#Maybe one day I'll finally get a tablet or something

[lothbats9000]

jammy jam :D

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | November 18th-24th 2024

How we doing after the fall finale fam? 100 days until 8B !!

Complete

please don't go by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (S8E8: Wannabes Coda | <1K | General): "Don't go." The words are trapped in a cage at the back of Buck's throat. Every time he's opened his mouth in the last week he's had to speak around them. He feels like a tiger pacing his enclosure, like he's going to snap at the bars if anyone gets too close.

Hold me like you'll never let me go by I_still_dont_understand_13/ @dangerpronebuddie (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 1,4K | Teen): "Oh! You didn't bring any baking?" Maddie asks as she opens the door for Buck to enter. "I... haven't felt like baking much," Buck says as he trudges in, gravitating to the kitchen. "Since you got over your ex boyfriend?" Maddie asks, a hopeful note in her voice. "Since Eddie decided to move to Texas," Buck blurts out. 

want but not have by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Post-S8E8: Wannabes Coda | 1,5K | General): “Buck.” Eddie greets in surprise when he pulls the door open. The other man is standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders drawn up to his ears, eyes rimmed red, and an absolutely heartbroken expression on his face. “I need…I have…” Buck inhales shakily, “Can we talk?”

of bookmarks and bravery by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 1,6K | Mature): The moment Buck snatches the tablet, he regrets the decision. It’s an invasion of privacy—but they don’t keep secrets from each other, he knows that flipping the tablet and seeing a regular tab of pornhub open won’t actually embarrass Eddie, or make him upset. The second he takes a look at the screen, however, his blood runs cold. Not necessarily because of what’s on there—but because this is suddenly a vastly different genre of invasion of privacy. The video is paused, two men on the screen, drenched in sweat, one of them with their legs locked around the other’s waist, a large, happy grin on his face as the man between his thighs seems to be in the middle of an especially deep thrust. Jock Rails Latino Hunk (RAW) (REAL COUPLE)

wherever you are, that's where i'll be by bellabrady/ (S8E8: Wannabes Coda | 2K | Not Rated): “Buck,” he says, huffing a small laugh. “You know I can’t afford that.” He expects Buck to tease him in response, or maybe to roll his eyes. He doesn’t expect the serious, almost nervous expression on his face as he looks at Eddie. Before Eddie can ask about it, Buck speaks. “Maybe the two of us could.”

It's Not What It Looks Like by eightpackdiaz (S8E8: Wannabes | 2K | Teen): Buck catches Eddie reading Hotshots fanfiction on his tablet

i love you never felt like any blessing by bucksbicycle (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 2K | Mature): “No, Buck. I can’t leave you like this and I only have–” “I don’t want you to go.” It burst from him like a flashover. It’s far too loud for a small grocery store. They both flicker over to the screech of cart wheels making a quick-change, whoever was steering deciding that they can come back later. “I want you to stay,” is what he whispers, waiting for Eddie to say something. Anything. or: grocery store divorce 2.0 (with resolution)

What would you prefer I call you? by Kwills91/ @kwills91 (Established Buddie | 2K | General): Buck and Eddie have been dating for a month and when Buck discovers what his contact name is in Eddie's phone, he kind of loses it. What kind of boyfriend would have him as 'Buck Work'?

Not Coming Back by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 3K | General): “But seriously, when are you coming back? It’s been weeks…” Eddie feels the guilt inside of his chest tighten. This is it. This is the moment he needs to tell Buck. He’s put it off long enough. His eyes flicker around the kitchen of the house he’s rented. The one that Buck has no idea he’s rented. “About that…” Eddie starts.

'cause baby you make it all fade away by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Buck's having a no good very bad day and Eddie makes it better. No hoodies were harmed in the making of this fic.

🔥 worship like a dog (at the shrine of your life) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 6K | Teen): "Y-you're thinking about moving?" Buck asks, words turning to ash in his mouth. "Starting to think about it anyway," Eddie says, braced like he's waiting for Buck to snap his tablet in half. But Buck is a good dog, really. Or, he tries to be. Tries so hard. So, he doesn't do anything he wants to. Doesn't throw up on the living room carpet. Doesn't piss in every corner of the house. Doesn't scratch his presence into all the furniture - it's there already, he thinks, I'm there already, aren't I? (OR: eddie's house is home, buck finds worship there)

i would stay forever (if you say, don't go) by justhockey (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Chris Comes Back, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): Eddie’s house has felt far too quiet in the months since Christopher left, without the sound of video games, or the clack of crutches, or the quiet rumble of Christopher’s voice as he talks to himself while doing his homework. But, as the door clicks closed behind Buck, the whole place falls completely silent. It’s like the last part of its beating heart has left, and now nothing but an empty shell remains. A house is not a home if there is no love living there, and Eddie just sent the last of it packing.

I’m always free to run home by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Chris Comes Back | 6K | General): A fic written after the season 8 mid-season finale that answers some of the unanswered questions.

carve your name into my bedpost ('cause i don't want you like a best friend) by bibuckdiaz (Post-S7, PWP, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Somehow, by some miraculous series of events that Buck himself isn’t sure weren’t divine intervention, he finds himself with his back pressed into the Diaz household couch, with his best friend of six years straddling his lap and currently sucking a bruise into the space above his collarbone; a place that Buck has for years privately thought of as Eddie’s spot.

More Than Anything by scarmaddiewrites (Getting Together, Chris POV | 6K | Teen): Eddie honestly can’t believe he lied that easily to a priest. Well, yes he can because he’s been lying to himself since he was 8. Lying so much that he’s repressed a huge part of himself. “No offense, I’m straight.” He mumbles to himself in the mirror. “And the sky is pink.” Buck and Eddie get together and Christopher has some feelings about it.

🔥What A Mental Fire Alarm by I_still_dont_understand_13/ @dangerpronebuddie (Post-S8E5: Masks, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): “I have an idea,” Hen declares, drawing everyone's attention. “Why don't you make your own quiz?” Buck tilts his head like a confused puppy. “Yeah,” Chim says, drawing out the word. “Maybe your answer will come to you while you make it.” “You'll need a control though,” Hen says. “Someone straight.” Buck looks to Eddie. “Would you be my control?” Hen coughs and thumps her hand against her chest. Eddie raises an eyebrow at her. “You good, Hen?” “Fine,” she croaks. “Perfectly fine.” “Would you?” Buck asks, knocking their knees together. “Of course I would,” Eddie assures him. An excited grin slowly spreads across Buck's face. He hops to his feet and dashes for the stairs. “Where you going?” Eddie calls. “I need a clipboard!” Buck hollers back as he rushes down the stairs.

i’m not your homeland anymore by shortndiaz (Post-Lawsuit, Canon Divergent | 8K | Teen): post lawsuit, Bobby takes the option to transfer Buck to another station.

Bobby Versus Buddie by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Bobby POV, S2 to S8 | 10K | Mature): Eddie huffed out a breath. “I’m having a crisis.” And Bobby, he wasn’t proud of it, but the word ‘finally’ was flashing in front of his eyes in giant, neon yellow letters, because surely, surely this meant that he’d figured it out. Finally, at long last, Eddie was having the crisis they’d all been waiting for since he’d started a thousand emergencies earlier. “I think I’m homophobic.” Bobby blinked at him. “I’m sorry?” OR - Five times Bobby tried to gently hold Buddie's hands and tell them they were in love, and one time they got the picture.

🔥 if the heavens ever did speak by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 19K | Mature): He lay in bed at night and he wished he didn’t, but he thought about Buck. Wondered who was touching Buck. He wondered if Buck felt satisfied at the end of it or if he just felt more alone. He wondered if Buck needed him and wasn’t saying so. He wondered what it must be like to have Buck that way. To hold him close, to hear the sounds he’d let slip when he was too distracted to be in his own head. He wondered how he’d look when he came undone, and if the person he was with could even begin to fathom how lucky they were. But no, Buck just went back to eating his cereal, like he hadn’t just confessed to something that made Eddie’s whole body burn with too many feelings to articulate. He was humming, happy as a pig in mud. And as weird as he’d been with Eddie, Eddie found himself asking: “Sorry, are you humming Losing My Religion?”

🔥 50 Cheeky Texts by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S7, Getting Together | 21K | Mature): Buck gets drunk-dared to send Eddie one cheeky text every day for 50 days. Eddie loses his mind. TW for the cringiest pickup lines in existence.

WIP

cancelling the apocalypse by literalmetaphor (Pacific Rim AU | 24/25 | 116K | Mature): Buck doesn’t take his hands off Eddie’s shoulders as he glances over to Athena and Nash, who are watching the display calibrate. “How’d we do?” “See for yourself,” Athena says. Bad, Eddie thinks. He half-expects it. He wants to brace Buck for it, for the disappointment – wants to explain that whatever has screwed his compatibility scores till now, this one is all on Eddie. “Oh, shit…” Buck whispers. Eddie lifts his head, finally lets himself look, and then takes an inhale so sharp he tastes blood. Oh, shit.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by��Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 12/14 | 48K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

I guess your mama didn't know the gift she got when she got you by disasterbuck/ @disasterbuck (Post-S7, Fake Relationship | 6/? | 12K | Teen): "He has someone else he can go to," Eddie said automatically, Buck's smiling face flashing into his mind. "Your friend Buck doesn't count," she said dismissively, and Eddie felt his hackles rising defensively. "I'm talking about a partner, Eddie. Someone who will commit to being with you and Christopher for the rest of your lives." "Buck is committed," Eddie said before he could think about what he was saying. "He's not going anywhere." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "When you say committed…" she asked hesitantly, voice trailing off. - Tired of his mom's nagging, Eddie tells a lie that spirals wildly out of control.

Re-Read

🔥 Your Kiss Might Kill Me (So Won't You Kill Me) by morganofthefairies (PWP, BDSM | 9K | Explicit): Buck hadn’t been a virgin by the time he’d hit Peru – not even close. He still considered Peru a critical point in his sexual history, though, because Peru had brought him Fiona, and he was pretty sure he could credit her with like 80% of his sexual knowledge. None of that was the point, though. The point was that, six years later, when Eddie called for the jaws to get to a woman pinned in her car while responding to an 8-car pileup, and absentmindedly called him a good boy as Buck handed them over, he had a totally normal reaction to it.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Previously... "How you wished your phone hadn't died few days ago"

Me: Gentlemen,Ladies and Enby's. I have an solution >:)

OKAY OKAY SO,The party fights Yellow Loong and after defeat,they get their thunder staff,yeah? Reader thinks it's so cool and then it clicks to them to CHARGE their phone by the use of the staff!!! Which does work HAHA instantly goes %100 in span of 5 seconds lmao

And reader shows the destined one some photos (like their family,friends of school/college,time they went to zoo and hold finger monkey,yes. It's a thing,look at it up hehe)

At last,reader takes selfie with The destined one and Zhu Baige cuz they don't want to forget them c:

Also drink water,gotta stay hydrated! 💜🫵🏻

"This will never work."

"And if it works, you'll be so sorry you had doubted me, old man!"

Bajie, sighing, Just pointed out the destined one, who was holding that small black tablet in his right hand with the nail of his pinky in the small hole at the base of the same object.

"Kid, stop indulge her! Be the rational one here!"

"What can I say?" He said, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm quite curious too about this phone thing."

"Oooh, yes, of course! Cuuurious, he said. Well, if it's turned out to burn at a crisp, do not come cry to me, young lady!"

You just laugh it out; even if it were true, you knew that the old pig was a soft heart for you and would surely comfort you.

"Ok so," you started to explain for the last time, "go really low on the voltage, enough to the cilinder with the green liquid to appear. Once Is full and made a sound, stop!"

"It seems simple; sure, is it going to work?"

"Well, maybe? ... Anyway, it doesn't matter! Just go!"

So, what were you up to this time?

A few days after your arrival, your phone, as you suspected would have happened, had died since the lack of electricity.

Between a deadly danger and another being eaten attempt, your mind completely forgotten about the device's lost usage until, after the fight against Yellowbrow, the idea of using that newfound power struck you.

You weren't sure that it could work; you were prepared to lose forever your phone, to be fair, but a small try never hurt anyone, right?

And fortune favorite, the bold!

After the small sound front the phone, you started to jump in happiness, finally with the last connection of your original world in your hands.

"AH! YES! IT WORK IT WORK! AHAH!"

The other two laughed a little, noticing how your fingers were able to move in the device with knowledge and security.

"All right, all right," said Bajie, sitting next to you when you decided to calm down. "Now, what does this little thing do?"

"Okay! Basically, we use It tò call people, message them...communication in general!"

"Oh so..." Yuán Fèn seemed startled when, after touching one of the apps on the screen, the color changed "is like... a bird or... and Messanger?"

"Well yes? Everything happens in seconds instead of hours or days! Unfortunately, without connection, it's useless for that part."

"Ah! So I was right! "

"Buuuut It can do something more intriguing for you!"

Once you shot the camera, your two friends, after a brief moment of surprise from their own faces showing up inside that small box, seemed more interested than before.

"Is that a mirror?"

"Nope! It's a camera! We use it to make photos!"

"What's a pho-u-toh?"

"Photo! Or photograph!" You laugh after Bajie misspells "it's like a panting, but far more precise. Using light, you can press the image on paper. Now, a phone camera doesn't exactly work like that, but you get the idea."

You stod up and put the device in front of the pigface.

"Now smile! I'll show you!"

After you took the picture, with the image of a still confused Bajie on it, you showed it to him. After a moment of silence, he started to laugh about it.

"You are surely full of surprises!"

///

"HEY! Is that a baby?!"

"Baby, aren't you that small, you dork!"

"Yes, they are! They smal like your brain!"

Once again, you have to save yourself and your phone from another monkey's fist fight between the children. Now that you had shown them your small magic box, like they like to call it, they were always eager to make one with you or ask you to make one for them, only to laugh about their own faces or what was happening. You even make a few videos of them, which just make them go more crazy than before. 

But then they discovered your other photos.

They seemed to enjoy, especially the ones that you had taken the day you had decided to help your auntie in her school trip at the Zoo. They loved the ones that you had taken at the monkey enclosure; they loved to see that you were familiar with their kind even before the change of world!

Well, they weren't the only ones that enjoyed the device. Once, you decided to show it to the youngest of the spider sisters, showing her the video that you took of her while dancing, and she laughed all the time, enjoying it to see her own performance.

You even took the chance to use it to make ohotos of every place that you and the Destined one were able to visit. Yellow ridge, the snowy fields, the mountains...every place was a new set for one of your photos, and every time he was inside too.

