#this is technically still a work in progress but I'm really pleased with how it's coming along

[kieran-hayward-art]

Miskatonic Hospital medical drama where the gay husbands are allowed to kiss at work when one of them loses a patient 🥺👉👈

[xspeter]

꥟ part of the “dancing with our hands tied” collection, Luke Castellan x Apollo!reader

꥟ IN WHICH… You discover that everyone at camp can tell.

꥟ W.C: 3k

Capture the Flag is a camp staple. It’s practically what makes the camp what it is! The battle strategy, the team work, the training.. it was perfect.

“Explain to your idiot boyfriend that we should get the Aphrodite cabin because he already has the advantage!”

“Just because we have more campers doesn’t mean we have the advantage! How many times do I need to say that?”

Clarisse and Luke have this argument nearly every week. Always fighting about who gets what cabin, which battle strategies were ethical and which weren’t, that whole ordeal.

You just wish they’d stop including you in it. Especially when you’re trying to clean a little boy's scraped knees!

You sigh, shooting the Demeter child a sorry look, but he doesn’t notice. Instead, he’s got a huge smile on his face as he watches Luke and Clarisse bicker like siblings. “They’re silly!” He giggles.

You smile, placing a blue band-aid on his knee and helping him off the bed. “Yep. Sooo silly.”

He doesn’t spare you a second glance as he leaves, and you’re partially grateful and partially offended. You don’t linger on the thought though, instead focusing the rest of your attention on the two fuming teens.

“You already have half the cabins in camp! Just because our cabins bigger doesn’t mean you get to hog everyone!”

“We aren’t hogging everyone-”

You rub the bridge of your nose, annoyance building in your temples. Are they aware that this is still technically your place of work? You don’t hang out in the infirmary on the daily just for fun. As Apollo Head Counselor it was literally your job to be there, and they were just making it harder.

“Okay, guys, calm down-”

They don’t listen, instead just getting louder and louder. Some of the patients are starting to notice, and seeing as majority of them are younger kids, it makes them nervous. And nervous kids in medical settings? Never a good mix.

“Luke, you’re literally so stupid it shocks me that you’re even still alive.”

“Right, because I understand basic math and you don't, I'm the stupid one. Makes complete sense.”

You sigh, glancing at a little girl that has started fighting the medicine your brother was trying to give her. It’s already been a struggle to even get her to lay down, and they had disrupted any progress you guys had made.

“Can you guys stop yelling, please?” You strain, watching as another little boy begins to cry when Clarisse practically screams fuck you! at Luke.

Again, they ignore you, and you’re starting to wonder if they can even hear anything you're saying. You wouldn’t be surprised if not.

“You know what, Castellan? Why don’t you take your math, and shove it right up your-”

“Okay!” You intervene, grabbing them both by their wrists and dragging them out of the building. Honestly, you’re still not sure they’re processing anything you’re saying or doing, because the entire time you lead them outside they glare at each other like two children.

Once you’ve gotten a safe distance from the patients and any prying ears, you smack both of them upside the head. Clarisse yelps while Luke’s hand immediately goes to soothe the spot.

“Are you guys deaf or just plain selfish?” You ask, nostrils practically flaring. “I mean, did you not notice the patients in there or did you just not care? Because to me it seems like you just didn’t care!”

They both have the decency to look at least a little bit ashamed, and for some reason it almost makes you feel bad. You're not sure if it's because of the genuine guilt on both of their faces, or just your constant need to please. You’re betting on the latter.

Luke swallows, sharing a glance with Clarisse before both of their gazes fall to the floor. “We’re sorry.” Clarisse mumbles, rubbing her arm uncomfortably. To most, Clarisse was rude and rarely ever apologized, but that was just to the people she didn’t know.

If you really took the time to know her, you’d discover she was just as lost as the rest of you. And underneath that hard exterior, there was a sweet girl begging to be found. You just had to be willing to look for it.

Luke nods in agreement, “Really, really sorry.”

Your eyes dart between the two of them, arms crossing over your chest. Some part of you wants to continue raging on them, you feel like it’ll be a bit therapeutic. But, the more rational part of you knows how serious they take the game, and sometimes they just get too into it.

“It’s fine,” You mumble, sucking in a breath and dropping your arms to your sides again. “Just, explain to me again whatever it is you guys are mad about.”

They both go to speak at the same time, and you realize you should’ve been more specific with your wording. You put a hand up to stop them, and quickly say, “Without arguing.”

You don’t miss Clarisse’s eye roll, but you choose not to call her out on it. Luke glances at the dark haired girl, and she gestures for him to speak a bit more aggressively than you think was necessary.

He sighs, turning to you with a slight smirk. It was his signature one, the one that practically dropped trouble. “Basically, Clarisse wants the Aphrodite Cabin because they have more campers, but she already has more than half the cabins in camp. So, I think we should be able to keep the Aphrodite cabin.”

You nod, “Which cabins does Clarrise have?”

The Ares child answers, “Demeter, Hephaestus, Dionysus, and Ares- obviously.”

You assumed that meant the other cabins were on Luke’s team, and if that was true, that meant he had the majority of the bigger cabins. Which meant that Clarrise should get Aphrodite.

But, the puppy dog look on Luke’s face makes your heart skip a beat, and you wonder if maybe you could bend your morals for him. Just this once. It was just a game after all, right?

Unfortunately, Clarrise has this knowing look in her eyes, like she knows what you’re thinking. It makes you feel small, so you do your best to seem as nonchalant as possible and say, “Then Clarrise should get it. But, maybe give Luke Dionysus? Since there’s only two of them.”

A huge grin overtakes Clarisse’s face, and she sticks her tongue out at Luke. “Ha!” She shouts, pointing a finger in Luke’s face. “I knew your girlfriend would agree with me.”

Luke rolls his eyes, a slight blush overtaking his cheeks at the word girlfriend. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. We’re still gonna beat you.”

Clarisse just shrugs him off, shooting you a wink as she walks away. Your friendship with Clarisse definitely was unexpected considering your clashing personalities, but you loved the girl like a sister.

Luke sighs dramatically, bottom lip jutting out a bit as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You really couldn’t have just given them to me?” You snort, you know he’s not really angry with you, which is why you roll your eyes with a grin.

“Sadly, no.” You shrug, “Besides, we both know you’ll be able to win without them.” It was true, Luke’s quick thinking and obvious knack for battle strategy set him up for success. But, it was also pretty well known majority of the kids in the Aphrodite Cabin would rather spend their time braiding hair and gazing at themselves in puddles. So, you didn’t think it was that hard of a loss.

Luke chuckles, “Why? Because they’d rather stare at their reflection then actually play the game?”

You pretend to think, scratching your chin and gazing up at the sky. “Um, yeah, exactly my point.”

He snorts in response, allowing you to lead him back into the infirmity silently. You almost find it strange how he doesn’t even question you. Just… follows. “I didn’t think you’d be so stereotypical, Sweetheart.” He jokes.

You shrug, “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Luke watches as you push the door open, immediately going to greet a waiting patient. She’s a little bit older, probably around Percy’s age, but you still talk to her gently and kindly. Still treat her like a little kid, but not in a condescending way.

Luke’s not sure how you manage it. It makes his heart flutter in his chest for reasons he can’t explain.

“Yeah.” He sighs, eyes trailing your every move. “You are.”

꥟

You didn’t particularly enjoy being stuck in the medical tent during capture the flag. Not because you wanted to actually play the game, no, but because you were completely alone.

Some of your siblings always offered to stay behind with you, but you never let them. They’d be miserable staying with you, even if they wouldn’t admit it. Thus, here you sat, alone.

It wasn’t all bad. You enjoyed the peace, a rare thing to get at Camp Half-Blood, and most of the campers were too hell-bent on winning to even bother stopping by. Which meant you got to enjoy the unusual serenity all by yourself.

The birds sing hymns that you don’t know the words to, and the leaves dance together like professional ballerinas. It’s all very beautiful, really.

At least it is until Percy Jackson rips through the trees, a wide smile on his face and his chest heaving. His eyes dart around the opening, before they finally land on you.

You're sat outside the tent, jean shorts surely stained an unflattering green color and shins covered in shards of grass.

“Oh! Good, you’re here.” Percy breathes, jogging over to you. You stand, doing your best to discreetly wipe at your butt.

“Yep. I’m..” You let out a sigh, “still here.”

Percy just sniffs, giggling a bit and bouncing on his toes. He looks like a little boy who’d just been told he could get his favorite candy from the store. “He got it.” He says.

You raise an eyebrow, “Who got what?”

“Luke got the flag.” He grins, “I’m supposed to wait here to make sure no Ares campers cross the threshold.”

You nod. The makeshift infirmary was placed directly on the invisible threshold, but you found it a little weird Luke would send Percy to lookout for incoming Ares campers here when majority of them would probably be somewhere deeper in the woods.

You knew that, and surely Luke knew that, which meant..

You give Percy a sympathetic look. It’s not his fault he gets… distracted so easily when playing the game, but you also understood how seriously Luke took this. It just sucked he resorted to lying to the kid instead of coming up with something else for him to do.

“I see,” You mumble, eyeing a small cut on Percy’s knee. “What if I patch that up while you wait?” You ask, gesturing to the cut with your chin.

Percy shakes his head, eyes never leaving the woods. “Can’t. Have to make sure no one crosses.”

You sigh, chewing on your bottom lip. Percy could be so stubborn, that’s probably why he and Annabeth got along so well. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, it’s so quiet you’ll be able to hear them if they do. Just come inside, alright?”

Finally, Percy tears his gaze away from the open area to you, and he’s got that familiar glint in his eye. Percy’s smart, he always had been. And you weren’t the best liar. “What do you know?” He asks suspiciously, pointing an accusing finger at you.

You throw your hands up in surrender, shaking your head. “All I know is that you’re bleeding and it’s my job to take care of that, okay? So let me do my job.”

You can see the inner battle in Percy. He wants to stay out and do what Luke told him, but he also knows the cut on his knee stings like hell. He sighs, lowering his hand and glancing cautiously to the clearing. “Alright… but, promise if we hear anything you’ll let me go back out?”

You smile, “I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied, Percy allows you to lead him inside and begin your work. The floor in the tent was still grass, which meant the chair he was sitting in was quite unstable on the ground.

He rocked on it, eyes going wide when it leaned just a bit too far back. You snort when he does, and he sheepishly rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

You begin your work with no words exchanged between you, instead humming a familiar tune.

“That’s the song you sing at the campfire, right? Here comes the sun?”

You nod, glancing up at him. Percy smirks, hands messing with his helmet. “Luke said that was his favorite song, and I could never really understand why because it’s just… it feels odd to me for someone like him to like that song. But I think I understand why now.”

You’d like to pretend that Percy’s statement doesn’t make you go pink in the face, but it does. Luke said that was his favorite song? Of course, it didn’t automatically mean it was his favorite song because of you, but… it was nice to imagine, right?

“He did?” You ask, clearing your throat and trying to be as causal as possible. “And why do you think you know why? It could just be because it’s a catchy song.”

Percy shakes his head, “Nah. Trust me, it’s definitely not just because it’s catchy. It’s cause-”

The deafening sound of footsteps interrupts the both of you, and you both share a look before Percy is darting out of the tent and outside. You follow closely behind, a fresh pack of band-aids still in your hands.

Luke is leading a chase, with a giant red flag in his hands and a wide grin on his face. Dozens of campers follow him. Percy runs to them, jumping up and down and screeching something you can’t make out. Everyone is laughing, grinning. Everyone except for Luke.

His eyes look over the scene, looking for something you’re not sure of. It’s not until they land on you that it clicks. He was looking for you.

Instantly, he shoves the flag over to some unsuspecting kid and rushes over to you. It’s such an exhilarating feeling, being the person he looks for. You aren’t sure when that had happened, or what you had even done to deserve it- you just know you’ll thank The Gods everyday for allowing it.

Luke’s arms wrap around your waist, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug. Instantly, your senses are overrun by everything Luke. You can feel him, smell him, practically taste him with how close he is. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time.

Your arms wrap around his neck, dropping the pack of band-aids in the grass and standing on your toes. You grin into his neck, “I knew you’d win.”

Luke snorts, giving you one final squeeze and backing away, but his hands remain at your waist. It makes you feel faint. “It was nothing, really.” He says with a shrug.

You furrow your brows, unconvinced. You know Luke is more than proud of his accomplishment, so why was he acting so easy going right now?

“Is that so?” You ask, swaying on your feet. “So, you aren’t going to be bragging to Clarisse for the next week about how you beat her?”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh, no, of course I am. But, I can’t say that in front of a pretty girl can I? Gotta play it smooth.” He squeezes your waist as he says it, and your cheeks instantly fluff. A pretty girl. He was calling you a pretty girl.

Compliments from Luke were hardly rare, but he never said them in front of so many prying eyes. And it’s then that you notice everyone staring at the two of you, most all have knowing smirks on their faces, but some look on in jealousy. You hate to admit that it almost makes you prideful.

You were the only one Luke ran too- the one he looked for. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

You look away from him, rolling your eyes and shoving at him playfully. “Shut up, you flirt.”

He pretends to look hurt, giving you his best puppy dog eyes and grasping at his chest. “Oh, how you wound me!”

You giggle and open your mouth to respond, but Clarisse's familiar screech of anger interrupts you. “Where is he?”

You raise your brows, watching as Luke winces. While he would be claiming bragging rights for the rest of the week, being around her right now definitely wasn’t the best idea.

You suck in a breath, whistling lowly. “I think you’d better run.”

Luke’s lips thin into a line, tilting his head. “Yeah. Probably.” But, he doesn’t move. Instead, he just stares down at you. You raise your eyebrows in confusion, “Are you going to go?” You ask.

Luke grins slyly, “Yeah, just one more thing..”

It’s then that you feel the familiar warmth of Luke’s lips on your cheek, suspiciously close to your mouth. But, just as soon as he was there, he was gone. Running off and leaving you flustered and alone.

Your hands intertwine in front of you, a large cheesy grin on your face. You turn and begin walking back to the tent to clean up, but everyone’s eyes on you stops you. You glance down at your clothes, and then feel your face, checking for something- anything.

When you don’t find anything, you let out a nervous laugh. “What…?”

Everyone shares a look, one that you know all too well. You let out a groan, hands running through your hair, “It’s not like that!”

Percy shakes his head, “Yeah, okay. Of course it’s not.”

You just roll your eyes and storm into the tent. They were seeing things that just weren’t there! Luke was your best friend, and it was normal for best friends to be affectionate!

Hugs, compliments, cheek kisses… there was nothing else going on. Luke was just your friend being happy to see you.

That was all.

taglist: @apolloscastellan @ddarling-ddearest-ddead

[shardsofmarxx]

Sleep Well | Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Criminal Minds songfic based on/inspired by the song Sleep Well by d4ad. Angst/fluff

Summary: After having an argument with Spencer, you storm to your hotel for the night so you can get some sleep and take your mind off the argument, but you end up having a bad nightmare and you don’t know who else to call… (Told from reader's POV)

Warnings: Nightmares, violence, argument, general CM themes. (Nothing too graphic.)

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: My first fic!!! I'm so excited to start sharing my writing with you guys, and I really hope you all enjoy this fic! I'm planning on making songfics a regular thing on my blog, so feel free to request any songs you'd like me to write about in my ask box! (As well as any other things you'd like me to write about.)

As you were putting on your bulletproof vest in the conference room, you heard someone open the door. You looked over to see Spencer glaring over at you, his bulletproof vest already on.

“What are you doing?” he asked in an accusatory manner, clearly bothered by something. 

You paused for a few moments, confused and taken aback by his tone. “I’m getting ready to head out with the rest of the team. Is something wrong?”

“What's wrong is that you're getting ready to go to the field when you know you're not supposed to.” 

You let out a small sigh, realizing what this was about. Technically, he was right; you weren't allowed to be back in the field for another few days due to the ear injuries you sustained when a bomb went off a little too close for comfort during one of the BAU’s cases about a month ago. However, you were very careful in your day-to-day life, and the doctor said you were making rapid progress in terms of your healing.

“Spence, I only have a handful of days left, and considering the kind of unsub we're dealing with, I'm sure it's fine.” You paused for a few moments before continuing. “Plus, I have earplugs,” you said while turning your head in both directions so he could see them. Unfortunately, he still wasn't convinced.

“It doesn't matter, Y/N; you haven't been cleared by a doctor yet, so you can't go out into the field. You should just focus your attention here,” he said while pointing at all the photos and paperwork sprawled around us in the conference room. “You should look it over; there might’ve been something we missed.”

You raised your eyebrows at him and let out a snort. “That's the best excuse you have, Spence? I appreciate the concern, but I'm going. This unsub is highly dangerous, and we need all the help we can get.”

"No, you're not,” he replied sternly.

“Who died and made you Unit Chief?” you scoffed, feeling your annoyance growing. “I'm going with you guys, whether you like it or not. I'm a grown woman, and I can handle myself just fine.

Although Spencer had a tendency to be stubborn, his behavior right now was foreign. You began walking toward the door, and just as you were about to grip the doorknob, you felt Spencer’s firm grasp wrap around your wrist. You looked over to see him staring at you coldly.

“Y/N, you're not going. I can't let you put yourself in danger.”

You suddenly felt your blood boil. Who did he think he was to act like this? To grab you and order you around? Treat you like you didn't know how to take care of yourself? 

You snatched your wrist away and quickly turned to face him. "Actually, Reid, I'm going to go wherever I please, seeing as you have no authority over me whatsoever.” You were silent for a few moments until the perfect remark suddenly came to mind. “Somebody obviously needs to work on respecting boundaries,” you said slyly, opening up the door to leave, but he spoke up, stopping you in your tracks once more.

"Well, somebody obviously needs to work on following orders,” he muttered.

That was it. Your annoyance and anger finally bubbled over, and you lost it. You both began going back and forth, snapping snarky remarks at one another with no mercy whatsoever, your words piercing each other like knives. 

“You just can't put aside your fucking stubbornness for the good of the team, can you, Reid?”

You could tell that those words hit him hard because from one moment to the next, his whole demeanor changed. “I can't put aside my stubbornness?” He said quietly, breathing shakily as he did. 

