#my favorite patient Roxie

[drgreysonmd]

"Sooooooooo..."

She peeks around the door, a sheepish smile and an apologetic gaze evident on her face. Then her eyes lock with his, and that's when the guilt settles in—she visibly winces, a little nervous laugh escaping her lips as she takes a full step inside, hands behind her back. "Uh... Surprise?"

In awkward attempt at smoothing the atmosphere, she brandishes a little box of freshly-baked muffins, jazz hands to emphasize her little makeshift gift. "Haha, look! IIII made... Muffins!!"

It's the audacity of her to suddenly come back, she thinks to herself wryly, that makes this more awkward than it should've been. But that's what she gets for missing several of her appointments consecutively. Not even her token of apology could excuse her for it. The unread reminder messages on her phone spoke volumes.

If there was one thing about being a doctor Greyson never could wrap his head around, it was the Patient Audacity.

"Hmm? Did we have an appointment?" He knows exactly who she is of course, but that won't stop him from looking through his schedule and feigning confusion, shaking his head in an apparent act of dismay.

"Nope. Can't seem to find anyone under the name of 'missed 5 appointments in a row yet kept rescheduling them for some unknown reason even though she had no intention of showing up'. I'll have to ask Yvonne how on earth we could have mixed that up."

Was it a little harsh? Maybe, but it wasn't hard to see the smile fighting at the edges of his mouth and the dimples that gave him away far before anything else. This was pretty excessive even for her, yes.... but also, muffins? And the jazz hands were a nice touch.

"The muffins are appreciated, but you still have to make it through the whole exam before you get the gold star sticker, Roxie." His teasing tone has a bit of bite, but his expression is as soft as ever. "Now come sit before you really do miss a 6th appointment."

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

How does the Mimic know so much about Cassie?!?! Theory Speculation

Something I've been wondering on the course of my playthrough was how the Mimic knew a lot about Cassie.

Maybe not her personally...

But here's the thing...

The Mimic is shown to have communication through HELPI. The message he sent to Cassie was Gregory and when Cassie arrives she says:

"Gregory, are you there? I got your message!"

So this means that the Mimic sent Cassie a message OUTSIDE of the confines of the Pizzaplex.

(Unless you get into the theory that it was real Gregory who sent the outside message in the first place and then from then on out since she got there she was being manipulated by the Mimic through the Roxy-Talky but...........We don't have time to unpack all that... and it does line up with what we know about Patient 46 and GGY..... bbuuuuuuuuttt One theory at a time... lol )

Let's say for the sake of the argument that the Mimic was the one who sent the Outside Message for Cassie for help.

Because... We know what Gregory's message is.

We heard it in the trailer:

Gregory's message in Text:

"Cassie I hope you get this message. I'm trapped. Here at the pizzaplex or what's left of it. I don't have time to go into how I got here. But you have to help me out! Save me Cassie please! It's so dark down here!

Don't give up on me yet."

(granted the "don't give up on me yet" is more trailer bait line as Steel Wool talking directly to the consumers then what I think was actually in Gregory's message... but I do think the first part is definitely the message Cassie gets.)

This is the message that the Mimic left Cassie. I would say... on her cellphone... But... we know Cassie doesn't have a cellphone at her age.

We can safely assume so because she would have tried to use her cell phone a LONG time ago to try and reach Gregory.

I think that Grimmic left this message on Cassie's home phone. And we know her Dad is out of the picture right now. Steel Wool makes it REALLY intentionally vague if her Dad is alive or dead considering he was a human Staff at the Pizzaplex. She always uses past tense or ambiguous tense when talking about her dad, but it's always unclear if she's speaking in past Tense about Bonnie or her Dad.

But.. We do know that her Dad is not in the picture AS OF THIS MOMENT...

Because in Roxy's Salon, when you use the AR mask near a Fazwrench Door, (remember her Dad has a Fazwrench apparently) you can see this note:

The reason I say this note is written by Cassie's Dad, is that in Roxy's Salon we see so much of exposition about Cassie's past throughout Cassie's favorite areas. And throughout the game it is severely hinted at that the AR mask does display things based on what the wearer wants to see. or based on memories the wearer has.

aka: Monty soda machines turning into Roxy machines... Sun and Moon's Room being tidy in AR cause Cassie was a daycare kid and remembers Sun and Moon being kind and good daycare attendants. Roxy being the only animatronic that appears as Cassie remembers her fully cause she was her favorite. The mask functions as literal nostalgia rose-tinted glasses at times.

There's also the Brazil/Hallucination ending... where Cassie just sees what she wants to.

Sometimes AR does weird stuff for the sake of weird stuff, like floating objects everywhere and enlarged objects, but because Roxy Salon was so relevant to plot details, and explaining how Gregory and Cassie were friends and how she was devastated when he went missing.... Yeah. I'm saying this note was from her Dad.

So he's not in the picture..... right now of this moment.

So Cassie probably heard this message on her home phone when her parent.... parents?? Parent. Her Dad wasn't home, so she went to investigate the Pizzaplex herself.

Now... How did the Mimic get Cassie's number? how did he send a message to the outside world? We already know that he's connected to HELPI. So I'm not surprised that he can send messages from way below the foundation in concrete...

But.... How did he know how to Mimic Gregory effectively.... How did he know to prey upon Cassie's loneliness? How did he know that she would do everything to help him and she would do it if it was Gregory?

Now... I don't think he knew all this... But there are often times where the Mimic preys upon Cassie's loneliness in a very effective way.

And if you look at the mission objective hud... It keeps changing to things like this:

"Don't you want to save Gregory? Try harder!"

"I'm lonely."

He also says things like: "I'm so scared and alone. It's dark down here. Save me Cassie please"

When they meet for the first time, he even says: "You saved me!"

He preys perfectly upon her loneliness and manipulates her from the very start of the game from the moment he speaks till the moment you get HEPI and the mission objective hud starts saying crazy stuff.

Cassie is a very lonely kid. And I wouldn't be surprised if Gregory is her only friend and she feels she owes him for being there for her when no one else was. Roxanne Wolf and Gregory are all she has. Her Dad isn't even there for her. Either left to "get milk" or was killed by Vanny.... but... in her mind her Dad might have "Went missing" as well... All we know is that her Dad is not in the picture currently and Roxy and Gregory are all she's got.

.....How would the Mimic know this? How does he know to prey upon Cassie's loneliness insecurity so expertly?

....How does the Mimic know how to MIMIC GREGORY???

Well....

We know that Gregory was down here. Cause we do find a backpack with his name on it, right outside the door where Mimic is sealed. Which is probably where the Mimic got the Fazbear Walky Talky from in the first place....

But that's not enough evidence.

We just know that Gregory was down here at some point to probably seal the Mimic with Concrete.... Maybe with Vanessa, but that part is unclear.

But... I think Gregory knew the Mimic before this.

With the Mimic being canon, getting a better grasp on Cassie's character and who she is as a character...

I can say definitively My speculations about her being patient 46, and connected to Charlie in some way......... Since Charlie from the Silver Eyes tends to have weird connections and parallels to patient 46....

But my idea that Cassie would be connected to 46 or Charlie in anyway..... Are completely wrong.

But do you know who seems to be connected to Patient 46 and Charlie More now?

Gregory....

And I don't think Gregory being homeless was a fabrication. He just wasn't living in a cardboard box.

He was living in the Pizzaplex....

And you remember.... that one room... In Security Breach... that everyone theorized about but we had no definitive answers?

Yeah.

The post-it note room.

This room is written with a lot of notes.... some in binary... some in English. Some in drawings.

But... people pieced together, that this room seems to consist of a Robot coming into consciousness and communicating with a second party.... And I think that it's the Mimic.

Because.... when you EXIT this post-it note room.... You can find a trail of post-it notes... Leading to a workbench... with...

A TRANSISTER RADIO THAT CAN BROADCAST OUT FREQUENCIES AND ENDO SCHEMATICS

We now know that these are definitively about the Mimic And the Mimic Probably stayed in the Post-it note room for some time.

The post it note room leads a trail that takes us directly to these Schematics...

So... The Mimic was in that room for a long while.... Talking to someone.....

Who do I think they were talking to?

Gregory.

We already know that Gregory is homeless, and we find many of his hideouts scattered throughout the Pizzaplex.... and while we don't know if Gregory has any direct connections to the Afton Family other than being a parallel... This is the only thing that fits given the information we know right now.

And we do know that the Mimic is a Learning Adaptive AI... And it might not have killed Gregory at first cause he was reminded of the boy it used to grow up with.

I don't believe Gregory taught the Mimic things maliciously or manipulatively... I really think Gregory found a robot that crawled into this room he was hiding in that copied him...

And if we know Gregory... this isn't even book text... This is in-game Text.... Gregory sees animatronics as cool robots and toys/tools to mess around with. (I'm saying... climbing into a unconscious animatronics stomach hatch is not the first thing I would do when avoiding mall security......) Like it's part of the reason Gregory's first thought was upgrading Freddy to make his night easier.

Gregory views the animatronics as Robots and tools, while Cassie tends to view them more as people/characters.

So once Gregory comes across this creepy endo that copies him and has his own sign language, they write back and forth and he talks to it. He talks about his friends like Cassie probably, and rambles about stuff... Cause Gregory is excited this thing can learn, and he wants to talk to it and teach it.

Are there holes in this theory?

Sure.

Like Gregory's reaction to the Endos in the base game doesn't line up if he's seen the mimic endo before. Nor his reaction to Burntrap in the Afton Ending. "He? What is that thing???"

There's way too much Afton Family and Charlie/Puppet symbolism in the post-it note room to say definitively that this was the case....

But... The post-it note room leading to a trail of Papers where the Mimic Schematics are....

I really do think the Post-it note room is where the Mimic learned a lot of things... And if Gregory was in there teaching him stuff and talking to it, he Was probably learning about Cassie too.

Anyway, that's what I think and wanted to throw it out to the void before Matpat starts swerving all over the DLC.

[dragonfly0808]

Ok so in waiting patiently for the next chapter ( I'm waiting for Roxy to go apeshit) I was going through some of my favorite moments of season 4 so far and S1-S3 when a question came to mind.

We know Light Rock is for Rehabilitation. But, the Trix killed 100+ people, and Valtor also killed a few along the way. But with Valtor I can at least see him getting redeemed considering somethings.

But would people have even wanted them or him out? I mean, they did kill people's family members. Like he killed a mermaid that had nothing to do with any of his motivations

Or would they never truly be free? Like on parole or always on watch.

I don't know if this makes sense sleep schedule is all out of wack. 😅😂.

kay, so, in my mind Light Rock very much has the final say on whether or not someone is freed or not, regardless of what any planet may have to say since they do take rehabilitation so seriously

Depending on the level of danger they pose, some are simply released and done with. Some are released back home with a magic monitoring bracelet

But, on ocassions like the Trix or other very dangerous/hated/controversial criminals the protocol is to give them a safe place to really have the chance to start over, that involves setting them up in another planet, with a new name and a basic apartment to start off in

When it comes to very dangerous criminals it is also protocol for them to wear a necklace or bracelets that monitors either their use of magic or fully prevents them from using magic, again, it depends on the danger level.

But when it comes to very hated criminals, they get a full blank slate, new name, new planet, new everything

[arcadias-hell]

Replacements

(it is super late, sorry for no proof read. also not a request, this was an oc work that was changed to be able to be read as x reader. Singular use of Y/N bc it might be confusing otherwise. Also CW for alcoholism? only mentioned)

Questioning Monty never worked. 

No matter how hard she tried or what mood he was in. Being all nice and sweet didn’t work, neither did being distant or aggressive. Not once did she ever get any information about Bonnie, any confirmation about his death or if he was still alive, somewhere. Nothing. Threatening to deactivate him didn’t work, so what else could she do. She gave up. 

“Whatever,” she told herself, “it will resolve itself if I’m patient enough”. But she hated these thoughts the longer they stayed in her head. Hated herself because the thought of betraying Bonnie was always present. It kept her awake at night, worried Chica, who was concerned about her dear friend. So much so that she would sneak into her room at night, making sure that she was fine.

These thoughts intensified when she became Monty’s Handler, which is really just a fancy word for “make sure he doesn’t kill someone”. And oh, did she make sure of that. Besides a few staff bots, there were no ”accidents”. Well, not counting the time he tried to bite off Vanessa’s head, ending with her own arm in his maw thanks to her brilliant idea of “he can’t kill her if I put my arm between them”. Or the countless times of him falling off the catwalks of Gator Golf.

Her relationship with Monty was build on pissing each other off. He’d be a menace, making a mess for her to clean up. She’d tease him about the smallest stuff. Messed up at golf? Scared some kid? She would know and tease him about it. But they always kept it playful. She never found herself in a situation where she was actually afraid of him.

————————————-

Most of her time was spend after hours in the empty Bowling Alley. People would rarely come here anymore, it getting more empty day by day. She knew they, Faz Ent., wanted to rebrand it, a thought she couldn’t handle. They already got rid of it all. His posters, his cutouts, his merch. It was all gone. Even the damn candy and soda was discontinued. Everything was ripped from her and fuck, it hurt. It reopened old wounds that she thought were long sealed, brought back old habits that she tried so hard to unlearn. She begged them to at least leave the Alley be, let it be a silly attraction like Foxy’s Pirate Cove. And while they let it be for the time being, she knew she was only stalling for time and sooner or later this place would be taken from her too. It all would be taken. That’s how it always is, was, will be. 

This place was her home, she felt safe. The damn Pizzaplex, a place that scared many people thanks to the company’s past, was her home. The animatronics were her family. For once, since a long time, she felt safe. But it was falling apart right beneath her fingers. The sinkhole in Roxy’s Raceway started it. Or was it firing almost all human staff? Or perhaps the Virus that spread a while ago and almost ruined the place? Or maybe it was her. She had a habit of destroying the things she loved. Everything she touched died, or so it seemed. 

All she had left was getting drunk at the Alley, listening to Bonnie’s stupid favorite Jazz music on that damn Jukebox. Often Chica would be there with her. They usually did everything together. She’d even sneak her a pizza from time to time, even if it meant having to hose her down for yet another time that day, due to her being a very messy eater. It happened so often that they just put a trash bag into her stomach area, for easy cleaning. 

Apart from that small problem, Chica was very girly. She loved being at the saloon and ,oh man, did she love dates. Freddy was rather unromantic and obvious, so often they needed a little push, which she lovingly provided. She’d often catch glimpses of them on their little dates. It was simple stuff. Playing some golf, watching a movie in the daycare theater, that kinda stuff. It reminded her of the better times. But now she and her would talk about their feelings. But no matter how much she talked about it, screamed it into the world, it just would not get better. Freddy would check on her sometimes, they shared their grief, he lost his best friend after all. He grew protective over her, was careful all the time, walking on eggshells. It aggravated her more than it should, this behavioral change in him made her feel small, useless. He always had a caring and fatherly nature, but this was much, even for him. So, while he was trying to find kind and calming words for her, she was sitting at the bar with a glass in her hand, barely even registering what he was saying. It was the same stuff all the time anyway, “sorry”s and life advice that she had heard all the time else where. Luckily for her, Roxy knew better than to pity her or give her some silly advice and she mostly kept to herself in the Raceway anyway.

If it wasn’t Freddy or Chica bothering her in her quiet time it was Vanessa. She meant well, but damn. Ness had a talent for making jokes at the wrong time and just generally saying the wrong stuff at the wrong time. On good days they’d play a few rounds of bowling and talk about their old home, family and work gossip. It was a nice but more and more rare thing. At some point Ness suddenly started taking her job very serious. A little too serious. And she’d disappear a lot, seemingly dodging the security cams. She’d wouldn’t ask. She did the same back when Bonnie was still here, knew all the blind spots. 

God, she should know better than to sneak around. She’s a “talented Tech” after all, blah blah.

————————————

This day she returned from the Bowling Alley, a little more upset that usual. It was nothing more than her thoughts that were troubling her, the usual. Besides that, her watch was dead and needed recharging, which always was a sign that its time to return to her room. Making her way to Rockstar Row to have a last daily check up on the band, she met Monty halfway. He seemed more aggravated than usual, growling and being in a defensive state. This was nothing new for him, he was always acting like this. Nobody knew what exactly it was, maybe his programming. Or maybe it was just the way he was. Though, he was different back then. He used to be chill, almost innocent. But now? No emotions other than anger.

She liked to think deep down he was still the same, she never feared the animatronics, even at Monty’s wildest she stood up to him bravely without a thought but tonight felt different. 

They met, looked at each other. Not a word was spoken. It was completely silent, until he suddenly creeped closer. His heavy footsteps felt like hell, a possible death sentence, her sudden end. She often fantasized that she would end up like Bonnie. She didn’t know how he ”died” but she could imagine it if Monty was the one who caused it. Wrecked, torn apart, mangled.  Her mind would imagine how it felt. The feeling of being torn apart while alive. Was it painful or would her body block out the pain due to the trauma? She hoped she’d feel it. She wanted to feel it, to end up like him. 