He had never shown quite the interest like everyone, but he seemed still happy to know that you wanted to cherish the memories that you had there with him. But what he really loved were your own memories, the photos of your past, and your family. He loved sharing them with you, knowing you deeper.

"This is your..."

"Cousin. My cousin."

"Oh yes, yes...and this is your cat, right?"

"Sorta, it shows up now and then. I like to leave it some food for it, so it doesn't starve."

"Ah, got it..." then another photo, that you tried to pass fastly, had passed under his eyes of you near someone.

"And that one? The one with the guy?"

"Ah, it was nothing." Your tone seemed almost off, like to avoid the discussion.

"Nothing?" He raised his eyebrows. "I saw you smiling! How was it nothing?"

And soon, you get back on the photo and delete it.

"As I said, nothing."

It seemed that he still needed to know you better.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan @lightlumi

@cleverfeststarlight

[deceasedream69]

Museum pt.1

I did it. I finally had the courage to ask her out.

We're going to the museum on Sunday night, it's a date. I can tell she's excited too, I was worried the museum decision was a little... nerd, but I'll guess she'll like it.

We set the time, 6:00 pm, I was going to pick her up but she said she had to do some things before meeting so she'll get there by herself.

It's 6:00 already. My hands are sweating and I can feel this... like, energy flowing through my body, it's making my stomach feel a little heavy, but I'm pretty sure it's excitement.

it's already 6:15 but I'm pretty sure she'll be here anytime, beautiful as always.

After 6:30 I decided to just go home. How could I be so stupid and think that going to a museum was a good idea for a date. I walked inside my apartment, took my shoes off and plopped onto the couch. I was too scared to even call her. I should just wait to see her tomorrow at the office, maybe she had something come up, something so important she couldn't even bother to call.

Y/n's pov

I don't know how long I've been here. I've been punched, spit on, almost drowned and electrocuted. My body felt extremely heavy and sore, my ears and head were killing me and I was cold. I just wanted to go home.

-"hey, princess, ready for another round?"

-"I just want to know why"

-"Is it not obvious yet?"

I just shook my head, slowly, of course.

-"hm, and to think that everyone tells me I look just like my father", he turned around, "or maybe, little miss agent here already forgot about every life she ruined, don't worry, I'll make you remember this day forever", he said pulling me by my hair.

Spencer's pov

I slept very well that night, suprisingly and given the circumstances. I guess crying really makes people tired. I had to put some ice on my eyes to get down the inflammation and redness.

I entered the office, my hands sweating and that feeling in my stomach again. I could do this, tho, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to ask here why she couldn't make it, or why, specially if she lies to my face and I detect it.

The team was already in a meeting when I entered the office, I quickly made my way into the meeting, everyone turning to look at me when I entered. That's when I noticed who was on the screen.

- "I know this might be a tough case for us..." Hotch started.

I sat quickly, I couldn't feel my legs, was this real? Is it my imagination trying to find an excuse for y/n to miss our date last night? Am I having a nightmare?!

- "But we're the ones who'll work the hardest to get to her", Derek said, angry as natural for him.

I wasn't angry, more like confused, sad, angry only at myself for not calling her, trying to reach her or something more than the pathetic "I'll ask her tomorrow" thing I did.

- "it's so sad, I can't even look at the pictures so I didn't put them in the presentation but...' Garcia sniffled... "But you can watch them in your tablets..."

I was too scared to look, although in my case it was a file, but not looking would be too suspicious as well, why wouldn't I look? It's supposed to be my friend, and she needed our help.

With my trembling hands I opened the file slowly, reading the first things, I opened it even more, but no pictures.

- "I couldn't dare to print them either", Garcia said looking at me trying to find the pictures.

The meeting was quick, everyone already assigned to do something different. I haven't looked at the pictures, I'm scared, but I also feel that would be a good way to motivate myself. Regardless, it's a little too late for that now, everyone's busy doing their different tasks, and I should be completing mine, too.

[yaut-jaknowit]

New Feelings

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader(Platonic)

Word Count: 3057

Summary: During this time, We'ar-ow takes a momentary step back from ruling to care for you. Just in the confinements of her private room though. You come to realize how different she acts in front of company.

Author Note: Had a bit of a mix-up on the masterlist but it's resolved now! I've also got the next chapter finished about to finish the one after that so I'm getting back to writing book. Not beta read. If there is something confusing or stupid, let me know and I'll fix it.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

In We’ar-ow’s throne room, many Yautjas have come to report to their leader. It was a short line at first when she had originally dragged you from the safety of her room early this morning. A regular amount of people, you had thought at first. It doesn’t just take one person to lead a clan like this. But more later filled the throne room that it finally hit the door.

It’s not like you paid a great amount of attention to them. Just enough to see each of their faces and file them away for a later date. All for sake of one of them being your stalker. Whoever hunted you through the halls of this very ship could possibly be in this room with you. Would they slay you before the Monarch? And what would their thought process be? Cleaning the ship of scum? Disturbing We’ar-ow?

That had you rolling your eyes, head bowed to hide away your emotions. We’ar-ow did not care that much about you to have your death disturb her. Just a fucking pet. Your senses still completely open for an attack. Anyone of them could slip out of line and slaughter you without remorse. These are hunters. Born, bred, built to maim anything in their way. A shiver ran its course through your body.

The tablet in hand was momentarily discarded mentally. The thoughts of decapitation or dismembering filled your head. None of them would blink an eye about it. Just your blood staining the like-carpet material blanketing the stairs and floor. Or the cushion gifted to you. All would be brushed off. Their day would continue like normal. You sighed heavily through your nose and tilted your head back to stare at the strangely decorated ceiling.

A mural of sorts had been painted over the expanse of the ceiling. Only spots of flush lights broke the illusion of how intricate. You shook your head and focused back on the line.

Someone bypassed the entire line and marched up the stairs that lead to We’ar-ow’s throne. Your back tensed at the sight, on the verge of snapping in half. This Yautja, male by his shorter stature, ignored you and stopped before her seat. A nearly playful look twinkled in his sea green-blue eyes. He gave a polite bow to his leader then begun to discuss with her, short, sweet.

“May I?” he questioned and motioned over to you. Your heart dropped to the floor. Instantly, you rapidly shook your head to deter him or her from getting close to you.

We’ar-ow nodded her massive head and returned her attention back to the figure before her. Your jaw dropped at her abandonment. A week ago you had almost died! Maybe, possibly. You didn’t know if death was going to happen that day but it made it all the scary of not knowing.

The new figure smiled with his alien mandibles and spun on his heel to face your sitting form. Terror ran cold in your blood at his first step. The next had you trembling. He knelt down a step just before yours. He wasn’t a young Yautja anymore. The lines and many scars the decorated his skin were an indication. What caught your eye like shining gold was his right arm. The elbow and below was gone, poof. Just a nub and gnarly scars. A well decorated hunter who’s earned his title by the looks of it.

You swallowed thickly but stayed seat on the cushion. Somehow. The Yautja huffed, the lightest of smirks playing his face. He reached out with his only hand and plucked the tablet from your grasp. “Whatcha got here?” he questioned and began to scroll through the page you were on. An article about Yautja Prime, their home planet.

He snickered and gave a look that ‘really?’. The device was tossed back into your lap but your attention was solely on the potentially dangerous figure before you. But… We’ar-ow seemed at ease around him and allowed him to approach you. Something you hadn’t expected after that night and the following days.

“If ya wanna know about home world, you could get it from the source,” he spoke in a voice that gave you smoker vibes. It almost drowned out the translator tucked underneath your skin, behind your ear. Automatically, you glanced over at We’ar-ow hard at work. A light tap to your knee had you snapping back to him. “Not her, ooman. Me!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Him? You just met him. Not even completely! He hadn’t told you his name. He saw the puzzle look on your features and snorted. “Monarch may say she could care less if I dropped off into the space port but she cares, doesn’t she?” What was his point? His angle? What did he want? And why was he being so friendly to you? Did he get knocked up side the head far too many times?

Plus, why did his last two words sound like there was an underlying tone in his voice. “I don’t, don’t even know your name,” you stuttered and gave him a look as if he was crazed. Curse the stutter!

“Oh, right. Thought she would’ve said a thing or two about me. Hurts the heart a little.” You just kept staring at him, puzzled on this whole attitude. He was completely different from any Yautja you’ve met before. Even if the list is fairly short. They’ve never acted so… carefree. Was this the crazy old man of the ship?

“Call me Xilo, short for Xilomere,” he finally introduced. Still tensed painfully, you stiffy nodded your head and murmur a ‘okay’, hoping it was enough to get him to leave. It wasn’t. “And you’re the Monarch’s pet. An ooman who’s been talk of the town for the last half solar cycle! You don’t realize the uproar you caused when the newly blooded brought you here. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t have survived to see the next day.”

He said it so causally. You could’ve died when Dwainet brought you here… death. This was all a horrible mistake with consequences hard to live with.

We’ar-ow stopped them from killing you. She allowed you to stay. Why?! Your eyes drifted back over to the hard-working Yautja ensuring her ship and community don’t collapse on itself. Did… did she want you back then?

A hunter at their core must be patient.

That what it is to be a hunter. What did this all mean?! You gnawed on your bottom lip when the green Yautja before you patted your knee. “She didn’t tell you? Whoops.” Then, he leaned in close to whisper something of importance. “Don’t tell her I told you. Act natural.” All you could do was blink dumbly at him.

‘Act natural’? ‘Act natural’?! He was just as irritating at We’ar-ow with their up front, uncaring, idiotic words! How could you just go one knowing that if it wasn’t for her you would be dead!? Or the fact she might have been wanting you for her own pet this entire time?! Just waiting like the hunter was born to be for the right moment to snatch you up.

All of this was a mistake. You wanted to breakdown all over again. The wounds still fresh enough to ache in your poor heart.

Xilo pulled back with that same cocky smirk. “If you ever need to chat, dear ooman. My contact has been inputted into your toy. Now, I should dip before I spill more than I should about our lovely Monarch.” He pushed back up into a standing position, knees popping with the action. He gave you a two-finger salute, spun on his heel, and left through the way he came.

On his only hand, he was missing his entire pinky and the tip of his ring finger. Something you realized after he already left. You grumbled underneath your breath for a few minutes after the interaction and messed around on your tablet. He didn’t need to announce to the whole throne room what you were doing on the tablet. Yes, you were gathering information about their planet. It’s not like you freely look for ways to escape the mothership right in front of her. You were on the steps, before her throne though to the side. One turn of her head could expose your whole plan.

To be honest, you’ve thought about this. She has to have some knowledge of you wanting to escape. But if she’s not worried… that means she is confidence there isn’t way to escape. But there is. At least to get off of here. Away from being her damn pet.

The like-leather encasing your throat is a feeling you’ve started to grow accustomed to. At nights, We’ar-ow allows you to take it off. Thankfully. But in the morning, it’s back on; with complaints almost every time. It’s a loosing battle at this point. The only way to gain back what you’ve lost is to escape. Away, far from this place.

So, you learned, research what you could about Yautjas. From their planet to the motherships they use to roam the universe to the different subspecies to hunting styles. Everything. To know your enemy is the way to defeat your enemy. To outsmart them, her. It’s the only way to escape.

But is that what you want?

.

Once the day ended, in the middle of the afternoon, the two of you retired back to her quarters. The safety away from prying eyes and possibly danger. Though, to be frank, this was the lions den you not only eat and bathe in, but also sleep and relax in. You ran your fingers through your hair after the door seal shut, leaving you alone with We’ar-ow.

Said salmon pink Yautja strolled across the living room and into her room. Door left open. That struck you. The door always shuts after her. Why leave it open?

Curiosity may have killed the cat… and now you.

You tiptoed across the length of the main room and peered around the entrance of her door. You’ve been in here before. With her permission. She’s never left the door open before though. You didn’t dare take another step into the bedroom.

For a moment, you couldn’t find her until a light flicked on and caught your eye. We’ar-ow’s back was to you as she stood in the doorway of another room to the right wall. The new light shone on what looked to be clothing. She has a walk in closet, what else did you expect from her?

Then, the Yautja began to strip. You felt your eyes bulge out from your head at the sight, but unable to peel your sight away. Its not like you hadn’t seen Dwainet naked before… plenty of times, plenty. He had bulk similar to We’ar-ow but she has honed in to be able to be agile and lethal. Move faster than you could process sometimes.

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes partially glazed over. Her muscles weren’t well defined as some you’ve seen. That didn’t mean thickly corded muscles didn’t lie underneath her thick, pink skin. No wonder many Yautjas looked at not just respect/fear of her being Monarch but for her beauty as well.

Her thumbs shimmied under her waistband and began to push down. This is where you slam your back against the wall outside of the room and slapped a hand over your mouth.

Boiling heat flushed to your cheeks, eyes clenched shut. Why had you done that?! That… that-

“You are missing the show,” We’ar-ow’s voice funneled out into the main room where you were. Your knees nearly gave out right then. She knew. Oh my god. She fucking knew! “Come on out, pet.” She used a honeyed voice as an attempt to coax you out from hiding. She already knew that you were right there.

With whatever courage you still had after all this time, you stepped back into the doorway with your head bowed. She would have to rip your head off to make you look at her.

Pink feet entered your vision. A knuckle tried to tilt your head up at first before you felt her lean down, mouth close to your ear now. “Did my pet enjoy the show?” she whispered softly into your ear. Your spine locked up, chest heaving with unsteady breaths. “Calm, little one. I asked a question.”

Anger flashed to life in your veins was quickly stomped out from the embarrassment. She wanted you to speak! Why does she keep doing that? You felt on the verge of crying. “S-sorry,” you sputtered then pressed your lips tightly against each other. Her knuckle was still firm against your chin, not relenting. But neither were you.

We’ar-ow softly huffed and corralled you to the nearest wall. Her free hand wrapped around your neck and locked you against said wall. “That is not the answer I was looking for, pet.” You best believe she could hear how wild your heart was pounding in your chest. On the verge of jumping out into her hands.

From past experiences, you knew she wasn’t going to stop until she got your answer. Lying was off the table too. Yautjas have a keen sense of smell. They know. You swallowed the lump down, feeling her hand twitch slightly around your throat. “Yes,” you murmured just above a breath. She was able to tilt your head up and you met her eyes.

Far from anger. We’ar-ow looked down at you with an alien smirk gracing her face. Your heart stuttered, but not from fear. She wasn’t furious, not at all. It’s like… oh my god, she wanted you to look, to watch even. It was all a setup. Your face soured. You had nowhere to go though. We’ar-ow had you trapped to the wall.

