#God the next two weeks are gonna be AGONY

[tmntkiseki]

Oh damn, some more previews have been made available for the TMNT 40th anniversary comic anthology, one of which includes the complete listing of stories and the writer/illustrator credits. They are as follows

Mirage Comics

Mirage 1 Story

Story, Art: Kevin Eastman

Poem: Edgar Allen Poe

Letters: Tom Napolitano

"Monsters"

Story, Art, Letters: Jim Lawson

Colors: Steve Lavigne

"Gang Wars"

Story: Tristan Jones

Art: Paul Harmon

Letters: Tom Napolitano

Urban Legends

"Downtime"

Story: Gary Carlson

Art: Frank Fosco

Colors: Adam Guzowski

Letters: Tom Napolitano

TMNT Adventures (Archie)

"The Man Behind The Mask"

Story, Art, Letters: Chris Allan

Saturday Morning Adventures (1987)

"What About Tomorrow?"

Story: Erik Burnham

Art: Sarah Myer

Colors: Luis Antonio Delgado

Letters: Shawn Lee

2003 Series

"Splinter Forever"

Story: Lloyd Goldfine

Art: Khary Randolph

Colors: Emilio Lopez

Letters: Tom Napolitano and Shawn Lee

2012 Series

"Kraang Among Us"

Story, Art: Ciro Nieli

Letters: Shawn Lee

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

"Farewell"

Story, Art: Andy Suriano

Letters: Tom Napolitano

IDW

"Father's Day"

Story: Tom Waltz

Art: Michael Dialynas

Letters: Tom Napolitano

"Teen Spirit"

Story: Ronda Pattison

Art: Pablo Tunica

Letters: Tom Napolitano

They also list all the art credits for the pinups that will appear in the issue, which include

Freddie E. Williams II

David Petersen

Ken Mitchroney (with colors by Aaron Hazouri)

Dan Duncan (with colors by Ronda Pattison)

Ronda Pattison

Sophie Campbell

Jodi Nishijima

Stan Sakai (with colors by Emi Fujii)

[luveline]

Can I request Eddie and R tending to each other’s wounds (given they both survive the demobats in the UD)?

ty <3 fem!reader, 1.4k 

cw canon typical violence

“You’re sweating like crazy.” 

“Eddie, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say to a girl,” you say, hands shaking hard as you ruffle through the duffle bag at your side. Your knees burn like they’re on fire, your arms raked with claw marks, but Eddie’s been minced. If you hadn’t climbed your way back to him with the makeshift flamethrower at his feet, Eddie would probably be dead. Scorched demobat is a gross smell. 

“What are you so scared of? It’s like, running down your cheek,” he says. 

“Shut up,” you say, glancing back, hoping Dustin will be right behind you. You hadn’t stopped to make sure he was alright. What if he’s hurt too? “Seriously, just don’t talk. You’re gonna bleed to death and die and your last words are gonna be about how sweaty I am.” 

You peel back a soaked square of gauze from his waist and smash a clean one overtop to soak up the pooling blood. Eddie gasps in agony, writhing away from your touch, but to his credit, his voice is strong as he says, “Shit, true. I can make them better. How about, um… oh. You’re smoking. Like, seriously gorgeous. That better?” 

Your eyes sting as you turn your face to your shoulder, cupping his cheek, his blood wet on your fingers and staining his skin red. “How would you know? It’s dark out.” 

“I’ve seen your face in the light hundreds of times. I know what I’m talking about.” 

He would’ve been turned to mulch without your rescuing. There are split cuts all over him, it’s awful, and you won’t be able to fix him yourself here, but you don’t have to. You just need to stop his bleeding and help him deal with the pain until Dustin makes it through. The two of you can drag him to safety. 

Maybe the best way to do that is to let him tease you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, pressing another piece of gauze over this second one, wincing when he lets out a pained gasp. 

“Are you kidding?” 

“I thought you liked, you know, the really pretty girls, like–”

“You are a really pretty girl, are you kidding? Don’t fish for compliments.” 

You shake your head, laughing, half-terrified. The blood isn’t slowing. “Eddie, I have to press down harder, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“Just do it,” he says. You dig the heel of your palm into his side. “Fuck!” 

“You’re really not gonna like this next part,” you warn, pushing his legs flat to the floor. 

You climb over his thighs and sit on his lap, hand twisted to cover his wound and the other peeling the paper covering off of another sterile square of gauze. Eddie swears like a sailor as you squeeze down, the majority of your upper weight being pressed to his open wounds. It would be an uncomfortable sensation without the cuts. You know it’s torture. 

“Oh, god,” he says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“That’s a great reaction,” you say, lifting the edge of the leftmost gauze. The blood pools but doesn’t gush down his side. You sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Maybe don’t say stuff like that sitting on my crotch.” 

“Are you for real?” You meet his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re really thinking about your dick right now?” 

“Of course not, I’m a gentleman, but you’re kind of on top of me and it’s been a really hard week.” 

You burst out laughing. He gags in pain and turns away. 

The cavalry arrives not long after that, though it feels like hours. Together, somehow, you drag Eddie back to the gate, and things get a little blurry after that. 

—

You’ve never been so tired in your life as you are right now, but you’re so relieved that the world has taken on a golden quality, and Eddie looks golden too. 

His hair is wet. You think Wayne might’ve washed it for him over the bath; it’s been greasy for a week while his stitches started to heal up, and he spent it in Steve’s bed. The only good thing about having absent parents apparently is being able to harbour a fugitive without being noticed, and anybody else who couldn’t go home without explaining their injuries. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. 

“Mm.” You scrunch up into yourself on the couch, cradling your arm where it aches to your chest. 

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Figured I’d make sure you weren’t in a coma.” You think about poor Max. He must see your wavering expression, sitting on the couch by your legs with an apologetic smile. “She’s doing even better today. Sinclair thinks she was squeezing his finger, so that’s something.” 

“Can’t believe all that stuff really happened,” you mumble, the blanket pulled over your chin muffling your voice. It’s a wonder he can hear you. 

“Feels fake, right? I keep forgetting about it when I wake up, and then I have to stand and feel my stomach try to split open and remember I was bat chow.” He nods to your arm. “Still hurting?” 

It’s nothing compared to his. Your cuts didn’t need stitching, but the were deep still. You’ve only had the butterfly bandages taken off yesterday. The skin aches where the scar tissue is forming. “Sort of itchy,” you say.

“Yeah?” He pulls a little white tube from his pyjama pants hesitantly. “Maybe I can help?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Non disclosed ointment. Pretty sure it’s the good stuff from Mike’s girl’s government friends.” 

They’re gonna clear Eddie’s name, apparently. So far they’ve done a whole lot of nothing while Hawkins falls apart around you. Well, besides the drugs. They’ve given out plenty of painkillers. 

Eddie shuffles closer to you and takes your arm into his hand. “Her name is Eleven,” you say. 

“I know.” He pushes your sleeve up over the bump of your elbow to expose the worst of your scarring. 

You think he’s aware of what you did that day to save him. He’s been achingly nice to you since he woke up. Even when he couldn’t walk, he’d been shouting down the stairs from Steve’s room to check if you were alright on the couch. Usually met with a chorus of Shut the fuck ups, it had been sweet, if a little embarrassing to have to call back. I’m okay. Thanks! 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says. 

You watch him uncap the ointment and squeeze a ball of it onto his finger. It’s semi-translucent, smelling of arnica with a bit of kick to it. He turns your wrist gently in one hand and begins to trace the lines of your scars one by one, as gentle as anyone’s ever touched you, his pinky finger suspended and shaky as he draws toward the crook of your elbow.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting,” you say eventually. 

“Right, just. I’m trying to be braver. It’s not working in my favour yet.” 

You laugh. “No, really?” 

“But you saved my life. Everybody knows it. You and Henderson saved me, and I can’t make it up to you. This,” —he smooths ointment over the ridge of your cruellest scar— “is permanent. And scaring you like that, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone back in, and I should have kept running, it was selfish, trying to do a good thing and…” He holds your arm in his hands and meets your eyes. You don’t see a trace of the shrill, loud boy you’d spent the last two weeks with. “Getting you hurt.” 

“I got hurt trying to save the world,” you say. “‘Cos, you know, not everything’s about you…” 

His smile is slow as molasses and doubly sweet as he wraps his arm behind your shoulders. He’s careful, you’re both fragile right now, but he squeezes you and laughs warmly against your ear and he’s back to the Eddie you remember. “Everything is about me. It’s totally about me, babe, and you’re just jealous.”

He rubs your back. 

“You know,” he adds, hand trialling lazily to the small of your back, where it stays, “I wouldn’t be here without you. So if you need anything, just let me know.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back. He kisses your cheek as he does, his hands falling on top of yours. “Alright. You’re still smoking hot, you know that? The scars are sick. You’re cool now.” 

Your fingers twitch against his palm. “Thanks, Eddie.” 

[allwormdiet]

Shell 4.11

And now the cooldown, thank god

The classic fade-in at the clinic, of course. Thank God Taylor's in one piece at the end of this arc

Holy shit, okay

Don't leave Taylor on pause while she's telling her bugs to do something, Jesus

Oh hey, power upgrade? Is that normal? I don't know if that's normal, but Taylor's fucking panopticon powers are getting even stronger

I like the banter

Oh hey, Danny gets to feel the sheer fucking agony of his daughter being caught in the crossfire of a supervillain attack, and he doesn't even know the full extent of what's been threatened towards her! What fun!

Wow, she didn't even last a week before the collision between her cape life and civilian life

Lisa is really fucking good at this, hell.

Taylor, love you, but if something makes you feel guilty to the point where it's borderline physical, that might mean you should rethink your choices at least a little?

Taylor is so lucky her friend is a dark empath or whatever they're calling it now

She hoped so bad that these two parts of her life would never come together, and now it has and she's got no contingencies or anything

Aww

The rundown of what we missed in the Bakuda fight fills in some of the gaps, and also it's a little funny that Taylor has claimed two and a half toes off of ABB's newest cape

Bakuda escaping makes sense, her takedown wasn't nearly as much a priority as the team's survival, but Lung's breakout feels like a low blow. Makes sense that the bombing campaign was a feint to break him out, but hell of a way to lose the progress that'd been made

And of course any hope at restoring the former equilibrium before Lung's arrest is dashed immediately

Escalation on top of more escalation seems to be the order of the day

Everybody needs to be cuddling Taylor to make up for the years of touch starvation she's endured at this point, that's a mandate and I will not budge on it

Current Thoughts

I hope the Undersiders actually get to cool off for a bit after this but somehow I doubt it, their luck isn't so hot

Here at the end of Arc 4 and I'm still a bit blown away by the pacing. I knew Bakuda was coming at some point before Leviathan, but the specifics evaded me, including the goddamn Bomberman cosplay, so here we are

Somehow I suspect things are gonna keep moving this fast if not faster for the foreseeable future, although I gotta be real I don't know what the hell kind of time frame this story takes place in if that's the case, barring I guess a timeskip? Ideally there's some time to slow down and cool off that isn't immediately ruined by the newest villain who decides to ruin everything

Interlude next, then my thinky thoughts on the whole of Arc 4

[thejujvtsupost]

hiiii, i just wanna say i love your writing!

is it okay if i request a Gojo fluff of him coming out of the Prison Realm and seeing Y/N? a lil bit of angst and a lot of fluff if you please.

thank you!

have a cookie 🍪

and a lil bit of love <3

byee

-anon :)

The Return

Hi anon! You’re so sweet 🥺💗 here’s a cookie for you too! 🍪 hope you don’t mind but I also added some Nobara copium since her dreaded episode comes out this week. She deserved better tbh.