She always knew her eventual death would be caused by Monty, or maybe Freddy, he was scary without the safety protocols. Or god, even by Bonnie himself when he was in one of his moods.. She’d be fine with that, honestly. But now, with a more than pissed Monty in front of her? Yea, probably him.

Monty’s issues being the reasons why, jealousy, envy, the pure rage he felt every time someone even mentioned the bunny. He couldn’t handle Bonnie being more popular than him. Something he wasn’t able to deal with in a healthy way. The jealousy tore him apart. Bonnie was the bassist, part of the main band. Monty was only part of his own one man band in his golf course. It was just him, nobody else. He had nothing to call his own. Maybe the golf course but back then, even that was just a half thing, Freddy would often be there. Even Bonnie would, all while Monty was banned from the Bowling Alley. It wasn’t fair. But what was fair in this place? Humans were replaced by Staff Bots that couldn’t even hold conversation or do the most basic tasks that they were programmed to do.

Or well, this was how things used to be. Back when Bonnie was here. Now Monty took his place. Every banner and poster had his face on it. He completely replaced him. Even on the huge main sign of the Pizzaplex. Perhaps this was the reason for Chica’s unhealthy food addiction. She’d be next to be replaced. And she just witnessed how easily replaceable she and her friends really were.

(Y/N) was there since the beginning, watching them and taking care of all of them. Not judging, only caring. Treating them as equals. It made Monty feel a certain way. He didn’t know these feelings or understood them, but he knew Bonnie felt the same way towards her. Only was she closer to him. Way closer. Yet again, something that he can’t have.

And now they stood there, just staring at each other. Complete silence. 

He was furious. He didn’t even know why. The smallest things caused this. Perhaps a string of his bass broke. But it wasn’t really HIS, was it? Or maybe it was him losing his shades again. The shades that didn’t originally belong to him. So, he started smashing stuff in his green room. Bonnie’s former green room. Nothing is truly his, is it? There it was. The reason. The anger. 

And now before him stood the fourth “not his”. Something he knew he couldn’t just break and get a replacement for. A human can’t be rebuilt after all. It took everything in him to not lash out on the spot. To dig his claws into her flesh and leave bite marks all over her body. Instead he just stood there, silent. Getting a little closer, just close enough to read her vitals. She was nervous…she was scared. He took notice of her watch, it was empty and turned off. Meaning she couldn’t call for help even if she wanted to. What good would help do anyway? Before anyone could reach them it would be too late. Why was he having these thoughts? All he knew was that he had to remove himself from the situation right now or else bad things would happen.

And so he did. Walking past her. Stopping for a short moment to look at her. He wondered what she felt when she looked at him with these shades, the bass or the stupid room. Would it bring them closer eventually or drift them apart further? Did she see a part of Bonnie in him or an imposter who forcefully took his spot? Maybe she had the mercy to just think of him as the killer of her lover. 

Continuing on his way towards Gator Golf, she was left alone. Still, she stood there, her heart eventually calming down but thoughts still racing. She was sure she was one word away from getting torn apart, but god, she wished she spoke it.

[insomniac-hours]

Welcome to my page! 

You can call me Roxi!

IF YOURE UNDER 16 PLEASE DNI

I’m 19 (12/31), I don’t really care about pronouns but mainly use he/they

My main is @bunnihunnii !

THIS IS A VENT ACCOUNT, IM USING THIS YO COPE WITH OBSESSIVENESS.

Please keep in mind that I have DID, Anxiety, Depression, Chronic Pain and over all my school and work life, so please be patient <3

Current favorite Spotify playlist: 🔪🩸💌

I write for Yandere ocs and characters, so please be wary of what content you consume as there will be a few heavy uncomfortable topics on this blog.

Currently writing; Yantober

[sugarywishes]

My stupid thoughts on Help Wanted 2 (obvious spoilers below lmao)

ffffFFFFINEEE I like the game, and I don't mind GGY being POSSIBLY canon now. I love the fact that my boy GLITCHTRAP IS BACK!! (Still uncertain if he is Mimic, speaking of which...)

I still REALLY HATE THAT BITCHASS STUPID ASS ROBOT, but...I've reluctantly accepted as canon as well. I don't like it, I think it's still lame as an antagonistic force, and I'd much prefer it'd stay as Burntrap ONLY. If it ends up actually being Glitchtrap GODDD 💔💔 the AUs I'd have to rewrite...my personal canon ruined...Anyways, let's talk about GGY!

Uh! I guess I'm not disappointed! I have the many wonderful fnaf artists I follow (YALL KNOW WHO YOU ARE 🔥🔥) to thank for my newfound like in GGY (the concept, and surprisingly the story/other characters! I know I usually shit talk the books, but Tony and Ellis are super cool characters from what I know, maybe this'll mean I'll actually read the book eventually...maybe...👀) I'm still kind of sad that it is probably canon, now it gives people an excuse to hate on my boy more, which will totally suck (and I still think it makes him overly, well, overpowered. But hey what can I do huh??) (And I'm a little annoyed that he might canonical be patient 46) (or 47 I'm forgetting fnaf canon what is wrong w me)

ALSO VANESSA AND VANNY !! okay. I'm happy they're being used in something at least! Let's hope they appear more in stuff soon)

And also, Cassie's new model! Uh, it's nice. I think it just kind of resembles a generic 3d animated character from some b-side studio tryna knock off Disney and be used as a babysitting film. (Specific I know) and it kind of matches Gregory's a little bit more now (BUT I'M HOPING THEY CHANGE THE OTHER HUMAN MODELS, not by a lot but enough to not look uncanny like their usual designs do)

Anyways gameplay wise, frightening (as is per usual from the fnaf vr games 😭😭) love helpy's and roxy's level. And also El Chip's, the Papa Louie energy of it definitely brings me back to my undying rage against my least favorite customers...fuck you X Twins (speaking of Flipline IM GONNA SEE IF I CAN GET PAPA'S PALETERIA I HAVE TO GET IT TO SUPPORT MY QUEEN LIEZEL and Zak too ofc)

Did we play as Mapbot?? Is this a thing now??? What???? (Time to watch the billions upon billions of theory videos that explain that it's actually some obscure loser from the books) (or Cassie's dad, speaking of which I'M ALMOST DONE WITH THE FNAF 2 KCI KIDS including Charlie, which will then leave the male fnaf characters, the afton kids, and other miscellaneous characters/ocs which includes my design of her dad)

Anyways, that's it for now, I'll add more in the reblogs around the new few days if I remember lol)

[pancake-breakfast]

Finished Finding Paradise last night. Given Rob and Roxie's reaction to Neil's whatever-he's-doing, I'm actually a lot less worried about it than I was previously. But Rob's my favorite character, so despite no one who isn't an already-dying patient dying in the present timeline, I expect him to somehow get killed in all of this.

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

I Do, Do You? chapter 7: Helping

WC: 6,875 Ao3

Another week passes with Luke going in to work, but also coming home in the evenings, no active away cases. They take Roxy on morning walks through the park and around the neighborhood at night. He holds her hand and he holds her waist, he holds her when they sleep, and when he forgets himself, he kisses her fingers and her cheeks…but he always stops short of kissing her, much too much loaded behind it now.

As much as she tries not to think about it, not let it bother her, she can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t...and if he will before their time is up. She’s been quite patient and they’ve had much less time than other couples on the show, but even by regular relationship standards she would have jumped some bones by now.

Still, she believes him when he’d said he finds her attractive, that he has “lots of feelings” for her… she holds on to that, holds on to the bits of himself he gives.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, Penelope’s getting dressed and ready in the bedroom for a late park walk when she hears Luke talking on the phone in the living room.

“What about Alvez’ new wife?”

He had mentioned off-hand to Tara and Matt that Penelope was highly skilled with computers, he’d told them about her expertise (he might have been bragging), and alluded to her past, but he made sure to leave out her identity.

She left that life behind, he wanted to respect her privacy, that was for her alone to tell. He knew they’d still want her if they knew, knew the bureau could dream up charges to get her to agree...

“Ha. Tar, I know you’d love nothing more than a chance to see her again, and if things keep going the way they are, maybe I’ll have her meet me for lunch so you all can gawk from that fishbowl before we vanish into the elevator, but I am not bringing a civilian into what we do. Definitely not her.”

He’s on a group call, the team in the office, Luke at home, day four of testing out his ‘working from home unless absolutely needed’ routine, a new compromise from Prentiss to make up for all the away cases they’d had since the wedding now that things have gone into a lull.

When he told Penelope about the offer she jokingly declared she was going to write thank you notes to the whole of the BAU and the director of the FBI and send them along with a batch of each of their favorite cookies, he chose to ignore exactly how she was going to get that information.

Penelope thinks it’s nice having him around, someone to talk to and banter with, a chance for them to get closer. She’s enjoyed showing off her work with SOAR, and baking for them (he especially likes her chocolate chip cookies, and her dog cookies for Roxy). She’s hopeful the temporary arrangement will help more with the needed work/home mindset adjustment he’s had such trouble with, that it’ll continue to ease him into a better balance, maybe even make him realize other things can be important too… maybe even more important sometimes…

Luke, however, doesn’t think blending work and home have been a good idea, he’s felt on edge running background on cases remotely, choosing his words carefully so that other ears don’t overhear, always keeping the cursor primed to minimize a screen should something be up and she walk by. This phone call, what his unit is now trying to goad him into agreeing to has only added to the “bad idea” camp. To him this phone call is the start of the end.

“Luke, she does sound like an excellent resource-”

“My WIFE is not a resource,” The comment is sudden, and volatile, and about her? Piquing her interest, her head angles up and her body leans towards the door from in front of his dresser mirror. What follows is quiet, but can only be compared to a roar in intensity, “she is a person who did not ask to be around what we see everyday!”

“Luke, no one is saying-”

“No, no one is thinking,” he counters angrily, “She volunteers at an animal rescue! She runs a support group for grieving families. She doesn’t even eat meat! Prentiss- She’s. No. I, I get it, she has very valuable skills, ones that would-”

“That could break this for us.” Prentiss finishes in her maddeningly even voice. “She’s compassionate, right? Then Luke, we’ll shield her… but if she’d be willing to do some deep digging…Help us nail this guy…We can protect her, Luke. But if she’s really that good, think about the victims that could be saved, the ones that could be prevented… Aren’t they worth it?”

Penelope tiptoes on her stockinged feet to the door, positioning herself in a better spot to eavesdrop on the fractured conversation.

“Absolutely not. No. I already told you I will not ask her. She will not do it.”

Balancing work and his personal life was already proving to be a battle, combining the two in this way was a sure-fire recipe for disaster, he just didn’t know which would blow up first.

“Luke, you know we’re down, you know this could help. We’ve been after this guy for months-”

“Don’t- don’t do this to me Lewis, don’t push that line- Find another way. Find. Another. Person.”

The words are chillingly cold. Penelope bites her lower lip, peeking out from the crack in the door and jerks back, swallowing a squeak as he erupts in a furious growl, pitching his phone at the armchair across from himself.

She’s never seen him so mad, seen this side of him. Knowing it had something to do with her, that he was being protective over her, ignites a part of her she’d just as well not acknowledge and makes her all the more curious as to what exactly was being asked on the other end.

Timidly, she opens the door and comes out sittings on the edge of the couch closest to where he now slumps in the other orange chair. “Another case?”

There’s an intake of breath before he answers, “-Sort of,” he sighs, defeated, unable to look at her, not wanting to fall back into how things were, knowing that eventually he’d have to anyway, and preparing for the disappointment she’s about to unload and the disappointment of letting down his team.

She had gotten him to open up a few days ago while making dinner, maybe if she prodded gently, he’d be willing to do it again. Taking a page out of his book, Penelope reaches out, covering his hand with hers, then positions herself, kneeling in front of him, settling back on her heels, “…Can I ask who won’t do what, or is that top secret?”

Luke looks down at her with a wry smile, this magical woman, this genius funny sexy talented woman he didn’t deserve sinking to her knees in front of him, looking up at him like that; wide eyed, innocent, trusting, glossy lips and blushing round cheeks and blushing round...

His eyes zip back to hers, pleading, entreating. There was a god, and he was evil, “You.” he says after a struggle that feels like millennia, “The team… they want me to ask you to help us. Tara remembered what I said about how good you are, your specific talent-”

“You talk about me?”

“Penelope-” The genuine perplexity of it is a knife digging neatly into his chest, the fact that she thought she could be so easily out of sight, out of mind. Was it everyone before him, or was it just him who had made her feel that way?

She kneels up, wiggling as she waves a hand dismissively, “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. Go on.”

Despite the situation he smirks in response. “My boss feels someone with your skills could really help us. But I told them no. I don’t want to put you in that position. -It’s too much of a ris-”

“I’ll do it.” The words are out before he has a chance to finish his sentence.

“No, I’m not-”

Kneeling up again she places a single polished finger against his lips, “Luke. SHH. If it’ll help, I’ll do it.”

He hesitates, he doesn’t want to make her aware- more aware of that world, of his world, he doesn’t want to put her in that position, but even he had mentioned how they scout for individuals who specialize in doing what she can do and she’d be the first to tell you, she is the best. He knows if she’s willing, it isn’t up to him, still he wants to make his position clear, "Penelope, I am not asking you to do this, don’t feel like you need to-"

Removing her finger, she caresses his cheek, thumb stroking and smoothing the concern at the corners of his eyes. He brings a large hand up to cup her own, holding it to his face, eyes closing. Luke nuzzles into the warmth of her, holding her to him he turns his head, she holds her breath, stomach knotting as he places a soft kiss to her palm.

Penelope’s tongue unsticks her lips, “You’re not asking me, I’m volunteering. This isn’t for you,” she lies, “You told me before, I’m like a superhero…well, superheroes work together. I want to help.”

Working together on something he deemed important would bring them together, they were still trying to connect, to catch up… they needed to take opportunities as they came, and this would let them learn more about each other. “I want to do this. Luke, I like helping people and I know I'm the best.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet-”

She shrugs, feigning indifference, “Like I said, I’m the best. We can both be superheroes.”

—

What had started out as Penelope tracking and compiling everything they needed with unparalleled speed, quickly morphed into the situation Luke had predicted.

They were already exposing her to the dark and sordid imagery of Congressman Whitt’s digital footprint -not shielding her from it like Prentiss suggested was possible- And they still needed to make sure their case was solid, prove without a doubt he’d abducted, restrained, drugged, and raped those women- all on a live-streaming platform with “customers” paying for the privilege of assault by proxy… But the only way to take down someone so well connected would be to catch him in the act.

“Sorry to be the bearer of awful news to all you very beautiful, very in need of therapy people, but it looks like he’s planning on snatching someone tonight.” Penelope stood in their small conference room in front of a flatscreen tv frowning over her findings. On the screen she displayed the decoded message she found that had been sent out this morning to creeps in the know. The group of agents watched in awe at the depth and detail of what she’d been able to discover and how quickly she’d been able to do it.

“Alvez, you weren’t kidding” Tara hums.

“Ms. Garcia, you have been an invaluable help, thank you.” Prentiss says, gesturing for her to join them at the table.

Penelope responds with a quickly vanishing pleased look and passes off the remote, sitting in the chair next to Luke. He snatches her hand, catching her eyes when she meets him, “Hey,” he whispers low, “are you ok? I’m sorry you had to see that-” he’d noticed her shudder and blanch at the new countdown she’d popped up for them to see.

His thumb caresses the back of her hand, she notices he hasn’t stopped petting and stroking her, keeping in contact with her, since they entered the building. Even in the office they’d set up for her he came in, hands on the top of her chair finding their way to her neck, her shoulders- it reminds her of their wedding day- small brushes of finger tips, his gaze never leaving her. “It’s fine, we’ve all seen the ID channel,” she says, brushing it off. She could be strong, she doesn’t want them to think she can’t handle it.

Luke frowns giving her a look, Penelope smiles back, insisting, “I’m fine-”

“Alright, we knew he was going to be at tonight’s gala, and now thanks to Ms. Garcia’s skilled work, we know he’s teased another stream, which means he’s planning on finding another victim tonight, likely at or around the dinner.”

“-It would be great if we knew who the target was,” Matt says.

“Well, we do know he’s an opportunist and likes to have a few options to offer up, so he won’t have a victim picked out, which we could use to our advantage if we had someone on the inside. But on such short notice and with all the additional security being distributed around the city, we definitely won’t be approved for that, you all know the director isn’t especially supportive of this-”

Penelope watches as they continue to talk through their options, talk through a plan, ignoring what she feels is an obvious solution sitting in the room with them, until finally offering, “…I can do it-”

“Not a chance.” Luke shuts the idea down so fast she can only assume it had been on his mind as well, maybe even quietly hoping it wouldn’t get brought up.

Prentiss, hesitant about using a civilian with no prior experience on such a dire case, looks between the two of them, “Iiiii don’t know…”

“I’m his type, right? Blonde, bubbly, and I have been told- entirely sexy-”

“Penelope-” He was definitely hoping no one would bring up the similarities between Penelope and the victims, suggest…

What he got instead was his wife using his -private- admissions as ammo against him in some bullheaded effort to prove… he didn’t even know what she could be trying to prove.