“Smart ooman.” She read you like an open book. You scowled at her. “I am glad that enjoyed what I offered. I will know what to do for next time.” Then, her body heat left you as she pulled away. “Go eat. There are some berries in the cooling containment for you.” Sometimes the translator wasn’t the most accurate about words.

Blindly listening to her, you unsteadily stumbled your way into the kitchen-like room. In the refrigerator, you pulled out the bowl and berries then added a couple of fruits to it as well. You were still dazed while sitting down on the one-seater in the living room.

A berry was tossed into your mouth. The taste bursting over your tastebuds. They were delicious, not something you expected from a species that looked like they had a stick always stuck up their ass. You scoffed and curled up more on the couch. Your legs tucked underneath your body with the bowl placed in your lap.

As you sat peacefully on the couch, you couldn’t help but remember what We’ar-ow had said earlier. Something on the lines of knowing what to do for next time. Next time? Why would there be a next time?! She… fuck, you couldn’t deny the fact you were watching her, curious on what lied below her clothing. Though, there wasn’t much fabric she used to cover herself. None of the Yautjas did. Nudity wasn’t frowned upon like it is for your species.

Your brows furrowed the more you thought about it. They way you watched… and she wanted you to. She set you up and you enjoyed it!

All thoughts came to a halt… Enjoyed? Did you enjoy it? You didn’t dare answer that. You frowned and shifted once more to have your legs over the arm rest, back to the other side. Another few berries were tossed into your mouth, mindlessly munching on them.

What is wrong with you? You sighed and curled more in yourself. This was all wrong. After Dwainet, you sworn to never feel a thing for any of these monsters. That’s what they are. Dwainet took you from your home, away from everything you knew and promised you love that he clearly lost for you. Now, look where it got you. In the worst place possible. Escape was hard enough but if she was interested in you… that was a whole either situation you had to worry about. At a later date. Today, you had to survive the stalker.

Warm arms scooped you up from the couch. You yelped and scrambled to right yourself but the limbs tensed and kept you firmly in place. When a familiar pink flashed in your vision you stilled, eyes wide and glancing up at the Yautja holding you. “What are you doing?” you questioned, voice faltering.

We’ar-ow held you close to her, against her bare chest, turned around, then stole your spot. A grumpy look fell over your features as you were ready to flail around to escape. The Yautja chuckled and patted your cheek. “You look cute when you are pouting,” she teased and plucked a piece fruit from your bowl. There was nothing you could do to fight her.

Stiffly, you hesitantly relaxed into her lap once realizing there wasn’t a chance to wiggle free. She let a slackened arm fall over your lap. You tensed but returned to your former position, half-mindlessly munching at the berries she snacked on as well. The Yautja didn’t say anything else and seemed to enjoy your company.

Despite the will to fight her, to fight this; after the last week living in the terror of being hunted down by a Yautja has worn you down. She was there. She willingly protected you. She carried you to her room, set you down in her bed, and locked you in her room. For your protection. She cares. To what extent is a great question you would love to answer.

For the time being, you would enjoy her warm body and food she provided. Though, it came with an unfortunate title: pet. Your lips pressed against each other at the reminder. There was always a trade off and maybe it had to come with that title to live a life worriless.

You’ve yet to come to terms with that though. The pain still far too fresh to think of lying and rolling over for her. Or anyone for that matter.

Special tag: @michellefoster12

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

[doshiart]

🖤 ART TAG 🖤

Hey to all artists! I want to talk about our art journey. Some of us have a long path, some have started only recently, but each of us has had our own individual path and I think it's really important to remember how we all started. And it's also important to share it with others so that no one would be scared to start their own journey and just create.

How did you start drawing? What year was it that you become more seriously and consciously interested in it?

As everyone I'll say I've been drawing since early childhood, but I think the end of 2019 is my beginning. Because that's the time I started to practice actively.

When you felt the urge to share your art with other people? When did you start posting your drawings on social media?

Maybe it's always been? I think for the first time I posted something traditional drawn on my personal social media. I started my art socials in 2020.

Your first/earliest drawing. What were your impressions of it back then and what are your feelings now?

It's hard to track my very first drawing, but here are the early traditional drawings and my very first digital hand drawing. It was before I got a tablet, so it was drawn with a mouse. My impressions? My hand was tired... But if seriously back then it looked like something cool to me and I was surprised that I could draw something like that. Now, of course, I can see all my mistakes. But let's be honest, any mistake is a move forward.

🚧 ALARM 🚧

My very first attempts after getting a tablet.

Should I mention that I was upset at the first second that it didn't work out on the first try?

Your first fanart ever

I had a lot of traditional drawings of Adventure Time (I'm a big fan of Marceline). It's roughly a little over a decade ago.

But in digital, I guess this? Snufkin and The Groke from Moomin stories. [aug 8, 2020]

Your first gallavich fanart

Hi babies! This post and this post.

[nov 27, 2023] - oh my god it's almost a year???

But what if I told you that my sister asked me to draw Cameron Monaghan… Who knew that ten years later I'd be drawing him once again...

When you had bad days and things didn't work out, what inspired you to keep trying?

I just need to rest, try again, or think about what exactly goes wrong. When I started my path as a digital artist I was very inspired by the older work by 'big artists'. No one is perfect at the first moment and there is always a long road of striving and practice behind cool works. And I knew that the more I tried, the more I could consider myself 'cool' too. (spoiler: that feeling is still with me)

Show your old piece that you strongly dislike and tell why.

It's a hard choice. I stopped liking a lot of my work after a time, but this one was initially a struggle. I really didn't like how it looked in the end. I wasn't able to draw it as I wanted, and had problems with the face and dynamics. But the background is cool! (A lot of the work you don't like has some good in it!)

Renee and Andrew from AFTG [dec 5, 2021]

Show your old piece that you very like and tell why. What's the difference with the previous?

I love the shading and the face, especially eyes. And i still love this drawing! Face looks better than previous and hair has a dynamic, and the expression is really good.

Buck Toothsome from School for vampires [nov 8, 2021]

Show your old piece that you were very proud of back then.

I really loved this study redraw!

Ginny with Marcus from Ginny & Georgia [june 22, 2021]

Do you do any practice sketches or warm-ups before you draw something big?

I've started to do it recently! I'd forgotten how many sketches I made in sketchbooks when I was studying drawing.

I tried to change the pen pressure.

Sketch vs Final. Show your process.

Actually, it's been a tough process.

Your most recent drawing.

I'm working on my secret santa's gift right now, so I can't share it 🤭But here's my last sketch during warm-up session 🤲🖤

Give yourself some praise! Look at what improved in your art!

I just want to say that four years ago I would've been shocked by my current drawings. I've really improved in drawing faces and anatomy, I'm trying new interesting composition, trying to learn new things and use it in my works.

Any advice you'd give to your earlier self?

Do more thinking while creating your art. Do a sketches warm-ups before digging into the big work. Don't be afraid to draw it again if something doesn't work. Take breaks to physically exercise!

Set a goal for yourself for the coming year.

I want to improve facial expressions. Make a professional portfolio. Keep growing and enjoying drawing.

I want to see more your drawings...

@deathclassic @suzy-queued @kiennilove @gallapiech @spookygingerr

@konaiiro @michellemisfit @heymrspatel @vintagelacerosette @sgtmickeyslaughter

@burninface @lingy910y @crossmydna @deedala

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Halt & Catch Fire: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: You're done being a puppet in their plans. You're done letting them control you. You're finally going to take back your life by becoming something you didn't know was possible. your eyes are opened to something better and God forbid anyone who disrespects you.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Dean locks up behind Sam and Delilah yarns tiredly.

"You getting tired?"

"No, I'm used to it. I stay up all night studying. It is mostly to avoid the nightmares. My mom's thrilled with my GPA, but I'm just miserable. I think about Andrew all the time, and I've never even met the guy."

"This is what you get for leaving the scene of a crime. Idiotic move is what it was."

"Watch it," Dean glares at you but you flip him off.

"It's pretty crazy to obsess over someone you've never met."

"It's not that crazy. The truth is, I can relate. I have made more mistakes than I can count. Ones that haunt me day and night." He immediately turns to you. "I don't need to hear it."

You put your arms up in defense and turn away from him.

"How do you deal?" Delilah asks.

"Whiskey. Denial. I do my best to make things right, whatever that may be. For you, maybe it's coming clean. You know, finding a way to ask for forgiveness and not breaking the bank at your local florist. I mean real forgiveness. You can't just bury stuff like this. You have to deal with it." His phone rings and he picks up Sam's call. "What do you have?"

"Dean, Andrew's not using power lines to move. He's using Wi-Fi."

"Come again?"

"The wires that electrocuted Andrew feed directly into a Wi-Fi tower right across the street."

"Even ghosts are online?"

"Apparently. It would explain the truck kill. Billy's cell must have been using the local Wi-Fi signal so Andrew's ghost must have just hopped on to Trini, the navigation app."

"Julie's death was by computer and Kyle's death was by stereo with wireless speakers."

"It makes sense, Dean. We're all just a bunch of electrical impulses, right? Whenever Andrew died, his impulses just transferred to another current. You got to get Delilah somewhere safe. Turn off all the routers in that Sorority."

"Yeah, sure, Sammy. We'll just kill the internet. Wait, can we?"

"No," you roll your eyes.

"Alright, how the hell are we gonna deal with the lawnmower man?"

"I have an idea. Do what I said. Stay safe. I'll call you back."

"Do you know where the routers are?" Dean asks when Sam hangs up.

"I have no idea."

Suddenly, the lights and her computer start flashing on and off. Looks like Andrew is here to play. Delilah is the last one. It gets so cold in the room that you can see your breath. Andrew's face, albeit burnt, appears on all electronic devices that connect to the internet. Delilah screams just as Dean starts smashing the devices one by one.

"Is that gonna work?"

"It's worth a try. I need you to turn off everything that's connected to Wi-Fi." Dean takes Delilah's phone and smashes both his and hers. "Give me your phone."

"Come on, this is the new one," you complain. Dean yanks it from your hand and smashes it. "You're getting me a new one.

"Fine. Let's go."

"Where are we going?"

You leave her dorm room and see Andrew showing up on every computer screen that you pass by. He won't let Delilah out of his sight.

"Someplace that doesn't have a Wi-Fi signal."

"Head to the basement. The reception sucks down there."

"Alright, go, go, go!"

When you finally get to the basement, Dean starts to salt the doors and windows.

"I thought the salt didn't work."

"Because of the Wi-Fi. There's no signal down here. There are no computers, tablets, or cell phones. Andrew can't bypass it. At least, I don't think he can. Just try to stay calm, alright?" Suddenly, something starts buzzing in the room. It sounds like a phone that's on vibrate. "What was that?"

"Sounds like a phone to me," you say.

Dean shoves his hands under the couch cushions only to find someone's cell phone in there. Andrew uses this to appear in the room so he can take vengeance on Delilah in person. Delilah screams and you turn to see Andrew in the room next to her. Dean approaches Andrew from behind but he smacks Dean into the pillar as hard as he can.

"Please don't kill me. We didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident. I swear. If I could do it over again, I would have done the right thing!"

Andrew grabs Delilah's throat and starts to choke her out. You stand there and watch this happen for five seconds before Dean screams your name.

"Y/N!" You grab the iron poker and swing it through his body until he disappears and Delilah is saved. "Let's go."

"Where?"

The door is locked so there is no way of getting out of here if the ghost is using its powers on the door.

"Andrew, listen to me. You have every right to be pissed." Dean takes the cell phone he found and dials a message to Sam. "Take it from me, the more you kill, the crazier you'll get. The blood fuels the rage. So, it looks like to me you've got two choices. You can keep killing and become something that you won't recognize or you can move on cause that is the only thing that is gonna give you peace. So it's up to you, man. Pain or peace."

Andrew appears behind Dean and shoves him into the closet door, breaking it into pieces. He turns to Delilah but you speak up before he can hurt her.

"Some ghost you are," you scoff and he looks at you. "Getting revenge on kids? Lame." He goes after you but you duck out of the way easily. "Death by electrocution? Lame! Maybe it sparked some life into you."

Andrew appears in front of you and slams you against the wall. He wraps his hands around your throat, pushing the device further into your neck. Maybe he might be able to get it off for you. You're not scared of Andrew but you do become concerned at the thought of him killing you.

Thankfully, you don't have to know the answer to that because his wife's voice fills the room. You and Andrew look at Delilah who has the phone in her hand which has his wife's face on it. Sam must have FaceTimed to get her to speak to Andrew.

"Andrew? It's Corey. Please listen to me. You have to stop this. Revenge is hollow, and it's pointless. It won't bring you back. I should have said this earlier but I couldn't let go. Now, it's time for me to let go and for you to do the same. Please. I'm begging you." Andrew lets you go and turns to her. "Do this for me. Do it for us." He nods slightly. "Goodbye."

Apparently, this is enough for Andrew to find peace. He closes his eyes and disappears in a flash of white light.

In the morning, Sam and Dean bring Delilah to Corey's house so she can talk to her and seek forgiveness.

"Looks like Andrew wasn't the only one who chose peace."

"Yeah, looks like. I think I'm gonna follow his lead, too."

"What do you mean?"

"My peace is helping people and working cases. I can't do that with this thing on my arm. I can't do that with my wife being the way she is. If I stay down this path, it'll be my downfall and I'll bring her with me." Dean looks at you who is across the street on your phone. You're absentmindedly picking at the device on your neck while looking at your phone. "I have to find this cure. If not for me, for her."

"Cas is so close to finding Cain. He has to know of a way."

"I believe there is a way. You said it yourself. You got through the literal devil and made it out alive. There's a way and we're going to do whatever we can to find it."

"What if she won't take it?"

"We'll make her. You should have seen her when we first met Cain. She was so determined to take it with me. I shouldn't have let her."

"You know her losing her soul isn't your fault."

"How is it not?" Dean asks with tears in his eyes. "Tell me how this is not my fault."

"Whether she had the Mark or not, she would have been soulless either way."

"Yeah, because I took it from her. Do you want me to be honest? I'm scared I'm gonna wake up one day and she'll be gone. I'm scared that when we finally do shove her soul back in her, it'll be too late."

"You don't have to shoulder this burden alone," Sam says and places his hand on Dean's shoulder. "We're going to find this cure. We'll cure you both."

"Thanks," Dean whispers.

He looks at you again and prays to God you don't get any worse.

