#been baseball posting on main for the most part

[erodasfishtacos]

Melt Your Cold Heart

prompt: harry’s been alone for years. a bland, bleak life where he needs nothing but his dog then he stumbles upon someone who gives him a purpose…even if for a few hours. word count: 8k

warnings: heavy angst, emotionally unavailable harry, suicidal/depressive thoughts, mental health struggles, mentions of trauma, discussion of sex work

authors note:

There is 3 more parts to this up on patreon (and currently being updated this month!).

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 3 mini one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

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you can check it out here!

++++++++

Harry hadn’t wanted to pull over but it was impossible to continue on the highway without potentially causing an accident.

The snow was coming down hard enough that it was a white sheet, the high speed winds were making it to be a tornado of pure smokescreens that made it impossible for his windshield wipers to work.

The semi-truck had eighteen wheels but they were all at risk of hydroplaning or losing grip on the layers of black ice that covered the asphalt without a second thought.

With such a heavy piece of equipment, he didn’t have to only look out for himself but anybody else on the road because one wrong judgment call could turn the semi into a weapon of destruction.

It meant that he was going to be at least twelve hours behind on his delivery which was making him on-edge as it was because he hated having to deal with the dickhead client that he was delivering to.

The town he stopped in was small, nothing to note, and not unsimilar to the towns he had stayed in before in his twelve years on the road.

A small Midwest town that had a truck stop with a twenty-four hour gas station, a diner that was already closed for the night, and a pavilion of bathrooms for truck drivers to clean off.

It was just about midnight when he parked his rig, taking off his baseball cap and running his hand through his hair, it was getting long and he was due for trim next time he was home but fuck, he was tired.

He never really stopped working, constantly moving across state lines and delivery shipments as a self-employed hauler - he was his own boss and he pushed himself like no boss would (who wouldn’t want to be violating labor laws).

This wasn’t one of the nicer stops.

The buildings were outdated, looking like they hadn’t been renovated since the eighties, and that was being generous.

The parking lot lights were flickering like in a horror movie, not that it frightened Harry, he has dealt with his fair on the road, and has seen a lot of things that he would have preferred not to.

It’s why he always carried, just on his hip, in case.

He would wait until the next stop to shower, at one of the more luxurious, updated places where the showers were actually decent, there was privacy, and it didn’t feel like bathing in a back alley.

For now, he just needed the restroom and a drink.

The bathrooms were just as foul as he expected, washing his hands with extra hot water to give himself a sense of cleanliness before he’s trailing over to the gas station next door.

The wind was insane, blowing the snow directly into his face, and sticking to his eyelashes.

His eyes burned with the freezing temperatures, blinking harshly as he tucks his head down until a warm gust of air hits his face as he enters the building. The lights were blindingly fluorescent and he had to adjust for a minute after driving in the dark for hours by now.

There was an older man at the counter, sitting on a stool and watching a static-filled rerun on a small television next to the register, and his skin was a sickly yellow, most likely from working the graveyard shift for far too long.

The man nods in acknowledgement but doesn’t take his eyes off the screen.

Harry walks towards the back, towards the line of coolers to grab something to drink, a soda that he normally didn’t drink but he was craving carbonation, he hadn’t eaten yet today.

He was definetly a bit too skinny.

Truck drivers were normally the opposite, out of shape, and overweight from lack of movement.

They were sat in trucks all day, every day with nothing to do but snack.

Harry was the opposite, though he was too lean, he took pride in his appearance and maintained his muscle from strapping down, unloading, and all the physical work of the job that he did himself (unlike most drivers).

He did not eat well, he knew that but found it hard to care.

Harry was in a slump, he had been for the last few years.

With being on the road, missing all major holidays, and never sticking around one place enough to settle down - he was depressed, an understatement but no one was around to listen or care.

He was alone, truly, and at some point, that had become comfortable to him.

Harry went through the motions, driving, hauling, delivering, sleeping, and repeating it over and over again.

The only thing he had was a Fire Bird (Birdie) his cattle dog who was named after his favorite car growing up, one that had been in his grandfather’s shed, and was only taken out on the town on very special occasions.

Birdie kept him sane, gave him a reason to get his ass moving every morning, and to take breaks because though he was convinced that his dog was the laziest bag of bones. Every few hours, she required a field, her ball, and Harry throwing it for her for at least twenty minutes before she passed out on the passenger seat for a few hours.

It was his routine.

Their routine.

He had found when she was a puppy.

Some trucker at a stop in Milwaukee had left the pup in the field next to the lot after she’d chewed through one of his seats.

She was malnourished, overheated, and covered in fleas.

Harry had never had a dog on the road, never thought it practical but the first time he had seen this spotted puppy with the saddest brown eyes and its tail wagging timidity on the ground.

Well it was the first time Harry had felt anything in a long time.

That was eight years ago, Birdie was a bit slower now, a gray coating her muzzle, and an attitude of a spoiled queen.

A lot more days than Harry would like to admit, she’s what keeps him going because it’s definitely not work or the money.

Harry had a hefty sized bank account from all his hard work but it sat and sat, he never spent it on anything but bare necessities so it continued to stack and stack which wasn’t a bad thing but it was nothing that brought him excitement.

It wasn’t the dream life of a thirty-three year old.

Harry had grabbed a coke before snagging a bag of overpriced jerky off the nearest display - he can’t remember the last time he ate something that wasn’t heavily processed.

There was a girl in the store too.

Harry had just caught the slightest glimpse of her as she stood by a cooler on the other side of the store, browsing the energy drinks.

She was out of place.

Harry hadn’t seen a car parked in the lot, only two other semis, and she wasn’t a truck driver by the look of her outfit.

It wasn’t weather appropriate at all.

Not for winter in the Midwest.

The woman had on a fitted black dress, it wasn’t overly fancy but it hugged every inch of her body, and high heels of all things.

Harry wonders if she was with one of the other drivers.

He doesn’t pay much mind to her until she faces him, a purple can in her hand, and she’s noticeably pretty, more so than average.

Harry wasn’t trying to be an asshole but women who hung around these areas weren’t typically most attractive.

This woman was.

Albeit the makeup she had on was too much, thick eyelashes, her blush too heavy, and a rouge lip that contrasted the complexion of her skin in an off-putting way.

Her heels click as she steps over to the counter, putting the drink on the counter, along with a protein bar, and rifling through a small purse on her shoulder.

“Eight thirty-three,” The cashier announces after scanning it, his eyes crudely running up and down the woman’s body before focusing on her face again.

The woman is rustling through her purse, pulling out crinkled bills that had been shoved carelessly in the clutch.

Harry stands a safe distance behind her, in line, watching as she smooths out the one dollar bills hastily as the cashier looks completely unamused.

“I only have five,” The girl mumbles embarrassed after she comes up empty with no more money to be found, “Can you please take off the protein bar?”

Harry doesn’t feel much often.

Tonight, he does.

A little glimmer of compassion.

But very much like himself, the girl is too skinny, not eating enough, and from what he can infer - not being able to afford food to feed herself.

“I got it,” Harry interrupts, stepping up next to the woman, and putting his stuff down aside hers, taking his wallet out of his back pocket to pluck out his bank card.

It’s the first time they make eye contact, “Oh, you really don’t have to. I’ll be okay with just the drink-“

“I’m not asking,” Harry replies curtly, tapping his card to the screen when the total rings up before tucking his wallet away and grabbing his items.

“Here,” She insists, trying to hand him the crumpled bills that she had laid on the counter, five dollars that she needed much more than him.

“Keep it,” Harry waves her off, refusing the money before walking towards the door without another look her way.

He was drawn to her.

He wouldn’t offer most, really anyone a handout - he never got one.

Harry can feel the woman’s eyes on his back as he stalks out of the station, hugging his jacket tighter against his body as he walks back to his truck to sleep for the night.

“S’fucking cold, Birdie,” Harry had complained as he locked the doors, placing up all the blinds to keep wandering eyes out.

Birdie was currently dead to the world, unbothered by his words as she snores softly from her fluffy dog bed on the floor of the cab.

Harry had just tugged off his winter jacket when he hears a knock at the driver’s side door - for a moment, he’s convinced that it’s the wind but then a few seconds later, it comes again.

“Fucks sake,” Harry grunts with annoyance, he much prefers when people leave him the fuck alone, and he has a hunch it’s the gas station cashier or another driver.

However, when he opens the door, after unlocking it, and having to use a good amount of effort to push it against the force of the wind - it’s neither.

It’s the girl from the gas station.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around her middle.

Her lips were quivering as she tried to prevent her teeth was chattering, blinking harshly through the wind up at him.

“What?” Harry asks, it wasn’t overly friendly or friendly at all.

“Are you looking for company?” The woman replies but she’s the furthest thing from confident, eyes darting around but not meeting his, “I…My rates are reasonable.”

And oh, this is what she was doing here.

Harry couldn’t tell you the amount of times that he’s had a knock on the door and been propositioned for ‘company’.

Most drivers indulged in it, they were lonely and usually away from their spouses for long spurts of time that led them to pay for the replacement.

Harry had never.

Nor did he plan to now.

As he said, this woman was fucking gorgeous, would be even more so without the cakey makeup and slinky outfit.

But he wasn’t ever going to be that lonely.

He grew up with a mom in that line of work, he felt like it was disrespectful to put a monetary price on a woman’s worth, and he had never been into casual hookups.

So yes, he would absolutely love her company but not ever under these circumstances, where she’s offering out of need and not desire.

Harry can’t remember the last time he’s had sex but the depression had killed his sex drive for the most part anyways.

He didn’t seek it out.

“No,” Harry responds flatly, not indecisiveness in his voice at all, “Not interested.”

Typically when Harry turned a proposition down, the woman wouldn’t be too thrilled whether she delivered him a ‘fuck you’ or spit on the door of his truck - that was normal response.

However, not for this girl, her face drops in a twist of embarassment and shame, and it’s also the first time someone apologizes for offering.

“I’m sorry to…to bother you. Um, have a good night. Safe travels,” She stutters out, it was obvious that she was flustered and mortified which again, made him feel just a twinge of empathy.

Harry’s about to assure her that it wasn’t a big deal but she was already turning in her heel, walking briskly back to the pavilion and disappearing inside.

He shuts his door, slumping down in his driver’s seat for a second as he rubs his hand across his face with a groan, he was too tired for this shit.

However, the thought of that girl offering her services to the other drivers or having to sleep in that dirty, run-down building wasn’t acceptable to him.

“The fuck is wrong with me,” Harry mutters to himself as he tugs his jacket back on, he never cared about any before.

Why now?

Harry’s body detests being lured back into the frigid weather, missing the warmth of his cabin instantly as he shuts the door behind him.

By the time he’s walking toward the building, the girl had disappeared inside, and wasn’t visible to him anymore.

What was he even doing?

He should turn around and go back to his truck.

But he finds himself tugging open the door, it was warmer than the outside but not by much, the heater must be in its last leg, and it was sticky - almost humid.

Harry’s nose twitched in disgust at the smell of cheap disinfectant, a half-ass cleaning job, and garbage that hadn’t been taken out soon enough.

He doesn’t see her right away, figuring he may have to go towards the women’s restroom - he follows the sign towards the back of the building.

Harry finds her, tucked into the corner of an alcove, resting against the side of a row of vending machines - smushed and hiding.

She had taken off her bag, bundling it up, and pushing it between her head and the machine to create a makeshift pillow.

Harry wishes it didn’t make his chest ache, he was so used to not feeling, and it was pissing him off that he wasn’t feeling numb to it.

Her eyes were closed but her body was tense like he knew shouldn’t couldn’t full let herself relax because she wasn’t safe.

Harry clears his throat, standing in front of her with his hands in his jacket pockets.

She startles as she hadn’t heard him approaching, bumping her head off the hard plastic of the machine covering and wincing as she tenses.

“Let’s go,” Harry waves his hand impatiently.

Yeah, his communication skills were not the best.

The woman blinks up at him in confusion, reasonably nervous as she shuffles off the floor, stumbling as she pushes herself up on a knee, uncoordinated and clumsy as she tries to get re-oriented.

Harry sighs impatiently, sticking out his hand for to take, and when she very gingerly puts her freezing cold one in his, he yanks her up to her feet with little effort - she couldn’t weigh much.

”Did you…uh,” The girl’s voice is shaky as she grabs her purse, a backpack, “Did you want to know my rates?”

Harry stops, turning back towards her, and starting to unzip his heavy, down winter coat as he shakes his, “Don’t need ‘em. I’m not interested in your services.”

The girl pauses too, swinging her backpack over her shoulder, “Why did you come get me then?”

Harry doesn’t make eye contact as he shoves his jacket unceremoniously towards her, “Put this on.”

She accepts it but doesn’t move to, “Why?”

Harry grunts out an annoyed huff, shoving his hands in jean pockets, “S’not safe for you to be sleeping in a place like this. It’s freezing in here, you’re not dressed for the weather. You can stay the night in my cab before I head out.”

YN swallows anxiously, weighing out her options before there’s a banging noise.

Someone barging through the front doors of the pavilion, a large middle-aged man that had dirty overalls on, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and a scraggly graying beard.

When this trucker sees the woman, he smiles like a cat who just got the cream, and doesn’t hesitate to ask in a raspy, smoker’s draw, “How much for the night, sweetheart?”

Her eyes widen in unwelcome surprise, lips twisting as she struggles to find a response.

”Um…”

”I already got ‘er,” Harry gives the man a hard, faux-possessive look (maybe it wasn’t as fake as he thought it was because he really did feel a protectiveness over her for some reason), “Tough shit.”

”Let me know if you finish with her early,” The man laughs, his gaze was predatory and foul, it made even Harry feel unsettled to just see the way he was looking at her - like an object.

“Fuck off,” Harry dismisses the man easily, though Harry was skinner than he’d prefer, his muscles were still prevelant and enough to intimidate, especially the out-of-shape man.

The girl tugs the jacket on hastily, the other trucker clearly motivating her not to stay in here.

”That’s why you shouldn’t try to sleep in here, you think he would think twice before dragging you to his truck?” Harry scolds as he steps forward, without thinking, he zips the jacket for her because the zipper can be finicky at the best times - it was old and needed replaced three winters ago at least.

”I know you could lie,” She says softly, the most she’s really said thus far, “But you’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

It was dumb question, on her end.

Why would anyone tell her the truth if their real intention was to cause her harm?

Harry really should be questioning what he’s doing.

Never once in the past has he ever taken it upon himself or felt the need to do what he was doing for this girl.

He should mind his own business and realize that she isn’t his responsibility.

“No, I’m not going to. You can get warm, get some sleep, and tomorrow at five in the morning I’m kicking you to the curb,” Harry informs her, trying to maintain the coldness that he normally keeps in his tone but he feels guilty even talking to her like that.

“Okay. I…Thank you. I’m YN, by the way,” She tells him, still shy as ever and really a contradiction to how a sex worker is - outgoing and assertive.

“Harry,” He replies as he walks them towards the exit, not looking forward to having the freezing temperatures hit the bare skin of his arms nor have the wind throwing icy clumps on snow in his face but he would take it if it meant YN stayed a bit warmer.

YN’s face pinches up when the door opens, the cold hitting her aggressively enough that her hair goes flying behind her in the wind, every which way as it tangles into a bird ‘s nest.

Harry is lucky he turns around to check on her because right as he does, she slips on a patch of ice which has her nearly falling backwards.

He grips her forearms tightly, a gnarled frown on his face as he gripes, “Who the fuck wears heels in below zero temps?”

He expects a snarky response back.

And he feels even more like a piece of shit when she tucks her chin down, mumbling an embarrassed apology as he guides her, keeping a hold of her arm.

Harry unlocks his truck, swinging open the door, and steps back, “Go ahead.”

YN hesitates for a moment, glancing back at the pavilion and seeing the truck driver from early emerge, winking at her.

She hurries inside as quickly as she can in her outfit, trying to tuck her dress to her thighs to avoid it flipping up and giving Harry a view.

Harry shuts the door behind them, locking it tightly, and double checking both side of the doors before he’s unfastening the blinds - blocking the outside world.

Last step is to put up the privacy screen along his windshield as YN keeps tucked carefully by the corner of the driver’s side.

“C’mon, I have a dog. She doesn’t like anyone but me so just leave her alone and she won’t bother you,” Harry informs her as he pushes back the curtain to his cabin, it was always spotless, and clean which was probably surprising to her.

It was a luxury sleeper, it wasn’t anything extravagant but Harry had put his savings to good use about three years ago.

A small kitchen, a dining room table that folded his bed out, and a television mounted on the wall that was usually on for background noise more than anything.

“This is really nice,” YN stands timidly in the breezeway of the front of the truck, unsure, and looking out of place.

Harry just grunts in agreement, questioning what exactly his plan was, and he grabs fresh sheets out of a small cabinet.

“You can have the bed,” Harry tells her as he strips off his sheets, they weren’t dirty but he had slept on them a few nights, “I’ll take the lounger.”

It wasn’t the most comfortable chair but he’d survive.

“No, no. I can take the chair,” YN insists sincerely with a shake of her head, her teeth still clenched as her body shook from the cold.

Harry ignores her, tugging the new fitted sheet onto the mattress, changing the pillowcases, and the comforter - he’s lucky he had a spare.

He doesn’t say anything else before gathering the comforter he’d just taken from the bed and tossing it on the lounge chair.

“Go to sleep,” Harry signals impatiently because she’s just standing there, shaking with how cold she is and he moves over to bump up the heat.

YN listens, walking slowly towards the bed, her eyes catching on Birdie’s sleeping form (who hadn’t even stirred) - what a shit guard dog.

YN sits on the edge of the bed, her hands were trembling from the cold and nerves, fingers stiff, and when she leans down to unstrap her heels - she can’t get a grip.

Harry watches for a moment before stalking over, kneeling down and wrapping his fingers around her ankle to hold of still.

YN watches him quietly as he slips the shoes from her feet, annoyance prevalent in his words as he asks pointedly, “Why the fuck would you wear these today? Do you have no self-preservation? You’re lucky you didn’t get frostbite.”

She shuts down again, like earlier when he had questioned her clothing choices, and doesn’t respond for a long second, voice soft when she does, “They’re the only pair I have.”

And…well Harry didn’t think of that.

Harry doesn’t have anything to reply with so he makes quick work of taking them off her freezing feet and she needs socks - they felt like ice under his own cold fingers.

He stands up, turning to a built in storage unit to his left as YN nervously moves to lay down, completely unsure as she lift the comforter.

“Not yet,” Harry gruffs as he digs out what he was looking for - a waffle-knit henley, a soft pair of flannel pajamas pants he never wore because he much preferred his underwear, and a pair of thick wool thermal socks, “Here. It stays relatively warm in here but it’s freezing outside. Put these on.”

“Thank you,” YN replies quietly as she stands up, without hesitation she reaches for the hem of her dress and begins to pull it up.

“Jesus,” Harry mutters as he quickly turns, giving her the privacy she deserved, rubbing a hand over the bridge of his nose.

“I’m dressed,” YN tells him after a minute of rustling as she changes into the clothes provided, “I didn’t mean to, um, make you uncomfortable. Most men want something in return, I figured you wanted to see me…change.”

Harry feels disgust seeping through him.

Not at her.

But at the deplorable men she had to be in the company of when at these types of stops.

“I told you, I don’t want shit from you. M’just trying to be a decent human being and I’d rather not see your picture on the morning news tomorrow. This is a horrible part of town,” Harry was too blunt, was constantly scolded for it during his upbringing but he never got better at it.