“Luke! It’s not up to you, it’s up to her,” Penelope says, nodding to Prentiss standing hunched over the table, “and you need someone-”

“But not you” he grits through clenched teeth, a hand moving to her knee as he turns to her, the other still covering her hand on the table. He could give two fucks about anyone else in the room right now, it was only her he was having this conversation with.

“Why not? You trust them, don’t you? I trust you. Plus, I do theater, so I can keep up a front-” this she says to the team at large.

Penelope doesn’t say the other part that she’s thinking, that she’s already had experience being a victim of attempted murder once, so a second time with supervision shouldn’t be that bad.

The…experience was something she still hadn’t told him about.

She had thought about telling him a few nights ago, telling him she understood why his job was so important, and not just because she had JJ and Derek in her life, but because of what she’d gone through…what she wouldn’t have survived without them. She knows if she had told him then, there’s absolutely no way he’d allow her to do this, he’d make sure, so secretly she’s thankful it hasn’t felt like the right time.

The team watches the exchange play out, Luke dead set against her involvement, Penelope insistent she’s capable.

Despite Luke’s protest, Emily can’t help but weigh the offer; she was right here willing to do it, knew about the unsub, had helped them endlessly…but she was also a civilian they’d just met who had a history of circumventing the law in accordance with her own morals, she had no formal training, they didn’t know how well she’d be able to play this off…and Alvez would clearly be compromised during the operation.

But if it worked, they could catch Whitt tonight.

Mind not yet made up, she breaks in, “Even if I said yes, we still couldn’t get approval… or tickets-”

Penelope looks away from Luke, grinning up at his boss, “Of all the tricks I’ve pulled today, those are going to be the easiest…and the most fun”

He can tell Penelope has no intention of listening to him, her mind already made up. Relenting, he changes tactics, “I’m not letting you go alone. If you go, I go.” Luke turns his attention to Prentiss, finishing, “-every step of the way.”

If she insisted on doing this, if Prentiss approved, there was no way he was letting her out of his sight. Just the idea of her talking with the congressman, being in the same room with him, on that cam footage for all those creeps to see, made Luke broil. She was serving herself up on a platter after seeing what he’d done to women who looked like herself. He would be sure it didn’t go that far.

Penelope strokes his cheek like she had this morning, gazing at him, “You’re the only one I know, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

There’s little time, but Penelope manages to secure a group of suites in the city near the gala, forge tickets, and change the guest list to include two agents and herself, all while being coached by Luke’s boss and his teammate Tara on what to do and how to respond. The day goes by quickly leaving no time to process, dwell, and allow nerves to build.

Stings, she gets the impression, don’t normally come together so fast or out of the blue. On tv she knows it’s either months of planning every detail, or quickly throwing someone in in the moment. Maybe that last type isn’t quite true for them.

She also gets the feeling that his boss, Prentiss, is worried about the subject of their sting. He’s a big deal in DC, a man with deep pockets and friends in high places, someone who doesn’t need to be paid to do these horrible things, a defense they’d no doubt rely on. She already wanted to show Luke she could handle what his world was, that she could take on some of his burden and he could open up to her, but watching those videos, reading what those men wrote, hearing those girls…she wanted to help them, and if that meant dressing up, she was more than willing to do it.

The dress they gave her to “up” however was….hideous.

It would need much much “upping” if she were to be irresistible enough to inspire a chatroom full of subhuman cowards to….want her. Unfortunately, the bureau wouldn’t let her wear her own clothing (maybe for her that was a good thing?), something about rules, and there was no time to go shopping with all the sleuthing and forging and convincing and prepping and practicing. So instead she’s left with this.

Penelope examines the shapeless reflection in the mirror impressed there is a garment capable of so wholly camouflaging her more prominent features. She considers one last appeal to the bureau to let her wear something from her own wardrobe…something more flattering.

She’d insisted that her closet was chock full of goodies for every occasion, but she would have to agree, her closet certainly didn’t (and never would) have a dress like this.

Black-tie indeed. The floor length, black dress had all the appeal of a graduation robe. She’s matronly and generic and if she were going to be the prime choice tonight, this dress would not do.

Twisting left and right, pinching at fabric and checking seams, she quirks her mouth thoughtfully, glad she’s up to the task of dressing it up. All those years transforming her own things finally had a use beyond personal esthetic.

Hacking off the high round collar, she winces and hopes this doesn’t constitute destroying federal property as she morphs the neckline into a perfectly cleavage framing low V (modeled after one of her tried and true f-me dresses). She lifts and brings in the waist, fitting the skirt through her middle in gathers, softly draping at the narrowest part of her, and finally she takes the elbow-length bell sleeves and carefully pleats and folds them like origami rings at the high point of her shoulder, leaving her arms bare. She’s wearing her best push-up bra to help push all that cleavage right to eye level, and she thinks about stockings, but ultimately decides against them, the dress covered her legs anyway…though she was very tempted to add a thigh high slit.

Looking at the transformation, she should be uncomfortable. This moody, vampy thing reminds her of her past, of someone she no longer is…someone naive and angry and desperate to fit in…someone trying to find their place. Their peace. She should be uncomfortable in that Penelope’s skin, but she isn’t, and maybe it’s because that person was the right one to be tonight…Maybe that’s how she can get through this undetected. The changes she’s made to the matte black silk, she’s sure are more than enough to make her stand out in a sea of predictable sparkling navy and red DC housewives, but if they aren’t she’s sure she will be.

Penelope curls her hair and removes the large white cube necklace she’d been wearing earlier, exchanges the alien earrings and mahjong tile bracelet for a cleavage dusting lariat and a malachite point tipped gold horseshoe bangle, and lastly, takes the 8-ball ring off her pinky leaving only her wedding ring.

Twisting the emerald, flicking the band left and right, she knows she can’t leave it there if she plans on being desirable bait (a missing married woman would be too quickly noticed), but she’s struggling with the thought of taking it off.

Like ripping off a bandaid, she quickly plucks it from her finger placing it on the dresser, but just as quickly she snatches it back up. Penelope frowns thinking about how stupid it is to feel so attached to a piece of jewelry, feel so wrong. Old Penelope, The Black Queen, certainly wouldn’t have, and after all, she doubts he wears his all the time, he’s only known her, been married, for almost six weeks.

But not wearing it feels…like betrayal…like a slap.

Instead she places it on her right hand. At least this way it’s still with her. If he notices when he comes to get her, she’ll just explain, though if she’s being honest, she’s hoping for some visual confirmation that her handiwork has made her as distraction-worthy as she feels.

Thinking back to every one of his slow outfit appraisals, the quickly averted, heated looks that set her skin on fire, she’s looking forward to tonight’s reaction the most. How he would feel about this side of her, this part that was so much of her for so long. Would he be put off? Would he laugh when he saw her, be mad she altered the dress? That she was revealing so much of herself…for them. Would he be so overcome with passion and possessiveness that he’d take her in his arms, unable to control himself any longer and pin her to the door, crush his lips, his body, to hers?  Immobilizing, determined to show her she was his, his bulletproof vest firm against her under his tux, his thigh pressing her legs to spread…kissing her furiously, roughly kissing down her throat, toothy hands hiking up her skirt…up her thigh….

Focused on the fantasy playing out in her head, Penelope shrieks in surprise at the ring of the door bell and quickly applies the finishing touches of makeup- some pink blush and candy red sheer lipstick before hurriedly snatching her clutch and scurrying to her waiting husband.

But opening the door she’s only met with disappointment. Behind the door there is no ego boosting, jealously wandering eyes from the mouth watering husband she’d so well imagined, in fact, there’s no mouth-watering husband at all.

What she finds on the other side of her door is instead a different unfairly beautiful person.

Tara, now dressed to the nines, is waiting to escort her to the SUV that will drive them into DC. She can’t help but notice how, unlike what Penelope was first given, Tara’s dress doesn’t make her look like an 80s schoolmarm.

Tara, narrowing her eyes, inspects Penelope, “That’s the bureau’s dress?”

Smoothing her hands down the sides of her skirt, Penelope responds as evenly as possible, “Yes.” It wasn’t a lie, she wasn’t lying to a federal agent. This was the dress, she just improved it is all. Improved their chances of her being picked. And anyway, they gave her that one.

“Right.” Tara smirks, “We should get going. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Penelope closes and locks the door behind her, she’ll just have to settle for hot husband glances on the way there.

In the vehicle however, there is no Luke either.

He had said every step of the way, didn’t that include picking her up and going to the city?

She doesn’t admit that she’d fantasized anticipated him drinking her in, his expression turning parched, eyes wide and tracking like she’d caught him doing so many times before…but finding only Matt, Penelope, can’t stop herself from asking, “Not that the two of you aren’t gorgeous and delightful and I’m sure very great company, but…where’s my- Where’s Luke?”

She doesn’t want them to think she’s not brave enough for this, she is, or that she’s clingy and needs him around- she’s not some sad husband reliant trad-wife. She’s independent, she has her own life, she had a very full life before he was matched with her and she’d have one after- She didn’t need him to protect her, she had volunteered, insisted because she knew she could do this- She would be fine…she just…wanted to know.

Matt looks back at her in the rearview, smiling, “You don’t look too bad there yourself, Garcia, sorry Luke couldn’t be the one to see it-“ Tara jumps in explaining the last minute change of plans. Matt, looking more the part of a gala attendee, swapped roles with Luke, Luke and Prentiss went on ahead to set everything up at the hotel and gala.

It’s then that the scope and specifics of the situation really click. Her life is in the hands of strangers, their success is in hers, things can change at a moment's notice and her being the odd-man out, not an FBI agent, they are under no obligation to consult or inform her. Luke was possibly even instructed not to inform her. She isn’t familiar with how they operate, how they handle things on the fly, and the person she’s the most familiar with, she’s only known for a few weeks at best. Penelope flexes and stretches her fingers, willing the needles forming to vaporize. She’s capable of handling herself, she’s been in worse situations alone before and come out fine, she could do this, just like she’d told them.

“It was a pretty big blow-up actually,” Tara goes on, “He was insistent on being here with you.” She doesn’t want Alvez’s new wife thinking this was on him, that he’d lied, “…It’s just…not always up to us. Prentiss felt he wasn’t going to be able to keep himself in check, and he kind of proved her right with how he reacted… But looking at you, I don’t know that making him play catering staff will make a difference.”

The rest of the way to DC is filled with review, last minute prepping, and cues, Penelope watching the landscape and sky change from the passenger window as Tara continues to test and prime her.

At the hotel, Tara shows her an ear piece and small camera she’ll be outfitted with, Penelope distracts herself by setting up a laptop with a fake account, joining the congressman’s watch party, and adding a backdoor server to record everything undetected. There’s still no Luke and no Prentiss, they’re at the event space double checking physical layouts to Penelope’s found blueprints and giving as few people in charge a heads up as possible, but there is that Anderson guy. She shows him how the chats and servers work and what to do if certain tech-related scenarios come up, and writes it all down for him just in case on some turquoise sticky notes floating in her bag.

“What happened to the Bureau’s dress, Ms. Garcia?” She hears it in her ear. This is the sound check Tara told her about, Prentiss must have seen what she did to the dress when Tara was showing her the camera pin. Thankfully, she hears what she thinks is a hint of amusement in the question and decides to use that opening.

“Funny thing, I put it in the wash, and wouldn’t you know, it shrunk!” Tara, Matt, and Anderson snicker from around the room.

“Let’s be sure it doesn’t happen again, we want you to be picked, not picked apart”

“Ma’am.”

“-Don’t- call me ma’am.”

Two agents and one former hacker pack up and head out to an extravagant evening none of them are bound to enjoy. The nerves start to creep in.

~~

From one of the rooms Penelope secured, Prentiss runs laptop surveillance along with Anderson, keeping track of the feed that’s streaming through a lens in Whitt’s boutonniere. “So far he’s signaled between the caterer near the north end of the patio, the musician who just excused herself to the lady’s, and Ms. Garcia” she gives a rundown of the targeted options to the four at the Gala through their earpieces.

A muscle turning feeling crawls beneath Penelope’s skin at the information that she’s made his notice, a shudder jerking her from the shoulders down hearing the confirmation. Three hours into the night, three hours. Was that all it took? Even the knowledge that Tara and Matt were triangulating the room with her, keeping an eye on Whitt and the possible would-be victims, that Luke was here too, ready should anything happen, didn’t feel like enough.

“He can’t do anything, I'm right here,” comes in cooly, seemingly right next to her. His voice like a string lacing and constricting her chest.

Luke’s been tracking her since their arrival, though the woman he sees walk in looks more like the devil on a shoulder version of his wife than the living jawbreaker- tough ball of rainbows- he’s used to seeing. He’s not complaining though, the inky black dress contrasts her pale skin and makes her blonde hair glow gold, and the shape, the cut, how she fills it out- she looks devious and sultry and perfectly wicked in just the right way. But he wonders how much of this is some shield or wall, something to just get through tonight, and if it is, is he wrong being this enamored with a side that isn’t a side at all?

“Penelope, remember, we want them to pick you, you need to make yourself more present” this time it’s Prentiss breaking through the space in her ear.

She doesn’t speak but she slowly nods her head. Duh, that’s why I chopped up the dress...

She knows from the recordings it’s not that easy, if she approaches him, they won’t like it, won’t like her. She needs to be aloof, but confident, a little brash, and flirty. She needs to make them want her, want to punish her, to have a powerful man put her in her place. Closing her eyes, she channels her other persona, the one who’s smart and sassy- a bolder, more forward version of herself. The person she used to be…but that’s not who she is any more and she’s not sure she can muster it fully… remember her intricacies. What if they see through her? Worse yet, what if one of them knows her? Would they recognize her after all these years? Was she dooming the sting before ever entering his orbit? This was so stupid, she should have thought this through, created a better disguise. What if they were using her?

Entirely worked up and filling with self-doubt, Penelope drifts across the room, mentally repeating that she’s safe, that no one recognizes her, and even if they did, she’s in a well-lit place in a crowded room and there are agents and security all around, Luke, though she’s only heard him...

Looking around, she spots a group of younger, strong jawed men adjacent to the congressman. They look the type to have been on Crew at Yale or Harvard, the type to drink too much, and get too handsy- politicians sons, the perfect group to be noticed with.

She drains her champagne, joining them, flirting. It’s a tactic that works like a charm, no sooner had she joined the group of men, laughing and touching, squeezing biceps and brushing lapels aside, did Whitt approach.

“Champagne?”

The voice isn’t the congressman’s though, it’s the one in her ear, but it isn’t from the piece, this time it’s behind her. Penelope turns, feeling the wash of relief at his warm eyes finally where she can see them.

Luke had positioned himself between Penelope and the congressman, creating a physical barrier. If any man was approaching his wife tonight, he would be the first.

Irritated at being cut off from his target, Congressman Whitt picks up two flutes from the proffered tray and with a slick sleight of hand drops sedatives into one. Sidestepping, he reaches past Luke, ignoring his presence, and offers it to Penelope.

She grins wide, placing her empty glass on the tray, one hand sliding out to slip around the slim crystal stem, the other sliding down Luke’s hip, not so discreetly squeezing his ass. Luke’s eyebrows jump in surprise, but quick reactions allows him to catch himself before his arm and tray swoop.

Her eyes never leave the congressman as she delivers a coy smile, “What a gentleman, I do like to keep my hands full,” Penelope purrs, taking the spiked champaign.

“Nice job, Garcia- they really did not like that, the comment section is lighting up,”

Luke’s free hand slips down covering her own, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze back before removing it.

She hears the buzz and watches Whitt check his phone, his eyes careful not to fall on her as he reads, careful to keep his expression neutral.

“You’re on, Penelope.”

From that point on it’s a waiting game filled with tension, everything seemingly pulling back before the slingshot forward.

After some small talk, Whitt politely excuses himself. The less time he’s around her, the less outward interest he takes in her, the less likely he is to be suspected when her dead body’s found in the park tomorrow morning.

With the congressman now making himself noticed schmoozing across the room, Tara reminds Penelope to keep her head in the game, timing is crucial. He’ll wait for the drugs to kick in, wait until his victim is weak, wait for them to seclude themselves, wait for everyone else to become suitably drunk and high and otherwise distracted, then when they’re too incapacitated to put up a fight, he’ll strike. If she succumbs too soon he could get suspicious, if she takes too long, he could change his mind. Waiting for the timed signal, Penelope continues to make sure she’s seen flirting and flitting with every man in the room, at one point even feeling up the delectable Matt Simmons, coining him ‘Biceps’ as she batted her eyes and teased him, much to Luke’s displeasure.

Pantomiming working the room, Whitt watches from a distance incrementally simmering with rage until Penelope, given the direction, feigns going under. Swooning and swaying, fanning herself, she stumbles to the patio, alone.

She holds onto the gritty cement balustrade, eyes closed, cold of the night hitting her, sucking down air, stomach knotting with the knowledge that this was the plan, but the plan put her in direct physical contact with a tortuous murderer. Her body swoops, -the act just a little too good- knees going weak from the anticipated attack. Before she can regain any kind of composure she feels a thick clammy hand on her back and hears his drawling voice, “Hey there Cinderella, had a little too much to drink?”

