the medium are in perfect sync. there are plenty of critically praised pretty-looking movies and games with big production values that i don't particularly like. sometimes that's because they're a naked moneymaking enterprise disguised as art. sometimes it's a problem of too many cooks in the kitchen. and then sometimes an artist is just full of shit and doesn't really know what the hell they're talking about (i like to call these people "Californians"). mostly, i just embrace that art-making and art-viewing are inherently subjective experiences, and i find little value in numbered rating systems of any kind.

a lot of my favorite movies and albums underwhelmed me my first time through. they challenged me in a way that i at first interpreted as incompetence, but have come to see as brilliance. there's stuff i found alienating in high school and early 20s that i find deeply relatable in my 30s. as a film student i've had so many conversations with so many people who have wildly different takes on the same movie that i've completely given up on the idea that anyone is an objective arbiter of what's good and what isn't. the only real thing is if it works and if it works for you. i search for the best in everything, because at the end of the day i'm just here for the love of the game and i don't much enjoy hating things. for media to really Piss Me Off, to elicit a genuine I Hate You response, it has to be more than just, like, poorly edited or whatever. it has to embody a repulsive worldview, be a tool of jingoistic propaganda, or otherwise act as an extension of corporate greed and wealth extraction. these days i reserve my hatred for that which has connection to real Power and exerts a mass cultural Influence, or that otherwise blindly reproduces the same problems.

i think it's far easier to critically engage with work you don't like when you search for the things that work, rather than the things that don't. when it works, when it really clicks, you see what they were going for, and only with that perspective can you see why what doesn't work doesn't work. all i ever ask is for readers to take my stuff as it is, good and bad, and judge it on those terms. i find your use of "comforts the disturbed, disturbs the comfortable" funny and fitting. art that wants to be for everyone is art that cannot be for anyone. it is a perfectly round grey sphere that all who gaze upon it can agree "exists" and "succeeds at what it's trying to do." good art is imperfect, because it is the result of a perspective you may not share. i've never wanted to make art for the masses. i want to make the kinds of things that i wished existed when i was younger. there are a surprising number of people who feel that godfeels positively affected their lives, and i know that i have very little to do with that. godfeels is an object that exists in the world. i had ideas of what it was when i wrote it, but i can't control what anyone else sees no matter how much digital ink i spill trying to explain my original vision. if it truly comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable, then on some level i must have succeeded in what i was trying to do even if the path to getting there was spotty and rough.

i did the best i could at every stage of writing godfeels. i would do things differently today, but i also wouldn't be here at all if i'd done it differently back then. i try to extend this grace to other artists as much as possible, that we're all just figuring it out as we go along. but i also know that everyone goes to art for different things, and finds value in different aspects of its expression. really, all i ever want is to have a conversation about the object without the looming specter of Respectability Politics and Moral Hazards. it's when people start acting like godfeels is Dangerous, and that i'm dangerous by extension, that i start having opinions about where critics are fucking up. tell me what it does or fails to do. point at the text and show me you've read and comprehended it by citing your sources and arguing through the text instead of around it. absolutely fuck off with the moral hand-wringing about Transgender Representation and Glorifying Violence and Perpetuating Toxic Stereotypes. it's a fucking Homestuck fanfiction, for god's sake.

but anyway you're not doing that, so, good job! i'm glad you find the experience of reading godfeels illuminating even if it pisses you off. i hope you found this lengthy answer enlightening, and maybe a bit annoying also. consistency is key, or so they say

[kittycatcorner]

shows up to give you the coffinchain challenge

Please be more careful when you cross the road You’re a perfect arrangement of rickety bones

Stray cats.

Peter had always likened the apprentices to a group of stray cats, in his mind.

At first it was out of distaste. They were a nuisance; a band of drifters slinking around the alleyways, catching their quarries unaware. The quick, sharp jab of a hypodermic needle might as well have been the efficient killing bite that a cat might deliver to the throat of its prey. They worked in the shadows, occupying all of those lonely abandoned buildings and reworking them for a new, twisted purpose. 

Then, begrudgingly, he’d found himself wrapped up in Mark Hoffman. Chasing him, hunting him, hellbent on bringing him to justice, then on killing him, then on understanding him, then…

Well, Peter didn’t know what he was doing now. 

All he knew was that sitting in his apartment, in varying states of composure, were three of Jigsaw’s disciples. 

Dr. Gordon sat on his couch, eyes trained down as his hands worked on bandaging a fresh wound on the arm of his younger accomplice. Stanheight sat quietly and allowed for the medical attention with little fight. Hoffman himself sat on the floor, back leaned against the couch close to the other two. 

Peter remained standing, trying not to buckle at the absurdity of his situation. In true stray-animal nature, he had made the mistake of allowing Hoffman into his home once, twice, thrice, and now he’d come back with friends. 

‘Don’t feed the strays’, indeed. 

Accept that he did know the other two, at this point. The polite Dr. Gordon was well-spoken and direct; Peter had found him infuriating in the beginning. He was a hard man to interrogate and an even harder man to intimidate, as level and unflinching as he was. Unlike Peter, he never seemed to let his anger get the best of him, and he seemed to know that. Dr. Gordon was a man who always seemed very aware of how much more control he had in the conversation. It was enviable. 

Then there was Adam Faulkner-Stanheight. Mouthful of a name. It was strange enough for Peter to wrap his head around the fact that the kid was alive, let alone working with Jigsaw. He was angry- had more rage in his scrawny little body than what felt possible. Stupid and impulsive, Peter had found him annoying. Just a petulant adolescent who had gotten himself into bigger trouble than he yet realized. 

They’ve come a long way since then. Both apprentices had grown on him, maybe because they reminded him of himself in their amalgamate qualities. The cold, callous bluntness of the doctor. The white-hot temper of the kid. The way he had never seen the former so gentle nor the latter so complacent until now, as they patched themselves together on his bloodied furniture. 

Peter had been reluctant to welcome them all inside. It was bad enough to shelter one serial killer, but now three? It reminded him that everything he’s been doing as of late is against what he once stood for. Fuck, it would solve a hell of a lot of his own problems if he didn't care. If he’d let them all rot, make them regret thinking that Peter would risk his own hide just because he's been friendly with them. Dr. Gordon and Stanheight had seemed to understand this too. Their expressions had been apprehensive, looking ready to flee like the animals they were. Peter wonders how long ago he would have given chase. 

Hoffman had spoken, then. 

“I didn’t-” His voice was shot and exhausted. “I didn’t know where else to go, Strahm.” 

And just like that, Peter took them in. Those words were all it took. Hoffman limped inside on a bad leg and described some sort of police-raid, premature. John Kramer and Amanda Young hadn’t even been there, so it had just been the trio, and they were forced to flee. Unable to go far on foot in their current state, Hoffman had brought his injured companions here. To Peter. 

Why did that make something strange stir within him? 

The three of them were soaked to the bone from the rain. Peter watched Hoffman sluggishly attempt to remain alert, but every so often his head would lull and come to rest against the soft thigh of Dr. Gordon. If the doctor noticed it, he didn't say a word as he continued to diligently work. He looked tired. Stanheight was putting on the best brave face he could manage, but Peter’s keen eyes caught his shoulders trembling, only eased when Gordon’s hand came to rest on one and rubbed gently. They all looked so tired. 

Unable to watch any longer, Peter finally broke the silence. 

“So why are you still doing this?” It took everything in him to not fidget idly as he spoke, brows furrowed at the three men. 

All eyes were on him quite suddenly, sharp as they regarded him. Three clever pairs of observant eyes that all screamed out ‘I know more than I’m letting on' to Peter. He held their gazes, muscled arms crossed over his chest. 

“You know what I’m talking about.” He scoffed, lip curling. “What’s the point of doing the old man's dirty work when he just lets things like this happen to you?” 

Silence.

Hoffman broke first. He laughed, eyes closing as he rested more fully against the couch. It was good-natured but ultimately dismissive. 

Dr. Gordon frowned at Peter, one brow quirked as if he had asked them something incredibly naive. Like he expected Peter to know already. 

Stanheight didn't react. Not outwardly, anyways. He only stared, something new and strange glittering in his eyes that Peter couldn't place.

“What,” Peter grit his teeth, an edge to his voice. Less of a question and more of a prompt. 

“Nothing, nothing. Apologies, Mr. Strahm.” Gordon sighed, turning his attention back to his handiwork. He appeared to nearly be done with the worst of Stanheight’s injuries now. “It’s just… not that simple.”

“Not exactly the kinda job you can put your two weeks in for.” Hoffman corroborated, a smirk tugging at his full lips. 

Peter felt his face burn hot, and he huffed in frustration. “You fucking- Don’t play dumb. Don’t act like it’s a stupid question. I’ll throw you back out onto the fucking curb.” He jabbed a finger at Hoffman in particular, who for his part did indeed shut his mouth. “You listening? Good. What I’m saying is that John Kramer is one demented old man. What is actually stopping you?” 

This time, the quiet was punctuated by Hoffman and Gordon exchanging an uncomfortable glance. After a moment, Hoffman shrugged and ran one hand through his damp, messy hair. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of, uh, checks ‘n balances.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow skeptically. Hoffman continued. 

“Information is power, etcetera. Kramer keeps basically everything on a need-to-know basis. Including, I dunno, who you’re workin’ with half the time. Hell,” He rolled his eyes, and lazily raised a hand behind his head to pat Gordon’s arm. The doctor made an annoyed noise in response, shifting away from him. “He only told me about these lovebirds when he needed help lookin’ after ‘em.” 

“I’m still mad about missing out on a trip to Mexico.” Stanheight quipped. His voice was softer than normal, but Peter supposed it was a good sign that he was speaking at all. He wasn’t used to the younger man being so quiet. 

Gordon straightened up a moment later, gently patting down the new bandages and brushing some of the hair from Stanheight’s face. “There you go.” He sighed. The warmth in his tone was so palpable that Peter had the distinct feeling it wasn’t meant for his ears. Despite being in his own apartment, he somehow felt he was intruding. “Get comfortable, alright?” 

Peter watched as Stanheight pulled himself to his feet, stopping short just a little ways away from him with an awkward shuffle. Gordon patted his thigh and spoke his next words like they took all of his energy to say. 

“Your turn.” He didn’t even bother to look at Hoffman. The detective grinned anyways, wasting no time in clamoring up into Gordon’s personal space and slinging his leg across the man’s lap. Gordon shook his head disdainfully, but carefully began rolling back Hoffman’s torn pant leg anyways. 

Peter guessed he wasn’t the only one that Hoffman lived to irritate.

“Christ, Mark.” Gordon sucked in a sharp breath, and Peter’s shoulders stiffened as he took a step forward to look. His stomach sank despite himself; from where he was standing Hoffman’s calf looked like a bloody mess. Peter’s a man who’s seen more gore in his line of work than anyone should hope to see in their lifetime, and yet here he is, staring in alarm. It was unlike him, and woefully he could only attribute his own uneasiness to the owner of the calf. 

As if he could read his mind, Hoffman looked up towards Peter. “Hey, it’s just-” He winced, hissing in pain as Gordon began to clean the wound. “It’s no big deal- no bullet inside. Just grazed me.” 

“You were shot?” Peter balked.

“Grazed,” Hoffman corrected. 

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose in a quick-rising frustration. Hoffman was impossible. 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Gordon’s voice was little more than a growl as he spoke through gritted teeth. “You took an unnecessary risk. Do you think I enjoy patching you back together? Honestly, if I didn't know any better I’d assume you were trying to get your sorry self killed.” 

Dr. Gordon’s tone left the detective bristling. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” He scoffed. “Hell, I don’t bother you when you’re workin’ in the sickbay. Why don't you just- fuck!” 

Hoffman yelped at the unceremonious splash of disinfectant. Gordon gave him the sort of well-practiced fake smile that only a doctor could.

“My bad,” he murmured, unapologetic. 

Peter decided he’d seen enough. He turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, telling himself that he was just stepping aside to get ice in case the doctor needed some. He knew it wasn't the truth, though; he scolded himself quietly as he leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his graying hair. 

The truth was that he couldn't keep standing there, staring at Hoffman’s leg injury. 

It’s ironic, because it feels like not too long ago that Peter would have done anything to put a bullet in Hoffman. Now the thought makes him feel… queasy. And a bit confused. 

Peter found himself comparing the apprentices to strays again.

He couldn’t get the image of roadkill splattered on the side of the highway out of his head. 

From what he knew of John Kramer and his cult, the apprentices were expendable parts. It doesn't even sound like they can trust each other half the time. One wrong move or fatal mistake would be all it took. Peter wasn't even sure how long it would take him to know something had happened. 

His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps so quiet that he knew exactly who they belonged to before turning around. Stanheight stood at the entryway of his bare-bones kitchen, watching him. He’s probably spent the least amount of time alone with him. 

“What is it?” Peter’s frown deepened.

The kid didn't answer immediately, instead coming to lean against the wall beside him. He was quiet for a moment, and then shrugged. 

“Wanted to check on you, I guess.” He answered simply. 

“Check on me? In what way do I need checking on?” Raising a brow, Peter gestured towards the living room. “Look at you three, for fuck’s sake.” 

Stanheight held his hands up defensively. “Hey, hey, I just- I get it, alright?”

Peter didn't know what that meant. He stared down at the shorter man, scowl ever-present, silently prodding him to elaborate. Stanheight’s expression was… almost sympathetic, but his eyes had that same strange look from before: the one that Peter couldn't place. 

The kid was easy to underestimate, Peter knew it from his file and from his current involvement. He wasn't about to make that mistake with him. 

“Sucks, doesn't it?” Stanheight finally said. He was muttering now, glancing once over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone. “One thing to know what they're doing and another to see them come back with blood and bits of their skin hanging off.”

Peter felt his stomach turn. “No,” he lied. “If Hoffman’s gonna be reckless and get himself killed then so be it.” 

“No matter what you or anyone else thinks, I’m not stupid.” Stanheight laughed dryly. “You don't gotta lie to me, okay? I’m on team Peter here.” 

“Are we forgetting that you’re one of ‘them’ too?” Peter steeled his gaze, unamused. 

Stanheight grimaced. “I mean- kind of. Not really.”

“‘Not really?’ What’s that mean?” 

“I- like- like I’m with them but I’m not one of them. Old Johnny-boy has never and will never give a shit about me. Not exactly in the running to be his heir or whatever the others think will happen.” Stanheight huffed, rolling his eyes as he explained. “Pretty sure he wouldn't even notice if I went missing if it weren't for the pictures ‘n schedules I go and get for him.”

Peter is quiet for a moment. 

“Why stick around?” He asked softly, already knowing the answer. 

The kid just snorted in lieu of answering, and the two fell into silence once more for a couple of seconds. 

“Glad that Mark has you.” Stanheight suddenly murmured, thoughtful. 

“He does not ‘have me’.” 

“Maybe you can knock some sense into him.” 

Peter scoffed, looking elsewhere. “You’re frustrating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Stanheight laughed, “I’m not kidding, though. It always freaks me out how Mark gets when he’s like…” 

Raising a brow, Peter waited for him to sort out his thoughts. 

“Like, when he gets hurt, right? He just- just runs off. Or he’ll go and get hammered on the other side of town and when we find him he’s a mess.” 

At that, Peter’s shoulders went rigid. He was aware of Mark’s habits, his unhealthy coping mechanism. He hadn't thought about who else might know, how deeply it might run. He hadn't thought about how often Mark must be alone. 

When he looked back at Stanheight, he realized the kid was staring at him intently. There was concern in his expression, but also something fierce. 

“John’s really messed him up. Worse than he was before all of this.” His voice was low, almost cautious. “All of them. Lawrence, Mark, Mandy, none of them deserve this. You know that, right?”

Peter’s mouth felt dry. “I…” 

Straightening up again, Stanheight stepped closer to Peter. Before he could see it coming, a smaller hand took his own and held it, inspecting it. “I think Mark needs you.” He said, “maybe all of us do. So you gotta take care of yourself too.” 

Something confused seemed to bloom in his chest then, an uncertain warmth that he could feel rise up to his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he couldn't decide on anything to say. 

“Just think about it, ‘kay?” Stanheight let go of his hand again and started to leave the kitchen, pausing for just a moment to look back at him. “Oh, one more thing.” 

“What is it?” Peter’s voice was hoarse. 

Stanheight gave him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. “Welcome to the family.” 

Then he was gone, Peter’s protest to that statement dying on his lips, and Peter was left to think on everything he said. 

Hoffman needing him. Hoffman hiding himself away in dark corners to nurse his wounds. Improperly set bones and too much bandage. 

Stray cats.

Peter’s family used to have cats. His sister’s cat had been an old, white, raggedy thing that she named Alfredo. When Alfredo passed away, he had hidden under the bed and refused to come out. Peter thinks he remembers reading somewhere that pets do that on purpose, so their humans don't have to see them die, but it's been years and his animal knowledge is limited. 

Peter wondered how hard it is to socialize a stray cat. To reintroduce it to domesticity. 

He stepped out of the kitchen, lingering at the entryway, and watched the apprentices from where he stood. Gordon seemed to have finished with Hoffman’s leg, speaking to him in a quieter tone than before. To his surprise, Hoffman looked like he was listening. Stanheight was on the couch with them now, leaning his head onto Gordon’s shoulder. 

Peter found that he wished he could freeze this moment with the three of them in it. The bubble of safety that was his living room felt far away from everything Jigsaw. Maybe they were always meant to be here, on soft furniture, and not crouching amongst rusted pipes and jagged metal. 

Tamed. Domesticated. 

He sighed through his nose and walked around the couch, three sets of clever eyes on him again as he caught their attention. Now that he was there, he could see that Dr. Gordon had just begun to wrap up Hoffman’s leg and he silently motioned to ask for the gauze, kneeling down between them.

Understanding the gesture, Gordon handed it over, smiling at Peter warmly enough to raise his body temperature by a degree. 

“Strahm-” Hoffman started, bewildered, but Peter simply began wrapping his leg neatly. 

“Shut up.” He grunted. “Let me help you, stupid.”

[black-and-yellow]

Working on something

[zigtheeortega]

they're flipping tyril off <3

i wiped my computer recently and found this in the depths of my commissions folder when backing everything up – i can't believe i forgot about this gorgeous piece! thank you so much to @plejaades for capturing my vision! i miss zilyana and mal a lot and i have not played blades 2... but happy book finale day to all who celebrate !!! :)

[youchangedmedestiel]

If someone had told me that I’ll wrote fics about two idiots in love I wouldn’t have believed them.

If they added that I’ll write a long one, I would have said that I don’t have the skills.

Then, if they told me that I’ll write an AU fic I would have just said no because I barely read some, it’s not my thing (I feel dumb writing that) so why would I write that?

