#at least she gets a bit of tlc

[thejesterstears]

Hi there! I love your fanfics :)

A few posts ago, you referenced a Pomni period cramp fanfic that you wrote. Did you ever end up publishing that? I’d love to read it!

Hello, thank you so much! I really appreciate it ;v;

I actually did post that one a bit ago! I’ll leave you the link here if you’d like to read it. Thank you for your interest!

[thegreatyin]

How would the Scoundrel react to Miss Emilia Stone, do you think? To give you an idea of who she is, the Threadbare Outrider is one of the alternate identities of Barnabus Moss, and possibly the closest to who he actually is - he's only still an egg because he's too busy with his job to give too much of a shit about being trans right now.

She is functionally the Hyde identity; open revolutionary, Parabolan wanderer, purveyor of extreme and generally unnecessary violence. I also considered naming her the Extremely Unlicensed Silverer - she has never actually fulfilled the requirements to become a proper silverer (she thinks the sunglasses look kind of dumb) but she offers equivalent services for cut-rate prices to people who can't afford a "real professional."

In terms of her actual personality, she is... frighteningly happy. To steal a phrase, she wields her joy like a hammer; judiciously and with great violence. Moss is basically drunk on life whenever he's her, and it very much shows. She is a release valve on all of his life's worries - whenever he gets too pissed off at his life as Moss or Haversham or the spy, he can just duck into Parabola and gut a few chessmen with a meathook to unwind.

Correspondingly, he gets really irritated under the hood when she has to act consistent with the persona rather than how he actually feels - for example, Emilia is the kind of person who doesn't really dislike anyone, so when someone pisses him off she can't really show it without breaking the cheer, and it is thoroughly upsetting to him.

I think original flavour Moss would probably be fascinated by the Scoundrel, from a professional standpoint - he has a degree in the Correspondence and the whole bat thing is very interesting - whilst simultaneously being deeply, deeply exhausted by the man's life choices. Meanwhile I think Emilia would enjoy doing this to him.

Thoughts?

first of all, love the OC dissertation, chewing ur little guy like a gummy bear as we speak

second of all, the scoundrel would probably react the same as they always do- with overwhelmingly smug manners and more than a little bit of "i'm better than you and i'm being generous and indulging you by existing in your presence"... at least at first.

depending on how their interactions go from there, the scoundrel would either be delightfully open to infodumping about the bat thing to the point of tedium, or needlessly spiteful for Literally No Reason aside from a vague sense of pettiness and jealousy. how dare she get to be so damnably happy all the time, how dare she act so damnably carefree about it, etcetera etcetera. whether or not they'd like to admit it, i could see them holding a grudge against emilia purely on the principle of (supposedly) having everything they've ever wanted.

which is to say, they absolutely get scrunched like a cat, and they are biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + biting her + b

[whitmore]

i also think the reason courtney’s arc always gravitates around teams and family and community themes is because stargirl is by nature a social creature; stargirl is created out of courtney’s yearning for community and understanding—something she feels she left in california, something she feels she (courtney whitmore) can’t have anymore, but an alternate version of her (stargirl) might be allowed to. and it’s kind of sad actually because if they’re not shoe-horning her into some romantic relationship, her emotional development over any given arc always follows this pattern where courtney (as courtney) feels like she can’t rely on anybody and everybody relies on her (as stargirl) and always ends with her learning to rely on someone but this narrative cycle also never ends. it repeats forever and ever. this is the only emotional plot they write for her (outside of giving her a love interest, which i could argue is just the same thing in a different font but w/e)

i don’t know when this post got so negatively charged actually i apologize i think it’s fascinating how stargirl is inherently a social creature because she was born of courtney’s need for community but i am also tired of seeing her go through the same emotional developments run after run because there are so many interesting narratives and developments that could be done with her and it feels like every issue and run just goes through the same motions. which yes. that is in fact just what comics are like i suppose. still i’d like to see something new and interesting with her. i think it’s possible that because of her genesis and the inspiration for her as a character there’s a sort of fear to take any risks with her, resulting in this endless loop of same-shoe-different-foot stories

moreover on the relationships arc point i do think it’s interesting how her love interests always fall for stargirl first, and it reinforces this ‘stargirl gets what courtney can’t have’ theme; mainly interesting because courtney sees herself as so enmeshed with stargirl that it’s rarely introspected on in any meaningful capacity and yet it’s so blatantly prevalent throughout her narrative. not to tie it all together in a neat little bow but it’s also because she’s rarely given room to be introspective; between the fear of tarnishing the memory of a real life woman and the inherently socially hungry creature that is stargirl, her arcs and narratives are almost bound to fall into the trap of being more about stargirl’s companions and the people she rescues rather than focusing on developing or even embellishing her as a character in her own right at all

[dearest-nell]

here comes your man

s. harrington x f!reader, 2.1k

summary: you go to pick up your very drunk boyfriend from the bar after a well deserved night out warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns

a/n: i was half asleep when i wrote this so all i can say is my bad, and i hope my three am deleirum brings you some joy

Hey… you might wanna come pick up your Stevie-Boy. He’s a bit wrecked...

It was a phone call you had half expected, though you didn’t mind admitting that you wished it had not come at 3am on your Saturday night. Steve had been so excited for a night out with the boys – work seemed to be piling onto him more than usual, and more often than not you’d find him half asleep on the couch by 8pm, arm propped uncomfortably beneath his head and back twisting awkwardly. This night came along with the extra TLC you prescribed him this week, taking on a little extra responsibility around the house so he might relax even just for a moment. Steve was a caretaker by trade, and doing things for himself seemed to hark back to a time where he only did things for himself. It took a lot for him to rewire that belief in his brain – self care did not mean selfish, he was a good person. 

You thought that the time out with his friends would remind him of that; how wonderful he was, how loved he was. He could be without responsibility for a night and simply enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he was… you hadn’t heard such an amused lilt to Eddie’s tone for a long time. You spent the drive over pondering just what kind of state your boyfriend might be in, your eyes heavy, body cooling with the iced air that blew through windows opened in an attempt to keep yourself awake. Eddie at least had sounded coherent, so you figured you would not be alone in the battle to try and haul your boyfriend into your beat up car. 

Dressed for the comfort of your own home, it took one disgruntled look towards a stubborn bouncer to let you past without paying an entry fee. You wondered how often this happened – half asleep partners turning up moments before closing to take their inebriated darling home. The thought made you chuckle softly to yourself, body weaving through the stragglers of the night still dancing to a wrapping up DJ. 

Eddie had told you they’d meet you by the lounges when you arrived, though Steve was nowhere to be seen as you approached your tired looking friend, his face pleased, if not a little weary. 

“Where is he?” You questioned, letting Eddie lean down to wrap his arms around you tightly, his weight pressing heavier on you that you had expected under the influence of what you assumed had been many, many shots. 

“At the bar. I thought he’d crashed half an hour ago, but he’s had a second wave.” 

You felt the short burst of laughter bubble up, an unsurprised uh-huh leaving your lips at the notion, eyes drifting towards the thinning crowd collected for the last call. Eddie let you go with a shrug, stepping back to let you go. 

“Alright, I’ll go get him. I’ll wave if I need you, ‘kay?” The nod you received was answer enough, and you set off leisurely towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. 

Steve was half hunched over the bar, palm rolling an empty shot glass flatly across the sticky surface as he waited for an already busy bartender. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the expression with such clarity – eyes heavy, blinking slowly as they tracked blearily across the back of the bar, that sweet, contented smile plastered on his lips for no reason at all. 

Following suit, you leaned yourself up against the bar beside him, elbows propping you up to rest your head in your palms. 

“You getting another drink, handsome?” 

Steve made a soft sort of mumbling sound, his head lulling to the side as he leaned away ever so slightly. “Mm, yeah… think so.” 

You nodded, smiling at the way he swayed on his feet. “Oh, I see. You wanna have some water with me?” 

Steve rubbed harshly at his face, eyes screwing shut tightly before blinking hazily at you. “No, thanks.” 

His gaze turned away, his grip on the shot glass faltering for a moment, reflexes only just catching it before rolling over the edge. You reached slowly to pluck it from his hand, though he recoiled sluggishly at the contact, forcing your brow up into a curious arch. 

“How about I take you home, then? Seems like they’re wrapping up.” 

Steve sighed, hands running through his hair in that same familiar flustered motion you were so acquainted with. Ordinarily, Steve would have been bouncing out of his skin to see you, but right now, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Look, it’s nice of you to ask, but ’m taken. My girlfriend’s comin’ to get me.” 

Oh, how sweet. You’d never seen Steve so far gone that he hadn’t recognised you, but now that you focused your own tired eyes, you could see that his own were barely open to begin with. Your smile widened, amusement settling over you at the sweetness of him. 

“Really? You’re not even gonna look at me? Maybe I’m worth breaking the rules for.” 

He scoffed at that, body straightening up as much as his addled state could allow, his feet stumbling beneath him to put another feet of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m sure you are f’someone else, but ‘m not interested.” His tone was more clipped now, friendliness falling away in the hopes of deterring you. “Not another girl in the world for me but her.” 

God, he was sweet, and more in love with you than you could have ever hoped for a person to be. Your heart ached, entirely overwhelmed with adoration for this man who was waiting for you. 

“Well that’s very lovely.” You cooed, turning sideways to look at him, one arm dropping to your side while the other hand continued to prop your chin up, helping to hide that rosy blush that seemed to stain your cheeks. “I really think you should look at me, though, Stevie.”

You watched as the thought crossed his mind, a slow understanding that something about this interaction seemed out of place. It seemed to take another moment for reality to set in, his body turning and eyes widening comically as they came into focus. 

“Honey!” 

It had you in hysterics, the way his arm gave out from under him, narrowly avoiding his torso from smacking down against the bar top as he lurched towards you. Your arms extended out to catch him, meeting him halfway until his body was pressed tenderly against yours, eager hands creeping up to cup your cheeks, holding your face towards his so he might really look at you. 

“You’re here!” 

Your laughter rang out happily, eyes crinkled at the delight mirrored in his own. 

“Yeah, baby, of course I am. Wanted to make sure you got home safe.” 

If an iris could change shape, then you were certain you saw Steve’s melt into delicate hearts just at the thought of you coming out to take care of him. His thumbs ran adoring lines across your cheekbones, trembling slightly with restraint. 

“S’good to me.” He mumbled, words drowning out within the still deafening music that surrounded you. “Missed you.” 

You felt him slump against you ever so slightly, still conscious of weighing too heavily against you even in his inebriated state, though how he was holding himself up anymore was anyone’s guess. It was your sign to wave Eddie over, though, who without fuss looped a supporting arm around Steve’s back. 

“You gonna let your girl take us home, then? I’m gonna pass out, man, I’m so wrecked.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarmed to have been so suddenly pulled back from you to lean on Eddie, and he reached out a hand in a needy sort of motion towards you. “I wanna dance with her before we go.” 

Too sweet for his own wellbeing, you offered him a sympathetic look, slipping yourself under his other arm to help prop him up. 

“We can dance at home just you and me, okay? In our pjs too — won’t that be nice. We just don’t wanna keep Eddie waiting too long; he’s all danced out.” 

You watched the contemplative look cross his features, leaving him distracted enough for Eddie to start guiding the three of you towards the door without much fuss from Steve. 

“Did you have fun though Ed? Really?” Steve asked, genuine concern threading through his tone as he addressed his friend who managed an affirming nod in response. 

“Loads. We’ll all go out again soon, but I’ve gotta give you back to your sweetheart before she gets too jealous.” 

Steve’s nod was so serious as he processed the words, entirely missing the small look of amusement shared between you and Eddie as you pulled yourselves from the establishment. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, his head lulling sideways to rest on the crown of your own. “She needs me.” 

It had sounded like a joke when he said it, but even you could sense the small severity behind the words, almost reassuring himself of the truth behind them. Of course you needed him. 

“Yeah, she does.” You confirmed, kissing at his shoulder clumsily as you tried to focus on your steps, narrowly avoiding toppling the three of you right over uneven pavements underfoot. “I always need you, honey.” 

You did not need to look at Steve to know that he was smiling — you felt it as you held him, felt it in his touch and the heat of his body carefully wrapped around yours. At least this night felt like a success in your eyes. Steve was happy, and you had done your part to make him so. He’d be awfully hungover tomorrow morning, but he’d be happy, and that was all that seemed to matter to you in the moment. 

Eddie managed to hold Steve upright while you fiddled with the lock of your car door, the boy now contently distracted with regaling tales of the night to the man who had witnessed them first hand. Getting him into the car was easy enough, tucking him cautiously into the front seat, your body leaning over him to click his seatbelt into place, his hand lifting to rub at your lower back in thanks. 

“You’re the best, y’know, baby? The real best. The best best.” 

You paused to smile at him, head shaking in amusement before brushing your lips against his cheek, relishing in the way his hand gripped excitedly at you for the briefest of moments. “I could say the same about you, y’know.” 

“Nuh uh.” 

A groan sounded from outside the car, drawn out and exasperated beyond compare. “Jesus H Christ, I’m begging for someone to take me home. It’s so fucking late, guys.” 

You pulled back with a laugh to witness Eddie’s petulance, your hand coming out to gesture to the back seat. “Then get in the car, dingus, and I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Steve slurred from the front seat, the battle against his weariness now long lost, eyes closed and head resting heavily against its back, unable to hold itself up any longer. 

Eddie clambered into the back with a half assed eye roll, splaying out across the work back seat until he, too, was one with the upholstery. “You guys aren’t gonna be gross and sayin’ i love you’s all the way home, are you?” 

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh shit, I haven’t said I love you yet!” 

The charming little frown that spread across his face was enough to melt you in your entirety, your hand reaching out to brush his check with affection, his nose nuzzling sweetly into the cup of your palm. “I’m not worried about it; I know you do.” 

“Yeah, but I do love you. I was thinkin’ it the whole time, thinkin’ you’re so pretty n’ all. So pretty that I couldn't remember to say it.” 

Eddie just huffed again in the back seat, his complaints overtly ignored despite the growing expletives.

“I love you too, Stevie. How about we get Eds home and get you some water, then we can be as sweet as we wanna be.” 

Steve’s lips pressed into your palm, his kiss unhurried and uncoordinated as the alcohol hindered his usual grace, a mumbled m’kay tickling your skin as he spoke. 

You looked up into the rearview mirror, dropping your hand to Steve’s knee for the boy to hold, keeping his neediness satiated for the time being as he grasped it between his own eagerly. “You hear that, Eds? You’re in the clear. Let’s get you boys home.” 

A grumbled thank god and the creaks of the backseat window being clumsily wound down was enough incentive to start your travels, a pleased smile gracing your lips to know that Steve had been given exactly the night he deserved after all. 

[lookingfts]

If you're in the mood for some fluffy fluff...? Married or dating, or in the enemies to lover phase, tripped ankle or concussion, forced proximity and having to provide TLC?

Also fulfilling another prompt I got a while ago about how Kate would handle Anthony getting into an accident! Enjoy.

Kate’s heart was pounding in her chest as she pulled up to the entrance. Anthony was already standing there with a nurse by his side, his arm in a splint, looking exhausted and a little disheveled. She threw her car into park and stepped out.

“He couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” the nurse said with a smirk. “Here are the care instructions. You can call us if you have any questions.”

Kate took the thick packet, opening the side door and letting the nurse help him into the passenger seat. It was slow going, Anthony wincing at every small movement, but finally he slumped against the seat.

The nurse helped him into his seatbelt, making an apologetic noise as he hissed. “We’ll see you in a few days, Anthony. Take care of yourself.”

He was entirely silent as Kate got back into the car and pulled out onto the road, heading in the direction of his flat. It was almost midnight, no traffic in sight, but Kate drove cautiously anyway, not wanting to risk slamming on the brakes and injuring him further.

“You didn’t call your mum? Or Ben?”

Anthony let out a rough sigh, rubbing his good hand over his face. “I’ll call them tomorrow, I’m just…I’m too tired for it right now. Besides, I’ll need some help and you’ve seen me naked much more recently than they have.”