She swallows, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to think about where he plans on this going, but thinking about the women before her she forces her eyes open, forces the lazy slipping grin of an easier, unperturbed seductress unaware of the horrors that await her. She shrugs, slowly batting her lashes and sways again.

Luke keeps eyes on her from the far side of the ballroom, Tara and Matt from a point in the garden, the act is good, too good. The trio start to worry, had she slipped up and accidentally ingested the spiked champagne?

How much control did she really have? Was she this good of an actress? He shouldn’t have ever allowed Prentiss to approve her, he shouldn’t have told Penelope at all.

Whitt’s hand moves holding her more firmly as he braces around her side, “Why don’t you come with me, I can help-” Penelope tries to get it out, but the words won’t come, fear stuck in her throat, she resists, but he’s quick. All of a sudden she feels the tip of a knife pointing into her other side, “You can fill your hands with something real-” is hissed into her ear. She tries to push away, but freeze takes over, hyperventilating, panic. She’s alone and she can’t move, she whimpers at the sharp pull, Whitt grabbing her by the hair, the hand with the knife wrapping around her. She feels the zhhht- zhhht- zhhht of the blade zig-zaging up her dress, feels the sharp tip find and press to flesh, “I said let’s go you fucking whore-” He pulls her against himself, her back to his chest, she struggles against his grip. He’s taking her and they’re not here, no one is doing anything to stop him, there’s no Prentiss in her ear, no Luke-

The moment he sees Whitt touch her his hand flinches, reaching for his gun.

“Alvez, stand down, we don’t have anything yet-” she’s disconnected Penelope’s radio, not willing to risk Whitt overhearing them through it.

“Prentiss he has her-”

“I said, wait!”

His stomach churns watching the blade slide up her chest, Penelope’s head jerking back and her mouth dropping in a cry.

Every muscle in his body compresses, tenses, braces, “Prentiss, god damn it, he’s taking her!”

There’s urgency in his voice, a thread of distress, Whitt’s actions are alarmingly bold given the setting, but obediently Luke holds back- for a breath-

Whitt’s arm tightening around her.

Then two-

Penelope’s heels dragging back on the flagstone.

Waits until it feels too long

waits until-

“-Fuck this-” shatters. In one fell swoop the silver tray is replaced with a handgun, Luke rushing in a crouch to the patio doors, peaking around the curtain, lining up his shot, “Cover me-”

He steps out into the dark terrace, gun trained, stance even, level, voice ringing out against the din of the party, “Congressman Whitt, FBI, let her go-,” a clear command.

There’s a glimpse of Luke before her head is snapped back, vision pulling to the dark sky above, her body propelling forward. The sharp sound of a knife clattering to stone is like a gunshot, the second she hears it Penelope’s stumble turns into a run and in no time flat she’s colliding heavily into Luke’s chest, his open arm, their bodies rocking with the force, the commotion behind her unintelligible, the others apprehending and arresting Whitt.

Matt steps in front of the congressman, kicking the knife away and reading his rights as Tara roughly takes him by the arms, clicking the cuffs into place. "This is all a misunderstanding, I don’t know what you think you saw- This poor young lady is clearly unstable- She was trying to kill herself! I was trying to stop her! Maybe she was drugged! Put up to it- She was with some young men earlier, I bet they slipped her something-" He bellows and blusters the revisionist story ignorant to the fact that he’d been set up, that they have the whole thing on tape- his own feed.

Tara and an officer escort the protesting congressman to a waiting patrol car. The whole time Luke keeps one arm secure around Penelope’s back holding her to him and the other with his gun trained on the congressman being led away, ready should he make a single move.

“Prentiss, Anderson, you get everything?” Luke feels her arms constrict around his waist when he asks.

“We’ve got it. Unless Ms. Garcia thinks anything needs to be done with this tonight, she can get some rest- Alvez, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Fine.” He hears the finality, the awaiting reprimand in her voice, he can’t bring himself to care.

Holstering his gun, he pulls out the ear piece, bringing both arms to circle Penelope tightly. His chin hooks over her shoulder as his hands run up and down her back, “Penelope” it's a prayer on her neck, tangling in her hair.  

[myloveforhergoeson]

That's All She Wrote - Chapter 23

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Chapter 23: Morning Glory (2.4) ~ 13k

The same person who invented Mondays, homework, and mayonnaise invented ending a second-first date, Roxy thought, walking through the front doors of the Palm Woods, hand in hand with James.

She had done everything in her power to slow down time once the actors took their final bows - Taking the long way home from the theater, pretending like the Pontiac had almost run out of gas so they had to stop at a gas station for slushies, kissing her date more than a few times in the dark Palm Woods parking lot - but still, the night had to come to an end, even as she reluctantly dragged her feet along the ancient hotel carpet. 

Though she pretty sure James had caught on, seeing as he wasn’t walking all that fast either, and that made her feel better but still didn’t change the reality that all good things must come to an end.

Once they reached the theater, they inadvertently run into a pair of siblings who struck out at the box office, so they happily passed off their extra tickets before making their way to their balcony seats. 

American Idiot had been phenomenal, a harrowing tale filled with all her favorite songs from the Green Day album of the same name and a couple of twists and turns she hadn’t been expecting. Roxy even cried at the end, which would have been embarrassing under any other circumstances, but James simply wrapped his arm around her and let her silently weep on his shoulder until she was ready to leave the darkness of the theater.

Live music could be so inspiring.

Throughout the night, he had told her a thousand different times how beautiful she looked in her thematically red and black outfit, held her bag patiently when she ran to the bathroom to fix her makeup after the show, and graciously paid for her gas tank and cherry slushie. 

Everything had been perfect, but now they were standing at the door to 2-H and Roxy was fiddling with her keys trying to stall for even a few precious seconds longer. 

“I had a great time tonight,” James shared, watching her hands intently as she flipped a few of the keys around the ring, the cheesy I Heart L.A. keychain clamoring the loudest. “But I’ve got to admit this is a really awkward way to drop you off.”

“Right? Like, how are we even supposed to end this?”

Hands gently grabbing her waist to pull her closer, James pressed a slow kiss to Roxy’s lips before mumbling,  “Like any other date, I guess… Call me?”

All she could manage was a nod in response, looking up at him. It didn’t matter how much he had kissed her over the last few days of their relationship, her brain still managed to short-circuit every single time. 

As her boyfriend made his way over to 2-J with a final wave, she quickly pulled out her phone. 

Buzz buzz

Hearing his small exhale of a chuckle as he removed his phone from his pocket and checked the caller ID, Roxy bit into her lip when he pressed the accept call button. 

“When can I see you again?” She giggled through the microphone as she watched his back, barely hearing her own voice come through the receiver on his phone a few paces down. 

James’ reply took a moment as cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear while he slid his key into 2-J’s lock. “Tomorrow morning if I’m lucky.”

“You’re not that lucky,” His assistant shot back before she could stop herself, closing and locking the door to 2-H once she was inside. 

“Wait!” She could practically hear his cheeks flush. “I didn’t mean-”

“Goodnight, James. Thanks for showing me a good time.”

“My pleasure, Rox. Goodnight.”

As she hung up the phone, a grin plastered across her face, her finger hovered over Jo’s contact information, and for a moment she wondered if she should call her to dish out all the juicy details of her night out. Regardless of what she told the actress, it would eventually end up making its way to Camille, and as selfish as it was, Roxy didn’t want her to know anything about her perfect date. Besides, to tell Jo and ask that she would exclude it from their other friend was just cruel, so she sighed and locked her phone.

I’ll just tell someone in the morning.

That didn’t dispel the feeling of sadness deflating her chest as she shuffled into her bedroom, wishing Camille would come to speak with her about everything that had gone down between her and James. The actress had managed to work it out with Logan, though they were trying their “Just Friends” relationship and miserably failing, but for some reason, she was avoiding bringing the subject up to Roxy. 

Getting ready for her date tonight without Jo and Camille just felt wrong. 

It bothered her beyond belief, but she was a stubborn girl - She had just waited months for the boy she liked to ask her out based on a non-important conversation they had within the first two months of knowing each other. If Camille was interested in playing the long game, Roxy had no trouble willing to wait her out. 

***

Buzz buzz

A few hours later, after the most sleepless night of Roxy’s life, as she kept replaying her date with James over and over again in her head, she received a phone call around 3 a.m. according to her bedside clock. 

Electing to ignore it, she rolled over to the other side of her bed, snuggling into her covers and giant stuffy puppy, letting it buzz a few more times before finally deciding to try and drift off to sleep. 

The best part about the night, she decided, was how openly physical they could be with each other. Going from friends to partners certainly had it’s merits - including a long established comfort level with the boy who just couldn’t keep his hands off of her. There was no awkward instances of her going for the handshake while he went for the hug or mental debate over kissing at the front door… Everything was just perfect.

Just as she was on the verge of slumber, pretending it was James’ arms wrapped around her and not her plush duvet, her phone rang again and the girl ducked under her pillow to escape the annoying sound. 

She knew that because someone had called twice, it was probably important information, and due to the lateness of the hour, she couldn’t imagine that the news was good. 

That thought raked a bit of panic into her heart, uncomfortably skipping a few beats as she finally reached over to her nightstand and pulled her phone off the charger. 

Buzz buzz

Incoming Call: Kelly Wainwright

Pressing accept, her “Hello?” came out a bit more strained than she had anticipated. 

“Good morning!” Chipper as ever, the talent scout’s voice carried through the phone. “Gustavo landed us a spot on the local news. I need you to get the boys to the station by 5 a.m.”

Roxy groaned, rolling over so her phone was perfectly balanced on her cheek. “Kelly…”

“Think about it! Millions of people watch the L.A. morning news! It’s a great exposure opportunity.”

“As true as that is, couldn’t you have given us a little warning?” 

A few waves of laughter rolled through the receiver. “If we don’t pick the slot up someone else will. Now come on! I’ll call to wake the boys if it makes it easier - We just need your shining faces in the studio at 5.”

“You’ve got it.” The assistant grumbled, fumbling onto her back and staring up at the bits of moonlight bleeding into her ceiling. “Studio. Boys. 5 a.m… Do I need my guitar?” 

“Nope. We just need you on assistant duty today. Gustavo will bring the music track from the studio.”

With a click, the line went dead, leaving the girl alone in silence as she decided between dressing in a camera-ready outfit or her oldest, comfiest tracksuit. 

I just never know with those boys, She thought, rolling out of bed and opening her closet, digging out a nice, long skirt and top. So, dress my best… Just in case.

***

“Can you believe this?” Carlos cried through a stifled yawn, prancing around the set Gustavo and Kelly had managed to ship to the news studio from Rocque Records. 

The same backdrop they had used on tour - A smooth, red velvet curtain behind a gigantic light-up “Big Time Rush” sign and their signature swirl logo splashed across the linoleum floor - had been set up at the station long before the teens, Katie, and Mrs. Knight had even arrived. 

Lazily swinging his hand laced through his assistant’s back and forth as he took in the set, James exclaimed, “We’re performing on live TV!” while the girl sent a quick text message to her dad to see if he could potentially tune into the broadcast.

“You say that like it’s more impressive than a nationwide tour…” Roxy trailed off, slipping her phone back into her backpack and taking in all the behind-the-scenes crew hustling around them, getting set up for the beginning of the program. 

She still had yet to tell her father she and James were seeing each other, but that would be a problem to solve at a far later time.

“Can you believe it’s 5 a.m.?” Logan cut in, who had the entire ride there been more than vocal about his disdain for the early hour. 

Kendall had it the worst, however, towing his half-asleep mother through the building to their green room. It seemed as though early rising wasn’t a genetic trait the eldest of the Knight Family possessed. “Why do early morning shows have to shoot so early in the morning?” 

Gently reaching up to tap his mother on the shoulder, Katie stopped him by letting out a sharp, “Uh, uh! Don’t wake her! She hasn’t had her eight hours of sleep yet,” despite her nose being buried in her DS game. 

“Like any of us have,” The assistant whined, leaning into James’ side for support as the group stopped walking in the middle of the set. “But this is a good thing for us. Lots of exposure and whatnot.” 

She said that more for herself than the band. It had been nearly nine months since her last 2 a.m. to 6 a.m. radio show, so she was no stranger to being up so early in the morning, but since coming to L.A., her 9 to 5 job sleep schedule had gotten her body back into a traditional rhythm. The early hour was hitting her hard, but she was doing her best to keep morale high so her band could put on the best performance they could. 

“Big Time Rush! Huge fan!” From their left, a woman dressed in a black power suit approached the group, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. Her black glasses matched the darkness of her outfit and the headset attached to her ear suggested she was someone essential to the morning production team. Behind her trailed another, taller woman, carrying a similar clipboard. “I’m Jane Kennedy, the producer, and welcome to A.M. L.A. Los Angeles’ number one morning show. Come on!” 

So cheerful despite the time of day, her personality shone as bright as the sun as she beckoned the group over to the set with a few giggles. 

Following her, everyone made their way over to the part of the set containing the news anchor desk, where a man in a charcoal suit was having his hair and makeup done while sipping from a cup of coffee. All around them, staff members whizzed by with different pieces of camera equipment and cue cards, ready to start production at a moment’s notice. 

“That’s L.A.’s number one morning host, Miles Bainbridge, warming up L.A.’s number one teleprompter…”

Reading from the screen as his hair was being brushed back, Miles proclaimed, “No, I’m pretty sure Los Angeles is just one word.”

His comment made the assistant chuckle a bit as she thought he was trying to liven up the groggy crew with a joke, but she quickly realized he had meant it as Jane hissed, “This way!” and ushered the group in a new direction. 

“And this is the green room!” She shared, walking into a well-lit room toward the back of the studio. It was quite spacious and featured an array of snacks, drinks, and pop culture magazines Roxy couldn’t wait to get her hands on. “You can relax, eat, and meet our other guests like actor environmentalist Ed Begley Jr.”

Dragging his girlfriend over to the refreshments table, along with the rest of the band, James and the boys were quick to break into the provided goodies. 

Seeing Ed Begley Jr. unnerved the assistant a bit, seeing as the last time he had been involved in their lives, Griffin had shipped them back to Minnesota without a second thought in favor of the actor environmentalist reading out children’s books. However, if that hadn’t happened, she might not have fully realized her feelings toward James, so she overlooked his presence for now and politely returned the man’s wave. 

“Hey, everyone, I’m here to promote my new line of environmentally friendly-”

“Keep it fresh for the show, Ed!” Jane cut him off just as he held up an “environmentally friendly” saw. 

Surprised they let him in here with that…

“Anyway,” The woman continued, “We are so excited to have BTR at A.M. L.A., and I just know that our 3 million viewers will be excited too!”

As the production assistant following Jane around from before entered the room and whispered something to her boss, Logan was already three bites deep in a bagel sandwich, Carlos had grabbed a bowl of Fruit Smackers, Kendall - still deliriously tired - held a pitcher of orange juice, and James was crunching down on some biscotti as he held the container out to Roxy. 

Everyone was comfortable in the inviting space A.M. L.A. had created, even Katie and Mrs. Knight; As the younger girl continued playing her game her mother was fast asleep on the couch beside her. 

In true boy band style, Kendall flashed her his winning smile, “Well, we are very excited to be here.”

Roxy watched, picking some biscotti from the container, as Jane’s eyes flicked over the schedule, darkening. 

“Yeah, the show’s running long.” Her entire demeanor changed unexpectedly, like a sudden rainstorm on a perfectly cloudless day. “You guys are cut. Wake up Mommy and get out!”

 “Well… That was rude,” The girl mumbled, mouth half full right as the women exited the room. “Aren’t Gustavo and Kelly supposed to be here by now to deal with things like this?”

Nodding in agreement, Logan let his bagel haphazardly fall to the floor. 

“What just happened?” Kendall asked, turning to his friends in panic. The question was more rhetorical than anything, but he was just sleepy enough that his assistant couldn’t tell if he needed the clarification or not. 

Piping up from the couch, Ed shared, “The official term is you got bumped.”

Yeah, he’s definitely our bad luck charm… 

Roxy was really starting to dislike the guy despite his admirable dedication to reducing his carbon footprint. 

“Leave me out of this!” Katie said from beside the actor environmentalist even though no one had brought her into it. “I'm on level 12 of ‘Castle Bashers,’ and I have to get my four knights to the ring of fire.”

It only took a few moments for Roxy’s friends to grab her wrist and drag her out of the green room with them, no doubt on their way to find the cranky producer and see if anything could be done about their place on the show. There was almost no doubt that if they weren’t able to retain their spot, Gustavo would find some way to blame the five for such a missed opportunity. Playing a tour across the United States had been great exposure, but the combined number of audience ticket sales didn’t even total close to three million. 

After a few seconds of chasing, the five were finally able to stop Jane in the hallway with a chorus of, “Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

“What do you mean ‘cut?’” Logan asked, trying to play it as dumb as possible. Maybe if the woman had to explain it, she’d feel bad and let them play anyway. 