And finally, if they said I would be writing about my own life, about an old crush I had more than 10 years ago, and that I would write about true events that happened between us and replaced our names by characters of a silly little show I love, I would have said that it's weirdly specific but more importantly I would have simply laughed at them. But like a huge laugh.

Because yeah there's no way I'd write a fic like that!

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday (Second, sillier part to follow Friday)

Poll Results: Trespasser Jak

Picking up from HERE, Jak and Daxter have been taken back to Spargus

The drive back to the city was not quiet. Every couple seconds, the kid with the amulet he shouldn't have had was pointing to something else, talking a mile a minute to the fuzzy orange thing. The red rock bluffs fascinated him. The crocadeer on the clifftops fascinated him. The frith-rotted cactus was interesting to this stranger.

Jak started to lean out of the seat again, trying to take in every speck of the horizon.

"Will you stop that?" Damas asked irritably, "You're going to fall out, and I'm not turning this car around to go get you. What are you so entranced by, huh?"

Jak's enthusiasm wasn't dimmed in the slightest. "After they took us to Haven- I thought there was nothing left out there but wasteland!"

"You're in the Wasteland," Damas reminded him.

"Nah."

Jak stood up despite the driver's protests and clung to the turret gun to watch a flock of birds.

"This place isn't wasted. It's alive."

"And you won't be if you don't sit down right now-!"

Damas’s headache only multiplied -- exponentially. once they had actually returned Spargus.

The stranger gawked at everything, sometimes lagging as many as ten behind to look at the most mundane things. Forges. The communication hub/post office. Leapers. A stray chickalope he tried to pick up-!

Getting him into the Gate District garrison building took five minutes longer than it should've, by which time Damas’s patience was almost completely gone. It was all he could do to keep some modicum of professionalism as he herded the boy and the talking spirit thing into a clean, well-lit room for interrogation. He left them with a stern warning to wait there until someone came to figure out who they were.

Then he left to make a very strong pot of coffee. He wasn't going back in there without it.

He quickly decided that needed another kind of drink when he returned ten minutes later only to find Jak, barefoot, sitting on top of the table like a moody teenaged gargoyle. That ratty blue winter tunic was tied around his waist now, and the loose scarf and oversized undershirt didn't quite cover a surprising amount of scars for someone his age -- or maybe not so surprising if he was an Heir, given the proclivity of Haven to put those through the wringer-

No. No jumping to conclusions.

Old burns on the soles of his feet that looked roughly six to seven years old -- a childhood accident or stubborn adventure, most likely -- were the most benign of them. Damas saw old, healed clawmarks, and strange fractal-like patterns not unlike those struck by lightning, crossing his upper arms, shoulders and chest. Here and there he saw raised lines -- the telltale sutures of do-it-yourself shrapnel removal. Regardless of whose blood flowed in his veins, this kid was a soldier. And it looked like he'd been a soldier for a depressingly long time.

Damas pushed the thoughts from his mind and took a seat in the chair the trespasser had ignored.

"Alright. Let's get this over with as quickly as we can, shall we? I have a lot of work to do today."

"Oh...kay...?" Jak gave him a puzzled, wary look and scooted back across the table to rest his back against the wall. "I mean, I can't answer everything, and half of what I do tell you won't sound believable, but that's honestly not my problem."

Patience, Damas. Inhale, slowly. You're just stressed. You can't kill him if he's related to you.

Damas took an exaggerated breath and folded his hands on the top of the table. "I don't much care about your activities in Haven. My agents deliver news regularly enough. No, I want to know how you opened a locked door with a Seal of Mar on it."

The kid looked surprised, and then intrigued.

"Mar? Wait, really? He made it out here too?" Jak looked almost impressed. "Huh! Guy got around!"

"Answer the question."

The orange one answered in the kid's stead.

"Jak here's got the distinct misfortune of being descended from the guy-"

*Allegedly," Jak interrupted. His voice was distinctly harder than before.

"What "allegedly"? Dragging me into the frickin nightmare tomb wasn't enough for ya?"

"Everything we know about that guy we got from Krew, or Samos," his companion argued, "And most of the Oracles didn't bother to warn us that Samos was lying to us our whole lives. So no, I'm not taking that on faith."

Clearly this was a sore spot for the young man.

It just so happened to also be a very sore spot for Damas.

They were just going to act like they so happened to "conveniently" let slip that this boy was supposed to be related to him? Did they think he was a fool?

"What are you playing at?" he snapped, startling them both. "Do you think I am so easily taken in?"

"What-?"

"Tell me, boy," Damas said, much more quietly, "What makes you either brave enough or stupid enough to try to pull that story with me?"

And Jak blinked at him with eyes that were a little too familiar. Wide. Full of shadows and pain and anger but still clinging to the vestiges of innocence. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

"Um. Who? Are you?"

If this was a con, the kid was a decent actor, Damas had to give him that.

"You're telling me you're a survivor of the House of Mar."

"No? I said other people told me I was related to that guy. People with a vested interest in controlling me."

Jak scoffed bitterly and spread his arms wide.

"Little "abandoned" orphan boy kept isolated to train as a soldier, so he wouldn't know what they planned for him. Wouldn't run. And then magically suddenly he's heir to the worst city on the planet? Give me a break. The guards in Praxis's lab came up with better lies than that."

Damas wanted to agree with the kid. He wanted so much to agree with him. Whatever else he might be, clearly Jak was not the kind of person who bought into delusions of grandeur. In fact, he sounded like he actively resented the thought. Damas could appreciate that. Rot, he could even sympathize with the kid.

But.

He had opened a sealed door.

And the river-weasel had just said something about a Tomb.

He really really didn't want to be right, but if they could give an accurate description of the Tomb at some point, that information would be pretty hard to fake.

"Why did they think they could pass you off as Haven's heir?" Damas asked bluntly.

"Because I can make old Precursor crap work, I guess? And the Oracles like me." Jak folded his arms and shrugged. "They're useless when it comes to actually protecting anyone, but at least they tried to help after the fact. More than most hu'mens did."

Oh. Alright, okay. Maybe he's a sage prodigy and he's never been trained. That would make sense-

"Pal, the Oracle called you a "chosen one". That's gotta mean something."

"Chosen for what? Time looped torture?" Jak's entire posture had become rigid. He was beyond agitated, but Damas couldn't quite pin down if it was anger or fear or something closer to grief.

"....I...sorry." The orange one looked down, clearly ashamed. "That's- fair point. I won't bring it up anymore."

Damas didn't want to hear another word of this. Not one. Without stopping to think lest he talk himself out of it, he drew a knife from the back of his belt. The boy tensed even further, looking like he might snap as he watched Damas pull a sheet of paper haphazardly from the notepad that came standard in all the interrogation rooms. Damas ignored him and placed the tip of the blade to the pad of his thumb, pushing until two large drops of blood dripped onto the paper. The boy's tension eased slightly, but he still looked vaguely alarmed.

Damas wiped the blade and, steeling himself, held it out hilt-first to Jak.

"Your turn."

Jak glared at him.

"Are you nuts?"

Damas remained stonefaced. "You want to prove those people wrong? Blood comparison. Computer will be able to identify if it matches old records or not."

"Then why'd you cut yourself?" Jak challenged.

"Control sample," Damas answered shortly, staring until the boy gave in and set the blade against the tip of his little finger.

He declined to specify whether he meant for or against.

Jak twisted his pinkie between his fingers and let a single drop of blood fall onto the paper. He narrowed his eyes at Damas.

"And this is supposed to take...how long?"

"Two months if they're not busy."

Jak unfolded his legs and slid off the tabletop. "Months?! What good does that do me? They'll probably have found a way to guilt me into going back to Haven by then!"

Hm.

Damas leaned back in his chair and studied the boy with a new perspective.

"You're a runaway. Aren't you?"

Jak scowled and folded his arms.

"I'm not! I'm just...there's something I have to do out here. And I can't go back yet."

Suspicion trickled in cold at the back of Damas’s mind. He folded the edge down over the bloodied paper and tucked it into his belt.

"And what," he asked warily, "is this "something" you intend to do?"

The boy's ears dropped, broadcasting uncertainty despite his belligerent posture.

"I...don't know yet. There's just...something was calling me. And I can't leave until I know what it is."

This boy was going to be a walking migraine trigger, wasn't he? But unfortunately there was a reasonably high probability that he was Damas’s kinsman, which meant that under no circumstances could he just toss the kid back to Haven and say "not my circus, not my moncaws".

Just get through this until the blood tests come back. Who knows, maybe the guy will find a place here in the meantime. Or he might decide to fight the squid and die horribly. One step at a time.

Damas opened the door and beckoned to one of the district guards down the hall. Commander Shui left her subordinates immediately to respond.

"Sir?"

Damas nodded back towards the trespasser.

"Have someone show him to the showers. Once he's cleaned up, see if you can't determine his age."

Shui glanced at Jak, but never lost her stoic expression. "Understood. Is he a candidate for the trials?"

Damas ignored the harsh whispering between the boy and the...okay that was called an ottsel apparently. Didn't have those out in the desert.

"I doubt even he knows. For the moment, we will proceed as though he is a refugee."

He sighed.

"I have matters to attend to. Inform me if he causes any problems."

Jak wasn't sure how to feel about this turn of events. Six days of maddening dreams of eco comets and a broken string of beads. Five days of something pulling on his eco core, or his soul, the way the Precursor Stone had.

He wasn't sorry for leaving Haven in the middle of the night. The Grand Council had been getting more and more vocal with their more...Praxian...views on his right to life and liberty, and Samos just kept telling him to focus on what was "more important", fighting metalheads and new Krimzon Deathbots.

When the Call took him down that ancient eco mine, it had felt like an escape. He'd told himself he'd go back after he found what was at the end of the tunnel. And he'd meant to, if only because he thought he had nowhere else to go. After all, Daxter had built a life in Haven. He had a mentor. A girlfriend. A whole business!

But regardless of all the pretty lies Samos and Onin and Ashelin filled his ears with, Haven was not Jak's home. He would not take responsibility for their evil. And even if he was descended from their founder, they all let Praxis kill whatever blood relatives he might've had! They decided the line of Mar had no say in government, so who was Jak to contradict them?

It was strange -- almost unfathomable -- how his perspective could have changed with a rebalancing of eco. The Oracle down in that desert temple, it had pushed through old scars, given him access to light eco, when he'd thought the substance didn't exist anymore. The constant aches that ruled his every waking moment when it was even slightly cold out, the irritability, the burning in his core, it was gone.

How had he become so accustomed to at least low levels of pain as a daily companion? Jak hadn't realized how bad his condition had been until it was gone. And his mind felt clearer than it had in months. Maybe even years. Home was far behind them now. Sandover was forever lost to them, along with all remains of Jak's innocence. Because of Onin. And because of Samos.

Without his thoughts dulled by pain and lack of sleep, Jak thought of his heartfelt thanks to the manipulative old sage and wanted to be sick.

And now he was on an island, eighty nautical miles from Haven. A wild, living, sanctuary of Wastelanders and open wilderness. They called it "wasteland", but Jak couldn't understand why when it was so beautiful.

That Call still pulled at his heart, told him he wasn't done here yet. And he was relieved, because the longer he spent under clear, blue, sky, the more he hated the thought of returning to that corrupted city.

Just because he'd told Ashelin it was worth saving didn't mean he belonged to it.

Damas -- the angry man he'd startled when they came up out of the catacombs -- left, and a well-built woman about his height entered the interrogation room.

"Holy crap, a lady Sig!" Daxter hissed in his ear.

The Wastelander did have a prosthetic eye -- her left, not her right -- of the same make, but that was really the only similarity. She carried herself like Ashelin -- someone in command, used to cooperation if not obedience -- and that alone put Jak on-edge. He met her searching gaze with a hard stare, determined not to be the first to flinch.

"Hm." The woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"I see what he means. When's the last time you washed?"

"Do pools of water count?" Jak asked. If there was sarcasm in the tone, so what? "Expendables don't get time to wash."

"Eesh." The woman curled her lip. "Well that's not going to fly in my garrison."

She turned to shout down the hall, "Strom! Get the rookie to the showers before the flies move in!"

"Oh rot you!"

[rosiegirlie]

Before You Go Performing

summary: When Billie ran away from the circus to serve as a nurse in the WAC she thought that was the end of her entertaining days. She never thought she’d be using her skills to help cheer up a flak happy John Egan, nor did she think that they’d be partly responsible for her life changing for good. // a vague 5+1 sort of deal where some intense eye contact changes everything word count: 23k a/n: I'm a woman obsessed with Rosie and this is the result ! I have more things in the works for this little universe but this is where it all starts for Rosie & Billie. It's not as historically accurate as it could be, so apologies in advance. AO3 part two

Like most nights out with the girls Billie stuck to the walls, electing to keep to herself while the party around her raged on. She preferred the pub in town but she had to admit the officer’s club had it’s perks including more space for her to stick to herself. This was a party unlike any they’d had here on base and rightly so; it was rare a pilot got to the required twenty five missions before going home and Dye’s achievement was worth celebrating. It seemed like every possible person on base and even a couple of their neighbors showed up to join in on the affair. Even though she wasn’t feeling it herself, Billie appreciated the energy filling the air. It was a night of letting loose and living in the moment, for celebrating still being alive. She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she looked onto the dance floor from her chair in the corner. 

Her best friend Barbara and their fellow nurse June were on the dance floor with men Billie didn’t recognize. Replacements. Billie hadn’t been aware a new group of them had rolled in but she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. They’d been due for a while now. She scanned the room trying to pick out more men she didn’t recognize. Her eyes came back to June and her man who was all elbows and knees. It didn’t seem like he had a dancing bone in his body but June’s face was brighter, her smile wider than Billie had ever seen. At least someone was having a good night. 

Billie took a deep swig of her drink. There was a time in her life where it would have been her out on the floor having the good night, trying to wrangle a dance partner. Billie was never the life of the party but at least she used to live a little. For some reason it was like her entire personality shifted when she joined up. 

Lieutenant Harry Crosby walked in front of her, a drink in each hand. Seeing him brought an immediate damper to her mood and she tipped her glass back to finish the last of her beer. Crosby had been one of her victims earlier that day and she wondered how bad his arm was bruising. They had been taking blood donations from the men not on mission and Billie made a fool of herself. Again. No matter how hard she tried or practiced Billie just couldn’t get the hang finding the vein in the first go. There were probably plenty on base who wanted to change their mind on donating blood when they saw she was the one working. She didn’t hold it against anyone. Billie knew she wasn’t a good nurse. She scraped by in her training and she’d been keeping her head afloat somehow but for how much longer she didn’t know. Billie’s saving grace was her CO who did her best to schedule Billie in the mornings before and during missions, any shift so she’d be done and out of the way when it was time for the real work to start. If she was lucky she’d get to help out with setting up the coffee and donuts for the Clubmobile, but more often than not it was inventory, stocking, and keeping watch over current patients. The simple things. Maybe that was part of why she didn’t feel like herself anymore. She used to hold her own but now she was the runt of the pack. It wasn’t a fun feeling. Her work was important, she understood that. She knew that there were no small parts and that things could go wrong if she didn’t take her work seriously. It was just that Billie missed having fun. There was nothing fun about the world of blood and trauma. 

Billie looked back at the dance floor. June was still in the arms of her fella, but Barbara was missing. Billie looked around and after a moment found Barbara by the edge of the dance floor practically directly across from her. It looked like she was convincing Lieutenant James Douglass to dance with her. It was an argument the two had almost every time they went out. Routine said Douglass would give in and dance with Barbara but not after she promised a kiss. Billie wondered when they pair would finally commit to something real, this game they’d been playing for months was getting old. Still, a pang of jealousy shot through Billie’s core. She wasn’t looking for anything, wasn’t looking for anyone. But maybe if she was more like other girls it would be easier to distract herself on nights like this. Luckily for Billie it was rare anyone gave her second glance.

The couple to her right had started curling in on each other and Billie figured they were about five minutes away from full on going at it there in public. To give them some privacy Billie decided to get another drink. She knew she shouldn’t but what else was she supposed to do with herself? Besides, it was time to switch back from beer to something harder. If she was going to wallow she might as well be properly smashed to set the mood. She abandoned her seat and wormed her way through the crowd to the bar. 

The only empty spot it seemed was over next to Major John Egan and Billie’s stomach flipped with nerves. Major Egan, or Bucky as she knew he preferred to be called, was a commanding presence. He reminded her of one of her old friends, Charles. Both were charismatic ladies men with a long string of scorned lovers. Both loud and rambunctious, loving to be in the center of attention. Total showoffs. But both also had the skills to match their bravado so Billie was never too bothered by the inevitable antics that followed them around. Her need for a drink pushed her forward to slide into the empty space, pushing through her nerves of embarrassing herself in front of Bucky. Luckily as soon as the thought popped into her head she dismissed it. Even if she did something silly chances were he wasn’t going to remember. And if she kept up her drinking pace she wouldn’t remember either. A win win scenario. 

“What’ll you have, ma’am?” The bartender asked.

“Two whiskeys, please. Thanks” She drummed her fingers along the counter while she waited for her drinks. As soon as the bartender set the drinks down in front of her Billie grabbed one and slammed the it back in one go.

Billie reveled in the way it burned down through her throat. It was nice to feel something. Her brother had been the one to introduce her to whiskey, way back when they were kids. He’d busted into their uncle’s stash and they managed to finish the bottle by the time they’d been caught back behind the horse stalls. Eddie swore they wouldn’t have gotten caught had Billie not gotten sick, startling one of the horses and waking up the lot of them. Their mother had been furious and took no mercy out on them by still making them go to practice bright and early the next morning. The painful practice was worth the memory now that Billie was swallowing her whiskey. The burn hadn’t gotten better over all these years which was something she was grateful for now. She needed it to still feel the same. Billie let out a cough and sucked back a hiss. It’d be a good idea go take it a bit slower with the second glass, just to be safe. She coughed again. 

“You going to be okay there, little lady?” Bucky had turned to look at her. 

“I’m fine.” she smiled reassuringly up at him. “Went down the wrong pipe is all.” 

“Happens to the best of us.” Bucky nodded and turned back to face the back of the bar. 

Billie leaned her elbows against the counter and pulled her glass closer to her. She took a sip and set it back down on the counter, taking the napkin from underneath with her free hand. Her fingers needed something to mess with. She was starting to feel a bit too much of everything. All around her people were living it up. They were dancing, laughing, smoking and drinking and whatever other vice they needed to stay sane. She wished she could be one of them. 