Notes: F!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, Gojo needs a hug and gets one. Just something extra fluffy for the copium we all need. Also since Nobara’s status is technically ‘unknown’ I decided she’s in a coma for the foreseeable future to make myself feel better. 🤗 I also didn’t know how to end it because I had too many ideas.

He looked like a mess.

You, Shoko and Yaga were the only ones unsealing Gojo, you had no idea what he was going to be like and all the kids had been through more than enough. If something tragic happened, they didn’t need to see it.

The way looked at you, some meters away from where he was unsealed, broke your heart. “Baby?” His scratchy voice was barely audible, likely dehydrated.

His hair was in complete disarray, dirt, dry blood and filth all over him, clothes hanging off of his frame- he clearly lost some weight. He’d been through hell.

None of that deterred you from immediately running into his arms, kissing his cheek and clutching his body close, tight but trying to be mindful of his frailty. His reverse curse technique could heal injuries, but it couldn’t sustain him alone. Especially not for over two weeks.

“God ‘toru never scare me like that again!” You were choked up and overwhelmed. “Are you okay? Of course you’re not- you need water and a fucking meal.”

A look over from Shoko while informing him of the lives lost went by in a blur for you both. You could tell he was having a hard time processing everything. “Nanami? Really? And Nobara’s in a coma?” He refused IV fluids so you were nearly drowning him with water he had to drink. As soon as you got him home he’d eat too.

His sadness was palpable when it was confirmed. “I always thought he’d be able to live through anything…”

“He died protecting Yuuji, Maki, Megumi and the others. He fought bravely til the end. Unfortunately Yuuji saw it happen, he’s been… struggling… but he’s very resilient.” You squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back- the best he could anyway. He was shaky and weak from the toll on his body.

Getting him home was a relief. You got him sat comfortably on the couch, still in dirty clothes (minus his uniform jacket you helped him out of) but you’d deal with that after he ate. You hated the grunts of pain exiting his lips from the ache in his muscles.

“Relax as best you can, I have some leftover chicken takeout I’m gonna heat up and I’ll be back.”

He caught your wrist in a panic. “Don’t leave- need to know you’re real. ‘Haven’t even properly kissed me yet.” He brought some humor and a smile into the room like always, you appreciated that about him no matter how weak it was this time. Even in the darkest moments he made you laugh with his charm.

“My apologies.” You leaned down with a giggle and kissed him gently.

Being alone was painful for anyone, and for Gojo, where he couldn’t even keep track of time, it was agony. He would dream, or perhaps hallucinate about you only for you to disappear when he wanted to touch you. Agony.

Pulling away from him after so long was difficult too. “I’ll just be a few minutes, I promise.”

Gojo let you leave and you talked to him from your place in the kitchen. He never valued being able to see the kitchen from the living room so much until this moment.

You made sure he ate as much as he could before pulling him to the bathroom connected to your room. A shower was next on the list and you had a feeling you’d end up in there with him. He needed some help but he disguised it as being needier than necessary (he was naturally needy and affectionate with you anyway.)

“Turn and lean down a little, you’re a billion meters tall and I can’t reach your hair” he complied and bantered with you lovingly. Not to his usual standards, but you didn’t care about anything other than him being right there under your fingertips. He was real, his voice was real.

And when he finally broke down, his head on your shoulder and arms around you, he couldn’t stop. He sobbed the ugliest of cries that ripped through your own heart and you didn’t stop him, didn’t shush him, just kissed the side of his head and rubbed his back. Encouraging him to let it out. It was a matter of time before his emotions caught up to him.

You spent more time holding him than washing him. Happily.

The water eventually ran clear and sobs turned to sniffles. Only then did you turn it off and help him out with the mutual understanding that his heart needs time to heal before he can talk about the tragedies he let out in the shower.

And finally, getting into bed and cuddling close, he had a death grip around you.

“I missed you so, so much Satoru. Don’t ever do that to me again or I’ll kill you.”

“I missed you too doll, you have no idea how bad I needed to see you and just feel you.” He kissed you just as sweetly as he did gently.

Falling asleep without tears for the first time in weeks, exchanging quiet words of love, was bliss.

A miracle, actually.

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open! <3

[2smolbeans]

A Lawerence Oleander Scenario I Thought Of....

Tags: Just a general shitpost written with detail, forced drugging, Lawerence has a disgusting diet according to the canon, sensory torture, kidnapping, and implied abuse.

Summary: Lawerence's diet is so nasty, Mc literally dies from shock.

*This is unedited

_____________________________

Your body was trembling, stomach reching, throat tightening, and head spinning. You could feel every sweat droplet that rolled down the sides of your forehead. Your senses were heightened to the point that even feeling of your legs touching together drove you insane. Everything was painful for you at that moment. You were sensitive to the littlest of sounds and touch. But still, Lawerence paid no mind but to keep you tied up naked with nothing but your underwear on that godamn uncomfortable rigid chair.

What the hell did he put in that tea? What type of forbidden drug did he decide to force into your system? All these questions formed into your head as you watched Lawerence prepare his tools for his 'personal project'. You felt sick to your stomach as you watched him place down that same blood-stained bucket. You scoffed to yourself as you even saw the same old knife that he decided to cut your body with when you were first kidnapped in his dingy apartment. Huh..Now that you realised it, how long had you been here for?

All your thoughts were cut off as Lawrence stood in front of you, shyly clearing his throat as he didn't dare to make eye contact.

"Uhmn..So..How are you feeling?"

You didn't even want to hear his voice. Plus, it's not like he's oblivious or stupid to know whatever fucking drug he decided to put inside you was a living sensory hell.

"A-Ah..Okay..I see..Well I'm gonna continue alright? You know the drill"

You hated how shy and cowardly this psychopath acted. How bashful he was to look into your eyes, how nervous he was doing the deed. If he was going to kill you or torture you, why is he acting as if your the one forcing him?!

You felt your heart beat faster and faster as you grew more agitated, the effect on the drug doubling with every minute. God, you could feel yourself heating up, your body aching in every area. He really wanted you to feel every cut, didn't he? Lawerence so desperately wanted you to feel every of your senses heightened so that every inflicted pain he put on you was worse, right?

That fucker. You thought to yourself bitterly.

But as you closed your eyes, preparing for Lawerence to cut open those old scars that were barely healing- you heard a low rumble coming from behind. Moreover, coming from Lawerence.

"Oh..I guess I forgot to eat..Give me a moment. S-Sorry.."

And before you knew it, he scrambled towards the fridge, quickly grabbing an oily brown bag before setting it down next to the small stand up table he had. You turned your head as your eyes dilated at the sight.

Holy fucking shit. What the fuck?

You nearly puked at the smell when Lawerence began to unravel what was inside the fast food bag. You wanted to look away, but at the same time you couldn't. You had to watch. There was no way he was going to eat that right? You assumed by the texture the bag itself, how wet, crumpled and oily it was- it had to be from a gas station or from a dumpster.

Taking out the contents of his meal, unwrapping the white tinfoil sandwich, he held it with his hand. Your eyes wavered in pure agony as you saw Lawerence take a bite out of the mystery food. The sandwich looked to be a week old, it could barely even stand up, seemingly drooping to the point Lawerence had to resort to eating the cursed substance with two hands.

The sandwich was extremely flattened and slightly molded, letting out a putrid smell that you could only describe as a 'medicine smell' to it. Your eyes were watering as your nose whiffed in the smell, so you resorted to breathing through your mouth.

Lawerence for sure wouldn't take another bite would he? You hoped, fearing for your captors safety as even you wouldn't wish your enemies to consume this type of FDA biohazard.

But no. The fucker decided to make a feast out of the resident evil 7 burger combo. Taking out fries that were green and soggy and putting them into his mouth to chew.

You cringed internally as you could hear how wet and mushy the fries were. Fries are not supposed to be soggy and juicy? Why..? You were at a loss for words as Lawrence looked at you, putting the molded sandwich to your mouth, asking if you also wanted a bite. Immediately you shook your head no, nearly screaming as you felt the moist mold touch your lips.

Every crunch, slurp, and ridiculous loud moist chewing you had you crying softly. Tears were now fully rolling down your eyes, your face red and scrunched up, as you were now overstimulated by Lawerence's disgusting diet. You've seen him eat before, and sure it was the typical low grade food. But with the drugs making every sense heightened, and the fact that Lawerence on this special occasion decided that having a slimy, molded, green sandwich- made you beyond sick.

As Lawrence was finally finished with his meal, taking one last bite of the burger before stuffing one last green frie inside his mouth- you felt the bile go up your throat as you heard him swallow.

It was too much, you couldn't take it anymore. Your senses now spinning with despair and disgust, you passed out cold on the chair. Your head slumping down, the tears on your cheek still fresh.

Lawerence, who was now cleaning up his finished meal, looked at you in pure confusion.

".. Maybe the drug was too strong?"

.

Hours passed, and you never woke up. You ended up dying from the shock and trauma from the whole ordeal...

.

.

_____________________________

[crushedsweets]

so I can't find it, but when the proxies were helping clocks, you mentioned that Tim doesn't like it when she screams or cries. Something about it bothering him. I wish I could recall.

OK SO i also cant find the post (cuz of tumblrs tagging system) buuut i'm gonna use this to ramble about clocky meeting the proxies again, since i sorta adjusted it...

in my au, O/S syndrome refers to slender sickness. it usually starts with the operator taking COMPLETE control over someone's body and mind, and then slenderman 'stealing' them and making them do his bidding (clean up operator problems) which results in them having a 'proxy mode' vs their 'normal' mode

so clockys backstory goes as usual, then towards the end she starts slowly getting O/S syndrome. i sort of want her introduction to toby/the proxies to be ALMOST a reflection of how toby and clocky canonically met. (her getting hurt cuz of him, him helping her as an apology)

so around the time natalie replaced her eye with a clock, O/S syndrome fully set in. while sick, she couldn't form memories, she had inhuman strength, an insatiable bloodlust - just became a general menace, and because bodies started dropping all around tuscaloosa with operator symbols slashed into walls, the proxies had to intervene.

it started with toby stalking her while she's stalking her next victim. her and toby get into a huge tussle and she locks onto him as her next victim. he chooses to play cat and mouse and run off to the forest, having her follow. i'm imagining an almost comical scene where she's slashing around branches and stuff with a machete and he's like 'ahhh cant catch meeeee' and she's screaming obscenities. . .

then by time he ends up at the cabin, tim or brian probably knock her out since she's, yknow, a huge threat. a bat to the back of her head.

and she would wake up in their spare 'storage' room thats filled to the brim with boxes, old bikes, massive stacks of newspapers, cds, etc. she'd probably have her wrists zip tied to an exposed pipe and she'd be losing her fucking mind. screaming at the top of her lungs, thrashing around, whatever. "LET ME GO YOU FUCKING FREAKS LET ME GO ILL KILL YOU ILL FUCKING KILL YOU"

the way to slowly heal O/S syndrome is being around slenderman(aka in his forest) for a long time, until the Operator loses grasp. the way to quickly deal with O/S syndrome is to um.. no nice way to put this. slendermans jaw unhinges and he oozes this gross fucking black tar-like goo, and drinking it (or putting it into pill capsules and taking those) makes the operator let go. it doesnt really have a taste, thank god, but it is thicker than water.