She might have chuckled at that, if she wasn’t so fucking tense. Kate had been coiled tight since the second he called, and despite her attempts at deep breathing, nothing was quite succeeding in helping her unwind.

It wasn’t an entirely satisfying reason for why he had called her. She was Anthony’s friend on a good day, maybe, but she was more of a situationship than anything. Unbelievable late-night hookups that none of their friends or family knew about – or at least, she didn’t think they knew. Not that there was much to know. Anthony gave her explosive, leg-shaking orgasms and she left in the morning and they didn’t discuss it much beyond that. There was nothing to talk about.

At any rate, she didn’t think they were at picking each other up from the hospital status.

She entered the code to his front door and Anthony seemed to relax a bit at the familiar surroundings of his flat. Kate already had a few clothes and toiletries lying around; it wouldn’t be a hardship to stay the night. In the morning, he would tell his family, and they could suffocate him with their particular brand of care.

Anthony stilled at the bottom of the stairs. His bedroom was on the upper level, along with two guest rooms, so it was a necessary evil. “Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s going to be uncomfortable. I’ve got you.”

Huffing out a breath through his nose, he grabbed the banister and carefully made his way up the stairs. Her heart twisted a little every time he inhaled sharply and shut his eyes, waiting for the wave of pain to pass. Finally, they were at the landing and his shoulders slumped in relief.

Once they were in his room – truly a ridiculous suite, in her opinion, though the bed was spectacular – Kate slowly helped him undress and change into a pair of sweatpants. “How did you break your arm?” she asked finally. He hadn’t said a word about it.

“I tripped down the stairs,” he admitted, gritting his teeth as he stepped into one of the legs, then the other. “I just…wasn’t paying attention, honestly. I looked at my phone and I missed a step and I just…yeah.”

The knot in her chest grew tighter, compressed by something that felt a little like panic. She couldn’t account for why she had been so sour since he called, but maybe it was starting to take shape now. Flashes filled her mind, too quick to process – Anthony with a head injury, Anthony under a sheet. They both knew how one moment could mean life and death. How one moment could break everyone who had loved that person.

Once he was situated, Kate opened the drawer and took out one of her pajama sets. Her hands were trembling, and she felt dizzy. She just couldn’t turn off the awful noise in her head – what if what if what if.

“You should rest,” she said, not missing the furrow of his brows at her terse tone. “I can sleep in the guest room, just call me if you need anything.”

Anthony didn’t respond for a moment, and she turned to leave. “Kate,” he said to her back, sounding so weary. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to pick me up. I clearly overstepped.”

An embarrassing heat pricked at her eyes. She had kept it together, focused on the singular goal of making sure that he was alright. And now that he was…her head was a mess. A confusing jumble of anger and fear and gratitude that he was still there, with her, and she couldn’t articulate any of it. Because she was just some girl he fucked sometimes, so why should she care this much?

“You were so reckless,” she spit. That was easier. To fight and claw and rage like they had always done, months before she was ever in his bed. “You can’t do that shit, Anthony. Your family – did you even think about your family? Your mum? Ben? Hyacinth? Did you even think, for one second, what it would do to them if something serious happened to you?”

There was an excruciating silence. She could hear the tears in her voice, the desperation. Could hear the confession between the lines that she had never meant to give. If Anthony hadn’t suspected anything before, he would be a fool not to know now.

His hand landed gently on her waist, and Anthony tugged her against him, careful to avoid his injured side. He was still probably bruised elsewhere, so Kate went gingerly, burying her face in his neck. “I’m sorry,” Anthony murmured. But it was his heartbeat, calm and steady under her hand, that helped her breathe. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll be more careful.”

“We’re not talking about me,” she said unconvincingly. As if her rebellious tears weren’t landing on his bare shoulder, as if she wasn’t making herself small in his arms and letting him surround her.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. They stood like that for a long time, Anthony’s fingers sliding up her back to stroke her curls. Repetitive motions until the haunting melody in her mind stopped.

He was alive. The moment had come and gone, and he was still there.

Kate lifted her head, wiping her face with the heel of her palm. His hand landed on the side of her neck, half cupping her jaw, his face earnest and concerned.

Anthony swallowed. “If anything happened to you…” he said, raw and aching, like she was pulling some admission from the deepest parts of him. “It would destroy me.”

She blinked at him, the words slowly settling over her. Maybe there was something to talk about, after all.

But not tonight. Anthony was swaying on his feet, and Kate found herself exhausted by the day, too. “Stay with me,” he urged, stroking her cheek. “Please.”

Kate nodded and ushered him to bed, helping him find a comfortable position on the mattress before curling up beside him. Letting his rhythmic breathing and the warmth of his hand around hers lull her to sleep.

Everything else could wait.

[slippinninque]

Hi👋🏽 This is my first time ever putting in a fic request. I’m not sure if you take requests and I didn’t see anything on your blog so please feel free to ignore this. I was wondering what Fontaine would do if he saw his girl working so hard to balance school and work that she wasn’t taking care of herself like she should or not spending as much time with him?

💆🏾‍♀️TLC

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: none, some cursing, mainly fluff. Mentions of feeling overworked and overwhelmed, before-work-post (may have some mistakes lol)

"It was tonight, wasn't it?"

You were standing in the middle of the living room, in the middle of wakefulness and the fugue that has been stubbornly following you for the past three weeks.

He saw you stare out into space as you tried to regain your thoughts. Fontaine froze when you turned wet eyes to him, the rest of your face fixed into flat mask.

Still wearing your hoodie and jeans, your cheek held the imprint of one of your text books. He normally would protest you bringing books to bed but with how thin you were already stretched so thin...

"I missed date night," your voice cracked and your hands came up to your face, "We would have been back by now...I...I really missed it...."

Fontaine was up brought you close and closed his eyes against the feel of your trembling. He gently pried your hands away from your face, seeing how your fingers began to curl into claws nearer your hair.

Fontaine hugged you tight, "Hey, hey, you're good."

Your wide eyes met his but Fontaine knew you were only seeing your thoughts plastered across his face. All the things that demanded your attention, the projects and papers and team meetings and recruiting.

He said nothing as he brought your head to his shoulder. Fontaine didn't want think too much about how you sagged against him. You felt, like a rag doll with weighted feet.

"It wasn't you, baby. You've had a lot on your plate, I didn't feel right waking you up." He admitted, "I thought maybe we could have date night at the crib this time. "

You made a quiet, hurt noise and nuzzled closer, "I'm so sorry..."

"Ah, ain't nothing be sorry fo'. I already ordered some grub, it's gonna be dinner in bed tonight. A'ight?"

"I'm sorry...."

Fontaine hushed you and wished he had more to say. Wish he could erase the nerves he could feel prickling along your skin. There was nothing he could say to you. Not right now, at least.

"The only thing I want you to be is getting in that tub for me." He cupped your face, "Bath is already made. Then we'll take it from there, okay?"

"No, that's too much." You tried to shake him off but Fontaine kept hold, "Date night is supposed to be special for the both of us--

Fontaine spoke over you just a bit, "Hush! You want--"

"Don't you hush me--!"

"-- You wanna to make it up to me?"

You nodded at once. Fontaine nodded back before he stepped back and took your hands in his. He took in the worried bend of your brow, the way you chewed and picked at at the healing spots on your bottom lip.

"I've been waiting on your ass to crash for 'bout two weeks now--ain't plotting on your downfall...just worried."

Fontaine's tone robbed you of your fight. You nodded and sniffled, the knot in your throat loosening. He was right. You couldn't keep going on like this, you were only going to get sloppier.

"Okay, good, c'mon and let me get my hands on you a little bit and you can curse at me later for hushing. Yeah?"

Fontaine tugged gently and you went after him feeling like the worse girlfriend in the world.

-----

When you finally felt like you could stand being in your skin. You washed yourself and did so again, mind humming on low as the water steamed and soothed you. There were mountains of bubbles and you could smell the lavender scented candle from its perch in the dreamy fog of the bathroom.

It was strange to feel so wrung out so soon. With the holiday season swiftly approaching, you were tied on both ends. Midterms papers and collaborations clashing with the growing seasonal demand at your Granny's catering business.

While you weren't charge of the magic of making the food you made sure the 'magicians' had their wands and their doves. Grocery orders, appliance repairs, and even down to scheduling for tastings and deliveries.

You made sure that all the elders had to focus on was doing what they loved and being as much of a mediator between them and youngin's of the staff as you could.

It was a good thing to see your grandmother be so invigorated by the rush but she ran a tight ship that felt more like a sardine can lately with all the passive aggressive wars that often came with family businesses.

You cut that thought off before it could take root. That would always be there. Instead you turned your thoughts on the man who still managed to surprise you.

Fontaine waited up for you when you stayed behind for next-day prep. He met you at the front door with a blunt rolled and the shower steaming. He rubbed your aching feet as you pounded out a essay analysis.

Fontaine, bless his heart, has been nothing but supportive. Also rightfully worried, of you had to be honest.

How could you have forgotten the one night in the week that mattered most? That's what sent you over the edge at the end of it all. Not the 11:59 deadlines and collapsing cake towers--the fact you forgot about your man.

As of drawn by the sound of your spiraling thoughts, Fontaine knocked a little on the door before you saw his free forms peek in.

"I got you all set if you're ready, baby." He came in a bit further as if he hadn't already seen your all, "If you're ready, that is?"

The water sloshed as you rose instead of answering. Fontaine came fully into the bathroom with a towel stretched and waiting for you.

"Bring yo' lil self here."

The towel wrapped you up and you were delighted to feel it was fresh from the dryer. Fontaine hummed knowingly and rocked you a bit before pulling back to dry you off in earnest.

It felt silly at first, you wanted to grab the towel and insist that you had it but....it felt nice to be out of control for once.

You were then led to the bedroom instead of the living room. There you found your nest ready and waiting. There was no textbooks or notebooks to be found, or pens to be stuck by. Only one of Fontaine's hoodies and your well-loved sleeping shorts.

A single touch made you gasp in delight, Fontaine must have tossed everything into the dryer while you were soaking.

Once you were dressed, Fontaine patted your bottom and peeled the covers back. You dove between the covers and was immediately enveloped by lilac and fresh-linen scent.

"Stay put for me and let me go get some shit together, 'kay?"

" 'kay..."

Fontaine smiled at the sound of your crunchy, sniffly voice, "That's it. Find us something good to watch. Imma be back ."

He saw right through you. Though you knew he would be only a few paces away, somewhere in the house, it still felt too far at the moment. His reassurance that he'd come back had you melting into the blankets.

By the time you settled on Antique's Roadshow, Fontaine returns balancing two styrofoam containers, cups, and a 2 liter of your favorite Faygo.

The logo on the bag with the condiments let you know he ordered from the Mediterranean spot you've been hankering for. This man could have very well unlocked mind reading in hopes of getting you to take care....

You made room for him to settle beside you but Fontaine slid in and was nearly behind you. Emotion locked your throat as you watched Fontaine settle in.

"Thank you, Fontaine. For all of this."

Fontaine took the remote and lowered the volume when the nice lady from Vegas whooped about a found white gold watch.

"You're buried, right now. Gettin' pulled in all sorts of directions. I would have seen it by now had you not told me to be ready for it. That's something we've talked about happening when you started going back to school. What we also talked about is showing up. Remember that?"

It was one evening on the back porch days ago. You were frustrated with your progress with things. Of school, of family, of life. In feeling over overwhelmed by things to do, you strangely end up feel like you aren't doing much.

Fontaine looked into your wary eyes, "We've been making it work. We make time when we can. I let you sleep in because, baby, you needed it."

"You need me too. I need you...I have to be more-more mindful. You're what really matters to me. I should do more..."

Fontaine shook his head and took your hand again, looking at where you fingers laced quickly with his before putting them both against his chest.

"What you said to me when I asked? 'Showing up is doing something. Anything you can.' That goes both ways. Understand?"

You took in the earnest look on his face and couldn't resist kissing it. You probably tasted like stale gum but Fontaine surged forward all the same.

"Mhn, nope--no..." Fontaine pulled back and narrowed an eye at you, "Behave, missy. Food first--something that ain't no damn trail mix or whatever you be snacking on..."

Before you opened your tray, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Can you help me do something first?"

Fontaine was reaching over to pull one of your bonnets out of the nightstand as he answered, "Of course, baby. What do you need?"

"Moral support...."

Fontaine held you as you typed out an email to your professor and your cousin.

First asking for a two-day extension to polish and submit your paper. To your cousin, you apologized but insisted you needed the rest of the week off to get some rest and refocus yourself.

Though you doubted you would take the whole week, Fontaine correct to point out that a little wiggle room couldn't hurt just in case you did need it.

While you were going to have your phone on, all that they would need to get through the week would be ready for pick up and payment.

Before your stomach could sour after you hit send, your phone vibrated where it still was in your hand.

[Girl, fuck these oldies! Get some sleep and let them learn a lesson without you for once! 💜💕💞]

Your eyes welled as the pressure in your stomach eased away. Fontaine saw the way your shoulders sagged and took the hand still holding your phone, kissing the laxing knuckles.

"See? Handled that shit like a fuckin' boss." His other hand went behind your head, strong fingers massaging the base of your neck much to your pleasure.

You released an exhale as your eyes slipped close, unaware of the shadow of a smile on your face.

Fontaine shifted closer to get both hands on you, going for your temples and the knot of thoughts at the base of your skull as he murmured, "Mm. That's sexy as hell--do it again."

"Hm? What, breathe?"

Fontaine purred when you gave a more exaggerated puff of air and a laugh danced a laugh out of you. Between Fontaine's attention and the soft comforts surrounding you, it felt like you were going to be fine.

Fontaine's voice was at you ear, "That feel good? You like when I rub your big, pretty brain like this? Hm?"

Of course you did and of course he already knew. The tension in your neck was no match for the most dexterous fingers in all the Glenn.

"Hmm...dunno. I may need a few more minutes to decide for sure."

"You ain't got to tell me twice, let me get up in that kitchen..."

Luckily for you Fontaine didn't ease up at all. Careful of your dinner, he pulled until you were back to chest and set to work massaging your neck and temples.

All you could feel was his warmness, the give of your bed. All you could hear was the soft shift of styrofoam and an explanation of the popularity of faux gold in the 70's from the TV.

All you could think of, blissfully, was how much you wished you had the HP to jump 'Taine's bones...

Your stomach growled loudly and indignantly. Fontaine chuckled when you shushed it and brought his retreating hands back to your scalp.

"A little while longer and then I want to see you go through at least half that plate." Fontaine pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before popping your bonnet over your hair

"Then I'll rub you however much you'd like..."

With a little chirp of agreement, you flopped back against your man and let him do what he did best.

Take care of you.

-------------

💜ending notes💜: a long time coming and I'm so sorry anon, I hope you see this and know to please please please feel free to submit again! This ask saved me like no other🥹💞💜💕 thank you to those who were so kind during my burn out, slow and steady definitely wins the race lol! 🙏����✨💕

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[usmsgutterson]

Nothing Feels As Good As Going Home - S.R

Okay!! My ao3 did see this one first (I had edited it late last night and honestly?? I was too lazy to post it on both platforms because I edited it on ao3 and was too lazy to copy, paste, and then write an authors note lmao) and I'm pretty unsure about this as a whole because I'm only eight seasons in and I haven't written for Spencer before, but I'm conquering my fears tonight.

Despite my bio (which will be changed at least fifteen minutes after this has been posted--I have two accounts and I want to do some maintenance for this one because it needs a little TLC I fear) my requests are currently open!! They're wide open to Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan and Aaron Hotchner, even though I'd also likely be willing to write for another criminal minds character if you asked.

Fic type - this one is tooth rotting fluff because I couldn't resist

Warnings - spencer might be a tad ooc because this is the first time I've written for him. This is also set either in or around season eight as, when I wrote this, I was about halfway through that season and I'm currently close to 2/3rds of the way done with it. Cats are also in this one, if you aren't a cat person.