You don't care if they have a remote that will activate your shock machine. You're leaving this Bunker tonight with or without their permission. As soon as you get back, you pack a bag as light as you can carry. You'll get more stuff along the way. Where will you go? You're not sure but it sure as hell isn't going to be here.

Sam and Dean are in the library when you walk past them into the war room.

"Where are you going?"

"Parading all over the country is not what I want to do. I'm sick and tired of you two controlling me. I'm done." You turn to face them by the base of the metal stairs. "I'm leaving and I'd really like to see you try and stop me."

Dean takes the remote out of his hand but you're a step ahead of him. You swiftly take out your gun and point it at him. Sam freezes in his steps because he's nervous you're actually gonna start shooting.

"What are you gonna do?"

"You can't press the button if you're dead."

"Do it. You're not leaving this Bunker."

Your finger twitches against the trigger like you're going to pull it. Then you see Sam with wide eyes and you know that if you kill his brother, all you're asking for is a Winchester up your ass. You'd rather not spend your entire life running from one of them. Instead, you aim at the remote and shoot. The remote explodes into pieces and Dean jumps back from the shock.

"What are you gonna use now?" you smirk.

You turn to the stairs but both Winchesters jump into action. They run out in front of you, effectively blocking your way.

"You might have a chance with one of us but not both," Dean glares.

"Oh? Just because you're big and tall, you think you'd win in a fight against me?" you scoff and take a step back.

"You've relied on magic all your life. You're not as good a fighter as we are."

You smirk and toss your bag and gun to the side. "If I beat you two, I leave."

"If you don't?" Sam asks.

"Back to the dungeon I go, and I won't fight you anymore on this cure for the Mark."

Sam and Dean look at each other before lunging at you. You see their moves coming from a mile away. While Sam and Dean are fighting to subdue you, you're fighting to kill. You have nothing to lose. They have everything to lose.

Sam swings his hand to punch you but you grab it at the last second and twist it behind him. Dean comes running at you two so you kick his ass and they go crashing into each other. Dean is the first one up and runs at you. He grabs you from behind thinking he got you but you're two steps ahead of him. You let them believe he got you so when Sam comes over, you kick off his chest and swing over Dean. You land on the floor and punch Dean to the ground, almost breaking his jaw.

The problem with the Winchesters is you're too damn flexible for them. You roundhouse kick Sam in the face, and he sprays a line of blood as he goes down. They start to think you might win this so they have to pick up their game or you will kill them. Dean ignores the pain in his jaw as he grabs one of the chairs and smacks you in the back.

You crumble to the ground in a grunt of pain. He and Sam grab you on either side and refuse to let you go. You struggle as hard as you can to get away from them but it's looking like you might lose this fight. The more you struggle, the more you get angry. The more you get angry, the more your Mark flares and burns. The metaphorical pot inside your body is bubbling over, and the only thing fueling it is the Mark.

"Let me go!" you yell.

"Admit it! You lost this one!" Dean grunts.

"Let go of me!"

"You lost, Y/N, just give it up!" Sam yells.

"I said. LET. GO!"

Bright red magic explodes out from all sides of you, causing Sam and Dean to go flying into the walls behind them. The entire war room is covered in a red hue, and you look down at your hands to see red magic flow out of them. The power you feel right now is so... exhilarating. Your Mark is burning so much but it's the good kind of pain. The kind of pain you crave. The kind of power you crave.

You look at the brothers with an evil smirk. They're too scared to do anything. They know you've fallen over the edge. There is no coming back from this. You lift the brothers with your magic and fling them so hard into the wall again that it cracks from the pressure. Both of them are too weak to do anything which is exactly what you want.

You reach up and peel off the device from your neck like it's a goddamn sticker.

"You don't control me anymore. I win. I'm leaving. If you want to try and stop me, well, you can't. No one can," you laugh.

You grab your bag and head to the metal stairs.

"This isn't you!" Sam yells loudly. You pause by the stairs but don't face him. "You're the Sapphire Witch! You help people!"

"Honey, the Sapphire Witch is dead."

"Yeah? Then what are you?"

You face the brothers with a smirk and bright red eyes.

"I'm the Scarlet Witch."

x

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

[pikespendragon67]

Pikes Small Fall 2024 Check-in Post!

I technically can still talk with friends but eh why not

IRL: o ye gods i have 2 interviews next week, one in person and one over the phone that may lead to an in person interview. They pay way more than my current job but I fear deceiving my supervisor to go to the in person ones. I'm in the middle of my annual review for my current job though so I think I'll get like. A very small raise and get asked why I've been coming in late for a while now (mainly due to traffic). Hrm.

It’s gonna rain for 2 weeks fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

In December I'm making up for not walking for my college graduation since I graduated during quarantine! I met Jamieson Price at my brother's graduation back in 2016 since he was announcing so my foolish hope is that he announces for mine. Sadly not a SoCal school so highly unlikely (especially with BS technology nowadays) but a fish can dream.

I also...spent way more than I realized this year so once I replenish enough funds I hope I can stick to a budget that my mom helped formulate. Getting the new jobs will help a bunch in those. Terrible timing since the Switch successor is coming out next year and who knows what guests will arrive at cons I can potentially go to. (Like if Jamieson Price, Akio Otsuka, Kenjiro Tsuda or Junichi Suwabe got invited to a con I might need to sell a kidney or 3). I tried using a Windows 11 laptop and it is somehow much slower than my 2019 laptop. Like. How. It's more recent. So I might need to invest in a tablet (like an iPad) or something instead since those tend to be faster. If it has HDMI ports I'd be set.

Also terrible timing for going on a budget since I want to get the Shunsui blind keychain in stores like GameStop or BoxLunch. I have Ukitake at least. I'd be willing to trade a spare Soifon that I have. Oh, and also Squishables plushies always tempt me as well as physical DVDs/games/manga but I am running out of storage space aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I want to get back into art but I need a bag to carry my art supplies and hopefully I can sneak in doodles when I run out of tasks at work. I'd draw on weekends but my computer takes up way too much space on my desk.

And I'm in a bit of a music rut, need to find new stuff to listen to. I usually like smooth cadences in things like electroswing, R&B or pop punk rock, but maybe with how hectic the world is becoming I can get into a new genre of music. Maybe folk? Maybe a ska renaissance that I keep hoping to happen in the public attention?

Animu: I just finished rewatching Digimon Adventure (1999)! I rewatched the dub since I'm nostalgic towards it. I recognized more voices than I did in my rewatch from 6th grade wrow. (I forgot Doug Erholz was in the OG series as Joe's brother and MachineSeaDramon). As a kid my favorite was probably TK or Kari but these days I relate way too much to Joe. I think my favorite arc is the Myotismon arc, and I really loved the Piedmon fight. The show really started feeling special after SkullGreymon appeared. It went from regular monster of the week show to something that explored more character depth, like when Sora felt she couldn't use the Crest of Love. Gonna start 02 next week.

I'm about to finish Delico's Nursery (thank GOD) and Moribito so I can finally move onto other stuff to either watch or rewatch. Maybe Big O, maybe ID: Invaded? Who can say. ...Probably after Beastars season 3 comes out.

Pokemon Horizons' next dubbed portion will air in February so I will see who voices Hassel and Larry then put it on hold until another character I like shows up. Unless something plot relevant happens. It's a good show but hhhhhhhh I only have so much time in my days now.

I'm liking Ranma 1/2! Originally I was a bit squicked about the bathing scenes but I really like the character interactions and the over-the-top jokes (like using your brother as a weapon, hilarious)

Tower of God season 2 is...there. Definitely in the gambler's fallacy where I want to finish this and have it be done with. I really miss season 1's animation.

Orb: On the Center of the Earth is a really intriguing drama. I'm hoping it has a scene that makes me think about life like with other dramas that I've enjoyed. It has sparks of it, so only time will tell.

I’m really enjoying Dandadan so far. I might not delve into the fandom side but I’m loving the art direction and the main character bickering. Dare I hope for a Mothman arc?

In my Jojo rewatch I’m 4 episodes away from finishing Battle Tendency. I’m not the biggest fan of Stardust Crusaders though so I’m gonna see if I can watch the OVAs instead

And finally, I'm not sure how many episodes Bleach TYBW part 3 will have but I'm lowkey waiting for when Shunsui's big moment happens. Hopefully it doesn't feel too rushed, as if we do follow the 13 episode structure we'd only have...5 episodes left to finish this. I'm also hoping that the light novels get animated. Or that Kubo makes the rest of the Hell arc an anime exclusive thing.

Videya games: I thought I could switch between Brothership and Dragon Quest 3, but hoo boy do I feel the grind more in 5 minutes of DQ3 than I do 20 in Brothership. Aside from the Luigi A controversy and odd way to do basic jumps/hammer attacks, I'm liking the combat again. Makes me want to go back to play Dream Team more.

I got Webfishing and I made my avatar Ogata. Life is goooooooooood. Also on some weekends I play with some buddies in either Granblue Versus, 100% Orange Juice, and recently we went through the prologue of Paranormasight. I grinded with some other friends in Granblue Relink and man I need to assemble that squad again so I can get Ambrosia.

Oh yeah, an IRL friend helped me start up collecting for Wii again! Meaning I can hopefully get Gamecube games too because while I do have Dolphin and Parsec, I still have trouble opening files, configuring my controller and configuring a memory card. True there's a risk of scratched discs and spending way more than I need to. Hm.

[viewfromthelake]

Last night's before-bed comic book reading brought me through to the end of X-Men (2021) #35, which closes out the Krakoan Era finale. So, wow. What to say? I talked a bit in previous posts about how this era seemed to be suddenly sprinting through a lot of concepts to get to the end. And now with the war with Orchis over, we spend this extra-long issue on what the state of things is shaping up to be as the dust settles. It's bittersweet. The art is a mix of various X-Men artists old and new. SPOILERS AHEAD: I think I like what they did as far as settling the fate of Krakoa. One thing that always feels weird is getting to the end of a big run that had lots of big things going on, and everything sort of falling apart to return to something resembling the old status quo. Here, they get to do a big reset but also have the Krakoa era matter and have consequences, as the civilian residents of Krakoa have actually been building a pacifist Krakoan society for 15 years in a dimension outside of time and space where time passes differently. Comics! Anyway, they've deemed that Earth isn't read for them yet, so they just returned to space/time briefly to drop off any mutants who have families and lives they want to return to on Earth - or who just miss the whole crazy mess that is life on this wacky planet - and then head back to The White Hot Room, realm of the Phoenix Force. Various characters spin-off into their various new lives post-Krakoan era. Xavier is arrested and held in an ultra-secure facility for turning supervillian and colluding with Orchis to murder humans as part of a plot to stall them so the Phoenix could wipe them out. It's… really sad to see Charles brought so low. Charles astral form checks in on his former students and is convinced they are ready to carry on the dream of the mutants. And then he either kills himself or feigns brain death as part of a longer plan. We'll find out, I assume, whenever a writer decides to pick up that thread and do something with it. So that's the wild ride that was the Krakoan Era. I do have some gaps that I feel like I need to go in and fill sometime in my reading. And maybe I'll do that. Or maybe I'll focus on following this new era that is beginning (and hoping that it involves less having to hop from book to book to book in order to have any hope of it making sense. One issue I have with the Krakoan Era is it often made the X-books feel like a big summer event crossover, but one that lasted for years and years). I don't think I'll be reading these day-and-date, though. I've gotten used to waiting for stuff to hit Unlimited and I find that reading experience on my tablet to be great. Has anyone been starting to read any of the new stuff yet? Like it?

[starqueensthings]

Summary: chapter starts after a three-week time jump. June and Challa have just completed another lesson on the combat base and continue to struggle with the students. After forming a plan of attack, June reenters the base and quickly gets disoriented attempting to find her way out. Anxiety begins to boil as she finds herself somewhat cornered in a dead end hallway�� until someone arrives to save the day

Rating/WC: all chapters are 16+ for subject matter unless otherwise noted | 6835 words (she’s a long one, folks!)

WARNINGS: mild graphic language, mild anxiety.

A/N: not particularly proud of this chapter, but I’ve worked and reworked it too many times now… my brain is turning into scrambled egg. As always, if you see typos, run on sentences, and/or passive verbs… no you don’t.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

FOREWORD | MASTER | PREV | NEXT | ao3

“Maybe I'll just drag the whole desk to the back corner…” June groused, the acerbic nature of her current mood completely laid bare by both the bite neath her words, and the emphatic yank she offered that connection cord as she tugged it from the port in Challa’s tablet. “I know it’s not going to solve anything, but… I have to do something. I'm losing my mind, and I know you are too.”

Though he granted her an indulgent snort whilst hoisting his bag on to the podium and peeling the zipper apart to rehome his trusted device, his succeeding response failed to match the antipathy surging through his colleague’s boiling blood. “Yes,” he began with a sigh. “Securing their attention today did prove particularly challenging.”

While the true vitriol of which she yearned to voice vied desperately to escape the corral behind pursed lips, she permitted only a small huff to escape her nose, as the notion of inciting yet another potentially caustic discussion about how that century of troopers continuously failed to offer them the respect their title should merit, promised to only intensify the disgust she felt toward those students, and the dejection that had long-since robbed Challa’s eyes of that neon ambition.

Instead, only a frustrated sigh was granted its leave, obscenely rattling her lips as it fled the tense container of her chest, and though that laden breath did momentarily succeed in dissipating a portion of the ire she’d trapped in her jaw during that near-tortuous three-hour lecture, it was a mere second before her upper lip began to flatten in earnest atop the vivid recollection of a soldier in the first row assaulting her taciturn perch behind the desk by winking and licking his lips at near-regular intervals.

Correctly recognizing the disgruntlement neath that poignant exhale (having heard it depart her scowling lips on countless occasions), Challa cast her something near an apologetic glance, lips compressed into a thin line of sympathy whilst a ruminative silence saturated the air between them.

And though she avidly sought any sense of resolution to the behaviour that saw her deliberately hidden behind her datapad twice a week for a trio of hours, Challa’s countering silence was not fuelled by the dismissive finality it would have appeared to be, but by the considerate notion of repeating words already spoken only threatened to exacerbate her merciless chagrin; he’d been audience to her exasperated invective a handful of times now, including the off-site meeting last weekend where the pair discussed June’s frustration ad nauseum amidst hopes it may appease some portion of her distress.