YN was still nervous, trembling at that as she sat down on the edge of the bed - all of the clothes were hanging off of her, the shirt slipping down her too-thin shoulder.

“I really appreciate it. I haven’t been able to sleep somewhere even half this nice without…you know, working,” YN sniffles as tears start to gather in her eyes, “I’m so tired.”

Harry feels that same tug on his heartstrings, a sensation that reminded him that he even had a beating heart.

“You’re safe. I know you just have my word but I won’t let anything happen,” Harry promises, feeding his own need to keep her safe and also make her feel that way too.

YN nods as she wipes her eyes, the makeup smearing around the edges thay has him sighing and getting up to head to the small bathroom.

He runs a clean washcloth under warm(ish) water before wringing it out.

Harry steps out to walk closer to her again, her chest was heaving as she let out emotion that Harry didn’t understand.

He doesn’t say anything - he wouldn’t even know what that would be because he hadn’t had real communication with anyone other than the other truckers on the radio for years now.

Harry is slow in his motions so that she’s not taken surprise at any point, with barey any pressure, he cups her face with one hand.

He brings the cloth up to wipe gently at the layered, tacky makeup that comes off in a thick muck, wipe after wipe.

When her face is clear of the overdone eyeshadow, harsh blush, spidery mascara clumped lashes - its startlingly how beautiful she is.

Her skin is perfect or nearly close to.

Smooth, clear, glowy in the dim light of the sleeper.

Her lips a puffy, delicate rosé pink - full and pouted.

The clean face takes at least a few years from her, that makeup had accentuated every wrinkle and crevice - aging her more than she was.

Fuck, she was pretty.

Harry tosses the cloth in his hamper, walking towards the lounge chair and kicking off his heavy, steel-toed boots.

He wasn’t obviously going to sleep in his briefs tonight and he had just handed her his only pair of pajama pants.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept in his jeans nor the last, some nights he was too tired to strip them off before collapsing in bed.

“Goodnight, thank you,” YN murmurs after a mute snuffle, he watches out of the corner of her eye as she wriggles down into his bed - looking like she fucking belongs there.

“Sleep well,” Harry rumbles as he shuts off the lamp, throwing the cabin into darkness - the only light filtering through the curtains of the neon gas station sign - bright enough to grab the attention of people on the highway.

Harry reclines the chair, he didn’t normally sleep on his back but he would manage for tonight - for her.

The wind was gnarly, scraping against the sides of his truck - the occasional loose tree branch hitting, the sleet pattering against the windows.

+

Harry didn’t sleep in, his body didn’t allow him.

He ran on five hours of sleep at max before he needed to get up, move around, and get on the road.

When he blinks his eyes open, blearing at clock on his wall - three fifty-four am.

Normally, Harry wouldn’t waste much time.

He’d be on the road within the next thirty minutes after letting Birdie out, getting her breakfast, and popping into the gas station to get the biggest size coffee they had.

However, when he glances at Birdie’s bed, he has to do a double take because she’s not in there, and his heart starts pounding instantly.

Harry didn’t care about much on this earth, really barely anything but he cared about his dog - the snappy, crotchety thing.

She was always in her bed.

Harry sits up quickly, a horrible thought that the girl he let sleep her had stolen her but as soon as he is standing - he hears a telltale snore from the dog.

He follows the noise and to his utter dismay, literal dismay, because Birdie didn’t like anyone but Harry (and she didn’t like him sometimes either).

The mutt is currently being spooned by YN.

It was the most absurd thing he had ever seen.

YN was on her side, facing towards him with her face half-smushed in his pillow, her arm was slung over Birdie as the pup was nuzzled into the shape of her body.

Birdie was relaxed as can be, snoring up a storm, and pillowing her head in the crook of YN’s shoulder like they’d known each other forever.

The dog hadn’t even woke up when YN had entered.

Traitor.

Harry tucks back into his boots, tugging on his winter jacket that YN had discarded on the back of the kitchenette chair.

As he fills the disposable coffee cup, black - no cream or sugar, he tries to map out his course to Washington state.

He had done the trip many times before but having to account for horrible road condition would tack on at least a day of travel - if not more.

Harry had to get on the road as soon as possible if he didn’t want to be later than that extra day.

The weather hadn’t changed, granted, it was only nearing four in the morning but he swears that the temperature dropped even further.

As he steps back up into the cabin, his eyes trail to YN and Birdie, all cuddled up like this was their home together.

Harry needed to wake her up, kick her to the curb like he had told her (and himself) but he couldn’t imagine waking her.

Not when only a few hours prior, she had cried as she told him how tired she was, and fuck - where did his heartlessness go?

He didn’t mess with sex workers, not that he judged the profession but Harry was never a casual sex kind of guy.

And anyways, the depression that was nearly constant killed his sex drive to the point where he rarely got the urge to take care of himself - let alone pay someone to do it for him.

Harry sighs as he contemplates his choices, he was going to be behind, and he couldn’t find it in him to shake her awake.

He decides to shower, even though the rest stop was foul because he had the time and he sure he has showered in worse places.

The water doesn’t get as hot as Harry would like but the pressure get good on his aching back, he’d always had a bad one, and sleeping in the lounger would make him sore for days.

Harry takes him time, washes his hair extra well, shaves off his stubble, and he’s not doing it to be more presentable to YN - he’s not.

By the time that he’s dressed in clean clothes, it has to be close to five in the morning, he refills his coffee on the way back before he’s unlocking his truck again.

Harry’s met by Birdie, who was acting strange, she rarely waited at the door and didn’t often whine like an injured pup.

However, Birdie was clearly upset as she anxiously paced in the small area, these high pitched yowls coming from the back of her throat - head upwards as she howled.

“What is it?” Harry asks her, automatically concerned as his eyes dart to the bed.

She was gone.

The bed had been made as neat as a pin, the clothes she had borrowed were folded on top of the comforter, and it’s like she’d never been there.

Harry should feel relief because he wouldn’t have to wake her up, kick her out but it doesn’t feel anywhere close to relief,

Not when he had this vicious, innate urge to protect her.

He didn’t know what made her so special.

Harry had stumbled upon countless women down on their luck before, it was part of working around the country, stopping as places were those people tended to populate, and he had never felt any desire to help them.

He knows she must have either went to the gas station or rest stop, she didn’t have a jacket so she couldn’t have gotten far.

A sickening thought of her getting into the scumbag from last night’s truck makes him close the door and head back toward the building.

He was just in the gas station to get another coffee, he would have seen her, and when he goes back into the dank rest stop - he walks towards the women’s bathroom.

Outside the door, he can hear the patter of water streaming from one of the ancient showerheads, and knows that has to be her showering.

And so he waits.

He hears the telltale signs of heels clicking and he has to laugh when she exits the bathroom.

Her hair was sopping wet because she didn’t have a towel, her black dress was waterlogged where the ends of her hair were kissing the fabric - all while wearing those god damn shoes.

YN’s eyes go wide, scared instantly as she stutters, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Harry’s replies, brow knit in confusion.

YN’s face contorts, eyes darting away for a moment, “Um, I don’t know? You look upset with me. I-I left as soon as I woke up like you said.”

Was Harry upset?

Yeah, he guesses he actually was.

But not with her, not really.

He was upset that she was in a ridiculously small dress with wet hair (and clothes) in sub zero temperatures.

“What is your plan?” Harry answers instead, watching as goosebumps erupt all over her skin - it was a sticky humid in the cinderblock building but the cold couldn’t be ignored.

“My plan?” YN repeats, he hates how nervous she is around him - he understands but it’s so unnecessary, he wants to keep her safe.

He should leave.

Let her do her thing.

It’s not his business.

“Where are you going? What’s next?”

YN picks at the skin of her thumb with her index finger, chin tilted down, “I am hoping to get enough cash today to get a jacket, maybe a hotel room? That, um, that guy yesterday is still out in his truck and offered me a hundred and fifty so that’s why I was..showering.”

Harry wanted to be sick, his stomach was actually churning the coffee he had chugged down because she deserved better than that.

“No,” Harry says without thinking.

YN’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “I don’t know-“

“Three grand,” Harry interupts her, “I’m going to Washington. I’ll give you cash today to do the trip with me. Five or six days overall. I’ll buy your food, get you clothes, anything you need. On the way back, I’ll drop you off here again.”

YN is rightfully confused, biting at her bottom lip, “And what do you expect of me?”

“No sex,” Harry assures her, “I won’t try anything.”

“But why? This doesn’t make any sense. It’s just wasting money,” YN points out, she was starting to tremble from the cold.

Harry tugs off his jacket once again, this time he holds it out, and YN slips her arms in without complaint - she was freezing.

“You seem easy-going. I’ve been on the road for five years, guess I’m lonely and some company would be nice,” Harry shrugs, a rueful smile as he adds, “Also I’ll be damned if you’re getting in that scumbag’s truck. You deserve better than that.”

YN does something that shocks Harry.

She steps forward and wraps her arms tightly around his middle, her face burying in her chest as she hugs him.

The tips of her hair are dampening his own shirt but he cannot find it in him to complain.

This hug makes him realize just how long he’s been without human touch.

Harry is stiff, still processing, and YN must realize that because she starts to pull back with wide eyes, “I’m sorr-“

He shakes his head, finally moving his arms to wrap around her back, and he pulls her back into the hug - just for a moment.

“I got you, alright?” Harry rumbles as he pulls away, taking a step back, “Do you have a cell phone? Is there anyone you need to let know that you’re leaving for a few days?”

“No to both. I don’t have a cell phone, it broke a while back, and I couldn’t afford a replacement. And no, I don’t have anyone who will be concerned,” YN replies quietly, her voice was soft and sweet and filled with hurt.

“Okay,” Harry responds because he doesn’t know how to put into words that he doesn’t understand why she’s in a place like this, with no one.

She didn’t seem to have a bad bone in her body.

Harry guides YN back to his truck, as he opens the door he tells her, “I’m going to run Birdie for a few minutes. The clothes are still folded on the bed. I’ll get you new ones on the way. There aren’t stores for the next long stretch of miles.”

YN nods in agreement and as soon as Harry opens the door, Birdie is down the four steps and bounding towards YN.

Birdie jumped up on her hind legs, tail going wild as she accepts ear scratches and coos from YN, leaning down to kiss her snout.

And that’s another thing Harry doesn’t get, Birdie doesn’t do that with other people, normally she growls and bristles, bares her teeth and barks to get them away.

Birdie gets her love before bounding into the snow-topped fields, swallowing her up until Harry can only see flashes of black and white as she darts around.

It’s too cold to give her the normal amount of time and plus, he didn’t have his jacket so Birdie only got ten minutes before he whistled for her to come back.

Birdie’s whiskers are ice-tipped, snow dusting her beard, and she races back into the cabin with no issue in escaping the cold.

YN was already changed again, sitting on the bed.

Harry would be okay if he never saw her in a tight black dress or high heels again.

“I’m going to go refill my coffee, do a quick check of my truck, and then we’ll get out of here, okay?” Harry asks as he wipes Birdie off with a towel to get her dry - her fur was coarse and pretty water-resistant as it was, “Do you want food, a drink?”

YN shakes her head, declining as if it’s the polite thing to do, “No, thank you.”

Harry nods before disappearing back out of the truck.

The gas station is as desolate as it’s been the other two times that he’s gotten his coffee but now he had an armful of things.

Juices, water, hydration drinks, granola bars, a breakfast sandwich, a few cellophane-wrapped pastries.

The same clerk is still behind the register, his skin almost translucent from how pale he was, purplish veins contrasted the yellowish tone of his skin.

The man is old, his name tag reads ‘Gary’, and he scans the items with a bored expression, eyes blearing up to Harry at one point.

He had a rough, mid-western accent that made him harder to understand as he spoke, “Never a good idea to fall in love with a hooker.”

Harry is taken aback, startled by the comment as he replies, “What did you just say?”

Gary nods towards his truck out front, he clearly had seen YN going back and forth from the rest stop to his rig.

Then he nods down at the snacks, “M’just saying, son. Don’t put your eggs in her basket. They’re all smoke and mirrors. They’ll say and do just about anything for cash. Remember that.”

Harry is silent as he taps his card to the screen, he wasn’t in love with this girl, he had just met her mere hours ago under weird circumstances.

He didn’t feel anything towards her.

At least that’s what he was going to continue to tell himself so that he can remain headstrong on the promise he made to himself that he doesn’t need anyone.

He’s fine by himself.

Just him and Birdie.

Harry doesn’t give him a reaction nor a response, grabbing the plastic bag, and trudging back out into the cold.

Ready to get the fuck out of here.

YN is still where he left her but Birdie had finished her breakfast and was currently nuzzled up next to her thigh like she was her mother.

Harry unceremoniously drops the bag of items next to her, opposite of his traitorous dog, and doesn’t say anything - awkward and unsure.

YN opens the bag, glancing inside before looking up at him.

“It’s for you,” Harry waves his hand dismissively before moving to rub the back of his neck, why the fuck was he acting like this?

Like he was trying to court her with cheap gas station food and his clothes.

“Do you do this often? For girls like me?” YN wonders out loud, it’s not necessarily judgemental but curiously confused.

“I’ve never had a girl in here before, so no,” Harry shrugs, unable to hold eye contact because she’s pretty and he’s embarrassed.

“Do you…” YN hesitates, glancing down at her hands, “Nevermind.”

“You can ask me anything,” Harry doesn’t have much of anything to hide, “S’fine.”

“You don’t have a wife and kids at home, do you?” YN is timid, like she’s worried about how he’ll react to such a question.

Harry snorts, nonplussed, “No. I don’t have any family and I call this rig my home. No wife or kids.”

“Guess we’re both alone,” YN picks at a loose thread on the pajama pants, it was a fact for both of them, and the air was solemn between them.

“Well, for the next few days we have each other, right?” Harry huffs as he turns to the cabinet, out of sight, he punches in the code to his safe, and takes out the cash he promised, “Here’s the money.”

YN’s eyes go wide, taking it after a moment, running her thumb nail under the bills as they flutter before she’s tucking it into her backpack.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve your kindness but I am so grateful,” YN said earnestly, her eyes were doe-like and molten like heated caramel.

And Harry realizes for the first time since he’d met her that he hadn’t thought about his depression, about how he didn’t want to be here most days, and how most days had been all of his days lately.

She had given him a reason to keep on going for at least the next few days because he had her to take care of, protect.

Birdie was the only thing that had kept him here for the last three years, when it’s started to get really bad because he’d never abandon her.

Even if it meant enduring his own suffering for her - he would do anything for that dog, his lifeline, his lifesaver when he’s drowning.

He’s getting that same feeling with YN and he knows that’s dangerous because she could want to jump ship tomorrow and he’d be alone again.

Despite Gary’s forewarning, Harry might be putting his eggs in the basket of a girl he met less than twenty-four hours ago.

[floofiestboy]

Aoyama's Let's Talk Day 2025 Translation [Unofficial Sources]

EDIT: [2025-02-01]

The official transcript has been released. Please refer to my translation of it here instead.

Yesterday was Aoyama’s yearly Let’s Talk Day, a day when a lucky few audience members chosen by lottery have the chance to ask him questions. While the Q&A hasn’t yet been officially released, I’ve translated tweets about the questions asked. I can’t guarantee that they’re 100% trustworthy, but generally most questions were posted by multiple unrelated users.

In cases where different users reported slightly different answers for the same question, I consolidated them to the best of my ability. All source tweets at the end. Without further ado: 

Q. When Gin travels to other countries, does he stay at hotels, or does he have safe houses? I want to know whether he uses hotel-provided amenities like bathrobes.  

A. He sleeps in his car or stays at Organization-provided lodging- the Organization has apartments all over the place. He does also stay at hotels. The FBI still hasn’t discovered them. He does wear bathrobes! He has long hair so I imagine it’s tough to wash.

Q. What sports does the England-born Akai play aside from Jeet Kune Do?

A. He learnt Jeet Kune Do from his father, so has no interest in sports other than that. But I think he might be good at cricket since he’s English. Maybe baseball in America.

Q. Does Hiro have any experience with martial arts?

A. He learnt some at the police academy. He has no other experience, but he’s decently strong- weaker than Kyogoku though.

Q. As you were a guest on Kōhaku Uta Gassen [T/N: A music show that traditionally airs around New Year’s in Japan] this year, do you have plans to write a case based around it?

A. I doubt NHK would let me (haha) I did think a music show case might be fun, but they’d probably still bother me about it.

[Questioner: What if you changed the name? Like, a West vs. East tournament.]

I’ll think about it.

Q. Will the Kuroba family and Kudo family meet each other in the future?

A. Is that something you want to see? I’ll think about it.

Q. What will Momiji do now that Heiji and Kazuha are dating?

A. I don’t think Momiji will give up? She’ll do her best.

Q. How can you think up so many different characters?

A. I don’t know (haha) Maybe because I’ve seen lots of different manga, dramas, and movies. 

[Questioner: So they just pop up in your mind.]

Something like that.

Q. Do you plan to write a story where Chihaya and Furuya meet?

A. Ah, so Chihayafuru, you mean (haha) It sounds interesting, so I’ll think about it.

Q. What can you tell us about this year’s movie at this point?

A. When I told Rikiya Koyama [T/N: Mouri’s VA] that Kogoro is the main character this year, he told me he was nervous. Once he was done, Takayama-san [T/N: Conan’s VA] told him he sounded cool. 

Q. What’s the best part of this year’s movie?

A. I can’t say, but I think you’ll be shocked.

Q. What’s your favourite case so far?

A. Ran GIRL & Shinichi BOY. I love it.

Q. How did Kogoro manage to become a detective without deductive abilities?

A. He doesn’t have deductive abilities, but he’s good at shooting and judo. And he has Conan around. Everything works out.

Q. Was Nakamori Aoko born in September?

A. When is good?

[Questioner: Since Kaito was born on the 21st, maybe the 12th?]

 I’ll think about it. I haven’t decided, but since Kaito’s birthday is June 21st (6/21), maybe September 12th (9/12) makes sense.

Q. What kind of things does Ran talk about with her karate club friends?

A. What would you like?

[Questioner: Romance talk!]

I do think they chat about that. Everyone would be interested to hear about how things are going with Shinichi. If a scene like that ever comes to mind, I’ll think about including it.

Q. What is Furuya’s family situation like?

A. Secret, as I haven’t decided for certain just yet- it might still change.

Q. Will you ever draw the moment Kazuha fell for Heiji?

A. Do you want to see it? I might.

Q. At Abeno Harukas, Heiji confessed and was holding hands with Kazuha, but did Heiji initiate the hand-holding?

A. Yes. I don’t know if I’ll ever draw that though.

Q. At Kōhaku Uta Gassen, were there any artists you enjoyed other than aiko, B’Z, and Fukuyama-san?

A. Ah, I can’t think of anyone but them. But they were all good. B’z was amazing. It was all dark in the audience seating, but when I thought “oh, something is moving,” it was truly amazing by the end. B’z is my choice! (haha)

Q. Do you have any plans for a spinoff featuring Hattori?

A. Like Zero’s Tea Time?

[Questioner: More like Hanzawa-san.]

What’s the difference between Zero’s Tea Time and Hanzawa-san? Did you want a spinoff? There’s no plans for one right now.

Q. Are there any characters you plan to have romantic developments for in the near future?

A. Kansuke and Yui, and Juugo and Chihaya… aside from that [glances at the moderator] that character… if I say who it is, we’ll get flamed online, so… (haha) 

[The audience goes abuzz]

Well, yes. I can’t tell you right now (haha). Let’s leave it at that.