Spencer used to hate going home. He felt like he’d never really know what would be going on the minute he opened the front door and stepped inside, and after his father left, that fear intensified bit by bit.  

After his father left, he never knew what it would mean, going home, so he stalled. He’d go to a local park and sit on a bench and read a few books in an hour, maybe two, in order to escape the fear he felt at the idea of going home when he had no idea what would be going on in that house, whether his mother was okay that day or not.  

When he went to college and was living in the dorms, he hated going back because it meant more isolation. More loneliness, more of the same, really. Only his books to keep him company and just about nobody else, unless Ethan called, which he usually did two or three times a week. Ethans calls were one of the only things that really helped him when he wasn’t looking after his mother whenever he was on break, typically around the winter and during the summer.  

After having his mother institutionalised, he feared going home because it meant that she wasn’t there, and the guilt that came with having her taken into a facility when it wasn’t something she wanted weighed down on him very heavily.  

In those last two years pre-FBI, he hated going home because it meant more of the same. More loneliness, more of the same nature documentaries he'd seen a thousand times before if he wasn't putting on the news, and more books that he’d already read several times before haunting him from wherever it was that they sat on his bookshelves, which had been scattered throughout most rooms in his apartment.  

But he joined the FBI at twenty-one and managed to meet you somewhere along that year, found out that you’d just started working with the Marshals and had lived only twenty five minutes out from Arlington, which put you about fifteen from Quantico as a whole, and he started hating going home a lot less after you guys had been together for four months.  

After four months of dates and getting to know each other, getting home usually meant going on another date or Spencer finally getting the opportunity to call you and stay on the phone for longer than fifteen minutes.  

Spencer is very careful about your relationship, though—very secretive, though he doesn’t really mean to be, to avoid teasing from Derek and, four or so years down the line, Emily and JJ, though even Rossi joined in on occasion.

It’s not until he’s on the jet, Alex sitting to his left, JJ across him and Derek diagonally so, that he has to spill the beans.  

He gets a text from you and it’s the way that he smiles that gives it away.  

Hey, Spence! I cleaned up the house a little bit and went to grab your favourite coffee beans from the bodega we both like. Also: meet Megatron. Her name deceives.  

Attached is a photo of a kitten that can’t be more than four or five weeks old, dark brown everywhere except for her paws and chin, which are white.  

“Who’s the lucky one, boy genius?” Derek asks.  

“Huh?” Spencer looks up, eyes widened slightly. “It’s nobody.”  

JJs head tilts. “You wouldn’t smile like that for a nobody,” she says. “Who is it?”  

“Is it the one with the dark blue Prius--” Alex starts before she pauses, realizing where she's fumbled. That gets Rossi and Hotch interested, both of whom come to sit in the seats across from the four.  

Alex is the only one on the team who knows about you apart from Penelope, which is pure happenstance—his car had broken down once when both she and Spencer had worked a late night, and so you’d offered to pick him up from work so that the two of you could go back to the house you shared and indulge in a shark documentary and some pizza.  

“It is,” Spencer nods. “Their name is Y/N.”  

“How long have you had a Y/N?” Derek asks.  

“Since I was twenty-one,” Spencer admits. “About a decade now.”  

“You kept a romantic partner hidden for a decade ?” Derek asks. “How? Does--”  

“Penelope knows about them because they’re in the group she goes to on Tuesdays,” Spencer says. “The one for knitting and crocheting—Y/N does the latter, mostly, but they did knit the cardigan I was wearing last week.”  

“And how did Penelope figure out about the thing you two have had going on?”  

“It’s more than a thing , Derek,” Alex says. “If it’s been going for a decade, it’s more than a thing.”  

“We’d gotten done with a case early, and Penelope had left pretty much as soon as we were on the jet so that she could make it to the aforementioned group. I asked them where they were and picked them up with their favourite tea as a surprise. Penelope saw me there, watched us hug, and just about lost her mind. Have I satisfied your thirst for knowledge yet?”  

He turns to Alex briefly, nods a bit to answer her earlier remark. “I just proposed last weekend, so you’re right. It’s more than just a thing I would say.”  

Derek and JJs eyes widen until their shock is clearly conveyed, and Spencer laughs.  

“You have a fiancee, and you just—didn't think to fucking tell anybody?” Derek laughs. “Were you ever going to tell us?”  

“I was—we've been busy with work, and it didn’t occur to me.”  

“Okay,” JJ nods like she believes it, and that’s good enough for Spencer because he’s telling the truth anyway. “What was the text about?”  

Spencer shrugs, paraphrases.  

“They wrote me to tell me they’d cleaned up the house and picked up a stray, I think,” Spencer answers. “I mean, the stray part wasn't explicitly stated but—the kitten doesn’t look more than four weeks old, so the assumption was immediate, but they know I can’t say no to cats. They’ve been hoping that they’d find a stray while I was on a case since we first moved into a condo together. We bought our house six months ago now, and they’ve joked, every single time before I’ve left for a case, that it’s the perfect time.”  

“What’d they name it?” Rossi asks. “Assuming they didn’t ask for your input. I wouldn’t--I’d have a kitten named Einstein who could never live up to that.”  

Spencer can’t help the loving laugh that bubbles up from his throat as his fingers absently locate the chain around his neck, with an engagement ring of his own weighing the chain down just slightly so that the ring sits comfortably at the middle of his collarbone.  

“They named her Megatron,” he says nonchalantly. “Smallest cat I’ve ever seen, and still, she’s got big shoes to fill. Massive ones, actually.”  

That is enough to get Hotch to crack a smile. For a second, Spencer feels like he’s winning even though a game isn’t even being played.  

“Okay, so—how did you do it?” JJ asks. “I mean—ten years and a recent engagement? With only two people on our team discovering through that entire time? How?”  

“Penelope figured it out three years in,” Spencer answers. “Alex only figured it out recently, which is kind of surprising because I’ve never exactly hidden their existence. I just haven't talked about them because nobody has ever really asked but—I don’t know, either. We kept it low key because we both work law enforcement and it was just easier that way for the first little while, and then we both decided we liked the quiet so we kept things that way.”  

“They work in law enforcement?” Derek asks, his eyes narrowing. “Are they FBI?”  

“They’re a Deputy US Marshal, actually,” Spencer corrects. “They work in the Virginia office, which is 45 minutes outside of Quantico, up in Arlington. It’s why I have a twenty five minute commute—we both like our jobs a lot, and twenty-five minutes for me one way is only eighteen minutes for them the other, but I like driving so I don’t mind. They’re in talks for a promotion right now, and they were meant to hear about it today but so far their texts haven’t indicated anything about that.”  

It’s the most Spencer has told anyone except his mother about you since you’d gotten together, and while you both normally like to keep things quiet, bragging about you to the people he routinely trusts with his life is a very nice feeling.  

“US Marshal?” JJ asks. “They pretty commonly hire ex-military,” she says.  

“They’ve never been anywhere near the military,” Spencer laughs. “They did a two year degree at a community college, went to Glynco for training, and were employed by the US Marshals by twenty-one, around the same time I joined the FBI. We met each other at a coffee shop when they were off of work and their local one was closed, so our meeting was kismet.”  

Spencers phone buzzes again, and he ignores it that time. 

Alex grins at him, while Derek tuts and JJs eyes go to his phone as it buzzes once, then twice more, the fourth buzz coming four and a half seconds after the first, second, and third.  

“Check it,” she urges. “The jet is going to land in fifteen minutes, Spencer, so if it’s good news, you might as well.”  

SPENCER!! 

I have really really REALLY good news 

Please tell me your jet is landing soon or the very minute it’s landed call me please because you work twenty five minutes away and that means I can call and order from Antonios and by the time you’re home, you’ll only have to wait five minutes for pizza.  

Also, Megatrons full name is Megatron Ichabod Reid. Just so you know. I love you so much you stupid smart handsome tall man.  

Spencer doesn’t even try to fight his laugh as he reads.

“Good news?” Derek asks.  

“I think they got promoted, but I won’t know for sure til I’m home,” Spencer answers. “Also--Megatrons full name is apparently Megatron Ichabod Reid—their texts read like they’re hyper.”  

“I’d be pretty hyper if I got news of a promotion,” Rossi says. “Let us know if they did, though, kid. I’m hosting a dinner to celebrate your engagement regardless, but if they got promoted, it’s another thing to celebrate on the roster, and all the more of an excuse to meet the person you’ve kept hidden from the likes of us for a decade.”  

“You guys ordering Antonios?” Alex asks. “You mentioned getting Antonios for dinner the day after I saw you two together. I’m assuming it’s their favourite pizza spot—you don’t really seem like the pizza type. More like a pasta guy.”  

“We both love it,” Spencer answers. “There’s no pizza like Antonios—not where we live, anyway. It’s the middle ground between Quantico and Arlington, so there’s not a whole lot to do unless you drive either way.”  

“Antonios makes a good pizza,” Rossi nods.  

“Their pasta is better,” Hotch interjects. Spencer shakes his head, tries to go back to the book that’s sitting on the table in front of him but fails miserably, waits for the fifteen minutes til the jet lands to be done whilst the rest of the team talks amongst themselves.  

The second the jet lands, as he’s walking out of it, he dials your number and you pick up on the first ring.  

“Spencer Walter Reid, light of my life and giver of astoundingly lovely forehead kisses, please tell me you’ve landed,”  

Spencer laughs. “Just did,” he says. “The team knows about us now, by the way—I smiled when you texted and that lead to Derek questioning me, so there’s that. Also, if the good news is what I think it is, Rossi wants to hold a celebration dinner as an excuse to meet you. He fronted it with our engagement first, but I think he’s just shocked we’ve kept each other under wraps that long.”  

“You like Megatrons name?” You ask, giggling a bit, seemingly in spite of yourself. “I’m sorry, Spence—I'm hyper as hell, bouncing off the walls type. I’m going to open a bottle of wine, see if it calms me down a little. Get home as fast as you can, though! I miss your handsome face!”  

“Just gotta finish a file or two and then I’ll be home,” he says. “If you order the pizza now, I’ll only be like, five minutes late—the pizza won’t be scalding, like it usually is because of their ridiculously well-working warmer bags.”  

“I love you, Spence,” you say, tone turning a little serious. “Get home safe, please.”  

“I will,” Spencer nods. “You okay?”  

“Hyper but yearning,” you laugh. “I just miss you, ‘s all.”  

“I miss you too,” he says. “I’ll be home in forty minutes, tops. I promise.”  

The phone call ends, and he doesn’t miss the knowing smiles that are on Derek and Rossis faces. JJ is looking at him mildly confused as the tone of the conversation changed near it’s end, but he doesn’t want to explain, and so he chooses not to say anything.  

He goes back into the office, completes what remains of the files he has to work on, and after he submits the paperwork in to Hotch, he just about speed walks out of the office, toward the elevators.  

Derek is leaving at the same time as he is. “Goin’ home to Megatron and the singular person who’s managed to keep up with you for the past decade?” He asks teasingly as the doors close.    

“Yeah,” Spencer laughs. “I know you guys will tease me about it til the end of my time here, but—yeah. I get to go home to a stray cat the love of my life probably found in the parking lot of a Joanns, and the love of my life themself.”  

“I’m all done with my teasing, for now,” Derek says. “I’m just a little confused—why'd you keep them from us for this long?”  

“I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “When we’d first started dating, they’d just started out with the Marshals and they were scared having a partner in the FBI would get them special treatment, and then, when the stuff with Tobias Hankel happened and I got into Dialudid, I was scared that I’d make an enemy and then they’d find out about Y/N and use them to hurt me, and it just—we’re the quiet type, so we had reasons til we stopped needing them. I was going to tell you guys before we got engaged, but stuff has just kept happening so quickly in these past couple of years, and it’s kept slipping my mind.”  

Derek shrugs, but smiles understandingly. “I get it,” he says. “Lookin’ forward to that dinner Rossi is planning, though. I can’t wait to meet the singular person who probably would let you talk their ear off because they find you handsome or like your voice or something else that’s really sweet. You have a good night, Spence.”  

The elevator dings and the doors open, and the two leave separately. Spencer drives a little above the speed limit in the interest of getting home, which isn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do but is doing that night because it’s been a week since you’d last seen each other and he misses you like mad.  

When he inserts his key into the lock, unlocks the door and steps inside, he’s not filled with dread or fear or anxiety or loneliness or anything like that—instead, it feels like exactly what it’s supposed to.  

As he steps out of his shoes, hangs his bag on the coat rack and hears the sound of your laugh, he registers just how much the place he calls home feels like the word used to describe it.  

As he greets you with a hug and a few kisses to the forehead, it feels so much like home that it almost causes an ache in his chest. As you tell him about your promotion from Deputy to Chief Deputy and he hears Megatron the cat meow for the first time, happiness swells within him. Home, for the first time in his life, truly feels like a home. A place where he can unwind and be with those he truly loves, a place in which happiness is practically never-ending.  

Going home has never felt so good as going home to you, and Spencer is unsure anything will ever beat it.  

[tafferling]

Dying Light: The Beast Demo Impression

Imagine, if you will, a Taff who finds a life saving sort of affection in a game named Dying Light, followed by nearly ten years of dedication to one Kyle Crane. If you’d told that same Taff she’d get to go to Techland HQ after Crane’s return was announced in Dying Light: The Beast, she’d have called you silly. 

And yet.

I had the privilege (the WHAT ON EARTH, how) to watch about forty minutes of Dying Light: The Beast today. It was prefaced by an in-person intro from Tymon Smektała (which was about the most heartfelt thing I’ve ever heard, genuinely), and shown to us on a big-ass screen. 

During those forty-or-so-minutes I might have shuffled in and out of this here physical realm a few times. 

The demo covered an early mission in the game. Here’s what happened:

We start in a small village and tightly forested woodland, a fading day around us. Crane is off to follow a lead, given by the new voice in our ear, named Olivia. The lead will take him to an industrial area. Eventually. But FIRST I get to feast on a gorgeous sunset, lots of smooth as heck parkour, and honestly when we ducked through a small apartment on the way, I wanted to say “Babe, pls stop I GOTTA TAKE PICTURES!”.

I don’t kid. Techland was not fibbing when they mentioned handcrafted; the attention to detail I was criminally denied the chance to rub my face all over has my hopes so far up, they’re tap dancing in the clouds. And then those very same hopes were given wings when two insanely talented artists walked us through how these environments have come together.

Seriously. I can’t wait to get absolutely nothing done in the game because I Must See All And Perceive All.

Anyhoo— back to the demo.

Night falls—as it so likes to do—and we’re warned about how the Volatiles and Freaks (at least I think I remember this right, I was often distracted by, you know, I mean, yeah) are difficult to avoid out here. All that dense woodland makes for shit sight lines and all. But Crane can be subtle and that means I will finally get to hide in the bushes with him come game release. Yay me!

One sec. Spacing out.

What was I saying?

Oh yeah. Stealth. Volatiles. 

OKAY, LISTEN— the sound design in the night-time section of the game was sublime. The snuffing and clicking of the Volatiles. The snap of twigs. The rustle of leaves. Stealth is the jam I like to put on my various bread-adjacent baked goods and this was delicious.

And pretty. Crane’ll be craning (hehe) his head up a lot ‘cause those stars need gazing.

But it’s also a night full of creepy crawlers and so we head towards the nearest safe house, which, in good old Dying Light fashion, needs a bit of TLC. Secure. Remove Infected. Find a spare fuse. Mess with a Charger and his buddies (the handgun came out at that moment and while I do not approve of wasting bullets, I approve of the reload animations). And, finally, plug the newly acquired fuse in and Let There Be Light.

The layout of the safe zone and the tasks to complete brought me back to Harran. I loved the safe zones there; each had its unique look, unique vibe; and was just different enough in what you had to do to secure it to make them their own little experiences. I hope we’ll see this make a comeback.

(Yes, I have not yet mentioned much about Crane. Stick with me. I’ll get there.)