Now that she started thinking about her brother she couldn’t stop. So much for the party being a distraction from the letter she’d gotten that afternoon. Barbara and June had sworn the festivities would take her mind off of it but here she was. Realistically she wasn’t all that surprised that Eddie had signed up. What did hurt was that he waited this long to tell her. He was already in training to be a paratrooper, there was nothing she could do to talk him out of it. Billie couldn’t help but laugh to herself thinking about how he really was always copying her. It had been hard to leave him when she practically ran away from home, one of the hardest things she had ever done. There were some moments when she couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. She should have known that he would want to follow in her footsteps. A mix of emotions filled her when she thought about her brother. She was so proud of him she felt like she could combust and yet she didn’t think she had ever been as scared as she was thinking about him in the thick of it. Billie grimaced to herself and looked down at where she’d been ripping the napkin into little strips. Dye making it to twenty five missions was an incredible thing, Billie really was happy for him. It was just awful that they were there making such a big deal of the one success out of the hundreds they’ve lost. She thought of her brother’s odds and her stomach turned, bile rising up her throat. She coughed again and took another sip of her whiskey to chase the bile down. 

Billie’s little spiral was interrupted by Bucky saying out of nowhere, “I’d kill for something to happen.” 

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Billie looked around to see if Bucky was really talking to her. She couldn’t remember who she saw on his other side, so maybe the comment was directed at them. Either that or talking to himself she assumed and turned her attention on her whiskey. She decided if the bartender was quick to come back around she’d order another one. Just one more and then she’d switch to water. After all she did have her normal shift first thing tomorrow morning. 

“When was the last time something happened, hmm? When was the last time you could feel something?” Bucky was looking at Billie when she lifted her head and she couldn’t help but blush a little when they made eye contact. But Bucky’s face looked off somehow and Billie felt herself sober up a little. 

“Major? Do you…” she looked around, nervous for some reason. She really didn’t know what to make of his questions. Her training hadn’t covered this sort of thing. “Are you okay?” 

“Peachy, just peachy.” Bucky turned to fully look at her now and his eyes steadied on her face. He was probably just about as drunk as Billie was. He was probably chasing off some of the same demons Billie was running from. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He shot her a look and she let out a laugh, “Silly question. Got it.” 

“What’s your name again?” 

“Billie. Billie James, Sir. I’m a nurse.” 

Bucky nodded, “I thought I’d seen you somewhere.” She highly doubted he had ever looked at her before. No one ever really looked at her anymore. Still, she appreciated the politeness. He took a drink and sighed. He turned slightly towards the bar. 

Something about how Bucky was looking unsettled Billie. She wanted to cheer him up, maybe helping him get out of himself would help her forget about her brother. What would she do if it was Charles here with her instead of Bucky? “Do you want me to go see if the band can play Blue Skies again?” 

“Mighty fine of you to ask, but no need for any special requests.” Bucky took a deep drink. 

She hummed in acceptance even though his answer worried her. It got quiet between them and Billie felt so uncomfortable she swore she was going to burn with it. It was her turn to take a deep drink.

“I’ve always wanted to juggle.” Bucky suddenly said. 

“Excuse me?” Billie was drunk, but not drunk enough to follow along with Bucky’s train of thought. He pointed at the counter in front of her. Billie had been rolling the ripped up scraps of her drink’s napkin into little balls. She picked one up and threw it at Bucky. He swatted it away. 

“I know I’m saying nonsense, can’t help it right now. I’ve seemed to have lost all filter.” Bucky gave a weak version of his normal charming smile. 

“I don’t think that’s quite true, Major. Somehow I think you’re one to never really let go of control.” She found herself rolling her eyes at him as if he really was her friend Charles. She leaned forward and craned her neck to see where the bartender was. Another drink wasn’t the smartest idea but Billie was in the mood for self destruction.

Thinking about Charles and juggling had her remembering the night Charles tried to teach her a new trick while they had been on the tail end of a bender. What a pair of drunk messes the two of them had been, the night had ended with a broken window and running away from the police. “You know, Major, I can juggle.” She blurted out. 

“You can juggle?” The disbelief was palpable in Bucky’s voice. He sounded just like so many of the boys she knew back home. All men seemed the same when they were doubting her, probably sounded the same to any woman. Oh, she was going to love proving him wrong. 

“Of course I can juggle. I wouldn’t just lie to you when you’re looking like that.” Billie snapped, taking a tone she knew in the back of her head she shouldn’t have with someone of his status. Maybe she shouldn’t be acting like he was Charles. But Billie was too far in it to stop now. 

“Looking like what?” he challenged. Already he seemed livelier. 

“Like some sad little kid who needs cheering up.” Billie said simply with a smile. 

“And what would you suggest? Are you offering to try to juggle for me?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow. 

“I won’t have to try, I can do it if I want to.” confidence filled Billie’s voice. 

Bucky laughed and tilted his head to look at Billie. “You really think you can juggle?” 

“I don’t think, I know.” She wagged a finger in his face. “And I don’t like the attitude you’re taking, Major.” She really shouldn’t be talking to him like this but they were talking about juggling and she couldn’t help but get caught up in it. She had to defend her honor. “This is just one of the countless things you men think women can’t handle.”

“I didn’t say anything of the sort!” 

“Sure,” Billie rolled her eyes, “but you were thinking it, weren’t you?” She nudged his arm with hers. “Just teasing. Now, I’ll need a lot of something if I’m going to do it. I mean, if its worth doing it’s worth doing right.” 

“Is that so? And doing it right means juggling more balls?” Bucky waggled his eyebrows at her. 

Billie smacked his arm, rolling her eyes with a groan. “Christ, Major, grow up.” she shook her head. Billie then straightened her shoulders and said, “It doesn’t have to be balls, I can juggle anything.” 

“Anything is a strong claim.” There was even more doubt now in Bucky’s eyes. 

“And guess what? It’s true.” Billie countered. 

“Well now you have to prove it, because I just can’t seem to wrap my head around this. Pretty thing like you doing something like that.” Bucky shook his head in disbelief.

“What do my looks have to do with being able to juggle?” Billie cocked her head to the side. Then she realized that Bucky had paid her a compliment and she couldn’t help but blush. Luckily at this point of being drunk Billie’s face was normally red enough to cover her blush. This was the first time she was thankful for her drunk tell. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be on the receiving end of any advance from Bucky, but it was nice to hear someone thought she was pretty. Even if they were insulting and complimenting her at the same time. 

“You just don’t seem like the type of gal who’d be able to is all.” Bucky explained simply while Billie rolled her eyes again. 

“I feel insulted but I’m going to move past it.” She finished off her drink and couldn’t help but wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Maybe it made her look more like someone who knew how to juggle. “Let’s settle on what I’m juggling first off.” Billie looked around the room. 

There were so many things happening around her that Billie couldn’t help but feel comforted. She’d grown up somewhere like this, always loud and full of people letting loose. She was at home in the chaos, especially now that there’d been a challenge. She had her pride to protect, her honor to uphold. 

She was eyeing the group playing darts when Bucky said, “Glasses, easy.”

Billie turned her head to look at Bucky holding up her empty rocks glass. Better that than his empty pint glass. He gestured his head at the other empty glasses bunched up in front of them on the bar. Glasses, now that was an idea. Billie picked up her glass back up and gave it a light toss. Not as bottom heavy as she thought. 

She smiled up at Bucky. “Glasses are perfect. I need some sort of rag, though.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t want your backwash to make me lose my grip is why.” Billie scrunched her nose in disgust. 

Bucky let out a bright laugh. “Fair enough. How about clean glasses?” 

“Either works.” Billie shrugged nonplussed.

“How many?” 

Billie studied the glass in her hand.”How about four. Do you think I can handle four?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, lips pursed in a smirk. 

“That feels like a trick question.” Billie flashed a wicked grin in response and Bucky laughed. “Okay, you’re going to juggle four glasses. Now how about we settle some stakes and make a real bet out of this whole thing. Personally, I wouldn’t mind a kiss.” He leaned in closer to Billie. 

Billie had been expecting that and rolled her eyes with a smile. “When do you not want a kiss from someone? And I don’t want anything from you. Just to prove you wrong.” 

“You wound me!” he playfully slapped his hand to his chest. “Come on, there must be something a pretty gal like you would want from someone like me.” He leaned an arm out to rest on the bar countertop. Billie felt herself grow hot under his stare. She suddenly understood the long line of heartbroken girls she’d watched over the last couple of months. Something about Bucky was mesmerizing. She couldn’t help but think about how easy he’d be to love. 

“A pack of smokes.” She blurted out and the look of confusion that crossed Bucky’s face made her smirk. He hadn’t been expecting his subtle advance to be turned down. 

“That’s a hefty ask.”

“Then you shouldn’t make silly bets.” 

“Alright I’ll bite. You’re on, Billie. And now it’s too late to back out of a kiss when I win.” He winked at Billie then stood up from the bar counter. “Gather round now boys, our very own nurse Billie is going to put on a little show.” Bucky called out over the music. 

“Major!” Billie snapped and lightly smacked Bucky’s arm. 

She hadn’t wanted to draw that much attention to herself but after thinking about it for a moment she shrugged it off. She’d handled worse tricks in worse states. Had she really expected Bucky to keep it a quiet ordeal? There was nothing that man could do quiet. Already eyes were on her, wondering what on earth she could do to entertain them. She started to feel hot, the skin on the back of her neck itching where it rubbed against her jacket. She needed to cool down and get out of her jacket even if just for a minute. She straightened herself up from leaning against the bar.  

“I’m going to get myself sorted then I’ll be over to prove you wrong, okay?” she gestured her head to the bathroom.

“We’ll see about that.” Bucky grinned at her as he gave her a nod.

By some miracle the bathroom was empty when Billie entered. Immediately she took off her jacket and began to fan herself. She needed to cool down. Billie looked at herself in the mirror and was suddenly struck by trying to picture herself from an outsider’s perspective. Small, red faced, long mousy brown hair that was starting to escape the sculpted curls the girls had worked so hard on. Barbara was going to be so sad her work was for naught. Billie itched to tie it all back but she didn’t have anything with her. But really all she could focus on was her arms. She raised her arms and flexed. There was no denying it: she was losing her muscles and she didn’t know how to feel about that. 

After a lifetime of hard work she’d gone soft. Her father’s voice came into her head lamenting about how long it would take her to bounce back once she returned from the war. If she bounced back at all. It had been so long since she properly worked out. Maybe she could talk to Mae about helping her do any heavy lifting on one of her shift next time one lined up with Billie’s off time. The mechanic was always grateful for the help especially if it meant they could trade stories about growing up in the entertainment industry while they worked. Billie sobered up a bit thinking about the last time she’d fallen asleep body aching after helping Mae. She didn’t think it was possible to miss that horrible feeling of muscle exhaustion. She rotated her wrists a couple of times trying to stretch them out. She flexed her fingers. Next were her arms, first across then over her shoulder. She jumped in place a couple of times wishing she wasn’t in uniform. All she needed to do was focus. 

Billie washed her hands and then briefly pressed her wet hands to her face, trying to cool herself down. It worked, or at least she told herself it did, and then her hands went to her hair. There was nothing she could do to bring order back to her hair but at least now she could tell herself she tried. Billie grabbed her jacket to put back on while staring herself down in the mirror. She could do this. It’d been a long time since she’d juggled but she knew the muscle memory would kick in. It had to after all the time she’d spent practicing as a kid. If she made a fool of herself and her dad found out he was sure to take a swing at her. He trained her better than to fail at something so simple. She shook her head to clear the thought and stretched her shoulders back while taking in a deep breath. She exhaled and made eye contact with her reflection again. Billie knew she could do this, she could prove Bucky wrong. 

The door to the bathroom burst open and Barbara came barreling through. Billie was surprised it had taken this long for her best friend to find her. “What’s this I hear about Bucky challenging you to juggle? Do you really know how to juggle?”

“Of course I can juggle,” Billie popped her hip to the side and put her hands on her waist. Striking a pose she said dramatically, “it’s in my blood.” 

Barbara had come over to stand next to Billie and began touching herself up, pulling a tube of lipstick out from her pocket. “Of course it’s in your blood, you carny. I forget all of the silly things you know how to do because you’re so normal.” 

The comment stung but Billie knew better than to make anything of it. She knew Barbara meant well.  

“Well I don’t think it’ll be that hard.” Billie flicked her hair back over her shoulder and squared her shoulders. “It’s only four glasses.” 

“Four? The major is telling people five.” 

Billie thought about it for a moment, “I guess at a point it just becomes a number.” She marched to the door but paused before pulling it open, her hand on the handle. “Am I about to make a fool of myself?” 

Barbara shrugged. “Possibly. But not until after you impress people a little, which I know you’re going to do.” She met Billie’s eyes in the mirror. “You always do this.” Barbara finished touching up her hair and stepped back to take in more of her reflection. 

“Do what?” Billie dropped her hand from the door handle. 

“Pull out these ridiculous things to be good at that make everyone ooh and aww. Its unfair honestly, the fact that you’re not a miserable bitch. It would make dealing with you so much easier.” Barbara said. 

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that.” Billie couldn’t help but grimace.

Barbara laughed. “It was supposed to be a compliment. I was trying to say you’re nice and good at things not a lot of people are good at which is fun. I like being your friend.” 

Billie swooned and pulled Barbara in for a hug. “I like being your friend too. You’re the only one who doesn’t give me grief about being a miserable nurse.”

“Oh I give you grief too, only difference is you realize I’m joking around. Besides you can’t be good at everything so who cares if you’re not the best nurse on base. Now lets go show up Major Egan with your circus skills” 

When the pair came out of the bathroom Billie realized that Bucky had drawn a small crowd in the back corner of the room. A wave of nausea rolled through her and she let out a couple of deep breaths and closed her eyes. And just like that she felt more at home than she had in months. She never would have guessed this would do the trick. 

“Are you okay?” Barbara was at her shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She had no choice but to be fine. Her personal and family pride was on the line. 

A feeling started making itself known deep in Billie, something she hadn’t felt for a long while. It was serious now that the pre-show jitters were kicking in. A laugh threatened to bubble up out of Billie and she had to clench her jaw to keep the sound in. All of these thousands of miles away from home and here she was pulling the same tricks. Billie never thought she’d be doing this here, that any of her circus skills could come in handy in the real world. The whiskey was softening the worst of her nerves so Billie didn’t waver as she marched forward and pushed her way through the crowd. 

“There she is!” Bucky was sitting at a table with five empty rocks glasses next to him. 

“Do we need to revise the stakes, Major? You’re not trying to change the bet on me are you?” She grabbed a glass off the table and tried her best to ignore the feeling of everyone’s eyes on her. It would go away, the prickling feeling as they stared her down. It always went away she just had to push through the tension. At least here she was fully clothed and her feet were steady on solid ground. Far steadier than all of the drinks she had would suggest. 

“A number is a number, really.” Bucky reasoned. “What’s one extra? Plus five has a better ring to it wouldn’t you say?”

Billie laughed at that, “I suppose you’re right, Major.” 

“Are you going to turn around so we can watch?” A voice called out from behind her. Lieutenant Douglass if she was to guess, it sounded like his sort of snark. It also sounded like someone had elbowed him in the side. She smiled thinking it was probably Barbara. 

Billie turned on her heels and dipped into a deep curtsy towards the people gathered around her. Already she was back into performing. “Give us just a moment, gentlemen. We’re settling up accounts here. The show’ll begin in just a tick.” She turned back around to face Bucky. “So here’s how this is going to work. I can’t do this by myself so you’re going to have to help me. You’re going to need to throw me the last two glasses.”

“You want me to throw you a glass while juggling? Twice? You trust me to do that?” 

“You started this whole thing, might as well get involved.” Billie said. “Besides, there’s a better chance at avoiding disaster this way than if I started with all five on my own. I’m not doing that with things I’ve never juggled before.” 

Bucky’s face was twisted in concentration. Billie wondered if he was going to call the whole thing off. If he tried she was going to suggest she juggle just three glasses instead. She wasn’t leaving until she at least somewhat proved her talents. Billie wanted to see if she could make Bucky smile. 

She tossed the glass in her hand again, higher this time. “I suppose there is a danger aspect, I will give you that. But remember, I’m a nurse if anything goes wrong.”

Bucky chuckled. “Rumor is—”

“Fine.” Billie raised her hand to cut him off. “I’m not the only nurse here tonight. Come on, you’re not flying tomorrow so you’ll have some time to heal before you have to go up again. We can push the table out of the way and I’ll stand in the corner so you won’t be throwing in the direction of everyone.”

“You could still get hurt.” 

Billie hadn’t been expecting this change of heart. The was definitely something up with Bucky, normally he was all about encouraging the reckless behavior. The one leading the charge. He wasn’t usually the one giving the waring speeches. Something had to be wrong. 

Billie waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve dealt with worse, trust me. Plus, I know how to handle myself when something goes wrong. This isn’t my first rodeo, Major.” She knew she shouldn’t push but she couldn’t help but add, “Come on, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet. That’s not like you. Scared I’m going to prove you wrong? Why not live a little?” She couldn’t help but think about how she used to tease her brother and she poked Bucky in the shoulder as if he was Eddie. 

Bucky shook his head but then stood up. He didn’t respond to Billie instead calling, “Hey, Buck! Come help me move this table.” 

Billie grabbed a second glass from the table and then stepped out of the way while the two moved the table. She heard Buck grumbling something about how this was a bad idea but Billie decided to ignore him. Her drunk logic and seeing Bucky’s clearly fake smile had her coming around to thinking this was an excellent idea. So Billie turned to face the crowd smiling wide. 

“Now is everyone ready for a show? Has anyone else placed any bets on me tonight?” She held the three glasses in one hand and lifted the other to her ear, waiting for someone’s answer. 

“It’d be rude to say, ma’am” called out Captain Everett Blakely.

“It’d be rude to not split the winnings!” Billie countered with a wink.

“You’re really going to do it?” Douglass asked. 

“We’ll see. Depends on if Major Egan can handle the pass.” 

“Oh I’ll make it just fine just you watch.” Bucky said. “Now where do you want me.” 

Billie glanced around at the space. She gestured to most of it, “I’m probably going to end up traveling a bit, so just stay on the edge of the circle somewhere. I’ll tell you when I’m ready. I can handle most passes just try not to go too high or too low.”

“Will it be obvious what’s too high or low?” He looked nervous again. It unsettled her. 

“Don’t worry about it, forget I said anything. It’ll all be fine and you’ll be down a pack of smokes in just a couple of minutes.” that made him laugh and Billie smiled. Success. But she could do better. 

Billie made her way to the center of the space Buck and Bucky had cleared. She let herself picture dropping a glass in the first round, in the second. Before she even needed Bucky to throw her one. What was really the worst that could happen? What happened here didn’t need to come home with her, she reasoned with herself. Realistically she could just not tell anyone about what happened. Her dad didn’t have to know. She could suffer through the embarrassment during the war, there were beyond worse crosses to bear. It was going to be fine. Billie took a deep breath then smiled. Showtime. 