“There isn’t a single cell in my body that doesn’t sympathize with you, June,” he’d assuaged upon the reemergence of her grievances, pausing only to hand her a fresh mug of homemade caf and take a seat atop the only sofa cushion they hadn’t blanketed in several weeks worth of upcoming lesson plans. “And while it won’t offer the consolation you seek, watching it unfold from behind the podium is quite disheartening; I can certainly understand why you must feel something of ‘a fish in a bowl’. You see, from what Eagle divulged during our tour, you are one of very few women granted access to the combat base; the remaining majority are Jedi, whose allotted military rank commands an inherent degree of respect from the clones, and a handful of nosey senators who turn their noses up and see themselves out within minutes of arriving. To compound the issue further, our audience presents as quite undersocialized due to the geographical seclusion of the planet they’ve only recently departed. But this true challenge is this—” He paused to shift his weight against the arm of the sofa, balancing his own hot mug on his knee with one hand, while the other draped atop the backrest of the seat beside him. “—If you remember, our contract explicates that we, under no circumstances, are to act as disciplinarians. The nature of their training requires that soldiers be reprimanded with consistent, particular practices to ensure any resulting resentment does not impact the resolve of their loyalty to their superiors or the objective. For us to enforce a punishment of any variation would act as both a disservice to their training and a breach of our contract. Eagle has advised me that we can report any… misbehaviour… to him, but— I’m sorry, June, it must remain at that.”

Today had seen their sixth lesson brought to completion amid an unchanged dynamic, though thanks to some tacit premise, the troopers had apparently earmarked lessons on Zhellday mornings as an opportunity for an uninhibited nap away from the castigation of their superior officers. Quickly identifying that unexpected, yet, welcome placidity as the perfect means to enact a tidbit of revenge for their abysmal behaviour, June proceeded to let her datapad fall with a thunderous bang atop that desk at first sign of those lids beginning to droop, stifling a series of dubious giggles with pursed lips as their eyes sprang open and their shoulders jerked in alarm.

But those micro moments of vengeance, while instantly effective at boosting her morale, were fleeting at most. Sadly, each of the four lessons they’d notched into their belt was accompanied by a dispirited, post-class conversation about how little those soldiers seemed to be engaging with that so-imperative content. Challa, who had spent sleepless days… weeks… meticulously crafting that course curriculum to ensure every lecture was laden with the knowledge that promised to extend the lives of his students, had taken their arrant disinterest very personally. That once-springing step had returned to something-near a flat footed slap as he moped around the hospital, those already narrow shoulders sagging even further beneath a rejection of which he could not understand, and did not know how to rectify.

Though June had seized every possible opportunity to grouse in Jacoba’s ear about the recurrent salacious etiquette of those students (including a detailed depiction of every licentious hand gesture made across the room in her direction), the magnitude of Challa’s perceived failure, and how wholly it had robbed him of that once-aflamed determination, managed to supercede her own discomfort. Following in his wake as he slumped down those dark, industrial halls toward the amphitheater of their apparent ineptitude saw her less wary about the repugnance that would, undoubtedly, surge beneath her skin in only minutes, and more concerned about how long Challa could willingly stand behind that podium and wordlessly beg that century of soldiers for the attention he knew would prognosticate their safety if they would only listen.

He thanked June in a little more than a mumble as she slid his datapad into his bag, thoughtlessly reconnecting its buckles and tossing it over his shoulder amidst a poignant sigh. After collecting her own, much smaller bag from the floor behind teacher’s desk, the duo crossed the room in silence. Desperate to create separation from the potent frustration still fuelling her heart's aggressive cadence, and because she’d long-since lost the invaluable map stashed away on their first day, June fell into a brooding gait behind her boss and pulled her holopad from her purse, all-too willing to let his presence half-a-step ahead guide her back through the maze of that still unknown compound.

“They’re just not connecting to the material like I thought they would,” Challa mused as they neared the heavy durasteel door that would permit their reentry to the civilian world. “I truly believed that the promise of a complete, theoretical knowledge of combat medicine would see them intrigued at least. Though, I’m now realizing that may have been a gross overestimation.”

“They’re intrigued all right,” June griped from behind him, blue eyes narrowed slightly as they scanned the surgical schedule she’d accessed via the device still cradled in her hands, “By my chest...”

He sighed again, palm thoughtlessly reaching to massage the tension that heavy brow seemed unable to release as the door to the speeder lot slid open, bathing them in effulgent midday sunlight. “Perhaps I need to revisit the lecture content,” he suggested, politely gesturing for her to cross the threshold ahead of him whilst shifting his hand to shield his eyes from the unexpected, yet, welcome onslaught of spring sun. “Perhaps I’ll need to further trim some objectively tedious areas, and propagate othe–”

“You know we can’t tweak any more of the content,” June rebutted quickly upon hearing the despondency behind those words, and it required only a fleeting glance upward to recognize the strain amid his lissome features as he gnawed the insides of his cheeks. “We entertained that option last week, and it’s not feasible. You were extremely intentional with the material you assigned to each lecture; it’s all information they need to learn before they get deployed or they’re not going to last any longer than the first generation medics. And, if that’s the case, we’re wasting our tim—”

“Then what do you suggest?” Challa hissed back, long fingers falling to his side in something near despair as he halted upon that threshold.

June froze half a breath later, that biting exasperation rendering her unsurprised as she turned to find those violet eyes narrowed amidst the same undeniable appeal for help that had soaked his plea… and she near-cowered under its intensity. Averting her own gaze to the loose gravel beneath her shoes, she upheld an apologetic silence, entirely unable to provide him the solution that he so desperately sought.

“I eagerly await any suggestion you may have, June,” he pressed, offering a one-shouldered shrug that instantly exposed his distress. “Anything. I need your infamous, out-of-the-box insight. I need you to attune that inherent clone-connection and help me establish a means of liaising with them, because most of them want nothing to do with me or this class, and it's going to undoubtedly cost them their lives.”

“I know, but— How am I— What do I—”

Hurrying to bridle that slew of indignant stammers, she pursed her lips, though despite each emotion-fuelled protest battling that restriction atop at her tongue, June was largely cognizant that voicing any or all of those weak arguments would only serve a disservice in their feat of finding a solution. And worse still, beneath that awareness was an uncomfortably effervescent layer of near-guilt; though she’d always rebuffed the continuously implied notion of ‘clone fluency’ to which she’d been, apparently, divinely imbued, there was no denying that the visceral distaste of the soldiers’ mild derogation had almost entirely eclipsed the commitment she’d once promised to this project and her friend.

“Anything,” he repeated, closing the space between them and putting a discerning hand on her shoulder.

“What if—” she started slowly, clamping her eyes closed atop a need to abscond from those anguished, violet eyes. “I don’t know… What if we just change our approach to the lecture content?”

His call for answers now saw Challa silent… frozen… seemingly unwilling to proffer even a breath lest it rob her of the incipient proposal he so ardently coveted.

It took a series of forceful blinks to fully eradicate the blur from June’s vision upon meeting his gaze again, as reopening her eyes had seen them instantly rebuke the power of that gleaming sun, and though that brief moment of pseudo-solitude via visual darkness helped appease the remaining dregs of her ire, the duress of his expectant gaze seemed only reinvigorated by that uncharacteristic patience.

“Well if they’re going to just sit there and be distracted,” June began, nodding over her shoulder toward where their respective speeders sat side by side before continuing on the journey across that crunchy, gravel lot. “Why can’t we use that to our advantage? Why can’t we find a way to distract them with the information? Why can’t we get their dicks out of their hands, and put MedScanners in them instead?”

She cast him a sidelong glance as she neared her speeder bike, wholly expecting that near-vulgar comment to have elicited some degree of silent condemnation from his prudish and scornful lips, but, to her surprise, there was nothing of the sort. Even the intensity of the plea behind those eyes had been replaced by a pensive cogitation.

“Hmm.” She watched his focus dart to and fro between proliferating ideas known only to his exceptional mind, that heavy brow furrowing with each passing breath, whilst little more than quiet murmurs escaped those thin lips. “Well, that’s… that could prove… hmm… attentive? Well, certainly. Yes… but perhaps both?… Both…”

June took the opportunity presented by that regenerated rumination to swap her holopad for her bike keys at the bottom of her bag, deftly unlocking the hidden compartment below her seat and tossing her purse carelessly into its depths.

“This holds potential,” Challa posed as she latched it closed again. “Holds promise even, if handled correctly. And dare I say— it may be your best idea yet.”

“I like the sounds of that,” she answered atop the ghost of a chuckle as she prepared to toss a leg over the seat of her bike. “But probably smart to chat about it later tonight. You’ve got a neuroendoscopy on the books in like ten minut—”

“And— well… I think our best chances of success lay in your very capable hands.”

His tone brightened almost as rapidly as that dejection seeped from his features, something resembling a prickling confidence erupting behind his eyes and stealing her attention so abruptly that her hands simply froze midway between their previous perch on her hip, and the handlebars to which she had begun to reach.

Eyes quickly narrowing under a burgeoning suspicion, she peered back at her boss, the harrowing implications of his vague proposal forcing her toe back toward that compacted dust below.

“What do you mean?” she asked him slowly, her own tone darkening amidst a question that hardly needed asking, the inference of that near-dubious smirk tugging upward on his lips instantly providing her the truth she needn’t have probed for. “Challa, you better not be on the brink of asking me t—”

”I’d like you to lead the next lecture. I think having, as you would say, ‘their dicks in their hands’ may actually prove beneficial if their MedTools are in the other.”

“Are you kidding me?” June near-gasped, followed by an incredulous laugh as she glared slack-jawed and completely perplexed toward her audacious boss. “Are you insane? Have we not been sitting in the same classroom for the last two weeks? Half of them aren’t listening to you because they’re staring at me. How is putting me behind the p—”

“Precisely,” he interrupted with an infuriating simplicity. “If my hypothesis bears any merit, and they typically do, these troopers may just be more willing to listen to the person they’re staring at. After all, June, you can not deny that you have their attention, whether it's the way you’d like or not.”

“It’s not—”

“And who knows,” he pressed on as if she hadn’t attempted to interject. “If the plan proves effective, you may be able to teach them a little respect while you’re at it.”

‘Not a chance,’ she thought instantly with an indignant shake of the head.

Every passing second saw Challa’s brows lift ever higher toward the top of his head whilst that duo remained near-locked in a battle of opposing insistence, the maddening smirk atop his lips rivaled by the equally potent scowl atop her own; each of them adamantly refusing to procure the white flag of concession and let it flutter in that beautiful spring zephyr.

“What’d’ya say we just try?” he urged upon watching her arms knot across her chest in a gesture of unrestrained obstinance. “It doesn’t have to be permanent, but it’s a viable option in the interim while we brainstorm other facets. Please?”

June sighed heavily. Filled with a mounting regret for even having uttered the wanton remark that triggered this unwelcome scheme, she peered sternly through the veil of her lashes whilst her lips compressed to withhold another incredulous scoff. There was precisely nothing appealing about this idea… nothing except it had returned that paralyzingly hopeful smile to Challa’s face.

“Fine,” she spat at him. “But there better be a bottle of Alderanian purple wine on my desk tomorrow morning. Black label with the wax top.”

She watched his nimble fingers ball inward into fists and shoot toward the sky amidst a motion of unadulterated glee, a cry of delight leaving his lips as he reached to readjust the bag now slipping earnestly off his shoulder amidst his mirthful motions.

“And if there’s even one comment about my anatomy…” she warned, pointing a menacing finger toward his chest. “I will break someone’s nose.”

“Understood,” Challa agreed, arms swinging awkwardly as if he’d briefly entertained the urge to throw them around her shoulders in an embrace of gratitude, but thought better of it lest he return to work in need of an urgent nasal realignment. ”Let’s meet in my office later to discuss details. I know we weren’t planning on opening the MedKits until much later in the course but I think it may be prudent to—”

”Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “We’ll talk later. Now get going! You have brain surgery in three minutes.”

Challa dashed across that speeder lot and clambered into his air speeder with the same urgency that had seen him trotting down the hall for their first ever lecture with June breathlessly attempting to keep up from half a pace behind him, and the sudden return to that beaming optimism was the only thing presently keeping her from groaning her potent displeasure aloud.

“And I want a Cleanser Tube for my apartment!” she shouted to his retreating figure, watching his speeder hover soundlessly atop the ground toward the exit, and he offered her only a small wave before departing that deserted lot and disappearing into the skyway.

Having heard her outcry through that permeable, barbed gate, the troopers flanking either side turned toward her, smiles hidden behind their buckets; the one on the left quietly muttering a disgruntled ‘civvies…’ before quickly returning to his straight-backed post.

It wasn’t until June had swung her leg over her seat and kicked that bike into life did her bespoiled mood reach a sinister and unprecedented apex, the momentary peace gained by the promise of a premium bottle of her favourite wine was instantly usurped by a sudden realization… the hoarse chuckle leaving the lips of the trooper loitering just outside that barbed barrier had sounded immediately familiar, and hardly a moment passed amidst a burgeoning puzzlement before she’d placed that sound. The unshaven trooper in the administration office had once granted her that same gruff chortle, hurrying to erect himself from an almost complete recline atop that worn desk chair; overgrown brows reaching toward his unkempt hairline and that gravelly snicker escaping his lips as she attempted to prevaricate his request for a formal introduction by offering her name in little more than a mumble before hastily dropping a folder into the intake tray on his desk… the attendance folder that they’d forgotten to return today amid their haste to leave.

”Noooooo,” she cried aloud, head tipping toward that glorious blue sky while her hands released their grip on the handlebars and slumped heavily into her lap.

Having failed to read her contract in its entirety (a truth she’d sooner pitch herself over the mouth of the underworld than admit to), June wasn’t entirely sure what repercussions would ensue if they failed to provide that completed document at the end of each lesson; she typically just simply followed in Challa’s wake as he tucked the folder neath his arm and marched them safely through those bustling corridors. And worse than having to endure the potential consequences of their negligence, she wasn’t even entirely sure she’d have the wherewithal to find her way to their classroom and back without him.

“Ugh,” she growled, killing the engine of her bike with an aggressive crank of the key and clambering off, feet thudding atop that gravel with renewed wrath. “Why? Why does the Maker hate me so? What could I have done in my past life…”

The hallway sitting opposite of that heavy durasteel barrier presented as utterly foreign in the complete void of her boss’s presence. Surely there hadn’t always been that many corridors adjacent to this one, branching out of sight through what seemed to be several dozen more doors than she remembered that wide hallway ever housing? And only increasing that rapidly emerging dread, it seemed whichever fool tasked with designing this contained community had opted to ensure that every threshold looked damn-near identical to the one next to it.

Swallowing what she could of that injustice still asimmer in her gut, she fit her thumbnail between her teeth, eyes darting fervently from one threshold to the next amid a desperate effort to orient herself while she stepped cautiously back into the dim of that esoteric corridor.