Q. What’s the plan for next year’s movie?

A. I can’t say, but they do already have it planned.

Q. Who will be the star of next year’s movie?

A. I can’t say, but it’s already been decided as well as the stage.

Q. I’m from Hokkaido. Do you have plans to draw any famous tourist spots in Sapporo? 

A. Hakodate was recently the stage, so it would need to be some time in the future. Any recommendations?

[Questioner: Suzukake Park, Oodori Park, Sapporo TV Tower.]

Ah, got it, I’ll think about it.

Q. We know that Azusa has worked at Poirot for at least one year, but how long has she worked there in total?

A. I don’t know. Maybe since she was in high school. Oops, I just said whatever.

Q. Any plans for a movie set in Tottori?

A. Not at this time. I’ll think about it. I did try to incorporate the Tottori dialect once, but I was told it was incomprehensible. Tottori dialect is pretty hard. If we do a movie here, I’d like it to use Tottori dialect.

Q. It seems Momiji won’t give up even now that Heiji and Kazuha have gotten together, but will Iori continue to serve Momiji in the same way? Will he ever leave due to his old work?

A. He’ll be by her side forever. I think he’ll protect her until the day he dies.

Q. What would you want to eat at a Conan café? 

A. Naporitan spaghetti. I have childish tastebuds, so I also like Hamburg steak and hamburgers.

Q. I like aiko, so I want to hear the behind-the-scenes details about your talk with her on Kōhaku Uta Gassen.

A. During our preparatory meeting, I asked whether I should say “Funya!”, but I was told I couldn’t (because it’s from a different agency.) [T/N: Not familiar with this myself, but maybe it’s some idol’s catchphrase or a reference to a show.]

[Questioner: After meeting aiko, did any murder case ideas come to mind?]

No (haha) It would be sad to kill her off. Maybe a case with a singer involved… I’ll think about it. Aiko was cute.

Q. Kurayoshi’s phone number area code is an important plot point in Conan, but will the city be involved in the future?

A. A coincidence. Kurayoshi residents will get mad at me otherwise.

Q. What did you do for New Year’s as a child?

A. Usually my family would ask me to visit a shrine with them, but I’d stay at home since it was too much of a pain. These days, I always go for my health. [T/N: In Japan, it’s tradition to visit a shrine on the first day of the new year.]

Q. What’s Inspector Ayanokouji’s personal life like? What are his hobbies?

A. He feeds Maro-chan. Hobbies… I wonder. He does like Maro-chan. What would you like?

[Questioner: Something like archery.]

Archery? Well, I’ll think about it.

Q. Do you have any plans for a triple date with Heiji-Kazuha, Shinichi-Ran, and Kyougoku-Sonoko?

A. I hadn’t thought of that before, but I’ll think about it.

[Questioner: So you don’t plan to think about it.]

Sorry (haha). 

Q. Any information on Akai and Amuro’s chat nine hours later?

A. I can’t say. It’s a truly mysterious tea party (haha)

Q. In your Professional interview, you were eating curry, but is there any other food or snacks you like to eat while working?

A. I only really eat cheap stuff, so (haha)  I’m really into the beef don mini-pack from Yoshinoya- it’s a pretty small portion. It’s healthy and good. Also, curry from Coco.

Q. The Saitama prefecture is right next to Tokyo, but has never made an appearance. Any plans for Saitama prefecture police to appear?

A. Yokomizo did show up in Saitama at first, but he did move to Shizuoka, so (haha) I tried to have him go back, but I was told that then it just seemed like he never moved at all. I’ll write about Saitama eventually. I’ll think about it.

Q. What does Kazuha like aside from aikido? 

A. She likes Heiji… (haha) I think she likes cooking just like others like her would. Do you have any thoughts on what she might like?

[Questioner: What…]

[Moderator: Well, that’s what they wanted to know in the first place.]

I’ll think about it.

Q. I’m from Taiwan. Conan has only ever gone to England in the manga. Will he ever go to another country in the manga, not the movies?

A. It would be tough while he’s still Conan, as he doesn’t have a passport. His only choice is for Kid to stuff him into a suitcase, but I can’t use the same trick twice (haha) I’d like to go to Taiwan one day.

Q. Akai and Amuro infiltrated the Organization and know about Sherry, but don’t know of the existence of APTX4869?

A. They do not. There’s a reason why the details of her research and her family isn’t well-known in the Organization, but that’s secret. Even parents wouldn’t tell their children about it in the Organization. 

Q. Do you plan to introduce any new Organization operatives?

A. What would you like?

[Questioner: Amaretto!]

I'll think about it.

Q. Do you plan to draw Shinichi and KID facing off?

A. Shinichi. You mean big Shinichi, huh? I’d love to. (haha)

Q. What last name do you like, or would like to have?

A. Kudo! (haha) Since Kudo Yuusaku as portrayed by Matsuda Yuusaku was cool. If I can, I’d love to become one! (haha)

Q. Did you decide that Heiji would confess on a tall Osaka building even before the Abeno Harukas tower was completed? [T/N: It opened in 2014]

A. I decided after the Abeno Harukas tower was completed. But I did know from the start that Kazuha’s mother would make an appearance to include a twist.I wanted everyone to think that he’d confess to her mother by mistake. 

Q. Who’s stronger between Kogoro and Ran?

A. That’s quite the question (haha) Kogoro is strong! But, Ran is catastrophically strong too (haha). I think it’s hard to say? But if they fought against each other, he’d probably hold back against Ran. Since he’s her dad.

Q. You can really feel the cultural differences between Kyushu and Tokyo. Do you plan to write a case based on that?

A. I’d like to.

Q. Do you have any special tidbits for us aside from what you’ve already told us?

A. Kansuke and Yui and Koumei’s childhood will appear in the movie. Take a good look at the illustration I drew for the Conan Tanteisha store as well. 

Q. Anything you’d want to incorporate into Tottori’s Mystery Tour? Tourist spots and restaurants you’d recommend?

A. I’d like them to make use of Tottori’s Odaiba, crabs, and apple-pears.

Q. Who’s the tallest among all your characters?

A. Date and Gin! Kyougoku is a little shorter, but those three are the tallest. Kazami is too tall in the anime. He should be the same height as Furuya. [T/N: One source also claimed he said that Gin is taller than Date.]

Q. Will Miyano Shiho and Kudo Shinichi ever star in the same case?

A. Ah, I can’t tell you that. Whoops, I almost let something slip (haha)

Sources

https://twitter.com/hrksdc/status/1875104017174639079

https://twitter.com/brainwashednerd/status/1875109428812460351

https://twitter.com/yuki_det_con/status/1875121186411348179

https://twitter.com/Flambe4869/status/1875236194071834928

https://twitter.com/nyarura73/status/1875104933978206521

https://twitter.com/mskAK25/status/1875125288943989101

https://twitter.com/furu_rei0/status/1875126654412177457

https://twitter.com/44_mcs/status/1875132311219634602

https://twitter.com/44_mcs/status/1875119113670144425

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Kansas City - Interview Broadcast Day [9/17]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7.6k Summary: The campaign rolls through Kansas City to make a pitstop to watch with the rest of the country as your interview with Oprah airs on Sunday night primetime television.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened. And in case you missed it, this is who I mentioned in a post that I cast to play the role of Jake, our fearless campaign manager.

Previous Chapter | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The savory aroma of slow-cooked meat and smoky spices envelops you as you step out of the campaign SUV and onto the sun-baked sidewalk in front of Arthur Bryant's Barbeque. The iconic Kansas City establishment stands before you, its red brick facade and neon sign a beacon for barbecue lovers from across the nation.

Steve emerges from the vehicle behind you, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the restaurant. "I've been looking forward to this all day," he admits, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

You can't help but smile back, feeling a flutter of excitement in your own stomach. You’re beginning to believe butterflies will never stop hitting you when he smiles at you like that.

After days of campaign events and press conferences, this small detour feels like a breath of fresh air. There will still be conversations, meeting strangers, taking questions, hearing from the people, and press capturing everything second of it, but part of these kinds of stops at least feel slightly more organic. You feel like the conversations, at least, are more real, and you get to know people for who they really are in the places they actually go on a regular kind of day. The fact that it involves world-famous barbecue is just a bonus.

It’s also one of the rare days you both get to be dressed down and casual. Steve even wears a dark blue baseball cap to help lower his profile of being recognized even more.

As you approach the entrance, you and Steve reach for each others hands, fingers locking, natural as anything now.

The moment you step inside Arthur Bryant's, you're hit with a wave of nostalgia. The no-frills interior, with its simple tables and chairs, feels like stepping back in time. The walls are adorned with photos of famous patrons and news clippings, a testament to the restaurant's rich history.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a warm smile approaches. "Captain Rogers, Mrs. Rogers, welcome to Arthur Bryant's," he says, extending his hand. "I'm Jerry, the manager. We're honored to have you here."

Steve shakes Jerry's hand firmly. "The honor is ours, Jerry. We've heard amazing things about your barbecue."

"Well, we hope to live up to the hype," Jerry chuckles. "Why don't I give you a quick tour before we get you set?"

As Jerry leads you through the restaurant, pointing out photos of past presidents and celebrities who have dined there, you can feel the eyes of other patrons on you. There are whispers and a few excited waves, but for the most part, people seem content to let you enjoy your visit.

Jerry brings you to the counter where the magic happens. The smell of smoked meat is even stronger here, making your mouth water and your stomach growl audibly. Steve glances at you with an amused smile.

"Now, what can I get for you folks?" Jerry asks.

Steve's eyes light up as he scans the menu board. "I think I'll have the burnt ends sandwich and some fries," he says.

“And you, Mrs. Rogers?”

“I want a brisket sandwich,” you reply.

“Only the half?” Jerry asks.

“With sides of the cheesy corn, baked beans, onion rings, and cole slaw,” you add.

“Atta girl!” the man grins. “This one knows how to order!” he calls out to the others around. “She’s got my vote!”

You laugh at Jerry's enthusiasm, feeling a warmth spread through you at the easy camaraderie. Steve grins and shakes his head. "I think I've been outdone," he says good-naturedly.

Jerry chuckles as he starts preparing your order. "Well, Captain, maybe I’ll swing my vote to you by the time we hit November. Now, what can I get you to drink?"

"Sweet tea for me," you say.

"Make that two," Steve adds with a smile.

As Jerry busies himself with your order, you and Steve take a moment to look around the restaurant. The dinner crowd is starting to filter in, and you can see a mix of curiosity and excitement on the faces of those who recognize you.

A young woman approaches hesitantly, her phone clutched in her hand. "Excuse me," she says, her voice slightly trembling. "I'm sorry to bother you, but would it be okay if I took a picture with you both?"

Steve responds with a warm smile. "Of course, we'd be happy to."

The young woman's face lights up. "Thank you so much! I'm Emily, by the way.” She hands her phone to a nearby friend.

You and Steve position yourselves on either side of Emily, smiling warmly as her friend snaps a few photos. As Emily checks the pictures, her excitement is palpable.

"Thank you again," she says, her eyes shining. "I've been following your campaign. It's really inspiring to see people I feel like I relate to running instead of just old white men."

“Well, technically Steve’s a very old white man,” you tease.

Steve gives you a mock glare, and Emily laughs.

“No, I guess what I mean is people who seem like people and not just politicians,” she clarifies. “I felt like that about Charlie Young before, too, and so I’m glad he’s your running mate.”

Steve's expression softens. "That means a lot, Emily. What issues are most important to you in your day to day life?"

Emily takes a deep breath, considering her answer. "I'm about to age out of my parents' insurance, and I'm worried about how I'll afford coverage on my own."

You nod sympathetically. "We'd love to hear more about your perspective if you’re willing to share."

Emily glances at her friend, who nods encouragingly. "Well," she begins, "I'm 25 and I work as a teacher's assistant. The pay isn't great, and the school district doesn't offer health insurance for part-time employees. I've been looking into private plans, but they're so expensive. I have a pre-existing condition, and I'm worried about how I'll manage my healthcare costs once I'm off my parents' plan."

Steve listens intently, his brow furrowed in concern. "We believe that access to quality, affordable healthcare is a right, not a privilege. No one should have to choose between their health and their financial stability."

You nod in agreement. "We've been hearing similar stories across the country. It's clear that our current healthcare system isn't working for many Americans, especially young people just starting their careers."

Emily smiles gratefully. "I’m not asking for hand outs - I’m working, but it needs to not feel like it’s impossible to afford to live.”

Steve nods, his expression serious. "Absolutely, Emily. You shouldn't have to struggle to afford basic necessities like healthcare while working hard and contributing to society. I want us to implement solutions that work for all Americans, not just those at the top. I think we start by simplifying the process and expand subsidies under the Affordable Care Act to make coverage more affordable for young adults and low-income workers, but next steps will involve looking to other countries who have better healthcare systems and adopting what we see is working. Detractors say that some of those other systems don’t work for everyone or they’re not perfect, but what we’ve got here isn’t much to write home about as it stands."

"And it's voices like yours that help shape our policies and remind us why this work is so important," you add.

Emily beams, clearly touched by your words. "Thank you for listening. It means a lot when I know it must be so busy for you both. Isn’t your Oprah interview airing tonight?” she asks.

“Yes, we’re just here to grab a bite and to pick up some food to take back to the campaign staff while we watch later.”

“Well, thanks again, and good luck tonight,” she says.

As Emily rejoins her friend, Jerry calls out that your order is ready. You and Steve thank him as he hands over your loaded trays.

"Enjoy your meal, folks," Jerry says with a wink. “We’ll work with your guys to load up your catering to-go boxes, y’all just enjoy.”

You and Steve thank him and then scan the bustling restaurant, looking for an open table. The dinner rush is in full swing, and most tables are already occupied. Your eyes land on a table in the corner where four men, all appearing to be in their seventies, are engaged in animated conversation over their half-eaten meals.

Steve catches your eye and nods towards the table. You both make your way over, trays in hand.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Steve says, his voice warm and friendly. "Would you mind if we joined you? Seems like all the other tables are taken."

The men look up, their eyes widening in recognition. There's a moment of stunned silence before one of them, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes, breaks into a wide grin.

"Well, I'll be damned," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of a Southern drawl. "Sure we’ve got a space for Captain America and his peach of a wife!”

As you and Steve take your seats at the table, you can feel the energy shift. The men are clearly excited, but there's also a hint of nervousness in the air.

"I'm Bill," says the man with the Southern drawl, extending his hand to Steve. "These are my buddies Tom, Frank, and Joe. We've been coming here every Sunday for the past 20 years."

Steve shakes each of their hands in turn, his smile warm and genuine. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm Steve, and this is my wife," he says, introducing you by name.

You smile and greet each of the men, feeling a sense of ease settle over the table.

"So, what brings you folks to our neck of the woods?" Frank asks, leaning forward with interest. His weathered hands cradle a half-empty glass of iced tea.

"We're just looking for the best barbecue in the country," you explain, unwrapping your brisket sandwich.

The four men all laugh heartily, and you grin before you take your first bite. Your eyes widen in appreciation. “Oh, wow. This is incredible.” The meat is tender and flavorful, practically melting in your mouth.

"Best in Kansas City," Tom nods proudly. "Been coming here since I was knee-high to a grasshopper."

As you enjoy your brisket sandwich, Steve takes a bite of his burnt ends, his eyes closing it seems to fully savor that first mouthful. "This really is something special," he agrees, reaching for a napkin.

"You've got to try this," he says, holding his sandwich across to you. You smile and lean forward for a bite, letting him feed you, hoping that not all eyes are on you.

“Mmm, that’s good, too,” you hum. “But if you offered so you could try a bite of mine in return, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

This garners another round of laughter from the men along with some hoots and some ribbing, and Steve just smirks and shakes his head at you.

“I’ll share my sides, though,” you say with a teasing smile, pushing your tray closer to the middle.

Joe, who's been quietly observing until now, clears his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, Captain, what made you decide to run for office? I mean, you've already done so much for this country."

Steve sets down his sandwich, his expression thoughtful. "Well, Joe, I've always believed in serving my country, in whatever way I can. After everything that's happened in recent years, I felt like I could do more good by working within the system, trying to bring people together and address the issues that matter most to everyday Americans."

Bill nods, a wistful look in his eyes. "It's refreshing to hear, I'll tell you that. Feels like politicians these days are more concerned with having an office than serving the people and a lot of us old-timers are worried about the direction the country's headed."

Steve’s brow furrows. "I understand those concerns," he says thoughtfully. "The world is changing rapidly, and it can be unsettling. But I believe in the resilience and spirit of the American people. We've faced challenges before, and we've always come through stronger."

Bill nods slowly, a pensive look on his face. "That's true enough - and when you say it, we can believe it because we know you’ve got old experience in those bones, too. But it feels different now, doesn't it? Like we're more divided than ever."

Steve nods solemnly, wiping his hands on a napkin. "You're right, Bill. The divisions in our country are deep, and they're not going to be healed overnight. But I believe we have more in common than what separates us. We've been crisscrossing the country, meeting people and hearing their stories. We all want safe communities, good jobs, affordable healthcare, and a bright future for our children and grandchildren."

Frank leans forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That's all well and good, Captain, but how do you plan to actually bring people together? Seems like every politician says that, but nothing ever changes. It feels like people aren't even speaking the same language anymore when it comes to politics."

You take a sip of your sweet tea, watching Steve carefully as he considers his response. You can see the determination in his eyes.

Steve leans back in his chair, his eyes scanning the faces of the men around the table. The warm glow of the restaurant's lighting casts a soft hue on their weathered features, each line and wrinkle telling a story of years lived and experiences gained.

"You're right, Frank. It does feel like we're not speaking the same language anymore. But that's exactly why I'm running as an independent candidate," Steve begins, his voice calm but filled with conviction. "I'm not beholden to either the Democratic or Republican party. This isn't just about wearing a different color tie or having a different letter next to my name on the ballot. It's about fundamentally changing from a battle for political power between red and blue to calling for consensus to see action that matters to the three hundred and thirty-four million people who live in our country."

He pauses, reaching for his sweet tea. "I believe we need to start by listening to each other again," Steve continues, his eyes meeting each of the men's gazes in turn. "Really listening, not just waiting for our turn to speak. That's why we're here, sitting with you gentlemen, sharing a meal. It's why we make these stops at local businesses and community centers across the country."

You nod in agreement, swallowing a bite of your brisket sandwich before adding, "We've found that when you sit down with people, break bread together, and have real conversations, you often discover that we're not as different as the headlines make us out to be."

Tom, speaks up. "That's all well and good, but how does that translate to actual policy? How do you bridge the gap when it comes to the big issues?"

Steve leans forward, his elbows on the table. "It starts by voting for policies, not parties. When we focus on specific issues rather than partisan loyalties, we often find more common ground than we expect. For example, take healthcare. Most Americans, regardless of political affiliation, agree that healthcare costs are too high and that something needs to be done. The disagreement is usually about how to solve the problem, not whether it exists."

He pauses to take another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "We just spoke with a young woman over there named Emily who's worried about affording health insurance. That's not a red or blue issue - that's an American issue."

Joe nods slowly. "I can relate to that. My grandson's in the same boat."

"Exactly," Steve continues. "So instead of getting bogged down in partisan debates, we need to look at what's actually working. What can we learn from other countries? What innovative solutions are individual states implementing? We need to be willing to try new approaches and admit when something isn't working."

Frank leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "That sounds good in theory, Captain, but how do you get Congress to go along with that? They seem pretty set in their ways."