so it would be a whole ordeal of toby coming in like heeeeyyyy... lol... and he would think shes REALLY BADASS because he's never met a woman like her (so strong, loud mouthed, violent, etc). plus he's kinda lonely in general so LMFAOOOO . so he wants to befriend her, and is kinda ignoring the fat that she's mad as hell.

but she's in so much agony. from the O/S syndrome to getting hit with a bat, she's screaming and crying and never shutting up. throwing up, trying to literally bite and kick the proxies if they even bring in water. so toby would be 'designated' to her because "well youre the dumb fuck who brought her here, you deal with it"

he'd probably have to trick her into taking one of the pills or putting the sludge into an opaque water bottle or something. after the first bit is ingested, she quickly gains more clarity. he'd try getting a cot or air mattress set up for her. bring a book and drawing supplies. he wants her to trust him. within a day or two, she'd already start feeling immensely better and the operator is letting go - and toby would stupidly trust her, and completely undo the zipties, and she'd run the fuck off, and he'd be like FUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKK. and not even a week later, she'd come back. because she's horribly sick again. and she'd beg for the stupid pills.

and she'd start to trust toby, and eventually kate. . and a little bit brian. but she would still not fuck with tim cuz it is true, he would hate all the screaming, and would occasionally bang on the door and shout at her to quiet down.

but yeah . . thats how she gets situated with the proxies and her O/S syndrome is healed. :3

[iantimony]

a tuesday

listening: bionicle nostalgia playlist. ur welcome.

reading: mostly help forums for my dogshit software.

watching: olympics!! specifically fencing and a smattering of gymnastics. i think we all knew that lee keifer would win women's foil but it was so satisfying to watch happen. she really is a fucking steamroller, have not had one like her before and probably won't again for a very long time. her whole situation is insane - father was duke fencing captain and now a medical doctor, and now all three of his kids including lee are ALSO that and international fencers which is. insane. - and i am in awe of her etc. i did bring my fencing gear back to my apartment with me and i'm looking forward to starting that again, it's been like. at least five years since i last did anything with fencing and i miss it.

the other night i watched shaolin soccer with my boyfriend and roommate's bf. insane fucking film. they had both seen it already (my boyfriend saw it at least 20 years ago as a young kid, in the original canto/mandarin (which he does not speak) with no subtitles which i'm sure was a fucking experience) and . film of all fucking time, i think. insane plot and premise, makes absolutely no sense, overall story has confusing holes, but i'll be damned if i didn't have a great time watching it.

saw new house of the dragon on sun. i cannot bring myself to care about ulf. blacksmith guy is a little better but clearly still not great considering i cant remember his name. some of the writing this season has me like. squints. which beloved mutual pngjpeg reminded me that this one was written during the writers strike which does explain a lot i think. i'm still enjoying it, i really loved alicent's decision to just fuck off to the woods for a bit. she's so real for that. ophelia-coded lake float and all (which is ironic, because, fire and blood spoilers, i'm pretty sure alicent is one of the few people to make it out of this alive).

finally, roommate's bf has been putting on modern family every night in the living room so therefore we have also been watching modern family. brainrotting type of content (derogatory)

playing: soooo much pokemon go. it has become a vital part of my workout routine. i catch pokemon in between weight sets and also when im doing cardio LOL

making: made some coaster blanks in pottery for Secret Gifts ... hopefully they are done in time, gonna really grind them the next week or two!

eating: because i am back in my home base: many many good things. pictures courtesy of my boyfriend. we really said Protein Over Rice. in order:

harissa chicken thighs with shallots, this time with real harissa instead of gochujang - that shit is SPICY goddamn. it's really good though. my roommate's bf has an immersion blender and is in his Homemade Mayo era and i used some of that to cut the spice on my portion and my god that was so fucking good. this was followed by chicken and egg bowl (leftover chicken thighs with scrambled egg) and gyudon.

misc: on one hand i'm really glad to be back in my place! on the other i'm losing my mind a little bit because my roommate's boyfriend has moved in and i don't move out til aug 8 so i'm going a little insane with how disorganized my everything is right now. like i can't unpack anything because it makes no sense to so im just living out of my big ass suitcase. it's fine i'll be fine but like aaaa. also he re-organized all the cabinets and pantry so i don't know where anything fucking is any more !!! agony. i can't wait to have my own space for real.

my work ethic lately has been .. not great ... my advisor also is kinda leaving me on read which isn't my favorite. shrug. onwards and upwards i suppose. look at this crayfish hole and swallowtail butterfly from a walk in a park yesterday

[vacantgodling]

Effe looks sick ! Tell me more 👀

so to explain dearest EFFE, i’m actually going to have to explain twilight idanly, my poor poor angel.

so let’s start at the beginning. to get some more context read about her younger twin sister whisper here. and this is gonna be broken up in 3 sections.

pt 1: twilight idanly, the terranean

as mentioned, twilight was the elder twin sister of whisper though many assumed the opposite. she was much more demure and soft spoken compared to her sister, and didn’t really agree with their father’s single minded hatred of the other side of their family. she wanted to be able to mingle with them, however, her father forbade them from seeing the rest of their family sans important events. twilight felt very isolated and alone during this period.

chance for freedom came in the form of the day of fissures… or it could’ve. she wanted to leave eros along with their cousins to venture into the unknown, however, whisper forbade her and had her physically restrained. after the fire separated the two halves of their family and the aegeans from the nomads, twilight was unsure of her fate, with whisper being named chieftain of aegos. but she would soon discover fate would not be kind to her.

pt 2: twilightsorrow, the beast

as the HWM grew and vis was able to be transformed into tenom, whisper started to have many defectors experimented upon to see if they could withstand the beastly transformation, or increase of their cava. most died. but twilight lived. her sorrowful wails of agony as her teeth grew, and horns protruded from her body and her eyes’s sclera changed to black among other horrifying transformations led to the guards who watched over her to rename her twilightsorrow, and then eventually just the beast.

every fortnight, she would be released into the overrun argos and in a bloodlust haze, would slaughter thousands of monsters and beasts alike. she didn’t remember much of what she did during that time. she stopped being capable of speech beyond a few words at times, and fully began to drown in the depths of this terribly dark place; on the brink of being transformed fully into a beast herself.

however,

one lonely night a bard was thrown in the cell next to hers. he too had tried to run away and before he could make it out of eros he was caught for the next round of experiments. his name was reed, and he carried with him a reed pipe. at this point the knowledge of sana, cava and ars was becoming more common place, and he knew he had quite a lot of ars and was able to, as many bards back then could, use cantatio; able to create magic and gusts of wind and other small spells with his pipe. though twilightsorrow didn’t wish to speak to him, he spoke to her, and eventually left her his reed pipe teaching her the musical note in the terranean scale “effe” as well as the magic that goes along with it.

(as an aside: the note effe correlates to the note in our world F, and magically is associated with gales, gusts, powerful short bursts of wind. the longer or louder it’s played the more damage it can cause over a continuous period of time).

when he was taken away, he was killed, unable to withstand tenom. but in secret twilightsorrow continued to practice effe, hoping that one day she could be able to escape.

the time eventually came. when she was brought to be let loose into argos to roam and slaughter again, twilightsorrow blew loud, clear, and deafening into the reed pipe, summoning as much magic as she could muster to break apart the cage, and killing her escort posse in the process. she fled into the woods never to be seen by another terranean again.

pt 3: EFFE, goddess of winds, gales and gusts

realistically that should be the end of her story. but it’s not! she wandered on her own for weeks, eventually coming to the brink of death and near starvation when she was found by the ancient god of chaos (among other things), MIZDARR. he could sense the chaos within her, and was able to see her memories as to what she went through before she was found. he asked her if she wanted to live and she barely managed to say yes.

it was then that he transformed her; from a mangled and broken beast to a beautiful, powerful, dangerous goddess in her own right. she grew beautiful curling horns and wings, able to summon all manners of wind and weather at her beck and call. his one restraint on her is that she could not ever return to eros and seek revenge on those who did this to her — because without that, she would’ve been unable to be reborn. she agreed to this, took to the skies, and has not set her feet on the ground ever since.

the experimentations of eros were purposefully destroyed by those at the now defunct HWM and no one will ever know the true origins of the wind goddess. but, EFFE likes to keep it that way. she prefers who she is now over who she came from any day.

—

this was quite long but i have a special place in my heart and head for twilight/EFFE. there’s a character named after her in present day terrae as well, named efelia who is someone clear meets before canon and tbh with all of EFFE’s backstory, it’s kind of fitting.

after being ascended to deity-hood, EFFE and The Lady of the Mists (or pinella-long story) were able to reunite, and The Lady helped her process some of her grief. the two of them spend a lot of time together now that neither of them could in mortal life :’)

[asteria-edalyn]

My Demon Ep 10 SPOILERS

OH MY GOD the last part of the episode was absolute agony to get to the ACTUAL ending

But it’s gonna be two weeks til the next ep :(

Also: WOLSIM. THE THEORY WAS RIGHT.

I didn’t hate Jin Star until this episode or like last episode ugh.

[sardonic-sprite]

Am I allowed to send this back to the blogger who sent it to me? Well, we're gonna do it anyways.

 Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!! 🌸

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Wtf I think you unlocked a cheat code? What be this sorcery? Aight well be prepared for me to uno reverse it on you lmao.

FUCK I don't even remember which fics I used before for this, uhhhhh... ok here's the first go-round.

Anywho, next ones...

Oooh, Runaway. This one got to explore Tim and Damian's brother dynamic, but if they got off to a better start. It's also badass motherfucking coffee addicted best big bro Tim (a great version) and smol fight bean so tired just wants to be fucking loved lil bro Damian (also a great version). With a teensy bit of sappy batdad. Only thing I don't like as much is the version of Talia, but it's lowkey needed for the plot so I'll let myself off the hook.

If you ever fall down. This one is actually. Like, it's fair. I'd say it's well-written. But what I take the most pride in is how I was able to rewrite the ending so as to have two options, one with a lowkey Sladick, the other with Jason and Dick Big Bro Teamup. Honestly there's little difference between the versions, but still. I ventured a little beyond my comfort zone, and I'm proud of that.

Bane. Yeah, this one's controversial. Still, I spent SO MUCH BRAINPOWER doing inception levels of theory of mind and like good God... I'm incredibly proud of how I was able to do that, and how I was able to build up the tension and keep people guessing until the end. Maybe that makes me mean. Ah, well, a friend and I are working on a sequel, so it'll turn out fine... after lots more agony. Oops.

A Wretch Like Me. This one... all my Rev Wayne stories have given me Religious Feels but there's something incredibly personal about this one, because when Jason and Bruce talk at the end, it echoes so many times that I talked with my Pastor H about things. I'd like to think he'd be proud of what I wrote, despite it being fanfic. I also published this one on Palm Sunday, so the sacrifice theme was vivid, and it might be the closest I've come to... Understanding passion week.

[randalsgrave]

Sweetness and Light: Part 5

Well hot damn, it's been long enough - and speaking of 'long enough' this part totaled out at 22 pages. Told y'all it's only gonna get longer from here on out.

Week two and week three go by, each with its high - and low - points.

BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl

Word count: 8.1K

WARNINGS: colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men); mentions of toxic family behavior

Recommended Soundtrack: Go! - Public Service Broadcasting; Kick the Tragedy - Drop Nineteens; Crank - Catherine Wheel

***

Week 2. PT does, indeed, suck on Monday. 