‘Damnit, what was it that he said?’ she asked herself, brow furrowing atop the effort to correctly recall Challa’s breathless rambling as he first led them to their classroom several weeks ago. ‘Eleventh door on the right, not including the elevator?’

Her feet took her apprehensively toward the first corridor on the left, eyes darting around for any sign or semblance of familiarity.

‘One… two… three,’ she counted as she trod down the hall, the lingering disdain for her boss entirely diminished by how desperately she wished his embossed lekku were swaying in tune with his step, half a pace in front of her and unknowingly shepherding her through that network of foreign pathways.

The eleventh door looked like nothing she’d ever attempted to enter before. An archaic chrome door handle sat off center in that steel barricade, and try as she might, she simply could not remember ever having needed to turn a handle on her regular journey through these halls, as modern overhead sensors typically activated touch-free upon approach. The tenth door however, immediately adjacent on her right, was an open threshold leading into a much narrower corridor.

“Okay… now last door on the left before the stairwell,” she recalled through the tight clamp of her teeth, immediately turning to pass through that promising entryway. “At least… I think?”

The sound of her sneakers atop that gleaming black floor reverberated near-thunderously around the otherwise deserted hallway, that rhythmic pat pat mixed with the assaulting pound of her heart in her ears worked in stereo to intensify the foreboding in her gut as she neared the last door on the left.

“Please be the right kriffing door,” she pleaded to that empty space, collecting the ID card from her pocket and scanning it across the control panel.

But that acknowledging beep was too familiar, and with a warm wash of relief that door slid aside to expose the now welcome comfort of her classroom. Immediately apparent, and seemingly deriding her negligence with its innocent perch atop that barren desk, was that vapid flimsi folder, and June withheld none of the curses spilling from her lips as she crossed the stage to collect it.

‘Okay, now where is that kriffing Admin office,’ she demanded silently, tucking her prize under her arm and closing the door behind her again. ‘I know it’s next to those big glass doors that lead outside…’

She walked cautiously back in the direction of that central hall, careful to count doorways as they passed through her periphery. She offered nothing but a small snort as a goateed trooper in armour of white and cobalt blue passed her in the hall, charismatically asking if she needed help finding her way back to heaven, though thankfully met no other presence as she rounded a series of subsequent corners.

A cresting wave of pride and serendipitous fortune had her near-leaping on the spot as she turned to find that familiar, broad corridor— the transparent walls of her destination immediately recognizable thanks to their uncanny ability of reflecting the dazzling light pouring in through those neighbouring glass doors, that gargantuan threshold leading to what looked like an oversized, albeit barren, courtyard beyond.

“Hi. Sorry this is late. I hope that’s okay …Bye.”

Her address to the protocol droid behind the counter was near pathetic, offering nothing more but a pitiful apology whilst extracting the folder from under her arm and tossing it haphazardly into the “incoming documents” tray as the sound of her voice near-instantly arose that very scruffy, very tired looking soldier from his perch behind that cluttered desk.

June darted from the room before he could open his mouth to instigate conversation, instead letting the door thud heavily behind her and taking a hurried right turn down the nearest hall… then an immediate left… another left… until…

“Oh no.”

A dead end. She groaned under her breath as her eyes darted toward the unexpected limitations of that tenebrous corridor, its unwelcome appearance quickly forcing a theatrical slump to her shoulders. “Where am I now? And where is that damn map I had?”

Right hand thoughtlessly tapping the cargo pocket in her pants, as if that flimsi key to a successful exodus would suddenly appear to aid in her exploits, she fit the thumbnail of her left between her teeth again and sighed. But she was granted barely a second to dwell in the regret of her own stupidity before her stomach sank ever further…

A collection of resounding, nonmetrical footsteps met her ears, escorted by the blare of a conversation so raucous it was entirely indiscernible from the echo that succeeded every booming word. A choir of hoarse, throaty laughter rang around the corners of her perch, and though that conversation remained mummed by the anxiety of their incipient arrival, ungluing her shoes from the durasteel floor to evade that unseen crowd, proved a task near impossible as each passing second drew them nearer. Any second now they’d pass across the mouth of her semi secluded position. Would they see her? And how many were they? The near-identical nature of their voices meant it was impossible to discern one from the other, but their footsteps? Four? Maybe five?

She swallowed and turned her back, bringing her fingers uselessly to her face so she could mindlessly stare at the abhorrent destruction of her thumbnail, and feign some degree of nonchalance lest one of the intruders notice her attempt to eschew their company.

“Jigs is kriffing di’kut.”

“Nah, he’s a beauty.”

“You know you give them way too long of a leash… all your men.”

“Why shouldn’t I? None of us signed up for this. Who's to say we can’t find a little fun here and there while we’re waiting to dance in the sky?”

“Uhhhh, maybe your CO?”

“Meh, Ponds loves me. I get things done. He doesn’t care how I do it as long as he can check my missions off his list and my casualty numbers stay low.”

“So he says to your face. Maker, I hope I’m around to see the day your ass is assigned a Jedi.”

“I don’t know, Keels. My General is pretty reckless too. Skywalker doesn’t seem to have any interest in playing by the rules…”

It wasn’t until her lungs began to protest the duress of that held breath did the chorus begin to taper, words obscuring as distance robbed them of their once undeniable clarity, further muffling that banter with every step past her unseen perch. She’d barely permitted a sigh of relief to escape her lips, turning back around to continue her now plightful crusade back to the speeder lot, when something caught her eye.

A meticulously cropped head of dark hair suddenly poked back around the corner at the mouth of that hallway, followed moments later by a set of twinkling amber eyes… an impossibly angular jaw… a teal pauldron…

“June?”

The recollection of her name was proven instantly redundant by the expression atop his features, as it near-perfectly enacted the same adorably pleasant confusion once adorned several weeks ago upon their first meeting in 18-S, and though the lambency neath that olive skin could only mean he’d found himself a few good meals and several nights of rest, there was no mistaking the lopsided smile peeling across those now-supple lips as he back peddled into her line of sight.

“Howzer,” she near-choked as the breath inhaled to replace its stale counterpart froze midway to her lungs at the familiar sight of that gallant, white-and-teal kit.

The intoxicating blend of surprise and relief sent her skin atingle as he stepped toward her, the metallic thud of impenetrable boots atop thick steel that, seconds prior, had seen her heart hammering heavily against the walls of her chest, seemed now entirely muffled by the stupefaction coursing through her veins, and though her feigned composure was betrayed by how earnestly her cheeks enflamed as he drew nearer, she could not bridle the smile peeling across her own face.

Howzer came to a halt half a step in front of her, beaming lips parting to seemingly offer some sort of salutation to accompany the reddening of his own ears, but—

“Ey! Howz! Where the kriff are you going? We’re going to be late!”

The captain failed to answer that stern and reproachful summon from round the corner, refusing to deviate his gaze from her as his head shifted a mere millimeter toward that reverberating nag; honeyed eyes narrowing slightly beneath a burgeoning confusion, as if concerned they may be playing tricks on him, as if her seemingly inexplicable appearance may be little more than a cruel mirage.

June stood rooted to the spot, chest heaving amidst the surging adrenaline of first being stranded in this foreign maze of corridors, suddenly cornered, then thrust unceremoniously in front of the very person that wielded an inexplicable power to freeze the air in her lungs.

“What— what are you doing here?” Howzer asked neath a suppressed chuckle, shifting his helmet in its confine below his arm.

“I— Well, I’m kinda lost to be honest.” Her admission came atop an embarrassed snicker of her own, and when attempting to flex the relentless tingle from her fingers proved fruitless, she wrenched her gaze from the teal stripe extending down his chestplate and scanned her surroundings instead.

“Lost?” he repeated, dark brows furrowing slightly. “You’re a long way from the hospital, Mesh—”

“Howz! Come on!”

Again he ignored the demanding call of his hidden comrade, and the continued refusal to wrench his gaze from her despite an apparently urgent appointment had her bottom lip disappearing behind her teeth to intercept the threat of another bashful smirk.

“You don’t say…” she chirruped, offering a goofy smile whilst absently reaching to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “No, I know. I’m… I’m actually helping my boss out. We have a teaching contract with the medic cadets here for the next few months.”

The superficial lines around his eyes, aiding in that adorable furrow and reinforcing the notion that those globes of amber brown had likely seen a lot more than most of his younger bretheren, disappeared entirely as they widened in surprise, lips shifting to compress into a grimace of something near reverence.

“Oh wow,” he answered, gaze dancing warmly across her features as if she’d divulged something truly impressive or prodigious. “That makes sense, actually. I should have known when they said ‘blue eyes’.”

“Who said what…?”

“The shinies. They’ve been whispering non-stop about this ‘hot new civvie’ for weeks.”

As if arriving on cue to reintensify her simmering resentment for that continued execrable behaviour, the memory of that salacious, lip-licking soldier erupted in her mind anew, bringing with it a surge of anger strong enough to rid her cheeks of that flush and send her gaze rolling toward the ceiling.

“Ugh… I hope you’re joking,” she guffawed, readjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder and knotting her arms over her chest.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Howzer answered, the smile still hitched to those lips falling only slightly as his gaze narrowed to perceive her overt disdain. “You do have unbelievable blue eyes tho—”

“Howzer!”

“I’ll catch up!” He cocked that sharp jaw over his shoulder only far enough to shout the sentiment down the dark corridor, the rest of his features still surveying her with a curious intrigue until the echo of his vociferation dissipated. “Is class just starting? Or are you heading out?”

“Heading out,” she answered, unfolding her arms from their drape across her chest. “Primeday’s and Zhellday’s we teach until 11, and I just go to work from here.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, that alluring smile peeling back across those lips before tipping his wrist to check the time. “11, huh? Maybe I can take you on a little tour before you go? Show you around? Might save you from getting lost next tim—”

”Does that di’kut not know the Commanders are sitting in? Howzer! LET’S GO!”

”Just leave him, Keels. He said it himself, he’s Ponds’s favourite anyway. He’ll be fine.”

June pursed her lips to prevent the chortle erupting in her chest from spilling from her mouth, as Howzer’s heavy sigh of frustration laid bare that he didn’t find the merciless pestering from his companions nearly as amusing as she did. They locked eyes for a second as she choked back her laughter, a derisive snort leaving his nose as he shook his head.

“Kinda seems like you might have somewhere you need to be,” June snickered, gesturing with a nod in the direction of that unseen search party, their dulcet tones still ringing around the vacant corners of that corridor.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he sighed sadly. “At least let me walk you out?”

”I would actually appreciate that,” June answered in earnest. “I feel like I could wander around here for a decade and still never make it out because all the damn doors look the same.”

Heat resurged to her cheeks as he tipped his head back and laughed, sightlessly shifting his helmet to nestle under his other arm as he met her gaze again. “You’re not wrong,” he snorted. “Where abouts are you parked?”

“Um…” she started, an apologetic grimace distorting her features upon the realization that her indolent habit of simply following Challa both through the skyway and down those halls had rendered her more naive and unprepared than she ever thought she would be. “I’m not sure what lot. The one beside the big purple tarps?”

“North,” he answered immediately. “Not actually that far from here so you didn’t wander for long.”

His posture shifted away from her only long enough to gesture that she proceed back the way she came before falling into stride on her right only a moment later, and it wasn’t until he’d peered down at her with a bashful smile that she remembered just how imposing he was in that dominating suit.

‘He was half naked last time you saw him,’ she quickly reminded herself in an effort to justify why she’d hadn’t previously made note of the significant difference in their stature, though the recollection of his bare form had her instantly wishing the subtle, earthy aroma of his aftershave wasn’t wafting down at her and intensifying that incessant tingle neath her skin.

“How’d the cut heal up?” she asked as they rounded another corner, vying that her tone remain casual.

“Oh, good as new,” Howzer replied, casting her an appreciative smile. “You did a great job. I don’t mind the scar either… It’s a good story.”

June bit back the grin attempting to make an appearance in light of his passive praise, instead turning to offer him a cocked-brow of skepticism. While the laceration itself had been a doozy, she couldn’t recall the tale behind it being overly thrilling or harrowing enough to boast about.

“Must be a different story than the one you told me,” she teased. “Unless you’re telling your friends it was that ‘knife wielding maniac’?”

“I might be,” Howzer replied with a guilty grin of his own. “Nah… there isn’t a better story than getting patched up by the prettiest doctor in the galaxy… and it’s not even a lie.”

“Maker have mercy,” she scoffed, attempting to prevent the butterflies in her stomach from escaping through her mouth with a pursed lip smile. “That was cripplingly cheesy.”

Those twinkling eyes vanished beneath crinkled lids as his head tipped backward again, and that same loud chortle escaped his lips and raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“It was, wasn’t it?” he chuckled. “And it’s not really my style, but my brother said it was bound to work if I could ever get lucky enough to see you again. How’d I do?”

She offered him a one-shouldered, jesting shrug, feigning indifference with a passive grimace and watching the bashful smile peeling across his lips. “What is your style?”

“My style?” he repeated, motioning for her to turn and pass through an open threshold on the right. “I don’t really have one. Right now, it’d be doing everything I can to learn more about you…”

“Well, to start, I’d much prefer real cheese,” she told him, rounding yet another corner. “Nothing woo’s me quite like a snack and a hot caf.”

“Caf and a snack,” he repeated, seemingly committing that notion to memory. “I’ll remember that.”

A welcome sense of familiarity ensued as they veered slightly left and came upon that heavy sliding durasteel barrier that June knew to lead outside.

Howzer stepped half a stride in front of her and opened it as they approached, before gesturing for her to pass over the threshold and into the radiant sunlight ahead of him. The pair of security troopers still loitering just beyond that chain gate turned at the unexpected, jovial intrusion before simultaneously releasing the back ends of their rifles from their gloved grips, and snapping into identical salutes.

Howzer repeated the motion somewhat lazily, though it had apparently offered enough of an acknowledgement for that security duo to return to their post.

As she’d opted to leave her bag locked in its concealed compartment before trudging back into the base, June wasted no time swinging her leg over her dust-covered seat and reigniting the engine.

“Maybe—” Howzer started as she picked her feet off the ground and placed them in the stirrups in prep for her departure. “Maybe I’ll get to see you again on Primeday?”

She watched his masseters momentarily expand neath a jaw clenched tightly in trepidation, deep golden eyes now gleaming in that effulgent sun as they danced somewhat nervously across her features while he reached to absently trail a gloved finger to and fro across his lip. That reminiscent motion near-instantly took her back to watching him self soothe atop the hoverbed in 18-S, blood stained finger repeating that useless swing across a parched lip in an effort to rid himself of a portion of the discomfort he’d been sitting with for hours… and she smiled.