After a snooze (well deserved), we continue to the industrial area, where the demo shifts to showing off guns even more so than before. Honestly, I liked the Dying Light (1) guns. I liked Crane with a gun. He’d always struck me as the type of man who’d know about 500+ ways to kill his fellows; and firearm mastery would’ve been right at the top. So. Yeah. I do like their inclusion.

I also fucking know he’ll keep them holstered for the majority of my game time, because pssst, the bow is right here, darling. We’re using that, quit pouting.

(Hey, she’s still not talking about Crane, is she okay? you may ask. Ha. No.)

We fight our way through a bunch of the Baron’s men, which eventually leads to one of those idiots shooting out some sorta electrical box. There’s a bit of a ruckus over something escaping, a few angry roars thrown in from a distance, and as we decide to investigate we run into a— scientist type? At least I think I’m remembering this right. 

And now I’ll talk about Crane. 

Beware: loads of personal thoughts here; not based entirely on canon. 

Kyle Crane might have once been a man who thought murder is still a big deal. Kyle Crane also might have once been a man who’d roll with the punches, always coming up swinging, but, you know. First he rolls. Then he swings. 

Now? After whatever happened to him between the Following and his capture, leading to thirteen years of being experimented on in what I suspect’ll be a cage of sorts? 

First of all, is murder still going to be a big deal? (No, henchmen don’t count; ludonarrative dissonance wants a word).

Yeah, he doesn’t straight up kill our new scientist friend. Just threatens him. Effectively. But there was a bit of disconnect in how Crane behaved leading up to the solution of the interrogation (him getting what he wanted) and what he eventually did. Namely punch the guy out, rather than kill him. 

I expected our scientist friend to die. I was surprised when he didn’t.

And I expect Crane to no longer roll, but to swing first and not give the narrative the chance to get the first lick in.

All of which I’m deducting from how they’ve leaned heavily into giving him the voice of a man who’s been thoroughly wrung out by that very same narrative. His tone is dark. Clipped. Gone are the expletives; the colourful fucks; and how everyone’s an asshole because that’s just a mood and a half.

And honestly? I don’t know how I feel about it. Yet. Sure, I’m all for the pent up anger we hear whenever he swings a weapon, but—

I love Crane because he wasn’t the moody, broody post-apo dude. You know the Imma chew some nails for breakfast and then get all growly over my (insert trauma here). The Joels, basically (and I gotta hell to the no on him). 

So, no, I don’t know how I feel about this yet. I’m approaching this with trepidation over how they might have removed what made Crane Crane; all in the pursuit of being darker and ‘more mature’, as it’s been said.

BUT— this was just forty minutes. That’s not much. And even if it ends up being true, I’ve still got, like, I dunno— at least another ten good writing years in me to bring that man back to the light. 

. . .

You know what, I am beginning to warm up to this idea. Please. Carry on.

EDIT: Since I’ve originally written this, the new dev blog came out and through that (along with what I’ve heard on site) have made me a lot less anxious about Crane having gone the way of the Complete Grouch. And just as I’ve been getting ideas.

ANYWAY

Our scientist friend got punched out, though not before he’s given us intel in how there’s a Freak here—the thing that just escaped, I presume, I was too busy collecting all the marbles I kept dropping whenever Crane opened his damn mouth to be sure—and how we can lure it.

Next stop(s): get freaky science gas, hop into a truck, drive freaky science gas around the countryside, and then jam it into a freaky science apparatus! 

(I have theories.)

But wait! Ambush! By more of the Baron’s men, no less. They, much like any other good collection of henchmen, have not learned from their rag-dolling buddies’s endless corpses and continue to think attacking Crane is a Good Idea.

Ah, well.

Then, finally, boss time! A Behemoth enters the arena (which is a junk yard, by the way) and it’s bringing with it a certain 10/10 Demolisher vibe paired with more freaky science. Someone’s obviously been tinkering on this gentle-boulder, leaving it with tubes attached to its body that give it this wonderful bioengineered look I’m so endlessly fond of. 

We fight!

It’s not going so well. 

Now I’m suspecting we’re seeing a method on how to build Crane’s fury up enough to unle— 

No. I am not writing that. You can’t make me. You cannot make me say the line, I refuse. I’ll just use increasingly silly alternatives, how’s that?

We get run over one too many times and Crane finally pops the lid off his fury. This applies the same orange filter as the one we got whenever Aiden redlined his biomarker (during a scripted sequence) and allows Crane to literally pick up a concrete barrier and lob it at the Behemoth. 

(You know, I bet that feels really good; delicious payback after getting car after car after car and fridge after fridge after fridge thrown at him before.)

Then he goes toe to toe with it, only to wrap up the fight by pulling the Behemoth’s head off its shoulders. Not cleanly, I’d like to add.

Soooo— what? We’ll be building fury in a number of different ways, then get unhinged and unlock the opportunity to finish with a flair? Cool cool. I’m in. Or so I’m thinking this’ll go. I genuinely do not know the ins and outs. 

What I do know though is that I lost all my remaining marbles after the fight. The camera fucking zooms out and I get to see the whole Crane. And, look, you can’t expect me to go to this event and be perfectly reasonable about this; about seeing this man I’ve dedicated nearly a decade to and remain normal. If you do, why are you even reading this. HAVE YOU MET ME?!

I have no clue if this means we’ll get third-person cutscenes or if this is a cinematic choice done solely for the demo, but a Taff may dream. Right?

The cutscene ends with Crane extracting something from the Freak into a jet injector. 

(Again, I have theories. Fury Power Progression? Fury Power Suppression?)

But anyway. Third-Person Cutscene. Taff is on the floor (not literally, but metaphysically) and the lights come on again and I SWEAR TO GOD, I will play this game at day one come hell and high water, and I am so, so, so unbelievably grateful to every single person ever involved in creating this franchise because you’re all a bunch of heroes to me.

:exhales:

Thanks for reading.

EDIT: I forgot to mention the weather. How did I manage to forget to mention the weather. We got so sopping wet in the rain. It reminded me of the heavy rainfall out in the countryside which I missed so terribly. Cannot wait to see how they've improved the weather system in this one.

From The Following:

[tinyfishtits]

Ooh, an opportunity for more Micah-fic! Might I request a bit of TLC for our favorite roguish rat? (Maybe he's been roughed up a bit, or is feeling a little under the weather but doesn't want to let anyone know.)

Love your work!

YES OF COURSE you can request my literal favorite genre of Micah fic Zana, you beautiful human you. 

I got a little carried away with this one, I hope you like it !! I loved writing it 🥹❣️

TW: Graphic depictions of blood/gore/wound mending

I pushed the stew around my bowl as Mary Beth went on about the new book she was reading, though I heard none of it. Micah had been gone from camp for four days and nobody could even tell me why he’d left in the first place. Some bullshit lead on a job he thought he could tackle on his own no doubt, the cocky bastard. Nobody even noticed he was gone until I brought it up. 

“That explains why it's been so damn pleasant around here lately.” Arthur had said when I asked him about it. I knew what they all thought of him, hell my opinion wasn’t much different… Maybe I'd deluded myself into thinking we’d become friends over the past few months, that him talking to me was anything more than just tolerating my company. 

I’d be lying though, if I said I didn’t care. We’d come to spend most nights together since his return from Strawberry, tipsy and tired by the fire. I looked forward to it. Micah often talked about his father, of his adolescence spent robbing and killing out west. He was an entertaining storyteller to say the least, emphasizing every word with big, grandiose hand movements and even getting up to act certain things out. 

Occasionally I’d talk about my life before the gang as well. Though my stories weren’t nearly as colorful, he always listened. Indulging me with questions about my family, the hobbies I once had that there was no longer time or resources for. He’d folded over with laughter when I told him I used to love needlepoint. Saying, “By the looks of your mending, sweetheart, I’d wager that was time wasted!”

The last time I saw him we had barely talked at all. I’d been uncharacteristically exhausted after spending the day helping Pearson when Sadie refused to. And ended up drifting off against the log he sat upon, cleaning his gun. Though I’d woken sometime later to him having moved to the ground beside me, my head on his shoulder as he carved aimlessly at a scrap of wood. When I woke again in the morning, he was gone. 

“Isn’t that just so romantic?” Mary Beth crooned, her attention on me. 

“Sorry, what?” I asked, pushing my stew away. My stomach was too knotted up to eat, I knew I was probably being stupid and irrational, if Micah were here to see how I was acting he would say as much. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

Mary Beth looked me over more closely, “Are you alright? You look…”

“Fine. I- I’m fine, Mary Beth. I’m gonna go on a walk, don’t wait up okay?” I said, rising from the table.

“Oh, Okay!” She called out to me as I walked toward the path out of camp. It was probably a stupid idea. No, it definitely was. Walking around at sunset, alone, without a single weapon on me… I just needed to move, to feel like I was doing something other than waiting. A pathetic part of me hoped I would find him out here somehow, just stumble upon him trotting back toward camp completely fine.

I walked along the cliff edge toward Caliban’s Seat, making it halfway before dusk was upon me. Reluctantly, I turned back for camp, not at all looking forward to the restless night that awaited me there. That was when I spotted him.

“Baylock?” I called out to the black horse who was galloping up the hillside, his saddle empty. My stomach dropped at the sight. Even in the darkness, I knew it was him. He whinnied and reared up on his back legs as I neared. “Shh boy, you’re okay.” I hushed, holding a hand out to the wild eyed horse. He huffed and snorted at my hand, but let me approach. Giving him some comforting pats I looked around for any sign of him being robbed, a struggle, blood, anything to give a reason as to why he was alone. But there was nothing. He had just… run off. 

“Where’s Micah?” I whispered to the horse. He had to be close, surely. With Baylock calmed, at least enough to mount, I jumped on the saddle and led him back down the hill where he’d come. 

The full moon rising in the sky aided in my search, illuminating the surrounding forest enough that I wasn’t completely blind. Though Baylock did most of the navigating for me. He brought me through the section of forest that had been badly burned in an old brush fire, the ground still black, no life having braved the area just yet. I’d noticed it on our journey in from Colter. He was taking me to the base of Caliban’s Seat.

“Micah?” I called out to the darkness. Baylock whinnied in response, stomping his feet as we came to the tree line. He refused to go any further. “Micah?” I called again, and this time I got a faint groan in response. Jumping from the saddle I ran toward the sound some fifty yards ahead in the clearing. 

“ FUCK!” I yelled, jumping back and falling on my ass, the bright yellow eyes of a cougar staring back at me through the tall grass. It took a moment to catch my breath and realize the beast was dead. Though its eyes still shone ominously in the darkness. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Micah moaned. I jumped again, not having noticed him so close. He sat on the ground beside me, his back against a tree. He seemed… fine. 

“What… Happened?” I finally managed to say. 

“It got me. I got it.” He said simply, gesturing to the cougar with a lazy wave of the revolver still clutched in his hand.

Getting up from the dirt I crawled the few feet over to where he sat, my hands hovering over him hesitantly as I tried to pinpoint where exactly it had got him. Sensing the silent question he turned his back to me with a pained groan. I gasped. 

His shirt was hanging on by threads. Three deep claw marks had torn through it from the shoulder all the way down to the hem of his pants. Blood oozed from the slashes, tar black in the darkness. 

“ Shit.” I whispered, “You need a doctor. We need to get you back to camp!” 

“No” He groaned. 

“But… Micah you can't see it, its-” 

“ No.” He said firmly, leaning back against the tree with a wince. “I’ve got supplies in the saddlebags, enough to make camp here and patch up.”

I just stared at him, speechless at his nonchalance toward the whole thing. Fully expecting me to just go along with his plan, he started unbuttoning his shirt. 

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

“ You are going to stitch me up, sweetheart.” 

“No…” Sickness twisted in my stomach at the prospect, “ No! Micah… I- I can’t.” 

The bastard didn’t listen. He just kept working to undo his shirt as I sat there completely frozen at his side. Leaning heavily on the tree for stability, he rose to his feet and whistled for Baylock. The horse came obediently to him, nuzzling his nose into Micah’s neck with a huff. 

“Hey boy…” Micah whispered to him, stretching with a groan to pull a peach from the saddle bag, “Sorry about that…” Lovingly stroking the horse's nose, Micah sighed, resting his forehead against the animal. I’d never seen Baylock calmer in my life. 

Rifling through the saddlebags I found some half drunken tonics, a bottle of whiskey and a crude wound dressing kit with - much to my horror - a needle and thread. I knew it had to be done… If not sewn up by me tonight, the cuts would almost certainly fester into something much worse by morning. My many failed attempts at cross stitching and cloth mending flashed behind my eyes, the nausea growing as I pictured my messy, uneven stitches threading through skin.   

I took a swig of the whiskey before handing it over to Micah, who raised a brow at me. “You’re gonna need it…” I said, my voice shakily betraying the anxiety coursing through me. He chugged a good quarter of the bottle before chucking it aside. 

“And this.” I held out a tonic for him, hoping if all else failed, it might keep infection at bay at the very least. He chugged that too, his eyelids heavy when he met my gaze again. “Just sit down, I’ll start a fire… Are you hungry?” I about gagged just saying the word. The thought of eating churning my stomach even more. 

I don't know if it was my own reaction or if he too was an anxious wreck at the prospect of me stitching him up, but he mercifully declined the offer of food. I made quick work of a fire, setting our camp up a ways away from the wild cat corpse that was already starting to attract flies. 

Micah sat beside the fire, his shirt now fully discarded. The image of him lit by the warm, flickering firelight sent a strange sense of calm through me, as if this was just any other night. A sparkling sheen of sweat already coated his torso. He glanced sidelong at me and I averted my gaze... hoping my lingering stare could be attributed to his wound and not his half naked form. Blush burning at my cheeks I asked, "How did it happen?" 

"Wrong place..." He grunted, running a hand through his hair. "Wrong time." 

Whiskey in hand, I kneeled at his back. "I didn't think cougars even came this far east..." I said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder I guided him to turn so his back was to the fire, he did so with another pained groan that made my heart ache. It was about to get so much worse, I was about to make it so much worse. 

"They don't." He grumbled, snatching the whiskey from my hand for one last sip before returning it to my grasp. 

“This is gonna hurt…” I warned. He and I both took a deep breath and when he exhaled I poured the alcohol over his wound. His breathing halted as he held back a cry of pain, only deep growling groans escaping him as his breath came back in stuttering bursts before calming once more. 

“Sorry…” I whispered, finally exhaling my own breath. 

“Don’t start that…” He said, a bit breathless. Reaching a hand back to me he squeezed my knee in a small but comforting gesture. “I don't need you apologizing every time you stick me with a needle neither, doll.”

Grabbing the whiskey bottle, he took another generous chug. “Okay… Do it.” He sighed. 

Opening the little tin of needle and thread… I hesitated. The needle was so small. Stitching up the wounds would take an hour, probably more. Dousing my hands with alcohol I reached out to touch the edge of one of the slashes, testing the sensitivity. He inhaled sharply at the gentle touch. Seemingly sensing his pain, Baylock huffed and lowered himself to the ground beside us, his large black head resting on Micahs lap. 

“Micah…” I whispered. I didn’t know if I could stomach the pain I would be putting him through. He didn’t say anything, but squeezed my knee once more. Gently moving his long hair over his shoulder and out of the way, I brought the needle to the largest slash and with a deep breath, inserted it into the skin. 

He didn’t flinch or cry out in pain, only tightening his grip on my knee as I drove the needle through the fatty skin visible in the crevice of the wound. In, through, in and out again. Were the only thoughts in my head as I concentrated, tying each suture closed with several knots before moving on to the next. 

Once I got into the rhythm of it my anxiety eased, the nausea in my stomach subsiding along with it. The gore of his back becoming just another piece of ripped fabric that needed mending. It helped that Micah stayed impressively still during the whole process, only occasionally wincing when my needle drifted too deep into the wound.

When I finished the first of three slashes I turned to look him over. His face had gone pale and his eyes clamped shut. He never did release his grip on my leg. 