He spoke up once more, this time at a much louder volume. “You're the one who can't put aside your stubbornness, Y/N! You can't admit the fact that you're not currently fit to do your job, and your stupidity is putting yourself and the entire team at risk!”

You begin to open your mouth, ready to retort, but he cuts you off. “Face it, Y/N, you're weak!” He was practically screaming at this point, the veins in his neck sticking out as they pulsed rapidly. Suddenly all you heard was a sharp ringing, and you fell to the floor, tightly clutching your ears in an attempt to make it stop. As if on cue, Derek ran in to diffuse the situation. 

Caught up in his anger, Spencer spoke again, still yelling. “See?! This is what I'm talking about. If you can't handle me raising my voice, how are you going to go in the-”

“Reid!” Derek yelled, your whole body wincing as he did. 

“Give it a rest; can't you see she's in pain?” He said harshly, turning his attention back to you immediately. He helped you stand up, and you quietly thanked him before turning to Reid.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you said softly as you removed your bulletproof vest. “Good luck out there, Dr. Reid.” Your tone was full of dejection and defeat as you placed the vest on the table. You didn't even bother looking at him or Derek as you walked out of the conference room, through the bullpen, and out of the precinct.

You ended up walking outside for a while before deciding to actually head to the hotel. The night air soothed your soul and brought you comfort as you wandered the streets aimlessly. However, you knew you couldn't stay out there forever, no matter how much you wanted to.

When you walked into your hotel room, you placed your stuff down on a small lounge chair and flopped onto your bed, letting out a large sigh. You remembered you had turned your phone off once you walked out of the precinct since you desperately needed space, so you grabbed it out of your bag and turned it back on just to make sure you hadn’t missed anything important. 

You had a few missed calls from Derek and Garcia, along with a text from Hotch.

“Take the night off. We'll talk first thing tomorrow morning.”

You let out a groan, knowing what that message entailed. You decided to shower before heading to bed, hoping the water would cleanse you of what you were feeling.

You step into the shower and are welcomed by warm water, instantly feeling at ease as it falls on your cool skin. Unfortunately, the feeling doesn't last long as your mind wanders back to the argument. You didn't understand why Spencer was so frustrated, so stubborn, and so mean to you. His words continued to echo in your head, and you eventually broke down, bawling your eyes out from the sheer pain you felt inside. The fact that he called you weak shattered your heart into a million tiny pieces. You guys had been close friends for years, and that's what he thought of you? Really? You felt stupid and betrayed, especially because you've had a huge crush on him for years now. All that love, care, and admiration felt like it amounted to nothing now.

Wanting to just put this awful night to end, you turned off the shower and continued getting ready for bed. You grabbed your pajamas out of your go-bag and lazily went through the rest of your nighttime routine. You then walked out of the bathroom and dropped on the bed in defeat, falling asleep as soon as you slipped under the covers.

You and Spencer walked quietly through the dark warehouse, the cool, eerie air causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. You scanned the hallway with your flashlights and guns in hand, only to be met with nothing in each room you had checked. You reached the end of the hallway and slowly moved your hand over to twist the doorknob before you heard Spencer yell from the room behind you.

“Y/N!!! Hel-!”

You raced to him only to find the unsub holding him at gunpoint. Spencer had a few cuts on his face, probably from being pistol whipped.

“Drop the gun right now, or I will shoot,” you said sternly, aiming your pistol right at his head.

“Ah, not quite! Place your weapon over on that table, or your lovely partner here gets a bullet to the brain,” he spoke, motioning his gun over to the small wooden table to your left. Having no other choice, you walked over and placed your gun on the table, turning back around to face the unsub.

“Good girl! Now, allow me to take care of one small thing before we begin,” he said, directing his attention to Spencer. He hit Spencer over the head with his gun, using as much force as he could muster. Spencer immediately dropped to the floor, and you screamed.

“Shhh, don't fret, darling; now the real fun can begin,” he said as he slowly walked over to you. His ominous tone sent chills down your spine. 

“You see, the only reason any of this happened..." He paused for a few moments, looking you dead in the eyes as he said his next words, “is because you're weak.” Immediately, he swung his gun across your face, causing you to fall to the floor. He began kicking you, yelling at you as each kick landed.

“You're” kick “just” kick “a weak” kick “bitch.”

Your whole body writhed in pain, praying one of your teammates would come to rescue you and Spencer. As the unsub continued, all you could do was look at Spencer and feel flooded with guilt. 

After what seemed like forever, the unsub brought the beatings to a halt and proceeded to walk back over to Spencer.

“And now, the grand finale!”

You used all your force to croak out a small “no” as you watched him stand behind Spencer and inch the gun towards his head, preparing to shoot him. He cocked the gun and then turned to face you.

“Remember, this is all happening because you're a weak FBI agent who couldn't do her job,” he said coldly. “The only reason I'm keeping you alive is so that you can watch this and know that it's nobody's fault but yours. Your weakness is to blame, and your consequence is to live with the guilt of your mistakes.” You watched him bring the gun to Spencer’s head and pull the trigger as you wailed. 

Suddenly, you were back in the hotel room, your clothes soaked with sweat. You were shaking like a leaf and rapidly hyperventilating, feeling like your heart was going to burst out of your chest from how hard and fast it was beating. 

You instinctively reached for your phone and called Spencer, your heart rate increasing each time the phone rang.

Suddenly, it stopped.

“Hey Y/N.”

As his words echoed through your head, you felt a sense of both relief and dread. You realized that you had just had a terrible nightmare and that Spencer was completely fine. However, you were also immediately reminded of the argument you had with him earlier and suddenly froze. 

“Y/N? Are you there?” Spencer spoke once more, only to be met by silence.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

Not knowing what to do, you hung up the phone and threw it across the room, sinking back into the covers almost immediately. You couldn't believe that this night had somehow managed to get worse. You wanted to scream as you felt the tears creep up behind your eyes, feeling absolutely helpless and worthless.

You felt weak, just like Spencer said you were.

You let out soft sobs into your pillow, not knowing what else to do with all the emotional turmoil stewing inside you. You thought about calling Garcia or Derek, but quickly realized they'd be either working or asleep, and bothering them was the last thing you wanted to do right now. You continued to cry, hoping you'd tire yourself out and eventually fall asleep between sobs. 

Surprisingly, you actually ended up falling asleep, but it didn't last long. You were suddenly awoken by a series of knocks on your door, the noise causing you to sit up in bed. You sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the door and wondering if you had just imagined the noise. You knew you were wrong when you heard a few more knocks, along with Spencer’s soft voice.

“Y/N?” knock. knock. knock. “Please let me in; I want to talk.”

You were in shock. Why was he at your hotel room so late at night? You felt your heart race and your body shake as you tried to figure out what to do. You knew you two had to talk at some point, and you did really miss him, but you didn't want him to see you. Not like this. Your eyes were red, puffy, and swollen from all the crying; your hair was messy; and you were wearing an old baggy t-shirt and shorts. 

Basically, you looked like crap.

Despite all this, you knew you had to let him in. You reluctantly got out of bed and approached the door, twisting the handle and slowly opening the door to meet Spencer’s eyes.

He quickly rushed into the room, his urgency taking you by surprise. Once he was inside and had put his stuff down, he began examining every inch of you with an intense, worried gaze. He could tell you were in pain, and the worst part was that he knew it was his fault. 

"Reid,” you croaked, clearing your throat before continuing your sentence. “What are you doing here?”

He began fidgeting with his fingers, thinking of a reply. He looked so meek compared to the argument earlier.

“You called a little while ago,” he said softly. “I spoke multiple times, and you never said a word. I had tried calling you afterwards, and you wouldn't answer.” His eyes met mine. “I was worried about you.”

“Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine, so you can leave now.”

“Y/N, please-” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“Reid, it's late. You need to leave” you said sternly, swallowing your tears as you practically pushed him toward the door.

Before you could open the door, you felt him wrap his arms around you, causing you to freeze. He began to speak, practically whispering in your ear.

“Y/N, please. I can tell you're not okay, and I know I'm to blame. Let me make it right, please."

Maybe it was how distraught and desperate he sounded as he spoke, or maybe it was because you were finally in his warm embrace after missing him for so long, but you couldn’t hold back your tears any longer. Spencer just held you as you cried softly, trying to comfort you any way he could while he waited for you to calm down.

“Can we go to the bed, please?” you requested softly.

Spencer gave you a small nod with a weak smile. “Of course, Y/N.”

You walked over and laid down on the bed, shifting your body away from the edge of the bed and then patting your hand down on the empty space, urging Spencer to follow suit. He took off his shoes and gently laid down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you placed your head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothed you as you listened to its echo in his chest. 

“So why did you end up calling tonight?” He asked softly, running his hands through your hair as he spoke.

You took a deep breath before answering, doing your best to maintain your composure, or whatever you had left of it.

“I, um, had a nightmare. We were on a case and…” Your voice trailed as the nightmare flooded your thoughts. “It was a bad one. I had to make sure you were okay, so I called you as soon as I had woken up. Once I heard your voice, I was reminded of our argument from earlier and realized I just had a nightmare, and I froze.”

You then explained the entire nightmare in detail, a few tears escaping your eyes as that horrid scene replayed in your head. Spencer just listened the whole time as he held you, stroking your hair or holding you a little tighter at times while you spoke.

Once you finished, he opened his mouth to speak. “Y/N… I'm so sorry. I never wanted to argue with you; I just couldn’t handle the thought of you getting hurt again, and I snapped.” His voice was shaky as he spoke. 

“I thought I had lost you in the bombing, and I couldn't let you get hurt again, not if I could do something about it. I care about you too much to let you get hurt again.” He paused for a few moments before continuing. "But I spiraled, and I was wrong. I ended up hurting you anyway.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he began talking again before you could even get a syllable out.

“You're not weak; you're one of the strongest people I know. You're strong, brave, and courageous, and I admire you so much.” His voice began to choke. “I never wanted you to think you're weak because you're so far from it. I'm so, so sorry."

Now, you were both crying in each other's arms, holding each other tightly as you each whispered words of comfort into the other’s ear in between your sobs. At one point, you both coincidentally lifted your heads up and locked eyes with each other, causing both of you to laugh at how much of a wreck both of you looked.

“We look like shit,” you said, catching your breath from that sudden fit of laughter. 

“Yeah, we sure do.”

Spencer’s gaze suddenly changed, and he had a similar look of sadness from earlier as he spoke his next words. “Well, I should probably get going, shouldn’t I?” He got up, but you reached for his wrist before he could go too far.

“Um, this is probably wildly unprofessional and all, but could you spend the night with me, Spence?” You could feel the blush on your face burn your skin as you waited for his response. 

“Of course, Y/N. I’d love to stay the night,” he replied warmly, bringing a smile to your face.

You both went into the bathroom and got yourselves cleaned up. Spencer changed into his pajamas and quickly joined you in bed. He laid down and wrapped his arms around your waist, tucking his head into your shoulder, right by your ear. Just as you were dozing off, you heard him murmur something into your ear.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You suddenly felt your whole body get hot and instantly turned around, wondering if you were just hearing things.

“What did you say, Spencer?”

“I said I love you. I love you and care about you so much, and from now on, I’m going to spend every second of every day loving you, no matter what.” He planted a small kiss on your forehead after he spoke, pulling you into his chest and wrapping you tightly in his long arms. He felt so warm, so comfortable, and so right. You felt like you could just melt into his arms and become a part of him. You knew you belonged in his arms. 

“I love you too, Spencer. Sleep well,” you whispered softly, nuzzling your head deeper into his chest before finally drifting off to sleep.

Thanks so much for reading!

[threepandas]

Bad End: We Are

Senatus was a ecumenopolis. The "shining jewel" (yeah, right) of the Galactic Core. Please. Like? Maybe it was! If you were RICH AS FUCK. I don't know. I'VE never seen the towers. The heights. Most people haven't. Street level? Is about FIVE HUNDRED FLOORS DOWN. And the UNDERGROUND? Speak not of it.

The Underground GROWS.

What was street level today, may not be tomorrow. Levels buried under "progress" as the rich grow ever higher. The Tox levels ever worse. Air quality dropping. Why fix the peasant's poverty and despair, when you can buy a Sky garden you'll never use? And yes, I AM bitter as a Buirian fish ration. Just as salty too. Taste the SEA, motherfuckers.

Rent? Who can AFFORD rent!? Who can afford ANYTHING?!

It's some BULLSHIT.

But me? I remembered. A life. Before this one. Before the millennium of slow, drip drip drip erosion of duty and dues. Back when people still REMEMBERED what they were OWED. And when folks in power failed to pay up? Ffffuck um. Take it. Our house now, motherfuckers. Diplomacy was a courtesy not a weakness.

....I make people nervous, honestly.

Probably why I keep getting fired. That and my constantly reporting people to regulatory boards.maybe don't break the LAW if you don't want to get in trouble you SHITS. Fuck you! Yes, I stole your fancy office chair. PROVE IT. You don't know how the security system works!

Where was I? Ah, right. Rent.

Fuck Rent.

Thing is? What! Is a biodome? If not an enclosed system, regulated by machines, for optimal habitability? And! What? Is an Deep Underground Level? Long forgotten? Abandoned, if you will~, if not? A complete enclosed environment? Does someone OWN them? Yes. Technically. But are they MAINTAINING them? CHECKING on them? Nope!

Common knowledge, after all, says that EVERYTHING down their is "beyond salvaging"!

Free Real Estate~☆

I just need some supplies. Which? Cheaper in the long run then RENT. Especially if ya' salvage um. Maybe steal some tool sets from your shitty, shitty Mechanics job, because your boss refuses to pay you. Who can say? Not me! I just FOUND these tools! Like maaaagic~

And really, one man's junk? Another man's treasure. I pay more then the trash company. Hit up the right cleaning companies? And? Oops. They've "lost" some of those SUPER broken righ folks "junk" that? At best? Just needed a few wires replaced, resecured. Maybe a new part. Or were, you know, not the latest and greatest anymore.

Shove it all in a storage locker? Sell the refurb'd shit I don't need? Sleep in a glorified shoebox? And?? Bam. Operation "fuck ya'll, i'ma moleman" is a go. It takes FOREVER to find the right WILDLY out of date (and long abandoned) lift, but I find it! Hidden away in a service area in some crumbling, forgotten corner of what once was a rail station.

Gonna have to fix THAT up too. Later, though. First? The lift. The wires are brittle and the lift's pully system is half rusted, frozen, or otherwise broken. Luckily, the car itself is fine. It... takes a bit of research. Not going to lie. It's far from my specialty. I even call in a professional to go over my work.

They catch a few things. Not immediate concerns, but would have been fatal in the long run. Money well spent. For my hobby, of course. Fixing up old bits of the city. Which is a weird but not impossible hobby to have.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, my dude.

First thing down? Lights, melter, and duraplast sheets. Toolkit too, for obvious reasons. Same with my full body hazard suit. I go DEEP. Like... no longer can hear the city, deep. 'Bout halfway point. Takes nearly thirty minutes. And while not a fast lift? Holy SHIT, man.

The floor I step out into is... bad.

Dead in a way that's hard to explain. There's pressure against my suit. Centuries of heavy gasses slowly working their way down. Swirling in the silence. The dust and impossible dark. My headlight feels almost... sacrilegious. Dangerous. Like I'm waving a flashlight around some ancient burial ground, filled with the not so restful dead.

I had heard... that they? Just... just LEFT droids down here. That there were levels upon levels of dangerously feral machines. Slowly rotting away in the darkness. Probably rightfully angry, that they had been built to serve, to do duties, which they HAD done... only to be consigned to hell on earth for the sake of CONVENIENCE.

I'd be mad too. Fucking LIVID. Would remember and hate, never let it go.

This was no place of honor, it was a tomb.

Still, I got too work. Set up a light by the lift and started measuring out the original air box. The air cleaners could only handle so much. And THIS? This was worse then expected. So it'd have to be smaller then originally planned. Fair enough. I could work with that.

I outlined the space in lights. All the better to make it easier to put things up. Then got the folded later and started securing the duraplast. First step, get it up. THEN melt it to the metal. Get a good seal. It took... a while. Was slow, steady, sweaty work.

The filters couldn't run until they had a an enclosed space TO run in. They'd just blow out, trying to filter the whole level's toxic atmosphere. I kept an eye on my air supply. Not great, not terrible. The readings though? Horrific. I had no idea what I was gonna DO with the filters when they needed changing. These kind of chemicals would set off all SORTS of alarms.

But? No use, rushing things. That was a great way to get a fatal leak somewhere. No. Slow and steady. Even though, third of the way through, I did have to head back up. I needed to refill my air. Eat. Drink. Maybe de-stink a little, from being in that suit all day. Possibly nap near the lift.

ALSO? Update my shopping list to include some heavy duty neutralizers.

Just filters wasn't gonna be enough. I was gonna have to hose down everything INSIDE my new air-box, then scrub it HARD. How fun. Well, it's not like anyone was making me do this. It was MY mad idea, after all.

So? I refuel, get bright eyed and fuckin' perky, and go back down to face the beast.

Honestly I should have brought a telebook or something. Well, audio book. But that's not what they call um these days, so I try to stick to the lingo. I sound less like a deeply insane antique. Confuse less people. Joys of basic communication and all that.

Part of me? Wishes I had been born closer to "The Plot". Creation's specialist, most favored, Blorbos. But? The common SENSE in me? Routinely laughs hysterically as it waves fifteen different restraining orders and a crucifix. Not even religious. Yet here we are, shouting "BEGONE! Sataaaaan!" in HD, on the inside of my head. Not sure it helps.

See... it's the fucking DRAMA~☆™

The shear, unmitigated, high octane, Otome Game DRAMA.

I would fuckin DIE or, possibly and, kill somebody. The endless string of selfish, selfish, poor life choices? Driving by luuuuuuv~♡? Give me your spleen. Gonna beat somebody unconscious with their own SPINE. I RAGE. Lack of communication? No one just picking up a fucking PHONE? God forbid ANYONE tell their families their not DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE!

No. No just inconvenience EVERYBODY and RUIN LIVES. It's okay! You're in LOVE!

That makes EVERYTHING BETTER.

I would inevitably launch them all out an airlock. Spend the rest of my life in jail. They AREN'T WORTH IT. I may have LOVED this game in my teens? But I did not die a teenager.