“I’ll be here,” she answered with a shrug.

“Okay cool,” he answered amidst a small snicker of relief. “Hopefully I am too, if the war doesn’t have other plans…”

June froze, brow furrowing and eyes widening at the implications of his inappropriately morbid statement, and she turned to face him with nothing short of a horrified look atop her previously smiling features.

“Deployed,” he clarified upon seeing her expression, smile slipping instantly from his lips. “Just shipped off-world. Sorry, I did not phrase that properly. Deployed… not dead.”

“Well… hopefully neither,” she replied with a snort, stooping forward to place her hands on the handle bars.

“Hopefully neither,” he repeated, lips tensing amid an embarrassed smirk, and offering her a respectful nod as she began to glide slowly toward the gate.

“Thanks for the tour,” she called over her shoulder as he stepped back to watch her depart, the glance she risked toward his still chagrined expression lingering only long enough to see those eyes begin to crinkle amid a genuine smile and she offered nothing more than a quick smirk of her own before waving her ID card in front of the control panel and sneaking her bike through that slowly rolling gate.

FOREWORD | MASTER | PREV | NEXT | ao3

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[thlayli-ra]

For @sparklylap who wanted to see my sketching process. Maybe one day I'll make a properly edited vid with subtitles or a voice-over or something but today is not that day (re. I am incredibly lazy!)

Step 1 - Figure Sketch - this was my second attempt at sketching this pic so it didn't take as long. Here, I sketch the figures themselves (starting from the torso not the head - best advice I've ever been given!) to get an idea of what they're doing

Step 2 - Add Perspective - recently, I've been trying out new angles and it's made my drawings a lot more interesting. I draw a grid and warp the figures to adhere to it

Step 3 - Cleaner sketch - I find it much easier to 'ink' from a cleaner sketch than from a really messy one. You'll also notice that at this stage I begin cheating!!! 😱 Yes, I recently embraced tracing. Usually, I use it to check my proportions, help with parts of anatomy I'm struggling with and for faces. I mean I could spend an hour or two doing studies on Drew McIntyre's face but at the end of the day I just wanna draw him on his knees looking longingly up at an older man with tattoos. Also, he already gave me the most perfect expression! I trust in my skills to interpret it in my own artistic style and make something fresh with it.

Step 4 - Inking - drawing the clean linework is a long arduous process but I love watching the final piece start to take shape. Linework is more important to me than colour so I focus a lot on this stage. I like having blocks of solid black (definitely influenced by my love of comic art) and varying thickness of lines to convey weight and depth.

Step 5 - Admire! - Take pride in what you've done! You've created something! It maybe wasn't what you envisioned exactly but you've gotten something out of your head and onto the paper/tablet/canvas/whatever you use and the more you do it, the more the creativity flows out of you.

[chaotic-goodsir]

For day 2 of this Hatchetverse series thing, here's part of the sequel to You Could Call This Luck that I've been trying and failing to finish. Turns out plotting a thing about time travel with multiple POVs and timelines is hard.

To avoid confusion: in this particular timeline, (most of) the events of the musicals didn't happen. Time Bastard did, though, because we all know Ted can't catch a break.

(Also sorry for the long post - I don't usually post fic like this directly to Tumblr, but since this is unfinished I didn't want to put it on Ao3 just yet)

*

Pete Lauter sits at the desk in his science classroom at Hatchetfield High School, trying to finish the last of the week's marking. His eyes are dry from staring at his tablet screen, and the hum of the heating units is starting to get on his nerves. His students' lab reports all blend into one after a while - most of them are clearly written by AI. Getting teenagers to write anything as unexciting as a lab report on their own these days is almost impossible. He's not sure why the school still requires it, but then who is he, a mere teacher, to question the relevance of the national curriculum? Only the guy who sees first-hand how badly it works for his students.

Pete doesn't hate his job, most of the time, but it can get exhausting. This particular evening, he's ready to go home, heat up yesterday's leftovers - maybe make a hot chocolate, why not? - and enjoy the Friday-night peace and quiet. Theo will be out somewhere with his friends, and Steph's away on highly-classified work business. It's the perfect time to finally start that sci-fi novel that's been sitting on his bedside table for weeks. He's craving some decent, interesting writing that isn't the work of a teenager or a robot.

Sounds like a plan, he thinks, saving the report he's been working through and switching the tablet to sleep mode. He'll get the last of the marking done on Sunday night. For now it's future-Pete's problem.

He pulls on his jacket - his favourite, the one with the elbow patches that Steph bought for him last Christmas - and is about to pack the tablet away when the screen blinks into life again.

Ruth Fleming's icon (a photo from her honeymoon in Europe, Ruth and her wife smiling in front of a clear blue sky) flashes onto the screen. It's no surprise that she's still at work - drama club starts in an hour, and she has rehearsals to direct. Pete sighs and taps the icon, hoping she isn't about to ask him to help out again.

'Hey Ruth,' he says. 'I was just about to head home - do you need something?'

Ruth sounds a little out of breath, the way she always does when she's anxious.

'Pete, thank god you're still here. You need to come to the north wing staffroom, now. It's your son.'

Pete freezes. 'Theo?'

'Of course it's Theo. Do you have another son? Look, I don't wanna worry you, but he's hurt. You should come quick.'

'What do you mean, hurt?' Pete asks, panic rising. What is Theo even doing in school, on a Friday night? Something stupid and dangerous, clearly, if he's managed to hurt himself.

Pete swings his backpack onto one shoulder, carrying the tablet in his free hand as he rushes out of the room. He doesn't bother to lock the classroom door.

'How badly? Like, ambulance bad?'

'I don't know. I don't think so. But he's talking crazy.'

He's talking, Pete thinks, okay. He feels bad for thinking it, but he's not 100% convinced this isn't just Theo pulling a prank. He wouldn't put it past his son to do this kind of thing for attention. Theo Lauter is a lot of things, but a well-adjusted teenager doesn't seem to be one of them, no matter what Pete and Steph try.

Ruth knows that, of course, and the worry in her voice is making Pete worry too. She'd see through a typical Theo prank pretty easily. Which means this is probably real.

'I'm on my way.' He tells Ruth. 'I'll be five minutes.'

He hangs up and races down the corridor, cutting through the courtyard to get to the North Wing. The staffroom is upstairs, in the English and Languages corridor. When he gets there, the door is wedged open. Ruth is by the sofa, trying to comfort a teenage boy who looks a lot like his son.

But there's no sign of Theo's trademark denim jacket or band t-shirt. This kid is wearing a white shirt, suspenders, and bowtie, all stained with - Pete realises in horror - a concerning amount of blood. Instead of Theo's ponytail, this kid has his hair down, shoulder length, pinned back to keep it out of his face. And this kid is wearing glasses, with a crack across one lens.

Theo has his mother's eyesight. He's never needed glasses in his life.

Either Theo's pranks have reached a whole new level of elaborate, or this is not Pete's son at all. This kid looks more like-

Well, he looks more like him. Like Pete himself, when he was 25 years younger.

Not for the first time, Pete considers that he really needs to move his family out of Hatchetfield. Only in this messed-up town would something like that even be a possibility.

The kid notices him standing in the doorway, and his eyes go wide behind his cracked glasses. Then he says something that disproves neither the actual-time-travel theory nor the Theo-pulling-a-prank one, but spooks Pete either way.

'...Ted?'

*

Agent Stephanie Lauter is in a highly classified meeting at the PIEP HQ when the smartwatch around her wrist starts to buzz.

She glances at it, annoyed, and sees her husband's icon blinking at her. Pete knows she's busy today. He wouldn't call unless it was something urgent. He's one of the only contacts who can call her through the HQ's high tech digital barrier system.

Maybe it's just an accident. She swipes the icon away. If it's urgent, he'll call back.

She waits for a pause in General Lee's presentation, then raises a hand.

'I'm sorry, sir. My husband is trying to call me - I think it's urgent.'

'Well, you had better take it then,' Lee says, with his characteristic earnestness. No matter the situation, the old General has a way of always seeming that he knows more than anyone else about what's going on. It's a little disconcerting.

He waves towards the door. 'Good luck, Agent Lauter. I hope your family are all safe and well.'

She thanks him, apologises again, and leaves quickly. Outside the meeting room, a security guard in a bulletproof vest watches her pace anxiously up and down the corridor as she returns Pete's call.

'Steph,' he says when he picks up. There's an anxious note in his voice that she does not like the sound of. 'Sorry, I know you're at work. Are you busy right now?'

'It's fine,' she says. 'What's wrong?'

'It's Theo,' Pete says, then pauses. 'Well, no, it's not Theo. At least he says he's not, and I think he's telling the truth. I... I don't really know how to explain this, Steph. It's gonna sound crazy.'

'Breathe, babe,' Steph says, because Pete is talking at about a hundred miles an hour now. 'I work for PIEP. I can cope with crazy.'

'Okay.' Pete says, taking a breath. 'Okay.'

'Is Theo alright?'

'Yeah. At least I hope so. He's at his friends, probably. I'm at school, and there's a kid here that looks like him. Ruth thought it was Theo, and he's covered in blood - not hurt, thank god, just covered in it - so she called me. But it's not. Not Theo, I mean.'

'What? Who is it?'

'I think it's me.'

To anyone else, in any other context, those words wouldn't make sense. Pete is a 41 year old man, and their son is 16. It would be insane to mistake one for the other. Not to mention that Pete is Pete. This kid that's shown up covered in blood can't possibly also be him. One person can't possibly be in two places at once.

But in Hatchetfield, anything is possible. And then, on top of that, there's the Spankoffski Effect.

Steph has often wished she could tell Pete more about the work she does for PIEP. About the data that shows his brother Ted's disappearance, back in 2019, wasn't just an unexplained tragedy but a large-scale temporal incident affecting multiple universes. Pete doesn't even know that there are multiple universes. It would probably break his little nerd heart if he knew she wasn't telling him.

Nor does Pete know about how, the day she told the now-retired General MacNamara that she and Pete were engaged, his congratulations came with a warning:

'By all means, marry a Spankoffski if you wish, Miss Lauter. But a word of advice. I'd strongly suggest you don't take that name, and don't give it to your children.'

When she asked him why, he'd told her that was classified. It wasn't until she graduated from training that she first heard about the Spankoffski Effect, and put two and two together.

In every timeline known to PIEP researchers, something with the power to sever a person from the flow of time itself has an interest in - no, more like an obsession with - Pete's brother, and possibly his entire family.

She's not sure she could tell her husband that part even if she had clearance.

And now Pete's younger self has appeared at the school where he teaches. Steph does not like the sound of that at all.

'You're sure it's not Theo pulling a prank? I wouldn't put it past him.'

'If it is, he deserves an oscar. And this kid has my phone, Steph. From years ago. With my medical alert details, everything. I don't think Theo would go that far.'

Probably not, no, but she wants to be absolutely sure. 'Have you called Theo? Checked where he is?'

'Shit,' Pete says, then catches himself for swearing in front of a student. 'I mean, uh, shoot, no. I should have done that.'

She tries adding Theo to the call they're already on. The line rings out, so she tries again. No answer.

'Steph, if you're calling him, I can't hear it ringing. I don't think this kid has Theo's watch.'

A message appears on Steph's watch screen:

< Fuck off, mom, I'm busy :) >

'Well,' She says, wondering briefly about nature and nurture and whether it's some failure of parenting that turned her son into such a little shit, 'our son just messaged me. Unless he can do that with only his mind, I don't think he's with you.'

'Okay,' Pete says. Then, 'shit.' He doesn't catch himself this time.

Shit is right, Steph thinks. 'Wait there. Keep the kid calm. Stay calm yourself, okay? I'll come to you.'

She doesn't tell him she's planning to bring PIEP agents with her, but he's probably figured that out already.

'Aren't you in DC?'

'Yeah, so you'll have to hold out for a few hours. Anything weird happens - anything else weird - you call me straight away, okay?'

'Okay. Yeah. Love you.'

'Love you too.'

Steph hangs up. She pinches the bridge of her nose with one hand and groans, wondering why she never had the sense to move her family out of Hatchetfield.

Would that have helped, though? If something from the Black and White is after Pete, couldn't it find him anywhere, if it wanted to?

The security guard is staring at her.

'Everything okay, ma'am?'

'Yeah,' she says. 'I'm fine. Just - don't ever marry a Spankoffski, no matter how cute he is.'

The guard blinks, clearly baffled.

'Um... right.'

[morimakesfanart]

Sweetie are you alive?????

Somehow??? ;0;

I know I disappeared and I've been trying to figure out how to explain it when I post the next chapter. I have been unwell in multiple ways ;-;

I'm going to use this ask to try to figure out how to say it

First, the day after my birthday (yes the day after posting the last canon chapter) I went through something extremely scary that I don't want to talk about. I thought I was okay, but I'm the type to compartmentalize until I am actually safe enough to feel which turned out to be a few weeks after the event. I was actually so shaken up by what happened that I couldn't write or draw or do anything for fun for nearly a month. I was like a robot

Second, just as I was getting better emotionally, I got very very sick, had to see many doctors and specialists to figure out what was wrong. I had 3 conditions making each other worse. I won't get into the details here but it hurt to open one of my eyes for a long time and then I developed sever vision fatigue in both. Last week I was finally diagnosed as being infection free after months of treatments, but it went on for so long that I'll probably be having symptoms for at least another month as my body calms down.

The biggest saving grace is that I now I know I've been fighting an infection for who knows how long and got cured of it, maybe I won't get as sick all the time for a while???? ((Please🤞🤞🤞))

I started working on the art for the next chapter 2 weeks ago as the pain started fading enough that it didn't hurt to look at my art tablet. Not sure how long it will take because I keep getting vision fatigue very quickly. Patreon got to see the sketch version already. I'm practically desperate to draw and write at this point so as I'm slowly able to do so it's rushing out of me like tsunami. I have chapters 40&41 mostly done being written now too

Medical TMI for the morbidly curious :

(not a lot of details, but I wanted to hide it because I know eye stuff can be scary for people)

I learned that I had an ongoing eye infection in my eye lids and around my eye lashes for the past several years that was misdiagnosed (that doctor definitely didn't like me so I'm not surprised tbh). It only revealed the truth because my immune system couldn't keep up anymore and the infection started spreading under the skin in an extremely huge and painful way. The past several months I've been doing treatments. It was only last week that I was diagnosed as cured of both infections, but it will still be a month or more of living with the after effects. It has hurt to use my eyes and keep them open for most of the past several months. It doesn't hurt much anymore at least. I have another appointment coming up to see if the current symptoms were from the infection+ meds, or if all of this was so bad that I have glaucoma now. It runs in my family so I'm at risk. Also, it looks like I will need eye drops for the rest of my life, and developing dry eyes was most likely a big factor in why I got the first infection.