Steve nods, acknowledging the challenge. "You're right, Frank. Changing the culture in Washington won't be easy. But I believe the American people are ready for a different approach. If we can build a broad coalition of voters who demand bipartisan solutions, we can put pressure on Congress to work together."

"And," you add, setting down your fork, "Steve isn't just talking about compromise for the sake of compromise. It's about finding common ground and building on it. For example, both parties agree that we need to improve our infrastructure. So let's start there and create jobs while we're at it."

Bill nods slowly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I like the sound of that.”

The conversation eases from there to the two of you learning more about the four men and the lives they’ve led in Kansas while you eat. Once you’re finished - Steve having cleared both your trays when you’d had your fill of the collection - you take a picture with these men as well, and with Jerry and some of the staff by the counter before you leave.

When you and Steve step out of Arthur Bryant's, the warm evening air envelops you. The sun is setting, casting a golden glow over the city streets. You can still taste the smoky flavor of the barbecue, and your stomach feels pleasantly full.

A small crowd has gathered, word having spread of your presence at the iconic barbecue joint. There's a mix of excitement and curiosity in their faces as they call out greetings and words of encouragement.

Steve pauses to shake a few hands and exchange brief words with some of the gathered people. You follow suit, touched by the warmth and genuine interest of the Kansas City residents.

"Thank you for coming to our city," an older woman says, her eyes shining. "It means a lot that you're taking the time to visit places like this."

"We're honored to be here," you reply sincerely. "Thank you for your hospitality."

As you walk towards the waiting SUV, the ever-present security detail for your public outings moves seamlessly around you, a constant reminder of the enormity of what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Steve opens the door for you. Just before you step in, you turn back to wave at the small crowd, and Steve waves at them, as well.

Inside the SUV with the door closed, the calm quiet is nice. Steve's hand finds yours again, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. "That was something, wasn’t it," he says, a contented smile on his face.

You nod in agreement. "The food was incredible, but the conversations... that's what makes these stops so special."

"It really is," Steve replies, his voice thoughtful. "Every time we do something like this, I'm reminded of why we're doing all of it. It's about the Emilys and the Bills and the Jerrys."

As the SUV pulls away from Arthur Bryant's, you both settle into a comfortable silence, processing the events of the evening. Steve's thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, a now-familiar gesture that never fails to sooth you and make you feel more connected to him. "You know," he says softly, "I was thinking about what Bill said. About how things feel different now, more divided."

You turn to face him, seeing the thoughtful expression on his face. "What are you thinking?"

Steve's brow furrows slightly. "I've seen this country go through a lot of changes, faced a lot of challenges. But there's always been this... resilience, this underlying unity that pulled us through. I wonder sometimes if we've lost sight of that."

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. "I don't think we've lost it completely. It's still there, just buried under a lot of noise and frustration and fear. What we saw tonight - people coming together, sharing a meal, having real conversations - that's the spirit of America that's always been there."

Steve nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're right. And that’s the job now - uncover that spirit again, remind people of what we can accomplish when we work together."

You shift back to get more comfortable in your seat again, but keep holding hands as you look out the window.

"Are you nervous about the Oprah interview airing tonight?" you ask, breaking the quiet.

Steve chuckles softly. "A little," he admits. "It's one thing to have these intimate conversations with people like we just did, but knowing millions will be watching..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “And the revelation about our marriage…”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You were amazing during the interview. Honest, authentic, just like you always are. People will respond to that."

He turns to you, his blue eyes filled with warmth. "We were amazing together," he corrects gently. "You went with me when I climbed out on that limb of truth.”

“I was feeling the need to set the record straight, too,” you reassure him. “It felt like you were reading my mind.”

He lets out a breath that apparently he was holding. “I couldn't imagine doing any of this without you now."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words. Even after all this time, he still has that effect on you. "Well, good thing you don't have to," you reply with a soft smile.

As the SUV winds its way through the Kansas City streets, you both fall into a comfortable silence, watching the city lights flicker to life as evening overtakes the afternoon.

The weight of the campaign, the responsibility you've taken on, settles over you like a familiar blanket. There’s the mantle of potential presidential job ahead, but then there’s things like the motorcade. To come on this very small outing to get food, there were three SUVs - the one the two of you are riding in, one ahead, and one behind - and eight Secret Security men and women, plus two campaign staffers who had come to make sure things went smoothly in and out, pick up the food, and pay for everything, and Steve is only a candidate.

If he becomes president, it will only grow - more security, bigger motorcade, four years of responsibilities and obligations and opportunities and being scheduled every waking hour of the day.

As you contemplate the enormity of it all, Steve's voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks softly, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your hand.

You turn to him with a small smile. "Just thinking about how much our lives have changed. And how much more they would change if we win."

Steve nods, understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes I still can't believe we're here, doing this."

"Do you ever regret it?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Deciding to run?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "No," he says finally, his voice firm. "It's not easy, and there are days when I feel the weight of it more than others. But then I think about the people we meet all day, every day.”

“Your big heart is a sucker for people,” you tease him good-naturedly. “If only you were more surly and selfish.”

Steve chuckles at your teasing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're right, I am a sucker for people. But you're no better, Mrs. Rogers."

As you continue to banter, the SUV turns onto a tree-lined street in a quiet suburban neighborhood. The sun has fully set now, and the warm glow of streetlights illuminates rows of well-maintained houses. Each home seems to tell its own story - some with Halloween decorations already adorning their porches, others with children's bicycles left haphazardly on front lawns.

The SUV slows to a stop in front of a charming two-story house with pale yellow siding and white trim. A wrap-around porch extends across the front, complete with a porch swing gently swaying in the evening breeze. The lawn is neatly manicured, with vibrant flower beds lining the walkway.

"Home sweet home, at least for tonight," Steve says with a smile as he opens the car door. “Tell me you’re just as eager as I am to meet Jake’s family.”

“I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since we found out!” You step out of the car, walking quickly up the front sidewalk.

No one knew Jake’s sister lived in Kansas with her husband and four kids until Elsa brought up whether the team should watch the interview together at the hotel or in groups in a few of the suites when Jake said that wouldn’t be necessary - that his baby sister had insisted she wanted to host the full traveling staff in her home for it.

As you approach the front door, it swings open before you can knock. A petite woman with Jake's same dark brown eyes and infectious smile emerges, her face beaming with excitement.

"Welcome! I'm Kathy, Jake's sister," she says, extending her hand. "It's such an honor to have you both here."

Steve shakes her hand warmly. "The honor is ours, Kathy. We can’t thank you for opening your home to us."

You follow suit, greeting Kathy with a smile. "It's wonderful to finally meet you."

Kathy ushers you inside, where the aroma of freshly baked cookies mingles with the scent of coffee, and the rest of your team begins to file in behind you. The living room is cozy and inviting, with overstuffed couches and chairs arranged to face a large flat-screen TV. Campaign staff members are already scattered around the room, chatting animatedly and nibbling on chips and cookies.

The house is alive with domestic energy, a stark contrast to the usual hotel suites and conference rooms you've grown accustomed to. Children's laughter echoes from somewhere upstairs, and you can hear the distant chatter of voices coming from what you assume is the kitchen.

Kathy's husband, a tall man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, emerges from the dining room. "I'm Tom," he introduces himself, shaking your hands. "We've set up a spot in the dining room for the barbecue spread.”

“Sorry for descending on you with all this chaos, Tom,” Steve apologizes.

“Oh, please, we’ve got four kids from four to sixteen, this is hardly new for us. Bring this kind of feast and you’re welcome any night of the week,” he insists.

Steve heads through to the dining room with Tom, but you make your way to the kitchen instead. Your eyes land on Bucky who’s in close conversation with campaign spokesperson Lisa and one of the new speechwriters.

They look up when they notice you.

“Where’s Sophia?” you ask. You don’t need her in this moment, but you’re so used to her finding you whenever you arrive at a new location if she isn’t already with you that it’s strange you haven’t seen her yet.

With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Bucky informs you, “She’s out on the back porch with Sam.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise and ask, “Alone?”

Bucky just smiles slyly and confirms your suspicions - he's trying to play matchmaker. You had wondered if you were only being hopeful at seeing signs of a potential spark between them, and now you’re glad it wasn’t only you seeing things happening there.

“Hang on,” Lisa slams her water bottle down on the counter. “Sam and Sophia?”

Bucky nods, “Mhmm.”

“No! Not yet!” she blusters. “We’re still three weeks out from election day! This is your first campaign, Barnes, so believe me when I tell you we need to avoid as many campaign crushes coming together as we can for at least another week - two if we can manage it - if we want to keep this operation running like a well-oiled machine! We want people pining as long as we can, not working through the awkward is this crush lasting after the campaign phase in the final days.” And with that, Lisa’s already rushing out of the kitchen, no doubt on her way to need something from one of them.

You shake your head, amused by Lisa’s reaction. As much as you understand her perspective from a campaign management standpoint, you can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Sam and Sophia. After all, you know exactly how difficult it is to navigate feelings in the midst of such an intense, all-consuming experience.

But you wonder how Lisa’s timeline translates to you and Steve because this isn’t a campaign crush? You’re married to the someone you’re building a relationship with on the campaign trail.

Because you have developed strong, deep feelings for Steve. You know they’re real. You know he has feelings for you. You’ve said things to each other indicating you both know this isn’t only a marriage to have a President and potential First Lady campaigning for the White House any more. But what are the next steps, and is there a too soon to take them on the campaign trail? The past week has been wonderful, spending time so effortlessly together as you can, routinely sitting right next to each other without question, holding hands, Steve’s arms often around your shoulders. There hadn’t been more kissing like your night alone in Brooklyn, but there had been more chaste kisses exchanged, and easily.

In a matter of hours things would fundamentally shift given what the rest of the world was going to learn about your marriage from the interview, so it would probably be smart to maintain whatever you were now and ride out whatever the fallout might end up being, and not add any more complexity to the situation.

“She’s right,” the other woman in the room says, bringing your attention back to the moment with Bucky and the speechwriter. “I’ve seen so many campaign crushes peak too soon, and it’s painful to watch,” she laughs - but do you detect it’s a little nervously?

Jake enters the kitchen with a broad smile.

"You made it here!" he exclaims. "I see you've met the family. What do you think of my little sister's humble abode, Mrs. Rogers?"

You return his smile warmly. "It's lovely so far. Your sister and her husband really are so great to host all of us."

Jake chuckles. "Yeah, Kathy's always been like that. Heart of gold. You should see her at Thanksgiving - she insists on inviting every stray and lonely soul in the neighborhood."

You arch an eyebrow. “Jake, I have this suspicion there’s a big softie under your campaign manager persona to rival your sister.”

“Sure, of course,” he admits, “but people can’t know I have a marshmallow heart up front. When the staff are afraid and want to impress me, they set the bar high and only keep climbing from there.” He points at the Bucky and the speechwriter, “I will deny it if you spread that nasty rumor.”

You all laugh.

“Will you two make the rounds?” Jake looks at Bucky and the speechwriter. “Let people know dinner’s up and that I need to talk to everyone about five minutes before the interview starts to air? Living room.”

Jake's request sends the other two off, leaving you alone with him in the kitchen. He turns to you with a more serious expression.

"How are you holding up?" he asks, his voice lowered. "Big night."

You take a deep breath, considering your answer. "I'm okay. A little nervous, I guess. It's one thing to do the interview, but now that it’s done but finally going to be out there for better or worse..."

Jake nods understandingly. "It's natural to feel that way. But I want you to know, you and Steve both knocked it out of the park. The footage I've seen is powerful stuff."

You feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "Thanks, Jake. That means a lot."

"And I do mean it," he continues, leaning against the counter. "You know I don’t get paid to bullshit anyone. The honesty, the vulnerability... it's exactly what people need to see right now.”

You smile gratefully at Jake's reassurance. "I just hope the public sees it that way."

Jake nods confidently. "They will. Look, I've been in this game a long time, and I've rarely seen candidates connect with people the way you and Steve do. This interview is just going to reinforce that."

As you're about to respond, Steve enters the kitchen, a plate of barbecue in hand. "There you are," he says, smiling warmly at you. "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

Jake straightens up, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "Just giving your wife a little pep talk before the big show," he says with a wink. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit. Don't forget, living room in about fifteen minutes."

As Jake exits, Steve moves closer to you, setting his plate down on the counter. You grin, familiar now with how much food the super soldier can pack away.

"You okay?" Steve asks softly, his blue eyes searching your face.

You nod, grin softening to a smaller smile. "Jake says we’ll be fine, but I can’t help a few nerves still."

Steve reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "We're in this together. Whatever happens, we face it as a team."

His touch and words calm you, as they always do now. You squeeze his hand back. "You're right."

Steve smiles, then glances at his plate of barbecue. "Want to help me out with some of this?"

You laugh, eyeing the heaping plate. "No way. I’m saving the small bit of room I’ve got for one of Kathy’s cookies."

The two of you chat with campaign staffers as they filter in and out of the kitchen and Tom and Kathy - who comes through with a plate of her cookies - until it’s time to congregate in the living room.

Once everyone is packed in on all the furniture, extra chairs that have been brought in, and even some pillows and cushions on spots of the floor, its crowded but cozy, and it seems like it would be wrong to have any of the team in the other room for a night like this.

Jake stands in front of the tv - which is already on but muted until the interview goes live - and clears his throat. The room falls silent, all eyes turning to him. The excitement in the air is palpable, a mix of nervous energy and anticipation.

"Alright, team," Jake begins, his voice carrying across the crowded living room. "Before we dive into the interview, I've got some news to share." He pauses, building the suspense, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I just got off the phone with our polling team," he continues, his eyes scanning the room. "We have official data as of an hour ago, and I've got to say, the numbers are looking good. Really good."

A murmur of excitement ripples through the group. You feel Steve's hand tighten around yours, his body tensing slightly beside you.

Jake holds up his hands, calling for quiet. "Now, I don't want anyone getting ahead of themselves, but..." he pauses again before his face breaks into a wide smile. "Our latest poll shows that Steve has gained four points in the last week alone. This puts the Rogers-Young ticket just three points behind our closest competitor."

The room erupts in cheers and applause. You see Sam clap Bucky on the back, both men grinning ear to ear. Campaign staffers high-five each other, their faces beaming with excitement. You feel a surge of elation course through you, and you turn to Steve, who's wearing an expression of disbelief and joy.

“However,” Jake cuts into the celebrations, “no one can coast, especially after tonight. In tonight’s interview, Captain and Mrs. Rogers shared some information about their relationship that is going to dramatically shift public perception of their marriage. There are about a dozen people who already know, and I’m going to tell you now so that you have the next twenty minutes or so to wrap your head around how you’re own reaction.”

The nervous excitement in the room turned to trepidation within less than a second.

Jake continues, “There’s superstitions - or expectations - that there’s always some type of news that will break weeks or days before an election that has a significant impact on the narrative of the campaigns for public perception and tip the scales for who wins - it’s called the October Surprise. This might be it.”

You hold your breath and Steve holds tightly to your hand.

“Some of you have idly asked questions or made comments about the Rogers’ quick engagement and marriage and accepted the statement that they realized if they were going to get married, they needed to do it before the filing deadline to officially get Steve on the ballot. Others have noticed and wondered why we always book them separate rooms. I said the directive to our advance coordinator came from me, that it simplified things if one of them had an earlier departure time than the other.

“The truth is,” Jake explains, “that I said Captain Rogers needed a wife if we were going to have any chance of winning with him running as a third-party candidate without a prior political career. Theirs was a politically arranged marriage, and they met the day of their wedding.”

There are gasps and murmurs immediately around the room.

“I know you will have questions. Elsa is giving the same news to our team back at campaign HQ in DC,” Jake says. “I’d like everyone to watch the interview before you ask any questions or make any statements or decisions. If you’re in this room, I’m betting you’re giving your blood, sweat, and tears for more than the semantics around their marriage, and I think what you’ll learn from their conversation with Oprah will answer most of your questions. Deal?”

There’s still some tension in the air, but the consensus is there.

“Then, here we go,” Jake says. “Remember, as with everything else on this campaign, only Lisa makes statements on behalf of the campaign, and that includes texts from your family and friends who want an inside scoop from you tonight while they watch with the rest of America.”

The television is taken off mute, and within moments, the program begins.

Watching the interview is an out of body experience. You remember every moment, reliving it as it plays out on screen. The ninety minutes seem to stretch on forever, and yet when it’s all over and done, it feels like it can’t have been more than five minutes.

Everyone says it went well. You think it went well. Steve feels like it went well. The team has a few questions - mostly for Jake about strategy and messaging moving forward. Steve says he’s more than willing to answer questions, but Mike - one of the policy advisors - seems to speak for everyone when he says, "I think we're good, Cap. We all probably need some time to fully process this, but the interview spoke for itself. You two were honest and open. I'm still 100% behind this campaign and what you stand for.”

There are nods and murmurs of agreement from the rest of the team. The tension that had filled the room earlier has dissipated, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

Jake claps his hands together. "Alright, team. Let's all get some rest and we'll regroup in the morning. Elsa and Peter have already been working on strategy ahead of tonight, and they and Lisa will already be working tonight and with the first wave of morning shows bright and early. Dump questions and thoughts into the Slack workspace to your directors as needed or straight to me. We’ll meet in the morning discuss our next phase and handling the positive and negative reactions we expect moving forward."

As the group begins to disperse, you and Steve make your way to Kathy and Tom to thank them for their hospitality.

"It was our pleasure," Kathy says warmly, pulling you both into a hug. "We're honored to have been a part of this night."

Tom nods in agreement. "You're welcome back anytime you’re in Kansas. And for what it's worth, I think you two make a great team, arranged marriage or not."

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thank you, Tom. That means a lot."

Behind them, there’s a smaller TV on behind them, muted, but showing pundits already discussing the interview.

Jake approaches. "The SUV is ready when you are," he says. "I've arranged for you to have a later start tomorrow morning. I figure you both could use some extra rest after tonight."

Steve nods gratefully. "Thanks, Jake. We appreciate it."

Sam, Bucky, and Sophia are all with you and Steve on the ride back to the hotel.

There are six or eight of your team who arrived ahead of you, and you cross paths with them on the way to the hotel bar. They invite the five of you to join them, when you meet Steve’s eyes, you can see he’s feeling as drained you, and so the two of you encourage everyone else to go and make your excuses to go upstairs.

In the elevator, Steve drapes an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his side. You melt into him, wrapping both arms around his strong chest, and inhale his scent - smiling at the tinge of barbecue smoke that mingled in and still lingers from earlier in the day.

As the elevator rises, you feel the tension of the evening finish melting away. The warmth of Steve's body against yours is comforting, and you allow yourself to fully relax into his embrace.

"What a night," Steve murmurs, his voice rumbling in his chest.

You nod against him. "I still can't believe we actually did it. Told the whole world."

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor. Steve keeps his arm around you as you walk down the hallway to your rooms. When you reach your door, you both pause, and he moves away from you just enough to clearly look at you.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his blue eyes searching your face.

You take a moment to consider the question. "Relieved, I think. And a little scared. But mostly... hopeful?"

Steve nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I feel the same way. The weight has been lifted, but now we're stepping into uncharted territory."

You lean against the door frame, looking up at him. "No more hiding, no more pretending. It's all out there now."

"For better or worse," Steve agrees, his eyes never leaving yours.

Steve's hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. You move to close the gap between you, cup your hand around his neck, and press your lips to his. There’s heat in the kiss, but it’s soft, warm, promising.

The kiss deepens as Steve's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You sink into his embrace, fingers threading through his hair, falling further into the kiss.