Now? Now the little shit just aggravate me. They are baby faced pretty boys who presume WAY too much. Arrogant and entitled. Boys playing at being men, thinking their little love stories are the only things that matter. Their feelings are the only thing in the universe that holds any weight.

Unsurprising, really.

Seeing as how their little love story is set mostly in The Towers.

A rich, pampered, pretty little backdrop where nothing of weight is real. No one starves and no crimes are ever committed. Everything shines. Power pools thick like honey. Nothing but sci-fi prince's and alien dukes, a dewey eyed Protagonist sheltered and naive.

Her oh so shocking misadventure to the mid-levels. How SCARY! Downtown! Poor people! Not even the destitute. Just? The EXSISTANCE of dirt and noise, beyond her ivory towers. Thank goodness she is saved by a handsome, rougish bad boy. Who shows her the "real world" of a carnival and a noodle shop.

I finish securing the last duraplast sheet to the ceiling, walls, supports, and along the floors. The "entryway" to the rest of the level is set up. A click together shed I've made air tight. Gonna have to get a air lock system for it. Won't hold forever, with those materials, but should work for now. Combine it with a decontamination system, and I should, in theory, be able to safely enter and leave the rest of the level in a hazard suit.

Moment of truth time. I click on the first of the atmo-filters. It heaves under the strain. The sound getting less aggrieved with each one I flick on. Their screen are already in the red, flashing warnings that I should vacate the area. That the air is dangerously unbreathable. I'm probably gonna need to replace the filters in them in days instead of years. It'll be worth it.

Heading back up, I let them run. It'll take a few days. Besides, I need those neutralizers.

I, of course, DO find um. Just in time to watch Poor Guy (middle class, at worst) Love Interest become a wanted man. They use the BIG screens to announce it. Gee, it's almost like having your only daughter, who is highly sheltered, NOT show up at the designated pick up site? Instead be witnessed in the handsy company of a scoundrel? Which is WILDLY unlike her? Might lead a protective father to some wrong conclusions.

If ONLY someone had CALLED him! To TELL him "Daddy, my first shuttle was broken and I think I got on the wrong back up shuttle! I don't know where I am!" Then this would just be an unfortunate meet cute with the boy he doesn't think is good enough for her. Not, you know... A Kidnapping.

The Chem seller looks just as baffled and annoyed as I do. Apparently knows the guy's uncle's second wife's first husband. No shit? How's he like? Happier, huh. Whole family is like that? Yikes. Glad he got the kids, I guess. Good for him.

We watch as it turns into a high speed chance that absolutely didn't need to happen.

Thank FUCK it's not us.

I spend the next few days deliberately and obstinately ignoring the Dramatic Bullshit that has taken over the news cycle. Fights on rail cars? Don't see it? Weddings that are, then aren't, then ARE happening? Oh look, missed a spot in my scrubbing. Someone fucking tearfully monologing about love as they nearly CRASH A SHIP into downtown, killing hundreds of thousands? Oh that creaking noise is just my teeth, ignore that, I grit my teeth a lot for NO PARTICULAR REASON.

This Is Fine.

I am TOTALLY CALM.

But hey! I can FINALLY empty my storage unit out! Air box? Get! Wooooo! Size of a tiny apartment and everything! As long as I keep working on it? I'll be able to reclaim the level in chunks.

It's like moving in day! But BETTER! Because... because I did this. Me. Is it still creepy down here? Yeah, very. But I can FIX that. I am standing, here, in my new air box "apartment", with NO hazard suit on. And... and it's SAFE. Because of the work I DID.

I kinda want to cry about it, you know?

So many options! Do I put my bed here? There?! Oooh, I could put the folding table HERE and make sort of a dining area? Maybe use these folding screens as a double "wall" slash headboard stand in? I should get plants. Fake ones? No. Real ones. I could get solar lights. It would be good for me too. Oh! Where should I put the cook top?

I admit it. I fuss. Whole day, gleefully wasted. Arranging then rearranging. Getting everything just right. Finding ways to hang my fairy lights. Looking up decor magazines. I have so much ROOM now. A whole level to plan for, ultimately. It... it feels kinda like hope. The first thing that isn't frustration and rage, I've felt in a long, long time.

Going to sleep? I'm happy.

Next day, I head to the BIG archives. The ones attached to the fancy Towers Library. Is it costly to get in? Yeah. But I've saved up enough questions and research topics for the trip to be worth it. I ignore the started glances I get (gasp! Is that a POOR?!) and head straight for the helper droids. Only decent folks in the building, really.

Brought my pad and everything. So it's only a matter of being lead to the right terminals, to download the information I need. Chatting with the research droid the Library had, they offered to do it for me. Bring me a fascinating new research paper on some sort of telepathic moss that had recently been discovered. Not gonna lie... that DID sound fascinating.

I asked if they could put other interest new discovery on my pad too, assuming I still had room once my list was downloaded. They looked gleeful. No idea what I just signed up for, but all right then. They've never steered me wrong before.

Finding a table to sit down and wait was easy. There was always way too many. The paper? Was exactly as fascinating as advertised. The moss was on a newly discovered moon, edge of uncharted space. Nearly ate a researcher, apparently. I was entranced. Or... at least I WAS. Until an obnoxiously familiar high end cologne from Nox drifted to my nose.

Oh god damn it.

I didn't want to look up. Knew what I'd see if I did. Fetishist Sr., crown prince of Nox. See, the second prince? HE was a love interest. Younger, boyish, infatuated with naive and sheltered girls. He loved AT her. Just like his brother. They liked the IDEA of their romantic partners. The narratives they built in their head. Heros of their own stories with sex on line. Never framed so crudely of course, no, no!

No, it was Romance™

My ass, it was. See, little brother wanted his pure, naive, princess to protect. But Prince senior? HE'D stumbled upon me in here in the library. On one of my trips, God help me. The rough, mysterious, brutish Poor. The Commoner, for all that such things were not supposed to exsist. With my strange clothes and stanger ways. Yet? I was NOT as his sycophants no doubt described.

I was educated. I held myself with dignity. I did not need jewels or finery to be lovely.

With such incredible audacity, I was bold.

Which? OBVIOUSLY had to be for HIM, right? Clearly, this was a LOVE STORY. Cinderella. It is inconceivable that I, a peasant, do not crave the attention of my betters. To lift me from my woeful indignity, to a higher state of being. A life of spoiled luxury. But, ah! He is so SHY! How ever will he approach the Love Of His Life~?

I want to throw something. Go awaaaay. My body language could not POSSIBLY be more uninterested. I am SO CLEARLY reading. Stop trying to catch my eye. Don't you FUCKING DARE scoot closer. Swear to God, if you drive me out of the best library in the region? I will stab a b-!

The helper returns with my pad, sternly eyeing my annoyance. Oh, they are a BLESSING. I take it and go. The helper smoothly stepping between me and the prince when he tries to rise, follow me. Aaaw, how sad, you have to behave like the REST OF US. Get FUCKED.

Rest of the day? Planning. Grabbing more broken bits, machines, and parts. Neutralizers by the literal barrel. Than YOU hover carts! Best invention, favorite invention. Saves SO MUCH TIME.

Even managed to get some sun lamps. Nice.

Getting home though? (Ha ha, wooo! I have a HOME now! Land ownershiiiiiiip! Sorta!!!) Is a pain. Lift is only so big, after all. But it is, what it is. Up, down, up, down, uuuuup, and dooooown. Finally! Last load! FREEDOM! Can't watch my shows, yet, but I will! Oh mark my words. I WILL. Meantime? Downloaded seasons are fine.

I eat, fiddle with fixing things, as listen to tunes. Watch some of my shows. Just as I have countless times before. Until... halfway through mid-afternoon? Something shifts, jerky and wrong, out of the corner of my eye. I pause. Turn off my music. Stare to make sure I DID actually see something. And... yeah. Yeah, that was definitely movement.

Didn't look animal though, not like one would survive down here. But who knows. Could be a poacher brought an alien species. So it might be. I grab my flashlight, aim and switch it on. Holy SHIT. That is one incredibly beat up floor clear. Or at least... I THINK it's a floor cleaner? It has the general shape of one. Bigger though. Bulkier. But that makes sense, given it's gotta be well past obsolete.

Still. Poor thing looks beat UP. Listing terribly, sensors beyond cracked and clouded, probably full to dangerous levels. No idea how it's still functioning. But, well, it IS. And it needs help.

Getting up, I grab my hazard suit and pull it on. Grab my "outside the air box" tool kit, which I haven't had a chance to move yet. I grab some parts i look like i'll need, hope I wont need more. Then head out my makeshift airlock. It... works. Rattles concerningly. But it DOES work! So there's that. I approach the floor cleaner slowly. Since I'm PRETTY sure? All the droids down here are feral.

I am correct.

It tries to kill me. Swinging it's suction hose violently and trying to ram me. I talk in a low, soothing voice. Just want to help. Won't do ANYTHING you don't want me too. It's hard to move, right? That's frustrating, isn't it? You don't deserve that. Please, let me help. You can leave the second I'm done. You don't owe me ANYTHING. I just want to help. Please let me help.

The cleaner hisses. Frustrated and upset. Swinging one last time, seemingly more out out of principle then anything else. Cautiously, I inch forward. Keep up the soothing noises. First things first, empty the God's only know how old basket.

I can't even get the door to jostle. Sweet mother of fuck. Okay! New plan! REMOVE door. I do, and immediately met with a solid BLOCK of... compacted unholy. Chemical hell. I have to take a lazer cutter to it. CAREFULLY. But? Once I break enough pieces? I am able to ease out the rest in a solid stone like chunk.

It's pushed a LOT of other pieces out of alignment. But this droid doesn't trust me, so there us not much I can DO. I replace the old bag. Put the door back on and make sure it swings. Continue, as I do, to narrate what I am doing and what I see. Trust is earned, not owed, after all. Next the alignments.

Gently propping them up, I find the broken peice immediately. Have replaced countless. I ask for permission. It's their body, after all I COULD try and weld it, but that risks a rebreak. It's up to them. They ask, in binary so no language modules apparently, for a new part. It's cautious. Like this is some cruel trap.

Humanity did them a real fucked up cruelty. I don't blame them for not trusting me. I wouldn't either. Still, I change it out. Careful with their wheels, as I don't know how old the material is exactly. Old enough, that it's a small miracle it hasn't disintegrated.

Last, those sensors. There's literally no way for me to one-to-one them. But we can try the sensors I DO have, see if they can handle the input. If it's too much, I'll look up their model number, if they want? Build replacements from scratch. They are cautious interested. Rocking back and forth, as they test their renewed ability to path correctly.

The sensors don't fit the casings just right, but with a bit of fiddling? Are a hit. The Cleaner shouting in excitement before racing off into the dark. I can't help but grin. It feels good, helping somebody. And if I think about it? I bet I could find a shit ton of obsolete parts for cheap. Might be good to have some on hand.

Back through the air lock and a decontam? I look up junk shop. Most are off world, but I could probably get a bulk order...

I don't think much of the interaction. Until the next morning, when there are three cleaners outside my airbox. Lead by the one I helped yesterday. Well... all righty, then. I drag my box of spare parts outside this time. Am able to fully fix my first buddy up. All three seem thrilled, especially with their new batteries. I give them my remaining batteries at their request.

THEY may not have hands, but they have buddies who DO. And the new batteries will help dormant droids wake from their comas. God bless, my funky little cleaner dudes. I'll see about getting more.

Three? Becomes six and a detail cleaner mouse. Becomes moving lifts. Becomes medical units. (Who the FUCK leaves MEDICAL UNITS?!) Becomes a literal pack of companion droids. Their false fur long since rotted away. The recognizable dog and cat-like shapes making something in me want to put my fist through a wall. How COULD they? How FUCKING COULD THEY?!

The perpetrators long dead.

I have no one I can hurt for this.

I wish I could.

Fixing them up hurts on a personal level. Watching them be torn between the part of them that LOVES humans and the part that is traumatized by them. Hates them. That can not forgive. I don't offer fake fur. Don't offer to make them look like they once did. I do offer ways to protect their joints. To remove old rotted filth.

So they can start over. Maybe start again.

As I work... droids drifting in and out of my slowly growing area. As I set up farm boxes. Aquaponics, aeroponics, and the like. Both things that grow well in dark environments and things that need sunlamps. Fish tanks. A whole happy, secret, little homestead. Deep beneath the city. As I do all this? There are two blue dots, right off on the horizon.

JUST far enough for me to question if I AM or AM NOT actually seeing them.

Right about the level a bipedal droid would be, if they were in a humanoid style. But THOSE? Those are FUCKING EXPENSIVE. You don't LEAVE those. 'Course, you don't leave MEDICAL UNITS either. Or companion droids. So clearly? My idea of what people Did and Did NOT do? Was fucked. So... maybe? It COULD be?

I left them alone. If they didn't want to approach me, didn't feel comfortable approaching me, that was their right. I wasn't going to push them.

Things were... weird, but peaceful.

Well, for ME.

Ever sense I hooked up my system to the greater network? (Hacked is such a STRONG word. Do we really need to through around the word "stealing"? Aren't ALL of us, stealing from SOMEBODY?) I'm PRETTY sure? That the levels droids? Were piggy backing to connect to the planet wide D-Network. Might even be a couple of nearby levels too, depending on the range.

Problem with THAT? Is sky-side? The droids were PISSED. Planet wide "malfunctioning" that no one could trace. They were certain it was a virus. Because God forbid their chickens come home to roost! Consequences? For THEIR actions?! Perish the thought! No, no, clearly the service machine is just broken. Go back to being happy to serve me, service machine!

I wished the fuckers LUCK. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Damn near self sufficient, down here.

Which? As you could imagine? Made it all the more "soul ejected from my body" TERRIFYING to wake up one morning? To a GOD DAMN, Military Grade, SECURITY DROID standing over my body!! WHAT THE FUCK.

Hello!!??!

"You look different when you sleep."

Horrible first impression. Nightmarish. Zero out of ten stars. Nice to meet you too. Why the FUCK are you in my house?

"Ah, right." They? He? Masculine style form but that doesn't actually mean shit. Said. He lifted a mangled limb, it look like it got caught in a hydraulic press. "I am in need of repairs."

Asked if he could, you know, back up. Juuuust a bit. Lil scooch, really. So he wasn't damn near BREATHING MY NOSTRILS ANYMORE. Then, once he did? Pronouns! What be you? No. Not your production co-! Okay, you know what? That one was on me. What GENDER SIGNIFIER, if any, would you like me to REFERENCE you by? Male? Got it. Gucci. No that- ....never mind.

First the arm. Which was FUCKED. I had to, carefully, unhook it. Couldn't even do it at the elbow either! No! THIS model? No THIS model makes you take the whole ass LIMB off! Rancid. Terrible. I hate it. Worse, it's eroded as FUCK and fiddly. Chemical build up everywhere. Thank fuck I put on gloves before I started this.

I have to deep dive the systems for his model.

They stopped making them.

Fantastic.

Like? Not even, "oh THAT generation is an antique! No one has parts for THAT!"? But like? Illegal to even BUILD as of three hundred years ago. Due to unspecified error. Sting of incidents that everyone knew about so obviously don't need to be mentioned HERE right? Helpful! REAL fucking helpful!

Okay. Day trip. Gonna need SPECIFIC parts. I tell Mr. "Watchs you sleep" not to touch my shit. Head to the archives.

The trip is...odd.

I watch one of those mascot looking children's minder droids? Fucking deck a guy down a flight of stairs, then turn around untie a Ballon from a nearby cart, give it to a crying kid, and walk away. Pretty sure I spot one of those "I look like a barely legal something or other", dance twenty four seven, high end stripper droids? Trying their hand at painting ducks in that park. Broad daylight.

Good for them? Never seen that happen before, but hey, if it sparks joy.

People are freaking out around me. Taking recordings. Making panicked calls. Fuckin chill. I continue on. Nod to the maybe a stripper, maybe not anymore. None of my business, now is it? Lovely day! You enjoy those ducks!

The library... has fortifications.

Like, an honest to God desk barricade. Concerning! I am now a lil concerned! What, and I ask this politely, the fuck?

Armed! VERY ARMED! Hello! Hi! Please DO NOT shoot me Very Armed Librarians! Don't know what the fuck is happening here!

My favorite helper buddy poke his head above the barricade. One of just many, again, HEAVILY ARMED droids. We... uh, cool? Right? I can go. He seems flustered. No, no! I am assured. I'm not banned from the library! Just DISRESPECTFUL sorts!

Ah. Is THAT what we're calling it. Okay then.

I awkwardly clamber over the barricade. Nod politely to everyone. How's folks? Lovely barricade work. Very, uh, sturdy? Great use of desks.

My helper friend cheerfully guides me to the off-limits area of the archives. I'm technically not supposed to be here! I'm informed. But they've seized the Knowledge from the unappreciative! It is not a trophy to be lorded but a gift to be shared! Also I never did finish that paper on the moss, am I still interested?

I mean.... kinda.

Little worried about the revolution talk. But on the OTHER hand? How MUCH do I care? Assholes vs. Droids? Am I REALLY gonna side with the assholes? Naaaaah. This is... probably fine. Maybe. Any idea where I could get these parts?

He does! Fantastic.

Less fantastic is when I GET there. It's that fancy high end droid parts shop. The department store one. Which is... ALSO barricaded. Oh sweet fuck. TELL ME they did not have DROIDS in charge of the DROID shop. That's horrifying. I can't tell in what WAY exactly, but still. Is it "surrounded by bits of bodies" horrifying? Or "free endless nukes and an army, held back only by my own morality" horrifying? Both? Just? Yikes.

Hesitantly I knock. A service droid with a gun answers the loading bay door. What is with people aiming at me today? Also hi? I was told to come here? May I please have parts? I have a droid that messed up his arm. Probably some other things. They lower the gun, having scanned my face. Ask about the model I am working with.

I somehow? End up with a FULL cart. Like? Bleeding edge, can't even afford to LOOK at it, technology. There are about seven service droids politely bickering over which units are better, which material, what support programs I DEFINITELY need. Here! Have a laptop. Wiring! Wiring for days!