Holding up a long schedule with the day’s date at the top of the page, Jane waved it around a few times. “It means I have to cut time from my show, and you were it.”

“But being on live TV is number seven on my list of things to do before I’m 20!” Shared James, pulling nervously on the tie he had fashioned around the collar of his button-up for his televised debut. 

Sticking out her bottom lip, Roxy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “We’ll figure it out! Plus, you’ve still got three whole years!”

That seemed to cheer the boy up a bit, until Logan chuckled a bit and jabbed a thumb in James’ direction, “You don’t have a list…”

Chuckling right back, the long-haired boy whipped a small notebook out of his back pocket. “Oh, I have a list!”

“Look, you just said that you were excited to have us!” Carlos cut in, bringing their conversation back on track as he addressed the woman. 

Her response was simple: “I’m a producer. I lie. And my show is four minutes too long.”

Taking a few steps forward, she squished her schedule not-so-nicely into Logan’s chest. 

“And L.A. needs their traffic, weather, stock reports, celebrity interviews, and cooking tips. What they don’t need to see is a stupid boy band singing their stupid pop songs.”

James and Roxy both gasped at her words for very similar reasons. 

“All due respect, Ms. Kennedy, but don’t you think you could combine the performance with the celebrity interview portion? Members of boy bands are celebrities after all… Like Justin Timberlake!” The assistant tried before the producer let out a shrill, dry, laugh. 

Before the assistant could say something she’d regret at Jane’s abrasive response, Logan hopped in with, “‘Vocal group’ is a term that could also be used.”

“So is, ‘You were cut from my show, so get off my set!’” Jane yelled before turning around and storming out of the hallway. 

If she really wanted us gone she could have at least tried being kinder. 

Plucking the schedule out of his friend’s hands, Kendall squinted in the producer’s direction. “I did not get up at 4 a.m. to be treated like this.”

“Kelly called you at 4?” His assistant repeated, shooting him some nasty side-eye.

Ignoring Roxy’s complaint comment, the rest of the band murmured their agreement with the frontman. Leaning back into James, she whispered a few curses under her breath about her more than obvious eye bags before listening into the boys’ plan. 

Reading over the schedule in front of them, Logan mused a moment before asking, “Rox, can I borrow a pen?” 

It didn’t take her long to dig around in her mini backpack to find her favorite red pen and hand it off the the awaiting boy. 

His markups of the schedule reminded her a lot of the nonsensical scribbling she did in her notebook to try and find the perfect order for her song lyrics. Arrows were drawn from section to section, whittling down time here and there as the sets were changed to be closer to one another, a few symbols in the margins denoted sections that were far longer than they needed to be - like Ed’s interview. 

In a few moments, he had done all the necessary calculations in his head to shave the time off the show and get Big Time Rush back on the air. 

Then, of course, Roxy was once again dragged around the studio to find Jane. Since the show was close to starting soon, it didn’t take long for Carlos to spot her by the newsroom set. 

All at once, the five stormed the podium she was standing by, giving her the pitch they hadn’t practiced at all to keep them on the show. 

“So, um, we looked at the schedule…” Kendall shared, gesturing to Logan who was eager to share his corrections. 

“...And if you trim just a little time from the weather, the chef dude’s weekend recipe, the market update, and cut just one Hollywood minute…”

“...You’ll have time for Big Time Rush!” Carlos finished, taking the schedule she had drafted up on her stand and replacing it with the one Logan had edited. 

Pulling out his list from his pocket once more and holding it out to Jane, James was quick to add, “And I can check ‘live TV face time’ off my list.” 

“And Big Time Rush gains three million new fans from L.A.’s number one morning show!” The assistant tacked on, attempting to butter up the producer just in case she wasn’t already convinced. 

Taking the schedule from Carlos’ hands, Jane read it over for a few seconds. “This is good. No, this- this works. I think I owe you guys an apology. Follow me!”

“Sweet!” Carlos cried, trailing after the woman as she walked off. 

Soon the other four were right behind him as Jane continued to take in the corrections. “I’m gonna tell the director to make these changes right now. But, I need you guys to wait in our special waiting room.”

Stopping in front of a large, cream-colored door labeled, “Special Waiting Room” the producer pointed to her left. 

Immediately, the four boys were rushing toward the handle to push it open, practically breaking it off its hinges to get inside. 

Unfortunately for Jane, Roxy was quite suspicious of specifically labeled rooms after their incident at the Music Box Theater the night of their first concert. As Logan, Kendall, and Carlos barrelled through the door, James caught wind of her hesitation and stopped in front of her to make sure she was okay. Carefully running a hand down her arm, he threaded his fingers between hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. With his other hand, he held the door open, which proved to be a fatal mistake as the woman roughly shoved the assistant forward in an attempt to get her off the set. 

With force similar to that her friends had used to run through the door, Roxy was sent hurtling into James’ arms as he stumbled backward out of the studio into the room Jane had pushed them into. Only, once the two were able to catch their bearings, they realized it wasn’t even a room at all - It was the back alley of the studio lot. 

“Get out of my face, you stupid singing teens!” Jane called over the intercom and the distinct sound of a lock emanated from the metal door. 

Arms still wrapped around her boyfriend, Roxy roughly kicked the door with the flat of her foot, “I don’t even sing, you hag!”

Heart fluttering, be it from her ire or her cheek pressed to James’ chest, she thought of some much meaner things to say until Kendall and the boys began to devise a plan to get back inside. 

“Of course, you realize…” He started.

“This means war!” The other band members chorused, as if rehearsed.  

It didn’t take long for Kendall to whip out his phone and shoot a message to Katie, who was still miraculously in the green room with her mother and Ed Begley Jr, to let her know to come get them as soon as possible. 

Creaking door hinges from behind the five let them know she had made her way to the studio’s back entrance, and the young girl soon emerged with her head still buried in her DS game. “I thought I told you to leave me out of this! I have to defeat the she-beast before she destroys the dwarf people!” 

None of the teens really registered what she meant, but they all let out a smattering of “thank you!” and “won’t happen again!’ to appease her. 

Now, their challenge was two-fold: Get themselves onto A.M. L.A. and avoid being seen by the wicked producer. A challenge that felt nearly impossible.

Thankfully, Jane was busy rushing from set to set, getting everyone on her crew ready for the show to begin instead of looking for five nosy teenagers barging back onto her studio. 

They stuck close to the outer walls of the studio, which were quite dark from the contrast of the bright, white lights being used to illuminate the sets on the opposite side of the building. Since most of the unnecessary tools of production had been pushed away from where the cameras were pointing, they also had the advantage of nearly full body coverage as they slunk past a few clothing and prop racks.

Noticing too late that her friends had all snatched matching black bandanas and sunglasses from their makeshift cover, Roxy rolled her eyes as Kendall whispered, “Okay, operation ‘Cut Out Time From A.M. L.A. So Big Time Rush Can Perform On Live TV’ is underway.” 

“That’s a really long operation name!” Logan hissed from the other side of the pack. 

“Ooh!” Cooed Carlos, “How about something cool like ‘Operation Winter Blitz.’”

“It’s catcher, but it’s not winter.” 

James’ words were true, but they mostly dragged Roxy’s attention to the mysterious vibe the sunglasses and dark bandana combo were giving him. Without thinking, her hand snaked around his arm as she unabashedly stared him down. “You look really good right now.”

“I look really good all the time.” He leaned down to whisper into her hair before pressing his lips to her temple. “But thank you.”

Kendall, Carlos, and Logan audibly groaned, not bothering to hide their annoyance at the couple. 

“Just move out!” The frontman finally commanded before the pair could do anything else to gross him out. 

Still continuing along the wall, the group found a supply closet large enough to house all of them, so for now that served as their cover. 

On the way in, Logan swiped one of the laptops that controlled the teleprompter for the news segment of the show, which he waved back and forth to show off to his friends with a wicked smile. 

“I think I’ve figured out the first part of our plan.” The boy shared, squatting down and balancing the computer on his thighs as he easily accessed the script for the day’s show. “We just need someone to run this chord into the prompter.”

For a moment, there was silence as the boys looked at each other before their eyes landed on their assistant. 

Wildly shaking her head, she didn’t even want to dignify them with a response but threw out an irrefutable argument: “I’m not wearing stealth gear like the rest of you.”

Judging from their grumbles of disappointment, they really couldn’t argue with her on that point, and soon made their decision with a game of rock paper scissors. 

This wasn’t a common occurrence among the boys, they were pretty good about settling their scores on their own, but when necessary, they’d square up to each other as they held one hand flat and one in a fist above it. 

As far as she could gather, James always lost their rock, paper, scissors games, because he was very fond of throwing scissors first. If that was easy for her to notice in the time she had known them, she was sure the other three had caught on years earlier. 

To her credit, she was going to warn him, but when he swept a hand through his hair and shot a wink in her direction before joining the small square his friends had formed, she had completely forgotten what she was going to say.

So, James lost. 

Not long after, he took the connecting blue cable between his teeth and dropped to the floor, crawling out of the closet, closer and closer to the teleprompter across the studio as stealthily as he could.

While his friends watched from a small crack in the closet door, they lost sight of him for a moment as he ducked behind a large crate, but knew he had completed his task when news anchor, Miles Bainbridge began his monologue.

“Good morning, Los Angeles!”

With a strong pop of his knuckles, Logan flopped down to the floor again, “We’re in! The teleprompter is ours!”

Joining him on the ground, Roxy and Kendall peered over the schedule again to try and find some time to shave out of any of the segments while Carlos clapped a reassuring hand on his buddy’s shoulder as they figured out what to write. 

“Give us a good intro!” Carlos advised, and Logan’s fingers shot off, flying across the keyboard. 

He’d make a good guitar player… Roxy absentmindedly thought as James made his way back into the room and shuffled over to sit beside her. 

Miles’ voice was just loud enough to hear, even behind the door as the typing sounds from the keyboard continued. “Also joining us live in the studio, celebrity environmentalist Ed Begley Jr., and a musical performance by the greatest band in the history of the world, Big Time Rush!”

Roxy’s “Don’t you think that’s overkill?” fell on deaf ears as James pulled his list out of his back pocket and crossed one of the items off. 

“Being the greatest band in the history of the world? Check!”

As someone who appreciated a special, private place to write down one’s thoughts and feelings, the assistant refrained from peeking at the other things he had written down - even if she wanted to know very, very badly all the things James wanted to do before he turned twenty years old. 

Be a ‘Cuda model… Go to a red carpet movie premier… Get a driver’s license… He’ll tell me one day. She thought, trying to get into his head before she thought about a few of her own aspirations. 

Like her boyfriend, she pulled her pen out of her bag fully intending to write them all down on the back cover of her journal, but Kendall nudged her shoulder, “Time to shave some time off morning update!”

Knocking her out of her thoughts, she made an offhand comment to speed up the rate at which the words were being shown to the anchor, and Logan’s fingers danced across the keys once more.

When that wasn’t enough, Kendall advised, “Faster!” a few more times, until the white words on the black background went by in such a blur, it was actually impressive that Miles was able to keep up with everything. From behind the door, they could hear his voice grow speedier and speedier with every passing line. 

And their plan had worked, taking the five-minute news update into a segment nearly a quarter of its length, and might have been even shorter had they not heard the distinct bang! of a heed shoe on hardwood breaking down the entrance to the closet. 

Blue chord in hand, Jane stood in the doorway, chest heaving as she looked down at the five teens who let out a few involuntary screams of their own. She was quite the scary lady. 

“Hey, there… you.” The frontman tried, but his words only further pissed the producer off as she aggressively tugged on the cable and disconnected it from Logan’s stolen laptop. 

From the studio set behind her, they could all hear the news anchor take a long breath, before resuming his updates as usual. 

Taking a step forward, James flashed a sparkling smile to try and calm her down. “Great news!”

“We shaved a whole minute off your show,” Roxy shared, pointing to the schedule in the blond’s hands. 

“De nada!” Added the helmet wearer, waving his hand nonchalantly, as if they had done something kind for Jane, like getting her a nice bouquet of flowers.

In return, she whipped out a walkie-talkie from her back pocket and called for security, lifeless eyes never leaving the teens in front of her. 

Jane’s cold stare was enough to make Roxy feel like her own skin was slowly crawling, chills radiating down her spine. The five were practically frozen with fear until Logan astutely declared, “We should run.” 

“Right!” Cried Carlos, as he ducked and ran Jane’s way helmet first. 

He was an excellent battering ram, charging nearly straight into her before she managed to dive out of the way at the last second. As a result, he had cleared a very nice pathway, which the other four were glad to run through. 

Always so much running! Their assistant silently reflected, moving as fast as her legs would carry her through the studio. At least James holds my hand instead of my wrist.

Security was hot on their tails, ugly yellow jackets, nightsticks, and all. Roxy dreaded the thought of what they might do if they managed to their hands on her - she didn’t have a great track record with being physically removed from places. Just the thought of it made her heart pound in fear, enough to stumble over her own feet a bit, but her friends behind her managed to keep her steady as they continued snaking through the winding hallways of A.M. L.A.

After a few rights, a few lefts, and a straight shot hallway, the band and their assistant managed to shake their followers for a moment and took a second to pause in front of a large, green screen and catch their breath. The boys shed their silly stealth gear, while Roxy bent over, hands resting on her knees as she greedily gulped as much air as she could possibly manage into her lungs. 

It wasn’t fair her friends were both taller and more athletic than her and then demanded she keep up with them. 

“And the traffic is backed up on the 134 and it continues to bleed to the 101… and the… congestion?”

Someone’s voice trailing off from another part of the room alerted them to the fact their resting place was not so secret. In fact, it was the screen the news anchor had been attempting to give his report on. A moment later they heard a distinct, “Get them!” from one of the security guards and once again the chase was on. 

There was another clear pathway that led them away from the guards but landed them right in front of the poor traffic reporter who found himself unexpectedly mowed down by a group of strangers during his airtime. 

Roxy’s sheepish “Sorry!” as she accidentally stepped on one of the flaps of his suit jacket didn’t make up for the trampling, but it would have to do for now. 

Once again, the teens were running through the never-ending back hallways of the studio, and when she was brave enough to look behind her to check on Logan and Carlos, Roxy noticed a third guard had joined the mix. 

Two guards probably couldn’t restrain all of them, but three? She wasn’t interested in finding out. 

Legs feeling as though they would turn into jelly at any moment now, the assistant was reminded of the day she met the boys of Big Time Rush. They had found themselves in a similar situation, trying to fend off two security guards who had caught Kendall in their grasp. That was a fight the five had won until the police showed up at the entrance of the theater to physically restrain her and her friends. 

That was the first and last time I’ll ever be in handcuffs. The assistant promised herself before a newfound burst of energy wedged its way into her chest, squeezing James’ hand in hers just a bit tighter. 

Toward the end of the hallway, Kendall reached a door which he quickly threw open and the rest of his friends piled in after him. Managing to wedge the door shut, the five of them pressed their backs against it in order to keep any unwanted intruders out until Carlos managed to throw a nervous hand out and flip the lock. 

So focused on the door behind them, no one recognized that there was a door in front of them until it slowly creaked open to reveal a set of three new guards headed their way. 

Surrounded on all sides, the teens had nowhere left to run.

“We got the perps.” The guard in the middle spoke into his walkie-talkie, presumably to Jane, eyes never leaving the offenders he had been sent out to capture. “Are we authorized to use force?”

Knees knocking together so hard they were practically rattling, the assistant didn’t even take notice of her friends taking one step forward to keep her out of the tussle as best they could. 

After a moment that felt closer to eternity, Jane’s voice menacingly radiated out of the speaker. “Absolutely.”

Whether it was a stalling tactic, or James was simply terrified, he pulled his list out of his back pocket once more. His shaking fingers turned a few pages as he thought aloud, “Get beat up by security guards? Nope, not on my list!”

 Whatever his plan was hadn’t worked and the security guards grew nearer, happily showing off their solid nightsticks as they smacked them up and down in their palms. 

“Logan. Options. Now!” Roxy heard Kendall beg, though her primary focus was on getting her heart rate under control and not passing out from sheer terror. 

The boy’s words came out shaky, panicked even, “Well, there’s five of us and just three of them, but they’re huge, so… Scream?” 

Logan’s suggestion felt just right, and his four friends followed suit and began howling their heads off. 

It was shocking enough to the security guards to hear five people wailing all at once, but after a moment their bodies began violently convulsing as if they were caught up in a terrifying exorcism movie. 

Stopping his screaming to hesitantly ask, “It’s working?” Carlos cocked his head to the side. 

Falling forward, the security guards face-planted in front of the teens they had been hunting down to reveal Katie, two tasers in her hands she had fired directly into their backs. 

Oh my God…

“Katie?” 

“Thanks!” She cried sarcastically before anyone was able to say anything else, pulling her DS game back out. Someone less than five feet tall in a pink blouse and Converse had never been more intimidating. “I was just about to beat the castle guards so I could get to the final boss level.”

There was a small mumble of “Sorry” among the five, mostly because they were afraid if they didn’t she’d tase them. 