Everhardt decides that his class’s first PT session of the week is going to involve endurance conditioning at the base track - a lot of it. 

When he utters the dreaded words “caboose runs,” Katie groans (as do probably 5 other people, but that’s beside the point). As if it wasn’t bad enough that she and Bob kicked their asses hiking on Saturday, now she’s got 20 minutes of staggered sprints on shit legs to worry about. 

“It had to be caboose runs,” Katie mutters under her breath as she falls in line behind Fanboy and trots off for the next 20 minutes of hell. 

At least she’s not alone in her misery. Bob says nothing as he slips into line behind her. He does, however, pass her a grin of pained solidarity as he sprints his way up to the front of the train when his turn comes. 

It’s a grin she returns when it’s her turn to bolt to the front. 

It’s also a grin that Fanboy catches notice of, and one that he finds himself asking questions about when the run ends 20 minutes later. 

“Am I missing something here?” he wheezes to Katie when they’re all clustered on the side of the track, taking a much-needed water break. 

Katie, propped up beside Bob against a row of bleachers, shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe if you’d tagged along with us instead of spending all morning in bed on Saturday, you’d be in the loop.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How was the hike, anyway?” 

“Long,” Bob winces. “And steep.”

“Hm. Explains the faces of agony.” 

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Katie mutters with a snort, which Bob underscores with a nod and chuckle of agreement. 

Fanboy says nothing else beyond that - at least, not while Bob is within earshot. When everyone starts making their way to center field for calisthenics and Bob follows along with the others, Fanboy pulls Katie aside, leans in close. “So uh, like I was saying earlier… Am I missing something here?” 

There’s no missing the sly, knowing glimmer in his eyes when he speaks. Oh Christ Fanboy, what are you insinuating?

She plays dumb. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” she says airily. 

“Hell you don’t,” Fanboy retorts with a roll of his eyes and a smirk. “I saw you guys vibing together. Being all smiley and shit. Y’all got real friendly with each other on Saturday, didn’t you?” 

“If by ‘got real friendly’ you mean ‘hiked up the side of a mountain and OD-ed on pancakes and hashbrowns shortly thereafter,’ then yeah, we got real friendly.”

“Cute, cute. There gonna be a second date?”

“Oh my god Fanboy-”

“Ooh, that sounds like a yes-”

“Fuck off,” Katie giggles as she gives Fanboy a small shove. “Seriously, there’s nothing going on with me and Bob. We’re just friends.”

“Five bucks says that changes in a couple weeks.”

“You ready to lose that bet?”

Fanboy shrugs. “I dunno, I’m feeling pretty good about this one.” The waggling of his eyebrows earns him an exasperated groan. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous.” Despite the nature of the words she just spoke, Katie can’t help the grin that splits across her face. “C’mon, before Everhardt bitches at us.” 

He laughs, but says nothing more as he jogs off to join the others for the rest of PT - and thank god he does, otherwise he would definitely have words to say about the disgruntled scowl curling across Katie’s lips. Making bets about her love life… As if she even has one. She and Bob are friends and nothing more. 

At least, that’s what she tells herself. What she’s currently hell-bent on telling herself. 

She steals a glance at Bob, then at Fanboy - and the scowl deepens. Bastard, she thinks. 

This is going to be a long 3 months. 

***

Instruction picks up right where it left off on Friday, with two-man hops and simulated bombing runs and death by classroom lecture. The first half of the day sees Fanboy and Halfpint paired with Airbud, a single-seater pilot, and their hop goes as well as it’s expected to. 

Where it all goes to shit is during the second half of the day, when Katie finds herself paired with Melendez. 

Melendez isn’t a team player; she made that much clear during the first week. Of course, nobody really realizes it until one person or the other is paired up with her for flight ops. Nobody knows which is worse: the fact that she’s maliciously cocky in and out of the cockpit, or that she peppers her shit-talking with musings of being a TOPGUN instructor. She’s not making friends with anyone here - and it seems like everyone else is happy to keep it that way.

So why Katie finds herself jogging after her on the tarmac and calling out to her is completely beyond comprehension.

“Melendez!” she yells over the whistling roar of their jet engines. 

She doesn’t hear her. Either that, or she ignores her. It doesn’t matter to Katie. She jogs after Melendez, reaches a hand out to touch her shoulder.

And damn-near gets decked with a fistful of equipment. 

“What?” Melendez snaps. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“Whoa, hey-” Katie’s hands are up instantly, and she takes a step back, opens up the space between them. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea… “I just wanna talk, that’s all.”

“Yeah? About what?” 

Katie closes her eyes, sucks in a deep breath. She’s gonna have to make this quick. 

“Look - things got off on the wrong foot last week. I was hoping maybe we could reset and try again.”

“‘Reset and try again’?”

Melendez is mocking her, or getting ready to do it, at least. Fuck, Katie knew this was a bad idea. 

She stands tall, gives a single, curt nod. “Yeah.” This conversation may be going south faster than she would’ve hoped, but she’s not about to tuck tail. 

Laughter bursts from Melendez's mouth, a loud, raucous guffaw of… Disbelief? Amusement? Katie’s not sure - but the laughter all the same can’t be a good sign, not when she’s trying to extend an olive branch. 

It starts with a smile, a malicious one.  “Look, blanquita, I dunno what you’re on right now, but let’s get somethin’ straight. We’re not friends; we’re competition - and even if we weren’t competin’ there’s no fuckin’ way I’d wanna be friends with you.” 

Her response doesn’t really shock Katie. At least, the first part of it doesn’t. 

It’s the second part that throws her. 

“You little white girls are all the same,” Melendez says, voice laced with poison. “You try to be friends with everyone so no one calls you out for being trash. Make me look like the bad guy for callin’ you out on your shit.”

“I don’t-”

“Shut the fuck up, yes you do. Grow up, blanquita. Stop tryin’ to be everyone’s friend and do your fuckin’ job, if you even can. They can’t help you if you suck.” 

And with that, Melendez pivots on one heel, and continues her march to her jet. She spares no second glance at Katie, who stands stock-still for a moment, blinking and staring at the spot she previously occupied. 

She didn’t think it was going to go that bad, but… yikes. That was pretty fucking bad. 

And the worst part of it? Maybe Melendez has a point. 

It’s a thought that plagues Katie as she climbs into the cockpit of her F-18, and takes off for an exercise that sees Melendez push her around and leave her feeling like shit about her flying. Maybe she’s right. Maybe she does suck and is trying to distract from it. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told Katie that she doesn’t measure up and that she’s only lying to herself. 

You know you’re not cut out for this. Why do you insist on embarrassing yourself?

No. No, no, no. Fuck that. 

Whether or not Melendez is right, it doesn’t matter. Katie can’t let that get to her. She’s worked far too hard and for far too long to be derailed by some little Brooklynite trying to pick a fight with her. 

Melendez wants competition? Fine then. Competition is what she’ll get. 

She’s gonna wish she hadn’t, though. 

***

The next day is much better - Katie’s relegated to an observer position while two other teams are sent up in the air. The two teams in question? Bojack and Wolverine, and Bones, Bob, and his front-seater Rapture. 

Now, everyone at TOPGUN knows as well as the next person that each pilot and NFO has their own distinct magic, that little bit of something that sets them above and apart from their peers in the aviation community. Katie’s knack for quick absorption is unparalleled. Fanboy and Halfpint are fast, efficient, precise. Hell, even Melendez has her magic; her doggedness and tenacity in the air make her one hell of a pilot. 

And then there’s Bob. 

Bob is a goddamn crack shot. His rate of accuracy is so near-perfect that it’s almost a little frightening to watch him and his front-seater rain destruction down below them. Of course, Rapture is plenty accurate and deadly on his own - but with Bob? Their targets don’t stand a chance. Rapture’s WSO is sharp and laser-focused and on the money every damn time, a deadeye of epic proportions. 

Katie can’t help but smile as she listens in on the radio chatter in the ready room and hears Bob and his front-seater slam-dunk the exercise. They’ve got their targets zeroed and smoldering within minutes, a far cry better than most of the others in class. 

Certainly a far cry better than her and Melendez yesterday. It stings, just the tiniest bit, but she tries not to let it bother her. Besides, why should it bother her that someone who’s clearly meant to be here just killed their bombing run? 

This boy is gonna be the one to blow them all out of the water. Katie just knows it. 

“Jesus - remind me never to cross you,” she murmurs to Bob after debrief. “You were like fuckin’ Annie Oakley out there.”

Bob’s mouth screws up in a small grin. “Yeah, well, Annie Oakley appreciates that. It’s nice when your peers tell you how lethal you are.”

“Oh, you. Still wanna grab Chipotle with me, Fanboy, and Halfpint?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Bob matches his pace with Katie’s, sets his garrison cap upon his golden-brown head. “I’ve been dreaming of a double-protein bowl since Fanboy brought it up this morning.”

“You earned it, that’s for sure.”

He smiles again, wider and happier, and it sends a flutter through Katie’s chest. “I aim to please.”

And he certainly does. Bob Floyd is an incredibly gifted aviator. There’s no doubt that he will take top spot in their class. No doubt at all. 

And, quite frankly, Katie thinks, it couldn’t happen to a better person. 

***

“Do you drink coffee?”

It’s barely past 0630 on Wednesday, and Katie is already receiving texts - and from Bob, no less. 

At first she’s confused. She’s in the Navy; of course she drinks coffee. Caffeinated beverages are practically her lifeblood. 

Her brow furrows as she picks up her phone to respond. “Yeah? Lol. Why do you ask?”

A bare 10 seconds pass before a response is shooting into her inbox. “I’m brewing some in my room,” the text reads. “Happy to make you a cup if you’d like one.” 

Hm. An impromptu coffee date with Bob Floyd. Even if it is ridiculously early in the morning, Katie has to admit, that sounds quite nice. 

“Sure, I’ll swing by. What’s your room number?” 

“224. Just a heads up, I split the room with Rapture and he might be here when you come down. Sorry for that btw.”

“No worries. Be down in a minute.”

Thankfully, neither of them have to worry about Bob’s front-seater when she appears at his front door moments later. He’s stepping out as she’s coming in, heading off for breakfast in the lobby. 

Which leaves Katie quite alone with Bob in his room. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a small ripple of excitement passes through as she steps into the hotel room and shuts the door behind her. 

Living spaces, no matter how temporary, have always been an interesting thing for Katie. They paint a picture of the person occupying it, shed light on the parts hidden by polite social interactions and facades. 

Bob’s living space is simultaneously everything Katie figured it would be and absolutely nothing like what she thought. Frank Herbert’s Dune rests on the coffee table in the living room area, but so too does a battered, oft-read copy of Robert Jordan’s The Eye of the World and Pathfinder’s Core Rulebook. A sticker-emblazoned gaming laptop with a pulsating rainbow-colored keyboard rests on the kitchen counter, but it’s streaming soft, soothing coffeehouse jazz. And the coffee that Bob offered earlier? He has a whole setup for it, complete with a hand-cranked coffee grinder, water boiling on the stove in a lodge-supplied tea kettle, and a small French press. Whatever images or preconceived notions Katie had about Bob’s living space have been all but obliterated at this point. 