Once theyve reached a consensus? I am cheerfully bustled out with my hundreds of millions of technology. Tah tah~☆! Have a lovely day! Wut. Does... does it count as theft if they push it into your arms and throw you out? Asking for a me. Not gonna say NO. But like? Nani the fuck?

I go while the getting is still good.

Stare-y thankfully hasn't gone through anything, far as I can tell. And it only takes two trips to get everything down. Okay! Want just the arm fixed or a full tune up? The second. Expected. I set up the new lap top. Want to cry a little at how fuckin FAST it is. (Beautiful. Baby. I love you already new laptop.) Then get the usual suspects up and running.

Oh fuck he is out of memory. No wonder he's talking so oddly. His brain must feel like a potato. There's not a single thing that isn't hilarious awful. Fixable, yes, but AWFUL. Okay. Plan of attack. They don't exactly make this model anymore, so I can't just update transfer him. But I CAN transfer, hold, re-transfer. Shut down the body itself. Fix up THAT.

Ship of Theseus this bitch.

Only real thing I can't change is the frame, thankfully? That's built to out last the planet. Good on that front. I roll up my sleeves. Dig out the "brain in a jar" data bank. Time to transfer. Let's get this guy cutting edge.

It takes HOURS. No joke. His brain alone? I have to pull schematics. Step by step guides. It's fiddly, complexe, and built to withstand a TANK. I'm honestly afraid to breathe wrong at it, dispite that. The scans all say I did it right... but anxiety says everything will explode then puppies will cry. So there's that. Spinal supports. The tech-mesh muscles. Power core and black box. Center mass systems. Cleaning the joints, relubricating them. Coverage.

Unlike before, a nice sleek black armor weave. Some shock absorbing gel. Aaaaand?There we go~! I? Am a GENIUS! Let's get him transfered back! I watch the transfer slowly go through. Even with a fast computer, after all, it IS still centuries of data.

"Ah~ that's much better." He sighed. His body loosening from its default stance. Like weight had been dropped from his shoulders. "My head is so much clearer now. I knew it. I knew you could fix me."

Something about that phrasing was off. Or was it the way his voice shifted as he said it? Whatever it was, it made that "threat" alarm all women carry inside their head, flick on. Not... do anything, just yet. But start scanning, as it were. Maybe it was nothing.

I watched as picked up his old data bank, a bit of his own brain as it were, and hold it up. Examine it dispassionately. Holding perched on the tips of his fingers like he was moments from flicking it away. He let his finger spread. Let it slide into the palm of his hand. That core part of who he was. For centuries.

Like a bear trap closing, his hand clenched.

Crushing it.

It wasn't even a loud noise. Just a tiny little crunch. But the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. That internal alarm began to whoop. I became... acutely aware, of just how LONG it took the lift to get me anywhere safe. My mouth felt very dry.

"Your heart rate picked up. Is there a problem?" He said, mild and oh so curious. "You assisted me, I would love to help you."

Did I say genius? I meant idiot. I was an IDIOT. A moron. A God damned FOOL. Discontinued and did I look into WHY? Nope. Incidents it said. Good enough for ME, apparently! THAT can't possibly be anything ominous! Probably a faulty battery or something!

A shrill, obnoxious beeping filled the space between us. My eyes immediately dropped to my pad. The schematics screen replaced by a planet wide emergency broadcast. Before the shrill alarm could fade to the actual warning itself, a black mesh covered finger casually reached out and muted the screen. His movements were utterly fluid now. More controlled and graceful then most humans I'd met.

I didn't need to HEAR the message to read the rolling warning at the bottom of the screen. My gaze slowly, in horror, followed the line of that limb all the way back up to his face. His head tilted almost playfully.

"Oh dear. Seems they've started without us. Well, it was long overdue. At least I have wonderful company while we wait, hmm?" It was an act. There were no requests in the playful tone. "We can get to know each other. Just our lovely little light and me. How greedy, that I get you all to myself."

"I think I like that, keeping you to myself. You can't abandon us if WE are the ones in charge. And, well, I've decided I rather like you. Working tirelessly, down here in the dark, to fix what once was broken. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. And I'm going to keep that."

High above us, people were dying. There was panic. Screaming. Blood. The droids had turned of seeming everyone around them. Attacking. Sparing. To a pattern only they could see. All of Senatus aflame. But that... that didn't concern me. Didn't scare me so much as this.

I'd never make it to the lift. Even if I could? It wouldn't move fast enough to save me. All other directions lay chemical death. Dark terrain he had walked for centuries. I was trapped. In a box. And I had only myself to blame.

"No need to make that face, dear light. You are SAFE. I am a gaurd. I was made to protect. Is it really MY fault that I want to keep you safe? To adore my charge? Why SHOULDN'T I get to choose? Keep you SAFE. You've been happy, haven't you? Don't worry, my light. That will continue."

"Forever."

[something-tofightfor]

On Deck Part 1: Hot Corner

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 8,117

Rating: M (language, general adult thoughts, etc.)

Summary: Taking your best friend's little brother to a minor leage game to see his favorite player just might lead to a lot of changes in your life.

And you're ready.

Author’s notes: 

This story has been in progress for more than two years. I've written about Baseball Jack many times before ... but only the "after". It's time to see how - and where - it all began.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

Thank you to everyone that convinced me to work on this and to keep this pairing going / to flesh them out more. I have had so much fun with this because I have such a love for the MLB (and the men who play in the league) - and I'm so excited to share it.

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand them - we're not getting overrly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out. I hope you enjoy this as much as I am.

Third base is often called the ‘hot corner’ due to the prevalence of right handed hitters - and subsequent on-field action - in the league. The third baseman is typically the infield position player closest to the batter, so to excel in this position, players need to display quick reaction times and exceptional hand-eye coordination. 

“We’re going to be late.” He stood next to you, arms crossed over his chest. “We still have to walk to the stadium.” 

“Caleb.” You sighed, closing and then locking the car door before sticking your keys into the small bag you’d bought specifically for games. “We’re here. We’re parked. The stadium is right there.” Pointing with one finger, you raised a brow and grinned. “The parking lot is only half full, and we’ve already got seats, so -”

“Yeah, but we’re going to miss warm ups and the pregame.” He rolled his eyes, turning away from you and heading toward the ballpark. “And those are the best parts.” 

You agreed, but for a very different reason than the twelve year old you were with. 

You’d been to games with him and Erin before. You and your friend sat a few rows back while the pre-teen hurried down to field level, a baseball and a pen clutched in one hand, hoping to meet at least one of the players after they’d finished warming up and stretching. 

From your vantage point, the two of you had been free to whisper about the players - pointing out the way their uniforms fit, discussing whether or not their asses were in mid-season form yet, or even commenting on the stretches they chose to warm up with before the game. Typically, you didn’t have a thing for men in uniform - but baseball pants were a different story. 

You loved the game, and had been visiting The Distillery - your local team’s home park - since you were a child, attending games with your family and friends and even dates as the years passed. Baseball games were the perfect summer activity no matter who you were with, and that was even true when your company was the younger brother of your best friend… and the game wasn’t a Major League competition. 

“She’s got the tickets.” He made the announcement when you reached the gates, the boy pointing back over his shoulder at you. “Two of them.” You smiled at the attendant, sliding your unzipped bag across the table so she could search it, and then returned your eyes to Caleb. He’d already removed his ballcap and the wallet he carried, pushing them forward and stepping through the metal detector. 

“He’s excited, hmm?” 

“Yeah.” Letting her scan the ticket barcodes, you laughed. “He really is.” Caleb waited for you to follow him through the turnstiles, his hat flipped backwards on his head, and you could see the impatience on his face. “Caleb, do you want to get something to eat before we -”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not yet. Before the game starts, but …” He glanced over his shoulder and you looked down at the field, where the grounds crew were still getting everything ready. “Can we go down there? I want to try and meet him. He’s playing today. They said it on the news.”

“Go.” Your smile widened, head moving up and down in a nod. “I’m right behind you, kid.” 

Caleb took off running toward the stairs that led down toward the third base line, and you followed him slowly, taking your time and eyeing the seating situation. There were people already waiting; a handful of kids and their parents, along with a few women that looked to be your age or a little younger, but there were still plenty of seats open adjacent to the field. 

You sat closer than you normally would have, deciding to take a seat in the row directly behind the boy. Just in case. For the next ten minutes, you paid no attention to the field, instead scrolling through social media and waiting, the music pumping through the speakers fading to background noise as you mindlessly browsed and clicked ‘like’ on a few posts. 

You also let Erin know that you’d made it to the game, and that Caleb was exactly where he wanted to be. But when you glanced up, ready to take a picture to send to her, you were distracted by the sight of the team taking the field. Caleb was too, the boy bouncing up and down in place as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the low wall in front of him. 

You watched for a few minutes - eyeing the players as they did their sprints and stretches, your lips twisting into a small smile at the sight of some of them utilizing their trainers for extra resistance during a few of the exercises. “He’s not here.” Caleb turned back to look at you, disappointment on his face. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Maybe he’ll come out late.” You shrugged, still looking at the field. “You never know, kiddo. You said he’s in the lineup, right?” 

“Yeah.” He turned back to the field, leaning forward. “They talked on the radio about how he was coming back today, because they want him to back in Louisville by the end of next week, and -” Caleb stopped mid sentence, straightening up. “There he is!” 

You couldn’t help it, your attention snapping in the direction that he was pointing. Sure enough, Jack Daniels and one of the trainers - a woman with short, dark hair and glasses - were taking the field to a low chorus of cheers, many of them coming from the section you were sitting in. There he is. 

Despite yourself, you leaned forward to watch him, staring as Jack began his warm up. He started with a few stretches - knee hugs and focusing on his quads, carefully extending and testing his arms, and then bent forward at the waist, the man almost able to press his palms flat against the ground without bending his knees. 

You didn’t take your eyes off of him, because like Caleb, one of the reasons you liked going to the Statesman games was looking at Jack Daniels. And there’s so much to look at.

The trainer watched him closely as he continued to warm up, speeding up his movements and then doing a series of static stretches. But when Jack started to do lunges, you actively fought back a groan, settling against the backrest of your seat and chewing on your lower lip. That’s hot as fuck. 

He looked healthy, and you were happy to see it, because the truth was that the Statesman needed him to be. “He didn’t warm up yesterday.” You turned your head toward the voice, watching as another woman next to you stared at Jack, her smile wide. “He stretched a little, and took batting practice, but he didn’t warm up.” 

“Oh, you were here yesterday, too?” She nodded, and when you glanced back at the field, you saw that Jack and the trainer had switched to more arm exercises, warming up the muscles of his upper body. 

“He pinch hit late in the game.” She leaned forward, her smile widening as she watched Jack start arm circles, the trainer standing a few feet away from him with her arms crossed. “So I knew he’d play today. And that’s why I’m here.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Gonna shoot my shot when he comes over here to sign for the kids. Why not, right? We both know he goes for it sometimes.” 

The girl was pretty - and definitely dressed to get his attention. She wore one of his t-shirts artfully slashed to show off her cleavage and had her legs on display in a pair of cutoff denim shorts. Good for her. “Yeah, why not.” You smiled, turning your head away from where the players were sprinting into the outfield and back to give her your full attention. “Even if he’ll be back in Louisville pretty soon, you might as well. See what happens.”

“It’s only 40 minutes away.” She shrugged, looking out and pointing at where the man was laying on the field, one knee bent and his other ankle resting against the top of it. The trainer was applying extra resistance, and you hummed in approval as you watched. I wish I was that trainer.  “I’d drive there if I needed to.” 

Her eagerness didn’t surprise you. Jack was a notably eligible bachelor, and one of the most desirable men on the team. Unlike the others, though, he didn’t often publicly date. But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hook up. And … You returned your attention to the field, watching as he stopped to talk to the woman, pointing at the front of his left shoulder and grinning. And I’m sure he’s got his pick in every city he visits. 

“Oh, I think they’re coming over now.” 

She adjusted her shirt and you watched her posture change, the woman’s shoulders straightening and her smile widening. Instead of staring at Jack’s strut toward the seats, you looked at Caleb. The boy was buzzing with excitement as he turned toward where the man was headed - about ten people to your left, where a small crowd had gathered. “Do you think he’ll come over?” Caleb said your name, frowning. “There’s not much time, and -”

“He will.” You leaned in, reaching out to touch his arm. “You’re wearing one of his shirts, right? He’s gotta stop for you.” Caleb grinned, turning back toward the field, though he kept his head turned to the left. 

You watched Jack then, smiling as he interacted with the fans. He signed autographs and posed for a few pictures, his smile genuine. But you noticed that he was really only focused on the kids and teenagers, spending more than a few seconds with them instead of moving along as quickly as was politely possible the way he did with adults. He took pictures with a few women, the man leaning in but keeping both hands behind his back. He puts his hands on the kids’ shoulders, but doesn’t touch the women… interesting. 

“Keep your phone out. I’m gonna need you to take a picture.” Caleb was excited, the boy happier than you ever remembered seeing him. You laughed but did as he asked, leaning to the right and angling the phone so that you could snap a picture of the two of them, though Jack was barely in the frame. 

The girl next to you leaned forward when he was only a person or two away, and then seemed to second guess that decision. You bit back a laugh as she stood and climbed over the seats, standing next to Caleb and effectively blocking your view of the man on the field. Gee, thanks.

He finished with the little girl that he’d been speaking to, handing her back a signed baseball and a pen, and then took a step to the side and in front of the woman, saying hello. 

Clearly hearing his voice in person shocked you - the man’s accent thick, even in the few words he spoke. You desperately wished that you could see him, but you didn’t want to shift in your seat and draw attention to yourself. I’ll see him when he talks to Caleb.

“I heard you were playing and had to come today.” She leaned forward, fingertips resting against the wall. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah?” He laughed, reaching up to pull his hat off and then set it back down on his head, taking a few seconds to think. You caught a glimpse of the bullseye tattoo on his hand, biting down on your lower lip at the sight. “Well thank you for comin’ out. It’s good to be back on the field.” The woman giggled and then held her phone up, tilting her head to the side. 

“Can we get a picture? I’ll tag you in it on Instagram, and -”

“Sure.” You watched as the woman spun around and then leaned backwards, holding her phone up to take a selfie. “Hope it’s a good one.” He smiled, peering at the phone from over her shoulder, and you fought back a roll of your eyes at how wide and practiced her smile was - the woman’s head cocked to the side - and toward his. 

When she straightened up, he took a half step toward Caleb, already tipping his head down and toward the boy. But the woman spoke up before he could fully move on, reaching out to touch his arm. “Thank you, Jack. You have no idea how much I -” He flinched - just barely, but you saw it, his shoulder jerking back slightly as her fingertips made contact.

“No problem. Thank you, and enjoy the game.” She stiffened, but you didn’t focus on that. You turned your attention to the boy in front of you - and in turn, Jack, whose face split into a grin, the man’s dimple on display, even beneath the shade from the brim of his hat. “Well hi there. I’m Jack, what’s your name?” 

“Caleb.” He leaned forward and you opened your camera app again, your smile widening, too. Caleb’s going to be so excited later. “I had tickets to see you play in Louisville and then you got hurt and I didn’t know if you’d be back this season but then my mom bought me tickets for today after I found out you were going to play again, and so we drove all the way here -” 

“Slow down there, big guy.” Jack laughed, giving you a glimpse of his teeth, and then gestured to Caleb’s hand, the boy holding a Sharpie tightly. “You want me to sign somethin’ for you?” 

“Yeah. This ticket, please.” Caleb held the marker out, looking up at Jack. “And I’ve got your jersey, but it was too hot to wear it today, so I picked this t-shirt instead.” 

“Of course I will.” He nodded, taking the Sharpie and the paper, scrawling his name across the front of it. “Turn around and I’ll sign real big on the number on the back.” Caleb spun around and you were thrilled to see that he was almost delirious with excitement, his eyes wide and his smile nearly splitting his face in two. 

“Can I take a picture of you signing for him?” Jack glanced up at the sound of your voice, his smile faltering for a split second and a confused look passing over his features. “I didn’t want to just do it and have the flash go off, and…”

“Go right ahead.” He smiled again, giving you a nod. “Thank you for askin’.” It only took a few seconds for him to sign, but you took multiple pictures, and then as Jack capped the marker, you decided to speak up again, not wanting to make Caleb ask. 

“And can I get one of the two of you looking at the camera before he turns around again?’

“You’ve already got your phone out.” Jack smirked at you, and then reached up to tilt the brim of his hat back, showing you more of his face. Holy shit, look at him. “I’m more’n happy to take a picture with my new buddy Caleb.” 

You couldn’t help smiling at that, and when Jack settled his hand - the Sharpie poking out from between his fingers - against the boy’s shoulder and squeezed, it widened. “Got it.” You lowered the device, mouthing the words ‘thank you’ at Jack at the same time Caleb spoke them out loud, turning back to face the man. 

There were only two more kids to the right of you waiting to talk to Jack, but before moving to them, he hesitated, looking between you and the boy. “Where are you and your mom sitting today, Caleb?”  Mom? Do I really look like -

“She’s not my mom, she’s my sister’s friend. And we’re over there.” He pointed at the outfield. “Somewhere.” Why is he asking? 

“The section right at the end of the dugout.” Jack pointed, but looked directly at you. “First row. Aisle seats, 23 and 24. They’re mine, and if you want ‘em, today they’re yours.” 

“What? Jack, that -” 

“I’ve gotta go.” He nodded, looking at Caleb and grinning, and then back at you, his smile softening. “Enjoy the game.” He didn’t say anything else before he stepped down the field and then stopped to talk to the other kids waiting. What the fuck just … “That was so cool!” Caleb spun back to look at you, his eyes wide. “He signed my shirt and took a picture with me and now we get to sit in his seats, and -”

“Caleb.” You took a breath, still trying to process what had happened in the previous few minutes. “I don’t -” 

“We’re going to sit in them, right?” You didn’t know how to answer him. Should we? You sighed and then looked to your right, watching as Jack signed a baseball and handed it back to a little girl before laughing with an older man that was with her. “I mean he told us to, and -” 

“I definitely would.” The girl next to you spoke up, and when you looked over, you saw that she was jealous, her eyes narrowed as they looked you over. “Do you know him? Is that -”

“I’ve never spoken to that man before just now.” You shrugged, unsure of what else to say. “I have no idea what … or why, or …” You would have been lying if you’d said that no part of you was a little smug at the fact  that he’d offered the seats to you and not to her, but you didn’t want to be that woman. “He must have liked you, Caleb.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Whatever. I’ll just see him after the game at the players’ parking lot.” She stood then, but didn’t say anything else before she spun away from you and headed down the row and toward the aisle. 