Where did she even find those? The assistant wondered as the young girl began to walk away like she hadn’t just taken out three grown men with two incredibly dangerous weapons. 

“Oh, Katie!” Her brother called out, causing the girl to whip back around with an angry glare. “Could you keep Mom asleep? She doesn’t need to see any of this, right?”

A response came in the form of an eye roll as she trailed back off in the way she had come. 

No choice but to follow her, considering they didn’t want to figure out if the other guards were still waiting behind the locked door, Big Time Rush and their assistant soon found themselves back in the main A.M. L.A. studio. 

The focus of the show had shifted away from the news and traffic reports and was now setting up for the celebrity interview portion. Miles and Ed stood on the opposite side of the room behind a table decorated with all the environmentally friendly products the actor had brought to showcase during his time on the show.

Since their plan of sticking to the darker outer walls had worked so well last time, the group quickly moved around the room to the cover of three large clothing racks. 

“I could’ve sworn I brought my solar-powered tasers…” Ed trailed off, patting the sides of his hips absentmindedly. 

Ah.

In the time it had taken the assistant to register how close they were to Jane and try to formulate a plan to get some more time for her band, her friends had, for some reason, helped themselves to the costumes on the rack they were using for cover. 

“Are you serious?” She balked, half-impressed they had changed so quickly and half-angry they were focused on other, sillier things than getting on the morning show. 

Grinning back at her was Kendall, dressed like Abraham Lincoln, Carlos, dressed in a similar uniform to his policeman father, Logan, headdress making him look like Egyptian royalty, and James, dressed in a less than fashionable fisherman hat. 

How does he manage to look good in everything-

Before any of them said anything, her boyfriend reached out and plopped a bedazzled tiara on her head and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. 

“Kiss a princess! Check!” He bragged, checking something off on his notepad list - ignoring the grips of objection from the rest of the three and the slacking of Roxy’s jaw. 

Suddenly, the writer began to understand the whole dress-up thing as a bit of heat crept up her neck. Had there been a beautiful pink ballgown out on the rack, she’d do everything in her power to change into it if it meant he’d keep kissing her. 

“Focus please!” Carlos begged, though it was hard to take him seriously in his fake mustache and new, oversized cop helmet. Pointing toward the evil producer, the five parted many of the hangers and poked their heads through the open slots to get a better view of the studio in front of them. “We got to cut three more minutes from the show to perform.”

“Then operation ‘We Love Ed Begley Jr., But We Have to Cut His Segment Short to Perform’ is underway!” Abe Lincoln shared, pumping his fist into the air at the ridiculous title he had come up with.

From the bottom of the rack, Logan let out a bit of protest. “Next time, I’m in charge of operation naming!”

At the top of the rack, James nudged his girlfriend with his elbow, a cheeky grin spreading on his lips before reaching down and smacking Logan’s cheek. 

“Ow!” The boy cried, squeezing his eyes shut as he realized how loud his expression had been. “What’d you do that for?”

“Slap a pharaoh! Check!”

Roxy had a lot of questions about that one, but she wasn’t able to ask any before Kendall called, “Move out!”

Had any of them actually discussed the operation beforehand, she might know where she was supposed to have moved out too, but for now, she followed James as he climbed up an exposed staircase toward the edge of the studio walls. 

They had a good vantage point from there, able to see and hear everyone on the floor below - including their hidden friends. 

In front of the podium where Jane stood, a man counted backward from five, and just like that the show was back from commercial. On a new set, Miles and Ed stood in front of the camera for their interview on the products the actor environmentalist had designed in order to keep daily carbon emissions low. 

The first in his long line of products was a “Wind-Powered Spinning Tie Rack.” Why anyone would need that was beyond Roxy, but James took that as his cue to aim and cast the fishing line onto the table below. Not only was his aim spot on, hitting the mark on his first try, but the hook was also strong enough to catch one of the product’s edges and be dragged upward as he turned the small hand crank over and over again. 

“James, that was incredible!” Roxy praised, reaching over the railing to pull the item off the line and onto the stairs with them. “Where did you learn how to do that?” 

Had it not been for the darkness of the outer edges of the studio, she might have seen how red his cheeks grew at her amazement. “My dad liked to fish.”

There was something off about the way he said that, as if there was a bit more to the statement than he was letting on, but now certainly wasn’t the time to pry. Instead, the writer nodded, “So does mine! He took me with him once when I was little, but I cried when I learned he used live worms as bait.”

“Aww,” He voiced sympathetically, before taking his pointer finger and wiggling it around right before her very eyes. “Little Roxy couldn’t stand to see the worms?”

With her free hand, she knocked his out of the way and failed at concealing her laughter. “No! I couldn’t then and I can’t now! All they do is dig around in the dirt and poop and-”

Boom!

James and Roxy didn’t even need their high vantage point to see what had caused the ridiculously loud noise to bounce around the soundstage, ringing obnoxiously in their ears. 

One of the large digital screens A.M. L.A. used for their Hollywood Minute segment had been knocked to the floor - Completely ruining the set and destroying the massive piece of equipment. As the screen lay flat on the floor, a pixelated image of the show’s logo flashed every few seconds. 

Whatever their friends on the ground floor had done would shave off at least another two minutes from the show, and the pair noticed Kendall - top hat and fake, bushy beard - make his way over to a very agitated Jane to tell her just that. 

It wasn’t long after, the rest of his friends rushed to join him at the podium to see what the producer might say, just in case she decided to change her mind. 

As the woman looked over the schedule the frontman presented her, she tore off her black headset with a shriek. 

“You will never perform on my show!” As she had done before, she pulled a radio from her back pocket and screamed into it, “Security! I need security!” 

In a flash, the five were off running again, dumping their costumes onto the woman’s head to keep her distracted for just a bit while they made their daring escape. 

By now, they were running out of places to hide, but that didn’t stop them from charging down the hall toward the green room to see if they had any small spaces or storage closets left to duck into. 

As she had been all morning, Mrs. Knight was curled up on the couch as the five teens came to a screeching halt in the doorway. Still gaming, Katie watched over her, holding a finger to her lips to warn her friends not to say anything too loud and wake the woman up. 

“You know that producer lady is gonna have every security guard on the lot after you.” The girl whispered, though the sounds from her game made it very hard to hear what she was saying. 

Crouching down a bit to meet her eye level, Kendall raised his brows. “Not if my baby sister, whom I love, creates a distraction!”

“Please, please, please!” The other four whisper-begged, placing their palms together. 

Another eye roll came from the girl, but she snapped her DS shut and stalked out of the green room muttering some irrepeatable words under her breath. 

Without missing a beat, Big Time Rush and their assistant were sure to clear out of the green room before security could find them. However, there was still one major issue: They had nowhere left to go. 

Racking her brain as she tried to remember every twist and turn they had taken that day, it was hard to concentrate with the rhythmic pumping of her sore legs being her primary focus. 

I feel so bad for the people on the floor below us… She thought, listening to the pounding of their shoes on the ancient blue-black carpet. 

“Wait!” She called, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway. Thankfully, her friends were able to come to a stop as well, not colliding with her at full force. “A different floor! They won’t be looking for us in a different studio!”

“Yes!” Carlos cheered, jumping up and pumping his fist. “Where’s the closest stairwell?”

Each of them looked in a different direction, trying to find any hint of a staircase or elevator, when Kendall noticed a building directory on the wall behind his assistant. “Wanna go upstairs to the Times or downstairs to F.M. L.A.?”

“Radio?” Roxy thought aloud, still trying to recover from their marathon. “Radio!”

“F.M. L.A. it is,” Declared James and the five followed the map around the corner to the door marked stairwell. Running down the steps was certainly much easier than running up the stairs would have been, and for that, the assistant was completely grateful. 

Entering the floor for F.M. L.A. took Roxy straight back to her radio days at Project Pop back in Minnesota. Each station under the company moniker had its own large, soundproof booths, and large panes of glass allowed the teens to look in and see the anchors doing the news or watch the DJs spin their tracks. 

The substations had the names painted out over the doorframes, boasting a country station, a news station, and her favorite local station - No Requests Granted. 

She hadn’t meant to geek out, they had far more important things to be worrying about right now, but when she saw the show's two hosts behind the glass, she felt like a kid at the zoo gawking at their favorite animal. Their show was largely interview-based, talking to some of the most prominent up-and-comers in the L.A. music scene. 

“Now this is a show we need to get on!” She told her friends, glancing back and forth between them and the hosts who were too busy buried in their notes to notice the girl in their window. “They’re fascinating! Though, they’re normally interviewing a band around this time - I wonder who’s on today.”

Too engrossed in her fangirling to hear two pairs of footsteps approaching the door from the other side of the hallway, she jumped a bit when someone shared, “Why, that would be us.”

Immediately, the excitement that had taken hold of her was knocked straight out of her body. 

Out of all the people in Los Angeles, California, it just had to be them.

It was stupid, but Roxy just shut her eyes, not turning around and not moving from her spot, and hoped to no avail that Mag McAllister and Dani Huron wouldn’t be in the hall when she opened them again. After everything bad that had happened today, things were finally starting to look up for her and Big Time Rush, until this very moment. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends, Roxanne?”

When Mag said her name, her eyes shot open and she could see the looks of confusion written all over her friend’s faces. It had been six, maybe seven months since she had told them about her old band, Brand New Day, and how the two of them had stolen one of her first songbooks. She’d casually mentioned a few weeks earlier that Brand New Day played before them on the Rocktober lineup, but they never ended up crossing paths that day since the festival was so large; She didn’t blame her band for not remembering what they looked like. 

They were the reason she had to move schools in the middle of the year back home; They were the reason she had such trouble sharing her incomplete songs with other people. 

After all the running and hiding they had done that day, how much she had complained to herself as they evaded security guards and mean Hollywood producers, she hadn’t backed down from the challenge. Big Time Rush had a goal that day and she wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of that, just like a good assistant would. 

Even though all she wanted to do was run away, she slowly took a few steps closer to her band before turning around to face the two people she had been trying to avoid for years. 

“Mag. Dani.” She didn’t even dignify them with a greeting, seeing as it wasn’t at all a pleasure to run into them. “This is Kendall, James, Carlos, and Logan. The four of them make up the band Big Time Rush.”

Green eyes lighting up as she pointed down the line and introduced her friends, Mag smiled innocently. The skin around his green eyes branched out into lines of crow's feet - a trait she had always found peculiar about the 17-year-old - though his curly black hair soon fell over the sides of his face to hide the lines. “No way! I’m a huge fan. This is such an honor, isn’t it Dani?”

Beside him, Dani absentmindedly twirled a finger through their long, straight brown locks, red nail polish popping out, and nodded their head with a simple, “What’s up?”

She knew that Mag was lying, he used to trash on mainstream pop music any chance he got, but his tone sure left the Big Time Rush boys convinced. One by one, they shook his hand and exchanged simple greetings. 

Normally, she’d think it funny Mag and Kendall had dressed in almost the same exact way, but she was too busy trying to hide her quivering lip as she watched her friends interact with the strange pair.

“Radio shows are so fun!” Carlos stated, gesturing toward the booth. “But we’re upstairs at A.M. L.A. today… What kind of music do you guys make?”

“Oh, Roxy didn’t tell you about us? That isn’t like her at all! What happened to Miss I Wear My Heart On My Sleeve? Don’t tell me Hollywood has changed you that much,” Mag laughed, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. 

Very obviously, she flinched at the contact, but did her best not to cause a scene right in the middle of the hallway. 

Though she felt utterly sick to her stomach she fought the bile rising in her throat as Mag’s hand lingered on her body for a bit too long. Sucking a breath in, the writer calmly reached one hand up, plucking the newcomer’s off her shoulder with her thumb and forefinger.

Dani took a step toward the door, leaning onto the frame as they watched the interaction, and answered Carlos’ question, “We’re an alt band from Duluth, Minnesota - Brand New Day. Check us out sometime.”

“Oh… We don’t associate with thieves.” James shared, first to catch onto his girlfriend’s sour mood once Dani had shared the band’s name.

As the air in the room shifted at his words, she could just about die of embarassment. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carlos and Logan take a step forward, joining her where she stood. Finally, everything began to connect for the rest of them - why their assistant had gone so pale, her blunt responses in place of her normal cheery words, and the way she shied away from Mag’s touch…

With a whistle, Mag chuckled and tossed a bit of his curls out of his face, “Woah, big accusations there, man! It’s not really wise for up-and-coming pop stars to pick fights with others, right?”

“Only when it’s not true,” Kendall chimed in, “Which we know for a fact it is.”

“Who knew boy band dudes were so uptight?” Dani asked from the doorway, buffing a few of their nails out on their beat-up Good Charlotte tour t-shirt. “Don’t you have a corny ass ballad or something to go sing?”

Logan took another step, knuckles practically white at his sides, as his assistant croaked out, “You’re going to be late for your interview… No Requests Granted starts at 6:30 on the dot.”

Hoping that it was somewhere around 6:30, the girl held her breath again, worried if she said something else it would only make the situation worse. Right now, all she was focused on was getting her band out of this deeply uncomfortable situation. It wasn’t fair of her to drag them into all her past drama, yet there they were, standing right in the middle of it. 

“Right! Right!” Mag said, glancing at the watch around his wrist. Lazily, he turned back to Dani and pointed a thumb toward the booth, “Let’s get in there before the hosts start to worry. Thanks, Roxy.”

“It’s Roxanne.”

“Oof!” The boy joked, stumbling backward and throwing his hands over his heart. “That’s going to be so hard to get used to considering…” Not at all trying to hide the way his eyes flickered between her and her friends, Mag cracked a smile. “...Everything we’ve been through, Roxanne.”

And just like that, the two of them headed into the radio booth, putting their best P.R. faces on as they greeted their hosts before sitting down to start the interview. 

Not even bothering to check in with her friends about the next phase of their plan, Roxy shot off down the hallway, looking for a different entrance to the A.M. L. A. studio where the guards or Jane wouldn’t bust them. 

Big Time Rush quickly followed after her, lost for words at their unexpected encounter with people from their assistant’s past. 

“Um, Roxy, do you want to-”

“No.”

“Can we please-”

“No.”

“Was that really-” 

“Yes.”

“What about-” “I hate Good Charlotte.”

“That’s not what I was going to-”

“Drop it!”

A few beats of silence followed her last statement, which would have been quite awkward, had it not led to them overhearing a conversation taking place on the floor above them through an air duct on the ceiling. 

It seemed as though the five of them had stumbled into a wing of the building that was under renovation for the time being - presumably to add a few more booths to the F.M. L. A. floor. Lucky for Roxy and the boys, there were plenty of construction tools lying around, waiting to be taken advantage of. 

Looks like we found our way in.

From above, the voice of the famous Chef Hollandaise was slightly muffled, “Now, this recipe will take a long time to prepare, but it’s worth it!”

Accepting their assistant’s request to drop their previous topic of conversation, the boys stopped interrogating her and began looking for a solution to their time-crunch problem. The Hollywood minute was gone, leaving the cooking segment to run a bit longer than normal. 

“What’s a better way to end the culinary demonstration than to get rid of the chef?” Logan’s idea was brilliant, though quite menacing as his friends watched him pick up an abandoned saw from the construction site. 

Eyes widening in fear, Carlos brought a hand to his helmet, “Dude… We can’t…”

The two of them bickered back and forth, Logan trying to defend his statement despite its sinister implications, and Carlos trying to figure out why he would bother to phrase it that way. 

This left some time for Kendall to scout around for a ladder, considering he had understood Logan’s plan perfectly while Roxy took a breather, leaning into her boyfriend for a few moments.

There was a lot to be said about their previous encounter with Brand New Day, but no one brought anything up when the frontman trailed back into the room with the equipment he had been searching for. 

Hurriedly scurrying up the ladder and using the sound of Chef Hollaindaise’s voice, Kendall used his best guessing skills to approximate his location on the floor above them, before sticking the sharp metal through the ceiling tile and cutting out a comically large hole. 

While she certainly didn’t approve of the boy’s actions, Roxy couldn’t come up with a better solution herself, so she let James continue to hold her as the blond let out a small chuckle, nearly completing his circle. 

“Sorry, Chef, but we have to cut this segment short.”

She presumed he was trying to lighten the mood, but the five of them were so high-strung from both anxiety and adrenaline that the joke didn’t land. 

A few seconds, and some major cracking from the ceiling tiles, later, the chef fell straight through the ceiling and onto the floor below, landing a bit awkwardly at the band’s feet. The fall hadn’t been enough to cause any lasting damage to the man’s body, but it certainly had to have hurt. 

“He’ll be fine!” Logan assured his friends, and his medical knowledge was enough to put their minds at ease before Carlos grabbed Hollaindaise’s apron and chef’s hat and shimmied his way up the ladder into the kitchen set. 

There was no time wasted as the boy quickly derailed the segment, turning it into a large ad for fishsticks instead of whatever complicated meal Chef Hollandaise had come up with. While Carlos kept the cameras distracted, the rest of the band and their assistant climbed the ladder to the A.M. L.A. floor and managed to use the kitchen set as their cover as they crawled to the dark outer edges of the studio. 