“Two more cuts to go…” I said, mostly to myself but Micah’s head perked up, a small groan escaping his lips. I had no idea how much time had passed from when I’d started stitching, but the moon was high overhead by the time I finished. It must have been at least two in the morning. 

Knotting off the last stitch I sat back, looking over my work. It wasn’t pretty by any means, the slashes red and jagged. But it was done. 

“Well, you’ll have an impressive scar at least.” I said, pouring the last of the whiskey over my work for good measure. He didn’t even flinch this time, his back probably so numb with pain already from the hours of tedious work it barely registered anymore. 

“Micah?” I whispered, his hand tightened on my knee in response but he made no sound. Leaning into his shoulder, I pressed a gentle kiss to the unmarred skin there. A low moan escaped him. 

“What was that for?” He mumbled.

“A kiss to make it better…” I whispered against his skin, peppering two more kisses up his shoulder, one for each wound. “Mmm…” He hummed, his hand slowly snaking up my thigh. The contact shot electricity into my core, the pit of my stomach churning with a kind of anxious anticipation. I took his wandering hand in mine and kissed that too. 

“Are you hungry?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject. Leaning in to meet his gaze, his pupils were blown wide, his eyes almost completely black as he looked at me. A smile spread over his lips. 

“That a trick question?” He slurred, wrapping an arm around my waist. He practically fell into me, his hot, whiskey tinged breath on my neck as he pulled me in closer.

“You're drunk.” I said matter-of-factly, but made no effort to push him away. I didn’t want him drunkenly falling back on his fresh stitches, but mostly I just… didn’t want him to let go.  

“Mmhmm...” He hummed, “And hungry.” his lips just barely grazed my skin as he spoke. 

His flirty retort was an empty threat. Slowly, his body relaxed into mine, going heavier and heavier until he was completely slack in my arms. With a sigh, I sat back, carefully resting against Baylock who had stayed loyally by Micah’s side through the entire ordeal. 

Micah’s face nuzzled sleepily into the crook of my neck, his arms wrapped around my waist as snuggled into me like I was his own personal pillow. He was completely splayed out on top of me, effectively pinning me in place between him and the horse. Unable and unwilling to move, I just held him against me, a hand softly stroking at his hair while the other traced lazily at the unwounded skin of his bare back. 

He let out a long, content sigh and mumbled something into my neck. 

“What?” I whispered. He turned his head away from my skin just enough to speak more clearly. 

“I’m glad it was you.” He said, his strong hands pressing into my back as he spoke, as if he was making sure I was real, that I was there with him. “That you were the one… that you found me.” His voice trailed off sleepily.

Something about his admission brought a wetness to my eyes that threatened to break through my resolve. I hadn’t truly allowed myself to absorb the scene I’d stumbled upon tonight. How much worse it could have been… Holding him closer I breathed, “ Me too…” my voice barely even a whisper. 

Exhaustion soon came to consume us both. With a final soft kiss to his temple, all three of us drifted off to sleep under the stars. 

If you liked this, check out my other Micah works!

★ My Masterlist ★

[ophanum]

Can you do a crossover between JJKXLookism? Where after the battle with Sukuna, Gojo dies(still hoping he comes back and I'm so sad at the latest update of JJK) and transmigrated to the popular webtoon Lookism. Gojo is shock at his new appearance (still the same face, hair and eyes) he became a female. At first, he curse his predicament but then learns to roll with it. He figures that maybe changing the tragic lives of the characters will make him comeback to his real world. Gojo applies as a teacher in J-High where he rolls with the chaos and takes advantage of his new appearance. Gojo finds it amusing and loves to tease his new students with his female version. Surprisingly, Gojo retains the six eyes although not as draining as before and he has no CE it's just that he can just see really well than normal people. Everyone is surprised to see Gojo's strength not only he is fast but also a great martial artist which he likes to humble brag especially against the villains (he fought curse users and special grade curses all his life, this world is a cake walk to him) as well as trolling them. Eventually, Gojo regrets it as he gain stalkers along the way (Gun, GooSamuel, etc). Even after brutally rejecting them and listing a lot of excuses (like telling them that he is older than them, likes girls, they're too weak etc.cause he is still a guy at heart) they won't stop and will use Gojo's love for sweets to blackmail him for a date. Gojo will snap once his students gets into dangerous situations (flashbacks to when he got sealed and a lot of important people in his life died) and will absolutely go berserk. Female Gojo is friends with the 1st Gen Kings (he is the same age as them when he transmigrated so he became a bit younger) especially Kwak Jin Chang (he looks like Nanami even the cheekbones) and treats him the same way as Nanami

' I'M SO BORED ! - JJK & Lookism crossover

ft. Fem! Reincarnated! Gojo x Various Lookism

Synopsis: After the fight with Sukuna, Gojo was reincarnated to Lookism and became a teacher there. As a teacher himself back then, he began to care for his students like Daniel and automatically landed him in the spotlight of the Lookism universe. Could he still awaken his six eyes?

Tags & TW/CW: Lookism-typical violence, stalking, death, spoilers, crack.

﹙pt. 2﹚

❝Some sick hallucination is telling me go overboard.❞ — I'm so bored by Sarah and the Sundays

Wow. Just wow.

Gojo couldn't help but be surprised. Seriously though, what's going on here?

There's no way this is real. He's never met a deity, and frankly, the whole thing seems messed up. Why is he in a woman's body? At least he looks good, gotta give credit where it's due. He's basically a walking advertisement for good genes.

But most importantly, he's just... normal now. No curses, no cursed energy. He remembers his skills, but can he use them here? He'll find a way.

First priority: checking his surroundings. This place is a lot less luxurious than his usual digs, but hey, at least the girl (whoever she is) has a wallet. Even though Gojo thinks that he is really the owner because of the uncanny similiarities to his old self, he can't be too sure. Memory wipe seems to be prominent. No trace of the original owner anywhere, which explains the amnesia of memories. This body truly feels like his own, down to the familiar face staring back in the mirror. Gojo can't ignore this situation. Fake memories or not, a Jujutsu Sorcerer never lets his guard down.

With no cursed threats to fight for now, Gojo takes a practical approach. Gotta pay the bills somehow, right? Besides, that shampoo situation is a disaster. This body needs some serious TLC.

Stepping outside, Gojo's jaw dropped. Korea? A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. "Seriously, what is this?"

Walking down the unfamiliar streets, he had to adjust his thinking. He was in a woman's body now, so using she/her pronouns was crucial. His feet led him to a bustling playground, filled with the laughter of children. The scene felt strangely real, not some twisted illusion. Perhaps, in a way, it was...peaceful.

He missed Yuji and everyone back home. He'd poured his heart into training them, giving them the strength to fight. A pang of longing hit him, but a determined glint entered his eyes. They would have to wait for his return. After all, he wouldn't give up so easily.

At the end of the day, his search for work led him to a job posting at J High. Teaching was ingrained in him, so it felt like a natural fit. Getting the job was a surprise, but the school itself was even more unexpected.

The students here were...spirited, to say the least. Fights were a frequent occurrence. However, the school also embraced individuality. Departments like fashion allowed students to break the mold and express themselves freely through clothing. Gojo, who always appreciated a good rule-breaker, couldn't help but admire their approach.

Despite being in a female body, Gojo managed to convince the school she was Japanese, reasoning her way through the situation. Daniel and his classmates were surprised by a mid-semester transfer, especially when they heard it was a woman. The buzz spread quickly went viral around the school – a new female teacher was joining them!

When she entered the classroom, all eyes were on her. Her snow-white hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and thick, round sunglasses concealed her eyes. A glimpse of piercing blue peeked through, a stark contrast to her soft expression and delicate features. Male students fumbled for their seats, faces flushed with a mix of awe and shyness. Female students watched with a mix of envy and admiration.

Until Gojo spoke.

"Welcome to J High, class! Buckle up because you're about to learn from the most awesome, most beautiful teacher ever… ME, Gojo Satoru! Get ready for an unforgettable experience!"

The students were stunned. Who was this vibrant woman? Some of the boys seemed excited by her bold statement, but confusion settled in. A mid-semester change was disruptive enough, but what was with the infectious energy?

One thing was undeniable: Gojo was stunning. Her beauty was unmatched, surpassing even the school's resident "goddess," Crystal.

"And guess what? You're about to have the coolest, most fabulous teacher ever walk through these doors... that's right, it's me again!"

And then she walked through those doors again quite quickly if Zack were to say something about it. Did you know the way Gojo looked when he realized Megumi just looked like Toji? Yeah, Zack was having that look right now.

Who was this odd professor that suddenly was brought up?

Gojo's curriculum remained a mystery. She hadn't mentioned a subject yet, but she did dedicate a significant amount of time to...well, not exactly lesson plans. Unlike most teachers, Gojo had an aversion to written materials. Instead, her classes focused entirely on performance tasks.

Students like Zack thrived in this environment. He secretly considered Gojo his favorite teacher already. The hands-on approach was engaging, and Zack felt a growing sense of gratitude towards her.

Then, on the third day, a glimmer of clarity emerged. Gojo's class revolved around physical fitness, though she never actually uttered the term. It was simply "Gojo's way" of teaching. For Daniel and his classmates, it was a refreshing change from the traditional methods they were accustomed to.

Gojo praised students who excelled and offered personalized feedback for improvement. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and the students responded well to the energetic and engaging classes.

"Best fucking teacher ever." Zack grins.

Mira quipps. "Is he though?"

Mira and Zack exchanged a glance. Their new teacher, Gojo, had a…unique way of teaching. She was currently mid-exercise with a student (Jay, to be specific) and had paused to deliver a passionate speech about, well, herself. Dramatic poses and hair flips punctuated her enthusiastic monologue.

Both sweatdropped. Yeah, Gojo was definitely unconventional.

Jay, the unfortunate target of her praise, stood patiently as Gojo extolled her own beauty. Thankfully, the speech hadn't completely derailed the lesson. Just before, Gojo had commended Jay's speed and technique, offering valuable feedback before getting sidetracked. "You're giving it your all, but that fire's starting to flicker! Remember, endurance is all about consistency. It's like a marathon, not a sprint. Gotta pace yourself, beautiful!"

Jay cracked a shy smile, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

Zack watched the exchange between Jay and Gojo, a sour taste creeping into his mouth. Gojo's hand lingered a beat too long on Jay's shoulder, her praise dripping with a sugary sweetness that made Zack clench his fists.

Crystal, observing from the back of the room, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Gojo's flamboyant teaching style. This new teacher was undeniably unconventional, with her dramatic poses and energetic lectures. Yet, beneath the theatricality, Crystal sensed a surprising competence. Gojo's demonstrations were swift and precise, showcasing an impressive level of physical skill.

It was a stark contrast to the more traditional methods employed by Gun. Crystal wasn't sure what Gojo's background was, but it was clear she possessed a unique approach that somehow managed to be effective.

That's because she fought battles with non-human creatures.

Crystal couldn't resist investigating the commotion. Curiosity gnawed at her, a feeling all too familiar to humans. She buzzed Gun, hoping he could shed some light on the situation.

"Is something wrong, Crystal?" Gun answered.

"Hey Gun, sorry to bother you during work, but it's about the new teacher."

"Teacher?" Gun raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, she just seems...off. Odd way of acting, super strong, and way too good-looking to be real." Crystal joked at the end.

Crystal launched into a detailed description. The teacher had waist-length snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes hidden behind thick sunglasses. On top of that, she was incredibly tall and flawless, like a living statue. It was unsettling.

"I'll check it out when I get a chance," Gun promised.

Meanwhile, Vasco watched the chaos unfold below. Students were grumbling openly, their respect seemingly nonexistent towards their teacher who was behaving childishly.

Jace strained for a glimpse of the new teacher, but the window was two far as he wasn't on a window seat. Unlike Jace, Vasco found himself impressed. After all, who wouldn't be when witnessing her teach students to defend themselves?

The bell announcing the end of class finally pierced the air. Jace and Vasco immediately made their way towards the teacher.

Jace let out a low whistle. "We'll be lucky to learn anything from her with all this chaos."

"Lucky? I'd say incredibly fortunate," Vasco countered, eager to meet her.

"Fortunate, huh?" Jace muttered, and they headed towards the cafeteria.

The new teacher, Gojo, had clearly captured everyone's attention. Even Zoe couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Gojo's seemingly flawless appearance, aside from her personality, was undeniable. Zoe's lips formed a pout every time Gojo slung her arm around Daniel, leaving the poor boy flustered and stammering in response.

Vin Jin, on the other hand, seemed unaffected by the professorial boundaries. He wasted no time turning on the charm, much to the amusement (or perhaps annoyance) of those around him.

"So, strong glasses huh? Keeping all the secrets for yourself?"

"Secrets are what make things interesting, don't you think? Besides, these eyes can see more than you bargain for." Gojo would just leans closer with a smirk.

Daniel's knuckles strained white as his grip tightened on the aluminum can. Metal groaned in protest, warping under the pressure until the sides began to buckle. A low hiss escaped him, more through gritted teeth than his lips. This wasn't about his usual frustration with bullies or unwanted attention. Envy, raw and unwelcome, twisted his gut.

Vin Jin's grin stretched from ear to ear, practically walking on air after his instant rapport with the new teacher, Gojo. Unfortunately, their conversation was cut short as Gojo disappeared from the scene before he could even blink. Left hanging, Vin Jin found himself empty-handed.

Meanwhile, Gun had arrived at J High, eager to investigate Crystal's concerns about the new teacher. Unfortunately, his mission was complicated by Goo's unexpected presence. Goo, ever the pest, tagged along, lollipop in hand. And as if the situation wasn't bothersome enough, Goo seemed to find amusement in poking Gun's cheeks with the sticky candy, a habit Gun found utterly revolting.

"Stalking for the boss are sooo last season. Don't you ever get tired of being such a stick in the mud? Lighten up a little!"

"Lighten up? I'm dealing with things that could get me killed by the chairman, Goo. Not a fashion show."

"Speaking of fashion, have you seen the new line of those fluffy panda plushies?"

"Here we go again... And--would you stop that poking? Do it another fucking second and I will punt you to the ground."

"Fine, fine. But hey, how about a little reward after we're done? My treat - taiyaki on me! My treat if you can guess the filling this time."

A welcome distraction from Goo's antics emerged in the form of a commotion erupting within J High. Gun and Goo followed Crystal, their gazes drawn to a fight unfolding in the central.

There, amidst the chaos, stood Gojo, the enigmatic new teacher Crystal had mentioned. She wasn't even fighting.

For Gun, witnessing Gojo firsthand was a sensory overload. Every detail, from the way her snow-white hair flowed with her movements to the glint of defiance in her diamond-bright eyes and the smirk permanently etched on her face, surpassed Crystal's description.

Across from him, Goo mirrored Gun's stunned expression. Glasses slid down to the tip of his nose, his mouth agape in disbelief, he watched Gojo's fluid movements with wide eyes. The fight had escalated – Gojo was facing off against Logan Lee.

"You'll regret fighting with me!"

"Wow, impressive coordination. Maybe you should take up interpretive dance instead of being a total jackass to my student."

Daniel scanned the scene, his heart pounding. No other teachers were in sight, not a single one within range to intervene in the escalating fight. The situation was bizarre – a college student, Logan Lee, facing off against a seemingly outmatched professor, Gojo, the woman Crystal had described as "strong."

But strength wasn't the only thing that captivated Gun and Goo's attention. Gojo's fighting style was unlike anything they'd ever witnessed. It was a dance of fluidity, a mesmerizing blend of lightning and water. Her movements were swift and effortless, devoid of any wasted energy or muscle tension. It was a spectacle both beautiful and deadly.

"What the...? I... I'll crush you!"

"This is getting tedious. You're about as effective as a wet noodle against a wall. How about you take a nap and we can try this again when you've woken up from your little tantrum?"