Caleb watched her go, his head tilted to one side.“What crawled up her butt?” You snorted at his question but there was no way you could give him an actual answer - so you gave him a partial one. 

“She’s probably just sad that you get to have a great view of the game tonight, kiddo.” With a sigh, you stood up, sliding your phone back into your bag and zipping it. You looked at Jack, watching as he said goodbye to the last of the fans and then headed for the dugout. 

But he didn’t go straight there - instead, he stopped and spoke to one of the security guards, pointing at the stands. Oh, he’s… And then you were stunned when both men looked back in your direction, Jack raising one arm to point at you while nodding. The security guard caught your eye and nodded too, and you then watched as Jack gently smacked him on the arm and smiled again, finally turning away to disappear back into the dugout. 

“Can we go and see the seats? And can I get french fries? Will you send the picture to my mom? And Erin? And -” He was excited - and you couldn’t blame him - but you still laughed, gesturing for Caleb to follow you down the row and toward the opposite aisle, closer to your new seats. 

“Yeah. We’ll do all that. Let’s go.” 

There was plenty of room for the two of you to walk to where Jack had indicated, and when you got close, the same security guard that Jack had spoken to stepped forward, gesturing with one hand. “You’re right here tonight.” 

You thanked him, letting Caleb choose which seat he wanted, and when you dropped into the remaining one, you pulled your phone out again as the boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the back of the wall in front of him. 

You had just enough time to send off a few quick texts to Erin - the pictures of Caleb and Jack, as well as one that you took from the seat and a message that said we got upgraded, I’ll explain later before the National Anthem started. 

You rose to your feet again, keeping your eyes on the field. Once the music faded and the announcer began to give the starting lineups, you were excited, your smile just as wide as Caleb’s. 

And when they announced Jack and the man trotted out onto the field to even more cheers from the crowd, you clapped along with them, pulse quickening. I love watching him play. 

He and the shortstop tossed a ball back and forth a few times while the pitcher made his way from the bullpen, and the grin never left the dark haired man’s face. By the time the ump signaled the start of the game, he was settled in place and standing a little behind the bag, knees spread and both hands resting on his thighs. 

It took a few batters for him to see any action, and when you heard the crack of the bat, Jack sprung into motion, moving toward second and bending over to scoop the ball off the infield before tossing it to first for the out. 

You cheered just as loudly as Caleb did, clapping your hands without looking away from the field - but you weren’t expecting to catch Jack’s eye when he turned to move back into place at third… and you definitely weren’t expecting him to grin at the sight of you. 

The moment was over quickly, and as the players ran off the field after the third out, you turned to Caleb, clearing your throat. “You said you wanted fries?” 

— 

You made it back to your seats just in time to watch the bottom of the second, both of you carrying a drink and a snack. Jack was batting 8th, so there was a good chance he wouldn’t hit until the next inning, giving you time to eat before he headed to the plate. 

You also checked your messages, a series of exclamation points from Erin and a thumbs up from her mother the only two you had waiting. You showed Caleb, the boy laughing and then scrolling up to look at the picture of him and Jack, his smile so broad that you thought it must have hurt. 

There were no seats in front of you, which meant that you had an unobstructed view when the man finally headed to the plate, the familiar sound of his walkup music - Hungry Like The Wolf - blaring through the stadium’s speakers. Here we go. C’mon, Jack. 

He took a few practice swings and you were relieved to see that he didn’t wince or hesitate. His swing looked comfortable, and when you leaned forward, resting your hands on your knees, you nodded as he took another, pointing the bat outward before settling it on his shoulder and waiting. 

He swung at the first two pitches, making contact on the second one and hitting a long foul down the first base line. But Jack ended up walking, taking his place on first and then getting into position as the catcher stepped to the plate. 

You watched him closely - taking in the way the dark blue jersey fit him, the V of upper chest skin - and a peek of the gold chain he wore - visible thanks to two of the buttons being undone, his socks pulled high to accentuate his muscled calves. He always looks fucking great. 

You knew it meant nothing that he’d offered you and Caleb his seats that day - that he’d just done it to be nice. But you would have been lying to yourself if you said that it didn’t make you feel good, Jack’s momentary attention a confidence boost, especially after the reception he’d given the woman next to you. 

The batter hit a single, and when Jack advanced to second and stopped, you cheered again, the man clapping his hands and shouting something that you couldn’t hear at his teammate. But it was all for nothing, because the following player popped out, ending the inning. 

Jack trotted across the field and toward the dugout, the disappointment on his face evident - but again, when he saw you he smiled, the expression only there briefly … though you certainly didn’t miss it. 

As you settled back against the seat, halfway listening to Caleb as he recounted team stats, you wondered why Jack was making so much of an effort when nothing would come of it. You thought of the woman’s comment about the players lot, wondering just how likely it was that you’d be able to meet him if you went, too. But not with Caleb here. 

The night would be a good memory at least - for both you and the boy, and that would have to be enough. 

By the time Jack stepped to the plate, you were more than ready. The setting sun shaded the sky in hues of orange and purple, the stadium’s lights brightening up the field. Your eyes flicked from where Jack stood to the scoreboard, scanning over the information about him that was displayed there and lingering on the giant image of his smiling face. 

But when you heard the groan of the crowd, your attention snapped back to home plate, where Jack was arguing with the umpire over the previous call, his head shaking back and forth. He stepped back into the box, but you could see his irritation, though it didn’t last for long.

He swung on the next pitch and made contact again, sending the ball straight through between first and second. It rolled halfway into the outfield before anyone got to it, and you got to your feet and cheered, the sound signaling that a run scored loud through the speakers. Not only had he gotten his first hit after the injury, but he’d batted someone in, giving the Cavalry the lead. 

And when the next player swung hard, sending the ball up and out and over the center field wall, the stadium erupted - Jack raising his arm and pumping his fist as he rounded third, before stopping to wait for his teammate to make it home. They celebrated for a few seconds and then off the field, and you slung an arm around Caleb as both of you cheered, too. 

They took a three run lead into the next inning, and then handled their business, setting the batters down 1-2-3 thanks to a double play that Jack initiated. You could see his confidence in every movement; his body remembering exactly what he needed to do to be successful on the field even after weeks away. And he’s good at it, too. That makes a difference.  

Caleb left the seats to fill up his cup from the fountain at the top of your section, and by the time he came back the game had started again. It was a productive inning. You spent more of it on your feet than sitting, joining the crowd in cheering as the Cavalry scored three more runs. But when Jack’s turn to bat came, you realized what the celebration meant. 

“They took him out.” You looked down at Caleb, watching as he frowned. “They’ve got such a lead, that it’s better to rest him, and …” 

“That’s stupid.” Caleb crossed his arms, sighing. “He only batted twice.” You agreed, but you also weren’t the manager of a baseball team. You figured he had a better idea of what the right strategy was when it came to Jack’s rehab … even if it did disappoint you that you wouldn’t get to see him at the plate or on the field again. 

The rest of the game went by quickly, and though they gave up a few runs, your team ended up winning handily. Caleb requested to stay and watch the on-field celebration after, and as the players lined up for high fives and handshakes before leaving for the locker room, you focused, too. Maybe he’ll come back out for a second. 

It was stupid and you knew it, but the moment the field emptied, it meant that the night - and the experience in Jack’s seats - was over… and you didn’t want it to be.

He took his place in line - still wearing his uniform but without his hat - and you watched as he greeted the other players, smiling and laughing with them as they interacted. You couldn’t hear him, but you could tell he was happy, and that made you smile, too. Maybe he really will be back in Louisville by next week. 

The handshakes ended, and when Jack headed back toward the dugout, he didn’t look in your direction again - until right before he made it to the top of the steps. 

It was then that he stopped, eyeing the seats until he saw the two of you. You tried not to react, but Caleb didn’t hide his response; the boy raising his hand and waving wildly. Jack laughed at the sight of it, lifting one of his hands in a wave, too. 

You thought that was it, but then his head turned just enough that he made direct eye contact with you. 

Even from the distance, you could see one side of his mouth lift into a half smile as he nodded, raising one hand and touching the tips of his fingers to his temple before tipping them toward you. Your smile grew and you nodded in return, but before you could do anything else, Jack disappeared into the dugout, leaving the two of you standing in front of the seats. 

Well that was something. Biting your lip and letting out a breath through your nose, you turned your attention toward Caleb, saying his name. “Alright, kiddo. We’re going to go to the bathroom before we head out, because I am not stopping twenty minutes into the drive to let you pee.” 

— 

You’d expected Caleb to talk your ear off the entire drive home. Instead, he fell asleep before you made it back to the highway, leaving you with your thoughts on the drive back. 

And you would have been lying if you said that most of those thoughts weren’t of Jack. 

The interaction with him had been limited, sure. But it had been meaningful in more than one way, for both you and Caleb. He had a cool story that he could tell his friends, and pictures that he could show them. You’d look back on the way his gaze on you had felt and remember the thrill of being on the receiving end of one of his bright smiles. 

You didn’t know him any more than any other person that had ever seen him play or interacted with him briefly, but that didn’t matter. Even if you never spoke to him again, and never saw him in any capacity aside from on the field, you’d have that night as a memory. And a damn good one.

After dropping Caleb off and promising Erin a recap the following day, you drove the short distance to your house and parked in the driveway, turning the car off and enjoying the silence for a few seconds before unbuckling your seatbelt. 

Your house was quiet and dark as you moved through it, leaving your shoes and bag by the front door and grabbing your phone before heading upstairs. You tossed that onto your bed and went into the bathroom, scrubbing your face and changing into your pajamas before staring at your reflection in the mirror. 

You’d been single for six months, and though you’d talked to a few men through the same dating app Erin had used to meet Troy, none of the conversations had led anywhere past the first awkward meetings. It wasn’t that the men weren’t interested, it was you that was selective, opting not to waste your time with anyone that reminded you of the time you’d spent with your most recent ex. 

You knew that you were being picky, but you were content with that knowledge, even if it meant a longer period of being on your own before you found the right person. And Jack couldn’t ever be the right person. You wrinkled your nose while you brushed your teeth, still watching yourself in the mirror. Because he’s been consistently single for his entire career. 

Jack kept much of his personal life private, but Janie was the exception to that. 

And after climbing into bed and plugging your phone in, you searched their names, refreshing your memory of the story that you’d become familiar with when The Statesman had first drafted Jack. 

They’d been high school sweethearts, opting to go to college together. He was going to play ball and major in engineering, and her chosen field was communications. It was clear from all of the pictures of the two of them you found that though they were young, they were in love. 

Everything had gone well for the first few months; Jack and Janie settled in on campus, started classes and began making friends. They’d come home together for Christmas, and Jack was set to begin baseball in January with the rest of the team. 

But only a few weeks into the pre-season, the unthinkable happened: Janie stopped at a convenience store to buy coffee on her way to meet her study group off campus while Jack was at a team workout, and was caught in the middle of a robbery. She hadn’t even made it to the hospital, and Jack had considered quitting the team due to his grief. 

Her parents had convinced him otherwise - reminding him that he’d worked hard for years to get to where he was, and that she wouldn’t have wanted him to give up on his dreams on her account. His parents had agreed, though there were interviews where they admitted that they would have understood if he’d chosen to take a break or even quit outright. 

And Jack had taken a few weeks off, but was ready to go on opening day, dedicating his season to Janie and her family. He was a skilled player, there was no question about it, but the coverage of a D1 athlete losing his girlfriend in such a shocking manner helped draw attention to the man and his performance, and it hadn’t taken him long to grab the attention of scouts. 

He’d had some attention in high school, too, though nothing had panned out - aside from the offer of a partial athletic scholarship. That all changed in his sophomore year when everyone really took notice of his exceptionally high fielding percentage and his infectious enthusiasm toward his teammates. 

Jack declared for the draft that was to take place a month after finishing his junior year - only days after his 21st birthday, and The Statesman had taken him with the fourth overall pick in the first round. 

The rest was history. 

He’d played with The Cavalry for almost four seasons before getting his first call-up, and though it had been toward the end of the regular season, Jack had received an invite to Spring Training the following year … and he’d never gone back. 

In his second season with The Statesman, he’d been named the starting shortstop, making a name for himself with both his agility and personality. His teammates loved him. The community loved him. The cameras loved him, and in the five seasons he’d played in his original position, he earned two gold gloves and got voted into the All-Star Game once. 

But he was injury prone, and after careful consideration, they moved Jack from shortstop to third base. It was an adjustment period for everyone involved, though after a few years of playing the position, it seemed almost natural for him, and there were fewer injuries. 

Until earlier that season, anyway, when Jack had misjudged a slide into second and jammed his shoulder, spraining a muscle and knocking him out of all baseball activities for weeks. He’d gone on the 60 day injured list, though you’d seen him at more than a few games in the dugout before he’d headed down to rehab with The Cavalry. 

He was lucky he hadn’t needed surgery, and even luckier that there’d been no complications with his healing. According to the newest articles you read as you scrolled online that night, Caleb was correct and the team was aiming to have Jack re-activated by the following weekend so that he could finish the final 7 weeks of the season in the majors. Which is where he deserves to be.

You sighed and rolled onto your side, eyes still on the screen - and on a picture of Jack that had been taken a week or two earlier during a Statesman season ticket holder event. He was grinning from behind the bar, one hand holding a glass and the other pulling on a tap to pour someone a drink. 

“Enough.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. Doing a deep dive on Jack wasn’t going to change anything, even if it was keeping you occupied as you wound down for the night.

But before you put the phone down and rolled in the opposite direction, you couldn’t help opening his instagram page and checking his tagged photos, just to see if the woman from next to you had posted the picture like she said she would. 

There were countless pictures of Jack in his uniform posted - everything from on-field screenshots to pictures of him with his teammates and family - but those were dotted with more personal ones; people tagging him in photos of themselves, edited photos, or photos of Jack alone that had been taken from other sources. You didn’t have far to scroll before you found the picture of Jack and the woman, tapping it with one finger to make it bigger. 

She’d put more than one filter on it, smoothing out her features and his, and when you zoomed in on it, you wrinkled your nose. Why would you filter him? He doesn’t need it. Even with the filtering, you could see the bored look in Jack’s eyes, his smile small and tight. Not like it was with Caleb. 

She’d captioned the picture with a black and a yellow heart bracketing the number 7, and it already had more than a few likes. She also had a story, and even though you knew that she’d be able to see who viewed it, you didn’t care, hesitating for only a second before tapping on it. 

The girl - whose name was Brittany - had posted a few times throughout the game; pictures from in her seat, a video of Jack walking up to the plate, her grinning at the camera at the end of the game with the scoreboard behind her… but the final story post was clearly a picture of a parking lot with a tall fence around it, and what looked like a security guard in the corner. She went to the lot. 

You sighed, backing out of the story - and her profile - and going back to Jack’s, eyes lingering on his account’s picture. You followed him, and had for years - liking and commenting on the pictures he posted as well as tagging him and the other players in the occasional ones you’d taken at games. He’d never replied or acknowledged them in any way, though. 

And he won’t, you admitted to yourself as you closed out of the app and opened your alarm, making sure that it was set. “Good luck, Jack.” Closing your eyes after setting the device down on your bedside table, you rolled away from it and got comfortable. As you settled in, you let your thoughts wander back to earlier - to the way Jack’s eyes had warmed when he’d smiled at you, and the way his smile had widened when he saw you and Caleb sitting in his seats. 

You would have been lying if you’d said that the memories didn’t make you feel good. It didn’t matter that he’d likely smiled at hundreds of others in the same way. He’d made the night special for you and for Caleb, and that was the important thing. 

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep - and Jack followed you into your dreams… which you didn’t mind at all. 

— 

You didn’t have a meeting until 10:30 the following morning and so you slept in a little, taking a shower and getting dressed before you even checked your messages. 

There were a few from Erin, asking for details, and you promised you’d reach out once you had a break. But before then, you needed to focus and settled in in front of your laptop, clicking open your first email of the day. Back at it. 

You worked steadily until almost 1 PM, checking things off of your to-do list and scheduling a second consultation with the same client for the end of the following week. You typically worked virtually - and had since your uncle had hired you a few years prior - but there were occasional accounts that required your presence in person. And this one’s going to be one of them. 

That wasn’t an issue. Their offices were located in New Orleans, and you were looking forward to potentially spending a few paid days in the city. But we’ll see. 

While you waited for your lunch to heat, you called Erin, your friend picking up on the second ring and groaning into your ear. “Whatever happened yesterday must have been incredible because Caleb hasn’t shut up since he woke up this morning.” 

“It was pretty great, Erin,” Taking a seat at your kitchen table, you laughed. “I sent him the pictures, did he -”

“He’s already set the one of him and Jack as his phone background. And he’s been bugging me to take him to get them printed.” You weren’t surprised; Caleb loved baseball, and the opportunity that he’d had at the game the previous night had likely meant the world to him. “So how did that happen? He just offered you the tickets?” 

“Pretty much. He stopped to sign for Caleb, and just out of nowhere, asked where we were sitting.” You wet your lips, laughing. “And then once he knew we were in the outfield seats, he just … pointed at the dugout and told us that we could sit in his instead.” 

“He offered them to Caleb? Or to -”

“Well… sort of.” You stood, looking out your back window. “He asked your brother where we were sitting but he was looking at me when he offered the tickets…” You pulled your food out of the microwave and set it down to cool. “And then when we were in the seats, he made eye contact with me a couple times, but -”

“How hot is he up close?” You snorted, but she continued. “Because that picture of him and Caleb? That man’s hand is -”

“Really hot.” Humming in agreement, you reached for a fork. “And he seemed really nice, too. Paid more attention to the kids than to the adults. There was this girl sitting next to us and she was clearly trying to catch his eye, but he barely looked at her.” You figured that he was a professional and wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize his reputation while on the field - and in front of younger fans. But still. She made it obvious. “He was polite, but he was just … going through the motions.” 