Once Carlos’ fishsticks were in the oven, security was barreling onto the set after him, though he was quick to evade them. Now that the guards had been chasing the five of them so much, it was getting easier to predict their moves and therefore getting easier to slip through their fingers. 

Jane let out an exasperated scream, throwing a handful of the paper schedules she had prepared for the day up in the air. 

While she was busy figuring out what segment to place on the air next, the writer noticed a large stack of unattended cue cards. From her spot along the wall, it looked as though they contained boring financial information, so she dared to creep forward and pull them into the shadows with her and her band. 

Pulling a pen from her bag, she didn’t hesitate to change up some of the wording, and throw some of the boards away completely - Anything to help cut a few more seconds of precious time from the show.  

“Logan, how good are you with stocks and investments and all that stuff?” The frown that had been permanently fixed on her face since their encounter with Brand New Day slowly grew into a small smile as she pointed toward the words on the newly edited cue card. “And, James, feel like being the cutest weatherman in the world?” 

Both of them shot off to their respective new sets wordlessly, eager to play a part in her plan. 

It was just her luck, she heard Jane yell, “Move the financial update!” before passing off the boards to Kendall to hold up for the news anchor. 

Better for him to get chased by security than me.

Easily blending into the small crowd of workers on the A.M. L.A. set, the frontman had no trouble holding up the cue cards for Miles Bainbridge behind the camera. The moment he held the first one up, the news anchor flashed a dazzling smile.

“And here’s the financial report with new correspondent, Logan.”

Popping up behind the financial update set’s desk, Logan, sporting a spiffy new suit jacket and gripping the saw they had used to cut through the ceiling addressed the camera right on cue. “Today, I recommend buying stock in Begley’s Own Green Products! The tasers are excellent… The energy drinks?”

From across the way, Roxy grabbed one off the refreshment table and gave it her best aim, hurtling it right into his hands. The sounds of Janes' breathing growing more and more labored were quite amusing, especially as the women tried to keep it quiet since the camera was rolling.

“They really work! And his organic saws can cut through the toughest studio floors! Now over to James Diamond with the weather!”

Like before, the cameras turned to the new set, revealing James in a beautiful black suit jacket with a matching pink tie and pocket square combo behind the green screen showing the weather for the week. How it was still in the 80s in October baffled the Minnesotan girl, but she was a bit more focused on making sure he cut down the report as best he could. 

As he glanced over in her direction, she ran a finger across her throat making her statement about the segment clear. Kill it!

“Do we really need a weather report?” Her boyfriend asked into the camera, using a silver metal pointer to show off the 4-day forecast. “It’s L.A.! It’s gonna be bright and sunny all year long.”

Somehow he had still saved his sunglasses from his stealth costume earlier and popped those on for good measure as Jane breathed in and out of a paper bag. 

Then, James took a few steps toward the camera and pulled out his list, “Be the cutest weatherman in the world, check! Because my girlfriend said so! Ha!” 

His hands flew to the sides of his face, wiggling his fingers from his temple to his chin as he gave the camera a goofy grin. 

“Go back to Miles! Back to Miles!” The producer screamed and Roxy felt someone grab her wrist and pull her out of the shadows. 

Carlos, along with his tray of baked fishsticks, dragged her to the news set and popped the try on the table in front of the shocked anchor. Pulling out a chair for her to sit down in, he offered her one of his creations before kicking back in his own seat and offering one over to Miles.

When the cameras cut back, Roxy felt all the eyes in the studio on her, her friend, and the grown man sitting between them. Normally, she had no issue with that considering how many times she’d taken the stage that summer, but this made her and Carlos a prime target for security.

Anxiously, she took a few bites of her fishstick and chewed slowly, scanning her field of vision for any men in yellow jackets. 

“These are really excellent, Chef Carlos!” Miles complimented, dipping his snack into a bit of ketchup and tapping it against the younger boy’s. 

With a nod, Roxy simply had to agree. “Mr. Bainbridge, if you like his cooking, you’d just love his music, don’t you think? Why don’t you tell us about it, Carlos?”

All their hours of media training had prepared the boy well as he launched into his typical explanation to advertise the band’s first album BTR.

From her podium, Jane was in full-on crisis mode, pulling out a red corded rotary phone from seemingly nowhere, screaming into it, “Get me every security officer on the KULA lot and destroy Big Time Rush!”

That seems a bit dramatic-

The assistant’s thoughts were cut off as the tell-tale chime of a new breaking news update flooded the studio. 

“This just in!” Miles immediately snapped into work mode, listening to the message flooding into his clear, plastic earpiece as a piece of footage from the studio backlot popped up on the teleprompter screen, “Every security guard on the KULA lot is currently involved in a low-speed chase!”

“Let’s go live!” Carlos added while Roxy did her best to keep from snorting her fishstick from how hard the footage was making her laugh. 

Clips she could only assume came from the news chopper showed one of Ed Begley Jr.’s solar-powered vehicles, driven by none other than Katie Knight, slowly chugging down an alleyway. Meanwhile, four other studio golf carts were in hot pursuit of her, each carrying around four to five security guards. 

No wonder we haven’t run into trouble recently…

“Do you want me to go to commercial?” Miles asked, so lost without any more cue cards as he picked up another fishstick. 

In response, Jane began gripping the sides of her head so hard the assistant feared she might tear some great chunks of her hair out. 

“Roxy, gotta go!” 

From the other side of the set, Carlos erupted from his seat once he caught wind of three security guards heading their way, catching her wrist once again and pulling her out of her chair. Even though she managed to grab one more fishstick for the road, it was hard to run and eat at the same time. 

At least this time, as the pair caught up with Kendall, Logan, and James, they didn’t have far to go before the security guards got a call over their radios stating that they were needed to deal with Katie’s rampage immediately. 

During the chaos of Roxy and Carlos’ on-air time, the other boys were able to change back into their performance outfits. Now all they had left to do was wait and see if their segment cuts had worked in their favor. 

By this time, most of the crew had left since there were too many things to deal with going on at once, so Miles, Jane, and her production assistant were incredibly lost. When the cameras switched back on once the commercial break was over, faming the anchor in the preview screen, he blinked a few times, completely confused.

“Are we back?”

That got Jane to pick her head up off her desk, hair in such a state of disarray after ripping her headset off. “We’re back? Why are we back? We don’t have any more segments!”

“We’re four minutes short!” The P.A. informed her, terror filling her eyes as the woman continued to scream into her face. 

This felt like the perfect time for her band to wedge their way into the schedule, so Roxy gave them each a little shove toward the podium as Jane broke down in tears. Her sobs were so loud they almost drowned out Kendall’s voice as he waved the paper schedule around. “Oh, if only there was something that could be done to fill that time…”

“Never! Do you hear me?” The woman growled, so loudly and violently that her face was slowly becoming the deepest shade of red the assistant had ever seen. “I’d rather have four minutes of dead air and get fired than to lose to you!” 

From the table behind her, she managed to grab two of Ed’s tasers that had still been laying aorund and trained them right on Kendall and James. This, of couse, sent the pair into a panic, trying to find ways to block the red tracking light of the weapons with the schedule, and in James’ case, Carlos. 

“As long as I’m standing here, Big Time Rush will never perform on live TV!”

Jane didn’t hear the sound of screeching tires until it was far too late. 

Incoming from the studio lot was Katie and her slow, solar powered machine which she was only half paying attention to steering. Most of her focus was on her DS game, leading her to ram right into the crazed woman and knock her to the ground. At least she was able to hit the breaks before the tires rolled over her body and the vehicle was going slow enough, it couldn’t cause any real damage.

“I did it!” The young girl cried, eyes trained on the screens in front of her. “I defeated the evil she-beast!” 

You can say that again.

On the ground, Jane let out a weak groan that let everyone know she was still alive. 

That seemed like the perfect time to draw the attention away from the scene her band had inadvertently caused. 

Rushing over to where she had left her last cue card, Roxy broke away from her friends before running back toward the camera. Holding it up for the anchor to see, she called, “Miles!” and pointed to her script before glancing at her friends and pointing to the stage.

“Oh! Words to read!” He smiled at the caard, training his eyes into the lens as he shared his new line. “Let’s give it up for Big Time Rush!” 

Turning to the soundboard beside her, which thankfully looked identical to the one Gustavo had at Rocque Records, Roxy was able to turn a few dials, push a few buttons, and boost the microphone audio on her friends before starting the instrumental track to “Til I Forget About You.”

Some of the crew had even been kind enough to return to the set and adjust the cameras to the boy’s set, displaying their logo behind them in big, flashing blue letters. Her job was done, and she let out a sigh of relief as she gripped the sides of the podium Jane had previously stood at, now it was up to the boys to nail their performance for A.M. L.A.’s audience of three million. 

Over the course of their time in Los Angeles, there had only been a few Big Time Rush performances where Roxy hadn’t taken the stage with them. Especially over the course of their tour, it had been a very long time since she was lucky enough to see the four perform while she was in the audience. 

Their stage presence always captivated her, though there was something about this performance in particular that had her paying extra attention. Was it a bit strange her new boyfriend was singing a song she had written about her ex? Sure. But that was all part of the job. 

As he struck his poses and hit his dance cues before ultimately raising his mic to sing, James kept glancing her way, as if he was checking if she was still paying attention. 

Maybe she was a bit selfish for shooting him a wink, for being just crazy enough to imagine he was performing for her instead of the greater Los Angeles area, but the way he moved was just different and she couldn’t put her finger on why. 

As they began the last verse, Roxy realized it had been quite some time since she had last thought about Dak Zevon, and she’d certainly like to keep it that way.

So, she watched on, trying to commit every movement and ad-lib the boys brought to the song she had written, to memory so she could think of this moment every time they’d play this song in the future instead of the loser who had broken her heart all those months ago. 

Maybe it’s time to forget Mag and Dani too, she thought for a fleeting second, just as the song came to a close. 

Applause broke out through the studio, her clapping being some of the loudest, as Miles ended the broadcast with an enthusiastic, “This just in, Big Time Rush rocks!”

As the credits rolled and the cameras pulled away, Roxy took off running for the final time that day and practically launched herself into James’ open arms. 

Easily, he caught her, spinning her around a few times as he held her around the waist. The metal from the microphone cut into her back just a bit, but she didn’t mind as her arms circled his neck and she peppered a few kisses across his cheeks.

“Hey, hey!” He managed, waiting for her to finish her assault before setting her back down on the ground. “What’s all that for?”

“You’re so talented,” Roxy managed, looking him right in the eye. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.”

In return, James smiled before shifting his gaze to the side as though he were embarrassed. “You did. Once. When Hawk… You know.”

“Well then… Sounds like I need to say it more.”

“I’m certainly not complaining.”

The two of them were so caught up in their own little world, it startled the pair when Carlos cleared his throat behind them. “Do you not think we’re talented?” 

Reluctantly Roxy let go of her boyfriend before turning around, biting back a grin. “Come on, of course I think that!”

Both Logan and Kendall stuck out their bottom lips, pretending to guilt her with their pouty stares, “We didn’t get spinny hugs and pretty girl kisses…”

Their assistant’s, “There’s plenty waiting for you at the Palm Woods,” overlapped with James incredibly threatening, “Don’t you even think about it, dudes.”

The other boys’ teasing sent them into a fit of giggles as James slung an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulers, giving her some massive stink eye as she brought her fingers to her lips and blew the other three imaginary kisses. 

Concluding their first live TV debut, Roxy wished she could write a song about their picture perfect moment, but couldn’t formulate anything catchy enough. It did, however, remind her of James’ ultimate goal.

“Oh, James, your list!” She brought a hand to his chest to catch his attention.

Eyes lighting up, he removed his arm from around her shoulders and popped the checklist out of his back pocket. “Perform on live TV?”

All of his friends took pleasure in their chorus of, “Check!”

After marking off the small box he had written next to his goal, he shuffled a few pages before turning them over and handing the pen and paper off to Roxy. “Wanna check that one off for me?”Slightly confused, she followed his finger as he pointed to the middle of the page. Though she had to squint a bit to make out his script, she was more than pleased to cross out the empty space right in front of Make Roxanne Somerset my girlfriend.

[horrifichaunts]

@fazerbrain asked:

❝ Cassiopeia? This information does not compute, ❞ Hax holds the gifted book on Axolotls carefully in his metallic hands as he sits atop a Parts & Service workbench, uncharacteristically softened eyes scanning the pages for factoids about the peculiar amphibians;

❝ –Why don't humans just regrow lost limbs too? I, for one, think it would be much more efficient. ❞ - for Cassie! c:

Cassie was waiting patiently for her father to come back down to Parts and Services, and she wasn’t supposed to touch anything while she waited….however he said nothing about gifts or talking. The thought that the animatronics had no books was utterly horrifying to her and Hax was her second favorite, Roxy could not be dethroned, so she had brought him an extra special book about axolotls? Why was it special? Because she just thought axolotls were the coolest things.

“I know right! I sprained my wrist last month, imagine how useful it would be if I coulda just took the hand off to grow another one.” A gentle sigh, leaning back in her chair

“Sadly humans are not as cool as axolotls.”

[drgreysonmd]

On the off chance that I can be a little presumptious with you... Could I maaayyyybe, maybe, maybe ask for a kiss?

Pretty please? With a cherry on top?

Just this once!

"Well, I don't know-

First, we need to verify that we accept your insurance, then we need to make sure we have your pre-autherization. All your labs have been done and checked over,

And don't forget your physical to make sure you're in any condition to even BE kissed. Not all hearts are healthy enough for such strenuous activities, and the last thing we want is for anything to happen to you in that event!"

Despite his best efforts, Greyson couldn't contain his laugh any longer, reaching out to bring Roxie into his arms for an apologetic hug. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. Here, let me make it up to you."

Cupping her face in his hands, he places a tender kiss to her forehead, followed by a quiet laugh and his nose brushing gently against hers. "Happy birthday, Roxie." He whispers softly through his smile, leaving a sweet kiss to her lips behind.

"I hope it's as memorable a day as you are."

[classpectingcaxy]

rogue of space ? :3

Alright, let's do this! One of my top three Classes with my second favorite Aspect!

All analysis below the cut.

Rogue

Rogues are a passive theft class. They are the most selfless class, stealing their aspect from the world around them, passively drawing it in, and redistributing it to others. They often have a habit of keeping secrets of some kind, which can be related to their aspect, but isn't always.

This is seen in all three Rogues we know: Roxy, Nepeta, and Rufioh. Roxy was a genius, being beyond simply "adept" with computers and scientific pursuits, and yet hid it behind her drunken party girl behavior, keeping others in the dark about her level of intelligence. Nepeta kept her friends from finding out just how angry she could get, and took active effort to prevent anyone from discovering her OTP. Rufioh also did something similar, in hiding his dissatisfaction with his relationship and keeping secret his confusion on whether to continue with it.

The Rogue class is often unaware of just how important their aspect is. Every aspect plays a role in life, and the Rogue's inability to accept the vital role theirs plays is almost universal. This doesn't mean they disregard the importance of their aspect! It simply means that, while they may understand that its concepts are a part of a balanced life, they have a mentality of "You need this more than I do", a belief that their aspect and it's concepts are wasted on them, best for others.

Overall, it's this very mentality that makes the Rogue...Well, a Rogue! They are selfless and giving, and hide certain parts of their lives in the belief that sharing them would be an unnecessary burden to those around them. They take in their aspect for better or worse and distribute it in ways they feel benefits others most.

Space

Space is the aspect of physics (concepts), physical space (measurable matter/events), as well as creation. It is a powerful and passive aspect, even in the hands of an active class.

Space players are often patient and tactical, calm in the face of serious adversity. They are intelligent and are drawn to some form of creation or life. This can either manifest in the form of an interest in the cultivation of life (such as in botany or birth) or other physically creative hobbies such as inventing, building, or crafting.

Space players also often tend towards one of the two extremes in their value of metaphorical space, either caring deeply and being highly protective of it or caring little at all and often disregarding it entirely. This leads to two common types of Space players: The impenetrable bubble and the casual river.

The bubble is a person who is highly defensive, often only letting in the absolute most trusted individuals. They put great emphasis on their personal space and won't share it with anyone outside their innermost circle. They may be protective of things that others may not find very important, and are often the ones to make others hesitant to ask for more due to how defensive they can be. But for those who do get close to them in due time, they are some of the most interesting individuals in the world.

The river is a person who simply goes with the flow, inviting anyone and everyone to join in. Their "bubble" is the world and all in it are welcome. They may be casual about things most others would be protective of, and are often the ones to make others uncomfortable with how lax they are about things. But for those who find comfort in leniency will find no greater calm than that of "the river" Space player.

Both of these people share a very important trait: They each see a much larger picture than those around them. The difference being that "the bubble" individual is likely to see every individual part of that bigger picture as being equally critical, while "the river" is can best be described as someone who "doesn't sweat the small stuff".

Overall, Space players have a deep connection to both physical/literal and metaphorical space, and often find themselves drawn to physically creative pursuits. They are often very interesting individuals with many hobbies and pursuits that others may find intimidating, either to maintain or to do in the first place.