Just like Billie thought and hoped, her muscle memory took over as soon as she threw the first glass into the air. She heard gasps around her as she started getting into the feel of it and she smiled wider in response. Bucky wasn’t the only one who had doubted Billie could juggle. It always felt good to take people by surprise so maybe it was good she barely told anyone about her circus life. They didn’t have enough good surprises there on base. She kept her eyes trained on the glasses but it was hard to bite back the laugh at the men’s reaction. This was nothing. If only she had her balls with her, then she’d really be able to put on a show for them. 

It felt so nice to slip back into the rhythm of juggling that Billie didn’t even mind her arms were starting to burn. She couldn’t help but let out a little giggle. The adrenaline coursing through her was like she was back under the big top. Christ, she has missed this. She had no idea she would have missed this that much. After a minute or so Billie felt comfortable enough for the next glass. 

“Alright, Major. You ready?” Billie called out, eyes not leaving the glasses going round and round. 

“When you are.” Bucky answered. 

Billie moved so that she was facing Bucky. “Hit me.”

“Now I don’t think—”

“You know what I mean. Stop being a smartass.” Laughter came from the crowd. 

“Here you go.” Bucky tossed the glass perfectly and Billie added it to her rotation with ease. 

Her arms were really burning but she didn’t mind, not with how they were clapping for her. This was one of her favorite feelings in the world, or as close as she could get without being near a trapeze swing. The reactions from an audience tended to be food for a performer’s soul and Billie had long been starving. Out of her whole circus family Billie was the only one not motivated by those reactions. Still, she could get hungry. There was something inherent in her, something deep that made her come alive when she performed. Barbara was right, it didn’t matter if she wasn’t the best nurse at Thorpe Abbotts because there were other things she could do. Wasn’t job supposed to be helping the airmen? She spared a glance at Bucky and was thrilled to see a genuine smile stretched across his face. It seemed he’d done a complete 180 degree turn from earlier in the evening. It was such a gift to be able to affect someone’s mood like that. This was why she loved what she could do. 

“I would like to state for the record that I did win the original bet.” Billie called out. 

“Does that mean you want to quit?” Bucky challenged. 

“Not a chance, Major. Not a chance.” Billie quipped. 

“Eyes up then.” Bucky said. 

It was only her years of training that saved Billie from disaster when Bucky threw tossed the final glass at her. She nearly stumbled but quickly got her footing steady. “I didn’t tell you I was ready for that!” she called out, beyond annoyed. That could have gone seriously wrong and she didn’t want to be the one to ruin the mood of the party. 

“Seems like you handled it just fine.” Bucky dismissed Billie’s frustration and gave a clap as he watched her successfully juggle the five glasses. He really was back to his normal self. 

Billie gave into another laugh but then suddenly sobered. She hadn’t been thinking this through at all. She’d never juggled glasses like this before, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to catch them all without breaking anything. 

“Now this is the part I didn’t think all the way through.” Billie sheepishly admitted. 

“How you’re going to stop? I’ve been wondering that since the beginning.” Bucky was standing with his arms crossed. He had a smug look on his face that annoyed Billie but she’d rather this than his pathetic state from earlier. 

“We might have some casualties I’m afraid.” She mused and went quiet for a few moments. She was staring at the glasses as she threw them around. Maybe if she utilized some bad form she’d be able to toss the glasses forward. With her mind made up she said, “Okay, we’re going to do a reverse of what we just did. You’ll have to get closer but I’ll toss them back to you.” 

“So I’m involved again?” Bucky groaned in an over the top way that was more in line with his usual behavior. 

“You’re the one who started it.” Billie teased back. 

Someone pushed through the crowd, Billie couldn’t tell, and stepped through into the clearing. It was Crosby holding a cushion from one of the chairs in the back corner. “Would this help?” He asked. 

“Excellent foresight, Croz.” Bucky clapped Crosby on the back and took the cushion from him and dropped it on the ground in front of him. “Now if I drop it it’ll still have a hope for survival.” 

Billie’s arms were on fire. She really needed to speed things along. “We ready over there, gentlemen?” 

“When you are.” Bucky answered. 

“First one coming through.” Billie called and as one of the glasses came into her right hand she twisted her wrist in a way she was trained to never do. The glass went out instead of up and Bucky caught it with ease. 

Billie was elated, she couldn’t believe this was going so well. She tossed a second, and then third glass to Bucky that he beautifully caught. Billie didn’t know why he’d been worried. She was left with a glass in each hand blushing as she faced the crowd. She had been on base with these men for months but this was the first time it felt like any of them were realizing she was a real person. It was electrifying. She gave a dramatic deep curtsy and once she was back standing straight she had people around her. It seemed no one had expected her to pull off such a trick, that no one thought much of her before this. They meant well, Billie knew that. But for some reason the comments stung a little. 

After Billie was done working her way through a small group of admirers Barbara slid up to Billie’s side. “I can only imagine what they’d be saying if they saw your flying costume. Probably have to fight your way through a lot more them.” 

Billie elbowed Barbara. “Leave the costume out of it. I can’t believe I showed you that picture.” 

“Why would you bring it with you if you didn’t want someone to see it?” 

“Look, who cares about the picture of me and my friend. Tell me honestly,” She set the glasses down on the table and then grabbed Barbara’s hands. She was embarrassed but had to ask, “How did I look up there?” 

“You’re an absolute ace and you know it, don’t go begging for compliments.” Barbara squeezed Billie’s hands and smiled. “But you looked lovely. More alive than I’ve seen in a while. You looked like you were having a lot of fun. Were you?” 

“I did, yeah.” Billie answered. She looked at the glasses on the table, smiling to herself. She reached out and picked them back up. “It was fun to get back into it. More than I thought it would be.” 

“I still can’t believe you can juggle.” Barbara shook her head with a smile. She brought her pint glass up and sipped bit of the beer head. “You’re the darnedest thing.”

“You make it seem like I did this crazy thing when all I did was throw some stuff around.” Billie admonished. 

“Well it’s certainly not something that a lot of people can do, especially with how much you’ve had to drink. And I think that’s worth celebrating!” Barbara lifted her glass in the air then brought it down and took a big gulp. She let out a content sigh and asked, “Did you see what happened between June and her new replacement? When we got here?” 

“I saw them dancing for a while, but that’s it.” Billie answered. 

Barbara started in on her story and Billie tried her best to pay attention to the latest updates on her friend’s love life. But the glasses were warm now in her hands and she kept turning them over and over. It had always been soothing to Billie to have something in her hands to play with. Part of the reason why she took to juggling so well. Her arms weren’t burning anymore. Instead there was an ache, the kind Billie couldn’t help but love. She thought her arms could handle going again now that she was warmed up. Still listening to Barbara she took a couple steps away from her friend and started tossing the two glasses around. Two didn’t require as much focus so Billie was able to pay attention to Barbara’s gossip while keeping her eyes on the glasses she was juggling. 

Barbara made a crude joke and Billie took her eyes off the glasses as she turned her head slightly, laughing and ready to say something in response. Only Barbara had stepped to the side to say something to Douglass. She’d turned her back enough so Billie got a clear look through the crowd and straight to the bar. There was a man standing facing her. Looking directly at her. Billie couldn’t help but gasp a little. 

He had curls, a mustache, and looked to be about a little less than a head taller than her. Never in Billie’s life had she been so struck by someone. The eye contact had a grip around her throat. She was buzzing. He didn’t look away and neither did Billie, a challenge of sorts. She was struck with a feeling of familiarity and wanted to rush towards him, pull him close to her and never let go. Her face started heating up, her pale skin betraying her emotions as always. She felt foolish but he looked like he would give the best hug, the kind that felt like home and made you forget all that was happening around you. Billie was struck with the realization that as deeply as she was looking at him, he was looking right back at her with the same intensity. Finally someone was seeing her; they were seeing each other. He gave her a smile and she felt herself returning the gesture. He had a beautiful smile. She wanted to see what it looked like up close. Billie felt like she was flying through the air without the safety net, her stomach all out of sorts. Suddenly she was reminded of what she must look like; red faced, messy hair, with a disheveled uniform. Hardly presentable or anything worth looking at. 

Her heart collapsed through her stomach and she wrenched her eyes away from the man just as Barbara reached out to touch Billie’s arm to get her attention. She knew it was going to happen before it did, but Billie lost her grip and one of the glasses slipped through her fingers. It crashed around her, causing a brief wave of silence as people turned to see what happened. Billie’s knew her face must look like a tomato so she immediately dropped to a crouch to hide her face and looked at the damage up close. 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Barbara wailed from somewhere over Billie. “I distracted you, this is all my fault!” She joined Billie on the floor and reached out as if to start scooping up the glass with her bare hands. She paused and then looked up at Billie. “I’m going to go find a broom and dustpan.” she said and then ran off into the crowd. 

Billie kicked at the big pieces of glass trying to move what she could. Then she did what Barbara wouldn’t and started picking at the glass with her hands. 

“How is it that you can handle juggling five but two is what takes you out?” She heard Bucky behind her and she smiled to herself. Of course he saw her mess up. 

“We all have our things, sir.” She said still facing the ground. 

“Here, to make it easier.” Billie looked up to see him handing her a beer. “Wasn’t sure what you liked so if you hate it at least I tried.” Bucky said with a shrug.

“I appreciate the attempt.” Billie smiled. She stood up to take the beer but set it on the table instead of taking a drink. 

“I’ll find you tomorrow to get you your smokes.” 

“Oh you don’t have to do that.” Billie waved him off. “I was messing around. I don’t even smoke.” 

“What were you going to do with them?” 

“Use them as bribes to have people forgive me for inevitably doing something wrong.” The strategy hadn’t worked yet but she wasn’t going to give up her attempts now. 

“Come on, you’re not that bad.” Bucky reasoned. 

“Well I’ve never had to give you an IV before so maybe hold your judgement until I get you under my care.” Billie joked. 

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Bucky asked. 

“Maybe it is.” Billie shrugged and gave Bucky a playful light punch on the arm. 

Billie heard Barbara before she saw her. “I have a broom, dustpan, and some rags. Lets get this cleaned up.” 

At that Bucky have a nod to the girls and said, “I’ll leave you to it. Thanks for the show, Billie”

Billie ducked her head in a slight bow, “Always happy to play my part, Major.” She watched him walk away for a moment before she turned to help Barbara. They were making quick work of it until Billie, in the middle of telling a story, grabbed a shard of glass without thinking and sliced her hand open. She hissed as her palm throbbed. 

“Now that doesn’t look too good.” Douglas had made his way over to stand above the pair on the ground. 

“Really, James? She hadn’t realized.” Barbara snapped. Douglass raised his hands in the air and took a couple of steps back. 

“Geez, sorry I said anything.” He turned and left the two on the ground.

Billie thought that was a bit harsh. She wondered if something had happened and maybe Douglass wasn’t going to get his normal kiss goodnight. 

She reassured Barbara, “I don’t think it’s that bad.” Barbara gave her a look and Billie cut her off before she could say anything Billie continued, “But I want to get it looked at before I go to bed.” She grabbed one of the unused rags and pressed it against the cut, soaking up the blood. It stung but Billie didn’t let the discomfort show on her face. “Do you know who is on shift tonight?” 

Barbara nodded in approval of Billie’s statement and answered, “I think it’s Lucy. I hope it’s Lucy. For your sake I hope it’s anyone but Rebecca.” 

Billie groaned at the thought. Knowing her luck the nurse who seemed the most vexed with her would be working that night. She’d be mortified if she had to get stitches from Rebecca. 

“Let’s pray it’s Lucy.” Billie said with a weak smile. 

“She won’t give you any grief then, that’s for sure. Do you want to go outside and get some air while I finish cleaning this up? I’ll walk with you to the hospital.” Barbara was sweet to offer. 

“Are you sure you’re okay finishing cleaning this up?” 

Barbara nodded. “It was my fault anyways. Go on, I won’t be here much longer. Go catch your breath.” she used her hands to shoo Billie away from the mess of glass. 

Billie hovered for a second but then turned to make her way outside. It was easy to weave her way through the crowd, a type of dance in itself. Just before she got to the door Billie turned to look over her shoulder at the bar where the man had been standing. He was still there, but his back was partially to the door. She could see him in profile and even that was striking. Billie’s breath caught. He seemed to be listening to his friend talk but Billie focused in on the man’s hands. One was holding a drink the other was down by his side snapping along with the music. Billie smiled to herself charmed by how in tune the man was with the music. She somehow knew that he was just moments away from starting to dance along instead of letting his fingers do all the work. Billie turned before he could start and walked out the door.

______________________________________________________________

The base was quiet, depressingly quiet. The air was thick with the missing presences of all the lives lost in that day’s mission to Munster. Billie hadn’t seen anything like it in her time there at Thorpe Abbotts. No one had seen such a day. Only one fort had come back, piloted by someone named Robert Rosenthal. Rosie she thought she heard the nickname was. Billie wondered how that pilot must be feeling, what all of those surviving airmen were feeling. 

Billie was heading to the hospital. She needed to re-bandage her hand and figured she’d get a head start on the inventory counts so her shift would be easier tomorrow. 

Lucy, one of the normal night shift nurses, greeted her when she came through the doors. “Billie! Don’t tell me you—”

“No, I didn’t rip out the stitches. I just need you to wrap it back up so I don’t waste all your hard work.” 

“How’d it come undone?” 

Billie shrugged. “You know, life.” 

Lucy shook her head. She wasn’t all that surprised that Billie hadn’t been careful or able to stay still enough to keep the bandage on her hand. There were times when Lucy thought Billie was just as bad as some of the kids that were always running around. 

Lucy was studying Billie’s hand when they heard someone come through the door. The pair looked up and Billie’s stomach dropped. The ground seemed to fall from beneath her. It was him, the man from the officer’s club. She had assumed he was one of the many that were lost. Billie didn’t think that she would ever see him again and she’d been having an embarrassingly hard time accepting that. He didn’t look in their direction, just walked over to the man in the very last bed on the right who was already speaking to him as he sat down. His back was to the nurses, something that Billie was beyond thankful for. 

“That’s Rosie.” Lucy whispered. 

“Who?” 

“Rosie Rosenthal. He was the only one to come back.”

This was Rosie? Billie’s heart flipped and then tightened. Of course he would be a pilot. She pulled her hand away from Lucy. 

“Who’s he with?” Billie asked. 

“His navigator, I think. Lieutenant Bailey.” 

“What happened to him?”

“A couple of nasty cuts on his face, we’re keeping him here overnight to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

“Do you think he has a concussion?” 

“Not at all. He hasn’t shown any of the signs but I think they’re just trying to be extra careful.” 

“Makes sense.” Billie said. 

Lucy made quick work of bandaging Billie’s hand and when she was finished Billie found her clipboard and started making her counts. Billie kept stealing looks at Rosie’s back. She couldn’t look away. It was almost impossible to focus when he was right there. At any point he could turn around and he’d see her, and at that thought Billie realized that she didn’t want him to see her. He turned his face slightly and Billie caught a look of his profile. Thing was, Billie was attracted to competence. She was drawn to those who were skilled, those who knew exactly what they were doing. To her there was nothing more attractive than a man who could handle himself. Billie wished she could be more like her old self. There was a version of her that would have no problem walking right up to him. It would be so easy to slip herself into his orbit. But she wasn’t that version anymore. She’d become so timid. 

Billie eventually lost herself in her counts and by the time she called it quits Rosie was gone. The next morning Billie was tasked with checking on Rosie’s navigator, Lieutenant Bailey. She felt like she could throw up she was so nervous but she pushed through and plastered a smile on her face. 

“Good morning, Lieutenant.” 

“Good morning, ma’am.” 

“Oh, please. Call me Billie. I can’t stand being called ma’am.” 

Bailey laughed. “Alright, Billie it is then. You here to let me out?” 

Billie nodded. “I just have to clean and bandage some of these face scrapes and then you’ll be good to go.” 

“Hey,” Bailey was studying Billie. “Did you juggle the other night at the party for Dye?” 

Billie blushed. Was this how she was going to be known now? “I did, yeah.” 

“I thought that was you! How did you learn how to do that?” 

“I grew up in the circus.” Billie said simply. 

“Wow, a real circus girl. The only time I went to the circus was back when I was in high school. It was an incredible show.” 

“Oh yeah? What was your favorite part?” 

“Anything they did up in the air. I liked all of the flips.”  

“An airmen who likes daring feats in the air, how predictable.” Billie teased. She didn’t say anything about how she’d been one of those doing flips in the air. Men tended to think of her only one way when they found out what she used to wear, how much skin she used to show. She loved her version of flying but it had it’s downsides. Continuing the small talk she asked, “Where are you from, Lieutenant.” 

“New York City. Well, Long Island technically”

“Oh I love New York City. I haven’t been there in years.” She paused what she was doing to really think about it. “Maybe ’37 or ’38?” she thought a couple moments longer. 

“I saw the circus in the summer of ’37.” Bailey commented. 

“It was ’37!” Billie snapped her fingers. “Summer of 1937. Because Charles and I snuck in to go see A Day at the Races. We were there on Long Island too.” 

“That’s around when I saw the circus! Maybe I saw yours.” 

“Maybe.” It was surreal for Billie to think of that possibility. 

“Wait, so you snuck into the movies?” Bailey asked. 

Billie resumed her work, answering, “Well it wasn’t really sneaking. We exchanged circus tickets for movie tickets.” 

“A fair switch. How’d you pull that off?” 

“We caught some kids trying to sneak through the back the day before and instead of throwing them out my friend asked if there was anything they could do for us in exchange.” 

“So this wasn’t the first time you’d pulled out the bartering.” 

“Oh, not at all. Movies, plays, jazz clubs, baseball games, you name it and I’ve probably tried to exchange tickets for it.” 

“You like jazz?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s the only music that makes sense.” She set the excess bandages down and reached out to hold Bailey’s chin to keep his face still. She inspected her work. Thankfully she hadn’t messed up his simple patch job. “Alright, Lieutenant. I think you’re ready for discharge.” 

Bailey practically jumped out of the bed and Billie laughed at his reaction. 

______________________________________________________________

Billie hated to admit defeat but she had been defeated plain and simple. She had never not finished a book before but Moby Dick was where she drew the line. It was just so much, too complicated and heavy. She didn’t know what any of the words meant and even though she was managing to follow along with the plot it was possibly one of the most boring books she’d ever read. There were plenty of times Billie hated her lack of education and this was one of them. She wouldn’t be having such a hard time if she’d been able to go to school. For a couple of years her parents had put together an attempt at a homeschool for her and her brother and the rest of the circus kids but no real work had ever gotten done. She was jealous of all the girls who were still in school. Billie could only ever dream of going to college. 

Rebecca had been in college before the war. Billie’s stomach turned thinking about Rebecca. The girl had it out for Billie, and now that she was thinking about it Billie’s lack of real education might have something to do with Rebecca’s attitude towards her. It was clear Rebecca didn’t think she had what it took to be a nurse and her lack of education was a contributing factor. If only their training instructor hadn’t made a comment in front of everyone then maybe Rebecca wouldn’t be so bad. 