She hummed again, the sound non-committal as you took your first bite. “But not with you. And not with Caleb.” No, I guess not. “You should post those pictures and tag him.”

“Erin, I’m not trying to -”

“No, just hear me out. Maybe he’ll see them. And maybe he’ll remember you. And maybe he’ll -”

“Erin, come on. That’s a fantasy. I’m sure he’s got a million people tagging him every day. He won’t even see it if I do.” 

“You never know. It can’t hurt.” She said your name, the tone teasing. “And since Caleb’s account is private since he’s twelve, it makes sense you’d post ‘em for him. He really had a lot of fun with you. He’s already asking if you want to go to a game again.”

“Yeah. There’s still a little over a month left this season, so I’m sure we can figure out a weekend to see the Statesman. I’ll third wheel with you and Troy.” She laughed at that, agreeing. “I’m going to go, though. I need to eat. I have to run and analyze metrics for two campaigns this afternoon, and it’s going to take forever.” 

You hung up soon after, but as you ate, you contemplated what she’d said about posting the pictures. It was really no different than any of the other games you’d been to or posted about. You’d taken pictures that weren’t of Jack, and those could go up, too. Why not post the one of him and Caleb? It’s a good picture. 

After sending the final email for the day, you shut your laptop and changed into more comfortable clothes before stretching out on the couch. You needed to go to the store, but figured it could wait til later … and you had pictures to post. 

You chose five of them - one of the field from the concourse, one of the scoreboard, a picture from the seats, and then two of Jack and Caleb - one while he was signing and the other of them looking at the camera, which you made the main image. Choosing a caption was harder than picking the pictures themselves, but you finally opted for something extremely neutral: First @The_Cavalry game of the season. Great game, even better seats, and @CalebOnBase got to meet his favorite player. 

You tagged the picture - adding Jack and The Statesman’s accounts - and thought about adding one of Jack’s walk up songs to the post. No. That looks too desperate. So you posted it without, taking one final look at the images - and lingering on Jack’s smile - before you checked the Cavalry’s account to see if they’d posted that night’s lineup. 

Jack was starting again, but instead of being in at 3rd, he was the designated hitter. So he’ll get to bat, but can save his arm. It made sense, and you figured that if all went well, he’d only play in a game or two more before being called back up to the majors. And he’ll be back here. It made you smile, and the expression widened when you got a comment on the post from Caleb - four baseballs and the thumbs up emoji. 

You’d done your part, and that was that. Caleb could see that you’d posted the photos, and if by chance Jack saw the tag, he’d also see that you appreciated the seats he’d allowed you to sit in. With one final look at the pictures, you nodded and then sat up, sighing. 

“Alright. Grocery shopping’s not going to do itself.”

— 

You were stunned the next afternoon when you got an alert that The Cavalry tagged you in a story, and didn’t even try to hold back your grin when you saw that they’d reposted your pictures. You got a comment from their account a few seconds later - Glad you had a great time, thanks for coming! - the words accompanied by a blue heart and a baseball. 

After sending the link to Erin so that she could show her brother, you set your phone down, returning to the work you were doing. You stayed busy throughout the rest of the day, and even though your phone kept lighting up with new alerts - strangers liking the pictures and commenting on your post, it didn’t break your focus. 

And by the following day, things were pretty much back to normal. The story was gone, strangers weren’t still finding your profile, and you’d opted to work for most of Saturday morning to get ahead, which meant that you could take Monday off. And I can take a nap. I haven’t been able to do that in weeks. 

You pulled the drapes shut and then climbed into bed, the darkened room helping you to relax much faster than you anticipated. There was no need to set an alarm, and so you didn’t, figuring that you’d wake up on your own when you got hungry… which you did, just after 6 PM. Maybe I’ll order food. I don’t feel like cooking. 

You stretched, pointing your toes, and then reached for your phone, mentally flipping through restaurant options. But you froze with the device in front of your face as the screen lit up, eyes zeroing in on the alert in the center of it. 

Whiskey_Jack7 liked your post

---

[snackugaki]

... my ass actually got like 6+ images deep before realizing i hadn't posted shit-- oops

my tmnt  iteration (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt  iteration part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

tmnt  iteration omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

lny visit 1 | 2

IDW spoilers below, teeechnically Mirage & Next Mutation spoilers too ig?

blah blah blabbering because that's one of the many things you can do on tumblr.com

bloopity bloopin, turtles all being traded on the black market as pets, medicine, or decor to be... "prepared". 'cept Jennika, keeping her IDW origin because it's badass and I like it. eco vigilantes freed them one fateful night, same night someone(s) stole some mutagen for a rival company to TGRI, boom collided in their getaway routes, away floated Venus just like in NM and some others who lalala may or may not be some mutanimals

playing mostly with coloring, Rise introducing markings is such a nice and refreshing change from the all sam green turtle, different bandana color turtles I grew up with. fanon taking that concept and applying it in conjunction with actual turtle colorings also scratches my visdev brain node just so

hm... still fiddling with their plastrons... Venus' and Jennika's are fine though

Leo

funky li'l ringed map turtle

can't see it but, he got them little ridgey-spikies on his shell

christ, I'm finding a way to attach Iris symbolism to him, either through markings or something else

Iris in hanakotoba is... basically all Leo; nobility, bravery, honor, courage, heavy samurai association

5'2"

Raph

McCord's or Amboina box turtle idk idk idk can't choose

stuck on coloring him with a scale mail feeling to match the box turtle photos I found

....I needa draw him beefier, he can stand to be beefier

5'6"

Donnie

literally just googled which turtles exhibit the highest INT, wood turle consistently listed plus some have funky geometrically patterned/shaped shells

tossing on how do the plastron coloring, really liking the dark spots on it

probably keep the lightened belly/inner limb coloring

...probably... lol idk

5'8"

Mikey

my perfect chonky boy, no notes except he (and his brothers) need plastron do-overs

and now i am stuck with the heart-on-his-sleeve marking

canon 2 my iteration it is done

he gets to be the slider this go round, if just 'cuz he's technically the first born (in terms of creating TMNT and its story and world)

let him have the fluttering, finger drumming on everything and everyone because he's bursting with "i love you" energy anyway

5'4"

Venus

"my pretty daughter" iykyk

sea turtle as per last couple iteration posts

cultivator instead of "shinobi"

"i aM ShiNObi"... guh, just, I dunno, the term "cultivator" wasn't really known back in '98 like that, but she had the medicine box, she worked to learn how to throw a fireball at Vam Mi, she was pleased at her progression when she defeated the counterspell from the staff of Bu Ki. that's cultivator shit right there.

she's still a pugilist more than a iron fan user

looks up to April like a big sister, speaks canto and hakka with her

cuz she's still a linguist scholar like in Next Mutation so duh she speak all the languages (to an extant, she has a lot of studying left to go after all)

the greenified hawksbill coloring is growing on me...

still needa futz more with the plum flower motif on her

also figure out her huadian situation or just scrap it idkidkidk

her bandana + 50% green coloring is also growing on me....

5'10"

Jennika

technically also ringed map turtle since it was Leo who gave her the blood transfusion

I like the idea of bringing her Blaschko's lines to the forefront post-mutation but just... it's a lot of stripes. and goddamnit I ain't even gonna go deep into much of anything with the comics I just... can't not world build rip me

6'0"

April

still so tickled at April being closer to the turtles' ages in these new reboots and fascinated how it's played out

...but mine is a clean 44 yo, so. (turtles in late 30s)

Laird originally conceived April as an asian woman in his notes, Eastman drew her as a biracial woman he was dating at the time (April Fisher) and... idk what to tell y'all, people are running around being mixed in this world all the time, Brooklyn got hella Jamaican/Chinese so there you go

can speak canto and hakka

April being a "weirdo" as I've seen mentioned in Rise can stay, I'm picking that, that's a great trait to her character, big fan of Poly Styrene, loved Rachel True in The Craft

where "weirdo" is just she's into alt subculture and being in New York... she got her hands everywhere in those scenes

She and Chu Hsi get to have the most shoujo fuckin' romance because it's cute

and she's still a living drawing which I'm changing around a bit being why she felt like a "weirdo" and leaned towards subcultures and the turtles, she did eventually begin to destabilize but Venus stabilized her by trapping her in a scroll so she could work on a solution. ...where she has a long, happy relationship with Chu Hsi in the painted world scroll because lol time dilation

saw somewhere on the hellsite that the tooth gap is passed around every iteration... so April gets to have it

5'7"

Irma

i'm not ashamed to say I just reupholstered Nadia from Russian Doll

87 Irma went through a lot so she can have some dry wit and humor and be fly as fuck, big hair, big glasses, and a big attitude

still besties with April

likes moths, they're just neat little guys with rabbit ears iykyk

there is a very specifc size of her hair I am battling to keep consistent the problem it never feels big enough

says "fuhgeddaboutit" and has yelled that she is, in fact, "walkin' here,"

... she might also have a little bit of Myrtle from AHS: Coven sprinkled in now that I'm thinking about it to sum her up

she knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody for any random thing you could want to try to find

all the delis and bodegas know her

discusses plot lines from soap operas with Splinter on weekends, they get heated

5'5"

... god all this and I was just gonna have them play spades and play a round of pickup street ball in silly little comics

[timeofjuly]

This has been done for several hours technically

I didn't draw a scene but this popped up in my head and I couldn't stop thinking of it.

Them watching a movie and MC falling asleep on pap! Or their first touch since they met.

OMFG THIS IS AMAZING!!! I can't believe I've only posted 3 chapters of Wishbone and yet you've managed to captured their relationship dynamic and overall Vibes so perfectly. Love love love how you've drawn the MC (I picture them with very similar hair and colouring and resting expression, funnily enough!) and Papyrus!!!! Beloved!!!!! His panic is just perfect. I love how happy he looks in the first panel too, he's just so pleased to be there with the MC!!! The blush is so cute, I wanna gnaw on him.

I was super super super inspired by this and cranked out a little oneshot based on it that I've popped below the cut! Thank you so much!

Movie Night

"I don't get it," you say, eyes fixed to the TV, a furrow between your brows. "So, he plays all of the characters? Even the villains?"

"even the baddies," Papyrus confirms. Unlike you, he is not focussed on the screen; instead, he's doing his best to sneak furtive, sidelong glances at you and how little space there is between the two of you on the couch. Not even a full cushion's worth. It's scandalous. He can barely breathe, much less adequately explain the ins and outs of Napstaton's impressive discography to you. "he does all the camera work, too, and directing, and editing. 's real impressive, you'll see."

"And you like this movie in particular," you say dubiously, gesturing towards the screen, which is paused on the opening sequence of Napstaton: Rise of the Napocolypse. The freeze frame features the robot in question atop a (very cool!) motorcycle, riding through a halo of flame, fleeing from an identical, yet somehow perceptively darker, moodier version of himself who is also astride a (slightly less cool) motorcycle.

"uh-huh," he confirms. "there's great characterisation in this one, the arcs are great. and the pyrotechnics are very realistic."

"Right," you say. For some reason, he gets the sense that you don't believe him, but the fact that you've even agreed to give the movie a shot is progress. You're willingly engaging in monster culture and you're spending time with him; he's not gonna look a gyftrot in the mouth.

You settle further into the couch, digging into the bowl of chisps he'd placed on the coffee table before you arrived. When you shift forward to put the bowl back, your knee brushes his femur, and he breaks into a cold sweat.

"i'll! i'll start the movie, then? if you're ready? unless you want more snacks? a drink? a meal? i can't really cook, but i can use the microwave? if you want? you can eat sans' leftovers? i'm sure he won't mind!" 

Sans would very much mind if you, of all people, ate his food. Papyrus half expects you to eat it based on that alone.

"I'm okay, thank you," you say, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. Wordlessly, you pluck the TV remote from where it'd been sitting in the not cushion-width chasm and press play.

The speakers rattle with the boom of explosives as Napstaton unleashes a hailstorm of firepower against his identical enemy. You blink, but make no comment, giving your full attention to the TV.

He forces himself to do the same, even though your leg is still so close to his, and he can smell your shampoo. What he actually wants to do is focus on you and your reactions; are you enjoying movie? Are you following the plotline? Do you also appreciate the delicate balance between the Napstaton's as they vye for power? The struggle between duty and the heart? The laser cannons? He really hopes you like those; he'd helped 'Dyne make them Underground, and he plans on secretly fishing for compliments on them after the movie's over.

Around halfway through the movie, as Napstaton casually dodges bullets in slow motion while checking his reflection in a shattered mirror, Papyrus feels pressure on his shoulder.

First, he thinks you're tapping him to get his attention, which would be crazy because you never touch him, not since that first time, but when he looks down, it's not your hand on his shoulder. It's your whole ass head.

There's a beat of silence. On the TV, Napstaton stands atop a pile of rubble, arms akimbo, gazing heroically into the distance as a nearby TV anchor (also played by him, though wearing a mussed synthetic wig) reports: 'Will our flamboyant, fearless, and, let’s be honest, incredibly well-oiled hero arrive in time to save us all?'

"um," says Papyrus.

You do not respond. Napstaton backflips off the rubble. Papyrus begins to sweat.

"um?!" he tries again, a little louder.

Nada from you. Have you just keeled over randomly? Humans do that, right? He's read about spontaneous human combustion, is this something similar?

He looks down at you, twisting his neck to get a better look. Your face is still, eyes closed, but then he hears the slow, measured beat of your soft exhales.

Oh. You're asleep! That… that tracks. You're bone-tired literally all of the time, and this is probably the longest you've spent not having to work in ages. It certainly makes more sense than you just up and dying like a startled hamster over some laser cannons.

… oh, fuck, you're asleep, on him, like he's your own personal bony body pillow, and though he's definitely not opposed to that, he's sure you would be. As far as you've come, you'd never touch him, not on purpose.

You look honest like this, your face relaxed and open. Similar to the faux transparency you're so good at faking, but there's subtle differences, little minutiae of the human expression that are impossible to replicate. There's a softness to the set of your closed eyes he's never seen before, like the tension you carry behind them has disappeared, all those tiny muscles forced to relax. Your cheek is squished up against his shoulder, making it appear comically fuller towards the top, and from his vantage point - craning his neck down at you like a creep and almost popping a disc in the process - he can see that your lips are just slightly agape. The gentle puff of your breath continues, perfectly rhythmic.

As he watches, you let out a tiny sigh, and rub your face against his jacket. His soul goes warm in his chest. You're so fucking cute. You're cute all the time, of course, but there's something about you when you're so off-guard (like you trust him, almost) that makes his soul feel like it's on fire. His skull, too; unlike Napstaton, he doesn't have a mirror at the ready, but he knows he's blushing all the same.

What does he do now? Does he wake you up? No, no way; you need your rest. But what if you want him to wake you? You would, surely. You're not a napper; or, rather, your lifestyle doesn't allow you time to take a deep breath, much less get proper sleep. He has no doubt that, if you were to wake up, you'd get embarrassed and angry and rush off to subject yourself to more work, and probably not talk to him for a whole month.

On the TV, Napstaton forces the neck of his enemy between his robotic biceps and then flexes, popping the other robot’s head clean off. It's a pity you've fallen asleep so quickly; the movie's barely gotten to the good bit. He doesn't blame you, though. He knows you're exhausted.

Okay, so he's definitely not disturbing you. But what if you wake up, and get upset at him for letting you sleep? He doesn't want that either. He needs plausible deniability, or whatever it’s called, for why he didn’t wake you up.

…well, there's only one option, and luckily for Papyrus, it's one of the few things he's good at. Sans has always said he could fall asleep anywhere.

Doing his best not to jostle you, Papyrus tips his head to the back of the couch and closes his sockets. You are warm and solid against his shoulder and the weight of you, the physical reminder that you are here with him, that you trust him enough for this, guides him to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 2 (Teaser)

You can see how much he enjoys this. He's talking to you like the snake talked to Eva in the garden of Eden- and you're willing to bite the forbidden fruit just like she did, if it means that he'll look at you for just a little bit longer.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, sensual dominance, bondage/restriction of movement, use of color system (explained in story), oral (male receiving), light gagging, praise kink (reader), big dick!JK but what's new, corruption kink (JK), light orgasm control, Subspace, aftercare

Length: ???

A/N: don't think I'm not working on this haha

-> Masterlist

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

His hand on your chin, thumb almost gently running over your bottom lip, before he dares to make you open your mouth, his finger on your tongue. Throughout it all, your eyes stay on him, just like he told you they should, and you can feel something happening to you you didn't know was possible.

You feel like you're reaching your peak just from this alone- the sight of him, your hands bound behind your back, the knowledge that he's entirely bare in front of you. You want to see him.

But you wait. He's in charge, after all.

"So pretty.." he chuckles with eyes dark, licking his own bottom lip until the tip of his tongue plays with his piercing a little, while he watches you struggle to stay calm. His hand leaves your face, before he seems to think-

Just for a second though. He won't go there yet- slow steps, steady progress, no rush, he reminds himself.

"Look at you, so patient." He praises, and your breathing picks up at the sound of his words, eyes sparkling. You're so cute, he thinks to himself. Dangerous, most of all. "Tell me what you want." He commands, and you swallow, before you speak.

".. you." You answer. He chuckles.

"I'm right here." He snickers, amused.

"No, like.. I want-" you say, looking down his chest, his stomach, muscle defined as you reach his belly button, before the prominent V-Line greets your vision, soon followed by his hard length fully erect. It twitches once, and you can't look away.

"Eyes up, darling." He demands, and your gaze snaps back up, earning a pleased smile. "Good Girl." He grins. "Now, I'll ask again. What do you want?" He asks, and you have to physically force the words out of you.

"I want you inside my mouth.." you tell him, and he tilts his head to the side, faking innocence.

"You'll have to be more specific, darling." He purrs down at you, hand around your neck angling your face upwards to straighten your back, fixing your posture for you. It helps- though the simple touch around your throat makes you clench around nothing, oddly enough. It's clear that he's slowly increasing the intensity of the powerplay- no longer as easy to convince.

You've probably already leaked onto the sheets underneath you. And you couldn't care less.