When you finally part, you're both a little breathless. Steve rests his forehead against yours, a soft smile on his lips. "I've been wanting to do that all day," he murmurs.

You can't help but smile back. "Me too."

For a moment, you both just stand there, savoring the closeness. Then reality creeps back in - you're still in the hallway of a hotel, with your security details positioned nearby, trying to be as discreet as they can in a long hallway which translates to almost zero discreetness.

Steve seems to realize this too. He straightens up, though he keeps one arm around your waist. "We should both get some sleep," he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You nod, but don't release your hold on him. "Probably," you agree.

For another moment, neither of you moves, but then you hear the elevator ding again at the end of the hallway and break apart as it opens, a few staffers stepping out.

As the staffers approach, you and Steve exchange a look that speaks volumes. The moment has passed, but the lingering warmth remains.

You exchange a few words and offer polite nods as they pass by. Once they're out of earshot, you turn back to Steve with a small, almost shy smile.

"Goodnight, Steve," you say softly, reaching for your room key.

He catches your hand gently before you can insert the key, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Goodnight," he murmurs against your skin.

With one last lingering look, Steve reluctantly lets go of your hand and steps back. You slip into your room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Leaning against it, you take a deep breath, your heart still racing from the kiss and the intensity of Steve's gaze.

You move through your nightly routine on autopilot, your mind still buzzing. As you climb into bed, you can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring. The world knows the truth now, and there's no telling how they'll react.

But as you drift off to sleep, it was such a good day that you find yourself feeling more excited than anxious.

Twelve hours later, you would not believe how wrong you were.

next part: Kansas to Tucson

I gave you a little calm before the storm.

Plus some seeds of Sam & Sophia! 🥰

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[ronearoundblindly]

Hello 😍 I shall shamelessly use the extension (hopefully for a submission of a fic at some point), but mainly with a request, if I may.

Our love Steve didn't get enough asks, so 🫡

How about 3+1 with Steve? I'm imagining missed-connections style - the three times Steve almost met you and the one time he did? (I'm imagining a soulmate AU, but no pressure!) Congrats and I hope you'll have fun 💕

Steve x interior designer!reader

Warnings for angst with a happy ending, short and sweet, not overtly fluffy (sorry).

He missed you in S.H.I.E.L.D.

You built the room he woke up in. They told you it was for a training exercise of some sort, but the only questions you need to (or are allowed to) ask pertain to the era they want it to look like. Your job is to satisfy the client based on their parameters, and the client was the company, not Steve. You never even knew he was being kept in a coma one wall away, but the first thing he saw after 70 years? It was your work.

You, however, were not responsible for their choice of background noise outside the fake windows, the radio playing the wrong baseball game, or the female agent dressed incorrectly.

Twenty seconds before Steve ran out of the building terrified, you'd left with your check and turned the opposite direction down the street.

2. He missed you in the Tower.

You were part of the team remodeling Stark Tower after the Battle of New York. The construction proper lasted most of the time, and moving in the furniture and decor was very straight-forward. The modern style clearly juxtaposed the previously requested mid-'40s reproduction, but through consultation with Pepper Potts (plus one or two blunt emails laced with sarcasm from Tony Stark), you found a nice balance.

Your last day putting the finishing touches around the monolith skyscraper was the same day as the party where Ultron woke up. If you hadn't been quite exhausted, you would have stayed for the festivities. You didn't last more than ten minutes before heading home instead, so you never met Steve. Natasha rode the elevator with you part of the way, and you got to compliment her dress. She was very nice.

3. He missed you in Berlin.

Your taxi unknowingly drove in front of the convoy transporting a captured terrorist.

A conference highlighting the crossover work of architects and designers took over a hotel in Berlin. Sirens passed during a presentation you weren't fully listening to (since you had a booth to run in the hall later that afternoon), and about a quarter of the audience turned toward the windows.

Of course, at the time, none of the whispers mentioned James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, or Steve Rogers. Nobody knew there knew of the Black Panther. They knew of a tragedy in Vienna, and they went quiet for a few seconds, wondering if the sirens were pre- or post-threat, waiting in case a boom sounded, near or far away.

Later on, there was talk of some helicopter crash, but nothing else. You never heard anything about the Avengers being in Berlin, but there was plenty of footage of them fighting in Schkeuditz.

4. He found you in the middle of nowhere.

Steve wasn't ready. He was either too fresh out of the ice, too new to trusting again, or he was too hung up on redeeming the memory of his past. Then everything dusted: his hope, his progress, his family, and he failed to get them back.

In a last-ditch effort to stay close to Tony, Steve drove to the remote address Pepper invited him to, and you were unloading the final pieces of furniture for a nursery.

You were there, right there, at exactly the time Steve was so ready to meet you.

He helped carry in the crib.

Hope. Progress. Family. All presented to him with a kind smile and a recognizable hurt in your eyes. Loss can be a common foundation on which is built a stairway to heaven.

You stayed for dinner at Stark's, and after that, Steve stayed in constant orbit, never ever 'missing' you again.

[Main Masterlist; Sleepover Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots]

[lafiloyahl]

Egret

An Omori AU

So hear me out! I’ve seen only a few omori aus out there, Omari being the most prominent one, from which I’ve seen several variations that I love; as well as others that play a lot with the story, roles of the characters and personalities like Omariposa by mad

One of the things I really like about these type of AUs is how they play with the roles each character take.

Before I jump to the explanation, this is the only time I’m putting this out:

This is an Omori AU, so of course they’ll be major Omori spoilers!!!

If you like my content but don’t want to be jumpscared by omori spoilers, please block the #omori spoilers now ;3 I’ll make sure to include that # in all of the posts I make about this au; this is the only time I’ll put this warning and hide the content after a “show more”. You’ve been warned.

Continuing:

Taking from where I was, one of the thing I really like is how some of the roles of the characters look around: who’s the rebel who dyes their hair? Who’s the best friend/witness? Who’s the “killer”? Who dies?

And thinking on this, I began to wonder “wait… is there any aus out there where Kel is the rebel..?” And it got me thinking: you could basically pair all the characters by their roles and bonds and just swap it…

Apologies if this au has actually been done before; but I’m still gonna show my take on it uwu

So what’s this AU about?

I like to pair (not romantically) the main characters in this way:

Sunny - Basil

Kel - Aubrey

Mari - Hero

This, based on their roles and bonds: Sunny and Basil are best friends and accomplices; Mari and Hero are a couple; Aubrey and Kel are the ones who have the most beef with each other (come on, these two are bffs).

So for this AU, we’re literally swapping their roles, including their ways to cope.

Remember this chart?

Well, in this AU it would look like this:

(This chart has been mostly traced from the original one)

Whoa whoa whoa slow down! When you say swapping roles… do you mean?

Yes, Mari stays alive, Hero isn’t. And the way each character cope also flips: Mari is the one who got depressed and then focused on studies, dropping her dreams on the way; Aubrey is the positive one who managed to move on; Kel got angry at the world; Sunny and Basil… well, you’ll see. Of course, there are things about the story that’ll change for this.

As for their personality traits? Those kind of remain quite similar to the original ones. That’s the interesting part, for example: Aubrey won’t just become a feminine Kel, yes, she will be positive, and yeah, she got more into baseball to cope, but this will still be Aubrey, so her peppiness is gonna be more prominent that, let’s say, Kel’s hyperactivity in the original series.

A good example of this is right there on Kel’s hands: this Kel is more of a revel, but it’s still our old goof and hyperactive Kel; the difference is that, instead of sports, he gets more into mischief as a kid.

Okok, enought of this text walls for now! If you got interested, there’s more of this AU still to be seen ;3

I don’t plan to make this a full comic; please, I already have enough of comics in my plate with Another pokemon tale ^^U and I’m not canceling that either. I have a different plan on how this AU will be presented. This is for me to do something with my Omori fixation (because I already squeezed the game out of content enough) as well as trying to expand on a franchise that I believe deserves more content.

Without further ado….

WELCOME TO COLORFUL MEADOW

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

update on how fucking goddamn stupid yellowjackets is this season: so baseball cap yellowjacket aka melissa got bumped up a pay grade this season to give her a dark sapphic romance with shauna which, first of all, has included some of the worst tv writing i have seen in my life and honestly pretty compelling proof that if you want to be a writer of any kind you owe it to yourself and to anyone who may encounter your work in the future to put at least some limitations on social media time because it WILL destroy your ability to write dialogue that human beings might say. we're talking straight up melissa telling shauna shit like "i like that you're not afraid of your darkness out here" and then shauna making melissa be the one to slice one-legged coach ben's achilles tendon (don't ask) and saying "i don't want you to be afraid of your darkness either." like fully taking the stuff that they want people to say in the tags of gifsets and twitter threads of fancams of these characters and just putting it in the actual text like the actual dialogue of the actual show. someone on reddit said it was being written for dark sapphic tiktok edits to be made and they were 100% right. also this choice is stupid because i mean the character coherence has long since left the building but i personally really have a hard time understanding a universe in which shauna was lezzing out in the woods and then still comes back and marries jeff. but as we know i hate his ass. anyway.

so all season long viewers have been split into the camp of "hilary swank is obviously playing melissa because why else would she suddenly be the world's most pointless main character this season" and "hilary swank can't be playing melissa, that's too obvious." last ep there was a line about melissa being dead which seemed a point in favor for the latter but lol! surprise surprise hilary swank is playing melissa who is alive after having faked her suicide post-rescue and then spent a bunch of years stalking the daughter of the frog researcher they murdered (don't ask) and then marrying her under an assumed name. that's actually not the dumbest part. the DUMBEST part is that the way the show signals that hilary swank is playing melissa is that when we first see her......... 30 years after the teen years.............. she is wearing a fucking backwards baseball cap. indoors to hang out with her wife and kids. that's where we're at these days. anyway then shauna knifes her and bites a chunk of flesh out of her arm and tells her to eat it. meanwhile other tai is running around smothering people in palliative care to try to cure van's cancer. i mean it's soooooooooooooooo bad

[matrixbearer2024]

Also how old are the Stan twins by the time Dipper and Mabel are 12? I’m assuming they’re in college but feel free to correct me.

By the time Dipper and Mabel are 12, the Stan Twins are out of college(technically). If we place the AU in 2024(they were born in 2003) they're already 21, and considering that most undergraduate programs could typically last 2-6 years- their undergrad courses (BSBA[Bachelor of Science in Business Administration] for Stan and BS(CMB)[Bachelor of Science in Biology with specialization in Cell and Molecular Biology] for Ford) are 4 year courses. They haven't been delayed or are late in any educational progress so they've only got a year left of undergrad.

They study in Graviton University Oregon, because I didn't have gravity falls "exist" technically. The town exists and that's where the university is, just more urbanized and without any of the wtf weird creatures that reside in the town from canon.

By the way, the niblings haven't been born yet considering that Shermie isn't even married yet. I plan on Shermie getting married by new year of 2025 and settling down in Piedmont with his girl, and the niblings will be born the year after around the same time the Stan Twins finally finish undergrad.

That's not the last of it though since they both still plan on moving up to masters and Ford wants to get a Phd(he starts with one and then starts collecting them like Pokémon) and it's mostly where they diverge paths as Stan throws himself into more of accounting/enterprenurial and Ford into researcher/biologist.

I don't really think Stan uses his knowledge on business too much at the start however since I do plan on him being scouted for a sports team(Haven't decided between basketball or baseball yet) before he graduates and while building his career as an athlete he finishes his masters(he takes 3 years to do it instead of the usual 2).

Ford had his fun in undergrad, so he fully commits to studying at this point and like in canon is pretty damn advanced compared to the rest of his peers. The curriculum and subject weights have definitely shifted from canon but I still do think it would only more or less take him 7-8 years to get his first doctorate.

By the time the niblings are 12, the Stan twins are 34, Sherm's 42.

Stan's spotlight as an athlete is waning and he's mostly helping run Fidds' family business, he's practically acting CEO in Fidds' place and is very comfortable with the pay he's getting. Stan wasn't really hardcore into sports anyway, he just took the opportunity because it presented itself to him and frankly he's okay with that. He starts drawing comics again as a hobby and with Fidds' help eventually becomes a comic-book artist part time since a businessman is his main gig post sports stardom. Much like some iconic artists and writers in DC and marvel, he ends up joining them when people like the series he puts out and the more "retro" artstyle.

Ford is making innovations left and right in the realm of genetics and biotechnology ever since graduating at 30 and he's got Fidds and Bill to help him with the more techy parts of his work. Ford hasn't stopped studying entirely though and honestly collects honorary PhDs to keep himself well rounded, not to mention he consistently attends seminars or science conferences to keep on top of the newest discoveries or updates to what's going on in the world. It wasn't his dream or intention of becoming one of the "greats" that go down in history but he really might at his pace, it's not something he thinks or cares about though.

You could argue that their life is practically being fast-tracked here but honestly, I think the pace fits them. It's a lot less chaotic compared to canon but considering how driven these two are, I think it's a pretty comfortable pace.

By the way, despite the busy life and all that- Ford tries his best to go to all of Stan's games live even when Shermie or Caryn miss it, despite the fact he doesn't really know anything that's going on just which team his brother's playing and if he's winning. Similarly, when Ford is called to give conferences to explain his findings or research Stan is more than happy to fly out to where he is and sit in just to give his support despite not knowing a damn or understanding whatever the hell his brother is talking about LOL

They're still very close considering that they didn't ever have a fight that tore them apart, they respected each other's wishes and interests and just talked. They always talked. I suppose that's ultimately what makes the big difference.

[mads-hemmo]

Baseball Boy - College AU

Part 2

Baseball Player! Schlatt x Fem! Southern Sorority girl reader

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Schlatt moves down south to play baseball for a Division 1 school. At a party, he meets a girl who is the exact opposite of him. She’s a sorority girl who obviously has money and a very strong southern accent. She believes there is good in everyone and Schlatt isn’t as much of an asshole as he is letting on.

The beginning of the semester is always your favorite time. You love spending too much money on a planner and choosing an appropriate color for each class. When you receive the syllabus, you put all the assignments in your planner in their respective color. You also love seeing your friends and sorority sisters. It warms your heart to be back on campus in the place that feels the most like home.

You are glad that you had gotten an early start on planning because there’s only been one thing on your mind since Saturday Night. Schlatt. You don’t know why he has taken up so much space in your mind. Frankly, he’s a bit of a douche, but you want to break his shell. You are curious to see what is hiding under that tough exterior. There seems to be more than meets the eye and you want to know what it is.

You have always been curious, wanting to understand how things work and know every detail of it. You hate the unknown and he seems to be the biggest mystery you have ever encountered.

On Sunday, you decided to go on Instagram and search for Schlatt’s name. He only has a couple hundred followers. The only mutual friend you have is Alex Lopez. You saw them talking during the party. There wasn’t much information you got from his account. There were about 6 posts and he only had one that included his face. The rest are just photos of him playing baseball.

Baseball. That seems to be the only thing you know about him. That and he’s from somewhere up North. You are not sure where, but it seems like it might be the New England area.

The other things you know are what you can see on the outside. He’s tall, probably about 6’3”. He has messy brown hair and puppy brown eyes that seem to be constantly squinting into a glare. You're surprised he doesn’t already have crow’s feet. He’s annoyingly gorgeous.

There is so much you do not know about him though. What’s his major? Where exactly is he from? Why did he brush me off when every other guy would be falling at my feet? It’s what made you the most curious. You took the time to talk to him and he barely batted an eye. You know most guys only like you for my money, but he didn’t even care to know your name. Maybe that’s what made you somehow want him even more. He does not know who you are, so he cannot judge you. Even though it seems that he already has.

As you have a meal plan, you make your way to the Cafe to get some dinner. “How was your summer break, Miss.(Y/N)?” Ms. Debra, the sweet lady at the front who scans our cards, asks you. You made it your mission in your first semester to learn every staff member's name, especially those who work at the Cafe. You learned after a semester that if you are nice to every employee, they make your college experience enjoyable.

“It was pretty boring honestly. I’m happy to be back here. How was your break?” You ask her back.

“It wasn’t too bad, sweetie. I was here for most of it as many students take summer classes. The family and I went camping a few times.”

“That sounds amazing. Have a good rest of your night Deb.” you make your way through the main line to grab some chicken fried steak, rice, and peas. You missed the food served here, especially since it wasn’t made by someone who thinks you should be on a diet.

After you get your food, you see your friends sitting at their usual table towards the right side of the cafe. You smile at the familiarity that rings through you as you sit down with the three girls I missed the most during the summer. Gia’s boyfriend Alex is also there. He became a part of the group as soon as they started dating two years ago. Your friends and you all met in your freshman year. Lucy and Gia were assigned as your roommates along with another girl, Sara Beth. Sara Beth however did not stick around as long as the other two. Sara was a nice girl but she never really fit into your group. She came here with her high school boyfriend so you barely saw her. Lucy, Gia, and you all ended up rushing KKG where we met the fourth member of your group, Haley. Haley is Gia’s big who didn’t bond as well with the girls in her year, so she quickly joined your friend group.

Even though you only met them two years ago, you feel like you have been friends with them your whole life. You all live in different cities so you didn’t get to spend the summer together. This is the first time you have all eaten together since May. As soon as you sit down, they all give me a big smile. “How was your first day of classes, (Y/N/N)?” Gia asks you with Alex’s arm around her tiny waist.

“Pretty boring. Just a syllabus day as the first week always is,” you tell her.

“Same for me,” Lucy says as Haley nods in agreement.

“Did Alex tell you about his asshole roommate from the North?” Haley speaks up.

“(Y/N) has met him,” Alex says, with a wink. You raise my eyebrow at him. You didn’t even know Alex had a new roommate, much less met the guy. Alex notices my confusion. “You spoke to him at the PIKE party.”

It finally clicks. “Schlatt is your roommate?” You ask. He just nods. As in on cue, you see Schlatt with a few slices of pizzas on his plate walk to a small table in the corner. His fluffy hair is hidden by a baseball cap. He looks a lot more comfortable than he did at the party. You ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he combs through his hair before putting the cap back on. You also ignore how lonely he looks as he scrolls through his phone.

“(Y/N)!” you hear Gia say, snapping me out of the one-sided staring match. You look over at her. “I said,’ Was he that guy who made you feel bad at the party?’”

“He didn’t make me feel bad. He just didn’t know anyone and I was being too pushy. Do you guys think he looks lonely?” you ask, looking back over in his direction.

“Do not say you feel sorry for him,” Lucy says. “I should’ve kicked his ass when I had the chance.” Lucy is always the one threatening to beat anyone up who ‘hurt’ the ones she cares about.

You roll your eyes at her forwardness. “Maybe I should go give him company. No one wants to sit alone,” you say.

“Didn’t you just say he called you pushy?” Alex comments. “Plus I think he is one of the few people who likes being alone.”

“Like I said he doesn’t know anyone. I’ll die of regret if I know I let him sit by himself when he didn’t want to.”

“God you’re too sweet,” Haley pipes up. “If you do go over there, please just be careful and don’t get upset if he’s an asshat to you.”

You grab your plate and make your way over to him. He doesn’t notice, so you clear your throat. “Can I sit by you?” You ask him.

He finally looks up from his phone. “It’s you again. Why do I feel like, if I tell you no, you’ll do it anyway?”

“You looked lonely over here so I figured you needed some company, so can I?”

“Whatever,” he mutters, paying attention to his phone. You feel like this was maybe a bad idea but you can’t back down now. You have to prove everyone else wrong.

“So Schlatt right? Did you have any classes today?” He just simply nods. “Awesome. How were they? My professors just went over the syllabuses or syllabi I guess is the right term for it.”