It’s more than that, though. The contents of the hotel room prove that things are nowhere near as simplified as she would’ve thought. There are layers to Bob; that much has been apparent since the moment they first met. Still, Katie didn’t think she’d ever really get to see them. The fact that she’s now standing here, seeing these parts of him - hell, that he’s letting her see these parts of him… 

She might actually have butterflies in her stomach right now. 

Bob putters around the small kitchen space with his flight suit half-zipped and the sleeves tied tight around his waist, one hand gripping the coffee grinder while the other cranks the handle. His face holds an expression of calm, collected concentration, almost like an artist’s. It’s a creative process for him, Katie realizes. How very him. 

“Do you take anything in your coffee?”

Katie makes a noise of indifference as she seats herself at the countertop. “Not really. I kind of just drink it how it’s presented to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Why the double-check?”

“Well,” he replies as he dumps the freshly ground beans into the French press, “I ask because some people don’t like how I present coffee to them. I drink coffee black because it lets me taste the flavors and undertones better, but I know a lot of people who think drinking black coffee is like drinking charcoal, so…” 

“So give it to me black then.” When Bob makes a noise of protest, Katie rolls her eyes but smiles endearingly. “I’m a big girl, Bob. I can handle a little bitterness.” 

Bob only nods as he pours hot water into the press, then presses the grounds to the bottom with the plunger. When he pours the resulting liquid into a mug and slides it towards Katie, he does so with a look of nervous anticipation on his face, almost like her reaction determines how the rest of the morning - maybe even the day - plays out. 

Lucky for him, Katie’s reaction when she takes her first sip of coffee is a highly positive one. She’s no connoisseur; she can’t taste any flavors or notes or undertones, but she knows for damn sure that it’s a good cup of coffee. It’s smooth, warm and roasty, but not burnt. Clearly, Bob has good taste in the stuff. 

She smirks around the brim of her mug. “Well, it’s definitely not Maxwell House,” she says before taking another sip, a bigger one. 

“God, I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It is. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a special place in my heart for the cheap shit, but sometimes I want a cup of coffee that doesn’t taste like dirt.”

“Well then,” Bob replies as he seats himself beside her, “I’m happy to give you that second cup.”

“I’m happy to have it with you.” 

She says it before her brain can catch up with her mouth. It’s hardly that loaded of a statement, and somewhere in the back of her head, Katie knows that - but it doesn’t stop her from blushing, and damn-near crimson at that. Where did that come from?

What’s funny, though, is that Bob is blushing too, and just as red as Katie, if not more. It makes her wonder what’s going through his head in that moment. 

He takes a long, drawn-out sip of coffee, likely to help steady his nerves. “Uh, you know… I do this every day. Brew up some coffee, sit down, take some time to relax before class…” He takes another steadying sip of coffee, and the mug trembles in his hand, just the tiniest bit. “It’d be nice to have some company. Y’know, whenever.” 

The words hang in the air, and Katie contemplates them. It’s not like Bob asked her to marry him, but she can tell that even asking for something as low-key as a shared coffee before class is out of his comfort zone. That he’s putting himself out there like this, that he’s doing it for her, no less… 

Katie would be lying if she said her heart didn’t flutter in her chest. 

A small smile graces her face. “Happy to come by whenever,” she finally replies. 

She’s never been so glad to have accepted an invitation. 

***

Thursday rolls around with another round of paired hops and simulated bombing runs. Katie’s up first this time, paired with Fanboy and Halfpint. She’s had time to get her head on straight after Tuesday’s less-than-stellar hop with Melendez - and now? Her head’s more than screwed on straight; it’s a steel trap, a loaded spring ready to explode and execute. She’s pissed at how Tuesday went, and she wants that feeling of competence back. 

She can feel Melendez’s eyes boring into her as she passes by the ready room, can feel her smirking and sneering at her. No doubt she’s thinking there’s going to be a repeat of Tuesday’s hop. Like hell. 

The run winds up being everything Katie expects it to be and hopes for - her, Fanboy, and Halfpint all working together seamlessly and efficiently, zeroing their targets and raining ultra-precise hellfire down on them, getting in and getting out with not a second wasted. It’s everything Tuesday should’ve been, and everything the rest of her time here at TOPGUN will be. 

Needless to say, Melendez is no longer smirking when they all come out of debrief an hour later. 

And that is enough to put a smile on Katie’s face.

***

It’s Friday night, and all Katie wants to do is have a beer. A Deschutes beer, specifically. Something that she knows the Hard Deck doesn’t have on tap - not that she’s really complaining. She’s not in much of a mood to “go out” tonight. 

She could, however, wrangle up a friend or two to occupy the covered patio out back. That has the makings of a good time tonight. 

All she needs to do is grab a six-pack. 

It’s multitasking at its finest as she grabs her wallet and taps out a quick text to Bob. “Any interest in drinking tonight?” she asks him casually. “I’m about to head over to the NEX to get some beer.” 

The reply comes back sooner than Katie thought it would. “Funny you mention that; I’m actually at the NEX right now. What do you want? I can grab it for you.”

Huh. Well how about that. 

“Do they have Deschutes there?”

“I’ll take a look. What’s your plan b if they don’t?”

“Uhhhhhh Kona beer? If they have Longboard or Hanalei then that’ll work.”

“On it. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back.”

“Sweet, sounds good.”

Well, that was easy enough. All Katie needs to do now is wrangle up some more company. 

She swaps over to her chat thread with Fanboy, begins to type. “Feel like drinking on the back patio tonight? Bob’s grabbing beer at the NEX; if you want anything I can text him and tell him to grab it for you.” 

She’s slipping an old red hooded flannel over her t-shirt when she gets a reply back from Fanboy - a picture, says the notification. When she opens the message, laughter bursts from her. Fanboy’s sent her a picture of himself jutting his thumb over his shoulder - and who happens to be standing behind him, holding up a six-pack of Shiner Bock and making a face for the camera? 

None other than Bob. 

“Wayyyyy ahead of u fam,” he replies in a second text. “Also Bob says they got deschutes here. They got fresh squeezed IPA and squeezy rider IPA.” 

“Ooooooooh definitely Squeezy Rider. Please and thank you.” 

“Bet. Grab us a spot downstairs? We’ll be back in 10.” 

“Will do.”

Without another word or text sent, Katie trots off for the elevator and makes her way downstairs, shuffling through the lobby to the back patio area, which is lit by the soft glow of brass torches. Coupled with several cushy seats in the area and the soft crash of the tide in the near distance, it provides just the right amount of relaxation and ambience for an easy Friday night in. 

She folds herself into one of the lounge chairs, starts up one of her quieter shoegaze playlists, smiling to herself. Yeah, this was definitely a good call for tonight. 

True to their word, Fanboy and Bob come waltzing through the door ten minutes later, each with beers in one hand and what looks like a bag of snacks in the other. For Fanboy, it’s Takis and mini pretzels. For Bob, it’s cool ranch flavored sunflower seeds and smoked mini sausages. Sure, it’s not the most inspired bunch of snacks - but food is food, and Katie is glad they at least had the thought to get some. 

“You’re a peach,” Katie beams when Bob comes over and hands off the coveted six-pack to her. “How much do I owe you?” 

Bob waves the question off and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, c’mon, lemme pay you back-”

“Sand Trap, seriously, it’s fine.” He grins at Katie as he takes the lounge seat opposite hers, all nice and easygoing and good-natured, but the glint in his eyes makes it clear that the issue is no longer up for discussion. 

Well. Bob might not have taken very well to growing up in the South, but he sure as hell has the ‘southern gentleman’ mannerisms down pat. Isn’t that nice. 

Still, Katie can’t help but grumble. “Fine, but I’m buying next time.” She settles back in her seat, twists off the top on beer number one. She doubts he’ll let her pay for whatever it is they buy next time, but damned if she’s not going to try. 

“Yeah,” Bob hums around his first bottle of Shiner Bock, “we’ll see about that.” 

“I’m sure we will.” Yep, she was right about that one. Not giving it up that easily. Not that it’s a bad thing. Katie likes a guy with a sense of chivalry. “Pass me some of those sausages.”

Bob obliges, holding out the open bag to her, and she grabs a handful and fastens one between her lips. It’s punchy, full of minced hatch chilis and spice, a nice counter to the languid citrus haze of her beer. Not bad for cheap snack food from the NEX. 

“These are good,” she murmurs after a bite of sausage and a swallow of beer. “I’m gonna have to start buying these.” A snicker bubbles out of her mouth after a second. “Maybe that’s how I’ll repay you, Bob - just buy you a giant bag of hatch chili sausages.”

“Sand Trap-”

“Oh, c’mon Bob, I gotta repay you somehow! Lemme be nice!” Katie laughs, giggles tremoring in her chest as she takes another swill of beer. “Lemme be your friend and repay the favor.”

“You’re a plenty good enough friend without having to buy me stuff.”

And so the banter circles, and circles, and circles again. Katie’s not going to lie, it’s tiresome - but she keeps it up all the same. After all, it’s nice seeing Bob relax, nice seeing him engage in the dumb antics and arguments most others get themselves into. 

It’s nice seeing him comfortable. 

Speaking of being comfortable…

“Hey Bob?”

“Mmm?”

“You can call me Katie.” She can feel Fanboy’s amused side-eye boring into her the second she says it, but she doesn’t give a damn. Bob’s been her friend long enough; he’s certainly earned the privilege. 

His blue eyes glimmer behind his glasses, and the corners of them crinkle in time with the grin that spreads across his face. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to - the look on his face says everything. 

“What about me? Can I call you Katie?”

“Loser - we literally established this the day we met!” 

“I know, but I wanted to get in on the moment! It was too cute to pass up!”

“You are the absolute worst,” Katie snickers before flicking a bottle cap in Fanboy’s direction. 

And there the three of them sit, drinking well into the wee hours of the night, snarking and poking fun at each other, vibing, laughing, living, basking. 

Few things truly are better than drinking with one’s fellow aviators. 

***

Week 3. Coffee with Bob in his hotel room at 0630 is a fairly daily occurrence now. Katie makes a note in her head that Monday morning to get her hands on some good coffee beans later in the day. It seems like the only proper ‘thank you’ for the man who’s been sharing his small supply of caffeine with her this past week. 

They’re sitting at his counter, scribbling their last little bits of homework before the day starts, sipping from their mugs while the usual coffeehouse jazz streams from his computer. Katie should be kicking herself for not having this done the night before, but she can’t be bothered to care too much. If anything, doing it now gives her a chance to cross-check things afterwards with Bob. 

Or so she says. 

“Y’know, it really is fascinating, what you can accomplish when you procrastinate,” Katie muses. 

“If stress and anxiety weren’t side effects of it, I’d do it more often.”

“Agreed. Although I’m not sure what you have to be stressed or anxious about. You’re easily the smartest guy in our class. If anything, I feel like this whole thing should be a slam dunk for you.”

Bob shrugs. “It’s only easy because I have my setup to worry about, nothing else. Point, shoot, done. You, on the other hand, have my ultimate respect because you do that AND fly at the same time.”

“I don’t think I’m very good at it, though. I’m doing my damnedest to prove my worth, but… I dunno.” Katie’s lips purse as she looks down at her work, scribbles in her final notes. “Honest truth? I dunno how I even wound up here. There are definitely way better pilots out there. They’d be more deserving of a spot here than me.” She’s stopped writing at this point, gaze downcast and jaw clenching tighter and tighter. God, how it pains her to admit that, but she knows it’s true. She’s been told that her whole life; it’s not like she can just wipe it from her mind, her entire existence. Hell, she heard it from Melendez last week. No amount of anger, hard work, or successful hops can erase that.