But Billie wasn’t thinking about Rebecca, not that day and not for the rest of the weekend. Rebecca had gotten approved for leave to London and Billie felt it was more a gift to her and the girls than it was to Rebecca. Now she’d be given a break from her most recent stress fantasy: a cruel dream where Rebecca and Rosie fall in love and flaunt it in Billie’s face. She knew Rebecca found Rosie attractive and that they’d danced at the officer’s club a couple nights ago. Billie knew it shouldn’t bother her. Everyone should find Rosie attractive, Billie reasoned with herself. There was no deny thing the truth. But there was this sense of possession that Billie could’t get rid of. She was ashamed of it but she felt like Rosie was hers. That eye contact had changed everything for Billie. 

Her priorities had shifted. She found herself wanting to be someone that could be worthy of standing next to Rosie. He was just so good. Rosie had become a presence on the base, earning almost a mythical status after the disastrous Munster mission. Rosie was all anyone wanted to talk about which helped Billie collect scraps of information about the pilot, but it was also overwhelming. She felt silly having feelings over a man that plenty of the other women on base were praying would ask them to dance. She normally stayed away from the stars of the show, knowing that it was more fun to fool around with those in the background. A big ego wasn’t attractive to Billie, in fact it was practically an instant turn off. Luckily for her crush it didn’t seem like Rosie had an ego.

No, Rosie seemed to be the furthest thing from the typical Hollywood hotshot pilot. He was nothing like Majors Cleven and Egan had been. No one could fill the holes they had left but Rosie seemed to be standing steady on his own. He was turning out to be a popular guy in his own way making it easy for Billie to fall deeper into her feelings. She was embarrassed by how strongly she felt towards Rosie and she dreaded the inevitable day news of her crush got out. Barbara would have a fit when she found out and Billie wanted to hold that off as long as possible. It wasn’t worth letting anyone know if nothing had happened. She didn’t know what was going to happen but something in her told her that she couldn’t run away from Rosie forever.

So there Billie was going to the library in attempt to make up for the years of schooling she didn’t get. She could never compete with a college education like Rebecca’s but she could at least become as well read as the base library would allow. Billie was quietly humming to herself when she rounded the corner to walk through the propped open door to the library. Her voice died once she registered who was in the library and she stopped in her tracks.

Rosie was standing with his back to her. He was talking to the librarian about something or another, Billie was too startled to try and follow along. She glanced to her left and saw that no one else was in the room. Quickly and as quietly as she could she crossed the room while keeping her head down. Once she reached the corner she pulled down a book at random and studied the back cover. 

All of Billie’s nerve endings seemed to be on fire. It was as if she was hyper aware of what was happening but it felt like it was happening to somebody not herself. She set the book down and grabbed another from a different shelf without looking. She flipped it open to a random page and pretended to read. It had been days since she’d seen Rosie but that had been from afar. This was the closest she’d been to him since the night in the hospital.

Rosie and the librarian were talking about baseball. Just as Billie was beginning to track the conversation it was ending and Rosie was saying goodbye. Rosie’s footsteps were loud as they went out the door and down the hallway. Still, Billie waited where she was and didn’t move. The tension only slipped from her body when she felt safe that Rosie was really gone. 

“Billie! Sorry I didn’t say hello when you came in.” The librarian called to her from where he was looking over his records. 

“Oh, it’s okay, Edward.” Billie reassured. 

“How did you end up liking Moby Dick?” He asked.

“Oh it was miserable. I couldn’t finish it.” Billie let out a little laugh. 

“That bad?” Edward’s eyebrows were furrowed, lips in a frown. 

“Yeah, sorry to disappoint. I know you liked it.”

“No skin off my back,” He shrugged. “What are you looking for now?” 

“I’m not quite sure.” She held up Frankenstein and Oliver Twist. “Have you read either of these?” 

“If you didn’t like Moby Dick I’m not sure if you would like Oliver Twist. I think you’d better stick with Frankenstein.” 

Billie hummed and set Oliver Twist back down. She flipped through Frankenstein, skimming a couple of passages. “Alright then. We’ll go with this.” 

“You’re really going to take my recommendation even though you didn’t like my last?” 

“Everyone deserves a second chance don’t you think? Well, mostly everyone. You sure do.” Billie said. 

“I wish more people thought like you, Billie.”

“People do, just not military people. It’s a different world here.” Billie said. 

“Ain’t that the truth.” Edward echoed his agreement. 

______________________________________________________________

The sun was barely peaking through the surrounding trees when Billie finished her second lap around the airfield. She’d been on edge for a while now and running it seemed was one of the few things that settled her. For once she didn’t have the morning shift so she was able to get her run in before the base woke up. There was no mission that day so only a handful of other people around. Billie waved to them as she ran by, not stopping to talk to anyone. Her shirt was sticking to her back she was sweating so much. Her lungs were burning. But still she pushed herself to keep running. In a way she had missed this, which was why she kept at it. It felt good, felt familiar, to burn herself out. 

“Hey, Billie!” 

Billie slowed, looking around for the source of the voice. She vaguely recognized it but wasn’t sure who it was. 

“At your 10:00” It was Mae, crouched underneath a plane. Billie jogged over and came to stop by Mae’s toolbox. She lifted her hands up and held them above her head as she tried to slow her breathing down. 

“Good morning.” Billie said when she finally steadied her breath. “You’ve started early.”

“Tell me about it. Not all of us are used to your hours.” Mae slid out from under the plane and stood up. She stretched out her back and dropped her head to her chest. Mae let out a sigh. “It’s going to be such a long day.” She moaned, sounding close to tears. 

“Is it?” 

“It’s going to be awful. Not only am I starting before the crack of dawn but it’s not going to stop until probably—”

Billie felt bad for tuning Mae out, especially when she was trying to vent about her work which was something she really should be supporting her friend with, but she couldn’t help it. Billie had realized that Mae had been working on Rosie’s fort. The name was painted in a bright yellow script: Rosie’s Riveters. She loved it. She couldn’t focus on anything else. 

Mae continued ranting while Billie circled the fort, stretching out while she did. She loved what the planes looked like up close, such terrifying mechanical beasts. They were these amazing powerful creatures that Billie couldn’t help but see as death traps. How could she not after seeing the boys when they come back? She wondered what it felt like to command such a hulking thing. She wondered not for the first time what it felt like to be a pilot, to have so much pressure on your shoulders. To have the lives of nine other men on your hands. One blessing about being the worst nurse base was that she barely had any responsibility. She had it so easy compared to the rest of them. Shame washed over her and she dropped her hand from where she’d been running it over the wing. 

Billie finally tuned back into Mae’s drawl and gathered that the mechanic was going to have to look at a lot of planes that day. She decided to push things along. Plus for some reason she didn’t trust herself being around Rosie’s fort. It felt like such a personal extension of the man, she didn’t want to encroach. Besides she was already driving herself crazy thinking about Rosie she needed to give herself some distance. 

Billie asked how much work she had left on Rosie’s plane and Mae answered that she had just finished up. 

“I actually caught you at the perfect time. I’m going to get started on the one next door.” Mae gestured to the plane behind them. “Do you mind helping me carry some of this stuff over there?” 

“You know you don’t have to ask.” Billie let out a laugh, grateful that she could be of use. “Besides you’re doing me a favor.” 

“Of course I am, I’m not being lazy at all.” Mae laughed. “I guess how else are you going to stay balanced?” Mae joked. “You clearly got your legs in already so now you need to work out your arms.” 

The pair made quick work of moving the equipment and Billie found herself settling down to keep talking to Mae while she began her work. 

“Do you think you’ll go back to the airshows once this is all done?” Billie asked Mae. 

Mae hummed, thinking it over. “I probably will, at least at first. My dad says they’re making do with the mechanic that replaced me but I think he said that so that I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“You feel bad about leaving them?” She’d told Mae all about running away from the circus, how desperate she’d been to get out of there. But Mae didn’t have the same relationship with her family business as Billie had with hers. 

“Constantly. But luckily they’re always reassuring me that they’re proud of me. They know I’m doing good work.” 

“You’re doing great work, Mae.” 

“Thanks, Billie.” 

The pair went quiet but then Mae doubled back in the conversation to say, “But I don’t think I’ll stay for long when I go back.”

“Really?”

“I think this whole thing has ruined flying for me.” Mae sat back on her heels and let out a deep exhale. Billie knew what she was feeling, that bone deep exhaustion one got when thinking about how much blood they’d seen, all the lives they’d lost. 

“What do you think you’ll do instead?” 

“Absolutely no idea.” Mae went back to work. 

They were in the middle of talking about the first time Mae’s sister had taken Mae up with her during one of the airshows when Billie noticed the shapes of two men walking toward them. She squinted, she couldn’t tell who it was. 

Something in her stomach turned and she worried she knew what that feeling meant. It didn’t take much longer for her to recognize the men as Ken Lemmons and Rosie. They looked to be in deep discussion which Billie was grateful for. She slid down in her seat so she wouldn’t stand out as much amidst the parts. Her heart was pounding and she felt like she could throw up. Here she was avoiding Rosie again. 

Barbara had started to joke that Billie was turning into a hermit but there was some truth to it. She’d been turning down more and more invitations to go out. She was keeping to herself. She was doing a lot of reading and knitting. She’d started a scarf when she first got to Thorpe Abbotts that she was finally giving it the attention it deserved. Knitting was easier than risking seeing Rosie. Billie couldn’t explain it in a way that didn’t make her feel like an idiot but she just couldn’t be around him. Her crush was too big; she didn’t trust herself. Billie had no experience with serious relationships since she’d only ever had casual flings. She wasn’t used to these sort of real feelings. Rosie was the real deal and she couldn’t mess that up. But of course she would because that’s what she did. 

The two men were far enough away that Billie knew she was safe to ask, “What’s he doing out here?” It was a silly question, he probably had countless reasons to want to come and look at his plane. But it was early for pilots to be out when they weren’t flying. 

“Who?” Mae lifted her head and looked around. She stood up a bit to get a better look. 

Billie nodded in the direction of the two in deep discussion, coming closer and closer. Mae followed Billie’s direction. “Rosie?” Billie nodded. “He’s probably here to see the patch up on the left wing. They’re doing a practice run later today and I think he’s one of those who needs to get his hands on the thing and check it over himself before wheels up. Whatever it takes to make sure they get up in the air, right?” 

“You think he doesn’t trust you?”

“I think he’s a pilot.” Mae said simply, getting back to work. “They’ve all got their superstitions. Seems like he knows what he’s talking about. More than some of these other jokesters can say.”

“Is that right?” Billie hummed. How was he real? He wore his competence well and Billie was so attracted to him it hurt. She felt weird feeling so strongly towards a stranger but she was almost at the point of full accepting her obsession. 

Rosie hadn’t looked over in their direction yet, but Billie knew it was only a matter of time. She brought her knees up to her chin and she sat with her arms curled around her legs. Talk about the worst time to be in her PT gear, she was showing so much skin. There was no way Rosie wouldn’t see her. Well, it was possible he wouldn’t but highly unlikely. At least she had legs that looked good in her PT gear. Or she used to have good legs. 

“Do I have nice legs?” Billie needed confirmation from Mae. 

“You have a nice everything.” Mae said diplomatically not looking up to look at Billie.

“I’m being serious.” Billie pouted.

“So am I!” Mae finally turned to look at Billie. She stuck her hand on her hip and pointed a wrench at Billie. “Why are you worried about your legs all of a sudden?” 

“No reason.” 

“Really, what’s got you worked up?” 

Billie couldn’t help but glance over at Rosie’s plane and Mae tracked her gaze. 

“Huh.” was all Mae said. 

Billie was mortified. But she knew that Mae wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Not there was anything there to make a big deal out of. 

Mae looked at Billie hunched over on herself and chuckled. “Ease up, I’m not going to do anything.” Mae reasoned. “You’re really in it, aren’t you.” She shook her head. All of the nurses were boy crazy it seemed. Mae’s heart hurt, reminded of a time when that was her. But Billie looked so pathetic that Mae felt like she had to take her out of her misery. She reminded herself of when she was in the beginning butterflies stage, how big everything felt. 

“Hey, come on.” Mae called to Billie. “I gotta run an errand with the jeep. Do you want a lift back to your hut?” 

Billie was beyond grateful for Mae’s kindness. She didn’t have any other friends on the base who would stay quiet about Billie feeling some type of way over a man. Mae was a good friend and Billie was grateful this awful war had managed to bring them together. 

Billie stood and walked over to the jeep. All she could think about was her legs and she imagined Rosie looking at them. It didn’t make sense that she felt this way even though she was revealing less skin than she did with her flying costume. There was a time when she felt perfectly at home parading around with barely anything covered and now here she was. How had she turned into such a prude? She tied to shake out the nervous energy running through her. She wished she could go back to running but it was too late in the day now. 

She climbed into the jeep and finally let herself take a peek back in the direction of Rosie’s plane. Ken was standing facing away from her, gesturing to something in the engine. Rosie was standing facing her. Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach dropped, but then she realized that she was too far away for him to really see her. Even if he did see her he wouldn’t be able to realize who she was, she reasoned with herself. She didn’t have to get so worked up over nothing. 

“You good?” Mae asked as she jumped into the drivers seat and started up the jeep. 

“All good.” Billie nodded.

Mae pressed on the gas and drove them away from Rosie, Billie’s heart somehow sinking the further and further away they got. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep her game up.

______________________________________________________________

Billie made more progress on her scarf in the past couple of weeks than she had her entire stay at Thorpe Abbotts. She was down to only going out with the girls once a week. No matter how much they begged, Billie couldn’t get herself to risk it. The girls were worried about her, that much Billie knew. Barbara had given her no option but go out with them that night and Billie figured her plan was to get Billie drunk and force her to talk. She didn’t know how to explain how she was avoiding a pilot she’s never talked to, only stared at once and now can’t stop thinking about. She couldn’t explain how crazy and obsessed she felt. Barbara wouldn’t be able to understand that she can’t let herself be around Rosie.

Plus there was the fact that he was a pilot. They were in the middle of a war. It was hard enough waiting for Rosie to come back from missions as it was and she didn’t even properly know him. The anxiety would be too much for her to handle if she got closer with Rosie. The potential heartbreak too much, but Billie was one to always be at odds with herself. She wanted Rosie but she was too scared to do anything about it; she knew leaving him alone would protect her heart but it seemed more heartbreaking to not try and get to know Rosie with each passing day. 

Rosie had burrowed himself deep under Billie’s skin and it was almost irritating. He was changing everything for her. Billie was used to having to constantly saying goodbye to people, used to good things happening only for brief moments. Billie was used to flings and moving on. Rosie shouldn’t have been different than any of the other men. But he was. 

Billie’s train of thought was interrupted by Barbara coming through the door already asking, “Who wants to go out with me tonight? I was thinking the pub. Billie, you’ll come if we go to the pub, right?” Barbara clasped her hands together and brought them next to her face while she did her best to give puppy dog eyes to Billie. 

“Really? The pub again?” 

“What’s wrong with the pub? You love the pub.” Barbara’s hands went to her hips, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Nothing is wrong with the pub. I just think you should stop avoiding Douglass at the officer’s club.” Billie shrugged as she focused back in on knitting. 

“I said we weren’t going to talk about him!” Barbara shrieked. Billie could’t help but bite back a laugh at her friend’s dramatics. 

“Sorry, my mistake.” Billie paused then sighed. There was really only one solution. She set her knitting down and got out of bed stretching her arms out over her head. “I’ll go with you.” Billie knew she wasn’t getting out of it so she might as well give in early. 

“And I didn’t have to fight you on it,” Barbara eyed Billie suspiciously. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Billie gestured to her knitting. “Just getting stir crazy. Head hurts from trying to count stitches.” 

“Well you can’t back out now! Hey, can I do your makeup?” Barbara’s eyes shined with excitement. 

Billie shrugged and said with a smile, “Let’s make it your night, Barbara. Do to me what you’d like.” She tried to play it off as if she was doing Barbara a favor but Billie had been keeping a secret. 

It was no secret Billie didn’t wear makeup and only occasionally let Barbara dress her up. But it was a secret that Billie actually loved having her makeup done. Growing up the hair and makeup tent was where she felt most connected to her femininity. She was always safe with those women who took her in and taught her all of the things her mother hadn’t. She’d never admit it to anyone but Billie found it to be almost spiritual being surrounded by women putting themselves together for a show. For years the only gentle touches Billie got were from the women in that wagon. She’d missed that. Part of why it hurt so much being cut from the shows  was because she lost the access to that feminine space. 

When she was looking at herself in the mirror right before leaving Billie was struck by how much she looked like her old self. She straightened her posture and composed herself. Everything felt more like a show when she went out looking like this. Billie gave her reflection a cheeky wink, smiled, and turned to follow the rest of the girls out of the door and into the night. 

It had only taken half an hour for Barbara to leave Billie’s side in favor of the minuscule dance floor. Billie had been expecting to be ditched and timed getting her next round with it; she loved how predictable Barbara was. Despite being on edge that Rosie would pop up somewhere, Billie was having a nice night. It was loud enough she could barely focus on her own thoughts which was something Billie appreciated more and more lately. She had a pleasant buzz going and was thinking that after this next drink she’d see what she could do about getting in on the dancing herself. She finally reached the bar and found a place right on the corner. 

She’d only been there a moment when, “Hey! Circus girl. How’ve you been?” 

Billie turned and Lieutenant Bailey was standing next to her. Her heart rate skyrocketed. If Bailey was here that meant the rest of Rosie’s crew, including Rosie, was there. “I’m fine.” she answered after a brief hesitation. “And you, Lieutenant? Your face seems like it’s healed up nicely.” 

“All thanks to your fine care and attention.” 

“Please,” Billie couldn’t help but smirk and rolled her eyes. “I had nothing to do with it and you’re lucky I didn’t. You’d probably be in worst shape if I did.” 

“Why are you so down yourself? Come on,” He nudged her with his elbow trying to encourage her. “Did you forget that you’re in the circus?” 

“The circus has nothing to do with this.” Billie laughed. 

“Hey, speaking of— Do your circus skills include playing darts?” Bailey asked, eyes wide with excitement. 

“That’s not a circus skill, more like a life skill. But yes, I can play.” Billie answered.

“Are you good?” Bailey pressed.

“I’m alright.” Billie hedged. She wasn’t sure if she liked the direction this was heading.

“Great! Do you want to come over and play with me and the guys? We’re down one since Rosie wanted to stay at the officer’s club. We can make a bet out of it, I’d split it if we win.” 

“When we win.” Knowing there was no chance she’d run into Rosie, Billie was all in on playing darts. She used to play a bit when they first got to base but it had been a while since she’d taken it on and she was looking forward to it. It helped that she knew these men wouldn’t be expecting her to be as good as she knew she was. She wasn’t incredible, but she could hold her own. Billie also couldn’t resist the temptation to try and get some sort of information about Rosie. She was a woman obsessed. 