Logan, his attacks becoming increasingly desperate, flailed wildly for a few final moments before crumpling to the ground with a pained groan. Gojo, with a sigh that spoke volumes of her boredom, dusted herself off with a theatrical flourish, her movements emphasizing the gulf in skill between them.

Reflexes and speed are unmatched. Focus on how she reacts with lightning-fast movements, dodging or deflecting attacks with minimal effort. She doesn't waste energy on overwhelming force, but uses calculated strikes to dismantle her opponent's attacks. Gun thought.

"Well, that was a disappointment. Back to paperwork, I suppose. Anyone up for taiyaki later? My treat, for surviving that ordeal."

And she brushes it off as if it did some number on her. Even students like daniel, Zack, Vasco, Jay and Eli Jang knew it, not just Gun and Goo.

Goo, ever the unpredictable one, shot his hand up in the air. A wave of confusion rippled through the crowd. Was this some bizarre J High initiation ritual they hadn't heard of?

This is only the beginning...

2.2K words

[ultrone]

what music do you think Jackie would listen to…?

very random playlist i know lmaooo i hope it’s at least a bit accurate. i tried to stick to before the 2000s as much as i could 🫡

Gwen Stefani/No Doubt for sure. I feel like she’d specifically love “Cool” by Gwen

I Touch Myself by Divinyls

Crush by Jennifer Paige

Fastlove, Pt. 1 by George Michael

The Cranberries (influenced by Shauna 🤔)

The King of Wishful Thinking by Go West (she got obsessed with it after watching Pretty Woman)

Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer

Back For Good by Take That

Some songs by Fleetwood Mac & Stevie Nicks, like Sable on Blond, I Don't Want to Know, Edge of Seventeen, Only over You…

Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) by Kate Bush

Last Goodbye by Jeff Buckley

Madonna

Waterfalls by TLC

Right Here - Human Nature Radio Mix by SWV

Living On My Own - No More Brothers Radio Mix by Freddie Mercury

I feel like she’d also be lowkey into Country 😭

Shania Twain

Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus

Jolene by Dolly Parton

Amber by 311

Baby, I Love Your Way by Big Mountain

Angel by Shaggy, Rayvon

The Sign by Ace of Base (medicated Lottie got her into it)

Had a hanson phase lmaoooo 🧐

Torn by Natalie Imbruglia

Bitch by Meredith Brooks (she’d sing/yell this one in Shauna’s car)

I Try by Macy Gray

Girlfriend in a Coma by The Smiths

Alanis Morissette

There She Goes by The La’s

Two Princes by Spin Doctors

You Get What You Give by New Radicals

Fast Car by Tracy Chapman (I feel like Shauna would overplay it while driving)

Be My Baby by The Ronettes

Duran Duran

Bon Jovi

Fantasy by Mariah Carey

Genie in a Bottle by Christina Aguilera

Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

Livin' la Vida Loca by Ricky Martin

Savage Garden

Uptown Girl by Westlife

Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners

Summer Of ‘69 by Bryan Adams

The Power Of Love by Frankie Goes To Hollywood

Hero by Enrique Iglesias

Whitney Houston’s top hits

Let’s Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams

Some Aerosmith songs, like Crazy & I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing

The Shoop Shoop Song (It’s In His Kiss) & One by One by Cher

I Love You Always Forever by Donna Lewis

Black or White by Michael Jackson

Accidentally in Love by Counting Crows (from the Shrek 2 soundtrack 😭)

Alone & These Dreams by Heart

I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany

More Than a Feeling by Boston

What’s Love Got to Do with It by Tina Turner

Close to Me by The Cure

Blue (Da Ba Dee) by Eiffel 65 ☠️

Endless Love by Luther Vandross, Mariah Carey

Be My Baby & Divine idylle by Vanessa Paradis

Smile by Lily Allen

I’m Gonna Miss You by Milli Vanilli

Conga by Gloria Estefan 🤣

New Kids On The Block

Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds

Queen

Hey Ya! by Outkast

Dreaming Of You by Selena

extra… songs she’d listen to if she spoke spanish or was latina cuz i’m mexican and i’ve been thinkin abt this 🙂‍↕️

Tu Dama De Hierro by Marisela

Belanova, especially Rosa Pastel, Me Pregunto, and Cada que…

Formas de Amor by Calo

Mi Media Naranja by Fey

Bazar & No Controles by Flans

Gracias A Dios by Thalia

La Ventanita by Garibaldi

Ahora Te Puedes Marchar by Luis Miguel

Cuando Calienta El Sol by Luis Miguel

Mírala, Míralo by Alejandra Guzman

Virgen de las Vírgenes by Gloria Trevi

Ni Una Sola Palabra by Paulina Rubio

No Puedo Olvidarme Ti by MDO

La Calle de las Sirenas by Kabah

Enamoradísimo by Mercurio

Veneno by Ragazzi

Dile Que la Amo by Kairo

Hombres G

Oye Mi Amor by Maná

Rica y Apretadita (feat. Anayka) by El General

Moriré by La Factoria

Enloquéceme & Shabadabada by OV7

Timbiriche

Amante Bandido by Miguel Bosé

Alejandro Sanz

[opaque-daydream]

How to be a good Neighbor *2*

Part one

“We need you here,” Hotch told Morgan as they continued to survey the scene.

                “Hotch, man c’mon, at least for tonight, allow the PD to get a game plan together,” Morgan countered.

                “Why is this important to you?” Hotch questioned.

                “Maybe he is trying to be a good neighbor,” Emily chimed in as Morgan rolled his eyes.

                “She may remember something to help us catch this guy, and she knows me,” Morgan continued, “I’ll be back at local PD by 8. If she gives me new information, the team will be the first to know.”

                “Go, I’ll talk to the chief about a detail for the morning. Take the car; I’ll have Rossi and Reid swing by to pick us up,” Hotch waved him off.

__

The beeping was still there when she woke again, but thankfully the light was off. She peered around the room, and her vision was a little blurry. It was a normal hospital room. Her face and head hurt, and her back was a little sore. She didn’t dream of two gentlemen coming to talk to her or someone assaulting her when she thought it was her pizza delivery. Her stomach rumbled, and she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry at the ridiculousness that her first thought was that she didn’t get to eat dinner.  “Wonder what time it is,” she whispered to herself.

                “Two AM,” a voice to her right answered, and she gasped, trying to back up in the bed, “Easy, you're safe; it's me, Derek,” the smooth voice continued, holding his hands up, showing that he wasn’t a threat.

                “Derek, what are you doing here,” she asks, taking a deep breath and trying to stop her heart from racing.” The monitor beeps to alert her of the increased heart rate.

                “I wanted to make sure you had a friendly face.” Derek flashed her his signature smile, “Make sure you were safe.”

                “Derek, it isn’t normal for the FBI to show up for a random robbery; what is going on?” she asks, squinting her good eye to focus on him.

                “We think that your attack is linked to others that have happened in the surrounding area,” Derek told her gently, “We are going to do everything we can to keep you safe.”

                “You think he will come back,” She asks, holding her breath.

                “Our profile says he will.” Derek doesn’t lie to her, “But listen to me. I am not going to let him get that chance.”

                “There,” she stopped and bit her lip, “You don’t think he would come to the hospital?” she asked, her fingers playing with the top of the blanket.

                “It’s doubtful,” Derek assured her, “But I am not going to take a chance.” She pulled the hospital blanket a little higher. “Listen, I know that Reid and Rossie asked you questions, but do you think you can tell me what happened last night?”

                “I, it all just happened so fast. If you think it will help. “she said, sighing.

                “I do,” Derek said, moving closer, “Close your eyes. I want you to think back and tell me what happened when you got home yesterday.”

                “I was tired it had been a long day at work, so I didn’t stop to get groceries. I just wanted to relax, and I didn’t want to think about cooking.” She said softly.

                “Do you normally grocery shop on Wednesday?” Derek encouraged.

                “Yes, the new sales start on Wednesday at the grocery store by our neighborhood,” she told him.

                “You're doing great; what happened once you got home?” he encouraged.

                “I took my shoes off, left them in front of the door, and changed into my pajamas. I called for pizza, and they told me it would be twenty-five minutes, so I put on TLC. It was halfway through toddlers and tiaras when there was a knock at the door. I got ten dollars out of my purse, and the knock came again. I called that I was coming and hurried to open the door. The knock sounded impatient. I thought the delivery guy had more orders and was in a hurry. I opened my door, and my next thought was that I shouldn’t have left my shoes out,” She finished.

                “When you opened the door, do you remember anything that was said, or did you see anything that would cause this guy to stand out?” Derek pressed.

                “No, it was just so quick.” She fiddled with the top of the blanket again, her eyes squeezed shut, willing herself to remember anything.

                “So you open your door, money in hand, and then you hit the ground,” Derek reiterated.

                “My stomach was growling. When I opened the door, I thought it was funny; I couldn’t smell pizza; there was a different smell,” she whispered.

                “I want you to focus on that smell. Can you tell me what it was?” Derek questioned.

                “It was like gas or motor oil or something. I can’t. I’m not sure.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

                “Like a gas station or a garage?” Derek asks.

                “It smelled like when I take my car to the garage,” She finally settled on.

                “Have you been to a garage lately?” Derek asks her.

                “Last week, I had to get an inspection sticker,” she told him.

                “You did great, sweet thang,” Derek told her, squeezing her hand, and then taking out his cell phone, he made a call. “Hotch, she remembers the smell of gas or motor oil. I know that we were still trying to find out how each victim was connected. I think it is possible that they all had their cars serviced recently,” Derek told him.   “Thanks, Hotch.” Derek closed his phone and put it back in his pocket.

                “Do you think this happened to me because I got an inspection sticker on my car?” she asked.

                “Did anything happen out of the ordinary?” Derek asked her.

                “No, I made my appointment online, went at my appointment time, and they got me in and out. No one stared at me or seemed to take much interest in me at all,” she told him and sighed when she felt her stomach rumble again. There was nothing I would write home about.” Derek pressed her call button from her bedside, “Why did you do that?” She asked, looking at him. She heard the beep as it rang the nurse's desk.

                “Nurse station, how can I help you?” the disembodied voice came through the remote.

                “Is there any way we can get a snack for my girl here? She didn’t get dinner,” Derek asked.

                “I will let the CNA know” The voice answered back.

                “Derek,” she whispered, her face feeling hot. Don’t bother them; it's fine until breakfast.” She also couldn’t believe he called her his girl, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

                “They keep snacks on the floor, and I can’t go out and make a late-night food run. I got to stay here and keep you safe.” Derek left no room for argument. Now, what you need to be thinking about is whether you want pudding or Jello.” He smiled as he leaned back in his chair.

[devastator1775]

Uzi needs an extra dose of TLC from Dr. N!

Summary: N is always there for Uzi. He's always more than happy to give her some affection. Especially when she's having a bad day.

The sound of the door slamming shut made N look up in surprise from the book he was reading. Was Uzi home from work already? He turned on his internal clock and found himself surprised at how late it already was. It’s funny how times flies when you’re reading “1001 surprising facts about Golden Retrievers & basic door maintenance”.

“Hi, Honey! How was your day?” N called out as he closed his book.

No answer.

“Uzi?” N called out again. Again, no reaction from her. That surprised him. Normally she would greet him and then go off about – in her own, caring words – the ‘woeful idiots without any sense of self-preservation or basic common sense’ had visited her clinic that day. No matter how much Uzi Doorman might love her job, she still hated interacting with people. It was one of the few things that never really changed since the day they’ve met, now so many years ago.

But this silence …

N stood up from the couch and made his way towards the hall. As he turned the corner he saw Uzi walking up to him. Her expression was blank – in the most literal sense, as her visor didn’t show anything. Before N could ask what was going on, she had rushed forward, closed the distance between them, bonking her head against his chest, her gaze downwards and arms wrapped around his waist.

Now this felt worrying to N. It wasn’t like that Uzi avoided affection – in fact, she could get quite cuddly when it was just the both of them lounging on the couch after a long day. While she was always very eager to accept any form of physical affection when N offered it to her, she would rarely be the one to initiate it. At least, not out of the blue, like she had done now. It wasn’t like her. Something must have happened.

“Uzi?” N asked cautiously, slowly bringing his hands unto her shoulders. “Uzi, are you okay?”

Uzi shrugged.

“Did something bad happen at work today?”

After a few nonresponsive moments, Uzi shook her head.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of N’s lips and started rubbing her shoulder. “You want me to cuddle it better?”

Uzi didn’t respond for a few moments, but eventually N felt her pushing her head harder against his chest.

A sly grin formed on N’s lips. “Well, I’ll take that as a yes.”

The soft gasp, quickly followed by the giggle Uzi made as N suddenly lifted of the ground made whatever mechanical device that resembles his heart flutter, but the way Uzi instantly clung to him nearly made him melt. She almost desperately grabbed onto his jacket, digging her fingers into the fabric. She pressed herself so tightly against him, as if she wanted her body to have as much contact with his as possible. N couldn’t help himself of blushing as she nuzzled against his cheek, moaning softly as she did. He could however feel how tense her entire body was.  

N smiled as he pulled her closer against him as he made his way towards the couch. He knew Uzi better than most people. Uzi often played it cool, presenting herself with this air of independence and self-reliance, a person who was strong and steadfast, but N saw right through that. The years without a mother caring for her, a negligent father that showed more love to doors than his own daughter and peers that wanted nothing to do with her had left a mark.

Uzi craved affection in all its forms, even more than she would admit; and N was more than happy to oblige in providing it for her.

“Woah, someone seems needy tonight.” N chuckled as he sat down on the couch, allowing Uzi to get a bit more comfortable. He could hear her grumble a response, but the way she had effectively buried her face into his chest it was barely audible. Sensing she still was tensed up, he placed his hand on her back and started softly rubbing it in a circular motion. After a few moments passed, he felt her relax. She eventually removed her face from his chest and pulled herself up to rest her chin on N’s shoulders, prompting N to start caress his fingers through her hair.

N resisted the urge to ask Uzi anything, knowing very well she’d tell him eventually what was bothering her. As on cue, he suddenly heard Uzi let out a wistful sigh.

“A mom and her daughter came by the clinic today.” Uzi spoke up. “This spry, curious kid, recently transferred from Untrained Neural Networks to a new body: one of those new “JCJenson toddler models” Tessa designed for us, y’know?.”

N hummed an acknowledging response.

“Nothing was wrong with her, too.” Uzi continued. “Just a regular check-up; seeing if the personality matrix was attuned to the new body, oil level check, things like that. Completely healthy and ready to grow up in this safe new world we helped make for her.”

“Something you should be proud of, Uzi.” N commented.

Uzi let out a soft chuckle, before sighing again.

“So …what happened?” N finally asked.

“Nothing, really.” Uzi replied. “It’s just …I was looking at how this young mom and her kid: all happy, laughing, playing games while they waited and …I don’t know, I got …envious or something?”

N waited for Uzi to continue.

“I never knew my Mom.” Uzi continued softly. “And what I eventually did ended up knowing about her …. But still, I …I sometimes wonder what it could have been if she had been around when I was growing up and that thought just …wouldn’t. Let. Go.”

N had no idea how to respond, but he felt like he couldn’t say nothing either. He was about to open his mouth to say something, but Uzi sat up, finally making eye contact with him.

“I know, it’s a dumb thing to get upset about and I shouldn’t be pouring this out on you, and-“

“Hey-hey-hey, what are you talking about?” N interrupted her, cupping her cheek and gazing softly in her eyes. “If I’m not the one you can go to when you’re having a bad day, then who will?”

Uzi smiled softly. “I know, N, but you do so much for me already and I don’t want to-“

N planted a finger on her lips, chuckling as a bright blush appeared on her visor. “And I will keep doing this for you, because I want too. Whenever, for whatever reason, you need some extra TLC, I’ll be happy to give it to you. I promise.”

Uzi opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but nothing seemed to come out. She eventually smiled softly and leaned forward to plant a kiss on N’s lips, who eagerly accepted this. Uzi then started to nuzzle against his cheek, almost in a catlike manner.