Why do you bother? You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough for them, Katherine Mae… They don’t know you like I do…

They don’t love you like I do.  

“Well, I think that’s a crock of shit,” Bob declares, voice cutting through the poison swirling in Katie’s head. “You’re a hell of a pilot, Sand Trap; someone clearly thought you deserve to be here. And I know that whoever sent you here, they’re not the only one thinking that.”

“Oh yeah? You one of those other people?” Katie mutters. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then…

“Yeah, actually, I am.”

Katie blinks, looks over at Bob, finds herself looking into his eyes, that endless stretch of cerulean. There’s an earnestness in them that makes her stomach clench and her breath hitch, just the tiniest bit. It’s not often that she hears serious reassurance like that. In fact, it’s rare, so rare that Katie finds herself at a bit of a loss for words. Or proper response. Or anything, really, because not only is it coming from a colleague of hers, it’s coming from him, from Bob, and how the fuck is she supposed to react to that, to someone like him actually giving a shit? 

She feels her face growing hot, burning red. She drops her head down, low enough so that he can’t see the embarrassment scorching across it. “Thanks,” she mumbles. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bob smile. “I’d fly with you any day of the week and twice on Sunday, Sand Trap.” 

Her whole body is burning now, and whether it’s with pride, pleasure, or shame, she’s not sure. Whatever the case may be, it’s a first for her.

She needs to speak. That’s what she needs to do. 

It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell Bob ‘thank you’, to say some sort of one-and-done pleasantry - but all she can think to say, in that exact moment, is…

“Thought I told you to call me Katie, Bob.” 

Though he seems momentarily taken aback by the answer (maybe he was anticipating her saying ‘thank you’ too), Bob chuckles, his cheeks tinted with the barest hint of red. 

“I’ll keep that in mind from now on, Katie.” 

This time, Katie doesn’t even try to hide her face when heat tears across her cheeks. Something about Bob using her first name the way that he does, so innocent and personal… It does something to her. What the hell’s happening to her?

She coughs, cobbles her things together and tosses them into her black backpack. “We don’t, um… have that much time left before class. I’m just - I’m - um, I’m gonna go-” It’s abrupt, out of nowhere, and certainly nowhere near the calm, cool, and easygoing responses she usually gives, and all she wants to do immediately after saying it is kick herself, because Jesus Christ, could she look like any more of a psychotic dweeb? 

Bob, poor thing, seems just as confused. “Okay… Um… Guess I’ll see you in class then.” 

Katie’s bolting out of the room and shutting the door behind her before ‘yep’ has even passed her lips. She doesn’t want to stick around long enough for him to see the internal meltdown she’s about to suffer. He definitely doesn’t need to see that. 

“Seriously, Katie?” she hisses to herself as she marches down the hallway to the elevators. “What the fuck was that? He used your first name - after you LITERALLY told him to! Could you have reacted any more weirdly to that?” 

Well, I don’t know - when was the last time you let yourself entertain ANY sort of male attention? Especially from someone that you, oh, I don’t know, MIGHT HAVE AN INTEREST IN?

Could she, though? Could she really? 

No, Katie decides - no, insists - in the elevator ride down to the lobby. She and Bob are friends, nothing more. That’s the way it will be - the way it has to be.

Anything more than that and she risks opening wounds and exposing truths that should never see the light of day.

She shakes her head with a quiet snarl, makes her way out of the lodge and off to her car.

She’s gonna have to have a long conversation with herself when she’s done with everything for the day - a very fucking long one. 

***

It’s Tuesday evening, a late one. Katie’s been staring at the same piece of instruction on aerial bombing maneuvers for the last half hour now and none of the information has absorbed into her brain. Whether it’s due to the late hours or the fact that it’s fairly complex material, it’s refusing to stick - and Katie is rapidly losing her patience with it. 

With a huff of exasperated resignation, she tosses the paper away with no concern about where it lands, and thumps back against her bed’s headboard. What use is there in trying to force memorization? At this point she’s been reading and rereading the same three sentences with no clue of what they’re saying. Better to just say ‘fuck it’ for the night and pick up where she left off tomorrow, when her brain - and patience - is refreshed. 

She lets her eyes slide shut with a sigh, thoughts tapering off into nothingness, welcoming the call of a peaceful night’s sleep…

Until the sound of her phone buzzing, rattling on the nightstand jars her awake again.

The phone continues to buzz on the nightstand, her sister’s name and number scrolling across the screen. Katie frowns. Naomi’s talkative, sure, but she’s not really the type to reach out with a phone call - not unless there’s something going on. What could be going on at close to 2230 on a Tuesday, Katie’s not sure, but she hopes it’s nothing too serious.

She rolls over, grabs the phone off the nightstand, accepts the call. “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”

“Katherine.”

Katie’s stomach lurches and her blood runs cold. Her. Oh god, her. 

It’s a fight to maintain composure, to not fly into a seething, furious rage at the mere sound of her voice. Four years since she last saw her and Katie’s still licking the wounds from her last encounter with her. This bitch is the last person she wants to talk to. 

“Carrie.”

She makes a sound on the other end - a ‘tut’ of disdain, Katie realizes. Jesus - is she actually thinking of scolding her, of shaming her?”

“‘Carrie’? Is that any way to address the woman who gave birth to you? I-”

“You lost that ‘mom’ title a long time ago and you know it,” she hisses before immediately closing her eyes and clenching her jaw. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, she can’t be snapping like that. It’s how she pulls her into her bullshit; it’s how she’s always done it. Katie needs to calm down, and fast. 

She inhales through her nose, exhales forcefully, grips the phone tight in her hand, evens her breathing and pitch. “What do you want?”

“Well, I want to talk to you,” Carrie replies, as if the answer is obvious. “I just found out that my oldest daughter’s on the West Coast; why else would I be calling?”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to talk to you?” No, of course not, Katie thinks. This is her mother; the only person she’s ever paid close attention to is herself. The feelings and boundaries of her kids don’t matter to her. They never have. 

“Why would you say something so horrible? What have I done to deserve that?”

Katie doesn’t even try to swallow her cackle of incredulity. “Are you serious? Do you want a list of all the shit you’ve done? I mean Jesus Carrie, you stole Naomi’s phone to get to me!”

“Let me remind you that I pay the bills in this family, and that includes the one for your sister’s phone. I may allow her to use it, but this is MY phone, understand?”

She’s pulling her into her bullshit already; Katie can feel it. Her immediate response should be to cut her off and end the conversation right here, just like she’s done countless times before - and yet, she can’t. It’s been a long week and it’s not even over yet. She’s tired, her guard is down, and after the last two minutes, her blood pressure is climbing and threatening to spill over. If anyone should know how pissed off and exhausted she is, it’s Carrie. 

“Do you hear yourself? What kind of fucked up ‘no privacy’ bullshit are you on?”

“Oh, don’t you lecture me, Katherine Mae. I do what I do to keep this family together. And if this is what I have to do to keep my other daughter from abandoning it like you did, then so be it.” 

Oh, that’s it. That’s fucking it. Katie’s not doing this anymore. 

“Well, you clearly haven’t changed, so I no longer feel compelled to keep this conversation going.” 

“Katherine, don’t you dare-”

“I’m done, Carrie. Give Naomi her phone back and don’t call me again.” 

Katie then disconnects the call before Carrie has the chance to protest, the action decisive, unwavering, final. She should’ve ended that call a long time ago, and she knows she’ll be kicking herself for it later, but she’s out of it now and that’s all that matters. That bitch isn’t getting to her anymore tonight; she won’t let her. 

But goddamn, did she come close to it. 

Worse still, Katie knows it probably won’t be the only time that it happens - that Carrie finds ways to pull her back into her lies and abuse. This is only the start. And though she might’ve had the strength to shut Carrie down this time, there’s no guarantee that she’ll have it for the next run-in with her. 

And that? That scares Katie. It scares the living shit out of her. 

She needs an escape. Now. Before the memories threaten to consume her. 

She slips in her Airpods, puts on Drop Nineteens’ Kick the Tragedy, cranks the volume to drown out the voices and nightmares swirling in her head, and pulls her knees tight to her chest, trembling. 

It’s a position she stays locked in for the rest of the night. 

***

“Does this instruction make any sense to you or am I just stupid?” 

Katie’s currently sitting at a corner table in the buffet area with Bob, surrounded by notebooks, scattered sheets of paper, and small stacks of flight manuals. The piece of instruction Katie’s currently focused on is the same one from the night before, but she’s reading and poring over it with a renewed sense of determination (and spite, if she’s being honest) - or, at least, she’s trying to. It’s still as dense and heavy as when she last read it and it’s still not willing to stick in her brain. 

She groans loudly when Bob glances over at the paper and shakes his head, thumps her head into her forearms. “I’m so fucked for this test on Friday,” she moans. “This is 65 percent of what we’re being tested on and I can’t” - thump - “fucking” - thump - “understand it.” 

“Maybe put it down then, focus on something else?” 

“I dunno. Maybe. My brain’s soup at this point.”

“Hm.” Bob drums his fingers contemplatively on the tabletop, seems to rack his brain for a solution. It isn’t until he glances down at the watch fastened around his wrist, though, that he comes up with something - and that ‘something’ involves him packing up all their study materials, rising to his feet, and gently pulling Katie to her feet by her elbow. 

At first, she’s confused. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping for the night. We’ve been at this for the last four hours and it’s almost 11.”

“So?”

“So, that would explain why you’re having a hard time absorbing material,” Bob explains. “You’re tired; your brain’s not gonna absorb much when you’re tired.”

He says it so calmly, so simply. Fuck, it is simple, and Katie knows it. But, somewhere in the back of her mind… she can’t bring herself to go along with it. She’s a fighter pilot. More importantly, she’s a 1% fighter pilot in arguably the most challenging course the Navy has to offer. She should be soaking this material up, not getting stuck on the particulars of two-man air-to-surface strikes, literally the simplest shit. What kind of pilot is she if she can’t even figure this out? A lousy one, that’s what-

“Katie.”

Bob’s voice seems to melt through the nagging in her head, rendering it to little more than a whisper. She blinks, slowly, drifts back into reality, her very tired, very sleep-deprived reality. 

Okay. Maybe he has a point. Exhaustion is definitely doing a number on her. 

But hell if she’s going to admit it out loud. 

Somewhat thankfully, Bob seems to pick up on that reluctance and speaks for her. “Here, I’ll walk you up.” He reaches a hand out, as if to touch her, but seems to think better of it after a second and pulls it back, choosing instead to nod in the direction of the elevators. “C’mon.” 

They’re quiet as he escorts Katie up to the third floor and down the corridors to her room. When they finally come to a stop at her door, the exhaustion has set in with a swiftness and intensity she hasn’t seen since she was in OCS. She wonders briefly how she ever managed to power through it.

Bob takes her key card, swipes it across the reader and opens the door for her. “Get some sleep,” he tells her, voice soft. “I’ll hit you up in the morning, ‘kay?”

Katie nods mutely, steps over the threshold, allows Bob to pull the door closed. The exhaustion is weighing on her so heavily now that she doesn’t even react when it thuds shut more loudly than she’s used to. 

Bob’s right - she really does need to sleep. 