“I’m not interested in joining your sorority or whatever cult you are a part of,” he says, finally looking up from his phone.

“Obviously, you can’t join my sorority seeing as you’re a male. Or at least I assume you are since you play baseball and live with Alex. I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Definitely a male,” he confirms with an eye roll. He takes a bite of his pizza and makes a face in slight disgust at it.

“Yeah, the pizza here is disgusting. They were serving chicken fried steak which is much better. If you don't want southern food, they always have pasta.” You take a bite of your food, savoring how good it is. White gravy is a gift from heaven.

“Do you always dress like you’re going to an event ?” He asks, looking you up and down. You’re not even that dressed up in your mind.You are wearing a pink flowy tank top with white jeans and flats. The only jewelry you’re wearing is a pair of pearl earrings and your Kendra Scott necklace.

“This isn’t that dressed up, but I always try to look nice. I feel better when I take the time to do my makeup and pick out a nice outfit.”

He just snorts a bit before scrolling again. You sigh seeing that the conversation has gone one-sided. Though you should just walk back to your friends and accept defeat, you continue. You take a look at what he is wearing. He has on a baseball cap and a plain T-shirt. You noticed he was also wearing joggers earlier, meaning that he prefers to dress comfier than you.

“What team is that?” You ask, motioning towards his hat. The logo isn’t one of any team you recognize.

“It’s the school I played at before I came here. Don't look it up. I don’t want you stalking me.” You feel a tinge of guilt. He thinks you’re some creepy girl who can’t take a hint. Maybe this really was a bad idea. Why didn’t you listen to your friends? “I’m joking,” he says, noticing my discomfort.

You let out a fake laugh. “Obviously. I knew that.” you sigh. You’re usually really good at reading people, but he’s so hard to read. You feel like the whole douchebag thing is a cover-up, but he’s making it seem like that’s not the case. You want to learn who the real Schlatt is. The one who doesn’t feel like he has to be a lone wolf to not let anyone in.

“Did anyone teach you it’s not nice to stare.” He looks at you with his soft puppy brown eyes that make you want to melt in your seat.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I’m just trying to figure you out.” God that sounded a lot less creepy in your head.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Why are you trying? I’m obviously an asshole who isn’t worth your precious time. Don’t you have some impressional freshman girls to join your cult, I mean sorority.” He cracks a small grin as if he thinks he finally broke you.

“I’m a really good judge of character and you seem to not be as bad as you are putting on. Plus I’m a junior, I did my duties of talking up KKG as a sophomore.”

“Sorry to break your heart, but I’m really a douchebag. There’s no act I’m putting on. So why don't you just go back to your little friends and talk bad about some helpless girl who doesn’t know how to dress?”

You scoff. “This isn’t high school. Unlike you, I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not to feel better about myself. I’m a nice person just trying to help someone who knows no one here or even in Arkansas for that matter.” You look at your plates which are both now empty. “Do you want some dessert? I think Miss. Brenda made peach cobbler. It’s really good. It will make you happy you came here.” You know desserts are the way to anyone’s heart.

“I have a few questions for you first. One, are you offering to grab me dessert after I was rude to you? Two, what the hell is a peach cobbler? And three, you know the name of the lady who makes desserts.”

“Yes because like I said I’m actually a nice person trying to help someone out. I learned every staff member's name here during my first semester and it’s like a warm pastry with peaches and cinnamon. It’s really good.”

He sighs. “I learned that you don’t take no for an answer, so I guess if you’re getting one.”

You smile making your way to the dessert line. “Hi, Mrs.Brenda. Did your grandbabies have a good summer vacation?” You ask her.

“Hello (Y/N). Yes, we went to Pigeon Forge and they had a blast. Did you have a good summer?” She asks you, putting more bowls of peach cobbler on the line.

“Yes ma’am. I spent a few days with my granny and papa in Fort Worth. I would have stayed the whole summer if I could.”

“I bet they enjoyed having you there.” She hands you a bowl.

“I hope it’s not too much to ask, but could I possibly have two bowls? My friend over there is from the North and hasn’t ever had peach cobbler. So of course I told him he had to try it from the best.”

“You’re too sweet, darling. Of course, you can take two.”

You smile at her as you grab the two bowls and some spoons. You go over to the ice cream machine to add some to each of the cobblers.YouI make your way back to the table and set one bowl in front of him. “It’s best with ice cream,” you tell him, taking a bite of your own. The noise that comes out of your mouth is sinful, but it’s deserved as you missed Mrs. Brenda’s dessert.

Schlatt looks up at you with wide eyes before taking a bite for himself. “It’s good. A bit too sweet.”

“You’re in the south. Everything is a bit too sweet.”

“So I’ve learned,” he looks at you with a smile small enough that it’s barely noticeable and it makes you blush a bit. You feel like maybe just maybe his douchebag act is melting like the ice cream in your bowl.

You both sit in silence for a bit, just eating your desserts. After you finish, he looks at your empty dishes. “Are you done?” He asks and you nod. He takes them, adding them to his dirty plate and bowl. Instead of saying goodbye, he puts his phone in his pocket and takes your dishes to the conveyor belt where they get washed.

You probably look like such a creep watching him leave with a big smile on your face. You look over to see your friends looking at you with faces of disbelief. You smile at them knowing that even if you didn’t feel like you made much progress, they think you turned Schlatt into a total softie who put up your dishes. You grab your things and make your way towards the exit. You smile hoping that someday you will see the full softie that you feel like Schlatt is hiding behind his douchebag exterior.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Here is reader’s POV. As I mentioned in the first part, I changed the point of view from forts person to second person. I hope you enjoy this part. This gives you a little insight into reader. I’m sorry she is so stereotypical, but I promise there is more to her character. Let me know what you think!

[cookeybg]

Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic

Before we get to the story I have a few words to say...

First of all, Hello!

Not sure if this will reach anyone, but I had an itch to write, so I did. I almost never post anything. I have reposted a couple things but I'm mostly a lurker and enjoy others creativity and thoughts, I like to think of myself as a cat with few brain cells.

Anyways, I read a manga YEARS ago and enjoyed it greatly and thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny/interesting if Jon and Damian were stuck in this situation?" Let's see if anyone eventually gets what manga I was reminiscing.

Now, this is the first time I've ever posted anything I've written and I am not confident AT ALL if this is going to be any good, but I really hope someone out there enjoys reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it...Also not sure if I should post it on Ao3???

Well enough of my ramblings on to the story.

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

Part 1 - Chapter 1

Jon placed his lunch tray next to Kathys’ as he discreetly looked around the lunch room trying to catch a glimpse of his crush. He had only briefly seen him at the mall during summer break and in a panic hid from him behind a rack of clothes. He had regretted not saying hello and had daydreams of himself going up to him, all cool and complementing the brown eyed boy’s pink fluffy hair and then asking him out to watch a movie at the mall theater. Sadly, the daydreams would come crashing down when he remembered his mother placing shirts in front of him and trying to measure him up before heading into the dressing room. It’s not that he was embarrassed of his mom its just, he was wearing sweats and an old hoodie since none of his clothes fit him anymore due to his growth spurt and, well, his mom could be a bit much, sometimes. Throughout the whole shopping trip when she would meet an acquaintance or friend she kept gushing about how quick kids grew and how she wished they would just stop sometimes. Jon would have to bury himself if anyone from school had been exposed to that.

“Looking for Jay?” Kathy asked. Jon looked at Kathy like a deer caught in the headlights and immediately turned red. He sat down abruptly causing his tray to nearly tip unto him. He scrambled to right his milk carton before it fell. Once settled, he sighed and mumbled, “That obvious?” Kathy smirked and bit into her carrot stick making a loud snap. Jon squirmed while opening his milk carton, he took a big swing, pointedly ignoring Kathy’s stare. “Why don’t you just confess?” Kathy asked. “Confess?” Jon spluttered, “He doesn’t even know I exist!” “Jon, you two were in the same history class last year. He knows who you are.” “Yeah. But we never talked.” “Then, how about you talk to him?” That would be so awkward…” Jon bit into his chicken strip. Kathy rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. Jon smirked and leaned in conspiratorially, “But I have a plan.” “And that is?” “I’m joining the journalism club.” “What!” Kathy yelled in surprise and then moderated her voice when some people who she startled glared at her, “ I thought you were going to join the baseball team this year, since, you know, your not in a cast anymore.” “The doctor has given the all clear and physical therapy is all done. The doctor was very impressed with how quickly I healed.” “Will they even let you do both clubs?” “Yep, I asked!” Their conversation was cut short when a murmur spread through the cafeteria like a wave. The main players of the baseball team stepped through the open double doors, all nine wearing their letterman jackets. In the lead was the most popular guy in school, Damian Wayne. Whose father was nicknamed the Prince of Gotham. Who in turn married an actual princess from some far off land, giving Damian actual royal blood. Girls wanted him and guys wanted to be him, but from what Jon had heard, guys wanted him too. Damian’s bright green eyes stood out against his brown skin, his gold earring glinted under the florescent light. He scanned the cafeteria with what looked like a sense of boredom. Colin, Jon called him Damian’s second in command, had one arm casually draped around Damian’s shoulders gesticulating wildly with his free hand. The group laughed at whatever the Colin said, but Damian only smiled as he started walking towards their unofficial table. Colin and the rest of the group broke off shoving and cracking jokes at each other while making line to pick up food. Kathy whistled beside Jon, “Now he’s someone who doesn’t know you exist.” “He looks and probably is, conceited.” Jon said offhandedly. “Look at him, he has reason to be.” “Doesn’t mean it’s cool.” “Doesn’t mean he’s not hot.” Jon turned to look at Kathy, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead she was looking in Damian’s direction. Jon looked around and noticed that many were doing the same. He dragged his eyes back to look at Damian. The dude sat straight backed, elegantly eating his homemade meal from some fancy lunch bag that was probably more expensive than anything Jon owned, and scrolling on his phone completely ignoring the many eyes staring at him. Colin returned with the rest of the group nudging Damian and dropping his lunch tray with a loud smack, receiving an unimpressed glare in return. Colin smiled and placed a fruit cup in front of Damian. Jon personally didn’t get the allure. The couple of times he had seen Damian interact with others it was usually acerbic. Somehow that did not lessen his popularity and it left Jon dumbfounded. I good person should be good to others and being polite was a given, his Grandma said so and she was never wrong. Jon shrugged and went back to eating his school lunch. The rest could keep Damian he very much preferred Jay.

I hope you enjoyed it! Will post more soon, hopefully.

[microknifeyuri]

Nickel's sense of guilt and fear of change. [Character/II S3 Episode 14 Analysis, part 1/?]

Today, the longest episode of Invitational has dropped, and I have many thoughts of it as well. Might do more posts analyzing the events that ocurred as of now in canon, but I would like to talk about the heaviest part in the lore and how most people are not getting it completely (in my opinion), and that being: Nickel's current point of view of Balloon and his relationship with Suitcase and BB.

We all know that Nickel's actions hurted the Grand alliance, but what happened in the episode is that they showed how apparently, Nickel doesn't get exactly that things were completely fucked up.

In the episode, he mainly focuses on the good memories he had with BB and Suitcase, and doesn't even seem to hate Suitcase either, unlike what most people thought (me included to an extent, though I did see him being hurt mostly with their relationship and what happened in s2), but.

Nickel doesn't realize that he actually fucked up with them a lot, and that's the main issue.

Like, sure. He knows that stuff were messy at points but that's all he says. He mainly focuses on the good moments he had with them, maybe that's a product of him growing once he got eliminated and came to terms with himself that "well yeah there was a bit complicated shit but we still had fun together", but deep down he feels a sort of... guilt? Regarding Suitcase.

But even then, Balloon scolds him for trying to erase the times where Nickel made all of them feel bad. Hell! Even then Balloon recognizes that Nickel hurted Baseball deeply! And he says how Suitcase was the only one who had enough courage to stand up for her! Because hey! Nickel did use the same treatment that he used with Suitcase on Baseball! But the difference is that BaseBall kept making excuses for him!

The person who Nickel has been, alongside Baseball, "ignoring" of some sorts, has been Suitcase.

But here's the thing as well: Nickel doesn't know how to make things better again.

Nickel doesn't understand... feelings and complex emotions to put it shortly. He's afraid of change, and the way he just ignores the bad stuff that happened and tries to say that it's the only way that things can work, is... somewhat sad. Nickel doesn't understand a lot of stuff. He probably thinks that, at the end of the day, those were just little conflicts and that there was more good than bad.

But... that would mean he would also be running away from his consciousness over what Suitcase told him.

About how none of what they had was real.

He doesn't realize the damage he has done because hey. As much as you all like to think that Nickel didn't have his reasons to be a dick towards Balloon, he did. He actually did. He even mentions it in this episode, that if Balloon didn't try to manipulate everyone just as S1 started, maybe things would be different.

Nickel SAW and KNOWS Balloon's by his awful actions, and he wanted to protect BaseBall and Suitcase from him, since he thinks that Balloon CAN'T be trust-worthy after everything he did in S1.

That's why he was so aggressive as well towards Balloon. Yes, he cared for BaseBall, but he also cared for Suitcase deeply. The thing is that Suitcase was Balloon's friend, and Nickel can't bring himself to think that someone who he saw being such an awful person, could possibly be targetting someone who he cares about as well. So that's why he tried to push Balloon away for so long. He tried to keep his relationship with Suitcase and BB, he even says it in S2 when Suitcase confesses that she voted for him.

But of course, this is even more complicated. Both Nickel and Balloon fucked up, but Nickel fucked up for a longer time. Balloon was actually changing, and Nickel did only take the protective stance when this was happening. Which like, Nickel was right on that. He had his reasons to NOT trust Balloon. The problem is that he couldn't accept that Balloon was changing, and that he wasn't realizing that his actions were hurting both BB and Suitcase.

What I think that people don't get, or what hurts me the most, is the fact that Nickel is in denial. But it's merely the fact that when he hears Suitcase's voice, he doesn't get angry or mad, or even panics, no.

He's just... shocked.

What are you supposed to tell someone who went through hell, thanks to you, even if you tried to protect her from whom you thought was bad? What are you supposed to tell the friend who you tried to protect and instead hurted them in awful ways?

What are you even supposed to do in that situation?

It's not only that, but the fact that he didn't even think twice when walking towards her, didn't even question if she was truly Suitcase. Like, he immediately went on and tried to explain himself to her-

He completely forgot about everything because he wanted to talk to her and, I do think that he feels guilty for what he did, but he can't put it to words/can't understand it completely after all- but his first instict after seeing Suitcase is to talk to her about it.

He wants to explain himself to her- maybe even apologize, but he doesn't know how.

The thing is that Nickel is smart. With logical stuff, not feelings, according to Adam himself. And that fucks it all up for him.

Nickel can't handle change.

Suitcase can understand change.

Balloon is always changing.

And BaseBall can't keep up with it.

And that shows it here.

Nickel is a complicated character. Guilt is eating him constantly but he lacks emotional intelligence. He can accept that stuff went wrong, but seem doesn't understand what or why they did go wrong.

He regrets what he did to Suitcase most likely judging from his behaviour the mere second he saw her, but he can't tell why exactly. Same thing as Nickel probably realizing that he keeps on messing up the more he clings into that mentality. He tries to move on from the past, but he can't. He even says it. There's no way to make things feel better as of now, so that's why he pretends.

But there is a way.

He just... needs to talk it out with Suitcase and Balloon.

That being said, thank you for reading this.

[radicalrainbow]

Hi bestie! I hope you had a good Halloween :3

I would like to know more about HotRod, and Spaz.. like do they have jobs? Music taste? Sibling dynamic? Fashion wear? Favorite shows? Just anything really ^^

BOY DO I HAVE SOME INFO FOR YOU BUDDY!!!

Spaz and HotRod are quite close as siblings!!

Spaz is 29, being her older brother while shes currently 25

Theres a big part of HotRod's story I can't put here as I plan to make a post about it specifically <3

Spaz-

Spaz got his name from Greaser, specifically when he took notice of the tentacles of the parasite twitching and spazzing as it grew more awake after birth

Spaz has a parasite, like most greaserfresh fankids

He IS the parasite, but to better understand will be addressed as "the parasite"

When he was born he was mostly a parasite, while yes he did have his normal skeleton body, and his consciousness was present in the parasite, aka True Spaz if you want to call it that <3

The parasite took up the entirety of his ribcage when he was born, enveloping his soul, his skeleton body being unresponsive till it grew enough for the parasite to move to his skull! It wasn't bad or anything, the body was usually limp but they knew he was fine

He was also born without emotions, just like his father, making it difficult to understand his needs. Yet he eventually grew into having them once he was able to speak with proper words.

He sometimes switches back to that state of no present emotions at short intervals, at complete random, and usually only happens from a few minutes to an hour

FunFact: His design was inspired by Max, Son of Goofy and the main character in the Goofy Movie & Extremely Goofy Movie

Spaz is more like their father Greaser, flirting with others to simply get into their pants and have a good time, with no real feelings behind it. Usually, he's off at a bar when he's out of the house.

While he's more introverted, alcohol and weed pull him out of his comfort zone, he has a bit of a reputation, good or bad depending on who you talk to.

He always listens to music, usually rock and roll or heavy metal, and tends to read magazines as he does. Spaz does not have an ecto tongue like many, the parasite sitting lower in his skull and taking up the place of his tongues with its tentacles, making his tastebuds much more sensitive, which also leads to lower tolerance

HotRod-

HotRod is a well-known baseball player, number 12 of The Sparks!! She's been playing since she was a child, working restlessly to build up the skill she has now as a star player ever since she first picked up her dad's bat one day

HotRod was the problem child everyone loved, getting into trouble for the fun of it, and was greatly encouraged to explore the multiverse the moment she was old enough!

She has an ex-boyfriend named Jeffery, who she met in Underfell when she was a teenager, a typical bad boy, he really only dated her because he saw her as a trophy, especially with the strength she had.

*cough cough* This will be explored more in a different post, but HotRod has 12 LV, making her the strongest in her family in LV

HotRod experiences LV spikes, also known as "magic overload syndrome" which occurs due to gaining LV or not expelling it in everyday life, whether it's working out, fighting, etc. Its only more common to happen to those with above 10 LV, such as Dust, or Killer for example.

If she doesn't take care of those spikes, she can get violent, high risk of attacking someone, and an inability to control her emotions. And not just that, but it also makes her run HOT, you could almost see the steam rising from her hair. Her magic would crackle, she'd be constantly irritated, jittery and out of control if gone to far And one of the more key factors of LV spikes she has, is her magic lighting up around her joints, sparkling and dripping with liquid magic like lava.

If not dealt with it can deal physical damage, but thankfully shes been able to work through it.

She has the ability to summon her bat at will, its her basic attack if she isn't engaged in hand to hand combat. She also has the ability to focus her magic into her bat, to hit harder, to cause serious damage, and send people flying depending on the intent she has in the moment of using it.

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-fi prompt from Becky:

I actually would love to hear where ticket/concession/merch money for concerts go. If someone has already asked about that, can you do something similar for a sports game of your choice?

Already got a request for concerts, but I can do the sports game!

So, let's go with... baseball. I've been to professional baseball games ('twas the Ducks), even if it's been a Very Long Time, so that's the one I have some perspective on. Who is in control of the money any given game (as in, who owns the stadium and the home team) varies by place and sport, so let's use the Mets and Citi Field as our example when we need a specific.