“Now there’s some confidence!” Bailey cheered. 

Finally the bartender stood in front of them and asked them what they wanted. Once they were loaded up with their drinks and some for those back at the table the two made their way to the back of the room where the dart board was set up. 

“Fellas, this is Billie our resident circus nurse.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Billie laughed. 

Bailey continued undeterred, “Billie, this is our copilot Pappy Lewis and our bombardier Clifford Milburn. They’re going to be very upset when we take all their money.” 

“You two are going to be the ones losing money, not us.” Milburn joked. 

 The game got underway and it didn’t take long for Pappy and Milburn to realize that Billie could more than hold her own. 

“What a shot!” Bailey let out a cheer when Billie hit the bullseye. “How you feeling boys?” 

“Where did you learn to play darts?” Pappy asked Billie before taking a sip of his beer. “Last time I checked they weren’t a part of the circus.” 

“You do know I had a life outside of the circus, right?” Billie said, partially lying. The circus had been her entire life but that didn’t mean she wanted them to know that. “But I learned the same as you did. Someone taught me and then I practiced until I was good to take your money.” She hit the bullseye again to finish her turn. “You should just be glad I’m playing with Bailey. If I had Eddie with me you wouldn’t have a chance at all.” 

“Is Eddie your boyfriend?” Milburn asked. 

Billie shook her head. “No, he’s my younger brother. You’d never guess we were three years apart, he’s more like my twin.” A wave of grief swept over her when she mentioned Eddie. She wondered how he was holding up in training. If he’d jumped out of a plane yet. She took a deep drink of her beer, wishing it was whiskey instead. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Bailey was the one to ask this time.

Billie choked on her drink. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that Rosie’s crew was asking about her love life when she felt practically head over heels for their pilot. 

“I take that to be a no?” Pappy was laughing at her. 

Billie wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Pretending she wasn’t losing it on the inside she calmly answered, “You would be correct. Now I believe it’s your turn, Lieutenant.”

After winning best three out of five Billie and Bailey were the undeniable winners. Milburn and Pappy had wanted to push for five out of seven but Billie begged off. 

“I have an early morning tomorrow and I can’t bounce back from a night of drinking like I used to.” Billie downed the last of her drink and set the glass amongst the dozen other empty glasses on the table. 

“You’re too young to have hangovers like that.” Pappy said, confused.

“Not when you started drinking as young as I did.” Billie shrugged. People tended to age differently in her profession. 

After saying her goodbyes Billie made her way to the door while looking around for her friends. She needed to find at least Barbara and figure out who was ready to go back to the hut. To her surprise the girls were already gathered to the side of the door talking amongst themselves. 

“There you are!” Barbara cried when she saw Billie walking towards them. She pushed through June and Mae to pull Billie in for a hug. “I lost track of you!”

“I was just playing darts.” Billie was confused how Barbara could have lost her in the relatively small pub, but then she took a whiff of Barbara as they hugged and could tell that Barbara had more than her fair share of whiskey over the course of the night. 

“You didn’t see that?” Mae asked. 

“You did?” Barbara responded. “Why didn’t you say anything when I asked?”

“I honestly wasn’t paying attention.” Mae said with half-assed shrug. “Sorry, Barbara.” 

“It’s okay, now I don’t feel as bad when I tune you out when you’re talking about your repair details. You know we can’t keep up with that stuff I don’t know why you keep trying.” Barbara snapped.

“Oh come off it, Barbara.” June cut in. 

Bille had a clear look at the door in the space between Barbara and June and blankly stared out of it while the girls continued to chatter on besides her. She was waiting for a break in the conversation to say that she wanted to leave when someone came through the door. A someone that she was not supposed to see. 

Bailey had said that Rosie would be at the officer’s club but there he was a couple of yards in front of her. Her first instinct, that she was quick to act on, was to move to the side so that June was shielding her from any possible view Rosie could have of her. Her mind was racing. She watched Rosie out of the corner of her eye as he slowly made his way through the room. He was good with the men. She liked how he seemed to check in on everyone in some capacity; he made the effort to see every man and to make sure they knew they were being seen. She could tell he cared a lot and his men knew he cared, and her heart sped up even more. She was beyond enamored with him and she didn’t even know him. She felt ridiculous. And lucky. Christ, she was lucky that she’d left his crew when she did. That could’ve been a disaster. 

It was around when Rosie got to his crew that Billie realized the girls had gone quiet around her. She looked back to see all three looking at her. 

“Care to share with the class?” Barbara asked, eyebrow raised, a wicked grin on her face. 

“What are you talking about?” Billie tried to play it off. 

“Who were you looking at? Who managed to catch your eye? I’ve been waiting for this day for forever! Who is it?” Barbara rapidly fired the questions off one after another. 

“Why are you so invested in my love life?” Billie asked.

“Love life! So there is a man! Quick, who is it? Come on, tell us. Tell us. Tell us.” Barbara was acting like a child, drunkenly pulling on Billie’s arm as she begged Billie to share her secrets. June and Mae were looking at the pair laughing. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, seriously. I was just looking around. Leave it be.” Billie said, but she knew it wouldn’t work. She knew these girls wouldn’t give up. 

“You know, I think Rosie just got here.” Mae was looking back at the group playing darts. The rest of them followed her gaze and though she wasn’t sure if the rest would, Billie recognized Rosie’s back. 

“I said leave it be, please, Mae.” She begged all but confirming that Rosie was her man. 

“Fine, fine.” Barbara threw her hands up in the air in defeat. “We’ll leave it be. But just for now!” 

“Barbara!” Billie groaned.

“What did you expect?” June looped her arm through Billie’s. “You know how she is.”

“You’re right.” Billie sighed. She lowered her voice so June was the only one who could hear her. “It’s just that there’s really nothing to talk about.”

“If you say so.” June accepted but her face revealed her doubt. 

Billie decided not to fight it and turned to look back at Rosie just in time to see him clap Pappy on the back, celebrating a good throw. Their celebration died down a bit and then all of a sudden Rosie turned around and looked in Billie’s direction. Faster than she’s ever moved Billie whipped her head around with such force her body followed and she pulled herself and June out towards the door. 

“Okay, I guess we’re leaving.” June laughed, taken by surprise with Billie’s sudden movement. 

They walked out of the pub and out into the night. June waited until when they’d gained enough distance between them and Barbara and Mae to ask, “Do you want me to say something to Barbara about Rosie? I can make sure she doesn’t give you too much grief.”

Billie was touched at June’s kindness. She didn’t have a lot of quality girl friends growing up and it felt so good to have someone like June in her corner. She squeezed June’s arm and gave her a smile. “It’s okay. It was going to come out at some point. It’s just silly is all. I’ve never talked to him, just seen him from afar.”

“He’s quite striking isn’t he?” June asked. 

Billie blushed as she agreed. “And it scares me.”

“Really?” June laughed. “Your concept of scary is all out of sorts. Normal people are scared about throwing themselves in the air hundreds of feet above the ground, not about talking to a man. You’ve got it all switched around.”

“You know what it’s like. He’s a pilot.” Billie felt it went without saying how risky it was to try to get involved with these men. Heartbreak was practically inevitable. She’d never admit it out loud but she was terrified of ending up like Mae. “If I could change it, I would.” Billie whined. “But I can’t stop thinking about him. I know I should just do something. Because the waiting really is getting to me. I can’t avoid him forever.” she pouted. 

“It sounds like you’re putting off the inevitable, darling.” June patted Billie’s hand that was resting on June’s arm. “You’re bound to meet at one point or another. And then whatever is going to happen will happen. Just let it play out.” 

“You’re good at this advice stuff.” 

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” She leaned into Billie’s side. “Eleven siblings.” 

“Eleven? Christ, your mom must be a saint.” 

“She’d like to think so,” June laughed. 

The rest of their walk home was filled with June’s childhood stories, Billie marveling at the similarities with her own upbringing. 

As she laid in bed that night Rosie came back to her mind. She wished she was able to get a better look at him. The problem with avoiding him was that she only got the barest of glimpses. One of these days she’d see him up close. She just wasn’t sure what was going to happen when she did. 

______________________________________________________________

When Billie made her way down to the hardstand to wait for the men to come back from the day’s mission she wasn’t surprised to see a group of airmen playing volleyball. They were laughing, messing around with each other. It always warmed Billie’s heart seeing the men act like they were back home. It was rare to feel normal, it was hard to be able to brush off the looming realities of war surrounding them. Billie was glad that they were able to live in the moment. It had been a while since she’d watched one of the games so she headed to that end of the strip. 

Billie was about twenty yards from the game when she recognized that Rosie was among them. Without even having to think about it, Billie immediately turned and started down in the opposite direction. She walked alongside the edge of the tarmac, saying polite hello’s to those who greeted her. Rosie wasn’t flying and that surprised her. She wondered what had happened, if something was wrong with him or the plane. She reasoned it was more likely something had happened to the fort, she’d have heard if Rosie was unable to fly. That sort of gossip wouldn’t stay quiet. 

“All done for the day?” Mae asked when Billie plopped down on the ground next to her.

“Done for now.” Billie had changed into a set of coveralls that Mae had lent her at the beginning of her stay at Thorpe Abbotts. She knew that she was gong to have to change back later that day when she had to go into the hospital for an inventory check but for the afternoon she was staying in pants. She missed being able to wear pants all the time. Billie pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She rested her head onto of her knees and looked at Mae. “How much longer until they’re back do you think?” 

“Should be any time.” Mae answered. Billie hummed and then closed her eyes. Mae worked in silence for only a couple minutes before asking, “Didn’t want to watch the game?” 

Billie knew Mae wouldn’t miss anything. “I wanted to hang out with you, is there anything wrong with that?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, you’re just deflecting.” 

“I’m not deflecting anything!” Billie’s head shot up as she shot a look at Mae. 

“You’re right. You’re in denial plain and simple.” Mae reasoned. 

“Come off it, Mae.” Billie was mortified to be speaking aloud about this, even though no one around them knew what they were talking about. Billie’s chest was tight knowing Rosie was just down the stretch. 

“You know he used to play baseball? Football too.” 

Billie groaned. “I did know, actually. You told me a couple of days ago at lunch.” 

“Doesn’t hurt to be reminded.” Mae shot Billie a wink. “Athletes tend to stick together, right?” 

“Are you trying to say you consider me an athlete? Because I’m going to have to put a stop to that right now.” 

“You’re as athletic as he is.” Mae reasoned. 

“But I don’t do anything athletic!” Billie pouted. 

“You run.”

“Other than running.” Billie dismissed Mae’s point with a flippant hand wave. 

“Are you trying to say you didn’t do anything athletic back home?” 

“I mean… yeah, I used to. But not anymore.”

“Just like he doesn’t anymore.” Mae was looking at her with a smug expression. 

Billie was cut off from responding by a group of the local kids running by them. One of them, Sammy, stopped to say hello to Mae.

“How’re you doing today, Sammy?” Mae asked. 

Sammy shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.” Billie commented. 

“Hey, do you want to see something fun?” Mae asked Sammy. Her eyes were twinkling like she had something up her sleeve. 

His eyes lit up. “What is it?” 

“Well, first I have to let you in on a little secret.” She used a finger to beckon Sammy closer and said in a quiet voice, “Nurse James here used to be in the circus.” 

“The circus!” Sammy shouted. He’d caught the attention of some of the other kids. “You were really in the circus?” He asked Billie. 

“I grew up in the circus.” Billie answered. 

Sammy’s eyes were wide with excitement. “With elephants?” 

“No, we didn’t have any elephants. But for a while we had a lion.” 

“You had a lion!” another kid, Billy, joined the conversation. “Did he ever bite anyone’s head off?”

“Sorry to say, Billy, no one lost their head to the lion.” 

“Why did you leave the circus when you had a lion?” Sammy asked. 

“Well I had to come here and help, didn’t I?” Billie simplified her past for the kids. 

Mae cut in, “Why don’t you ask her what she used to do in the circus.” 

“Mae—” Billie started but was cut off by questions from all around her asking what she could do. 

“Maybe if you are good she’ll show you something.” Mae egged on the kids. “I heard she can do a cartwheel.” 

“I can do a cartwheel too!” One of the girls, Mary, raised her hand. 

“Can you?” Billie asked with a smile. “Can I see?” 

“Only if you go too.” Mary reasoned and Billie laughed. 

“Fair enough. I walked right into that one didn’t I?” Billie got to her feet and followed the girl out to the other end of the hardstand and out onto the grass. 

Mary did a decent cartwheel and Billie and the others watching all clapped. “Wait, wait. I can do a better one! Wait!” Mary rushed out before Billie could take her turn. Billie was impressed with how seriously the girl was taking her cartwheel. Mary composed herself then did another cartwheel, this time in better form.

She was beaming when she came running back to Billie. “Now it’s your turn!” 

“Alright, alright.” Billie checked if the space was clear behind her before taking a good couple of steps back. She took a deep breath then said, “Here you go!” 

Billie did one cartwheel, and then another. A third cartwheel. She started what looked like a fourth cartwheel but instead Billie halfway into it she went up into a handstand. Now this was fun. Billie loved handstands, so much so that growing up Eddie would tease Billie for being steadier on her hands than feet. Walking on her hands Billie chased after Sammy who was cackling. 

Billie came to a stop then pushed her arms out to full extension, took a breath, and lowered her legs slowly into the splits. While her breath was steady her core was trembling; it felt so good. Billie knew she wasn’t going to fall but also that she was going to be feeling this for the next couple of days. She held the splits for only a moment before pushing off the ground and flipped herself right side up finishing the cartwheel. 

The kids swarmed around her, giggling and begging her to do it again. What else could she do? Does she know how to do a flip? Billie noticed that more heads were turned in her direction. She didn’t have an outright crowd, but the kids surrounding her weren’t the only ones watching. It took all of Billie’s self control to not look over at the far end where Rosie was playing volleyball. She didn’t want to know if any of them were looking at her. If she knew Rosie was looking at her Billie wouldn’t be able to handle it. But deep down she didn’t know if she was going to be able to get out of this one unseen. She couldn’t help but wonder what he would think about her doing something so unladylike. One of the girls tugged on Billie’s arm pulling her attention back to what she was doing. She blushed when she took in the girl’s eyes, wide with shock and awe. 

Even though Billie didn’t get cravings for an audience like the rest of her family she still appreciated aspects of the attention. It fed a sense of ego Billie was embarrassed to admit she had. It was one of her shameful secrets: she wanted to be remembered. As much as she hated her childhood and the way she was brought up, Billie knew there was a magic to the circus. It was an experience and something that stayed with attendees for the rest of their lives. People didn’t forget the circus and there were hundreds of people back in America that remembered Billie even if they didn’t know it was her. Everyone, no matter their age, ended up with the same childlike joy when they went to the circus. It was that reaction Billie cared about. It was only that reaction that pushed her to show off in front of the kids.

She desperately wanted to make sure the kids don’t forget about her. She wanted to live on through them. Less selfishly Billie wanted to counteract any bad vibes that may come when the mission came back. Entertaining people was work, but Billie was coming to think it was a necessary work. At least in these circumstances.

“Alright, alright. Give me some space.” Billie said gently. “Now just give me a moment.”

“What’s she going to do now?” The kids asked each other. 

Mae answered for Billie, who had turned and was walking further down the hardstand out of earshot. “I think you best find yourself a seat for the show and find out.” 

Billie spent her walk down the hardstand stretching out her arms and finished with a couple of lunges on each side. She was relatively warmed up but she didn’t think it would be wise to try and pull anything fancy. Her audience didn’t know what she could do, all they would care about was what she did. And she knew she could do enough to give them something to smile over. Once she felt like she was far enough away to have room for a couple of stunts Billie turned back around to face her audience. More men were looking at her than before but Billie let their stares roll off her back. 

Billie took a deep breath then jumped in place a couple of times. “Are you ready?” She yelled down to the group of kids huddled by Mae. Instead of waiting for their response Billie started running and leapt into a series of stunts that had her flying past the group huddled around Mae.  Billie couldn’t help but laugh when she stuck her final landing. The kids cheered while the onlooking adults clapped. Someone let out a whistle. It was such a gift to get such reactions. She vaguely registered there were more people looking her way but stayed focused on the kids. 

“Shall I go again?” She lifted a hand to cup behind her ear, waiting for the response she knew was coming. As soon as she heard the first cheer she set off tumbling back down along the hardstand. This time when she finished she sunk into a deep curtsy. 

When Billie pulled herself back up some of the kids were already at her side. She laughed as they talked over one another. It was so rare that Billie saw reactions to her tricks up close and personal that the reactions from the kids were overwhelming. She started to walk back to Mae but the kids were making it hard to move. Billie stumbled which caused the two kids in front to back up and give her more space. When Billie looked up after thanking them for giving her the space to move she was looking directly Rosie. 

And Rosie was looking at her. He had broken away from the game to stand where the grass met tarmac. He’d been watching Billie. His hands were on his hips and a smile was lighting up his face. It was a smile aimed at her, a smile because of her. He was looking at her like he was endeared by the sight of her barely being able to move with the kids surrounding her. She knew the kids were talking to her. She knew she should be paying them attention. But she couldn’t pull away from Rosie. 

She’d been wondering if it was all just a fluke; Billie had figured she’d made mountain out of a molehill. They had looked at each other once, it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. Billie had settled into thinking she was experiencing the effects of an overactive imagination and it being over a year since she’d had her last fling. 

But this wasn’t like what she had convinced herself. Because, again, the eye contact with Rosie felt like the most real thing she had ever experienced. She didn’t understand how something as simple as eye contact could make her feel like this. It felt like she was flying. They stared at each other from across the hardstand, neither one of them paying any attention to what was happening around them. 

Billie was ripped away from Rosie by one of the younger girls asking, “Can you go at it again? Oh please, can you?” 

“Come on, Susan,” Mae cut in. “Let Nurse James take a break and catch her breath.” 

“Just a quick breather and then I can go again.” Billie echoed what Mae said. 

Her face felt like it was bright red and she was looking everywhere but back at Rosie. Now that she’d broken the eye contact she was terrified to look back his way. 

A shout rang out, “I think I hear them!” Everyone’s attention went to the sky.

Sure enough, the hum of plane engines was building in the distance. As it grew louder it became clear that the engines didn’t sound right. From just the sounds of it, it was a rough mission. The first fort came into view— two engines down. Red flares. More forts broke through the clouds, red flares from almost all. Billie wanted to throw up. 

“Alright kids, time to get back home.” Mae called to the kids as she stared up at the planes coming in. Her face was blank, eyes empty. Billie knew she was thinking about who they lost this time. 

“Hey, Billie!” one of the ambulance drivers was jumping into the front seat of an ambulance parked back behind where Billie was standing. “Hop in, we’ll need your help.” 