She trudges into her bedroom, fingers fumbling as she sets an alarm for 0600, then tosses the phone on the nightstand and falls face-first into the bed. She’s asleep seconds after her head hits the pillow, but not before her thoughts give a final whirl ‘round the study material, her pride in being a pilot, and her soft-spoken, bespectacled WSO classmate - the one who will be there for her in the morning. 

And sure enough, he is, for when Katie wakes up the next day at 06, there’s a single-word text waiting for her in her messages:

“Coffee?”

***

Two days later, after an extended study session with Bob and Fanboy the night before, Katie walks out of the test on Friday with two errors shy of a perfect score. The ironic part? The errors were on material completely unrelated to what she’d been stressing over two days ago. 

When she tells Bob and Fanboy as much on their way back to the lodge, they each respond with a shake of their head and a quiet laugh. 

“See, smartypants?” Fanboy says. “Told ya you’d be fine. Gotta learn to trust yourself more.” 

“Yeah, I’m working on that. Celebratory beer at the Hard Deck later?” 

“Don’t have to convince me.” Fanboy looks over at Bob, raises a questioning, but friendly eyebrow at him. “You tagging along or are you laying low?” 

“I mean, I gotta take a nap and catch up on the sleep I lost last night,” Bob replies casually, “but, uh… I could be persuaded.” He looks directly at Katie when he says the last part, making it abundantly clear that if anyone’s going to persuade him, it’s going to be her. 

And goddamn, if that doesn’t set the butterflies afrenzy in her stomach.

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll let you know what’s going on.” Katie’s attempt at replying in equally casual fashion is damn-near a failure; the pitch of her voice squeaks higher with each word she speaks. She’s not sure why it’s happening, but speaking or replying to Bob these days seems to be doing a number on her nerves. “Honestly, I’m probably gonna take a nap too; I’m feeling kinda’ dead.” 

“How late did you guys stay up after I left?” Fanboy asks them quizzically. 

Katie shakes her head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.” She herself is running on five hours of sleep; nerves and stress made it difficult for her to rack out at her usual time, wiring her awake well into the wee hours of the morning. A nap is an absolute necessity at this point if she has any desire to socialize later. “Meet up in the lobby in a couple hours?”

Bob nods. “Works for me.” 

The three of them pile into Katie’s 4Runner and putter their way back to the lodge, Catherine Wheel thrumming from the speakers as the mid-afternoon sun brightens the world around them. Were it not for the fact that she wants to be horizontal for her nap, Katie would be damn tempted to put her seat back and catch up on sleep in the warmth of her car.  

Bob splits off from Fanboy and Katie in the parking lot, leaving the two of them to stroll into the lobby together and ride an elevator up to their respective floors. For the most part, it’s quiet, comfortably shared silence between two friends. It’s short-lived, however; just before the elevator dings to a stop at his floor, Fanboy leans in towards Katie, eyebrow quirked inquiringly, smugly. 

“So, not a whole lotta sleep between you two… Was that all code for something and I just completely missed it, or-”

“Fanboy, I swear to God-”

Fanboy only snickers before splitting off for his room on the second floor, leaving Katie alone and red-faced in the elevator. Jesus Christ - if he keeps making comments like that, she might actually have to kill him. 

“‘Code for something’...” Katie mutters when the elevator reaches the third floor and she stomps off to her room. “Fucking menace.” If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that Fanboy was actively trying to push her and Bob together. 

Whatever. She’s not going to dedicate anymore thought to it, no sir - especially when she’s tired and still coming down from the stress of their test earlier. 

She loosens her laces and kicks off her flight boots, falling into the mattress with her hair still bunned and flight suit still zipped, settling in for some sleep that practically blacks her out for the next few hours. 

Later, after a nice, long, well-deserved nap and some dedicated relaxation time, the three of them are clustered around a high-top table at the Hard Deck, a small bowl of salted peanuts in the middle, beers of various brands in hand as they muse about their first three weeks at TOPGUN. They decide that, for as hard and as break-neck fast as it’s been going, all in all, it hasn’t been a bad experience so far. They’re conditions befitting their jobs - and lord knows, it hasn’t been boring. 

“Kinda’ makes me worry, though,” Bob murmurs. “We’re only three weeks in and it’s already been a helluva challenge. What are the other ten gonna be like?” 

Fanboy snorts, takes a swill of his pilsner. “You’re not telling me you’re scared, are you?”

“Apprehensive is more like it.”

“Eh, same difference. Not like you need to be scared though. It’s obvious you’re top brain in the class. You’ll get through this shit just fine.” 

“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” Bob’s eyes dart over to Katie for the briefest moment, holding her gaze for an even briefer moment before returning to the bottle in his hand. “I’m just waiting to see where Everhardt takes us next, and, y’know, trying to prepare myself for it.” 

“Understandable.” 

“I mean, if the next ten weeks are anything like the last three, just assume he’s gonna try to run us into the ground and proceed from there,” Katie shrugs. “I’ve already resigned myself to getting my ass handed to me; you might as well do the same.”

“Says the girl who aced her test earlier,” Fanboy scoffs. 

“Almost aced her test earlier.”

“Oh whatever. You’re smart. You’ll be fine. Fuck, you’ll both be fine; you guys’ll probably take the top two spots.”

“Well, I’m certainly gonna try,” Bob murmurs with a bashful smile. “Can’t be helped if I get bested by this girl over here though.”

Fanboy shakes his head and sighs, but he does it with a smirk on his face. “This guy…”

“Nah, you’ll definitely best me, Bob; there’s no question about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replies. “May the best aviator win.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Katie raises her bottle. “While we’re at it, here’s to making it through air-to-surface.”

“And the first three weeks,” Fanboy chimes in as he raises his. 

Bob’s the last to raise his, and his accompanying sentiment really rounds the evening out. “Onward to the next and best.”

Clink. 

@thestagsheadsblog @everything-i-love-in-life @luckyladycreator2 @docdetective @airedale17

[itsmeatballworld]

this is gonna be my condensed thoughts/feelings as I finally catch up to the most current chapter in bs:a!

@darke15 you’re a genius and I luv youuuu

...

I had to make a new ao3 account after my computer denounced the website 😂😂

…

Okay so from chpts 65-69 I’m high key sweating every two minutes lol

The lying Ghost had to do was insane!! Girl was doing cartwheels dodging Bucky’s questions to the point I was so stressed! I feel so bad for them—I can’t imagine the pain of wanting to share something but knowing the repercussions and fear of the outcome.

But so much good/yummy fluff and smut was weaved through so I’m happy haha

“Did you fuck Captain America?”

“Did you fuck the Winter Soldier?”

^ honestly has to be one of my favorites 😂 I was squealing lmaoo

…

*this next part is dedicated to chpt. 70. And only chpt. 70.*

Exc-UUUSE MEEEE?! Did you wake up and decide on violence, Darke?! I’m IN TEARS. AGONY. DANNY OH MY GOD. I CANT DO THIS. I REFUSE. NO. NOO. NOOOO.

Wow goddamn if that hurt me I can’t imagine how much that hurt you when you wrote this scene. I mean Danny?!? Babes I’m withering in pain, full tears.

…

Chpt 71. What in the HELL IS GOING ON. So many people are getting hurt?! Dune, my loves. The whole team. I’m terrified for this chapter.

Oh my god Wraith is throwing Ghost under the bus as a HYDRA sleeper agent 🫣 what is HAPPENING RN

OKAY NOW WAIT HOLD ON WHAT THE FUKKK

DARKE

My GOD. WTFF.

Ollie?!? OLLIEEE

I was trying to be coordinated when doing this reaction post but NO WAY. NO WAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!

He’s—! And I’m just—!

Oliver why—!

oh for the love of god 💀 I’m not strong enough for this

I have to say that Wraith being Ollie was a twisty twist I did NOT plan for. Now that he’s been revealed oh — I see it. Like I reread a quick scene from the early flashbacks and it does make so much sense. He and Ghost had some turbulence <literally lol> but I still am blown away. He’s got such a wild anger towards Ghost.

But now some serious concerns. What in the hell, Ollie?? Like he’s pretending to act like Danny?! BRO THAT IS MESSED UP.

Kinda glad it wasn’t Danny, tbh?? Maybe I’m crazy but I freaking love that man so much. His character and Ghost have been through so much that I’d hate that for them. Plus I picture Oscar Isaac for godsakes I can’t imagine him as my villain I’m sorry 😭😂

…………………. nOw HoLd Up Is DaNnY aCtUaLly DeAd

OH. OH NO. OH NO. NO NO. NOW THE FLASHBACK IS HURTING ME EVEN MORE.

*I took a week long break from reading after that 😭😭😂*

{but also realizing Origins is going into Danny and Ghost so… compromise? *crying continues*}

So, I’m back. Not refreshed — I’m thoroughly feeling bamboozled and stunned by Oliver. Man, he had me fooled 😔

Chpt. 72-73 wowowowow!!!

Bucky is so heartbroken ugh. Again. The lies and deceit have wounded him so deeply I hope he can recover when the truth comes out about Ghost and her working with Aftermath and Dune/Alpha Two…

These snippets into Oliver’s anger and planning is so terrifying. But that’s also a compliment haha. These scenes are so well done I want to punch him. Like real bad. This was supposed to be their friend and coworker Ollie! Not Ollie the Hydra lover 😭

Murder!Ghost is coming out to play 👀 !!

But on a serious note, Ghostie needs a break or she’s gonna snap. All that trauma and pain, without time to heal and process, would make any person crumble. I really hope not but she needs a break. Pronto!

…

Chpt 74, oh how I loved this!! So The Big 🍎 finally knows the truth. And he’s nice and possibly not surprised about Reader being Ghost. Love him. Love him and Boone. God I hope Bucky won’t hate Ghost too much after this!! [also screaming how cute Boone and Steve are *cries in single*].

…

Chpt 75: I love how you write these team dynamics. Like they’ve been through the worst things imaginable and they still got each other’s backs. Now that’s my found family!!!

The heartbreaking realization [again] of what damage had been done to Olympus and the surrounding area is wild. Having Ghost describe it through her eyes was agonizing. Everything being rubble and yet the memorial stone is standing tall... oof the image :( but at least Turner and the family are alive!!

“If Ollie wants to play the hero, I’ll give him a villain.”

-- ABSO-FREAKING-LUTELY YESS. This gave me chills ahhhh 

[OO and Novak ditching Wraith?! WHAT IS GOING ON]

...

 Chpt. 76!

I know Bucky is going through it right now, but at least he realized Ghost loves him. And the slight doubt about Ghost being ‘hydra’ is giving me life. Slowly but surely the team is finding this odd, but I’m glad Clint is thinking it through. This web that Ollie created is so insane and I can’t wait for the truth to come out!

Even though the next scene showed a badass machine that Ghost can be (and nearly terrified Bucky again *le sigh*) I have hope this will turn around haha. *sweating intensifies*

Plus, even though the whole Stark Tower/Avengers group was in panic during Ghost’s takedown of Wraith’s base in Kabul, I was thoroughly enjoying that scene <3 Badass Ghostie is fun!

Also Bucky still calls New Eden his ‘home’ so that’s a win, bro!

Ollie calling Ghost an “impulsive psychopath”... boy, please. We need him to look in the mirror hahaha.

...