Mostly, this is because I'm in New York and so it's down to either them or the Yankees, and between the two... the Mets, through a wholly owned subsidiary, Queens Ballpark Company, are the ones that actually own their ballpark, which makes a few things easier and includes a Fun Fact about the naming. It also means that I can treat the team and the stadium as one singular entity instead of waffling over who gets to be the Main Character of this simulation. It's not exactly uncommon for teams to own their own stadiums, but it's not most of them.

(The Mets, btw, are owned in large part by a hedge fund manager. Like, 95% of the team stock is owned by this one guy. Why can't more sports be like the Packers and just belong to the city.)

In this case, I will be referring to the Forbes article on Citi Field's revenue for 2022 as a guide or framework, as they have an actual image of the financial report; they don't do much explaining of the actual data, though, so my part will be explaining the less-obvious things and doing some maths. A few other articles will also be cited as they come in useful.

I'll also note that the Mets are a very expensive team operating at a loss, but they still work for our purposes.

MONEY COMING IN:

Tickets, most obviously

To quote the wiki article on Major League Baseball:

"MLB is the second-wealthiest professional sport league by revenue after the National Football League (NFL). [...] MLB has the highest total season attendance of any sports league in the world; in 2018, it drew more than 69.6 million spectators."

I didn't know that until I started researching for this post, but it makes sense. After all, baseball is "the American pastime." The Forbes article cites average attendance of 33,000 per home game. The stadium seat about 41,900, so we're looking at roughly 79% attendance. This is fine, because attendance is not the only stream of revenue.

Advertising

If you have seen a professional sports game in the past however many years, you have seen that, depending on the type of court, they are plastered in advertising. Let's take a look at Citi Field:

(Image Source: MLB website)

The Forbes article states that the stadium makes about $48.5 million per year from advertising. About $28.5 million of that comes from the various 'temporary' and long-term ads, the Nikon and Geico and Toyota and Coca Cola, etc.

$20 million of it comes from one company. I'm going to quote Wikipedia again:

The naming rights were purchased by Citigroup, a New York financial services company, for $20 million annually.

This is not uncommon! ESPN has an article about it, and some standout examples are Bank of America Stadium, Coors Field, Delta Center, FedEx Field and FedEx Forum, General Motors Place, Gillette Stadium, Heinz Field, and the list just goes on. I'm not even sure if the list is up to date, because I'm seeing even more articles elsewhere with higher figures.

Concessions

The financial report that Forbes cites has $22mill in concessions. This is not entirely surprising. Going by this page, we're looking at... 84 home games in that 2022 season. Let's assume that 33,000 average cited earlier. That's 2,772,000 attendees over the course of the season. So, what, a little under $10 per attendance tick? Entirely plausible. A hot dog plus a soda is $15, so... that tracks.

Parking

Apparently parking is, collectively, about $13mill annually. That's... genuinely a little concerning to me, for uh. Reasons. Also parking is $40.

(A lot of people go to games via train, if anyone's interested.)

Luxury Suite Premiums

I had to google this one, but uh. Turns out those fancy private box seats are even fancier and more private than I thought, bringing in over $10 mill a year.

Other Revenue - Stadium, undefined

"Other Revenue" and "post season revenue" are not given any further information, but they're about $16.5 mill so. They're definitely doing their part? Wish we had more information.

One guess is that there are events in the vein of the Citi Field Spring Carnival that contribute to the revenue through either fees to the stadium (if this is a carnival that rents the parking lot) or concessions and tickets (if the stadium rents a carnival).

Other Revenue - to the team that is not direct operating income of the stadium itself

Not counting the "other revenue" section of the financial statement, the Forbes article tells us that:

National broadcasting deals with Fox, ESPN and TBS that pay over $60 million a year to every MLB team, as well as the local cable fee the Mets get from SNY, which is over $80 million a year.

That's another $140mill in addition to the $244mill that the financial report cites.

Merchandise - not direct stadium revenue.

Get your Mets hats here! And your jerseys! And your logo bats! And your commemorative plushies! And--

MONEY GOING OUT

Operations

This one's easy: you have to pay wages to your employees, from the players themselves to the food sellers to janitorial to security to field maintenance, etc. Also, you have to pay for utilities (those billboards and floodlights aren't cheap), product to sell (frozen hot dogs), supplementary materials for products you sell (plastic cups, paper for the ticket machines, bags for garbage cans, and so on), and repairs/maintenance for the stands themselves (can't imagine they get through a season with all 41,900 seats intact).

Player salaries (and a few others, like the coach) aren't actually included in stadium revenue, but since the stadium is owned by the team, we're bundling them together for the sake of this case.

Payment in Lieu of Taxes

So this is an interesting one, and while the Forbes article does touch on it, there's a bit more detail to the story.

Citi Field was built in 2009, and the process cost $850 million. Of that, $615 was public subsidies. A lot of this was municipal bonds, which the Mets have to pay back with interest for the lifetime of the park; those municipal bond repayments are an offset, and in return for paying tens of millions in municipal bond repayments each year (the 2022 report shows about $43.5 mill), Citi Field does not have to pay property taxes.

Wikipedia only cites property taxes, but the financial report doesn't include any other taxes, so I'll assume the only other taxes they're on the hook for are sales and payroll, which aren't displayed in the financial report.

Parking

Right, so, parking as a bundle is about $7.5 mill in expenses, which means that parking alone has a marginal profit of about 42.3%, given the earlier figure of $13mill in parking revenue. I'm not finding any solid information on where that money goes, but it seems very like that New York City's taxes on land use for parking is not included in the property tax exemption we discussed above, and that most of the $7.5 mill is in that regard.

Post Season Expenses

I'll be honest, they don't define this $1.8 mill, but given what is and isn't included in the other sections, I'm going to hazard a guess that this may be about upgrades (more than maintenance) or replacement of physical billboards that are also not included as regular maintenance but require a lot of manpower to get up and set if complicated enough.

General and Administrative

This is the other possible allocation of the utilities and related payments. This is also where back of house activities like accountants, lawyer fees, payroll clerks, facilities managers, and so on are bundled in. It's about $5.5 mill.

Publicity and Promotions

This one's easy, it's just marketing that doesn't fall into General Mets Things and is rather for home games specifically.

Depreciation and Amortization

Bit trickier, but you know how a car loses value the second you drive it off the lot? That is depreciation. You paid $20,000 for a car, but two years later it's worth $16,000; on a financial report, you put that down as a $4,000 loss to depreciation. Amortization is similar, in that it lowers values of various assets in relation to time and relative value to what it was when new.

Interest Expenses

Expenses related directly to interest rates tend to get their own line separate from regular debt repayments. This isn't really relevant beyond 'loans are more expensive than when you first get them.'

Travel and League Expenses

Since this is a traveling team, being professionals, and a Major League Baseball Team in particular, money has to be spent on the plane rides, team bus, and of course, the league fees. I wanted to end that a bit more pithy, but it turns out it's not easy to find league fees for the MLB.

(A new team joining would have to pay about $2.2 billion, according to one article, while previous new additions were a couple hundred mill, so... 100 mill? Maybe?)

Hope that answers your question!

[demigod-shenanigans]

Triremes over Europe

Summary: “But isn’t it weird that it took me so long to realize this?” Jason asked, his expression still terribly vulnerable. “Shouldn’t this be something I just… know?”

“Sometimes it’s not,” Piper said, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice. Something in her chest was resonating, threatening to spill out, and she wasn’t quite ready to face it. “You know how the Mist works? How it will make people see what they’re expecting to see? It can be like that, too.”

It had been so easy to lean into it and ignore all evidence to the contrary. Piper McLean was in love with Jason Grace. There wasn’t a giant trireme flying over Europe.

Or: After the events in Split, Jason breaks up with Piper. Piper’s world shifts, but not in the way she expected.

Word count: ~ 4.5k

Rating: Teen and Up

Posting some more of this little fic universe! This time featuring Piper and Jason having a very amicable breakup. Piper and Jason are both queer and confused (there’s some level of comphet and internalized homophobia going on here for anyone who doesn’t feel like dealing with that right now), main focus is on the two of them being friends.

Piper has a crush on Reyna and doesn’t realize it and Jason has some perfectly normal platonic feelings towards Leo, thank you for asking. Please note that the tagged ships are pining only for this fic and this is a friendship fic first and a ship fic second.

Quick story note before we begin: for this universe I’m ignoring the whole Calypso situation (Percy can go yell at the gods to get her off the island when they’re done), so if you’re wondering why Leo is on the Argo during the Notus part, here’s your explanation!

———

Piper was about to get ready for bed when someone knocked on the door to her cabin.

She rubbed her eyes, confused, wondering if maybe she’d started drifting off and imagined the noise since it made no sense.

It was after midnight, way past the time when anyone except whoever was on watch was supposed to be walking around the ship. If it had been some sort of emergency, she couldn’t imagine her friends knocking instead of yelling about whatever was trying to kill them for the whole corridor to hear. And there hadn’t been a ton to report since they’d gotten stuck with Notus, anyway. Most likely, the main danger to Leo and Frank right now was that they’d bicker each other to death.

Hedge had already done his rounds, and he didn’t knock, exactly. He just yelled about how they all better be sleeping and banged his baseball bat against the door so loudly that if you really had been asleep before, you wouldn’t be after.

This only left Hazel, Nico or Jason, except Hazel had headed to bed early because she had a headache, Piper and Nico weren’t exactly friends, and Jason… he just wasn’t the type to break the rules, for any reason, no matter how much Piper wished he was.

The person knocked again, making it pretty clear that she hadn’t, in fact imagined it the first time, so Piper got up to open the door.

She was baffled when the door opened to a really sheepish, obviously anxious Jason.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked apologetically, looking at a point past her head.

“This might shock you, but I don’t usually sleep in jeans,” Piper joked. She raised an eyebrow. “Are you bending the rules to spend time with me? Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?”

Jason didn’t smile. He looked exhausted. The only benefit of the Notus situation should have been that Jason got some rest, since they weren’t constantly dealing with venti trying to crash the ship. Apparently he hadn’t been getting very much sleep regardless.

 “Piper, listen, I… can I talk to you? It’s kind of important.” 

She knew the instant the words were out of his mouth that this was it. They were done.

She’d been dreading this breakup for a while. Part of her had always known it was coming—that their relationship came with an expiration date. It was hard to put into words why. She just had. The way he’d been acting since his last mission had only made her more sure of it.

“Come in.” Piper forced a smile, trying to swallow the acid in her throat. She stepped aside to let Jason through, shutting the door behind him. “If you’re going to break up with me, I’d rather not have an audience.”

Jason didn’t argue. He wouldn’t even meet her eyes, dashing any hopes she might have had that she was misreading the situation again.

She sat back down on her bed, and a moment later Jason sank down next to her with obvious reluctance, far enough away that they weren’t touching. Great. Like this situation needed to get any more awkward.

“Listen, Pipes, I’m really sorry.” Jason was looking down at his hands, fidgeting uncomfortably. “It’s not that you’re- You didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve been great, actually. We’re just- I’m just not-” he broke off with a sigh, pressing his hands to his face. “Gods, I’m a disaster. I can’t even get the words out.”

“Here, I’ll help,” Piper huffed, crossing her arms. “It’s Reyna, isn’t it?”

She felt… she wasn’t sure what she was feeling, actually. 

Not surprised, exactly. She’d need both hands to count all the times she’d thought Jason would break up with her in the last few weeks. She wasn’t even sure she could blame him, really. Reyna was gorgeous. She didn’t need charmspeak to control a crowd—her general air of authority was more than enough. She was an awe-inspiring force of nature. If Piper could gather all that from the short time they’d spent together and a few flashes in her dagger, she couldn’t begin to imagine what years with her would be like. Of course Jason was in love with her. It seemed utterly impossible for anyone not to be.

So what was it that Piper was feeling? Jealousy, maybe? Anger? Neither of those felt like the right way to describe it.

There was a pressure in her chest that she couldn’t explain. All she knew was that it hurt. That it had been hurting ever since she’d started thinking about Jason and Reyna together, hands linked as they walked through the streets of New Rome.

It hadn’t been an issue when he’d first told her—when Reyna had been a vague idea of a person that had meant something to Jason in a different life. But that had been before she’d actually met Reyna.

Everything felt different since.

“It’s not Reyna,” Jason choked out. He looked more upset than she’d ever seen him, despite the fact that he was the one who’d decided to break up with her. “It’s never been about Reyna.”

Piper’s heart did something weird and awful, then. It unclenched slightly. Some of the tension went out of her shoulders, like it fundamentally wasn’t as bad if it was anyone else. 

“Then who is it?” she asked, because she was supposed to want to know. Because she wanted to go on ignoring the confusing ball of emotion in her chest that told her maybe it didn’t matter.

She wanted to shove those feelings back in the box and never look at them again.

“It’s not about anyone. It’s just me.” Jason looked like he might cry. Piper wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him cry before. 

He’d never been good at letting his walls down around her.

Despite the hurt and confusion, Piper reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. It felt like the natural thing to do. He’d been her friend before he’d ever been her boyfriend. “Hey, Sparky. Look at me.”

“Something happened. In Split,” Jason admitted after a long moment of silence. He did lift his head, then, but he still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Yeah, that much is obvious from how weird you and Nico have been acting.”

Neither of them had talked about what had happened or how they’d gotten the scepter. 

For the first few days after, Piper had barely seen Nico. He hadn’t even shown up for meals. He’d always been withdrawn, but not like that. And Jason… he’d been acting different around her. Pulling away when Piper tried to hold his hand, sincerely apologetic and terribly awkward at the same time. She’d hoped he was just stressed. The threat of the end of the world would do that to most people.

Apparently not.

Jason also seemed to have a newfound soft spot for Nico. He’d gone from jumpy every time Nico moved like he kept forgetting he was there to being protective of him whenever the subject came up, like he’d suddenly decided Nico was his younger brother and any bad word about him was a personal offense.

Piper wasn’t sure what Jason had done to change Nico’s mind, but whatever the case, as of two days ago he was back to eating with the rest of them.

“Tell me what happened.”

Jason shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. It’s not my place to talk about it.”

“So tell me what you can talk about,” she said, not forcefully. She didn’t want him to tell her because she’d accidentally used her charmspeak. She wanted him to tell her because they’d been dating for months at this point and she deserved to understand what was going on, even if she didn’t like it. “Because if you’re going to break up with me, I’d at least like to know why.” 

“I’m sorry.” He did cry, then, his eyes pressed shut like that might make the pain go away. “I'm just really confused right now. I know my timing is awful. But it wouldn’t be fair to just keep dating you when I…” Jason clenched his hands into her blanket, apparently trying to steady his breathing. He didn’t quite manage. Then he looked directly at her, his expression more vulnerable than she’d ever seen it. “When I’m not even sure I’m into girls. I. Uhm. I think I might be gay?”

Piper couldn’t stand the fear in his eyes. Before she fully registered what she was doing, she’d looped her arms around Jason’s midsection and pulled him to her chest. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe.”

Jason made a surprised noise, but he obeyed, steadying himself against her as his breaths evened out against her shoulder. She wasn’t sure she’d ever held him like this before. It felt intimate, maybe more than any of their kisses had.

“You’re not mad?” he asked when they broke apart, looking at her like he was still expecting her to change her mind and start yelling at him.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I just broke up with you?” He sounded more confused than anything now. “Because I wasted a bunch of your time?”

Piper blinked, momentarily baffled by her own reaction. Jason was right. Maybe she should feel mad—not at his sexuality, obviously, and probably not even at him, but definitely at the situation. At the very least, she should probably feel bummed out, especially considering how long they’d been dating.

Somehow, she wasn’t feeling either of those things. She had, for a brief moment at the beginning, but not for the reasons she was supposed to be feeling that way. By now, any upset she’d felt had vanished completely. The confusing knot of emotions in her heart had unspooled into a treacherous feeling of relief.

For weeks, she’d assumed Jason breaking up with her would be the worst thing that could happen. Now that it was done, it felt like someone had removed a weight from her chest. Like she could breathe freely for the first time in months.

“I’m not going to be mad at you for something you only just realized about yourself,” she said, squeezing his shoulder gently. 

“But isn’t it weird that it took me so long to realize this?” Jason asked, his expression still terribly vulnerable. “Shouldn’t this be something I just… know?”

“Sometimes it’s not,” Piper said, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice. Something in her chest was resonating, threatening to spill out, and she wasn’t quite ready to face it. She thought back to the conversation she’d had with Hazel a few nights ago. “You know how the Mist works? How it will make people see what they’re expecting to see? It can be like that, too.”

It had been so easy to lean into it and ignore all evidence to the contrary. Piper McLean was in love with Jason Grace. There wasn’t a giant trireme flying over Europe.

She thought about how she’d told Jason she loved him when she assumed they were going to die, only to feel the same treacherous relief she did now when she’d realized he hadn’t heard it. She’d rationalized it by saying it would have been too soon. 

It was starting to click that that hadn’t been the reason for her relief at all.

Piper had an actor for a dad. Maybe it made sense that she was just a little bit too good at pretending.

Jason looked at her, surprised, and then he smiled, tiny and fragile and like he could see right through her. 

He hugged her again, and Piper felt like her chest might cave in—like all the things she’d refused to let herself feel might come tumbling out for everyone to see.

It terrified her. But something about this—about the fact that she wasn’t terrified and confused alone—made it easier to breathe.

“I’m glad we’re friends,” Jason said softly. “I like you so much. I think you’re awesome. I just… I don’t think I ever saw what I was supposed to when I looked at you.”

Piper’s head hurt, the way it sometimes did when she knew she was going to start crying. This was why it had been so perfectly easy to pretend with Jason. Why it might have been even without the fake memories and her mom telling her they were meant to be.

Jason was nice and brave and conventionally attractive. He was her friend, and Piper cared about him. Why wouldn’t she want them to be more? He was like a cardboard cutout of the love interest in every high school romcom she’d ever watched.

He was everything she was supposed to want in a boyfriend. She was supposed to fall asleep thinking about him. She was supposed to want to be alone with him. Instead, every time they were, she wished Leo was there to bridge the awkward silences. When she closed her eyes, she thought of Annabeth and their game of domestic breakfast theft. She thought of Reyna’s determined expression reflected in her knife. 

But Annabeth was her friend, and Piper was worried. Of course she was thinking about her. 

And Reyna… Reyna wasn’t anything to Piper. She was just a girl Jason had never dated, a girl he’d repeatedly stated he didn’t see as anything more than a friend. She wasn’t a threat to the relationship that Piper had convinced herself she wanted. There was no reason for the amount of space Reyna had taken up in Piper’s head.

She’d taken up residence regardless, and whenever Piper let her thoughts wander, her fingers wound up tangled in long brown hair.

Gods, fuck.

“Well, turns out we’re both kind of a mess,” she choked out, rubbing at her eyes, and yep, she was definitely crying now. It was as close to the truth as she allowed herself to get.

Jason swayed a little as he held her, like they were the strangest pair of dancers in history. It was weirdly soothing.

“And we’re both going to be okay,” he said, like it was the most certain thing in the world.

Piper held on tightly and let herself sink into that feeling. She wasn’t in love with Jason, but gods, she did love him. Curled up against his chest, that was one of the few things she felt certain about.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly, after she managed to get a bit more of a handle on her emotions again.

They’d never been great at the talking part. They made a decent questing team, sure, but the moments before and after, when it was just the two of them… Piper never knew what to do with those. Jason didn’t seem to have much of a clue, either. 

Needless to say, she was a little surprised when Jason nodded.