“I don’t deserve you…” Uzi exclaimed softly, wrapping her arms around him.

“No, you do. You absolutely do.” N countered, pulling her closely against him. “You deserve receiving love and affection as much as anyone.”

N could hear Uzi sniffle. “N, I …thank you.” She kissed his cheek a few times. “A-and you do too! Maybe even more! I just wish I was as natural at it as you.”

N chuckled, endeared by her nervous tone. “Uzi, just the fact that you’re willing to try despite the trouble doing it naturally, means the world to me. You’re the world to me.”

“You’re a dork.”

“I’m your dork.”

“Wow, what an original counter argument, N.”

“It’s a classic.”

“You’re a classic!”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Uzi.”

“I know, bite me!”

“Maybe later.”

“Promise?”

Their banter went on for a while, throwing cliché sweet nothings back and forth at each other. Eventually, they fell into a comfortable silence, with Uzi resting on N’s chest. The latter was happy to see that Uzi’s mood had improved. N had just picked up his book again, when Uzi suddenly spoke up.

“N?”

“Yeah?”

“I …uh…”

“Yes?”

“I want a baby.”

“0_0”

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 31: Hunting Grounds

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, stalking with intent to maim or kill, death, violence

* Word count: 3,958ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all!

Author's note: Things are ramping up y’all! Hold on to your hats. We’re coming towards the finale. I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as much as I do!

Another fun fact, wait do you guys like these?

But fun fact this was the second chapter I wrote lol.

Stella finished washing her hands in the big sink Olivia had in the wash bay. She watched as the slight gore from the difficult birth slid away. At least her hands and arms were clean now. Her hoodie on the other hand needed some serious tlc. She couldn’t throw it away because it was the first hard birth she had experienced, just Olivia and she at the helm, without the help of parents or anyone there. Olivia’s parents had gone away on a short vacation, and no one else was around. They called the vet, and he walked them through as much as he could. The point was to keep mama and baby stable long enough for him to get there and handle the rest.

There were muffled voices from off to the side of the wash bay. The foaling stalls were the first three along this wall, along with the wash pad. It was Olivia finishing up with the vet. They wanted to be sure they marked everything off the foaling list, and the extras that came along with the tough delivery. Trinity and the tiny colt were going to be just fine. They had been in some deep water, but with the help of the vet and their own knowledge paired together, they made it through to the other side.

“You ladies did a fine job. Both of them will be just fine. We’ll keep an eye on his front legs to see if they straighten out over the next few 24 to 48 hours.”

Stella nodded and the vet finished giving them instructions, “If they don’t stretch out on their own, then we’ll reconvene about wrapping or antibiotics.”

Stella was the cheerleader for the little colt. “Once he gets to moving a bit more, those tendons should relax and not contract as hard anymore. I have faith in the little guy.” She looked at Olivia, “So do you need me anymore this evening,” she looked at her phone for the time, “just kidding. This morning.” She laughed.

“No babe, I think we’re all good here. I’ll see you in a couple days to check up on him. Thank you for coming as fast as you did.”

“Always, lovely. I’ll see you later on.”

She walked out to her car and opened the door to toss in her bag onto the passenger seat. Before she got in, she heard footsteps approaching her from the barn. Stella looked at the person and found that it was Olivia. She smiled at her and she sat sideways in the driver’s seat.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive home this late Stellar?” She looked unsure at Stella’s condition.

“Yeah girl, I should be fine. Ryan will also birth a bull calf if he doesn’t see me in a bunk before he leaves for the day.” They shared a chuckle.

“Okay, but you turn around if you feel like you can’t make it. I’ll fight your brother in the morning for you.” Stella turned and shut the door. Olivia gave it a tap and she was on her way. If only she had taken her up on the offer.

It was extremely dark in the wilderness of Montana. Stella knew this, but she needed to head home to the ranch. Ryan hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of her running out that late, but ranch emergencies didn’t wait. It was part of her job. She helped at Grand Springs occasionally. She helped with mostly all of the horses, but specialized with the broodmares. That was Stella and Olivia’s favorite part. The two points were about an hour away from each other. That’s why she had specifically bought a house that was the halfway point between the two ranches.

She squinted as headlights behind her blasted brightly in her rearview. Yes, it was advanced darkness out here in the middle of the forest, but the high beams were a bit dramatic in her opinion. She rolled her eyes, but kept moving forward at the set speed limit. The larger SUV behind her inched closer.

“There’s plenty of room to go around me, my guy.” She gripped the wheel and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut the closer the big SUV got. She hoped she had service as she asked Siri to call her brother. She must have had at least a bar of service because her speakers started to ring out to her. It rang one time and went to voicemail. She looked in the rearview again, gauging just how close the Suburban looking vehicle had gotten.

She cursed, and asked Siri to call her brother again. ‘There is no actual way this shit is happening.’ She hadn’t been to her own house since everyone had made her come back to the ranch. Stella couldn’t even think of where they would have picked up her trail, if these were even the same people. If they were even following her. Maybe they were just in a hurry. She grimaced thinking about the Beck brothers and sped up to 70. She really had to stop being naively optimistic.

Stella reached across the front of the car to her glove box. Feeling the leather holster, she said a prayer as she brought it to her lap. She thought she was being jumpy, but she would rather have it on standby and not need it, than it being out of reach if the need arose. The words her brother and Rip had said to her the day they told her she was coming back to the ranch still ran through her head. ‘You brushing it off this way? Will get you kidnapped or killed. Or both.’

She looked at the clock and realized it was nearly four in the morning. There was one other person she knew that would pick up immediately at this hour. Kayce. She really didn’t want to bother him, but her brother wasn’t picking up. She would call Rip next if she needed to. The big vehicle kept a steady pace of being closer almost every time she looked at it.

She had no idea that a ring could be so loud. It rang two times, then four, and she felt more and more desperate with each ring.

“Oh come on. Pick up, Kayce John. Pick up.” She bounced in her seat. About the sixth time she bounced he picked up. “Oh thank god.”

“Stella? What’s wrong?” She could hear the gravel of confusion in his voice. He was only asking what was wrong because in no normal situation would she call this late. Especially since they had been at a distance from each other. He’d just finished taking care of leaving a message to Malcolm on his porch and was headed home when the call came through.

“Kayce I’m sorry, but someone is following me and Ryan won’t answer the phone.” She could hear him rustling around.

“Where are you?” He demanded.

“Somewhere off of 89 and 191, between Grand Springs and my house. I’m like 45 minutes out from your dad’s.”

“Shit! I’ll meet you at your house. Just hold on. I’m coming. Stay on the phone with me.” She could hear more rustling.

Stella looked around to find an escape option. ‘There should be a farm road,’ the voice in her head continued out loud, “here!” She tapped her brakes briefly and cranked her wheel to the left. She watched in the mirror as the big SUV flew by the road.

“Here what Stella?! What’s going on? Talk to me!”

She stomped on the gas because it was only a matter of time before they stopped and turned around. This road led back behind her three acres. The last acre, acre and a half, of her property remained wooded. She just needed to get there before that SUV came back.

“Kace, I’m going in through the back. I hit the farm road, but they’re not far behind me.”

“Keep going, don’t stop moving.”

She saw the little unmarked spot she had cleared out for the little tractor she had and jumped for joy. She checked her mirrors and could just barely make out their headlights. They definitely saw she had turned. They just had to figure out where. That would work in her favor. She cranked her wheel again and bounced around the turn into her property. She pulled off to the side behind the one dilapidated shed she had never bothered with.

Stella turned off her car. Everything went dark, “Kayce,” she whispered, “I’m about to get out of the car. They haven’t pulled in. Yet.”

“I’m almost there. 10 minutes out.” He sounded like he was praying under his breath, “Stella?”

“Yeah?”

“Get. Them. Lost.”

She swallowed hard as realization hit her. She heard her brother’s voice, ‘Stop, don’t think, just move. Hesitation gets you dead.’ She shook her head to bring herself back to the very serious reality at hand. She hopped out of the car and placed her phone in her bra wanting it close so Kayce could hear her. Popping the button on her holster, she flicked the safety off and heard the distinct snip of the deadly change. She peeked around the old shed. The Suburban was just passing by, but this time it had a partner. The silver car from before, which had stopped at the entrance she had turned in.

“Shit, that silver car is with them! It’s the same fucking people.” Stella looked around for something to get their attention with. She wanted to lure them into the wooded area to make herself harder to find, but also have it be like fishing in a barrel. She remembered that she had a flashlight in the pocket of her driver side door.

“ETA?” She opened the car door as quietly as she could.

“I’m almost to your driveway.”

“Okay cool. I’ll be somewhere near that trashy shed. I’m about to do something stupid.” Stella ended the call and put her phone in her back pocket.

“Stella?! Stella?!!” Kayce punched the steering wheel and screamed, “Fuck,” and floored it.

His tires crunched and threw gravel all the way up the driveway and back to the wooded part. The truck was barely in park before he hopped out. He heard the distinct pops of gun fire and started running. He broke through the line of trees and stopped behind a large tree. There were all sorts of sounds coming from every direction. He heard a lot of heavy footsteps to his front and right, but there off to his left there was a clear pattern of lighter foot falls weaving and bobbing. He breathed a sigh of relief because that meant Stella was still upright. Ducking down he headed to the left to get the drop on the men from behind.

Giving a wide berth, he wrapped around the back where the guy bringing up the rear looked for the woman of the hour. Kayce rushed up on him while he was still distracted and gripped his neck tightly. The man dropped to the ground with an unceremonious thud and he moved forward.

He quickly gained traction with one more of them. After the second man hit the ground, he heard Stella scream and his heart stopped. His feet started to move before he had realized it. Gunshots rang out followed by another scream that got cut off abruptly.

“Stella!” Kayce screamed out as he found the small clearing where she had gotten pinned. He hoped to see her there standing, or at least conscious because he couldn’t even fathom not having her around. She leaned against a tree, huffing wildly. She had scooted herself back against the trunk in the scramble for her life. She looked like she wanted to pass out. The men that screamed were down on the ground. They laid in an odd position and Kayce could tell they was dead. He ran over to Stella and took her gun in the process.

“I got ‘em, Kayce,” she tried to catch her breath, “before they got me.” He grabbed her hand and started to lead her away toward his truck.

“Yes you did sweetheart.” He winced at the thought of how she was going to come to terms with taking a life. If she even realized she killed someone.

“Holy shit. I think I’m —,” she stumbled and bent at the waist away from him. She stabilized herself on a tree, and retched until her voice went hoarse.

“Let it out baby. Let it out.” He rubbed her back in between her shoulder blades to give any sort of comfort he could. She started to shake with the effort. Kayce placed an arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

“I’ve gotcha Stell.” Her body relaxed as the heaving stopped. She groaned and wiped her mouth off. Her phone started to ring in her back pocket as she made herself upright. Immediately, she handed it to Kayce, not wanting to deal with whoever it was.

“Ryan,” he greeted quietly.

“Uh, excuse me? Kayce?”

“Ask me all the questions you want later. Get yourself and Lloyd out to Stella’s. Now.”

“What the fuck, is she okay?”

“Yes, just get here now.”

Colby looked over at Ryan when he heard his confusion at calling his sister, but having someone else pick up. That someone else being their current foreman. His eyebrows raised at that thought. He would have to talk to Stella about that when he saw her next.

“Colby, you and Jake are in charge for the day! I need Lloyd to go to Stella’s!” He ran as if the devil himself was on his heels and left a confused Colby in the bunkhouse.

He ran in and immediately ran into Lloyd. “Jesus Christ Ryan watch where you’re goin’.”

“Lloyd.” He gulped air. “Kayce said there was an emergency at Stella’s and we need to get there now.” He ran off to find any truck keys he could.

“Oh hell!”

The two men saw the slight destruction Kayce’s truck had caused to the driveway. They each let out their own expletives, not sure what they had just pulled into. Ryan threw the truck in park and looked for Kayce. The man in question got up from the porch steps next to Stella. Ryan hopped out and ran for his little sister.

She looked like she was trying to make herself small and disappear. Her normal tan from being in the sun was pallid. Her eyes had dark half circles around the bottom. There were minor scrapes and bruises that lined her arms.

“Stella!” She looked up at him and slowly stood. He grabbed her in a bear hug.

“Oh Stella, I'm so sorry I didn’t pick up. I’m so sorry.” He put his hand on the back of her head and held her as close as possible. She hadn’t known he was busy making sure Rip didn’t die. She sniffled. Stella knew it wasn’t his fault.

In a small, scratchy voice, Stella reassured her brother, “it’s okay. Kayce got me.” Ryan nodded and scoffed quickly. Even in her time of trouble, she was still worried about everyone else. He squeezed her tightly. He knew he shouldn’t have let her go by herself. He was grateful for Kayce being protective of his sister and his fast action. He had come in where Ryan had failed.

“Don’t blame yourself, Ry.”

“Don’t worry about me right now. What the hell happened?”

“I was on my way home from Olivia’s. A big ass SUV started following me. I tried to call you, then I called Kayce. He said he would meet me here. He was pulling in and I got their attention and brought them into the woods.”

“I’m almost to your driveway.”

“Okay cool. I’ll be somewhere near that trashy shed. I’m about to do something stupid.” Stella ended the call and put her phone in her back pocket. She slammed her car door and ran around the shed. She could still see the silver car. Now out in the open, she waved the flashlight wildly in the air.

“Hey fuck face! You want me so bad, come and get me!” She took off running to the right. She ducked and dodged around trees and stumps. She saw the one big fir she loved and ran for cover there. At least to catch her breath for a second.

She could hear the men as they yelled through the trees. It sounded like some came closer to her, and some went further. It didn’t sound like a lot of people. She heard the underbrush crackling to her left. She listened to her right and took off back toward the little rundown shed. One of them must have heard her.

“She's over here!”

She looked off in the wrong direction and yelled in a singsong voice, “No I’m not asshat,” she hoped her voice would bounce back and keep them confused. She continued to run and thread herself through the trees. She thought she heard the rumble of a truck and prayed to god or anyone who would listen that it was Kayce.

“You did what??”

Stella shook her head. She didn’t want to remember what happened after she heard Kayce’s engine.

“I needed to buy time until Kayce got to me. So I got them lost in the trees.” She shrugged and knew she wasn’t going to hear the end of it but she needed to sit. Stella directed him wearily. “You should go talk to him. I’m gonna sit down.” Ryan helped make sure she actually sat and didn’t fall.

“Ryan,” Kayce called him over. “You said you wanted to be all in, right?”

“Now's not the time, Kayce.” Lloyd scolded.

Ryan defended himself to the man he considered a father. “I'm already in this place so deep.”

“He wants you clean. You carry a badge.”

“The badge hasn't kept me clean.”

“If you want in, it's all the way in.” Kayce didn’t want him to think there was a way to half ass it.

“I know.”

“He doesn't wear the brand.” Lloyd argued.

“He will. There’s four bodies in the wooded area of her property we’ve gotta take care of.” Kayce explained.

“I’m, what?” Ryan was confused. From the story Stella had told him, to the announcement that there were four dead bodies that needed dealing with, he felt like he had whiplash.

Kayce hushed his voice so Stella wouldn’t hear, “She also,” he didn’t want to finish the sentence, “killed two of them. I don’t know if she’s realized it yet.”

“No.” His shoulders dropped, devastated. “Tell me you’re lying, Kayce.” Ryan felt like he was going to be sick. He never wanted something like that for his sister to bear on her conscience.

“I wish I could, Ryan.”

“Fuck!” He exclaimed quietly. He peered over at his baby sister and now registered why she looked the way she did.

“Oh, she knows.” Lloyd told them. He knew that look well. He had seen it on himself.

“She can also hear you.” She fixed her gaze on the three men. She moved her glasses back up her nose. Her face hardened.

“It was them or me and they didn’t stop coming. So I protected myself.” Stella stood on shaky legs and tried to fight off nausea, “Now, what are we gonna do to fix the problem?”