Billie ran to the passenger seat and before she even closed the door they were off speeding down the tarmac to where the first plane had taxied to a stop. The call for an ambulance came from the co-pilot shouting out his window. Billie leapt to action, grabbing a stretcher and running over to where the men had started jumping out of the back hatch. 

“Come give us a hand!” 

Billie helped pull the wounded gunner out and loaded him onto the stretcher. They’d made it halfway to the ambulance when he looked up and made eye contact with Billie. He stared at her, glassy eyed and confused.

When he realized who she was he groaned, “You’re not going to drop me, are you?” 

“Trust me, Lieutenant, you would much rather have me carry you than try to patch you up. My girls Barbara and June are going to take much better care of you.” 

That seemed to comfort him and once they loaded him up into the ambulance Billie ran back into the mess. 

______________________________________________________________

It was one of the few sunny days they had seen at Thorpe Abbotts in a while and Billie refused to let it go to waste. It was only ever when the sun was out that she really remembered just how much she loved being in the sun. If her old self, the one who spent summers in the deep south, could see Billie now wishing for the sun and heat she’d lose it. Billie had managed to convince June to join her on a makeshift picnic not wanting to lounge alone in the fall sun. She had just sent June off to scavenge for something they could bring out for lunch. June had said she’d made friends with a woman who worked in the kitchens so Billie didn’t feel bad about putting her friend to work.

Once Billie got the blanket sorted she tossed down her book and sat down. It took a minute to find a comfortable position in her uniform skirt, but she eventually made do. Out of everything Billie had to adjust to when she became a nurse it was the skirts that were the hardest; Billie missed her pants. She grabbed the copy of Frankenstein she still hadn’t managed to finish and opened up the back cover. She pulled out a letter she’d stuffed there earlier and put the book back down on the ground next to her. 

Billie was proud of herself for waiting until June left her alone on the blanket to open her brother’s letter. It had taken every ounce of strength but Billie knew she needed to wait until she was alone to take in her brother’s words. It was different now. Despite what her anxiety prepared her for it was a fairly normal and simple letter. There was a story about his friends, questions about how she was holding up, and reassurances that he was okay. Eddie’s voice practically jumped from the page making it easy for Billie to hear her younger brother’s enthusiasm. He was having fun on this grand adventure or however it was young boys looked at war. Billie’s heart tightened as she thought about how naive Eddie was, how young and innocent. She’d been seeing her brother’s face in almost every new recruit lately. It was getting tiring. 

Billie was so focused on the letter that she just barely registered someone sitting down next to her. She was surprised; she didn’t think June would get back so soon. She opened her mouth to say as such but—

“That from Eddie?” 

That was not June’s voice. Billie straightened up to full attention, her head snapping to the side where the voice came from. It was Rosie. 

His face was about a foot from hers and Billie couldn’t help but suck in a breath in surprise. Her face flamed. He leaned back, and what looked like a blush dusted his cheeks. At least she wasn’t alone in being embarrassed. The air between them felt charged. 

Right, he’d asked her a question. She had no idea how he knew her brother’s name but she answered, “Yeah, it’s from Eddie.” She looked back down at the letter in her hands. “They’re in the middle of training. He says he’s having a lot of fun.” 

“Well that’s good news.” he smiled reassuringly. 

“It is,” She agreed. “It’s just…” Billie raised her eyes to meet his again. “It’s not going to stay fun. Not for much longer.”

He gave her a soft smile, maintaining eye contact. He didn’t need to say anything for her to know he understood what she was trying to say. 

“But enough about me.” Billie twisted her body a bit so that she was facing Rosie a bit more head on. If he was going to act as if they were already five conversations in she would follow along. She waved a hand to gesture he should take the floor. “How is your day going?” 

“It’s going better now I’ll tell you that.”

“Oh is it now?” 

“It’s a recipe for success: a free afternoon, sunny and clear sky, and my favorite girl next to me.” 

Billie’s heart skipped a couple beats. “Is that right?” 

“I said it so it must be true.” Rosie’s smile warmed her right up like a double shot of whiskey. He wasn’t what she was expecting at all. She enjoyed the surprise, wondered where else it was going to go. They were already so far beyond any of her fantasies. Everything was so surreal. 

He picked up her book and thumbed through it. “How are you liking it so far?” 

“It’s good. Better than Moby Dick was. At least with this I can mostly follow along.” She thought about explaining herself but she doesn’t want to get into her sob story about wishing she could’ve gone to real school. 

“I think I know what you should read next.”

“A book recommendation? I’m flattered.” Billie briefly worried she sounded sarcastic but she meant it. Luckily Rosie’s answering smile told her he understood her perfectly. 

“The Great Gatsby. I’ve read it twice and it just gets better with each read. Plus it’s not that old so it’ll be far easier to understand than this.” He lifted the book in the air. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the classics.” Billie couldn’t help but think Rosie looked adorable as he tried to cover his bases in case he insulted her somehow. 

“Thank you, I appreciate the recommendation. I’ll check it out once I finish this. It was hard enough giving up on one book I don’t think I could forgive myself if it happens a second time.” 

Rosie smiled wider at that and Bille felt like she could explode from the inside out. “I can give you recommendations on anything, anytime you’d like.” 

Billie’s heart skipped a beat. Rosie was looking around trying to act cool. Billie could only see the side of his face and it was bright red.  

She debated what to say to cover the tension but then decided to lean into it instead of avoiding the awkwardness. Plus she liked seeing him blush. “How did you know my brother’s name?” 

Her question made Rosie squirm a little and Billie found herself thrilled at the response. She had an affect on him. He was reacting because of her. She felt oddly powerful, like some sort of mild femme fatale. It had been a long time since she was in a position like this with a man. It was way back before she ran away from home that she’d had her last fling.  

“I asked around about you.” Rosie confessed.

Her jaw dropped. “Really? What did people say?” She needed to know. 

He nodded. “Well I heard a couple of stories about some blood draws and stitches.” Billie groaned at his words and her face heated with embarrassment. Of course that would be her reputation.

“You’re fine.” Rosie sweetly reassured. He rubbed a hand down her back reassuringly. Billie’s chest constricted at the contact. Was this really happening? Rosie continued, “I also heard that you somehow seem to know something about every airman’s hometown. You can juggle, play darts, and like jazz.” 

“I wouldn’t say almost every airman, realistically it’s more like a handful.” Billie reasoned. Her face felt like it was on fire. 

“I gotta say, though.” Rosie said. “You don’t make sense to me.”

“I don’t make sense?” Why did that feel like it was the most true thing anyone had ever said about her? 

“It’s just that to some people you’re this quiet unassuming nurse but I’ve heard you do more than nursing. Supposedly you’re always running around looking for something to do or someone to help. It’s like you’re trying to do a bit of everything.” 

Billie didn’t know how to respond to that. “I feel like two different people sometimes.” Billie said softly. “It’s just that when I’m nursing …” she shook her head as she trailed off. 

“I want to know more about you.” Rosie said boldly. But he said it in the sweetest gentle voice. He was treating her with a delicate care she didn’t think she’d ever receive. 

Billie felt like she was going to have a heart attack. She was used to forward sexual advances, used to midnight trysts and pillow talk and never speaking again. She had no experience on the real getting to know you part of romantic feelings. “What do you want to know?” She asked. 

“Everything.” He answered. “I never want to stop learning things about you.” 

Billie stared at his face, taking him in. She’d been thinking about him for so long. For over a month she’d been left with her memory and fantasies. But now he was real. And the real Rosie wanted to know about her. “Come off it, you sweet talker.” her instinct was to attempt to tease. “You don’t mean that.” 

“I’m serious.” Rosie insisted. How was this happening? Billie was in disbelief. The possibility of him being this interested in her hadn’t been one of the scenarios she’d imagined would happen when she finally met Rosie. Attraction, maybe. This curiosity? No. 

“Alright then.” She straightened her posture and smiled at Rosie. “Pick something. You have to start somewhere or you’ll never get anywhere.” 

He looked unsure for a moment so Billie reassured, “You can ask about anything. I’m an open book with you.” With him she’d be anything he wanted. 

After thinking for a moment, staring up at the sky, he hesitantly asked, “How did you end up here? I mean, you normally hear about people running away to join the circus not people running from the circus.” Rosie seemed to be trying not to offend her, it was sweet.

Billie thought for a moment. She reached out to where the edge of the blanket met the grass. She ripped out a couple of blades. “My story is the same as everyone else’s I suppose. I felt like I should help so I did.” She shrugged then elaborated. 

“A lot of our performers over the years have been European so I was tracking the war for a while through them. Hearing about what was happening to their homes, their families… I knew it was only a matter of time until we got pulled in.” She took a breath. She wasn’t sure how deep she wanted to get with him. She had said that she would answer anything and Rosie deserved her full truth. “I’d wanted to run away from home my whole life. Growing up in the circus I couldn’t help but want a normal life.” She let out a weak laugh, “You know, for the longest time my dream was to live in one place for longer than three months. How sad is that.”

“But you’ve done that now.” Rosie gestured to the base around then. 

“I’ve done that now, you’re right.” She smiled at him, getting lost in his eyes again for a moment. She blinked. “Anyways, Pearl Harbor happened and it was all too real. I realized just how silly the circus is and how pointless my life was there. I wanted to be somewhere where I mattered.” She cleared her throat. “So I saw an advertisement for all the ways women could help the war effort and signed up. Since I had a basic understanding of first aid I felt like nursing was my best chance to do some good.” She laughed at how silly she’d been thinking she would make a good nurse and looked down at the grass in her hands. She stacked the blades together and then ripped them in half. “Plus I figured this way I could see whether or not I can handle the real world. My family wants me to come back after the war but I think I’d like to stay away.” 

“You’ve run away once, why would you want to do it again?” Rosie said. He was looking at her like he understood exactly how she was feeling. It was overwhelming.

“Exactly.” She raised her hand to toss the ripped up grass back out onto the ground next to the blanket. Rosie grabbed her hand from the air and Billie gasped. He was certainly forward but Christ, did she not mind. 

He lightly traced his finger along the scar on her palm, still red after her activities on the hardstand the day before. His touch gave her goosebumps. She didn’t dare say anything. She was too afraid of spoiling the moment. It seemed like Rosie had taken her hand without considering what he was doing. Billie couldn’t believe that she was really sitting out in the open with Rosie with him caressing her hand. She thought about her hands, her rough skin. The faint calluses that would probably never go away. Her hands weren’t smooth and pretty like the girls Billie figured Rosie was used to. He seemed like the type to fit in with the girls like Rebecca, the smart college girls with everything put together. But he was holding her hand, not Rebecca’s. For a moment Billie imagined what they looked like, sat close together and touching like this. Out in the open where anyone could walk by and see them. People would jump to conclusions. But… would she really mind? She shouldn’t be letting him touch her but he was treating her with a sort of reverence she didn’t think she deserved. She felt special and she wasn’t used to that. He let go of her hand and she slowly brought it back to her lap. 

“So were the clown rumors wrong?” Rosie asked.

“Is that what people are saying, that I’m a clown?” Billie laughed loud and bright. “At least there’s not a bet about it, or is there?” She thought for a brief moment then asked, “What did you think I did?” 

“I thought you could be anything and everything.”

“That’s not a real answer.” Billie teased. “But it’s funny you would say that because in the end there I really did a bit of everything.” She listed them off on her fingers, “Training, teaching, childcare, cooking, building stages, setting up lighting rigging, horseback riding” she trailed off, thinking. “Growing up in it I had no choice but learn how to fill any possible part that would need it. For the sake of the bet, however,” She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. “I was the best at the trapeze.” 

Billie looked up through her eyelashes at Rosie and couldn’t help but smile. He was so pretty up close. How had she avoided him for so long? She cleared her throat and sat back up. “We can pretend I didn’t tell you and you can get in on the bet if you’d like. I won’t even make you split it with me.” 

“You’re too kind.” Rosie chuckled. “But there was no bet, don’t you worry about it.” He lightly elbowed Billie in the side as he assured her. She loved the playful teasing. “The trapeze, huh? Flying up in the air?” Rosie asked. 

Billie blushed and nodded. She liked the look of awe in Rosie’s eyes. “I used to be in the shows more when I was younger but…” She shook her head to clear out a memory. “But now I’m an understudy and mostly help people train. Or back before the war I did. I’m here with you now.” She loved saying that, with you. She wanted to keep saying it to him. She couldn’t help but want to say it forever. 

It was quiet between them for a moment and Billie was struck by how much she didn’t mind the silence. It was comforting simply being around Rosie. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to try and soak up the warmth from the sun they rarely saw. She was utterly blissed out. She hadn’t been this happy in ages. She felt so safe. 

Rosie’s voice pulled her back to reality by asking, “What’s it like, being in the air?” 

Billie opened her eyes and turned her head to look at Rosie again. “What do you mean?” She knew what he meant but still joked, “You go up in the air constantly you would know.”

“But not like you. My air is nothing like yours.”

Billie smiled. She looked up at the sky, raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. She considered her answer. “I’d still bet we feel the same. I mean… I don’t know. There’s really nothing quite like it. I think it’s the only place I’ll ever feel free. Everything happens so fast it’s exhilarating.”

The sounds of laughter and cheers, shouts from some game or another comes from over the mess building. Billie thought about seeing Rosie the other day playing and blushed. He was having so much fun it was adorable. She wondered if he missed playing sports.

Rosie seemed to have followed her train of thought because he commented, “You looked like you were having fun yesterday.” 

Billie reached her arms out and leaned back to go to her original position of leaning back on her arms but when she put her left hand down it covered two of Rosie’s fingers. Her eyes jumped to his face and met his own eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure what she should do, leave it alone or acknowledge it somehow. She didn’t move, holding her breath. A beat passed, then two. Then Rosie moved his hand from under hers and brought down to fully cover Billie’s instead. She felt her face heat and she looked away from Rosie. But she didn’t move her hand. 

“I did have fun yesterday.” She said. “Playing with the kids is always a treat. How about you? How was volleyball? Did it make you miss your athlete days?” 

“Now what do you know about my athlete days?” His thumb rubbed the top of her hand. Goosebumps ran up Billie’s arms. 

“Just that they happened. That you’re talented.” she couldn’t stop herself. “You’re good with your men, and everyone respects you as they should. They prepared you well for being out here. You’re good at what you do.” she felt like she could go on and on but cut herself off before she got carried away. She desperately didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

His eyes were wide and she was pleased to see a blush on his face. “You’re not the only one who did some asking around, you can’t judge me.” She said. 

“No judgement.” He shook his head. “I’m flattered. Relieved.” He gave a weak laugh like he couldn’t believe what was happening to him. “No,” he finally answered. “I don’t miss my days of being a jock. It feels like I’m on a team here in some twisted way.” 

“That makes sense. War is a team sport of sorts.” Billie had to admit. 

The two settled into a conversation that started with the Yankees then turned to New York and the differences between the city and the countryside they now resided in. Things got quiet between them. The air was filled with sounds of the base around them. Life was moving on forward but for them it was still. Billie and Rosie seemed to be in their own bubble that both hoped would never end. But knew it had to. 

Billie looked at her watch and let out a groan. It was time to get moving to the hospital for her shift or else she’d be late. And she couldn’t stand to be late again. She turned to look directly at Rosie with a deep frown on her face. 

“I have to get going to work now.”

“Is that the case?” 

“I’m afraid so.”

“Then let’s get you on your way, shall we?” 

They stood and worked together to fold up the blanket. Billie held it tightly to her chest. Rosie  offered his arm out to her which she took, blushing. At this point she figured her face was just going to stay red whenever she was around Rosie. 

They talked as they walked, slower than Billie should’ve but she didn’t have it in her to pick up the pace. Now that she had Rosie she didn’t want to let him go. Selfishly she wanted him all to herself. She wished she could always stay by his side. Obsessed. She was obsessed and needed to calm down. But it was hard when Rosie seemed to be hanging on her every word. 

After a brief lull in the conversation Rosie said, “You know, I’ve been hoping I would run into you. I’m glad it’s finally happened.” 

Somehow Billie sensed that this was something he was nervous to share. “What do you mean?” She asked. 

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” he reasoned, “but when I saw you that night it was like my world stopped. Everything collapsed in on itself until it was just you and me and nothing has ever felt more right to me.” 

Billie was astounded. There was no way this was happening. She thought it was just her. But he had felt the same thing.  There was no way that something like this could happen to a girl like her. 

Rosie continued, “But you were always just out of reach. It felt like you were running away from me for a while. It didn’t make sense how I couldn’t find you, I mean the base isn’t that big.” He let out a self deprecating laugh. “I know it was all in my head, why would you be running away from me? What I mean to say is that I’m glad to be walking with you, talking with you.” He smiled sweetly at her and Billie felt her heart stop. “Thankful that you’re letting me be with you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, really.” Billie quietly insisted. 

“You know, for a bit I thought I imagined you. You were such a vision that night you didn’t seem real. You seemed the sort of thing a lonely boy would dream up after a rough mission. But then at the flak house Ron started talking about this nurse who lived with the circus and I knew it had to be you. It couldn’t be anyone else. Once I knew you were real I knew there was nothing for me to worry about.” He patted the hand she had resting on his arm. 

Billie was struck by his honesty. She’d never been with a man this open and upfront about how he was feeling. She supposed that when you regularly faced death you stopped holding things back. It was only fair for her to do the same. It was time for her to make a confession. If for no other reason than she felt like she owed it to whatever was happening between them to lean into the honesty. 

“I hate to say it, really, but you weren’t imagining anything.” Billie didn’t look at him when she said it. 

Now it was his turn to ask, “What do you mean?” Rosie slowed them down but didn’t stop walking.

“I wasn’t running away from you I was just … avoiding situations where we might cross paths.”

Rosie looked shattered. “Why would you do that?”

“You terrify me.” Billie simply said. 

At that Rosie brought them to a stop. “I scare you?”

“More than anything else.” Billie felt ridiculous saying it but she had to. “Nothing compares to you, could ever compare to you.” She looked down at her hands. A thought popped into her head that she didn’t want to ask but she couldn’t stop herself. “Why didn’t you chase after me?” 

They were about a hundred yards from the hospital. She knew she shouldn’t be having this conversation out where anyone could come up and ruin whatever this was. There were enough people around that it was only a matter of time until someone came and stole Rosie’s attention from her. 

“I wasn’t sure how to make ‘we made eye contact once and I haven’t stopped thinking about you since’ not sound creepy and off-putting. So I kept to myself.” he shrugged. “I had this feeling that it would happen eventually so I didn’t try to force it even though I’d hoped it would happen sooner.”

“I know what you mean. Even when I was avoiding you I knew it was pointless. I was only delaying the inevitable.” she shrugged. 

“Well we’re here now.” Rosie said. 

“Here we are.” Billie agreed. 