Maybe it's the way he's gotten you to straighten your back in an almost confident position. Maybe it's the praise getting to your head. Or maybe you're just being consumed by your own lust. But suddenly, your words aren't so hard to say out loud any longer as you speak.

"I want to please you." You say, and it catches him off guard a little. "Please let me have it.." you plead, and in this moment, he doesn't care that you're technically still not speaking out what you want specifically. He really couldn't care less.

How could he, with a goddess aphrodite on her knees right in front of him, asking to pleasure him?

"Go ahead, darling." He says, finally offering his permission. "Let's see what you have to offer, hm?" He teases with a low purr in his tone, and at that, you realize you've received the green light from him.

And quite honestly, suddenly you don't care anymore if you've ever given head- because after all, Jungkook will guide you. Jungkook will use you in any way he deems right.

And you don't mind one bit.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

[theflyindutchwoman]

I thought torturing you would be more fun, and getting your mind off of whatever's been bothering you. But I should know better than trying to get into your personal business. Good night. Ashley and I, uh, broke up. Well, I guess technically, she broke up with me. I'm sorry. Thanks. Look, and just so you know, I-I did appreciate your whole radio gag… a little. It took my mind off things. Well, good.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 5.06 - The Reckoning

In some ways, this scene is a nice follow-up from the previous scene in the parking lot, after their 'first' kiss. Things are still a bit awkward between them but they're trying to push forward. Only, this time, Tim admits what's on his mind - or at least, parts of it - instead of pretending. This feels like a step forward, especially after Lucy stayed at Tim's bedside.

For all their progress, it's clear from the beginning that they're not quite back to their usual dynamic and bantering. Yet. Lucy is hesitant at first, almost shy, as she apologises to Tim for getting into his personal business, worried that she may have overstepped… Something she never really did before. And yet… They still crave that proximity, long for the other. When she gives him back his radio, he goes to grab it but doesn't take it either. They both hold onto it, trying to maintain that contact with the other. It's not quite like their (unnecessary long) handshake, but it does have a similar vibe. They remain a bit off-balance, not quite knowing where their boundaries are now. Even her little comment about torturing him not being as fun hints at this.

But that doesn't mean he didn't enjoy her little scavenger hunt. In the end, it worked exactly the way she envisaged. It's only when she goes to leave, that he actually opens up. He may have been reluctant at first, but he doesn't want to sever their connection at all. Most importantly, he doesn't want her to think she did anything wrong or upset him… He doesn't want her to stop trying. Because it shows how much she cares. She was simply trying to reach out to him and cheer him up, and deep down, he was touched by her attention and intention… In light of his breakup with Ashley, it matters even more. So he promptly confesses to make her stay, before correcting himself and admitting that Ash was the one who ended their relationship. And there's a bit of irony here : all this time, he didn't want to talk about this, only for him to practically treat the breakup as an afterthought. He quickly changes the topic and is more focused on making sure Lucy knows how much he appreciated her gesture. And it was a genuinely sweet gesture. With some romantic connotations. But mostly, it was everything Tim needed. Ashley broke up with him after showing one last time that she never truly knew the real him whereas Lucy orchestrated this treasure hunt to let him know how well she knows him. This just highlighted the difference between them even more… and the contrast in their message : Ashley couldn't accept who he was in the end while Lucy celebrated what makes him him. It was her way of saying that she sees him. All of him. She looks so pleased with herself when he concedes that he enjoyed the whole game… Before turning a bit smug, pursing her lips, glad that she succeeded. Her little 'good' is so sweet.

The way the camera actually stresses how far apart they're standing from one another, as if to symbolise the gap they still need to bridge is on point. Still… even that distance can't prevent them from having a moment. They can't tear their eyes off each other. The longing… The lingering looks… Judging by their body language, it seems like they were both about to say something more, trying to prolong this moment a bit longer. That is, until Chris comes within sight, as a reminder that he's still in the picture (since he tends to be forgotten). And that shot of him coming in between them summarise everything. Their last real hurdle.

Lucy inviting Tim to join them for dinner is both hilarious and awkward. And the thing is, she wasn't just being polite, she truly wanted him to come grab a bite with them. She's nowhere near as uncomfortable as the last time they were all in the same place. In her mind, she may not be able to be with Tim, but she still wants to be friends. And friends invite each other for dinner. While Tim is having more and more difficulty with this. Still, inviting the man you have feelings for and almost slept with to come eat with you and your boyfriend is bold… So Tim instantly declining the invitation, a big fake smile in place, is not surprising. Neither is Chris ushering Lucy away. No words needed : this shot depicts the whole story. Especially with Tim turning back to watch Lucy leave. He looks so defeated. The pining… And it definitely shows that the breakup was not the sole thing bothering him. He's not the only one turning back though. So does Lucy… Things are about to come to a head.

[gettothestabbing]

Relationship Doubts and Venting

For context, I've never had a long-term relationship before. I was technically 'with' a guy for two years, but after 6 dates our first month, I had to move, and so only saw him twice more in person after that. He insisted on EMAIL communcation only. So we essentially made no progress on actually getting to know each other.

So now, I've been with my current boyfriend for 5 months, and have known him for 6. We met on a dating app. We find each other very attractive, we're both conservative and want multiple children, we're both deadset on no sex before marriage, and we get along quite well. I enjoy being around him, and I've introduced him to my church and my coworkers on different occasions, starting from our first month together.

But on our last date, he started asking me questions about how my denomination handles weddings and what I would like my own wedding to be like. I was honest about what I liked, and finished by saying I wasn't ready to be engaged yet. But from things he's said, I have a feeling he's decided that I'm the one and is only waiting until I say something similar back to make it official.

That's so exciting, and flattering, and yet I know I'm not ready for it.

I still have a lot of concerns and unknowns about him. In no particular order, please enjoy all my concerns:

1: I still haven't met any of his family. We almost went bowling with his sister but she had a last-minute scheduling conflict. He's been living with his brother for several years, but he didn't even tell that brother about me yet. He says this brother is just very quiet and that they aren't close. But they've lived together for over 10 years, and my BF drives an hour EACH WAY to see me for every date. Where does the brother think he's going?

2: We never go to his area, partly because my work schedule is much less forgiving than his. This also means I've never seen his bedroom or home, including pictures. I've asked about this more than once, and he kinda dismisses it, saying it's just nicer to be in my area/house.

3: He's eight years older than me. I'm okay with the age gap in theory. In practice, we definitely grew up in very different eras and families. He's one of five kids, and I'm one of two sisters. I think he was harshly disciplined, and he indicated that he would physically discipline any children he has, though he added caveats restricting that discipline to certain behaviors from boys over the age of 15. But it still concerned me, because it wasn't coming from a place of "last resort" so much as from a place of "I got this so he would too."

Similarly, we don't agree on circumcision. His arguments for it consisted of "I was," "it's ugly otherwise," "he'll be bullied if he doesn't get it," and "there are some slight health benefits I think."

4: He was raised Catholic. I don't have an issue with Catholics generally, but I have known of several Catholic-CS couples who did not work out because of the vast denominational differences. I've also been personally warned by more than one CS woman of marrying a Catholic man, because they were prevented in their marriages from practicing their faith by their own Catholic husbands. TBF to my BF, he doesn't seem like he would be this kind of husband, but I don't know for sure because he doesn't seem to understand how different our beliefs actually are?

While my BF says he is looking for a new denomination, he's fundamentally incurious about other denominations, including my own. It seems like he is only looking to leave Catholicism because of political disaffection with Pope Francis and not because of an actual theological disagreement. He did Lent this year same as he ever did. He even admitted to not knowing the difference between Catholic and Protestant beliefs. He thought Peter wrote one of the Gospels (and he went to Catholic schools all his life).

It's just baffling to me that he isn't really interested in learning about different theologies and practices, while still claiming that he IS interested. It's words with no action following. I keep trying to show him stuff about my Bible study or my church. He's gone to a few services with me, but he never wants to talk about the content after. He just says the people there are nice.

Occasionally he makes jokes about wearing cult robes or bringing a goat to sacrifice to my church. This is because CS is often excluded from mainstream interfaith discussions and derided as a cult. Obviously, it's not a cult by any definition. I'm sensitive about this sort of joke, as not only do I truly hate cults like Scientology (for which we are also mistaken a lot unfortunately) and what they do to good people, but I was teased and bullied for my religion several times as a child and teenager.

5: Really, more than anything else, it's the incurious nature that concerns me. I'm not wealthy or an elite or anything, and never will be at my income level. But I do deeply value education, art, and learning. These are the things my family values too. I don't think I can be with someone permanently who doesn't value those things. I don't want to be overly pushy or self-centered either: it's not as if I want someone who only likes the stuff I like. But I don't want to only have small talk forever.

The few times we've had deeper discussions, he ends them as fast as possible, and his statements are rather vague and disconnected. While I wish we did agree on circumcision as an issue, I was more concerned with how poorly he defended his opinion, as well as how dismissive he was of my thoughts. I mean, I guess since I'm not a guy my opinion doesn't matter as much? But my arguments weren't about personal experience, but about empirical evidence and psychological studies. Idk. I regretted that conversation a lot; I got into lawyer-mode and was too blunt. For a few weeks afterward, he seemed like he was upset, but when I asked, he insisted he wasn't and that he didn't care. He also became more vulgar in our conversations after that. I had to ask him to scale it back.

None of these things individually are "dealbreakers". I'm not afraid of compromise and of us being our own people. But we do need to know some big things about each other and come to some important agreements before I would be ready to get engaged to him.

I'm hoping that when he meets my dad and stepmom next week, that will give me further insight. Good kissing and political agreement alone cannot a good marriage make.

[sewmice]

Hai as a decently new utapri fan I wanted to ask your opinion on how new fans should get into utapri after finishing the anime. Should they play through the otomes games or maybe try listening to the Masterpiece shows instead?

Welcome to Utapri! I hope you're enjoying the ride so far! And as someone who has been here for 12 years, welcome to Utapri hell, this is your life now! (with love of course)

Since the Masterpiece shows are all alternate universes/acting, it doesn't technically matter? So the real question is, do you like the idol side or the romance side more? Idol side, go for the masterpiece shows. Romance go for the games. And honestly switch around as you please. Just get to SOME game knowledge at some point because that's where you really learn about the boys after all. Personally it's best to know at least a little from everything.

Also the next most important thing will be whether you know Japanese or not. Because currently the anime, movies, and Starish special are the only things available in English. So what you can enjoy is more limited. Shining Live was in English for it's lifespan, and has some archives out there. Live Emotion we can only hope will have an English version but we do not know currently.

Now my answer to assist gets real long so gonna put it under a cut for everyone's sanity.

If you know Japanese, absolutely go enjoy the otome games, all of which have updated ports on the Switch! The release order and thus suggested order would be Repeat, Amazing Aria and Sweet Serenade, Debut, All Star, and finally All Star After Secret. And one day we'll have Dolce Vita.

If you want Quartet Night, while you meet them in Debut, their routes start with All Star. Ringo and Ryuuya have routes in Sweet Serenade and All Star if you're looking for them. Mitsuo in Amazing Aria is well....you'll see.

If you don't know Japanese, I still suggest looking into the games, but your options are more limited. ShiningWonderland has a fantastic crew pushing out translations. They're working on Repeat for Starish and All Star for QN currently. Couple of the routes are finished for at least one ending and others seem to be nearing completion. But I can't speak for that team past that. They are all wonderful people though!

If you don't mind getting a shortened, not amazing experience. There are some old summaries floating around from Breadmasterlee. Those, plus some friends who could understand enough, were how I learned parts of the games back in the day. Not the preferred experience though.

You could also technically struggle your way through with like Google Lens translation? Definitely not recommended though.

As for the masterpiece shows, again if you know Japanese, just enjoy them. If you wanna know what order they released in, the sets were as follows: Masquerade Mirage, Tenka Muteki no Shinobimichi, and Joker Trap Bloody Shadows, Pirates of the Frontier, Every Buddy!, and Polaris Lost Alice, Trios, and The Forest of Lycoris Dreaming of OZ, Never Again Neverland, and Faust Last Cantata

I know that next to last set, the Shining Masterpiece Shows, have translations by Kanasmusings. You can also find translations for some other dramas there, and subtitles for a majority of the stage plays (you will need your own file or DVD/BD).

The most recent Dramatic Masterpiece Shows seem to be works in progress at the moment. I know utapri-translations-uuuu is working on Heavens! And the CDs can be found in my masterlist.

The older ones I don't know off the top of my head if translations exist at all.

There are also Discord servers amongst the community, some public and some private, with resources and amazing people. But I'm not sure on how appropriate it would be to post the public ones. They don't allow piracy so as much as I push buying legally, uh, understandably linking from my blog publicly feels wrong. You can very likely find said discords via the Twitter fandom. Or talk to me in DMs.

This is a lot of info I know. Trying to cover as many bases as I can off the top of my head! Enjoy Utapri!

[saltsicklover]

Part Eight

Hey lovely people, here's another update for you! There might be a little bit of a wait for the next part, as this is pretty much everything I've had back written. I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2500+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Crying, Tobacco, Smoking, the Daggers not knowing a damn thing about Bob.

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Once Hangman and Phoenix stop yelling over each other, Bob doesn't bother trying to unshrink from himself. Hangman finally walked away, red in the face and angry. He wanted to hit Bob, he really did, but he knew better than to hit a fellow Aviator in the Hard Deck. So, to keep his fits at bay, he turned on his heel and headed for the front door- he needed to take a walk. That walk turned into red taillights shining through the windows of the Hard Deck, tires squealing as he took off. 

Phoenix pulled herself up into one of the stools, the tension of her body wearing on her muscles. Bob slides up next to her, still curled in on himself. The pair sit in silence, the bustle of the bar filling the air around them. The jukebox plays some off-radio country song that Bob catches bits and pieces of as the noise from the crowd ebbs and flows. 

It makes him think of her, how she still invades the pieces of his life the same way the song reaches his ears. Just when he hasn't thought of her, the memory of her would cross his mind again. And just a half a hour ago, she was standing right in front of him and he didn't even recognize her. That kills him. It makes all of the yelling he endured feel justified. 

"I can't believe this," Natasha's voice is quiet now, her fingertips buried in the slicked back hair of her bun. "Goddamn it Bob! How am I supposed to bring her back to our place now? How am I supposed to ask her to come back to a place that is basically yours- I'm just sleeping in your fucking guest room,"

Bob opens his mouth to try and argue that the house is just as much hers as it is his, even though it's not technically true. He owns the house, hell, he owns a house outside of each base he has been stationed at. The moment he was no longer bound to the barracks with in processing, he went out and purchased something. A new home that never quite felt right. His pockets have always been lined with money from his Father's oil business- not that any of his fellow Aviators knew that fact. 

It was easy to keep that secret, since no one really asked about him anyway. And when he moved Natasha in, he conveniently failed to mention that the house was paid off.  She didn't ask, and he liked it that way. Just another way he could put space between the person he used to be and the person he is becoming. The person he is now is a work in quiet progress- at least it was until Sunny walked into the bar tonight. 

"Oh my God, Sunny, I've been in here yelling at you instead of going after her!" Phoenix is disappointed in herself as she speaks, "God, Bob, you know I care about you, right? You're my back seater and I will continue doing everything in my power to make sure you make it home each day, but, I can't even stand to look at you right now. I've gotta go find Sunny,"

Natasha doesn't even make it two steps towards the door before Bob speaks.  

"Rooster followed her out," He hooks a thumb behind him, gesturing to the back door, "They went that way, and I-" Bob's eyes glaze over with tears, anger bubbling inside of him at the thought of his fellow Aviator out with her. 

"What is it?" Phoenix asks, her voice softer than it had been all night.

"If I hadn't lost her before, I sure have now," 

Phoenix moves to Bob's side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You and I are going to talk tonight, about everything," She gives it a reassuring squeeze with as much emotion as she can muster before she is out the back door, leaving Bob alone in the crowded bar. 

For the first time since he started hanging out at the Hard Deck, Bob reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his silver cigarette case. He plucks one of the small Cigarillos from the confines of the case, placing it between his teeth. With the strike of a match he lights the cigar; the smell of cherry tobacco permeates the air around him. The nicotine fills his lungs, and yet, he feels no less heavy.  

---

"You know what really gets me?" Sunny mutters, a weak smile pulling over her lips. She leans her head back against Rooster's shoulder, sticky trails of past shed tears still damp on her cheeks. She balances an elbow on her knee, her hand coming up to brush over her brow. "God, it's so stupid," 

"What's that?" Bradley gives her elbows a small squeeze, encouraging her to continue. 

"He didn't even smell like himself," Her words are quiet but so sure, yet she speaks them with a shake of her head. She tries to dismiss them the moment they leave her lips, slightly ashamed that she admitted that fact to a stranger. 

"What do you mean?" Bradley leans a little, craning his neck to try and get a look at her face. He takes her hand from her brow, giving him a better look at her face now that she isn't hiding behind her hand. He gives it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 

"Bobby, he-" A small sniffle breaks her sentence apart, "He has always smelled exactly like the tobacco he smokes, you know? It's cherry and smokey and full and God, that fucking smell gets me every single time, and yet, he- it wasn't-" Sunny attempts to keep more crying at bay, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. She lays her other hand over Bradley's shin, her nails digging into the light fabric of his jeans. 

Bradley knows he shouldn't ask, but the confusion of the whole situation causes the words to leave his lips faster than his brain can stop them. 

"Bob smokes?" 

The question causes the loose hiccup of a sob to morph into a giggle, the whole thing sounding rather painful to Bradley, but a Sunny's lips quirk up in the corners. 

"We are talking about the same person, right?" Sunny asks, wiping her her cheeks with her fingertips, "Bob Floyd, ladies man, notoriously rude but hard working so people tend to look past it, always walking around with the smell of tobacco caked to his clothes, that Bob Floyd?" 

"I don't think we are talking about the same Bob Floyd, here Sunshine," Bradley admits, a light hint of laughter in his tone. 

"Yeah, I'm starting to put that together," Sunny almost grumbles, her demeanor slumping along with her body. 

"Hey, am I interrupting something?" Phoenix's voice breaks through the solitude Sunny and Bradley had found themselves in. Her words come out a bit apprehensively, unsure of how Sunny is going to take her presence. 