I'm so done with being sick

[girl-in-a-bubbl3]

Glamrock Bonnie(FNAF) x Reader Part 4

Not enough sassy Bonnie fanfic so here we go...I'll try to upload at least once a week.

Notes:

AU Fanfic/NonCanon

Bonnie is terrible but he likes you

5 greenrooms on RSR (we include Monty)

Sun/Moon are the same animatronic

Moon has a lil touch of the virus

Will probably be some spicy parts so...18+

Also just using the gif to have a gif... we know Bonnie is actually blue in this house B)

You repeated the same routine with Bonnie that you had with the other animatronics, starting with the scan. As you went to take out your tablet, Bonnie held up his hand in protest.

“No scans. You see the issue. Fix it.”

You sighed. “I have to do the scan, Bonnie. Your system is one of the most complicated networks that I’ve ever seen. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

Bonnie continued to have that same sour expression on his face to make it clear that he wasn’t enjoying himself but he didn’t make any further comments. He knew you had to do it.

The results took a little longer than normal and you finally saw why. The ear issue popped up, just as you had expected, but there was something else. Some unidentified error? The error itself was somehow encrypted because you couldn't get in to figure out the issue. What is that?

“The ear, peeps.” You looked up to see Bonnie narrowing his eyes at you. He knows there’s something else.

“I think… I think there’s another thing. Some kind of err-“

“I know there’s something else. It’s not a problem. I put it there. Just. Fix. My. Ear.”

Okay that’s enough.

“You know, Bonnie, you’ve been so rude to me since our very first conversation and I’m literally just here to help. It’s my first day and it’s been pretty great aside from you being such a jackass.” You crossed your arms and took a step back. “If you want me to fix your ear, then the least you can do is be cordial. If you can’t do that, then just go back to your green room and I’ll put in my notes that no repairs were done since you want to be so ungodly uncooperative.”

You expected snark or more attitude but instead a new expression stuck to Bonnie’s face. Surprise. You assumed he wasn’t used to anyone actually standing their ground against him. Or maybe you were completely wrong and he was thinking of ways to shove you in the gutters of Bonnie Bowl.

Bonnie blinked at you for a moment before he looked down and started pretending there was something more interesting on his claws that he needed to inspect.

“The file is something I made. I was tired of them giving me resets to ‘fix’ me.” His voice dripped with venom when he said the word. “So I created a barrier. There’s nothing wrong with me. I just want to be who I am.”

Bonnie mumbled the last part. You felt his words tug at your heart strings. You weren’t sure what resets were but it didn’t sound like something someone would prefer. You made a mental note to ask Freddy later since you didn’t want to make Bonnie talk about something that upset him.

You nodded and sighed. “I know you’ve created your own barrier-which is pretty impressive, might I add, and we’ll address that later-but as long as I can help it, that won’t happen to you again. Animatronic or not, all of you are very obviously your own people, with quirks and personalities and different traits. And if you want to be an asshole then that’s your right.”

Now it was your turn to mumble the last part.

Bonnie couldn’t help but flash you a grin. Despite his remarks you really were starting to enjoy his company. You didn’t really know anyone here. You were lonely and something inside you made you think that Bonnie was lonely too. Definitely misunderstood.

You turned to your tablet and started looking at the plans for repair. Thankfully you didn’t have to open up his faceplate but you did need to remove the ear and replace it with a new one. The actual repair of the part itself would just take way too long and be way too tedious. The manufacturer could easily repair it. Unfortunately for you both, there were no Bonnie ears in the small Gator Golf maintenance room.

"So, bad news."

"I hate bad news." Bonnie narrowed his eyes at you.

"Well, tough shit because we have to go get you a replacement ear from Parts & Services."

You saw the end of Bonnie's lip twitch. I know he's fighting a smile.

"Come on." You waved towards the door and started walking out. "Let's get this done sooner rather than later." You heard Bonnie grumbling as he quickly caught up to walk beside you.

You walked in silence most of the way before you started to feel antsy. You could be silent while you worked but you wanted to talk when there was nothing occupying your attention.

"Sooo..."

"No."

Bonnie kept walking with his head forward.

"What do you mean 'no'? You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

"You were going to talk. That alone is enough for a 'no'."

"Oh come on, Bonnie. Don't be like that. We're going to work together so we can at least be friendly."

"Yeah who knows how long you're even going to be here. The mechanics typically don't last long."

"Would that have something to do with your attitude?"

Bonnie shot you a look and you giggled.

"You're getting too comfortable, dollface. Might have to bring you down a peg."

"And how are you going to do that?"

Bonnie flashed you a dangerous grin as shimmering, maroon irises met yours.

"You'll see."

You stood there for a second, trying to decide whether that made you nervous or excited you until he started walking faster so he was getting ahead of you.

"Hey! Wait up!"

-----------------------------------+++---------------------------------------

You wondered how he even managed to do what he did. The outer casing of all of the animatronics were pretty seamless so it had to have been something a little drastic. Upon closer inspection, you saw some tiny abrasions and a tear where the silicone covering would lay, protecting those very delicate wires inside. The paint around them was also… different. Like someone tried to hide them but didn’t blend the new paint well enough.

“How did you even do this?"

Bonnie shrugged. "Doorframes are too low, sometimes I don't think about how my ears add a little extra height."

Sure. You decided not to push it.

The overall repair went pretty well. Someone who had no background in engineering could probably repair the bots easily with the detailed and illustrated repair guides for every single thing to do with the animatronics.

You were finishing connecting the new ear as you stood on a little step stool. Even with the table lowered and Bonnie bending his head, you were still a little too short to see how you needed to. The stool gave you an extra foot to help you put things in properly.

With the final click, you went to stand back to admire your work before the realization that you weren't on the floor kicked in way too late. You were falling backwards. Fast.

And just as fast as your started falling backwards, you were being snatched back up before you came close to hitting the floor. You squeezed your eyes closed, not understanding what was happening, until you were suddenly, completely still and, surprisingly, upright.

Slowly opening your eyes and observing what was going on, the scene before you had you melting into a puddle of mush.

You were wrapped in Bonnie's arms and nestled right on his lap. He snatched you up. Your face was so close to his that your noses almost touched. You could feel the heat coming from his body which you assume is why you heard his internal fans go into overdrive.

Both of you were frozen in place, not sure who should make the first move... or what that move should even be. You felt Bonnie's hands tighten, ever so slightly, and then loosen again. It was like he didn't believe you were even real.

You were struck with tiny details that you hadn't noticed before. Like how he was breathing. You know he didn't need to, but he did. You thought he would be cold and metallic but he was so warm and his casing was obviously made out of something that was more comfortable than just metal or plastic. And the blue... is that tiny little blue fibers? He wasn't just metal. He had fur.

You slowly ran your finger across his collar area, feeling the teeny blue hairs that were densely packed together. The texture was pleasing and you wondered how you hadn't noticed them before.

You heard a strained noise come from Bonnie's voice box which snapped you out of your daze and felt him quickly set you back down on the ground. He moved around you and took a few steps back to create some distance.

He was obviously very flustered, just as much as you were, and he started to rub the back of his neck as he spoke quietly.

"Thanks, peeps. I'll uh...I'll see you again tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow for sure."

He gave you a small smile as he started for the door. You were packing up your things when you heard him call from the doorway.

"Come by Bonnie Bowl tomorrow night. We'll have a proper game. I'll even invite the others so it doesn't hurt as bad when you all lose together."

You looked back at the tall, blue bunny standing in the doorway and smiled at him. "That sounds great. I'll see you there."

"'Night, peeps."

"'Night, Bonnie."

You stood there in silence. You didn't know how to feel about everything that just happened. All you could think about was Bonnie's large hands, pressing against your back to keep you secured in place. And then your thoughts started drifting to those same hands in other places. He was so strong and so fast. He could do whatever he wanted to you...

Oh dear God what am I even thinking?!

You rubbed your face and tried shaking your head to clear the thoughts that invaded your mind. Packing up your tools you checked your watch to see the time.

4:41 am.

You felt a little wave of panic as you quickly packed up the rest of your things and started rushing toward the daycare. You were so, so very behind.

To be continued...

Authors Note:

Hi friends! I was planning on posting once a week but it seems like once a day has been my jam lately lol. There are a few parts of the story that I would like to tweak but I will update when that happens (not sure when that will be). I did decide that I wanted Bonnie to be a little more than just metal. I just imagine him with like...teeny tiny little blue hair fibers lol. So far I'm liking the direction it's going but it's literally all angst and slooooow burn madness right now. This is my first fanfic that I've actually stuck with so I'm proud of it either way lol. Feel free to give me feedback or recommend more fics I could do!

[ribbonetteart]

A request for something a little different than usual 🍑👑

Progress stuff below:

I haven't done progress shots in a bit and I think it's something I want to do more often because I like talking and blogging I guess haha.

Now that I have more experience illustrating digitally, this kind of direct reference drawing is MUCH easier to do digitally 😫honestly this felt like a self imposed challenge lol. BUT I did want to do some more traditional stuff because I feel that I had been doing a little too much digital, if that makes sense. It's nice to play with my markers and color pencils once in a while too!!

Doing the line art on this piece ESPECIALLY felt easier to do traditionally than digitally. For some reason, trying to do line art on a tablet screen feels too smooth or slippery or something. Lining traditionally feels easier, probably because I put so much pressure on the paper in the sketch phase that when the lining phase comes next, it feels like I'm just following the lines on the page like a train on a track ^_^

despite uploading a couple of illustrations colored with marker now, I still feel a bit like a novice when it comes to marker. I got a new pack of markers that I wanted to play with, which was even more motivation to return to paper for a bit. But honestly, I feel like I fudged the window color blending. I watched tutorials and stuff on blending with markers but I guess I still need more practice ^^;;; at least it looks a bit messy to me. This is how this piece came to be a mixed media illustration, since I tried using color pencils to make that transition from blue to green on the windows a little smoother.

I think the pot holding the piranha plant came out a tad too saturated and it's calling too much attention compared to the very light floor and dresser. I was trying to follow the colors on the reference closely as an easy re-intro to traditional art, but next time I do something like this, I think I'll take more liberties with color and see what happens.

Overall, I'm quite happy with how Peach turned out. I don't draw humans too often since I typically draw Sonic characters lol. Sometimes it feels like I have to re-teach myself to draw people as a result. I really liked using the gelly roll for the highlights on her face and the polka dots on her shirt :3 I highly recommend using that pen as my previous experiences with other white gel pens don't compare to this one (not to sound like a commercial I'm just really happy it worked as well as it did!).

And finally, although redrawing a creation from a dress up game screenshot is probably not the most imaginative exercise I could be doing with illustration, I think it's fun and it's pushing me to do things outside of my comfort zone. I'm using new art tools (I'll get better with marker I prommy) and I drew a background! I'd like to do more backgrounds like this as a practice to encourage more original stuff. Maybe. One day. Probably.

If you read all of this until the end, thank you! Have a wonderful day, and thank you for following me and supporting my art :3c 💝

[concerningwolves]

Sorry if this was asked before but I saw a post you made that mentioned you had a migraine and you took some medicine for it and I was wondering if you would be open to share things that work for your migraines? I get them more frequently now and I'm desperate for some relief because "Bedridden in complete darkness with earplugs" isn't always a possibility. Hope your migraine is better and sorry if this is nosy.

Not at all nosy, and quite an understandable question. Migraines are a horrendous curse and any way to alleviate them is a blessing 😔

Medication-wise, the first line of defense for me is paracetamol. If I get in there early enough, this can head the migraine off, or at least make it bearable. I'd say this is... idk, 30–40% effective? I top up with ibuprofen if I need to, but it makes me queasy so I try to avoid that. Something the doctor who diagnosed my migraines said was that because migraines slow the gut, it's best to take dispersible/liquid versions of the medicine instead of the tablet version (I'm just too sensitive to the bitter medicine taste, even when mixed with fruit juice, for this to be a viable option for me).

The migraine-specific drug I take is sumatriptan, which can completely wipe me out but it also works most of the time. My mum swears by maxalt instead, while other family members (basically everyone on my mum's side suffers from chronic migraine) find co-codamol works best– point is, migraine medication can be trial and error because migraine is so varied, but it's definitely worth pursuing.

Ice packs against my head and neck and cold water are another method for finding at least some relief. I watched a documentary once about migraines where cold water swimming was something that one lady found immensely helpful, but I'm a weenie so I take a cold shower instead. In the absence of a shower, I'll just wrap cold wet towels around my head or hold my face in a sink full of cold water. I've managed to get through three-day migraines with this trick.

That same documentary also discussed the use of this... I don't know what it was exactly, but a small gadget that can be stuck to the forehead and it pulses or vibrates in certain patterns. I keep meaning to look that thing up and forgetting, so in lieu of that I sometimes hold my sister's mini massage gun (on the lowest setting) against my forehead and temples, which usually gives some relief. Massaging around the neck, particularly the base of the skull, sometimes releases enough tension that the pain eases significantly. Gently turning my head to stretch my neck is also helpful, as is rolling my shoulders (don't roll back and forward – only back, and squeeze your shoulder blades together. This releases tension in your neck).

Finally, coca cola. This one always gets weird looks from people but it just? Works for me? My gran swore by it and she passed this knowledge down through three generations. I don't know if it's some mix of the caffeine and sugar or what, or maybe some weird family quirk lol, but drinking original (full fat/sugar) coca cola has pulled me back drom the brink of an all-out aura+pain+nausea "this is so bad i want to chop my head off" migraine many times. It also helps offset some of the queasy weirdness I feel as a side-effect of sumatriptan.

Oh and in terms of preventative stuff, blue light filters, dim screens and regular breaks from screen time are so so important. Annoying, but important. My desktop monitor has built-in eye protection blue light filter which I pair with my windows laptop's night light feature. I suspect my uptick in migraines lately isn't just because my t injection is late, but qlso because its too cold to work in my cabin office & there's nowhere in the house i can set up with the monitor, so im currently working without that extra layer of eye protection. I've also heard people talk about red or green lights and red-tinted glasses.

Sorry this got rambly but I wanted to answer now so this didn't get eaten by my drafts. I hope something in here is helpful to you ❤️