“Together.” Rosie smiled at her and Billie felt warmed all the way down to her toes. 

“Together.” She repeated with a giggle. 

“Billie!” June’s voice rang through the air. She was standing in front of the hospital, gesturing to her watch. Billie got the gist. It was time to get moving. 

She looked to say goodbye to Rosie but he said, “We never introduced ourselves.”

“Do we have to? We know who we are. Both of us asked around about each other.” Billie thought it was a bit pointless.

“It’s the polite thing to do, come on.” Rosie insisted. 

Billie pulled her arm from his and took a step away and turned to face Rosie. She dipped into a quick curtsy then stuck out her hand. “Billie James. Circus runaway. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

Rosie took her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Lieutenant Robert Rosenthal, but I’d like it if you called me Rosie.”

“That the only thing you’d like me to call you?” She raised an eyebrow with her lips stretched in a smirk. Rosie blushed but gave back a smile of his own as he matched her energy. 

“Oh I’m sure we can figure something else out, just you and me.” 

“I’d like that.” Billie said. They were still shaking hands, looking dopily at each other. 

“Billie! Let’s go!” June was getting close to being actually upset which was saying something. June tended to be the most even keel of their little group. 

She pulled her hand from his and started walking backwards towards the hospital, still facing Rosie. “It was lovely meeting you, Rosie.”

“It was past time, wouldn’t you say?”

“Beyond.” Billie agreed. “Thank you for spending time with me.” She turned before she could hear Rosie’s response. She broke into a light jog then burst through the door as she rushed out apologies to June. 

“I’m sorry I lost track of time.”       

“I should’ve known it was going to happen when I set him on you.” June reasoned. 

“You did this?” Billie never would’ve guessed June would be the type to meddle. 

“Yes, you’re welcome, I expect to be a bridesmaid in your wedding. Now get situated. We have more to get done than I thought. I still got you something to eat though.” June gestured to the back closet where they stored any personal things. 

“You’re an angel.” Billie gave June a quick hug. 

She could tell her friend was stressed and didn’t want to add any more than she already had, so Billie snapped to it and got right to work. June was right, there were enough patients and projects to keep her busy well into the shift. It wasn’t until she had a brief moment to eat some of the food June had gotten from the mess hall that she thought about Rosie. Or rather let herself keep thinking about Rosie. She didn’t think it was possible for her to stop thinking about Rosie. Nothing felt real. But it was. 

[comfortlesshurt]

OKAY, IT'S FINALLY HITTING

(will you guys hate me if I post this longfic a month later than planned?)

[cuteniarose]

Personally I find it really funny that based on what the twins said in the Book 2 finale re: having to tell their mom about what happened to Unalaq, it's literally canon that Unalaq's wife a) exists, b) is alive, and c) is just chilling in the Northern Water Tribe

She took one look at all the spirit fuckery her husband was getting up to and went "Well that's none of my business" and honestly I respect that

[blushinggray]

change of plans | master list

fuckboy!sero hanta x fem!reader

summary: Sero Hanta is a fuckboi if you've ever seen one. A smooth talker, tireless confidence, an amazing kisser... But you know he's going to become a much bigger headache than he's worth if you play into his little game. Problem is, he is way too good at luring you right back in.

total wc: 79k

NSFW 🔞 / tags / cw: university!au, no quirks, playboy!sero, slow burn, excessive flirting, fluff, slight angst, denial of feelings, pining, miscommunication, recreational drinking, recreational drug use (marijiuana), reader knows french, sero knows spanish, past relationships, meddlesome friends, smut, porn with (a lot of) feelings

you can also read on AO3

and special thanks again to leo @4xesp for helping me with the spanish in this fic and mia @pageantdisaster for helping with the french. i appreciate it so very much 🥹🙏

table of contents

🔞 — contains nsfw content

part 1 — birdfeeder

part 2 — aphrodisiac

part 3 — spider-man 🔞ish

part 4 — allons-y

part 5 — consequences 🔞

part 6 — sympathique 🔞

part 7 — reason

part 8 — mistletoe

part 9 — chance

part 10 — honest 🔞

part 11 — surprise 🔞

part 12 — querida [final]

[ishomieokay]

Masks We Wear (Chapter 1)

Teen and Up. 2.1k, canon-typical violence, ptsd, mental health issues, mentions of murder, morally grey!john, non-sexy-choking, anger issues, hints of mallory/john if you squint. part 1/44. AO3 link. part 2, part 3.

Right before turning eighteen, John Vogelbaum escapes the clutches of Vought. Always under the radar, he manages to live as a regular Joe for the next couple of years. Until one day, trouble comes knocking at his door in the shape of Grace Mallory. What does the CIA want to do with him, anyway?

Or, the one where Homelander is never born. A traumatized, socially-awkward John wanders through life trying to work out what to do with himself, and somehow becomes a member of The Boys.

Taglist: @discowizard88 Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Before there was a knock on his door, John already knew that he would have an unwanted visitor that night. He could sense it in the air. A peach-laced floral scent with woody notes. Middle-aged, definitely a female, and with a good-paying job. Most ladies around that part of town couldn’t afford such a luxurious brand of perfume. Unsure of what to expect, John opened the door slowly. He came face to face with a petite, gray-haired woman, quite unremarkable in appearance. This just made him all the more suspicious.

“Good evening,” the stranger said as if she hadn’t just shown up at his home in the middle of the woods, late at night and uninvited. “It’s Johnny, isn’t it?”

“John,” he corrected, voice sharp.

“Just John, then.” The stranger’s lips twitched subtly. “I’m Colonel Grace Mallory. I thought maybe it was time we had a talk.”

It would be quite easy, John mused, to laser this frail-looking woman into a pile of ashes and sweep her off his porch. Then again, she may not be alone. He had learned to be careful when it came to leaving witnesses behind. The last time he let his emotions get the better of him, John got thrown into a quite bothersome murder investigation and ended up taking on a new identity. Again.

At least his handlers had bestowed him with a generic enough name. One that allowed him to go unnoticed almost everywhere he went. These days he was always John, though never Vogelbaum. Not anymore.

“Colonel, you said? May I see an ID?”

“Naturally.”

Grace Mallory pulled out a laminated card that included her name and rank, as well as a picture of her. In the upper left corner was written CIA, and that gave him pause. It seemed this time it was not the local police he needed to worry about.

“Wowza, who would have thought? A tiny old thin’ like ya,” John said, letting through that subtle southern accent he’d developed for this particular persona. “So sorry, ma’am. One can never be too careful ‘round these parts, ya know? How may I help you?”

“I rather think it’s us who can help you, John,” Mallory replied, and he could tell by the twinkle in her eye that she was not fooled by his everyday-joe act. “We’ve been watching you for some time.”

“Oh,” John said, eyebrows shooting up to the top of his forehead, “that’s… not a creepy thing to say. At all.”

He silently reviewed some incidents from the past few weeks. A big, hairy guy tagging along behind him whenever he went on his morning jog. An Asian girl staring at him a bit too intently while he was fishing around for the best Avocado at the supermarket. What appeared to be a French tourist stopping to ask him for directions, as if it was just every day that a European decided to go on holiday to Des Moines, of all places.

For some time now John had been aware that he was being followed, but by whom and for what purposes was beyond him. He’d had his suspicions and was relieved to find he’d been wrong. “So, those weird folks who keep taggin’ along whenever I go downtown are all you, guys?” He asked, going for nonchalance. “Well, ain’t that something. Thought I was getting paranoid for a sec there.”

Mallory looked unapologetic. “Ah, you could tell. How embarrassing. Perhaps my agents need a bit more training.”

“Perhaps,” John replied, smiling thinly.

“You’re a very resourceful man, I have to say,” Mallory continued. “You’ve got a full set of records as John Gillman. An ID, a passport, a birth certificate, even a driver’s license. After doing a little digging, it’s quite easy to find that less than a year ago you didn’t exist, though. John Baldwin, John Harrison, and oh, John Freeman, isn’t that creative? - also sprung out of thin air.”

John’s hands flexed at his sides.

“Oh, heck, where are my manners?” he said, taking a step back to clear the doorway. "Would you like to come in? I was just about to brew some coffee!"

“Of course,” Mallory replied. Right when she was about to cross the threshold, she stopped. “Oh, I should say. The information I manage is also in the hands of all my associates. Killing me won’t help you keep your secrets under wraps. Quite the contrary, actually.”

John stared into the woman’s sharp hazel eyes. Getting rid of her would be quite easy. If he put a hand around her neck and squeezed just so, he could break her like a stick. It wouldn’t even make a mess. 

“Now, that’s just rude, ma’am,” he said, offering his most disarming smile. “I'd never raise my hand to a woman.  Especially one of your advanced age.”

Mallory’s eye twitched, but otherwise, she failed to react. She knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her. John closed the door and she followed him inside. He watched her through the corner of his eye as he poured coffee for them both. She took it black and with no sugar, which he found oddly fitting. John sipped at his cup and waited. The woman was watching him with a serenity that he found slightly unnerving.

“I’m here representing an independent group working under CIA supervision,” she said finally. “We call ourselves The Boys.”

“The Boys,” John repeated, blinking. “Uh, who came up with that?”

“I did,” Mallory shot back, unruffled. “We know who you are, John, and we are very interested in your talents.”

“My… talents?” John said, smile frozen in place. His tongue felt like it was made out of lead.

“You’re a supe, aren’t you?” There was an air of impatience around Mallory, now. As if she were getting tired of walking around the bush. “Don’t try to deny it, we’ve got a whole file on you. We know about Vought and the lab. About Compound V. We know about Jonah Vogelbaum and the others.”

There was a familiar prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes. John closed them, covering them with his hand. He took a couple of deep breaths, hoping it would go away. The air tasted like ashes and metal. It was a challenge to get the lasers under control but he did. He always did. He had a lifetime of practice.

“Fuck off.” John’s voice came out guttural and strange to even his own ears. He stared at Mallory through the cage his hand had formed. There was a curious look in her eyes. “You think you know shit ‘cause you read some file? You’ve no idea what happened in that lab. Not a goddam clue! ”

“You’re right,” Mallory conceded. “I don’t.”

John adverted his gaze, feeling his mouth twitching. “The fuck does the CIA want to do with me? If it’s a supe you’re looking for, go to Vought. They’ve got a whole fuckin' parade of 'em.”

“Would if we could.” Mallory leaned back, crossing her arms. “The government isn’t all too happy with Vought these days. They’ve gotten sloppy. There’s blood on their hands and it’s gotten to the point the bosses can no longer ignore it. The purpose of our group is to take the company down.”

“Take Vought down,” John repeated, blankly. He stared at Mallory for a long moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. “You want to take Vought down?  You?  Right, course you can. I mean, it’s just the most powerful, dangerous, and corrupt organization in the whole wide world. Easy peasy.”

“How skeptical,” Mallory said, seeming unconcerned by the mockery. “I assure you it can be done, although I can see why you wouldn’t think so. It's normal for you to be afraid of them, after what they did to you.”

It all happened in the blink of an eye. One second, John was sitting at the table, laughing at her and sipping at his cup of coffee, and the next one he had Mallory hanging by the throat, feet dangling a few good inches off the ground. She took him by the wrist, instinctively trying to pry his hand off.

“You’re real fuckin’ ballsy for a woman, you know?” John said, staring at her icily. “That file you have on me - does it say what I can do? It must. My handlers were so very diligent about documenting my progress.”

“Yes, it does,” Mallory said, and his grip tightened.

“And still you came here alone, no backup, and with that goddam holier-than-thou attitude. I can’t decide whether you're being mighty brave or just plain ol' stupid, Colonel Mallory.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Mallory choked out, “it’s a very fine line.”

Something about her answer must have pleased John, because he smiled thinly and then let go of her. Mallory stumbled awkwardly to the ground. She struggled to catch her breath, hand clutching at her throat. “Whatever makes you think I'd be interested in your itty-bitty venture?” John asked, hovering over her. Mallory raised her eyes to look up at him, defiant even then.

“Revenge,” she said, voice low and rough. “We figured you may want to take revenge. On Vought. On Vogelbaum, and Stillwell, and fucking Stan Edgar. On all those people who tortured you and experimented on you before you’d even learned how to walk. Even if you were to tell your story, you and I both know they wouldn't face any repercussions. They get to live their lives freely, as rich and powerful as they’ve ever been. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

John considered her from above, frowning.

“… it does,” he conceded. “Perhaps I just wanna forget about it, though. Perhaps I’m at a point where I no longer give a hoot ‘bout gettin’ even. Did it ever cross your mind, or anyone’s in that sweet little clique of yours, that I might just wanna be left alone?”

“I think…” Mallory said, fixing John with a hard stare. There were already red stripes forming along the skin of her throat. “… that you’ve just proven you are a man with a lot of anger inside. There’s a dark, ugly thing festering inside you, isn’t there? I don’t blame you. I would be angry too, if I were in your shoes. I’m offering you a chance to unleash that anger on the ones who deserve it.”

There was a strange, watery sensation in John’s chest – a sense of exposure he wasn’t at all used to. When he’d decided to build his new life at a cabin deep in the woods, far from people, and noise, and the hustle and bustle of the city, it was to keep this sort of thing from happening. To have people peering inside and getting a glimpse of the real him.

“You sure make a whole lotta assumptions, old hag,” John said, throat dry.

“Maybe. You haven’t killed me yet, though,” Mallory said, eerily calm. "And I know that’s not for lack of ability. I think I managed to catch your attention.”

“And if you had? What then?” John asked, his every word slow and precise. He noticed how Mallory’s expression relaxed ever so slightly.

“I���d ask you to come with me to talk a few things over.”

Ah, I see what you are playing at, John thought bitterly. He felt his lips pulling backward and struggled very hard to suppress his grimace. You really think I’d let you box me up that easily?

“No, thanks. Ah’m not interested,” John said, smiling brightly at his visitor. Mallory’s disappointed look, however brief, was slightly satisfying. He turned around and started picking up the dirty dishware from the table. “Well, it’s gotten real late. You just go and mosey outta here, would ya?”

“Well,” Mallory said, standing up. “It was worth a try.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small card. “You can reach me through this number if you change your mind.”

Then she turned around, heading towards the door. John stared at her retreating figure. Just before walking out, Mallory paused. “I’m sorry if I brought back unpleasant memories,” she said without turning to look at him, “have a good night.” She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. 

John waited, perfectly still, but she did not reappear. After a few moments, he bent down and picked up the card she left behind. Agent Grace Mallory, it read - Colonel, CIA, Special Operations, and a number. He considered throwing it away but decided against it just as he was about to drop it into the bin. Instead, John put it in a small wooden box he kept in the living room. Hours after her departure, the flowery scent of Grace Mallory’s perfume persisted in his home.

[i-am-beckyu]

Writing for me atm be like this:

and this

and also this

Oh and can't forget this!

Yeah writing has been going great recently......

[risetherivermoon]

soooo yall know the second chapter of Don't Look Now thats been in progress for a while now? im almost done!!

this one is much longer than chapter one...bc last one was abt just terry jr and this one is about both lark and sparrow sooo

[svtskneecaps]

listen in the grand scheme of things i'm glad i let myself get back into minecraft content for this. like i haven't touched a minecraft series since like 2014, on purpose, but i saw clips of qsmp in march 2023 and thought, screw it. maybe it's time. and i don't regret it yknow? i saw multilingual server and thought 'that looks AWESOME' and it certainly didn't disappoint. my only regret is that everything went crazy and people logged off RIGHT when everyone finally started relying on the live translations more, which was something i've been dreaming of for months lmfao. all in all, just happy to be here. this stuff gave me new reasons to use my blog.

hell if this is actually an end or even just a pause maybe i can FINALLY write my FUCKING TIME LOOP FIC JESUS FUCKING I'VE BEEN COOKING THAT STUPID FUCKING THING SINCE LIKE MAY LIKE I WAS ON THE FUCKING FIELD AT MY COLLEGE GRADUATION CEREMONY WAITING TO WALK THE STAGE AND GET MY DIPLOMA AND I WAS WRITING THE FIRST STUPID CHAPTER OF IT LIKE GENUINELY BUT I PUT IT ON HOLD BC THINGS KEPT HAPPENING AND I WAS LIKE I SHOULD UNDERSTAND THE BIG PICTURE SO I CAN ACTUALLY PLAY WITH IT PROPERLY BC THE MOST FUN I HAVE WITH TIME LOOP AUS COMES FROM KNOWING EVERYTHING AND MESSING WITH HOW SIMPLE ACTIONS CAN ALTER THE PROGRESSION OF EVENTS AND CHANGE CHARACTER CHOICES LOGICALLY BC THAT STUFF'S COOL BUT I DIDN'T KNOW LIKE THE MYSTERY OF THE FEDERATION OR WHATEVER AND I WANTED TO SEE WHERE THAT WAS GOING SO I COULD SEE WHETHER I WANTED TO TOSS IT OR ALTER IT OR KEEP IT AND SEE NOW I'LL KNOW YKNOW AND NOW I CAN JUSTIFY SHIT LIKE "OH HEY PURGATORY'S HAPPENING IN JUNE THIS TIME BC I WANT THE BREAKFAST TRIO TO EXIST FASTER AND FUCK YOU" WITHOUT IT FEELING TOO WEIRD AND ALSO STUFF LIKE CODE LORE AND ALL THIS OTHER NONSENSE LIKE DAMN WOULD BE PRETTY COOL I MEAN ONE SINGLE FUCKING INTERACTION BETWEEN SLIME AND MARIANA COULD SEND ME CAREENING DOWN A PATH PREVIOUSLY THOUGHT UNIMAGINABLE I COULD MAKE THIS FIC THAT'S BEEN SIMMERING SINCE LAST MAY A REALITY I COULD DO IT THIS COULD FIX ME. THIS COULD FIX ME

but yeah i'm glad i allowed myself to get invested in this server. i think y'all are cool, and i think the admins did amazing with everything they were given even though they shouldn't have been given it the way they were, and the ccs were cool and i'm glad everything happened yknow. maybe things will keep happening and maybe not but yknow what. i became All Powerful. i started watching as someone who knew english and some french and now i am someone who knows english (100%), slightly more french (like 70%), a workable understanding of spanish (like 40%) and a slightly less workable understanding of portuguese (like 20%) they added german to nerf me specifically. they knew i was getting too powerful. yeah, i spent some time as a kpoppie, i have a tiny miniscule understanding of korean (5%) german i have 0 experience with they added german to nerf me and then this happened to nerf me further. make no mistake they cannot stop me. i will become all powerful.

like cmon. if it ends here it was never all bad. i don't even have to use google translate to understand roier shittalking in the chat. i can just read it. i couldn't do that before :D and i can make my chilean friend keysmash bc she's not used to me knowing any spanish at all

we've grown strong over the year, haven't we? i hope we will continue to, no matter what :D