Rogue of Space

A Rogue of Space is one who passively draws in Space, and redistributes it to others in the ways they feel is best.

The Rogue of Space would have a hard time accepting that they themselves need personal space, being a "river" type Space player, going with the flow and letting in anyone and everyone without hesitation. They would feel that the concepts of space are more for others. This makes them the "chronically online" friend so to speak.

The one you know, no matter what time, no matter what day, you can message them and they'll respond in seconds because they care more about *your* space than theirs. They would also struggle at setting boundaries with others, feeling they're not entitled to do so despite believing others are.

This is a painful combination, Space is already a very passive aspect, and Rogues are a passive and selfless class.

A Rogue of Space is likely to be alone more often than not, with others either avoiding them due to their quirks or due to them being the "third wheel friend" in the eyes of those in their circle. It's an emotionally difficult classpect to bear, as both Space and Rogue often withhold parts of themselves, with "the bubble" doing so protectively and "the river" doing so forgetfully.

However, they are all the more appreciative of those who do show them genuine care and attention, and when a Rogue of Space is properly cared for you'll find they're often extremely interesting and have more skills than can be listed off. They are intelligent and crafty, skilled and creative, and those who sincerely befriend them and maintain that connection will find none more versatile.

Overall, a Rogue of Space has a very, VERY difficult journey, and while others may make many good friends, or a few close bonds, a Rogue of Space is likely to make lots and lots of acquaintances and have one or two individuals as chosen family. They have many hobbies, many interests, and often find themselves alone, and when they do find themselves in company, it's either that of their chosen family or they are giving their company to those they feel deserve it, whether or not those individuals would do the same for them.

[the-void-writes]

“What is your love language, then? I want to learn it.”

- Writing prompts ✨

I’m sorry to have kept this in my inbox for so long lol. Finally decided to just make it a cute interaction between Will and Dante, at the start of their budding relationship 💕 It’s cheesy and not at all plot-related, but I feel like that’s just my style now.

For All Eternity - Love Language

Will had every right to be depressed. As far as he was concerned, the last ten years of his life had been lived by someone else. No one truly respected Ash, not even the friends he had made on his trade routes— He was more of a joke, a cautionary tale for patients who didn’t want their treatments. They didn’t want to end up like clumsy, forgetful Ashleigh.

Now, Ash was gone, and Will had returned. He meant something now, both to Bluebrook and to Paradise. The kingdom owed him its life for everything he gave to fight Vesely. For once, he could be certain that his new friends loved him.

But that love couldn’t ease the overwhelming ache in his heart. His family was dead— murdered right in front of him— and he hadn’t been able to mourn them. Ten years-worth of delayed grief weighed on his mind like thick smoke, made worse by the growing infection that had been dormant all that time. Will didn’t want to move, or speak, or even think, with how badly his muscles and organs burned with pain.

Still, he made himself walk around. The people of Eternity had kindly offered to house him while he recovered. It was like staying in a hotel, one that liked to throw parties on a regular basis. Will enjoyed it more than he thought he would. The androids were fun to talk with, as were most of the other patrons, and the staff seemed to like him a lot.

And then, there was Dante. True to his word, he hadn’t left at the first sign of difficulty. He fought by Will’s side, he brought his memories back to him, and dare he say it, he seemed to enjoy Will’s company. It must have been their shared heartbreak that made Dante so attached to him, or perhaps Will was a better flirt than he gave himself credit for. Whatever the reason, Will was sure of one thing: Dante was the one thing keeping him sane.

Will sat in one of the dining booths, watching the androids dance with each other on stage. He found himself fixated on Roxie and Proteus, how she moved with him in perfect synchronicity, how passionately he held her hips as she brushed her nails along his neck. It was strangely hypnotic, and slightly amusing to see Proteus’ lovestruck grin.

The booth’s seat shifted a bit. Will turned and found himself staring into those beautiful golden eyes.

“Hey there, stranger,” Dante said. “I hope you don’t mind the company.”

“Not at all,” Will said. “How are you holding up?”

Dante smiled. “Don’t worry about me, you sweetheart. You’re the one who held the world on your shoulders.”

“It was just rubble.”

“Five-thousand pounds of rubble. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Will chuckled. “If you say so.”

He took a quiet sip from his glass, feeling Dante’s eyes on him. His stare felt so different compared to when they had met— That focused, heavy stare, like he was studying Will. Now, his eyes were full of warmth and fondness.

“So, how’s your stay going?” Dante asked.

“It’s nice, thank you. Just enjoying your show.” He paused for a moment. “You built your androids so well.”

“Aww, you’re making me blush.”

“Sorry.”

Dante chuckled. “Listen, I don’t mean this as a bad thing, but you’re a lot softer than before.”

Will sighed. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna find that naive little hermit you almost slept with anymore.”

He shook his head and took another drink. Before he could apologize for speaking like that, Dante patted his hand.

“Well, I’m happy to get to know you again, if you’ll let me.” He smiled and slid closer. “Tell me anything, like your favorite color or food.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m rather boring in that department.”

“I don’t believe it for one second. Lay it on me.” Dante poked his hand. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Will’s lips twitched. “Okay, fine. I like blues and greens, and I’m a sucker for anything with strawberries in it. Have I bored you yet?”

Dante grinned. “Don’t you give yourself any credit? You’re adorable.”

He laughed as Will hid his face.

“What about you?” Will said, hoping to throw the attention off of himself.

“Well, just from looking at the place, you can probably tell what my tastes are.” He gestured at all the purple lights, the black-and-gold trims, and plates full of rich cheeses and meats. “Gazali’s not the only one who can live in luxury.”

“No kidding.” Will smiled softly. “But it does look nice.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“Do you— Do you have to call me that?”

Dante squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, it’s not really a bother.” Will twisted the rings on his fingers. “I’m just not used to pet names.”

“Ah, I see.” He leaned forward on his elbow. “Tell me your love language, then. I want to learn it.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“I told you I like you, didn’t I? That ain’t gonna change anytime soon. If you let me know what you like, I swear I can treat you right.”

He shook his head with a smile. “I can’t quite figure you out.”

“That’s the beauty, ain’t it? I’m a surprise you can enjoy every day.”

Will snickered. “If you really want to know, I like spending time with people, even if it’s spent on something small. We could literally just lay in a field, and I’d be happy.”

Part of him expected Dante to start teasing him for his simplicity, but he found the young man smiling instead, like he had just been told the greatest news of his life.

“That’s sweet, baby. Maybe I can take you out to the wildflower fields sometime, watch the stars and shit like that.”

“Something tells me that’s not your tempo.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking for peace and quiet since I got here. This club keeps me busy, but trust me, I’d much rather lay in twigs and shit with you.”

Will found himself smiling, genuinely touched by Dante’s sincerity. He pushed his drink away and propped his head against his arm. His elbow brushed against Dante’s, and neither of them moved away.

“What about you, then? What do you like?”

Dante tapped his chin. “Touch, I think.” He started to stutter. “I mean— Not in a suggestive way—”

“No, I got you. Just a nice, comforting touch.”

He smiled. “Yeah, like that. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“So… Any specific kind of touch? Like hand-holding, or…”

“Oh, all of it. Brushing someone’s hair, tracing their hand—”

He demonstrated his methods to Will, stroking the thick blonde strands of his hair and dragging a gentle finger from his palm up to his wrist. Will couldn’t hide how nice it felt as he nearly fell asleep against him. Dante whispered into his ear.

“Do you know what I like most?”

“What’s that?”

“Making people smile. There’s nothing prettier than getting a smile or laugh out of a shy little thing… like you.”

His hand darted to Will’s side, instantly waking him back up as he grabbed his wrists.

“Dante!”

“I know, I’m a menace.” He chuckled. “You proved me right, though. Look at you.”

Part of Will wanted to be mad, but when he saw Dante’s smile, he felt at peace for the first time in a long while. This was a man who truly wanted to spend time with him, to make him happy and comfortable for the rest of his eternity in Paradise. There was a sense of security in his presence that Will hadn’t felt since Dan was around.

“Lucky for you,” Will said, “it takes more than that to annoy me.”

Dante grinned. “Oh, I’ve got more tricks up my sleeve.”

He shifted as Will took his hand, almost like he was melting against the seat. Will couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

[pandakong]

Tagged by @maxwellshimbo, thanks :)

Share your wallpaper: Thank you NSS I owe you my life. Link added as well.

Last song you listened to: luna by Hayley Kiyoko is literally playing right now.

Currently reading: Oh no... I am reading things so slowly. I will tell you I need to read the trade paper back of Mister Miracle before a convention comes out. I really liked Tom King's The Vision so it's been on my shelf, oops.

Last movie you watched: School of Rock for fun, lol, just on in the background

Craving: Water... I'm boring. I was feeling like some snack or food earlier but it's a mystery

What are you wearing right now: Lol, I haven't gotten ready for going out so it's just an old shirt from a fundraising event and idk soft cotton shorts.

How tall are you: 5'2"... and my exact height is uhhhh about 1.587499999998984 meters

Piercings: Heh.

Tattoos: I miss my inkbox freehand that expired...

Glasses? Contacts? I have had both, I'm mostly too cheap and lazy to do contact recently (only for cosplay or weddings when I remember)

Last drink: Water

Last thing I ate: A red shredded beef tamale, it was fine. Wait, chips...

Last show: Queer Eye, lol, new season just dropped.

Favorite color: greenish blues

Current obsession: It's a secret ;)

Unrelated obsession: Uhhh. Oh, collecting dice I never use.

Any pets: Roxy, she's on here sometimes

Do you have a crush on anyone: Uh, not really

Favorite fictional characters: multiple, huh? Hmmmm. Korra, Link, Alex (Oxenfree, so many from oxenfree as well), Nimona for sure!

The last place you travelled to: California

The end!

I don't tag ppl, but tell me about ur life if you want.

[brainshock-alpha]

For the fanfic ask game: F, K, T!

[francis york morgan voice] FK in the Tea...!

F. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

just one, huh? well, i certainly could talk about sth from trans pt or my piersmet works or even hylics stuff, buuuut i've always kinda wanted to go over this short kingsm*n work, so :) it's not long wordcount-wise so i'll just paste the whole thing...

"Richy said you're a G-man," Roxy, in that solemn manner peculiar to children, informed her father. It was late in the afternoon, and Noel held her hand as they made their way out of the park. He said in his gentle baritone, "What is a G-man?" "A government man. But not just anyone working for the government. Someone who does shady stuff that they don't want anybody to know about." This was not necessarily cause for concern. For all that he viewed sociability as an eternally developing area of research, Noel conducted himself with the utmost discretion—more than could be said of some of his associates. Any suspicion of his actual occupation as Agent Percival was most assuredly borne of a child's imagination. He simply asked her, "And what did you say about that?" "I told him—and I told him nicely, even though I knew that he already knew—'Mr. Noel is a tailor. He makes clothes for gentlemen.' And he said..." She scrunched up her little face. "He said a very naughty word." "All right." So he released her hand and crouched low, and she approached him to whisper in his ear, "He said, 'That's bullshit.'" "I see." He straightened up and smoothed his jacket, Roxy patiently waiting before slotting her hand back into his. "Did your cousin explain why he believes such a thing?" "He did. He asked why do I think you're hardly around, and always wear fancy suits, and don't talk that much?" She hesitated, then admitted, "I wasn't sure so I didn't say anything." "Well, in order: I don't live nearby; I work at one of the world's finest tailor shops; and in general I prefer listening over speaking." She mulled over his words. At last she asked, "But are you a G-man, or not?" "No, Roxy. I am not employed by the government in any capacity," Noel answered, plain and direct. He checked his watch and looked to his daughter. "Twenty minutes till I return you to your mum. That's enough time for some ice cream, isn't it?" "Yes, it is," she agreed politely. A broad grin gave away her true enthusiasm.

it defs has several things that i'd refine further were i writing it today, especially since noel/percival was my first attempt at (intentionally) writing an autistic character. still, i like how much it implies about the characters in this short a space! roxy is able to speak pretty freely to her father, yet she calls him mr. noel to other people, hinting at a bit of distance between them (and of course, it's revealed ("revealed") at the end that he and her mother are separated in some way).

in turn noel engages in conversation with her instead of dismissing the subject as ridiculous or inappropriate or w/e. and the very ordinary framing of how he lets roxy whisper a bad word into his ear suggests this sorta thing is routine for them, doesn't it? but yeah overall i guess i just like how their words and actions show a lot of respect for each other :)

K. What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

honestly i think i've already told you LOL but sure i'll talk about it here. in recent memory, one is an undert*le sorta spin on swsh where leon had the power to save, which is how he was able to remain undefeated for so long, but then he lost it to the protagonist. and he goes through not just a load of self-doubt upon losing his safety net but also a load of existential horror when the protag turns out to be not as benevolent as he is...

it's a fun thought experiment (as au's often are) but not something i'm actually interested in creating A Work about. the angstiest idea that i've ever followed through on is, i think, the "because i could not stop for death" ingo comic.

T. Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

already answered! :)

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

READ BEFORE YOU FOLLOW. please be aware of my rules and guidelines for this blog before you follow/interact. failure to follow my rules will have you blocked! ageless blogs will also be blocked on sight. put your age/adult indicator in your bio or pinned post!

CONTENT.

this is a writing blog, and will contain works written by me as well as reblogs of others' works. however, it is a primarily nsfw blog, meaning that i will be writing and interacting with mature and potentially dark content.

these will be TAGGED (format: "tw (tag)" i.e. "tw non-con"), so you're free to mute specific triggers if anything, but please be aware that such content may show up on my blog from time to time.

some content i will write and interact with include: cnc/dub-con, somnophilia, cum play, pseudo-cest, doctor-patient dynamics, teacher-student dynamics, manipulative/obsessive/possessive tropes (eg: yandere)

some content i will NOT write but may interact with include: non con, stepcest, hard incest.

i also only write x afab!reader (she/her pronouns) works. please understand that this is what i'm most comfortable with writing!

i write for the fandoms listed here, and only the characters specified. stray kids, a k-pop idol group, is a fandom that is listed. for works such as blue lock where the original source material writes them as minors, the characters in my works will be automatically aged up to 20+.

you can find a full list of what i write and do not write here.

DO NOT INTERACT IF...

—you are a minor.

if you are a minor (under the age of 18) or if you don't have your age on your blog, then please do not send me asks or interact with me! i block those who do not have an age indicator somewhere on their blog.

—you cannot separate fiction from reality ("omg that's a minor!!").

the fictional characters i write for are just that—fictional. drawings. it may not be 'canon', but a character is still an adult if written as an adult! i am someone who believes that a canon timeskip and a fanfic timeskip should be on equal ground! if you are not comfortable with this, then you are not part of the target audience. please refrain from sending hateful comments, and just scroll past!

—you are anti/hateful/negative.

i am aware that this blog will contain mature and dark content. again, if you are uncomfortable with that, please do not interact; this means you are not part of the target audience! please refrain from sending hateful comments, and just scroll past.

OTHER RULES.

—mdni.

if you are a minor (under the age of 18) or if you don't have your age on your blog, then please do not send me asks or interact with me! i block those who do not have an age indicator somewhere on their blog.

—please respect my work as my own.

DO NOT: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

—if you know me from my main art blog... shhh!

this is a separate blog under a separate alias, and they're being kept separate for a reason! please do not address me here as my other alias, and do not address me on my main blog as roxie! if you know me, hi!! but let's keep it a secret 🥰

—be polite.

—interact with me!

when commenting or sending me an ask, please be nice and use basic manners! use a please when requesting, and don't bring up triggering/controversial topics such as general discourse, politics, suicide, trauma, religion, etc.

i don't address asks i am uncomfortable with addressing, and they will be deleted automatically.

i do still welcome anons, asks, interactions, and requests! please feel free to comment on my posts, talk to me about your days, your thoughts (hard/thirst hours are always open!!), your favorite characters, if you want to be an emoji anon, and all that! <3 i don't bite- i promise !!

—requests are encouraged, but not promised!

while i'll try my best to get to every request, i only write requests i feel like writing. if it's not up my alley, they will probably go unanswered, but please don't take it to heart!

—please be patient with requests.

i am a graduate student with a part-time job, and other side projects lined up. this is just a fun little thing for me to write some nsfw when i feel inspired, so i may get to requests pretty slowly!

—do NOT poke me on your request/WIP status.

AGAIN, some may go entirely unanswered if i don't feel like writing them; or generally, i may get to requests slowly. please understand that i will NOT entertain these messages. this is all free content, and i write because i want to! please have a little respect for that!

—make sure requests are open before you send any in.

if you send a request in my inbox while they are closed, they will automatically be deleted, or i will otherwise answer to tell you to please check my request status again.

—please be specific when you request!

let me know what you want me to write! mention tropes, characters you want, and as many details as you like. don't hold back; i don't mind long asks!

—please do not send me requests for fandoms and/or characters that are not listed here.

if you send a request for a character NOT LISTED, they will automatically be deleted.