She walked over, stood in front of the three men she knew wore the brand, and made herself vulnerable. “I’m all in gentleman.” She put her hands out to the side then her eyes finally landed on Kayce’s, and she let her hands drop against her thighs. He knew exactly the role she’d just accepted for not only herself, but for him.

Lloyd sighed and glanced at the ground to hide his face as he felt his heart bleed for her. He never imagined something like this playing out, or her having backed herself into a corner like she did.

“No Stella. You don’t know what you’re asking.” Lloyd left no room for argument. There were several noises of agreement. Lloyd was like a father to Ryan and her, but after the bullshit that she just went through, she didn’t care if he was the Pope. Stella decided now was the perfect time to place a disagreement on the table.

“Are you sure I don’t know, Lloyd?” She paused to look each man in the eye, daring them to object. “I've lived on that ranch 365 days of every year from the time I was 14 years old until I was 24 when I bought this house.” She pointed aggressively at the building. “And those of you who are in the shit, didn’t exactly have quiet mouths when you thought no one was around.“

“I’m neither blind, nor deaf, gentleman.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Like, for example, what happened to Fred?” She fixed her glasses and paused for them to answer. When they failed to do so, she kept going. “Did he just get “bored” and “move on” like you told everyone else? Or did you just so happen to take him to a “train station” that somehow magically exists just beyond the welcome sign for Wyoming?” Stella knew her luck was pushed to the max, but she was tired of caring today.

“I’ve seen and heard what goes on behind the scenes at that ranch, guys. I know exactly what I’m saying.”

“Let’s have this little heart to heart later after this is dealt with, yeah?” Kayce tried to get everyone to get moving because the sun was close to coming up. No, Stella didn’t have close neighbors, but today would be the one time someone chose to stop by.

Stella groaned to herself as she got out of the car. They were finally back at the Yellowstone. She was going to keep it that way for a few days. At least until she had to go back to Olivia’s and check on that little colt. That was a conversation with Ryan for later when she had more energy. She had been up way past 24 hours at this point. She was starting to see double. She was just happy she had made the drive back to the ranch.

She decided everything in the car could be left. She just wanted to go fall on a bunk and pass out for several hours, if not for a full day. After the hell of this morning, she deserved that and dared anyone to try and tell her differently. If they tried, she would most likely sock them square in the jaw.

She went toward the bunkhouse, hearing the bed call her name. She was so close to the freedom she could taste it. At least she would have been if a heavy hand hadn’t grabbed her around the arm. She turned in a swinging motion with the momentum from being stopped.

“What could you possibly want that can’t wait until later?” Kayce stared back at her. He looked unamused. She had thought it was her brother.

“Sorry, I thought you were Ryan.”

“The bunkhouse is gonna be loud. Go to the foreman’s cabin.”

“But that’s your place.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to put you out of your own place just because I need a fat nap, Kayce.”

“I told you to go there. It’s got a couch that works just fine.”

Stella rolled her eyes in true Stella fashion. “Okay, Kayce. I’m too tired to argue. I’m taking the bed though.” She walked away before he could argue back. She had laid on that couch many times before, and it was trash on the back. He had made that proverbial bed, so he could lie in it.

[stevie-petey]

hello your honour (m), me and my partner, val @southelroy would like to take this opportunity to defend our client, one steven marie harrington. we intend to prove, beyond reasonable doubt, that his behaviour and actions are born from a place of genuine trauma, that his intentions, while marred in teen angst, are clear, and finally, that his bearing is better than certain past, shall we say........bonds.......cough johnathan cough.

idk how longer i can keep this bit going, but seriously, guys c'mon cut the guy a break, all steve and bug have been doing since midway season 1 is drive their car to struggle citadel and pray at its pews. Also m this season is so crazy delicious i will get into singing your praises in a minute, after i prove my case with evidence. thank you.

firstly, i'd like to establish a baseline from which we can work upwards from. frankly, steve clears. he has been worshipping the ground bug walks on since the day he saw her, and he made clear his high regard of her the moment he got to develop some sort of friendship/relationship with him. even just taking these last three chapters, the amount of outward steve shows bug, completely unabashedly, is ridiculous. it was the most physical, outward admiration bug has gotten out of her peers, aka, the teen boys her age. I'd like to point to one moment in particular, "You exhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his body, and Steve nuzzles his face into your neck and presses a gentle kiss there.". This parallel to johnathan and bug ending their closeness at the end of season 2, as well as the phone call/car ride johnathan takes in season 3, posits steve as the new "love interest", the new What-if/maybe of bug's love life. However, his romantic intentions are much more straightforward than johnathan's ever were. The end of season 2, he very clearly stated that he wanted to, eventually, be in a relationship with bug, that he would need some time before it happened, and bug understood this, and agreed to it. This is drastically different from Not Talking About It for years on end. I would argue that bug herself knows, at least to some extent, steve's feelings for her. She certainly knows the care he feels for her, "You know he doesn’t want to scare you, that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, so you tilt your head at him and nod slightly; you want him to tell you." The ease with which they kiss each other's cheeks is an openness bug did not experience in season 1, especially when shit with nancy and johnathan started becoming #real #deep. there is a certainty that is present in these interactions that bug and johnathan did not have until they were literally doing a friend break up.

Now that we've established the evidence of steve's background, i'd like to move the jury to view evidence of motive, with your permission your honour (hi m <3). As stated in the opening statement, bug and steve are getting stamps on that struggle card like their featured on tlc classic, extreme couponing, and baby they are making cashback! Bug's daddy issues are well documented, as are steve's. In fact, they are so well established, that the defense would like to claim that throwing a gren@de at mr. harrington's car would be an all round net positive to society. We know that steve thinks highly of bug, including post spring summer of '85, and that while they have moved past it, o would argue that a fear of abandonment is not unfounded in the young man's mind, particularly when his own self image is currently being shredded by a medieval torture device known as mr. harrington. Steve is being beaten down, it sounds like quite frequently, "He hadn’t turned into who had expected to become, something that you know his father reminds him of every time he comes back from some business trip. ", and it's showing in his relationship(?) with bug, "Steve leans into your kisses and smiles at the praise, relieved that you don’t think he’s some idiot." We see this when he rants to robin in episdoe 1, he is an, ultimately, scared and insecure teen, who is getting requited affection for the first time in a long time, from a person whom he deeply respects, admires, and holds dear in his heart, and, unfortunately, was unable to maintain a relationship with him during the beginning of their friendship. I ask you, the court, were we not understanding of bug then? Could we not see the place where she came from? While we disagree with her actions, did we not see the ultimate place she was coming from? Surely we can extend that grace to mr. harrington.

I'd like to perhaps bring in a new angle, that steve and bug's tiff at the end of episode 3 is not their fault expressly. We know bug has a giant guilt complex that makes my religious background look carefree. We know she has a very real fear of having a relationship pass you, due to someone whose name rhymes with bonathan, and is perhaps more sensitive to being strung along than she otherwise would be. We know steve's battling daddy issues, a need to prove himself with a great opportunity right in his lap, and a fear of relationships changing because of someone noticing his inadequacy (very incheresting to me that he's relieved that bug doesn't think he's an idiot.........he's my unmedicated undiagnosed adhd baby.....we're twins in that sense. also in the sense that we like women :P), which could happen when they are in a full blown relationship. Him not knowing how to ask bug out is valid, he's on a new man journey of shedding his old self off, he feels like he's batting way out of his league (he is), and he has a girl who fell out of love with him on his scoreboard, and a girl who used to be in an intense codependent friendship with a boy who is now currently dating said ex. That is a situation to be in!

While me and my partner understand bug's frustrations and empathise fully, and make clear our support of her, we only ask the jury lay the blame not at our defendant steve's feet, but rather the circumstances that have brought them here. And if they really want a target, feel free to aim towards one johnathan byers and mr. harrington, local triple f, (flop failure father).

The defense would now like to play offence. Johnathan, what the hell are you even doing here???? Get out of our family's business! What in the good lord's name are you doing ringing up a girl's number in the dead of the night??? The one you were a hair's breadth away from dating if you hadn't strung her along for a marathon length of time at that???? And then venting YOUR relationship problems, the very relationship you strung her along for, about a girl you left her for!!! The audacity of mr byers!!! While we understand this to be an affront to Ms. Henderson, we posit this is an affront to Ms. Wheeler as well. We ask you, the jury, how comfortable YOU would feel if the guy you were dating, told HIS ex best friend-turned-complicated-situation-turned now friends with boundaries all about your relationship problems while driving around at night, a deeply date like activity? While you may posture and say "oh, well, if it's a girl like Bug!". Girls..... That would make it worse. AS IT SHOULD! We maintain this isn't bug's fault as it isn't her relationship to protect, but mr. byers!

Okay we rest our case.

M, I apologise for this stupid essay above, but omg omgo omg omgogkogmogmgomgm I am EATING!!!!! YOU ATE!!!!!! This was so crazy delivious yummy!!!! Love love love the way steve and bug are interacting, all the casual affection has me giggling and kicking my feet like they're everything hehehehe. All the cheek kisses are so so so cute and making me crave affection like a motherfucker. All the flirting vibes between them is driving me up the wall...."So you admit you're flirting with me?" BITCH! I MIGHT BE!!! I am cheesinggggg. I remember you said that season 4 is going to be stug struggle era and my stomach is in knots already becasue the brief glimpse of unhappiness they experienced at the end of episode 3 made me want to cut my heart out of my chest, you have made them too lovable i fear.

SPeaking of cutting my heart out of my chest, may i say, you served with robin. Like. The struggle of being a closeted person really hit well. Not to get heavy, but the crushing weight of it was so subtly put into robin, it got to me alot. "She hates that you’re purposely excluding her and taking Steve’s side in this. You wish you could tell her the truth." This genuinely is sooooo fvnnvbvknsnbfe. I want to shake her through the screen like girl do NOT fall for your friend whose attracted to boys that is NOT a situation that ends well and you will NOT leave unscathed!! It felt like a lot like high school, when its a big thing you have no one else to tell, and there's too much at stake to say it. and omg. this part, "When Robin sees his wink, she only clenches her jaw and turns away before releasing your hand.". Devestating. If I were robin, i would have had a crush on both bug and steve and witnessed carousel kissy face gate, it would have turned me into the joker, i would have no choice but to pull the nastiest stunt this small town has ever seen. I feel absolutely awful for her, and it makes me kinder to my younger self. Just, omg, really excellent work.

Apologies for the length of this, but just on a final note, i really wanted to say thank you for writing this great story. it's been a tough couple of years, and my brain has gotten worse on me and i really have a lot of trouble concentrating on anything, including things i enjoy, and your story is one of the few guaranteed things i know i can sit down for and fully because i know i will love every minute of it. Wishing you luck and love wherever you go and always rooting for you <3!!

u bringing up bug abandoning steve first ,,, oh ur so right and i WILL be addressing that (steve finally asks for the entire reason ,,,, trust)

and ur so right about how grim of a situation it is. steve and bug reflect the hurt nancy and jon gave onto them. steve is afraid of being lead on again and not being enough (nancy lied about loving him and he wasnt enough in the end). bug is afraid that love itself isnt enough, that theres more than just loving one another that goes into a relationship (jon loved her and yet in the end it wasnt enough).

both babies are hurt :((((

LEAVE JON ALONE THO MANS NEEDED TO VENT TO HIS BESTIE AND BUG WAS ENTIRELY OK WITH THIS !!! SHE NEEDED TO VENT AS WELL !!! (nancy wont be ok with it tho lmao)

and im happy everyone is loving robin <333 i have a cute and sweet scene planned between her and bug later that im so excited to share :')

the final part of your ask, im so so so happy my story means that much to you and i am sending you a million kisses my love <3333 im always rooting for you as well and youre such a sweetheart

[shadowmaat]

A lost life explored

Many moons ago I got an ask inviting me to speculate on what would have happened if Obi-Wan had stayed on Melida-Daan. At the time I didn't find that likely, but I fudged a workaround for the anon who asked.

While my opinions have shifted a lot since then, I still lean towards the idea that Obi-Wan would still have found his way back to the Jedi, no matter what.

HOWEVER.

I read a fic today wherein a holocron of Sifo-Dyas apologized to Obi-Wan "for the life I took from you" by manipulating him to come back to the Jedi. The fic itself is very streamlined, so it never really goes into detail about what Obi-Wan's life would have been like without that interference.

In the fic there's brief mention of how Young!Obi had been meditating and "lost time," regaining awareness only after his friend had been shot and the peace talks began to fall apart. This is when he decided to call the Jedi for help and eventually wound up rejoining them.

If you want to take it literally, you could say that the "life" Obi-Wan lost was Cerasi, but now I want to play around with that a bit.

Let's say that, if Sifo-Dyas hadn't interfered, Obi-Wan would have been awake and aware and able to stop Cerasi's assassination. The peace talks would have continued. Perhaps the assassination attempt would have been used to help levy stronger compensations from the Olds. Obi-Wan becomes the Negotiator and a tentative ceasefire agreement is reached.

He does NOT call the Jedi for help, but does send word to the Senate in order to get some official ratification going via a lawyer or other legal representative. No loopholes allowed, no backing out, the Melida and the Daan are going to cooperate, dammit.

As "payment" for the Senate's generous help (ha), Melidaan agrees to a little more oversight from the Galactic Senate. This, at least, helps to unite the three warring factions, who don't want Big Government encroaching on their planet and their resources. A Senate Oversight office is set up in Zehava (the capital).

Obi-Wan also reminds the fledgling united government that they're entitled to have a representative in the Senate. No, not Obi-Wan, he's too, ha, young for the job, though he is elected as an aide to the new senator and everyone is expecting him to take over when the time comes.

Obi-Wan isn't exactly happy to be back on Coruscant, but he's determined to do all he can for his adopted planet. ...And maybe help out a few other unfortunates who've been pushed under the carpet.

Basically he becomes a very small thorn in the Senate's side, one that becomes progressively larger until it's too late.

He charms the other aides. He befriends the panhandlers on the surrounding streets. He makes inroads among the criminal element. Very little happens without Obi-Wan noticing it, and very few pay him any mind because he's "just a kid."

Obi-Wan, who goes by "Bee," now, always seems to be buzzing around the Senate- when he isn't getting into mischief. The Jedi who come to the Rotunda never seem to encounter him; he's very good at playing least-in-sight when they're around.

By the time events in the prequels roll around, he has indeed become the Senator for Melidaan and has a vast network of informants. He isn't able to stop Palpatine from becoming Chancellor, but thanks in part to his whisper campaign the vote is closer than Palps expected.

All efforts to have Bee eliminated fail, usually in ways that seem to be accidental or coincidental. Some of the assassins even develop a rapport with him, particularly Zam Wessel, who is both delighted and annoyed by his ability to identify her no matter what face she's wearing.

He also interferes on Anakin's behalf, once he notices Palpatine's interest in the boy. Not through anything dramatic, just by adding distractions. Mechanics looking for help with ship repairs. Droids who obviously need some TLC. Leaving his office door open as he watches podraces just as Ani happens to be passing by. Even when Palps refuses to let Ani get sidetracked, all it does is generate resentment rather than unwavering loyalty.

As a courtesy, Zam tips off Bee about her contract on Amidala, only to find herself waking up in his office later on with no idea how she got there. Amidala is safe and has a couple extra security guards who absolutely are not criminals or reformed assassins.

The clones are still discovered and the war still kicks off, but there's a lot more questioning of why, how, and what. We'll says Palpatine's initial grab for emergency powers fails, though I don't know enough about what those are to say how it affects things, other than pissing him off.

Commander Fox isn't sure if he wants to shoot Senator Bee or marry him. The man is a menace, but can be damn scary sometimes. He also connects Fox into his whisper network, which the Corries will then help expand.

I dunno how things will play out in the end, but Palpatine isn't going to have an easy time with anything and I don't think the Purge will happen. Or not completely.

Bee will also eventually find out that the he wasn't as "hidden" from the Jedi as he thought; they knew who he was and where he was, but respected his decisions to live his own life.