So... um... chpts 77-78: 

well holy hot damn. I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK. Ain’t nobody touching Amma. No. I’d throw hands, I’m sorry haha. Girly, you had me going nuts like Ollie hurt Amma oh my goodddddddd! Boone was so sweet to get Amma the hell out of dodge. I love her with my whole heart, ugh! Ghost’s reaction to Amma being missing then reuniting with her had me teary ngl

Ghost’s internal monologue in Medellín about the team and who’s bullet holes did those belong to was so heart wrenching. Her panic attack?! Holy crap, my heart hurts so badly for her. All Ghost’s trauma and pain is really coming to a head with all of this stress and it’s making me so sad to see Ghost hurting like this.

“If she’d fought so hard to get away from them, Bucky could get her back”

—> hell fucking yes!

The chaos! Bucky loves Ghost, wants to find Ghost, but is going to make it worse if he does because of Oliver’s ties to the Avengers….. ugh a month went by and I feel like he’s slowly loosing faith in her *cries*

AND YESSSSS THE WEDDING OF THE CENTURY IS GONNA HAPPEN!!!! Jack and Duke are getting married!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥹😭❤️💕

...

Ahhhhaha! Chpt 79:

I am sobbing. This was so perfect and lovely. I needed this. We all needed this. Darke, you needed this. I feel like I fell in love with these characters all over again. What Ghost said during the ceremony had me weeping. And when Danny is brought up, I’m also crying very sad tears lol. 🥹💕

...

*side note: the way you write peter and sam are exceptional! I can really hear their voices come alive <3

** side note 2: just a general declaration that Sam Wilson needs a love interest moving forward in the MCU... like they’re missing out on this man and I’ll fight Marvel haha 😂😂

…

Yikes! It seems my BA in Communications is not paying off 😂 what a messy reaction post lmao. I cannot communicate to save my lifeeeeee

@darke15​, I can’t properly explain how much this whole series has me in a chokehold. You are a phenomenal writer and storyteller!! Seriously I’m always in awe what that brain creates 🖤 thank you for all that you do, lovely!! 

~gigi💕

[qtti]

Here is an uninteresting complaining post

So I got s UTI and I noticed it a week ago. I called the emergency like to get antibiotics and I managed to get them the next day. I took the antibiotics, which was a three day cure... I felt a bit better, but not completely so after taking the cure. I imagined it would continue to work its magic after the pill-taking period...

Only to find out that I came back WAY FUCKING WORSE. I called the emergency like again, like help me wtf this wasn't enough??? And I was sent to give an urinal sample. I've not slept more than six hours each night, I wake up to be in agony and fuckload of pain in my bladder each morning, this morning being now exception... each time I do my business in the bathroom now I can't help but silently scream in agony... I fucking hate this. It worst there and awful, just exciting as well.

Anyways, since giving the sample, they managed to figure out pretty fast that yes indeed, I have a UTI (duh) and that it was caused by E.Coli. however, I've had to wait an extra entire two day with these fucking awful symptoms for them to figure out what antibiotics would work best. I've taken a stupid amount of painkillers (both paracetamol and ibuprofen) to manage and drunk a fuckload of cranberry juice but the symptoms are like a wave, getting better at times, only to find myself almost crying because I'm hurting to much.

I was told their lobarotorium tests would be done today so they can write me the right antibiotics, and I am like so sick and tired... I've had this fucking infection for over A WEEK now. That's a stupid long amount of time compared to the fact that I've been contacting the health care people right away when I've experienced worse symptoms. Anyways... its almost 6am and the call line for health care stuff opens up at 7:30 ... and then, I hope and so help me god, they finally have their tests ready, because I can't fucking handle this pain anymore. I'm gonna end myself if this keeps on going, I wanna be healthy again!! Aaaaa!! AAAAAAA!!! I WANNA STOP THIS PAIN?!?!? I CANT TAKE THIS ANYMORE IT KEEPS GETTING WORSE!!! But no, I don't have a fever of back pain, so we good like that....... but I'm scared it is getting there... I really need those meds fr...

[spearxwind]

I can’t wait for this semester to be over I want to be finally fucking done so bad.

[orcelito]

i was already sorta flagging bc ive only written 275 words in the past hour of actively trying but then i got the fact that tomorrow is the 28th pointed out to me and it just made my heart shrivel back inside of its shitty little turtle shell bc double 28s???????? when ive been stuck on 28s on my stat page the past however long?????? nfdskfjasdklf nnno thank u

[thegreencanary]

I don’t want to do this anymore

Biased on this request

Billy Hargrove x female reader

Summary: You took Billy’s place in the Starcourt incident but survived….not without emotional and physical wounds.

TW: Cursing, Violence, Blood, Descriptions of Depression, mentions of suicide

This is a heavy one (As are all of my stories) SO please take the Trigger Warnings seriously! This will have a happy fluffy ending but its gonna take some work to get there!

The world was moving in slow motion, kind of like you were underwater. The last few minutes didn’t register in your head. Billy was at the mall, the Mind Flayer was trying to take out everyone….he was trying to save your life but you didn’t want him to die. Lunging forward, you tackled Billy and forced him out of the way. There was a lot of anger in his face, but El was safe and he was safe so why… then it hit you. The pain, your face twisted into pure agony as you felt the teeth dig into your thigh. It had you. Billy’s face changed into fear as you were dragged away from him. You tried to scream out but you don’t know if any sound actually came. Nothing made sense anymore, but the kids and Billy were safe. Billy was safe, you’d worked so hard to protect him from his life…the last thing you could do was give yours so he could live the life he always deserved to. The Mind Flayer twisted you so you were staring directly at it, and you closed your eyes with a smile. This was a beautiful death, a good death, there were a lot of things you still wanted to do; but it was okay. You were wrapped up in painful teeth on your legs and arms when the building started to shake. Everything had faded away, and you were falling. Death wasn’t what you expected, everything was dark and it felt empty. A voice comforted you in the vestibule of death, it was Billy. He was yelling and you could hear the pain in his voice; but it was still him. Something didn’t feel right… you should have been dead a while ago so why were you still connected to him?

The bright lights invaded your eyes, causing a new wave of pain to surge through your body. Something was down your throat, you couldn’t move. Panic set it as you tried to escape and get out of wherever you were. Shaking and trying to yell with no success, tears streamed down your face, then you heard it.

“GET A DOCTOR. SHES AWAKE!”

Billy. His hands, his strong calloused, comforting hands touched your face. He was gentle, which wasn’t something Billy Hargrove was good at. Focusing on him was hard, how was he here? You had nothing but fear and panic in your eyes as he tried to calm you down.

“It’s okay baby. Im here. You’re okay, we’re okay…you’re awake. You’re alive. Thank fucking God…”

Billy was comforting himself the longer he held you. He had gone through hell the last two weeks. A coma could last for years, and he was prepared to live in that hospital room with you if he had to. He lied and said he was your husband to get special privileges, and your parents didn’t stop him. The doctors ripped him away from you before you could fully calm down. You were surrounded by white Coats and you tried to find Billy again but you couldn’t. Panic set back in and your body started shaking uncontrollably. You heard someone say something about sedation, and you felt a sharp pain in your arm. The last thing you heard was Billy shouting for you. The darkness came back, it was a waiting room of emptiness, pure silence and weight. You felt so unbelievably heavy as you stood in the vast nothingness. It was so scary, you wish you would have just died instead.

The next time you woke up, you weren’t as restrained as before. You still were tied down, but nothing was down your throat and you could speak. Billy was asleep on the uncomfortable couch in the room when you woke with a scream. He immediately ran to you.

“I’m here. It’s okay…I’m here.”

“Wh…where…what….why…eh…I…”

Nothing cohesive came out. You felt Billy I strapping your restraints and he pulled you up into a hug. It was warm, familiar, safe. Fresh hot tears streamed down your face as you wept into him. You felt his drip onto your shoulder. Embarrassment and anger, the first two emotions you felt outside of panic and fear. You weren’t weak, you didn’t cry. Now Billy was holding you while you wept. It was so stupid….so you pulled yourself away from him and composed yourself.

“What happened?”!

Billy sighed.

“Can I just fucking sit with you for a second.”

“I don’t even know where I am Billy.”

“The hospital. You tried to fucking save everyone. You didn’t let anyone…you didn’t let me help you.”

Billy was mad but he was also relived you were still alive. He didn’t know how to talk to you yet.

“I didn’t want you to fucking die Billy!”

“You think I wanted to LOSE YOU? Are you fucking serious?? I NEED YOU.”

He was shaking you and crying as you two yelled at each other. You yelled back as you two fought but it felt good to you both. You both were here and able to yell at each other. It needed with a passionate kiss and you two forgetting to breathe because you were just so happy to be with each other.

The following days proved to be another nightmare. The doctor was trying to tell you your leg was permanently damaged and if you didn’t start intense physical therapy, you’d never be able to walk again. You were doing okay with your emotions around everyone else, you kept a smile on your face and a somewhat positive attitude. Everyone was impressed that you could bounce back so fast, only Billy knew what was really going on. He had to go back to work and school so he wasn’t there as much, which you understood. It was still hard though.

Today was the hardest day. You’d been in physical therapy for a while and you still couldn’t get your bitch ass leg to support your weight. The poor nurse was trying to help you and you kept snapping at her. Your mom was even trying to help you out but nothing was working.

“It’s fucking pointless! I should’ve just fuckin died at the mall I can’t do anything!”

The nurse tried to help, she gently touched your shoulder And you pushed her off.

“Don’t touch me! You want me to walk?? Fine!! I’ll prove it!! I’m worthless!!”

You let go of the side supports and go to take a step, collapsing into the floor.

“JUST LET ME DIE!”

You couldn’t stop it. The wave of emotions you were holding down came gushing out. A few doctors came in but you screamed at them to go away. Your mom was crying, no one knew what to do.

“Kill me! Just kill me! Why won’t anyone fucking listen to me??”

You felt like you were screaming into nothing. No one was listening. Your mom ran out, and you were surrounded by strangers.

“Don’t fucking touch me!!”

You scooted away and they got closer.

“NO!!! STOP!!!”

Closing your eyes all you could see was the Mind Flayer. Opening them, all the doctors looked like it. It was happening again. You couldn’t breathe, your heart was going to beat out of your ears. Your tears burned your skin…then it all stopped.

The faint smell of cigarettes and motor oil wrapped around you. The feeling of his biceps squeezing you into safety, his body pressed against yours; shielding you from everything bad.

“Billy. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

You kept repeating it as he shifted, lifting you up. He didn’t ask permission to take you back to your room; he just did. When the two of you were alone he sat with you in his arms on your bed.

The room was filled with the soft sound of your messy sobs.

“Stop thinking you have to hold it together. Lean on me. I’m right fucking here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m. So. Useless. I can’t even walk. I should’ve died. You should’ve let me die. I don’t want to do this anymore Billy.”

“I’m going to say this one time. So listen up. Don’t ever fucking say that again. I need you. Max needs you. You saved everyone. We all need you. Boo-hoo you’re sad. Get over it. I know you’re in there. You can do this. You beat a fucking giant alien demon. You’re gonna let a leg stop you?”

Anyone else listening in would have thought Billy was a horrible boyfriend. It helped you though, he was pointing out everything you’d been through and you handled it all with his help. You two leaned on each other, and he was ready to hold you durning this. The crying stopped and you began to breathe a bit more normal.

“You’re not…disappointed in me?”

“I could never be. You’re so fucking good. You’re the one who saved me from so much. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking a deep breath you calmed down.

“Okay…okay. I…I can do this.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Billy….”

“I know baby. I know. I love you too.”

The two of you kissed. You weren’t alone. You had him.