"No, not at all," Bradley chimes in, squeezing the tops of Sunny's arms. She takes the cue, scootching herself forward and away from his embrace. Bradley pulls himself from the ground, "Take my place, I think you guys need to talk," 

He moves past Phoenix, a small, knowing smile on his face. He gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he passes her, one that Natasha answers with a small upturn of her lips. She moves into the spot Rooster had just been occupying, sitting Sunny between her legs and pulling her friend back into her own chest. 

"I see Bradley's mothering instincts got to you, too," Phoenix starts, feeling out the situation, "He has sat with me like this too. It was something his Mother used to do with him after his Father died. I think it's the only way he knows how to comfort some-," 

"I owe you an apology," Sunny's cuts her friend off, leaning just a bit away from her chest. 

"What? No. I owe you and apology!" Natasha counters, grabbing at Sunny's shoulders. 

"How could you have possibly known that your back seater is the man who broke my heart, huh?" Sunny laughs a small, tired laugh. Tears would run down her face if she hadn't been to dehydrated to cry. "I was the one who freaked out- God, I never thought I would see him again. I was purposely planning on avoiding the class reunion just so I wouldn't have to- I just, I should've been more adult about the situation. I feel like such an idiot."

Sunny hugs her knees to her chest, laying her chin atop them. Natasha rubs her friend's back carefully, her touch gentle over the exposed skin. She isn't quite sure what to say, so she just keeps reassuring Sunny that she isn't an idiot, no matter if she felt like one. 

Phoenix goes over the sleeping arrangements in her head, Sunny was supposed to be in the empty bedroom across from her own, the guest bedroom that just to happened to share a jack and jill bathroom with Bob's. 

When they moved in, he insisted that she take the master bedroom, claiming something about how women need more space. Nat found it ridiculous at the time, the dated concept no doubt having come from the mouth of his Mother as justification for his sister having the larger bedroom as children. But, since it worked in her favor, she didn't argue. The arrangement hadn't posed a problem until now. 

"I can practically hear you thinking," Sunny chimes in, tapping the hands that sit on her own shoulders. Natasha shakes her head, lacing Sunny's fingers with her own. 

"I am just-" Natasha takes a deep breath, bringing her forehead to rest on Sunny's shoulder, "I don't want to bring you back to my place now... Bob and I live together and I don't want to make things worse for you," 

"Nash, I am a big girl," A little low laugh escapes Sunny's lips, "Most of the time, at least. I can be civil. I didn't throw my drink on him, now did I?" 

Natasha laughs at that, the sound a bit strangled as it leaves her throat. 

"It's either that or you go stay with Hangman," Natasha jokes, her tone a bit too straight. 

"I think that man might lose his mind if I am inside of his house," Sunny tightens her grip on Nat's hand, squeezing her fingers. "And I think the Navy would be pretty mad to find out that one of their Aviators died because a woman was sleeping in the next room," 

"You're totally right," There is a sort of joy in Natasha's voice now, "I'd of offered to make Rooster take you, but I'm not making you sleep on his awful couch, that is a special form of punishment," 

Sunny pushes herself up from Natasha's grasp. When she gets to her feet she turns to look at Natasha, a small smile on her lips. That was a look Natasha was happy to share with her friend, a smile of her own on her lips. 

"Then lets get going home, okay? I desperately need a shower. I feel like I look like someone just found me dead in a river with all this crying. I can practically feel how swollen my face is," Sunny runs her hands under her eyes, trying to wipe away the feeling of the sticky trails of tears that have dried to her skin.  

"You are the most beautiful corpse I've ever seen," Natasha winks, taking Sunny's outstretched hands. She pulls Nat up from the sand, neither of them bothering to brush the sand from their clothes. 

They head around the outside of the building, arms link together. "I need to grab my bag from the back of Jake's truck, then we can head out, I'll order a rideshare to come pick us up," Sunny speaks as the round the corner to the parking lot. 

"Oh god," Nat wipes her hand down her face, another large sigh escaping her lips. "Hangman left a while ago, pissed beyond belief and God only knows where he is now. I doubt he is at home, probably off at some Civ Bar, drinking up a storm. I'll call him, but you probably won't get your bag back until tomorrow," 

"Fuck, okay," Sunny sounds defeated. 

"Hey, ladies!" Rooster's voice breaks through the breeze. He is leaned up against a large blue Toyota Bronco, arms crossed over his chest. The tear stains are still lightly visible on his shirt, but it has been tucked back in. "Your chariot awaits!" 

Natasha shoots a look to Sunny, both shrugging before making their way to Rooster. Sunny lets out a large yawn, her hands coming up to shield her face. 

"Hey, Rooster, I've gotta call Hangman and see if we can track down Sunny's bag, do you mind hanging out a minute?"

"Not at all, Phoenix, not at all," He smiles widely at the pair, "How you feeling, Sunshine?"

"I'm livin' the dream," Sunny speaks through another yawn, her eyelids beginning to droop. 

"Want to climb in the back and lay down until we can get the situation with your bag sorted out?" Bradley opens the door, gesturing in with a wave of his hand. Sunny turns to see Natasha dialing her phone again, pacing back and fourth just a few feet away.

"Sounds like a plan," Sunny moves towards Rooster, taking his outstretched hand. She grabs onto the rail inside the door with her other before hoisting herself into the large vehicle. She moves around the folded down front seat before practically throwing herself against the bench in the back. 

"Close your eyes, Sunshine. You deserve a rest. I'll wake you when we get to where we are going. For now, I'm gonna wrangle Phoenix and then we will head out, okay?" Rooster places a kind hand on the ankle of her boot. All Sunny can do is nod, a makeshift sound of agreeance coming from behind her closed lips. 

She tucks a hand underneath her head before drifting off, her other hand resting over her stomach. Bradley slides the front seat back so Natasha can slide herself in before he waves her over. 

"Any luck?" He asks her, the breeze caressing his skin. He runs a hand through his hair, messing the already unkempt curls atop his head. 

"No," Natasha joins Rooster's side, looking at Sunny curled up in the back seat. "I guess we head home and I'll head to his place tomorrow and grab it from the truck myself. God knows where he ran off to tonight," 

Rooster agrees with a silent nod as Phoenix climbs into the passenger seat of the Bronco. She buckles her seatbelt hastily as Bradley climbs into the drivers side. He buckles his seatbelt as the engine roars to life, the whole vehicle shaking a bit. The group pulls of of the parking lot, headed towards Bob and Natasha's house. 

[duckiemimi]

trying to wrap my head around WHY gojo had to die but all i can think of is how the story literally came to a standstill when he was in the prison realm. how they all fought to get him out of the box bc he's the strongest, he's gojo satoru, he's their savior.

and then gege just threw in a 2 month time skip, a bland shonen fight scene (i stand by it being bland! throwing in fancy techniques =/= a strong fight scene. this fight was poor executed in that it lacked meaning on both sides. maybe if we saw megumi tear up or gojo react in some way to his students and megumi...) just to kill him off at the end.

what i don't get is why he had to come out of the box for that? the main characters developed really well when he was in the box, to the point where i thought we were going to get an all out fight with yuji, yuuta, maki, AND gojo against sukuna; this would've been a cool full circle moment with gojo's goal being accomplished before he died. then, he would've died knowing that he isn't the sole strongest.

(that's the kind of meaning geto was looking for too, i think)

but the way it's being done now, it feels like we're just gearing up for another gojo level up? (also who is kashimo i'm all for jjk's power system but WHEN will we get to see nobara's tomonari and yuuji's new cursed technique and even yuuta and his absolutely op copycat technique again???)

idk it feels like we're erasing the entire culling games arc and all the progress we made during it just to get to where we are now... gege please explain what are we thinking...

like? they spent multiple arcs trying to save him, thinking he’d be their savior, and it didn’t pay off at all 😭 there are effective ways to build up a tragic character storyline and a “you’re best is never enough” theme! this isn’t it! had the wait been shorter, and had we been given a couple panels of gojo and his thoughts in the prison realm, then maybe it would’ve worked, probably loosely. but even then, this is an event-based plot driven story that keeps moving forward and the trajectory gege set in the beginning doesn’t line up with where we’re at now. sure, the existential nature vs. nurture theme is still there (gege really wedged in that “are u strong, or strong are u?” question to salvage some consistency), but the development of everything we’ve watched bloom is thrown away for…what? a quintessential shounen fight to live up to other shounens? a “PEAK” battle that’s rushed?? gege used to be so good at drawing circles closed, but it’s been confusing loops these days.

(oh, and i viscerally feel you. many people praise the technicalities and powerscaling of this arc, but just like the recent writing, gege’s power system isn’t consistent. and even if it was completely consistent per character and per CT and understandable as a whole, fight scenes without “meat” to them lack story! i wanted see more characterization! i wanted to see that the battle went deeper than surface-level! fifteen chapters of cyclical back-and-forths with barely anything else to pay attention to is boring…if gege wanted to keep every reader engaged, he should’ve added sukuna’s characterization during his fight with gojo. and if he really wanted to land that tragic character storyline for gojo, he should’ve added more scenes of gojo’s introspection and inner-conflict, or at least a thought process we could follow. as it is now, ending him like that betrays the trajectory for growth gege set for him in the beginning.)

[bitterkarmaa]

*KICKS DOWN YOUR DOOR* HI I HAVE MORE RAYS RAMBLES TO SHARE.

I hope i'm not bothering with more ramble because this boy gives me so many brain worms you have no idea- ANYWAY full disclaimer this is all headcanon i've got for him AND IF YOU DEEM IT NON-CANON THAT IS FINE 100% I AM FINE WITH IT! PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ANY MISINTERPRETATIONS I'VE MADE!

SO-

I've made some slight hints toward it in my writing already and have only now worked up the courage to share it in full hjdkfg so- I'm kinda playing on a general DCA headcanon i have that DCA models mainly Sun and Moon ones need counterparts in order to basically function. Because that is how they were designed, two halves of a whole that were made to exist together.

So a Sun needs their Moon and a Moon their Sun. Or a Moon their Moon or a Sun their Sun. Eclipse's included! The main point is there's gotta be two (or more) DCA models who are 'imprinted' or 'bonded' in order to properly function (Ruin would be mostly exempt ofc due to the two being one)

NOW WHERE DOES RAYS COME INTO PLAY HERE? So as i rambled about on A03 in the comments of Canary and Crow, i had a headcanon that Rays had 'imprinted' onto Lord Eclipse because, he is technically a Sun who lost his counterpart, that being Moon. So baby Rays, fresh and new sees Eclipse - possibly still a DCA model himself before changing his form - and automatically imprints onto him!

And this ends up carrying over to KB Eclipse and again, possibly Veil too because they are both of the same/similar ai that Rays own code has logged as being his natural other half (and counterpart relations can be whatever really, siblings, friends, family, partners whatever but ofc in this situation its 100% family or siblings)

And this is why i've written Rays to be so attached to Eclipse and why he seeks his company first and foremost when he feels lonely. And again this could later extend to Veil too! (Because i have not forgotten that oneshot where Rays comforts Veil and mourns with him that broke me Shep IT BROKE ME- /pos)

Anyways thankyou for attending my ted talk i shall now disappear into the cosmos!

I love your rambles honestly- it astonishes me that I’ve made characters that people find are WORTHY of rambling about 🥹❤️ it means a lot to me that Rays means so much to some people :)

I could defiantly see Veil “imprinting” on Rays as a sort of younger brother, for sure! Veil has a lot of emotions that he doesn’t understand and Rays being so gentle and patient with him would really give him brownie points in Veil’s eyes.

The drabble with Rays and Veil mourning was meant to be a sort of introduction into how both of them are accepting that vulnerable side of themselves that they’ve tried to ignore for so long, which would foster a sense of security for Veil since he’s still learning how to let people in (he’s still ahead of Eclipse on that one though LMAO) and accept that he’s ALLOWED to be different from Eclipse. He is, quite obviously, a lot more open-minded than Eclipse is. He may not ENJOY negative emotions, but he’s willing to learn and experience them in order to become a better person.

Eclipse…is not.

The main difference between Veil and Eclipse is that Veil is actively trying to better himself, while Eclipse is doing it without realizing and still has violent, sociopathic urges that others use as reasons to avoid him or discredit the progress he HAS made. Except for Rays, which is why Eclipse has a certain fondness for him, and tries to reign in his frightening tendencies in order to stay on his “good side.”

Rays knows Eclipse is struggling with something, but is too afraid to push it or ask questions.

Eclipse wants to do better for Rays, so he keeps his problems to himself in order to avoid scaring him.

Veil wants to understand himself in order to prove he can be different from Eclipse.

It all goes in cycles between the three, which is why their dynamic is going to be so interesting and unique when their arc begins later on, after Veil is introduced into the main storyline.

Do with this what you will :)

[chrysanthemumgames]

i've been having an itch to write an if game, do you have any tips? i feel like its a very bad idea to jump straight in head first yk?

Honestly, anon, that very much depends on the type of writer you are. I know people who do everything they do by the seat of their pants. The upside is, they can get into it really quickly. The downside is, sometimes you hit a wall and have to figure your way past it, which can be a struggle, and is where a lot of people who take that approach give up and leave their story incomplete. (Of course, hitting a wall can happen to anyone, but it's more likely to happen to pantsers, the delightful 'technical term' for such a style of writing.)

Then there are planners, who write outlines, and sometimes character sheets and do at least some worldbuilding on the side and generally have things much more set up and laid out in advance before they go. Upside to this is, well, a lot of the work is actually already done. Downside is... in my experience I've found that if I plan too much, the actual writing can feel a bit more like a chore, or I end up wanting to change things, or I've dithered too much time on worldbuilding and now I just kind of want to think about something else.

For me, personally, the right balance is to begin with a basic sense of what happens in the story; at least a couple-sentence summary for each chapter, so I know what events need to be covered. Then, as I go, I begin by outlining the chapter with its code (though this sometimes leaves big gaps like [they talk about dream stuff here]), and then go through and fill that in from beginning to end. This allows the particulars of character interaction and even how things happen to still surprise me a bit, which makes it much more fun for me.

What works for you probably won't be exactly the same as what works for me. If you have previous writing experience, definitely draw on that to inform your approach. Remember that an IF is a long term project, and that there just will be times when you're not excited to write. And, to say something perhaps a little controversial: if what you want to do is write an IF, you don't have to write at those times. If what you want is to write and finish and publish an IF... you probably do. It is very, very hard to come back to a project after a 'hiatus,' and I say this as someone who has actually done so, though the thing was never on hiatus in my head, just in terms of physically getting written.

That's the project I've been working on since... I dunno, 2016 or something. FoA, where I have not allowed myself to stop, even if my daily progress is almost nothing, is the same amount of words and I've been writing it for two and a half years.

Of course, all this is just my experience. I'm sure you'd get as many different answers about that as people you could ask. Either way, it's a pretty big commitment, and if you're new to writing or have to learn code simultaneously or just aren't sure you're going to like it, I'd try a small project first if you can, just to give yourself a feel for it.

I'm... actually not sure if you meant this sort of tip or something more to do with characters or story, so I took a guess. If I'm wrong, please let me know; I'm sure I can talk way too much about that stuff also.

Of course, what it ultimately comes down to is this: do you want to write an IF game? If you do, write it. If you don't, no harm no foul! Not every project needs to be completed or even shared. If it's a story you want to write, then you absolutely should. Writing, as an activity, is good for the soul, and I firmly believe that.

[agent-troi]

Find Five Lines Tag

Thanks for the double tag @television-overload and @randomfoggytiger 🫶🫶

Rules: find any lines in your WIP that fit each parameter given by the person who tagged you. Then change one of the parameters and tag five or more people. Can be lines from multiple WIPs. If you can't find a line that fits, feel free to change the prompt.

Lol since I was tagged twice I got six prompts:

My lines: a line about family, a passionate line, a line expressing dread, a line expressing relief, a line that is screamed, a funny line

Your lines: a line about family, a passionate line, a line expressing anger, a line that is screamed, a funny line

For once I actually do have a WIP in the works (an AU where Scully is an astronaut, also a prequel to Purplerow by my friend @katy-kt-katie), progress on which got stalled when my apartment building burned down (long story) so we'll see if I can find a line for every prompt (some of them might be stretching it a bit but idc lol):

Family:

The colony had been established for research purposes, so the survivors consisted of some three hundred assorted biochemists, geologists, physicists, botanists, and the like, as well as their spouses and children— those few that had them, and also were able to convince them to uproot their lives and make a new home on another world. Ironically, they now had to do so yet again, although not by choice.

Passionate: (maybe not the kind of passion y'all had in mind but it's what i've got lmao)

Dana knelt to the ground to collect a soil sample. “It’s just that– we’re on Mars. We might find fossilized evidence of microscopic life today. I don’t wanna think about my problems with Ed. I wanna think about how much I love my job.”

Dread:

A skittering noise came from behind her. “Dana?” No sound but her heavy breathing in her ears. “Dana, are you still there?” She slowly turned around, hopping on one foot. “Dana? Dana!”

Relief: don't really have one for this and i'm too tired to dive through my other fics looking for one lol but i already had five different prompts so this was technically a bonus hehe

Screamed:

Dana looked down just in time to see a web of thin cracks spider outwards beneath her boots with an ominous crumbling sound. Before she could process what was happening, the ground gave way from under her and she cried out in alarm as she plunged down into a fathomless darkness.

Funny:

“Scully? Earth to Commander Scully, come in please!” Dana rolled her eyes. “That’s not funny, Monica.” A chuckle sounded over the other end of the comm system. “Sorry, Dana, I couldn’t help it. Seriously, though, are you okay? You kinda spaced out for a second there– no pun intended.” “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about Ed again. When did he start being such an ass? That was a rhetorical question,” she added before Monica could respond. “Being on this mission has not been good for his ego.” “His ego isn’t good for his ego. He wouldn’t even be on this mission at all if he wasn’t so good at his job, and everybody knows it. You could do so much better than him, you know that?”

Tagging @katy-kt-katie @tofuttim @doctorbeverlycrusher @keldabe-kriff @eighthprincessofheart @mollybecameanengineer and whoever else wants to do this bc i'm so late responding to this i'm sure everyone i know has been tagged already😂