“It’s confusing. It’s been confusing since Hera took my memories. They still don’t really feel like mine. They’re more like a movie I watched a few times—I know the plot and remember all the important bullet points, but that’s it. I’m not attached to them in the way I’m supposed to be.” Jason sighed. “I don’t remember ever seriously thinking of dating anyone, but maybe I had crushes. Some of the emotional parts didn’t carry over great. Maybe I was getting there, and then Hera decided it was inconvenient for what she had in mind, and now I’m confused all over again.”

Piper cringed. Having to do this once was bad enough. She couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like to have to go through it twice.

“I’m sorry.”

Jason was back to wringing his hands.

“I’d never even kissed anyone before you, which is probably part of why I didn’t figure things out sooner. I have no idea how it’s supposed to feel. Just that whatever I am feeling probably isn’t… that.”

This seemed like something Piper was supposed to know. She was the daughter of the goddess of love, for crying out loud. 

The truth was, she didn’t. Not really. 

Jason was the only person she’d ever kissed, in whatever moments she felt warranted a kiss. That in itself maybe should have told her something a lot sooner—how she’d thought of kissing him not as something she wanted to be doing, but as a task to be checked off a list. 

It was incredible what the Mist could hide if you didn’t think it was there. If you weren’t ready to see it. How well your brain could pull wool over your eyes when it came to things you weren’t willing to process.

It was one thing to risk being all over the tabloids with a stupid stunt she'd pulled to get her dad's attention. If people judged her for that, she could brush it off because they didn't truly know her.

Because that behavior was a choice she made, and one she could stop making at any time. But she already had enough people who judged her based on her heritage. If she could at least take this part of herself and package it up until it was unrecognizable so she never had to deal with what anyone else thought of it, wasn't that worth it, even if it made her miserable?

But you couldn't will the Mist back once you'd seen through it. And here, with Jason, who got her even if she still couldn't get the words out, Piper didn't think she wanted to.

She wanted to hold that piece of herself to her chest and just be, damn it. The world might end in a few weeks. And if they couldn't stop it, she'd so much rather live these last few weeks as herself. And if they did manage, well… she would cross that bridge if Gaia didn’t blow it up first.

Piper let that decision settle, with all the mixed emotions that came with it. It felt mostly good.

Then she gave herself a moment to really consider what Jason had said about kissing, thinking back to the campers who’d come to her for advice. In retrospect, that felt terribly ironic. Who was she to give romantic advice to anyone when she’d made herself so blind to her own feelings?

“I think there’s supposed to be sparks,” she finally said. “Not that I’ve got any more experience in that department than you do.”

“What, like I should fry them?” Jason raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound safe.”

“Not literal sparks.” Piper paused, thinking about the gems that appeared whenever Hazel got nervous, or the way Leo would sometimes catch fire when he was stressed or excited. Maybe Jason’s thought wasn’t completely absurd. “Actually, there might be literal sparks, with your powers. But for most people, it’s more metaphorical. A warmth in your chest whenever you think about kissing them. Your heart flutters, and you want to keep doing it, today and tomorrow and maybe forever. Everything just feels right. It fits. Like you’re two sides of the same coin.” She laughed. “Oh Gods, I sound like a cheesy Valentine’s Day card.”

Jason snorted. “A bit. But thanks for trying. I think I might just be hopeless when it comes to this stuff.”

“You’ll figure it out. At least one of us has to,” Piper said, elbowing him gently. “It’ll probably get easier once we’re done constantly worrying about how the world might end in a month.”

“Yeah. Or maybe I’ll just be dead.” Jason bit his lip. “I hate this stupid prophecy. I don’t want to die. But I could never let it be Leo.”

There was something so determined in his expression that it scared her—like Jason had already decided how this was going to go, and the Fates should just try to lay a finger on Leo instead. Piper understood the sentiment—Leo was her best friend, and the thought of something happening to him just about killed her. But Jason was her friend, too, and she wasn’t any more okay with losing him than she was with losing Leo. 

“Even if I’m right about the prophecy, we’ll find another way,” Piper said, trying to sound reassuring. They had to. It didn’t seem fair that a bunch of sixteen year olds would have to make that kind of choice. “Besides, you know how Leo is. Tell him he can’t do a thing and he’ll take it as a personal challenge. One time, back in Wilderness School, one of the other kids told him he couldn’t possibly eat fifteen Jell-O cups. Made himself sick for two days, but he ate twenty just to spite that person.”

There were few scenes from that time Piper remembered clearly, thanks to Hera’s Mist memories. Why this was one of them, she had no idea.

The corners of Jason’s mouth ticked up. “Yeah, when Leo sets his mind to something, he’ll do it, laws of the universe be damned. The Fates won’t know what hit them.”

Jason’s voice was soft and fond. He had an expression like he’d follow Leo to the moon if he asked—over a stupid story about Jell-O cups, of all things.

“You like him a lot, don’t you?”

“I mean, obviously.” Jason smiled softly. “Leo’s kind of the greatest person I’ve ever met.”

“Aw, you sap.” Piper elbowed him again. “Please don’t tell him that, though. I’m not sure he needs his ego even more inflated,” she joked.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It… might be a little too late for that.” 

Piper raised one eyebrow. “What did you do?”

“I maybe told him that he was important, and that people with special gifts like his show up when they’re needed the most. Half a year ago, in the sewer.”

“Oh my gods.” Piper couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “That’s really sweet, don’t get me wrong, but I cannot believe I fell asleep early one time and you immediately started hitting on my best friend.”

“That’s not- I wasn’t-” Jason’s face turned crimson. “I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“I wasn’t saying you didn’t mean it.” She didn’t push him, no matter how much she wanted to point out that this was the most romantic thing she’d heard him say since they met. It would have been too much, too soon, even if they hadn’t had the prophecy hanging over their heads. “I am, however, saying that you are the corniest person I know. If I was boring enough to be genuine, I’d say Leo probably really appreciated it, though. He’s not the best at admitting when he’s having a hard time, and you saying sappy stuff like that is sometimes more helpful than me joking with him.”

“Good.” Jason’s shoulders slumped in something that looked like relief, and he gave her a tentative smile. “I’m glad. I’m sure he appreciates you joking with him just as much, though.”

And somehow, after all the breakup talk and the half-spoken truths about themselves and each other, this was almost easy. 

Piper believed Jason when he said that it wasn’t about anyone in particular. That he was just confused and this didn’t feel the way it was supposed to.

She was also pretty sure she now knew something he didn’t.

~~~~~

It was the middle of the night by the time Jason left her cabin, and Piper was glad no one was around to witness it. Frank probably would have had a stroke. Coach Hedge would have promptly beaten them both up with his baseball bat before either of them got the chance to explain that they’d actually just needed some alone time to break up in peace.

Piper was still kind of shocked about how well things had gone. Despite the circumstances, it had been her and Jason’s first non-awkward solo conversation in what felt like forever. Go figure that breaking up would somehow make things less weird between them.

They hadn’t exactly decided what to tell the others, or when they would. Piper had joked that they could just wait for someone to awkwardly point out that they weren’t kissing anymore. With them all constantly trying not to die, their friend group really had more important things to worry about than the non-existent relationship drama between Piper and Jason. 

Sure, it would probably take them a moment to figure out how to properly go back to being friends after they’d dated for months, but amicable as their breakup had been, they’d manage.

Piper really should have tried to sleep now, considering the fact that she was supposed to be on watch in the morning and it wouldn’t be great if she slept through that.

Instead, she sat at the edge of her bed and got out Katoptris. It hadn’t shown her any new visions since Rome. She’d been hoping to get confirmation Annabeth and Percy were alive, at first, but it vehemently refused. The only thing it bothered to show her now was a still. Every time she looked at the blade, the same stupid image of Reyna on her pegasus stared back, like the blade had gotten stuck on it somehow. Like someone had pressed pause on this exact frame and then decided to lose the remote.

Reyna looked exhausted. Her hair had come loose from her neat braid and was completely disheveled, but there was a grim determination in her eyes like she could handle anything. When Piper looked at her, she really, truly believed that.

She wanted to reach out and brush the stray strands of hair back behind Reyna’s ears. Maybe redo her braid, despite the fact that she wasn’t great at braiding and Reyna probably wouldn’t want her to even if she had been.

This was the part where usually, Piper’s brain would kick in and start trying to rationalize things away. Girls were objectively pretty. Piper admired Reyna. She needed to know the competition. She wanted to be friends with her. There were perfectly heterosexual reasons for why she wondered what her palms felt like and why she really needed to figure out how well Reyna’s jaw fit into her hands.

But it was three in the morning, and there wasn’t a Jason-shaped weight pressing down on her chest, and for the first time, Piper let the thoughts linger.

————

Some notes:

-My favorite interpretation of Jason and Piper’s relationship will always be one of them breaking up with the other because they figured out they’re queer and the other promptly going “oh thank the gods I thought it was just me”

-Split actually went down a lot like it did in the book, it didn’t change in any massive way, except afterwards Jason just kind of looked at Nico confused because “is that not a perfectly normal reaction to have to Percy Jackson” and Nico just kind of stared at him for ages. Jason is still sorting out a lot of stuff (it turns out getting your memories and entire sense of self ripped away from you will mess with you in some pretty severe ways. Who’d have thought). He does not have his feelings for Leo figured out even slightly. But he’ll get there. Once I feel more confident writing Nico I’d really like to do a little prequel fic about him and Jason bonding, but we’ll see how it goes.

-Piper trying to be heterosexual for all of HoO while describing Reyna in the most romantic terms imaginable and tenderly pressing her forehead to Annabeth’s is highly comedic to me. Piper doesn’t even know Reyna and I swear she’s on her mind more than she is on Jason’s, lol

-The way Piper’s visions dagger works in the series has no actual consistency and therefore if I want to use the plot convenience dagger for queer purposes I can and I will.

@poppitron360

[uva124]

WOAHHHHHHH OC DUMP OC DUMP OC DUMP TELL US ABOUT YOUR OC PLEASE

@wings-of-sapphire, I don't think you understand the monster you just summoned with your question (I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YEARS FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT MY OC AND I WON'T LET THIS OPPORTUNITY PASS)

CoughCough Of course I'll tell you about my oc ( the others oc too because I want to introduce you to all my children, if this is going to be long)

LET'S START!!!

These are my main ocs! (One is missing, but when I drew this I didn't have the space lol)

I have to tell you that I created most of these ocs when I was just starting to draw, don't you believe me? *throws some of my old drawings in your face*

Sorry @emillyverse, none of them have names yet, I'm a terrible creator lmao

OC 1! 🌻

She is the oldest of all, she went through MANY changes in her desing, but I leave you some information about her:

-Pronouns: she/her

-Interests:Science and botany

-Personality: Shy, somewhat serious at first glance (She is actually very cool), insecure in some cases other than science or gardening

At first I thought of making her as a forest guardian, but I wasn't convinced and now she's a normal girl lmao

OC 2! 💜

She is the second one I create (she is the one with long straight hair in my old drawings) her creation story is a little funny, because it came from a mod that I designed for fnf LMAO

I really liked FNF, and seeing how the fandom created their own mods with their own characters encouraged me to create my own oc, obviously I never created a mod for the game, but it was fun desing it for myselfed.

(That's how it was in the beginning)

I wanted to make her look more human and the result was what she currently

-Pronouns: she/her

-Interests: Mechanics and reading.

-Personality: She may seem calm at first, but she is actually very energetic and cheerful! but she shows that part of her with her closest friends ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

And as a curious fact, THE GIRLS ARE A COUPLE :D!!!!

They dynamic is literally moon x Sun, only their color palettes appear to be the complete opposite, I quite like giving these types of twists.

Also, I like the idea of they ​​meeting each other in a bookstore or a flower shop!

(I'm dusting off my sketchbooks from a few years ago to make this blog, but I have to admit that I still like this drawing even though I did it like 1 and a half years ago)

OC 3!🎶

I would summarize his personality as someone very relaxed and calm, but that doesn't mean that he is a joker and sarcastic from time to time (especially with the oc that I showed a few moments ago, because they are cousins ​​but consider themselves like brothers)

-Interests: Music and basketball

OC 4!🩷

I don't usually draw her much, but I love her and draw her from time to time, her personality is to be somewhat serious and sarcastic (similar to KOW! Gabo's personality I think)

-Interests: Baseball and fashion

I'm probably going to reblog this post, but for now these are the main ones that I have created among MANY OCs that I have designed

[merrikiwi]

What we got up to in July 2024

Writing this blog post is an idea I came up with because it is fun but also because it forces us to reflect on the month and what we did. We've been trying (badly) to keep track of all the things we watched in the year so we can do an end-of-the-year retrospective of all the media we enjoyed so heeeeeeere we go.

July, July, July, what a busy month we've had. From L getting a new job to us running our first convention stall selling our art. We have truly been busy, but that has not stopped us from having fun with all kinds of media. Whether to relax or to research we watched a lot last month so lets talk about it.

Movies Movies are a good place to start. I've been trying to keep track of the movies we watched on Letterbox like I do with anime on MAL. I just like having a big list of all the things I've seen I can't help it XD. 

For my birthday we did a Gentleman-themed movie night. First, we watched The Gentleman a film I've been trying to get L to watch for ages and my birthday seemed like a great opportunity. And guess what she loved it. It's Guy Richie so you know the cinematography and editing are going to be fun a least. I didn't remember how homoerotic it was but I'm all for it. I think the gangsters should kiss. 

We also watched The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare... Also Guy Richie. It even had Henry Cavill but they couldn't save this story from being kinda meh. It sucks because I was looking forward to it but It just felt a little all over the place. You never really get to know any of the characters and the action felt excessive considering the real-life versions of these people managed to do this operation with only one injury. 

The last movie I can remember watching was Valerian And The City Of A Thousand Planets. Our hopes going in were so low but it was actually really awesome. The world and story are just so interesting and well-made. It feels like a passion project from the director. It's just plain fun times. 

TV

For the small screen, we watched The 8 show, A tv adaptation of two Manhwa Pie game and Money game. The show chose elements from both  to create a kind of mish mash of the ideas from both. I hadn't read them but L had so I got to turn and go "Omg did that happen in the Manhwa". I wouldn't want to spoil anything but if you're a fan of death games its very compelling. 

My main criticism of the show as a whole was that the violence in the latter half was actually really hard to watch. It felt excessive and unrealistic. You will watch a character get their head bashed in with a baseball bat multiple times and will be fine the next day. It gives it this kind of unrealistic uneasiness where you're real-world perception of how much damage the human body can take is confused for the sake of plot convenience and shock. 

L: It made some interesting adaptations and outright changes that were mostly good but it is very different to both manhwa. Which is a good thing. I've read it already so show me something cool you can do with the idea!

Anime

Anime was a large part of what we watched as usual. We have completely stepped off the seasonal train and as a result have been enjoying anime from all over... anyway we watched Dungeon Meshi. If you have seen our most recent video you know we love this show. It's genuinely a 10/10 and I can't wait for the next season. I don't want to be basic and make more videos on it but I kinda do. 

Shangri-La Frontier was another anime we brought up in the last video as it was just overflowing with passion and skill. We still haven't finished it with 2 episodes to go.

I Was Reincarnated as the 7th Prince so I Can Take My Time Perfecting My Magical Ability; was also fun but for very silly reasons. I can't sit here and claim it's inherently good but it was fun and easy to watch. Sometimes that's ok.

Lastly, for anime, we have Black Butler. omg, it's so fun. we're only 10 episodes into our rewatch at the moment but it's been about 10 years since I last watched it. The English accents in the dub are particularly awful I love it. 

Its interesting to look back on the anime we watched and see exactly how we went from watching these to writing the Passion and Skill video. I can see what elements of each show inspired what elements of the video. This is cool and fun and nice. 

Games

Don't worry we are nerds of the highest order so we played some games too. I've been playing a few in the last week or so. Star Ocean Divine Force, Orks Must Die 3 and Circus Electrique just to name a few. I've been ping-ponging back and forth between all of them. 

The big game of this month however has to be Spellforce 2. I played 3 and really enjoyed it but the jump back to 2006 graphics was a hurdle I had to vault and I'm glad I did. The game has a lot of interesting elements that they stripped out for the sequel. Unsurprising considering the game changed hands multiple times between the 2 games. It really feels like a classic CRPG with strategy elements instead of a bunch of strategy maps with some RPG-style quests for good measure. It was fun and just as I thought I was finishing it the game kept going. I have no idea where it's going to go next.

L has been playing the Demo for Blue Prince pretty religiously. I don't think ill see her again once the full game comes out but I won't say too much because I think there's a little video/strategy guide on the horizon. You should see the spreadsheet. 

L: Spreadsheet :3c 

Conc

If I could conclude this rambling blog post for July in one word I would say Expanding. Because our tastes are changing and expanding. I'm excited to see what I get to enjoy next month. 

Anyway, this blog post is more for us to store thoughts than anything substantial at the moment but if you enjoyed reading it let us know. If you want better-worded thoughts check out our YouTube videos and if I actually stick to this new idea see you next month.

[beyourownanchor6]

Weekend WIP Game

Tagged by @wikiangela @thewolvesof1998

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more)

WIP List:

active (mostly) wips

—murder!boyfriends

—chris doesn't come back au

—baseball au 2.0

—prision!buddie

other wips that are in the abandoned wips folder...maybe i'll return to them one day...

—author!buck

—insurgent au

—platonic fwb

—fwb buck 1.0.2 au

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

—chris doesn't come back au (a little shy of 14k)

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

—probably chris doesn't come back au. i've barely gotten into things and am already at almost 14k 💀

4. Which WIP is your favorite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

—hmm i'm actually having so much fun writing the murder!boyfriends au! i just love making them unhinged 😈

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

—probably the murder!boyfriends, just bc it is so dark, and i don't want people to hate it. idk i'm afraid i won't be able to pull it off 😩

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

—the author!buck one. it was just a silly little idea, but writing all the smutty parts for it became kind of intimidating and i ended up hating it and throwing it to the side. i haven't looked back since

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

—i've never used a beta reader tbh. i usually just send my friends snippets or things for vibe checks!

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

—see above the abandon wips, or any of the ones you haven't seen me posting about lately 🥲

9. Which WIP has your favorite OC? Tell us about them?

—i don't have any OC atm, but i would love to play with that in the future!

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

—hmm probably the author!au from what i remember or murder!boyfriends just bc i think them being covered in blood and stabbing ppl is sexy 🙊

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

—chris doesn't come back au. its a pretty heavy one. i love all the threats i get whenever i post a new snippet 😆

12. Which WIP has the best characterization (in your humble opinion)?

—hmmm maybe the chris doesn't come back au? i've had to really deep dive into both their heads for this one

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

—chris doesn't come back au bc tsunami episodes my most beloved, but also murder!boyfriends, bc the dark settings are so fun to conjure up!

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

—chris doesn't come back au. it's the one i've put the most time and effort into as of late. she's been in my ideas for forever and has a special place in my heart <33

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

—chris doesn't come back au, mainly for the reason above. she's my babygirl, ok 🥹

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

—mm not that i can specifically think of or remember, but i'm sure i have at some point!

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that that your other fics don't?

—murder!boyfriends is definitely darker than anything i've done before

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humor?

—author!buck is the only one that comes to mind

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

—not currently. i've played around a little with that in the past though. it's always fun diving into others heads!

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs

—i do have a secret wip not listed anywhere above 👀

tagging: @loserdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @onward--upward @barbiediaz @spotsandsocks @buddierights @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @witchesdiaz @jacksadventuresinwriting @wh0re-behavi0r @spaceprincessem @wildlife4life @daffi-990 @hippolotamus @giddyupbuck @disasterbuckdiaz